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From: "Jack C. Lipton" <cupasoup@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} A Shadow Knows (mF MFF)
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Date: Sun, 29 Jan 2006 12:10:01 -0500
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Author: Jack C Lipton
Title: A Shadow Knows
Universe: Shadows
Summary: How do you measure success?
Keywords: mF MFF
Revision: $Revision: 1.4 $
Archive: http://www.asstr.org/~CupaSoup/
RCS: $Id: shadows2.x,v 1.4 2006/01/29 13:58:59 jcl Exp $


		       A Shadow Knows

		      by Jack C Lipton

Fuck!  Not now!  I was pretty damn *happy* for once!

I'd jumped again, this time from being a 55 year old man
getting caught in the cross-fire of a drive-by shooting
while getting off the bus from work.

I'm not sure how many times I've flipped into awareness of a
new body any more;  I've existed for thousands of years.  If
it weren't for the fact that I didn't seem able to die...

This time I saw the gun the body was holding.  I wasn't yet
ready to access this body's memories as I looked over the
weapon of self destruction in my new hands.

It's almost always like this, jumping into the body of some
poor soul who has actually made the decision to kill
themselves.  This one had a gun.  Other times I have seen
pills, razor blades, a rope or getting ready for a suicidal
charge on a battlefield.

I *hate* wars since I end up jumping so often, from one to
another, often jumping across the battle lines multiple
times.  One of the worst in recent memory was Guadalcanal.
So, really, for one such as I, wars suck.  I sometimes
suspect that the real drive towards peace may be provided by
souls like mine.

So, now that I was in a new body and a different life, I put
the gun down and looked around, taking stock of this new
body and surroundings.

I don't know why but it seemed the ones most ready to die
usually had no shortage of worldly goods;  that this sixteen
year old boy was able to get his hands on such a nice .45
showed me that money was _not_ in short supply in his house
hold.

Finally opening up the flood-gates to this body's memories I
saw that he didn't see it as a home.

I have been an adult for many years and so I was able to see
through to the truth behind what he'd been seeing.

Sure, this boy, Dave, had been in emotional pain--  but most
of it was because he *didn't* see any of the trees, instead
focusing on the forest, looking for rejection and trying to
cope.

I knew I could ride this body for a long time but, to every
one around him, he would seem a lot more mature from now on,
now that I was driving.

So the gun got unloaded and, carefully cleaning it, I placed
it back in his father's study, put back, as best I could,
the way the kid had found it.  I just wished he'd paid more
attention to how he'd found it but, when you plan to die
this way, I've found that no one is meticulous in covering
up their tracks.

Oh, all right, yes, I've dropped into some anal-retentives.
I've been fortunate that it hasn't been often.

Erasing his suicide note from the computer and making sure
his last UseNet post got neutralized (by now I'm pretty good
with a LOT of IT tools) I took stock of this new situation.

It is frankly amazing how many boys contemplate killing
themselves because of virginity.  Dave, here, felt like he'd
been an outsider and that everyone else around him seemed to
have 'gotten it right' and were happy.

Yes, you may laugh.  This simple stupid misperception is
common these days and has provided me a far too large supply
of people to step in to.  I knew the truth, of course--  no
one has it 'all' right and those who seem happiest are often
just good at acting that way.

Yes, it's true.  Happiness is a choice, and, when you act
like you're happy, it can seem pretty fulfilling, especially
if you are a social butterfly and have too few brain cells
to rub together.

Dave had quite a bit going for him but all he'd been seeing
in his mirror were his flaws rather than his strengths and
intangible assets.  This boy had left me a _lot_ of material
to work with and I could have a nice life in his place.

My new life started when Dave's family got home from their
shopping trip and I moved to help bring in the groceries,
startling his folks.  Dave had been so low for so long that
he wasn't willing to volunteer--  and, stepping in to "be"
Dave, I changed the life to one *I* could live with.

I was now Dave.  He was gone and now it was *my* life to be
lived and I intended to enjoy it.

