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Subject: Seductions (?/f)
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	I was working on another story and decided I needed a break. 
Reading this story, I decided it could do with some touching up and
what the hell, why not repost it. Shrug, email me or not. 
	My webpage is
	If you want to read A Master's Ring or some ongoing projects

		On The Other Side of Seduction
		(An instructional on your seduction)

	In the middle of a hunt, you can  lose a part of yourself. You
learn things about yourself: maybe you change. Sometimes when what you
learn doesn't conform with the vision  you had of yourself, the hunter
becomes the hunted.

	"Hello" I say to her as she walks into the lab at that hurried
pace she sometimes  uses.  It's not  a quicker pace  like most people,
more a  runner lengthening her  stride. 
	She flashes me a hurried  smile before entering the  manager's
	I watch, enjoy the smile, look back at my screen.

	She's attractive  in the  same  way ______  is  attractive but
quieter. Maybe that's why I like her.  She's  friendly enough to flash
me  a  smile  now and   then but  we  don't   really know  each  other
	Actually, she  doesn't know me at  all but that's okay. 
	I have patience on my side.

	A  week later, I've got  her schedule down.  It's important to
have  these small meetings. "Hey, ________.   I didn't know you worked
today."    Especially at night,  there's  no one   else around to talk
to. You don't want to do homework. The net has nothing new you need to
look  at.  It isn't  late  enough in the semester  for  the lab  to be
bombarded with users.  A couple  of hours  where you can  have a  good
laugh, talk about her  life (absolutely important as an  ice-breaker),
if she has a boyfriend or maybe girlfriend, if she's looking for a new
lover, etc.. The establishment of a  comfort zone. I've decided I want
her, but I want to see if it's even a thought. At the end of the first
of these night, I can call her ___.
	Small steps in your seduction. 

  	It gets interesting later in the semester.  It's a ride to get
to the lab when she works, but *shrug*. It's no big deal and I have to
write papers.  She's more comfortable around me. She  knows how much I
appreciate women, from   the few times I've worked   with her and  the
users I unabashedly stare at.  It's amusing but an  obvious way to say
"You're definitely my type." if you can carry the harmless, but sexual

	After   awhile, it's innocent   flirtation. Well, innocent for
her,   I'm rarely innocent. Little  things  like teasing her about how
cute she looks in an outfit. Cute is  your best friend in describing a
girl.  Pretty is serious. Gorgeous  is  almost a commitment but cute;
cute is innocent flirtation.

	One night,  she's  obviously stressing. Thank  you college for
mid-term stress.  I try to relax   her with a few  interesting tidbits
from the web, before long we're playing "Link to Porn".
	The introduction of sexuality as humor. 
	Later on  as she's studying,  I innocently  give  her a  quick
shoulder rub. 30 seconds  on my way out as  I  read over her  shoulder
whatever she's   studying. There's a  moment of  surprise but it's all
very friendly. She relaxes.  I flash her a smile goodbye and go home
to the company of my own mid-term projects.

	Later, the shoulder rubs  gravitate to full on-duty back-rubs.
If consultants, look at us weirdly I offer them one too. I'm good with
my hands.  They're large for my size.  It's all friendly, for her. For
me, it's different.
	Very different. 
	Her body  learns the touch  of  my hands, maybe  if I'm  lucky
learns to like it. It relaxes when I do thumb circles  up and down her
spine. Massaging  the connection of  neck and  shoulder.  In that soft
spot, behind the lower ear.  And of course, ear lobes.

	Eventually, my hands travel   to face rubs. They're not   very
sexy to  most people,  but think about  the instinctive   reactions to
foreign  objects approaching your eyes. 


	Plus a  temple rub, can  be heavenly   for  stress.  It's  all
innocent. Just a fellow worker that handles stress differently helping
you relax.
	"No, believe  me this  really  helps me  relax. With my hands,
doing all sorts of interesting things to your body.  Well, I can think
about other things without my body getting in the way."

	Each a small step in your seduction. 

	We have social outings. Never  quite a date, or even  anywhere
near a  date.  A movie  night.  The diner after work.  A party where I
make myself available to  her use  as  food handler,  clean-up person,
someone to reminisce over  who got shit-faced  drunk and who hooked up
with who.

	Finally, at work  during weekends, lunches together. As fellow
employees. Someone at the  lab asks her "what is  going on between you
two?" She hesitates. In the corner, I smile. "We're just friends." she
replies. She had to think about it?

	 What is going on between us two?

