=============================================================================== 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. =============================================================================== Inter arma enim silent leges [In times of war, the law falls silent.] =============================================================================== 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 relives the years between 2001 and 2007. Now a young father, he lives with his wives in San Francisco, and further masters his gifts until they approach the level of his mentor Tseng. Despite this improvement, he still achieves many of his goals through subversive and covert means. When Stanley's family is threatened by Shawn's father, he metes out swift and harsh retribution while maintaining a facade of wholesomeness. While Stanley does his best to inure his wives and children to the rigors of a rapidly changing world, reality wears at his idealism. Seeking an outlet, he beings to build a very private, and unique, residence in the San Francisco Bay. However, that project is not enough to stave off more immediate temptation. He carries on an illicit affair with one of his own university students, Rosalind Chae. As the year 2008 begins, he arranges to keep her as an on-going mistress separate from his household. =============================================================================== GIRLS NEXT DOOR =============================================================================== As I had accurately guessed the year prior, 2008 immediately got busy. Apart from cleaning up the remnants of the ricin and anthrax operations, the agency sent me, Ghost Light, Mirage, and Masquerade out on a retrieval mission in Montana. The asset sent in to infiltrate a local organization had gotten the information we wanted, but he was now suspected as an infiltrator. So, we had to get him out before things went bad. Normally, Masquerade didn't accompany us on field-ops, but she was called in due to this particular emergency extraction. She was to maintain the asset's cover while we got him out. Bethany did that with great skill, perfectly mimicking our agent so Ghost Light could warp him outta there. To cover Masquerade's escape, Mirage caused a significant distraction while I guided Bethany out using enhanced mind-sight and an ear-bud to disguise my true potential. If she suspected my powers had grown, she definitely verified it when I pinged her a few times to forewarn her of impending danger. I trusted Bethany though; Tseng had given her a quick version of the empire's story, though I got the feeling that she suspected there was something more to it. Initially, there were complications in the operation. While the others fit right in, I had to play the part of supervisory agent in charge. Dapper Chinese gentlemen generally didn't hang around militia-infested Montana. Regardless, the four of us completed our task and left without further incident. More importantly, there was no bloodshed. The body count was for the FBI and ATF to rack-up once we left. Because I had some time left of my leave of absence from the firm, I called up Rosalind to see if she was available. Our arrangement wasn't without the occasional exchange of body fluid. As much pussy I had at home, I didn't mind porking Rosalind when I handed over her monthly allowance. True to our agreement, Rosalind maintained a fairly high grade point average (around 3.9). Not having to worry about money freed her to focus on school work. I made little demand on her time. Since she lived just across the bay, it was easy to meet and arrange a casual encounter. Usually, it was a quick meet at a hotel. Hence, I was surprised when Rosalind greeted me with some strange demands. "Oh hey, Stan," the Korean cutie chirped over the phone, "Where are you?" "An airport." I was vague; I never revealed too much to Rosalind. "I'm going to be in later tonight. I was wondering if you'd be free tomorrow?" "Tomorrow?" Rosalind sniffed and I heard the clickety-clack of her Blackberry. "Oh yeah, fer sure! But um, can I bring some company?" I paused, a little surprised. "Sure I guess. Wait. Is it anyone I know?" I had said I wasn't there to control her life, and being permissive with certain things was part of my nature. In fact, if Rosalind was bringing along some people she found interesting, that was fine too. I only wanted to bone her for about an hour or so a month. What she did the rest of the time was her business. "Just some friends of mine. You bumped into one of 'em last time, remember?" Rosalind lowered her voice before going on, "Um, Stan? Can you do four thousand this time?" "Sure." I found my interest suddenly piqued. "But why?" "Uh--huh," Rosalind responded obliquely, "Yeah. My friends wanna party. So, like it'll be a grand each okay?" I sensed her thoughts despite being a thousand miles away. Rosalind's friends were in the room with her and partially listening in. Interesting. She's either setting me up, or she just arranged an orgy for me. I grew mildly suspicious, but played along, not wanting to wreck what plans she made. "Sure. No problem. The usual place?" "Um, let's try the coffee place near Wurster Hall," Rosalind suggested. "Fine," I said, "See you tomorrow, say noon-ish?" "See ya at noon," she replied and hung up. I was curious as I reached out and pinged Rosalind's mind. By the time my plane took off from Logan International Airport, I had gathered enough to know what was going on. Upon meeting my Korean cupcake the day after, I was confirmed my suspicions. Rosalind had three friends who shared her apartment; one of them I had bumped into on my way out the last time I visited. Rose's roommates had seen her mood go from stressed out to sanguine in the short span of three months. The questions were light-hearted at first. Then genuine jealousy set in when the other girls got hints of her secret. Rosalind couldn't give away the whole story without seriously revealing how much she was getting. But with Spring Break coming up, Rosalind grew soft-hearted and decided to split her March payment in a hair-brained scheme that would've given Melanie a run for her money. Her friends were three nineteen year old college girls named Sasha Goodwin, Kimberly Brewer, and Alexia Lambedakis. All were fairly pretty, and most guys would earnestly give up their left nut for a single night with any one of them (let alone all at once). In my case, I just splashed a wad of money and wondered how the hell I got into this mess. To be truthful, I wasn't all that much into the partying scene anymore -- not with worrying about the kids at home. Besides, if I was screwing around, I didn't want to think about what my darlings would do on their own time. As Viktoriya's stunt in Italy had reminded me, I could've easily been the cuckolded husband in a nest of harpies. Still, there was a quartet of slutty college whores who were willing to sell it if the price was right, and I was an eager buyer. At a grand a night per pussy, it was something amicable to everyone involved. Rosalind and her three buddies were waiting for me at a coffee house on the corner of College and Bancroft. It was a great place for design students when they needed a caffeine pick-me-up. "Oh hiya!" Rosalind waved as I came into sight. I waved back as I approached the group, studying each of the new faces and minds as quickly as I could. My former student was dressed in a loose orange top and a pair of denim shorts. It was far less than what she wore when we first met, but a spring heat wave had hit Berkeley early that year. I could see her cute little feet and her painted toes from the sandals she was wearing, her olive tan skin begging for a man's touch. Her other three friends were just as enticingly dressed. Sasha was an exotic looker, much like Viktoriya. She even sat as primly as my Russian darling. She possessed gorgeous brown hair done in two loose pig-tails. She had sharp features, and her cheeks and jaw were chiseled in a way that gave her strong Slavic features -- all which only enhanced her fierce beauty. The girl wore a striped top that lifted her B-cups to form some cleavage and which easily showed off her navel piercing. Her sandal-wrapped feet peeked out past her black jeans, giving her an approachable, if coquettish, air. Kimberly appeared more traditional "American" with brownish red curls and a simple peach-tan top and white shorts. A pair of sunglasses were stuck into her hair. Her inquisitive green-grey eyes flicked between the text messages on her mobile phone and me. The tall girl appeared to be the biggest of the bunch, her face having that "wideness" that was apparent when one looked at her dead on. However, she had a pretty athletic body which practically demanded attention. Alexia was a mix of between something Asian and (I guessed from her last name) Greco-Macedonian. It didn't matter, for she was a definite hottie. She wore a loose frilly shirt which she didn't bother tucking into her faded blue jeans. Unlike the others who wore sandals or open toed shoes for spring, the brunette had donned a pair of tan suede or leather boots. Her below-shoulder length hair dangled behind her as she sat precariously without a care at the cafe. So, it was in the midst of this quartet of young women, I made my introduction and sat. We ordered and chatted. I was talkative, but only when it came to asking them about the girls' lives and feigning interest in their activities and hobbies. By now, I was used to steering and cajoling the conversation with a quick smile and a little light mind-reading. Of course, I only spent as much time remembering what facts I needed to successfully bed each of of those hussies. I knew one of them had troubles with an on-and-off boyfriend, while another was experimenting with Ecstasy. The third was into seriously hardcore vibrator usage. All of them though, were struggling and nervous; none of them had prostituted themselves before. After lunch, Rosalind led the way towards her apartment. As I walked with the four girls through the campus, I noticed our little group turned heads. I also wondered if (and how) Rosalind had prepared this time. If she was as loopy-headed as the last couple times, it would mean I have to do some groundwork. When we were near the campus' South Gate, I told them I'd be back in a bit after I drop by the Walgreens on Shattuck. "I know where the place is," I said, "I'll be right back." "But I got everything." Rosalind paused. "Or I think I did." "You think?" Kimberly elbowed the little Korean girl, "Are you sure?" "It's better to be safe than sorry." I gave them a shrewd grin and suggested, "Why don't you head back and relax? I'll be back in a flash." Perhaps it was just to make sure I came back to go through with the whole thing, but pretty pig-tailed Sasha tagged along. She and I made quite the cute couple as we walked down sun-drenched Shattuck to the pharmacy. Without batting an eye, I headed straight to the contraceptives section; Sasha toyed gingerly with a stack of hairclips as I swept past the shelf. I grabbed a box of the correct-sized condoms and the largest container of lubricant I could find, then headed for the checkout. The pimply-faced clerk of course, had his eyes on Sasha's tight petite ass as she followed me outside the pharmacy. I caught his fleeting thoughts as we went out of sight; none of them were wholesome enough to remember or repeat here. Back at Rosalind's, I handed over my "donation" (essentially, the payment) to the girls and they were seriously blown away by the dough I was spending. From the thoughts I was grabbing, I determined that Rosalind had twisted the truth a bit about the stipend she was getting to her so-called friends. I had fully prepared and sorted four thousand dollars into four separate security envelopes earlier. In addition, I carried my allowance of petty cash in small and large bills in case things got more interesting. Lucky for me, the girls were satisfied with what I had to offer; I needn't spend more. From Rosalind's lies, the other three girls thought I was paying her a mere grand to fuck her brains out once a month. This of course, didn't jive with reality. I was actually giving her a lot more dough and I wasn't actually banging her whenever I felt like it. I could have, but I definitely wasn't. Rosalind decided to be a bit generous and share her fortune this one time so I could have one heckuva orgy. It was her way of "gifting" me something special in her twisted way, and I was all right with it. Things got busy quick after I hit the shower. The Slavic girl, Sasha took the plunge first by hopping in with me and sucking me off. I rammed her face a few times but held off and refused to spunk. I wrapped my cock with a condom, picked up the slight college freshman, and porked her silly. Sasha's arms and legs were wrapped around me as I slammed her in the bathroom. However, I grew tired of how things were going, and decided to take things further. I carried Sasha right into the living room where the other three girls were lounging. Amidst their shocked and surprised gasps and stares, I plopped Sasha on the floor and pummelled her right before their very eyes. The show had an amusing effect on the girls as they cheered (or jeered) my fuck-toy as she lost control over her body and orgasmed like she never had before. I TK-rolled her G-spot a few more times, timing it with my own thrusts to wipe her out. Emboldened, I pulled out of a shivering Sasha, put on a new condom, and selected the next girl. Sensing her arousal, I grabbed Rosalind roughly by the wrist. She gasped as I pushed her down on all fours and rammed right into her without any pretense of foreplay. While this had the danger of being harmful, I had enough control over telekinesis to ease myself in without physically harming her. To Rosalind, it felt like a very slick, very lubricated, very warm, and very massive dick had been shoved into her body and throbbed against her vaginal walls. She cried out loudly as the other girls watched transfixed as their friend turned into a wailing banshee. I drilled my extramarital fuck-nugget until I lost count how many times she juiced over my fuck baton. When I finished with Rosalind, I grabbed the next convenient girl, Kimberly, and pushed her onto the sofa. She uttered a wild screech as I split her pussy with a mix of telekinesis and my freshly protected Chinaman's dick. From my scans, I knew this girl enjoyed some light abuse. I lightly slapped her face a few times while I porked her silly. Kimberly initially snarled, but it was a "happy" kind of snarl. I sensed she wanted more so I decided to up it a notch. I squeezed out a large gob of goopy lube and worked it over her puckered asshole. Having thrown both her legs to one side, I was able to work a condom covered finger into her tight little shitter. Soon, her ass was begging to be wrecked by anything longer than four inches and thicker than an American dime. The frazzled hair beauty's eyes grew wide with fear and anticipation as I pulled out of her cooch and mounted an Asian invasion on her tight, puckered asshole. Her howl of, "Goddamn!!" drew the awe of her friends while I slammed her like a well-oiled steam engine. My fingers left slight welts on her hips and thighs as I rammed her over and over again. Kimberly grimaced like she was in pain, but she was clearly enjoying herself -- her ass clamped down on my meat shaft with each stroke. I finally spread her legs apart, and flicked her clit until she seized up and came in one huge extended orgasm. "Rose, get me a paper towel." I pointed with my chin. Rosalind hopped to the kitchen and came back with a roll of towels. I took a square and pulled out of Kimberly's asshole. She grabbed a few squares and excused herself to the washroom. That was fine. That was also why Janet didn't mind condoms when anal sex was involved. I quickly changed yet another condom and pounced on Alexia. Despite her fiery appearance, this girl wasn't into the rough stuff. So, I slowed my pace to make her comfortable. I spread her legs wide, letting her shapely calves press against my chest as I entered her tight little hole. As it turned out, Alexia was the circle's closet masturbator. She moaned softly as I plowed her slowly and gently. "Shit -- I want that!" Sasha exclaimed quietly behind me. I turned around to see Sasha fingering herself; her digits slick and glossy from her body fluids. Nearby, Kimberly had showered herself clean and was bumping butts with Rosalind. I saw they were sharing a double-ended dildo that was as glossy-wet as Sasha's fingers. Feeling adventuresome, I tugged Sasha towards me and kissed her full on. She responded eagerly by pressing herself against me. As I continued my thrusting, Sasha glanced at her chum lying on the floor. "Hey Lexi." Sasha let out a drunk giggle. "Wanna eat me out?" Alexia blinked; she seemed apprehensive as her gaze shifted to me for my opinion. I only managed a wry grin. "You'll never know if you don't try." The Greco-Asiatic brunette smiled shyly and nodded. Sasha straddled the other girl's face and tongue-fucked my mouth while I stuck her friend, who in turn, lapped up Sasha's dripping puss. By now, I had denied myself the chance to shoot my spunk several times. I wanted release, but the feeling I got from the four girls in the apartment were that they weren't yet satisfied. I glanced at the clock in Rosalind's apartment and saw it was only a few minutes past 3 P.M. local time. I had been fucking these girls for less than an hour. "Hey pull out just a sec," Sasha said. I glanced down and saw that the doe-eyed girl with the pig-tails was leaning over, and appeared to be sixty-nine-ing Alexia. She wasn't though. Instead, Sasha was alternately licking her friend's clit and panting with her mouth wide open, practically inviting me to shove my dick right in. Man, I thought wryly, the guy who was going to date this nympho was in for a treat. I pulled out of Alexia and shoved my covered cock into Sasha's eager, waiting mouth. She let her jaws slacken as I poled her slowly (and carefully; I didn't want to knock her teeth out). My dick ached for release, but I denied myself the pleasure. Slick with spit, spermicide, and lubricant, I pulled out and slid back into Alexia with ease. I felt the busty Greek girl's pussy pulse quickly as she came three times in quick succession. I slammed her a few more times before I left Sasha and Alexia alone. By now, I was like a man following his basest desires as I got up and gingerly pulled Kimberly on top of me. She gasped in surprise when I took her. Rosalind tongue wrestled me while my hips bucked gently upward against Kimberly's baby-kettle. "Like it huh?" Rosalind asked after I drew back for some breath. "Y--yeah." I panted. "Cool, glad you do." She bent in close and kissed my neck. I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to cum. "Can we join in?" Sasha and Alexia were kneeling just beside me. "In--na--min--net," Kimberly's face contorted as she uttered a soft cry and climaxed again. The frazzled-haired girl let out a satisfied breath, leaned over to kiss me, and got off the Miracle-Fuck that was my modest little dick. "Me next!" Sasha quickly impaled herself before anyone could contest her. And on and on this went until it started getting dark. By now, I had maintained and erection for nearly three hours. I wasn't using anything except a little mental exercise to keep myself hard. The girls in the apartment were saddle-sore, dehydrated, and more than a little irked that I still hadn't shot my load. "You know, I didn't believe you at first," Alexia said to Rosalind, "But your boyfriend's dick is like solid granite or sum'thin'." I grinned more at the "boyfriend" tag than Alexia's compliment. Rosalind giggled shyly as she bent down to kiss me. "Hey Stan," she whispered, "It's been great, but we got mid-terms next week y'know?" "Ungh--yeah," I groaned as Sasha rode my fuck-shaft for the umpteenth time now. I watched the petite dark haired girl shiver as she orgasmed yet another time. She fell back, exhausted and breathless. "But you haven't cum yet!?" Kimberly glanced at me astonished. "We're fuckin' the Man O'Steel here." "Ha-hah," Sasha giggled deliriously, "Supa'man! I fucked Superman!!" We all laughed a bit, but Rosalind got serious. "No c'mon guys," she said, "He paid us a lotta money. He's gotta cum, y'know?" "What'd you suggest?" Kimberly asked. "I've got an idea," I said and the four of them looked at me. "I've been holding back 'cause I didn't want to leave anyone out, but why don't the four of you try sucking me off? Just another five minutes or so. I'll watch and if I can't get off, we can try next time." "Sounds like a challenge" Rosalind said as she wore saucy smile. "C'mon! Show your teeth and TEAR it up!!" The girls laughed as much as I did. If they only knew how fast Shawn and Jamie made me blow my load, they'd be put to shame. Sasha placed herself of over one of my legs and Kimberly the other, while Alexia and Rosalind lay prone beside me. I found I could reach and grab Alexia's and Rosalind's cute butt-cheeks as the four girls began licking, biting, and sucking my dick, balls, and groin in earnest. Holy shit, it felt great! I shuddered and nearly came. Thankfully, I inured myself against such stimulation and kept my erection. By now, Sasha and Alexia would alternate being suckling the top of my prick while biting the length of my shaft. Kimberly, wanting to find her own space, found that I groaned softly when she took my balls into her mouth. "Oh yeah, that's good," I said through gritted my teeth as to encourage them. "The balls, the tip, the whole thing -- ungh." The girls got the gist of it as they continued licking and mouth-fucking me. I tugged Rosalind and guided her to suck on my erect nipples. "Feels good?" she mumbled as she kissed my nips. "Bite." I shivered with eager anticipation. "Just a bit." Rosalind grinned and bit me -- hard. Coupled with the sweet oral I was getting from three other girls, my body tensed up and I blew my top. Alexia squealed as my hand tightened over her lovely ass. Her squeal of delight quickly became a cry of annoyance when she found most of my scuzz flew into her hair. "Hole--lee--fuck!!" Sasha laughed as Alexia sat up. The Greco-Asian girl sat with a frown on her face as she tried to untangle the soggy mess in her beautiful black hair. Kimberly in the mean time, seemed like she was getting a second wind. I watched her press her face tight against my scrotum and deeply inhale my man scent. "Fuck that was awesome!" Kimberly murmured, "Hey, if you don't mind Rosie, can I --?" "God, you're such a slut!!" Rosalind scowled at her friend then turned to me. "Do you think you can? What'd you think?" As inviting as it was, I didn't want to jeapordize their academic careers. "I'd say hit the books," I said as I sat up, "But if you're in the mood, ten more minutes?" "Thanks!" Kimberly nodded and scrambled for a new condom while the others dispersed, grabbing their clothes, stretching, and yawning. In the meantime, the tall Caucasian girl clawed my neck lightly as she settled her ass over my still stiff dick. "I aim to please." I grinned at her and she smiled shyly back. I didn't know I had it in me, but I found I could still walk after all that activity. By the time I was dressed and ready to leave, it was dusk. Kimberly found the shower was still occupied by Alexia (she was still scrubbing her hair clean of my cum) so she and Sasha stepped out to grab some take-out. With the bathroom occupied and Rosalind changing, I didn't want any more fanfare and I quietly made for the door. "Hey!" It was my Korean honey. She had just stepped out from her room, cute as a button. Rosalind was dressed in an oversized T-shirt, white socks and panties. It made her look sweeter and younger than her age. The lil' Korean spinner ran up and threw her arms around me. I sagged back a bit and returned her embrace. "You're leaving without saying goodbye?" Rosalind looked at me. "Sorry." I rubbed her back gently. "I thought you were studying." "Well it only takes a sec to say g'bye!" She didn't relinquish her hold. "Sorry Rose." I gave her a gentle hug. "G'night. And let those friends of yours know I had plenty of fun." "I'll