So... I have been writing on here for ten years now with dozens of stories and several ongoing series, but my favorite is by far, the never-ending "Lauren's Lesson" saga. It started out as a way for me to take my angst out on a few women who had screwed me over, over the years, by combining them into a single character: Lauren; with a visual for her as that of Joan Allen in the role of Warden Hennessy in the movie "Death Race." My character delighted in tormenting her for the first few chapters as a way to get back at all of the aforementioned women. However, after several chapters and a few years into the story, I entered my bank one day and saw a new teller behind the counter. She was blonde, with slightly post-shoulder length hair, and seemed to be having a really bad first day; complete with a totally bitchy look on her otherwise pretty face. I thought to myself, "wow, she would make a great Lauren!"
She did not wait on me that day, but the next time I went to that branch, she did. The nameplate in her window said "Dianna," and she had a completely different demeanor than the first time I'd seen her and was actually quite pleasant to deal with. She had a wonderful smile, and I became friendly with her. Gradually, her face replaced that of Joan Allen in my mind, as I continued writing more chapters of Lauren's Lesson. This was when the characters in the series began to change their feelings for one another; Jack was no longer mean to Lauren and they both fell genuinely in love with one another.
Being that I was now essentially writing about Dianna, my main character could no longer be mean to the fictitious Lauren, and that is when everything changed in the story line. Over the next few years, my writing about Lauren was based solely on Dianna and what I really wanted to do with her. She was older than Lauren's character - close to forty - and her breasts were rather squishy, so along with her face and hair, she was the perfect Lauren for me to continue writing about. Unfortunately, over those same few years, her hair gradually grew shorter and shorter, until one day she came in sporting a full fledged Karen haircut and ruined the whole image. About a month later, she had a bad episode with the money counter and quit out of frustration.
I continued writing about Lauren, always reflecting on the original image of Dianna, but over time that faded and left me with a generic sort of mental image for her character. She was now sort of a cross between Dianna and Joan Allen, but still very hot in my imagination. In time, any association with Dianna was devoid from my stories, and I let the character of Lauren develop however it may. I still desperately wished she was real and that one day I would meet someone like her, but that was obviously not going to happen; or would it?
On one particular June morning, I was running some errands that took me to a nearby town for some home improvement supplies. As I was sitting at a fairly busy intersection on a fairly busy state highway, the arrow turned green for a left turn. A silver sedan at the head of the line proceeded to make that turn, only to be struck in the right front quarter by a minivan running the light on the main highway. The sound of crunching metal was sickening, and the car spun violently around several times, before coming to a stop alongside the median, as the other vehicle careened to a stop in the ditch.
Being a part time conservation officer, I immediately put my flashers on and exited my own vehicle, opening my wallet to display my badge as I stopped traffic and made my way to the stricken car. White smoke was billowing from under the hood as I approached it, indicating burning wiring. If the fuel line had ruptured in the crash, it could get very bad, very quickly,
"Are you okay?" I shouted at the female occupant, as the smoke was suddenly replaced by a whoosh of yellow flames from under the hood.
She turned to face me, and I was shocked to see Dianna in the driver's seat, or at least I thought it was her in that moment of adrenaline.
"I can't open the door!" she screamed frantically, tugging at the handle. "I can't get out! My seatbelt won't come loose either! Oh God, don't let me burn to death! Please get me out of here! Oh please, don't let me burn alive!"
As an officer of the law, I always have a tactical knife clipped to my right front pocket; even when I am not on duty. It's just become part of me. It has a spring assisted blade, a seatbelt cutter and a carbide tip for breaking tempered glass.
"Turn your head Dianna!" I hollered, as I brought the knife up and struck the window with the carbide tip.
The glass essentially turned to snow and I reached inside, grabbing her by the shoulders as she reached for her purse. I dragged her out of the vehicle through the window, as the flames whooshed again and filled the interior of the car with yellow and orange fire.
"Run!" I shouted, taking her by the hand and dragging her after me.
We dashed across the two lanes of traffic which had stopped, as the car became engulfed in flames, and made it to the shoulder of the highway. As we turned back toward her car, the plastic fuel tank ruptured, and a loud "whoomph!" could be heard, followed by a wave of searing heat, as a fireball erupted skyward from what had only a few seconds before, been her car. The entire car was a mass of fire, and thick, black smoke belched out of the burning wreckage, as sirens could be heard approaching the scene. I guided her over to the shade of a large oak tree, so that we were out of the strong rays of the morning sun.
"Are you okay, Dianna?" I inquired again, this time in a calmer tone of voice, as I looked at her in greater detail.
It was then that I suddenly realized it was not Dianna, as she was much younger and had longer hair. I felt a little stupid for calling her someone else' name, but she nodded in reply anyway.
"Yes, thanks to you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and giving me a huge hug. "Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," I replied, "and I'm sorry I called you Dianna. I mistook you for someone else."
"You just saved my life!" the woman burst out. "You can call me anything you like, but I do have an older sister named Dianna. Perhaps it's her you were thinking of. I'm her younger sister, Deanna."
"Did she used to work at a bank?" I asked, as a fire engine and several patrol cars arrived on the scene. "Karen haircut?"
"Yes!" she responded. "That's her! You must know her then! No wonder you thought I was her."
"Yeah, you look almost just like her except for the hair, and your names are almost identical too." I remarked. "Wow, I can't believe how much you look like her!"
An enormous and sturdy-looking police officer built like a city bus approached us; chest thrust out and walking very confidently. He was a member of a law enforcement fraternity I also belonged to, and I nodded at him in recognition.
"Hey there, Bamm-Bamm." I greeted him, using his nickname.
He had gotten the moniker due to his huge build and blond hair. Like I said, the guy was built like a tank, and I had once seen him take the handlebars on a crashed motorcycle and straighten them out to within a half inch of where they had been, so the guy could continue riding.
"Hey yourself." he replied. "What happened?"
"This lady was making a legal left turn on a green arrow, when that ass clown ran the light and T-boned her." I explained. "I caught it on my dash cam, I think. Doesn't really matter though; there's at least a dozen witnesses to corroborate it."
Bamm-Bamm nodded.
"Okay, let me talk to the other driver, and I'll be back in a few minutes." he responded. "Then, I'll take your statements. Let's see what he has to say first. Do you need medical attention, Miss?"
Deanna shook her head.
"No, I'm okay, thank you. I can always go to the ER later on if I need to. It scared me more than anything else. I guess the airbags did their job."
"Okay." he replied.
He turned around and strode back to the other officers, as the fire department hosed down what was left of Deanna's car and extinguished the flames. I turned to her and she was leaning over slightly, to brush something from her right leg, giving me a partial downblouse view of her chest. To my surprise, I saw what appeared to be some ballpoint pen ink on her chest in the form of two tabs and meandering lines that reminded me of the teabags tattooed on my fanciful Lauren's saggy little danglers.
Deanna glanced up and saw me looking down her top. I quickly averted my gaze, but it was too late; she's already seen me peeking at her small, drooping tits.
"Not much to look at," she said dryly, "is there? Sorry to disappoint you."
"I didn't mean to stare." I responded. "It's just that I saw the ink and it grabbed my attention. It reminded me of something."
Deanna turned bright red, apparently forgetting that she'd been drawing on her chest for some reason.
"Oh my god, I forgot it was there!" she burst out. "I can only imagine what you're thinking. I was just trying something last night and..."
Her voice trailed off, and I could tell she was very embarrassed at the whole situation.
"It reminded me of someone," I explained, "in a story. You wouldn't know though."
