=============================================================================== LEGAL DISCLAIMER =============================================================================== The following literary work is one of historic fiction. While certain elements may be recognized as based on actual events, the characters and personal events are fictitious. No actual persons were involved in the creation of this fictional work, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is pure coincidence. Certain characters portrayed within this work are copyrighted to Gould (1993) and Cormier (1988). The author wishes to express his deep gratitude towards the aforementioned for giving him creative inspiration when still a young man, and to stretch one's imaginations beyond one's own reality. For this, and the countless other aspiring writers in the mainstream and underground markets you've inspired, the author sincerely thanks you. No malice or slight was intended by the willful inclusion of your marvelous creations into this work. This work is intended for adults, and features situations, dialogue, and descriptions that are unsuitable for minors. Please be mindful of your local laws and customs in regards to distributing or dissemination of obscene material. Thank you. =============================================================================== I. See. You. -- Drebin 893 (Metal Gear Solid 4, 2009) =============================================================================== AN INVISIBLE EMPIRE =============================================================================== You can see us, but you do not know where we are. You can hear us, but you do not know what we are. You can even speak with us, but you will not know who we are. We are an invisible empire, a secret kingdom, and we rule the world. ======= ----------- PREVIOUSLY: ----------- Stanley Chen becomes cognizant of his abilities while still a pre-teen. He accidentally uses his "gift" to persuade his tutor, an older girl named Janet, to seduce him. They engage in a secret, furtive relationship for four years before financial difficulties keep Janet at a distance in college. Near the start of his junior year in high school, Stanley meets a young latent empath named Melanie. While he considers her too young to be attractive, the girl nonetheless becomes a psychic groupie. At the same time, Stanley fosters a relationship with two more girls: one his age named Rachelle, and a younger girl, Shawn, whom he treats with sisterly affection. Stanley's time is severely divided among his various interests: love, academic, family, and otherwise, damaging his academic career and forcing him into community college. Here, he meets a girl who is equal (perhaps even greater) in mental powers who finds in him some commonality in lifestyle. As his first year of college ends, Stanley meets a mysterious man who wields much knowledge and power in the invisible empire. =============================================================================== DARK RECKONING =============================================================================== Rachelle lay atop me, her smooth thighs slid enticingly over my crotch, threatening to draw me out from my trance. I cupped one of her breasts and slid the length of my hand over her moist clam. She groaned and turned her head to the side, her lips aching for mine. I obliged her lusts but kept my inner focus on holding aloft a small barbeque grill outside in the backyard, a mere ten feet away from where Rachelle and I were making arduous love. I would have gladly broadcast my conquest to my bi-curious Cossack cutie, but her dance practice began in early evening at her new school. Viktoriya threatened that if I played even one of my mind-pranks on her while she was in class, she'd break into my house and tear me a new asshole. In any case, it was the perfect excuse to practice my other exercises. My lovely black beauty, Rachelle Elizabeth Hollister, had come back for a visit to her parents, but she could not stay long. We met and chatted about our academic lives, then quickly made up for some lost time. However, little did Rachelle know that I was slowly evolving; after having met Tseng, I felt a new confidence surge through me as I began pushing the limits of my gifts. I learned to improve my efficiency and potency, but I also possessed more gifts than I originally thought I had. For example, I didn't know I was a psychokineticist. I found I had affinity for telekinesis after I met Tseng. He surmises that Viktoriya's proximity may have triggered my latent gifts. That, or I subconsciously learned from being with her. In the meantime, the strength of my mental projection increased, along with my psychic defences. However, my ability to persuade others pretty much remained unchanged. In regards to conversational persuasion, I couldn't tell someone to do what I wanted off the top of my head, but given enough preparation, I could nudge someone in the right direction or even induce an itch; it's hard to concentrate once you're scratching incessantly. As for my gift to persuade others to not see me, someone who wanted to look for me would eventually find me. Thankfully, I hadn't given anyone the reason to do so. Tseng found me though. I realized then it didn't matter how powerful I would be, he was far more powerful than I could imagine. As I entered Rachelle with my wrapped cock, I found myself distracted as I wondered about my eccentric mentor. I ran through my chat with Tseng again. He had walked with me and asked me some direct questions: how long had I been using my gifts, where and when did I use them, and how many girls had I absconded with. I answered his first questions without aplomb or hesitation, but I took offence at his last question. Tseng took notice and regarded me with his well trained eyes. 'You can hide in your self-made harem all you want boy.' His thought-speak was harsher and louder than his actual voice (which was quite tinny and unimpressive). 'But what do you think would happen if the families of those girls get wind of what you've been doing?' His eyes narrowed dangerously as he went on broadcasting. 'Do you think they would spare you trouble for any of that?' I didn't have an immediate answer ready, so I kept silent. Tseng dug deeper and discovered my liaisons with Viktoriya and Melanie. The others he dismissed once he realized they were not exhibiting any tell-tale signs of our gift. When he explained his hypothesis of Melanie, I heard his tone soften. He seemed interested in meeting her, but he did not say so. "She sounds passive," he said aloud in a hushed voice. "Keep her under control and she'll die happily as an old woman." Tseng spoke normally that time. I suppose as powerful as he was, sometimes speaking naturally was just that: talking normally. In regards to Viktoriya, he seemed hesitant. It would be one of the few times he would be at a loss for words. After I described what I saw her do, Tseng explained she was indeed a psychokineticist. Possibly a quite powerful one with someone like me in her proximity. "So what am I?" I finally asked. "You are a catalyst, Stanley Chen," Tseng turned to face me with a flat, dead smile. "What powers you have, you piggy-back off others. When you are close to another of the empire, you both increase in power." "Empire?" I blinked, not understanding. "What empire?" It was then Tseng revealed the invisible empire and explained the rules of its citizens: do not reveal the empire or commit to actions that may expose it; do not interfere with the lifestyle of another subject of the empire, even if you may disagree with the choice of lifestyle personally; interfere only if the lifestyle threatens to expose the empire; when required, all citizens of the empire must unite and quell those who may expose our existence to the 'normal' world. To this last rule, Tseng had taken it on himself to seek out "new citizens" and teach them how to properly use their powers, and with absolute discretion. At the time, I thought the empire consisted of telepaths like Tseng, Viktoriya and myself, and the occasional oddity like Melanie; little did I know it stretched to cover other sorts of weirdness. Tseng was certainly unhappy when he heard about my experiments during my last trip to America's heartland. However, none of that seemed to be too obvious. He was surprisingly knowledgeable when I described the incident at the pizzeria. "Thankfully, it was taken care of," he said simply. I then realized that Tseng (or others like him) had been surreptitiously shadowing me for some time. I asked how long the empire had been watching me. "Long enough," was the answer. Tseng seemed to relax as he got the rest of my story. When I finished, he related an incident when one young fool decided to control a small town; Tseng confronted and destroyed him, then with a few others, psychically erased the trauma and physical evidence that the errant telepath had caused. "It was a shame," his voice was banal. "He would have been a great citizen, had he just exercised some self control." "You are telling me this why?" I asked. "So you do not make the same mistake." Then, to demonstrate how he had "neutralized" the problem, Tseng extended his arm to touch a nearby street lamp. His fingertips barely scratched the surface but I heard a screech and saw the shavings fall from the metal surface. "Discipline and control," Tseng regarded me with his cold dead eyes. "Without it, you will endanger yourself and the other two as well. 'Normals' --" he used a term unique in our kind's vernacular, a thought-symbol that combined the ideas of death, endless torture, and deadly experimentation by faceless men holding scary instruments, "-- must NEVER know what you are." "So you would kill me," I said matter-of-factly. I lowered my voice, "And Viktoriya." "Yes." His voice held no emotion. "Yu-Ching too?" I glared at him. "She's harmless!" "One is timid, the other brazen," the gaunt man said. "The little one won't warrant undue attention unless you cease watching her. Viktoriya can be dangerous, but she is not foolish. It is not her nature. You found that out personally." My face flushed deep red. Indeed Tseng was right about Viktoriya. She had been spying on me before I was aware of her. How careless of me! I knitted my brow with worry. "You will keep them under control for your sakes." "Why me?" I asked. "You don't even know me." "I know you enough that you will keep them docile until you tire of them," Tseng spoke of my darlings like disposable luxuries. "Then we shall see." "That won't happen," I became defensive. Tseng said nothing as we walked on a little more. "You can meet them," I relaxed my tone. "Speak to them both as you are doing now." "No." He was firm but offered me no explanation for his refusal. Tseng instructed me in a way that only a telepath can: with sharp bursts of mental instructions. While I could withstand thought-speech with Viktoriya, it was different with Tseng. After a minute, I was dizzy and ill. I had to sit on the ground to pull myself together. The mysterious man didn't stick around though. He tersely imparted his message, his lesson, and that was it. When I looked up again, Tseng had disappeared and in my mind was a singular message: 'I'll be around.' My thoughts drifted back to what I was doing. I ran through the choice bits of training and simply realized I just needed to practice. Multi-tasking was what I was working on now. Rachelle was lying under me, her warm body yielded to the pummeling I was giving her, but I kept concentration on keeping the grill in the backyard off the ground. Looking back at my meeting with Tseng was simply another exercise. All this was taking a toll on me and I was straining. Rachelle could see me but didn't understand what I was preoccupied with. She thought I was trying hard not to cum so she decided to help me along. She entwined her arms around my neck and drew me down. Rachelle's scent drove me over the edge and I shot my load. At the same time, I lost my concentration and the grill crashed to the ground with a clatter. "What was that?" Rachelle clutched me tightly. Unlike Janet, I brought Rachelle home to meet my parents, especially since Andrew had met her last year. I introduced her not merely as my old classmate, but a girl whom I was dating. This gave us some measure of privacy. Nonetheless, Rachelle was shy about my parents (or worse, both our parents) walking in on us while we were making the sign of the inverted starfish. Like Janet, Rachelle learned to be very discreet about our love-making. The loud clatter in the backyard made her jump. "It's probably just a cat," I groaned and ground my hips against hers, frustrated she had cut short my exercise. "You should go check," Rachelle sighed and stroked my back. "You know, just in case." "Yeah," I rolled off her, chucked the condom into the trash, and started dressing up. "Stanley?" "Yeah sugar?" "Are you still seeing Janet?" I looked back at Rachelle. She was sitting upright in my new bed. It was smaller since I had a drafting table in my room now. This mean when I had a girl over, I generally slept on the ground afterwards. Rachelle regarded me with sad, quiet eyes. "What do you mean?" I sat next to her. Somehow, this was vaguely familiar. I had thought I had undergone something similar a year before. "I could see it in your eyes," Rachelle cast a downward glance. "And there's a new picture of her on your desk." "Oh." I cursed inwardly. Janet had taken a new photo of herself (dressed in a spiffy business suit to match her new haircut) and Melanie planted the sucker in my room as a "sisterly" favor. Janet might as well have come into my room and pee'd all over the place to mark her territory. I looked at Rachelle and explained myself. I feared I had to relive my fiery argument with Janet all over again, but to my surprise, Rachelle didn't react as I expected. In an ironic twist, she confessed that she had been screwing around down in L.A. While she flirted with a guy here and there, there was one in particular who she let him get a little closer. She fucked him a week or so before she flew back to the city. Ghandia hadn't a clue, or else she would've leaked it back to Faraz (then back to me) so this was news to me. I didn't know if I should act elated or jealous, because frankly, I felt neither. Rachelle was entitled to do what she wanted with her body. While I enjoyed my time with her, I hadn't expressly asked for her to be exclusive. In fact, I had not even thought to bring it up while we were dating. So, I decided to approach it as gently as I could. "Oh sugar," I patted her hand. "That's all right. You had fun and stayed safe right?" Rachelle nodded, her eyes brimming with emotion. "I'm sorry about Janet," I said. "But she's a good friend and we always played safe, as I am with you." My black beauty bit her lip and looked so downcast I tried to soothe her. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry," I forced myself to smile. "If you can't stand me, I'll go." "I don't know what to say." "Well, you always wanted to meet more of my friends right?" I joked despite the situation. "Even back in school!" "Not THOSE kinds of friends." Rachelle made a face then her brow arched as she realized something. "That girl at the paper --!" "Shawn," I put a hand on hers to calm her. "What about her?" "Did you?" she glared at me. "And while we --?!" "Yes," I confessed. "Her too." "God," she inhaled sharply. "This, this is so --!!" "Bohemian?" Rachelle sniffed. She learned that term when we were watching that episode of M.A.S.H. one late night. It was the one when Major Winchester fell in love with the French army nurse. I was taking a humanities course at the time and was simply excited to have found a usage of the term. My black beauty had chided me about making television boring by turning it into, "edu-tainment." "You know," I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Shawn wanted to get to know you. I think she admires you." Rachelle scoffed and looked at me sternly. "Don't patronize me. I mean, would you like to meet Craig?" "Sure," I shrugged. "If you're okay with it." "Stanley, sugar." She stopped and soured; she called me that so often, it came naturally. "Look, I didn't mean it that way." I patted her cheek and gave her an "Eskimo kiss" by touching my nose to hers. "Rachelle. We're all adults. Let's not dwell over nothing." My mind was both adventuresome and generous, and my spirit was infectious. I had grown, as did Rachelle. Such pettiness was not worth the strain on either of us. Soon, I could sense Rachelle let go of her jealousy over Janet as much as I did over her dalliance with some guy whose name I'd already forgotten. We stayed like that for some time before we spoke again. "We're going to be late," I kissed her. We got dressed and headed out. We were late for Jon-Peter's and Heidi's official engagement dinner party. To both our credit, Rachelle and I behaved like adults. Faraz, Ghandia, Jon-Peter's parents, Heidi's parents, and her brother Patrick were there to hear the good news. Together, Rachelle and I wished them happiness we both were searching for. It came for us later. Much later. =============================================================================== TASKED TO ASK =============================================================================== As my time at community college neared its end, I had the dubious opportunity to participate in the first of many assignments. The man Tseng had not spoken to me, physically or otherwise, for some time. Therefore it was very curious thing that I got a summons in the form of a mental flash. It was a quick and dirty thing: a still of a building, a clock, a day on the calendar, and then nothing. Had I been a 'normal', I would have blanked out from the psychic shock. As I wasn't, I didn't. While I withstood the uninvited telepathy, it was unexpected, like lightning from a clear blue sky, and I nearly stumbled and fell. Thankfully, I was not alone. In one of those rare days I had crawled ahead of my studies, I opted to spend a half day of leisure with two of my treasured darlings: Shawn Ellen Horten, who was about to graduate high school in a few short months and go onto San Jose State, and Melanie Chen, who had just celebrated her 13th birthday some weeks earlier and would soon attend the same middle school as my brother Andrew. Shawn caught me by the arm, eliciting an immediate response from Melanie. I leaned on both girls and contented to simply sit on the nearest revetment at the zoo. "Are you okay?" Shawn asked. I nodded and gave her a pleasant smile. My lovely Anglo angel had lost much of her baby fat as her body began maturing; however, this did little to change her kind, thoughtful nature. "I'll get you some water," Shawn looked around and spotted a water fountain. "I'll be right back." The psychic disturbance was so startling, I could only nod in silent agreement. Melanie watched the older girl leave before she knelt before me. "Take my drink Stanley," my littlest darling offered up her cup, still half-full of cherry slushee. "I'll do that," I said, "If you cut that out right now." Melanie quickly stood back up, still holding her drink before me. Yu-Ching had gotten into her pretty head that I would be more pleased with her if she adopted some more submissive positions she'd seen (or gotten hints of) on Chinese television. Those soap operas set in period China really made an impression on her. I'd often find Melanie kneeling, sitting, or positioning herself in a way where she'd have to look up towards me. At first, I had gotten a mild kick out of it, as most of the other girls were nearly at my height (or taller) but soon, I realized she was using that to actively monopolize my attention (especially when the others were around). I decided to firmly (but gently) put my foot down, otherwise Melanie's inhibitions would run out of control. Control and discipline. Those words made me gnash my teeth. Tseng's words. The only other who would be able to think-speak that clearly to me was Viktoriya, and she knew that I would not be seeing her today. I had told her I was to be indisposed. 'Indisposed my ass!' Viktoriya sniffed as she thought-spoke to me on Friday: 'You're planning to take that Exhibitionist-Slut and the Fat-Freckle-Face to the zoo!' My ex-Commie cutie had some rather unkind nicknames for each of my other darlings. Janet, my devoted First she called Tom-Boy. Doubtless it was derived from not just her latest hair style (which made her appear like Joan Chen) but also from her forward nature. After all, Janet was the one who seduced me years ago. Rachelle, the mulatto girl whom everyone else thought I was dating, Viktoriya had coined Two-Face. This was for her seeing another man when she was away at college and for her mixed blood. She didn't use that moniker much in my presence, for I knew she had wanted to make sapphic overtures towards Rachelle. Shawn received the dubious moniker of Fat-Freckle-Face because, according to Viktoriya, it was my angelic baby girl's plump body that drove me crazy. My Russian beauty's most vicious barbs though, was retained for a fellow empire citizen: the latent empath Melanie. She heaped on a different derogatory epithet each time she'd bring up little Chen. While I never thought Viktoriya would never be jealous of my dalliances as I could be more of hers, my dance-loving darling's comments did give me pause as I pondered who would've pinged me so strongly. It didn't feel like Viktoriya, although we could both send something fairly strong and brief without identifying ourselves in the process. That meant it had to be him. Tseng. What the hell did he want? As I sat wondering about the message, Shawn had come back with a cup of tap water. She saw me me holding Melanie's cup of crushed ice, my eyes staring at nothing in particular. She sat down beside me and proceeded to bump me out of my reverie. "Hello? Earth to Stanley?" Shawn put her hand gently on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" I nodded as I swapped drinks. "Thank you." "Geez," Shawn looked at me with worry, "If you're that tired, you should stay home and get some rest." Melanie puffed up her tiny chest and was about to say something, but I stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. "I'm all right," I said. "Being cooped up in my room half the time is enough. C'mon, let's go to the monkey house --" I eyed Melanie "-- or whatever else you two want." "Pandas!" Melanie smiled brightly. Shawn grinned, as did I. She was a little more understanding with my different liaisons than Janet and Rachelle. Perhaps it was because she already knew I was slamming Rachelle and Janet before we got more intimate. The "other woman" already knew all the players but she (thankfully) wasn't jealous. I suppose that was what made our relationship work. It was near evening when I headed back home. I wanted to accompany Shawn back to her place, but she told me it wasn't necessary. "I'm a big girl now Stanley," she poked me in the ribs, just as she did when we were younger. I gave her a tender kiss on the forehead before I hopped off the bus with Melanie. I had to escort her home (likely on pain of death) as I had promised her folks I'd get her home safe and sound before dinner. Now that her family knew she was seeing a boy nearly seven years her senior, they wanted to take no chances; Melanie often had to be home before dark. For Yu-Ching, it was a mix of the good and bad. It was good that our relationship finally saw the light of day, although Melanie tread a very thin line when her mother and father pressed her for what intimate acts we may have done together. She held on fast and stuck to the story she and I concocted. It was a mix of fact and fiction: she had met me as a classmate of Andrew's, and started hanging around me to learn how to cook. After a few impromptu interviews, I got Andrew to cover our story. My innocent mother (who knew almost all of Andrew's friends) thought something fishy, but she eventually trusted my brother when he vouched for Melanie's story. Since my father was generally not home (or asleep) he came to know the situation only through my mother. He and I had "the talk" and realizing I had been dating Rachelle until recently, he asked what the hell was wrong with me. Luckily, O.J. Simpson provided a good fictitious reason. Rachelle and I both were in agreement in suspecting the fellow had a guilty conscience (or at least a lot of knowledge about what happened). However, the case was dividing L.A. (and the rest of the country) along racial lines. To those who bugged me about details of why we broke up, I simply hinted O.J.'s trial as a possible reason. After this, questions about Rachelle were confined to gutter talk and idle gossip. It worked out in the end. This shaky interim arrangement was the reason which allowed me to take both Melanie and Shawn out for some quiet time. Unfortunately, it was interrupted quite suddenly and rudely by that damned Tseng. When I got home, I finally deciphered the mind-message I was sent: I was to meet someone downtown, next week, sometime around morning (I cannot give the exact time and place for reasons soon to be evident). I silently cursed, because it was during one of my heaviest scheduled school days. I lay back in my tiny bed and wondered if I should go. What power did Tseng have anyway to interfere with my life? I decided to ignore it and concentrate on my studies. No sooner than I settled on that decision when a powerful thought-symbol came to me: 'No joke.' 'Be there.' I cringed and acquiesced to an unwanted invitation. I packed my usual, thinking it might be a brief meeting, before I went back to class. I hopped off the bus somewhere in downtown and began walking towards the building I was supposed to be at. Thankfully, I had not met Viktoriya that day. I found out later that I had just missed her by a few minutes. I soon found the place. It was a huge Federal building, full of clerks, administrators, and other bureaucratic types. I wondered what to do as I wandered into the lobby. Tseng came up silently behind me. I didn't know he was there until I heard him greet me. As I turned, I sensed more instructions tingling in my mind. 'Do as I tell you Stanley Chen. We go into the lion's mouth now.' We shook hands and he chatted amicably about the weather, the traffic, and the lousy bus lines as he continued his thought-speak. I came to realize this was a ruse of some kind. Tseng wanted to show me something. Something that the 'normals' in the building (especially the ones armed with lethal weapons) had no knowledge of. He continued the tour in thought-speak. 'I am going to introduce you to a NSA field director.' 'The NSA?' I wondered as we swept past the security checkpoint to the elevators. 'Isn't that like the CIA or something?' 'Something yes. But different.' Tseng pushed the elevator button, and asked aloud if I like coffee. I demurred with an audible reply. 'NSA (National Security Agency) does not exist, much like we do not exist.' He continued showing me around with 'words' only I could hear. 'They conduct espionage on everyone. Spying. Listening. Eavesdropping.' Tseng looked at me. 'Make love to Chen Yu-Ching and they can hear it all.' A shock hit my body. What was going on? What was this all about? 'It is not the girl you should worry about.' He thought-spoke. 'This easily transcends your indiscretions.' I felt my cheeks flush then realized it was foolish. Tseng and I were the only ones in the elevator. I had not hid my thoughts well. 'Someone at the agency thinks you may be a handy asset.' "What?" I blurted aloud, breaking the physical silence between us. Tseng smiled but his attitude was cool. 'Stay silent. I told them you may be a -- as they term it -- talent.' 'I thought we weren't supposed to say what we were!' I began casting about looking for a way out. 'The empire is safe.' Tseng became thoughtful. 'But that fight you had back in school didn't escape notice.' 'You lied.' I stared coldly at him. 'You told me you took care of that. The records I mean.' The elevator's doors opened and we stepped out. I didn't have much choice. 'The official records yes.' Tseng seemed to utter a sigh. 'But you were reckless. Do you remember the girl in Utah?' It was my turn to be thoughtful. Finally, I replied. 'I think so.' 'She was cattle of another citizen.' The old man stopped to drink at a water fountain. 'Oops.' I didn't realize I had trespassed into another telepath's domain. 'You were reckless.' Tseng repeated and resumed walking. 'But Lillian was both reckless and careless. From the faint telepathic imprint you left, she began looking through government databases for someone like you instead of going through more subtle channels.' 'Government databases?' I asked as we shuffled down the hall at a slow pace. 'I don't get it. Who's Lillian?' 'Someone you do not need to worry about.' His empty and hollow tone hinted at her fate. 'So what now? You're going to shove me off the building?' I peered around and asked aloud, "How high are we?" "Seventy eight stories," Tseng answered in his tinny voice to my audible question. He fell back to thought-speech immediately. 'If I wanted to kill you, I would have not approached you before witnesses. Now listen carefully.' We stopped at the end of the hall and Tseng knocked lightly on the door. 'Certain elements of the agency believe there are telepaths in the world. This, for all intents and purposes, will be true.' I eyed him warily as I examined the room we entered. Two men were immediately visible in the middle of the room. A suited man with short black, curly hair sat at one end of a plain metal prison table. The fellow's huge face and bulk were evident despite his sitting position. Tseng in the meantime, seemed to hurry along his briefing. 'What they do not know, and SHOULD NOT KNOW,' he emphasized quickly with his thought-speech, 'Is how many of us there are; that we are organized; that we know probably more than they know.' Jesus Christ, I thought. This was turning out to be quite a day. The big fellow looked like he could've stood twice as tall as I when standing. The second man was not nattily dressed. I suppressed a smile. That was the word Janet had used when she wanted to remake my wardrobe after things had come to a head. Nattily. Ha-hah. But enough of that; I pushed that memory away and focused on the second man. The first man, I knew, was with NSA. 'Should even a hint of the empire escape your lips,' Tseng motioned to the big agency man. 'He, you, and everyone else on this floor will be killed by me. No one will escape alive. Think of your darling women, before you say anything foolish.' 'If I am not sure?' I wondered. 'Then ask.' Tseng's mind-tone was annoyed but firm. 'I am right here, Stanley. Keep your questions to me on our level and only write your answers out to them; don't speak unless you need to. They can collect your DNA from your spit. Think before you ask.' I chilled inwardly but did not express it. It was the same life lesson my mother had imparted to me daily until I reached middle school. Tseng must've dug that out from my memories of old. I examined the second man. He was wearing a sloppy shirt, ripped jeans, and if he hadn't stank terribly, I would've been at least more amicable. I couldn't see much of his face, since he wore a black blindfold. Duct tape was wound tightly around his blindfold and his hands were cuffed behind the back of the chair. His mouth was gagged as well. The room looked empty and dark, but I immediately sensed that there were more people apart from the two men, Tseng, and myself in the room. Armed men. I could sense their thoughts: danger, weapons at the ready, a danger in the room. But what was the danger? Was it the restrained man or me? I could not tell. The burly agent stood and extended a hand toward Tseng. It was then I noticed Tseng wore black leather gloves on both hands. He had not bothered in our meetings before, but neither did he shake my hand. It must be the physical contact, I realized. Tseng and the NSA man shook once. The agent towered over Tseng, but size meant little. I knew Tseng would keep his word with his threat. I extended my hand towards the big man, but he sat down without taking it; Tseng gently slapped my arm down. Fuck, I blinked. These guys knew! Or Tseng must've told them. I broke into a sweat, trying to figure what lame brained excuses I need to come up with. My abilities, my applications of them, and the girls I had been mixing company with. I soured as I noticed that the big man passed a slip of paper towards Tseng and me. The note read: SORRY ABOUT THE HANDSHAKE, BUT YOUR FRIEND HAD WARNED US IT COULD BE DANGEROUS. MY NAME IS BRIAN COX. Brian Cox. No identifying agency, no title. All hush-hush. A pencil came across with a blank notepad. I flicked my eyes at the imprisoned man then at Cox. He put a finger to his lips. I glanced at Tseng and heard his instructions. 'Go introduce yourself, Stanley. The man needs at least a first name to call you by.' I began writing on the pad and Tseng continued: 'Remember they can run your fingerprints through CODIS or any of the local hospitals and find out who you are. If you weren't in a database, they will have your prints if you don't take what you touch.' I wrote in block-print: MY NAME IS STANLEY. Then as if to keep my identity a secret, I kept my pencil and held the pad up so Cox could read it, but not keep the paper pad. Another suited man stepped out of the shaows and placed a second notepad and pencil in front of Cox. He scribbled for a little while and held up his pad. He had written: TSK-TSK. TSENG JUST TOLD YOU ABOUT THE FINGERPRINTS NO? HA-HA. WE NEED YOU TO READ THIS GUY'S MIND. CAN YOU DO THAT? I squinted at the pad, my eyes working over time. Cox had lousy hand-writing. I repressed a natural desire to take Cox's pad and hold it close to my face. That meant leaving DNA everywhere. I pointed to the blind-folded hick and Cox nodded. I stood, careful that I didn't touch the table, and using a handkerchief Janet had gifted me one year to wipe down the spots I placed my hand on my chair. Cox knitted his brow as he watched me try to frustrate him and the agency. Not that it would matter, I thought glumly. He could just tail me and get my address. Heck, I couldn't even stop a fifteen year-old high school girl (Shawn Ellen!) from from digging up my locator card, or her friend (Ashley, that bitch!) from spying on me, what chance did I have against a government agency that focused on spying? I walked next to the restrained man and he seemed to sense I was there. He craned his head around, trying to find out what was going on. He tried to struggle but I could see how his arms and legs were retrained to the chair, and the chair was chained tightly to hooks embedded in the carpeted floor. Up 'til now I had only read the mind of close friends, family and girls who interested me. I hadn't read the mind of a stranger yet, so I was anxious. Tseng seemed to have sensed it too because he thought-spoke one final bit of advice. 