The  Vantage Point
                       by Kneeling Icon
                   (wi.5403@n7kbt.rain.com)


Sharon was putting away her laundry when she heard Stan come home.   
Rather, she reminded herself upon later reflection, when she heard 
Stan and his friend come home.  The small apartment they shared had 
very few luxuries, but one of them was a huge walk-in closet in the 
master bedroom.  She was inside it, in the middle of folding a shirt
when the sounds of the front door closing reached her.  Ordinarily she 
would have gone out to greet him, but she wanted to finish the shirt.

She had folded the shirt and was about to leave the closet when she 
heard Stan's voice, softly.  "I wonder if she's home," he said to
whoever was with him.  Sharon was on the verge of speaking up, but 
some strange impulse made her hold her silence.  Moments later she 
heard a female voice reply with a slight giggle, "I hope not..."  The 
sound of a kiss followed.

Sharon felt a dull but strong ache settle in her guts.  She could not 
decide between crashing their party and seeing just what they had in 
mind.  She stood motionless, while she tried to sort out the melange 
of emotions which washed through her, until she heard Stan call out.  
"Sharon?  It's me! Are you home?"  With no decision to do so, Sharon 
strode quickly forward to the closet door, pulling it until it was 
almost closed.  She reached up to the chain which controlled the 
ceiling light in the closet and tugged, bringing darkness to cloak 
her.  She maintained her silence.

Stan repeated his question.  "Anyone home?"  When a few more seconds 
of silence elapsed, Stan's friend seemed satisfied.

"Great...we're alone.  It still feels kind of weird, coming here.  But 
if you don't mind, I suppose I can deal with it.   Mmmmmmmm"   More 
kissing sounds reached Sharon's ears.  The hollowness in her stomach
deepened.

A round of giggles ensued, followed by a female exclamation of 
surprise.  Seconds later the door between the bedrooom and the living 
room swung open, its handle knocking heedlessly against the closet 
door.  Sharon stood close to the crack which allowed her to view most 
of the bedroom, including the queen-sized bed against the far wall to 
the left of the closet.  Stan's body filled the view.  He was carrying 
a woman in his arms, her arms hanging loosely around his neck.  
Sharon's view was excellent; the afternoon light pouring in through 
the bedroom window provided an even, coldly white glow throughout the 
room.

Stan walked slowly to stand in front of the bed, where he gently 
lowered the girl's legs until she could stand upright.  Her arms never 
relinquished their hold on his neck.  She pulled him into a deep kiss 
once she had found her footing.  Despite Sharon's irrational 
expectation that he would resist, he bent willingly to the embrace.  
Sharon's heart fell.

After a while, Stan pulled away from the kiss.  Sharon wondered if he 
was having second thoughts about his actions, but Stan stood back from 
the girl only to start pulling at the sash around her waist.  Sharon 
watched in amazed horror as the blue silk strip uncoiled its knot and 
slid from the girl's waist.  She couldn't believe that Stan was doing 
this.  She couldn't believe she was watching.

When the sash had fallen to the floor, Stan leaned forward and started 
unbuttoning the girl's dress.  One by one, starting from the top, 
Stan deftly slipped each button through its eye, leaving a widening 
gap in the fabric behind his progressing hands.  Sharon felt the 
tension between Stan and the girl grow, just as the tension within 
herself grew.  Finally Stan reached the bottom button, situated at 
about the girl's navel.  He slid his right hand back upwards, pushing 
the opening apart to run his hand over her skin.  The girl's eyes were 
locked on Stan's.  When Stan reached her shoulders, he pushed outward 
with both hands, slipping the dress from her shoulders.  He 
accelerated the slow slide of the dress from her torso by pulling 
downward on the sleeves.  In moments the girl's chest and stomach were 
exposed.

She's not wearing a bra...The slut!  The thought came unbidden to 
Sharon.  I can't believe this bitch comes to *my* home with *my* man 
and comes without a bra!

Without conscious volition. Sharon started to remove her own 
blouse, her hands pulling it over her neck.  When it was removed, 
Sharon unfastened her bra, and dropped it to the floor next to her 
blouse.  Sharon watched silently as Stan pulled the girl's dress from her 
hips, leaving her standing in just her panties.  Sharon's hands 
removed her own denim skirt moments later.  Her hands were in almost 
perfect synchronization in removing her panties while Stan finished 
undressing the girl.