	Time for a not so innocent move. One not particularly original
ploy, but tested classics are  the way to go  I've found, is  flowers.
Strange flowers,  to be original. Not flowers  someone  always gives a
woman; roses,  carnations etc.  But lilys,  at the beginning of spring
maybe HUGE sunflowers.
	I couldn't  help myself, they were so  funny in florist shop 3
foot blooms   among  tiny  little  roses.  A  quick  smile that   says
everything I just said is bullshit, these are for you but I don't know
how to say it. 

	The shy routine is a tested classic, too.

	Maybe now, the flirtation is not  so innocent. But I'm still a
friend; someone safe. A lot of people  hate being "safe". I don't mind
	 I have patience on  my side. 

	Want to talk to me  about how much of  an asshole your current
boyfriend is and not be judged, I'll be happy to  listen. I won't give
advice.  I'll say everything a "safe" friend is supposed to say.

	Now, the back-rubs are  never quite innocent. But that's okay,
she still says  yes. Now, I'm not so   safe. Not dangerous, not  yet a
possibility but someone more patient  than her. I've waited before and
after she's gone I'll wait again.
	I have patience on my side.

	Another  social outing among  our   pack,  I'm a  lot  quieter
enjoying the environment, not really a part  of the pack.  Walking the
outskirts of it watching the centers of attention amused. 

	She comes outside the pack to talk.  I smile. Point her toward
an interesting  movie poster. We  walk over to poster, separating both
of us from everyone else.  We talk about  the movie; somehow we decide
we don't want   to see the movie everyone   else is seeing. She's  not
really in the  mood  for a grunt, flex,   grunt movie. I laugh  at her
description and shrug. I wasn't really in the mood  for a movie I say,
I just came cause you were gonna be here.  A smile. Oh really. So what
movie  do  you want to see.  I  don't  know. Well, there's  always the
girlie  flick,  over there. Hmm,    romance,  comedy. Yeap,  a  girlie
flick.  She playfully pokes  me. I pout. Hey,  I'm the  one making the
sacrifice from the flex, grunt, flex that I "love" so much. "Battle on
Xena."  She laughs, oh yeah, and it's grunt, flex, grunt. Well, I want
to see this one.  

	I nod.

	The pack barely noticed us  gone, and noone really argues when
we  say we want  to watch something else.   I'm all stoic innocence. I
didn't say it was  real innocence, after all   if she's willing  to be
separated from the safety of numbers.

	It's an interesting movie.   Kinda  like a romance  novel, boy
meets girl.  Girl likes boy, but is unsure if he's  the right one. Boy
wants girl but that's it. Girl wants more.  Boy decides  in the end he
wants more too, yadda yadda yadda.  It's funny but  more so because of
the comments that fly back and forth between us.  There's only 6 other
people in the theater, all pretty much doing  the same thing so no one
cares about  the excess noise or  laughter at an inopportune moment in
the movie.
	We said we would meet  up with the rest of  our friends at the
diner, but at the  moment we have a comfort  zone between us. I ask if
she wants  to go to Denny's instead.  Incredibly, she says sure.  It's
fun, we sit around  eating bad food,  and talking about nothing really
important, just talking.

	She drops me  off at  my  place  later  on that night.  I  say
goodbye and walk inside.

	We get   teased about the  whole  situation for the  week, but
stoicism is very effective against most teasing. She just keeps saying
we're just friends. 
	We are.

	We start  seeing each other  more often.  
	As  friends. 

	I don't have transportation to get to a good theater so it's a
ready made excuse. After a movie, going out to eat seems natural.

	We're just friends. 
	The problem  with playing the 'hang-out  friend' angle is that
along the way you might get caught  having to make a  turn in the maze
because you are a friend, and not a possibility.   It sucks but then I
can usually work myself  back   if I'm  careful. It requires   waiting
patiently for  the right  moment to  reestablish certain  facts in her
mind, but some women are so worth it.

	It happens somewhere along  the line.  I  am now not  a friend
but 'just  a friend'.  It's an amusing  state  but  at  the same time
	I wait. 
	Small things reestablish my sexuality,  like talking to  other
women at the mall, or the movies.

	 She   looks  annoyed at  times,  but  then again   I'm just a
friend. I make sure I don't neglect her. On the  other hand, I was the
one pushed into the friend zone. There have been times where there has
been  no way out.  Those times you  accept your friendship for what it
is. Laugh at yourself (it's healthy), and swear off women for the rest
of your life or at least 24 hours.

