Warm day, hot prospects!
I may not be going to Tongue Mountain any time in the near future if this weather keeps up, but that doesn't mean I'm not working hard as ever in order to prepare for the resolution of said conflict. Why, just earlier today I went to the library and asked for all of their materials on occult lore, celtic rituals, and the furry subculture. And! (suprisingly) the resulting cache of knowledge far outweighted the price I payed in funny looks from the library staff! Woot!
I'm sure he's hiding there. He obviously isn't anywhere he feels he's within my grasp, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to force his hand as quickly as he did. But even still... If I can, I'll try and prevent the 'home-team advantage' scenario.
So yesterday afternoon...Wasn't really much of anything. I took a day off (finally), if you can call it that. (I was, after all, doing battle with unspeakable forces after midnight. So technically...) Well, the majority of the day anyway. I passed Mara once on campus, and she made sure to keep her front to me the entire time she was within arms reach. As if I were going to pull something in public? She forgets, that's one of her ploys, not mine. I'm the kind of guy who sneaks up and stabs you in your sleep. (Like Dick Cheney! Or, erm, at least according to the Onion it's like him. And I, being a Republican, can't help but endorce him fully.)
Come to think of it, why are two twin sisters attending two different schools which almost teach entirely the same thing? Perhaps one's in Individual Studies, whilest the other knows what she wants to do? (That other being my Lara, my bright angel of the morning, my cheerful demeanor for when I myself have none!) Merr, I'll have to ask one of them next time I think about it.
Or I could call Lara on my cell right now?
Or not...she's in class, and I got a very condesending voicemail about why 'one should not be actively trying to disturb the learning process of others, least one be thought a naffing idget', or something like that. The message sounded somewhat garbled toward the end. Oh well.
I'm still in the library. Perhaps I should be going through all these wonderful materials I took the time to have gathered up for me, but I'm a procrastinator, and seeming as how I think this will be a long night reading I'd rather get this out of the way. Not that I consider keeping you, oh valuable reader, informed of my every waking moment a hastle mind you! By no means! I just would rather have ample time and focus to concentrate on the meaning behind all this arcane english and (to quote an old english teacher) "hippy-dippy" type flowery descriptions.
Now then, back to yesterday. I head over to her house, and the stlye of the day is fuzzy, blue fleece. Why you ask? Because when your in a mood to snuggle down for a movie there's nothing better than something fuzzy, warm, but causes static enough that you have to take it off at a certain point. (Hehe!) But other than that I wasn't too fashion friendly. An old-timey now-hip newsboy cap and scarf does not condone the fact I was wearing a pair of dark blue sweatpants over my flannel boxers, and just a white tee with some sort of vulgar gaelic saying written on the front, (you know, something like "may the crap on the road rise to meet your thick-soled heels" or something like that), with an almost un-bumish blue shirt over it.
"Good Lord! are you sick Jay?" Ah, it seemed the main-squeeze had noticed the change in wardrobe. Not that she was one to talk, her still being in her lovely pink pajamas also, but at least she could get away with such a thing. I explained to her my theory of how we could spend the day (alone, together on her bed watching chick-flicks and eating popcorn) and after some excited girlish squealing and hugging on her part, I was dragged in and Mean Girls was put on.
I took off my overshirt, leaving just the tee, and of course Lara suggested I lose the sweats but I thought that'd be a bit presumptuous of me. She did however insist I lose the scarf, and before I knew it both my hat and long dangly scarf had been wrapped around her. She was just asking for it, so after wrestling around a bit, I resolved to let her wear them, and we rewound the flick to where we left off. We laid down on her bed, myself sitting up a bit, with her wrapped in my arms with her head laid down on my chest. I must have dozed off somewhere along the lines, because all I remember was Mara's rhaspy snarl at her sister saying "Damn it Lara, hide him! Mom and Dad are home from church!"
"I thought they knew about us-" I began, before promptly being rolled onto the floor by Lara, and then kicked and shoved under the bed by her sister Mara. Mara took my spot on the bed, and the two sisters pretended to be watching the movie together, when in strolled their parents.
