textfiles/sex/EROTICA/G/ggb.txt

Archive-name: Bondage/ggb.txt
Archive-author: M.A. Mohanraj
Archive-title: Girl Meets Girl Meets Boy 


Part I
------

	The same old story.  You've heard it a thousand times.  They
meet.  They fall in love.  They fall apart.  They come together.
They, sometimes, live happily ever after.

	Elaine was a computer programmer, with severe eyestrain and
the beginnings of premature arthritis in her cramped hands.  Angie was
her roommate, a brilliant, self-centered, sensitive writer.  Elaine
made $40,000 a year.  Angie was too sensitive to get a job.  Elaine
had gone to a private boarding school and her stubbornly blind parents
had great hopes for a society marriage.  Angie's mother had lived on a
commune in Berkeley, and Angie's first lover was an Asian girl with
hazel eyes and a dancer's body.  Elaine and Angie had been lovers for
two years when they met him.

***

"Goddamnit, Elaine, do you have to leave your tights draped over my
computer?  You've got your own computer to drip on!"
"But I'm working on my computer."  Elaine said reasonably.  "And
they're perfectly dry; I think I just dropped them there last night.
I was really tired when I got home from work."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"What is what supposed to mean?"
"You were really tired, huh?  I guess you think I should go out and
start working at McDonald's to pay my share?  Or maybe you want me to
learn to take dictation?"
"Lay off, Ang.  I meant I was tired, that's all.  I make plenty of
money for both of us."

	Angie was on the verge of tears, tapping her bare foot on the floor of
their sun-drenched apartment.  Elaine continued, "Besides, when your
novel gets published we'll live off the royalties for years.  Come
here."  Elaine stretched out a hand and stared stubbornly at Angie.  Angie
sighed theatrically and walked over to Elaine's desk, taking Elaine's
dark hand between her own hands.  She looked down at their
joined hands and then moaned despairingly.

"Now what?" Elaine asked, slightly exasperated.
"You're so beautiful!  And I'm so pale and ugly!  I can't even tan."
Angie wailed.
"Silly."

	Elaine pulled Angie down into her lap ar arms around her,
pulling Angie back firmly against her own chest.  She gently caressed
the soft white skin of Angie's shoulders, calming the frail and
trembling body.  Elaine buried her face in Angie's red curls,
breathing warmly on her lover's arching neck.

"You're beautiful, silly.  Like an elf, a swan, the moon..."
"A pudgy elf."  Angie muttered, though a smile had begun to creep up
her face.
"A divinely pudgy elf."  Elaine solemnly agreed.
At that, Angie turned in Elaine's arms and pounced, tickling Elaine
mercilessly until they fell off the chair and rolled, laughing, across
the bare hardwood floor.

***

Journal Entry:  April 2

Beautiful Saturday.  Went walking in Grant Park today, through
downtown, down to the lakefront.  Avoided the horse-faced man with the
loudspeaker - too gorgeous a day to argue theology.  Impressions:
crowded streets on this first truly warm day of spring; the horses are
friendlier; even the cops are smiling; Marshall Fields has a new
display in muted sunset colors; musicians are playing everywhere.
Which brings me to him.  With his white-blond hair and cobalt eyes and
tanned body.  With his pathetic plucking and his ragged cut-off jeans
and long, muscled legs.  I swear I could kill Elaine sometimes.  The
way she looks at men and smiles at them and they come chasing after
her with their tongues hanging out and their dicks panting is enough to
make any woman sick.  And she encourages them with that slightly
reserved Massachusetts smile and her oak eyes laughing.  Maybe Cathy
was right.  Maybe you can never really trust bisexuals, even the ones
who promise to be faithful.  They're always flipping back and forth,
always wanting what they don't have.

	And he never even looked at me.

***

	They went walking again next Saturday, and Rob was there
again.  His green Folk Festival t-shirt had a fresh tear down one side
and his guitar sat unused at his feet.  Angie walked over and leaned
against a tree, while Elaine stepped in front of him, looking up and 
down his body.

