From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: High Steel (MF, cons, danger)
Date: 20 Apr 1996 16:54:28 GMT

			      High Steel

	Birthdays are rarely dull at our house.

	Judy and I are alike in many ways, different in many others,
but three things we definitely share are a vivid imagination, a
healthy sexual appetite, and a rather warped sense of humor. As you
might expect, gentle practical jokes are commonplace at home,
especially on holidays, and for some reason birthdays bring out the
best (or worst) in both of us in this respect. This explains the
subtle combination of excitement and dread that I felt as I headed for
my lunchtime rendezvous with Judy ("plan on a LONG lunch") at a deli
next door to the office building whose steel skeleton she is busily
assembling. With a little help, of course.

	(Last March my contribution to the Birthday Wars involved
poking a bit of fun at Judy's Nintendo addiction, particularly the
hours upon hours she'd been spending with a pornographic version of
"Zelda" she'd found at a trade show somewhere. I bought a suitably
large, hi-tech joystick, and with a friend's help I removed the handle
and with some drilling and much epoxy mounted an eight inch dildo in
its place. I really hadn't expected her to open the package right
there at the party. In front of 50-odd people. Then and there she
promised an "appropriate revenge" come my own birthday. But she uses
that joystick a LOT. To play the game. Honest.)

	The deli was nearly deserted when I walked in - not unusual
for a Sunday. Flame-red hair showing just past the counter was my
target. Around the corner, and there she was. A pleasant, slightly
freckled face; handsome rather than pretty. Makeup absent, and not
really needed. High cheekbones. Wide, full-lipped, sensuous mouth.
Tall, lithe, rock-hard body stuffed into her trademark denim jumpsuit
(... clean? Easy O.T. this weekend... ). Just enough chest to strain
the first three buttons. Reeboks, and a hard-hat almost as red as the
hair spilling over her shoulders. Long, curled lashes framing amazing
forest-green eyes.

	A kiss hello and she stands, taking my hand, and leads me to
the door. "No lunch?" "We're having lunch, yes, but not here." I
follow, puzzled. She stops at the door, and pulls out a scrap of
cloth, with strings attached. "Remember this? You looked good in it,
as I recall." I smile, remembering. She rolls her eyes. "It's not a
G-string, dummy. Turn around." Oops. I turn around, the cloth drops
over my eyes, and she ties it into place. Oh yeah - the blindfold. I
smile again, with a different memory.

	Traffic noises. A step off a curb; a step up another. This may
not be the first time someone has been led blindfolded down this
street, but I suspect we're drawing some interesting looks anyway. As
if Judy didn't draw enough interesting looks on her own. Two right
turns; a left (indoors now); 50 or 60 steps; a sharp right and stop. A
door sliding closed. Machinery, lurch! and movement. Going up?? She
was talking some time ago about an evening in the Hilton's bridal
suite, but why all the mystery? Lurch! again, and stop. "Okay, time
for lunch!" The door slides open (a chilling draft; what the hell?),
and she unties the blindfold.

	I turn to the door, and look down. WAY down. So far that I
can't even SEE "down", just a forest of girders receding to infinity.
She's got me at the top of that fucking skyscraper. Oh shit.

	I nonchalantly take a death-grip on the handrail. I manage to
tear my eyes away from Certain Death six inches past my toes and turn
to Judy, who is subtly grinning in a fashion I'm not sure represents
affection or amusement. "Are you OK?" I begin to tell her EXACTLY how
I feel, in great detail, but it comes out more like "Uh... um... "

	"Oh, relax - I come up here every day. Excuse me." She pulls a
four-foot square of plywood from beside me, and lays it over the gap
between the elevator and the walkway (more plywood - couldn't she have
picked a floor with FLOORS, dammit!?). She steps across, turns, and
crooks a finger at me, beckoning. I seriously consider bringing this
handrail with me. Instead, I pry my hand loose from the rail, square
my shoulders, take a deep breath (don't I get a last cigarette, at
least?), and march across to join her. She takes my hand and leads me
down the walkway. The flooring is BENDING. At least the wind isn't
blowing - hard.

	"Just out of morbid curiosity, how many floors up are we?" She
gives me a sly grin. "Do you really need to ask?" Right. 69th floor.
Of course.