"You girls should have went..." Yeah, I zoned out at this. I got tired of hearing it myself endlessly, wherever I went. Religion this, salvation that, damnnation sure to follow. Bleh. I'm undecided as of yet, but I must admit I'm leaning strongly toward Jediism. It seems to make the most sense so far, aside from the ever-popular Star Trek Futurist cult. But hey, I've got time yet to get my life straightened out, right?
The only plus side to being shoved under the bed was finding where Lara hid her-PORN?! What the freak! Carefully and as quietly as I could, I reached up and took one of her girlly magazines. It was Cosmo, revealing a Seventeen one behind it, but I knew well enough they weren't as they first appeared. No, what kind of girl hides her magazines under her bed for no reason? Well, I could see if she had a twin sister that takes them, but Mara obviously doesn't read them (flicks through the pictures maybe, but definitely not an article reader) or she wouldn't have been after my help for so long. Opening one, I winced in the dim light, only to see-
Studly, naked red-heads? My auburn hair goddess had a thing for red-head men? It seemed so! I remember grinning like an idiot, and thumbing through the pages of the studly guys, fooling around with themselves, other girls, or other guys even (I guess it was a bi-mag maybe?), there in the dusty dimness of under her bed. Eventually I heard footsteps walking away and her mom I think saying they were going driving for the day, and how money would be on the counter if they needed any, when I finally got pulled back out by Lara. Mara had gone out with her folks it seemed.
She saw the magazine clutched in my hands and paled, then flushed. "Gimme that!" She hissed, snatching it away.
I couldn't help but keep the same stupid grin. In retrospect I wish I hadn't, because she frowned, and looked like she was almost on the verge of tears. "Oh Lara!" I said, trying to give her a hug, but she pulled away, and sank down onto her bed, pouty, with her face burried into the pillows.
"Lara..." I cooed, rubbing her back tenderly, sitting on the side of the bed next to her. "Calm down. I'm sorry I found your stash, but...heh, I'm thrilled with what I saw." She looked up at me then, perhaps judging to see if I was being earnest, and then laid back down.
"'mbarrased..." She muttered, almost incoheriently through the pillow.
"Bah!" I said, and snapped her bra on her, causing her to emit a yelp. "Who isn't these days!?"
She grapped be then, and pulled me down beneath her, pinching me here and there and, well, places that were quite painful and had me yelping myself. She took advantage of me then, her eyes shut tight as she rode me, perhaps fantasizing (as I'm to understand women get more out of than looking at porn, which is just a fantasy aid in itself) about some scene she'd seen in one of the magazines. I have to imagine we were making some noise, so I rather hoped her parents had gotten out of the house by then, lest I be chased out with a shotgun as per the usual if not expected occurance. It didn't take long before she was satisfied, and myself rather spent, we both laid under the covers, attempting to watch (for what I guess was the third time) Mean Girls. In the end, it wasn't that great a movie, and I found myself wondering why we had tried so very hard to see it.
It was late afternoon, and the TV was off, and there wasn't anyone around, Mara having left about an hour or so earlier. There was a still quiet, and the furnace had just kicked-off so we didn't even have the sound of the hot air seeping out of the vents to disturb us. My heart was pounding in my ears, my tongue, for seemingly the first time I can remember, felt twisted and fumbling, myself unable to remember how to make it form words. There was a sick dread residing in my stomach, as we lay there, myself spooning her, and I stroked her arm and waited until I thought she was awake.
"Jay?..." She asked.
I whispered a quiet, seductive, "Yes, I'm here. Shhh..." In her ear, and then kissed it. Then her neck. And then nuzzled her a moment to be sure I had her complete attention when I said...
"Lara...I've known it since I first talked to you, but...Well...I don't know how to say this. I've never felt anything remotely similar to it before... But, I, er...I-love-you!" I said, perhaps far to quickly, and I winced as I leaned on my arm, looking down at her face to gadge her reaction. Her eyes widened, and she turned towards me, a look of pure delight on her face, and all I could do was kiss her.