Sharon stood naked, assessing her rival from her hidden vantage point 
while Stan did so from his overt one.  I can't believe he prefers her 
to me,  Sharon thought.  Look at her!  She's got bigger tits than I 
do, but they sag more, and she pays for that size in extra fat all 
over her.  Her ass is HUGE!  She's got pretty blonde hair, but Stan 
always said her preferred brunettes like me...and he said he liked 
shorter hair like mine than...And I *know* he likes blue eyes, but 
hers are brown or hazel or whatever they are.  And her lips are too 
full and her eyes are too small and her nose has that upturn, and...
And *I've got better legs!*

While Sharon was surveying the girl's body visually, Stan was doing it 
tactilely.  His hands started by flanking her head, caressing her 
cheeks.  They slid back and then down her neck, to spread out along 
the lines of her collarbones, and then gripped her shoulders gently.
They started downward and towards each other then, each coming to pass 
lightly over a breast.  When they were each centered on a breast, they 
started down in unison, following the curve of the flesh until they 
met the torso, where each hand cupped and slightly lifted a breast. 
The girl's eyes were closed, her head tilted back slightly in rapture.

Sharon's hands were not dormant, though.  Spontaneously they mirrored
the motions of Stan's hands, following the same path over her body. 
She felt her own collarbones traced, her own shoulders gripped, her 
own breasts cupped and then lifted.  Sharon felt the same seductive 
surge in desire that the girl felt; she felt the same moisture and 
heat build between her legs.  Sharon *knew* what the other was 
experiencing.

As Stan passed over the girl's stomach, so Sharon passed over her own.
For the first time she became aware of a difference between them.  Her 
rival's stomach showed a small bulge of fat, where Sharon's did not.  
Sharon was very proud of her athletically trim body, maintained by 
diet and exercise.  What is his problem, She thought.  I've got a 
*much* better body.    But still her hands mimicked Stan's as they 
descended past the waist and headed toward the crotch.

The girl stood quitely with her hips swaying slightly from side to 
side while Stan ran his fingertips over the skin between her pelvic 
bones.  With each pass of Stan's fingers, his hands dropped a little 
lower.  When he reached the girl's pubic hair, he dropped his left 
hand to his side and continued to play with the hair.  His fingers 
twined it around themselves and ran it between themselves and teased 
it outwards.  Sharon felt her own pubic hair twined and tousled and 
teased.  She watched with growing excitement and terror as Stan turned 
his hand to press his palm against the girl's body and moved it 
downward until his ring finger could part her lips.  As his finger 
slid between the girl's flesh, Sharon's flesh was pushed aside by hers.

Stan pushed farther down and then curled his finger upward slightly, 
sliding it into the girl.  Sharon let a small moan escape her lips, a 
distant echo of the sounds of pleasure which the girl emitted.  Sharon 
stifled her lips and let the girl make sounds for both of them; 
continued secrecy was what would serve best.  Stan continued to 
probe the inside of the girl; Sharon felt herself being probed, and 
once again lost herself in the illusion that she was the focus of 
Stan's attention.

Stan added a second finger to his efforts, and Sharon felt her opening 
being forced a bit wider.  She felt the grip of her muscles around his 
fingers.  She felt the extra wave of pleasure at accepting the 
additional flesh, but the sighs that accompanied it came from the 
other side of the door.  She closed her eyes, slowly, lost in the 
gentle rythm of the stimulation.  Sharon built her way towards orgasm 
under Stan's hands.

"Don't stop..." came the teasing, pleading whine of a female voice.  
Sharon's eyes opened with a start.  She saw that Stan had pulled his 
hand away from the girl and was starting to undress itself.  Sharon's 
hand pulled from inside her of its own volition.  

The girl watched Stan in mute appreciation.  For the first time since
Sharon had started watching the couple, she lost her sense of identity
with their actions; the girl had a different view than Sharon did.
Sharon could see only the back side of Stan.  She could see only his
hips and his butt as his pants were pulled down his legs.  She could
not see his penis or his balls, nor could she touch them, as the girl 
reached to do.  Stan turned his hips slightly to give the girl better 
access, and Sharon could finally see his penis, erect and waiting for 
attention.

Feelings of rage welled in Sharon's heart, as she watched the girl 
caress Stan's dick, as she watched the girl kneel before him and tease 
him with her tongue.  She wanted to storm out into the room and 
interrupt them while the girl drew one of Stan's testicles into her 
mouth.  She wanted to slap Stan across his face, wiping out the grin 
of ecstasy he always wore while his balls were being licked.  She 
looked at herself, though, and knew she wouldn't.  She knew that it 
would force Stan to make a choice.  She knew that she didn't want to 
gamble that he'd stay before she could talk to him alone, before she 
could take him to bed and make him forget this intruder.  Sharon
*knew* that Stan couldn't really prefer this girl; Stan had just
forgotten how great sex could be with the woman he already possessed. 