'Just grab his surface thoughts Stanley. Don't dig deep. You won't expose your identity if you keep it brief. We don't want to tip our hand.' Actually, I didn't even need to touch the man to read him, but I sensed that Cox was wondering how I would handle things. So, why not put on a show? I had read most of the man's identity, his address, his current thoughts already, so I didn't need to do more. However, I brushed my fingertip against the man's grimy forehead as if I needed to do that for my gifts to work. He quickly snapped his head around, straining violently against his restraints. I jumped back with a shout and in an instant, I saw four more suited men, each armed with mean looking machinepistols level their weapons at us. "Don't move," one of them said. I wasn't sure if he meant me or the prisoner until the bound man sagged and remained still. I breathed a little easier then. All this time, Tseng didn't move an inch but Cox had raised his hands, keeping order. He glanced at me and held up his pad. ARE YOU OKAY? I quickly (but neatly) wrote on my pad: HIS NAME IS JACKSON DAVIES ... I wrote out almost every facet of the man's life from the mind scan I performed, right down to the guy's social security number, date of birth, and the last four addresses he lived at. Cox read my pad, glanced at the prisoner, and brought out his mobile phone. He speed-dialed a number, the tones beeped too fast for me to tell what for, and the next thing I knew, a thin, sandy haired fellow stepped out from the shadows. Strange, I thought. I hadn't sensed him in the room before. The newcomer shifted his gaze from Cox then to me and lastly settled on Tseng. Instantly, I felt the anger and loathing. "What's he doing here?" he asked. I noticed how relatively young he was. He appeared to be a few years older than Janet. "How's the foot?" Tseng spoke aloud. He sounded smug. Hell, he looked smug. I flicked my eyes from him to the newcomer. I kept silent, unsure of what I had walked into. "How's the pet?" the newcomer sneered. Tseng's face twitched but he didn't move. I knew if he wanted to, he could've killed anyone else who was that insolent. Cox motioned towards Tseng and he stood to leave. Tseng bade me to follow and I did. We both headed outside and shut the door behind us. "Tell me what the hell just happened," I asked once we were in the elevator. "Later." Tseng kept silent through the lift ride down to the building parking lot. He showed me to his car, a Volvo sedan painted in a glossy jet black. "You need a ride back to school, yes?" he asked. I nodded and got in. "That was Brian Cox," Tseng spoke once we were both in his car. He removed his gloves and started the car, "And it's generally a safe thing to keep quiet in the presence of the agency." "What the hell was all that?" I asked. "That last guy didn't seem to happy to see you." "That was David Reese," Tseng said simply. "If you see him again, pay attention to his right foot." "His foot?" I wrestled my oversized backpack onto my lap. "How come?" "Because it's a prosthetic." "Oh." If my curiosity was evident, Tseng took no notice. He did explain that Brian Cox had contacted him about me. Cox had asked Tseng if I, Stanley Chen, was a telepath, and seeing no real out, decided to sic the agency on me. "It is a calculated risk you understand," Tseng explained, "To reveal just enough to shake them from the rest of the empire." "Won't we get into trouble for this?" I asked. "What about other telepaths?" "They should be so content," Tseng snapped unkindly. "They will not have to deal with issues you will eventually face." "Why me?" I whined, "What'd I do that anyone else wouldn't have?" "You're disruptive to be sure," Tseng kept talking but his attention was focused solely on the road, "But you also have integrity." "What?" "Integrity," Tseng went on. "Do you know what generally happens when a boy your age gets his gifts?" I stalled for an answer. "Uh ... no?" "He proceeds to mind-wipe every female he sees to satisfy his immediate lusts. Teachers, students, girls ---" Tseng gave me a sharp mental "prick" as if to say: Pay attention! "In some cases," he continued, "They start incestuous relationships with their mothers and sisters then cascade it to their daughters and granddaughters." I stayed silent but my mind kept churning. I wanted to ask Tseng more, like what he meant by keeping his presence unknown to Melanie and Viktoriya. "It simply is unsustainable," Tseng said coldly. "Imagine a man with no training apart from using his mind to sate his basest desires. All of his women -- or in some cases -- other men, enslaving themselves to his whim. The Russian --" Tseng had mentioned his mysterious adversary when we first met, "-- promoted this idea. It lead to pogroms and many deaths." "So why me?" I asked. "You Stanley," Tseng answered simply, "Don't press your gifts." "How do you mean?" "You do not wholly impose your will on them," he explained. "You do your best to persuade them but ultimately, you give them a choice to stay or go, as they want." "Tell that to Melanie." I said it aloud before I knew it. "She is loyal to you," he said, "So long as you give her joy." "Speaking of Melanie," I pressed for an answer, "Why don't you want her or Viktoriya to know about you?" The man's response was sly. "It would be best not to; you might find things difficult." "What can be more difficult than working with the NSA?" Tseng didn't answer, and his mind was blank to me. I had to remain satisfied with an answer I may never know. We arrived at City College and he stopped the car at the bus station at the corner. "I will speak to Cox about you," Tseng said. "The fool has it in his mind to create some talent-laden team of operatives like a goddamned Saturday morning cartoon or comic strip." "You mean like the X-men?" I asked, "Or the Justice League?" "Yes, if you think of it like that," Tseng registered disgust. "But don't get too ahead of yourself. This isn't fiction." "Is it safe?" I wondered aloud. "Is it safe to subject your will to the whims and desires of another with no interest in your welfare?" I sat, lost in thought long enough for Tseng to answer rhetorically. "You and I have vested interest in our empire, because we are part of it," he said slowly. "Why should we enthrall ourselves to others when we have the power?" "How'd you know Cox?" I asked. "It was not mutual," Tseng said simply. "And it was before your time." I was ready to exit the car when he interrupted me. "Wait," he said. "Open the glove compartment." I did and found a small red tin with its top etched with the design of a traditional Chinese red envelope. Red envelopes or red packets were used to contain paper money, which were then given to honored guests and close family and friends during festivals, important dates, and Lunar New Years. "What's this?" I asked. The tin felt very heavy. "This is only fair," Tseng said. "I asked you to reveal yourself to the agency. You should be recompensed for your trouble. Take it." I pulled off the tin's lid and my eyes bugged out. "Holy shit." "It's bad form to do that," Tseng sounded annoyed but he was practical about it. Like me, he knew of tradition, but didn't hold it as dogma. "Fifteen thousand U.S. One hundred-fifty $100 bills. Clean, sequential, and, for you, legitimate." "Uh, thanks?" I was astounded. $15,000 for a quick meeting and me doing something I didn't need school for? Quick! Where do I sign up? If I was making dough from just mind-scanning, why was I in school? I closed the lid, got out of the car, and Tseng drove off without a word. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- A NEW UNIVERSITY =============================================================================== After two years of community college, I was ready to transfer to a new university to finish my undergraduate degrees. Transferring college credits from one to another was a bureaucratic nightmare then as it is today. A school would require classes to fulfill its own program requirements that would not be transferrable to a different school (which imposed its own class regimen). It didn't help as I attempted this business around the time Affirmative Action in the state of California was being slowly withdrawn. All this because Affirmative Action had led to "reverse discrimination" where students of Asian descent began overtaking students of other ethnicities in CTBS and SAT test scores and taking up valuable openings in prestigious schools, especially in the University of California. I had completed nearly 160 units of college work in order to transfer 120 of them to my new digs: Viktoriya's school. The Berkeley campus at the University of California was indeed the home of a lot of kooks, radicals, and crackpots, but it was also a campus that was close to home. Attending school out of state was out of the question for the Brothers Chen; it was either a school in the state or awards or scholarships, but neither Andrew or I earned high enough points for either privilege. Janet's family was rich so she was able to go to Chicago for school. When she opted to continue her education, she was smart enough to win scholarships for the college of her choice (Stanford or UCLA). I wasn't sure how Rachelle's family could send her to live and study down in Los Angeles, but I suppose she, Ghandia, and Heidi had worked something out. They were, after all, the best of friends. Ghandia was at UCLA keeping Rachelle company whereas Heidi was in San Diego (or Irvine, I forget which). Faraz stuck to State University and got a fruitful internship at a trading firm working the Pacific Stock Exchange. This he was able to parlay to a position working with another company at the New York Stock Exchange. But back to lil' old me. Well, me and Viktoriya. It was happy coincidence that she and I now often commuted together on the same train after my transfer. I never realized it 'til recently, but she had a deep seated fear we'd never see one another again. Since we started classes around the same time, we generally caught the same train to campus. Sometimes we'd miss one another (but not often) since there was some leeway in our schedules. Half the time we'd be on the same bus as well. We didn't need to share seats on a bus to enjoy our company, not with our constant mind-chatter, but during the longer train ride, we'd slump against each other and catch a few more minutes of sleep. Viktoriya would bid me goodbye at the south entrance of campus and go off on her own. Unfortunately, I generally could not ride back with Viktoriya, as I was pursuing some extra course work. This extended my schedule late into the night and left me with little choice but to pack a whole day's worth of food along with clothing, books, and supplies. I was simply a pack mule. Every day, I marched uphill across the campus. I was tuckered out physically and mentally, so much so that I often became curt and terse in my communication. Not even Melanie could abide my presence after a while; she learned to tip-toe around me when I could tolerate her visits. Here at Berkeley, the workload intensified to a level I wasn't accustomed to. Viktoriya's pragmatism and single-minded dedication saved me. When I was horny, I'd contact her by thought-speak or mind-sight. She'd knew to meet me for lunch and jerk me off; on her days off, she would stretch and dance nude in her room (or clothed in the studio) and let me watch her with mind-sight. I got the distinct feeling she liked being watched. As for herself, Viktoriya simply used a technique I recognized: masturbation. Unlike a 'normal' woman though, she was able to "roll" her gift inside her vaginal cavity. While fingering her clit, she was able to stroke her Grafenberg spot with telekinesis. She was able to cum in nearly any position, though she confided she favored sitting down. So whenever she'd get that glassy-eyed look while sitting on the train or bus, it was basically Viktoriya jerking off in public. I doubted any 'normal' could beat that. I wasn't so daring; I just wanted more sleep. I slept when I could, but the amount of work from my design studios was compounded when I took extra computer and electrical and mechanical engineering courses to achieve my choice of a major and minor. I was operating on nearly 17+ units of work each semester and completely wiped out. The summer months no longer meant I had time for my darlings. While I had been taking summer classes before, I did not take the maximum allowed until after my transfer. In my rampant pursuit of two majors, I was working myself dead tired. While I was physically exhausted, I was still mentally alert so I eschewed vacation. Summer courses were great for knocking out my general education requirements. Everyone's reaction was mixed: my parents were delighted, although it was an extra expense for them. Faraz was too busy working at his father's service station to do much else but spend what little time he could with Ghandia. He did sound impressed enough to encourage me. Rachelle reluctantly understood and began seeing more of Craig. Viktoriya knew what I was up to without me physically telling her. Our mind-sight and thought-speak were more useful when communicating and our understanding went beyond spoken words. In fact, she wanted to finish school as fast as I so she could graduate to advance studies in dance. Janet was as busy as the other two girls; her acceptance into law school and a part-time position at the San Francisco City and County civil court kept her busy. Nonetheless, she was proud of me, and let me know of it despite her frantic schedule. Shawn and Melanie were two different types of disappointment: Shawn grew miffed at my absences and went out with Scott from the paper a few times; it was to rile jealousy in me that I didn't foster. We did make up eventually; I saw her when I could, and attended to her at her Winter Ball and several other dances (including both her junior and senior proms). Scott eventually dated (of all people) Ashley. Then one weekend, Shawn Ellen helped me with a project on-campus when I needed an extra pair of hands in a studio; it was pretty eye-opening for her. So much so, she decided on pursuing systems engineering at San Jose State. As for her friend Ashley, they pretty much grew apart. I heard nothing of Ashley from Shawn once I left for college; I could only assume Shawn and she kept in touch intermittently afterwards. Melanie was a little more troublesome, and she doted on me. She was eager to spend her summer with me, until I begged off, feigning illness. However, my mental defences proved fairly ineffective against my little darling. All I did was piss her off. Little Chen did not appreciate it that I was lying to her face. She made me her pet project, and began showing up with little dishes of dumplings or soup or other food she cooked. To placate her, I ate what I could and packed the leftovers for lunch. My little darling picked up what I was doing and began adapting to my schedule. Since I ate my food cold or at room temperature, Melanie would make two different meals. I finally devoted a few hours each weekend to do grocery shopping with her. We'd come back to my place and we'd learn to cook; what I didn't take along or kept, Melanie took home. Her parents got curious about her activities, and I was eventually forced to tell them what we were doing -- well, I told them a sanitized version of what we were doing. Thankfully, they were accepting of me and my interest in their only daughter. The Chens were traditionalists (which could have explained their emigration from China) and were copacetic in betrothing her to a determined, and up and coming, fellow like myself. Mrs. Chen (Melanie's mother not mine) also didn't look too bad herself. Oh she had a few dings here and there, but she wasn't ugly. I silently thanked the powers that be; Melanie would probably look like her in 30-some years. Despite the combined affection of my darlings, by the time of my graduation in 1997, I was a gaunt, hollowed fellow with two degrees: environmental design (useless without the Master's degree in design) and computer science as a minor. I hadn't achieved my lofty goal of making killer robot houses yet, and I felt I had yet a long way to go. Still, drafting and modeling on a computer the rest of my life wasn't something I envisioned doing, even if it paid a ton of money. I was at a loss of what to do next when my parents decided to send me on a little trip abroad. =============================================================================== HONG KONG HONEY =============================================================================== I had literally sequestered myself for four straight years in a routine that even precluded me from every activity save practicing my gifts on a reduced basis, I was "awarded" with a much deserved trip to Hong Kong to celebrate my graduation. I would've very much liked to have celebrated by proposing to Janet instead. But with my choice of graduate schools in limbo and my deteriorated health, I understood the need for a vacation. As it turned out, it wasn't all free. There was a price to pay: my family was coming along. It was akin to the family trips we had taken years before, except now I was going to be as harried and stressed out in a different country. That year was a little different as well, as it was 1997. Hong Kong was preparing for its celebration for transferring itself from the British Empire back to the government in Peking. My father had managed to mix business with pleasure by taking my grandmother along. He wanted to witness the hand-over ceremony personally but chaperoned his mother to make sure she was okay. My grandmother was a vindictive woman. She was apparently one of the causes for my parents' estrangement when I was younger. However, her time was nearing its end. She wanted to visit family before she kicked the bucket. My mother of course, had other plans. Her family was better off than my father's, and she intended to stay with her family in Kowloon. This of course, left Andrew and me to decide whom to stay with. It was very much like the separation before Andrew was born, and I did not like it one bit. Andrew was closer to mother, so he opted to stay with her. I was plain disgusted with how the trip was turning out; I had thought my vacation would be off to a good start. Apart from being able to attend Viktoriya's graduation as a "close friend" (her parents were thankfully ignorant to what we had been doing, once even on their bed), Faraz had told me he made plans to propose to Ghandia once I got back from Hong Kong. It was good news. Good enough that Rachelle called me once the rumor started going around. That night, Faraz and I had plenty of drink and smoked our last cigarettes. "I tell Ghandia I quit," he said in his clipped English. "I make good on my promise now." I crushed my pack in support and we caroused like brothers. I barely managed to make it home in time to catch the shuttle to the airport. Both of my parents were not too happy about my condition, but understood my intent. So, why didn't my parents understand one another? Aunt Hortense came to the rescue. Hortense was my mother's half-sister. My grandfather was what one would call a bigamist, although it was not outlawed in the British colonies. Aunt Hortense was a spinster and lived alone in a high-rise condo (the standard residence in Hong Kong). Since she lived alone, other relatives often dropped by to visit and to use her condo instead of staying at a hotel. That was exactly what I would be doing, except Aunt Hortense was freely offering to lodge me. So it was decided: my father stayed with his mother in Hong Kong, my mother and Andrew with other family in Kowloon, and I with Aunt Hortense. Normally, everyone would be able to stay in one place or another, but there was another reason why my aunt couldn't take in more guests, and her name was Aurora Kwong. In the West, she was what you'd call a "first cousin" (more specifically half-first-cousin since she was descended from my other maternal grandmother, but we discount that in our genealogy). However, in China, where the surname is the only thing that mattered (not necessarily genealogical lineage), Aurora was my bieu-mui (or bieu-jie, if she was older, but she wasn't) and not my tong-mui (or tong-jie, again if she had been older than me). Being my "bieu-sibling" meant essentially that she did not share my family name of Chen.** That also meant if we were so inclined, we could've married (legally) in Hong Kong and marked her off as my spouse on my income tax form. [** AUTHOR'S NOTE: Careful readers will no doubt have noticed that Melanie and I appear to share the same last name, 'Chen'. This is simple coincidence in the Anglicized spelling. In Melanie's case, her last name is homonymous with the word 'full on' or 'complete' but means something else (and drawn differently, you'd have to ask her). Some families have opted to spell it as "Jun" or "Chun". My family's last name is homonymous with 'dust'; in fact, it is simply an anthropomorphized version of the same character. To Western ears, it would be unseemly for a man and woman to marry with the same last names, but in our system, our last names clearly mark us from different families, so we wouldn't have babies with two heads.] Despite my weariness from my long flight and my parents' vacuous argument, I admired her figure as I stumbled wearily into Aunt Hortense's condo. Aurora had arrived a few days earlier, on a sight-seeing vacation of her own (she had just graduated high school) but was coerced into staying with my Aunt Hortense by her father (who was Hortense's older full brother) since she was not chaperoned. That turned out to be a poor decision by Uncle William. Aurora was slim and spry. Her skin was olive and glossy from sweat in the hot Hong Kong night. Long jet-black hair came down to her ass, like a smooth satin scarf. Her years spent living in New Jersey had made her into an "East Coast" American, but nonetheless Cantonese when it came to family. I barely noticed her dark sloe-eyes following me as I acknowledged her. I dropped my luggage off in the second guest room but came back out to say goodnight. It was 5 p.m. local time, but 3 a.m. my time. I was running on fumes and nodding off. I exchanged simple pleasantries with Aurora and Aunt Hortense then sought to retire. By sheer accident, I shook the girl's hand first. I should've remained fully awake and in full control of my psychic faculties until I was alone, but I was honestly half asleep. Before I knew it, I had let slip to Aurora's mind what I wanted to do with her small mouth. My bieu-mui's eyes went wide and I quickly kicked my mental discipline into high gear. Never had I snapped awake so suddenly to regain control of my overflowing id. Aurora quickly excused herself to the washroom after shaking my hand. Thankfully, I was in full control of my faculties when I bade my Aunt Hortense a goodnight. Already worn from my studies, my trip, and my accidental "slip-up", I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. If you've been to Florida or the Caribbean in the summer, when the days are hot and the nights are muggy and hot, you've pretty much discovered Hong Kong (except Florida has lots of old white people instead of old Chinese people). Everyone wore short sleeves and shorts when possible, and since the climate conditions are near constant (hot and humid or hot and dry) people have learned to use air-conditioning or fans non-stop. If you went out into a rainstorm during the day, you wouldn't feel a chill; the raindrops felt just a shade cooler than your body temperature. The heat was the principal reason (aside from the overcrowding in the residential buildings) that people in Hong Kong bring their daily lives into the streets, recreation centers, or shopping malls. The presence of industrial strength air-conditioning in those facilities were the bait to lure consumers. All this of course, eats up a ton of dough, hence most inhabitants are constantly on a go-go-go attitude with profit-making and making senseless comparisons of material wealth: clothing, mobile phones, jewelry, servants, and what-have-you, all for the sakes of profit and progress. Initially, I was led around by family to meet distant relatives: uncles, aunts, cousins, grand-uncles and aunts, grandparents, old household servants (who became friends), close co-workers, and friends of friends. Intermixed between all these visits were short, impromptu tours of odds and ends: Buddhist temples, art galleries, Taoist shrines, museums of science and technology, Ocean Park, landmark buildings, Victoria Harbor, Admirality, and Tsim Sha Tsui (this was before Sumjun became developed). Aurora went along the first two days after my arrival (she hadn't gotten around much) and it was convenient for her to ride along in the same cab or car. By day three though, Aurora said she had made plans to tour a little on the mainland, dai-luk* [* Cantonese: Big Green; a moniker for mainland China.], which was cause for some concern. Uncle Bill definitely had not allowed for it, although he was simply passing responsibility to his sister Hortense. Both Aunt Hortense and my mother didn't think it was a good idea. Aurora was unhappy but refused to change her mind. "It's only sam-yut-liang-man*!" [* Cantonese: Three days, two nights.] She was practically shouting. Aurora wasn't very demure in some instances. "No," Aunt Hortense was firm, her English having the clip of a British nanny. "Your father said no and I promised him to keep you safe." "You can go with me," Aurora begged. "I'll even treat you!" "wo-yiu-fan-kung Kwong-xiao-jie*," [* Cantonese: I need to go to work Miss Kwong-as-lady-of-the-house (sarcasm).] Hortense said acidly. "Plus, I already took vacation to keep you company." "How about you auntie?" Aurora implored my mother. "I came to see grand-ma-ma and keep my family company. And it is storm season," my mother was just as firm. "What if something should happen to you? What do we say to your parents?" Aurora wasn't about to give up so easily. "Stanley bieu-guo*!" My cousin brightened. "He can chaperone me!" [* Cantonese: Older male cousin who is not of the same surname.] "What?" I nearly walked into the door of my room. That was the first I heard of it. Both mother and Aunt Hortense treated Aurora like a little kid, but she was clearly not taking no for an answer. She had signed up the first chance she got and joined a tour. After a few minutes of arguing, my mother took me aside and asked me if I wanted to go. I wasn't adventuresome, but I was feeling tired of having people push me around. I was also apprehensive. The handover was to occur in the next few days. If there was violence, I didn't want to be there. But lastly, there was something about Aurora's suggestion struck me as an opportunity. After a minute or so of hesitation, I accepted. I quickly packed a few days' worth of clothing and as many changes of underwear I could carry. I wish I could've brought more, but I couldn't fit it all in. The next day, Aurora and I found ourselves at a bus station in Hong Kong. The tour was a trashy affair, but the bus was cushy and comfortable. It was air-conditioned so well, I felt cold the first time since I arrived. Aurora was so excited, she didn't feel it. She offered her coat and, having little choice, I took it. "Thanks for coming, Stanley." She finally got settled in her seat long enough to hold a conversation. "Yeah don't mention it." I felt my eyes droop. It wasn't that late, but I had yet to acclimatize myself to the local time. "You haven't 'kowed-jung*' huh?" Aurora patted my hand. [* Cantonese: Adjusted your internal body clock to the local time zone.] I chuckled and shook my head. I wanted to just lay back and take a nap. "Wake me when we get there okay?" I yawned. "We don't want to get separated." "We won't," she said. Then, "I'll wake you." I caught about a minute of sleep before someone was shaking me awake. "Stanley? Stanley! Stanley!!" I snapped awake, bleary-eyes and a little disoriented. "What? What is it?" Had we arrived already? "Look!" she pointed. I followed Aurora's finger and saw that our bus was chugging up a rough hill. Past the window, the big green expanse of China's coastal fields were marred by the new construction of urban dwellings on its shores. The grasses that weren't cut were pressed flat to the ground by the wind. "Lovely," I settled back. I dared a glance at Aurora and saw her eyes shining with joy as she took in the breadth and depth of our ancestral home. It was now I had a private moment to inspect my cousin closely. She was a thin, delicate little thing; clearly she took after her mother (who was also very petite) and not my Uncle Bill. Her jet black hair was so long, she had swept it forward, over one of her bare shoulders so it rested on her lap. My eyes followed her skinny arms and noticed that she was clutching her hands together. I peeked into her mind quickly and sensed her body starting to feel cold. Silly girl, I shrugged off the coat she had gallantly given me. I startled Aurora a bit when I draped the coat back over her bare shoulders. She turned her head and saw what I was doing. "Aren't you cold?" she asked me. "I'll manage," I said with bravado. "Don't be a dummy," Aurora batted her eyes at me. "I can warm up by resting against the window." I reached over to feel the window and found it was sizzling. When I drew back, my skin was red but there weren't blisters. "You didn't have to to that," my cousin winced. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," I scratched my hand. "Just keep the coat. Shouldn't be too long right?" "Well," she tugged the coat slighty. "Okay." The bus ride was just a little longer than I expected. Aurora and I chatted in low voices. We talked about school, or her upcoming life in college. I didn't think I had much to talk about, but my cousin was inquisitive and bugged me as incessantly as Melanie would. I learned she was studying business or law and had not nary a clue of what she might wind up doing. I didn't have much faith in system-savvy architecture, but I told her about my area of study. Before we knew it, it was almost dark. We didn't disembark until early evening (late afternoon) and found that all the clocks in China shared the same time as Peking. Hence, the first day of our tour was pretty much set. We'd be able to spend a day in the city then be ready to go back to our folks the day after. That was tour she had signed up for. I shook my head. Stupid girl. What a waste of time. Aurora seemed to realize that and made an effort not to waste any of it. Once we arrived at the hotel, she threw down her bag and almost dashed out the door. I stopped her just before she cleared the threshold. I took as many travel precautions (hiding money, securing our passports, etc.) as I could before stepping out with her. The tour was going to take the group around the city the next day, but there was (fortunately) a way to opt out; so long as we were at the hotel lobby on the third day, we'd be picked up and accounted for. That suited my lovely cousin just fine. Aurora impatiently dragged me through as many stalls and shops as she could find. There was a light drizzle and a moderate wind, but it didn't faze either of us. She'd poke her pretty head into street stalls and sidewalk vendors to check out their wares. We tried different bites of food, about a hundred different pieces tacky jewelry (well, Aurora did anyway), scores of hats and sunglasses, and eye-balled about a hundred more knick-knacks and tourist trophies. My cousin also took plenty of pictures with her digital camera. By midnight, we were spent. I never realized that vacations could tire me out. I slumbered rather late and didn't get up until noon the next day. I found Aurora up and moping by the window. "I'd thought you'd be out already." I stopped my kidding around when I heard the deep rumbling of wind outside the room. I peered outside and there seemed to be a sudden squall off the coast. "I think it's a tropical storm," Aurora said glumly. "Both auntie Hortense and Aileen (my mother) were right." "Ah don't worry," I stood beside her. "Hungry?" "Not really," she replied lazily. I rose and brushed my fingertips across her bare shoulder. I felt a slight tingle and heard her expel breath. I felt her mind, sensed her frustration and lack of a suitable outlet. Aurora had boundless energy, but had no method to expend it. I peeked a little deeper into her. It was not so much that she'd realize I was intruding but just enough to I could get a more in-depth look of my cousin. Aurora was the oldest in a family of two children. Like me, she had a younger brother (Daryl) who was a shade younger than Andrew. She had attended private schools that my Uncle William and his wife (Regina) could afford. Growing up in the upper-classed districts of New Jersey, Aurora was pampered but had a taste for excitement. Bad boys, minor substance abuse, and breaking curfew were as far as she'd dare go; risking any more would've meant ignoble expulsion from the family, or even incarceration. My cousin wanted thrills but she wasn't foolish. That last personal fact shed light on another part of Aurora. No risk meant abstinence. Aurora was as smart as Janet, but hadn't gone the route of masturbation. It surprised me a little, since it seemed the most natural course to follow. A lithe, pretty, and petite Chinese virgin was in the room with me and all I could do was stand stupidly behind her wondering about food. It reminded me of the silly thoughts I had when entertaining Janet or Melanie. Unconsciously, I began to treat my lovely cousin like one of my cherished darlings. Aurora's body shuddered as I traced my fingers from her shoulders to the base of her delicate, swan-like neck. "Oh ... my ... gawd," Aurora turned to look up at me. "What the hell was that?!" "Sorry," I drew back with an apologetic look. "You just remind me of a girl I know." "Fer'Chrissakes," she scowled and hid her body under her hooded sweatshirt, "I'm your cousin -- ugh!!" "Sorry," I sought to change the subject. "Let's go and grab some food okay?" Aurora didn't utter a word as she shuffled by me. At least she didn't get physical, I thought. Hah! I probably would've clocked her, or worse. Thankfully, neither of us did anything foolish during the entire ride. She looked at the ground as we rode the elevator down in silence. I chanced a glance at Aurora. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets and the sweatshirt covered her body. Only her legs showed as she was wearing shorts. I wondered if she would confront my mother and tell? I sighed inwardly. I needed to work on her; maybe brain-blast her while she slept. It would be good practice. Otherwise, I might well catch hell from my family. We walked out of the hotel and wandered the streets. Aurora had said nothing to me since the room and I was a little curious about what she was planning to do. I skimmed her mind carefully as we stepped into a noodle and barbeque shop. I found Aurora was a little turned off from my half-hearted attempt to cop a feel, but at the same time, she kept dwelling on it. I knew it had felt good; Janet had taught me how to tease a girl in just the right spots. "Two?" a waiter pointed haphazardly at a table. Despite her anger, I stood and seated her. Aurora ignored my invitation and sat herself without another word. I grinned and sat as she glared back. I did my best to ignore her, wiping the teacups and utensils on a napkin. She broke her angry silence after I poured filled her teacup. "Thanks," she muttered. "Still angry?" I asked matter-of-factly. "You shouldn't have touched me like that," Aurora said flatly. "Even if I look like a girl you dated." "Well, now that I can see you in better light," I guffawed gently and watched her puff up her chest. "You're a helluva lot prettier." I didn't specify who -- my Lady Chen or Lady Wu -- but Aurora dipped her eyes once those words passed my lips. I saw her cheeks blush and sensed her body heat rise. "Well," she said with quiet reserve, "Don't do that again." "Fine and forgotten," I shrugged curtly. "Can we order now?" We ordered noodles, porridge, and a dish of roast duck. Anticipating the incoming storm, I ordered an extra two pounds of barbequed lean pork (sliced). I yanked Aurora along to a fruit stand and bought some barely ripe bananas and some oranges. The hotel would have enough liquor and bottled water in case of any emergency. The mini-fridge in the room was working, so I put the pork and oranges inside then left the bananas on top for them to ripen. By then, Aurora seemed to have escaped her gloom and we headed around the rain slick city, taking in as many sights as we could before the weather forced us indoors. She appeared to have forgotten my earlier trespass, but I could sense she was still dwelling on it. Every time she would look at me, I felt her doubt surface. To be truthful, Janet was on my mind when I was alone with Aurora. My lovely Lady Wu was so influential in my life, I had always placed her on a pedestal. The thought of a younger, hotter version of Janet just inches from my body was driving me wild. Aurora was indeed more beautiful than Janet, but there was something more regal and refined about my First. Aurora was like an unpolished gem; nice to look at and something to wonder how'd it would turn out once a jeweler got through it. There was still light out when we headed back to the hotel on our second day of the tour. The weather was getting chilly, and the rain pretty much soaked everything. Aurora and I were soaked through, and to prevent catching pneumonia, we had to get out of our wet clothes. I didn't want to spook her again, so I urged her to change first. Aurora quickly leaped at the chance to use the washroom. My cousin was thoughtfully quick; when she hopped out of the shower, she wore only a towel to maintain the barest level of modesty. She found me organizing my bags and other stuff. I was glad she left the bathroom free; I wanted to take a nice long shower. As I cleaned my crotch and ground, my dick rose slowly to attention. It had been a little while since I had gotten my sexual fix and it was starting to become a bother. Unfortunately, there were boundaries. If I crossed them, it would risk discovery of what I was. I feared that more than getting into big trouble with my family. It turned out that we were going to be hit by a hefty storm. Hence, all the effort I spent in the preparation of extra food proved prudent. The wind slammed the hotel fiercely. Fearing the windows would shatter, I closed the drapes and had Aurora sleep on the bed nearest the hotel interior. I slept on the floor, using the outer bed to shield myself in case the window should break. She didn't protest, and settled down to watch television. The storm was pretty strong but despite the noise and rattling, I was exhausted. I soon found my myself drifting off .... It was a painful feeling, like someone jabbing me in the cheek with a fork. I scratched my cheek and tried to ignore it. "Wake up." The poke came again, this time accompanied by rough shaking on my shoulders. "Wake the hell up Stanley bieu-guo!" I barely recognized Aurora through the fog of sleep. This had to be the lousiest vacation I ever took. Wait. No, I took that back; the trips to middle America with my father were just as bad. The difference was I had the option of dying by contracting some sort of exotic venereal disease in China. I groaned and tried hard not to snap to full consciousness. "What is it?" I mumbled. "I couldn't sleep." I heard her rustling her sheets. God, I thought, strike this woman dead so I could sleep in peace and I'll kill all the unbelieving, heretic sons-of-bitches you want with my talents. I didn't answer and the racket soon died down. Suddenly, I felt someone nearby. "Th'hell?" My eyes creaked open. I could make out a dark shape lying down next to me. "Aurora? What the hell are you doing?" I propped myself upright. It was my turn to be in shock. "You don't mind right?" She squirmed against me. "Fine, you want the floor?" I started to get up, "I'll take the bed." "No!" "What do you mean, 'No'?" I stopped and stared at her in the dark. "I can't sleep," my cousin repeated. "Yeah," I was now in a grouchy mood. "Me too." "Oh, you too huh?" Aurora misunderstood. "It's just the wind. All howling like a ghost." It was a good thing the room was dark because I rolled my eyes. I wanted to sigh but kept silent. I lived through this before. The girl wanted to talk. Luckily, Janet had inured me to that. We'd talk about things while I explored the limits of our bodies. Oh, we were so young and innocent then. So why, I wondered, was I letting this go this far? Was I so far off base, abusing my gifts as Tseng had predicted? Or was I merely acting on 'normal' impulse; after all, why ignore a feast before you if you're hungry? "Stanley," Aurora's voice hung in my ears, "You didn't say." "Say what?" I asked. I had forgotten my cousin was pouring her heart out. "What is she like?" she whispered. "The girl I remind you of." I thought of the curves and shape of Janet's body. Having seen Joan Chen rip her clothes off in "The Last Emperor" and "The Hunted", I was amazed how much my First had grown to resemble the famous actress. The thing that separated them was Janet's smaller eyes; the wide doe-like eyes Melanie had in spades, but that wasn't a trait my lovely Lady Wu possessed. Still, she was very attractive. A little skinny when she was a teenager, Janet had filled out her curves. She kept fit by swimming and jogging (I later took her advice and swam as well). Her body type was "average" but it was that average-ness that made her so beautiful. Aurora was a stringy little thing; her body resembled Melanie's (Yu-Ching was fifteen at the time) but at the same time, it brought back the memories of Janet when I was younger. Nostalgia played a neat trick on me. In Aurora, I had found a mysterious mixture of my ladies Chen and Wu. "She --" I kept the two images of Janet and Melanie separate in my mind, "-- is very quiet." I could hear Aurora chortle softly. