August 5th, Saturday, Carnegie campus
10:45 am
The weather reports said there would be a seventy percent
chance of rain on Saturday, but they didn't mention that it would be
coming down in sheets. The sky was a depressing, bleak marble color,
with drab cotton-candy clouds as far as the eye could see, and further
still, blotting out the sky and the sun for countless kilometers.
Perhaps the entire state, or even the surrounding states, were shadowed
by the everlasting clouds. Someone flying overhead would liken the
puffy blanket to a massive congress of glaciers, floating patiently
through a blue sea, infinite and impenetrable white ice that wept to the
world below, giving life and taking it away as it saw fit. Mere mortals
could not contest with this force; they could only defy it feebly by
carrying umbrellas.
A cavalcade of parasols shuffled elegantly through the
curtains of water, reminiscent of the old Roman phalanx, their shields
overlapping to protect those underneath from the watery arrows.
Five-seven-nine--eleven women total, chatting and gushing amongst
themselves, each one aloft in a plane that few commoners can comprehend,
or even interpret.
Fashion-clothes-gossip-rumors-scandal-accessories-money-power-
-possessions-classes-guys-other girls-emotions-films-complaints-
criticisms--sex--food-dances-makeup-and other trivialities. Their Alpha
Wolf tolerated them up to a point, smiling thinly and nodding to herself
every so often, either agreeing with what she heard, or what she thought.
That's right. We're evil and useless at heart. But if
we're going to sin, we may as well enjoy as much of this worthless
existence as we can.
"God, I'm starved! Let's get a bite to eat. We'll head
over to Evil Lord Gary's sweaty dojo later."
"It's a fencing school, Ursula," the Alpha Wolf stated.
"And you will kindly call him Chairman Fitzgerald. There are very few
people like him left in the world." She imitated a pair of scissors
snipping a cord, the closest to threatening her pack that she got.
"Um, right, sorry. But anyway, let's get something to eat!
Are you gonna get juice again?" The woman glanced up in thought as her
entourage ducked into the restaurant and flicked the water from their
parasols.
"I might have some fruit."
You complete my fate
The world unwinds inside of me
You complete my fate
The halo crawls away
You repeat my fate
Rewinding all we can
You refill my place
You refill my place
Come and save me
Come and save me
You complete my fate
The heavens stroll inside of me
You repeat my fate
Revealing who we are
You refill my place
You refill my place
Come and save me
Believe in me
Drink the wine
Take my hand
Fill me up
Believe in me
Drink the wine
Take my hand
Let me follow
"Rainfall"
"It's really coming down out there," Ursula remarked as the
eleven girls crowded around a table. Their Alpha Wolf would be
treating, since she had cash to spare, but she only gave the menu a
cursory glance before deciding. There were too many fatty foods here,
no doubt threats to her figure, composure, and Baryshnikov grace. Even
the soups and salads looked like they would be fatal, equal to a
knock-out punch, but she asked for a small bowl of the lightest broth
anyway, figuring she would need to spend a little more energy today than
normal. A glass of orange juice also came her way, and she sat back and
sipped while her entourage babbled.
"Okay, show of hands here: who all actually checked out the
soccer try-outs?" Four hands were hoisted and everyone was thrown into
a fit of giggles. "Oh my god, talk about butch! Didn't you just get
the feeling that they all wanted to fuck each other? Yeah, there was
like at least one all-out bull dyke there. God, what a tramp! Well, I
heard that there were a few girls I knew back in junior high trying out.
I think Berkeley was there as well. Elisa Berkeley? I didn't know she
was a dyke! I'm more shocked that she got, like, into the team, you
know. I mean, she's not like the best player I've ever seen. Yeah, she
was pretty clumsy out there when I saw her. Ugh, thank god we left
before that biker butch of a Coach could...hahaha...take us in! Hell
yeah, you know she's gonna be watching everyone in the showers. Eww,
that's disgusting! Oh shut up, you're so close-minded! God, I can't
believe you just defended her! But like, she's got a point. This is
the twenty-first century: come on, we're not like kids anymore. So
what do you think?"
"About what?" their leader said.
"Well, d'you think the soccer team is made up of dykes or
what? And d'you think their coach is just gonna turn out to be a
molesting lech?"