As Sharon watched the tramp blow her man, she felt a deepening, 
intensifying emotional pain.  She wanted to have some physical way of 
understanding what was occurring before her eyes, but there was no 
such option available to her.  She started to cry, silently, when Stan 
rested his hands lightly on the girl's head and leaned his head back 
in the same manner that the girl had done earlier.  Tears surrendered 
to gravity's pull, running across her high cheekbones to dangle 
ignored from her chin until their grip failed and they dropped to the 
floor.

A thought came to Sharon.  Perhaps it would be possible to drown out 
the terrible mental agony by introducing some physical pain.  She 
turned with some relief from watching the girl work on Stan and 
looked about the closet in the dim light admitted by the slight 
opening of the door.  She saw mostly the things people usually cache 
in a closet: brooms and mops, a vacuum cleaner, clothes in varied 
arrays of colors and shapes and sizes.  Shoes by the dozen lined the 
floor, books were piled in one corner, and boxes of all dimensions 
rested on wire shelves which stood out from the wall, slightly taller
than Sharon herself.  She looked silently, trying to imagine anything
she could do which would hurt but not make noise. 

Her eyes finally rested on a row of skirts which were dangling from 
hangers.  Each skirt was held in place by two laundry pins.  Some were 
wood, some plastic.  She removed the pins from several of the hangers, 
allowing the skirts to fall to the floor.  When she stopped she looked 
at the handful of clamps she held, and started testing them for 
stiffness.  The plastic ones were uniformly stiffer than the wooden 
ones.  Sharon walked back to her viewing spot to check on the progress 
of her two performers.

The girl was giving Stan what had to be the best blowjob of his life.  
Sharon marvelled, admiring the depth to which the girl swallowed 
Stan's dick.  She seemed to be able to descend until her teeth hit his 
pubic bone.  Sharon resolved to start practicing as soon as she could.  
She watched intently as the girl plunged and then disgorged, all the 
while her cheeks showing inward bulges from suction.  The skin of 
Stan's dick was left glistening with moisture behind each withdrawal.  
The girl's eyes were always turned upward, watching Stan's reactions
and hoping to catch a glimpse of eye contact with him.  She radiated
pleasure with what she was doing.  Stan's soft moans and sighs made 
his pleasure known in return.

With some trepidation, Sharon squeezed the first clothes-pin open, 
trying to decide where to put it for maximum effect.  She settled on a 
breast, pinching almost an inch of flesh from the outside of her left 
breast in the device.  Immediately she felt a dull throb start from 
where she had placed it.  She repeated the action on her right breast, 
and then placed a third pin hanging down from the bottom of her right 
breast.  A fourth went in symmetric opposition.  She had two plastic 
pins left, so she placed one on each nipple.  The last two hurt the 
most.  The pain started to build as the affected spots on her breasts 
begain to send complaint messages along her nerves.

It was not enough.  She watched the little bitch sucking Stan's dick
and still felt sexual desire coupled with emotional panic.  Sharon tried 
to think of ways to increase her physical pain, and turned back to the 
interior of her small prison.  She looked frm item to item until her 
eyes lit on a small cardboard box perched on the shelf above her, 
about four feet back on the left side.  It was Stan's hobby box, 
filled with random bits of technical goodies.  She inched her way to 
it, and gently lifted it from the shelf before lowering it to the 
ground.  There on top she found the perfect item: the magnifying glass 
with the gripper hands that Stan used when he was painting models or
soldering electrical components.  It took Sharon only moments to
unscrew and remove the alligator clips from the thing's two arms.  She
knew intuitively where they would go. 

She returned to her vantage point just in time to watch Stan come.  He 
began to rock his hips back and forth uncontrollably, thrusting his 
dick into the girl's mouth.  She seemed comfortable with his motions, 
withdrawing only slightly to avoid having Stan smash her face with his 
hips.  His hands slid down a bit to clasp either side of her head.  
Sharon wondered if he would impede the girl's attempts to avoid a 
bloody nose.  Idly, Sharon wished that small torture on the girl.