Family life improved as I took on responsibilities.  My
sisters seemed to get happier with their brother.  I treated
them with more respect than they'd come to expect from the
"old me" and, in school, I was picking up "my" grades.

Another advantage to being an immortal soul was that I have
learned *many* things across my lifetimes.  I knew that I
was now subject to the harassment that got meted out to "the
nerdly different" and it drove me to start exercising so 
that I could use the body I'd been granted as needed.

Fortunately, I know enough from having *been* a soldier--
and not fearing death since the immortal *I* had not been
able to die-- that even as a "weakling" (even the weakest
nerd or geek isn't all _that_ weak, it's all a matter of how
they employed what they have) I could neutralize a jock.

So, when I got pushed into my locker hard enough to *really*
hurt and leave bruises, and kept getting pushed back and got
more bruises, my warrior reflexes kicked in and Joe the star
quarterbacks gonads were suddenly in a geosynchronous orbit
while the rest of Joe remained here on earth.  He was going
to be out of play for a while, but, hey, the football season
was already over anyway.

There is a reason why the "A list" uses the letter "A".

Arrogance.  I've faced it more times than I ever wanted to.
That's what the "A" _really_ stands for, and, the hell of
it, was that these pricks didn't have anything except ego to
prop it up.

It is strange how the administration came down on *me* for
fighting and, despite multiple reports that Joe had started
it and was done in with a single stroke to end it...

Sadly, three of his buddies from the football team decided
to corner me at lunch time and, in front of the whole caf,
got taken down by someone well below their weight class.

Mind you, weapons in the cafeteria are easy to come by.

And, no, sporks are *not* useful as weapons, which is why
that was the only utensil provided by the school.

A tray makes both a wonderful shield and, with it's edges, a
wonderful weapon, all at the same time.  In this brouhaha I
did collect quite an impressive array of bruises *and* a
broken leg, but, when it was over, I was the last one
standing.

Mind you, all three had problems.  Broken noses, a cracked
larynx, two broken wrists and other injuries.

Again the school's administration expressed their
displeasure and didn't want to acknowledge that the gorillas
on the football team had started each and every fight where
they'd come out behind.

Being an immortal I could afford to be killed to prove a
point.  Being gifted with visions made it easier to see what
was going down.

And the interview with the police *after* the principal had
briefed them started out hostile, but, given that I was able
to talk to them while my leg was being straightened and a
cast put on at the hospital lent me some sympathy.  Showing
them bruises I'd accumulated that morning didn't hurt,
either.

So I told them about Joe's effort in the morning and how he
had spent time in the nurse's office.  I also detailed the
prior efforts at intimidation Joe and his buddies had been
guilty of as they walked like the lords of creation through
the school.

The clincher was detailing how the three I'd disabled at
lunch time had decided to gang up on me to "teach me a
lesson".

The older of the two officers smirked as he dryly observed
that lessons can be learned both ways.

My folks were upset given that I was suspended for the next
two weeks.

Finding out that Al, Gary and Roger only got one week each
was proof to me-- and my parents-- that there was a lot of
favoritism in that school.

I was on crutches for an entrance exam--  and I was sharp
enough to recognize why.  I entered a private school to
finish the year.

Changing schools before early spring doesn't solve
structural issues with being human.  All human beings seem
to insist on being at the top of the pecking order.

I had jumped, based on the results of the comprehensive
exams, to the senior year-- of which only four months were
left.  As a new student which placed me at the very bottom
of the pecking order for too short a time to make a
difference.

Here is where my more adult perspectives helped me:  I had
several times the wit, material _and_ quickness of mind than
even the so-called top performers who spent their time
resting on their laurels.  I was able to outmaneuver boys
two years my senior... and that was just in witty repartee.
Test results put me at the top of the heap.

Of course I knew that Joe and his buddies never forgot a
damn thing and so, in one of my flashes of foresight I knew
when, where and how they planned to exact their revenge.

I hate idiots, did you know that?