I'm not good at expressing emotions verbally. Or thoughts, or feelings. Well, no, not verbally. Orally. That's what I mean. (I know, we covered the missuse of the term in English the other day.) Perhaps that's why I'm such a man-whore when it comes to women. I can't tell them how beautiful I think they are without being crude, or impersonal, so I'm forced to show them. Physically. Spiritually. There's nothing that conveys your true feelings more than the flesh. (Well, maybe not so much anymore since Viagra started getting distributed in large bowls at orgies.) But like the song says, "If you wanna know, if he loves you so it's in his kiss (That's where it is, oh yeah!) It's in his kiss, (That's where it is!)..."
So I kissed her tenderly at first, our lips merely pressed against one another, breathing slowed and heart beats racing. I found myself moving atop her, pressed against her, as I took her hands in my own and moved them up past her head, arms spread wide. I took a breath then, tilted my head more, and kissed her more passionately, as if it were but a small flame, slowly being kindled and fed its breath of life bit by bit. Gently I caressed her wrists, my legs entwining with her own. Things were stirring within me, and not just the usual lust that I felt toward anything remotely female. It was more of a dull ache really, one that I knew this would merely subdue, not overcome. Not daring to break our kiss, our meeting of the minds, bodies and souls, I gingerly reached for my wallet on her bedside table, but I found her hand stopping me. She shook her head, our lips still locked, and pulling away from me a moment, she caught her breath, and grabbed be by the back of the head, forcing me down ot where she could whisper in my ear, "I'm on birth control you know..." I understood then what she wanted. But it was something I wasn't willing to give to her.
And just why on earth am I telling you this? I seem to be treating this more like a reflecting pan than a pensive repository of knowledge. Always trying to look back and see if what I did or said was right. Who the heck are any of us to judge someone, especially when that someone is ourselves?! In any event...
It wasn't that I was afraid for myself. Oh Lord know, if that were true I'd be a preppy, celebate, church goer wearing scruffy turtlenecks with my shirt always tucked in. I was afraid for her, for my ruining her life, her chances at a future, pill or no pill. She may have thought she was giving me a gift, but it was by no means one I wanted to recieve or exploit.
We talked about it later, afterward. I wish I had done as she wished then, after what she told me. Seems twisted pleasure (which is what the little rubber was, not that I had recognized it in my hasty dash at the pharmacy) were considered just that by some women. Twisted! Not that I knew or anything, but obviously I need to work on my communication skills. That, or she had better learn to say what she means! Guys are thick, in more than one way, and normally need female subtleties spelled out for them. Even conspiracy hunters! (I don't tend to have as easy a go settling matters in which females are conserned-) OH DEAR LORD!
OW! I just fell out of my chair in the library,and people are laughing at me, but aside the emotional scarring and physical pain- oh dear! This is not good, not good at all! All this time I had been working under the running assumption that there was some kind of freaky male at work behind all of this, mainly judging from most of the Sasquachian dorks. But what if they were just a small subset of evil subset of the fettish-driven subculture? (All this talk of subs is making me hungry but...) What if their leader is really a she, not a he, as I was lead to originally expect from all the suspects I've seen.
But who? Yes, who? Who had I seen in my first vision regarding the case? Who had furthered my belief that Heckle and Jeckle were the original culprits? We was the ONLY potentially furry creature, who happened to also be a female, that I had come across since the beginning of the month... All the clues suddenly made sense, and they were all pointing to one word: "Bandersnatch!"
A mysterious creature, wicked fast, damn near impossible to catch. The perfect symbol of my current enemy. But what had she, one so innocent in appearance, done to possibly get exiled from Otherworld? Surely it wasn't regarding her furry fetish, Tanya had allayed that possibility, saying that they had no problem with that, and even some famous heroes and dieties were known to rape one another in various animal forms from time to time. Heck, they even tolerated dendrephilia to a point... But what if she...
The Banker! She had chomped the Banker! But who was the Banker?! Oh for the love of- there was no banker! (Twittering fool that I am.) I'm relying on Carroll too much...no, whatever she did, it just wasn't important right now. The important part would be finding where she was lurking, and somehow now I doubt very much that Tongue mountain was it. A place crawling with bald, scaly reptiles may be the perfect place to find a furry-fan of a guy, but furry fems have more subtle tastes... She must have been there for dire purposes when I saw her. A place to stash whatever she was using to work her evil mo-jo and nothing more. No, she'll be lurking just around the corner, I'm sure of it!