With a great heave, Stan thrust his hips forward and pulled the girl's 
head toward him.  She cooperated, swallowing every bit of flesh she 
could manage.  Stan stood quietly, but Sharon could see signs of his 
ecstasy in the way his arms bulged and the blood vessels on his 
forearms stood out, pulsing.  After a few seconds, he released the 
girl, who withdrew from him slowly, teasingly, sucking the last drops 
of semen from his dick as she pulled back.  She retained her kneeling 
position, although she transferred her weight back so that her knees 
were bent and she rested her rear on her heels.  She looked up at 
Stan with supreme satisfaction.

Sharon could wait no longer.  She snatched the two clothes pins from 
her nipples.  She hardly noticed the slight lessening of pain with 
their removal.  She glanced down at the first of the alligator clips 
and squeezed it open before she turned her attention back the the 
couple she had been watching.  Her right hand slowly made its way, 
unerring, to her right breast, where the opened clip toyed with her 
nipple.  Sharon kept her eyes locked on the scene in the bedroom while 
the mouth of the alligator clip found her nipple.  She released her 
hold on the clip, as slowly as she could.

As the clip closed, the pain lanced through Sharon's breast as is 
someone were burning her breasts with lighted cigarettes.  She felt 
every millimeter of the closing of the clip, convincing herself with 
each passing second that the pain would stop increasing, that the clip 
would find its equilibrium.  The pain ramped up steadily until Sharon 
felt sure that the alligator would bite her nipple completely free of 
her breast.  When she finally let go of the clip completely, the agony 
drove her eyes away from watching the events in the bedroom.  She 
turned to bury her head in a thick coat winter which hung by her left 
shoulder.  When her head was covered completely she opened the 
remaining alligator clip and situated it to bite her other nipple.  
With one swift leap of bold desire, Sharon released it entirely.

She could maintain her total silence no longer.  She moaned deeply 
into the folds of cloth surrounding her head, then hissed in agony.  
She tried to silence herself, but the rivers of pain flowing from her 
chest were to mighty for her suppress the sounds of their passage.  
She whimpered, wishing for a release from her torture.

Gradually the acuteness of the sensations ebbed, and Sharon was able 
to remove her head from within the coat.  She stood unsteadily, her 
balance undermined by her physical distress.  Feebly she raised 
herself back to her watching position, where she found her vision 
slightly blurred.  The scene in the other room seemed brighter to her, 
but there were uncountable small sparkles floating across her field of 
view.  It was as if her pain had increased her sensitivity to light 
until it, too, became a source of discomfort.  Sharon realized that 
perhaps this was what she had sought.

She slowly took notice of what was occurring on the bed.  The girl was 
again on her knees, but this time she was facing away from Stan, and 
away from Sharon.  The view was of her backside.  Sharon initially 
thought that the couple were merely employing a kneeling position, but 
upon more intent inspection, she saw that Stan was not entering the 
girl's vagina; he was penetrating her anus!

A wave of revulsion swept through Sharon, making her shudder.  This 
was her personal phobia, her sexual nemesis.  Stan knew that the very 
thought was unacceptable to Sharon, and had long since stopped trying 
to convince her to try it.  Sharon also knew that he had some unusual 
fascination with the idea.  The doubts slowly crept in on her again.  
Maybe *this* was why Stan was doing this girl!  Maybe this form of 
contact was so important to him that he felt it necessary to seek 
elsewhere for it!  Sharon watched in fascination as Stan's dick slid 
slowly into the girl's butt.  A tight, narrow ring of bright pink 
flesh marked the depths of his penetration into the girl.

Sharon searched for signs of discomfort or pain in the girl, but it 
seemed as if the girl didn't mind, or as if she actually liked it.  
The blonde head turned slightly to smile at Stan.  He responded with 
some inaudible words of encouragement, and slid his hands briefy away 
from his grip on her hips, to run them tenderly over the girl's 
shoulders.  He replaced them, and began again his steady, rythmic 
thrusts into her.  The total travel of each thrust was not great, but 
with each one he seemed to sink a little deeper into her.

Panic raced through Sharon.  Is this what it would take to evict this 
little whore from our bed, she thought.  Is this enough?  She wondered 
if she could bring herself to do it.  Her mind began to seek ways to 
condition herself to accept it.  She finally imagined a way she might 
start; she remembered that all of the necessary items were in the 
closet with her.