	Around a corner, another 100 feet of... plywood... and the
"floor" abruptly ends. Twenty feet farther on, a large metal tray,
covered, resting on a girder. A bottle of champagne? And, slung
between two beams over 700 feet of Nothing... a hammock.

	I almost forget about the shaky underfooting. "Uh uh. Wrong.
No fucking way." I'm not acrophobic, but everyone has their limits.
"I need a handrail. A rope, a parachute, something. Actually, a
fucking FLOOR would be a nice touch - they were in the blueprint, I'm
sure." I AM sure they were; I designed the damn building, after all.
Small comfort at the moment, though.

	"You don't need a hand-hold. In fact, you don't want one -
holding onto a rail or guide rope makes you feel secure, and _that's_
when people fall. Relying on your sense of balance is actually a lot
safer. Come on!"

	She steps off the walkway onto the bare girder (barely wider
than her foot!), turns and holds out her hand. "I won't let you fall."
She gives me a level stare with Those Eyes. "Trust me."

	I've always held that Trust is absolute - you either trust
someone completely, or not at all. I'd never expected that belief to
be put to the test in quite this way though. I take a deep breath, and
tell myself one more time that she wouldn't be doing this unless she
KNEW we'd both be safe. And I _do_ trust her. She takes my left hand
in hers. I carefully step onto the beam and, arms outstretched,
fingertips just barely touching, we slowly make our way over to the
hammock.

	A thick nylon belt around my waist, then a safety line clipped
to the belt and secured to an upright girder. Better. A little. She
dons and secures her own harness, then pulls the hammock over to us.

	"In you go." I let go of the upright I've been hugging for the
past couple of minutes, grab the edge and sort of roll in, knotting my
fingers in the webbing as I get my first good look DOWN. (Judy _works_
up here _every day_. She's insane.) She follows, unstraps both of us,
and we swing gently alongside the beam.

	I'm actually relaxing a bit. Partly because of the champagne,
but partly because I've had a chance to take a look at what it is I'm
lying in - heavy orange nylon webbing slung from aluminum spreaders,
and 1/4" steel cable from all four points to the overhead beams.
Impossible to tip over, and nothing short of an earthquake is going to
break it. Judy has obviously put a lot of thought into this.

	"Where'd you find the industrial-strength hammock?" I ask, as
she reaches over for the lunch tray. "My own design. I collected on a
couple of favors to get the cargo net, and Tim and I spent some time
in his shop doing the engineering and metalwork." A subtle but wicked
grin. My pal Tim. The one that helped me with that blasted joystick.
I'll kill him. Slowly. Someday. In the meantime I can't help smiling
back.

	Shrimp cocktail, pasta primavera, and more champagne with Judy
snuggled next to me. I close my eyes, and almost forget we're dangling
God-only-knows-how-high in the air. Almost.

	"Care for dessert?"

	"Dessert?" I ask, looking at the empty tray.

	"Jeez, you're slow today... " She begins unbuttoning my shirt.
Oh. Well, there's no way we'll be noticed way up here... if you don't
count the guy in the alley that got bopped with a champagne cork from
69 flights up, ha ha. I start on her jumpsuit as she stuffs my shirt
into a nylon bag sewn into the webbing (how convenient... ) and unzips
my jeans. A minute of unzipping and stuffing and unbuttoning and
stuffing, and we lie naked in each other's arms. I spend a timeless
moment gazing into those wondrous virescent eyes... and suddenly I
realize what's wrong with this picture.

	"Hey, you told me you were WORKING today - where is
everyone??"

	"I lied," she said, and crushed her lips into mine.

	Despite her physique, or perhaps because of it, Judy is one of
the most gentle lovers I've ever had. It's obvious from this first
kiss, though, that the woman is on fire today (could this be a fantasy
of hers?) Okay dear, two can play that game (it's LOTS more fun that
way.) I roll on top of her as we entwine arms, and legs, and tongues,
and forget all about where we are as I begin rising to the occasion.
The kiss deepens even further as she feels me growing hard against
her, and she begins rolling her hips just a little, gently kneading my
cock between us. I break the kiss and run firm love-bites down the
side of her neck to the shoulder, then run my tongue back up the way I
came, up to take a couple of turns inside her ear as she begins to
tremble just a bit, then nibbling her earlobe as I return for another
kiss. One hand caressing my back, the other on my ass as she pulls me
closer and rolls her hips more purposefully. Down the other side of
her neck now, and this time I continue stringing kisses downward to
her breasts, pausing for a moment to gently suck one nipple erect,
then across to do the same for the other.