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I just always hated hurricanes." "They're called typhoons here." "Whatever." I felt Aurora's fingers around my wrist. "We never have this crap where I live." "You're on the East Coast," I said in disbelief, "And you don't have winter storms?" "It's summer," she snapped. "Warm rain just freaks me out okay?" I sensed she was lying and I knew it, but I didn't say anything. "Just ...," she hesitated, "Just don't try anything funny, okay?" "It's kinda hard," I said truthfully. "I mean I haven't ..." I stopped and realized how much damage I could do. Well, judging from Aurora's steady breathing and sudden silence, the damage already was done. "Haven't what Stanley?" she asked. "Nevermind," I demurred and labored hard to make it soft. It was no use. I sprung to attention and Aurora felt me poke her awkwardly. "Bieu-guo?" her voice became soft. I felt her hand tug on my t-shirt. I put my hand on hers and gripped her gently. My cousin was drawing me down towards her. I sensed her mind wander wildly: 'Oh god.' 'Oh god.' 'Oh god.' 'We're going to do this.' 'We're going to fuck.' 'I'm going to hell for this.' sob 'I know it.' "Sssh," I kissed Aurora's quivering lips, "You're horny. I'm horny. Just relax." I tasted her breath and she exhaled a warm breath filled with desire. Her hands pulled my shirt off and I felt her kiss my bare chest. I groaned and began tugging at her jammies. Aurora wore a short sleeved blouse and pajama trousers to bed. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled off her clothing; she was wearing nothing underneath. Aurora was tense in mind and body; I saw that her mind was abuzz with excitement and she did what she did out of instinct. My lovely cousin was soon groaning and grinding her hips against my hand. I tasted her skin, diving deep into the nape of her neck and ignored all the danger signs that Tseng had warned me about: uninhibited use of my gifts, and the rampant abuse of them. I was ready to mount my cousin Aurora like any other pretty woman. I soaked up her scent as my fingers slipped in and out of her cunt. She was damp now, her little pussy slick with joy juice. I couldn't wait, and I sensed neither could she. The room was dark, so we did what we did furtively with the sounds of a storm buffeting the building. Skinny Aurora was as light as Melanie but old enough that I could fuck her without any repercussions (save from our families). Her breasts were small A-cup buds, but I took them to my mouth anyway. My cousin gasped and inexpertly held my head so I couldn't do much more. I gently grabbed her hands and pulled them from their grip. Aurora tacitly understood and she let me crawl over and under her. Her body was taut and athletic thanks to her high metabolism and youth. I marveled how thin she could be; I felt her pelvic bones poking through her skin. Aurora was pretty much a skinny, sexy bundle of bones wrapped by a stretched layer of skin. I buried my head between Aurora's legs and dined on her sweet baby-bare bush. I heard her soft cries as my tongue parted her cunt lips. Aurora might've been a skinny little bitch, but her clit was pretty fat once she got aroused. It was a good plump little blister, much like the tip of a pinky finger. I encircled her engorged clit with my lips and sucked. Aurora cried out when I did. Thankfully, the only thing louder was the wind howling outside. My cousin quickly got herself back under control. She panted loudly as I gently clenched her fat clit between my teeth. Her body shuddered when I ran my tongue over her pleasure point. A funky, musky odor bean oozing from her cunt; Aurora was creaming. She was ready. I pulled myself up and found her frisky. Her hands clutched me, her hands gathering what little flesh she could from my body. Aurora's lips sought mine, and we lip-locked as I pushed into her. My lovely cousin let out a satisfied groan as I rammed my rock hard prick into her willing body. I felt the head of my cock bulldoze through her insides and sensed she was startled, in a little pain, and unused to such a sudden intrusion. I slowed then stopped myself once I hilted myself. Her body relaxed and her breathing slowed once more. Buried deep in Aurora's thin, doll-like body, I began to make in-roads into her consciousness. I pricked her pleasure centers here and there. At first, she didn't feel it. It was understandable since she and I just met. Aurora was also not gifted like Melanie or Viktoriya. In the case of my 'normal' darlings -- Janet, Rachelle, and Shawn -- I had prolonged contact with them for several months or years. This meant I knew what buttons to push and what to say to each of my girls when we got intimate. With Aurora, I felt no spirit-lifting, soulful connection. She was a piece of meat, and I was slaking my lust at her spring out of sheer convenience. Once I felt she was relaxed, I fucked her well and good. She soothed that burning itch I had been carrying around since I arrived in Hong Kong. Still, there was that emptiness I felt. Our act was ultimately all mechanical to me. I knew which physical buttons to push but I didn't twiddle with many of her mental ones. As the familiar feeling approached, I pulled out and sprayed her undulating, panting stomach with my sticky seed. Aurora panted for breath as her fingers worked my stuff over her skin. She rubbed it over her stomach and tits, her breaths coming out in short bursts. As my cute cousin drifted off in my arms, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt; I had wronged my five darlings. I had experienced nearly a decade of love, ranging from the wifely Melanie to the exotic Rachelle. My friendships with Shawn and Janet had become love, and tough personal bonds kept me busy, happy, and entertained for all these years. Heck, I was used to the company of women (clothed or not) since I was twelve. So why was I screwing around on them? The storm was a mild one, but it still managed to delay our return by a day. We had one more night in China, so Aurora and I made the most of it. We couldn't take in more sights as the weather was really beating us down, so we couldn't go out. Thankfully, the barbeque pork was enough and we subsisted on that and what bottled water we had. Between the fuck sessions, we'd eat and sleep. We lived like animals until the winds died down (there was no room service during this time) and then we gladly got the hell out of China. =============================================================================== HONG KONG HONEY CONTINUED =============================================================================== Our folks were more than happy to see us when we returned. They had feared the worse when the storm hit. As luck would have it, things cleared up soon after. This was a perfect excuse to let our family to start ushering us around once more; I stopped it, I wanted a few days alone with Aurora, to let her down easy. After our initial barebacked session, I wised up fast and put on a raincoat each time after. Aurora didn't seem to be able to discern the difference. We obviously could not shack up while at Aunt Hortense's place nor could Aurora and I afford a room at a hotel or sex club without arousing suspicion. Hence, there were really only a few places where juveniles could gather and make-out without suspicion: the beach or a game center (in the United States, these are called 'video arcades'). Since we had enough of nature, Aurora and I decided to try a game center near Ho-Man Tin. That turned out to be a big mistake in more ways than one. The most obvious mistake was Aurora didn't like videogames, although she was good at some of them. I hadn't played much as a kid, but I used to go to different arcades when I went to Reno with my family. Hence I was distracted enough that I didn't pay too much attention to Aurora. After an hour of messing around, I thought I'd find her next to the Sailor Moon machine, but instead found her on a dance machine, tearing it up. Now before I go on, game centers in Hong Kong are often the laundry businesses of criminal enterprises, much like the pachinko parlors in Japan (or casinos in the United States). While the handover of Hong Kong was peaceful, a lot of the underworld was still active. Aurora and I must've picked the wrong place to hang out since there were quite a few young hooligans at the establishment. In fact, most of them were around the DDR (Dance Dance Revolution) machine watching Aurora do her thing. I stepped closer, joining the bystanders around Aurora. I reached out and sensed her anger, and knew I she was irked at me for ignoring her. It must've been her way to getting back at me, parading herself in public in a nearly lewd fashion. At least she wasn't like Melanie at home. Ah, Yu-Ching, I rued. How I missed her! I watched as Aurora topped her last dance, and got the credits rolling. As my cousin punched in her initials into the machine, she saw me and waved. The punks around the machine saw this and began looking in the direction of her hail. Their eyes quickly settled on me. When they saw me, they passed each other some side-glances. A few elbowed one another and nodded my way. From my experience, a 'normal' in this situation could construed this as "They saw the guy and wondered if he was her boyfriend or brother." However, in as one of the gifted citizens of the empire, I detected an undercurrent of anxiety. With the handover, some of the mainland gangs were muscling into Hong Kong. While mainland groups had already some roots in Hong Kong, a handover of territory meant a change in laws (this was before Hong Kong was maintained as a separate Special Administrative Region). I quickly picked up some rumblings over my presence; I dressed in similar fashion, but my actions marked me as an outsider. They regarded me as a potential someone in a rival gang. Aurora stepped off and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Have fun?" she asked me in English. "Yeah," I replied smoothly. "You?" "wo-ho-yeet*." She fanned herself with a measure of futility. [* Cantonese: I feel so hot / too warm.] "Let's go grab something cold." I didn't bother speaking native as I took my cousin by the hand and lead her towards the exit. I didn't think those idiots would follow, but I was wrong. It was nice, to hold hands with a girl again, even if she was related. I quickly back-tracked mentally over the youths following us; about three or four, still in their teens, and lead by a delinquent who had the hots for Aurora. I felt myself build to a slow rage. I didn't love Aurora, but she was family. Besides, I had slammed the shit out of her six days from Sunday, so I owed her the courtesy of looking out for her. Furthermore, the situation was starting to goad me. She was my family through blood and marriage, and these guys wouldn't have a chance with her anyway. I wondered what the hell they were planning. Rape? Harassment? Robbery? "Hey! Slow down!" I felt Aurora tug me back. I slowed and let her catch up. I didn't know the neighborhood, but it was dense enough that we found a fast food shop that sold some cold treats. I couldn't take dairy, so I ordered an iced tea while my cousin happily ordered iced coffee. I had thought the arcade goons would've scraped together enough brainpower to abandon their hunt once we went into an eatery, but apparently I was wrong. Two of them came inside, ordered some food and drink then headed back outside where they loitered. Great. Now, I didn't know why I didn't just contact the police. I suppose I could've lied and said I saw these assholes eyeing my cousin and had been following us for about three city blocks, but I didn't. I didn't because I regarded this as a personal matter. I didn't because I knew I wanted to taste blood. I was careful not to show it outwardly, but I wondered about Tseng's exercises. They had made me better at what I do, but at the same time, I felt I was more and more single-minded in my execution of my will. Perhaps he was slowly brain-washing me as only a telepath could; in any case, I was torn between staying my hand and brandishing it. If these punks would stay out of my way ... "Done?" I jerked from my thoughts and watched Aurora run her slender fingers through her long hair. "God," she sighed with annoyance. "I should cut this short." "Don't." I gave her a grin. "You look pretty like that." "I do?" Her eyes softened. "Then I'll leave it long for you, bieu-guo." Hearing her address me so quashed any indecision I might've had. Our pursuers were still loitering outside. We stepped out past them and climbed on board a two-decker bus. Aurora dragged excitedly me up to the upper deck so we could be alone. There're several reasons why the top deck in double decker buses are often devoid of people; there are few security measures there and those who sit upstairs frequently get robbed. However, there were advantages too. Lovers sometimes went upstairs for a quickie or hand-job. Young Aurora was a girl in heat. The top deck was thankfully (or un-thankfully) empty, and she whispered that she was going to fist-fuck me once we were seated. I was thinking it would've been better to hail a cab when the youths made their move. Three of them had made it aboard. I sensed from them that the fourth one didn't want to go along, so they ditched him. The three moved towards us, one of them nodded towards Aurora. She smiled thinly but edged closer towards me. My cousin was not a happy woman when interrupted. I had always thought harassment in Hong Kong wouldn't be so bold, but perhaps I misjudged the time and place. Maybe incidents of crime occur daily in this particular area and I didn't know about it. It would be like me telling visitors to my city that you should never walk on Mission Street when possible, or to avoid the glitzy area near Powell Street (where the cable car runs) at night as that's when the transients, dealers, and street walkers come out. Maybe my cousin and I stumbled onto the worst bus line in the city. I gripped Aurora's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Hold on tight," I whispered to her in English, "You'll be safe." "I'm not afraid," she squeezed me back. "You know I'm a screamer." I almost smiled at that but I didn't. I needed to focus on the matter at hand. I didn't have to look at these guys to know what they were planning to do (a quick mugging and a gang-rape). Heck, I didn't even need eyes to sense where they were and what they planned to do individually. All I knew was that I didn't want to get involved, not overtly anyway. I skipped over the minds of the three perpetrators on the level with us. Having ditched their weak-minded fellow at the station, the most susceptible fellow was pretty resistant to any persuasion. So I did the next best thing. As two of them paced ahead (the third hung back to obscure the periscope the driver used to check in on the top deck) I reached out with my mind and flicked an image of a boy streaking into the street to the bus' driver. Almost immediately, the bus screeched to a halt and we all pitched forward; well, Aurora and I did anyway. The two punks who were making their way towards us fell back. My mind quickly reached out and pressed down on both their shoes; I heard dull series of splintering cracks and loud crashes. I looked up and saw the top deck was clear. I knew what I did: I had separated the ankles of the first two thugs. The punks screamed in blinding pain and clutched their feet as I released my telekinetic grip. There was no sign of the third thug. "Oh shit," Aurora was in shock. "Did we hit something?" "I don't think so," I feigned surprise. "Let's go." I pulled Aurora up and ushered her over the two 'normal' thugs as they writhed uselessly on the floor. When we got to the narrow steps, we saw the third punk crumpled in a heap on the bottom of the stairs. He had pitched backwards into the stairs when the bus stopped. From the way his body was lying, he appeared to be out cold. Or dead. I pulled my cousin through the crowd and we got off with the other passengers. The road was a mess. The double decker, stopping so suddenly, had created a terrific jam as people began crowding around the accident. "Bie-ga-fou-you-yige-che-oy*!" Aurora exclaimed. [* Cantonese: Goddammit! It's a vehicular accident!] Thankfully, there were no collisions (although I'm sure the driver wasn't too happy afterwards). People were shouting and pointing at the road, the bus, and each other. In the midst of the confusion, we slipped away to the other side of the street and hailed a cab. She and I got back to Aunt Hortense's condo and had an hour or so alone. Aurora's mind quickly settled on what we needed to do. We showered together and she blew me as I toweled off on her bed. Thus enticed, I pulled her out into the living room and fucked her on the sofa. The excitement of potentially being walked in on by my mother, Aunt Hortense, or someone else in the family drove my cousin into a sexual frenzy as I pounded her bare-back. I pulled out and jizzed on her stomach and tits. It was good timing, because we both heard the key hit the lock at the same time. When Aunt Hortense and my mother stepped in, they saw me step out from my room and Aurora from hers, both of us respectably dressed. Since the game arcades were so fraught with problems and doing it in the condo wasn't really an option, Aurora and I decided to spend the rest of our time at the beach. Some towels, sunblock, lotion, shades, sandals, drinks and an umbrella and we were set. We'd take a cab there and stay all day. When we weren't playing in the surf, we were playing in the sand. Ever fuck in the ocean? It's quite an experience, and a strenuous exercise too, since the man does the heavy lifting. Thankfully, my cousin was a skinny little thing and it gave me me a chance to practice my telekinetic gift. "So," Aurora sighed, "What time is your flight?" It was nearly sunset. She pushed a bead of sweat (or seawater) across my chest with her stubby nails. I was spent, and barely had the strength to struggle back into my swim shorts. Aurora threw her top loosely over her breasts. If someone complained, she would have time to tie it back on. "Three I think," I said. "Yours?" "Two-thirty." I scratched her sides lightly. If Hong Kong hadn't addled my wits, I remembered Shawn or Janet, one or the other, liked that, or loved doing that to me. I looked down and saw Aurora studying my torso carefully. I knew she was enamored with me, but regrettably, I didn't feel quite the same for her. "You're going back to see her aren't you," she finally spoke. It wasn't a question. "Yes," I replied. Aurora stopped her twiddling and pressed her face so tightly against me, I felt her eye-lashes against my skin when she blinked. "I know this, all this, was wrong," her voice trembled, "So wrong." "I know," I made an attempt to sound rueful. "I'm sorry." Well, not really. The sex was pretty good, you cock-hungry slut. "Don't be sorry," she said. "I'm not." Aurora's hand slipped lower and toyed with my navel. I almost giggled from the tickling, but I numbed my senses until it was just a dull itch. I felt her body shake. From the balminess of the weather, it wasn't she was feeling chill. She was crying. Aw fuck. I hugged her to put her mind at ease. "Easy darling," I cradled her gently, all the while feeling wholly rotten. "You'll be fine." She took a deep breath and kept silent. "Aurora," I kissed the top of her head, "You're young. You'll do a lot better than me." That's only a half-truth, I was sure. Unless she married a Kennedy who had telepathy and wasn't a sex maniac. "Don't just settle for the first guy who does ya," I scolded. "Did you?" she asked. "Did I what?" I countered. "Fall in love with the first girl you fucked?" "Yes." I thought of Janet and found myself grinning. "But not at first. It took a while, but I did. Still do." "Then it could also happen again," Aurora put her hand on her chest, "With me!" "We've only known each other for eight days," I managed a small smile, "That's hardly time enough for anything." "But --!" "Easy," I placed a hand on hers. Instantly, I sensed her calming down, her thoughts less intent and less focused on me. I didn't want it any other way, but Aurora didn't feel like an asset to me. Jeopardizing her academic career and her future wasn't my intention either. She could have lived in New Jersey and I could have kept her like a pet, but she was still my cousin. Whether or not she and I could've eloped to China and gotten married was another story. Besides, that would have drawn too much attention. Too much attention, I thought, to risk it over a 'normal' woman. While Melanie was younger than Aurora, I had known Yu-Ching for six years. Aurora was pretty much a stranger to me, despite her being my cousin. I had kept Aurora in a calm state long enough. I had stifled enough of her emotions that I could now try to talk to her without her breaking into hysterics, panic, or depression. I did and neither she nor I moved for a time. "C'mon, let's watch the sunset." I tried pulling her close but she resisted. Aurora stood up without a word and hustled to her bag. Poor little bitch, I thought as I cast my gaze over the sun-drenched water. CLICK. I looked up and saw Aurora with her digital camera. She had snapped a picture of me sitting in the sand. "Take a picture of me," she passed the camera to me. "What kind of picture?" Aurora batted her eyes and flashed a big wide grin. "A picture to make her jealous." Great, I mused. That was just how Rachelle started questioning me about Janet. Damn women and their goddamned shutter-buggery. Aurora sat, her legs bent together at the knees in a classic beach bunny pose. She stared straight at me and nodded. I brought up the camera and called out, "One -- two -- three!" "C'mon a second one," she begged, "Before there's no more light." I sighed and relented. This time, she folded her arms across her chest, her fingers under the straps of her bikini top. Again, I counted, "One -- two -- three!" At the count of three, Aurora slipped her top off. I stared in shock as the camera clicked. She pulled her top back on and looked at me triumphantly. "What'd you do that for?" I asked. "It's something sexy for you to remember me by," she took the camera from me. "Now here, I want a few of you then some with the two of us." CLICK. She snapped a photo of me, with me looking either very amused, or very nonchalant. Aurora was content only after she kissed me (somewhat passionately) on my cheek and snapped a picture. When she put away her camera, I felt the need to speak. "I better not find those on the internet," I said quietly. She cracked a smile. "Better! I'll just mail it to you. Framed!" "Aurora," I brushed her cheek. "I have your email and number, we can talk. But nothing foolish, understand?" Nothing foolish indeed, I thought darkly. Otherwise Viktoriya might find herself a new and interesting pet. "Okay," she sighed. "If you're ever on the East Coast, though." "I'll visit," I relented. "I promise." My cousin said no more but she nodded. I sensed she understood and let the matter drop. We packed as the sun settled on the water's surface and hurried home by cab. I don't know about Aurora, but I had some things to pack. I stuffed my luggage as best I could after our farewell dinner and smiled simply when she cast me furtive glances through the rest of the night. I slept rather lightly afterwards. As I lay in bed, I wondered if Aurora was likewise in her's, wishing we were together again. I am a little saddened by this memory. It would be the last time I saw her alive. =============================================================================== SMALL RECOLLECTIONS =============================================================================== One thing I detest about trips was the sheer amount of unattended mail I have to deal with once I got home. With the internet, it has only gotten worse. It is a most unlikely deterrent to skip the return trip. Amongst the pile of mail I found after coming back from Hong Kong was an acceptance letter. I could continue my studies at Berkeley for my masters degree in environmental design. Should I earn that, all I needed afterwards was to pass a four day examination (similar to MCAT but geared specifically towards facilities design) to lawfully practice as a licensed architect. My parents were superbly proud; few undergraduates could carry on their work at the same school. Most students are shuffled out of state to other colleges. The reasoning behind this was to force expose them to other parts of the world. I forgot what my reasoning was. I remembered I simply wrote the truth: I wanted to stay in California and design facilities, structures, and domiciles specific to the state; seeing how things were built elsewhere in the world, oil platforms in Texas, quaint homes in New England, agropom facilities in the Midwest, and permafrost friendly buildings in Alaska were all well and good, but all of it had little bearing on what I wanted to do with my life in California. My short stay in Hong Kong was more educational in how people lived in other parts of the world than all the years I would study elsewhere. Too bad I wasn't able to include that anecdote into my application. I didn't ask why or how, I just was in. Maybe I unconsciously imparted some sort of psychic emanation on my application. Maybe I lucked out. Maybe someone in the family paid the school off to accept me (that wouldn't be true I knew later, Berkeley was a state school not a private institution). I didn't care. I was now a graduate student at Berkeley, and I suddenly realized I needed a ton of money to pay for my tuition. Tseng's windfall slowly dried up. There was some left, but not enough for tuition. I used it mainly to supplement my meager living expenses. Since that money wasn't something I reported, I had started the financial aid process. I was only allotted money, but only a small amount so I had to take out student loans to cover my expenses. I knew I needed a job, but I didn't find any firms able to hire a student with just academic experience. Before I left for Hong Kong, I had put in applications for various internships at building and construction firms in the area. A few were graduate student instructor positions with several instructors (I was not close with any) ranging in courses from the academic (architectural history and studies in humanitarian aesthetics) to practical (structural systems and building materials). I figure it would be a good way to cover my ass in case I was accepted into the graduate program. Only one, an instructor for ARCH 170, had replied favorably and only that class still retained an opening. It was a computer-aided drafting course. I groaned as I read the letter of acceptance. Great. More goddamn work teaching a bunch of junior fuck-tards how to operate a C.A.D. interface. 'At least you'll be paid. Isn't that enough?' I didn't need to look to know who thought-spoke. Viktoriya sat crossed legged in mid-air. She was visiting me prior to her move to New York City. Her deparature wasn't helping my disposition. Of the few things I wanted at that moment, I mostly wanted her to stay. It wasn't the sex; it was the kinship we shared through our gifts. Having spent so much time practicing with one another, Viktoriya and I were quite adept at masking our thoughts from one another. Hence, our business was completely ours unless we volunteered it. I chose to share my Hong Kong experiences with her, and she shared hers from her jaunt to New York. I saw the institute she was going to go in the fall, along with some other NYC landmarks like the World Trade Center, Battery Park, Brooklyn Bridge, and the dance school she was going to study at. I saw the Brooklyn neighborhood where she planned to be staying. It was a very rustic part of town and it was newly inundated with emigres still fleeing from the Commonwealth of Independent States. From me, she saw the seedy sides of Kowloon, Hong Kong, Tsim-sa-sui, Homan-Tin, Star Ferry, Lion Mountain, and the lazy beaches where Aurora and I hung out. She also learned of the bus incident. Viktoriya smiled with a wolfish grin when she learned about my cousin. 'Perhaps I should pay her a visit.' "I didn't know you liked skinny girls," I chided her. "Help yourself. If you do, keep her away from the others for my sake." 'Yes, dorogoi*.' [* Russian: Dear (archaic)] Viktoriya's thought-speak was acidic, especially when she addressed me as "old dear" in her native tongue. She was a mixture of cultures: her father was Russian and her mother was a Romanian living in Ukraine. Viktoriya spoke Russian better than Ukrainian, and just a smattering of Romanian. With so much turmoil in the final years of the Soviet Union, she found a universal language in dance. This was the reason she was leaving. Viktoriya was serious about her love of dancing (more than her love of abusing her gift, or eating pussy) and there was a dance school (labeling itself as an institute of motion study) in Manhattan where she would develop her skills. I anticipated missing my dusky Russkie very much once she was gone. 'Maybe you want a threesome with me, her and you when you visit me?' "Just say when," I laughed and she telekinetically soft-pushed me to the floor. 'Well?' Viktoriya was still waiting patiently for an answer to her question about my choice of profession. "I don't think I could do much better," I said and sighed. "Graduate student instructor (T.A.) I'll be." While I could thought-speak to her directly, I enjoyed talking aloud to Viktoriya. It was my way to remind her of her connection to the normal world. 'You should go to school in New York.' She included a glimmer of hope along with her words. "And build more bridges?" I smiled and stopped short of laughing. "No thanks. I like being a lazy Californian." "Come with me!" Viktoriya said aloud in her accented English, "And we can be together." "My place is here, with Janet and Melanie," I watched her intently. She was hovering a good two feet off the soft floor of my room. 'How about the other girls?' Viktoriya cocked her head towards me. "I don't know," I shrugged. "Only if they want to." 'You are very lenient.' Viktoriya flipped onto her back and unfolded her legs. Unlike Melanie, who practiced in the nude, my Baltic beauty kept her kit on. She only bared her hands and feet. "I am the most lenient tyrant of all," I joked. I nearly said 'emperor' but I managed to stop myself. There was no clear leader in the invisible empire. Just a bunch of gifted having a good time. If Tseng was officially a ranking member of the empire, he wasn't too forthcoming about it. In any case, Tseng had warned me about revealing him to anyone. I wanted to tell both my lovelies about the invisible empire, but fear kept me silent. Back then, I wondered about his reticence about the empire in relation to Melanie and Viktoriya. Melanie's youth was an excuse I could understand, but there was no good reason for keeping Viktoriya in the dark. I had but one fear, a most-secret but likely reason, about why Viktoriya was not told about the empire: I suspected Tseng was her half-brother's killer. Wouldn't that be pretty? It made a sort of sick logical sense. Tseng was willing to meet me but not Viktoriya (Melanie, as mentioned earlier, was too latent to pose a threat, so Tseng pretty much dismissed her by the time she was fourteen). I couldn't fathom why he avoided Viktoriya, as I couldn't probe his thoughts. I wondered if Tseng showed his face when he did the deed; would Viktoriya recognize her brother's killer by sight? I knew it didn't make much sense. I had seen Tseng's face, so she'd know if she touched upon those memories using mind-sight. Then again, Tseng might've been so powerful, she never knew his identity. Still, Viktoriya didn't seem to know, or make it known that she knew. Maybe it was a good thing that we were able to hide so much from each other. With Viktoriya and I relying more and more on mind-sight to stay in touch, I thought it would've been a prudent thing to sever my relationship with Tseng, just as a precaution. I didn't though. My reasons for keeping the status quo weren't wholly altruistic. While I didn't care much for Tseng, the man was also a veritable treasure trove of knowledge. He had answers I sought and what he didn't answer clearly, I could sometimes guess at one from the scant words he'd surrender. Besides, having seen what Tseng could do to processed steel, I wasn't about to make any unsubstantiated accusations. I wasn't afraid for myself. I was fearful what he would do to Viktoriya. His enmity may not have ended with the simple extermination of the mysterious Russian. A second, lesser fear kept me brooding. The NSA had not followed up with me for some time. I wondered about Davies' interrogation. What did I get mixed up in? I was half-sure the agency would've sent someone to follow me, but so far, I felt nothing. No living presence was following me, or no one who was in range of my ability to detect them. And as for Tseng's fleeting words, "I'll be watching", did it mean he was shadowing me? I wasn't absolutely sure, so I sat tight, bode my time, observed, and worried. How could I talk to Viktoriya about the invisible empire without opening myself to the inevitable questions that would follow? I didn't want to think about it; thinking about it would've made me susceptible to her mind-reading. I focused on Viktoriya and levitated off the bed. After a little fumbling, I was atop her, paying homage to Roger Moore's James Bond and the zero-G Bond girl in Moonraker. She chuckled and flipped atop me. My dancing darling kissed me then pushed gently away. I reached out and gripped her hand to stop; we spun towards one another once more and embraced. To an observer, it would have seemed like we were in weightless space, but certain tells easily dispelled that. Our clothes, key chains, and hair were still affected by earthly gravity. And most telling of all, Viktoriya's hair wasn't a floating mass like it would in space. It took a proportionately larger amount of concentration to levitate that much surface area. As I saw it, psychokineticists pushed against surface areas, hence the massiveness of an object was irrelevant. We have an easier time affecting a large mass that is simpler in nature (i.e., a large cube that is typical of modern art) than a smaller mass with more a complex structure (a star-shaped origami). In hasty panic, such complicated objects could be affected, but only partially; this was potentially injurious (or fatal) to living objects like people because parts of the mass would be affected while other parts wouldn't be. I felt Viktoriya's hands slide under my clothing and over my skin. In a flashy show of her gift, she unbuttoned my shirt and pants. I then heard her sigh audibly. 'Why do you wear underwear?' She deliberately snapped my waistband to provoke me. I grinned and stroked her ears. "I won't if you won't." She gave me a toothsome grin as she pulled away from me and slipped off her pants, revealing her sweet smooth bottom. Wow. A part of me went to attention while I pushed myself towards her. I clutched her eagerly and found her only other underwear was a sports bra to keep her B-cup puppies in place while she danced. Viktoriya bit my neck fiercely as she began tearing off my clothes with her mind and body. She pushed me a little higher until I was touching the ceiling. Her dark eyes regarded me with unspeakable lust as her red lithesome tongue tickled my already erect prick. Viktoriya bared her teeth like an animal and bit the head gently. It wasn't enough to cause any damage, but it sure got my attention. I groaned through clenched teeth as she began putting bite marks up and down my stiff shaft. Viktoriya's hands weren't idle either: her nails firmly clutched my balls and alternated between massaging them and crushing them. When I thought I could barely hold back, she took me into her mouth and ate up the whole length. "Uggawd," I nearly lost my concentration. It would've been dangerous since my dick was still in the mouth of a girl who was floating over my floor. I could have knocked out some of her teeth or worse. But the whole point of this was to keep ourselves in practice, and what better distraction was there? As powerful as Viktoriya was in telekinesis, she was still a living breathing being. I heard her panting and felt the hot breaths from her nostrils as she gorged herself on my fat cock. Her nails dug deep into my buttocks, egging me on. My dick spasmed with excitement but I did not ejaculate. I enjoyed holding back, denying myself and Viktoriya of an explosive finish. She was gagging now, on account of my fat cock choking her throat. I felt her cool spit dripping down my balls like condensation of an air conditioner. I felt a slight shift of weight and felt Viktoriya slipping. She was slowly sinking, my cock still in her mouth. I had outlasted her in this round and felt a little more than proud. I gripped her head and gently bid her to let go. She coughed and gagged as I slid my wet willy from her mouth. Her eyes were teary from the time she spent down there. She panted, mouth agape, as she struggled to find breath. Viktoriya regained her height now and was floating even with me. I guided her towards my dick. It was still slick with her spit and I felt a chill come on. To stave off any softening, I got busy. Viktoriya sneezed as I pushed myself deep into her body. It was a curious thing she did: sneezing when I put myself into her. I noticed it started after she transferred to Berkeley, and the stress started to wear me thin. I noticed though, that Viktoriya was quite calm and accepting when we were together. I eventually realized that her sneezing was her letting down her guard; she was comfortable near me. Nevertheless, Viktoriya would always become coy for a moment after her sneeze; it was like if she had farted in an elevator full of people. She'd become very bashful, and that would elicit sympathy from me. All this though, would only be a prelude to her natural state of aggression. Once the action got started, she'd rouse herself into a proper wildcat. We were now fucking in mid-air, our bodies being pushed by our minds. I slowly nudged us over my small bed. By the time I was pounding my Ukrainian uber-cutie like a piledriver, Viktoriya's knees were pinned to the side of her head and her lean, mean, fucking-machine pinned to the mattress. She wore an angry snarl and with each thrust, her fingernails bit deep into my back. I smelled her musk, tasted her sweat, and heard her lusty cries as I worked under her lash. I glanced at her and, seeing her face so contorted with pleasure, I thought-spoke something downright filthy: 'I'm gonna scuzz in you baby.' Viktoriya's eyes widened and her mouth opened but no sound came out as I jerked and unloaded my spunk into her dancer's body. Her eyes glazed over as I pumped in what I thought was gallons of baby batter into her waiting womb. I knew that wasn't possible, my body couldn't produce that much sperm and semen, but it certainly felt like I did. I collapsed over her briefly, then like a trained seal, I rolled off to avoid crushing her. Janet had taught me well. The brunette sat up and squatted over me. I could see her limbs shaking and trembling as she struggled to put her crotch over my head. I could see her cunt and ass were a mess of dark hair and slick sweat. I heard her grunt and saw a cloudy, creamy fluid drip from her gaping gash. She gasped as I leaned up and sucked her two holes and felt the warmth of Viktoriya's pungent placental piss mixed with my own ejaculate in my mouth. I gripped her body tightly and tickled her warm shitpit with my tongue until she cried out. "Stop, kisa*! STOP!!" [* Russian: Pet (literally, kitty cat)] I drew her down and we coiled like sleeping serpents on my bed. Viktoriya was flustered and looked as if she was ready to fall faint. The feral expression on her face was replaced with one more serene; she had orgasmed and was enjoying its calming aftermath. She lay on top of me, playing with my hair. My wet flaccid cock between her legs as I slowly squeezed and massaged her bare buttocks. 