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Apollo BBS Archive - June 20, 1991
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Message: 4841
Author: $ Melissa Dee
Category: Erotic Stories
Subject: Jen
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 18:36:56
I had always liked Jenny, though I didn't know her well
personally. We worked together on the night shift. Us night-
timers have a slightly different perspective on the world that
most other people on 'normal' shifts. We're often driving on
streets devoid of life at 3 AM, and spend a lot of time at home
because nothing's open. And then we sleep through the morning,
when everybody else is alive and awake. It's a very lonely life
most of the time. Jenny suffered from this as much as I. She
had come to town almost a year ago, and because of her hours, she
hadn't had so much as one date in all that time. Often she would
grumble about the lack of a social/sex life. There were plenty of
guys on the night shift, but for some reason she didn't seem
interested. More than a few of them were interested, though. She
stood about 5 foot seven and was rather busty. She was a bit
overweight, but not seriously and I found it quite a turn-on. It
made her seem more real, somehow. More than once I had half-
jokingly offered my services, only to be turned down with an
appreciative smile. I could never seem to work up the nerve to
come out and ask her for a date. Mostly it was because I was
certain she'd turn me down and rejection was something I didn't
really care for.
I don't know what got into me one night. It was a Saturday and
we both had gotten roped into putting in a 'little overtime'. If
you consider 10 hours 'little'. Anyway, it was about 9 PM and we
both sat down to lunch. Since there was no one else there we
actually talked to each other. Somehow the conversation got
around to dates, and I asked her just what it was she looked for
in a guy.
"Well," she said musingly, "looks aren't all that important, I
guess. A good personality is more important." She was silent for
a moment, thinking. "Right now what I would like to find most is
somebody who's good in bed. After a year of nothing I'm getting
kind of, well, itchy."
My heart gave a jump at that and my temperature rose ten
degrees. I got up to get a cup of coffee from the machine behind
her. As I did, I said, "How do you expect to find somebody like
that? Advertise?"
She chuckled. "I can see it now: Lonely woman seeks good
fucker. Low pay but great fringe benefits."
"Those benefits look pretty good to me." I said, still
standing behind her and sipping my coffee. My heart had calmed,
but I was still tense. Anticipatory, perhaps. "But seriously,
that's what you're looking for? Not just any old guy who can get
it up?"
"Uh uh." She said softly, almost dreamily. "It would be
tempting, but hell, if the guy doesn't know what he's doing, it
just isn't really worthwhile. Not for me, anyway. For him it's
probably great."
The it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. Some guys are
like that. They just want to, um, get off and go to sleep. But
there are some who are different, ya know."
"Oh, really?" she said, still seemingly in a trance.
"Sure." I said. I put the cup down. "For some of us half the
fun is in making the other person feel good." I placed my hands
on her shoulders, though I wasn't really aware of it at the time.
"Sex is an artform. I think so, anyway. I used to have a
girlfriend who told me I was the only guy who was capable of
making her come almost every time. The only reason for that was
because I was the only guy who really tried. I was massaging her
shoulders while I said this. I looked down and saw that
she was breathing deeply and heavily, her eyes closed. My heart
rate jumped back up when I realized what was happening. I felt my
prick swelling up inside my jeans like a balloon. Slowly I moved
my hands out along her shoulders while I continued to talk in a
husky voice.
"You see, my favorite part of making love is to
explore the woman's body." My hands moved up and down her arms.
Her breathing grew more labored and she tilted her head up a bit,
eyes still closed. I leaned down and whispered close to her ear,
"Every inch, from head to toe. I like to touch, and be touched. I
like to lick and nibble until she can't take any more. And
then..." I ran my hands up her sides and slowly, gently slipped
them around under her breasts. He breathing turned to gasps, then
moans. She arched her back as I fondled her. Even through her bra
and heavy shirt her nipples stood out like little buttons. I
flicked my index fingers across them gently and each time I did
she jumped a little. By now I was hard as a rock and her hand
found its way to my crotch, rubbing its length almost
desperately. She seemed almost out of control, her breath coming
in little cries. She turned around suddenly and buried my mouth
against hers. The kiss lasted forever, it seemed, as our tongues
intertwined like two sensuous snakes.
Then the shift bell rang. Lunch was over.
We both pulled back, confused and more than a little
embarrassed. Neither one of us said much as we straightened out
our clothing and got ready to go back to work.
Message: 4845
Author: $ Melissa Dee
Category: Erotic Stories
Subject: More later
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 18:41:23
This story isn't one of mine but I thought I'd see what you all thought of
it.
Message: 4846
Author: $ Apro Poet
Category: Answer !
Subject: previous
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 19:08:41
Tease. I found it just a bit wordy, but who cares?
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1:I found the story to have good useful points that are useful to the reader.
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NOTE: I logged on later and left a message explaining the above. Read on.
