The Passion Of Angie

Chapter 1

The afternoon sun cast shadows on the round wooden table separating the two women sitting before it on the deck of Dominic's Bistro. It was early August and a breeze ruffled the umbrella covering the table. The air had been humid for days and clouds had been gathering since early afternoon, as if a storm was brewing.

"Thanks again for buying me lunch, Angie. It's a nice change to be able to eat something that I didn't have to cook."

Angie Harris looked across the table at Holly Peters. She gave Holly a warm smile. Angie had met Holly in high school, when Angie's family had moved to Lewiston from upstate New York. They were both fifteen at the time and they formed an instant bond that had lasted over the ensuing twelve years. Angie knew that she should make more effort at keeping in touch with Holly, which is why she had taken that Friday afternoon off of work to meet with her.

"You're welcome," Angie said "anything to get you out of the house. It's been ages since I've seen you."

Holly gave a regretful sigh as she twirled some angel hair pasta around her fork.

"I know. I haven't had much time for a social life since Stephen was born." Her blue eyes flickered as she mentioned her six month old son.

"How's he doing?" Angie asked.

"Wonderful," Holly beamed "he can be a handful and I find it challenging sometimes, but I could never have imagined how happy a baby could make me."

The joy and love that Holly felt for her son was obvious as she spoke. Angie felt a pang of envy as she listened to her friend and saw her face light up as she spoke.

"But what about you though? How are you, Holly? You should try to get out more often. Let Ryan take care of Stephen once in a while."

"I know," Holly agreed, sounding somewhat annoyed "but it's hard for me to get out. You can always come and visit me though, you know?"

Angie darted her hazel eyes away from her friend, feeling as though she had let her down by not visiting as often as she should.

"I'm sorry; that was bitchy." Holly apologized.

"No. You're right, Holly. I'm sorry I haven't made more effort at keeping in-touch." her friend apologized.

"Well, you are now," Holly reminded her "and I appreciate it."

Angie was relieved that Holly was being so magnanimous, although she did realize that she should work harder at maintaining their friendship.

"I know you're busy with Stephen, but are you able to find time for yourself? That's important, you know." Angie gave Holly a worried look.

"Don't worry, I am," Holly assured her "I nap when I can and I've even managed to find a little time for a hobby."

"That's great. What hobby have you taken up?"

Holly gave her friend an nervous glance. "Promise you won't laugh?" she asked.

"Of course I won't laugh. What is it?"

"I've been doing some writing in my spare time."

"You're writing a novel?" Angie's voice was full of surprise.

Holly laughed. "No -- nothing that ambitious -- just a few short stories. I don't have time to read a novel, let alone write one."

Angie had always been envious of Holly's intellect. Immediately after finishing high school Holly had entered college. She got a degree in child psychology, then her Master's degree. Once she completed that she earned another degree -- this one in Education. She taught high school, but Angie had always thought that Holly could do about whatever she put her mind to.

"I always thought you would be a great writer, Holly. You always did so well with those essays that Mrs. Eastman made us write in school. I probably wouldn't have passed English without your help."

Holly gave her friend a modest smile, but she secretly reveled in Angie's praise.

"So have you submitted anything to magazines or publishers?" Angie asked.

"No. But I've been thinking of submitting at least some to a website that publishes stories by amateur writers. I'll see what sort of feedback I get, then decide what to do next."

"I'm sure they'll be a hit," Angie assured her "so when do I get to read something you've written?"

Holly shifted in her seat, thinking. The thought of allowing someone else, especially a close friend, to read her work made her anxious. "I'll let you read one, but you've got to promise me two things."

"Sure. What?"

"Don't show it to anyone else -- even Ryan doesn't know I've been writing -- and you've got to be brutally honest with me about what you think after you've read it; even if you hate it. Hell, especially if you hate it." she said.

"It's a deal," Angie promised "I'd love to read what you've written. But you've got to promise to submit it if I like it. Don't let your stories sit in a shoe box somewhere for someone to find after you're dead and make a fortune on, like Kafka."

Holly laughed, then her smile faded, "There's one more thing... the website I'm thinking about submitting some of my stories to -- it only accepts erotic stories." She gave Angie a nervous look, waiting for her reaction.

