Lost and Forgotten
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12/20/2010

Author’s Note: None of this is real. This may or may not be based on something real, but even if it was (and I’m not telling if it is real or fake) obviously names would have been changed, and locations shifted. If this was real, which it may or may not be. I think that if you want to know if it was real, there’s an email above, and you can ask. Or you can just enjoy the story. I hope you enjoy it. I like this one. -Duskshade


Lost and Forgotten

His name was Sasha and he loved Catalina. She meant the world to him, and he was sure he was the same to her. He could remember so many things about them, even separated by an ocean, by thousands of miles. She was the other half he never knew he was missing – the love they shared was the love of high school sweethearts, tempered by brilliance and untried sexuality.
The two had met in Europe, at a multi-school political science scenario – each school represented a country, and spent a week conducting business as part of a inter-country parliament. The two spent time discussing their respective agendas, finding each other funny and totally foreign to each other, yet oddly resonant. They were the whole of their financial committees, Sasha representing Switzerland, and Catalina representing Luxembourg.
She was the adopted daughter of a German man and his American wife from Korea – she’d borne no memories of her home nation, save some fleeting moments of impressions. He was the sone of soldiers, a long-haired hippie born from working-class folks who often had no idea with what to do about their brilliant, yet uncontrollable son.
The daughter of privilege, Catalina attended the American school and spoke several languages smoothly, able to navigate the dinner parties and smooth conversation with ease despite her youthful 18. The son of an occupying army, Sasha was comfortable in similar events for his own 18 years of age, dressed well but for his rebellious mane of hair hanging nearly to his waist. Thick and wavy, he often wore is wild, letting it sit naturally in a world where straight, limp hair was the fashion.
How he managed to get her naked in a pool on their second night at the scenario was beyond her. Yet, there she was, naked and territorial on the steps into the shallow end while he swam, his dark brown skin rich and lush in the sparkly clear water. He bore the marks of scars, strange adventures that he rarely spoke of, although the darker marks in his skin were testament to stories that would likely amaze.
“Girl, you have to let the water move on your skin. There’s no point in skinny dipping if you are not dipping into the water and letting it move on your skin.” His voice was accented oddly, both a mix of his native Texas and a clean crisp Central Mexico accent, but it soothed some spot in her soul that she had never known was aching.
“I don’t know. What if we get caught?”
“So, what? What are they going to do? We’re allowed to be up here, and its not like we’re having sex in the water.”
“Well, someone is going to catch us.”
He looked at her slyly, his reddish-black hair stark black in the water. He heaved a sodden mass of it out of his face, sending a rooster tail of water droplets into the air.
“Man, if I’m gonna get in trouble, I want it to be worth something.”
“What do you mean?”
Sasha swam a little closer. She could see his cock, diminished with pool shrinkage but nice when she saw it before the water shrank it down. “You’re not embarrassed about your little dick?”
“It’s not little, its just chill in the water.”
Sasha slid closer, so his skin was on hers. She shivered at the wet-silk feeling of skin on skin as he wrapped her around his body. She could feel his dick beginning to lengthen under her ass as he wrapped her legs around him. His heart thrummed under the sensitive tips of her breasts, and she could feel a tingle of arousal zap between her clitoris and each nipple.
“Mmm, I think I’m warming up.” The began kissing, him holding her slim, slight form with ease. He could feel his penis beginning to stiffen and insist on a more vertical position, nestling along her perineum, the head of it pulsing against the cheeks of her ass while the base of it was teasing along her labia.
Sasha wanted to sink himself inside her, could feel the animal thrum of his lust and fresh-blossomed love as she kissed him. However, her next words slammed the door on that thought.
“I’m not on the pill, and I don’t want to make love without a condom.”
Sasha heard, and with a tremendous pull, took himself back a step. She unwrapped her legs and let them back down to the floor of the pool.
“I do want to, Sasha.” Catalina could tell she had hurt him, her tall, brave, sensitive love. “But, I don’t want to get pregnant, and I don’t want to be a school-trip fling.”
Sasha kept his ears open, schooling his face to a bland, expressionless look that he kept when he didn’t want the world to know he was hurting. His eyes were cool, his tone a little aloof, and in his actions, Catalina realized that he reacted the same way, retreating into his own little bit of arrogance. In the world of highly intelligent people, she recognized that he was curling inward, using the arrogance of intelligence to distance himself from her. After that, they awkwardly slipped back into their swim clothes. Minutes after that, their respective chaperones came up the stairs to the pool area.
The European Convention was a simulation that drew the best and brightest of various schools into a parliament that attempted to steer the course of Europe as a cohesive whole in terms of politics, finance, immigration, and economics. Each school represented a nation, the larger schools reserving powerful nations like the US or England or Germany, the smaller schools drawing nations like Sweden, Luxembourg, and Switzerland. As the daughter of a major German vendor working with the US armed forces, Catalina got to attend the American school and easily topped the academic scene. Sasha, his father an Army Command Sergeant-Major, was also part of the power structure. His fluency in languages helped his father as he tagged along when he spoke to German company representatives, french military liaisons. It wasn’t strictly legal, but the Army tended to look the other way as the job was getting done well. He lived farther north, so while the two had social circles in common, both were only vaguely aware of each other. The power structure in the armed forces was only so big.
They’d arrived in the afternoon, the air unseasonably warm for the fall. The hosting business had bought a desanctified monastery for company retreats, and leased it to the simulation’s owners. They’d added hot tubs, a heated pool open year round, and a small discotheque. These venues were open to the delegates as they arrived.
The opening mixer that evening was a formal affair. Already, whisperings and drama had started as the US delegation showed up and demanded immediate service. They were loud and obtuse about delivering imprecations that threatened US economic and political hegemony in the European Convention. At this, Sasha stood up and left. His delegation followed, although somewhat confused. The Swiss group met the Luxembourg group, also leaving in disgust.
“Hi, I’m the Swiss economic representative.” said Sasha.
“I’m the Luxembourg rep to economics.” said Catalina.
Blind people could have seen the lightning that passed as they shook hands. Sasha stepped closer and felt a resonance with Catalina.