bet." Rosalind's eyes sparkled as she asked, "You wanna do'em again huh?" "Well, sure." I rubbed her cheek gently. "If they're up for it." "Let's wait and see if my Pell Grant comes through," she lowered her voice to a bare whisper, "Then I can afford it to let you fuck my friends." "You're a wild one." I gave her a kiss on the nose. "Don't you get into trouble now. Understand, sweetheart?" "I won't 'daddy'." Rosalind tip-toed and kissed me on lips. "I'll be good, 'kay?" We usually stuck with our monosyllable names when possible. However, the age difference and how we saw each other nearly made it seem like we were father and daughter (almost -- although I'm sure Janet would've gone nuts if she got pregnant at age 18). I didn't let any of that faze me as I kissed her deeply. The petite little K-gal cooed with pleasure and clutched me ever tighter as my tongue slipped past her sweet lips and into her eager mouth. I finally had to draw back for some air. "Be a good girl 'till I get back, 'kay?" "Yes'um." She kissed me passionately once more on the lips before I finally left. =============================================================================== HOME FRONT =============================================================================== Now you might think that a man would be wiped out after having balled four college girls who were young enough to be his daughters. Not a chance. Instead of taking the underground train, I found a secluded corner of the the apartment block and flew up straight into the air. Using the small gyrocompass on my hiking watch and the lights in the distance, I pointed myself towards San Francisco. My telekinesis was still not as potent as Viktoriya's, but I had honed what I had to a level of proficiency I wouldn't have dreamed of when I was younger. I "pushed" on the soles of my shoes to achieve the height I needed and maintained my balance by "jerking" the dress belt I wore. By doing this, I was able to safely "fly" without risk breaking something on my body and I zipped towards the City by the Bay just a few feet over the chilly water. I managed to land back home unseen and unnoticed after a short, soundless flight. My building was quite impressive at night. Garden lamps lit up the front yard with low wattage solar-powered LEDs. The lights gave the place an eerie luminosity at night. Janet's house next door was similarly illuminated. I saw one of her lights was on and I reflexively pinged. A-ha. A slow grin crept across my face. Janet had taken Michael, Milhail, and little Frederick to stay at her house for a little while. Despite our "no one under six" rule, my First bent it for her son after I installed child-proof locks on the sliding doors. We also carefully instructed both the older boys they were to NEVER go into the backyard without an adult (Jillian, of course, didn't count and she could come and go as she pleased with Janet's and Jamie's permission). I headed into my unit and glanced at my watch. It was nearly 9 o'clock. I reheated and ate a pork bun, showered, brushed, donned some dress slacks, shirt and jacket, grabbed a bottle of chardonnay, and ran back outside to my First's residence. I rang her doorbell once and waited. I sensed Janet's confusion as I felt her presence approach the front door. She spied me through the peephole and greeted me in genuine surprise. "Stanley? What're you doing here? I thought tonight was your 'off-night'." "I got lonely." I flashed her my trademark smile. "You mean you got horny," Janet said dourly, "Is this a booty call?" "Maybe." I pouted and rubbed a shoe behind the other like a shy kid. "Aren't you going to let your poor husband in?" Janet knitted her brow and glared with her arms folded across her chest. "Pretty please?" I leaned close and kissed her. "Ngoi-gwaju lei-a Ling-Ling*." [* Cantonese: I missed you Ling-Ling.] My First reluctantly took my bottle of two-buck Chuck and stepped aside to let me in. "Where're the boys?" "Probably asleep until you rang the bell." Janet shut the door behind me. "For the record, you're too late to dine me." "So I'll just wine you. I'll think about the sixty-nining part." "Charming as always." She sniffed and walked past me with her head held high. "Don't be uppity Jan." I grabbed her and spun her into my arms. "What's gotten into you?! You've been acting all weird recently." "Mid-life crisis." I leered. "Does it matter? You're getting some tonight." "It does to me," she said peevishly, "You sure you're not taking something?" "Hmm, maybe. Does lady-juice count?" "Eww." Janet wrinkled her nose. "Fuck no!" "Oooh! Mom said a bad word!!" My First gasped as she and I looked up to see the oldest boys on the stairs. Mikey and Milhail both registered shock on their faces that their mother had said a curse word. "Hey guys." I grinned and winked. "You heard your mom. Gimme a hand and tie her up for a spanking okay?" "Cool!" Mikey sped off to the kitchen, followed closely by Milhail. "You wouldn't dare." Janet levelled a glare at me. "Hey why not?" I shrugged, "You said it -- not me. Now you gotta be paddled." Janet shook her head in bewilderment as we composed ourselves. "Wait, wait a minute." She pushed me away. "You're kidding right?" "Do I look like I am?" I pointed at my face and gave her a 'You're in for it now!' look. Janet shook her head, took the bottle of wine, and head into the kitchen. Right as she stepped in, the boys came running back out the other side, their hands full of orange nylon cord. "Dad!" Milhail called out, "Where's mom?" "You didn't see her?" I knitted my brow. "Come on, follow me." My sons and I went to Janet's kitchen and found it empty save for the bottle of chardonnay. "She's escaped!" I feigned shock, "Fan out guys, let's find her!" "Awesome!! Mom's hiding 'cause she's gonna get spanked!" Mikey said excitedly. "I'll get Freddy up and help!" Milhail ran upstairs to rouse his brother. "Great." I laughed and gestured for them to do their thing. I knew where Janet was hiding but the kids were so energized, I wanted to run them tired so they could sleep well. I put the wine in the fridge and waited until my three pint-sized deputies lined up before me. Little Frederick was rubbing his eyes when he appeared, yawning. "Dad-da?" he yawned. "Where's mommy?" "Mom's in trouble!" Michael whispered, "She said the f-word RIGHT in front of us!" "Oh?" Little Freddy blinked, his mind slowly waking up. "R'illy?" "You bet!" Milhail nodded. "We heard her say it too!" "Okay guys." I huddled with them, "Here's the plan: mom's gotta be hiding around here somewhere. So spread out, search the rooms, and holler when you find her, okay?" "YEAH!!" The kids shouted and fanned out with such exuberance, I hoped they wouldn't get too rough. Janet wouldn't lift a finger to hurt them, but the two older boys packed a punch when they ran, and either could easily knock her over. A serious injury (even a bruise) at her age might turn out to be serious. Janet wasn't that old, but she wasn't as young as she used to be either. I waited little bit for the kids to scatter throughout the house before I took three steps towards the storage closet and opened it. Janet glowered at me unkindly. She was scrunched up and sitting on the vacuum cleaner. I pulled her up and out from the small space. "You irresponsible butthole," my First growled and nipped my cheek, "You're lucky tomorrow's Sunday." I ignored her protests and tried to kiss her. Janet tried turning her face away but I sensed which direction she was going to face, and gently headed her off each time. She finally gave up and I kissed her full on the mouth. "Wo-louw-a*!" Janet said after she gently pushed me away. [* Cantonese: I'm pissed!] "Ngmho kgum-le*," I scratched the backs of her hands gently. [* Cantonese: Don't be like this.] Before she could say anything more, the boys came in shouting excitedly. Frederick was hard at work pushing an office chair into the kitchen. "What's that for?" I asked him and pointed. "Ish'so mommy can be tied up!" he spun the chair around so it faced us. "Hah, smart lil'guy," I laughed as Janet's jaw dropped. "You -- wouldn't -- DARE!!" she let out an angry shriek as I scooped her up with one hand to the loud cheers of the kids. Despite the rough-housing, I set her down as gently as I could in the chair. Janet sat in quiet dejection with her hair frazzled and her blouse and dress roughed up. The older boys laughed with glee as they wrapped several feet of rope around their mother and the chair. Using my hand as a spacer (and a bit of telekinesis) I made sure the bonds weren't that tight. I wanted to be able to undo those bonds later so I could have fun with my lovely First. With our quarry captured, I rolled a defeated Janet into the first floor den and closed the door partly. I brought the kids back out to the living room, microwaved some popcorn, grabbed several boxes of fruit juices and sweetened soy milk, and then I rolicked with them for a few minutes. "Okay guys, I'm going to see how mom's doing," I said, "You guys have fun got it?" "Cool!" Milhail's eyes sparkled as I handed him the remote. "But dad," Michael whined, "I don't wanna watch Yu-Gi-Oh! I wanna watch Spiderman!" "Everyone gets a turn." I patted my son's head. "Let your brother watch this tonight and we'll do something you want tomorrow morning okay?" "Promise?" he asked. I nodded as Milhail turned up the volume to drown us out. Thankfully, Frederick wasn't as picky as his brothers. My kid burped loudly from his black currant juice and helped himself to some more buttered popcorn. I was spoiling them rotten and I'd hear no end of it from Janet tomorrow. But that still meant I could have fun tonight. I slipped quietly into the den and found the chair empty. The rope was in a pile next to it. I reflexively pinged the vicinity gently, and sensed Janet's presence in the master bedroom. I snuck upstairs quietly, passing a glance over the kids, who were all glued to the TV. Mikey was enjoying himself despite his earlier protest. As I neared the room, I cocked my head. I could hear the shower running, but something was fishy. I pinged as I opened the door to the bedroom slowly. I grinned as I realized that Janet was lurking in the darkness with a pillow in hand. "Xei-yea*!" Janet pounced on me. [* Cantonese: You bastard! (in this colloquial context)] I held my arms open and got whapped softly on the head for that act of compassion. I laughed as I grabbed the pillow in one arm, and encircled Janet's waist with the other. "Suiy-yun*!" [* Cantonese: Asshole (in this colloquial context)] She hissed angrily with a rough smile, "How dare you leave me tied up in the dark!" "Sorry." I kissed her lightly. "You'd better be!" Janet bit my cheek playfully, "What're they doing now?" "Watching TV." I tossed the pillow on the bed and glanced towards the shower. "You left that on?" "I heard you coming upstairs." Despite the dim light, I could see Janet's cheeks dimple. "You're not the quietest person I know." "Maybe I'm just tubby." I patted my slight paunch comically. "Lucky you." She grinned wryly. "I have just the exercise for tubby hubbies." Janet pulled me to the shower where we had made our own entertainment. When we were done an hour or so later, we checked on the kids. Frederick was asleep, but the older boys were only nodding off and watching the Yu-Gi-Oh fight whats-his-face again. I roused the boys and had them swish some Listerine before they went to bed. For Frederick, I had to content myself with getting him to brush his teeth while he was half-asleep. All that done, I put my sons to bed and headed for the master bedroom. "Lei kao wai-xaiy di-xeimenjei-a*!" Janet glowered at me with some annoyance. [* Cantonese: What a fine example you are! (colloquial trans.) literally: You teach the children badly] She had just finished picking up the crumbs, cups, and napkins our boys had left. I chuckled and turned the lights off. As mad as she sounded, I felt her hands on my face and neck once I slipped into bed alongside her. All in all, it was a very good night. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- WELCOME TO THE ROCK =============================================================================== By early 2008, my project at Red Rock had been going on for over two years. The last of the Marin county "problems" had been solved (not like I cared as I did some of the work my contractors weren't allowed to). Early on, there were a few environmental fanatics who gave me some trouble. A few of them even encamped on the island when I started excavation back in early 2006. The digging crew had to go home that day (setting me back quite a sum). When the contractor brought me the news, I was not in the mood to be civil. Just days before, Viktoriya had left for New York. Additionally, I was swamped with problems at home: aside from my money worries, I was taking care of our three new-born daughters so they wouldn't keep their mothers awake at night. Shawn's mother also chipped in, but dealing with one wailing infant was already a chore -- three screaming kids called for ordering valium by the pallet. Normally, Melanie would be able to help, but she couldn't because she was sick from her own pregnancy. For an hour after I got the news, I honestly thought murder would be the best solution. The waters around Red Rock were sixty feet deep; good enough for what I had in mind. I had learned from the Mexican banditos and Armenian mobsters that dissolving a corpse in sulphuric acid more or less made it unidentifiable unless there was DNA residue. With telekinesis, I didn't even need to physically touch anyone to dispose of them. Or, I could've just seized their minds and have them immerse themselves in a tub filled with acid. Gruesome, but effective. Luckily, saner and more rational thoughts came through, and I contacted the Contra Costa County Sheriff's office to file a complaint. As Red Rock's new owner, I didn't like trespassers. Unlike the previous owner, I cherished my privacy and property. Deputies made the arrest, and I had to go about the residence in a completely different fashion to avoid having my place wrecked by pissed off eco-terrorists. If I was confident the agency may not have an idea I owned Red Rock before, there was no way to hide it now due to the police report. I didn't sense that Cox knew about my latest purchase when we met a few weeks later. If the agency knew about my new purchase, they were keeping Agent Cox in the dark. If that were the case, the burly agent was simply a "dropbox" for his higher-ups; through Cox, the agency could interact with me without endangering itself. Ultimately, Red Rock was nothing more than a speck of sedimentary rock (very dense sedimentary rock) mixed with maganese (which gave it its red color) in the middle of the ocean. I needed to keep it from wearing away too fast, so I had contractors encase the windward side of the island in two to three inches of concrete (this was mixed with colored sand to let the island retain its reddish hue). On the leeward side, I planned the construction of a reinforced concrete and wood pier where boats could dock. It would protrude out from the middle of the eastern beach. While it was sturdy (and serviceable) I didn't plan on ever using it -- I planned to fly there in the dead of night. A ramp (again, concrete) was planned along the rough pre-existing trail. However, the trails only existed on the east and north sides. Half of the west side was nearly a gradual drop-off into the ocean, and its other half was a small slim beach filled with debris. The south side of Red Rock narrowed and sloped sharply into the sea, with only a tiny rock spire marking the tip. The top of the island was at odds with the project I had in mind, and it had to be partly leveled (that's what got the activists all riled up). I didn't waste the excavated materials though. The dirt and rock that was removed were pushed to the northwest side as a storm barrier. The residence was the hardest thing to design. Because of the new seismic safety rules, I couldn't build a replica of my favorite house (Le Corbusier's Ville Savoye in Poissy, France) without doing some serious pile-driving. Doing that would've cracked the rock, and reinforcing the stilts with the steel framed cagework as I had at my 43rd Avenue condo would've wrecked the design's aerie-like aesthetic. So, I had to settle for a completely different kind of building, although it retained much of the Modern-International style I loved. It's been called many things by critics and admirers alike: Spire House, Top Hat, Ship's House, Ship's Bridge, Zebra House, and even ugly, but to me the house on Red Rock was always just that -- House on Red Rock. Outwardly, the house didn't look like a residence. From the south side, it appeared to be a bunch of black coils around a large roughly rectilinear structure. The black coils were essentially Shawn's solar wall but vastly improved. Instead of having it do drainage and collecting sunlight, it focused only on solar power collection and the tubes were much, much thinner. Where there were windows and openings, a column of standard photo-voltaic cells were embedded above and below and linked to Shawn's system. These cells were modular and replaceable -- forerunners of today's modular solar panels. This of course, meant the southern facade had to best serve its function: to collect what scarce sunlight there was in the foggy San Francisco Bay. To do that, it was a generously curved and canted at a slight angle. This curve matched the path of the sun as it rose and set, even in winter time. Inset into this "football" footprint was a cylindrical space that poked through the two-level main structure. The third level of the central "tower" (as some critics had described it) was gentrified mix of family room, lounge, and observation deck topped with a tilted panel of solar cells similar to the ones used on the south facing. The sloped roof was securely tied down in case of strong winds. The tower's top had ventilation windows on the north side to let hot air out during summer months. The top lounge of course, opened to the rooftop of the main building. This rooftop was as sturdy and as sure-footed as my first building but the walls consisted only of wire reinforced curved glass. Under that wondrous sunny space were the living, eating, and sleeping spaces for about a family of four and two guests (I was unsure how many children I would have at the time). In any case, this was a stretch to house six adults on a deserted island (one could easily triple that for emergencies). Aside from the septic tank that allowed for non-biodegradeable waste, there was a system of recycling the "white" water used for showers, dish washing, and the drinking tap into "gray" water for irrigating the landscape. I planned to have replaceable batteries to store the energy collected during the daytime; there were even customized socket connections for specially designed exercise bikes and treadmills. These could be used to generate energy for use later (you'd have to ask our electrical engineer Miriya Gasser about that -- those machines were her design and let her keep that ass of hers tight; you can bounce quarters off her butt). This fusion of technology, function, and the inhabitant's mindset was the founding seed of my own theory of environmental design. Spatially, the house was partly a rich man's showcase and partly a home, much like the Edgar Kaufmann Residence at Bear Run, Pennsylvania (Falling Water by Wright, 1964). A main public concourse ran through from the "tower" to the front of the house where the black coils were. I didn't have anything in mind when it came to a main entrance and simply designed two -- one was pragmatic and utilarian while the other was a little more osentatious. It would take a bit, but Gracia (who had done interiors but felt confident enough to expand into landscaping for a laugh) made the grounds around the house a bit more appealing. Of course, all this was just on paper -- or the pier was anyway. While all of the planning was already done by the middle of 2007, the project was in bureaucratic hell. The state's national park system was fine with private property bordering protected land (the whole San Francisco Bay was considered protected); however, that meant I couldn't do much construction around the island unless I went through a bunch of commissions, panels, and hearings. It was like a method to prevent a land-owner from developing his property without actually saying so. I was personally pissed, but there was little I could do. There were too many people and things involved; I wasn't able to pin-point and control key personnel without seriously devoting time-off to maintaining it all. And this time, I wasn't building on a lot in a city; it was a goddamned island and everyone (and the agency no doubt) was looking over my shoulder and watching my every move. So, while I could build on the island's interior, I had no way of getting there (apart from chartering a chopper or using rubber dinghys) because I wasn't able to construct a pier for boats to dock. I waited and brooded. And while I brooded, I went on working on the design's interior with Gracia. Of course, Gracia was lagging on her design because the two of us were being picky about materials that were modern, affordable and readily available. Another reason for the frustration was due to Gracia having a difficult time keeping Red Rock a secret, chiefly because she and Janet were on such good terms. It was not as complicated as one imagined. Andrew (my little brother) was dating Gracia's little sister, Sachiko. Although Janet had met Gracia before when the latter was working on the 43rd Avenue condo, the two quickly formed a good friendship on their own. After Andrew and Sachiko announced their engagement in 2007 (their undergraduate studies having been completed), Janet found common ground with Gracia -- both were professional, career-minded women. The only difference was that Janet was with me, whereas Gracia was still single. This of course, did not go unnoticed by my sharp-eyed First. "Have you ever thought about her?" Janet brought it up one time after we had finished. "Thought about who?" I shivered as she slid her smooth thighs over mine. "Gracia," my First said in a hushed whisper. "No." I chuckled, thinking she was making a joke. "I picture either Gong Li or Kwan Chi-Lam* when they were twenty." [* Cantonese: actress Rosamund Kwan, from various Hong Kong dramas, romances, and comedies. Most Westerners are more familiar with Gong Li from her roles in 'Memoirs of a Geisha' and 'Curse of the Yellow Flower', both films were geared towards international release.] "That's not what I meant." Janet nipped my ear. "I mean, what do you think of Gracia?" "She's cool," I said absently. I was starting to nod off when I remembered something. "Ah, yeah. Have to call her tomorrow to check out a new vendor." "You fan-tung*." [* Cantonese: Idiot. A word play on rice tub or container] I felt Janet's fingers grope me lewdly. "I meant this. What does this guy think of Gracia?" "Wait, what the hell?" I sat up and looked at her. "Is this the Janet I know? You weren't taken over by a space mutant were you?" "Oh, it was just a thought," she said demurely. "I was speaking -- hypothetically -- that you could --" "Could what?" I eyed her warily. "You know what I'm trying to say." Janet grinned sheepishly. "With Gracia?" I gave her a look of distaste. "All while you still have problems with Rachelle?" "Is this the Stanley I know?" she said as she squinted at me. "You don't sound like yourself. Especially when I'm practically giving you the chance to score!" "Listen, Gracia's excitable and a bit scatter-minded," I said, "That's why she's a good decorator. I like working with her -- I just don't like hanging around her." "Holy shit," Janet sighed and flopped down on the bed next to me, "I can't believe you said that." "Well believe it." I scratched her knee gently, "Besides, I don't think Sachiko would like it if I was fooling around with her sister." Never mind the "I think" part, I thought. Heck, I knew. Sachiko wasn't particularly happy when Andrew revealed how many nieces and nephews he had. The young psychiatry student's eyes went wide when she learned all those kids were fathered by me