"Holly -- don't tell me you've been writing dirty stories!" Angie exclaimed, amused and somewhat shocked by Holly's revelation."

Holly winced and twisted about in her chair. "They're more like erotic stories -- nothing too raunchy."

"So, no spanking or hot wax on the nipples then?"

Holly was surprised by how lurid Angie's imagination could be. "No, nothing that kinky. They're actually pretty vanilla." she assured her.

"Okay, I'll read it anyway." Angie retorted with a shameless laugh.

"I have them as text files on my computer, so I'll send one as an email attachment tonight." Holly said.

"Great. Thanks, Holly," Angie replied "I'll let you know what I think of it as soon as I finish it."

"I have to admit, I'm pretty nervous about letting you read it, Ang. No one has read anything I've written so far."

"Well, you better get used to the thought lots of people reading them," Angie told her "because I'm sure that there will be plenty who'll want to read it once you submit it."

Holly shrugged, not having as much confidence in herself as her friend seemed to. She looked at her watch, then frowned.

"I should be getting home. I told Ryan I'd be home around four. I'm sorry. But thanks again for lunch. It was wonderful to see you again, Ang."

"You're welcome. I'll be in touch -- I promise. I'm sorry for being such a bad friend lately." Angie said.

"It's okay. I understand. I know you're busy with work these days."

"Well, things are less hectic now, so you'll see more of me. I'll send you an email at least once I finish the story to tell you what I thought, but I want to get together with you again soon." Angie promised.

Chapter 2

After Angie had finished supper that evening she went over to her computer desk in the living room. She booted it up and opened Outlook express, hoping that Holly had sent her story. After scanning the subjects of her emails advertising Viagra, low interest mortgages and a website named Backdoor Bitches, Angie discovered that there was nothing from Holly. She sat down on the couch and turned the television on. Waiting.

Nearly three hours later, just after Angie was contemplating going to bed, mostly out of boredom, she heard a sound coming from her computer announcing new email. She got up and went to her computer. Amongst more spam was an email from Holly. She opened it.

Hey Ang, I hope you like the story. Tell me what you think, even if it sucks. Thanks again for lunch. See you soon, I hope. Holly

Angie downloaded the attachment to her Desktop. She checked the size of the Wordpad file. It was nearly 300 kb. -- much larger than she had expected. Holly had told her she had written a short story, but this was almost a novella Angie thought. It was well past eleven o'clock and Angie wanted to get to bed. But she was also eager to at least begin Holly's story. She clicked on the row of options at the top of the window and selected Print from the menu, then pushed herself away from her computer.

The drone and buzz of the printer filled the apartment as Angie made herself a sandwich in the kitchen. Her cat approached from the living room, stretching, then rubbing against Angie's calf.

"Hey, Ginger, you hungry?" Angie asked in a melodic tone.

Angie poured some cat food in a white plastic bowl beside the fridge and watched as her cat began to eat.

Angie ate her sandwich and drank a glass of Pepsi while her printer spat out page after page of Holly's story. Once she had finished eating Angie stood before the television, watching the last few minutes of the news while she waited for her printer to stop. Once the annoying clatter ceased Angie turned the television off and retrieved the papers from the tray. She turned off her computer and went to her bedroom to get ready for bed.

Lying in bed with only the glow of a small lamp on her nightstand Angie began Holly's story. The title at the top of the first page read "The Passion of Miranda". Angie rolled her eyes. She desperately wanted to be able to truthfully tell Holly that she liked her story, but already the title had put her off. Undaunted, she began reading.

Despite the trite title that Holly had chosen for her story Angie soon found herself absorbed in the plot. It concerned a young woman, Miranda, who, after ending an unhappy marriage takes a trip to eastern Europe. There she meets a man nearly twenty years her senior, Gustav Rahlfeld, whom she falls in love with. Gustav was an erudite noble who had seen his family's fortune nearly erased and their social status eroded after the rise of Communism and The Soviet Bloc. Gustav soon realized there was more to life than wealth and prestige. He turned his efforts to religion and mysticism. His efforts had paid off in ways he had not expected. Eventually Gustav discovered that his practices had resulted in abilities he had heard of, but had always scoffed at. This was a type of power he was unaccustomed to. He had always been taught that money was the best source of power. Still, there was one thing lacking: a woman to share his life with.