	Inspiration. I sneak a glance upward. Eyes closed, natch'. I
string kisses back toward the left, at the same time sneaking an ice
cube out of a Dixie cup and popping it in my mouth just as I reach the
nipple. A gasp, and her grip on me tightens with the blood-hot/icy-
cold touch as I suck more firmly, then run the ice around in a tight
circle with my tongue. The trembling deepens as I move to the right to
give the other nipple the same attention. She rolls me to the right
and off and I lose the ice, which is fine because my tongue is quite
numb by now. I watch the ice cube tumbling slowly as it falls away
from us, receding to a pinpoint far below, and vanishing. I never did
hear it hit.

	She curls into a ball and deftly spins end-for-end. I run my
hands over her smooth, flat belly, down the outside of her thighs,
and back up the inside as she raises one leg high, and arranges
herself facing me. Two chilly spots against my belly as she takes me
into her mouth; one hand lightly squeezing the base of my cock as she
picks up the rhythm. I pull her leg up under the crook of my arm,
spread her lips one-handed, and bury my face in Paradise.

	Her arms wrap around my waist as her sucking deepens and
intensifies. We usually like to take our time with this, but she's
going for broke. I slip two fingers inside her and move them in slow
firm circles as I tongue her, gently sucking as I flick rapidly up and
down the sides of her clit. I pick up the pace as she begins
thrusting against me and match her rhythm, slipping my free hand down
and over her shoulder as I take slow, deep strokes in and out of her
mouth. The trembling deepens and her hips give the occasional short,
sharp jerk as she now insistently grinds her pussy against my face and
fingers. I thrust faster and harder as she meets each stroke, sucking
hard now as the hammock begins to sway in time with our movement.
Heavy breathing becomes moans as I start tonguing firmly, directly on
the head of her clit. I feel a hand on the back of my neck, pulling me
in with increasing urgency as we both writhe on the brink. I feel it
building inside her as I remove my fingers and wrap my arm around her
waist, and pop off a dozen short, sharp strokes on her clit, as fast
as I can manage. Her hip movement becomes convulsive, and suddenly she
takes a deep breath and jams her face into my crotch, taking me right
up to the hilt as I lose control entirely. Arms go around each other's
waists, and our cries are muffled by each other's flesh as we come.

	The breeze is cool but pleasant, as it dries the sweat from
our bodies. A helicopter cruises by, but it's occupants are oblivious
to the nude lovers hanging in space nearby, toasting them with Dixie
cups of champagne as they pass.

	We lie snuggled together against the chill air for a few
minutes, my hands working their way up and down her back, gently
massaging as we exchange soft kisses. Her lips part just a little as
my hand moves downward, and as it encounters that special place in the
small of her back, just above the rounded swell of her ass, I watch
her eyes close and her head arch back as she takes a sharp, deep
breath, followed by a long, heartfelt sigh. Another light caress, and
another, and the sighs deepen to moans as she presses herself against
me.

	"Oh please," she says, "my lips are almost raw as it is."

	"So are mine, and so what?" Raw or not, our kisses strengthen
and deepen as we begin exploring each other once again. My hand moves
farther downward, over and past her ass, tickling the inside of her
thigh as she draws up one leg, hooking it around my waist, and I reach
behind and under to work on her pussy; the middle finger penetrating
about an inch as I catch the lips between thumb and index finger,
moving them gently up and down, back and forth, working the finger
inside in long, slow circles. Presently her hands make their way
downward as well; one cupping my balls as the other kneads my cock,
pausing now and then to stroke the underside with gentle fingertips. I
switch to the front, the other hand sliding up to the back of her
neck, and we kiss and neck while caressing each other's hands and
organs farther down.

	A few minutes of this and we're no longer cold... or at least
we don't notice. I center myself on the net and pull Judy on top of
me. A few vigorous strokes with her mouth and I'm moist and ready. She
straddles my hips, and I reposition myself an inch as she eases me in.
Our eyes meet as I let my hands wander over her hair, her radiant
face, her shoulders; down over her breasts as I brush her nipples
lightly with each fingertip in turn; over her hard but velvet-smooth
belly; finally coming to rest on her hips as she takes me fully into
her, and gets a grip on the situation.

	"Ow! Ease off a little, sweetheart."