So much for Today's hot prospects, and to think, I was hoping for more nookie with Lara after I finished my reading here...And it's nice out too! Merr...
I'm sure he's hiding there. He obviously isn't anywhere he feels he's within my grasp, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to force his hand as quickly as he did. But even still... If I can, I'll try and prevent the 'home-team advantage' scenario.
So yesterday afternoon...Wasn't really much of anything. I took a day off (finally), if you can call it that. (I was, after all, doing battle with unspeakable forces after midnight. So technically...) Well, the majority of the day anyway. I passed Mara once on campus, and she made sure to keep her front to me the entire time she was within arms reach. As if I were going to pull something in public? She forgets, that's one of her ploys, not mine. I'm the kind of guy who sneaks up and stabs you in your sleep. (Like Dick Cheney! Or, erm, at least according to the Onion it's like him. And I, being a Republican, can't help but endorce him fully.)
Come to think of it, why are two twin sisters attending two different schools which almost teach entirely the same thing? Perhaps one's in Individual Studies, whilest the other knows what she wants to do? (That other being my Lara, my bright angel of the morning, my cheerful demeanor for when I myself have none!) Merr, I'll have to ask one of them next time I think about it.
Or I could call Lara on my cell right now?
Or not...she's in class, and I got a very condesending voicemail about why 'one should not be actively trying to disturb the learning process of others, least one be thought a naffing idget', or something like that. The message sounded somewhat garbled toward the end. Oh well.
I'm still in the library. Perhaps I should be going through all these wonderful materials I took the time to have gathered up for me, but I'm a procrastinator, and seeming as how I think this will be a long night reading I'd rather get this out of the way. Not that I consider keeping you, oh valuable reader, informed of my every waking moment a hastle mind you! By no means! I just would rather have ample time and focus to concentrate on the meaning behind all this arcane english and (to quote an old english teacher) "hippy-dippy" type flowery descriptions.
Now then, back to yesterday. I head over to her house, and the stlye of the day is fuzzy, blue fleece. Why you ask? Because when your in a mood to snuggle down for a movie there's nothing better than something fuzzy, warm, but causes static enough that you have to take it off at a certain point. (Hehe!) But other than that I wasn't too fashion friendly. An old-timey now-hip newsboy cap and scarf does not condone the fact I was wearing a pair of dark blue sweatpants over my flannel boxers, and just a white tee with some sort of vulgar gaelic saying written on the front, (you know, something like "may the crap on the road rise to meet your thick-soled heels" or something like that), with an almost un-bumish blue shirt over it.
"Good Lord! are you sick Jay?" Ah, it seemed the main-squeeze had noticed the change in wardrobe. Not that she was one to talk, her still being in her lovely pink pajamas also, but at least she could get away with such a thing. I explained to her my theory of how we could spend the day (alone, together on her bed watching chick-flicks and eating popcorn) and after some excited girlish squealing and hugging on her part, I was dragged in and Mean Girls was put on.
I took off my overshirt, leaving just the tee, and of course Lara suggested I lose the sweats but I thought that'd be a bit presumptuous of me. She did however insist I lose the scarf, and before I knew it both my hat and long dangly scarf had been wrapped around her. She was just asking for it, so after wrestling around a bit, I resolved to let her wear them, and we rewound the flick to where we left off. We laid down on her bed, myself sitting up a bit, with her wrapped in my arms with her head laid down on my chest. I must have dozed off somewhere along the lines, because all I remember was Mara's rhaspy snarl at her sister saying "Damn it Lara, hide him! Mom and Dad are home from church!"
"I thought they knew about us-" I began, before promptly being rolled onto the floor by Lara, and then kicked and shoved under the bed by her sister Mara. Mara took my spot on the bed, and the two sisters pretended to be watching the movie together, when in strolled their parents.
"You girls should have went..." Yeah, I zoned out at this. I got tired of hearing it myself endlessly, wherever I went. Religion this, salvation that, damnnation sure to follow. Bleh. I'm undecided as of yet, but I must admit I'm leaning strongly toward Jediism. It seems to make the most sense so far, aside from the ever-popular Star Trek Futurist cult. But hey, I've got time yet to get my life straightened out, right?
