Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/H/HEAT2.TXT

Text File | 1994-01-29 | 35.2 KB | 786 lines

     Opening up to a stranger is always hard, but hope forced
Harold along.  Haltingly at first, then more freely with
Michael's gentle prodding, he told the whole tale.  Strange, but
it was much easier than the previous night he had told it to
Julie in bed.  He began to wonder if maybe his manhood wasn't
really in question after all.

     After Harold was finished, there was silence for a long
time.  Michael sat with his eyes closed, digesting information,
perhaps.  Finally, he spoke.

     "I see your problem, but I don't think you do.  Control is
not the real problem here.  You, sir, are attempting to define
yourself by your sexual ability."

     Harold gaped at him for a long moment.  "I don't
understand."

     "Simple.  This Cindi person did nothing more than verbally
assault your abilities in bed.  A painful experience, yes, but
not one that should trigger such a deep depression unless a
problem already existed.  You are placing far more emphasis on
sex than is healthy for you.  Tell me, how would you feel if I
told you Julie was married?"

     Harold felt an icy hand clutch his heart as he shivered in
the sweltering heat.  "She-she is?  But what happened last
night..."

     "Well, she's separated, actually.  She had planned a recon-
ciliation last night at the party, but her husband never showed
up.  She just learned this morning that he was in the emergency
room at Central hospital with a hernia.  I believe the police
have taken an interest in the matter, for some strange reason.
All this could have had something to do with what happened."

     And she had never said a word about it, while Harold had
blubbered all over the place about his own problems.

     Michael interrupted his thoughts.  "But you did not answer
my question.  Does it bother you that she has a marriage she is
trying to reconcile?"

     The words were like nails being hammered into Harold's
heart.  "Well...shit.  I guess it does..."

     "Why?" Michael asked mildly.

     Taken aback, Harold replied, "Well...after what happened
last night I was hoping I'd found...She's an incredible woman."

     "Whom you've known only a few hours," Michael finished for
him.  "What you found was a chance to redeem yourself, and, from
what you've told me, you've done that admirably.  You've totally
disproved everything this Cindi person told you, yet still you
are not happy.  You believe that gaining the ability to postpone
orgasm is the only thing that will confirm your manhood."  His
next words were emphasized so as to avoid any chance of misunder-
standing:  "Bullshit."

     Harold blinked rapidly "I don't understand."

     Michael sighed.  "Harold, my boy, the only person in the
world who can confirm your manhood is you.  What is the defini-
tion of manhood, anyway?  I've heard many definitions, and few of
them have anything to do with sex."

     "But..." Harold stammered, still confused.  "You won't
help?"

     Michael was about to say he didn't think Harold needed any.
Then he closed his mouth and thought a moment.  Harold probably
wouldn't listen.  Michael sensed something in this young man,
something he didn't see very often.  Harold was obviously very
intelligent, as well as in a lot of pain.  He could get a lot out
of life if he ever got the courage to crawl out from under his
rock of self-pity.  All he really needed was the right kind of
guidance, and Michael never had been one to resist trying to
help.

     "I may help," Michael said at last.  "How far are you will-
ing to go?"

     "Well..." Harold thought for a moment, more confused than
ever.  "As...far as I have to," he finally replied.

     Michael stared at him for a long time, taking his measure.
Finally, he sighed.  "Very well.  I have a vacant room you may
stay in.  You will need to move your belongings there.  The room
and board will be free of charge, at least for now." He leaned
forward again.  "Your life is going to change drastically.  Just
remember what you said."

     Harold swallowed hard.  He was no longer confused.

     He was frightened.



     Two weeks passed.  They passed slowly, but hardly peaceful-
ly.  The daytime temperature remained in the 100's, and things
were heating up in more ways than one:

     The Willyville Nudist Society, despite warnings from the
police, persisted in their activities.  Walks, swims, gardening,
any outdoor activity that could be was performed in the nude in
the scorching sunshine.  After the first fifty busts or so, the
police decided it was a lost cause and just ignored the whole
thing.  After all, they still had the air-conditioner thieves to
catch.  The nudists were easy to spot even with their clothes on,
as they had tans so deep they bordered on sunburns.  But then a
medical segment on the local news mentioned something that put
the whole thing into a new light...

