Bridges 1   
      
   By Loki925 (M/gg, pedo, inc)   
      
   This story is purely fiction and does not contain anyone or anything in   
   reality, whatever that is.   
      
   As we walk along our seventy minutes or so of life, every so often we   
   are presented with choices. Go to the left, go the right, or continue on   
   the same path. I call these choices bridges.   
      
   I look down at the woman I have just been with. Damn, she sure is still   
   easy on the eyes.   
      
   She is twenty-one, or so she said. I would guess her to be some place   
   between zero and eighteen years old.   
      
   Have to include that zero. It's an "off" state and without it nothing I   
   do will work. I am a software consultant. One may ask, "What the heck is   
   that?" and I would say, "Damned if I know, but it pays well."   
      
   Anyway the woman still has those teenaged breasts, you know the ones   
   that don't sag and jut out to say "hello". She has short light brown   
   hair and there is not an ounce of make up on her sleeping face. And then   
   there are those ass round cheeks, taut with not an ounce of flab. All of   
   this is good, but the best thing is I just fucked her, not once but twice.   
      
   I get up and blow her a kiss good-bye. She was good for a night, but   
   tomorrow I will fly home to my wife and two young daughters. It was an   
   old bridge with many new ones ahead. I finish dressing and let myself   
   out, making sure I lock her door behind me.   
      
   I check my watch. It's 4:00am and that gives me a few hours to sleep   
   before my 9:00am flight. I get in my rental car and drive back to my   
   hotel. I park the car and check in at the front desk and pick up my   
   messages.   
      
   None of my messages are of any importance and they can be handled easily   
   before my flight. I leave a wake up call for 7:00am. I go to my room   
   where I flop on the bed and close my eyes. A few moments later, the   
   phone rings. I pick it up and hear, "Your wake up call, sir."   
      
   Man. I need some coffee. I change my clothing and pack my bag, check the   
   drawers, and exit my room. I go down to the lobby and the TV is on. The   
   news is all about yesterday's plane crash. Some big jumbo jet took a   
   nose dive back to Earth. No survivors.   
      
   I check out of the hotel and pay with my credit card. I go out to my   
   rental car and drive to the airport. A few clock ticks later I go   
   through security and walk to my gate. I still have about twenty minutes   
   before my flight boards, so I take care of my "call me" messages. I   
   manage to get them all in before I hear the last call for my flight. I   
   make my way to first class and take my seat. I put the cheap airline   
   pillow behind my head and drift off to sleep.   
      
   A few moments later I hear, "Sir, we are coming in for a landing." I   
   yawn. I still need that coffee. The plane lands and I make my way to the   
   baggage area. I pick up my bag and wait and wait. Where the hell is she?   
   She always picks me up on time and now she is at least forty-five   
   minutes late.   
      
   I decide to call my house and get a stupid answering machine. I wait   
   twenty minutes more before I say, "Screw this shit."   
      
   I get a cab and one hour later I am home. I open the door to my house   
   and find no one there. Well at least I can get that coffee. I make some   
   coffee and after I take two sips I hear the phone ring. "She better have   
   a good excuse for not picking me up," I think before I answer the phone.   
      
   "Hello?"   
      
   "John. We have been trying to reach you." It was Ann, my wife's sister.   
      
   "Well you got me now." I never got along with Ann. She was always   
   butting in, telling my wife I was some kind of dog. "How the hell could   
   she know?" I always thought.   
      
   Anyway it did not matter. Carroll, my wife, always stuck up for me.   
      
   "John, we need you to come over here."   
      
   "Why?"   
      
   "Please, just come over." Now how could I turn that down? It was the   
   first "please" I ever heard out of her stupid mouth.   
      
   "I will be there in about one hour." One hour was not far enough away   
   for me, but Carroll wanted to be close to her sister.   
      
   "Thank you, John."   
      
   And a "thank you" too, icing on the cake. I make my way to the garage   
   and notice that Carroll's car is not there. She did say she was having   
   trouble with it, so I figure she took it in to get it repaired.   
      
   I deliberately drive slowly and it takes me one hour and a half to get   
   to Ann's house. I park the car and go up to the front door and ring the   
   buzzer. Ann opens the door and instead of getting the old evil eye, I   
   get a very sad puppy-dog face.   
      
   "John, come in."   
      
   I go into the house and Ann closes the door.   
      
   "John, the girls are out back with George. Have a seat in the living   
   room." This is way too much politeness for her, but I take a seat in the   
   living room.   
      
   "John, Carroll is dead."   
      
   "What?"   
      
   "She died in a plane crash."   
      
   "Is this some kind of twisted joke? Carroll hates to fly."   
      
   "You're right she did hate to fly, but she just learned that she was   
   pregnant with a boy, and she was so happy. She took the first plane she   
   could get to go and tell you."   
      
   I know why she did not call. She always wanted a boy, not that she did   
   not love the girls. But I think it was because she loved me and wanted   
   me to have a son. On the other hand I do not know how to react. Carroll   
   was coming to see me with the good news that she was going to have a   
   boy. If the plane had not crashed, she would have gotten a huge load of   
   bad news.   
      
   I am visibly shaken, but over which part of the equation, I do not know.   
   So I ask, "Do the girls know?"   
      
   "No. We thought it best to wait for you to tell them."   
      
   Damn! How does one tell a five-year-old and a four-year-old their mom is   
   dead? Well somehow I manage to stumble through it. After Vicky, who is   
   five, and Patty, who is four, stop crying, I take them home. Ann of   
   course says if I need any help to give her a call.   
      
   After a take-out chicken dinner the girls are exhausted, so I decide to   
   put them to bed. As I help the girls into their pajamas I cannot help   
   but notice they sure look cute in their little cotton white panties.   
   Both girls have their mother's good looks with my dark brown eyes. Both   
   girls also have their mom's dirty blond hair.   
      
   When the girls are asleep, I decide to get some eighty-six proof   
   anesthetic. I pour myself a large glass of whiskey, take it to my   
   bedroom, sit on my bed, and start to sip on it.   
      
   I wake up. The door bell is ringing, my head is pounding, and Vicky and   
   Patty are sleeping in my bed. Vicky opens her eyes and I say, "It's OK   
   honey, you go back to sleep."   
      
   I manage to drag myself to the door and think, "Whoever is still ringing   
   that buzzer is going to catch hell."   
      
   I fumble with the lock and finally pull the door open. It is Ann, once   
   again back to giving me the evil eye.   
      
   "I have come to take the girls to breakfast." she says, and pulls on the   
   screen door. Good thing I have a habit of locking the screen door, or   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)