"What happened?"  Elaine asked.
"What do you mean, what happened?" he replied, shifting uneasily.
Elained walked up and pressed her hand against his side, right under
the tear.  He winced away.  "What happened.?", she asked again.
"It's nothing.  Some guys started harshing on my music last night."
"Yeah, well, you know you're not the world's best musician."  Angie
said, smiling.  He managed a grin at that.  "Awful, is what you mean."
"Right."  Angie agreed.  "But I didn't think you were quite stupid
enough to start a fight over that."
"Peacenik me?  Start a fighT?  Never.  But after a while they got
tired of my silence and started some other stuff."

	Silence.  Elaine kept staring at him, her arms crossed in front of
her.  "They called me a fag.  A queer."  he admitted reluctantly.  "Then
they started beating on me.  Broke two strings on the guitar in the
fight.  Then a police car drove by, sirens blaring, y took off.  Doubt
the cops ever saw me, actually."

	"Take off your shirt.  Angie, will you look him over?"  Elaine asked.
"Please?"

	Angie came over, muttering something about stray cats and started to
reach out towards Rob's shirt.  "Hey, don't touch.  I'm fine."  he 
said as he pulled away.  "Trust me.  I took eight years of tae kwon
do.  I know a lot about injuries.  Take off your shirt."
"I'm only bruised."  he protested.  When Elaine continued glaring at
him he mumbled, "Besides, it hurts to lift my arms enough to take off
this shrt.  And I stink; it's hard to shower when you're living in
parks."

	"You idiot."  Elaine said, without rancor.  "You've probably
got broken ribs, you know.  Let her find out."  Angie started getnly
pressing Rob's chest, holding his arm with her left hand so he
couldn't easily get away.

	"Well, what do you want me to do?  I can't afford a doctor.  I
can't even afford to fix the strings on my guitar.  Not that I really
know how to play it, anyway."  Rob started off angry, but his voice
trailed off despairingly.  "I think he's cracked a few of them, but
not badly.  Nothing's shifting."  Angie explained, blinking up through
her glasses at Elaine.  "If he binds them and stays still for a few
weeks, he should be okay."

	Elaine looked pleadingly at Angie, who sighed and nodded her
head.  "Only till he heals."  Angie warned.  Elaine's smile broke across
her face as she reached down and picked up the guitar case.  

	"You're coming home with us." Angie explainbed.  "I appreciate
the thought, ladies, but I don't need charity."  Rob said, as he tried
to take the guitar case away from Elaine.  She hoisted it easily above
his head.  He tried to reach up to it, and winced again.  She smiled.

	"Yes, you do.  Don't be ridiculous.  Are you afraid we're
going to rape you?"  Angie asked.  "Hey, I'm not really gay, you
know." he protested.  "Those guys just assume that a skinny musician
with an earring has to be a fag.  I'm terribly dangerous where women
are concerned.  They swoon at my feet."  Angie laughed and started
walking to the bus.  "But you are queer, aren't you?"  Elaine asked,
ignoring his latter comments.

	Angie turned back to him, startled.  He looked defensive for a
moment, and then said defiantly, "Actually, yes.  I'm bi.  So I really
don't think it would be a good idea for you to invite me into your
home.  You're both far too attractive and I wouldn't be able to
control myself.  I think we can handle an invalid."  Elaine commented.
"Besides, you don't seem to have understood.  ANgie and I are
together.  Have been for years.  You'll be perfectly safe.  Ang, could
you get his bag?"

	"Oh." Rob blushed.  "I feel stupid."  "That's okay," Angie
said as she picked up his one duffle bag.  "You look stupid too."
"Thanks a whole lot"  he replied, starting to laugh.

	"You're welcome."  Elaine said, smiling.  "Now come on."