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Message: 1675
Author: $ Melissa Dee
Category: Filmography
Subject: Last
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 18:16:51
ABC has already announced that they would be canceling the show. The word
came about two weeks after the last regular show (the last one before the
finale).
Message: 1676
Author: $ Dave Bolman
Category: Chit-Chat
Subject: Twin Peaks
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 21:11:12
While not my own theory, an interesting one is that When Cooper offered his
life for Annie's he was spared death (love being one of the entrances to the
Black/White/Grey'ish Lodge etc.), however when he ran from his doppleganger
(possibly the evil that exists within the Coop that he was unwilling to
face/accept) an opening was made for Bob to enter his soul (fear being the
other entrance top the lodge)...comments?
Does anyone besides myself think that Annie was dead at the end of the show
and that the Doc and Harry didn't want to shock the supposedly weakened
Cooper..They gave each other 'that' look when turnin the sheets, and her
face looked fairly goopy when she was dumped on that dark, grey ground.
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1:Not a clue.
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Message: 75835
Author: $ Melissa Dee
Category: Answer!
Subject: Rod
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 18:27:57
You are breathe of fresh air. Thanks for the posts.
Everyone else, lighten up already. Especially you smokers!
Message: 75836
Author: $ Apro Poet
Category: Politics
Subject: Robber Barons
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 19:19:51
In the 1880s and 1890s, immigrants were pouring in from
Europe at a faster rate than before. They all went through
the harrowing ocean voyage of the poor. Now there were not
so many Irish and German immigrants as Italians, Russians,
Jews, Greeks -- people from Southern and Eastern Europe,
even more alien to native-born Anglo-Saxons than the earlier
newcomers.
How the immigration of different ethnic groups contributed
to the fragmentation of the working class, how conflicts
developed among groups facing the same difficult conditions,
is shown in an article in a Bohemian newspaper, *Svornost*,
of February 27, 1880. A petition of 258 parents and
guardians at the Throop School in New York, signed by over
half the taxpayers of the school district, said "the
petitioners have just as much right to request the teaching
of Bohemian as have the German citizens to have German
taught in the public schools.... In opposition to this, Mr.
Vocke claims that there is a great deal of difference
between Germans and Bohemians, or in other words, they are
superior."
The Irish, still recalling the hatred against them when
they arrived, began to get jobs with the new political
machines that wanted their vote. Those who became policemen
encountered the new Jewish immigrants. On July 30, 1902,
New York's Jewish community held a mass funeral for an
important rabbi, and a riot took place, led by Irish who
resented Jews coming into their neighborhood. The police
force was dominantly Irish, and the official investigation
of the riot indicated the police helped the rioters: "... it
appears that charges of unprovoked and most brutal clubbing
have been made against policemen, with the result that they
were reprimanded or fined a day's pay and were yet retained
upon the force."
There was desperate economic competition among the
newcomers. By 1880, Chinese immigrants, brought in by the
railroads to do the backbreaking labor at pitiful wages,
numbered 75,000 in California, almost one-tenth of the
population. They became the objects of continuous violence.
The novelist Bret Harte wrote an obituary for a Chinese man
named Wan Lee:
Dead, my revered friends, dead. Stoned to death in
the streets of San Francisco, in the year of grace 1869
by a mob of halfgrown boys and Christian school
children.
In Rock Springs, Wyoming, in the summer of 1885, whites
attacked five hundred Chinese miners, massacring twenty-eight
of them in cold blood.
The new immigrants became laborers, housepainters,
stonecutters, ditchdiggers. They were often imported en
masse by contractors. One Italian man, told he was going to
Connecticut to work on the railroad, was taken instead to
sulfate mines in the South, where he and his fellows were
watched over by armed guards in their barracks and in the
mines, given only enough money to pay for their railroad
fare and tools, and very little to eat. He and others
decided to escape. They were captured at gunpoint, ordered
to work or die; they still refused and were brought before a
judge, put in manacles, and, five months after their
arrival, finally dismissed. "My comrades took the train for
New York. I had only one dollar, and with this, not knowing
either the country or the language, I had to walk to New
York. After forty-two days I arrived in the city utterly
exhausted."
Their conditions led sometimes to rebellion. A
contemporary observer told how "some Italians who worked in
a locality near Deal Lake, New Jersey, failing to receive
their wages, captured the contractor and shut him up in the
shanty, where he remained a prisoner until the county
sheriff came with a posse to his rescue."
A traffic in immigrant child laborers developed, either by
contract with desperate parents in the home country or by
kidnapping. The children were then supervised by "padrones"
in a form of slavery, sometimes sent out as beggar
musicians. Droves of them roamed the streets of New York
and Philadelphia.