"Well, there's a good chance that everything you say is
true," she noted, leaning forward so they could hear her, "but there's
just as great a chance that it's not. Tell me, would this logic apply
to the boys' team?"
"I hope so!" a few of them squealed. "That would actually
be hot. Yeah, hey, and you know, I'm doing like a study on human
sexuality for my sociology class, and I think there are more gay guys
than gay women. Yeah, I can see why! But you'd think it would be equal
or something. So like, d'you know what makes a person gay? I mean, are
they really born like that or what? Um, I think so. I'm actually
trying to get proof and not conjecture. Oh yeah, whaddya do, walk up
and interview people? Maybe she sneaks into the shower rooms when
nobody's looking and spies! God, I wanna do that! I've always wanted
to do that! Guys do it all the time, so why can't girls? Gross, that's
just sick. No, I prefer to call it 'delightfully perverted'." They
laughed even louder than before, sickening their leader, who listened
stoically.
Meticulous queen, fickle spendthrift and Alpha Wolf
A woman cut from a single, pure glacier, no warmth inside
Finding what she believes to be the truth, she despises pretense
Fleur Lacroix
The only reason Fleur stayed in their silly circle was
because, aside from proving a few theories of hers about the human
condition, they were among the few that she could talk to on equal
terms. But there was one person this queen of the campus related to on
a more sincere level, someone too real and too sharp to get caught up in
this frilly maelstrom. She was a lone wolf, however, someone who only
followed her desires, neither leading nor following anyone else. For
all her cynicism and savagery, Fleur would not abandon these girls and
strike out for higher aspirations--not out of loyalty or friendship,
certainly, but because it gave her power, and she would not want it
taken away, not unless she could get something better out of it.
"Here you are, ladies." Their waiter came by, dressed
handsomely as he dispensed their meals. Fleur thanked him coldly and
made sure to eat slowly, savoring every slurp and bite so she wouldn't
feel bloated. She was practically anorexic, and barely ate more than
once every three days (although her personal best had been three weeks,
one day, and seven hours: that had been a living Hell and a testament
to her willpower). Her circle didn't bother reprimanding her or
preaching about the evils of starvation--far from it, really. This was
but one of Fleur's many qualities they admired, and a few tried to
follow in her example, although their best attempts usually didn't go
past three days. The only reason she was eating today was that she
expected to exert some strength later on--and she would also need to
adjust her body for the upcoming season.
"So anyway, about the board! I can't believe they voted out
the music department! I mean, isn't music more universal than sports?
And who needs to get all sweaty and stinky, anyway? God, yeah, and it
would also give us another excuse to go buy new dresses! I actually
started taking up the saxophone when I heard we might be getting a music
department. Can you believe how fucking pissed I was? Pretty fucking
pissed, all right: you made your boyfriend scream for mercy when you
fucked him! Hell yeah, but he likes it! Fleur's fucked plenty of guys,
haven't you?"
"I'm not a slut, if that's what you're accusing me of," she
answered calmly. "Sex is just something I've done. If someone wants
it, I don't see the point in refusing. It will only cause trouble
later."
"God, don't you like worry about catching anything? Sleep
with dogs and you get fleas!"
"I don't sleep with any of them," she stressed, shoving her
half-eaten bowl of soup aside. It was delicious, but far too heavy and
rich; she would soon regret eating so much. "And like I'm really fool
enough to have sex without protection."
"Yeah, but I'm just saying, what if."
"Let's not play the 'what if' game today, Stephanie," Fleur
muttered. "Could you maybe talk about something else? Carnegie's
soccer teams have dykes, gays, fags, and perfectly normal straight
people who just happen to like getting sweaty--end of discussion." The
other ten ladies gazed at Fleur admirably, even Stephanie, who honestly
loved that iron decisiveness. Only Fleur could take a meaningless
conversation, accept it as meaningless, and move on to something else.
It was clear she was in a very bright mood today, and so they obeyed her
wishes.
"You're right, of course! Say, how long do you think
Cristian Dior will keep shunning Sharon Stone? Hey, I've got news for
you, Danielle: Sharon Stone's as overrated, washed-up, and ugly as
Pamela Anderson. Dior's never going to stoop so low. We may as well
introduce him to Fleur and get it over with!"