***

Part II
-------

Journal Entry - April 16

He's been here forever.  He's so happy it turns my stomach.  He hums
when he does dishes.  He sings in the fucking shower.  IF I didn't
know better, I'd swear he was getting laid, but he's not really healed
yet, I've been watching Ellie like a falcon and I certainly haven't
touched him.  Not (if we're being completely honest here) that I
haven't thought about it.  We've been trapped for hours together in
this apartment while she's at work and though he's a pigheaded idiot,
he does have a very nice body.  Which he loves to display at every
opportunity, despite the bandages.  Men don't deserve to be in such
good shape.  I'm a blob next to him.  And they would look so gorgeous
together - yin and yang, as they say, black and white.  Damn, I hate
men.

***

"Hey, Ellie?"
"Mmmhmm?"
"Are you asleep?"
"Uh huh."

	Angie curled closer, burying her face against her lover's bare
shoulder blades.

"Ellie?"
"Mmmhmmm?"

	Silence stretched out in the darkened room, silence broken
only by the whir of the fan.  Summer had come hot and early.

"Never mind."

	Angie loosened her death-grip on Elaine and started to pull
away.  "Hey, what's up?"  Elaine rolled over to face her lover and
blinked the sleep out of her own eyes.  She tried to focus in the
dimness lit only by Angie's night light.  "Nothing.  Go back to
sleep."  Angie said, nestling her head against Elaine's breasts.  "You
okay?"  Elaine asked, tangling her fingers in Angie's curly hair and
tugging gently.  Angie didn't answer.  Her body coiled tightly against
her lover, tensing.  "Hey...I love you."  Elaine said.

	Angie started crying.  Silent tears falling down a freckled
nose and dripping off the end turned to heaving sobs.  Elaine wrapped
her arms around Angie and held her, utterly confused.

	Eventually Angie stopped crying, but she still refused to
speak.  Elaine soon fell asleep again, her legs and arms entwined with
her lover's.  Angie stayed awake, staring fixedly at the little Mickey
Mouse night light, glowing red.

***

						April 30th

Dearest Elizabeth,

	It's two a.m. and the sky here is glowing orange from the
streetlights.  It's beautiful - I wish you could see it.  I hope you
and Michael are doing well and the kids are healthy.  Has little
Elaine started talking yet?  I promise to come visit soon and be
sickeningly mushy about my godchild.  Even if she doesn't look
anything like me.

	Have those problems with your boss straightened out?  I really
think you should leave that job.  You loved teaching so much - go back
to it.  Michael certainly makes enough that you don't need to slave
away at the Ad Agency from Hell (tm) - And don't go getting all
independent on me - if I can support Ang, Michael can support you.
The kids already treat him as their father - I doubt they even
remember that bastard you married.

	Okay, your turn to give advice.  Lizzie, I don't know what I'm
doing.  Last time you called, I told you about that waif I had picked
up.  What I didn't tell you then (because they were both in the
room) is that I'm falling for him.  Hard.  He's gorgeous, Lizzie; you'll drool
when you meet him.  And strang and proud and funny and passionate -
about life, that is.  I haven't touched him; not quite.  The
occasional brushing arms, the spark of eyes - and it is a spark.  I'm
sure he feels the same way about me; but he hasn't said a word.  And
he's very careful to never be alone with me; and I keep finding
excuses to be near him.

	What do I do?  I'm sure Ang suspects something, but she won't
say anything.  She doesn't even touch me anymore - we sleep on
opposite edges of the bed and the air in this place is stifling.  I
think I'm going to go for a walk in the park and clear my brain. I'll
finish this when I get back.

*****


Part III
--------

	"Elaine?"  Angie sat bolt upright on the large futon, eyes
searching wildly in the darkness.  The night light had gone out and
the room was pitch black.  "Elaine!"  Angie's voice grew louder,
calling, and then she crumpled into a small white ball, wrapping her
arms around her knees and sobbing her lover's name over and over.
"Elaine, Elaine, Elaine, Elaine..."  Her voice started to rise 
again to a shriek, and the door suddenly swung open and Rob came into
the room.  He left the door open behind him and the moonlight clearly
lit the small figure of Angie, rocking.  He hesitated only a moment by
the door before he crossed over to the futon and dropped to his knees 
beside Angie.  