	There I am looking for a way  to get out  of the safe place of
asexual friendship and going nowhere fast.  We talk at the lab and are
both   in   the   mood for   a movie.     I   say let's   do something
different. What? Let's get a movie or movies from Blockbuster, and get
some take-out. Yeah, that sounds cool. My  place? She nods and goes to
help a user. 

	A sliver of excitement, maybe, maybe.

	Then again maybe not.

	After work,  we head off  to Blockbuster. The ritual arguments
about what two  people don't  and  do want  to  see. We agree  on each
picking one  movie, since it's a Friday  night and neither of  us have
shifts 'til  Sunday night.  maybe,  maybe, maybe  not. We  both pick a
movie,  we laugh at  each other's choices.  She  picked a grunt, flex,
grunt movie and I picked "Pretty Woman."  

	Julia Roberts is money.

	We proceed to have an  argument about what type take-out. It's
not really an argument. It's  well, what do you  want to eat? I  don't
care you pick.  I'm not really in the mood for anything you pick. Hmm,
but I don't know  if you  would  like what  I  would pick and  I don't
really care, you pick. I'll like what you pick, pick. Pizza. No, I ate
pizza for  lunch. Then  you  pick. No,  I just  forgot no  pizza,  you
pick. Deli. For nighttime, no way. Pick. No, you pick.  Chinese? Yeah,
that sounds great. You realize, you picked. No, I didn't.

	Of course,  there's the  from  where discussion. It's  not the
first time we've had this discussion. We  both have the same "if we're
with someone else they get to pick what we do" syndrome.

	Finally, we have the movies, the food, and are laughing at our
made-up discussion about where she should  park, along the line of you
pick ;no, you pick.
	Inside, I'm glad I cleaned up this week.
	She looks around curiously. 
	I say grunt,  flex, grunt first. Or   do we just eat  and then
watch the  movie? Eat first,  then movie. I  go to the kitchen to find
utensils.  They're  clean, woohoo. I made   the mistake of living with
more than four people, never  again. Thankfully, none of my housemates
are here.
	We  talk while eating.   Actually, we do  a  lot more laughing
about what might be in the food instead of real meat. I tease about my
missing dog.  Everything   quiets  down as she   becomes uncomfortably
aware that  I'm actually not   asexual. Finally, but dangerous at  the
same time. 
	I  start talking  about  school and finals.  I   ask how's she
looking towards  the  end of  the   semester.  The great  thing  about
college is you always  have at least one  thing to talk about that has
absolutely  nothing  to  do with sex.    Then  again, I'm taking Human
Sexuality so I talk about the 30 foot pussy that several people walked
in on because they were late for class.
	The introduction of sex as humor.

	We finish    up  trying not  to lose   it   completely to  the
description of my professor's  explanation of  why  we didn't have  to
study  our sexual positions.   She helps me  clean  up, I don't really
think it's necessary  considering my other housemates' kitchen  habits
but I'm not one  to break a mood. The  kitchen is incredibly clean for
our house. In other words, there's nothing in the sink.

	We decide the grunt, flex, grunt movie would be a good idea as
a first movie. We have the required you  pick, no you pick argument. I
picked. Plans for the night require a  softer touch at the later hours
of the evening.
	It is a  grunt, flex, grunt movie;  doesn't  even try  to have
much of a plot  which is forgivable when   the action scenes are  good
enough, and the premise is at least  plausible. The comments fly about
the impossibility of this stunt or that stunt.  Or how really not good
looking the female decoration is. We both agree  she has great breasts
though. This spawns a discussion whether it's a boob job, and if so an
east coast or west coast one. The obligatory sex scene decides us both
in the direction of definitely boob job and probably west coast.

	The movie finishes in   a bloodbath of car  crashes,  bleeding
bodies and sadly tied together plot lines.
 	Ice cream? 

	Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go. 
	We go outside,  walk the few blocks  to  the local campus  ice
cream   place. We decide  to   split   a  banana   boat without   much
argument. We actually suggested it at the same time.  It's a messy ice
cream meal, but we have fun.  I'm a people watcher so I'm much quieter
as I watch the Friday night crowd a  week before finals. Some will end
up in a short story here and there. She notices me watching people and
asks; I tell  her.  See that couple, they're  arguing about whether or
not to break up. That guy over there is stalking the pretty blonde but
she hasn't noticed it yet.  How do you know?  I don't I'm just running
different  plots through my  head.  I'm  giving everyone a personality
that fits their physical characteristics, motions and quirks. That way
when I write  a story I can describe  a stalker without saying 'He's a
stalker."; instead  I can describe the  nervous hand gestures, and eye
movements that dude  is going through right  now.  She starts pointing
people out to me, and seeing what  I come up.   After awhile, she gets
into the   act and it   denigrates to who can  come  up  with the most
fantastically impossible scenarios.