'So you are taking Fat-Freckle-Face to Two-Face's engagement dinner?' Viktoriya thought-spoke, using the epithets she cast on each of the other girls I was close with. I had gotten used to her tasteless barbs. Thankfully, she never used them in audible form, just thought-speech; it would've very vindictive and impolite in public. "Yeah. We're meeting them for dinner tomorrow night," I stifled a yawn. "And it is Faraz's and Ghandia's engagement; not Rachelle's." 'It may as well if you are not taking Two-Face.' Her tone was less than respectful, but it was directed towards the mulatto, not me. Rachelle and I had entered a freeze in our relationship at the time. It started when my dark darling came back and discovered that Janet and I had reconciled through Melanie's efforts. We broached the subject of seeing other people, and she had confessed she had been seeing a fellow at her end. I didn't think of it as cheating in either of our cases. Looking back, I wasn't sure if I missed Rachelle as I lead everyone else to believe. "I have an extra day," Viktoriya spoke suddenly to break the silence. I arched a brow. "I thought you couldn't wait to be in the Big Apple." "I do not start immediately," she went on talking. "I just wanted to 'acclimatize' before I do. Missing one or two days is no trouble." She sounded sure of herself, but I was suspicious. "You want to come along?" Viktoriya's lips curled in a lascivious smile. "May I?" 'You just want to see Rachelle.' I shot her a rueful grin as I thought-spoke. The girl grinned back and laughed. Of course, I sighed. Viktoriya was bi-curious and she had always wanted to meet Rachelle in person. I wondered and worried over what might happen if she got close enough ... 'We can make it an unforgettable night.' Her dark eyes glowed with unnatural desire. 'Together, kisa, we can have so much fun!' "Tempting," I laughed so mask my nervousness, "But what would Shawn think?" Viktoriya wore a toothy grin. 'Why you make Fat-Freckle-Face join in!' "That's not how I want it," I said flatly. 'Yes it is.' She countered mentally. 'You cannot hide all your thoughts you vile beast!' "Well, okay," I admitted, "I do want that, but not if it means hurting anyone." "You have already 'hurt' Rachelle," Viktoriya scoffed aloud. "When you professed loving Tom-Boy to her." "Alright," I made a face. "That was a bad move, but it's considerably more humane." 'Humane.' She frowned as she cut me off. 'You mean to say normal?' Even though Tseng had not communicated with Viktoriya, at least, they both shared a similar disdain and term for the ungifted. "Okay come along," I relented and started for the edge of the bed, "But let me make some calls." The phone on the nightstand vibrated a little then its handset leaped into the air and settled neatly into my hand. Viktoriya had anticipated my intentions and made it a point to display her skill. The first call I made was to Faraz; after all, he was my best friend and the one who invited me (and any guests) to the dinner-party. "Hey Stan!" Faraz's voice buzzed over the handset, "I already put you down for 'plus two'." I could almost feel him wink. "Remember? You said you wanted to bring Melanie to meet Rachelle." "Oh, yeah." I had forgotten about that. "Well, she couldn't make it; I got someone else to take her seat though. Is that all right?" "Sure my friend," I thought I heard schlurping or gurgling sounds on Faraz's end; maybe he was getting a quick blow from Ghandia. "It's all okay!" He hung up and I remembered what I had planned a little while earlier. I wanted to bring Janet to the dinner, but she declined since she started her job at civil court. "It's on a Sunday, Stanley," she declined with a heavy sigh, "And I have to work early Monday. Big asbestos case." Melanie wanted to go, but I decided not to bring her along; there would be alcohol, and besides, her parents wouldn't like it if I dragged her alone. So I explained it to her as best I could. Yu-Ching wasn't happy, but accepted my judgement. "FINE," she crossed her arms in a huff, "But you have to take me to Janet's workplace so we can do lunch." So, that left Shawn. She was free and college age, so I decided take her along. She was a shade under the drinking age, but with a little mental fiddling I could pass her off as 21. I dialed Shawn next, and wondered if I was that distracted I'd forget my own plans. 'You are distracted.' I shot Viktoriya a dirty look and she looked back defiantly. 'Call Fat-Freckle-Face. I want to play with you.' "Oh really?" I said sarcastically, but moderated my temper when I heard the ringer warble on Shawn's end. "Hello?" "Shawn?" I asked. "Is that you? Did I call at a bad time?" 'I bet no.' Viktoriya slithered around my body and began touching me. "No, I can talk a bit," Shawn replied. "Aren't we getting up early tomorrow? You promised to have lunch with me before we get ready for Faraz's party!" 'Nyet, lastochka*. [* Russian: A term of endearment. Literally, 'little swallow'] Stanislav is fucking my mouth.' Viktoriya picked up Shawn's end of the conversation by feeling the atmospheric vibrations from the telephone's speaker. I wanted to swat the pesky brunette but I kept my cool. She began sucking my cock to placate me. "Uh, yeah. About that. I just wanted to ask you something," I shivered as Viktoriya gently chewed my junk like a teething puppy, "I have a friend from Berkeley and she ..." I paused and was at a loss of what to say as an excuse. 'I want to meet Two-Face. I want to fuck her. I want to you to watch me. Then I want her to watch us.' Viktoriya's words hardly connected with what she was doing at the moment. My cock had gone back into a full erection and my ex-Commie cutie was ribbing my head and shaft between her teeth and her wicked tongue. "... wants to come along. Lunch and dinner," I somehow managed to remain coherent. "Faraz didn't mind but I'd thought I'd ask you first." "Oh sure, Stanley," Shawn said brightly. Then she lowered her voice, as if Viktoriya could hear, "Does she have a date?" "Er, ah." I grimaced. It was getting difficult to think. Viktoriya was pumping her head up and down my cock. Despite her skill as a psychokineticist, she enjoyed the raw taste of cock and didn't mind a little physical labor to get what she wanted. 'I need no chaperone.' Viktoriya thought to me. 'Now come in my mouth. I want Fat-Freckle-Face to hear us.' I grunted and held back. The last thing I wanted was Shawn having a breakdown, or going ballistic. "Are you okay, Stanley?" Shawn had worry in her voice. "I'm fine. I think she'll be fine," I checked my breathing and went on. "Pick you up at ten?" "Okay. See you tomorrow then," my Anglo angel whispered, "Good night. I love you!" "Love you t--" I barely finished before I heard the phone go dead. Viktoriya had hung up the thing with her telekinesis. I was a little sore as I placed the handset back into the cradle. I seized her head and heard her gag and sneeze. I pushed deep against her face, the tip of my cock touching the back of her throat. "I don't want you ever to do that when I'm on the phone again," I said through clenched teeth. "You need discipline and control." It was roughly the same words Tseng had used. Viktoriya was struggling to breathe, her hands slapped helplessly against me. I was slightly surprised myself. For a girl who could easily lift us both and juggle a half dozen cars at the same time, she was behaving docilely as I did as I pleased. I finally yielded and pulled out. Viktoriya coughed, sputtered, and collapsed on all fours, breathing raggedly. My dick was slimy, wet, and still hard from raping her mouth, but I wasn't finished. I was more than a little put off by how Viktoriya exhibited her jealousy of the others' Melanine moped and seethed, but she would vent her energy into trying to out-do the others to garner my attention. Viktoriya on the other hand, seemed to exhibit an edgier side and dared to test my patience and acceptable social norms. Testing my patience was one thing, but pushing social norms meant unwanted attention. Unwanted attention would mean revealing the invisible empire. And revealing the empire meant dealing with Tseng. I reached down and grabbed a handful of Viktoriya's hair. She didn't resist as I pulled her roughly to the bed. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she wasn't crying. If anything, she seemed to be smiling, if only faintly. I wasn't finished yet. Viktoriya had riled me up and she was going to get it. I barely remembered it, but it was in this room that I had forced myself on Rachelle the first time. I looked at Viktoriya and realized that she was smiling. She probably planned this, filching my memories in my moments of weakness. Good God, I thought. She wanted it to happen. She was probably getting off on my memories of Rachelle's first time in the room when I zonked-out the mulatto girl by accident then date-raped her. Sick bitch. I flipped her over to avoid looking at her face, but I heard her laugh. Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? She didn't need to see me to enjoy this. She could even use mind-sight to look at her own body while I fucked her. So you want to see how I raped Rachelle do you, I thought dourly. 'I dare you, kisa. I dare you.' She taunted me with thought-speech. Viktoriya turned her head and ran her tongue over her lips. Had anyone seen her do that in public, there would be no doubt what was on her mind at that time. I stuffed a pillow under her belly to prop her butt up towards me. I rubbed my shaft against her bushy cunt and pressed in slightly then pulled back out. Viktoriya hissed with audible pleasure at the initial intrusion then her body tensed as she realized what I intended to do. Almost immediately, I felt her ass cheeks clench tight as she struggled to turn around. I pressed down on her with my weight and kept her prone. I felt the bed vibrate as Viktoriya tried breaking free, but I jumped into her mind and disrupted her concentration. The bed and the rest of the room continued to vibrate, but it came to naught as I rammed my fat dick into her tightly wrapped shitpit. "Nghk--aiy!" Viktoriya let out a short wail. I felt the tenseness of her whole being, not just her body, as I literally reversed her ingrained feeling of what it was like to shit with one smooth stroke. I lay atop her, pinning her with my body and my mind, and feeling the tight, gritty warmth of her anal ring wrapped around my wonder wand. We were in a stalemate of sorts. Viktoriya could've thrown me off in a rage, but I would've pulled at something (likely her) and would've injured her severely. I could keep going as I did with Rachelle but I felt it would be unfair to Viktoriya. It would mean she wouldn't be able to sit for a week. So, I leaned over as if to whisper in her ear, but thought-spoke instead: 'Truce?' I felt Viktoriya panting and gasping, her ass clenched my tool, trying to shit it out but without success. 'Truce.' She surrendered herself. I slowly inched out of her ass, and a familiar stink permeated the room briefly. I opened the windows then headed for the bathroom. Viktoriya followed close on my heels. I showered while she sat on the toilet and let out an audible fart. "I'm sorry," I said over the hiss of the shower spray. "I know," Viktoriya said sullenly. The fight was taken out of her. She wiped herself then stepped into the shower to wash herself. It was an abnormally hot night, so I stood in the tub and watched. "Is it always that painful?" she asked me aloud. "It needn't be," I caught her hand as she tried to push me away. Viktoriya froze and I felt her fear. I didn't want things to grow worse between us; she was already leaving for another city. I hugged her and kissed her neck and shoulders. I felt her relax as she returned my affection. 'Maybe I should not go with you tomorrow.' Her thought-speech seemed flat and emotionless. 'You have a date already.' "No I don't mind," I brushed back some of her deep brown hair. "But let's ramp it down a little; don't give me a blowjob when I'm busy okay?" 'Very well.' She sounded disappointed. 'But buy me a dress. You promised her, you can promise me. Besides, I need to look nice for tomorrow night.' We separated and stepped out of the shower. I followed her back into the bedroom where we both took to bed, our minds buzzed with a shared sense of renewed mischief. We played with our bodies using telekinesis, discovering the odd delight of "touching" without actual physical contact. After we tired of applying our minds, we applied pressure the old fasioned way. Despite all our gifts, we still found great delight in just plain old 'normal' sex. =============================================================================== GONE CHOPIN. BACK IN A MINUET. TRY HANDEL. =============================================================================== When I awoke the next morning with my wet, wilted cock between Viktoriya's legs, I realized that it was our first sleep-over. It had occurred so naturally, it escaped my notice (and apparently hers). The first thing she did after getting up (and grabbing a quick shower) was to give a call to her parents. I cleaned up while she babbled on my line in Russian. Despite the increasing volume of her voice throughout the call, Viktoriya seemed unruffled when she pitched the handset back into the cradle with her telekinesis. She sat back lazily on my bed and sighed. "How'd they take it?" I asked. It didn't take a mind-reader to know what I was asking about. "Papa says to focus on the institute," she replied slowly. "Mama wonders what you want with me." "Parents," I tousled her shoulder-length hair. 'Parents.' Viktoriya's dark eyes twinkled with joy as she thought-spoke. I leaned down and kissed her warmly, our rough spat the night before forgotten and past. As we planned the night before, Viktoriya and I picked up Shawn around ten. That gave us time enough for a quickie exercise in Golden Gate Park where we practiced "shrouding" our telekinetic focus around our bodies as an unseen "repelling force". We had so much fun sticking our fingers and feet into Spreckles Lake and pushing aside the water that we almost stayed past our self-allotted deadline. By the time we pulled up to Shawn's house, she was already outside waiting anxiously. To my surprise, Viktoriya apologized and offered to treat Shawn to lunch. Shawn took to calling Viktoriya "Vicky" almost immediately. Another quirk that won Viktoriya over was how my plump little angel almost always saw the brighter side of things. Shawn asked "Vicky" how she knew me, and then made healthy small talk after we ordered. Shawn had known about my relationship with my First (Janet), Rachelle, and (about two years ago) Melanie. She didn't mind Viktoriya's presence; I knew she knew I was probably seeing her six-ways from Sunday too. It didn't matter though, I paid Shawn the attention she deserved when were together, and neither of us let hang-ups interfere with the chief reason why we liked hanging out: to have fun. That was exactly what we were having until the check came. That's when I realized exactly how far Viktoriya was willing to push her gift. The recent bonding Viktoriya and I had done (mentally and otherwise) meant she possessed some of the mental persuasion I had developed over the years, chiefly the substitution of imagery a 'normal' could sense (sight, sound, touch, and smell/taste). Viktoriya glanced at our check then slipped what I thought was a fan of money onto the tray. I blinked and saw that the dollar bills were in fact, napkins. My jaw nearly dropped. Holy. Shit. 'That's taking things a bit far aren't we?' I gave her a mental toungue-lashing. 'I'm not paying for lousy food.' Viktoriya dismissed me with a smile. I held my breath until we walked out. No one came after us, but I never did go back to that cafe again. Shawn wasn't aware anything was amiss, but I rued that I had done something similar (out of necessity) when I took Shawn out on our first date. Unlike Viktoriya though, I simply disguised a single dollar as a ten, so that restaurant just got short-changed; I didn't pay them with paper napkins. We headed for the shopping mall after. There was a boutique Viktoriya wanted to go for a dress. She suggested Shawn get one as well. "For tonight," she said. "But I have a dress," Shawn said then turned to me and asked. "Is it really that fancy?" "I don't know," I shrugged, "But Ghandia's and Faraz's family will be there." "Sounds quite the affair." Viktoriya nudged me aside, and grinning wolfishly, she pulled Shawn alongside her. I put on my best face, but grimaced inwardly. This was going to be a busy day. From the way Viktoriya was looking at Shawn, I knew she was just biding her time. That nymphomaniac would pounce on my baby angel's snatch once the situation was right. Now, going shopping was not something a man generally does (gifted or not). Going shopping in the company of two pretty women was another thing entirely. Shawn hadn't shot up much more since her days in school. But she did get a little bigger (just her tits, which were now fatty D-cups) from her sedentry lifestyle of drafting plans and schematics on a computer. She wasn't a size 3, but she didn't require a size 14 either. She just needed a little more of a relaxed evening dress that accentuated her figure, but allowed for some intake of food (or as I saw it from an engineer's standpoint: 'give and take'). Viktoriya too, wasn't a size 2 (or 3) either due to her rather good height (almost as tall as I was). However, her lean dancer's body showed through. I heard eyes click as men (and women) around the store snapped towards her when she stepped from the dressing room. Shawn was a-ga-ga at Viktoriya's graceful form and movements. When the brunette stepped back in to change outfits, Shawn gave me a dirty look. "Stanley?" "Yes muffin?" I droned. "How did you meet Vicky?" Shawn had picked out her dress, a deep olive green affair with few frills, a demure cut, and a modest neckline. I was trying to picture what she would look like with the dress on and off when she prodded me with her foot. "Well?" She was tapping her finger impatiently. "Like she said," I gave her a wry grin, "We met in school." "What class?" Her voice seemed to rise. "English," I said truthfully then added, "And dance." "You?" Shawn scoffed, "Dance?" I had to grin. I wasn't much of a dancer; Shawn had seen that when I took her to her junior and senior proms. I didn't have any rhythm and I sure as heck didn't possess any musical talent like my flute playing darling. "What can I say," I said meekly, "I needed exercise." "Yeah right," Shawn pursed her lips, "Does Rachelle know about this?!" "Well, she will," I gave her a disarming smile. "Tonight." To my surprise, Shawn laughed, "That's awful, Stanley. You should tell her the truth." "I will," I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for Viktoriya to finish changing, "I just have to let Rachelle down easy." "I meant Vicky," my plump dumpling swayed her hips to bump mine. "Does she know how serious you and Rachelle were?" "She'll be fine," I replied dryly. She'll be more than fine, I wanted to add. Viktoriya wants to jump Rachelle's bones. Right after she dyke-grinds with you, or maybe at the same time. Picturing the three of them in a lesbian free-for-all gave me pause, and a half-hard. "Are you sure?" Shawn's sigh jerked me from my day-dreaming, "I mean I got pretty worked up myself." "That was some time ago," I pinched her cheeks, "And besides, you're special." "Grow up," she slapped my hand away. "You keep this up Stanley, and no girl will want you." I put on a sad face, "Not even you pumpkin?" "No," she stuck her tongue out at me, "'cause I can't share." "Hey I'm not a Ken doll at a play-date," I growled and took her hand. Shawn snorted and avoided my gaze. Normally, taking a girl by the hand meant some sort of tenderness or act of reconciliation, but for me, it meant that I wanted to persuade someone in a furtive manner. I coaxed Shawn as best I could, and tried to recall the good times we've had. "C'mon Shawn," I squeezed her hand gently, "Let's not argue okay? It's too nice of a day for that." She was about to say more when Viktoriya stepped out. Both of our jaws must've dropped and neither of us said a damn thing because we were wow'ed into speechlessness. The brunette wore a black backless dress that held itself up with a string around her neck and a tight wrap around her sweet, shaking tush. Her legs peeked out from the slit in the side as she stood tip-toed in front of the mirror. "I have the shoes for this," she said pragmatically while preening herself in the mirror, "What do you think, Stanislav?" "It's pretty good," I mumbled aloud then thought-spoke to her. 'Shoes hell Vicky; you have the body for that.' Viktoriya eyed me slyly. 'Call me that aloud and I will ...' an image of her aphixiating me between her thighs popped into my head. 'Sounds fun, babushka.' I dared her mentally. 'I'm getting horny just thinking about it.' Viktoriya became visibly grumpy from that moniker (akin to 'grandmother', although it is street slang referring to unpleasant old hags). It was a sure sign that she wasn't aware of how visible we were, doing what we did in public. I glanced at Shawn to see if she noticed. "God, Vicky," Shawn practically oozed excitement, "You look GREAT!" Viktoriya blushed and I grinned. Shawn's optimistic honesty often disarmed people. That was one of the reasons Melanie loved hanging out with her: 'Shawn's awful fun, Stanley!' Shawn let me hold her dress so she could fiddle with Viktoriya's. While the girls were doing whatever the hell they did, I glanced at the price tag of the dress and nearly jumped out from my skin. $200 a pop for a piece of sheer fabric? 'It is too much is it not?' Viktoriya chatted with Shawn as she thought-spoke to me. 'Why don't you charge it to some 'normal's' account?' 'You mean steal the dresses?' I reproached her. 'You are better than I at trickery, kisa.' Viktoriya laughed at one of Shawn's childish jokes, but her dark eyes betrayed the steel behind her request. 'And I will not wear anything else for tonight.' 'Fine.' I gave her a tired grin and cast about for a solution. Many times, Viktoriya's selfish demands seemed nearly like exercises that Tseng concocted. I entertained the notion they did know one another. Perhaps it was all a trick to train me. 'What are you worried about now, Stanislav? You'll definitely make me babushka if you keep worrying all the time.' Dammit. I was so distracted I must've allowed Viktoriya to pick up what I was mulling over. 'Just wondering how I'm going to get $400 and spare change for sales tax.' I looked towards her way and saw Shawn waiting by the dressing rooms for Viktoriya. 'You need $600. My dress is a little more.' Viktoriya connected with me through mind-sight. I could see her topless in the dressing room, slowly gathering her clothes. She looked straight into the mirror, pinched one of her nipples, and gave me a saucy wink. 'I will dress slowly but you will need to hurry, kisa!' 'Great.' I cast about looking for a sucker with money then caught sight of the bargain rack. A brash, bold plan came to me as I thought-spoke to Viktoriya. 'What is the UPC on your dress?' So, there you have it. I, Stanley Chen, committed fraud at the point of sale using sleight of mind. A little telekinesis frustrated the laser scanner so the saleswoman had to punch in the UPC codes herself. The substitution of different UPC codes meant that the girls' dresses went from $700 to less than $100 (plus tax). Of us three, Shawn was most surprised. Viktoriya knew I was up to something but not sure about the how. I gladly paid in cash to forestall anyone looking for a paper trail. As we headed back to the car, Viktoriya found time to admonish me. 'You should try harder.' She scuffed the ground with her brogans, kicking away some unseen annoyance. I knew it was for show. She could've flicked whatever it was a half-mile with just a wayward thought. 'I did the best I could.' I didn't feel like listening at the time. I reached and took Shawn by the hand as we walked. My angelic darling gave me a little smile but her eyes flicked past me to Viktoriya. I knew Shawn was nervous as usual. She felt threatened by the presence of the other girls save Melanie. Viktoriya wore a broad grin, but it masked brooding thoughts and even darker lusts. 'We could have gotten away without paying at all.' The brunette walked closer to me, her steps matching mine's and Shawn's. 'That would be shoplifting.' I opened the car doors to let her and Shawn in but kept my gaze on Viktoriya. 'And $40 a piece is affordable although I bet that saleswoman will get fired.' "Thank you, Stanley," Shawn hopped in. "You're welcome pumpkin," I replied audibly. 'She can find another job.' Viktoriya's mental-tone was chilly but her voice was frightfully sweet as she said, "Thank you Stanislav." Her dark eyes regarded me darkly as she stepped into the car. I smiled back and dipped my head in acknowledgement but I had a stronger message in mind. 'That's an unnecessary risk.' I mentally lashed back more violently than I had intended. At the corner of my eye, I saw Shawn rub her temples. Damn, I thought. I turned down my anger and thought-spoke gently to Viktoriya. 'It's attention we don't need. We can get away with this occasionally, but it is like a fox who eats too many hens: sooner or later, the farmer will be aroused and he will ambush the fox.' 'I've heard of that tale as a child.' Viktoriya thought back. 'Don't lecture me as if I am, Stanislav!' 'It is simply good advice sweetheart.' I projected worry as I started the car. 'I don't want anything to happen to us.' My Baltic beauty gave me a mental sigh as we drove off. She changed the subject as she chatted with Shawn, comparing shoes, accessories, and other hen-club shit. I dropped off Viktoriya first at La Playa then dropped Shawn off at her place by the park. I would pick up the girls later. I headed back to my room at my parents' house. My room had been built and remodelled by my parents as a temporary residence for me. It was intended that I move out once I attended college (or graduated) but my academic career had given me a reason to stick around. For ten years, my room had seen a lot of traffic. Each of the five women had their own individual quirks: Janet always tried to present a cool, level-headed professional attitude, but she was often as mischievous and immature as Melanie. Shawn had two sides of her character: shy and less shy. She was reserved in public, but boisterous in private. Rachelle was perhaps the most superficial; however, deep down, I sensed she felt the need to prove herself. Viktoriya Lychenko, was my latest "house-guest" but I felt a greater degree of closeness with her than the others. It was relieving to have someone share similar powers and be an inquisitive and quirky lover at the same time. Unfortunately, Viktoriya was moving clear across the country to pursue her studies in dance. It depressed me inwardly, but I wondered if it was for the best: Viktoriya was quite a handful, and New York City seemed to be the place to satisfy her appetites. The only thing that kept her from doing anything brash was fear of exposing herself because she was unable to hide her identity when mind-reading; nor would she risk unprotected sex with anyone save other girls. As I preened myself and picked out my clothes, I began wondering how it would all turn out, for each of the women had formed opinions about the others. Janet knew Melanie, but didn't seem all too favorable towards Rachelle. That feeling between Rachelle and Janet was mutual since the two hadn't met face to face. They knew of each only through me (when I broke the news) and the subtle remnants they each left behind in my room. Shawn knew about the existence of the other four (Janet, Melanie, Rachelle, and thanks to today, Viktoriya) although she had only met all but my First in person. Nonetheless, Shawn was in awe of the others due to her meek nature. Janet hadn't met Shawn, but Rachelle knew of her and didn't think too highly of how I was carrying on with Shawn when we were dating. The most audacious of my lovelies was Viktoriya. She knew everyone by mind-sight or through my memories. At first, I wanted to limit her physical contact to Melanie. That was natural. The three of us were gifted, though in different ways: Melanie was empathic but very latent, and she could do little mischief apart from having her feelings hurt more than average then whining about it until the cows came home. Viktoriya was the tigress in my brood of lovelies. She was able to pulp coconuts by sheer willpower simply because she was irritated. And I was what Tseng called a "catalyst". I learned the gifts of the other two and boosted their potency, making Melanie hyper-sensitive and suggestive, and allowing Viktoriya to bend steel re-bars and tear new assholes. I frowned as I looped a belt through my dress slacks. I had little idea if Viktoriya was indeed as powerful as Tseng was; should things not go her way, I could have a potentially hazardous lovers' spat. Today she met Shawn. Tonight she will meet Rachelle. Things were progressing rather quickly and I wasn't wholly sure what could happen next. I mulled over the situation some more as I reached for my tie on the table in the kitchenette. That was when I felt something. It was a sudden presence, a strange one. I turned around and saw him sitting casually on the sofa where I had cradled Melanie when she was just a girl. =============================================================================== JUMPED BY A JUMPER =============================================================================== He was the thin-faced, sandy-haired fellow whom I saw when I was mind-reading Davies some years ago. Only now, he was a little chunkier and was dressed like a tourist: a plaid shirt, khaki cut-offs, and hiking boots. But what disturbed me the most was how he get into my house. How did he get in? My senses leaped into overdrive. I focused on the stranger's mind and began sifting and cataloging his thoughts before he even knew it. He was an orphan -- wait -- no, he was abused. His mother was dead, his father might as well be. A myriad of jobs he was good at came through: day laborer, craftsman, amateur movie-maker, courier. I thought I stumbled on what appeared to be a bank robbery. He was married to someone named Mildred or Molly or Millicent. My mind zipped back to the encounter back at the Federal building in the downtown / financial district. Tseng had mentioned something about this guy's foot after we left, Tseng also mentioned a name. "David ... Reese?" The stranger in my room shifted uncomfortably. Only a second had passed from the instant I turned around and saw him to when I uttered his full name. "Damn," the man named David muttered. "You guys are quick. I didn't even introduce myself yet." Actually, his name didn't come to me when I sifted through his memories; I had remembered the name because Tseng had mentioned it. The man known as "David" had several aliases floating around (Reese, Rice, Richards, etc.) and I wasn't sure which it was. Nevertheless, his mistake was his to make; I never revealed my vulnerabilities. "How'd you get in?" I asked. "What are you doing here?" Never show weakness, I recited from my exercises. Never show strength. Keep 'normals' mystified and unsure. That might be true about everyday people, but I wondered if it applied to the man in front of me. Speaking of weakness though, I glanced at his right foot. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but his foot was fully covered by his hiking boot. "It seems unfair you know my name," David soured, "When I don't know yours." "Stanley," I said simply. "I hope you have a good reason for coming here. And how did you come in --?" There was a dull POP and David simply vanished just like in one of those cheaply produced science-fiction movies. You know the ones where the camera would stop filming, the actor would go off camera, and filming is resumed to give the audience the impression that the actor disappeared? Yeah, those kinda films. The hairs on my neck stood up as I realized I could still sense David nearby. I took four strides towards the small side window that peeked into the backyard. I pulled aside the blinds and saw him standing just outside my bedroom looking at his watch. He literally jumped when I tapped lightly on the window. POP. David vanished as soon as he saw me and I immediately felt his presence again, but in a different location. I whirled around and saw him sitting on my dining table in the kitchenette, his boots dangling over the polished vinyl floor. "Get the hell off the table," I snapped at him before he could say anything. "And take off your damn shoes." Under normal circumstances, I suppose I would've thought I was crazy, deluded or hallucinating. However, I wasn't normal. Nor were strange occurences all that odd to me. After years of witnessing what Tseng, Viktoriya, Melanie, and I could do, I was no longer under the impression everything could be taken at face value. This guy's vanishing trick was something I hadn't seen before, but it didn't take a mind-reader to know he was either displacing himself, or shooting out illusions into my mind that hinted that he could. For all I knew, he was an illusory image (although the dirt on the carpet later disproved this to me). All I knew at the moment was that he trespassed into my house, he mucked up the place with his dirty shoes. My voice held zero fear and when David saw I was fit to kick his ass, he vanished again with a POP. I felt his presence diminish dramatically on my mental radar. I knew he wasn't around, but at the same time, I knew he was still alive. It was a very, very small blip though. Interesting, I thought. But there was no time for experimentation and study. If this guy was actually displacing himself, he could come in behind me, and do whatever he wanted to. It took me a blink of an eye to know someone was nearby, but considering how fast he could displace, it could be all the time he needed to land the first blow. I backed myself into the corner of the inner room so the door to my studio and the kitchenette were in front of me. Now, if this guy showed up again, he'd have to do so in front of me where he would be watched. David POPPED back in after minute or two, his boots replaced by slippers. I could now see that his right foot was indeed prosthetic from the ankle down. When he saw me standing in the corner of the room, his brow arched. "Sorry about that," David pointed to a chair. "May I?" I gestured but stood in my spot. "What do you want?" "I just wanted to talk," David sat down cautiously. I noticed he hadn't changed his garb, only his shoes. I suppose if I could displace myself, I would be dressed casually as well. It'd only take a heartbeat to go home. "Then talk," I said. "I have dinner plans in two hours and I don't like being late." "I'm sure you don't," David's mouth worked up a smile. "Look, I didn't mean to trespass." "Yet you did," I said coldly. "Entering a private residence without permission may be considered a prosecutable offence. I could've shot you." "Like you could," David narrowed his eyes, "A kid like you with a gun? Don't make me laugh." "How wrong you are," I felt my anger but kept my cool. "I don't need a gun, but you and your foot already know that, right?" At that, David stood up suddenly. I thought I felt he was going to do his displacement trick again, but he surprised me by doing nothing save looking angry and balling his hands into fists. I caught bits of his thoughts as he stood glowering at me from my kitchen: 'Fucking son of a bitch.' 'Calm down. Gotta calm down.' 'Can't wind up like that; either of them.' The last thought was interesting. David seemed to have two people in mind when that thought crossed his mind. One man I instantly recognized as Tseng. The second was an old white guy I hadn't seen before. David swallowed, composed himself, and relaxed his posture before he spoke again. "Look. I'm sorry if I got off on the wrong foot." At that he gave a dry laugh. I toned down my own stance and bade him to continue. "I didn't mean to startle you, but these days the NSA does a lot of its spying from satellites." David jerked a finger up towards my ceiling. I kept my mental focus on him, but flicked my eyes upwards in response. So, that could explain why the agency wasn't following me. They used goddamned robots whirling around outer space. No thoughts for me to track. Smart motherfuckers, these NSA bastards. When I looked back at David, neither of us moved from our respective spots. Good, I thought. We have sort of truce then. "Because of that, I'd rather talk to you indoors if you don't mind," David went on. "Unless the place is bugged." "Is it?" I asked. "Shit I dunno," he shrugged. "You're the mind-reader Stanley; you tell me." "Listening devices don't have thoughts," I replied. David threw up his hands, "Of course. How stupid of me." I was still wary, but his tone, body language, and thoughts didn't paint him as dangerous. Still, I remained in my corner to reduce the number of angles of attack. I realized I could affect any number of things in the immediate area should this guy try something funny: a set of carving knives were on the kitchenette counter, the chopping block was quite heavy, and small television would make suitable weapons if push came to shove. