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From: leopolt <leopolt2002@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Into You Star Flung Hands (by Leopolt) [M/F,scifi]
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Date: Sun, 09 Aug 2009 14:10:12 -0400
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					Into Your Star Flung Hands

					by Leopolt


Ace. Jack. Ace. King.

"OK, this is a fuck story. There was a man who liked to fuck women. So 
he fucked every woman he met. The end."

She flings her black curls back and laughs. "That's no story! I want a 
real story."

"I'm no good at making up stories. I only know what's real."

"Very well. So tell me who was the first woman you ever made love to."

"It was you."

She smiles. "Yes, I remember. How was it?"

He hesitates briefly. "It was wonderful."

"And who was the last woman you made love to?"

"Hardly a woman - barely more than a child."

"Was she pretty?" Her voice is almost a purr.

He shrugs his shoulders. "She was young. Youth makes up for a lot. You 
can be fat and young, and men will still want you. Fat and old, and no 
one even sees you."

She stretches a long, thin leg up above the table, her toes at point 
like a dancer. "Do you think I'm fat?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're beautiful and you know it."

"One does what one must to remain fit."

"At any cost?"

"I like to think of it more as an investment. Your deal."

Ace of Hearts. Ten of Diamonds.
The Queen of Clubs. Two of Hearts. Nine of Spades.

"I suppose I have lost. What is my penalty?"

"Take it off."

She pulls the sash of the pearlescent robe, and lets it fall from her 
shoulders over the chair. Her body is flawless, smooth and darkly 
tanned, as though carved from a single seamless piece of wood.

"And now it is my deal."

Queen of Cups.
Strength. The Knight of Swords.
The Hanged Man.

"Oh dear. I seem to have won. Or rather, you have lost." Her smile 
belies her concern.

"What do I lose?"

She ponders the question for a moment. "Let's have that weapon you have 
hidden under your coat."

"You can see that?"

"The cards can. Hand it over." He stands and takes off his coat, and the 
holster. He hands the weapon to her.

"Impressive. Anything else? Any other weapons?"

"I have one that I plan to stab you with soon."

"Ooh...such promises. Your deal."

The seven of rockets. The eight of planets. The nine of rockets. The ten 
of stars.

"One card from a straight."

"Keep dealing."

The Jack of Wands.

"I don't believe in magic."

"You don't believe in any magic, or you don't believe in my magic?"

The seven of cups. The Jack of coins. The seven of swords.

"A full house. Your science has lost."

"No, I won. I made my straight."

He picks her up and takes her to the bed. He undresses as she watches, a 
performance for her, one of many she has witnessed. He is muscular, and 
she relishes the feel of her fingernails running over the bulges of his 
back and thighs. He is far from flawless, his body covered in scars and 
burns, his tan skin the result of mountains climbed, deserts crossed.

She wraps a hand around his tumescent member. "Now, I remember this." 
She parts the dark perfection of her legs, revealing a ruby dampness 
that longs to engulf him. She pulls him into her, pulls him onto her, 
wraps him tightly within her. He lays on her, skin to skin, wanting to 
crush her, to sink into her. With every stroke he plunges deeper into 
her, deeper into the core of her being. His strokes start slowly, 
infinitesimally slowly, every atom sliding against her.

His hot breath on her neck, she puts her lips against his ear, she licks 
it, she whispers, "Who wins?" His strokes become more urgent, he crashes 
against her, sliding along a path that leads from the outer edges of the 
galaxy to the core of a supernova. She screams.

Sometime later - an hour, a day, an eon - they lie together. "Who deals 
next?" he asks.

"I do." She lies on her side, deals the cards on the bed.

The Magician. The Empress.

"Yes, yes, we know. Just get on with it."

The Fool. The Wheel of Fortune.

"Now it gets interesting."

The Star. The Lovers.

"So, do I win or lose?"

"It isn't clear. But perhaps it is more interesting if I say that you 
lose."

"You cards, your rules. What is my penalty?"

She stares at the cards for long time, as if trying to work out an 
infinite series of eventualities. Finally she says, "Bring me a star."

It takes ages but he does it. A single blue star, glowing with the fires 
of a fusion chain run amok, its senseless planets orbiting lazily around 
its expanding warmth. Soon, in a billion years or so, it will explode. 
He will be gone by then.

They make love again, as she lies like a fertile pasture, awaiting him. 
She moans and slides across the bed, dark brown rock over cool white 
satin sands. He plows into her, bifurcates her, breaks her. When he is 
spent he lies beside her. He can hear the forest growing, even in this 
cold and sterile place.

"My deal," he says.

The eight of clubs. The Jack of diamonds to her.
Another eight, this time spades. The ten of hearts.
The ace of clubs. The ten of spades.
Ace of spades. The two of clubs.

"Stop."

"I've already won."

"You've already lost, you just don't know it yet."

"Don't be ridiculous." He deals the last cards. The Queen of diamonds. 
The three of clubs.

"What do you want me to give you?"

He rises off the bed and pulls her behind him, to the gray platform in 
the center of the large empty room, the great domed ceiling of glass 
filled with the galactic spiral stars. His is hard again, engorged, 
excited. She kneels before him, false submissiveness a gift to assuage 
his doom, a perfect figure of liquid ebonite poured in a female form. 
She parts her lips, inviting his violation of her. He plunges into her 
mouth, into her throat, deep into her, to the core of her being. She 
swallows him, incorporates him into her Self. He is surrounded by the 
shades of a thousand lovers, past, future. He slowly withdraws his 
member, sweating, panting for breath. Again he plunges into her, the 
sensation of her mouth tight against his throbbing erection, until all 
is dark. He slowly drifts back, rising through a cosmic age, pulling out 
from her mouth.

He grabs her night black hair and pulls her down beneath him. "Eat me," 
he demands.

She begins to lap hungrily at his nether opening, licking, sucking, 
biting, engorging herself. She eats her way into him, mouthful by 
mouthful she passes though him until she emerges, weary, from his mouth. 
She kisses him, exhausted she drapes her arms over his shoulders, rests 
on him, kisses him again, open mouthed and passionate. She extracts the 
rest of her body from him, parts her legs, guides his erection into her, 
allows him to release in her. Faint fountains of comets erupt from her 
head as he climaxes in her.

Afterwards it is dark, a darkness without end, until a faint blue glint 
appears. Like a blue mist the light spreads out, piercing the murk. It 
grows brighter, until they can see that it is the star he brought her. 
It leads them back to Now. Objects resolve into view - the bed, the 
table, the raised platform in the center of the room, the curved steel 
walls, the great glass, the spiral of stars.

"You cheated. You never dealt the full hand. The Hanged Man was in the 
middle."

"When did you become a wizard?" She rolls over lazily, running a finger 
along the scar that runs down the length of his left side. He pushes her 
back, gets up, dresses.

"This game is over."

He flies off, toward the spiral. She can trace his flight, the glow of 
his ship's engines visible against the star field. She stands beneath 
the dome, watching him fade into the distance. She never sees the star 
explode.

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