"Really, girls," Fleur said, laughing quietly. "You know I
can't stand flattery...although I might just overlook it this once. I
did meet him, you know, once upon a time."
"You're shitting me! How was it like? Tell us! Did he
make you any offers? Please tell us you're going to model for him!"
"Not anytime in the near future," she sighed, smiling coyly.
"I told him I was going to try and advertise through a smaller medium.
We came to an agreement."
"Bullshit! You turned it down?!"
"Like I said," she stated, sipping the last of her juice.
She paid for all their meals and stood up, ready to leave. "We both
agreed that I wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. Anyway, I'm
going over to the Chairman's fencing school now. Hopefully you can all
keep your homophobia to yourselves." They laughed and trailed after her
like lemmings, chattering and giggling amongst themselves, pausing only
briefly to gripe about the weather. But the phalanx still held firm;
they made sure that not a single drop found its way to Fleur's perfect
figure.
......
Aside from the recently-instated soccer team, Carnegie
University also had a fencing school, but since its funding came
directly out of the Chairman's pocket and not the board, it was a very
selective institution, and nobody got in without Fitzgerald's approval.
He was paying for it, so he obviously wanted to get his money's worth.
He was, however, very lenient when it came to inviting outsiders to come
watch practices, although events and tournaments required a fee. Fleur
had been to every one since she first arrived at Carnegie, and while
there were no special events going on today--meaning there would
probably be plenty of ignorant, slack-jawed gawkers polluting the school
with their filth and incivility--Fleur wanted to visit nonetheless.
Most of her crew had a huge crush on at least two of the men who fenced
there (some were even involved with them--or involved with one while
infatuating over another), and a few, Fleur could tell, stared at the
women with more than just idol worship on their minds. She couldn't
blame them: these were strong, dedicated, intelligent, classy people
who oozed charm, charisma, and sex appeal. Fleur didn't want to sleep
with them so much as dine on their awarding souls and mold them into her
being.
They shook off their umbrellas once more and filled up a
small section in the bleachers, getting as close to the action as they
could. There were many more clusters of swooning girls and star-struck
boys in the bleachers, many of them even more repulsive than Fleur's
entourage. Some of the girls had constructed a large sign that read
"Marry me," and had shamelessly plastered the names of every man on the
team beneath it. The men were just as bad, which was comforting in a
sense: they were judging which of the women would make the best
conquest, or how many of them might potentially be a lesbian. It was
rare to find anyone who really appreciated the form, style, and fluidity
of the athletes, but Fleur was content to stand alone. It gave her a
great sense of superiority. There was one particular fencer she
admired--not for her virtues, of course, but for her beautiful
pessimistic charm. This was the person she came here to see--and
seduce.
Seeing the world through bleary lenses, she suffers alone
Wielding bleak hope in spite of her negative outlook
Pouring from clouds to reap destruction and life
Rain Howlet
"Next please," she said, affixing her mask and bib. Rain
was an epeeist and foilist by choice and practice, since she loathed the
saber. She particularly preferred the rigid, heavy style of the epee,
likening it to her personality, and relished the challenge it brought:
striking any part of the body was fair game. But she was good, good
enough for Fitzgerald's class and good enough to attract Fleur's eye.
Lacroix watched with bated breath as the woman people called "the Storm"
moved into action.
"Begin," Fitzgerald called. Rain's opponent was a shorter,
lighter girl, but far less experienced; they weren't dueling, for Rain
was also one of Fitzgerald's top student mentors, and he relied on her
to instruct the others. She certainly didn't hold back, and scored
several hits with the seconde and sixte position, but she wasn't fierce
or cruel about it; she taught the younger woman how to block, thrust,
and direct the palm, calmly and concisely. After scoring several more
hits, Rain encouraged her to pair up with someone on her own level, and
sought out a more experienced rival. There weren't many women (or men)
who could fight with Rain on equal terms, and those that could, scorned
her.
"It's a miracle she can hold that epee, let alone direct it
anywhere. I think Chairman Fitzgerald simply let her on the team out of
pity. There's no real skill behind her moves, just repetitive motions.