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. Whoever this guy was, he was gifted, but in a different way. I still heeded Tseng's warning though: 'Don't tip your hand.' I decided to fake some motions and see what I could get away with. "Well since you're here anyway ..." I pretended to close one eye then shifted a bit of my attention away from David. I made a mock gesture with my hand. The kitchen tap turned on and David took a noticeable step back. I almost wanted to laugh. Viktoriya and I had manuevered and manipulated so much kitchenware while doing other tasks it had become second nature with us. In the weeks leading up to our graduation at Berkeley, we had started messing around with manipulating fluid. In that, she was more successful than me. I picked out the smoothest glass cup from my collection and let it fill with cold water. I levitated the glass towards David and shut off the tap. He glanced at me, then at the cup before he accepted. "Don't drop it," I said from across the room. "You break it, you get me a new one." "Sure," David took a small swig, swished it in his mouth and swallowed. "Thanks." "Now that we've demonstrated we're civilized men," I said, "Tell me why you're here; did that Cox guy send you?" "Brian?" David set the glass down. "Hell no. He made me and wife's life miserable before I cut a deal with him." "So you don't work for the NSA?" "Just part time," he replied, "And only transporting things. Like the occasional person. I have to agree with the morality of it though. Part of my deal with Cox." I knew he believed it was true, so I decided to trust him for now. "What deal did you have with him?" "He was to leave me and Millie alone," David explained, "Otherwise, I send more of their goons on unwanted trips to random Third World countries and have the NSA fly them back at great expense." "Nice," I had to grin at that. This guy was certainly assertive with his gifts. "So you can take other people along with you when you do that trick of yours?" "Jumping," David nodded, "Yeah." I waited patiently for him to say more. When neither of us spoke, I broke the silence. "That's it?" I blurted. "What do you mean that's it?" David was incredulous. "I teleport for Chrissakes. That's not enough for you guys?" "Sounds like you're just a portable Star Trek transporter," I shrugged, "And who the hell are you calling 'you guys'?" "You and Tseng of course," he said then stopped. "Who else would I be referring to?" Try Viktoriya, Melanie, and a few more you haven't met yet, I nearly answered him aloud, but I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and shrugged instead. "You make it sound like we're buddies," I said acidly. "He's not my friend. In fact, I was quite happy before he found me." Although, I wondered, if I would've known as much as I did now. "Oh, I see." I sensed that David hadn't expected that, so I asked him another question. "You think we're like-minded?" "You're reading my mind?" he asked me accusingly. I shrugged again, and presented myself modestly as I did a few years before. "Just what you were about to say aloud, or what you were going to do." "I see," David looked a little disturbed. "I guess that's how you found me outside in your backyard, right?" "I knew where you were," I said simply. I left out the part where he nearly vanished once he was out of my immediate sight. "That figures," he scowled. "I have to think of where I'm going before I can, well, you know." "Jump?" I said helpfully. "Right," David stood up. "I suppose you wouldn't want to come to my place would you? Seems fair, since I dropped by yours." I risked a glance at the clock. We had been at this for nearly twenty minutes. I was fine time-wise, but if I dwaddled, I'd be late. Late for an important date. "I guess so," I said slowly, "Where's your place?" "New Mexico." David said it with a broad smile. Fuck you, you liar, I thought. He was lying right to my face, probably a reflex, or out of habit. David lived in Texas, but still New Mexico was still in the same damn area. Still, I sensed he didn't intend any harm; if he changed his mind later, I suppose I could see what I could do. Maybe restrain him by focusing on his skin or something. Was that how Tseng took out David's foot? Shackle a part of him when the latter jumped? "I guess you're going to do your twinkling trick," I stepped cautiously away from the corner, "What do I need to do?" David got up and pointed at the chair he was sitting on. "I don't want to touch you; I was told it was dangerous." "It could be," I admitted that much. I wondered who told him, Tseng or Cox? "Sit in the chair and hang-on tight," David said, "Like it was a theme park ride or something." I did so, but reluctantly. I sat nervously, but only because I wasn't sure about what to expect. I could still sense David's mental presence, but if he decided to attack me, I'd have very little time to ... POP I felt the chair wobble but that was it. I was staring at my room one instant, and the next I was in a dim cavernous room made of reddish rock. I inhaled and felt the hot dry air sting my lungs. I coughed and sneezed as my body felt the heat throttle my senses. Holy fuck. I bent over with my head between my knees. It was hot like Hong Kong. At least it was a dry heat. My mind reflexively concocted its brew of dry, sarcastic wit. I didn't laugh. "I'll be right back," David said. Things were moving so quickly, I didn't have a clear idea of what to do next. I suppose I could've mentally shouted at him, but I wasn't sure what would happen. Would he faint? Have an epileptic seizure? Vanish forever? I couldn't tell. As far as I know, he was going to leave me here. David disappeared with a POP and I sat nervously for a moment before he appeared later in the same spot with a woman in his arms. "Thanks Davy." I caught her whisper. "Is that him?" "Yep," came the reply. When David reappeared, I immediately sensed a new "pulse". Like a new contact brimming in my consciousness. That could be bad. Could I not forget everyone I met? Would I have four billion (and counting) blips on my mental radar? I pushed that to the back of my mind. Nonsense. Must be Tseng's paranoia getting to me, I thought dourly. I instinctively "knew" that my parents, Andrew, Janet, Melanie, Viktoriya, and the other girls were fine. They were alive and hence "broadcasting". If I concentrated a little more, I could get a clearer picture of what the heck they were doing (mind-sight). My friends, like Faraz, I had to focus just a little more, but I knew I could do the same thing to them. So maybe it is merely a matter of paying attention, I realized. But back to the setting at hand. The woman David displaced with was a short-haired, stocky woman wearing spectacles. She looked to be about in her late 20s or early 30s and was dressed casually in shorts, a t-shirt, and open-toed slippers. It was then I noticed the cavernous room was really a cave. But what a cave! It was furnished better than my own room. Several bookcases were put against a wall. The cave's natural opening was fenced by a man-made wall of brick and mortar. The only light came from some portable lamps and a cooking stove. It was all very homey. I must've whistled, because the woman laughed as she bent over to grab a kettle. "You must be a cad," David said, "That's my wife." "No, it's not that," I stood and paced around. Hard wood flooring covered most of the cave floor. "This place is pretty cool. I never saw anything like this in design class. Not up close anyway." "Easy there Davy," the woman handed me a cup. "He likes what you've done to the place." "Thanks." I took the cup but it was too dark to see what it was. "It's too hot for tea or coffee," she said, "And you'd dehydrate drinking that stuff; that's just plain old water with a twist of lemon." "Oh," I sipped the lukewarm liquid and swallowed. "Thanks." "Millie," David introduced us. "This is Stanley, the guy I told you about." "Hi," Millie extended her hand. It was covered in a yarn mitten. "Pleased to meet you," I shook her hand then glanced at David, "I suppose you could've worn gloves as well." David shrugged. "I wasn't sure how close you and Tseng were." "I see." "So," Millie gauged me carefully, "Davy says you can read minds. Is that true?" "Yep," I said casually as I glanced around. I didn't need to have my gaze wander far. I had the strangest feeling that I could "feel" the objects and surfaces around me. Aside from David and Millie, I could sense how large the space was, what was in it, and how many things I could yank with my gift and throw with great force. I even manged to pick up on some of Millie's curiosity about me. "Do you know what I'm thinking now?" she asked as she passed a second cup to her husband. "Millie?" David sounded concerned. "I suppose I could." I managed a genial smile. "But I generally refrain from doing that unless I feel threatened." Yep. Threatened was the key word here. Besides, it would've been impolite to tear through the minds of one's hosts, especially if I needed one of them conscious to transport me back 1000 miles away in the blink of an eye. "Oh," Millie became embarrassed. "Well I'm sorry about that. That was rude of me." "It's all right," I shrugged. "I suppose anyone who'd know would ask me for lottery numbers." "Do they?" David asked. "Like surveillance devices," I reminded him, "Lottery tickets aren't alive. You're looking for someone who can predict the future. That's precognition. I just know what's going on now." "Ah, makes sense." Millie poured herself a cup before she set the kettle back down. "So much for striking it rich again, eh?" David rocked on his feet and my eyes flicked down towards his fake foot. I picked up a stray thought as he did so. Something about a million dollars and a bank. Hmm, I wondered inwardly. That may prove interesting. I filed it away in the back of my mind. "Well, I don't need to be a mind-reader," I formed my words carefully, "To know you and Tseng have bad blood between you two. Is there something I should know?" Millie became very quiet and looked at the young man. I could sense her apprehension climb. 'This guy is pretty direct.' 'I wonder if it's because he's used to getting what he wants.' Then, 'Shit. I wonder if he's reading our minds right now and not saying he can?' I didn't change my outward curiosity and pretended to remain focused on the prosthetic. David glanced down at his plastic prop then looked at me. "He didn't tell you?" he finally asked. I shook my head. "And you can't read his mind?" David said in disbelief. "I don't believe that." "It's not a big mystery unless you're not one of us," I lied, "I've never been able to get close to Tseng --" Yes I have. I can lie right to your face too, motherfucker, "-- and we're much more adept at hiding our thoughts from one another." Another lie. I bet Tseng could crack me open like a raw egg if he wanted to. I had nothing on Tseng; the man's mind was like a massively blank wall. I could sense something buzzing past it, but I couldn't quite get around that barrier. David and Millie both nodded, accepting my elementary explanation. Great, I thought. I just made some new acquaintances by lying my ass off. Wouldn't Janet be proud? "You're smiling," Millie looked at me wryly, "You sure you're telling the truth?" "What?" I composed myself and cleared my throat. "Just thinking about some friends." "Ah." "Their engagement party is tonight," I stuck with a simple explanation. "Can't stay too long. Ten more minutes maybe. See, I actually have to drive." "Yeah, sorry," David glanced at his watch. "When's your dinner?" Millie asked. "Seven thirty. But I have to pick up my friends." I left it at that, but David decided to throw in his barbs. "You mean the two girls you went to the mall with?" "Something like that," I answered coolly. I thought this was none of his business. "Whoa," Millie made a face. "Two girls? That sounds kinda fishy to me." "What do you mean?" My eyes narrowed and I adopted a tone fit to be used for nosy people. "No offence," David said, "But it sounds like mind control." "Absolutely not," I felt my anger rise then I controlled myself. There was no reason to let myself get provoked into a useless argument. My two hosts waited patiently for my explanation. I calmed down and explained, "One is a high school classmate. The other is a college sweetheart. They're both good friends, that's all." Well, good enough that I had sex with both. Heh-heh. Both of them stayed silent and I decided to push some buttons. "And besides, if I was that powerful," I said, "You'd think I borrow ten grand from FICO to go to college, graduate, and then work at an ass-end job? I'd have it easy by being the slickest con-man Wall Street ever saw." "Point taken," Millie held up her hand. She had tossed the mitten on a nearby dresser by now. "Speaking of jobs, I know. I counsel families and couples." "Oh, I see." Things were a bit more relaxed now, and I looked around their place. I noticed a row of newspapers cut and hung on one wall. I stepped closer to read them. "The Murrah Federal building?" I looked at them, "A rather macabre decoration choice wouldn't you say?" "It's something personal," David said quickly. "It's okay, Davy." Millie smiled wanly and took his arm. "I was just two blocks away when the bomb went off. If I was on-time for work, I'd be dead." "You worked nearby?" my brow picked up, "My belated condolences; it must've been hard." "Well I don't work in Oklahoma City," Millie started to explain, "But I was there for ..." "An appointment?" David and I both finished her sentence. He shot me a dirty look. "Well yes. It was a special case that time," she said. "I wanted to have lunch with a friend who transferred to the Oklahoma City office." "I get the feeling she didn't make it." I sensed the glumness in her voice. "No," Millie wore a reserved smile. "I guess you are a mind-reader after all, Stanley." I feigned an apologetic shrug, "To be fair, your husband gave you away." "Oh really?" she looked at David, "How so?" "Nervous and distracted thoughts are more read-friendly," I gave the truth. I should know. Aurora, Janet, and Rachelle all got zapped when I was distracted from sleep, having sex with them or thinking about having sex with them. Thinking of my treasured darlings, I grew very afraid. Would mind-reading have prevented a sudden attack? Even if I knew what was being planned, I wondered, how would I stop it? My worries gave rise to alarm once I turned back to the photo wall. A familiar face was in the corner of one of the papers: Jackson Davies. Although I had only seen him briefly when he was bound and gagged years ago, I had gotten to know his face from Davies seeing his reflection in the mirror. It was his mug in the police blotter on the frontpage. He was found beaten to a pulp near the residence of one of the Oklahoma City incident's prime suspects. Beaten dead. My eyes flicked between David's face and Davies' picture in the paper. I reached out and gingerly peeked into his mind. He hid the truth from his wife, but he couldn't from me. His eyes flickered with a sense of fear as he slowly realized why I was glancing between him and the newspaper on the wall, and why that particular portion of the frontpage wasn't cropped out when he mounted it. I stepped away from the wall of trophies and feigned ignorance with my trademark smile. To change the mood, I showed Millie what other tricks I could do. Earlier, I had shown David the gift of telekinesis I learned from Viktoriya. I pretended to close my eyes to concentrate and levitated my cup before his wife using the same fake gestures from before. I asked her to take it so I could relinquish my power. Millie maintained surprising control of her hands; she took the cup firmly and I released it from my concentration. "Wow," Millie was impressed. "That's better than mind-reading!" "You think so?" I sat back in my chair, acting tired and worn when in fact I was still quite alert and sharp. "If you two guys ever got together, you can do a real magic act," she laughed. "Heck, I could prance around in lace lingerie all day while you guys do all the work." David laughed but I was hardly in the mood to reveal myself so foolishly. I just smiled then went back to diffing for the answer I wanted from the sandy haired man. "Tseng seems to have a lot of time," I said. "Why don't you ask him?" Their jovial mood soured quickly as soon as Tseng's name came up. Millie drifted off towards the bookcase, picked out a book and sat in a bean bag in the corner. I ignored her and pointed at David's prosthetic. "You want to tell me about that, or leave it a mystery forever?" "You sure you don't want to just pick my mind clean while you're at it?" he asked. "No thanks," I replied, "I'd prefer hearing it from you. It's what people do." I felt my two hosts were more at ease once they heard my reply. I didn't need to resort to any methods more than simple conversation. Not at the moment anyway. David sat down on the floor, dislodged his fake foot, and held it up at eye level. "You want to know what I think of Tseng?" David studied me carefully, as if he could read me. He couldn't. I waved my hand for him to continue. "The first time I met him, he attacked me," David said curtly, "I guess it's like what you did with that water glass, but he applied it to me. I jumped away, but not all of me came along." I wondered about his statement for a little bit. Viktoriya and I had experimented with restraining one another (and on one occasion, Melanie) using telekinesis, but we had to apply it to the body's external skin. It was a weird feeling when you could move but were kept in place because parts of your skin didn't move. It was an eerie enough feeling that we only used it here and there for practice, but never when we made love. It was a dangerous technique. I employed a variation of it on the thugs in Hong Kong by holding down their shoes instead of their feet. Looking at David's plastic foot, I suspected what Tseng did. Nice, I thought. So you can be taken down if need be. I filed that away for future use. "Gross," I made a face to express what I wanted them to see, but I hid my inner thoughts well. David nodded in agreement. Millie hadn't looked up from the book she was reading, but I knew she was eavesdropping, surreptitiously checking on her husband. I sensed the great affection they shared. It was almost as great as what I shared with my own darlings. David stuck his leg back into his foot's socket and stood back up. The two of us talked a little more. I told him my area of study (but not the school) and lied about nearly everything else by omitting them. Compared to him, my own background came off surprisingly uneventful. David briefly touched on how he and Millie met (in New York City) and about how they had shared getting into trouble with Cox and the agency. However, I was most surprised when he mentioned that his mother was killed by a terrorist's bomb back when I was still a gangly teen in high school. "If you excuse me for being blunt," I asked, "Where and when was it?" "1992. Somewhere in Greece," he said glumly. "That's what got me started. I took out some hijackers. The agency took notice. The rest is what you'd call history." "So, now what?" I felt mildly uneasy. "You transport me or Tseng or a Special Forces guy to an airport and take out everyone like in Operation Wolf?" "What's Operation Wolf?" David asked. "A videogame about a white dude and a black dude saving hostages in the Middle East," I explained unhelpfully. Hey why not? The game came out around the time when his mother blew up, and I was in high school playing stupid videogames with Andrew between sessions of studying and fucking. Besides, it was relevant to the conversation. "I don't think so," David shook his head, "I don't think the agency knows what it needs. Tseng might, but I don't trust him. That's why I followed you; I saw you at the shopping center with your, ahem --" despite being clear across the room, Millie cleared her throat so we both could hear, "-- friends. I took my wife home and then followed you. I wanted to talk to you and warn you about Tseng and Cox." "But you said you've dealt with Cox," I said. "Yes and no," David scratched his chin. "He knows if he or his spook squad screws with me, they will have their hands full. I don't know about you though. You need to watch out." "You're telling me this, why?" "You can read my mind," David laughed nervously. I caught a brief flicker of a thought: 'God I hope he doesn't say I beat up Davies when I heard about Oklahoma City.' 'Millie'd go ballistic.' 'This guy sounds okay though.' 'I just got to convince him he's better off without them.' "I just don't want the government screwing up someone else's life." He said is so solemnly, I would've fell for it if I wasn't a mind-reader. David was simply trolling for allies so he could quit the agency. "Well, cool. Thanks for your concern." I lied too. I didn't tell him that if I wanted to, I'd compromise his ass to Tseng in a heartbeat to keep my girls safe from any of his meddling. Tseng would likely take off more than just a foot the second time. And if he didn't, I wager I probably could. In that case, good riddance to you and your fat bitch wife. "What about Tseng?" I asked. "I'm guessing he's part of the package." "I don't know what kind of deal he has," David shrugged. "For a guy who professes not liking someone, you sure look out for him." "You haven't seen what he can do," I blurted. I then kicked myself for being so hasty with my words. I must be some kind of attention junkie. "Wait," Millie hopped up from her corner. "What can he do?" I took a slow drink from my water glass as she joined us again. I needed time to phrase my words carefully. I needed discipline and control, I thought wanly. Tseng's own words. "What can he do?" David repeated and I sensed his apprehension grow. Plenty, was what I wanted to say but I simply echoed what Viktoriya and I could do, with a little ambiguity to leave 'em guessing. I instinctively knew she and I were nowhere as well versed as Tseng was in our gifts, and likely nowhere near as experienced applying them. "Think of what I did but far more menacing," I put it simply. "Probably find and crush a missile sub with a thought." "That's about what I figured," David sounded glum. "Well, since we're likely going to work together more down the road, it made sense to me that we at least have some level of trust. I'd hate to lose any more body parts." "You won't," Millie put a hand on his shoulder. How cute. I winced inwardly as I checked out Millie. Damn, she was fat, and not in a cute way. Unlike my cuddly Shawn, I could see Millie's thighs wobble when she moved, along with a slight paunch. If David's wife wore corduroy pants, she'd never be able to sneak up on anyone, because her fucking groins would map a zip-zip-zip sound as she walked. "Well, I've got nothing against anyone," I said then lowered my voice, "But don't ever come into my house, uninvited, ever again. I'll do you a favor and won't drop in uninvited either." "I understand Stanley," David nodded. "I'm sorry." "I guess this time will have to be an exception," I relented. "I don't have my keys with me. Can you take me back now? I have some very beautiful ladies I need to keep a date with." "Of course," Millie chuckled. "Girlfriends?" "Just friends," I gave her the obscure answer. "And friends of friends." "All right," Millie waved her hand slightly. "It was nice to meet you Stanley." "Yeah," I said. "You too. Good night." "G'night!" "Just wait a bit can you?" David held his wife close. "I have to tuck her in." Millie laughed and kissed him as they both vanished with a POP. As soon as they vanished, I quickly leaped to my feet and ran to the edge of the cave. Looking over the edge, I saw the wide expanse of desert being lit up just by the light of the gibbous moon. I was in the middle of nowhere. I turned my attention back towards the cave interior and walked slowly back to my chair. I needed to sort out what David had said versus what I had read to segregate the fact from fiction. Sometimes, fiction was used as fact in our business. I had to categorize and then be able to act with that information at a moment's notice. The last few thoughts he had before he displaced with his wife were still in my mind. I glimpsed a dimly lit apartment with a bed and furnishings like normal people. Clearly, this place in the desert was a neutral meeting place or some shit. If he could displace at will, he probably had his own nice safe place or, as I fantasized, several places around the world where he could travel to in a heartbeat. As I paced over the smooth hardwood floorboards and wondering how much such flooring generally cost, something clicked in me. David's recollection about a bank and his remark about "striking it rich (again)" suddenly became clear. "He robbed a bank!" I soured and looked the place in a new light. "Motherfucker!" As I my words echoed lightly off the cave walls, I sensed someone in the room with me. It was David. "Did you say something?" He wasn't surprised that I had turned completely around to face him as he arrived. "Nothing," I said. "Just wondering aloud when you'd get back here. I thought I had to fly back for a minute." "You can fly?" David asked. "No," I lied, "But I might take up that suggestion and try. Can't be that hard with a little experimentation, right? Now, can you take me back please?" I sat back on my chair and I felt David take hold. POP. I was back in my room in San Francisco, and felt the air temperature drop ten degrees Fahrenheit. I rose and turned to face David. I sensed he was about ready to leave and held up my hand. "Wait," I said, "You can go anywhere you can see right?" "Yeah," he replied. I drew back the blinds of the side window so David could see my backyard. "You can go there if you need to," I said, "Then give me a call or knock on my side door and I'll let you in." "What if you're not here?" he asked, "What then?" "Then stick around or knock on my parents' door and ask where I went," I said. I then wondered if it was a good idea to let him do that. Oh well, too late to put the cat back into the bag. "And if you think you can come back with out me knowing," I hardened my voice, "Think again." David displaced back a step with a POP. "I will know," I continued my lie, "And if you disturb anything, I'll know." "How?" he asked. "Psychic emanations," I said with a straight face, "And do you think you can lie to a telepath?" "No. I believe you." David stepped towards me and looked through the window. His blue eyes studied the place. He closed his eyes for moment. He was memorizing it, I knew, and filing it for a future destination. "Okay Stanley. See you around." He vanished with a POP. I sensed David's presence fade from my awareness and I knew he was far enough away that I couldn't sense him (unless he suddenly learned how to hide himself from me). I closed my eyes, extending my awareness over the city and waited. Nothing out of the ordinary near Shawn's, Viktoriya's, Janet's, Rachelle's, Melanie's or my other friends' places. After a few minutes, I was sure the displacer was nowhere in the city nor near any of the ones I held dear. I looked at the clock and realized I still had a little time left. I saw where David had left his dirty shoe prints on my carpet. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and ran it over the afflicted patch until no more desert dirt could be seen. I packed away the vacuum, grabbed my keys and jacket, and headed out the door. =============================================================================== UNHEALTHY DIETS =============================================================================== I was glad I picked up Viktoriya before Shawn for the dinner. I didn't want to expose what I knew about Tseng, but the existence of a person who could displace his own body was something I wanted to get off my chest. I parked haphazardly in front of the Lychenko's apartment building and got out. As I walked to her front door, I tried to phrase and re-phrase how I would tell Viktoriya. I rang the doorbell, and a thickly accented voice called out, "Who is it?" "It's Stanley Chen." I intoned as clearly as possible. "I wish to speak with Viktoriya Lychenko." There was a brief commotion then the speakerphone went dead. The apartment's front door buzzed and I opened it. As I climbed the stairs slowly, I came to the conclusion I couldn't break the news about this to Viktoriya without creating more questions than I had answers for. Each one would lead to more questions, until I couldn't fabricate any more answers to cover the truth. David sought me out because we were both (somehow) involved in the NSA. How'd I get contacted by the NSA in the first place? Tseng requested that I show up. It would've been fine if Tseng was a forthright and outstanding person, but I had serious doubts. And if Tseng's tale about the rogue telepath, the "Russian" as he called him, turned out to be a tale that hit too close to Viktoriya then that would be tragic. I shuddered to think of the possibilities. Ultimately, I decided to keep David's thing a secret. I suppose it would've been the polite thing to do anyway, since he was gifted as I was. But so was Viktoriya. I winced when I realized that. Why was I hiding that part of me from Vika? "Are you all right, Stanislav?" Viktoriya peeked past the small crack of her door. I was surprised to hear her speaking aloud. Then I realized her folks were just behind the door. "I'm fine." I stepped in and found an old couple sitting in the room past her. Well they were not THAT old. Her father looked a little like Joseph Stalin, or the moustache did anyway. He was a portly fellow and looked rather like a Stalin who had gotten hefty, and dressed like a college professor. Her mother was a tall, skinny beauty. Her hair was held down with a yarn shawl or something, and made her look very gypsy like. A small beauty mark was under her left eye, next to a very hawkish but regal nose. "My papa and mama," my Baltic beauty whispered. Then she thought-spoke: 'If you don't understand them, let me translate. God help you, kisa, if you anger them. I will never hear the end of it and they will never let me see you again.' 'I'll be good.' I grinned and bid them both a solicitous hello. 'As long as you don't tell them what you do in that room of yours.' 'SHUT UP, rodnoi*! [* Russian: Kinsman] I am serious!' Viktoriya shuffled nervously to sit by her mother. I noticed she had put on that scandalous black dress from earlier in the day, but she had prudently zipped up with an old drab jacket. With it, she appeared quite modest, despite those sharp black heels on her feet. [** Author's Note: Rodnoi is often used in a fraternal manner, when two individuals are close as siblings. Viktoriya's usage here hints she considers Stanley more like a brother than her lover, or a very intimate lover who is practically family (i.e., husband)] "So," the old man rumbled in his accented English, "Viktoriya says she meet you in the Berkeley yes?" "Er, no," I wondered how much of the story my Slavic siren had told them. "I knew Vika back in high school." Mrs. Lychenko murmured something to her daughter and Viktoriya mumbled an answer while Mr. Lychenko furrowed his brow. "What I meant to say," I clarified myself, "Was that while I knew Vika was in my school, I actually first spoke with her when we were in City College." I left it vague. Shit. Let them do some guesswork. Her father, Mr. Lychenko, seemed a decent fellow. Viktoriya must've known I was surreptitiously reading them because I caught a little warning from her. 'Don't press too deeply. They knew my brother and I were a little special. I don't want them to be afraid of you.' I eased off my focus and nearly had multiple heart attacks. The Lychenkos knew about Viktoriya and her brother? Jeezus, I suddenly felt ill. I nearly fell but Viktoriya propped me up with her telekinesis. 'Sorry, kisa. I will explain later.' She shifted a little and smiled to hide her effort. 'Please stand up Stanislav, I cannot hold you forever.' I put strength in my legs and chatted as amicably as I could with Viktoriya's parents. Mr. Lychenko made it clear that I was free to see Viktoriya, but I was not to interfere with her studies. Mrs. Lychenko was quiet throughout, but I could sense she was gauging my character from my answers. Heck, for all I know, maybe these two were reading my thoughts. As if to test them, I briefly pictured Viktoriya brand spanking nude, doing the most vulgar leg split on my bed, her feral howling rattling the windows while I porked her sloppily from behind. 'STANISLAV!!' It was Viktoriya and her face was red with embarrassment. 'Pay attention to papa please!' Neither her father or mother caught the imagery or thought-speak that rattled in their midst. In fact, Mr. Lychenko was wrapping up his little spiel about how important some institute in New York was to his daughter and her future. I unfettered a little bit of my self-control and spoke simply, but eloquently about my feelings for Viktoriya. As I spoke, I opened up to my darling dancer and let her know that I meant every word I said. It was short, simple, and most of all, I spoke from the heart. "Viktoriya will start her studies on time," I promised, "Even if I have to take her out to New York myself." Father Lychenko nodded and that was about it. We were a little late thanks to Viktoriya's parents; we hurried to the car so we could pick up Shawn for dinner. "You meant all that," Viktoriya said gloomily in the passenger seat, "About taking me out to New York." "It's what you want to study," I replied with half an ear. I detested talking either aloud or using though-speech while I was driving. "It is not what I want," she sighed, "Not everything." "Sometimes, one can't have it all," I replied, "You said you'd explain about your parents, darling. How much do they know?" 'Just that I can sometimes hear their thoughts, and they can hear mine.' Viktoriya thought-spoke in a gloomy tone. 'But nothing like what you and I do now. They say that we are --' she used Russian that meant "kindred on a metaphysical plane". "Oh I see." I visibly relaxed. Maybe the Lychenkos were like Yu-Ching then. Latent listeners or something. Viktoriya gave me an odd stare as I turned down the street to Shawn's house. "You sound relieved," Viktoriya let her words hang as I pulled up to the house. "I am." I didn't know what else to say as I stopped the car. I was about to open the door when I stopped and turned towards her. "Viktoriya," I said quietly, "It's a dangerous world we live in. I just don't want anything bad to happen to you." "Like it did to Pyotr." It was not a question. "Your half-brother?" I asked. 'Yes.' Came her reply. As strong as she was, I felt she was still haunted by her half-brother's disappearance. I reached over and kissed her deeply. My feelings for her flowed as honey would into her mind. It said more than what spoken words ever could. 'Thank you, Stanislav.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she gently touched my cheek. 'You are so thoughtful and sweet.' 'So are you, milenky*.' [* Russian: Dear/dearest] I kissed her lightly on the nose and stepped out of the car. I jogged up to Shawn's house and rang the doorbell. My auburn-haired angel popped out through the door. "I'm late already, Mom!" Shawn hollered. "See you later!" "Don't be too late!" I heard a voice call past the door. Mrs. Horten had met me several times before when I took her daughter to school dances in years past. She knew me enough that I wouldn't try anything foolish, or so she thought. I held Shawn by the hand and escorted her to the car. We could both see Viktoriya powdering her nose through the window. "What took you so long?" Shawn sounded annoyed, "You're usually on time." "Traffic," I opened the car door. "Watch your head, pumpkin." "Watch yours," she flicked a finger at my crotch. "I know why you're late." It was useless to argue, so I made sure Shawn was safely settled in her seat before I shut the door behind her. Faraz told me the whole shin-dig was at a pretty fancy Mediterranean place on California Street. We found it after circling the block a few times looking for a place to park. Finally, a car pulled out and I managed to squeeze my humble sedan into the space. "Parking sucks in San Fran," Shawn wriggled out of her wind breaker. "Stanley, do you have a coat?" "Just my jacket, sorry." I had stepped out and opened the car doors for the girls. "Are you cold?" "Not me, you dummy," she pointed. "Vicky's dress is backless. She'll be the one who's cold!" "Oh." Indeed, Viktoriya had quite the dress. She got out of her funk and smiled lecherously. I groaned because I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking about snuggling against those cozy D-sized puffballs attached to Shawn's chest. "I am fine," she took Shawn's hand. "You are too kind." My angelic darling trembled a bit from Viktoriya's touch. The dark-haired siren let her hand slip away, but her gaze didn't waver until I interrupted them by offering my arms. "Ladies?" They looped their arms through mine and I lead us in. I came into the quiet bustling restaurant, a beautiful girl on each arm. Shawn had a full, curvaceous body wrapped in a dark green dress. Under the light, its fabric shimmered when she walked. Her gold hoop earrings and reddish-auburn hair contrasted well with her dress, and I noticed some of the women took time out to admire her good sense of fashion. The men in the meantime, really dug the cleavage she put out. Viktoriya though, clearly got most of the attention. She had done her raven black hair into a modern beehive. It may have sounded out-of-date on paper, but it clearly showed off her athletic body. The black backless dress easily showed off her elegant neck, back, and shoulders. With each step she took, the slit in her dress parted just briefly to show her dancer's legs. I almost heard eyes click as she detached from my side and strode towards the dinner party. All of the other guests were there already. After I congratulated Faraz and Ghandia, he took me aside. "I'm sorry you didn't come with Rachelle," he said. "I didn't know. Ghandia just let me know today." "That's okay Faraz," I shook my head. "I don't blame anyone. Not even Rachelle." "That is very noble of you my friend," Faraz said in a hushed voice, "But surely bringing two women tonight will make Rachelle even more jealous?" "I suppose that's the point. Here," I slipped him a red packet, "I ain't married yet, but might as well start. I didn't know I was bringing Vika along; she's pretty high maintenance." 'I heard that.' Viktoriya pinged me though she was out of earshot. 'Don't think I don't know what you men are saying about us women!' 'It's just guy talk.' I replied in thought-speak. 'Why don't you go check out Heidi?' Her mood changed immediately as she took up my suggestion. 