Jane Urquhart
WARNINGS: This story includes explicit descriptions of
sexual acts. If reading this might involve you or
another person in an illegal act, or you are offended
by the exploration of adult themes in literature or on
the Internet, do not read further.
Copyright 1999 by Jane Urquhart. The author is a member
of the Net Authors and Creators Union (NACU), which
defends the rights of Internet authors and creators.
NACU intends to bring suit against any person or
corporation infringing copyright.
Specific permission is granted for publication in the
newsgroups Alt.Sex.Stories and Alt.Sex.Stories.Moder-
ated and for archiving by the Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated
archive, DejaNews, and RemarQ. Permission is also
granted for archiving on the ASSTR Y2K web site. All
other rights are reserved. Do not repost or distribute
by any other means without express permission from the
author.
NOTE: In olden times, a little story like this was
called a "fancy," which meant a tale not subject to
all the strictures of reality. I am aware of the
controversy over the starting date of the new
millennium, and I know that it will begin somewhere
in the Pacific and not in Times Square. But this is
a fancy.
Y2K (FM rom, strange)
by Jane Urquhart
"Martha, what's bugging you?"
Should I tell him? I thought not, but I knew I
would. I've never liked New Year's Eve much. It's
like a birthday. What's to celebrate? You're glad
you're getting older? That's when you're a kid, not
when you can feel the bad back and the sore knees and
have to wear reading glasses. But even when I was a
kid I thought New Year's was scary. All these people
partying, drinking, having fun. What are they
celebrating? That they've survived another year? They
certainly can't be celebrating what's coming, because
they don't know.
"I'm scared, that's all," I said. "Haven't you
noticed? I'm always that way on New Year's Eve. And
Y2K is worse. I don't know why, but it's worse this
year."
I smiled at him. He certainly wasn't one of my
problems. Well, maybe he was, because he's getting
older, too,and he's older than I am. I'm forty-two.
He's fifty. Or will be next month. So, yes, he was
a problem. Works too hard, plays too little, getting
around to heart attack time. But he's cheerful, and
fun, and he still says I'm beautiful. I love him.
"Dear old Martha," he said, smiling that "I
care about you" smile he has. I know that one, just
as I know all the others. That one is the best, I
think. "I wish I could kiss it and make it better."
"You could," I said. I smiled again.
So he did. It wasn't time, yet, for the
regulation New Year's kiss, but he set his champagne
glass down on a lamp table, took mine out of my hand
and put it down, too, and put his arms around me.
"It's early," he said, looking into my eyes,
still smiling."Fifteen minutes to go. But I believe
in starting early."
He pulled me hard up against him. My breasts
pushed against his chest. I could feel his thighs
against mine. He leaned down and put his lips on mine,
gently, at first, then harder. I could feel his heart-
beat. He tasted sweet, of champagne. I opened my
mouth and took his tongue inside, and he squeezed me
harder. I didn't know it would be like that, there at
our own party, with all those people around. But he
was in charge, not me, and I was more than willing to
go along.
He didn't pull away, he kept on fondling me with
his tongue. I was smiling to myself. "Hoo-Ha!" I
thought. "This is getting interesting!" And the kiss
went on and on. He pulled back just a little and
brought a hand around to put it between us on my
breast. Right there in front of all those people! It
did feel good! And the kiss went on and on. And then
he pulled away, bowed, and kissed my hand. My goodness!
I was smiling, then, I'll tell you! People were looking
at us and they smiled, too. Floor show!
"We could just leave and go to the bedroom," he
said, quietly.
"And miss seeing the ball come down and all the
people yelling?" I was still smiling, and my pulse
was getting stronger and faster. "And leave them all
to wonder why the hostess wasn't there?"
"We could do that, yes," he said, smiling the
way he does when he's daring me to do something. I
know that one,too.
He was still holding my hand, so I gave him a
little tug and turned toward the door. I looked over
my shoulder at him, smiling. He came willingly, and
we almost ran up the stairs.
In the bedroom somebody had left the TV on. As
I entered I could see it showing a small crowd of
people in what looked like a park. They were carrying
signs that said, "Repent!" and "This is the End!" and
things like that. Poor things. Then it was back to
Times Square and people yelling and milling around and
a man going on and on about the New Year. I went over
and pushed the mute button.
We didn't have to talk. I had only to glance at
him to see this wasn't one of those nights when he'd
tease me by taking my clothes off one thing at a time
and kissing me all over and saying dumb things about
how beautiful I was. This was one of those times we
just stood on opposite sides of the bed and zipped and
pulled and got undressed as fast as we could. This
time he had that little smile that said, "Get ready!
I'm going to squeeze you and push you around and kiss
you and make you scream with joy!" I was ready, oh,
yes! So was he.
Then we were in the bed and I was holding him
tight and he pushed his leg between mine and pushed
me over on my back and that was fine because I wanted
him and he wanted me and what could be better? So I
reached down and put his penis right where it belonged
and he began to suck at a nipple and I put a hand on
his head and he pushed and pulled and I met his every
thrust with one of my own and he put his mouth on mine
and yes, I screamed with joy, but not very loud. I
was feeling so intoxicated by all this that I didn't
think about anything at all and then I began to feel
the great shock wave building and it hit the top and
crashed, leaving me ready for more, and he kept right
on going and then he stiffened and started moaning and
I could feel his warmth filling me and then he
collapsed on top of me and I held him gently for a
moment or two until he raised his head and kissed me,
sweetly, and I held him tight and then I let him go.
He lay next to me so our hips could press together
and he looked at me and smiled the one that only comes
at times like that and tells me he feels so good
because he loves me and he can give me pleasure and I
can do the same for him and of course it's a miracle.
And I smiled, too, of course, because it *is* a miracle
and I love him.
Then he propped himself up on an elbow and looked
across me at the TV and I looked at it, too.
"The ball is coming down," he said, which made
it official even though I could see it, too, and I
smiled.
"Happy New Year!" I said.
"New century!" he said.
"New millennium!" I said.
And then the ball hit the bottom.
The TV blanked out; the lights went off.
"I guess they missed a chip somewhere," I said.
But I was scared again. He'd taken that away for a
while and I was grateful.
We couldn't hear any traffic. It was deathly
quiet. I rose and went to the window. There was a
little ice in one corner of it, but I could see
outside. It was a clear night. Then I saw a star go
out. And another.
"The stars are going out," I said. I was scared.
He came over behind me and put both arms around
me and looked out the window himself.
"I didn't believe you," he said. "But they
are."
Then the big tree out by the road disappeared.
Just like that. Then the house across the way. Just
gone. Nothing. Oh, my! Those people on the TV, they
were right. But he was holding me. I trembled, but
I wasn't really scared. He was holding me.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you," I replied.
Then the walls of the room began somehow to
shimmer. They gave off a low, strange light. Then they
disappeared, too.
-----THE END----
NOTE: My thanks to Miles Naismith, who always helps
me; and to Spline Duck and Old Rotorhead, who are very
good critics. Faults are all mine.
Copyright 1999 by Jane Urquhart.
Janey98@hotmail.com