The only reason she's won any prizes is because she's always stacked up
against imbeciles. That's a lot coming from you: I seem to recall she
beat you twice! Oh, those were flukes. Howlet's a southpaw; we all
know how erratic they can be. A pity she has to have so many
handicaps."
"Next, please," Rain called. An older woman stepped up and
fought her evenly for a few minutes before scoring once with a quinte.
Several students applauded the woman's bold movements, but they were
silenced as Rain flew back into the match, striking her on both arms
before hitting with an octave. The other woman surrendered to her
emotions and countered aggressively, but Fitzgerald called the battle
and separated them.
"Enough. The match goes to Howlet. Accept your defeat with
dignity, Merisan."
"I apologize," Merisan said stiffly, removing her mask. She
clasped Rain's hand roughly, while Howlet just stared, her stormy eyes
swirling calmly as she shook back. Rain went through two matches,
losing one fairly and winning another, before hanging up her mask and
resting on the bleachers. She found a bottle of water and sipped
calmly, washing her face as she tried to keep hold of her slippery
focus. Not all of the rumors about her were false: she was
obsessive-compulsive, occasionally taking medication to quiet her
bizarre habits, and was also suffering from a form of dyslexia, although
she was nearly freed from this condition. Fencing (and sports in
general) had helped to clear her mind and put things into perspective,
but this process had taken many painful years, and she was a jagged,
jaded shell of her former self, who only clung to life because she hated
to give up. She had been through too much, and she was discovering
something new every day, so why deny herself another chance?
Fleur made her move shortly after Rain dried her face.
Being so skinny, she was easily able to ooze away from her circle (but
then again, with the way they were shrieking, a tuba player would've
gone unnoticed) and slink over to sit next to the other woman. There
was no way to compete with Fleur's beauty--you either imitated her or
gave up trying--but Rain was certainly prettier than the average girl,
and having an attractive face and a strong body helped Fleur admire her
a little bit more. Aside from her stormy blue-gray eyes, which were
usually sunken in some negative thought, she was also amazingly tall,
even surpassing a few of the men, and her lengthy dirty blonde hair was
tied in a ring around her head so it wouldn't get in the way. Rain had
a tan instead of makeup--her face was uninspiring and even had some
small acne around her forehead--and her feet were fairly large, which
made buying shoes a problem. Her bust was modest and her hips were in
good shape: overall, a nice woman to look at, but not dazzling like
Fleur. Still, there were plenty of other qualities to love.
"He-llo there," she sang, placing her palms on Rain's
shoulders. The younger woman didn't even flinch as she felt the
stranger massaging her weary muscles. She turned her head, still
holding a half-empty water bottle.
"Hello. You must really like coming here if you came all
this way in the rain. Is there someone you wanted to see?"
"That's correct," she smiled, "but I'm also a patron of the
arts."
Rain smiled warmly to herself. "Is that so? Would you like
some of my water?"
"Why yes, indeed. Somehow the rain always makes me
thirsty." The pun was not lost as Howlet watched the brunette wrap her
lips around the lid and swallow the rest of the drink down. A few
trickles trailed down her chin and onto her neck, finally getting lost
in the valley of her cleavage. Fleur caught the stray droplet on her
finger and offered it to Rain. She smiled dryly and put it to her lips.
"Salty. Too much salt is bad for me. If you came to see
someone, you had better find them quickly. I won't be able to help you,
since I'm going to go take a shower and change soon."
"Well, I can definitely see why you're so popular with the
boys," Fleur commented, tossing the empty bottle back. "An athletic
pretty girl who takes a realistic view on life, is straightforward to a
fault, and keeps her cool regardless of the situation. But it's not
just the men that want to get behind that plastron of yours."
"You're exaggerating," she snorted, tucking the bottle away.
"Anyway, it was nice talking to a woman without hearing her scream."
"Oh, I scream," Fleur purred, her lips curling seductively.
Rain smiled dryly and waved as she made her way to the locker room.
Fleur followed from a distance, her absence still unnoticed. The locker
room was hauntingly empty, and so quiet that Rain could still hear the
clanging of swords and the shouts of her mentor, even when she shut the
door. Unlike normal gymnasium locker rooms, which were packed tightly
together, leaving the athletes little or no room, the women's changing
room was spacious and relaxing, although that atmosphere could also be
intimidating if you were alone. The ladies all had very private areas
in which to store their belongings and change outfits, and the showers
had walls and curtains and everything you could ask for, should you
prefer to keep matters personal. Rain liked it, at the very least.