Angie found herself enthralled with the characters that Holly had woven into her story, especially Gustav. He was described as tall, always well-dressed, with thick black hair and a moustache. He had an accent that was like a siren song to Miranda. As Angie read on she discovered that Holly provided more descriptive details of Gustav, particularly his nude body as he made love to Miranda. Angie smiled to herself as she read Holly's mention of Gustav sitting in a chair, smoking his pipe. It reminded Angie of when she would visit her grandfather as a child. The smell of his pipe was something she always associated with him. Happy childhood memories flooded back as Angie pictured Gustav cupping a pipe in his hand as smoke wafted above his head.

Without her even being conscious of it at first, Angie's hand trailed down under the blanket covering her as she read Holly's explicit account of Gustav and Miranda having sex. As Angie read the words describing Gustav's thick cock pushing into Miranda Angie found herself rubbing her swollen clit through her damp panties. Her legs parted as she read. She pressed down on her hard button, imagining it was Gustav's hand caressing her lips. She could picture him in her mind and hear his deep voice and sensual thick accent.

"Let us become one, my love." was what Gustav told Miranda as his thick shaft entered her. Angie heard those words in her head as she pushed her panties aside to slip a finger between her wet lips.

The sheets of paper containing Holly's story fell to the blanket covering Angie as she slipped her other hand over her camisole. She clutched her right breast as her other hand slid inside her panties. In her mind there was only her and Gustav. Angie could almost feel his weight atop her and his manhood filling her. Soon she cried out, calling out Gustav's name as she had an orgasm, then another.

Angie stared up at the ceiling, breathing hard. Although she knew that no one would ever know what she had done she was still embarrassed. She had masturbated before, of course, but never had she been so totally overcome and enraptured by a fantasy. She gathered up the sheets of paper spread over her and placed them on her nightstand. She sat up on the side of the bed and decided to use the bathroom before going to sleep. It was almost one-thirty.

When Angie returned to her bedroom from the bathroom she stopped a few feet inside. Something seemed different to her, or perhaps felt different. The air was hot and smelled of her musk. She was wet and she could still feel slight aftershocks from her clit.

Angie moved towards her bed. She leaned down to reach for the switch on the lamp on her nightstand. From the corner of her eye she saw a dark figure standing at the foot of her bed, more shadow than substance. Angie jerked her head around. She saw nothing. Angie gave her head a brisk shake and told herself she was tired -- that her mind was playing tricks on her. She turned her light out and lay down on her bed.

"Good night, Gustav." Angie whispered as she closed her eyes and pulled the blanket around her chin in the darkness of her bedroom.

Chapter 3

Angie awoke the next morning still feeling tired. She rolled over to look at the digital clock on her night stand and discovered that it was almost nine-thirty. She had neglected to turn her alarm on. Thankfully it was a Saturday so she didn't have to go to work.

Angie yawned and stretched, looking at the sun shining through the pink curtain covering her bedroom window. She knew she should get up, but still felt drained. Reluctantly she sat up on the side of her bed and pushed her long auburn hair over her shoulders.

Lying on a stack of magazines and a partly read novel on the shelf of Angie's night stand were the sheets of paper with Holly's story. Angie looked down at them, smiling as memories of what she had done the previous night flooded back. Then she felt somewhat chagrined at the thought of her lewd actions. She consoled herself with the knowledge that no one else would ever know. Her pussy was still damp and she felt her clit begin to swell as thoughts and images of Gustav filled her mind. She could have easily laid down again and given into her arousal, but decided to have a shower instead.

The spray of the hot water on Angie's body seemed to wash away the confusion in her mind. She had always considered her libido to be normal, but lately the stress of work had seemed to have dampened it. Perhaps reading Holly's erotic story was just the release she needed, she thought. She decided to finish reading it that afternoon.

Rivulets of water ran down Angie's face into her eyes as she stepped from the shower. She tugged at a blue bath towel draped over the shower rod and dried her face, then began rubbing the towel over her wet hair.