	We head back to my  apartment this time  trying to figure  out
what other  people are thinking about us  as  they walk back.  Or what
stories we would make up about us if  we were people watching and only
had our physical looks to work with.

	At the apartment, we put in 'Pretty Woman' and sit back on the
couch to relax. I start dancing to the opening theme on the couch, she
laughs.  She has  never seen the movie,  which makes me feel  old. She
relaxes after a bit and starts to enjoy the  movie. At the point where
Julia and Gere are bargaining for the  week, I start  to play with her
hair.  I like  playing with hair, the longer  the better. She moves so
that  I have access to all  of it. She knows  I  like playing with her
hair. She likes it, and after all we're just friends.  I put a husband
between us so she can lean back to watch the movie comfortably.  Where
Richard Gere is  getting  the  store manager   to  kiss ass  to  Julia
Roberts, I start  massaging her shoulders.  This  makes her lean  back
deeper into the husband.
	It's a standard massage, except for the electricity of tension
on  the air.  I  rub the connection between  shoulder  and neck first,
trying to get her to  relax. I only use  my  fingers and make sure  to
react to every part  of the movie. 

	I'm  waiting.  

	Rubbing the  sides of her neck with  my thumbs.  Small circles
to the soft  spot behind her earlobes.  Gently  taking her earlobes in
my fingers, tracing her ear. Tracing her hairline with my fingers.
	The piano scene Julia on top of the piano, Gere reaches up for
a kiss that  would  say possession  but  she denies  him. I pull   the
husband from between us and put it behind me. I scooch forward so that
she's leaning on me with her head just beneath  my chin, small circles
at  the sides of  her neck,  waiting  for her  to react  to the sudden
change  of circumstance, she  doesn't. I start  to breathe again. Keep
the massage going, for lack of inspiration on what to do next.
	The  movie continues,   so  does the  massage.  I  reach  down
massaging her hands  now.  I saw a   Sci-fi movie once about  humanoid
aliens where   the hands where  how sexuality  and liking someone were
expressed. Basically, hand holding for  them was kissing. I took  that
to  heart the instant  I  saw it. 

	I  kiss  her now. 
	Massaging  each and  every  finger individually, while  at the
same  the time whatever   I do to her  right  hand is  shadowed by  my
actions on her left.  I run thumb circles on the palms of her hands. I
can  feel the  slight  deepening of her  breathing,  I smile to myself
hoping she is not falling asleep. 

	Tracing lines on her wrists tell me she isn't.

	The movement  finishes with us  like this we  watch the screen
credits with my hands running along the inside of  her arms. I wait to
see whether or not she will move. VH1 replaces the movie  on the TV. I
give a quick prayer  of thanks to  God, a Pop-Up video marathon. Thank
You God! Thank You God!

	She does not move as   my hands travel up   giving her a  face
massage full of  caresses and  light brushes  of fingertips.  I run my
right hand down to her neck palming the front  of neck and rubbing her
neck right beneath her chin, and  then using my  thumb to rub the skin
underneath her chin.

	I'm waiting and waiting. 

	I don't think  patience is on my side any longer.  

	I  consider just asking. It does  upon occasion work. "So ____
how far do  you want this to go?"   Of course, when that happened  the
situation was a  little more  pressing.  Well, that woman  was wearing
less clothing so it was a much appropriate circumstance. In this case,
I could ask or hope. After about five minutes of considering, I decide
I  am much better of  hoping, and  maybe I'll  be  asking later on and
hoping she says why don't we see where this goes.

	I bite her neck. 

	I think this might be the best way to get everything across. 

	It is. 

	She arches back into me. I was right to hope.  I hold my teeth
in  place; not putting enough  pressure   to even approach pain,  just
holding  her with  my teeth.   I  let go,  and go   back to just   the
massage. I need a moment to recapture lost  control. Somehow, I manage
to work myself a little bit more underneath her so  that the next time
I go for her neck  I won't be reaching down  so far. I started kissing
her  hands with mine again.  This time,  I don't bite.   I blow at the
hairline at the back of her neck. I reach  forward and carefully place
my tongue at the juncture of neck and shoulder and blew on the wetness
I've placed there. I begin to enjoy the dance at  the edge of control,
who will lose first.