Wide open spaces seemed to suit her.
Because it was so quiet in the locker room, she could hear
somebody coming in. Fleur's wavy brunette hair, shimmering like a river
of rich chocolate, preceded her as she squeezed through the door,
undetected by the fencers and her friends. Her arresting green eyes
dazzled like flames, an intense presence her ten comrades were always in
awe of. Her lips, cherry red crescents bending into a smile, opened
slightly so she could take someone's breath away, and her hand touched
Rain's chest, slipping through the plastron and jacket, slowly opening
them. Howlet let out a sigh and bent her head back.
"I found what I was looking for," Fleur said, her voice
smoldering. Rain's long neck quaked with electric waves as sensual lips
touched it, drinking deep the sweat and skin of the young athlete. She
had already kicked her shoes and stockings off; soon her chest plate
joined them, falling like the petal of a gardenia as Rain stumbled back
to the shower, a silken hand caressing her breasts. Her circlet of hair
seemed to sizzle as her jacket was removed, and spots formed her eyes as
a puddle of clothes formed around Fleur's ankles, rendering them both
bare and vulnerable. Kisses and caresses, each one an eruptive promise,
dismantled her careless personality. Fleur bit into her skin, marking
her prey with her pearly teeth, lapping up delicious salty beads of
sweat, moaning softly because it was so, so, so delectable, a feast made
by the heavens.
Rain wanted freedom to turn the shower on, off, on, off, and
on again, but she was defenseless; the sexual foreplay was riveting.
She felt like pavement under the assault of a jackhammer, fiery lips and
saliva slurping over her body. Fleur turned the water on, soaking their
perspiration away, and reached back to remove Rain's sopping brassiere.
She still had on her lacy blue panties as the water scoured her body,
but Fleur refused to take them off, kneeling in front of Rain so she
could worship her goddess. What followed next was an adventure in
erotic anatomy: Fleur poured herself on Rain's modest breasts, lifting
them so she could lick their undersides. The taut tummy was tortured
with her tongue, and her legs suffered under the silky slithering
breasts that heaved up and down their lanky sides. Fleur penetrated
Rain and found her most sensitive areas; she came very easily, spoiling
her underwear, soaking Fleur's fingers, and relaxed slowly as everything
was washed down the drain. The two women kissed and laid down on the
surface together, weary and glowing. They even held each other.
"I missed you," Fleur smiled. Rain took the older woman's
hand and kissed the knuckles.
"I missed you too."
--Freya von Hohenheim, 18, 5'9" (1.75 m), manager--
After Rain returned the sexual favor, she and Fleur dried
off, got dressed (Rain was going to put a fresh pair of underwear on
anyway), and headed outside, abandoning Lacroix's silly followers and
striking out on their own. It was still pouring heavily, so they popped
their umbrellas and hiked over to the dorms. While Rain was forced to
split her rent with a roommate, Fleur could easily afford her own house,
but she preferred being in the middle of civilization, if only to
continue proving her theories. It also gave her a sense of power and
command that isolation didn't offer, and she didn't have to walk or
drive quite so far to school. Along the way, the two women talked about
how their lives were faring, and what they had been up to since they
last saw each other.
"So you're really going to go through with it," Rain stated,
casting Fleur a doubtful expression. They were both getting peppered
with water, but Fleur didn't seem to mind. Her mindless friends were
too protective of her; it was just water, for heaven's sake.
"So what's that look for?" she said, nudging Rain with her
elbow. "You don't think I can? Or maybe you only think I'm trying out
just for the hell of it."
"No," she smirked, "I'm just trying to figure out what those
girlfriends of yours will say when they learn you'll be trying out for
the soccer team."
"They know I played varsity before. I'm not a china doll,
Howlet."
"I know, but don't think I haven't heard the rumors.
Playing sports is one thing, Lacroix, but we both know what they're
saying about that team."