The small bathroom was filled with steam. Angie began drying her body. She ran the terrycloth towel up her left leg towards her hip. As she raised her head Angie saw the mirror above the sink. It was coated with condensation from the steam of the shower, but there was something else. Angie's arms went limp as she stepped closer, squinting through the mist in the room.

Etched in the droplets of water coating the mirror were the words

Let us become one, my love.

Angie froze in terror. Her head jerked towards the bathroom door. It was closed. Angie froze, listening for an intruder in her apartment. She heard nothing. Wrapping the towel tight around her wet body, Angie stepped towards the bathroom door. She turned the knob, careful to make as little noise as possible. She opened the door and peered out.

Angie could feel her heart race as she stepped into the hallway. She looked left and right, expecting to see someone lurking in a corner. The hallway was empty. Pressing her back to the wall, Angie stole towards the living room. Every muscle of her body was ready to react. The living room was empty as well, except for Ginger sleeping on a chair. Angie glanced towards the kitchen. Seeing no one, she ran towards the row of drawers beside her fridge.

Tugging a drawer open, Angie grabbed a steak knife in her trembling hand and looked around. She felt more confident with a weapon now. Gripping the knife by it's wooden handle Angie made her way towards the door to her apartment. She turned the knob and pulled. The door rattled, but did not open. Angie turned and pressed her back against the door, adrenaline racing to every nerve, her breathing rapid.

Angie made her way towards the window in the living room. Although her apartment was on the seventh floor she still made sure it was secure. It was. She also checked the patio doors opening on to her balcony. The windows in her bedroom and bathroom were also secure she discovered. Feeling relieved, yet perplexed, Angie returned the steak knife to the kitchen drawer, then got dressed.

When Angie returned to the bathroom she discovered that the steam had dissipated. The message she had seen earlier scrawled on her mirror had disappeared as well. Angie stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she was losing her mind.

Chapter 4

Perhaps some food would help, Angie thought, as she cracked an egg. She stirred the eggs about in the pan and dropped in four sausages.

A big breakfast did seem to vanquish Angie's unease. She ate more than she intended, then opened to the door to her apartment. Lying in the hallway in front of her door was the morning paper. Angie picked it up, then locked the door behind her, giving it a shake to ensure it was secure. It rattled, but remained shut. She spread the paper out on the table and began reading.

While Angie read her horoscope Ginger jumped up on the table. She began lapping at the grease from the sausages on Angie's empty plate.

"Ginger, you know you're not allowed to do that." Angie said, shaking her head.

Ginger kept licking the plate, indifferent to Angie.

Angie returned to the newspaper, looking at the weather forecast for the weekend. Seconds later, Ginger raised her head and turned towards the living room. She growled. Her back arched and the fur on her tail stuck out like a pine tree.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Angie asked, running her hand down her cat's curved spine.

Ginger jumped from the table and crept towards the living room, still growling.

Angie followed Ginger, curious and worried about what had alarmed the cat. Her nerves were still on edge after her experience in the bathroom. She looked around, but the living room was empty.

"It's okay, Ginger, there's no one here." Angie told her cat.

Angie assumed that her cat was being an alarmist, either due to an impending storm or the phase of the moon. She returned to her paper in the kitchen.

It was mid-afternoon when Angie remembered Holly's story. She went to her room and gathered the papers from her night stand. She settled out on her balcony and sat down.

It was a beautiful afternoon with a light breeze. Angie continued reading where she had left off the night before. Soon she found herself engrossed in the story of Gustav and Miranda. She was somewhat shocked by Holly's detailed scenes of sex between the characters -- even embarrassed at the thought of the story being a window to Holly's innermost thoughts, or perhaps fantasies. Still, she soon found herself becoming turned on. Her clit pulsed and her lips grew damp. She pressed her thighs together as she read. The breeze had stiffened her nipples, or maybe it was Holly's prose. Angie's fingers moved up towards her left breast. She rubbed and pulled at her nipple through her blouse as she read.

Ginger joined Angie on the patio. She jumped up on her mistress' lap, but was soon eased off by Angie with a gentle push.

"Let me finish reading." Angie told her cat.