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From: "B. H." <bh_hb@yahoo.com>
Subject: New story: Sushi (short, no sex)
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This is my first posting. Be critical but gentle. 
Feedback is appreciated.

Though the following is not technically adult 
fiction, it is suggestive. If this offends you you're 
definately in the wrong newsgroup.

You may distribute this freely as long as its intact 
and no money is made from its distribution.

                              Sushi

                        by Cephalopod Ben

It was a few minutes before ten PM. I glance down 
from studying  how beautiful she looked in the light 
of the false-paper- lantern to see that there was 
only one piece of sushi left for  us. 

"It's yours." I tell her. 

"I have a better idea." She says, stressing the "I" 
in that way  that tells you she is in a playful mood. 
I stare back at her  with my best "go on..." look.

"Do you remember _Lady_and_the_Tramp_?"

I do. I pick up the last piece of nigiri and rise it 
to the  table  between  us. She leans forward eyes 
closed and lips  slightly  open as if to kiss. I lean 
forward to meet her,  getting out of  my chair by a 
few inches in my enthusiasm. 

The sushi was tuna, the dark red of the tuna 
contrasting  beautifully  against the salmon colored 
lipstick she's wearing.  We lean closer  together, 
our lips meeting around the nigiri.  She bites down 
first,  then I do, our lips mashing together as  we 
bite down. The texture of  the fish is incredibly 
smooth, reminding me of the feel of her skin and how 
much I want to touch it. Our lips break off for half 
a minute.  She covers her  mouth as  she giggles 
playfully at what we're doing here. I'm  torn  
between immersing myself in the feeling of the tuna 
in my  mouth  and the urge to rush through eating and 
rush back into  the  kiss. It was she who decided the 
issue when she leaned  back in.  I gulp down and 
leaned forward again to meet her. I  smell the  sea-
breeze on her breath. Our mouths met and opened  once 
again,  and our tongues explored each others mouths,  
searching every  nook and cranny that we knew so 
well,  searching for any stray  pearls of rice which 
may be lieing  about in the corners of each  others 
mouths. The search seemed  to go on forever, way past 
the  point where we found the last  grain of rice. I 
gently touch her  neck, moving along then  above the 
jawline to her left cheek to  touch that baby scar  
she got from a childhood accident. Her soft breathing 
echos in  my ear.     

That sixth or seventh sense that tells you someone is 
watching  you tells us its time to break off our 
search. We turn to see  the waiter standing in the 
corner, in that "we closed five  minutes ago" 
posture. She bursts into a peal of embarrassed  
laughter and I go into that fit laugh I have when I 
do my best  to suppress it as we signal quickly for 
the check. 
_________________________________________________________
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