"I don't care," she sighed arrogantly. "I told them what I
thought, and they're going to believe it. Besides, just between the two
of us, I've had sex with a few of those girls. They think it's
different than doing it with any other woman. When they're having sex
with me, Howlet, they're having sex with ME. Anyone else and they would
be labeling themselves a lesbian; with me, it's their fearless, virtuous
leader." She grinned ironically and gave Rain another friendly nudge.
"But call me a slut and I'll kill you."
"You do seem to have more standards. So besides the old
'just for the hell of it' answer you always give me, why else do you
want to join them?"
"To get my face out into the wide world," she purred
cattily.
"But what if it turns out to be a spectacular failure?"
"That's why I'm joining, Howlet," she grinned. "I'm the
wild card that will ensure our sweet little team gets the reputation it
deserves. And in the meantime, I'll be making more friends and finding
more connections."
"You're a wicked girl," she laughed. Fleur pouted
innocently.
"No I'm not. I just know what I want out of life. You and
I are cut from a very different cloth than those other dullards, Howlet.
We both know what the truth is. We know things that most people will
never find out."
"Now who's the dullard?" Rain grinned, winking at Fleur.
She stuck her tongue out and licked Rain's cheek. Fleur didn't believe
in love--not true love, anyway--but she did like to spend most of her
time alone with Rain. Howlet didn't look down on her, or flatter her,
or bow down and worship her: she was real and sincere, and spoke from
years of hardship and experience. Her negative outlook on life was as
refreshing as her namesake on a dry, hot day, and the proud way she
carried herself, struggling against hopeless odds in a world that just
didn't care about her, made Fleur's stony heart flutter. She wasn't in
love with Rain, but she did love her in a sense: they were as close as
one could get without crossing any of those ridiculous borders. Rain
was the only person Fleur could actually call a friend, and mean it.
"Wouldn't it be a lark if you signed up as well?" Fleur
laughed, ribbing Howlet again as they stepped underneath an awning.
Fleur and Rain shared the same dormitory, though they had been unaware
of it until now. They brushed their parasols off and headed indoors,
wiping their feet so they wouldn't squeak or slip.
"For the team? I guess it would, but I'm not really
interested. I'm a better fencer than a soccer player."
"That's true," Fleur said. "The world needs more people
like that. I'd be right there with you if I didn't have such a knack
for football. Heading up?" She pointed to the elevator, but Rain
declined and chose the stairs. "Hmm, I should probably start training
again, but I'm too tired right now. I loathe these stairs anyway."
They separated to ascend in their own fashion, and when they met again
on the third floor, the conversation resumed:
"Well, hello, lovely! Where are we off to?"
"To find this evening's entertainment." They both grinned
at each other and leaned in to kiss, Rain softly pressing her palms
against Fleur's bosom. "Mmm, a prelude to come. But speaking of
entertainment, you should tell people you're signing up. Chairman
Fitzgerald will swoon if he heard his star fencer is going over to the
dark side!"
"That would be a bad joke! I like the fencing school. I've
gained a lot of focus since I first enrolled. You couldn't pay me
enough to switch."
"Too bad," Fleur sang. They came to Lecroix's room and let
themselves in. Fleur had only been inside Rain's room once, back before
they transferred out of their old schools, but that one time had been
more than enough. Rain was a poor housekeeper, and Fleur demanded
spotless living conditions; she loathed a slob. The two had even fought
over it, but in the end, Rain gave into her friend's demands, since she
figured it really wasn't such a big deal. That just meant she either
had to clean up, or spend the night in another bed.
"I will admit, though," Fleur said as she turned on her
lights, "you look much sexier in breeches and a jacket. Soccer players
are attractive enough, but I'd much rather invest my time with a fencer,
if I had to choose. What can I say, swords just do something for me."
"Then I guess it's better if I stay," she grinned. Fleur
honed in on her refrigerator and brought out a fresh bottle of red wine.
Neither of them were old enough to drink, but that had never stopped
them before: one of their best sexual encounters was borne out of an
alcoholic haze. They had two glasses as they opened up about their
lives--small, trivial things that even the most pretentious people speak
about--and Rain gathered up the courage to pursue Fleur, undress her,
and make soft love to her, because she was the only real thing left in
her life, a solid, dependable rock in the storm, one she could either
cling to or be dashed against.
She came down all night and finally stopped just a few hours
before dawn.
A very apt Sunday.
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