This story was written for a good friend of mine, it's a true story. It was written a long time ago, and things have changed since then.

Nick, please, if you ever happen to come across this, please, please, PLEASE email me. There's a link on my profile page you can follow to find it. I miss you, I want to know what's going on in your life these days. You know who you are, reading this, you should remember me too. :o)

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A Story For Nick...

When did it begin? No one's exactly sure. It was a while ago though. Before she even finished high school. But it starts, and that's the important part.

It was innocent at first, they talked about meaningless things, things so meaningless that they can't even be brought to mind. They were friends, buddies. Then one night...

One night she got drunk, that night is very memorable, not for her in detail, but certainly for him. Amongst the blur of conversation, she remembers him being bored and offering to entertain him. Pole dancing stands out from the haze. Pole dancing for him, using him as the pole. Making him horny and relieving the problem.

That night changed everything, and changed it for good. They were open and honest after that. Conversations became more than slightly R rated, but it didn't matter. They became even closer friends. Sharing stories with each other they'd never shared with anyone else. Sharing fantasies and fears.

They knew each other's biggest fears. Hers was growing up and not being able to write the way she always had. His was never falling in love again. Such a fear struck her as sweet, despite what people may think about him. What she herself even thought about him...in the beginning.

She wished good things for him, and even prayed that he'd find love again. True love, the kind that didn't go away. She knew he'd been hurt before, and she didn't want that to happen again. He was a nice guy, and she really enjoyed his company. Not to mention the way he made her feel. He made her feel sexy. He gave her self-confidence because he knew the real her and accepted that.

She liked to think she knew the real him as well, and if she didn't, she felt she could spend a long time finding out. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who understood in some small way, someone with whom she could be frank and honest. Some one who she liked to give pleasure to and would have been happy to not receive pleasure in return. But she did...and that isn't a tragedy either.

It wasn't love though, it was more lust. But no man or woman has ever denied that lust feels good...when the cravings are being satisfied. But then, it wasn't completely lust, not on her part anyway. Because someone who you just lust for, isn't someone you care about, someone you want to get to know deeply...personally, not just intimately. But it wasn't love just a weird sort of friendship.

They're still good friends, coexisting in a world full of possibilities. Their weird friendship strong, their bizarre lust strong. Perhaps one day they'll meet and put their conversations to action. Maybe they won't. Maybe the forces of the universe, forces far beyond our humble human control or understanding, will keep them apart. But then again, perhaps these same forces will push them together.

And should they meet, and carry out their wicked plans, perhaps their weird friendship will grow into a relationship just as weird. Perhaps she'll allay his fear of never finding love and he will provide her with lifelong inspiration and keep her forever young at heart.

However this story should end, it isn't important. The future is still unwritten and the endings don't matter until you get there, and even then, they aren't really endings, just beginnings in disguise. So inevitably, everything is continuous, nothing really ends, just begins again in a different form. Which brings us back to the point that it doesn't matter how something begins, all that matters is that it does begin.

RJH