© 2017 Chloe Tzang. All rights reserved. The author asserts a moral right to be identified as the author of this story. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
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"Summertime Sadness" was written for the 2017 Literotica Summer Lovin competition. It's probably the fastest I've ever written a story, over the weekend before the competition opened. A couple of days of writing with almost no editing. While it's fictional, it's all very much based far too closely on reality, except of course where it isn't. Really, as I was writing this, all I had to do was close my eyes and go back in time. More than a few readers have commented about the reality of the emotions and feelings and the characters in some of my stories and most of them do have bits and pieces of reality intermingled. This one's more than a little closer to reality than most and it's dedicated to the real "Grant" although it wasn't quite like this. It's a vignette of a moment in time that will always have a place in my heart. It was a different song, the names and the places were different, but almost all the people, the feelings and the emotions were and are very real to me. The end of summer, the sadness of parting, of a love that's coming to an end, of knowing that parting would be forever, that's forever true and that lost love will always be a part of me to remember and to cherish and to smile about and to shed tears over. This one is my reply to your letter. And of course, it's also a story... Chloe
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Kiss me hard before you go
Summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
That, baby, you're the best
I got my red dress on tonight
Dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight
Done my hair up real big beauty queen style
High heels off, I'm feeling alive
Summertime Sadness" - Lana del Rey
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"Summer's almost gone." I gaze up at the stars blazing across the night sky, throw a pebble as hard as I can, hear the soft plop as it falls into the lake, watch the dark ripples spreading outwards, moonlight and starlight reflected of still waters.
You say nothing as you join me at the waters edge, the blankets you carried laid out on the beach behind us. Your arms slip around my waist, your breath stirs my hair and I lean back against the comfort of your body. We stand there together, both of us looking out over the lake as the ripples spread outwards and die. In the distance, the music from the party increases in volume and now we can make out the words, the song. Summer Love. Justin Timberlake, and I know whose picking the music back there.
"Dance with me?" I smile as I turn, as I take your hands in mine and we're dancing on the beach. Just you and me, slow dancing, eyes only for each other. I reach for you and you come to me, your lips brush mine, your mouth possesses mine as my arms slide around your neck. Your arms enfold me in an embrace I know so well, your face looks down into mine and it seems like that's when you notice my dress, the new red dress I picked to wear for you tonight. You look at my dress and you smile for the first time.
"You're so beautiful, Teresa," you say, and there's a catch in your voice as your hands move to cup my face, to hold me as you kiss me and now we're not slow dancing any more. We're standing in the pale moonlight and we're kissing. You're kissing me, you're devouring me, absorbing me and I give myself to you without restraint, complete surrender, my mouth yours, everything of me yours, as it has been since that first time we made love. Your eyes are sad and the only thing I want to do is to kiss that sadness away.
Without a word your mouth lifts from mine, you take my hand, turn, lead me towards the blankets, we kick our shoes off and your hands unfasten my hair so that it falls loose to my hips, a wave of silk and blackness that shines in the moonlight. I shake it out as you unzip my dress, brush my dress from my shoulders, brush my dress downwards to my hips and my hands do the rest, urging the thin fabric down to fall and pool around my ankles. I'm already naked beneath my dress, my bra and panties discarded before I walked to join you in anticipation of what I know you want from me. What you need from me. What I want to give you. My last gift to you. My parting gift. The only gift I have to give you.
The gift of my love, the gift of my body.
We've done this before. We've done this for five months now, whenever there's been an opportunity. On the floor of your office that first time that Friday night when I was on my way home from High School a few days after I turned eighteen. "My birthday present," I'd said to you afterwards, and you'd smiled and then we'd done it again, more slowly, and then a third time, rushed and hard and I'd told you I loved you.