Free Untitled.FR11 by Unknown Author Page A

day. No Love Bunny. She tried CFRnet. The only new message entered since last night was a feeble flirt from The Geek addressed to The Goddess. Safe e-mail minisex. Poised to log off and modem into another BBS, on impulse she hotkeyed to Main and hit Who’s Active.
    Newcummer on line one. On line two? Love Bunny!
    Jeez, get into chat mode before she logged off. This was like a special gift, bumping fortuitously into someone like this. The adrenalin was high. She was probably just about to leave, or inaccessible. Katt found Chat Mode and entered it, typing a hasty fumble: “Hi, it’s me!”
    Pause. Gone. Or Katt’s friend was exiting whatever, finding her way into the chat. Then **Love Bunny** sprang up and, under it, her reply: “Well hello there.”
    “Been on long?”
    “Mwwwah. Mwwwah. Mwwwah.”
    “Huh?”
    “Oh come on,” Love Bunny typed, her spelling skills a scandal, backspace, retype, backspace, retype, like a slow thinker. “Them’s *kisses*!”
    “Ah. Well, a mwwwah to you too!” Katt pictured fire on flesh, the rumpled sheets, fingerswirls and the moaning they’d prompted. How normal it had all been; not anything in the least naughty or perverse, as she’d hoped! Another stereotype blasted, woman-love unique and to be cherished.
    “So what are you up to, Little Miss Hot Thighs??” An eon again of backspace and correction. The pedant in her. Typing in real time, the laggardliness of it all made each word monumentally important, even as it pressed impatience buttons inside Katt to hell and gone.
    “Zip. Puttering,” she typed. “Hubby massage.”
    “From one bed to another? You *are* a slut!” “No no no. Headache, soothed brow, working out kinks in his shoulders.”
    “Kinks :“)?”
    “You heard me!”
    “Is he a handsome brute? Think he could handle two?”
    That pained her. Deep sting. Sudden welling of rage toward them both. He’d had this woman, concealed it, used it to manipulate her and Conner. “So-so. I doubt he’s up to your exacting standards. He’s pretty straitlaced.”
    “I almost had an ongoing threesome once.” “Somebody flinch?”
    “Yeah, me. The guy took serious sick, she had to get a nurse, full time, nothing contagious. I bailed. Life’s too fucking short. I liked the man. Even loved him. But not enough to saddle myself. His problem, not mine. It’s like people trapped behind wheelchairs. Sacrificing their happiness. All I see is burden, years of waste, a pitiful time sink.”
    Carriage return. Sherry was waiting. Katt disagreed with her, saw such love as ennobling and only proper, then realized her own acts spoke otherwise. “Luck of the draw, I guess. Doing what befalls. What feels right.”
    Pauses in chat were often pregnant. She’d paused and now Love Bunny paused, wondering, Katt supposed, how or if to respond to Newcummer’s implied disapproval. What she’d typed didn’t exactly argue against Love Bunny, but it hung in the air, and her friend’s reply confirmed her defensive stance: “Hey maybe I’m selfish or something, but it ain’t for me, ya know?”
    “This was in Fort Collins?” asked Katt.
    “Nope. Years ago. Anyway, gotta be off now, sweets. Friggin’ prep for classes.”
    “Ah. Think I’ll go garden or sumpin’.” Lie down for a nap, more likely.
    “Sounds groovy. Hey, tell you what, whyncha leave me a steamy message, tell me what you liked, turn me on again with them seductivoracious—yow, do you like that? I just made it up!!!—words of yours?”
    “ ’Kay. Maybe tonight. You do likewise?” In memory, she was fondling Sherry, hands at her pubis, finding there the bare beginnings of cervical oddities. She’d passed by that decision point, neither healing nor hurting. Instead she’d resumed her caress, Sherry’s warm body mirroring the ardency of the rhythm Katt took up. Then the monitor came back, its disk drive fan muffled below like the muted roar of jet engines.
    “It’s a promise, love,” came Sherry’s