     Skin cancer.

     Terror spread through the naturalist community as fast as
the phone could carry the news, and the next day the Willyville
Nudist Society disbanded, only to be replaced by the Willyville
Overcoat Society.  That's right, every single one of the ex-
nudists were bundled up in long coats and large hats every time
they set foot outside.  Within 48 hours the hospitals reported 19
cases of heat stroke.  The doctors and nurses of the Willyville
medical community were beginning to wish they had the luxury of
taking long overdue vacations...

     On a more positive note, the Willyville air conditioner
crime wave ended in a rather spectacular way.  Elmo Burns had
taken a sick day from the sawmill and was busily enjoying X-rated
videotapes in the privacy of his own home (as was his constitu-
tional right) when he heard strange noises coming from the direc-
tion of the air-conditioner.  Already suspicious, he pulled up
his pants, grabbed his over-and-under shotgun, went out the front
door, and snuck around to the back of the house.  Sure enough,
there was a man standing on a short stepladder, trying to lever
the air-conditioner loose with a crowbar.  Obviously, he thought
Elmo was away at work, overlooking Elmo's Ford 4X4 sitting square
in the driveway.  Elmo figured that the subtle approach would
just be wasted on someone this dumb, so he announced his presence
by letting the would-be thief have it right in the ass with both
barrels at close range.

     Elmo's shotgun had been loaded with hand-made shells con-
taining, not buckshot, but rock salt and bacon rinds, which had
been his daddy's solution for kids who stole crops from the
fields.  The attack was not lethal, but the crook was still quite
immobilized (to say the least) when the police arrived.  The
detective in charge of the thefts saw that a golden opportunity
had arisen to bring this mess to a halt once and for all.  He
took the wounded thief downtown instead of to the hospital and
directly to an interrogation room.  There, being held down on a
hard wooden chair by two burly officers, it took the screaming
thief less than fifteen seconds to decide to roll over on the
rest of his gang.  Within the hour they were all rounded up,
along with a small warehouse full of air conditioners, which had
turned out to be a bit harder to fence that they anticipated.

     The chief of police announced the news from the steps of
City Hall to a cheering crowd of over a thousand sweating theft
victims.  But there was one small snag.  Somebody asked when the
air conditioners would be returned to their anxious owners.  The
chief paused for a second, swallowed hard, then confessed that
they would all have to be held over as evidence for the
trial--which was scheduled to begin in six weeks.

     The riot that ensued would best be left to the reader's
imagination...


                                    ---

     "Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." Michael crooned,
sitting crosslegged in the middle of the floor.

     "Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." Harold aped,
sitting in an identical position in across from him.

     "Repeat after me." Michael said quietly.  "Owha..."

     "Owha..."

     "Tajer..."

     "Tajer..."

     "Kiyam."

     "Kiyam."

     "Now repeat the whole thing." Michael said.

     "Ohwa...Tajer...Kiyam..." Harold droned, eyes closed.

     Michael got up a bit stiffly, and said, "I'll be back in a
few minutes.  Keep repeating this, a little faster each time,
until I return." and closed the door quietly behind him.  He
limped down to the kitchen (that lotus position gets harder on
the knees every year) and grabbed a couple beers.

     As expected, when he got back, Harold was not chanting.
Instead he glared at Michael with all the indignity he could
muster.  "Very funny."

     Michael sat in the recliner.  "That, my dear boy, was the
Tibetan Mantra for Self Realization."  He grinned, "Sorry, I just
couldn't resist.  Besides, if you really were a jerk, you would
have still been chanting when I got back, and then I'd have
*known* there was no hope for you."

