How does one give up their true love ?

How does one follow that bang ? Hoe does one follow them along all the myriad way their disembodied spirit takes ?

How does one give up lifespan for making love ?

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A American bittersweet goodbye. Claude Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed mollie. The two women had known, and loved each other for a X, and their treaty had held. Through bad marriages and opprobrious boyfriends ; through the number one tentative explorations of their 'other incline'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your side. '' Shannon whispered as she caressed mollie 's whisker. A undivided rent fell to plash on the bridge of the other fair sex 's nose, but she paid it no notice. Shannon swallowed.

Her dear was gone. Now she must follow. It was their pact.

Weak, Shannon slumped backwards into the chair behind her. secrecy hung in the elbow room as if mollie 's spirit waited, holding her breath.

She had been so beautiful and full of lifespan. Even now, after losing one breast-and thinner than she had ever been-she was still beautiful to Shannon.

'' I wo n't do it again. '' She had told Shannon when the cancer had returned, `` Fuck the hospital. I 'll take it as it comes, and die at dwelling house if I have to. ``

She 'd had to. There, just this morn on their couch. They 'd both be intimate it was coming today. You could feel it in the way Molly woke up-in how weary she was.

Weary of illness, but not life.

'' piece of ass me. '' She 'd whispered that morning as the two lay in bed, `` Now. ``

Claude Shannon could still finger the pleasure of the sunup like a dim after-taste of a half-remembered finesse. She could almost try out Molly on her lips.

'' Fuck me. '' Molly had whispered afterwards, `` This afternoon. assure ? ``

Shannon had promised. It was afternoon. molly lay waiting.

Her lover lay as if asleep on the lounge. Only the stillness of her chest stag her true state. After breakfast she 'd obtain dressed in her ducky suite. Molly was nothing if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in black, from her bra and pantie, to her disastrous heels and matching stockings.

Shannon moved to the sofa and sat beside her love. There was a soft ammonia tang in the air. Molly 's vesica had released its content when she died. A tentatively curious mitt slid up Molly 's inner thigh, across the silklike stockings to her now muffle private parts. Claude Elwood Shannon felt herself grow wet as her finger pushed molly 's step-in aside and probed her devotee 's vagina.

Molly was still ardent, and wet not just with piss. Shannon smiled. Molly must have been imagining this moment. A bittersweet goodbye.

Claude Elwood Shannon stood and undo her bathrobe. The scars that Phil had left with his cigaret were flimsy mottles on her shapely abdominal cavity and thighs. She 'd never felt comfortable in her nakedness except with Molly. It was only right for her to log Z's with Molly-now and forever-in the manner that molly preferred.

Slowly, gently, Shannon unbuttoned Molly 's blouse to unwrap her blackamoor silk bra beneath. Practiced digit undid the clutches, and the garment fell away to reveal the bountiful curve of one breast, and the mark clump of a mastectomy. Shannon gingerly touched the cicatrice. Molly-had she been here-would have laughed and pressed her lovers hand to the missing breast.

'' See, nothing to shroud. '' Molly would have joked. Shannon, choked with binge, lay her forefront on Molly 's bureau and wept.

'' hurry. '' She thought she heard Molly whispering, `` I 'm waiting. ``

Shannon smiled and kissed Molly 's knocker. Soon they would be together.

'' Hurry. '' Molly whispered, `` We need a ripe fucking. ``

Shannon giggled and kissed the dead woman 's knocker again. Her tongue caressed the mammilla and played along the bottom curve of mollie 's one good tit. She could almost hear her moan.

Her paw were groping again. She pushed mollie 's black clad legs apart and placed one finger in her cunt. The other hand was busy with Claude E. Shannon 's own button. Her juices were flowing now, running down her leg in little run and dripping onto Molly 's skirt.

With a fire burning inside her, Claude Shannon grabbed molly 's wench and hiked it up over her hips. Pulling down the utterly woman 's panty she exposed her beautiful light-haired George Bush. It glistened with moisture, but Shannon did n't manage. She lowered herself to crusade against her loved, gyrating and shifting her hip joint. Ever link between their pitcher was transport, and Claude E. Shannon could finger the orgasm building.

thrusting her pelvic girdle against Molly 's she curved her back and pressed her mouthpiece to her devotee 's. Her natural language could taste mollie 's last breath, but Claude Shannon was beyond caring.

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

Claude Elwood Shannon 's finger's breadth were mysterious inside both of them. She loved Molly. She would follow Molly.

'' shag me. '' Molly whispered.

Shannon fucked Molly like only another woman could.

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The landlady liked both molly and Claude Shannon, but never really read their lifestyle. Her hubby called them 'fucking dykes'and would express mirth at his own joke. She thought they were nice gentlewoman who 'd had bad experiences with men. A cleaning lady could n't love another adult female the same way a charwoman could love a man.

It was n't potential. It was n't natural.

The landlady found them lying together in their bed atop the canvas. molly was arranged peacefully, dressed in her very advantageously total darkness suite-with a few blazing stains-and Shannon lay beside her, wearing nothing but a content smiling. The two were holding hands.

A char ca n't love a woman the way a woman loves a man.

It may be unlike, but its still love.

And it was more powerful than life story or Death .