	The small blasts of air on just moistened spots continues with
a randomness that  belies the absolute purpose  behind every action. I
stop lean back to stare at the ceiling.

	mybe, maybe...

	maybe not. 

	But  I can always  hope.  I   move forward  and nibble  on her
earlobe. Someone did  this to me once,  it's the the  only time that I
had a giving lover, it  answered the question about  why so many women
like it for me.

	Where to go from here though? 

	I FUCKING hate this part. 

	I hope. 

	I continue  various  actions on  her neck;  licking, nibbling,
biting  (somewhat in  frustration), kissing,  caressing  with just lip
touches. My hands wander, up and down her arms, across her abdomen, on
her face, 

	I hope.

	I start  at her stomach  and my hands travel  upward following
the aura of her body; she can stop me.
	She tenses. 

	I cup her breasts through her t-shirt and bra. 
	Now what? 

	Oh yeah!

	Small  circles on the  tips of  her breasts with  my thumbs. 

	A holding   action, far beyond  what  I had   hoped. I'm a bit
lost. I nibble on an earlobe again.


	My  hands  travel  down to the   waist  of her jeans, I  start
pulling the t-shirt out of her jeans. She can stop me.

	She tenses.

	I play  with the skin of her  stomach.  This  is more familiar
ground,  beyond the cusp of  insecure footing, onto the overloading of
someone's senses.   I play with the  skin at her sides. She's slightly
ticklish  so she starts to giggle.   I push the issue,  not a lot just
enough. Small nibbles on her neck followed by fingertip touches at her
side.  Pleasure and  a giggle. Then  just running my fingertips on her
body beneath her breasts, on her stomach, at her sides. Calmer now, no
	She relaxes.
	Waiting, waiting. 

	Patience is again on my side. 

	Fingertip touches   on  nipples  covered by   measurably  thin
lace. I  can  feel the the  bump  of her  nipple rising in excitement;
separating, asking for  attention.  Fingertip kisses, letting each pad
of my fingers touch, caress, trace.

	Plans inside of plans inside  of  plans. Seductions can be  so
much fun.

	I tickle her sides. She starts giggling and struggling against
me. She struggles harder and  finally turns to  lie on her stomach, on
top of me.

	Her bra latched at her back. This killed just about any chance
of my getting  it undone  unless  she turned  over,  or really  really
wanted it off. 

	I decided not to hope on the really really.

	The first kis to distract her from the  small break of passion
I had forced on us. 

	Slow, probing, questioning.

	I nibble at her lower lip. I raise  her head up to gain access
to the front  of  neck  for  a  quick  bite that descends   to playful
nibbling. The pads of fingers are making brief  sorties along her back
approaching the bra latch; making it obvious  that's where I'm heading
toward; giving her   a chance to  stop  this.  I kiss   her again.  An
exploration of how two pairs of lips can mold themselves to each other
in a breathless attempt to stop, go, say, do everything.
	The bra comes undone much more smoothly than expected. I smile
into the  next kiss. Fingerpads  massage where the  bra has touched on
her  back,   pushing  it  aside while  at    the  same  time  claiming
territory. I'm content for now.  Kissing, nibbling, licking. Massaging
her lower back. I'm trying to figure out what to do.

	I go for broke. 

	I wrap my arms  around her and  give  myself into the  deepest
kiss so far.  In the middle of it,  I rotate us so  that we are facing
each other on  our sides now.  

	On the edge, on   the edge.

	 I walk  the other side; continuing  the  motion I reverse our
original positions so that I'm on top of her now.  I  don't want to be
here, but I  need borders. She doesn't give  me any, so I enjoy myself
in a series of kisses that get longer  and deeper.  I nibble any piece
of skin that won't take me too far from her lips.
	I slide  to her side.  I keep   kissing her  but my hands  are
exploring the bare skin  of her stomach  again. I come close but don't
touch  her breasts in my  exploration. 

	I'm waiting. 

	Everytime my touch approaches  her breasts,  she arches up  in

	Finally, a thumbpad crosses  her nipple. The pad explores  her
nipple  to  my content.   Then the  other nipple.  I'm not kissing any


	Small circles with  each  fingerpad on each nipple.  Fingertip
touches everywhere my hands can reach.