     Harold glared a moment longer, then they both broke up
laughing.  Wiping a tear from his eye, Harold said, "Still, it
was a cheap shot."

     Michael leaned forward, offering Harold a beer.  "Actually,
it was intended to illustrate a serious point.  To wit:  just
because you've fooled yourself into believing something, that
doesn't mean it's true."

     Harold popped the top on the can, which promptly foamed into
his lap.  "Shit," he grunted, looking around for a towel.  "You
mean I've been wasting my time this last two weeks with all this
meditation stuff?"

     "Not at all.  You are becoming quite adept at controlling
your voluntary reactions and senses.  You haven't complained
about the heat here at all for the last several days."  Now that
Harold thought about it, he really wasn't feeling the heat at
all.  Michael continued, "In fact, I've never seen anyone advance
so fast.  No, I'd say you're well on your way to conquering your
ejaculation problem.  It's your other problem I'm really con-
cerned about."

     "Oh?  And just what problem is that?" Harold asked suspi-
ciously.

     "I think you know what I'm talking about.  Your insistence
that you define your sexual abilities by the ability to postpone
orgasm.  I think you're going to find that that doesn't mean very
much in the real world.  What you're really lacking is confidence
and self-knowledge.  You need to know your capabilities and trust
in them in order to BE capable.  Being able to have intercourse
as long as you like is a fine thing, but you're going to find
that not that many women are going to be impressed by that abili-
ty alone."

     Harold was shaken.  "You mean this isn't going to solve my
problem?"

     Michael rolled his eyes upwards.  "At last he begins to see
the light.  I talked to Julie the other day and she says-"

     "You've talked to her?" Harold interrupted anxiously.
"Where is she?  How's she doing?"

     "Calm down, calm down.  She's doing fine, she just has a few
things to work out.  She actually called to see how you're doing.
Apparently that night you shared together has affected her as
strongly as it did you."

     Harold's eyes became dreamy "Wow."

     "Anyway," Michael continued dryly, "as I was saying, Julie
commented that your abilities were quite remarkable.  Yet you
persist in believing that you are inadequate, just because one
person told you that you were.  That shows a very serious lack of
self confidence.  Do you see what I'm saying?"

     Harold thought it over a long moment.  "Maybe...but how do I
get this confidence?"

     "You have to know yourself," Michael concluded.  "And doing
this is not the easiest thing in the world.  You have to go out
and do things.  You have to explore.  If you just sit around
being a mass of untapped potential then you will never know what
that potential is.  You cannot be confident in something you do
not know."

     "Okay," Harold said, a bit confused, "so what's all this got
to do with what's going on right now?"

     "I'm glad you asked.  I think it's time we tested some of
that potential right now." Michael got up and opened the door.
"Diane," he called.  A moment later one of the most stunning
women Harold had ever seen in his life walked in.  "Harold, this
is Diane.  Diane, Harold."

     Diane offered her hand and Harold took it briefly.  "Hello,
Harold," she said, in a low, husky voice.  She stood about six
inches shorter than he did, and had a lithe, well-proportioned
body.  Harold felt almost helpless to prevent his eyes from
traveling downward, from her shoulder-length auburn hair to
small, pert breasts contained in a red tank-top to long, tanned
legs, very well set off by her rather brief white shorts.  Sud-
denly, self-consciously, he jerked back up where her beautiful
hazel eyes met his in a penetrating gaze.  She slipped her hand
from his and walked over to the window, hips swaying just the
right amount to hold his attention captive.  Then she turned back
to him and stood there, one hand on cocked hip, fixing him again
with that gaze.

     Harold swallowed hard and shoved one hand in his pocket, to
conceal the bulge that was growing there.  There was nothing
physically remarkable about this woman.  All her power and sex-
uality was in the way she moved, the way she held herself.  As
Tom had often said:  "It's not what you got so much as how you
show it."  A wave of pure lust swept over Harold.  He wanted this
woman more than any he had ever seen in his life, yet her self
assurance frightened him, as if telling him this was more woman
that he could ever handle.