'Why that's a great idea, Stanislav!' "So what?" Faraz grinned and sneaked a glance a Viktoriya. "If she is as tireless as you've been telling me, maybe I should pay you for the privilege." I feigned pocketing my gift, "If you say so." We laughed quietly. I did feel bad bringing two dates to an official engagement dinner. But if I had a choice, I would've brought all my girls. "Hey Stanley," Faraz elbowed me, "This is too much my friend." I had slipped him $300, which was a little on the heavy side for a Mediterranean meal. "Sam-baikmun," I said, "Sam-sam-mang-mang*. It's something to keep your engagement lively pal. Don't jinx it." [* Cantonese: 300 dollars, rhymes with 'Lively' and 'joie de vivre'.] Faraz nodded and pocketed my gift without further complaint. We headed back to our places at our tables. As I sat down, I looked over the guests for familiar faces: Viktoriya, Shawn, Heidi, her brother Patrick, her fiance Jon-Peter, Ghandia, Faraz's sister Ami, his parents, and ... "Rachelle." I sat across from her, nestled between Viktoriya and Shawn. "Hello Stanley." I heard Rachelle's chilly reception before I even sensed her. That was how far we drifted apart since graduation, what? Four years ago? My black beauty had definitely grown furthest apart from me despite our times together. She was wearing something similar in style to the one she wore when we hit the town as an item (just a different color): a burgundy sleeveless dress that bared her shoulders and showed off that luscious chocolate colored skin of hers. The dress simply was an extension of her dark skin though. Rachelle had on small gold earrings, but what arrested my attention most was a thin promise band on her hand. Was that an engagement ring? Rachelle must've caught me looking, because she clacked her fingernails over the tabletop. "It's been a long time." "Yes it has," I nodded. I noticed Ghandia had busied herself with a forced conversation with Shawn. I shifted my gaze to Heidi and found her and Jon-Peter chatting with Viktoriya. I dipped quickly into everyone's minds and got a broad picture of what they were trying not to talk about. The pasty-faced fellow sitting next to Rachelle was alternating between toying with his tie and sneaking glances at Shawn, me and Viktoriya. That must be Craig, I realized. "I should've written you more, sugar." I forced myself to smile at Rachelle and her pale date. "I wish you had." She smiled back but lowered her gaze. I read her thoughts easily: 'I didn't want it to end like this.' 'How do I tell him I'm engaged?' 'I didn't even have the guts to send him the invitation.' 'Well he deserved it anyway.' So she was engaged was she? That could explain the chilly reception I was getting. I was Faraz's friend, but once I had betrayed the queen of the hive, she had cast me out of her circle as ignominiously (and as quietly) as possible. I didn't fritter time on such inconveniences. I extended my hand towards "Craig" and greeted him. "You must be Craig," I introduced myself. "Rachelle told me about you last time she visited." "Oh. Hi," he extended his hand. Despite being engrossed in a conversation, Viktoriya nearly thought-screamed when she saw me stick my bare hand out. 'Kisa! What are you doing?!' Her face was serene, but I sensed her heart pounding with alarm. 'It's all right. I'm just going to shake his hand.' I thought back. 'I brought you along because you wanted to meet Rachelle, so talk to her already.' Viktoriya smiled and held up a finger to Heidi's last question so she could turn to Rachelle. "I am Viktoriya," she introduced herself. "Stanislav has told me much about you." "Has he now?" Rachelle studied her then her eyes flicked over to Shawn. As I shook Craig's hand, I could sense Rachelle's anger towards me and her dark thoughts: 'I'm not good enough for him now?' 'He treated me well but he still saw other women.' 'How can I forgive him?' 'He had the NERVE to bring that pudgy tramp along!' (Shawn, I realized) 'And who the hell is this under-dressed slut?!' (in Rachelle's defence, Viktoriya was only wearing the dress and a black G-string) 'He didn't even bring that other girl along.' (Janet, my lovely First) 'What a cad!!' (referring to me) 'But oh we had such good times together.' Poor girl, I thought as I shifted my focus on Craig. From our brief handshake, I picked up enough on him to form a stereotypical behavioral profile. Craig Simmons was a typical Southern Californian. Although he was white, he was a hip-hop star wannabe, a "whigger", or at least that was what he told himself. He was certainly the whitest "black" man I ever met. As I carefully delved deeper, I saw how he had met Rachelle. He shared classes with Ghandia because he was behind a year or two. When he showed up at Ghandia's dorm, he saw Rachelle and switched targets, especially after he saw how Faraz would've kicked his ass for trying something with Ghandia. However, Rachelle was vulnerable. He worked his way in as her friend. Then, as my correspondence with Rachelle began slackening in frequency and effort, he started poisoning her mind by dropping hints that maybe I was screwing around on her (which was true, Rachelle and I had an unofficial open relationship). After sharing a few drinks after her second set of finals, Craig slipped half-a-rufie into her third or fourth drink. He didn't want her completely out because he wanted her awake, but he wanted to be there in control. He date-raped her. Scuzzed his filthy ooze right into her. Craig intentionally did what I had done by accident. Unlike me though, he didn't apologize; he had his way with her a second time. Rachelle had every intention to tell me but changed her mind at the last moment. Why? I had told her about Janet. More specifically, it was my casual attitude towards Rachelle that frustrated her. She couldn't read me correctly and thought I wanted to remain just friends. So, after Heidi's and Jon-Peter's engagement, Rachelle returned to Los Angeles and found Craig waiting for her. He begged her for forgiveness, pleaded his case. In her moment of weakness, Rachelle succumbed. That was when she wore his ring: a symbol of their perverted relationship. Craig wasn't one of the gifted, but he was just as dangerous. Had I not been brought up under Tseng's tutelage the past few years, I wager I would've blasted Craig's mind right there, and then found some way to keep him alive until I had my fill of torturing him to death. To my credit, I didn't do anything rash. The next smile I mustered was one of the hardest things I did in my life; it was harder still to sit down, bottling up my hatred. Viktoriya must've felt something amiss, because she offered to pour me a drink, even when my glass was nearly full. "Thirsty, lyubimy*?" [* Russian: Beloved.] she asked aloud to draw my attention then added in thought-speech: 'What's wrong, kisa? I was sure everyone could've heard you just now.' "I need a drink," I drained my glass and suppressed the urge to gag. The ouzo was awful. "Stanley?" Shawn prodded me under the table, "You okay? I thought you didn't want to drink because you don't want to, y'know: glug-glug, vroom-vroom, thump-thump?" "I'm fine," I fussed with my napkin. Shawn's paraphrasing of an episode of the Simpsons reminded me how much Rachelle and I had shared. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to take Craig out behind the restaurant and beat him to death. I imagined stringing him up, cutting off his cock so he could be gagged with it. I then fantasized about spending the rest of the night shoving a whole set of kitchen knives into his body until he'd kiss my ass to kill him. Too bad I never managed to do that. I didn't remember much of the rest of the evening. I may have chosen not to, but it was more than likely Viktoriya who did her best to blot out the memory. I remembered cheers and toasts, the bland food, and smiling a lot, but I ate mostly in silence. Faraz, Ghandia, Heidi, and Jon-Peter, the old gang, all were aware of what was going on and chose to tip-toe around it. Rachelle and I didn't talk much about that night afterwards, and it remained a sore spot in our relationship for quite some time. I felt pretty rotten about throwing my responsibilities out the window and sinking into some self-imposed miasma. I was lucky the girls didn't just ditch me. Viktoriya must've wowed onlookers by helping me to the car. Little did they know she was bearing most of the weight with her mind, not her body. Shawn was the only one who had brought along her driver's license. As she drove back to my place, I could hear the girls physically and mentally as they chattered. 'Shameful.' 'He's not a drinker.' 'What're we going to do with him?' The girls helped me into my room and I crashed on the sofa. I heard a series of electronic beeps and dial-tones. Murmurs of voices came through then came the inevitable click of the handset. I could only guess the girls were taking turns calling their parents that old reliable Stanley Chen was too drunk to take them home. Some gentleman I turned out to be. My sense of responsibility was thrown out that night; the alcohol had really freed my mind from any restraints. I felt angry, not at Rachelle but at myself. Craig was simply a convenient focus for my anger, but I dreamed about something different. I consciously desired happiness and I suppose my unconsciousness provided it. I dreamed about Janet and Shawn. They were sitting at a pavilion having tea. They had donned the traditional cheong-po and were engaged in deep conversation. I marveled how a foreign girl in such garb was oddly erotic. One of the girls uncrossed and crossed her legs, briefly flashing pussy, and I suddenly realized that they were not wearing undergarments! Whoa, I thought. Awesome! Presently, Shawn brought a flute or fife to her lips. Melanie was sitting beside a zither, her delicate hands strumming a soothing tune. After the initial beats, Rachelle and Viktoriya stepped in, their graceful movements moving in tune with the soothing music. I noticed they were dressed in robes with a shorter cut (so they can dance without tripping) and silk pants. I sat back, relaxed and at ease in this eerie dreamscape. I turned and saw Janet put her hands atop mine. Her smile was the one I remembered best as a young boy. Then she spoke in a most impassioned voice: Dai-yeh yousai wodei chuen-ga. Li-yiga-hoysum-le*?" [* Cantonese: Are you happy now sire (or 'lordship' but used in a familial sense) now that you have taken us into your household?] There was a strange buzzing sound coming from the lakeside. I turned to see if I could localize it, and found I was in my room. My bed covers were on me and the phone buzzing. I felt lazy, so I reached out with my telekinesis to flick the ringer switch off. That was better. Next, I tried to move and found I was crushed into immobility. I moved my arm and bumped someone's head. "Ow," I heard a complaint. My eyes fluttered as I struggled to wake up. What the hell? I knew I was in the inner room: my bed had me facing away from the sun when it rose. I slowly awoke to find that there was much mischief when I took drunk last night. Shawn rubbed her head at the point of impact then turned away, baring her entire bare backside towards me. She was nude, I realized. I looked down and saw I was undressed as well. 'Good morning, kisa.' 'Vika?' I thought-spoke. 'What happened?' 'We took you home then we had a little party.' She stretched and turned slightly so she could drape her arm over me. 'Feeling better?' 'A little. How bad was it?' I asked, fearing the answer. 'Not all that bad.' Viktoriya squeezed my leg. 'I had to rummage a little more than normal to get you excited.' 'How much rummaging?' I felt the weight of both girls, but I couldn't feel my arms at all. 'You want to marry five of us?' Her thought-speech was plain and to the point. Apparently the dream I had was something she had done. Viktoriya wasn't as adept at manipulating thoughts and illusions. That time at the cafe, she was able to pass off napkins as money because I was there to "boost" her gift's potency. I suppose she was able to weave me a dreamscape so I'd get a hard-on or something. But how deep did she go, I wondered. I feared she'd find out about Tseng, but I sensed none of that from Viktoriya. Instead, I framed an answer to her question. 'Yes. I'd like that very much.' I thought-spoke. 'You are greedy.' She chided me. 'You know the Quran only allows a man to have four wives?' 'Faraz told me the Prophet Mohammed had ten.' I scoffed mentally. 'I'm just half way to beating his record.' 'You are so bad, Stanislav!' Viktoriya's audible giggle roused Shawn. "Uffuck," my Anglo angel groaned. "What a night. Stanley? Are you okay?" "Yeah," I answered. "Good, because for a moment I thought that Vicky --" she turned around and sat up eyes wide. "OH MY GOD!!" Her expression made me smile. Viktoriya had the temerity to laugh. Shawn looked at her then glared at me. "Stanley!!" she hissed loudly. That was a good sign; Shawn was awake enough to realize my parents would've heard any screaming. "What?" I finally felt blood pumping through my arms again. I painfully propped myself up with a little telekinetic assistance from myself and Viktoriya. 'Spasee-ba*.' I thought to her. [* Russian: Thank you (generic)] 'You're welcome Stanislav.' "What'd we do last night?!" Shawn gathered a fistful of bedsheet to cover herself, not from me, but from Viktoriya's prowling eyes. "I don't know," I wore an innocent grin. "I was hoping you'd girls would fill me in." "Oh, you were lovely, lastochka," Viktoriya laughed and brushed some hair from the startled girl's eyes. "Simply amazing." "I was?" Shawn squeaked. "I'm surprised you don't remember," Viktoriya broadcast a mental laugh, but continued speaking normally. "I don't," my plump petunia's eyes grew wide, "Honest! I don't!" "You rode him to exhaustion," the brunette practically licked her lips. "You only stopped when he swore you'd kill him if you kept going." "Oh, God!" Shawn covered her face in shame. Her cheeks, breasts, and shoulders turned a rosy pink. She lay back down beside me her hands still clutching the bed sheet. Viktoriya paid her no heed as she went on, her voice filled with mischief. "You drained him so much I had to wait my turn. I played with you until Stanislav got hard again. He was no good to us after." "Gee thanks," I muttered. "Don't be ashamed." She on a wicked little grin. "It was the alcohol. You should not drink, kisa. It makes you soft." "Wait, Vicky." Shawn sat up surprised, "What do you mean, 'you played with me'?" Viktoriya smiled lecherously and lay her head on my chest. Her eyes though, never left my cuddly cutie. Damn, I thought. Vika just found herself a new fuck toy. Shawn shied away like a nervous kitten. "I should have just played with you all night," my Slavic sexpot wore a wanton grin, "But I still need cock." Shawn gasped as Viktoriya threw the sheets back to reveal my dick was hard as a rock. My Baltic bimbo gripped me with one hand and began squeezing my fleshy shaft. "Poor Stanislav," my dark haired beauty whispered fiercely, "He didn't feel well; let's make him feel better." She bit one of my nipples lightly and her dark eyes rested on Shawn. My plump dumpling turned away in shock and disgust, but I caught her peeking. I sensed she was getting aroused. I pinched Shawn's bottom and felt her fidget. Soon, my Anglo angel was a-ga-ga as the pleasure flowed from the combined mind-spring between me and Viktoriya. Shawn could have gotten back under control by physically segregating herself from me, but since she pressed herself so close (and so unclothed) to me, she earnestly didn't have a chance. With one girl pressed against me and another teasing my well rested body, I couldn't hold myself back. I shuddered with pleasure. "I'm--I'm--c--c--cumming!" "Mnph?" Viktoriya uttered an audible noise but thought-spoke clearly. 'I know. Do it, kisa. I want a cum bath.' The brunette gave me a few more tugs with her hand and I spewed my load all over. Viktoriya caught most of the splatter in her hair but some of it touched me and Shawn. The younger girl let out a squeal as she felt the warm splash of cum against her cheeks. "Ew Stanley!" Shawn wiped her face on mine, "Yuck!" Viktoriya toyed with the sticky stuff with her fingers and looked towards the girl. "You should taste it dear. It will remind you of him when you're apart." "You can't be serious!" Shawn exclaimed, "That's gross!!" The Baltic beauty wiped a little bit of cum onto her index finger and offered it. Shawn shied away and curled against me. "Okay, that's enough," I said gently and quickly added a mental message: 'Stop it Vika. She doesn't want to.' "Very well." Viktoriya licked her fingers lewdly but her thought-speech was less polite: 'Then she doesn't love you as much as I!' We both watched as the Ukrainian beauty bounced out of bed. Despite Viktoriya's constant exercise and athleticism, her tits and ass still jiggled nicely as she headed for the bathroom. I heard the hiss of the shower being turned on and knew I would be alone with Shawn for a little while. "So," she asked slowly, "Like, what happens now?" "I don't know," I said, "But are you okay?" "I guess so," Shawn Ellen stretched lazily beside me. I heard her joints pop and I held her close under the sheets. I enjoyed the feeling of having her massive mammaries resting heavily on my chest. They felt like soft scented pillows. Finally, she asked the one question burning in her mind. "Do you love me, Stanley?" "Of course I do," I replied without hesitation. "What kind of question is that?" "Because," she murmured, "I just had a three-way with a girl I barely know. I think she and I also dyked out too." "And your point being?" I patted her ample ass. "Normal people don't do this. I mean, do they?" "Define normal," I challenged. Shit, I thought. I bet I wasn't. "I don't know Stanley," Shawn murmured, "What would my mom and dad think? Heck, what would YOUR mom and dad think?" "That I'm awesome," I joked, "And you'd be Mrs. Awesome." "You mean Mrs. Awesome number two," she sniffed, "Or number three." "Hey, you said it," I tapped the side of her boobs for emphasis, "Not me." "What about Vicky?" she asked pensively. "She can decide for herself. So can you." So could Rachelle, I thought belatedly. Shawn kept silent but I sensed her envy starting to form. I had to stop-punch it before it could grow out of control. "Shawn?" I asked, "Do you like me? I mean at all?" "Now what kind of question is that?" Shawn asked and gazed at me, "Of course I like you. I love you." "Okay," I measured my words carefully, "Then let's leave it at that. It's too nice of a morning to argue." I must've broadcast some of my displeasure, because Shawn suddenly got it into her mind that I was unhappy about Rachelle. She adjusted herself so she could toy with my hair. She'd scratch my scalp in a way that made me purr (and Melanie insanely jealous). I muffled my frustrations about Rachelle and left it at that. Happily, Shawn nodded off soon after. I heard her snoozing lightly when Viktoriya stepped back in. 'Still in bed, kisa? It's morning.' I got up slowly, careful not to rouse Shawn. 'Shall I take you back first? Don't you have a flight tonight?' Viktoriya shook her head. 'Tomorrow night. I finished packing before leaving for dinner last night. I can stay a little longer.' She cast her gaze at Shawn's sleeping form and I instantly knew what she had in mind. 'Be gentle now.' I warned. "Why, kisa!" Viktoriya smiled wolfishly and spoke aloud. "Of course I'll be gentle." Shawn jerked awake when Viktoriya's hand brushed against her breasts. Her baby blue eyes flew open wide as my Slavic sappho began kissing and caressing her plump body and massive boobs. Shawn shot me an accusing stare, as in "how could you let this happen!", but when she saw me sheepishly grinning (and drooling) like an idiot, Shawn dimpled her cheeks and slowly spread her legs. Oh fuck yeah. Shawn lay back and surrendered to the situation. I watched as Viktoriya playfully fingered the other girl's hole. Her thin dancer's body contrasted against Shawn's wider hips and melon-sized titties. I stood at stiff attention and enjoyed the show. Shawn's eyes went wide as the brunette encompassed her whole snatch with her mouth. I smiled a fool's smile as Viktoriya succumbed to her inner passion. 'Cum ... in ... me ... kisa.' Viktoriya's thought-speech was jittery as she vested attention on Shawn's big soft body. My dick was swollen and I had no intention of beating off. I pulled Viktoriya's cute butt towards me, knelt between her legs, and let her have it. She let out a short yelp but continued to suck on Shawn's puss. Shawn in the meantime, watched me, biting gently on one of her fingers and pinching her big pink nipples. I sensed my plump dumpling was getting a voyeuristic turn-on, watching me fuck a woman who was eating her out. I knew Shawn hated herself for liking it, but she was too far along to refuse the rest of the ride. Besides, it was too good to get off now. Her mouth moved but she didn't say anything legible. The wet sucking noises from Shawn's pussy were only matched by the dull thumping I made when I slammed Viktoriya's slick sweet slice. I soon forgot about Rachelle, and the foolish promises I had made to her. I hated myself, but what could I do? Rachelle had picked someone else of her own choice and volition. I loved her enough to respect her decision. That morning was one of the weirdest ones I had; a mix of good and bad. Still, I had my fun and I didn't complain. In fact, I was too exhausted to do much of anything afterwards. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- AN IDEA AND CHIT-CHAT OVER COFFEE =============================================================================== I shan't bore you more with details in my graduate studies except to say that it was very exceptional for a young man at my age to have such a determined project in mind. While I had greatly scaled back my dealings with Rachelle and Aurora (my cousin and I kept our friendship to email and file sharing), I still had good enough relationships with Janet, Melanie, Shawn, and Viktoriya. Of the four, Viktoriya's future was the most indeterminate. While we had shared and done many things, and even studied our marvelous gifts, she had moved to Brooklyn, New York to further pursue her study of dance. I wouldn't see much of her unless I dedicated time to fly out there and see her. Oh, how I envied that teleporting bastard then! Janet kept knocking heads together at the San Francisco County Court (Civil Division) and her part-time internship paid off with a junior position at a private firm in the city. She took her graduate work to Berkeley's law school to save on travel time and was quite happy to be back. Melanie was still in high school, and she and I still went shopping every weekend. Her skills in cooking improved and she tried her hand at other recipes from other cultures. Yu-Ching became quite adept and turned out some fine dishes from my tiny kitchenette. After my mother caught her in my room cooking up a noisome little rack of lamb, Melanie expressed interest in a culinary career so she could, "take care of me." Shawn kept plugging away at systems engineering then found her interest in it flagging. Eventually, she settled into landscape architecture. Her background in drainage systems let her approach the discipline in a more rational way and she won a scholarship for it. "Think of it Stanley!" my pudgy pumpkin beamed. "A serviceable garden you don't want to turn into burning mulch!" "Great," I said. "You just want to work in my studio don't cha?" "Just so I can be Mrs. Awesome!" Shawn giggled and kissed me. So I had at least two girls who I was sure was going to stick around, and a third who may need a place for us to be alone if she headed off to college. It got me thinking that I needed a bigger place; heck, I wanted one anyway since I didn't want to live under my parents' roof any more. I studied the living arrangements of Islamic families with multiple wives and found most in the United States had simply married out of cultural convenience, but kept separate homes. The finances would certainly be interesting. Next, I studied schism Mormon compounds and felt a bad taste in my mouth. The negative tone of the Branch Davidians certainly made the term "compound" something I wanted to avoid. I wanted no harem: I treated my darlings respectably, and never forced them to do anything they didn't want. While it was true, there was SOME mind control, it was mostly by accident at first. I worked hard to keep my girls happy and being with me, and I had pleaded my case (first to Janet; then subsequently to each in turn) and my words were certainly more effective than a 'normal' man, but had one of them not accepted my proposal, I wasn't going to impose my will on them. What was the saying? Let them go. If they love you, they'll come back. For starters, I needed a place and the plans for building one. To do that, I needed to study the lifestyle and living arrangements. I rarely had more than two my lovelies at my place at once for two reasons: one reason was it was small and three people would crowd the place. The other was that some of them were still wary of one another or didn't know the other apart from what second-hand clues they got from me or stuff they left behind in my room. Therefore, I went back to research my maternal grandfather's situation. He had two wives. And his father had nine (!) wives. It turned out to be common practice for well-to-do men in southern China before the Communists took control (and instituted the one child, one family policy). I searched books and more books during my time assisting the CAD class instructor. I finally found it one day in two books: one entitled, "Kam Ping Mui", which was more commonly known as "The Gold Lotus" in English; the other was "Tale of Genji" (same title translated from Japanese). In both, rich men has multiple wives, each wife having her own manor or quarters. Interesting. There were no designs or plans in either book (only vague descriptions) so I had very little to base my design theory on; however, I knew what the modern equivalent was: a multi-storied "apartment" similar to the ones in Hong Kong. The difference would be that each person would have their own floor, or a few rooms on the same floor. Very interesting. I wrote a dissertation, using the future overcrowding in a dense city like San Francisco as impetus to design a "multi-unit building for immediate and extended family". The proposal was sensible, but I wanted to demonstrate I could do it, not merely talk (or write) about it. I wanted it to be reality so my darlings and I would finally be able to party in private. I found a building (actually two) that suited my proposal, but not only were the owners difficult to deal with but I also needed money. Lots of money. It was then I made my deal with Tseng. The problem of course, was contacting him. All I had was that he said he'd be "around". So, I cast about for a solution. I had said before that I wasn't able to find him. While I could sense him being alive, it was no use if I could not contact him. It's hard to explain but think of it like this: once I was made keenly aware of someone (and it was someone I wanted to keep in touch with), their mental presence "pinged" in my mental awareness, kind of like a hot-cold radar. As I got nearer to that target, the mental "ping" would be more significant, and I would be able to sense their exact location. That applied to 'normals'. There were inevitable exceptions when it came to our kind. With Melanie, her conscious thoughts (but not inner emotions) were heavily shrouded from me. Since she lived so close to me though, I was able to sense her fairly well and gauge what kind of mischief she would be planning. I had an open rapport with Viktoriya. She and I willingly communicated through mind-sight, actively (and specifically) seeking one another out, so distance wouldn't matter. I suppose one of us could be on the ISS Freedom and the other deep in the earth's core and we'd still be able to mind-chat. Tseng was the last of those exceptions. He was guarded around me, and once he distanced himself, I couldn't really get a bearing on where he was or if he was even in the vicinity until he spoke, or used thought-speech. However, I had an instinctive gut feeling he was in the city. I didn't want to get myself noticed by 'normals' but I had to push the boundaries of the established rules and did some rather brazen things to grab his attention. I had a suspicion he always kept a tab on me and the people I dealt with on a day to day basis. I needed to get him to come to me without pulling down the whole might of the invisible empire on me. I didn't know how to begin, so I began using telekinesis secretly on different objects. Dresses would catch and tear, bras would unsnap, buckles would get undone, hats would fly away, that sort of thing. I practiced on triggering ignition switches of cars, depressing gear shifters, and deflating tires (but no property damage). For a time, I even tried manipulating liquids to the level that Viktoriya could by playing around with gasoline. After a few near disasters, I felt a sharp pain in my mind. 'What in the name of the foreigners' Christ are you doing?' Tseng's thought-speak nearly bowled me over as I was busy telekinetically flicking a visiting German girl's clitoris while she and I were on the same bus going home. I had to admit: even I thought I was getting carried away. 'I needed to find you.' I thought back, abandoning my mischief. 'I didn't know how to call to you.' 'Meet me at the Java Island.' Tseng's thoughts were cold and dry, like dead leaves in autumn. I headed for the coffee place near my house. It was not crowded, but it was not wholly deserted either. I found Tseng sitting patiently, a little out of place, at a young persons' gathering spot. "Hello," Tseng greeted me jovially aloud. Then his harsher side prevailed on a channel only we could use: 'Have you lost your mind?' "Hi," I kept up the charade and sat down without ordering. 'I need your help.' "Sit." Tseng eyed me coldly. 'No, you need to stop before you do something you regret.' "Thanks." I shrugged off his threats and took a seat. 'Sorry. I need help. I need some money for school. You've been around. How can I make some money using what I have? That David guy didn't trust you but I'm open to it.' Tseng's eyes narrowed. He was reading me. I let him get the part of my memory I wanted to show. A quick flash of David's place and along with Millie's face through mind-sight convinced him. "May I take your order?" We both looked up and saw a pretty waitress. Heavy on the bust, light on the cheer. Then again, working at a nearly dead Bohemian coffee place certainly was a downer. I knew I'd be looking to get out too. "Decaf mocha for me please," I said. The waitress scribbled on her pad and looked at Tseng. "Coffee please miss. Black." Predictable, I thought. The brew would match his coroner's attire. "The same can be said about Reese," he said. "Predictability." Tseng switched to audible speech to dispel any mystery of our (what appeared to be) silent meeting. I followed his eyes and found he was staring at the waitress' ass as she headed back to the counter. The guy must be in his forties or fifties. Fucking pervert. "Is that so?" I asked and focused back on the topic at hand. "He came to see you, didn't he?" Tseng turned to face me. "Yes," I grabbed a napkin for myself, and fiddled with it on my side of the table. "He did the same thing with me," Tseng confessed. "What'd he tell you?" I knew I couldn't lie all that much to him, but I experimented with withholding information. I told Tseng what David told me: about his wife, his ability, how they had tangled with the NSA, and his mother being killed by a Hezbollah extremist in Greece. "He didn't tell you about Davies did he?" Tseng asked when I finished. Either he got that out of me, or he was well-informed. "No," I admitted, "But I read his mind." "Good Stanley." I thought I heard his voice betray his arrogance; he sounded pleased. "His wife works there," I remarked casually, "In Oklahoma." "Not the capital. She works in Stillwater." Tseng smiled politely. The waitress had come back. She set down our orders then left. As soon as she did, so did his smile. "Have you met Millie?" I asked. "No," Tseng sipped his black brew then added, "But doubtless she's heard a thing or two about me." No shit, I thought. You crippled her husband. If Tseng heard my thoughts, he didn't say. Instead he continued in thought-speak: 'Davies, the man you scanned for Cox that day, wasn't one of the bombers, but he helped McVeigh'sand Nichols' cell. I slipped Reese the tip. Anonymously of course.' Of course, I thought. But why? "Why?" Tseng read me easily, "Because pre-crime isn't a crime, not in normal courts. Reese took care of it. He had motive." And opportunity. And means to complement both, I thought darkly. Tseng said nothing. "You could've stopped them," I accused, "Saved those people, but you didn't." "How many places could you be at once?" Tseng smiled thinly. "We cannot be anywhere in an instant. Reese can, but that didn't concern him." "At the time," I pressed, "But you did know. That makes you complicit." "Bullshit," Tseng scoffed. "You read countless 'normals' on your commute to Berkeley and back. How many of them regard the current government as totalitarian? Are you complicit in not reporting them dutifully as a citizen?" I sat in deep thought. Janet worked close to a Federal building (one of more than a dozen, some owned, some rented, in the city). If she were in danger ... I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it. I wouldn't know where to begin. "If your 'friends' were in danger," Tseng said coldly, "You would act to help them. But sometimes, just sometimes, you can't be everywhere at once. It cannot be helped. It's a fact. Accept it." "Maybe," I said slowly, "Or I try and work to mitigate it. I wouldn't just stand around and do nothing." "Believe me or not," Tseng shrugged, "I was out of the country at the time." I couldn't pierce his great barrier to decide if I could or not, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "How about his foot?" I asked, "He says you attacked him." "Self-defence," Tseng replied, "You would do the same if you encountered the little rat-bastard like that. No sense of privacy or respect for it. I'd blame his father." "I got the feeling they didn't get along." "I'm surprised you didn't read it right away." Tseng brought the cup up to his lips but did not take in drink. "He's an abusive drunk. Classic domestic abuse case." "So, David jumped you didn't he?" I sipped a bit of my mocha. "He drew first blood," Tseng turned his head to the side. I could see a thin scar on the back of his head. I hadn't noticed it before. "What'd he hit you with?" David seemed nice enough. But maybe that was just a show he put on for his wife. I certainly didn't go deep enough to see what he really could do. He did attack Davies after all. "Does it matter?" Tseng sat back and looked at his drink. "After he hit me, I hit back. We're not on speaking terms unless an assignment calls for it. Let's leave it at that." "So," I began to suspect the sudden interest in me, "You need a replacement. Or a middle man." Tseng smiled wanly. "Actually, the agency doesn't care. It wants all of us. But you may be partly right. I'm getting old and Reese is a loose cannon." "So why me?" I asked. "You, Stanley," Tseng looked at me with tired eyes, "Are very special." Then he followed up with: 'I think you are quite suited for what the invisible empire needs.' "Parents think their kids are special," I said, "But as far as I'm concerned, you and I aren't much different." "You are," Tseng said. I wasn't inclined to believe it, but I nodded anyway. "Whether or not you believe me," he said, "Trust me, you are." I blinked. Damn. I lost control again. Tseng had read my intentions, or wormed them out of me, or something. I needed to practice. 'Yes.' Tseng thought-spoke. 'You need practice. And speaking along the lines of that, let me warn you about David Reese. Be very careful what you do and say around him.' My eyes lit up and I listened attentively. "First, how'd you persuade him not to go through your place?" Tseng asked. "I warned him," I lied. Remembering how quietly the jumper could displace himself, I fell to thought-speech. 'I told him I could call up his psychic emanations. Track his living mind echo. Of course I could just read his mind.' "You are learning," Tseng's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile then thought to me. 'He cannot eavesdrop on what he cannot hear. Thought-speak when you do not want him knowing what you know.' 'Gotcha.' I sipped more mocha. 'I am surprised you cannot feel "psychic echoes". What you said about emanations is partly true. You can track him now you are aware of him.' "I think I felt that when he did his thing," I said. "I knew when he was around, and if he was still alive." 'That's a start.' Tseng nodded and continued his thoughts. 'Concentrate on his presence when you return home. You can ransack his memories once he's asleep. He won't know if it's a dream or if you're messing with him. You said he lived in a desert cave?' "I think he said New Mexico," I said. "I think he was lying." "Of course he was," Tseng's eyes crinkled slightly then continued in thought-speak: 'It's actually Culbertson county in Texas. Two hours ahead. About the right window for REM sleep.' 'So you did know where he was.' I winced then said aloud, "You could've warned me." 'You went willingly, so why bother? Besides he would have come to you anyway. He wants allies. He wants out of the agency.' Tseng's mouth formed a cruel smile. 'Even if he befriends you and sets you against me, Cox and his bosses won't let that happen. They'll neutralize him first.' 'Hence the primacy of keeping the invisible empire unseen.' I slumped into my seat. 'You didn't give me much of a choice did you?' 'Not this time.' Tseng touched the back of my hand with his gloved fingers. 'I wouldn't be so glum Stanley. You aren't cut out to go rogue. You have roots in this country. You even love its women.' I glanced at him and he drew back with a smile. I knew he was right. 'Think of it this way.' Tseng thoughts grew amused. 'You're an ambassador of sorts, as am I. We keep two powerful groups from each other's throats through delicate negotiation, and at the same time, live a good life. Isn't that all any man can ask for?' He wiped the lip of his cup with a napkin and studied me carefully. "Now about your money problem." I hid my embarrassment by emptying my mocha. Would I want seconds if asked? Not unless Tseng was paying, I thought. "We'll have that settled soon enough." Tseng completed his reply in thought-speech: 'Cox will call you in a few days. A new job. Pretend you didn't hear it from me, but he's setting you up for training and indoctrination. You'll even get to play toy soldier in the training classes.' 'What should I do to prepare?' I thought back. 'Wear gloves like those psi-cop goons on Babylon-5.' Tseng easily found my choice of programming when I was back in City College. 