and by different women. "So you do have limits." Janet teased me and kissed my shoulder. "Amazing but true." I knocked heads with her gently. "Wow," she said airily, "Wait 'till Gracie hears this." "Hey!" I gave her thigh a not-so gentle slap. "You shut up!" "Did you just tell me to shut up?!" Janet slapped me back as she scooted to the edge of the bed, "Dai dahm-a lei*!" [* Cantonese: Oh you're full of daring-do!] I grabbed her by the leg as she was trying to get away. Janet gave a startled cry when I dragged her back under the covers and tickled her until she was laughing so hard she was crying. "Stop! Stop!! STOP!!" she howled. Janet could barely utter anything else as I cheerfully molested my obnoxious First. I rested on top of her petite, little body. "Get off of me, you big lug." Janet squirmed to no avail. "Lei haido hah-wo*." [* Cantonese: You're just a big bully.] "Oh, you just need to be taught a lesson." I nuzzled her neck. "If I can't trust my wife with secrets, then who can I trust?" "Let's see." Janet ticked off her fingers."There's Melanie. Viktoriya. Shawn Ellen --" "And a smart alec, eh?" I growled and silenced her with a kiss. Janet groaned as I pressed my soft body against hers. Twenty years was a long time for many people, but I loved my First as much, if not more, after all that time. I remembered her sweet teenaged body. I remembered how attractive and exciting it was for me despite her relative pudginess and stocky body. I thought I was one of the luckiest guys on the planet to have landed such a smart, sexy girl who was as in love with me as I was with her. Jan was not simply "the first wife" but much more. While she specialized only in civil business law, her career was taking off. She had a wide network of connections through her working contacts. If that wasn't scary enough, she was also the one who had forgiven me three times for my infidelities: first with Melanie, a second time with Rachelle, and a third time with Jamie and Rachelle. If that wasn't enough, I didn't know what was. Still, I had my own bad habits. I didn't gamble anymore because the one time I did, I got carried away and got mixed up in something that put people I cared for in danger. I also came away with a new woman to call my own (Jamie). I kicked my smoking habit when Faraz and Ghandia announced their engagement. With my best friend dead, I saw little point in reviving a habit we both shared. Unfortunately, I was still addicted to pussy. That was a habit I had little incentive to kick. In Rosalind, I found she was not only an eager dealer, but she was an eager beaver as well. =============================================================================== FANTASY ZONE =============================================================================== "You sure about this?" my little brother Andrew asked nervously as we neared our destination. "Actually, I was going to ask you that," I replied casually as I parked the rented mini-van by the curbside. "Sure I guess so." Andrew's fingers tapped his knee nervously. "I mean I should be right?" I gave him a half-hearted shrug as we waited for our passengers. Okay, it was a little crazy. It was only two months since I had had a five-way with Rosalind and her friends. Between that, I'd been a bit busy here and there, but I was most proud when Andrew and Sachiko announced that they had plans to wed. Actually, it was all perfect since the two lunk-heads had been dating for nearly five years. What disturbed me though, was Andrew never really hit it off with another girl. Oh, he talked with them for sure -- don't get me wrong, he wasn't an introverted freak -- but he never had the chance to score with other women. Sachiko was his first, but the reverse was not true: she had been very intimate with her two previous boyfriends. I saw Andrew was being willingly sucked into a new life by a rather strong-willed Sachiko. And why wouldn't he? She was his first real long-term girlfriend (like my Lady Wu was for me) and who was quickly becoming the center of his life. There was a difference though. Like Janet, I too had experimented sexually with other partners (okay, so some became permanent -- sue me). But in Andrew's case, not only lost his virginity to Sachiko, he hadn't been with more than one woman. To me, that was unhealthy. I sensed he was being both belittled and bullied. On that topic, Sachiko thought herself to be better than my little brother, and unconsciously treated him so. It was probably the first, but perhaps not the last, time I mind-read Andrew to check up on his mental well-being. So, I was going to fix that. I started the ball rolling when I called Rosalind up and asked if the girls would be willing to make some spare change. Of course, the answer was a resounding, "Yes!" I wished them all good luck on their finals and urged them to try and achieve at least a 3.50 GPA (they all thought I had an academic fetish); everyone managed to do so with the exception of Kimberly, who eked by with a 3.30. Still, it wasn't really a requirement. I just didn't want them to stray from their academic (and future) careers. So, the weekend after the last day of final testing, I arranged to have the girls meet me for a Memorial Day Weekend of debauchery. "And I'm bringing someone else along," I added, "My brother, Andrew." I heard some, "Ooohs" and "Aaahs" in the background. I sensed Rosalind was suspicious, but she gave me a positive audible response. She practically had to. Her Pell Grant didn't come through (her family was too well-off) and that little stunt of hers in March had played havoc with her expenses. Additionally, several things came to fore that let me splurge a bit. First, I had done some anti-pirate wet-work in the Indian Ocean as a favor to Kari. Her childhood friend's parents were on a yacht hijacked by pirates working off the east coast of Somalia. They were cruising north of the Seychelles when they were nabbed. While Galen and Kari were formidable on their own, that particular band was rather well-equipped and Tseng was not at their beck and call. For settling that small nuisance, I got a tip on where I could grab some more loot without disrupting Galen's and Kari's relationships with African warlords. Of course, those two wouldn't pay me -- money was just a means to an end. For citizens of the invisible empire, knowledge and information were our coin. I was fine with it. In exchange for my assistance, I nabbed a small shipment of white gold from some rather rough looking 'normals'. I also got to feed dead pirates to the sharks. It was all pretty cool. Secondly, my agency work was also profitable despite my dislike of Cox and his cronies. NSA-PSI called me up one weekend, flew me out to Guantanamo Bay, and I had a mind-to-mind with the newest batch of their tougher customers. Instead of being physical, I generally asked them to spell their name, tell me of their parents, etc. You know. Banal shit. I'd write it all down on their dossiers (inking out corrections in red) and then shaking their hand. Of course, that's when the interrogation would take place. I still didn't know any Arabic (apart from asking Ami to let me stick into her ass and then her mouth while she nodded eagerly, and she only taught me that to prank Faraz when we were younger) but the imagery and faces I got were handy. My skill in doing impromptu pencil sketches also helped. So, I didn't think of it when I offered each of Rosalind's friends (and the Korean cutie herself) a cozy ten grand (each) for three days and two nights of their time. If you thought $40,000 for four girls and three days was crazy, you didn't know much about the sex business. Considering the going rates of escorts at the time, I was getting a fair discount. Of course, I picked out what I thought would be the best place to have fun -- Red Rock Island. While there wasn't any house there per se there was a semi-permanent Quonset Hut used for emergency shelter by the workmen (who were, of course, off that long weekend so I skipped on paying overtime). In there were basic amenities like temporary showers and toilets. At the last minute though, I re-thought my plans. I didn't want the girls to get the wrong impression, and I certainly didn't want them to know I owned my own goddamned island. They might get ideas (like blackmail me) and while I was sure I could deal with that quietly, I had enough problems already. Instead, I rented a small quaint cabin on the shore of Lake Hennessey in the Napa Valley. It wasn't one of those log cabin dealies, but a modern thing complete with modern amentities (like satellite television, refrigerator, and running water). Initially, I was also looking to get a little more for my money's worth by asking Melanie's brother Yu-Wah (now just called Anthony) to join in. He was just starting college, single, and (unsuccessfully) seeing other girls left and right on Facebook and MySpace. While I had some measure of pity for Anthony, I wasn't all too sure if he'd be able to keep his mouth shut. If his older sister Yu-Ching was any indication, he'd probably run his mouth off with the latest gossip just to make some noise. I decided against letting him know anything at all and stuck with just Andrew instead. He was my brother after all. In any case, I was sure Melanie was cooking up schemes to set her own brother up with friends in her network. Besides, I had my work cut out for me. Andrew was a bundle of nerves. He wasn't sure how things would go. Apart from my suggestion that he lie to Sachiko's face that he was unavailable that weekend, he was at a total loss of what to do. That all went away when the four girls slipped out from their building. His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped as they approached. The four girls each wore shorts and tank tops. All had sunglasses, hats or caps, and travel bags. I had suggested that it would be quite a weekend and they certainly dressed for it. "Hi Stan!" Rosalind waved excitedly. I smiled and waved back as Kimberly blew me a kiss Rosalind didn't see. I turned to Andrew and nodded. "After you help them with the bags, take the back seat," I said quietly, "Just like I told you. Smile and enjoy yourself." My little brother gulped and quickly got out of the van. "Hi, I'm Andrew." I watched him fight to keep himself under control. "Lemme help you with that." "Oh thanks!" Kimberly saddled him with her bag and hopped into the front seat, right next me. "Don't mind her," Sasha said acidly, "That's Kim. Not a care in the world." Aside from the cabin, I rented a mini-van for the trip. My car wouldn't have held everyone anyway and I wasn't using one of the family's vans; if someone accidentally left something in the car, it would've been damning. Once we were packed, we drove about an hour through the quaint city of Napa in the so-called "wine valley". We stopped for gasoline and a leisurely lunch at one of the many diners nestled amongst the vineyards. I studied and pinged my party lightly. Andrew certainly was still high-strung, but he was becoming more at ease as the girls asked him questions. He spoke well enough after I gave him some pointers. If Andrew talked, he stuck to his work, his school, his hobbies, and his likes. However, I also told him to listen to the girls and to tailor his chat to their lives. "Women love that shit," I had joked with him earlier, "How does Sachiko stand you anyway? And aren't you supposed to be the talker? You're studying psychology for fuck's sake. You should be giving me lessons." "I don't think you need lessons." My brother regarded me with envy, "I still can't believe you have six wives." "Yeah. About that," I became defensive, "Keep all that under wraps. Don't talk about Sachiko or my business either." "I'll try and remember that," Andrew replied slowly. Of all the girls, I knew Andrew wanted desperately to fuck Sasha. Unlike last time, she wore her hair in a single braid this time. With her beret, she appeared very coquettish save for her facial expression. It made her look lewd even if she wasn't acting that way. Must be something with Russian women that turn the Brothers Chen on so much, I thought as I pinged Viktoriya. 'Stanislav!' My Slavic siren greeted me with a yawn. 'Where are you? You've been so busy, I've spoken more to Milhail on the phone than you!' 'Been busy, honey.' I thought-spoke as Kimberly gave me the eye. I felt her foot brush ever-so deliberately against my calf. Rosalind popped a French fry into my mouth. 'Very busy.' I patted Rosalind's thigh while smiling at Kimberly. It was a risk I was willing to take. Viktoriya was looking through my eyes using mind-sight to see what I was doing. By selectively remembering and blocking parts of my consciousness, I was able to have my Baltic beauty see only what I wanted her to see: Andrew was alternately speaking and eating his fries and mushroom burger. 'Just you and Andreas?' I saw Viktoriya wrinkle her nose at the mirror. 'Where are Janna, Dumbo, and the others?' 'At home.' I told the truth and decided to bring up a serious matter. 'Milhail hasn't seen you in a while with your competitions overseas.' 'I know.' I saw her naked breasts heave with a silent sigh. 'Cristobel sprained an ankle.' 'In Marcello's company?' I teased her. 'Or in yours?' 'With me.' Viktoriya seemed downcast. 'I slipped during practice and would've broke my head if he hadn't caught me. Poor dear, he's in a cast now.' 'Uh-oh.' I broadcast my sympathy reservedly. 'So what now?' 'I -- I don't know.' Viktoriya gazed deep at her reflection in the mirror, looking for answers in her own eyes. 'I don't know kisa. I'm scared.' I sensed her fear. Cristobel must've known it as easily as I did. Viktoriya feared never being able to continue participating in her one passion. I never danced well enough (even with telekinesis, it took concentration) to be her partner in competition. With the Italian stallion, Viktoriya certainly turned heads of both sexes when she hit the floor. Theirs was a solid relationship based on hard work, trust, and shared passions (dancesport and hot guys). With Cristobel's current injury, Viktoriya was torn. She felt like she had done it deliberately to remove herself from dancing so she could move back to San Francisco and be with Milhail. She certainly wasn't able to take care of him alone while she went to work each morning at the institute or travelling to competitions in different countries. Now, as much as ever, I felt I could broach the subject with her; however, I had other things on my plate at the moment. 'Can I get back to you later?' I kicked myself inwardly for ending our mind-link. 'I'll grab you later okay?' 'Maybe.' I saw Viktoriya sniffle and compose herself. 'Freya and I are going to drop by Cristobel's tonight. Cheer him up and see how he and Marcello are doing.' 'Nothing too crazy now.' I thought-spoke with worry, remembering what happened in Italy. 'Oh it's just a visit, kisa.' Viktoriya's sardonic grin coupled with her shaking head put me at ease. 'I can't believe an old pervert like you fathered our son.' 'Takes one to know one.' I swigged the rest of my lemonade and blanked her out. I could sense my dusky Russkie was miffed at not getting in the last word. I knew she'd find a way to get back at me the next time. "Hey Stan," Rosalind nudged me, "Ready to go?" I blinked and saw the others were wiping their mouths, taking a last drink, and pushing their plates aside. I nodded, waved for the check. We were back on the road and arrived at the cabin about thirty minutes later. =============================================================================== CABIN FEVER =============================================================================== Napa is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Actually, this applied to the whole of Napa Valley, from Calistoga all the way down (south) to the start of the Napa River. The valley was more of an agropom (Russian for 'agricultural production and manufacturing') than a community. The only differences were that Napa Valley vinyards were privately owned, American flags flew everywhere, and Hispanic farmhands worked the fields instead of Russian serfs. The cabin the six of us lived, slept, and fucked in was in a small town called Oakville, which was a few miles from the city of Napa. We went down there once for a day of quiet fun when we wanted to see what small town America was like. Andrew and I had grown up in cosmopolitan San Francisco, where every 2 out of 5 people were Asiatic or Mongoloid. We never felt like a minority when we were children. Rosalind and her three friends, Alexia, Kimberly and Sasha were all born and raised in San Jose. The six of us found it quite interesting to see a town with a population of merely a thousand going about their business. All in all, an interesting trip! The cabin was by a small body of water called Lake Hennessey. It wasn't a fishing lake, so Andrew and I had packed some jerked venison, some sweet rice, and yams. Considering breakfast, we also brought along some fresh bread, a few jars of jelly but no peanut butter for fear the girls were allergic to nuts. The first day had gone pretty well. Andrew took Sasha, Kimberly, and Alexia to the lake while Rosalind helped me out with some light house-cleaning. Afterwards, we headed out and enjoyed the rest of the day around the cabin, playing peek-a-boo around trees, talking about aboreal architecture, and generally flirting. We came back right before the sun started going down. Sweaty, grimy, and a little worked up from our hike, Rosalind and I took to the shower then enjoyed a sweet pre-dinner fuck. In fact, she and I were still going at it when the others came back from their evening swim. When night fell, we had a quick bite to eat before we started the ball rolling with some stories and more chatter. Andrew worked up the courage to walk the girls through an exercise he had read about in his textbooks. "Okay, okay." He grinned and gestured his hands like a motivational speaker, "I want all of you to close your eyes and picture yourself walking along a forest path." "Like what were doing earlier?" Alexia giggled shyly and my brother's grin grew wider. "Yes, like that," Andrew replied and continued, "Now along this path, you see something on the ground. As you near it, it's a key. What material is it?" "Metal," Sasha said promptly. "Whoa. Sssh," Andrew hushed her, "Keep the answers to yourselves for now, okay? We'll reveal it after this is over." "Gotcha." Andrew scowled lightly but went on, "Okay you take this key and continue down the path and you come across a cabin. The key fits the door, so you open it. The first thing you see is a table. What's it's shape?" I flicked my eyes at the four young women and saw a few faces wearing thoughtful expressions. No one answered aloud though. Andrew was pacing the floor as his voice rose a little bit. "Okay, you've had enough of this table," he said, "You open the door to the cabin's garden. There's a big pond out back and there're geese there. How many do you see?" I sensed the girls' answers but said nothing as my brother waited a bit before he continued. "Now surrounding the cabin's garden is a well-built fence," Andrew rubbed his fingers under his chin, "How high is it in relation to you? Can you peer over it? Or through it?" When sufficient time had passed for the girls to decide, he continued his narrative. "Now, you're going back into the cabin. You go past the table you saw earlier and head out the front door." Andrew paused for breath. "When you open the door, you find that the door opens, but you cannot step outside. Something is preventing you from going outside or heading back inside the cabin." My brow arched a bit; was it possible my brother suspected my gifts? I waited patiently, then realized it was part of his exercise. I was a bit too skittish for my own good. "Outside the cabin, you see all the people you've ever known." Andrew's gaze swept from girl to girl, studing their faces. "They're simply gazing back at you but not saying anything nor can you communicate with them. How do you feel?" "Ooh. Creepy," Rosalind gave up at being quiet and shuddered slightly as she spoke, "So are you going to tell us what our answers mean, mister psychologist man?" Andrew grinned and explained the answers: the key represented how a person viewed material wealth; metal being the most common answer would be treated as, "wealth is necessary as part of survival". The table represented how someone viewed his relationships with strangers and other people. A round table meant the person was open and accessible to new people whereas a rectilinear table meant an individual had certain rules about privacy -- my table was ovoidal and my darlings were taking turns dancing on it whilst blasted. For the geese (or ducks, or swans) in the lake, that meant how many personal and close friends or acquaintances a person had. Some -- like Alexia -- saw only two or three birds, while others -- like me -- saw a half dozen geese and nearly double that number of goslings. I smiled inwardly as I thought about my wives and children back in the city. The height of the garden fence was a measure of how one saw oneself in relation to others around him (or her). A fence one couldn't see over could be construed to mean a person was underestimating himself. A short fence (or in the case of one answer Andrew heard in class, no fence but just a dirt track to mark the garden's boundaries) may be taken to mean that a person viewed himself as overly important. For me, I saw a bit over the fence's tops, but I blamed that image on the short fence Andrew and I had built with our father at the old house. Still, it was comforting to know that I saw my darlings -- gifted or not -- as peers. Finally, the part about the gathering of friends and "people you know" was how one viewed one's death. The girls were thoughtful and shared their answers (it ranged from 'creepy' to 'weird'). I was probably the only one a bit disturbed by the explanation although I didn't show it. I had cheated death numerous times in various locales. If I hadn't been gifted, I would've been dead many times over. But that wasn't what irked me. What got to me were the looks of grief on each of my darlings' faces as I imagined the scene. I had experienced the cold, numbing shock and fear from Janet after my close brush with death at the bank robbery years ago. Viktoriya's naked fears had also come through when she thought I had been buried alive when I tried clearing the site at 43rd Avenue. In Japan, I tasted Shawn's brief flicker of fear when I grappled with the maniac swordsman in the Shibuya; only later, after Kady was born did the incident come up again. My muffin and I moving things around to fit a crib for the baby when an old album surfaced with photos of our brief time together in Japan. She took one look at the photos and started crying so uncontrollably, I had to take our infant daughter for fear she'd drop her. Although I was probably never in any real danger, Shawn's imagination (coupled with her estrangement with -- and recent death of -- her father) pushed her emotions over the edge. It was this shared fear of being widowed that dwelt in the minds of my loves after each birthed their respective children. Janet had kept quiet about my hasty trip to New York City the day of the attack (to personally check on Viktoriya). However, after the marriage, the bigamy suit, and the kids, it slowly got out to the others that I was doing "contract work" for the government. In a post 9/11 world, the term "contracting" became increasingly connected with mercenary work. Even though my role at NSA-PSI was support, the simple fact that I might be in harm's way put the fear of God in each of my six treasures. Their fears only heightened after Janet invited me to come along to the gun-range with some of her co-workers. I generally refrained from any obvious display of skill or prowess (save in the bedroom or the design studio) but when it was my turn on the firing line, I instinctively fell back on my training. Before the previous shooter had taken his seat, I had loaded, fired, and cleared my weapon. Although my score was nearly perfect, Janet was not impressed. Instead, she was ashen-faced the whole ride back. Only when I calmed her down did some color return to her face. Janet thought it was government training, although Viktoriya suspected otherwise. My Russian bride put on a brave face, for she knew I was likely trained by a man who I suspected of murdering her half-sibling. Of course, that didn't help matters along. While Viktoriya never imposed limitations on my engagements with Tseng, she exacted a promise from me -- that I'd never walk into a warzone, no matter how much I was being paid. 