     Then Michael cleared his throat and the spell snapped.
Diane relaxed and became a mere mortal again, leaning against the
window frame and grinning like someone who had just played a
grand joke.  Harold felt as if he had been doused with cold water
from the inside out and the bulge in his pants quickly receded.
He swallowed dryly.  "That's...some act."

     "Thanks," she said, her voice now quite ordinary.  "I always
get a kick out of doing that.  Before I came here, guys used to
ignore me in droves.  Now I can get 'em drooling any time I
please.  I don't do it very often, but it's nice to know that I
can."

     "Diane came here about four years ago," Michael said, in his
best college professor voice.  "Her circumstances weren't all
that different from yours, in fact.  She felt she had all kinds
of faults and deficiencies, but her biggest problem was that she
simply didn't know herself.  Under my guidance, she quickly
learned who she really was and what she could do."  He turned to
her and asked, "What was it you were doing before you came here?
I forget."

     She appeared to ponder it for a moment.  "Oh, yeah.  I
almost forgot about it.  I was waitressing down at Ptomaine
Palace for minimum wage and living with this guy who would slap
me around because he said sex with me was 'boring'.  Finally the
fucker ran off, leaving me with a lease I couldn't afford to pay.
My fondest fantasy is to track him down someday and put his ass
in the hospital."  A feral gleam suddenly appeared in her eye and
Harold felt a chill running down his spine.  "Anyway, after the
landlord threw me out a friend introduced me to Michael.  After
hearing my story he gave me free room and board for as long as I
needed it, and lectures every day.  After a while I quit resent-
ing it and started to really listen to what he was telling me.
Now, in a couple months I'll be starting my junior year at the
university with a major in Engineering.  And I owe it all to
Michael."

     "Bullshit," Michael growled, sitting back down in his re-
cliner.  "You owe it all to yourself.  I just gave you a kick in
the ass that got it started.  No excuse for letting yourself go
to hell like that.  None at all."  He paused for a moment.  "Do
you still want to do this?"

     She looked Harold up and down appraisingly.  "Sure.  Might
be instructive all around."

     Harold suddenly felt very alone and outnumbered.  And a
little worried.  "Um, somebody want to let me in on this?"

     "Well," she said, walking over to Harold, "Mikey and I had a
little talk last night, and I had this idea to, you know, prove
just how far along you had come in conquering your little prob-
lem."  She placed a hand on Harold's shoulder and traced it,
feather light, down his shirtfront to his belt buckle, which she
hooked a finger into and tugged gently.

     Harold swallowed hard, wondering just how far he had gotten
over his head here.  He looked over at Michael.  Michael, who had
winced visibly at "Mikey," simply looked back and said nothing.
No help there.

     So he turned back to Diane.  "Um, you mean here?  Right
now?"

     "Sure," she said, tugging on his buckle again.  "Why not?"

     Then she was rubbing up against him, her arms around his
neck.  Their mouths met in a long, breathtaking kiss.  Harold's
cock was as stiff as a railroad spike, and it didn't help that
Diane was grinding her hips against his.  She broke the kiss and
ran her tongue slowly along Harold's jawline.  Planting little
kisses along his neck, she slowly slid down his front, maintain-
ing maximum contact with her hands a body all the way.  When she
was on her knees, her face level with his crotch, she began to
work at his belt buckle.

     Oh, jeez, Harold thought, as he looked around frantically.
Michael was still watching, only his expression was intent.
Harold got the distinct feeling he was being *studied*.

     Diane got Harold's belt unbuckled, undid the snap, and
pulled the zipper down.  A white bulge immediately poked through,
as his erection strained to be free of his shorts.  His pants
fell to his ankles with a jingle of change as Diane placed a hand
on his covered bulge, massaging it gently while she looked up
into his eyes.  Harold already felt waves of massive pleasure
surge up from his groin.  She put her mouth over the tip of the
bulge and exhaled gently.  Harold clearly felt the heat of her
breath on his cock, and moaned imperceptibly.

