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Copyright 2002 to <mijita@newsguy.com>.
Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this
story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission.
No, it's not in the public domain. Ask first, okay? Thanks.
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Full Frontal
by Mija
The night burned with barely a hot, dry breeze.
Marine Laire blew ashore, his usual chill,
a cool and icy burn. Three days trapped just off the coast hadn't
improved his mood. Then, just as he landed, he heard the news
about Flo and his ice cracked into sub-zero rage.
Rumor had it that Flo was at it again, pushing
herself against that desert rat Santa Ana. The two of them had
been, so it was said, all hot and heavy while he was trapped
out at sea. Clearly, she hadn't missed him, nor had she spent
these summer nights alone.
The news was a sharp sliver of ice shoved
into his brain. Flo was his and it was time he claimed her once
again. He flew across the port city searching for her, scanning
the streets for her, drawn eastward as if by unnatural forces.
Flo had long been able to twist him around
her - make him hard and solid. It made him hate her touch almost
as much as he loved her touching.
The marine hated being reminded of Flo's power
over him, the way she could move him at her will, hold him at
bay. Sure, occasionally he called forth her moisture - he knew
how to wrap her up and hold her to him - but part of her was
always elusive, seeming to rise just above and outside his grasp.
She would never say she loved him. Never surrender everything
as he knew he had surrendered.
But not tonight.
Tonight, people Laire brushed past felt his
chill and turned away.
Then Flo was there. And she was all
there was. Laire hadn't considered what he'd do when he caught
her and could wrap her up in himself, but suddenly she was over
his lap, his hand raising her temperature to match his cool.
Santa Ana faded away, no match for the marine's
fierce blows. Laire knew he was right - that this was right.
Flo struggled, tried to slip off Laire and
escape, maybe follow Santa Ana, but Laire was having none of
it and held her close. She raged and stormed, feeling as though
the pressure in her head must finally burst.
Still he spanked on as Flo's shrieks turned
to howls, then cries and sobs.
Finally it happened. At long last, in the
midst of summer . . . it was raining in Los Angeles.
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