'I don't care how much you could make.' It came up again that very night I was at Lake Hennessey. Her gaze bore into mine through her reflection in her mirror. 'I would rather have a poor husband than to be a rich widow, understand, dorogoi?' 'Yes, milenky.' I thought-spoke with a dour note. 'DON'T LIE, STANISLAV!!' Viktoriya's thought-speak approached a fevered pitch. 'I know what you think you can do, you show-off! Don't think I won't fly back and sock you in your bony old behind!' 'I understand.' I thought with resignation. 'I'll be careful.' Viktoriya vented until her flatmate, Freya, came back. Personally, I thought she was just angry over a lot of things. Aside from the latest frustration from Cristobel's injury, Milhail was bonding more with Janet and Melanie than with her. I also sensed whatever sexual attraction Viktoriya had for the blonde rhythmic gymnast was either starting to wane, or being eclipsed by other matters. Still, I knew my Cossack bride to be both impetutous and strong-willed. She was also gifted like me. I wouldn't dare to apply any of my gifts on her mind. Viktoriya had to decide how she wanted to live her life -- not I. I pushed all of these thoughts and worries out of my mind. It threatened to wreck the mood I was trying to set. After Andrew's little exercise, I brought out some limes, lemons, and a variety of liquor. The girls couldn't legally drink (being only nineteen). But then again, I knew they wanted to. Things quickly got busy when Andrew and the girls got blasted doing shots off each other's bodies with music blaring from an iPod and a set of mini-speakers (the cabin was stocked with a solar battery that could power small devices and the indoor LEDs). Despite the alcohol, Andrew felt studly enough to tackle Sasha, rip her bodice off, and started licking her tits. Kimberly whooped drunkenly as she grabbed my crotch and stuck her tongue down my throat. It became more or less a general orgy after that, with my brother and I taking turns at each of the four girls. Regardless of the relationship I had with Rosalind, it was not strong enough for me to care if Andrew stuck his dick into her mouth and ass while I was doing the same to her friends (and in the same room). My little brother may have been younger, more physically attractive, and maybe even more virile than I was, but I had experience on my side. I held back cumming while Andrew pretty much slaked his lust first on Sasha, then Kimberly, and lastly on Alexia. By the time he wanted to do something with Rosalind, he was too tired to get it up, and wound up cuddling with Alexia in front of the fireplace. With Andrew snoozing, I had to pick up his slack and work a bit more to satisfy the girls. I went at them in sequence: Kimberly, Sasha, Rosalind, and then Kimberly again, and finally on Rosalind a second time. With Andrew seemingly content with Alexia, I emptied my lust over Rose's perky breasts and called it a night. The next day, we showered, dressed, and headed into Oaksville for some supplies and sight-seeing. Andrew and the girls (not I) drank a little a local wine and cheese festival (it was fortunate no one asked for their identification to prove they were 21). Everyone had a good time, taking pictures and goofing off. I also noticed a few things: Rosalind began walking with me hand-in-hand and didn't try to draw Andrew's attention if she could avoid it. Andrew though, seemed utterly focused on pretty Greco-Asiatic Alexia. However, he didn't deny himself with Kimberly or Sasha back at the cabin. In fact, my brother had those three girls in his room the entire second night. Filled with anxiety when he learned about this trip, Andrew had swiped some Viagra samples from one of Sachiko's psychiatrist friends and crushed it into a powder. He thought he didn't need it before, but after the first night, he wanted a boost. Andrew took all the samples with water right before dinner and now his appetites were unstoppable. The ruckus went on for so long, Rosalind and I slept downstairs in the living room (the kitchen was built under the two bedrooms) to get away from the noise. The dull thumping though, did put some ideas in our head. I porked Rosalind in the middle of the cabin's living room. I stayed hard and watched her bounce herself on my rigid pole until she spasmed and came. "That felt good." Rosalind kissed my chest. "Oh yeah." I squeezed her absently. "Glad you like it." My Korean cutie curled herself into ball while she lay atop me. We both could hear Sasha's cries flow into Kimberly's droning moans, and then bleed into Alexia's short, high-pitched gasps as Andrew fucked them one after another without blowing his load. "Fer Chris'sakes." Rosalind buried her head against my chest. "They're still going! I can't sleep!" "Wanna go again?" I put a warm palm on her smooth thighs. "Maybe I could tire you out." "Can you?" she looked up at me. I felt her fingers feel my withered cock. The condom had slipped off when I pulled out and my stomach was a little sticky. Rosalind didn't seem to mind as she played with my semi-hard dick. "You keep doing that and I can." I kissed her lightly. Rosalind played with me for a while, but I was earnestly exhausted. I had a lot on my mind -- not to mention keeping Viktoriya out of my business by mentally "blotting" out most of the day. The K-gal though, misread my inattentiveness for something else. "You're not angry with me are you Stan?" she finally asked. "What?" I gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. "Why would I be?" "Because I blew your brother," she said quietly, "Then let him stick it in my ass." "Well to be fair," I managed a dry chuckle before I continued, "You were leaving yourself wide open." "I'm serious!" Rosalind looked at me, "Are you mad?" "A-ni-yo*." [* Korean: No (or negative)] I kissed her forehed and rubbed her scalp, "Let's not talk about it." She settled down a bit and whispered, "Sa-rang-ham-ni-da*." [* Korean: I love you.] I didn't have a good answer for her. Thankfully, the girl fell asleep before she pestered me for one. As fun as Rosalind was, I didn't have deep-seated feelings for her. In many ways, my former student was like my dead cousin Aurora -- I had no problems fucking her, but beyond that, I felt no deep personal attachment. This was a girl, who nearly a decade ago, had a schoolgirl crush on an older man (me). Now she had done the dirty deed with a younger version of me and had mixed feelings about it. I picked up her thoughts briefly before she drifted off into sleep: 'Shit, that was weird.' 'I wonder if he thinks I'm just a common whore.' 'He treats me so good though.' 'He's like a dad I can fuck.' 'God that Andrew is hot but I kept thinking of Stanley all the time ...' Sifting through Rosalind's thoughts, I slowly realized I had to limit my physical contact with her. Although we only met briefly and on occasion, she had already developed some sort of psychic dependency, or -- worse yet -- fallen madly in love with me. I cringed at the thought. It was like Melanie or Aurora all over again. Another nagging worry came to me -- was she one of us too? Whether she was or wasn't, I was sure Janet would definitely kill me if she ever found out about Rosalind. Jamie might too. Her oldest was a mere six years younger than the little K-gal lying nude atop of me. The age gap was so close, it was icky. As I lay brooding over my current problems, something stupid I had done years ago with Jamie came back to bite me in the ass. =============================================================================== OLD BUSINESS & NEW AFFAIRS =============================================================================== It was a warm July day when the kidnapping went down. I had just returned from Las Vegas with Rachelle and Jamie. The three of us were celebrating Rachelle's raise at the Public Broadcasting Station (PBS-KQED in San Francisco). Despite Jamie's past in Vegas, she came along (the others being busy or taking care of the kids) because both she and Rachelle were "sporty" kind of girls. I should probably explain a bit -- in America, the traditional stereotypes and misconceptions about women not liking sports (and guys being totally into it) were quickly quashed by the mid-1990s through popular shows like "The Drew Carey Show" (ESPN's Erin Andrews was a post-9/11 thing). It had become "hip" for women to share interests with their boyfriends or husbands, and the sports event became something couples could share. I, on the other hand, never had much interest in any sport (except bedsports). That could explain my chosen profession (although Jules Fontana was a basketball fan and the Kosugi sisters were nuts about the S.F. Giants). Apart from Janet (who was only mildly fine with basketball because she put office bets on the games), Jamie was the only other of my darlings who was wild about sports. At first, I thought she was just trying to cozy up to me. To my surprise, I found she enjoyed the rough-housing of ice hockey. "It's so cool Stanley!" Jamie tried explaining to me, "You're gliding on ice and you have to get the puck past like ten dudes gunning for you. And it's not like that b-ball crap -- the puck's fast!!" "Uh, okay." I patted her hand and suffered through a few games. While I could have cared less about the teams or their players, I did have my fun by telekinetically flicking the puck when it suited me. Over time, I noticed Jamie's excitement rose as games became close, tense matches. So I basically had my fun by interfering with games to keep her entertained. I'm sure I really screwed the sports betters. What the hell are you looking at? No, I am NOT sorry for jerking your point spread. If you're a gambling man, go bet on something the Chen wives have no interest in -- like horse or automobile racing. That, or don't bet on sports events in the San Francisco Bay Area. Rachelle was a sports fan too, but it wasn't any sport I approved of. It was that mixed-martial arts stuff that was toned down and made legal for television broadcast in the mid-2000s. To celebrate, I treated her to a UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) event in Vegas. Jamie came along only reluctantly, as she was deathly afraid of bumping into someone she (or Pincelli) knew there. "Don't worry." I sought to reassure her and allay her fears. "That was a long time ago." "But still!" Jamie seemed uneasy. "Where are we staying?" "Someplace classy," I said, "I was just thinking of taking you to the Promenade." "Where?" My Asian beauty blinked with confusion. "The Deep Space Nine Promenade." I grinned and bumped my hips against hers. "Remember?" "Oh. Oh!!" Jamie brightened instantly. "I forgot." Part of the Star Trek Deep Space Nine set that CBS Corporation had leased out to a Las Vegas casino was being closed due to the lack of customers (that plus the fact it was hemorhagging money). Before it closed, I wanted to take my Trek-loving wife to check it out. So, it was just the three of us (Jillian had summer school) and we spent a brief weekend there. The clerk hardly batted an eye when she handed me the key to a double occupancy room, and the three of us headed to the lift. One guy accompanied by two beautiful women in Las Vegas hardly drew any attention. I guess people were pretty jaded in the City of Sin. The fights were held early evening, so we had a light meal then headed to the event. It was mildly entertaining, but all through the evening, I fought the urge to play havoc with a few telekinetic pranks. I was able to open my mind a bit and soak in what moves and grapples the contestants were going for. While I certainly lacked the physical training to do what those contenders could do, my gifts more than made up for it; imagine trying to detain a person who could instantly cause you to have a stroke, or break your bones with a simple thought. "That was fun!" Rachelle was all smiles afterwards as we headed back to the hotel. "Glad to hear it, sugar." I laughed and turned to ask Jamie, "How 'bout you?" "It was pretty cool," she managed a grin as she replied. It was as I suspected. The girls were watching male-dominated sports for the same reason a guy would watch women's beach volleyball or girls' gymnastics: for the sheer joy of watching the opposite sex parade and move around nearly naked. I guessed that at our very core, we all had similiarities -- men and women, citizens and 'normals'. I smiled and pulled Jamie alongside. With two beautiful women in tow, I headed for the hotel's nightclub for a little evening snack. About an hour or so later, Rachelle and Jamie had sufficiently unwound and were eager to head back to our room. The room was double-occupancy, so there were only two full-sized beds. We hadn't said anything about sleeping arrangements, although I had made plans to crash on the floor. It was normal for me -- we all slept soundly in our own beds at home anyway. So, when I hopped out of the shower, I was surprised to find the two of them lying on a single bed and beckoning sweetly. "C'mere shuuu-garr," Rachelle sang, "We got a surprise for you!" Both women grinned as they bared their mid-sections. Despite the two of them having churned out kids, both had bodies most thirty-somethings would kill for. Jamie's stomach was pretty fit after taking up her job as an IT-specialist (she often exercised and flexed in her cubicle while she watched her email and messaging windows at work). Rachelle not only shared Janet's love of biking and skating, but she also used the bars and dance pole in Viktoriya's unit to keep fit. I brightened inwardly as I reflected how Viktoriya began pestering me to watch Rachelle exercise after the mulatto asked my dusky Russkie to use the apparati in her unit. 'Please Stanislav?' Viktoriya pouted into her reflection. 'I'll let you watch me and Freya fuck in return!' 'I have a lot of work sweetie.' I thought back. 'But I'll try.' 'Do that.' Viktoriya thought-spoke. 'Thank you, milenky!!' But back to the room in Vegas. I could see why Rachelle and Jamie had bared their tummies. They had been messing around with some lipstick and written crude messages on their bodies. "What's this? 'Tonight only: two for one deal'," I read aloud, "What the hell?" Jamie grinned shyly as Rachelle winked and said, "Oh c'mon. I know you've been staring all night." "Yeah, about that." I stepped near the nightstand to grab a tissue, "I'm really tired --" I barely got further when Jamie called out, "Get him!!" She tackled me while the mulatto grabbed and pulled me onto the bed. I fell onto the mattress with a soft crash, and felt the weight of both girls on me. Before I could protest, one of them had torn off my towel. Now, I was nude with two frisky girls grabbing and touching every inch of my body. My eyes went wide though when I saw Rachelle holding a safety razor. "What th'hell d'you think you're doing?" I asked. "Hush up," Rachelle grinned as she explained herself, "I'm tired of getting hair balls. I want you smooth down there." "What? Whoa!!" I began to protest but she silenced me with a generous helping of breast. "Spread 'em Stanley," Jamie piped up as the other girl pressed her body against my face. My sultry Asian siren had a small can of in her hand. She squirted a gob of minty white foam and tucked a towel under my ass. I did as I was ordered and Jamie lathered my crotch and groin with shaving cream. Rachelle began shaving off my pubic hair. I relaxed as the girls worked over me; it was actually pretty pleasant. "Hey, turn over." Rachelle rose and prodded me. "Time to do the back." "I better get another razor," Jamie said. I felt her hop off the bed as I rolled over on my stomach. The bed sagged when Jamie returned. I felt the girls' hands hold my ass cheeks apart as they shaved me clean and smooth. I was enjoying the feeling so much, I was getting drowsy when I felt a hard smack on my ass. "Hey wake up, you!" Rachelle growled, "All done!" I rolled off and looked down. The girls had certainly done their job. I felt pretty naked without my patch of hair. I was chilly too. I decided to step into the shower for a quick rinse while the two women cleaned up. When I stepped out of the shower, the girls were waiting for me. We wasted no more time as the three of us tumbled back into bed. Jamie loved biting, but she had also gotten quite adept at mixing kisses and loving licks. The Asian beauty sat on my chest, her bared Brazilian bush smelling faintly of perfumed soap as she ran her fingers through my hair. I reached up and gently grabbed a fistful of boobs. I rolled her nipples lightly between my fingers. Rachelle in the meantime, had forced my legs apart so she could suck my now smoothed, hairless cock. My dark-skinned darling was a cock-gobbler. She preferred taking in the whole thing (balls and all). As I heard wet, schlurping sounds come from behind Jamie, I felt my cock grow hard and erect inside Rachelle's warm waiting mouth and throat. "Uffuck." I gritted my teeth as I felt Rachelle take me completely into her head. Jamie's mouth was half-open as she cast a saucy smile my way. Seeing me so placated so I wouldn't struggle, she got up and lay beside me, kissing the sides of my head and pressing her tits against me. "Holy shit!" Jamie laughed as she glanced at Rachelle. "Girl, you got some appetite!" The mulatto mother had opened her whole mouth, encompassing my prick. Her fingers were clutching my sides for support and her eyes were watering from the effort. I reached down and grazed her temples lightly. Rachelle opened her eyes and let my cock slide out of her mouth with a wet pop. "Ugh--fuck--yeah," she panted. I felt Jamie's hot breath on my dick as she ventured down south. Watching her red tongue press heavily against the tip of my rock-hard cock was as great as it felt. Rachelle copied Jamie's technique for a short while and it took nearly all my focus to keep from zapping the two women senseless with my desire. Neither of the girls were into other women (save Jamie, and she really had to drunk to fool around) so the two of them didn't do anything out of the ordinary that they didn't do with me. However, the three of us were nude in close proximity to one another, and it was inevitable that the two women would touch one another on occasion when they grabbed me. That was what happened when the two of them briefly kissed as they sandwiched my cock between their lips. "Oh God, you're killing me," I said through clenched teeth as Jamie and Rachelle began having a tongue-fight over the tip of my dick. Hearing my cries of pleasure, both girls decided to swap techniques for a bit. Looking for something to do, I grabbed Rachelle so she was on top of me. I snurbed and licked her pussy until her slit parted slightly. I soaked in her sweet, over-powering scent of her sex and began thrusting mildly between the girls' lips. Jamie had gotten pretty wild with that lipstick, because on Rachelle's back I saw the message: 'Real meat only - no plastic!' with an arrow pointed towards her ass. That wasn't very nice, I thought as my black beauty backed her ass over my face. Rachelle groaned as she began swallowing my cock in her gaping mouth. Jay was too engrossed in biting the few portions of my balls where she could get at. She settled on taking in each of my de-nuded balls in turn and swirling it in her mouth before she popped it back out. I pressed my face hard against Rachelle's sweet chocolate ass and inhaled her musk. Had I been a lesser man, I would've shot my load right then and there. But experience had taught me to hold out for more. Slapping her buttocks, I pushed Rachelle down towards my crotch. She got the message and quickly mounted my cock. Jamie stood up and lay next to me as I fucked Rachelle. The black beauty rode me for a good five to ten minutes before she convulsed with her first orgasm. Rachelle slid off then watched as Jamie and I had our turn. Turning my Asian lovely around, I saw Rachelle had been up to no good with her graffiti as well. Scrawled on Jamie was the message: 'Cum on my back!' with a target on the middle of her back. Reading this trashy stuff, I felt my nuts beginning to ache so I quickly reached again for Rachelle. It took only about thirty seconds to get the lovely mulatto's musky fuck funk splashed all over my pulsing cock. Jamie wrinkled her nose, hopped out briefly and came back with a damp towel to wipe me off. Over the course of an hour, I alternated between my two darlings. When they tired of being on top, I took over and pumped them at a steady rhythmic pace that drove both women mad with pleasure. I happily fucked Rachelle for the umpteenth time while Jamie lay next to her exhausted and panting. Two minutes in, I felt I could cum and be satisfied. As my thrusts came out stronger and more forceful, my mulatto minx propped herself up on her elbows, spread her legs wide, and eagerly watched me slam the shit out of her. "Fuck me sugar," Rachelle hissed in my face. "Yeah, like that. You know I like you fucking me just like that." I gritted my teeth as the mulatto licked her lips lewdly. Jamie put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "C'mon you filthy bastard," my sultry Asian vixen's face wore a cute little snarl, "Blow her the hell away." I couldn't stop myself anymore as I lurched forward and came. Rachelle squealed as I barely managed to pull out of her and blasted cock vomit all over her dark tan stomach. "Oooh shit! Fuck yea!!" Jamie exclaimed with glee, "Look'it that!" Rachelle laughed as she panted and lay back to catch her breath. The mulatto minx worked the cum on her belly over her smooth chocolate skin, the messages scrawled in lipstick having rubbed off quite some time ago. Jamie kissed my shoulders, chest, and arms as she knelt beside us. "Ungh shit." I shuddered. "Uhh, fuck." "Goddammit Jay!" Rachelle laughed. "You were right. Stanley does get more turned-on when double teamed!" I shot Jamie a wry look, "So that's what you were planning all night." My Asian sweetie gave me a toothy grin and pinched me tenderly. I broke into grins too, remembering how Viktoriya and I had accidentally triggered a psychic incident that got Jamie into a three-way. It was a pleasant enough of an experience that I had joked to the sultry woman afterwards, "We should do this more often." I suppose that Jamie got it into her head that our trip presented the chance, and she discussed it briefly with Rachelle. "Well, I didn't expect that." I smiled shyly. "Some vacation, eh?" "You said it, sugar." Rachelle sat up and wiped herself with a damp cloth. "I thought you'd never cum!" I shivered with delight when Jamie kissed me on the neck and tweaked my nipples. "So, how's the super-cock?" She licked my ear lewdly then whispered. "Have enough left for round two?" I nodded and pounced on Jamie with renewed vigor. She ground her naked ass against my balls when I emptied them, splattering baby batter all over her sweaty backside. An hour later, I finished off rounds three and four as well. After cumming my final time for the night, I felt a very sharp pinching pain in my balls and winced painfully. I had suffered this malady several times before -- if I ejaculated too much, my sphincter muscle would cramp up. "Stanley?" Rachelle squeezed my shoulder tenderly, "You okay, sugar?" Jamie was straddling me and she stopped moving immediately. "Did I hurt you?" she looked at me with worried eyes. "N -- no," I put on a brave face and stroked her calves, "Just an incredible feeling that's all." "Oh." Jamie blushed crimson. "Hmm," Rachelle nibbled my ear gently then murmured, "I thought so. You seemed to be enjoying yourself." "You bet." I couldn't help but smile. I kissed both women before I rose and cleaned myself up. The hot towels felt great after an hour (and some) of uncontrolled sex. Soon, we were all ready to settle down for the night. The three of us slept with just the two linen sheets for