     Then she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and began to
slowly pull them down, uncovering his erection inch by agonizing
inch.  The pounding in his cock was matched by the pounding in
his head as he felt the elastic drag down along the length of his
penis.

     Then he was free, his cock standing stiffly erect for all
the world to see.  He glanced over at Michael, but Michael didn't
seem to be as interested in the action as he was in Harold's
face.  Then Harold forgot all about him as Diane extended her
tongue and ran it up along his cock.

     Then, without warning, she plunged it into her mouth.  All
the way in.  While Harold wasn't exceptionally large, he had
still never met a woman who could deep throat him before.  The
feeling was nothing short of amazing, as the warm, slick wetness
of her mouth enveloped his entire cock.  The feeling was intense-
ly erotic, and Harold closed his eyes with a moan and rolled his
hips as he prepared to explode into her mouth.

     A sudden, hard slap rocked his face.  Shocked, he opened his
eyes to stare at Michael, who had bounded off his chair and stood
just behind Diane.  "Harold," he said quietly, "if you ejaculate
in her mouth, she will bite your penis off."

     At that moment, he felt a brief, sharp pain at the base of
his cock as she dug her teeth in very slightly, just as a hint,
before resuming her sucking with double the intensity.

     Cold horror gripped Harold's heart.  He had been a fraction
of a second away from coming before Michael slapped him, but the
slap had brought him well back from the edge.  Still, Diane's
oral talents were nothing short of extraordinary and it would not
be very long before he was back again.  She slid his cock in and
out of her mouth while lightly caressing his balls with one hand.
The other hand slid between his legs and began to tease his
asshole with a finger.  Already the pressure was beginning to
build as Harold frantically thought of a way to stop it.

     In the midst of panic came a voice of calm.  Your training,
you idiot! it said.  That's it!  Harold replied.  He began to
repeat the mantras Michael had taught him over and over in his
mind.  Slowly, the real world began to fade into the distance as
he entered a trance.  The sensations beneath his belly eased to
the point where he could contemplate them or dismiss them alto-
gether.  His heart slowed and his pupils dilated as his mind
entered an alpha state.  Within an amazingly short time he became
pure ego, floating in a sea of peace and serenity.

     After what seemed a brief yet endless time his hindbrain
became aware that something changed and he resurfaced to con-
sciousness, gazing at Michael's gently smiling face.  Harold
looked down and saw that Diane had stopped, and was sitting at
his feet, massaging her jaw.

     "Jeez," she said, "Thirty fucking minutes.  Nobody's ever
outlasted me before."  She looked up at him ruefully.  "Mister,
you are nothing short of amazing."

     Laughing, Michael clapped Harold hard on the back, almost
making him trip over his pants.  He quickly pulled them up and
refastened them.  "Well, my boy," Michael said, "I guess I'd
pronounce you cured, at least by your own standards."

     Harold stood there, amazed.  "I...guess I really did it.  I
never thought I would."

     "I had no doubt," Michael said.  "You have found one solu-
tion to your problem.  Not the best one, in my opinion, but a
solution all the same.  With practice you shall find others, I'm
sure."

     Harold helped Diane to her feet.  He looked her in the eye
and asked, "Would you really have...?"

     She just smiled and said nothing.

     Harold gulped and looked over at Michael.  "Would she have?"

     Michael just shrugged.  "Beats me.  And I suppose I should
know if anybody would.  After all, she's my wife."

     Harold's jaw dropped open.  It stayed that way for a moment,
until Diane reached up and gently closed it.  "You look cute when
you're shocked," she admitted.  Then she gently tugged him to-
wards the door.

     "What are you doing?" he asked, still flabbergasted.

     "I think we can find a more suitable place to finish what we
started..."

     "But...but..." he looked over at Michael helplessly.