All right, hate is an extreme word.  In my situation I long
ago learned how much irony is enabled by true hatred and the
best means of managing it is emotional distance.  It was
strange how only the negative emotions seemed to give irony
an opening.

So I knew they were stealing a pair of big SUVs and were
planning to "swoop and squat" on me while I was driving my
dinky focus.

Now I *know* my body's performance envelope and I even try
to learn the capabilities of all of the tools around me,
too, which includes my car.  Even with a slushbox I knew
what I could do, though I *knew* that my car was going to be
the loser in this battle.  I also knew I'd survive, too.

So, in the appointed place, I had arranged, with another of
my kind, to have "qualified observers"...

Hmmmmm...  maybe I should be a cop and work my way up to
Captain so I could help one of "us" in the future.

So I was out there and they didn't realize that I was 'bait'
and that two police squad cars were positioned to observe
the incident as it unfolded, their cameras catching the
whole event.

Yes, my car was wrecked.

Yes, I got smacked around by the airbag.

Yes, I was a hurting puppy.

And, yes, three of those pricks were caught with knives in
their hands.  Joe had a gun and, being the idiot he was, did
not drop it when ordered to, instead thinking that he could
intimidate armed police officers.  He got one shot off at
them but didn't survive the return fire.

Arrogance doesn't do much for you unless you try to learn
enough to justify it.  Joe would never have the chance to
do so.

Despite the structural integrity of my focus resisting the
impact as well as it had, my cast had not survived and I had
to be cut out of the car.  I was being carted off in an
ambulance while the police had what seemed to be a feeding
frenzy in analyzing the crime scene.  It wasn't a simple
traffic accident any more.

I didn't even have to testify when Al, Gary and Roger went
on trial a year later for attempted murder.  It didn't look
like they would need further schooling for a long time.

Graduation arrived quickly and I wasn't ready to pursue
enrollment in college, so I went, instead, to the local
junior college.  My parents weren't impressed by the choice
of college but I knew that it was best to get many of my
pre-requisites dealt with locally before choosing a major.

This time I was *not* going to get into computers the way I
had in my last life.  I might use 'em as tools but I already
knew there was little future in being a 'puter technologist.

So I handled all of the pre-requisites like Calc, German and
English.

Now, to the outside world, I'm a teen-ager.  I look like any
other human being.  I have feelings like any other human
being.  I am subject to many of the vulnerabilities like any
other human being, but, in this, my 'age' provides me enough
experience to manage them.

Excepting, of course, one vulnerability that *all* humans
are subject to.

It's called "Love".

I *know* that love isn't truly "eternal" but I can attest to
*hope* springing eternal as every one of us mobile souls
pray for the day our travels are over.  We know it happens
but we wish it would happen to *us*.  We also try to orient
the newbies who take the places of the ones who've escaped
this trap.

We are subject to love.

We can manage lust-- after all, that's what self
gratification is for-- but *love* is something we feel.

And it's the one thing that can rip our hearts out, too,
because we'll jump when the body we live in dies, and leave
our loved one behind, or, harder still, to lose them before
it is our turn to move on.

We also *know* love because we can see it, into the future.

So I was just barely seventeen when I met Lily who was
twenty.  Gawky, bright, thin and shy, Lily was someone I
first felt warm around but a flash from the future told me
that we were meant to be together.  I fell first because of
this vision, making it easier for her to get past her own
fears of rejection.

Within a month we were ready to be a couple.

It was with Lily that my sex life in this body started.

She needed time to get past her aversions due to her prior
boyfriends, but I went slow and, finally breaking the ice,
awakened her with my tongue between her labia.

Now I've told you that I've plenty of experience as a
warrior.  That's damn near nothing when compared to my
experiences as a lover.

I've *been* a woman before so I knew the kinds of things she
would enjoy.  Heck, I don't often think about it, but I was
_born_ as a woman, though I've spent many lifetimes as a man
as well.  Lily got the benefit.