cover. The combined body heat was more than enough to keep us warm. In fact, Jamie complained a bit about being hot and I had to turn on the air-conditioning to cool her down. "Ugh." Rachelle gathered a bit more of bedsheet, "That's too cold!" "Well I'm feeling warm," Jamie got up and tapped the other woman on the shoulder. "Wanna swap sides with me?" The girls traded sides and we got to bed around two or three in the morning. I was wiped out enough that Rachelle and Jamie had to drag me out of bed the next day so we could check out on time. We had a few hours to kill before we flew back to San Francisco, so we had lunch at the casino where the Deep Space Nine thing was set-up. It was a bit disappointing to Jamie and me both. While the place looked the part, there were no aliens and definitely no people to set the ambience. "Meh." Jamie wrinkled her nose cutely. "Sorry, Jay." I gave her wispy look. "Maybe we should've came here during the conventions huh?" "I was never one for dressing up!" She let out a quick laugh before adding, "I don't like Star Trek badly enough to do that!" Rachelle patiently browsed a nearby gift shop while Jamie and I snapped a few pictures. There were two guys passing through who were dressed as Klingons (bad ones) and I got them to pose with Jamie, me and Rachelle. I think those guys were pretty happy to have their arms around two beautiful women, even if they weren't dressed like Orion Slave Women. There was really nothing to the exhibit and we left a bit disappointed. "Maybe you can redesign my place," Jamie joked as we headed to the airport in our rental, "Make it look like the Enterprise-D's interior." "You sure?" I asked. "The Enterprise-E's the newest thing on the block." "The what?" Rachelle followed the conversation as best she could while she drove. "There was more than one?" "Yeah I'm sure," Jamie leaned forward a bit so we could chat. "Don't you remember? The Enterprise-D was destroyed in Star Trek Generations." "Um, no," my black beauty said absently as she scanned for the signs to the airport. "So, which deck?" I turned to face Jamie. "It's a huge ship and a lot of the sets were prety spartan." "I dunno," the sultry Asian beauty mused, "I agree the rooms were pretty empty, but maybe a cross between Sick Bay and Ten Forward might do it." "I agree," I nodded, "Good eye too. Sick-bay had good luminosity. Maybe I can build you something that lets you run LCARS." "Oh yeah!" Jamie brightened up, "I should install that Star Trek Windows theme when we get back! I've been dying to try it out and de-bug it." "You guys are such nerds," Rachelle looked at us so accusingly that Jamie and I both laughed. Back home once again, I was more than eager to shift gears to get back to my work at Down-To-Earth. I was thoroughly engrossed in detailing my current project to some junior designers, a CAD draftsman, and our model-maker when I felt this odd feeling of alarm and despair. I cut off so suddenly and swayed that my assistant, Pam, grabbed me by arm because she thought I was going to fall. "A--are you okay, sir?" she asked. "Yeah." I blinked and cleared my head. "I'll get you some water," she quickly hustled away. I felt an unease pass over me but as I pinged, I knew everyone in my family was alive. I excused myself to the restroom, washed my face, checking up on everyone the whole way. Viktoriya was fine; she was in Germany watching Freya prepare for an upcoming competition. Janet was in court ripping into the prosecution's witness. Shawn was downstairs in my building readying herself for a similar meeting. Jamie was was surfing Amazon.com at work while she did pilates and keeping a glance at the health of her company's network with a separate laptop. Rachelle was supposed to be at the zoo with Melanie, and she was doing okay ... sort of. Uh-oh. I froze and pinged again. Rachelle's mind was an array of images and jumbled thoughts, much like that one time I had accidentally zapped her when we were younger. Only this time, it was a lot fainter. Had I not known who Rachelle Elizabeth Hollister was, I probably would've missed her completely, or considered her dead. As I tried to determine the cause of this, my insides churned and grew cold. Melanie was with Rachelle today. They were taking some of the children to the zoo while Shawn's mother was watching the others at home. Mother Benton was also to insure that Jillian headed straight home after her summer classes let out (having been a young man myself, I knew what temptation was). Suddenly, my mobile phone rang; it displayed Melanie's number. "Yu-Ching?" I greeted her with worry, "I--" My youngest darling cut me off with a frantic cry of her own, "Rachelle's been shot!!" =============================================================================== TAKEN =============================================================================== Unlike Jamie, Janet, and Shawn, Rachelle's nine-to-five schedule gave her the luxury of predictable "off" days. This meant she could assist Melanie with the kids. On that particular day, my black beauty and Melanie took her twins, Milhail, and baby Norman to the city zoo. That's when the kidnapping went down. Melanie's first call would've been to the 911 dispatch (and not me) if not for several mitigating factors. The 911 (emergency call number) service was not integrated with the mobile phone network (only the land-line system) so the call would've been routed to a state (or province) level center about 150 miles from where the emergency occured. I'd known about this when I heard about it as a passing news item some years ago. With my contacts with local, state, and Federal level law enforcement, I was shocked that little had been done to address the issue. We all knew this (after I made light of it as part of our family's emergency preparations) so Melanie was ready to grab the payphone across the street at the surf shop. Luckily, there was already assistance on hand. A Park Ranger's car had turned from the upper Great Highway onto Sloat just as the grab occurred. Thankfully, the ranger didn't immediately draw and fire, as the women and children were in the way. However, the mere presence of uniformed police was more than enough to scatter the kidnappers. They all piled into a black van (with a taped over license plate), leaving Rachelle on the ground and Melanie in a painful daze. Rachelle wasn't shot -- instead, she was "shocked" (from a gun-shaped taser). I had mistook Melanie's blubbering as Rachelle being "shot". I breathed an immense sigh of relief when I burst into the treatment area expecting the worse, only to find my mulatto sweetie fine, healthy, and not leaking an ounce of valuable hemoglobin. The taser's needle had hit her in the thigh during the struggle. That caused her to lose both her balance and her consciousness briefly. Rachelle was physically fine, but Melanie was in bad shape. My little darling sported an angry cut across her temple and was inconsolable. "They took 'em!" she wailed, "They took 'em both!!" If the kidnappers wanted to grab the kids, they were only partly successful. Aside from baby Norman (who was just a year old), the masked men had nicked Milhail when the boy tried to fight the kidnappers. After Rachelle got zapped, Melanie put herself between the men and the twins, and got bludgeoned for her effort. Only the presence of the park ranger cut short the attempt. The kidnappers hadn't gotten away clean. When the van pulled away after Milhail was loaded, the man who had struck Melanie turned and ran. Finally seeing a clear shot, the ranger fired his weapon and injured his calf. A second shot had grazed his shoulder, spinning him around to the ground. He was quickly captured and being treated under heavy guard at the hospital where we were. "Are you the father?" someone asked me. "Yes." I turned to see a plain clothes detective studying me. "We have a few questions about --" he started but I stopped him with a wave and a brief statement. "I wasn't there." I pointed to Melanie. "She was. Ask her. She can tell you more." The detective glowered at me, but said nothing as I turned to my young darling and gave her shoulder a heartfelt squeeze. "Do your best to remember okay? Any little bit you do will help." Yu-Ching nodded quickly, her lips trembling and her whole body shaking from the shock. I pushed past the detective and the nurses. I found the Danielle, Janelle, and Rachelle being questioned by a second detective in the hallway. When the twins saw me, they both ran up and hugged my legs, talking excitedly about what they saw, much to the second detective's annoyance. I calmed the twins down and sat them down after promising them some chocolate chip cookies. I turned to Rachelle, who looked at me with great distress. "Are you all right?" I asked. Rachelle nodded then asked, "How is she?" "Just a conk on the head," I glanced at the hallway detective. I knew him through Jacob Waters when I did some extra "investigative work" for the San Francisco Police Department. "Herbert Sanders right?" I asked. "Oh, it's you Mister Chen." The detective blinked in surprise. "I wasn't aware that Miss Hollister was--" "Not now please." I stopped him with a wave, "I'm sorry to have interrupted your questioning, detective." "That's quite all right." Detective Sanders nodded, "But yes, let's finish Miss Hollister, and I'll let you go." Rachelle nodded and I left to grab the girls their promised sweets. As I walked out towards the vending machines in a daze, I bumped headlong into Jamie and Janet. "Stanley!!" Jamie rushed me headlong and nearly bowled me over with her embrace, "What the hell's going on? Everyone's in a panic!" "It's Norman and Milhail," I said dryly. "They've been taken." "Taken?" Janet's face paled several shades. "You mean kidnapped?" I nodded soberly and she was incredulous. "But why?!" "Who knows." I shrugged. "Melanie, Rachelle and the twins are being questioned by the police." "Oh God." Jamie's eyes widened. "Do they know who took them?" I caught the stern stare from Janet as I shook my head. Her eyes were pointed at me like daggers. I sensed my First was wondering if my agency shennanigans had anything to do with the kidnappings. I was almost positive it wasn't, because snatches done by the company or the agency rarely failed and almost never done in broad daylight. In the case of the heavy-hitting bagmen from the bureau (the FBI) they would have had a second operator neutralize the park ranger. No, this felt different. These guys were determined, but they were unprofessional and unprepared. I hugged Jamie while I gazed innocently at Janet. Instinctively, I shifted the blame elsewhere. I felt rotten about it, but if I did have something to do with this, then I would endanger my family if my part in the empire was revealed. I applied some little mental effort on Janet, and I managed to nudge her suspicion to the plaintiffs in her current case (some fanatic group involved in a class-action against medical insurance companies). My First was visibly unfazed, but inwardly, I sensed she was now thinking about the possibility she may have done something to warrant a special visit from some tough looking bagmen. It was certainly very odd for kidnappers to randomly target two women at the zoo. I didn't need my wives buzzing around and worrying themselves to death, so I asked about the other kids to get their minds on something else. "How about Jillian?" I asked, "It would be a good idea to check on her at school." "Shawn called when we were in the lobby," Janet quickly composed herself, "She's taking her home right now. Laura's at the house and has everyone accounted for." "Good," I replied. At least there was that. Jamie's grip on me suddenly tightened. That, plus the fact her fear was going into overdrive, got my attention. I turned to see what had started her: Jamie's eyes were fixated on the one kidnapper who had been caught. The perpetrator passed his glance over us as he was lead away in handcuffs by the police. My sultry Asian siren however, mis-read his gaze and was in a state of panic. Meanwhile, Janet fearlessly stared back at the perp; she was livid with anger. I couldn't blame her -- we were all angry. To get her mind off the bad things, I pulled out some loose dollar bills. "Hey Jan," I tapped her gently, "Would you mind getting the twins some cookies? I promised them a bag each to answer the detective's questions." "Good lord. The twins are going to eat themselves into a butterball coma." Janet made a face and took my money. "Coming Jay?" "In a bit," the Asian beauty mumbled. As Janet stalked off, I looked at Jamie who returned my gaze evenly. "Stanley? Was that one of the --?" "I think so." I gave her a reassuring grin. "Something wrong?" Nix that, I thought. Something was wrong. I took Jamie by the hand to both calm her down and to quickly read her mind. Her thoughts were all over the place, so I couldn't get a fix on what she was thinking; I had to coax it out. "You know him?" I asked her slowly, "Is is something the police need to know?" Jamie swallowed hard, nodded, and whispered, "That guy, he used to work for Joey, I think. I saw him around the casino before." "Interesting." I felt my jaw click. "Stanley," Jamie pulled my arm, "I brought this on. Oh god, this is my fault." "What? Nonsense." I shook my head in disbelief, "That was nearly eight years ago." "No I don't think so." Jamie leaned gloomily against the wall, "I'm sorry Stanley. You're so nice to me and the kids, I shouldn't have just -- oh God --" "Don't worry." I held her. "We don't know the whole story. Just calm down okay? The others really need you to be strong now." Jamie sobbed quietly on my shoulder for a bit but my mind was already working overtime. My beautiful Asian darling was probably onto something. How exactly Joey Pincelli was connected made me stop and think. There were a lot of possibilities to consider. While I wasn't positive the kidnappers had anything to agency business, I had screwed over enough people that somehow, somewhere, I might've slipped up and left a clue. It was hard to pin down though -- as I never took anything or anyone back from an incident. If I did, they were simply the "package". Something inside nagged me though. I did break that rule once -- with Jamie and Jillian. My mind raced as I thought back to what I'd done in Las Vegas all those years ago. The police's involvement was already a given. If they dug up the reason of the kidnapping, they may dig up more information about me than what I cared to give out. That wouldn't be a good for me, my family, or the empire. Still, whether Pincelli's people were or weren't mixed up with this, I still needed to get our kids back. =============================================================================== ENHANCED INTERROGATION =============================================================================== About an hour later, I was down at the Sunset-Ingleside precinct in the observation area of the interrogation room. A detective was with the perp and was interrogating him. It was a slow and painful verbal process. The kidnapper was Sicilian and replied only in Italian (not English). The kidnapper could understand the detective though, but I knew he wouldn't give any of that away unless he was physically threatened. Inwardly, I counted my blessings that not many more cops would be involved. In a kidnapping case like this, a SWAT team would be readied for the rescue. As fortune would have it, San Francisco's SWAT team was called away to assist their buddies in neighboring Oakland; a routine traffic stop had turned into a firefight when the driver opened fire, downing the cops who pulled him over. Now, there was a manhunt complete with roadblocks and room-by-room searches. And so, I found myself standing beside Detective Lieutenant Jacob Waters as his man tried to press the suspect into handing over his kidnapping crew. For now, I sensed Milhail was alive and safe, although a little scared. I wasn't wholly sure about little Norman -- babies and young children were quite undetectable to a telepath until they were able to formulate solid, concrete thoughts. I suppose I could have blazed in at Milhail's location and hoped for the best. Or I could find one boy safe, and the other dead. I didn't want to take any chances. Besides that conundrum, I couldn't just reveal what I knew to anyone except Viktoriya, and I had a feeling she'd might take things too far -- and perhaps put both the family and the invisible empire in a troublesome spot. So I had to stay my hand. My gifts, for all the power they had given me, were also hampering me when it came to certain matters. And I knew time was ticking. There was no ransom so far, and I was getting tired of being treated with kid-gloves by the police. I didn't know how long it would be before the kidnappers would skip town. What would happend to the children then? I kept my mouth shut, my mind alert, and myself calm. The detective in the room had been going on for some time and the results were disappointing. I saw him walk up the one-way mirror and shift his eyes left and right twice. Nothing. Not that we needed that; both Waters and I could hear him rail at the kidnapper through the intercomm. "I haven't asked much of you have I?" I spoke so suddenly, Detective Waters nearly spilled his coffee. "No not much at all." Waters nodded in agreement as he sipped his brew. "I take it you've been busy with other things?" "The world's a dangerous place detective," I murmured firmly, my gaze never leaving the perpetrator who kidnapped my boys. "Indeed it is," the gaunt policeman's tone was hollow. "I need a favor from you Waters," I said quietly. "You've never asked before," the old detective said slowly. He was right about that. Much of his success over the past few years had been near miraculous breakthroughs in cases long thought to be cold or dead. I simply checked in on a few here and there when it suited me. It took maybe five minutes (excluding travel time) for me to determine if a suspect was lying or not about a crime. When I could, I made up some bullshit and told Waters where to look for hard evidence. Of course, I wasn't always successful. However, the occasional "win" did make Waters' record look good and he was promoted and transferred to his new posting. "I don't know if this," I gestured, "is going to compromise me." Waters' eyes widened, "Christ. You're still doing that shit?" "It's very deep extended cover," I replied airily, "I want to keep this as quiet as possible. No press and as little paperwork as you can manage." "I can always manage without paperwork." The older man chuckled before going on. "But Sanders and Richards are on this already, not to mention the Park Service. What do I tell them?" "I suppose we can meet with them after this is cleared up." I leaned towards the glass, my gaze focused on the kidnapper. Jacob Waters was silent for a bit then he said, "You want to have a go at it?" It was dangerous, I knew, to showcase how I did things. But I had little choice. I knew where Milhail was, and time was of the essence. "Do you mind if there were no records?" I glanced at Waters sideways. The old detective gauged me carefully, as if he could read minds; I knew what he was thinking: he was hesitant to trust me to do essentially what was police business. "Five minutes," he finally said, "But no more." I smiled gauntly and nodded. That was more than I needed for my theatrics. With Waters and the other detectives away "getting coffee", I stepped into the room and put on a show. The camera only caught the back of my head, it couldn't film my face from that angle. I levelled a dead stare at the kidnapper and concentrated. I pulled what information I needed out of him and by the time the detectives came back, I was outside, waiting innocently by the door. "Detectives," I said coolly, "I require your assistance in retrieving my boys." "Yeah," Richards said, "We don't know where, Mr. Chen. Please let us --" "I know where," I interrupted him with a raised hand. "What? How'd you --?" "Wait," Waters interjected, "You sure?" I nodded and the senior detective glanced at the suspect in the room. Waters was mildly surprised, but said nothing. The suspect was none the worse for wear even though he was glaring at our little group. "You're sure?" Waters repeated his question and I nodded again in reply. =============================================================================== RESCUE =============================================================================== Ten minutes later, I was sitting alongside Waters in his car. The location was actually under our noses the whole time. The van was found ditched; witnesses reported they saw some men hustle black sacks into a different car and take off towards the Excelsior district -- almost right next door to Parkside and Sunset. The Excelsior was a residential district, although I wouldn't live there. It was similar to the ghetto where Rachelle's parents had escaped from. It was only Waters, Sanders, Richards, and myself. The few uniformed police officers available were being called away to assist with the East Oakland shoot-out. "When it rains, it really fucking pours don't it?" Waters asked no one in particular. I brooded silently as we sped towards the location with no siren or lights. Secretly, I was wildly pinging and mind-hopping wildly into every presence I could find. I knew exactly what I was going to do when I found my sons' kidnappers, and their arrests were absolutely secondary. I wanted to know the people behind it. So, I sat quitely in Waters' vehicle, yo-yo-ing my focus back and forth until -- Gotcha motherfucker. I had mind-sight with someone -- I didn't know who exactly -- as he (or she) was looking at Norman. Melanie's son was still in his basinette/carseat and was bawling out of annoyance. I guessed it was because he needed to change. The 'normal' whom I was linked to shifted his gaze towards his side and I saw Milhail sitting grumpily on the floor, bound, gagged and blindfolded so he couldn't make noise or see their unmasked faces. Had I been anywhere else, I would've started the fracas by dominating the man I was in. Right now, Waters, Sanders, and Richards were discussing their approach. We were just three blocks away. I brought out my phone in full view of the detectives, feigned dialing, and acted out some dialogue for their benefit. "This is Chen. Need a scan for --" I had glanced at the GPS in Waters' car of the building address I had plucked from the suspect back at the station and repeated the coordinates. "Can you give me anything?" The reply on the end was simply, "Welcome to Verizon Wireless! Please listen carefully, as our menu options have changed!" The three detectives were watching me with interest. I waited a moment and decided how I could present my information. Too much and it tipped my hand. Too little and some of us might die, or worse, my sons would. While I was fine with the keystone cops dying, it may show badly for Jacob Waters. As much as I had disliked the man when I was younger, he had grown from asset to a good "work" friend, and I'd hate to jeapordize his career for something I could've done alone and with nearly zero risk myself. I hung up my phone. That was enough acting for now. "Lots of people but it looks to be three men," I said coolly, "Armed of course. Body armor likely. Relaxed but cautious. I think they're expecting us, but not so soon." "You guys work fast," Richards eyed warily, "How good is this information?" "Trust your eyes on the ground," I said, "They're better than the ones in the air. Or from space." "True enough." Richards nodded before he and Sanders headed off down the street. "Perks of the job?" Waters asked warily and jerked his thumb skyward. "We had a satellite sailing over the city," I lied. "I borrowed one for a minute. Sue me." Waters nodded. "I didn't hear that. But if I did, I would've done the same if it were my kid." "Do you have a gun?" I asked him. "Right here," the detective lifted his arm slightly to show me his piece. "I meant for me," I said casually. Detective Waters eyed me carefully, "You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you go in there." "You'd be crazier not to." I smiled blandly and prodded the brief memory of me in Waters' bedroom