	I reach down to  encircle the near  nipple with my tongue. She
arches herself to the contact. I pull up to  kiss her. I reach down to
encircle the far nipple  with my tongue, the  arch is  less pronounced
this time. I apply  suction, the arch is  more violent. I lick circles
around her nipples,  around and around  without contacting any part of
aerole this time.  I lower myself  so I can  lick her sides; she's not
ticklish  there  anymore.   Finally,  on  her   abdomen circling   her
bellybutton. I stop to lie on top of her and kiss her again.

	I'm waiting. How far? Do I ask, do I hope, do  I stop? I don't
want to stop. I don't want to stop.

	I stop. 

	I kiss her one last time. Deep. I slide  to her side and start
playing with  her hair, touching  her  face. She looks   up at me. She
turns until she's on her side.  Her hand reaches  down to the waist of
my jeans. She pulls my t-shirt out of my  own jeans. Fingertip touches
on the sides of  my stomach.  I'm smiling  at her. Reaching forward to
kiss and take over again.
	I want.

	I push  her onto  her   back again,  she  goes willingly.  I'm
kissing her as my right  hand is cupping her  breast, playing with her

	I want. 

	I reach  down to  the belt  on her  jeans and it  comes undone
after a a brief frustrating struggle with it.

	I want. 
	I want. 
	What the fuck do I want? 

	I start playing with the available skin to calm myself down. I
don't want to scare her but I can feel myself losing control.

	I can feel the tension leave me as she starts to release small
gasps of pleasure. I reach down to undo the buttons of her jeans. They
come undone easily enough. I spread the opening as  wide as it will go
without taking them off her.

	Classic white panties. 

	I play with  the cloth pressing  fingerpads against it.  I rub
her skin, pubic hair through the panties. I start  to kiss her, nibble
her earlobes, lick whatever skin is close.

	I stop, push up to my knees.  I look down at  her. I reach for
the waist of her jeans. As I  start to pull them  down, she pushes her
hips  off the couch to   give me the room. 

	I stop, and grab onto her panties  also. The jeans and panties
slide off her body.

	I can feel myself dancing on the edge of control again. 

	I carelessly toss her clothes to the side of the couch and lie
mostly on top to  kiss her again. I spend  a luxurious amount of  time
making sure she's comfortable naked. Nibbles at different parts of her
neck, kisses raining    gently on  her  face, licking   the soft  spot
underneath her earlobe.

	I slide off to her side again. I'm closer to the edge. 

	I want. 
	Fingers lead, lips explore, with my tongue tasting. My fingers
become more insistent  in their touching.  I reach  down to her  pubic
hair. I let my fingertips excite every strand of hair. I reach farther
down to run my fingers  along her thighs, inside   to outside. I  feel
myself lose it into fascination with the touch of skin to skin. I grab
her thigh and place it on mine spreading her, opening her to my touch.

	I want her to scream. 
	I want her to lose her identity to pleasure. 

	Circles on the inside of her thighs. 

	Touch after touch, promising,   getting closer and closer  but
never crossing the line.

	I can feel her every reaction. Each gasp  of air. Each whimper
of  pleasure. But I want more.  I get it. She   starts to breathe need
into the air.  I can smell her excitement.

	I touch  her. I place one finger  on her. Applying no pressure
just  touching. I   trace her with  that  finger,  still  applying  no
pressure, just touching.
	She's close. 

	I apply  a touch of  pressure, still circling but not touching
anything important yet.

	She's closer to the edge. 

	Have you wanted this too? 

	I apply my fingerpad  and pressure where  it will do the  most
good right now.

	It does. 

	Small controlled circles. Slowly over the edge, not a jump and
a  fall but a soaring  spiral.  Small controlled circles carrying her,
her hands  come down to  grab at  my wrists.   I won't  stop, not this
time.  The circles  become  faster  I want   the  careless leap   this
time. No  control, I want her control  snapped. After awhile  it does.


	She comes down  slowly, snuggling to  me.  She is  giggling in
	I'm lying there touching different parts of her skin. 

	I can feel her fall asleep. 

	I stand up. Slowly to make sure she doesn't wake up. I walk to
the window  where I stretch.   I  stare outside  to  the brightly  lit
darkness. I  don't know how  long I  stand there.  I look back  to her
lying naked on my couch, far more than I had hoped.

	I start laughing at myself. 

	I have to. 

	Maybe I did it to myself, and maybe I didn't. 

	I'd been seduced.

	I  sit down  on the  bed, carefully  push the hair  out of her
face.  I sit there  staring at her  wondering if  I'll drown  before I
learn to tread water.

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