	Rob reached out a hand, slowly, as if expecting it to be
pushed away, but Angie only continued rocking, her head buried in her
knees and only her mane of auburn curls covering her naked shoulders.
Her feet and lower body were trapped in the twisted green sheets and
he reached out gently to pull them free.  The touch of his hand on 
her leg provoked fresh sobs, however, and Angie's entire body started
trembling, shivering despite the heat.  At that, he suddenly moved 
closer to her, gathering her small body in his arms, murmuring reassurances.
She turned into Rob's arms, soaking his shoulder with salty tears.  He
pressed soft kisses into her hair, holding her tightly, his skin cool
against her almost feverish heat.  "It's all right, Angel...it's all
right.  She'll be back soon.  She just went for a walk, I'm sure.
Look at the table; her keys are gone.  It's all right, don't worry."  

	Angie finally lifted her head at that to look at the table,
reassuring herself that Elaine's keys were indeed gone.  She turned
her head to look up into Rob's dark blue eyes.  "She's not with you?",
she asked plaintively.  With that question, Rob suddenly realized why
Angie had become so brittle around him lately, so sharp-edged.  He
laughed and hugged her, glad that he could honestly calm her fears.
"No, Angel.  I haven't touched her.  Not that she isn't gorgeous, but she 
seems to be avoiding me.  And I didn't want to intrude on you two.
You've got a wonderful relationship, and I'd just get in the way."

	He smiled down at her suddenly glowing face in the moonlight.
"Now go back to sleep.  Elaine will be back soon, I'm sure."  Rob bent
to press a gentle kiss on her nose before going, but Angie suddenly
tilted her head upward, so that his lips landed on hers instead.  She
arched her body up to meet his.  Wrapped only in bandages and a thin
pair of shorts, he could feel intimately the warmth of her lush body
pressing against him, and felt himself dissolving in the wholly 
unexpected kiss.  Rob found himself returning the kiss with surprising
passion; tension and emotion and undoubted attraction combining to
override his good judgement and send them both spiraling down into darkness.  

	The bedroom door swung back and forth unnoticed, occasionally
slamming in the rising wind as the gathering storm finally began to
break free.

*****

Part IV
-------

	Damp sand caught between her toes as Elaine walked the narrow
strip of beach.  The wind was rising, whipping the waves to a high
froth in the moonlight, sending her long chiffon skirt dancing.  She
was a slim figure in the night, barely visible, black on black.

	She paused as she neared the jagged rocks at the edge of the
beach, carefully climbing her way up to a precarious perch high
against the glow of the city far to the north.  Her mind was as
troubled as the roiling water in the rising storm.  As she gazed out over
the churning waves, she was suddenly struck by an intense longing for
New England, for hills and forests green and gold in sunlight.  But
she could never go back.  It would mean giving up Angie if she came
anywhere in her parents' sphere...and Elaine knew suddenly that she would
never choose to do that.  Angie was the other half of her heart, and
nothing, not even a beautiful man with hair like the light of early
morning could ever replace her.  Elaine would miss the East forever,
and she still didn't know where Rob would fit into their lives, but 
home was where Angie was, wherever that might be.

***

	They came at her from behind.  Five men, large in memory and
darkness, pulling her off the rocks to lie huddled on the dark sands,
moaning.  They didn't let her huddle long.  They tore her clothes off,
delighting in her frantic struggles to escape, to run on long legs
home to safety.  She never had a chance.  Finally she lay bare in the
moonlight, the first drops of rain a deceptively gentle caress while
they held her down and dared each other to go first.