     Michael just shrugged again, palms up.  "She does as she
wishes.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  You have passed
an important hurdle today, and a difficult one.  You deserve a
reward.  Enjoy yourself.  Both of you."

     Harold was silenced, at least long enough for Diane to drag
him out of there and to his well-earned reward.

     And what a reward it was!



     In order to prevent an armed revolt by the citizenry, the
mayor did the only thing he could.  He promised to drop all
charges against the air-conditioner thieves on the condition they
would return all the stolen property.  They hastily agreed,
considering that an armed mob waited outside the building to hear
their decision.  Since there would be no trial, all the air-
conditioners were returned immediately to their sweating, cheer-
ing owners and the mayor became a guaranteed shoo-in for the next
election.

     The chief of police, who was recuperating in the hospital
from a concussion sustained during the previous day's riot, went
on record saying he would live just as long and die just as happy
if he "never heard the word 'air-conditioner' again."

     Though the thieves managed to save their lives by returning
the loot, there was still a slight feeling of resentment against
them in Willyville.  Since the police had no reason to hold them
anymore, they were thrown out of the station and right into the
arms of the raving crowd.

     Within the hour, the entire gang had been tarred and feath-
ered.  Julie's husband was among them, and Julie herself took
great pleasure in assisting with the tarring and feathering, but
not before getting him to sign the divorce papers.  She watched
as the gang was run out of town on a rail, Elmo Burns assisting
with his shotgun and a generous supply of his "special" shells.
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away absently.
An unpleasant chapter in her life had just closed, and she knew
better things lay ahead.

     The next day, Bob Katt, fresh from a long vacation in the
Yukon, returned once more to the KNUT Newsroom.  Since the studio
air-conditioning had been restored, he was appeared fully
dressed, bringing the best news Willyville had heard in a long,
long time.  The high-pressure front that had been stagnating over
the whole area for the last five weeks had finally weakened its
hold and a storm front was moving in, bringing massive thunder-
clouds, rain, and COOLER TEMPERATURES!!!!

     A massive roar rose over the town as every man, woman, and
child cheered.  Bob was later nominated for sainthood by the
local church.  He politely declined, saying that one Church of
"Bob" was enough...


                                    ---

     Harold knew the moment of truth had come.  There was no
denying it, and putting it off would only make things worse.  He
had talked to Julie, who understood completely.  Diane said, "Go
for it!"  Michael objected, saying that Harold was still placing
way too much emphasis on his sexual ability, but acquiesced
eventually when he saw just how determined Harold was.

     There comes a time when one has to face one's fears, either
to defeat them or succumb forever.  But to avoid the test is to
avoid oneself.  On this even Michael had to agree.

     Harold swallowed hard, picked up the phone, and started
dialing.

                                    ---

     The moon poured in through the open window, flooding the
bedroom with an eerie half light.  The air was warm, a pleasant
75 degrees.  Perfect temperature for nudity.  Cindi settled back
on the pillow with a satisfied sigh of pleasure not yet faded to
memory.  Harold still kneeled on the bed between her knees, his
erection pounding almost painfully against his belly.  The moon-
light spilled across her nude, fluid form, and he lovingly eyed
her firm, small breasts, still hard nippled in the aftermath of
her orgasm.  His eyes roamed down her smooth, taut belly to the
wiry mass of her pubic hair, where he had but moments ago spent
so much time carefully and artistically bringing her to a power-
ful climax.  Whatever else you could say about his performance in
the sack, he knew how to give head.  It was one of the skills he
was especially proud of.  It used to be all he was proud of.

     Harold leaned forward, placing his hands on the bed on
either side of her.  He kissed her fully and deeply as he gently
lowered his weight onto her.  For a moment they simply lay there,
as he savored the full body contact, the feel of her naked skin
against his own.  Then he raised his hips and she gently guided
him into her.