'Keep up appearances. They think we need to touch them for our powers to work.' We both knew that notion was false. For me, I favored line of sight, and once I was aware of someone, they couldn't escape notice (like David). Physical contact though, accelerated and magnified the whole experience to lethal degrees if I didn't keep myself under control. For Tseng, I was beginning to think he could get to someone anywhere in the world if he wanted to. We agreed to the task at hand and made our preparations. When I left, I saw Tseng talking to the waitress. As I left the coffee shop, I saw him gently graze her hand out of the corner of my eye. =============================================================================== DOING THE ODD JOB =============================================================================== This was crazy. The heat was sweltering as in Hong Kong. Had to be, since I was in Baja California in summer. The place was miserable and miles into the desert wasteland between Tecate and Mexicali. If only I could displace myself I thought. Zip back to my comfortable pad in San Francisco and zip back once I cooled off. Too bad I wasn't able to. Tseng and I flew to our destinations to avoid suspicion; we first chartered either private jets or choppers to a local airstrip then used telekinesis to fly to our final rendezvous in silence. The chilly air would mandate something like a windbreaker; once down on the ground though, the heat from the earth would radiate and boil you alive. 'I can confirm there are five.' Tseng thought-speech jerked me from my misery. I didn't need him to say more; I knew where he was (when Tseng allowed it), just as he knew where I was (unlike Tseng, I didn't have a choice). The precision, timing, and observations two experienced psychokineticists could provided far outstripped the collective info-net of a modern army in the last two years of the 20th Century. The only thing that limited us would be what we could experience with our own eyes; our minds could detect living things we were aware of before at any distance but unliving objects and masses were limited to what we could immediately see. In our case, night scopes and telescopes were handier than a GPS device. 'Did not copy Talisman.' I thought back. 'Snake Charmer sees five.' It wasn't a G.I. Joe codename I made or even cared for. Cox handed them out at my second meeting. It was my first "official" assignment with an unofficial agency to interrogate some schmuck David had grabbed. The "kidnappee" was a cartel underboss of some sort. Like Davies, I had bet the next time I saw him, he'd be in worse shape. As it'd turned out, I would be wrong. I never saw him ever again. The agency, Tseng or David literally made him vanish off the face of the earth. I didn't follow up on who was complicit not because I didn't know, I just didn't care. Tseng didn't care for code names, or for playing secret agent. However, I played to his paranoia that we should keep using our code names: if Cox or agency confronted us about it, we'd know there'd be a leak or someone tracking us. Besides, I had argued, if there were others like us, they could identify us if we didn't use code names. 'Impossible,' was what Tseng said at first. But he followed my recommendation anyway. 'Talisman confirms five hostiles.' Tseng's disdain was evident. He chafed whenever methods better than his were used, especially if someone else had suggested them. Such was the attitude of the gifted and talented. I had been at this kind of occasional "odd job" for the past couple of months with Tseng. After my assignment interrogating the cartel mid-boss, I let slip to Tseng about a smuggling ring. It was operating as an extension to a network of Mexican cartels near Tecate. We headed to Mexico to do a little reconnaissance and picking up an odd job here and there. The first few missions went better than expected. Through Tseng's own interrogation of other "guests" of the agency, he knew one of the Tecate cartels were interested in moving "merchandise" across the border. Tseng took me along as both training and to inure me to the violence that would come. Thankfully, the merchandise was limited to automatic weapons and ammunition. I knew I could disable all the pieces in each shipment in an eyeblink. All I needed to do was snap their firing pins or activate their safeties. I didn't though. Each case we handled the same: levitate the cargo over the border, high above the border's airspace (about a mile up). It's easy if you could move things with your mind from the comfort of your hotel's rooftop. For those jobs, Tseng and I collected a measly $2500. To top it off, half of it was counterfeit money. We thanked the smugglers' boss after the last shipment, for we had other plans. Because the smugglers had invited us into their midst, Tseng and I were made aware of their presences even after we left the area. From that, we knew the same Tecate cartels were moving moderate shipments of cocaine past the border. We easily intercepted one shipment of drugs and money. The guards and escorts we simply eliminated. It was easy to incite them and their American counterparts to kill one another. I was hesitant at first but after a few grabs, my squeamishness for this business quickly evaporated. I guess I could stand it since I wasn't directly involved with the eradication process, I merely provoked it. It was fairly simply to trick a 'normal' into seeing something that wasn't really quite there, especially if he was expecting it. Hence, conjuring the illusion of a rattlesnake about to strike was pretty easy. Once the carnage started, it left few survivors. I only had to step in and personally eradicate a couple survivors once or twice. I didn't feel great about it but I lost more sleep from teaching C.A.D. courses at Berkeley and researching my dissertation than I did from killing Mexican banditos and American thugs either through direct or indirect means. Besides, if I didn't get them all, they'd find me and kill me. Tseng was more direct in his methods though. In one case, he used telekinesis to fully control the body of the most heavily armed thug and proceeded to shoot everyone in sight. Wounds (and ultimately death) didn't phase the horror. When the terrified gang-banger's upper body and head were vaporized in a shotgun blast, Tseng drove the gun onward. The dead man's fingers still operated the breech and trigger until the last bandito was killed, a Catholic prayer on his lips. After the carnage, we would help ourselves to the loot. We would leave some weapons behind (as evidence for the slaughter) but I would take the rest. I stored all the weapons I took in a Public Storage building on Masonic Street, just across from a shopping center converted from an old cemetery. While I didn't have the need for weapons, I approached it as a logical exercise: by learning the different shapes and mechanisms, I was able to disarm them safely and silently. In any case, if the need arose that I needed to neutralize someone with mundane means, I had more than enough firepower to commit a half-dozen North Hollywood shoot outs. I focused chiefly on keeping magazines, ammunition, and other non-serialized parts. I wouldn't keep anything with a serial number until much later (when I learned how to erase metal etchings). Tseng didn't bother with weapons; he was a weapon. Not even bullets fazed him. Once, a gang-banger got lucky and dropped on Tseng, blazing away with two micro UZIs, just like an action film. I thought my calculating mentor was dead meat. Instead, I saw bullets splash against an invisible barrier, ricocheting at such wild angles that I had to throw myself to the ground to avoid being hit. When I looked up again, Tseng had shoved the banger's forearm through his mouth, and the dead man's upper torso was a horrid, contorted mess. One thing we both agreed on was the drugs. We never touched the drugs: that commodity was too hot and neither of us cared to embroil ourselves into a substance that could be lethal not only to our bodies, but our all important minds. We usually left the drugs alone, but we occasionally took the drug packets in order to fool the authorities into thinking it was a rival gang's raid. Tseng and I probably destroyed more than a quarter billion dollars of processed drugs in just a few operations but that crap still poured in by the ton. That's when I understood the Drug War was bullshit. The money though, was another story. After an even split, we were pretty rich, although not fabulously so. For a graduate student, I accumulated a small nest-egg of a $296,000 dollars in a mixture of bills, real and fake. I knew to spend wisely and very little of it. With my money problems being relatively solved, Tseng and I moved onto our next series of "odd jobs", and the one we were currently trying to complete to "legitimize" our cash balances (well, at least that's what I was shooting for). Every year, college students would head down to Tijuana for spring break to see the donkey show (true, depending on the establishment), hook up and fuck (depends on who you find), or simply get smashed because there's no 21 or older drinking age in Mexico (very true, and if there was, it was on the border, so fuck you!). Apparently, one of them, a rich girl named Katherine Heeber was kidnapped off the street. Her parents sought out private investigators after the State Department failed to make much head way. Tseng and I showed up to offer our unique services. What clinched the deal was that we took no retainer, we operated on good faith. Mrs. Heeber took it as a sign from God. Mr. Heeber was suspicious, but it would cost him nothing for us to try. I knew better. Tseng fully intended to collect once their daughter was found and delivered, alive or dead. We traced the girl's trail from the hotel she was staying. It was difficult, since she didn't have much personal affection for her temporary lodgings. Her trail got stronger as we neared the spot where she was grabbed. A quick scan of minds in the area and Tseng found an old woman who spoke ancient Spanish. Tseng translated. She related how cartels from Tecate often robbed or raped the tourists who came into Tijuana but stopped when it hurt the drug trade (no tourists spending money). The Katherine gringa, the crone claimed, was taken by a bastard son of a cartel tough who was able to speak to trees, and flowers, and animals, and God. I arched a brow at Tseng after he translated: 'Could it be? Another of the empire?' Tseng urged caution and promptly fell into use of our silly NSA code names, just in case we could be mentally eavesdropped. We found the Heeber girl in the trackless desert in Baja California Norte, somewhere between Tecate and Mexicali. I couldn't tell you if I saw it on a map, but I can recall the location by memory. She was bound and gagged in a small house for seven days. Her kidnappers had made demands to the wrong people, the English demand for ransom didn't make it to anyone who could read it. Tseng and I knew her days were numbered and that one or two of her kidnappers had raped her already. I felt sorry enough that I wanted to move in immediately, but Tseng held me back. Although I was against it, Tseng's logic prevailed: Heeber's rape had occurred before we even found the kidnappers' hideout. Going in without a plan was dangerous. I relented and waited. We planned to strike at night. There would be less of a chance that a spy satellite or U.A.V. would spot us. In any case, Tseng doubted the agency would use a spy satellite to track us, since we were specks so small and moved so fast in the air. I doubted his doubts chiefly because technology had advanced quite a bit since his time. I extended my focus out and picked through each of the five men. Here and there I could get some meaning of the Spanish language, but I never lingered long to understand it fully. Viktoriya's cautiousness and Tseng's paranoia had tempered my mind-reading to brief glances here and there except when I was earnestly calm and in control of the subject. All five kidnappers were understandably nervous and agitated. In this heat, even a Zen Buddhist would be agitated. One of them though, was itching for another go at the Heeber girl. I tracked him heading back towards the house, leaving his perimeter open. Perfect, I thought. 'What do you mean perfect?' Tseng's thought-speak chimed in immediately. 'Stay where you are.' Yeah right, I thought. 'Talisman. South perimeter open. Hostile heading back towards package. We move. Now.' Tseng cursed. I knew that he knew that he could not stop me, not with so much going on. He could berate or even kill me later, but in the past few months I had learned to improvise and improve on our trade far more than he realized. Had the student surpassed his master? 'Get your mind out of Star Wars boy.' Tseng radiated a sneer. 'Since you are in such a rush, go take out the two in the house. I will deal with the remaining three.' I half-walked, half-skated in mid-air towards the house. Nothing moved faster than a psychokinetic who was used to levitating his own body, barring any method of physical displacement. I mulled over David's gift; it was a shame he didn't take as much interest in using and abusing them. Each subsequent time we met, I had picked apart his brain and knew more about him than what he wanted me to know. I knew he had abused his powers: terrorizing his abusive father, taking short trips to different parts of the world, smuggling plants and other foreign shit across natural boundaries, and breaking and entering. It was the last one I was sore about. I asked David at our second "official" assignment if he came back to my place. I could tell if someone was lying when I asked a question. Shit. Never lie to a telepath. It's demeaning. The instant that memory of him standing (again!) in my kitchen with his damned shoes on, I was pissed. Although Cox and his men didn't hear it, Tseng definitely overheard what I said to David: 'I don't know why you displaced into my place again, but it's obvious you have some trust issues. That's why Millie is spending all her time at the office. Trolling for new meat.' David nearly blanched then realized I had been thought-speaking directly to him. He jumped off with the prisoner after the interrogation and I didn't see him again until the Sherwood assignment. I was smug and self-assured. That should give the insensitive prick something to do. Tseng said nothing, but I got the distinct feeling that he was somewhat proud of what I did. If Tseng was proud of me then, he certainly didn't exhibit it now. A crack of gunfire erupted north of me. I wasn't sure what happened and I didn't bother asking. If he was KIA then I had to deal with five thugs and a hostage. I felt my ruthlessness take charge. The two thugs in the house were near the Heeber girl, probably arguing about which hole to violate next, when the sounds of the gunshots reached them. They turned away from me just as I reached the house doors. Normally, I simply played off different sides in a stand-off against each other: make it appear as if one person pointed his weapon at someone, or conjure illusory sounds and images in their minds. At the small ramshackle house in the desert though, I saw something that made me bury my idealism permanently. Katherine Heeber was lying on the floor, her clothes torn, feet bare, and face battered and bruised. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her hair and clothing disheveled. Her eyes were closed and she appeared dead; the only things which gave it away were the steady breathing and the presences I felt when I scanned the room. What startled me though, was the thin trace of fluid that dripped from the inside of her thighs. Rachelle's plight with her beau "Craig" came back, unbidden. I felt an onrush of rage. I wanted to kill and I knew I needed to, or my mind might lash out unconsciously when I was tired or distracted. Besides, there was nothing that could stop me, or was there? One of the thugs went towards the sound, but the second thug stayed. He was slight of frame and had curly dark hair. As I moved silently towards Heeber, intending to pick her up and leave, the thin thug suddenly turned around as if I had called to him. Fuck. He was the gifted one. The thin man screamed for help as he brought up his weapon to fire, but I had already toyed with his weapon. The safety was flicked on. His finger squeezed the trigger, but it wouldn't give. As the bandit fumbled with his weapon, I telekinetically flung a piece of mudwall into his face. The thug threw up his hands as the second bandit came through the door. I was armed with nothing save my own skill and talent. The thin thug had turned off his safety and was firing wildly into the ceiling; I simply pushed him in a few key spots: the back of his knee, his forearm, and a side of his body and he was in the position I needed him to be. The bandit's gun riddled the second man and he died before he could show surprise at the situation. I quickly shifted focus and mentally pulled the dead man's weapon into my hands. As the thin thug stood back up with his emptied weapon, he faced me with a white face and wide eyes. I leveled my stolen weapon at his chest and fired. The rapid snap-snap-snap of the Kalashnikov made it sound like one of those toy guns I used to play with as a child. The smoke and fire from the muzzle though, was real enough. The skinny bandito fell back. I didn't go near him; I didn't want to. I pulled his weapon towards me with my mind and thanked heaven that neither douchebag had hand grenades or a holdout pistol on their person. Fucking amateurs, I thought. I cleared the weapon the gifted bandit had dropped and pocketed the magazine. Unless someone else was able to telekinetically disarm me, I would be fine with my newly acquired AK-74. I stepped next to the Heeber girl so she was between me and the freshly killed men. If by some miracle one of them survived and decided to do a last ditch counterattack, I would've propped Heeber up to take the hit. Her parents wouldn't be happy, but I would be alive. What's more, I would still collect. "I am American," I asked aloud. "What is your name?" Despite the appearance of the hostage and what my mental scans had told me, I still marveled how well I took to agency training. 'Rule one of hostage rescue: never give the victim a name to go by, especially if it is a woman.' I recalled the lesson taught by the agency instructor, a tough, leather-faced sergeant. 'She could be a kidnapper planted to fuck with you,' the grizzled old man leveled his gaze at me. 'Shit, she might even take your holdout and kill your horny ass while you watch her put on her panties.' The battered girl opened her eyes slowly and whispered so softly I could barely hear her. I leaned closer, careful to keep my eyes on the dead men and be able to see her hands and knees. I was leaning to one side so if she decided to grapple with me, I could've pushed her away then restrain her with telekinesis. "Katie. Katie Heeber," she croaked. "Water please." That was what Heeber's parents had called her. I got up, satisfied with going through the motions. No one in the "normal" world had ever heard of a telepathic special-ops soldier, and if I don't fuck up further, no one ever will. I only had salt tablets and I had drank most of my water. I needed it to get us back to civilization. I slung my weapon and looked around the place. 'Package secured Tseng.' I thought-spoke as I explored the dump for water. 'I have two dead here, including the ...' 'The telepath. I know.' Tseng thought back. 'The buzzards will eat well tonight.' I winced, despite having just shot dead two men myself. Tseng seemed to enjoy himself a little too much. I found some water in a rusty pan. At least it looked like water. In the sweltering heat, it could've been the kidnappers' piss for all I knew. I dropped a purifier tablet in and went back to the girl. "The water is dirty. I need to get something to filter it," I bent down and took up a small corner of her torn attire. "Sorry honey, but your blouse is the only thing we can use as a filter." She nodded weakly and I tore a small piece of what little clothing she had left for a filter. It wouldn't be a good one, and if the water was water (not piss), she'd likely have dysentery in a few hours. I hoped the purification tablet would hold it in check until she got the help she needed. I guided Katie's hands to hold the fabric over her mouth. I had her stretch it as taut as possible then I dribbled the water as slowly as I could onto the fabric-filter. The Heeber girl coughed and she heaved mightily, but she soon recovered and licked up the few drops reaching her lips. After a few more minutes, Tseng came in without a sound. He was levitating an inch off the ground. The balding Chinaman set himself back on the ground and walked over to the dead men in the house. I could smell the stink of urine and shit and death, and hear the flies buzzing in to do their busy egg laying. "Poor fuck," Tseng said quietly, "He was probably all screwed up from hearing things. His father probably thought he was crazy or possessed." "He's dead now, so that solves that," I reflected. "What now?" Tseng stood beside Katie and pointed at her. "Can she walk?" "I don't know," I said. "I--can--walk," the battered girl croaked. "It's too far," I put the water bowl down and wiped her face as best I could. "Any vehicles?" Tseng nodded. "I filched the key from one of them. We can drive back." "We'd be stopped," I said flatly. "Two Chinks and an injured white girl don't make the typical Mexico tourist group." "We drop her off at the border," Tseng said, "We will likely have to file something of an official report, direct to Champion." Champion was Cox's code name. "Wait!" I stood up, "You said this was going to be under the table; no agency involvement!" "He will cooperate," Tseng said smoothly, "Besides, this was part of the plan." "Your plan or the agency's?" I shouted. I felt betrayed. Tseng's immutable mental defence guaranteed what he planned would be kept from me. "Easy there Snake Charmer." Tseng put a finger to his lips and motioned to the girl. I backed down and heard him out. "The agency wants to know how capable we are as a team. This little foray demonstrates not only are we capable but that you're capable of independent action." "So what?" I asked. "Listen boy," he was getting annoyed, "You're not thinking ahead. They have to trust Ghost Light --" David's call sign "-- because they're afraid of what he can make off with. They trust me because I do my best to accommodate their requests, far more often than he." "You Snake Charmer, are the fresh meat," Tseng adjusted his spectacles and studied me, "You're the newest bitch on the block. You need to prove your mettle before they're afraid of you, understand? This is for your own good." I was about to protest but decided we had other priorities. "Okay Talisman, I see your point. Now where're we going to drop her off that's safe from the Tecate cartels? They'll probably recognize their own cars." "We're not going through to Tecate," Tseng dismissed my suggestion with a wave. "We head to Mexicali." We arrived in Mexicali an hour later in a beat-up red pick-up truck. Tseng drove and I kept the girl cool using my mind to hold up a big flat piece of metal over the truck. It was a good exercise, but I had to ditch the sheet metal as we neared town. I shielded Katie by standing over her and casting my shadow on her eyes. Tseng drove right past the town's busiest streets and right up to the U.S. Border Patrol station. I suppose he had much more experience dealing with the bureaucratic crap; he certainly looked the part. Tseng took no guff from the station S.O.I.C. (supervisory officer in charge). He flipped his credentials, demanded a phone, and got Cox on the line in the span of five minutes. For anyone who doubted the speed at which a bureaucracy moves, they obviously never pissed off the NSA. In fifteen minutes, I heard a chopper overhead. I had carried the Heeber girl into the border patrol's office. There, a cute Latina border patrol officer and me bandaged Katie's cuts and gave her ice chips to slake her thirst. I got her first and last name: Sandra Gutierrez. She looked lot a plainer version of the actress Paula Garces but sweeter, because she was all the more real (and talking to me!). Officer Gutierrez and I chatted with each other as we did our best for Katie. "You're an odd one," Sandra had said to me. "You're really nice you know that?" "I am?" I grinned. If only you knew girl! I just killed two people in cold blood. "Yeah," the pretty officer looked glum, "Most of the riff-raff who come through here are real assholes." "Well I'm sorry to disappoint," I said. She asked me for a card, but I didn't have one. We were both disappointed. I felt she was looking for a nice guy with some interesting background; I was looking to abuse her Catholic background of eschewing birth control while I was on top of her, pinning her ankles by her head. The SOIC called Sandra into her office, and that was the last I ever saw of her. Oh well, I thought. Can't have everything. Tseng and I bundled Katie onto the chopper right as a man and woman got off. Both were dressed in dark suits that didn't fit the weather, and both were unremarkable and plain (in the case of the woman, butt ugly). Tseng and I were herded with them into a small room for a conference call. Cox was on the other line and clearly unhappy. The two NSA agents looked similarly unamused. It didn't matter, I knew they didn't like their assignment. They were picked because they were near retirement and had nothing for us to read from. Cox asked us if we had lost our minds to go roving around Mexico without provocation. Tseng simply explained our private contract with the Heeber family. Tseng maintained that he and I can operate as mercenaries as we liked; we technically broke no laws (well, killing five people in Mexico was, but we said nothing of it) and the clients would likely be satisfied. All he asked for was consideration about what "other" things we could do on a contractual basis. If the agency wasn't keen on supporting our lifestyle then there were "other clients". "Overseas clients," Tseng finished casually. I almost wanted to hit him. I wasn't going overseas to anywhere. Janet would be crushed. Melanie was certainly too young to go anywhere. Shawn was still busy with college and Viktoriya -- oh sweet, sweet Viktoriya -- she and her family immigrated to the United States. I didn't think she'd want to go anywhere else. I wasn't going to just leave them. I gnashed my teeth and interrupted the conference with my demands. "Goddammit Champion," I slammed the table, making the two agents in the room jump, "I'm up to my ass in student debt. And while I don't mind helping you assholes out, I need money." I caught my breath and went on, "I'm not looking to do business with the Commi-nazis or whatever the fuck you guys are pissed at right now, but if someone is in trouble and can pay me to help them without starting a war then I'm going to do it unless you give me a reason, a paid reason, not to, got that?" I saw Tseng arch his brow, but he said nothing aloud or otherwise. Cox was silent for a little while then he spoke. "All right. Fine," Cox was agitated but he held his voice even, "Talisman already has an account we wire money to. I'll set up something for you too Snake Charmer. In return, you stop this superhero bullshit. We don't want to tip our hand and have someone kidnap you." "You forget," Tseng said, "That it is very hard to surprise us." "Well yes," Cox admitted, "But sooner or later someone might find a way. This is 1998 Talisman, not 1988." I felt glib. Now I had a timeframe to research my mysterious mentor. "I'll be careful Champion," I said and decided to jerk around my handler. "At least you can see us moving around. You should spend more time finding a way to track Ghost Light. I heard nanotechnology's gone pretty far out these days." Cox was silent for a while then got back on subject, "We'll take the hint. Just don't expect to buy a Porsche every time you do a seance for us understand?" "It's called mind-reading," I leaned back. "And what good is a damned Porsche to me? I just need to make enough to cover my education. I'm trying to be an architect, not goddamned Jay Leno." Incredibly, I heard a chuckle from Cox's end before he hung up. I wasn't near him to sense if he thought I was funny or not, but the two agents in the room seemed a bit more relaxed. One even fought to suppress a smile. 'You have a way with your words Stanley.' That was Tseng. 'Don't you mean Snake Charmer?' I thought back. 'Does it matter?' Tseng thought wistfully. 'We get paid either way.' The Heebers were glad to have their daughter back. As part of the contract Tseng negotiated though, no one in the press saw our faces, and our names were "parties unknown". "Keep it under wraps Mr. Heeber," Tseng said genially the night we collected our payment, "Otherwise you may compromise future operations." "I'll talk to my wife and to Katie," the father said gratefully. "I'm sure they'll understand." "Your daughter was in pretty bad shape when we found her; she may not remember." Thinking back to what started the bloodbath at the desert house, I quickly added, "Perhaps it's for the best." Mr. Heeber nodded soberly. He and his wife were there when the doctors gave them the news. Sexual trauma, lacerations, bruising. Katie was still being tested for HIV and other STDs when Tseng contacted Mr. Heeber by phone to arrange payment. All cash. No exceptions. We didn't want an easily traced trail. "$2500," Mr. Heeber stacked twenty-five hundred dollar bills on the table, "But you said you wanted a receipt for how much?" "$175,000," I tried to maintain a straight face. Tseng cast a sideways glance at me. 'You will still need to pay taxes on that.' 'I know.' I seemed resigned to the fact. 'Increase the total to --' his cold eyes flicked towards Heeber quickly "-- four-sixty. I will show you some write-offs you can make and keep most of your cash.' "Uh, would you care to write out $460,000?" I asked meekly as Heeber pulled out some forms. "Four hundred sixty? Sure," Heeber wrote on a form with white, yellow, and pink pages, "I guess I can't complain. You file one thing, I do another. Hah! No one's the wiser. Besides, this is chump change to get our Katie back." Tseng stayed silent as I thanked him. "I'm amazed you worked so fast," he continued. "The police and FBI, they said they had few leads." "One thing about agencies," Tseng broke the silence, "Is that they are groups. Like minded individuals congregate in groups. Similarity in thought sometimes closes one's mind to potential solutions." "That sounds almost mystical," Heeber said, handing us the receipt, "Is it a quote? Sun Tsu's Art of War perhaps?" "Sun Liao-tsu is oft overrated by Westerners Mr. Heeber," Tseng rose, "That was my observation. Although I am sure a scholar much older than I, and much more read, has expounded the same theory before." "Oh," Heeber rose, wiping his hands on his slacks, "Uh, well thank you Mr. Cheng, and uh, Mr. uh--?" "Goodbye sir." I smiled thinly and waved. "Best of luck to you." "You too," Heeber saw us out. =============================================================================== JUST AN AVERAGE WEEKEND =============================================================================== Cox was good on his word. Or at least his bosses in the agency were. I got a letter in the mail a week after my latest jaunt from Mexico congratulating me on opening a new account with United Bank. The funny thing was that I hadn't done business with United Bank before. I knew the agency would be able to track me using that account, and that was fine by me (up to a point). At least now I had a quasi-legitimate source of income. I filed taxes that year, ridiculously under-reporting my earnings (the agency doesn't pay its contractors much) and writing off my student loan payments. Since the agency knew my social security number (which wasn't very secure; it was cloned twice by identity thieves in the 2000s), I kept my small nest-egg of cash. I laundered it very slowly (about $100 a month), which by my calculations, would take me about 200 years to launder the whole total. I took to spending the cash on daily necessities (like gasoline and food and mundane clothing) and I didn't buy more than what I needed. All of the agency's disbursements I left in the bank; I only withdrew money from it when I paid for something big (like my tuition fee). When my account topped $100,000 after a few more agency tasks, I transferred the difference to the bank account my parents' had opened for me when I was a baby. When that topped $100,000 after having legitimized some of my Mexican cartel cash from the Heeber job, I opened a new account at a third bank and so forth. I wasn't a spendthrift, but what I wanted for me and the girls down the road would cost a pretty penny. Still, I had a good lump of cash on hand. And cash, for short-term pleasures, was good. 1999 was a busy year for me. Academically, my dissertation was being met by harsh criticism by my peers and professors, who believed I was a self-centered, chauvinist jerk; I suppose I could've plowed the pretty ones to exert my dominance, but I simply wanted my masters degree so I could register for the architects' license exam in time. I modified my paper to be an "extended family" residence and included more transparent eco-friendly modifications that didn't turn my design into a Greenpeace hippies' mud shack. My paper was eventually received with a little more acceptance, and was eventually published as an article in the Architectural Journal; high praise for a recent graduate. Professionally, I was called out by the agency to look into several shootings that centered around the Millennial theme. The agency feared domestic terrorism would be on the rise as the new century approached (technically, it wouldn't be the new century until 2001, but something about those zeroes in 2000 made people bonkers). Cox wanted to see if there was some mass hysteria and if Tseng or I could mitigate it. Tseng did his best to explain the situation: sometimes people are prone to mob thought and persuasion. "Our own fears and sub-conscious are our worst enemies," he quipped. "Ride it out," I threw in my two cents. "And use four digits for yearly time stamps to avoid Y2K. Call me when it's the year 9,999 (Y10K) and we'll get back to you." Cox didn't seem all too happy about our answers, but conceded to our expertise. In terms of the empire's goings-on, Tseng and I probably completed our most brazen contract to date. The Mexican cartels in Baja California Norte suspected we had been behind some of the incidents in the past year (they were right), but we decided to shift the blame to them. We picked up a meeting the cartels would be having in Tecate; with some clever mental cajoling, telekinesis and persuasive words, we managed to set the cartels on each other's throats. Tecate turned into a six day bloodbath. By the time the Mexican Army showed up, elements of the agency were probably transmitting the events to Cox. However, he had no viable proof since Tseng and I were pulling the strings of our Mexican cartel contacts by sheer willpower alone. We were nowhere near Tecate when the shooting started, so everything appeared as a normal shoot-out. We did head out to Tecate, Tijuana, and Mexicali afterwards though. It was clean-up. There was a power vacuum and until someone came in to take charge, some of the facilities were left empty and guarded by a skeleton crew. Tseng and I raided the cartel compounds and took just the money and other exchangeable assets (like jewelry). The guards were often used to haul the loot into the street where we'd drive by and pick it up. The guards didn't know how what hit them; the bodies that were discovered later that year might've been the guards for all I knew. I didn't care. All I knew was my little cash nest-egg had ballooned so much, I had to cut open the floorboards in a corner of my outer room to stash cash between the floor joists. I certainly didn't want to leave any of it in the gun-choked public storage locker on Masonic. Personally, I was doing pretty well. Aside from a day job I could handle, I had access to a variety of pussy to satisfy any man. Janet was busy preparing for a huge asbestos case. One would've thought Janet Wu was a woman who was kind and gentle and all sugar and spice (and everything nice). That was bullshit. Her training was chiefly in corporate law and business liability, so she was a shark. She regarded morals and ethics separately in her daily life. Melanie, who was idealistic due to her empathic nature, would sometimes argue (passionately) for hours with her "jie-jie" about politics. Little Chen loved Janet like a big sister, but she would always find time to heckle her about her chosen profession. By now, Janet was an associate at one of law firms defending one of the companies based in the Bay Area. She was still pretty junior, but hardly wet behind the ears. She had gotten her practice at the civil division court circuit in the city, and it was her constantly shifting mind that would pick out the strategy of greatest success which helped her earn her career. Melanie was about to start her last year in high school (she was seventeen, going on eighteeen in January 2000). She was still the bright radiant girl from my childhood. Although it was criminal of me, Melanie cornered me on the weekend of my 23rd birthday (September '98) after we had finished grocery shopping and fucked my brains out. I had been getting it semi-regularly from Viktoriya and Shawn, but the former was now in New York City; the latter had to move back to her apartment in San Jose to start the new school semester. Melanie was innocent about it, but as she matured, she found she could sometimes monopolize my time because she lived so close to my house (by '98 she had a duplicate set of my house keys). One day, we got so caught up in our passion, we nearly forgot about my mother. My mother knew about my little darling and her proclivity for cooking, so she occasionally came to my room to cook with the bright young woman. When I heard my mother's voice, I pulled out and jizzed messily over Melanie's groin. Yu-Ching's eyes were wide as saucers as she wiped herself hastily with some wet-naps in my bedroom. We dressed and hustled outside to my kitchenette so fast we didn't have time to don our underwear. "Chen-tai*," Melanie greeted my mother sheepishly. [* Cantonese: Mrs. Chen] I made an excuse to finish a project so I could enter my room. I stuffed our underwear into a dresser drawer, in case my mother decided to snoop around (as befitted any nosy mom). I