Sharon turned to start collecting what she wanted.  Almost forgotten 
despite the intensity of pain they provided, Sharon accidentally 
brushed one of the alligator clips against the coat which had so 
recently been her solace.  The sharp burst of agony that erupted from 
her right breast knocked her to the floor.  She started an audible 
whimper, but quickly remembered her situation.  She choked it off 
while tears fountained anew from her eyes.  She but her lip to keep 
from crying out.

A few words of conversation made it to her through her veil of over- 
stimulation.  A female voice asked,  "What was that?  It sounded like 
someone in the other room!"

Stan offered the girl reassurance.  "No...We'd have heard the door 
open, or for sure we would have heard it close.  We're still alone, 
sweetie."

The girl sounded worried.  "Still, I feel kinda weird doing this with 
you here, you know?  I mean, it's *her* bed, too!  It just feels 
wrong."

Sharon bit back her vocal reply, subverting it to a mental one.  Like 
it isn't wrong for you to screw my guy somewhere else, you cunt?  
Good, I'm glad you're worried.  I hope it makes you frigid until you 
leave!  Sharon's wishes went unanswered by the gods.  Stan's only
reply to the girl's concerns must have been physical, for the sounds
of mutual pleasure resumed. 

Sharon raised herself from her knees, and proceeded carefully to the 
back of the closet, where she found what she was after: one of the 
brooms stored among a small heap of cleaning supplies.  She silently 
extracted it, feeling like she was playing "pick up sticks."  When it 
was free of the jumble she returned to the front of the closet.  She 
opened the top drawer of a small chest that sat to her right as 
quietly as possible, just enough to get her hand in it.  She knew what 
she would find there; she and Stan had switched to AstroGlide several 
months before, so the half-used tube of K-Y jelly had been relegated
to the closet.  After fishing around for a few seconds, Sharon's 
fingers passed over the tube, which she then removed from the drawer.

She lowered herself slowly to her knees, where she drew the broom 
handle between her legs to lie on the floor beneath her.  She looked 
up to verify that her view was not obstructed, and discovered that 
only the vertical angle had changed.  She was satisfied.  She lifted 
the end of the broom handle and looked it over.  It was smooth wood,  
about an inch in diameter, painted a cheery, bright blue. Sharon
didn't really feel cheery as she squeezed a dollop of K-Y into her
right palm and began to smear it over the broom handle. 

When she felt that the entire surface of the wood was covered, she 
dropped the tube of jelly and pushed the broom backwards.  She bent to 
her hands and knees, supporting herself with her left hand while she 
manipulated the broom with her right.  When she felt the pressure of 
the wood against her anus, she looked out the door again, regaining 
her visual contact with Stan.  She blew a silent kiss to him, and 
pulled the broom handle towards her.

The pressure she felt increased, but not uncomfortably so, until she 
felt her muscles give in to it.  She felt herself open, and felt the 
tip of the wood sink into her.  It was not nearly as horrible as she 
had expected.  She withdrew it slightly, and felt a strange cooling 
sensation returned to her.  She pulled again, and felt the shaft sink 
inward once more, this time to a greater depth.  She repeated the 
withdrawal and reinsertion until she was comfortable with it, and 
began a steady thrusting.  She tried to take in a little more each 
time, but she had no idea of how much material was actually entering 
her.  

She watched Stan again, and watched the way the little pink ring 
surrounding his dick would roll inwards, almost disappearing as he 
thrust in, and then would roll outwards, showing itself clearly when 
he withdrew.  She knew her own muscle was doing the same thing.  Soon 
she fell into synchronization with Stan, once again mimicking his 
motions.  She felt a strange buzz begin in her, as if there were some 
external source of electrical current flowing through her.  
Unconsciously, her body rocked back against the broom as her arm drew 
it forward.  The clothespins on her breast began to sway as well, 
twisting her flesh and reminding her that they were there through
small jolts of pain.   The buzz grew stronger.

Stan was increasing the pace and urgency of his thrusts.  Sharon knew 
he was close to orgasm.  She wondered about the girl, and herself as 
well.  As Stan sped up, so did Sharon.  She watched with greater 
attention as Stan built.  Earlier, the girl had thrust her hips back 
against Stan, much as Sharon had done in her hidden spot.  But now, as 
Stan increased the violence with which he moved, the girl seemed to try 
to draw her body away from him.  Sharon drew great pleasure from 
imagining that Stan was actually hurting the girl.