	People in her past had said that her body was made for love,
its long smooth limbs curving gently, her firm breasts begging for
silky touches and long, slow teasing.  Men had fought to be the first
to offer her roses or ask her to the prom.  Women had written her
sonnets.

	They had no time or concern for her beauty.  She was foolish
enough to walk on the beach after midnight.  Her screams were lost in
the howling of the storm.  She was there, and she was theirs.

	When they had finished, they left her there on the sands
dangerously darker.  The rain battered down with the full force of
storm, pelting her shattered body with the power of its fury.  It was
an endless time before anybody else came by to see the wreckage.

*****


Part V

------

	Rob pushed open the door cautiously, unsure of his reception.
The last time he'd ventured into the bleak white room, Angie had
grabbed a glass from the night stand and hurled it at his head.  He'd
quickly ducked out into the pale green corridor, pulling the door
closed and listening to the thump as the glass, amazingly, didn't
break.  He'd spent the next two hours walking the newly washed floors
and badgering every doctor and nurse who walked past the intensive
care ward.  Elaine's chart was smudged with fingerprints from all the
times he'd picked it up, skimming past the unintelligible medicalese
to the large block letters printed in black at the bottom:  Prognosis
Uncertain.  It was almost dawn now, as he stepped into the sterile
room, and the gradually ligtening sky was the only illumination, aside
from the small glowing red and green lights of the myriad of
instruments connected to Elaine's still body.

	This time, Angie didn't look up as he walked towards her.  She
sat huddled in a chair pulled close to the bed.  Elaine's limp brown
hand was firmly clasped in two of her own freckled palms.  She'd finally
stopped crying, though the marks of almost a full day of tears had
ravaged her face.  Tears still hovered somewhere behind
preternaturally bright green eyes.  Rob was suddenly shaken with the
memory of how they had laughed two nights ago at how easily she cried.
Laughed softly as they sank into sleep, waiting for Elaine to come
home.  Slept until almost five, when the shattering call from the
hospital had woken them both.

	He pulled out an apple from his jacket pocket and silently
offered it to Angie.  She finally looked up at him and shook her head.

	"I'll eat when she does."

	"She's on intravenous food. She'll be fine.  And she'll eat
solid food when she wakes up.  You'll starve if you keep this up,
Angel; you haven't eaten in days."

	"I'm not hungry.  And she'll never wake up."  Angie said, in a
despairing monotone totally unlike her usual vibrant voice.  Rob was
tempted to grab those pale shoulders and shake her until she came to
her senses.  She shivered in the air-conditioned chill.  Rob took off
his jacket and roughly draped it over her thin black tank top.  She
was even paler and smaller than usual, a startling contrast to the
enveloping blue jean jacket.  Even her hair seemed dulled after this long
vigil, the color of dried autumn leaves instead of a crackling fire.
Rob reached out to lose his fingers in the tangle, bending down to
her, hoping perhaps to drown out the antiseptic hospital smell in the
scent of her hair.

	Angie jerked away sharply, her left hand rising quickly to slap
him away.  Rob caught it in his right, suddenly furious with
frustration and fear, and squeezed tightly until she gasped with 
startled pain.

	"Let go of me!"  she shouted.

	"We're supposed to be quiet.  Remember?"  he asked coldly.
"And I'll let go once you tell me what that was all about."

	"Just don't touch me."  she whispered, tears welling up again,
and her hand becoming limp in his.  Limp and cold, 'like Elaine's' he
couldn't help thinking.  Rob suddenly stepped closer, dropping her
hand so he could cradle her freckled face in his two tanned hadns.

	"Hey, I'm sorry, Angel. I'm just so tense, so tired of sitting
here and waiting, not able to do anything to help her."  He stared
into her gray-green eyes, willing her to believe him, to forgive him.
She stared back, her eyes empty.

	"It's our fault, you know."  she said, tonelessly.

	"What?"  Rob asked, dreading the words that he was sure would
echo his own guilty thoughts.