holding him up with a silenced handgun nearly eight years ago. I saw the detective's face twitch. He didn't realize it was me broadcasting but he did vividly remember the incident. Still, he shook his head. "Too big of a risk," he said, "Look, let us do our jobs, Chen. I got enough to worry without covering you, even if you're with the government." I sensed Waters wasn't to be swayed. "Fine. At least give me a vest and I'll follow you. Two sets of eyes are better than one." Waters soured but popped the trunk of his Cadillac, revealing quite a mobile arsenal. I grabbed the spare Kevlar vest and donned it. The detective lieutenant shifted nervously about. "You know how much trouble I can get in for this, right?" he asked. "That's only if I get shot," I replied smugly, "But you're on point, so you'll draw their fire." "Thanks Chen." The detective slammed the trunk. "You're a goddamn comfort you know that?" I chuckled lightly but in reality, I was only dimly aware of Waters as I followed his lead. I had shifted my focus back into the kidnapper I had mind-linked to before. I got the layout of the place -- a pretty standard if run down home -- and focused on his TMP (Tactical Machine Pistol). It was a nasty piece of hardware for terrorists and urban fighting. Through the kidnapper's vision, I telekinetically set the safety to ON. I then suggested the fellow put Norman (bassinette and all) next to Milhail. Good. Now both kids were in one spot and below waist level. I hoped that was enough to keep them safe. Some chatter came over Waters' radio and he acknowledged. We started towards the house and I fell in line behind the detective. As I walked, I shifted my focus to a second presence. This was the second kidnapper, armed with a stubby little shotgun with a pistol grip. Fuck! This could get really nasty. The greatest firepower the detectives had were old M16/A2s that fired three round bursts, and those small (almost .22 caliber) 5.56 NATO rounds were not going to do much to the kidnappers. Even then, none of them were brought along because of the close quarters and the presence of hostages. I pinged for the final kidnapper and found him lying lazily on a sofa, a second TMP in easy reach. Holy fuck. We were going to get slaughtered. I quickly mind-hopped back into the shotgun carrying baddie and tricked him into thinking he had some intestinal discomfort. He grimaced a bit before he called out (in Italian) to his comrades he was going to the can. He threw something to the third kidnapper (the one on the sofa) before headed to the restroom, taking his shotgun along. Inside, he pulled his pants down and started going about his business. Focusing mind-sight on the third kidnapper, I got the number of the cellphone he had. I dropped a bit behind Waters and dialled the number, being careful to mute my end of the call. The third kidnapper nearly fell out of his lounging position and scrambled to answer it. I had gambled correctly that he was not briefed or prepared to take a call. By the time he answered, I had already hung up. That should give them something to mull over. And because my phone's number was blocked, they shouldn't be able to call me back. Still, I took no chances and put my phone on "silent". One of my darlings could call at a bad moment. My focus shifted back to the first thug. As he neared the third kidnapper on the sofa, I tipped his gun hand sloppily upwards and pulled the trigger. Shouts of alarm ran through the house from both its inhabitants and the cops closing in on it. I had deliberately aimed the first kidnapper's TMP into the left chest of the kidnapper on the sofa. I needed him alive if just for a little bit longer. The kidnapper on the sofa cried out in pain, dropping his phone and bringing up his gun arm. I spurred the notion of betrayal in that fellow's mind. Before the first kidnapper had a chance to say more, his face was riddled with bullets. "Shots fired," Waters rasped into his radio, "Shots fired! Go, go, go!" He glanced back at me and I had squatted low and was a bit away behind him. He turned back quickly and moved out sight. As soon as he did, I snapped into action. Accenting my motions with telekinesis, I stayed low amongst the unkempt weeds of the yards of neighboring houses. As I speedily made my approach to the target house, I shifted my focus from the kidnappers' minds to the kidnappers' hardware. The injured kidnapper had done his part. When he studied his fallen compatriot in shock and surprise, I lifted the dead man's TMP and emptied the magazine point blank at the third kidnapper's stomach and groin. Two of the three were downed, and by now, I had reached the side of the house. In fact, I was just on the other side of the last surviving kidnapper -- the shotgun guy in the bathroom. His abdominal pain had suddenly gone when I began the massacre in the other room. He pulled his pants back up and taken up his shotgun. Not hearing anything except the crying from baby Norman, he took position in the tub and waited. I pinged and found the cops were nearly to the door. I needed to act fast to get what I needed. I pitched myself up with telekinesis so I was horizontally parellel to the ground and slipped through the small casement window. The approach was so silent and sudden, my TK-shrouded hands were around the man's neck before he realized he was in trouble. Still, I took no chances. I slid his shotgun's safety to ON and completely blasted his mind as I made physical contact. I didn't say a word as I wrenched his head once to the side, snapping his neck. As I receded from his dying mind I picked clean his thoughts. Fortune smiled on me, because this slain kidnapper was the team's leader. I had found what I was looking for. With his memories, I began tracking back towards the source. Whoever it was, they were now living on borrowed time. =============================================================================== BLOOD IN THE WATER =============================================================================== Waters and I debriefed Richards, Sanders, and brought in that Park Ranger and his immediate supervisor. The whole thing was to be as hushed up as possible, barring any problems with the trial (considering what I could do, I anticipated few problems I couldn't strong-arm). The paperwork was light and the official reports were scanty. Absolutely no press was to be involved. This was to be a kidnapping case with few eye-witnesses, and nothing else. No conspiracy, no delving into the matter(s) behind the reason for motive. The police got one of the suspects and the others were dead. Officially, the kidnappers were hard-pressed mobsters trying to ransom money from a semi-rich couple; unofficially, it was no one's business. Of course the shoot-out could hardly be contained; a gunshot near the zoo was hard to ignore. Thankfully, around Christmas of that year, three dumb-shits drew the heat from the zoo kidnapping/shooting by getting one of their own killed by a tiger that escaped its cage. My darlings were horrified by the incident, but I was positively jumping for joy at the attention the tiger mauling was getting. It meant my family would be left alone. My boys were doing all right. Milhail and Norman were both fine. I had never seen Melanie so emotional before or since as she hugged both her step-son and birth-son and wouldn't let them go even when the nurses and doctors came to examine them. I of course, got lambasted first by Waters (for assaulting the house) and then by Janet (who was mortified at the risk I took). "Li-mui-chi gam-yeung chuet-fat wo-shum-keng dam-tui*!" [* Cantonese: Everytime you do crap like this, you give me a heart attack!] She cried and slapped me angrily afterwards. I grabbed her hand before she began hitting me in earnest, and rolled her into a bear hug. Janet sobbed as I held her, much as I did so many years ago. We hadn't fought so fiercely since she'd found out about my infidelities in '02, and now ... I guess I could've ducked out, but I wouldn't leave the kids. I had covered up the dead man in the tub as well the two in the living room before I untied my son Milhail. He was surprised to see his normally unflappable dad a bit ruffled and worried. Afterwards, things unfolded as I had predicted: Detective Waters entered no more than a breath after I untied Milhail, followed shortly by Sanders and Richards. The three found the situation neatly taken care of. "C'mon gimme a hand." I picked up Norman and set him on the kitchen table. I set Milhail to task and had him help me change his brother's diapers. "You get those bad guys, dad?" my son asked me. "The police did." I gave him a gentle pat on his head. "You can thank them later." I heard an audible snicker and knew it was Waters being pissed being left in the dark. The detectives were suspicious of course. Why would the two kidnappers in the living room blast each other? "You do a lot more than just analysis don't you?" Waters studied me carefully. I glanced at him and said stonily, "Thank you, detective." Jacob Waters nodded dourly. He understood the need for cover. Besides, he could take credit. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. When I saw Milhail eyeing Waters' gun, I asked the detective if he could put it away. "Cool," Milhail said excitedly, "I wanna be a cop! Can I, dad?" "You can if you don't do anything bad," I said, "Understand?" Waters nearly scoffed until a glance from me told him to shut it. Milhail nodded enthhusiatically while I handed him Norman's bassinet and all of us left the crime scene. While Richards and Sanders were happy to have the case gone off the books, there were too many people involved (especially with the park ranger), so I did knock some heads together. It didn't matter if Cox or Tseng were available or not. It was my mess and I cleaned it up with a combination of lies and forceful persuasion. Ultimately, Jacob Waters and his two detectives got credit for the rescue. Before I left, the detective lieutenant informed me in sober tones that Melanie and Rachelle would likely need to testify against the surviving kidnapper if it went to trial. "Unless something happens to him too." I saw Waters glancing suspiciously at me. "Should it?" A malicious thought briefly crossed my mind as I replied. I toyed with the idea of having the D.A. dropping the charges so the kidnapper could be set free. Free from "normal" justice didn't mean he was free from me. And while I was sure it was an open and shut case, the muscle was cheap. The house where the kids were brought to was a dud too. It was rented by one of the dead kidnappers and paid in cash. So, whoever were the brains behind the plot could theoretically try again. When I told both Melanie and Rachelle what was being expected of them for the criminal trial, I half expected them to be annoyed. Instead, they were hopping mad and anxious to get to the stand -- all their fear had been wrung from them with this ordeal. "Bring it on," Rachelle hissed coldly, "I want him locked up forever." "At best," Janet said softly, "It'll be ten to twenty years." The mocha-skinned mother shot her rival a hard glance, but soon softened her gaze. If there was one good thing from the kidnapping's aftermath, it was it finally melted the ice between my First and my high school sweetheart. Janet brought Michael and Frederick up to Rachelle's place and even invited her and the twins to the pool. "So we can talk," Janet said timidly when I confronted her about it. "Besides, I need someone to vent about you, you reckless asshole." I smiled slightly. I knew it was hard of my First to apologize because she generally took shit from no one. Rachelle suspected Janet was up to something, but I finally coaxed my brown sugar into coming around. "She can't stay mad forever, Ra-Ra." I stroked her hand as we sat on her balcony. "Jan's reaching out; would you be willing to meet her at least halfway?" "Are you kidding me?" Rachelle blanched, "And are you sure?" "I'm serious." I nodded slowly. "And Jan is too." "Oh, all right, fine," she sighed, "I suppose you'd like us to be the best of buddies now?" "That would be nice." I smiled wanly. "The kids have been clamoring for more play-dates, too." "Oh okay, sugar," Rachelle pecked me on the cheek, "I'll try." That was one less worry for me, but I still had work to do. The last kidnapper was shivved in lock-up by a shady looking inmate before his case went to trial. That meant no trial, no deal, and -- most importantly -- no clear answers. Waters and his detectives were suspicious, but since the other inmate was a lifer, there was really no incentive for him to cooperate. However, being in the dirty tricks business for so long, I wasn't the least bit surprised. The kidnapper's killer was another clue that someone else was pulling the strings, and I soon formed a picture of how things went down, ultimately confirming Jamie's suspicions. A Pincelli was involved but it wasn't the Joey who died in Vegas, but rather his father Joseph Pincelli II (Joey was the third in his family of recent times). Joseph Senior was in his seventies and bound to a wheelchair. Exactly how a sly old man sired a rough-cut, midget-mobster greaseball like Joey Junior was a mystery. Using what I learned, I mind-hopped through mobsters all across the country, working my way from contact to contact, thought-mining as I went. I thought Joseph Senior was the originator of the kidnapping, but I was wrong. The old man initially wanted me killed. That was a simple, clean-cut plan, and one which would've caused his own death when it failed and I would have tracked him down to return the favor. Instead, he put a surveillance team on me and started shadowing me. As for how he found me, it was a case of bad luck. Before I had left Jamie's Vegas apartment all those years ago, I had left my mobile phone number on a note at her place. When the note had served its purpose, I threw it in her trashbin and forgot about it. After I took Jamie back to California, I never went back there or gave it a second thought. Then, someone from the mob had begun looking into the various girls who didn't show up for work after Joey Junior's peculiar death. Jamie's old place was searched and they found the note and number. Here's where another slip-up cost me: the construction business was laced with mob influence. It was a good way to launder their money, a necessary step to make it in the legitimate world. With all the cash-only wheeling and dealing I had done with my contractors for the eco-condo, it was a wonder someone in Cosa Nostra hadn't picked up on Pincelli's incident and put two and two together. While the businesses in the Bay Area weren't as intricately tied to the mob (they're mostly fronts for the Tong -- Chinese families who are sometimes involved in crime), there were still loose ties to the mafia east of Chicago and St. Louis. It took nearly seven years and that project at Red Rock to further things along. I occasionally used my own mobile number on work orders. With Red Rock, I didn't have much choice since I wanted it to be a secret from my darlings. Hence, my number -- the exact same one I had written down in Jamie's old place -- was printed on some work orders I had signed off on for Red Rock. One of them had been spotted by a sharp-eyed mob soldier who was privy to the elder Pincelli's problems and he passed the information along. Of course, my involvement with Pincelli's death was just a suspicion on the part of Joey Senior. There wasn't anything to go on since I had left no prints, and apart from the number, it could've easily been someone else; people could change phone numbers over the years. The mob was a lot of things, but they didn't have a reliable person in the telecommunications business (at least not the information end) to pull their weight and check up on everything. With the only witnesses (apart from Jamie) dead, no one save the dealers and old security tapes (long erased) could've placed me at the casino. Still, a surveillance team was put on me. They snapped a few pictures of me coming and going from my place, and then reported back to Joey Senior. That's when chance struck in the worst way. Craig Simmons, Rachelle's ex-boyfriend was a friend of one of the survelliance team members. They were both in a models' club that photographed young nude girls for a variety of pornographic websites. When Craig got a look at his friend's pictures, he wanted to talk to Joey Senior right away. What Craig said behind closed doors came to fore later when I scanned his mind: I was screwing around with several women, and if Joey Senior had suspicions that I had something to do with his son Joey's murder and Jamie's disappearance (Craig was lying about the latter, but his lie was on the mark), then the old mobster was likely right. That's when Craig suggested the idea that they kidnap one (or all) of my kids to get at me. Normally, people like Joey Senior wouldn't listen to such a crackpot (and dangerously overt) scheme such as the one being proposed. However, the death of his eldest son seriously made him think about revenge. So, he gave the go ahead. It was unfortunate that the kidnappers never tried a damn thing when I was with any of my children at one of those insufferable Pixar movies. I probably would've incurred quite a body count and spared Rachelle and Melanie from such distress. However, the movie theaters were crowded and full of witnesses and cops almost all the time. The kidnappers bided their time. They finally got their chance that lazy summer day at the zoo. Okay, so fair's fair. I killed Joey Senior's son, so I understood his reason for wanting to killing me. In a strange way, I had grudging respect for that. But what I couldn't stomach though, was Craig Simmons. Bearing a grudge against me was one thing, but initiating such direct action against my family was a death sentence. Hence, it was with grim determination that I joined the family at Janet's house for a massive but quiet supper two weekends after the kidnapping. The place was packed with my five available wives, nine children, as well as Mother Benton, Janet's mother and father, and my parents (the other in-laws we'd usually invite individually to maintain the protocol of a single marriage). The mood was joyfully subdued: the kids were safe, the physical injuries suffered by Melanie and Rachelle would heal, and we had just got news about the kidnapper's "accident" in prison. Nevertheless, I had unfinished business with Craig Simmons. While the kids, mothers, and grandparents were downstairs, I quietly excused myself and locked myself in Janet's restroom. There, I entered a deep, deep trance and stalked Craig's final night. I surreptitiously sifted through his memories earlier in the day: the gymnasium after a full day at the hip-hop club, and then home. As I went through his mind, I was reminded once again how much a sleazebag Craig was. He'd sweet talk the girls at the club to come back to his place, where he'd drug them or get them drunk so he could have sex with them. The promises he made though, were all for naught. His was more a "pump 'em, then dump 'em" attitude. Luckily, his latest infatuation -- a pretty air-headed little Asian girl -- refused his advances and Craig went about his business alone. I waited until he got home and watched him enter his cookie-cutter North Hollywood home. Craig was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. As he was spreading the mayonnaise, I focused my concentration on the kitchen window. With the light on and the darkness outside, the window easily reflected the apartment interior. When Craig saw "me" standing next to him as I appeared to him that night when he was choking Rachelle at the Monte Blanc, his eyes flew wide and he turned around to see -- nothing. "The fuck?" he glanced back and forth between the space where he thought he saw me and the kitchen window. 'Hello Craig.' It didn't matter that I thought-spoke to him now; subtlety was not an issue at this point. The sleazebag whirled around, thinking I was behind him. 'I thought I told you to leave Rachelle and me alone.' I thought-spoke. "I--I did." Craig felt foolish talking to thin air. "What do you want?" 'You lie.' I flashed him an image of a dishevelled Rachelle as I had seen her in the hospital after being tasered. It quickly switched to his meeting with Joseph Pincelli Senior. "What the--?!" 'Goodbye asshole.' The bastard never got in another word as I forcibly seized his mind. For the final moments of his life, Craig Simmons not only knew who I was, but also what I was. I bludgeoned his mind into submission by focusing on parts of the brain that controlled his higher cognitive functions. By selectively cutting them off, Craig became a shell of a person. A normal would know he (or she) wasn't in control of their body anymore; I was the puppeteer who jerked their body around. This was the exact same technique I had used when Tseng and I had subjugated the cartels in the Tecate region years ago. It used to be where Tseng was more physical about it, while I was more of a sneaky bastard who fucked with the minds of those who were going to be killed. However, there were instances where we both forcefully intruded on a target to initiate a slaughter; I did that now. However, getting rid of Craig wasn't as easy as one-two-three. His father was a Congressman for a district in Los Angeles; Craig's sudden death or disappearance would bring about some questions -- like law enforcement snooping around and finding his connection with Rachelle, and then her connection to me. So, I had planned a cleaner method for Craig to "retire": death by gun. I needed to make it look like an accident, so I staged the whole scene. As Craig watched his body go about under someone else's will, I could sense that he was wondering if his mind had been damaged from the drugs he took, or if he was dreaming. I plunked Craig's laptop on the kitchen counter, booted it up, and set out a bottle of potent Scotch. Since I couldn't fake Craig's penmanship, I forced him to type out his letter. To prevent the contents of the note from giving me away, I simply wrote that he had committed sordid wrongs, and how he finally had enough of his unhappy existence. I had Craig bid his family and the world goodbye, along with a postscript that asked for forgiveness. After I saved the note and printed it, I puppeteered Craig's body to his room, where I brought out his handgun. I then took him back down to the kitchen, and broke out his cleaning kit next to the laptop and sandwich. I scattered some cleaning paraphernalia around the counter, and after splashing some lubricant and scotch around the magazines, it was time. By now, Craig was positively screaming to regain control, but to no avail. To shut him up, I had him down six quick shots of scotch. As he began to blabber from the alcohol, I loaded the gun with a single .45 hollow point cartridge, levelled the weapon at his eye, and pulled the trigger. The shock of Craig's mind vanishing snapped my focus back to where I physically was. I shook off the disorientation and pinged. When I was sure that he was brain-dead, I rejoined my family downstairs. I felt a bit more at ease and relieved after having completed a minor task on my "to-do" list. But I wasn't done yet, and Craig Simmons had been the easy target. I needed to do more work to get to Joseph Senior -- the man was a goddamned mob boss -- and deal with him. I was not sure if Joseph Senior had made known his plan of revenge to anyone else, so simply killing him would've just caused more problems. His followers would immediately be alerted (and incensed) if something untowards happened to the elder Pincelli so soon after an incident like this. I needed to strike back without actually "striking back". While mind-hopping from one mobster to another, I soon found Joseph Senior's private orderly, a mobster who served as his nurse. Once in control, it didn't take me much effort to get the number of the phone next to his bed. =============================================================================== VENGEANCE, SHORT AND SWEET =============================================================================== While I pursued my goal, Janet nearly stirred up a little stink on her own. When I nudged her suspicions