Sharon watched the final few thrusts of Stan's hips, knowing he was 
already over the edge, and merely moving on momentum of action.  The 
buzz in her ears displaced almost all sounds as she watched Stan heave 
his hips forward while pulling back on the girl's hips.  Again his 
arms revealed the strength of his grasp.  Sharon felt her body surge 
backward and her arm pull forward with the same effort she saw in 
Stan.  Her vision faded as a sheet of impossible brilliance occluded 
her view of the bedroom.  She heard a great scream from somewhere, 
from a female voice.  She could not tell if was hers or the girl's.  
She could not decide whether it was pain or pleasure that drove the 
throaty howl.  She lost consciousness.

When Sharon recovered, she found herself supported on knees and 
shoulders, still in the camouflaging darkness of the closet.  Her 
breasts were afire from the alligator clips.  The broom handle still 
rested in her anus.   She drew herself up onto her left hand again, 
and reached to remove the broom with her right.  She felt it slide 
from her body easily.  She enjoyed the feeling, much to her surprise.  
She raised her torso upright, and then rested her weight on heels, 
reaching for the clamps on her breasts.  First she removed all of the 
clothespins.  Each brought an void of sensation that carried a new 
kind of pain, one of absence.  She found herself left with only the 
two metal alligator clamps, and was almost afraid to remove them.  She 
forced her right hand to her left breast, and gingerly grasped the end 
of the clip between thumb and forefinger.  

Squeezing released the pressure on her nipple, but it did not release
Sharon from her pain. A wave of dizziness passed over her, leaving a
sharp tingling emanating from her nipple, much like the tingling from
trying to wake up a sleeping limb.  She drew her hand to her right
nipple, terrorized by the first removal.  Squeezing again released the
pressure.  The last source of continuing pain was removed from her
body, and Sharon was left with nothing but the glowing reminder of
what had been.  The dizziness descended upon her again and she felt
various muscles across her adbomen contract.  She wondered if she
could drive herself to another, different, orgasm this way. 

She remained in her position for a few moments, savoring the strange 
pleasure to which her pain had driven her.  Slowly, unsteadily, she 
got to her feet and looked out the door.  Stan was lying in the bed 
on his back, looking upwards toward the foot of the bed.  He was 
saying something that Sharon could not hear.  He stopped speaking, and 
Sharon leaned a little closer to the door, straining to hear whatever 
was said in reply.

"Stan, ummm...look.  I don't think we should see each other for a 
while, OK?"

"Why not?"  He sounded angry, but perhaps a little relieved.  Sharon 
couldn't decide whether that was wishful thinking on her part or not.

"Today was kind of too much for me, you know?  I mean, I really got 
freaked out by doing it here, towards the end.  I don't know if I want 
to sneak araound anymore.  I also don't think I want to take it that 
way again."

"You mean from behind?"

"Yeah."  Sharon could hear the discomfot in the girl's voice.

"Why not?"

"I know you didn't mean to, but you lost control at the end, and it 
*hurt!*  It was OK before then, but....Next time you might really hurt 
me!"   Ahaaaa, Sharon thought.  So that was *her* scream I heard back 
there.  I guess they would have found me if had been mine...

"I'm sorry...I...."

"I know.  Look, I think it would be easier this way.  I really like 
you, but..."

"Hey...can I call you sometime?"

"I don't know.  Like I said, I don't want to sneak around any more."  
Resolve strengthened in the girl's voice.  "Stan, if you're willing to 
leave her, then maybe you can call.  Just don't expect me to keep 
running around like this.  I mean...Does she even know I exist?"

"No.  I don't think so."

"I didn't think so, either.  Look, it's not fair to anyone.  Everyone 
loses, except maybe you.  If you really want me, you're going to have 
to make a decision.  If not...well...it's been great, Stan."  A quiet 
rustling ensued, and Sharon saw the girl, dressed again in her white 
dress and the blue sash.  She leaned over Stan's reclined form, and 
kissed him briefly on his right cheek.  Stan reached up to embrace 
her, but she nimbly stepped away.  Stan's eyes were locked on her as 
she left the room.  "See ya'," she said as she passed the closet door. 
Moments later, Sharon heard the front door open and then shut.  Stan 
turned on his side, facing towards Sharon's hideout, and closed his 
eyes.  A short time later, Sharon heard the deep rythms of sleep in 
his breathing.

As Sharon stepped from her hidden vantage point, she regarded Stan's 
sleeping form.  She thought over Stan's last exchange with the girl.  
You'll never get him back, bitch.  He's mine again, and I know I can 
keep him this time.

Sharon walked towards the kitchen to get herself a glass of iced tea.  
The question is, she pondered as she walked,  do I still want him?