She was uncomfortable with my skill level as one can imagine
but I blamed it on "the right reading list" *and* on having
"an old soul".  Looking deep into my eyes as I said this was
enough to quiet her fears.

She still carried her fears that she couldn't do it right so
I was driving our activities and getting her warmed up.  The
first time we went all the way...

No amount of experience or practice is going to make it easy
on your partner if their heart is still full of fears.  So
the first time I approached her when she was in firm control
of her senses found me backing off.  Plan B was needed.

Lily was concerned about "doing it right" and was mindful of
how she looked and sounded.  This made it hard for her to be
comfortable even with just laying back and letting me drive.

By the same token, I want my lover to be an enthusiastic
participant in the act of sharing joy.  Her apprehensive
feelings knocked the wind out of those sails.

Plan B was a matter of torturing her by bringing her to the
brink of climax enough times for her to be so inflamed with
desire that she'd forget any idea of propriety and demand me
to fuck her brains out.

I don't know what's wrong with people these days;  even at
the height of victorianism women were never this fucked up.
Plan B had become the norm over the last 40 years.

So it took over an hour of me using my tongue and fingers to
bring Lily up to the edge and back down just enough to make
the next drive to the brink shorter and, soon, she spent
more of her time *at* the brink, with short drops so that
she's have enough brain cells together to say something.

When she started begging me to fuck her I knew her mind had
finally slipped the bonds of propriety and, moving over her,
entered her... and we came together, body and soul.

The problem was that, on coming down, women like Lily get
their sense of propriety back and worry about "how it looks"
again.

Over the next month I didn't execute Plan B because I didn't
want to get her too used to it, but, at the same time, when
we tried the "normal" way, I backed off whenever her mind
got in our way.  I didn't bring up the subject myself and
tended to change the subject when she brought it up herself.
I maintained this phase for about a month.

The next month she spent frustrated because I wouldn't get
anywhere near making love with her even if we slept together
in the nude.  As her sense of propriety and seriousness got
in the way I'd back off, telling her that I wish she'd
relax.  I didn't make what I was doing too overt, instead
doing my best to call some of her conditioning into
question.

It was at the start of the third month since I'd executed
Plan B that her anti-sexual conditioning started to crack.
Fortunately her menstrual cycle provided some help.

PMS is a wonderful thing when properly channeled and is
confusing to those who think there's a 'role' they have to
play because it fucks up the drive to remain controlled.

Some women get angry.  Others get aggressive.  Those who do
manage to avoid conflict recognize that they get horny and
so don't try to sublimate it into anger or violence.

So she woke me up when she climbed on top of me and started
to ride me like a crazy woman.  I gave her a LOT of verbal
encouragement as she came, well before I was ready.  Given
her tiredness, I rolled us over and we made love in a more
leisurely fashion, talking, kissing and gently working her
up to a second release which she shared with me.

We filled up the rest of the day by fucking as much as we
could.  When she finally started her period she was walking
bow-legged and I was sore from the workouts.

Her niggling worries did hover here and there but soon died
out as I avoided violating her 'committee on propriety'.  It
was all a matter of getting her to think of sex as "her
right to enjoy" rather than thinking there was something
sinful about it.

I've been so many people from so many different cultures yet
I *still* do not understand the whole issue of suppressing
sexuality except as a control issue.  The cultures that do
not demonize it have other problems.  No one culture is
without sin, after all, any more than any person is without
sin.

So Lily finally relaxed with me and welcomed my attentions
and, over time, got more vocal in showing enthusiasm.

Even though I am an immortal, it always does feel good when
one's sexual partner spends time limp and panting as they
recover from industrial strength orgasms.

At first Lily was fairly passive in bed and let me do things
with her body but, despite her uncertainties, she started to
take a more active role in our love play.

Yes, I meant to say "Love Play".  Fucking, much less _Making
Love_, is not sustainable if it is considered a serious
business.  It is a form of play where each partner hearts
can trust another as they commune.  Once Lily got past her
worry of being embarrassed she became far more interested in
experimentation and soon was driving the menu in our
activities together.

