Hmm, no warrior here, no bard, no Ancient Greece, either, so I guess it's all
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Sex: Far from it. But I guess you could say this piece is highly suggestive of an f/f relationship. If that bothers you - feel free to read something else.
Just so you know: This story is not what it appears to be. Any use of cliché is deliberate. Don't shoot me <g>
Homepage: Verrath's Book Of Tales
December 20, 2001
Resting on a cushioned chair that felt strangely uncomfortable despite its well-worn upholstery, I sat looking up into a set of gentle green eyes that it seemed I had known forever.
The shapely figure hovering above me shifted briefly, and I was blinded by a flash of bright light from the lamp above our heads. Then her face came back into focus, and I blinked twice to get rid of the residual flare in my vision.
Her voice was gentle, patient. "Please." Slowly, she extended her hand and touched my lips.
I knew my eyes were wide, but I made no effort to hide my trepidation. Somehow, this situation had never been something I was comfortable with. "I... I can't." I cleared my throat, and met her even gaze with guarded eyes.
"This isn't going to work, is it?" She let out a frustrated little sigh. "It's always like this. If you refuse to open up, I can't-" She shook her head. "It could be so different if you weren't so... guarded."
"I'm sorry," I tried to defend myself. "This really isn't easy for me. I'm not used to... well, you know."
"Oh, yes, I know." Now she seemed slightly agitated. Not that I could blame her, really. "How many times have we been through this? And have I ever hurt you in all those years? Well? Have I?"
"Of course not," I admitted. "But-" I broke off. I was running out of arguments. I knew she was right. And it wasn't like I didn't want to. I knew I had to try and work with her, or I'd lose her. I did not want that. She was the best there was, for me. I had been with others before, more of them than I cared to admit, but never had any of them understood me the way she did.
Nervously, I started fiddling with a strand of my black hair, looking anywhere but up, where I knew her eyes were boring into me, knowing far more than I wanted them to. My heart was in my throat; I could feel cold sweat on my palms and forehead.
"What makes you think I'll hurt you this time?"
"I don't know."
"See? There is no reason.... Come on, open up!"
No reason! Right, she could say that! She wasn't the one who had gone through years of pain because someone a lot like her, years ago, had cut wounds that not even time seemed able to heal. I wasn't proud of it, but I was scared. Terrified. I simply could not do this.
I drew breath to speak, but the words died in my mouth when my eyes met hers once again. I bit my lip.
Impatience finally got the better of her. She drew herself up to full height and squared her shoulders, giving me an emerald glare that sent a shiver of premonition down my spine. I cowered, trying to disappear into the plastic cushioning of the huge chair. The next moment, I was lifted up, chair and all, to the faint whirring of the machinery she had activated, rising slowly until my face was level with her shoulders, before she released the button on her remote.
"Miss McRunnel, you're going to have to open your mouth now. How am I going to finish this inlay if you don't?"
Reluctantly, I finally complied. I was rewarded by a radiant smile as she inserted the wickedly glinting, hooked probe into my mouth and started scraping around my mangled molar.
"See? That wasn't so hard. I promise you won't feel a thing. Oh, and don't even think about biting again..."
The End (OUCH!)
You guessed it, I thought of this while in the waiting room during my annual dental checkup. My Muse must have an interesting sense of humor...
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