about the kidnapping towards the defendants of her current case, she seized on it and started an investigation on her own. Before things got out of hand, I jumped in and nudged her back, suggesting that she was perhaps chasing ghosts. It was a good thing I caught her early -- if Janet discovered anything about Pincelli or my involvement, she'd have to deal with the mafia or the invisible empire. Both meant trouble for my relentless First. With so much on my mind, and so much more to do, my darlings thought I was having a case of nervousness from the kidnapping. Shawn and Melanie were so concerned, they organized an intervention to get me into therapy. Imagine my surprise when I came home to my condo only to be confronted by a gaggle of worried women clucking psycho-babble and pressuring me to go to an expert. "I'm fine. Really I am." I tried to weasel my way out. "There's no need for this." "Well, I was the one who got tazed!" Rachelle exclaimed, "Not you, sugar! But you're having more trouble coping than me!" "That ends it, Stanley," Janet glanced at me sternly. "Denying it to yourself is one thing, but you can't lie to us! Something's troubling you and you're going to see Doctor Phillips whether you like it or not!" Damn. Luckily, my sessions were one-on-one; I tricked the therapist into thinking my sessions were over so I could go forward with my revenge scheme. After a little digging, I found one of Pincelli's grandchildren living in Los Angeles. She was a pretty girl named Juliana. Being one of Joey Senior's descendants from his daughters, she did not share his last name. Juliana was pretty (but not super-pretty) and about Jillian's age. Long story made super short: I kidnapped the little bitch. I didn't do anything to her apart from the snatch though, so you can stop thinking I'm some sort of monster; I had children of my own. Juliana was an easy mark, from an empire citizen's point of view. She was flaky, scatter-brained, and distracted. All classic symptoms of what 'normal' experts decry as attention deficit disorder. I simply "persuaded" her to ride her bus to a different stop, transfer to another (less populated) route, and walk around the corner. Like most child kidnappings done by my kind, she vanished without a trace. Of course, having Juliana just "disappear" wasn't going to be my message. Pincelli had to know he was playing with not just ordinary fire, but an intelligent inferno which sought out targets. I locked an unharmed Juliana into the trunk of a luxury Buick I had stolen earlier that day and -- in the dead of night -- "drove" it using telekinesis while following in my own car to a mall's underground parking lot in Los Angeles' Korea Town. This way, Juliana wouldn't be cooked alive when the sun rose. Not being a total asshole, I left some bottles of juice and some dried crackers in the trunk. As for the lack of a bathroom, I was sure Juliana would come out of this with a healthy appreciation for running water and flushing toilets. By using a clever combination of telekninesis and telepathy, I had set-up the perfect, untraceable kidnapping: telekinesis denied the presence of fingerprints and other physical evidence. I never touched the vehicle Juliana was locked in, and didn't do anything else except the snatch. I only touched Juliana once -- on her forehead with the knuckle of my finger. And that was to use my gift to scrub her memory of my voice and face. I left Pincelli's granddaughter and drove the eight hours back towards San Francisco. My plan was not terribly complex, and not wholly reliant on my gift. While I was sure I could mind-hop easily from Joey Senior's nurse into his mind, I wasn't all too sure of how'd he'd react when I deliver the news of his grandchild's kidnapping. A "freak dream" -- similar to what I had used with Waters years ago -- would be too coincidental, and that had the dubious complication of tipping my hand with the empire. However, I needed a reasonably untraceable method to contact the elder Pincelli. By the time I was back in Oakland's Chinatown, I had worked out how. I parked the car on a side-street, and hauled out a disposable TracPhone to make my call (this was before the new security measure requiring credit or debit cards to be used for pre-paid phones for fear insurgents would use them as explosives detonators). I had brought along a cheap novelty voice-changer (I think it was a Transformer's voice-changer, but made for telling jokes) and held it between my mouth and the microphone as I spoke. "Hello Joseph Pincelli Senior?" I came out sounding a bit like a very polite and comprehensible Jackie Chan. "Who is this?" Joey Senior asked. I heard a clatter of trays and the soft rustle of blankets. "You threatened a friend of mine," I said casually, "And you nearly got away with it too." "I don't know who you are," he started. "You got the wrong number." "My friend also wants to send you a message," I said, "He said your son Joey died like a pig. That's why he got roasted in his own sty -- like a pig." There was silence on the other line. I heard a mild rustling, like he was switching the phone to BlueTooth or trying to see who dialed. "What did you just say?" Joey Senior was fighting back his anger to keep me on the line as long as possible. I figured that the number for a disposable phone wasn't confidential, but I also knew such calls could be triangulated using the locations of cell towers. I made my pitch quickly. "You had your chance to get revenge," I explained in my faux accented voice, "Well, you blew it. But my friend is willing to let it go." I heard some more rustling in the background. Probably a bodyguard or orderly bringing Joey Senior a paper so he could write out orders. "But be warned Pincelli," I lowered my voice to a deep growl, "My friend isn't a push-over; he's pissed. If he finds you're behind any more business directed at his family again, you can start ordering caskets for yours." Joey Senior said nothing so I went on. "Just in case you think this is a bullshit crank call, here're some names you might find interesting." I glanced at the notepad I had written down all of Pincelli's children, including their addresses, schools, jobs, and, in some cases, the names of their children, and began reciting them. When I finished my list, I let loose my final barb. "Oh, and you'll find your granddaughter Juliana in an unmarked blue car in Los Angeles' Korea Town." I gave him the closest intersection of her location. "I'd hurry up if I were you. We left her with some food but you know how hot a trunk can get in the middle of L.A." "You -- you son of a --" I heard Joseph Senior's breathing becoming labored as he tried keeping his rage in control. Damn. I hoped the fucker didn't die of a heart attack before all this got wrapped up; the old boy dying would mean I'd have to phone in Juliana's location myself. "This will be your only warning Pincelli," I said plainly, "And don't forget one last thing." "What's that?" Pincelli rasped. "We know where you live too." I hung up before Joseph Senior made a reply. I was half-lying with that last threat, but I had his private number. I suppose I could've tapped into agency resources and found a way to drop some kind of ordnance right onto his home (once I found out where he was) but I was positive that would've rubbed a lot of people wrong. I didn't notice it until I had shut off the phone, but my hands were shaking. It wasn't Pincelli who scared me. It wasn't even Cosa Nostra. I knew if I wanted to, I could make things very difficult for any organization or entity -- I could probably find and destroy the whole network by mind-hopping from one member into another. I was copacetic with committing crimes (up to and including murder). I was fine with using my gifts to get expendable 'normals' to do my bidding. What was not sitting well with me was the possibility that any of the mob should come after my family. The very notion that some mafia shitbag ordering a hit on my wives and children weighed heavily on my mind. I wondered how far I would go now. Would I break more laws, take more risks, or even risk exposing the invisible empire to keep Pincelli in his place? I shuddered and wondered what would happen, not to me -- I could care less at this point -- but what would happen to the women and children. I sat in my car for the longest time, just staring at the disposable phone, fearing it would ring. Finally, I took it apart, and pulled out its electronic guts. I kept the rest of the phone, but the SimChip and circuit board I dropped into the chilly bay by Jack London Square. My task done, I headed over the Bay Bridge, and back home to my family. =============================================================================== LOVERS' SPAT =============================================================================== Juliana was only mildly dehydrated when they recovered her. She didn't remember anything about her ordeal save that she was grabbed by someone she didn't see. Her kidnapping made the news and -- along with our family's recent experience -- elicited a minor upwell of concern from my darlings. All of the moms looked over the children just once more now, fretting over nothing. I played along and worried too, not entirely for show. I needed the practice, because I had to put on another show shortly after Craig's death. Congressman Simmons (R-CA) issued a brief statement about his son's sudden death two days after Craig's body was discovered. Nothing was louder in a sleepy neighborhood of single story family homes than a .45 caliber round's report (it would be something huge in that case). The death of the younger Simmons brought up some issues about gun control again, but there was no spectacular fallout. Rachelle didn't even hear about it until a mutual acquaintance of her's and Craig's called and told her the bad news. She took the call in another room, but I easily sensed she was experiencing a wide mix of emotions. "Craig's dead," Rachelle said simply when she stepped back out. "He -- he shot himself." "Oh?" I kept my tone neutral. Inwardly, I was ecstatic. "Yeah," she sat and sighed, "I'm thinking about going to the memorial." "I understand." I smiled acidly. "Don't make it harder than it is." Rachelle lowered her gaze, "His father was nice and Craig had some decent friends." "He had friends?" I came off a bit more sarcastic than I wanted. "Stanley! Please." She looked glum. "Sorry," I said. After a moment, I added, "Would you like me to come along?" "You don't have to," Rachelle murmured. "Hey, I'm still your husband," I reminded her gently, "Even though it's not a matter of public record." "Well," she found herself grinning bravely, "If you insist on it, 'hubby'." I grinned as well. Rachelle and Janet had been mending fences. Aside from the twins getting along well with Frederick, the two women shared some common interests: good food, drink, and gossip. The latest thing they've been doing was swapping dirty stories and odd habits of mine. They've also been learning what words and phrases they've been using all these years to get me off, not to mention sharing some common bedroom apparel. Rachelle and I attended Craig's service, but kept our stay short. Fearing that I'd tip my hand, I wore a pair of leather gloves. My delight at Craig's passing was great, but I had not desire to share it at his funeral. It was certainly odd comforting the father of someone I had killed. Representative Simmons wasn't such a bad guy; I'd know because I dug his mind. He didn't sleaze it up by chasing secretaries, or taking in too much money and favors (all politicians took in money and favors during campaigning; Simmons simply kept his shit sensible). His wife had died from cancer when Craig was still in middle school, but he hadn't remarried. "You're Rachelle Hollister aren't you?" the elder Simmons greeted her. "Yes," the mocha-skinned mulatto shook his hand, "Yes I am. I'm sorry we have to meet again like this. My deepest condolences for your loss." I followed suit. With the Hollisters, Rachelle and I had "jumped the broom"** but apart from family and close friends, we refrained from referring to ourselves as a married couple. We didn't want to give any enemies a potential bullet to shoot us with. [** Author's note: 'jumping the broom' is an African-American wedding tradition used to signify marriage. It was started during the slavery days, when white churches did not perform marriage ceremonies between slaves; it is accepted only in some circles.] "Ah." The congressman nodded then asked me, "And you are?" "Just Stanley," I said. "My condolences, sir." I wanted to add: Your fuck-wipe son ddeserved to die because he was such a prick -- but I kept silent. Despite the somber setting, we made some light-hearted small talk. The old codger seemed genuinely interested in Rachelle's welfare and had wondered about her when she left Craig and L.A. Now with his son's death, the shocking reality seemed to have hit the elder Simmons like a bat to the teeth. The photos and movies on Craig's laptop, the voicemails on his phone, and the seemingly endless parade of girls through his place were evidence of debauchery that shocked even the most jaded individual. But what surprised me when I was rooting through the older man's mind was how the congressman still saw his son as a "little boy", and someone to be coddled. When it became clear that Rachelle and I were a couple, the congressman renewed his attention with us and asked us an odd question. "Pardon my curiosity," he asked, "But do you have children?" Rachelle blinked as we both nodded slowly. We were both surprised such questions were being asked at a time and place like this. "Look out for them," the representative said, his eyes lost in thought, "They grow up fast, and if you're not there to correct their mistakes, they become more of a terror than they were when they're two." "Thank you." I kept my tone bland although I was enjoying the man's discomfort. "We'll keep that in mind." The elder Simmons studied Rachelle and I knew he was pondering what Craig had done to this lovely mulatto girl to drive her away. Rachelle fidgeted uncomfortably until the congressman shook our hands again and went back to his mourning. "That was an odd thing to say," I remarked as we headed back to our car. "Yeah." Rachelle walked stiffly with her arms tucked into each other. She was wearing these big shades -- ones people wear to hide their eyes for the reason of hiding their eyes (in addition to the sun). I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and delicately picked up her thoughts. She was feeling genuinely sorry for the congressman, despite what she had undergone from Craig. The elder Simmons was like a kindly second father to her, and this whole thing was tearing her up inside. My casual attitude, coupled with maintaining an indifferent grin the whole time certainly didn't help. To her, it was like I was a bit too giddy to be mourning. Over-compensating was just as bad as lack of preparation. So much for putting on an act. As we drove back to LAX, Rachelle kept silent, but I could sense she was glowering at me from the passenger seat. "Maybe I shouldn't have come," I said slowly to break the silence. "I said you didn't have to come," she said angrily. "I bet that poor man now thinks I villified his son ..." "You didn't need to," I interjected, "He did so with his suicide note." Oops, I thought. The news mentioned a note, but no details were revealed to the public. Goddammit Stanley, I kicked myself. Shut the hell up. "What note?" Rachelle's tone suddenly became concerned. "What'd it say?" "I --" I swallowed and gauged my words with care, "-- asked a friend of a friend about the details. Just curious." "Stanley. Really." Her face registered disgust. "I can't believe you did that." I feigned a mournful face and lied, "I had to know Ra-Ra. He hurt you. I had to know if he was sorry." "And was he?" Her question hung in the air for a moment as I cranked my brain, trying to see which answers would be the most believable. "I don't know exactly." I kept my tone neutral. "But I was told he felt sorry being himself. Sorry, sugar." "Don't 'sugar' me!" Rachelle turned away, "Damn it, Stanley! None of this was your business!" I kept my mouth shut and a lid on my temper. Outwardly, I knuckled under the mulatto's harsh tongue, but I secretly began nudging Rachelle back into her old self -- or as much to her old self -- with my gift. The memory of what I did would remain. Much of Craig was tied into Rachelle's persona, so at the very least, I could lessen the blow and present myself as just a nosy busy-body. Hopefully, my dark-skinned darling would forgive me -- eventually. That unpleasant business aside, the fallout from the kidnapping brouhaha sucked up time from other things. Aside from dropping some personal hobbies (for the time being) and letting a construction manager handle Red Rock for me, I had to settle some sensitive problems; the most sensitive was Rosalind. More specifically, it was Andrew's and Sachiko's problem with Rosalind's roommate, Alexia. It's exactly what you think -- after that long weekend in May, Andrew got it in his head that Alexia was the woman he could be with. They began seeing more of each other through the summer. Sachiko got suspicious and began following him. Andrew didn't exercise enough discretion, so he eventually got caught. She found him hugging Alexia in the spare room (my old room) when she unexpectedly dropped in. One accusation lead to another, and it finally blew back to me as the one who had planned that sordid weekend in Napa's wine country. However, my brother and Alexia kept their mouths shut about Rosalind and her friends, not to mention the money the sultry Sino-Greek was paid for "services rendered" (or the fact I had boned Alexia before). Despite this wall of silence, I was singled out because I was covering for Andrew and Alexia when they were away that weekend. Janet got word of it from Sachiko's sister Gracia, and both in turn, berated me for breaking up such a happy couple. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. The incident roused Janet's suspicion. If I wasn't at home that weekend, and I wasn't in New York with Viktoriya, perhaps I was also screwing around. Thankfully, Andrew and Alexia said nothing apart from the fact I was driving them around. They knew revealing my part in the affair would only fan the flames, and they needed my help because our parents were not so supportive (or understanding) of how Andrew could cast Sachiko aside. "I don't know what to do." Andrew paced the floor in my condo. "How'd you get away with this?" I looked at him, "You're asking me for advice?" "Of course I am! Who else do I know is a bigamist?" "According to public record," I reminded him politely, "Janet's the only wife I know of." "Don't gimme that." Andrew made a face and sat down with his head between his hands. "I really like her." "Who?" I asked, "Alexia?" "Well yeah," Andrew exclaimed, "Who else?" "Are you sure?" I asked, "It's not just your dick talking?" "Don't lecture me about that." He met my eyes long enough to shoot me a wry grin. I fidgeted slightly. While I was at ease with my lifestyle, I hadn't expected that my brother would lower his standards so much. Alexia was beautiful, but she was only of average intelligence. Over time, her beauty would fade, but her most important asset -- the thoughts in her head -- would determine how good a wife she'd make. For now, I considered Alexia nothing more than a convenient piece of meat. "I just want you to be sure," I said softly, "You have a lot riding on what you do, or don't do in the next few days." "Don't I know it," Andrew said soberly, "All I know is that we connect. Alexia and I hit it off at the lake and stuff, but it was that first night. We talked and it was cool." I knitted my brow and scanned my brother's mind to make sure he wasn't bullshitting me. Well, at least he thought he connected. I wasn't so sure about Alexia. "I talked a bit more with her when we were in Oakville," Andrew went on, "But we didn't get much time alone after that." "I can imagine," I said dryly and he blushed deep red. My brother had absconded with three girls (included Alexia) to his bedroom for an all-out orgy. I could only imagine how she felt about that, so I broached the question. "She understood," Andrew said slowly, "I mean it was a crazy college thing. But we started seeing each other during summer and we really like it. We're really in-sync." "What about Sachiko?" I asked him. "That's why I'm asking you for advice." Andrew gulped. "I want her too." "Oh for fuck's sake." I leaned over and levelled with him. "You want to walk down this road too? Because it ain't all fun and games." "I can do this," my brother said, "I mean, it's just the two of them." "For now," I corrected him, "What about a year from now? What about four years from now? What if you meet another great girl you think you can spend the rest of your life with?" "Well, isn't that what happened with Kam-Ling?" Andrew asked, "You were seeing Rachelle a lot, I remember." "That's a complicated story." I waved off dismissively. I'd not told my family about how Janet and I fell in love. "Okay so, what about Viktoriya and Shawn?" my brother pressed, "I only saw them maybe once or twice when you and Yu-Ching were together a lot too. Don't tell me you were able to keep them apart for that long?" "Even if I did," I gave him another wave, "What'd you think happened when they found out about each other?" Andrew fell silent. "Listen ah-Pung*," I held up my hand, "I'm not saying Alexia's wrong for you. I'm not saying you shouldn't go out with her. But you got to think about Sachiko too." [* Cantonese: Chen Wei-Pung was Andrew's given name] "Then -- what are you trying to tell me?!" Andrew was confused, "Get back with Ji-ko*?" [* Sachiko's name consisted of three syllables; here, Andrew only uses the last two syllables as an endearment.] "Yes," I nodded, "If you like her, you'd better. Leave Alexia to me." Andrew's hands were curled into fists. I caught a sense of anger in him and I wondered how much force I needed to punch my brother out. "I wish you never brought me up to Napa Valley," he mumbled. I could see the young man was trying hard not to cry, so I clarified myself. "I didn't mean it that way; I'll go and talk to Alexia and see if she's actually screwing with you." Andrew stiffly tried to compose himself. Damn these kids, I thought. They're like time-vampires. And I thought my little brother had grown up so I didn't have to worry about him. "How can you tell?" he asked me. "Trust me." I gave him a reassuring nod. "And just so you know I'm not yanking your chain, I'll ask Yu-Ching to do the talking, okay?" "Thanks," Andrew said glumly. "You know you should've dated Alexia," I said, "And I mean date her -- not dine and fuck her. You said you dated Sachiko for how long? Five years?" "Yeah." He nodded. "Now how about Alexia?" I sat back and studied him, "Do you like her enough that you'd stay with her even if she looked like the Elephant Man?" "I -- I guess so," my brother didn't sound sure of himself. "Maybe I was a lousy older brother," I admitted, "Or maybe I should've been a bit more forthcoming about what I was doing. But the amount of crap Kam-Ling and Yu-Ching put up to get this far with me can fill a book or two, maybe even three." "You guys seem so at ease with each other." Andrew's tone was envious. "I wish I had that." "You did," I said, "With Sachiko." The young man hung onto my words. "Look, I didn't tell all about those two lunkheads because it wasn't relevant," I explained, "But this kind of thing does require a lot of work. And for me to do this with six girls is that much harder, understand? It's not something that's just pick-up and play." "You mean 'Plug and Play'," Andrew corrected me. "You get the fucking idea," I snapped and he shrank back, nodding. Goddamn, I thought. I never figured I'd warp my little brother's brain into doing something like this. I scanned him at different levels, trying to get a good estimation of his wants and needs. I knew what he needed: Sachiko. The weekend at Lake Hennessey was simply something to whet his appetite; I didn't know it would've turned him into a womanizing bastard like