I suspect that it was reassuring (if not empowering) for her
to fuck my brains out and leave me, panting, as limp as a
wet rag.  I sure didn't mind and didn't forget to thank her
after regaining my breath.

We had a *very* active sex life together.  Lily's appetite
improved to the point that she started to fill out into a
womanly form though it didn't seem likely she'd ever gain
much weight.

When my folks met Lily they were initially pretty wary of
her, as were my sisters.  It didn't take much for them to
come around and soon my girlfriend was as welcome as I was.

Lily's folks were the harder sell, her being the "baby" of
her family.  Her older sibs looked me over with rather
jaundiced eyes.  At the same time I realized her mom looked
pretty good at 63 years old which can be reassuring.

Over this year at college Lily's grades improved enormously;
this went a long way in reassuring her folks that she was
doing the right thing, relationship-wise.   I maintained a
good track record with my grades as well.  

Our summer was interesting, spending it together on my dad's
sailboat, cruising in the Bahamas.  We spent a lot of time
fucking each other's brains out and, when possible, did a
lot of our sailing in the nude.

And, yes, we were smart enough to use lots of sunscreen.

Lily's transfer to a nearby state university went through
and she was able to continue her pre-med track.  I was able
to follow her but chose to pursue engineering mixed in with
all of the 'liberal arts' courses I needed to take.

And it was here that it seemed things were going to go out
of kilter.

Joe's girlfriend Sandra, the former head cheerleader at my
original High School, was a sophomore at this university,
and, being a sophomore, ended up sharing an English class on
Poetry with me.

Don't laugh.  I could probably recite the whole Iliad and
Odyssey in the original greek, just from memory.  Hell, I'd
been taught it by the man who'd written it!  All right, so
it isn't really 'just' a poem since it used rhythmic devices
to aid memory.

Most mere mortals never "get" poetry.  There are times when
I suspect the only people who _can_ "get it" right away are
the immortals.

People look for "meaning" in poetry when they should be
looking for "emotional context".  Poetry, I learned too many
thousands of years ago, speaks to the heart rather than the
head.

Eighteen year olds are *not* going to get much from poetry.
Even twenty year olds aren't likely to do much better.

But, of all the class, *I* had an unfair advantage, allowing
me to do somewhat better than anyone else.  This reinforced
Sandra's choice of me for help in the class.

Now let me tell you that being an immortal has never been a
lot of fun or a large supply of laughs.  All right, so there
are a good number of laughs to be had *after* dealing with
some of the situations I've been through, but oftentimes it
feels as unamusing as a job, which can really provide a
chilling effect.  Some lifetimes are much warmer, too,
although this is usually when compared to other lifetimes.
Often enough, though, some lifetimes can amount to periods
of depression with special little moments of disappointment.

One of our more useful gifts is the "flash", giving us a
vision of someone's future, past, or both.  Only very
occasionally are these visions not overwhelmingly
depressing.  Even the pleasant ones tend to be mixed.

So getting a flash of Sandra's past was annoying.  Joe, it
seemed, liked to physically abuse people, leaving behind a
scarred young woman.

A woman, two years my body's senior, who suddenly looked to
me as her savior--  and not just for poetry class.

Lily knew the story of "my life" and knew of Joe, Al, Gary
and Roger.  I'd even shown her news clippings, which
included a photo of me being cut free from my car, so she
was concerned over what Sandra might want to do to me.  This
was ironic because Lily didn't know what _I_ knew and I
could not explain what and how I knew differently, so I did
not even try to provide any background.

Sandra eventually pursued me until she finally got to meet
Lily at the Student Union and saw me cuddled up to my lover.
I could *feel* the sudden deflation in my stalker and knew,
at that moment, that Sandra was ready to take her own life.

So, at that moment, I knew that Sandra was *almost* empty
enough to provide a body that one of my kind could jump in
to.  I was not eager to allow that to go further but, in all
fairness, I was also committed to Lily.