sensed Melanie's embarrassment, but she hid it as best she could until my mother left us alone. As soon as we were, Melanie fell into my arms in a swoon. "I was so scared nai-nai* would find out Stanley!" she confided. [* Cantonese: Elder mother, generally reserved for the mother-in-law] Actually, I thought wryly, my mother did suspect something was up. After all, she was young once. She also knew it was my birthday. And what better gift a woman could give her betrothed but a tender act of love? In one of those rare weekends when we all could meet, I managed to persuade Janet to come along to Shawn's graduation. Because of my plump pumpkin's new choice of major, she had to take an extra semester of courses (delaying her graduation to December). The good thing though, was that the University of California let her continue her studies on the graduate level at Berkeley (the same masters program I had been in). Melanie spent half her time at the Hotel and Restaurants program at City College (she was an early self-starter). Much of her vocational training was in restaurants, so she was able to spare some time to come along. This time, I brought along a cool thousand dollars. I wasn't going to short-change anyone, not at this point in my life. "Omigod!" Shawn cried, "You guys came!" My big dopey dumpling skipped down the stairs of her apartment and hugged Melanie. The petite Chinese girl was crushed between Shawn's massive boobage and let out a muffled squeal. "Air!" she cried, "I need air!!" The two laughed and hugged one another while Janet wore a wan smile. Sensing her uncertainty, I patted her hand. "She's harmless," I reassured my lovely First. "And she wants to be an engineer?" she gave me a sly look. "You sure you don't want me to introduce you to some insurance lawyers?" "Sure why not," I doted on my Lady Wu. "But I think she'll be fine. Shawn's looking to do landscapes; the building's all me." "I feel so much safer," Janet's tone was sarcastic, "With you barely keeping your pants up to draft the plans." "Hey now," I kidded her. "You promised you'd be nice. And besides, who said I can't draw while nude?" Janet sniffed but didn't answer as we stepped up to greet Shawn. Her parents had been there earlier for graduation, but the exercises were over and it was getting into early evening. The air was starting to get chilly. Shawn's parents were more than a little surprised that the man they thought their daughter was dating showed up with two other floozies (well mostly Janet, since we were holding hands, they probably mistook Melanie for my sister or something). My First still wore her hair short, although it wasn't shaped into a gelled-up sculpture any more. She wore it loose and much of her hair simply came down to the base of her skull (she looked more like a European model than anything). This, coupled with her plain Jane brown business attire, certainly inspired some curious glances from the Hortens. "Hello," Janet extended her hand. "I'm Janet. A friend of Stanley's." She had measured her words carefully. After our blow-up over Rachelle, Janet wasn't sure what she wanted to do with our relationship. We still dated, but Janet seemed more reserved and apprehensive. Only through Melanie's impassioned pleadings did she stick around. As luck would have it, Rachelle pretty much mended the rift between Janet and me in one fell swoop. When Janet heard about Rachelle's misbehavior, she came to see me if I was okay. Since I had just had a menage-a-trois with Viktoriya and Shawn earlier, I did feel much better but I played dumb and got some sympathy sex. It was awesome. Still, there were others besides Rachelle and Melanie. Janet was miffed that I was carrying on with Shawn (she knew nothing about Aurora and only met Viktoriya later). The two of us had certainly come a long way. I made a mental calculation: I met Janet in 1988. Now it was 1999. Wow. Eleven years. It was like we were married or something. Janet must've caught me day-dreaming because she squeezed my hand. "Stanley sweetie," she still occasionally spoke down to me when she felt like it, "Mrs. Horten asked you a question." "Sorry," I jerked from my reverie, "I was elsewhere. What is it?" We were in Shawn's apartment in San Jose. She shared it with another girl and a boy-girl couple so the rent wasn't exorbitant. Shawn was the oldest (and was moving out) so the three remaining tenants needed another housemate for next semester. "It's so weird, graduating in December," the roommate commented to no one in particular as mother Horten repeated her question. "Shawn's bringing her friends and house-mates along," Mrs. Horten said. "I was wondering if you and Miss Wu would like to join us?" "Ah, yes," I said and thought back to the thousand bucks I had in my pocket, "I think so, if you don't mind." "Oh, we don't mind the extra company," mother Horten said. Yes you do, you cranky old bitch. Of course, I knew she was lying. Any person who appeared polite when their dinner plans get interrupted was lying. Shawn must have inherited her pleasant side from someone else. I regarded one of my potential mothers-in-law with a pleasant but vacuous look while heaping on her a truckload of venomous thoughts. Lucky for her, she was okay on the eyes. Not super-model pretty but decent. It was comforting to me that Shawn had a 50% chance of turning out physically all right once she got old. We headed for the restaurant. It wasn't a fancy place, but it was family friendly. We ordered, ate, and made light conversation. As I ate, I thought it strange how well it was Shawn and Melanie got along. They had nearly nothing in common and wouldn't have met one another if circumstances had been different. "You're drooling." Janet had leaned over to steal some of my french fries and used it as an excuse to whisper quietly into my ear. "Sorry." I covered up my faux pas with a napkin. Janet reached for the salt, using the chance to whisper to me again. "It's not gonna happen." I gave her an 'Oh really?' look and swigged my soda bottle. Janet shot back a 'You wouldn't dare' glance. I also caught some of her wayward thoughts: 'I bet stupid Stanley thinks he can get lucky a second time.' (Janet had set-up my first three-way) 'Even if I did agree, there's no way that Shawn girl will go for it.' (Well, she might - she didn't mind Vika eating her out) 'He's probably thinking about it right now; and it's just from those two talking.' (That's right) 'What a pervert!' (What she said; huhuhuhu) I almost wanted to laugh out loud. Instead I gave her a saucy smile and winked. Janet's face flushed red immediately. She didn't know about my gifts, but we had been together so long we could practically read each other's body language. From the way she was acting, I knew she wouldn't be too thrilled about it; however, she wasn't entirely against it either. After all, Janet was the one who suggested the menage-a-trois with Melanie. 'Who was the pervert now?' I thought-spoke like a smart-ass. Then I realized no one could've heard me (save Viktoriya but she was tuned out from me at the moment; even telepaths need quiet time). My body language suggested that I was probably going to go ahead with it if the chance provided itself. What Janet did not know was Shawn had already some three-way experience already with Viktoriya. Janet bit into her sandwich quietly, chewed a bit, and then turned back to her conversation on the other side of the table. Shawn's house-mates still needed a semester or two to go. While they were friendly enough, they didn't make much of an impression with me. Melanie was doing most of the chatting (and sister-worship) as she pestered Shawn about her studies. "... Stanley would love to see that," Melanie prodded me, "Wouldn't you guo-guo*?" [* Cantonese: Brother] "See what?" I only caught the tail end of the conversation. "Oh it's nothing," Shawn said airily, "Just something I did in my spare time." "Now, now," I chided, "We all do esquisses from time to time. What'd you have in mind?" "It's this roof garden thing," Melanie buzzed with excitement. "I think it's cool. I can grow stuff for our kitchen." "What kitchen?" Shawn asked. "It's mostly for me and Stanley," Melanie said jealously, "It'll be just like old times." "Well there's that thought," I said, "But I'm sure you can win some accolade as a great chef." I didn't want Melanie to grow up without a means to make ends meet. That would be destroying her life, even if she didn't know it yet. Melanie nodded excitedly then turned back to talking. The chatter buzzed to some other topics, from Ricky Martin to N-Sync to the Backstreet Boys. When they tired of music, the Hortens steered the conversation to Janet's career. My good Lady Wu answered as best she could without saying anything about the asbestos case; it wouldn't have gone over well anyway. Shawn, as discussed, had been accepted into the Masters program at "Berzerkly" and since she was doing some off-site internship (instead of assistant teaching), she was fine to live at her parents' place near Golden Gate Park. "So, Stanley," Shawn's father asked, "What do you do now?" Mr. Horten was around Tseng's age (maybe a little less) and he regarded me with suspicion. "Nothing special," I omitted my extra-curricular jaunts to Mexico, "Taking the APLC (architectural practitioner's license California) in a month or two." "Have you started at a firm yet?" he asked, "I know some people." "Friends of friends?" I smiled pleasantly at my choice of words. "You could say that," Mr. Horten's eyes flitted between me, Janet, and his daughter. I stayed pleasant and smiling. He couldn't read me, but he could certainly call up his own doubts. If I were he, I would have doubts too when a man my daughter was seeing suddenly showed up with a mysterious woman I knew nothing about. "Well, that would very nice of you," I said. "Shall I thank you in advance?" "Don't mention it," he said. A-ha. There was a catch. I plucked it from his mind as easily as a raw peach on a tree. If he arranged my interview, or gave me some recommendation, he was going to ask me to stop seeing Shawn. I rummaged through his thoughts: 'Damn Asians, taking our jobs and now my daughter.' 'Over my dead body.' 'He has someone, an Asian someone.' 'Why doesn't Shawn see that?' I smiled acidly and excused myself to the restroom. After I washed my hands, I shifted focus and clouded the mind of everyone in the restaurant with mental-apathy; no one would notice me until I made the effort on my part to show myself once more. I walked briskly out to the concierge and eyeballed the table set-up. A light dinner for nine probably came to about $30 a head. Some of us had appetizers and extra drinks. I counted out four crisp hundred dollar bills and tapped the matre'd. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see you there. How many?" "I don't need a table," I said. "Table fifteen, party of nine. How much is the bill?" "Um," the girl typed up something on the computer, "Table fifteen you say?" "Yeah," I pointed towards the table where I could see Janet tilting her head this way and that, wondering where I'd gone. "That's uh," the matre'd tapped a few more keystrokes, "They didn't order desert yet, but it's 220 now." "Here's $400," I placed the bills on the counter. "Should cover it. If not, come to me for the rest." "Oh!" the girl exclaimed. "Of course. Getting a jump on the bill eh?" "Girlfriend's parents," I said curtly. "Anything I do will never be good enough." "Oh yeah," she slipped the money into the register and updated our bill. "I've been there; my parents are never happy with my boyfriend." Joy. I didn't ask you for your life story. Just handle the bill bitch, I thought dourly as I headed back to my table. "Where were you?" Janet asked when I sat back down. "Business," I replied laconically. Shawn's parents were surprised when the bill came to me. So was Janet. She peered over my shoulder and spied the amount. "Stanley?" she whispered, "I have plastic if you need it ..." I motioned I was all right. What I had left at the counter was more than enough to cover the meal. And my gratuity was overly generous. I thought it'd mattered little really. Almost all of the bills I handed out were either laced with Mexican cocaine or were counterfeits from Colombia. The Hortens were somewhat surprised (and relieved) that they didn't have to pay the bill. They had heard from Shawn that I had just got my masters just this year but not much else. Apart from showing up at their house to pick up Shawn for school dances, I hadn't talked with them much at all. I wonder if I wanted to explain it all, but thought it more fun to have the Horten's think Janet was my sugar mommy. I left it at that. By nightfall, the four of us (me, Shawn, Janet, and Melanie) were crowded into her apartment. Shawn's parents had left earlier, taking most of Shawn's things with them back to San Francisco. The other housemates had headed back home for the coming holidays. We remained chiefly because Shawn would be heading back with us in the morning. "So this," Shawn pulled a large drawing pad onto the desk, "Is what I wanted to show you." I sat next to Shawn while Melanie and Janet crowded around or looked over our shoulders. Shawn opened the cover of her portfolio and the sight was pretty impressive, at least to me. It was a drainage plan for a roof garden. Well, roof was a misnomer when I saw all the extra bracing Shawn included into her design. It was more like a fortified jungle canopy. "Wow." My mouth hung open as I studied the plans. Noticing the others were losing interest, I flipped the page and found Shawn's preliminary sketches so I could explain what she envisioned. "This is very impressive," Janet squinted a little, "But what is it?" "This is a roof garden Janet jie-jie!" Melanie said authoritatively. "Like the hanging gardens of Babylon!" She, Shawn, and I all said it in unison, which made us grin mischievously. Janet though, felt a little excluded. "Don't feel bad honey," I patted my First's hand, "It's just one of the seven wonders of the ancient world." "Boy I sure feel dumb," Janet sighed. "But what's all this about?" Melanie took my seat beside Shawn as I stood. "It's a plan I've been talking to Shawn and Melanie about for a bit," I explained. "I wanted to build a little place." "Oh?" Janet raised a brow at me, "Build it for whom?" I looked at her evenly, "For us of course." Janet's eyes flicked to the other two girls. She realized who I was referring to, and her eyes widened like saucers. "Stanley," she began, "What are you--?" "I love you Janet," I said and without hesitation added, "And I love Shawn and Yu-Ching as well." Shawn murmured, "Oh my God," but no one else said anything until Melanie got up and sat next to Janet. "You knew about this?" Janet wasn't talking to me, but to my youngest darling. "Sorry Janet jie-jie," Melanie clasped one of Janet's hands between hers, "But he wanted it to be a surprise." "Well I am surprised," Janet hugged her, just like in the old days. I sat with the three and explained my dissertation and my plans. There were two possible sites. I hadn't been able to settle on which yet, so I sketched them as best (and as fast) as I could. One was on 43rd Avenue and Geary Boulevard, the second was on Second Avenue and Lake Street. Both were zoned in a fashion that I could get away with as large a house as I could afford. The parking ranged from being a nuisance to "let's not think about it". I wanted some indoor parking so we didn't need to worry about juggling cars around for the city's street-cleaning. Traffic was manageable, and much of that depended on where we'd eventually work. As for schools, there were several. The second site had its own set of schools; the first relied on the same three schools Melanie, Andrew and I grew up in. Janet looked at me with bright eyes, "Schools?" "Yes," I returned her gaze, "You know why." "Oh, right." My First's ears burned bright pink. For the last couple years, I had been reading her mind and sensing her desire for children. We had skirted the issue here and there, but never seriously discussed it. Since Janet was older than I by nearly four years, it was only natural that she'd started around now. It just didn't come up when we were together earlier, since one thing or another got in the way, and we were both young as hell. "Janet jie-jie's blushing!" Melanie giggled. "Stop it, you!" Janet swatted her gently but she was grinning. "I'm serious," I said. "I know," my First turned to Shawn and asked, "What do you think? You going along with this?" "I love Stanley," Shawn replied, "I don't mind; my parents would be nearby, and I'm positive I could find work near or around the city. Actually, I'm more concerned about you guys than he is!" "That's true," Melanie cut in. "Stanley guo-guo can be selfish sometimes." "And lazy," Janet nodded. "And cheap," Shawn added. "You left out the part where I eat girls with big mouths," I growled. Who ever said keeping company with a gang of girls was the greatest thing ever obviously never tried it for more than five minutes. "Digging at 'the Y' isn't punishment," Janet said. Melanie giggled and Shawn blushed deep crimson. "Well, whatever," I sniffed. "I still want to make it official." "Official? You mean announce it?" Shawn spoke up, "My mom and dad will kill you!" "So, you still want to live near them?" Janet laughed. My plump angel blushed and kept silent. "No parents," I looked between them, "Not yet anyway. Not until we've proven that we can do this." "Well, makes sense," Janet sighed."My mom and dad are wondering if I'll ever get married." "C'mon," I tapped her knee to cheer her up. "Do you have any New Year's Eve plans?" "Apart from what's expected?" Shawn piped up. "Of course," I turned to Melanie. "I want to party!" she startled everyone by hopping into my lap. "Yu-Ching," I grunted under her weight. "Settle down." Janet ignored our by-play and shrugged, "I'm thinking about going out to City Hall for the fireworks, but with the case I'm on, I don't know." "Well," I gave her a wink, "If they settle out of court --" Janet scowled and was about to lecture me on legal malfeasance but I went right on "-- then you'll have time." I set Melanie down so she wouldn't hurt herself, then gave them the surprise. "I want to take you girls to New York City. Celebrate the year 2000 that way." Stunned silence. Then came a barrage of questions: "New York City?" "I haven't been there!" "Cool!!" "Wait! What? When!?" I answered them one by one, and maintained my trademark grin. "It's simple my lovely darlings." I addressed all as such for the first time. "I want to propose to each of you there in three week's time." "Oh Stanley!!" Melanie nearly screamed my ear off, "You don't even have to ask me! Yes! Yes!!" I picked her back up just so she'd get under control. Yu-Ching was bouncing around like an excited pup. "Do you mean that?" Janet asked warily, "It's not some ploy so you're trying to score some nooky right?" "Why would I go to all that planning?" I asked slyly, "Why not score some now?" Janet's jaw dropped at my suggestion then she closed it with an audible snap. Her cheeks dimpled as she glared at me. I picked up what she was thinking: 'I created a pervert!!' good gawd 'Now I've got to marry him.' sigh 'I guess he's not so bad.' 'I feel like such a -- what's it called? Cougar? Ugh. I feel so dirty.' I laughed more from her expression than what I mind-read. I leaned over and kissed Janet on her nose. My First blushed, embarrassed to be kissed that way. However, she enjoyed being kissed (anywhere actually), unlike Melanie, who settled for nothing but on her mouth. "Stanley?" Shawn squeaked and tugged my hand like a little girl. "What's up pumpkin?" I took her hand. "New York?" she asked pensively, and I knew what she was thinking: Viktoriya. "It'll be a surprise," I gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Stanley!" Shawn tilted her head and gave me a disapproving glare, "You tell them about Vicky!! Tell them right now!" "Who's Vicky?" Janet's serious tone nearly gave me a heart attack. "She means Viktoriya," Melanie spun around on my lap to face her. "Remember that girl I told you Stanley would visit me with?" "You little snitch," I pinched my freshly blossomed beauty. Melanie stuck out her tongue and made a cute noise as only a girl like her could. "Oh," Janet didn't seem flustered, "I remember Stanley mentioning her before. You've met her, Shawn? This Viktoriya?" "Oh yeah," Shawn replied shyly, "She's um --" she struggled for an explanation that didn't involve lesbian cunnilingus "-- very cool. She's a dancer." "Exotic?" Janet looked at me and sighed, "Or ballet?" "Actually I don't know," Shawn frowned, "I never asked." "American smooth, I think. But she'll try anything. Rumba, mambo, cha-cha, tango, you name it, she'll know it," I said and prodded Shawn with my foot, "See? Told you I was taking dance classes." "You smart-ass," Shawn jabbed me back, "Why don't you show us?!" I rose and pulled my plump pumpkin along to show what dance steps I picked up from Viktoriya (and a few others from her classmates). Melanie laughed as Shawn struggled under my lead while Janet looked on with an air of detached amusement. I was never musically inclined, but I found it simply easy to remember each step by setting up an arbitrary metering system in my head. Besides, Shawn could barely keep up, so I was pretty much moving her around like a toy doll the the entire time. Viktoriya was three hours ahead, but I gave her the good news through a mental broadcast. 'Hello, Stanislav!' Viktoriya wore a smile as she gazed into a full length mirror to chat with me. 'So will I see you on New Year's?' 'And the others too.' I didn't have to explain as I let Shawn tumble onto her bed, then whirled around with Melanie in a mock waltz. 'So you told them.' Viktoriya referred to the others by her derogatory monikers less these days. Ever since she left for New York, she became a bit more humble when our minds connected. Her appetites however, remained the same. I could see Viktoriya reaching down to finger herself. 'Can you kiss Melanie for me, kisa? I forgot you told me she's nearly eighteen. I want to -- ungh.' I sighed and relented. Viktoriya still wanted to experiment. She had pounced Shawn, but only dealt with Melanie when she was a younger girl. Now that she was older though, I wondered how long my vixen from the Volga could restrain herself. I caressed Melanie's waist and pressed my lips tenderly against hers. Yu-Ching quickly responded with a fierce lip-lock that tumbled me to the ground. Almost immediately, I felt intoxicating carnal energy pulse through the room. 'Oh, Stanislav.' Viktoriya buckled and doubled over, her face contorted with pleasure in the mirror. 'She is so BEAUTIFUL.' Where was that energy coming from? Was it from me? From Melanie? Or Viktoriya? It didn't seem to matter much; the results were satisfying. Very satisfying. "Oh my," Janet murmured and fidgeted slightly, "Feeling amorous aren't we?" I looked past the side of Melanie's head and saw Janet lying lazily on the bed. She was looking down upon me like a bright radiant goddess. Melanie kissed my neck and her hands dove under my shirt, her frisky nature no longer fettered by any limits of age or decency. I chalked it up to her making up for lost time. "You know," I mustered a shy grin as I eyed my First, "You can join in any time." Janet laughed and reached down to tousle my youngest darling's hair. "Xieu Ching*, remember what I told you." [* Cantonese: Little Ching, using Chen Yu-Ching's third character as its root; as a female originated diminutive, it carries a sisterly tone.] "Yes --" smack "Janet --" kiss "jie-jie," she barely stayed coherent as she tore off our clothing. "Tell her what?" I asked as I helped Melanie undress. "Use a condom," Janet looked at Shawn and asked her, "That couple who lives with you? Think we can borrow one?" 'Just one?' That was Viktoriya from her place in Brooklyn. 'You nympho.' I thought accusingly then echoed her request audibly. "Just one?" "Okay," Janet sighed. "If you think you can beat your personal best handsome, make it three." "You heard the lady," I grimaced as Melanie bit me hard on the neck. "Three it be." Shawn sheepishly slid out the door. When she came back, Melanie had peeled off my pants and was sucking my fat dick with her small mouth. Janet was watching us from the bed, her body idle, but her eyes bespoke of a quiet burning lust. Shawn knelt quietly beside me, condoms in hand. "Hey muffin," I drew Shawn close and kissed her. "Gawd Stanley," she said peevishly, "I guess this is like every guy's dream huh?" "Not quite," Janet spoke for me, "Knowing Stanley, he probably wants Viktoriya to watch." 'She's right Stanislav. I do want that!' Viktoriya was swooning now. 'Janna* is honestly a woman after your own heart!' [* Viktoriya's personal variation of Janet's name. I am unsure of its origins.] Through mind-sight I saw the brunette straddling a giant plastic dildo suctioned to a small plastic bath stool. Viktoriya had set herself up in front of an old dressing mirror. I could see how the dildo was impaling her cunt by the reflection in the mirror. Oh, for the love of god. I swallowed and kept my focus strong and my gift in check lest I hurt anyone. Still, it was hard to do since I felt my nuts burn and itch. I desperately wanted to spew my load right into Melanie's eager mouth but I held out, gambling for a greater level of pleasure later. As I watched Melanie suck slavishly on my cock, Janet pretty much was ignoring everything as she watched the young girl take me into her eager mouth. Shawn teased me by putting her titties to good use. She nearly smothered me in those huge mothers. I suddenly remembered something we did one time when I visited Shawn. "Hey muffin," I suggested, "Why don't you show Jan that trick of ours with brushes." "You mean an electric toothbrush?" my First laughed. "I showed you that years ago!" "No, not that." A smile slowly crept across Shawn's face. "If you think it's okay, Stanley." "It'll be all right pumpkin," I kissed her breasts. "We're not going to paint with them ever again." "Oh my!" the plump girl laughed. "There goes another set!" "What are you planning, Stanley?" Janet eyed me and Shawn suspiciously. "Trust me baby doll," I rose and sat on the bedside, pulling Melanie along. Janet was hesitant, but she scooted over slightly. She then removed her jacket and slid off her dress. Her body was all woman now. Her C-cup breasts were perfect in many ways and her skin still soft and smooth. Janet lay down beside me on the bed, watching Melanie wolfing down my cock and waited patiently. Shawn in the meantime, came back with the "jerk off brush". It was a flat, wide brush designed for water colors or water-based paints. The bristles were pretty stiff but still pliant where it counted. Shawn and I were experimenting with water colors that time and wound up experimenting on each other. It proved to be fun and pleasurable, so why not share it? "Now spread your legs angel," I whispered to Janet, "Shawn's going to make you see God." "Oh really?" Janet lay back cautiously, "I don't think s--s--sooohhh--!!" She cried out as soon as the brush' bristles tickled her clit. Janet's sonorous one-woman scream was enough to scare Shawn into immobility. After a moment of hesitation though, my First took over and showed Shawn a few tricks of her own. There was just enough room on the full-sized bed for all four of us. I slammed Melanie's face a few more times before I pulled out and stuck her. Melanie literally wept with joy as I pounded her in the midst of the orgy. Turning to the side, she could easily see her "sister" Janet get her loving licks from Shawn's waterbrush and vice versa. Melanie was ecstatic. I realized that she was an emotional sponge, soaking up the excitement of the other girls (especially Viktoriya, even though she was only linked mentally) and then somehow broadcasting back out. It wasn't as strong as what I could do (otherwise it would've conked the other girls out) but it was strong enough to have an effect. This event coupled with the physical proximity of Janet and Shawn, two people whom my little Chen were very close to, drove her into a sexual frenzy. When I blew my load, Melanie uttered a long-strangled cry of pleasure that quickly cascaded through to the others. And thanks to mind-sight, Viktoriya felt the whole thing as well. I felt/sensed her thoughts raging through me in a mix of her native Russian, Ukrainian, and Romanian. After a few more torrid minutes, she was tuckered out. I couldn't blame her; afterall, the time difference between us was substantial. Viktoriya drowsily bade me good night and fell asleep nude under the covers of her. I could see that she didn't bother taking the dildo out; it remained inside her wet, sopping cunt. Seeing my lecherous Russian tootsie black-out in satisfaction gave me a second wind. I did Shawn next, as Melanie took over the brush and brought Janet several satisfying orgasms. They switched while I was still in the midst of pinning Shawn's knees to her shoulders. Her fat, floppy tits bounced and jiggled nicely as I rode her, nuzzled her neck, and felt her warm breath in my ear. Shawn scratched my scalp tenderly like a feline lover and panted breathlessly as a quiet tempest gathered within her. Her sweet nutty musk filled my nostrils as I plumbed her endlessly like an oil derrick. Our noses touched and I could feel her love glove rippling in sheer anticipation. When Shawn came, she uttered a soft cry. I arched my back and erupted a second time. "Nh--fuck--nnh--fuck," I wrung my juice box dry of juice as I streamed into Shawn. I fell aside and lay on the bed, totally exhausted as Janet crawled slowly on top of me. Seeing and hearing her, smelling and tasting her, feeling her with my mind and body, I roused myself once more to her enticement. Janet though, knew I was nearly spent, so she did the work. She spread her legs and straddled me. We both groaned as she pushed me into herself. Janet kissed my face, my shoulders, my chest and I reciprocated when I could. I knew what she was doing. We did it before when were were younger and I thought I had spent my last after an entire night of love-making. Janet was inexhaustible back then and we experimented a lot. Shawn and Melanie watched in quiet amazement as Janet, my experienced First, bewitched me as only one could after so many years of close association. Despite having shot my load twice earlier in the evening, my third (and final) sperm blast of the night was possibly the largest (and most painful) deposit I made. When I woke in a dazed stupor the next day, I could barely walk. I nearly stumbled when I tried to get up. Janet quickly took charge and she and the girls kindly bundled me in the car. She then took my keys and drove us all back home. The unexpected orgy aside, I later learned that would actually be my average weekend: just hanging out with my girls: my family. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- A NEW YEAR, A NEW AGE =============================================================================== As I had predicted, Janet's big asbestos case turned out to be a settlement through arbitration. Arbitration wasn't in the realm of her firm of lawyers, so she was able to get some much needed time off. Besides, few firms worked near the holidays (the courts tended to close early). Melanie was doing well in her vocational program and needed no one's help (she was a bright girl). Since she was eighteen and her parents had her younger brother Chen Yu-Wah to look after, she was in the clear as well. She had to do some convincing with her parents; they only consented after Shawn appeared as "the friend" who Melanie's parents thought was the main reason for the trip. Shawn, though, was the only one who had earnestly tough problems with her parents. Since she was an only child (her brother having died years ago), they were a little more protective. Her parents had met Janet, and they were suspicious even of Melanie (whom they knew was in my confidence) when she came to repeat the story used on the Chens. Melanie must've picked up something off me, because she was able to convince the Hortens that nothing unsavory would happen. I suppose that the Hortens were won over when they accidentally shook Melanie's hand. Oops! My little darling was latent, but I guess all those years hanging around me made her somewhat persuasive too. The Hortens agreed to the trip, and (better) didn't harass Shawn about it thereafter. Still, the logistics of it all were harsh. I barely managed to book four flights during the busy holiday season. Since coach was booked full, I decided to splurge a little and look into first-class (which was not as heavily booked, out of sheer expense). Thus, I was able to grab flights for all four of us. We landed at JFK airport a few days before the new year. Viktoriya offered to put us up for our stay in New York City, but I had also booked two adjoining rooms in a hotel on Manhattan in anticipation of this event a few weeks before (it was a gamble I was willing to take). The hotel wasn't a five-star place but it wasn't a dive either; it was easily lost in the maze of streets between Battery and Central Parks. I asked my Russian beauty to pack up some things for a week's stay and she positively jumped at the chance to stay in a room with three other girls. Oh yeah, I grinned. It was going to be one of those vacations. New York City was a helluva place. Surpassing San Francisco's history by 200 odd years made it that much more full of people and dense with infrastructure. For the first two days, Shawn and I were actually working, taking digital pictures of rooftops, apartment complexes, driveways (for me), gutter systems (for Shawn), and other architectural and engineering minutiae that would likely bore you to tears. Janet and Melanie hit the town with Viktoriya showing them around. They had a ball. I had taken some of the money I earned (and stole) from my business in Mexico and used biointroscopy (perception through skin) to weed out the duplicate bills. I kept the ones that felt the most "clothy" and gave my girls $2000 each before turning them loose. They certainly had their fun, although all but Viktoriya were suspicious. "Where'd you get all this?" Janet glowered at me. "I have a side job." "What kind of side job?" Janet asked with alarm. "What are you mixed up in?!" "It's a contracting thing," I dismissed her concerns. She wasn't all too happy, so I did my best to allay her fears. "Look, it's nothing illegal," I managed a smile. "So don't worry about it." Actually, the legality of it all depended on who was asked. The agency couldn't care less; the cartels used different terminology: muerto and "not muerto" (dead or not dead). "This is a lot of dough," my First hung onto her natural suspicions. "Oh don't worry," Viktoriya winked at me. "I am sure Stanislav planned this." "That's what I'm afraid of," Janet said with resignation. "Two thousand to match the new year," I quipped, "Just don't let it go to your head, cause it's once every thousand years." "So, like do we get three thousand for the year 3000?" Shawn chided me. "Start exercising," I poked her soft tummy gently, "Then we'll talk." "Meh!" Shawn made a face and stuck her tongue at me. That little disagreement, plus the fact that there was a lot of New York City to take in over the course of a week, were the only blights on the whole trip. Our body clocks hadn't adjusted from West Coast time so we couldn't do all the things we wanted; nor was there any massive orgy. After a whirlwind tour through the Big Apple, the last thing I wanted to do was spend all night fucking. I just wanted to sleep (and so did most of the girls). By the time we adjusted our inner clocks and had our fill of the city's sights, it was nearly time for us to leave. Still, the most important thing got taken care of. The rooftop of our hotel was a softly lit outdoor cafe on New Year's Eve. The nippy air was made more palatable as primly dressed men and women danced, drank, and partied the night away around big electric heaters. Servers in monkey-suits bustled to and fro as I seated my girls in turn. My four great beauties each wore an elegant evening gown that showed off both their inner and outer beauty. Janet wore a little black cocktail dress with few frills. With her hair gelled up, she was able to bare her slim shoulders and neck to the world. Melanie took after "Janet jie-jie" with a similar, if more conservatively covered, black party dress. "It's cold!" Melanie confessed to me privately. I laughed at her sensible practicality and kissed her. Shawn's breasts hadn't stopped growing, so the poor girl was one cup bigger (DD-cup). Few men on the roof saw her violet dress she had worn. They were probably aware that it did frame a great view of her cleavage though. Heck, even I was distracted. "Eyes up here mister," Shawn had to prod me a few times during the night. "Sorry pumpkin," I'd grin and wink. "Boobies don't have eyes." She'd then try to shove something into my mouth to shut me up. Viktoriya again made a very vivid impression. Her long red dress did her legs great justice when she'd stride across the roof. It made more of an impression when she and I took to the dance floor and spun a mambo into a quick waltz. It wasn't that pretty, but it was just us having our fun. The five of us counted down the rest of the year then laughed and frolicked ourselves silly. I even called Faraz and wished him a Happy New Year. He and Ghandia were in San Francisco's Union Square waiting for the new year to come to them. He heard New York's gleeful roaring over the phone and congratulated me. "So my friend," he asked over the din. "Have they agreed yet?" "Yeah," I said with a smile, "About that ..." My grin was wide enough to reach both coasts. Technically, it wasn't yet the end of the milennium. However, the end of 1999 was the start of a new era for me: four glasses held by four beautiful ladies voluntarily touched mine at the stroke of midnight January 1, 2000. =============================================================================== COPYRIGHT: 2009. THIS WORK IS CONSIDERED PRIVATE AND ITS DISTRIBUTION IS EXPRESSLY FOR FTP.ASSTR.ORG AND MCSTORIES.COM. THE UN-AUTHORIZED DISTRIBUTION OF THIS DOCUMENT MAY BE CONSIDERED A VIOLATION OF COPYRIGHT AND DISSEMINATION OF OBSCENE MATERIAL IN YOUR COUNTRY. YOU MAY BE SUBJECT YOU TO PENALITIES INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: FINES, INCARCERATION, OR CAPITAL OR OTHER FORMS OF PUNISHMENT. PLEASE CHECK WITH YOUR LOCAL LAWS BEFORE CREATING OR DISTRIBUTING OBSCENE AND OBJECTIONABLE MATERIALS. AUTHOR: MAXIMILLIAN ZHANG EDITORS: FERMAT and VOYER E-MAIL: GREY228 [ON] HOTMAIL ===============================================================================