From: coates@newton.physics.uq.oz.au (Tony Coates)
Subject: Safe Fireside Story
Keywords: fireside story romance
Organization: Physics Dept. The University of Queensland
Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1992 05:31:38 GMT

(An ideologically sound fireside story ...)

Some days Sheila just liked to lie back and reflect upon her good
fortune.  How long ago was it that she seemed so alone, friends with
everybody, but never close enough to feel confident about sharing her
fears and aspirations.  And then Bruce had come along.  Well, it was
hardly love at first sight, this strange guy who always seemed a bit
uncomfortable in a room full of people, and yet who at the same time
seemed so beguiling.  He always seemed to make her laugh - perhaps
sometimes too much, since some days he really wanted to be taken
seriously, but usually he would start laughing too, and then they
would both forget what they were talking about in the first place.

	It's funny the things that you will do when you trust someone.
Sheila was always afraid of needles, almost to the point of crying and
screaming sometimes, and yet Bruce had convinced her to join him in
donating blood.  He always said that we had to have a social
conscience, and though he said that Sheila didn't have to come if she
was really so upset by needles, something inside told her that this
was a test that she had to face.  On the day, he had specially tried
to make her laugh - told her just to think of it as a free AIDS test.
Actually, she didn't quite know what to make of that comment, or what
it really meant, but with all the butterflies in her stomach, she had
put it aside.  Now, six months later, as she wandered again through
the images in her mind, she kept returning to this remark.  She and
Bruce were such close friends now, but never more than that.  Of
course, her friends thought that she was crazy, and said that she
should just tear his clothes off and be done with it, but that always
seemed so far away from the quiet and peaceful way that she and Bruce
would spend their time together, just talking about nothing in
particular, but quietly learning to understand each others visions and
needs.

	She looked over to where Bruce was sleeping.  It was a hot
lazy Cairns afternoon, 35 degrees Celcius and the humidity 100% -
it just seemed that sleeping was the way that Bruce most liked to spend
at least an hour or two of any such afternoon.  Sheila didn't really
mind, because it gave her a chance to reflect on what they had said to
each other, and just to dream.  Now she was thinking about how funny
it was that they were in an old house with a fireplace, probably never
used in the steamy environment of northern Australia, but an
anachronism dedicated to some northern European past.  Indeed, Bruce
was laying by the fireplace, on the kangaroo skin there (he always
seemed to prefer lying on the floor, said it toughened him up), and
would certainly be upset if anyone were to light a fire on such a day
and disturb his much-loved siesta.  She giggled at the thought.

	As she watched the sun streaming through the window onto
Bruce's placid face, a dandelion seed floated through the window on
the gentlest of breezes (hardly worth the trouble, this breeze, she
thought, but any slight relief from the heat and humidity was
welcome).  It seemed to turn a few times in the air, and then slowly
dropped down till it landed, of all places, right under Bruce's nose.
Sheila tried not to laugh out aloud as she saw Bruce start to twitch,
and wiggle his nose in some half-dreamy attempt to remove this
tickling sensation on his face.  Sheila creeped over and brushed the
seed from his face, to let him sleep.  As her hand brushed past his
cheek, however, Bruce's eyes suddenly flicked open.  At first she
pulled her hand away, but something inside bade her put it back, and
so she gently stroked his cheek.  Bruce was looking at her, and
smiling, and she smiled back.  It was so nice to be close to him.
Then he reached up and stroked her cheek as well.

	It wasn't that they were more than just gently caressing the
other, and yet it was as though Bruce's great arms were wrapped around
her and pulling her towards him.  Hesitatingly, her heart pounding in
some strange expectation, she kissed him gently on the nose, and then
on the forehead, and then once more on each cheek.  Now it was his
hand that gently toussled the flowing hair on the back of her head,
and pulled them together so that their lips met.  At first she felt so
tense, she wanted to pull away, to reconsider this all, perhaps to
suggest a discussion of the consequences.  Then these thoughts
suddenly melted away, to be replaced only by the realisation that she
and Bruce were kissing in a slow, easy and relaxed manner that was
just so right for the way they enjoyed each other.  This was no torrid
and desperate encounter, like those she preferred to forget, but
gentle, and sweet, and so she relaxed, and just allowed herself to
focus on feeling his lips, his tongue, and the silky way they gently
caressed her mouth and face.

	Slowly, gently, but increasingly, they pressed up against each
other, and she felt the muscular curves of his form.  The day was
still hot, and lying so close was making them both sweat, but the
tingling moisture on their legs only helped make them smoother to
the touch, as they slowly rubbed them together rhythmically.  They
caressed each others backs, and arms, and faces, content just to lie
and enjoy.  In the afternoon heat, it was not too long before they
were soaked to the skin in their own shared sweat.

	What made her think of such a thing she didn't quite know, but
it suddenly seemed to her that Bruce should get out of his wet
clothes, lest he catch cold, and so she started to unbutton his shirt.
His chest was soaking, and she reached in to wipe the excess moisture
from his firm pectorals.  As her hand glided over his skin, he
stiffened slightly, and then relaxed and sighed gently.

	Perhaps it was that Bruce had much the same thought, because
Sheila then felt his strong yet supple hands slowly teasing undone the
buttons on her blouse, and then gently searching and caressing her
chest.  Suddenly she felt the slight tension across her chest
disappear, and realised that Bruce had discovered the little hook at
the front of her sports bra.  Now she could feel Bruce's chest
pressing against hers, and the gentle but firm beating of his heart,
still quite relaxed.

	Suddenly the rain started.  A tropical rainstorm in all its
glory, beating of the tin roof, making a thunderous cacophony that
many say is one of the most romantic sounds of Australia's north.  You
could hardly hear yourself speak over the noise, but now there was no
need for speech, it was enough just to feel the moods of the other.
Bruces's chest seemed to go on forever, but eventually all things must
come to an end, and his chest came to an end right at the top of his
sweat-soaked denim pants.  At first she tried to ply her way past this
barrier, but then simply flicked open the single metal button and
gently slid the zipper along as far as it would go.  Perhaps it was
the sweat that helped her then slide this denim glove off so easily.
A strong hand made its way to the zipper at the back of her skirt,
and slowly she felt the layer of cotton slip away to nothingness.  Now
they could feel their legs from the toes to the tops, as they
slithered to and fro about each other.

	At last, Sheila and Bruce just settled to a gentle rhythm of
smooth caressing and lightly whispered words, and finally fell asleep
in each other's arms.  Sheila had never had such a night of dreams,
vivid and colourful, sweet and alluring.  In the morning, they awoke
to each other's movements, rubbed their noses gently together and then
kissed. 

	It was the start of a wonderful day.