As the immigrants became naturalized citizens, they were
brought into the American two-party system, invited to be
loyal to one party or the other, their political energy thus
siphoned into elections. An article in *L'Italia*, in
November 1894, called for Italians to support the Republican
party:
When American citizens of foreign birth refuse to
ally themselves with the Republican Party, they make
war upon their own welfare. The Republican Party
stands for all that the people fight for in the Old
World. It is the champion of freedom, progress, order,
and law. It is the steadfast foe of monarchial class
rule.
There were 5-1/2 million immigrants in the 1880s, 4
million in the 1890s, creating a labor surplus that kept
wages down. The immigrants were more controllable, more
helpless than native workers; they were culturally
displaced, at odds with one another, therefore useful as
strikebreakers. Often their children worked, intensifying
the problem of an oversized labor force and joblessness; in
1880 there were 1,118,000 children under sixteen (one out of
six) at work in the United States. With everyone working
long hours, families often became strangers to one another.
A pants presser named Morris Rosenfeld wrote a poem, "My
Boy," which became widely reprinted and recited:
I have a little boy at home,
A pretty little son;
I think sometimes the world is mine
In him, my only one....
'Ere dawn my labor drives me forth;
'Tis night when I am free;
A stranger am I to my child;
And stranger my child to me....
Message: 75841
Author: $ Steve MacGregor
Category: Chit Chat
Subject: Cliff/Caller-ID
Date: 06/19/91 Time: 21:33:13
The reason the phone-number is there right now has to do with the way 911
works, from what I caught from the techies. It appears that you could
legally create a box yourself and skip the $6 if you could do without the
number.
There are some files on GEnie dealing with this, but I haven't gotten
around to downloading them. I'll have to do that, and summarize them here,
if someone doesn't beat me to them. They're in the PostScript SIG, for some
dumb reason.
Yes, it looks like in order for the governments responsible for allowing
the phone company to provide this service to permit us to make use of it,
some callers are going to have to be able to punch some kind of code before
dialing the number, so that their numbers will not be reported. (The recent
newspaper article said that a "P" would appear on the magic box instead of
the caller's number and name.)
That's fine with me, so long as they realize that I will not answer my
phone most of the time if someone needs to hide his identity. It may be
possible to build the box such that my phone won't even bother to ring if
the number is either not provided, or is on a deep-peanut-butter list that I
can key into the box.
We all live in a ....,,,,________nnhn____ yellow subroutine
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1:I guess I was somewhat distracted when I typed that line. You see, I was
2:still thinking of the story.
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Message: 75842
Author: $ Rod Williams
Category: Chit Chat
Subject: cause and effect
Date: 06/20/91 Time: 01:37:12
Curing the ills of a society (or culture, or race) means that we must
recognize the cause of the ills. We cannot just throw someone in a
jail for doing a deed.
The whole of society should share the blame as no person is more important
than any other. But will it?
Does each person recognize all others as true brother and sister of the
Universe? Not at this time for the majority, I'm unhappy to report.
I mean, do you love, as your brother, as your equal, an arab? I do. I
would wash the feet of any person on this earth if that person, in his
being, recognized this important fact. (FACT)
Many humans seem to worship war and not peace. Their always has to be an
inferior race, eh? Just so's we have something that is below us so that we
can feel PROUD. Proud to be Amerikans proud to be a member of the human
race and thank god we're not Iraquis.
Woman is the Nigger of the World. - John Lennon
Rod
Message: 75843
Author: $ Rod Williams
Category: Chit Chat
Subject: taboo
Date: 06/20/91 Time: 01:54:06
I had a dream in the midst of my great pain of late. In it, someone, a
friend came up to me and gave me a lit marijuana cigarette. I drew the
cool, fragrant smoke into my lungs, filling them and holding on to the plant
protein that was being released.
In a few moments (or who could really tell?) I was standing in the same room
as the pain in my jaw. I said, "Yes, I realize that you are sending me an
important message and I respect that." "Couldn't you back it off a bit,
because it is 3 A.M. and there is nothing I am going to do now except, ride
it out." "The other options that we (and I stressed, we) have are not very
good at this time, remind me again in the morning."
Well, I figured that I had learned to "open my hands" from my first real pot
experience so I should be able to reason with the pain center in my brain.
It was MY brain after all, I reasoned.
And it worked. I saw the rhythm my pain was going in and I set up a counter
cycle to null it out. The cells in my mouth area were doing their jobs so
they had to be tricked by writing a counter-program.
So, I listened to some music. I did notice that some music affected my
mouth more than others. It was the vibration.
Rod
Message: 75844
Author: $ Rod Williams
Category: Chit Chat
Subject: Bang-Bang
Date: 06/20/91 Time: 01:59:22
I wonder if those kids who were playing with a loaded weapon may have done a
little sampling with their parents 'liquor cabinet'? I did some stupid
things on booze when a kid. I can't see pot bringing about thinking of that
nature unless your parents raised you to be a GI Joe.
Besides it is the 'dry' season for marijuana unless you are rich. Harvest
is in the fall.
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