     For Harold, at least, no sensation in the world could ever
compare to the warm, slinky feeling of penetration.  He thrust
deep, and her hips moved in response.  His excitement towered to
new heights, and his balls ached for release.  Take it slow, take
it slow.  He kissed her again and ran his hand along her side,
from thigh to shoulder, feeling, touching, loving.

     He began to pump in a slow sinuous rhythm, her hips moving
with his.  Her legs raised and locked around his waist as her
hands moved along his back.  Her breathing became short and
rapid, and Harold knew she was building to another orgasm.  With
each thrust, his own pleasure mounted to a new height until
finally he poised, breathless, at the brink.  Too soon, too
soon...

     And then he remembered.  The mantra began to slowly run
through his head, and he felt the pleasure fade as he began to
distance himself from what he was doing.  His whole body seemed
to shift into an altered state, one of total control.

     Beneath him, Cindi froze for a moment, perhaps in amazement
that he hadn't come yet, and then she became fluid again, moving
and twisting in synch with his own movements.  Her breathing
became rougher and louder, first becoming gasps, then cries.
Harold continued to pump mechanically all the while.  Cindi
wrapped her arms around him, her nails digging into his back.
Her hips bucked and humped, grinding against his pubic bone with
every thrust.  Finally, her body tensed as her moans became a
breathless shriek of ultimate pleasure as her orgasm ripped
through her.  Gasping, she begged Harold to stop, but he wasn't
listening, and a moment later she felt herself building up to
another orgasm.  Once again her body locked and she squeezed him
hard enough to bruise ribs as the pleasure exploded in her, twice
as powerful as before.  By now Cindi was beyond amazement and in
nirvana.  And then she felt herself building up to a third...

     Forty mind-blowing minutes later, Harold decided to release
the hold he had on his senses and ejaculated, pumping his seed
into her with a rather disappointing spasm that might technically
count as an orgasm.  He pulled himself out and flopped on the bed
beside her, exhausted.  His back and stomach muscles ached miser-
ably and his dick felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper,
especially around the base.  He turned over to Cindi, who was
laying on her back with her legs still apart, eyes glazed, mum-
bling incoherently.  He began to wonder if he had done her perma-
nent damage.

     It was another fifteen minutes before she returned to reali-
ty.  She promptly rolled over and clamped onto Harold for dear
life.  "Oh, God!" she gasped hoarsely, "That was unbelievable!
How..."

     Harold grinned, trying to pry himself loose so he could
breathe.  "Oh, I've learned a few things."

     "I'll say you have!  Jesus, I'll be sore for a week!  I've
never *ever* had a ride like that before."

     A cool breeze suddenly blew in through the window and they
both fell silent, in respect for nature's sudden benevolence.
Then Harold got up and began to pull on his clothes.  Cindi
continued talking, oblivious to everything but herself, as usual.
"You know, I really didn't mean to be so hard on you before, but
what's a girl to do?  I mean, it's the man's job to satisfy her
and if he can't do it...well..."

     "Uh huh," Harold said, zipping up his pants.  He began to
look about for his shirt.

     "Anyway," she continued, "I thought maybe if I gave you a
little incentive, you might find some way to shape up.  And boy,
did you ever!  All those guys I saw after I left you...they
couldn't hope to match what you did tonight."

     "Izzat so?" Harold said, finding his shirt hanging on the
curtain rod.  "Lots of different guys, huh?"

     "Well...you know," she said coyly.  "they really didn't mean
anything to me anyway.  They were just random flings, even the
guy you saw me with at the party.  I always, well, cared for you
somehow.  You have this sort of stumbling, immature charm that I
always found appealing.  You just needed to do some growing up
and I'm so glad I finally decided to make you do it."

     "Yep, you sure made me do some growing," Harold said, pull-
ing on his shoes.  "In fact, that was precisely what I wanted to
show you tonight."

