MATADORES DE SUENOS PERDIDOS f/m/f Sex and Suicide Part III The next time you have a drink at a bar, and a man or woman comes up to you and brags that he loves you, or wants you for the night, or is even the real fucking Superman, tell him or her, you have a bag of kryptonite in your pocket. Really, listen to how she or he responds. Think about how none of us has anything to really hold when we take that huge leap into the unknown. There is only the bottom of the universe. Nothing else. Coming up is as good as going down. Mary looked at Jane quite startled but pleased by what they seem to hear in the voice over. In many ways, Mary thought that the scene here seemed more like a movie set than any real bar she had known. Just as Mary started to respond to the voice over, Mary and Jane were caught on the edge of the virtual and the real, almost like a three dimensional hologram of a chat room where you actually feel and can enjoy touching your partner. Not that Mary or Jane really wanted to speak, especially when the voice over the loud speaker continued, "And when you have your third or fourth drink, "Don't be surprised when you think of superdick fucking some valley girl at the mall? Imagine that you are looking inward or outward at any man or better yet woman floating in some high- headed space between Nirvana and Hades. Finally, when you look up at the clock and you have fifteen minutes before "last call," you will smile at the wrong time, and you will have to make polite conversation with a spirit, a man, or another face in the crowd. After a pause, a page or a chapter, you hear another voice, the bartender perhaps say, "Drink it all up, it's closing time," he continues the voice over. "Never know when the chance will come back. Never know whom you will meet or have met in that instant when a dream and nightmare dance perilously close to jumping yourself like that fool did from the roof of this fucken bar famous for suicide which is why we hang out there if we are honest." "Remember," Jane continued for the man in the voice over, putting her fingers on Mary's mouth to silence her, "when he hit the bottom of the farce, in that last instant, life pulled and twisted into an ironic puzzle that only dying could disprove. Death is a hell of a way of showing you might indeed be superman. No logic there, really, but then who gives a shit. You and I are not the ones who died, sweet Mary. Feeling the edge of Mary's breast that was warm soft and cupped easily in the hand made for a gentle blessing, Jane finished. "Bottom line, if you don't do it, take that chance, you may live longer, but at what cost." Finding Mary's fingers, she sucked them before and after she brushed her tongue against Mary's neck and ears. Touching the circle of her own nipple to Mary's, carefully creating the ovals of their tits, hearing the rush of Mary's rough breathing mixed with her own, knowing that if they continued, one or could almost come just from the foreplay of kiss, Jane whispered one last line in Mary's ear biting the lobe hard making Mary jump. "What if she had stopped, another voice over, a woman said. "What if any one of us had accepted the bullshit, and paused at the wrong time? What happens to lost pleasure if you stop before success or failure"? With the word, "pleasure," Mary kissed Jane back and Jane felt Mary's hand reach into her skirt, pushing into her, tickling the lips of Jane's vulva, expertly and gently pushing the hood back. Mary quickly found the tip of the clit, tweaking it, teasing it and opening the inside of it as one opens the mind anticipating a caress, Mary rubbed back at the root of the clitoris, finding the origin of pleasure in that organ that dropped below the pubis bone disappearing into the well of the body. What had surprised Jane more than Mary's gentleness? It felt as if Mary's fingers were her own. Instinctively, Jane opened her legs, leaning back, allowing Mary's fingers to rip into the cloth and leaf of the ancient silk underpants, Jane felt Mary slip them down from her ass. At that moment, Jane imagined Mary with a cock, knowing how wonderful a woman could ravish her, taking her apart collapsing into her when she came. Well, love, Jane thought, we would have to see how far we could reach into the other. Taking Mary in her arms for a dramatic kiss, Jane aroused by the oval of Mary's mouth bit her own tongue just before the kiss. Jane loved the bitter taste of her own blood. She savored the kiss. It was just like the ones Jane had remembered at her sweet 16 party how she and her cousin, Louise, their thighs entwined, made the come swallow the waves. Kissing each delicate line softer and then harder, marking Mary's face with the wet of her tongue leaving a map of her pleasure on the surface for the return, Jane swallowed thinking of how she would open Mary's vulva later when they were alone on Mary's King size bed. Jane felt her tongue curl as it would when she let it follow the contours of Mary's sex. Wonderful, Jane thought how the tongue and mouth round to pulp of the sweet fruit, squeezing the source, teasing it slurping away at madness, and finally in the end at orgasm, sometimes drinking the fluids shot clear from the utter of the mouth no matter what their origin. Intent, pausing to breathe then stop, Jane's intensity caught Mary and moving her arms under Mary, Jane lifted her pulling her to that collapse that comes just at the moment when seduction is fully realized by some collapse. Stopping, wondering how she would survive the next moment, Mary pulled back, just for a moment, "Jane," another female voiceover said, just at the moment when the image on the movie screen would fade to a larger than life END, "Do you mind, Jane, that Mary is holding the other bag of kryptonite when she kisses you?"