	"... better?"

	"Yes, thank you."

	(As you might expect, working High Steel is physically
demanding, especially for women. Exceptional balance, coordination,
and strength are absolute necessities, so Judy spends much of her free
time keeping her body in shape... ALL of it. There's a stunt that
women in Oriental brothels supposedly use to entice customers, that
involves inserting a long, thin cucumber a couple of inches, then
moving it fully in and out without using hands, just strength and fine
control of the vaginal muscles. Judy once showed me an interesting
variation of this trick: with hands behind her back, she pulled the
cucumber into herself... and then CRUSHED it, completely snapping off
the six inches or so still protruding from her. I know. I didn't
believe it either. It was, er, impressive to say the least. It only
took her a week or so to coax me back into bed.)

	She begins moving in wide, slow circles, building up a
respectable swing as we both take hold of the netting, then letting go
and allowing the swing to do most of the work, leaning back and rising
just a bit to allow me to stroke her from underneath as the hammock
carries her from side to side. She leans farther back for a minute, a
few inches of that long, long red hair slipping through the netting,
then forward as I meet her halfway for a long, deep kiss while I
continue to move underneath her. She appears calm and under control,
but her hips are beginning that intermittent, sharp wiggle that tells
me she isn't going to be under control much longer. I lie back, and
she takes hold of the netting once again as she settles back down and
starts pumping her hips back and forth. I slide one hand down past
her belly, and let her clit rub against the ball of my thumb as her
strokes gradually quicken and deepen.

	I'm close to the edge; breathing hard from exertion and
passion, but keeping firm control. It's easy to do this way, which is
why this is one of our favorite positions. I just hope she keeps at
least some control as well - we get rather wild in this position at
times, and falling out of "bed" would NOT be a good thing right now.

	Her eyes are half-closed, and she's visibly shaking now. We
clasp arms and she goes for broke; her now-rapid back-and-forth stroke
going from vigorous to violent in moments as her body arches back; her
fingers dig into my arms as I pull her down hard onto me; her moans
become cries as her head falls back, the cords in her neck standing
out, and finally she comes; our hips grinding together as she lets
loose a full-throated scream.

	Whew. I _know_ they heard that one down on the street. Her
rhythm slows for a few seconds, then picks back up as I begin moving
underneath her once again. We work with each other for a couple of
minutes, sensing each other's passion, moving as if we shared a single
mind, bringing each other to the brink of orgasm. I pull her toward
me; we hold onto each other's shoulders as I dig my heels into the
netting and begin fucking her hard and deep. She returns the favor,
and we pound into each other for a few seconds before I cry out and
drive my cock skyward, lifting her completely off the netting for a
second as I gush into her. I pull her forward onto me, and we embrace
as we continue to pump away at each other. The beginning of a
strangled cry, and I slip my arms up over her back, grabbing her
shoulders and pulling down hard, impaling her on my cock a second
time. A loud gasp, and her hips slam uncontrollably against mine as
she cries out with her second orgasm.

	We must have fallen asleep that way; me still inside of her.
The next either of us knew, the sun was low in the sky and we were
both freezing. We dressed, and spent a few minutes rubbing the
goose-bumps out of each other. Quite stimulating, and I found myself
thinking about trying for a third round, when she pointed out that we
did NOT want to make the trip back down after dark - no lights! Good
point.

	Presently, she strapped the safety lines back onto both of us,
and used hers to pull us back over to the beam. She rolled out, then
helped me out, and we made our way back to the walkway - with safety
lines attached this time; we were both a little too weak-kneed for
Judy to be sure of her balance or, especially, mine.

	Down the elevator, and off the site. I resisted the temptation
to kneel down and give the ground a good, long kiss after I got off
the elevator.

	Neither of us said a word as we walked, holding hands, back to
our cars. Fatigue, perhaps, or maybe both our minds were still a
little blown by the experience. Or both. We stopped for dinner on the
way home. The meal helped to bring us back to earth, and we chatted
while we ate. I thanked her for one of the most, er, unique, and
certainly the most exciting birthdays I've ever had (and it was, by
far... but I'm not sure I'd want to do it again, ha ha.) We made more
small talk, but there remained one unspoken thought - unspoken because
I didn't _have_ to say it; Judy already knew what I was thinking, as
clearly as if I'd written it down for her:

	Just wait 'till next March...

			       The End