The only plus side to being shoved under the bed was finding where Lara hid her-PORN?! What the freak! Carefully and as quietly as I could, I reached up and took one of her girlly magazines. It was Cosmo, revealing a Seventeen one behind it, but I knew well enough they weren't as they first appeared. No, what kind of girl hides her magazines under her bed for no reason? Well, I could see if she had a twin sister that takes them, but Mara obviously doesn't read them (flicks through the pictures maybe, but definitely not an article reader) or she wouldn't have been after my help for so long. Opening one, I winced in the dim light, only to see-
Studly, naked red-heads? My auburn hair goddess had a thing for red-head men? It seemed so! I remember grinning like an idiot, and thumbing through the pages of the studly guys, fooling around with themselves, other girls, or other guys even (I guess it was a bi-mag maybe?), there in the dusty dimness of under her bed. Eventually I heard footsteps walking away and her mom I think saying they were going driving for the day, and how money would be on the counter if they needed any, when I finally got pulled back out by Lara. Mara had gone out with her folks it seemed.
She saw the magazine clutched in my hands and paled, then flushed. "Gimme that!" She hissed, snatching it away.
I couldn't help but keep the same stupid grin. In retrospect I wish I hadn't, because she frowned, and looked like she was almost on the verge of tears. "Oh Lara!" I said, trying to give her a hug, but she pulled away, and sank down onto her bed, pouty, with her face burried into the pillows.
"Lara..." I cooed, rubbing her back tenderly, sitting on the side of the bed next to her. "Calm down. I'm sorry I found your stash, but...heh, I'm thrilled with what I saw." She looked up at me then, perhaps judging to see if I was being earnest, and then laid back down.
"'mbarrased..." She muttered, almost incoheriently through the pillow.
"Bah!" I said, and snapped her bra on her, causing her to emit a yelp. "Who isn't these days!?"
She grapped be then, and pulled me down beneath her, pinching me here and there and, well, places that were quite painful and had me yelping myself. She took advantage of me then, her eyes shut tight as she rode me, perhaps fantasizing (as I'm to understand women get more out of than looking at porn, which is just a fantasy aid in itself) about some scene she'd seen in one of the magazines. I have to imagine we were making some noise, so I rather hoped her parents had gotten out of the house by then, lest I be chased out with a shotgun as per the usual if not expected occurance. It didn't take long before she was satisfied, and myself rather spent, we both laid under the covers, attempting to watch (for what I guess was the third time) Mean Girls. In the end, it wasn't that great a movie, and I found myself wondering why we had tried so very hard to see it.
It was late afternoon, and the TV was off, and there wasn't anyone around, Mara having left about an hour or so earlier. There was a still quiet, and the furnace had just kicked-off so we didn't even have the sound of the hot air seeping out of the vents to disturb us. My heart was pounding in my ears, my tongue, for seemingly the first time I can remember, felt twisted and fumbling, myself unable to remember how to make it form words. There was a sick dread residing in my stomach, as we lay there, myself spooning her, and I stroked her arm and waited until I thought she was awake.
"Jay?..." She asked.
I whispered a quiet, seductive, "Yes, I'm here. Shhh..." In her ear, and then kissed it. Then her neck. And then nuzzled her a moment to be sure I had her complete attention when I said...
"Lara...I've known it since I first talked to you, but...Well...I don't know how to say this. I've never felt anything remotely similar to it before... But, I, er...I-love-you!" I said, perhaps far to quickly, and I winced as I leaned on my arm, looking down at her face to gadge her reaction. Her eyes widened, and she turned towards me, a look of pure delight on her face, and all I could do was kiss her.
I'm not good at expressing emotions verbally. Or thoughts, or feelings. Well, no, not verbally. Orally. That's what I mean. (I know, we covered the missuse of the term in English the other day.) Perhaps that's why I'm such a man-whore when it comes to women. I can't tell them how beautiful I think they are without being crude, or impersonal, so I'm forced to show them. Physically. Spiritually. There's nothing that conveys your true feelings more than the flesh. (Well, maybe not so much anymore since Viagra started getting distributed in large bowls at orgies.) But like the song says, "If you wanna know, if he loves you so it's in his kiss (That's where it is, oh yeah!) It's in his kiss, (That's where it is!)..."