     "When you called me this morning and said you wanted a
chance to show me how much you improved I was, well, a little
dubious.  In fact, I called Frank and Tony and kinda set up a
backup date in case you...frustrated me again."  She closed her
eyes and sighed luxuriously.  "But you sure didn't.  I've never
been so satisfied in my entire life."

     "I'm glad to hear it," Harold said.  He was fully dressed
now, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  "This was just some-
thing I felt I needed to do.  But now-"

     "I know, I know." she interrupted.  "You want us to get back
together again.  You are so predictable!  Well, until tonight I
really wasn't sure, but maybe we could work something out.  It
couldn't be exclusive at first, at least not for me, but a few
more nights like that and you might just convince me to settle
down...Hey, are you all right?"

     Harold seemed to be suffering from a choking fit.  Finally
he took his hand from over his mouth and it became obvious that
he wasn't choking at all, but laughing.  It was a full minute
before he was able to bring it under control and talk again.
"You...you really are something else, you know that?"  He had
another fit of giggles and Cindi watched him, confused and unbe-
lieving.  He continued, "You really think...after all that...that
I'd still wanna..." and off into another burst of laughter.

     "What are you talking about?" she demanded, confused.  "You
distinctly said this morning you wanted another chance!  I
thought-"

     "Well, I'm sorry that was what you thought, because it
wasn't what I said.  I wanted to prove something, both to you and
to myself."  Suddenly he was sober and serious again.  "And I
did.  That was all I really wanted to do.  You might as well make
a date with Frank and Tony for tomorrow night, because as far as
I'm concerned, we have no reason to see each other ever again."

     Cindi stared at him, aghast.  "What the hell are you talking
about?  You're in love with me, you fool!  Don't you think I
couldn't tell?"

     "Old news, my dear."  Harold got up and went to the door.
"Tell you what:  if you ever learn to think about anyone but
yourself, give me a call.  Maybe we can work something out..."
and with another burst of laughter, he was gone.

     Cindi got up and ran to the window without dressing.  Not
caring if anybody saw her, she leaned out and yelled, "Bullshit!
You still love me and you know it!  Admit it!"

     Her only reply was the sound of a car pulling away and
slightly demented giggles drifting on the wind, mixing with the
distant rumble of thunder.


                                    ---

     At 11:04 PM, the first lightning strikes were sighted over
the forest north of town.  After five weeks without rain, the
woods were dry as a tinderbox, and the forest service immediately
summoned all the regular and volunteer firefighters they could
muster out there.  The temperature dropped below 75 degrees for
the first time in thirty-six days.

     Thirty minutes later, black, murderous storm clouds drifted
over the Willyville area, filling the sky with a spectacular
lightning display.  Thunder shook the town to its foundations as
virtually everybody in town came outside to watch from their
porches or doorways.

     By midnight the temperature dropped to 65 degrees.  Harold
and Julie watched from the front porch of the boarding house as a
single drop of water spattered in the dust at their feet.

     Approximately one minute later the skies opened up with all
their fury.  Quarter sized raindrops hailed down in a torrent,
quickly drenching everything in sight.  The Forest Service
needn't have worried.  It was as if the sky gods were trying to
make up for so many days of drought by drowning the poor, hapless
town beneath them.  People whooped and hollered in the streets,
mindless of the soaking they were receiving.  The hospitals would
admit 14 pneumonia cases before the weekend.  But right now, even
the (off-duty) doctors and nurses were joining in the celebra-
tion.

     The people partied hard and long into the night, as tempera-
tures quickly plummeted.  They bottomed out at 50 degrees around
2:30 AM.  This news was greeted by hoarse and ragged cheering.
People were catching colds already.

     On the boarding house porch, Julie shivered, delighting in
the chill.  An arm circled around her shoulders and she looked up
into Harold's eyes.  Without a word, she led him into the house,
past Michael, who looked on with bland approval.  Michael himself
had a beer in one hand and his other arm was around Diane's
shoulders.  Pretty soon, they would be going inside as well, for
a more private party.  It was indeed a time for celebration.


     The heat was finally over.