I do not know how it worked out, but Lily was sharp enough
on her own to see "through" Sandra's face and invited her to
sit and talk... and shoved me out of the booth, with a
suggestion that I go visit the library before heading home.
She also told me that I should not get home for several
hours, too.

I have a lot of faith in Lily.

When I finally got back to our apartment I found Sandra and
Lily cuddled together on the couch.  Sandra was asleep, her
head on Lily's lap.  I quietly came up to Lily and gave her
a kiss which got a smile out of her.

It was later, when we went to bed together with Sandra out
cold on the couch, that Lily explained what was going on and
that she'd hypnotized Sandra.  We talked and cuddled before
I faded out.

I woke up with a shaved pussy over my face as I felt my pole
being vacuumed, so I returned the favor to the woman on top
of me, who pulled off of me long enough to moan out my name
before diving back to work on my hard dick.

I felt the presence of someone else between my thighs,
kissing up from my knees to my balls.

Now this is not something new to me.  I've lived long enough
that I have experienced a _lot_ of different sexual acts and
combinations.  I knew that Sandra was sixty-nining with me as
Lily made sure I knew this wasn't a problem.

Sandra wasn't very good at servicing me orally, but, then,
that's something that requires regular practice at a level
that Lily was able to maintain with me.  I had enough
practice myself to bring off Sandra twice well before I was
ready to fire my load into her mouth.

Given that Sandra wasn't protected we didn't go all the way
but I did, at Lily's urging, get to pound Sandra's pussy
with my lover's mouth.  Now as a woman I have been in the
middle of such an arrangement and enjoyed it but I was still
surprised by Lily's imaginative suggestion and enthusiasm.

Shortly after an emotionally recharged Sandra left us, Lily
told me that she had always liked girls too, which fit what
I'd already known from the flashes I've had already.

Then she told me to expect to see Sandra back again.  And
again.  For a long time, in fact.

It was later that evening that Lily told me that she was
tickled by the irony of having me undo the damage that Joe
had done to Sandra and hoped that I could keep it up for
them both.

_

In the last fifteen years Lily has gotten her MD as a
psychiatrist and I've been working as a Professional
Engineer for a bit longer, since my specialty didn't require
as long a period of schooling.  Sandra, given her childhood
and sick relationship with Joe, wasn't able to be completely
cured but the treatment regimen my wife designed kept her
reasonably happy and fulfilled.  Sandra wasn't planning on
going anywhere and helped us as a home-maker and mommy for
our children.  I knew, by this time, that my earliest flash
visions of Lily hadn't completely exposed all of our life
together.

So Sandra has stayed with us.  She's become a fairly active
writer of romance novels and I've helped her with historical
background.  She is, of course, *not* fully aware of where
some of my stories come from but she can feel the truth of
them.  The nice thing is that, like a poet, her work
includes staring out the window.

You can bet that I like that she has borne three of my five
children and, with both Lily and I, cares for them all so
well, despite her continuing fears of repeating any of her
parents' mistakes.  We three spend enough time together that
she knows she isn't alone and we're there to help.

You can bet that I don't have any problems handling my role
in keeping Sandra-- and Lily-- emotionally satisfied.

Our children are happy and comfortable and able to talk to
us about anything.

We also go on cruises as a family, sometimes flying out to
charter sailboats for our vacations.  Almost everything
seems to suggest a story to Sandra which tends to pay off.
Someday I have to get her to try writing some real smut.

I'm content with my family and how happy we all are
together.  I do, albeit only occasionally, worry over my
future with my next Jump.

But, then, today is today, and I'm trying to live and enjoy
as much as I can with each breath I take and each hug I give
and get.

			* FINI *
-- 
Jack C Lipton | cupasoup at pele dot cx | http://www.asstr.org/~CupaSoup/
  "Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny.  If you see him without an
   erection, make him a sandwich."  - Someone on soc.sexuality.general

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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