So I kissed her tenderly at first, our lips merely pressed against one another, breathing slowed and heart beats racing. I found myself moving atop her, pressed against her, as I took her hands in my own and moved them up past her head, arms spread wide. I took a breath then, tilted my head more, and kissed her more passionately, as if it were but a small flame, slowly being kindled and fed its breath of life bit by bit. Gently I caressed her wrists, my legs entwining with her own. Things were stirring within me, and not just the usual lust that I felt toward anything remotely female. It was more of a dull ache really, one that I knew this would merely subdue, not overcome. Not daring to break our kiss, our meeting of the minds, bodies and souls, I gingerly reached for my wallet on her bedside table, but I found her hand stopping me. She shook her head, our lips still locked, and pulling away from me a moment, she caught her breath, and grabbed be by the back of the head, forcing me down ot where she could whisper in my ear, "I'm on birth control you know..." I understood then what she wanted. But it was something I wasn't willing to give to her.
And just why on earth am I telling you this? I seem to be treating this more like a reflecting pan than a pensive repository of knowledge. Always trying to look back and see if what I did or said was right. Who the heck are any of us to judge someone, especially when that someone is ourselves?! In any event...
It wasn't that I was afraid for myself. Oh Lord know, if that were true I'd be a preppy, celebate, church goer wearing scruffy turtlenecks with my shirt always tucked in. I was afraid for her, for my ruining her life, her chances at a future, pill or no pill. She may have thought she was giving me a gift, but it was by no means one I wanted to recieve or exploit.
We talked about it later, afterward. I wish I had done as she wished then, after what she told me. Seems twisted pleasure (which is what the little rubber was, not that I had recognized it in my hasty dash at the pharmacy) were considered just that by some women. Twisted! Not that I knew or anything, but obviously I need to work on my communication skills. That, or she had better learn to say what she means! Guys are thick, in more than one way, and normally need female subtleties spelled out for them. Even conspiracy hunters! (I don't tend to have as easy a go settling matters in which females are conserned-) OH DEAR LORD!
OW! I just fell out of my chair in the library,and people are laughing at me, but aside the emotional scarring and physical pain- oh dear! This is not good, not good at all! All this time I had been working under the running assumption that there was some kind of freaky male at work behind all of this, mainly judging from most of the Sasquachian dorks. But what if they were just a small subset of evil subset of the fettish-driven subculture? (All this talk of subs is making me hungry but...) What if their leader is really a she, not a he, as I was lead to originally expect from all the suspects I've seen.
But who? Yes, who? Who had I seen in my first vision regarding the case? Who had furthered my belief that Heckle and Jeckle were the original culprits? We was the ONLY potentially furry creature, who happened to also be a female, that I had come across since the beginning of the month... All the clues suddenly made sense, and they were all pointing to one word: "Bandersnatch!"
A mysterious creature, wicked fast, damn near impossible to catch. The perfect symbol of my current enemy. But what had she, one so innocent in appearance, done to possibly get exiled from Otherworld? Surely it wasn't regarding her furry fetish, Tanya had allayed that possibility, saying that they had no problem with that, and even some famous heroes and dieties were known to rape one another in various animal forms from time to time. Heck, they even tolerated dendrephilia to a point... But what if she...
The Banker! She had chomped the Banker! But who was the Banker?! Oh for the love of- there was no banker! (Twittering fool that I am.) I'm relying on Carroll too much...no, whatever she did, it just wasn't important right now. The important part would be finding where she was lurking, and somehow now I doubt very much that Tongue mountain was it. A place crawling with bald, scaly reptiles may be the perfect place to find a furry-fan of a guy, but furry fems have more subtle tastes... She must have been there for dire purposes when I saw her. A place to stash whatever she was using to work her evil mo-jo and nothing more. No, she'll be lurking just around the corner, I'm sure of it!
So much for Today's hot prospects, and to think, I was hoping for more nookie with Lara after I finished my reading here...And it's nice out too! Merr...