	"It's our fault."  Angie's voice began rising dangerously.
"If we hadn't been...fucking..." she spat out, "We would have gone out
and found her and she wouldn't have gotten raped, and she wouldn't have
been beaten, and she wouldn't be lying here in a coma and about to die
and it's all our fault!"  Angie's voice trailed off into muted sobs,
almost inaudible under the hum of the machines.

	Rob pulled her up into his arms.  She went, unresisting,
uncaring.  He began to stroke her hair, trying to find the words to
absolve her, and absolve himself of their communal guilt.

	"We couldn't have known, Angel.  We didn't know she'd been
gone so long; we didn't know she'd been stupid enough to walk alone on
the beach.  Elaine usually has too much sense for that sort of thing.
We'll yell at her for it when she wakes up.  And I'm sure she'll yell
back." he finished, trying to cheer her with the image of their
normally sedate Elaine irritated enough to yell.

	Angie tilted her head back and looked up at him, the tears
falling now in a continuous stream.  Her pale face was luminescent in
in the light of awakening dawn streaming through the window.  She shivered
like a ghost, a pale waif, a silent wailing banshee.  Angie shook her head,
staring at him as if begging for reassurance.  Rob leaned down and
gently kissed her forehead, lifting his hand and smoothing back her
bedraggled hair with shaking fingers.  "It'll be all right." he
murmured as he bent to kiss Angie's flushed lips, unsure whether he was
reassuring her or himself.  She trembled in his arms, almost pulling
her lips away for one endless second before surrendering to his offer
of comfort and losing herself in his embrace.

	His hands slid under the still-cold jacket and roamed across her
back, kneading the rigid muscles through the thin fabric of her top.
Angie's palms were pressed flat against his chest, her fingernails
digging through the cloth, into the roughened skin above the grimy
bandages.  She kissed him fiercely, thrusting her tongue against his
mouth, pressing her hips against his.  Rob pushed the jacket off her
shoulders, to fall heavily onto the floor.  His hands slipped under
her tank top, pushing her bra up over her breasts, freeing them to
slide loose and heavy into his cold hands.  Angie moaned in his mouth
as his fingers reached up to caress her nipples, arching herself
against his hard length.

	Rob broke the kiss to bend down to her breasts, pulling the
tank and bra off quickly.  His tongue circled her left nipple gently,
once, before he took it in his mouth and began sucking hard.  Angie
moaned again at that, curling her hands in his tangled hair and
pulling him towards her.  He slid a hand down her right hip, reaching
to unbutton her jeans.  Angie's body was curved against his, her face
buried in his bedraggled blond hair.  Rob lifted his head to switch 
to the other nipple.  It was then that he looked across the room and 
met Elaine's wide-open eyes.


	He quickly broke away from Angie...and then stood still, once
more uncertain of what to say or do.  Angie still faced away from 
Elaine's bed, almost blinded by the morning light as she looked up
at him, blinking in confusion.

	"Rob, what..." she started, before the sound of a hoarse cough
behind her sent her spinning around to face her lover.

	Elaine coughed again, and then reached out a faltering hand.
Rob wasn't sure whom Elaine was reaching towards.  Neither he nor 
Angie moved in that second.  Then Elaine said "Ang..." in a voice 
hoarse with disuse, and Angie rushed to her, tears falling like rain
as she tried to hug Elaine oh-so-carefully.

	Rob tried to suppress the sharb stab of hurt.  What else had
he expected, after all?  And after what Elaine must have just seen, he
was sure he wasn't welcome anymore.  He'd just stay long enough to
apologize, and then be on his way.

	So he stood there watching them.  They looked like characters
from a myth:  Elaine, newly risen from the dead, yet joyous in the
arms of her love.  And the healing angel, wearing a mantle of hair
touched with flame in the shaft of sunlight.

*****

End of Part V

M.A. Mohanraj
September 28, 1993

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