me. With my gift, I knew what Andrew wanted: a younger, less pushy version of Sachiko. To him, Alexia seemed like that, but people change over time. "All right," I said and stood up, "Let me go make some calls." "Now?" Andrew's eyes grew wide. "Of course now." I glared. "Thanks to you, Janet's wondering what I did that weekend. You're exactly like Yu-Ching when it comes to secrets, you know that? A fucking sieve." "Sorry," he mumbled. "Okay, go home, focus on your work, and don't do anything stupid." I gazed sternly at him. "No calls to Alexia. No calls to Sachiko. No calls, no e-mails, no texting. Understand?" Andrew nodded glumly. For all I knew, Sachiko probably won't talk to you ever again, I thought. I couldn't say the same with Alexia. I never got the gold-digger feeling from her. Still, the very fact that she prostituted herself to two men said plenty about her world view. I saw my brother out before I headed back inside. As I walked upstairs to the fifth floor, I pondered how much I should interfere. Technically, I could leave this alone. I played it out in my mind: Sachiko would dump Andrew, he'll grow remorseful, enter a slump, and eventually get over it. Knowing Sachiko, she'd probably start poisoning Gracia's friendship with Janet (Sachiko was as bitchy as my First when things didn't go her way). While losing Gracia as a friend was regretable, I feared that would've jeapordized my relationship with Janet further. My First already suspected I was cheating on her (again) so I had to plan carefully. After I regurgitated Andrew's side of the story to Melanie, I asked her plainly for her opinion. "What'd you think?" I watched her youthful face carefully, "Does he have a chance?" "Why do you come to me for all your lovers' quarrels?" Yu-Ching narrowed her eyes at me, mimicking Janet's trademark squint. "Because you're the most persuasive person I know." I held out my hands, palms upturned. Melanie sighed but didn't answer as she turned back to feeding Norman his puree'd meal of chicken and veggies. Leave it to a chef to blend her own son's baby food. The injury dealt by the kidnapper to my youngest darling had healed with almost no scarring. I wasn't too worried about that. I was worried if her empathy would be affected in ways I didn't know about. I had noticed over the years that mental presences in Melanie's proximity seemed to vanish along with her own. When the kidnapping occured, Rachelle's presence was nearly invisible. I hazarded that Little Chen's powers were more potent if she was running the gamut of the most extreme feelings: fear, anger, and joy. I wondered though, if she would be able to persuade Sachiko. "No," Melanie murmured as she fed another spoonful of tasty paste to Norman. "What was that?" I blinked. "You're thinking if I'm going to help your stupid brother patch things up with Sachiko," she cast a glance at me. "The answer's 'No!'" "But I didn't ask yet." I smiled bravely. Inwardly, I wondered if Melanie was reading my mind. "You didn't have to ask," my little darling chirped. "I can see it on your face." "And what's wrong with asking?" I sat beside mother and son. "He thinks he's in love." "That's the problem," Melanie said dourly, "He met that other girl when? Three months ago?" "Yes, there abouts," I nodded. It wouldn't surprise me that the news of this had become everyone's business now. "That's too short a time," she said as she scooped another spoonful of paste. "Andrew's known Sachiko for years, but this Alexia is really just a hussy." "Funny coming from you," I blurted before I could stop myself. "What's THAT s'posed to mean?" Melanie glared at me angrily. "I've known you since we were children. That's different!" Norman gave an excited cry and burped, throwing up a little of his dinner. I grabbed a damp cloth and quickly wiped up the mess. "Sorry," I said as Melanie packed away the baby's food for later. "Look," she moderated her voice once more, "Ah-Pung just lost his head. Let's give him some time. In the meanwhile, lemme see what Sachiko thinks." "I thought you weren't going to help," I said as I eyed her suspiciously. "I'm not." Melanie folded her arms across her chest and stared back. "I just want to see what she thinks." I felt mildly uncomfortable. "Hey, look. If Jan's been saying things ..." "Stop it, Stanley." Melanie glared at me, her dark doe eyes flashed angrily. "I know you've been seeing someone besides us. I just don't want to hear it, okay?" "You -- you can tell?" I asked weakly. "Of course I can!" She enclosed my hands with hers and put them between her breasts, "I feel it! I don't know how, but I feel it. Here! Understand?" "All this time," I murmured in astonishment, "You didn't say a thing." "Because I didn't want to worry you." Melanie dipped her eyes. "You know I hear things. Even when we were little." As I stood there in my little wife's tender grasp, I felt her anxiety. She knew it wasn't normal to hear the occasional thought from people, and probably thought she was either crazy or delusional. Melanie, in her naivete, had elected to remain silent about her condition, which was quite normal for our kind. So, I thought darkly. My selective memory experiment didn't work. At least not with Melanie. And still, I hesitated to tell her about the invisible empire. To reveal it so suddenly after having known her for -- what? Eighteen years? That would've been too much. Now, I felt rotten on top of guilty. "Is she younger than me?" she finally murmured. I glanced at her. Melanie's face was serene but I felt her hands trembling. At this range, I knew I had to tell her the truth. "Yes," I managed to stammer. Her lips twitched only slightly as she phrased her next question. "Is she younger than Jillian?" I felt my face grow hot; I flinched as if I'd been slapped. "No," I answered firmly, "She was a student from the class I taught at the university." A sign of relief returned to my Lady Chen's face as she peered at me with her round doe's eyes. "Would you forgive me?" I mumbled. "I always have," she said softly, "Why do you think I stay by you?" Fuck me to tears, I thought. I was scum. I also felt dizzy and mildly queasy. Was it little Yu-Ching? Or was it just me feeling like the world's biggest ass-hat? Melanie released my hands and hugged me. Her tiny head rested against my chest as she spoke once more. "I'll talk to Shawn Ellen," she murmured, "She's been through a lot too. You leave Andrew's business to me, okay?" I nodded mutely. "But promise me, Stanley." Melanie looked up, her eyes wet. "Promise me you won't see her again." I didn't know why I hesitated, but I did -- if only for the briefest of moments -- before I nodded in agreement. "But," my little darling's tone grew somber, "If you have to, just don't give her children. It won't be right." I blinked and saw her gazing again at my face. It was as if she could sense my thoughts, although I knew it to be untrue. I gazed back at her sweet face and thought-spoke: 'You can't read my mind can you, Yu-Ching? Can you read me? Have you been reading me for all these years?' Melanie stared back evenly without a response, audible or otherwise. Finally, she shook me lightly. "Dapp-wo-a*!" she cried softly. [* Cantonese: Answer me!] "I -- I will," I cursed lightly, prompting an admonishing gaze from her. "Promise." "I know it's been stressful around here lately," Melanie sighed, "But I'll talk to Ling-jie* [* Cantonese: Elder Sister Ling, otherwise known as Janet] and we'll make it more like a home and less like a zoo. Okay?" "Okay." I bumped foreheads with her. "You know best." She made a small noise that only a woman of her noble character could make. We stayed like that for a while until Norman began clamoring for attention. Melanie sighed and picked up the toddler, but he started squirming and reaching for me. "Here, you take him." She handed him to me then stretched her arms. "I'm gonna get his bath ready." Melanie lazily wandered off, yawning a bit. My guilt and unease seemed to subside as she retreated from the room. With a burning desire to understand what was going on, I followed her to the bathroom but the feelings didn't resurge. Strange, I thought about what happened as Norman drooled, kicked, and squirmed, trying to escape my grasp. After we bathed and put the baby to bed, we had some quiet time to ourselves. While I was touching her, I felt no discomfort or unease. Melanie seemed to have dismissed the earlier argument altogether as we made out on the sofa. After a few minutes of play though, she begged off to show me a little ditty she had been practicing on her zither from John Woo's "Red Cliff". It was a pleasant, soothing moment as I watched her slender fingers pluck the strings of her instrument. "Did you like it?" she asked as the music faded. "It's very relaxing." I smiled. "I wouldn't mind hearing it again." "Sure!" She seemed delighted, our earlier argument seemingly forgiven (and I hoped, forgotten). Melanie strummed her zither again, this time putting in a few artful inflections that were not there before. As I watched her play, I dared to wonder who exactly was the woman I knew as Chen Yu-Ching. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- COLD TURKEY ... KINDA =============================================================================== "So, you're never seeing me again?" Rosalind sat rigid in her chair as monkey-suited waiters brushed by us. They were trying not to notice, but it was hard not to. A thirty-something year old man on a date with a scantily clad twenty year old girl generally meant sordid business was going on. "No. Our agreement stands," I said, "But I'm going to be busy for a while, so I won't be able to drop anything off with you for some time." The tiny Korean girl was trembling not from cold but from anger, although one may not have guessed it immediately with her choice of clothing. She wore a slim cocktail dress of blue fabric accented by a gold linked chain. I liked that dress, because it was something I had foolishly given her for Valentine's Day about six weeks into our arrangement. "Besides," my words came out measured and slow, "You could use the time to learn new things." "I am," she glanced at me haughtily and whispered, "Or had you forgotten how you like spinning me around like a top?" "I meant new building techniques," I said with distaste, "That other kind of 'skill' won't get you into a firm." Rosalind adjusted her skirt, drank a little wine and stared despondently at her plate. "Look here." I slid her a small tin. "This is for you, and it should last you a year -- or at least, until I get back." She opened the tin gingerly. It was the same one Tseng had given me years earlier, only now it had a safety deposit box key and a business card of a bank near where she lived in San Jose. "What's this?" she asked. "I opened a safety deposit box with your name and mine. You'll find your money there. I'll make annual deposits until you're done with school; you just email me or leave a copy of your grades." "Okay. Like, wow." Rosalind gulped then eyed me curiously. "Umm wait; don't I have to sign in or something? How'd you get a box without me being there?" "I told the clerk you were busy." Actually, the box was only in her name, although she and I could access it; it was for purposes of obscuring the paper trail. I simply fuzzed the mind of the clerk so everything was set-up nicely without me needing to leave anything save my name. That business with the kidnapping now made me hyper-paranoid about my information getting out. With this arrangement, I could leave money, love letters, or anything I wished without having to deal with Rosalind in person. "Thanks Stan." Rosalind paused and bit her lip gently. "So does your wife know?" "She suspects," I said slowly as I thought of my wives in plural. I still hadn't told Rosalind the truth, but I doubted it mattered now. "Ah," she nodded. "I understand, now. How'd she find out?" "Probably Andrew," I lied and briefly touched on Andrew's and Alexia's affair. "Shit." Rosalind soured. "I told her Andrew probably had a girlfriend. I'm sorry if she caused trouble." "I'll deal with it." I gave her a reassuring smile. "You sure?" She tilted her head slightly. "I mean I could tell Lexi to shove it." "I think Andrew's girlfriend already did." I chuckled. That and more. Sachiko didn't look it, but she swore like a sailor in both English and Japanese. "Well I'm just trying to help." Rosalind's tone approached a whine. "Don't worry about it." I patted her hand, "You just focus on your studies." "'Kay daddy," she murmurmed softly. "Good girl." Despite how much trouble I was going to get myself in, I grinned at her words. Rosalind smiled shyly and fidgeted like a little girl. She measured her next few words with great care. "So, will you be all right?" Rosalind asked. You don't know the half of it, I thought. But to shut her up, I simply nodded. It was already hard to lie to this sweet girl. I wondered why I couldn't stop seeing her though. Heck, even Melanie got the feeling I couldn't stop seeing this girl. Leave it to Yu-Ching to know me better than I know myself. The two of us made small talk about her progress and the design program while our after-dinner coffee was served, the tension swirling around the table. "Well, are you all right?" I asked her. "To be truthful," Rosalind took a deep breath, "I hate this. I hate not seeing you. But I guess I don't have much of a choice right now." "Choe-song ham ni-da*," I said haltingly. [* Korean: I'm sorry for doing you wrong.] "A-ni-e-yo*!" she beamed bravely at me. [* Korean: No problem!] As we headed back to the car, I pinged the area for any mental presences that I had remembered from the time I left for Berkeley till now. So far, so good. If Janet was snooping, she was doing it with private investigators and not herself, as I knew she was back home working on her current case. Rosalind and her friends were at the same apartment (leases were generally year to year). Because the place was so crowded, I simply rented a room at a nearby hotel near the San Francisco Aiport so we could be alone. If I looked the part of a business man, I could pay all cash and get away with it. The Korean cutie's cheeks burned bright red as she slipped into the room with me. We weren't planning to spend the whole night there anyway -- and we weren't thinking about doing any sleeping. Rosalind jumped me as soon as the door shut behind us. Her short stature and tiny body made her a great fuck-toy. She squealed playfully as I carried her to the shower. After a good scrubbing, the two of us slipped into bed, our bodies keeping us warm under the thin bedsheets. I fucked her slowly and wondered how I was going to extricate myself from the situation without treating her like a disposable condom. I had put myself into this situation before with Aurora. My cousin -- who had fallen deeply in love with me -- had died young, robbing me the chance to properly break with her. Now, I had put myself into that same position again. It was like I was trying to unconsciously correct some past wrong. Thinking about Aurora only made me uncomfortable; Rosalind, misreading my face, hugged me tightly and wouldn't let me leave after we were done. I reluctantly spent the night with Rosalind. I knew deep down that she and I shared wouldn't last; what made it worrisome was Rosalind knew it too, but she was taking our relationship more seriously than it should be. The prospect of zapping her so she'd forget everything was something I didn't want to dwell on. Still, if the need arose, I knew I'd do it. Despite the great-hearted act Melanie had done, I was sure I couldn't count on the same leniency from the others. With a heavy heart, I began planning for the inevitable day Rosalind Chae would finally be freed from me. =============================================================================== A WEEKEND WITH MY FIRST =============================================================================== Janet was still hopping mad over the whole Andrew/Alexia affair. Having befriended Gracia, my First was at first apalled by Andrew's behavior. Then her suspicions began going into overdrive. Thankfully, Melanie's tearful pleading prompted me to do the right thing. I stopped seeing Rosalind just in time, because Janet had begun snooping around on her own. Since I could read her so readily, it was easy to determine where, when, and what Janet was planning on doing. So, for a few weeks, I did what my wife expected me to do: drop by my businesses, do some swimming with Shawn at her pool, expand on that set of obsidian and flint knives I'd given Melanie last year, and spending time at home with the kids. I even found the time to teach Janet a bit about cars. When Andrew and I were kids, we helped our father around with the cars. It was so we'd have some basic knowledge about automobiles so we wouldn't be royally ripped off when we visited a mechanic. Of course, all that was useless by the time we grew up. I was able to accurately determine if someone was lying to me using my gift, and Andrew leased a hybrid (which, at the time were all serviced by their dealers anyway). Still, I didn't mind the know-how. Janet and I were at her place one weekend, going through all the motions with our family's fleet of cars: checking the tire pressure, cleaning the radiators, changing the motor oil, refilling other fluids, and just examining the cars' bodies for dings and signs of rust. And while the eco-condo's garage easily held eight cars (four on each side of the elevator), its driveway wasn't great for working on them. Janet's driveway was long and deeply set-back (her property's set-back was nearly fifteen feet, which was perfect) so her garage became something of my domain as it filled up with a wall full of tools, parts, and charts (all secured in case of a quake of course). We went from my First's boxy Camry (which ran very smoothly thanks to her weekly trips to CostCo and her keeping it in a garage) to Melanie's Volkswagon Beetle (the new version based off the VW Golf's chassis) which she bought because it was Nintendo's "Pika-car". After the smaller cars were done -- Jamie's second-hand Civic, my Corolla, and Rachelle's Element -- I moved onto the larger vehicles: Jamie, Janet, and Shawn each owned a mini-van. This was for the sheer number of kids we had to shuttle around. Janet talked the other two into buying them. Despite being burdened by her own mortgage, my First was always willing to demonstrate she was the "mature one" in the bunch (despite the fact she could resort to some really immature shit both in bed and when she was jealous). Since a car was a car (even if it was a second-hand car), the trio purchased three used Siennas from a Toyota dealership in Colma. The three of them wrangled a pretty good deal even without my interference. While Janet, Jamie, and Shawn "owned" the vans, they were more often than not parked in my building with the keys (and booster/carseats) hanging next to the elevator so anyone could use them in a hurry. Of course, I didn't really need my First there to help with the maintenance schedule, but I wanted her around. Apart from trying to bond with my darling Janet, I actually needed a second person present to channel mind-sight through so I'd know when to stop the car when going up the ramp. I suppose I could've stood to the side and simply pushed on the car's chassis (while it was in neutral) but seeing a driverless car roll silently up an oil change ramp was too obvious. In any case, our heated discussion about Andrew's and Sachiko's break-up quickly dissolved as we set our minds to work. I found I was able to "nudge" the argument out of her mind by persuading her we'd best leave it alone. I knew it was better anyway; Yu-Ching had already promised me she'd do something about it. In any case, I was probably going to go to bat for my little brother -- that's if I had the chance to get close to Sachiko and warp her mind without arousing suspicion. "So you got all that?" I asked as the last car was done. "I think so." Janet was physically tired despite the fact she dressed for the occasion. She hadn't had this much strenuous physical activity since we fucked as teenagers. She sat down and rubbed her ankles while I checked a few final things on Janet's mini-van (I noticed one of her parking lights had gone out and dutifully replaced it). I grinned as I watched her body twist, her arms flex, and her lovely face yawning from today's effort. Janet had worn a pair of old overalls she had picked up at a thrift store expressly for the purpose of rough tasks around the house. The top she was wearing was paint-splattered short-sleeved body-hugging T-shirt that snugly wrapped around her tits. "What the hell are you looking at?" Janet caught me staring. I grinned and gave her a sly wink. She sniffed audibly and turned away in disgust. I knew that apart from her overalls and t-shirt, the only other thing she was wearing were a pair of Lady Hanes. I knew because I peeked. Instead of ogling my wife, I probably should've been paying attention. I put my hand down on the tray of parts sitting on the engine compartment and tipped the whole thing over. "Goddammit!" I swore loudly and Janet shook her head. "Fong-fei-a-li*," she admonished me. [* Cantonese: Clumsy and sloppy! (a verbal beration)] Normally, it wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, but the tool tray was what I used to store various nuts, bolts, screws, washers, and other small items. Because I was lazy, I also used it hold some of the smaller turning signal and parking light bulbs. After I crawled around to pick up all the loose parts and locating the small bulbs that were still intact, I saw Janet's pensive stare had turned to shock. "Something wrong?" I started to laugh then I winced. "Ow." I looked down and saw my hands were quite bloody. I didn't even notice I had injured myself as I scrambled madly trying to grab the spilled contents back into the tray. Something cut me at just the right angle (and at just the right spot) at the base of my palm to release a large stream of blood. "Are you okay?" Janet ran up to me with a damp paper towel and a roll of gauze. "I think so." I made a face and started walking towards the laundry sink. "Stop, stop!" Her voice rose to a near panic. "Let's get you bandaged first!" I stood still as Janet picked the wound clean of dirt, bits of glass, and debris. I grimaced slightly when she wiped off the initial mess of blood. As I expected, a fresh pulse of blood instantly welled up and oozed out from the wound. Luckily, my injury wasn't that serious, but I noticed Janet's hands were shaking as she wrapped my hand with gauze. "I'll be all right," I assured her, "Thanks." "You should be more careful," Janet said. "Sure no problem," I said and began clearing stuff from the driveway. "Don't just say it like that!" she snapped angrily. "Well, how do you want me to say it?" I asked and dragged the carjack noisily over the sidewalk. Janet composed herself and said, "Say it like you mean it." I stopped, stood, and encircled her with the arm with my good hand to hug her. "Well, I believe you do care." I grinned. "Stop joking around." Janet punched my shoulder. "I'm serious!" She was about to say more when I silenced her with a kiss. She responded less than enthusiastically, but I felt her mind and body relax as I teased her mouth for a good minute or two. "I'm glad you feel better," Janet said once I stopped to catch my breath, "C'mon, let's get cleaned up for dinner, okay?" I nodded in quick agreement. That weekend was a fun one despite my injury. It hurt when I flexed my palm. My First took notice and made a bad joke that I was now reliant on her and the girls for relief and comfort. "Relief?" I asked her, "What? Why?" "You know why." Janet stuck her tongue out and resumed her cooking. She kept her language clean because the kids were around. My four sons were sitting around the table tonight because Melanie had to work at the Cliff House; the two older boys were also being punished. Shawn, Rachelle, and Jamie were having their own little soiree at the eco-condo with the girls. While we didn't want to segregate the girls from the boys, Michael and Milhail had been misbehaving and playing pranks on their sisters -- hiding their shoes, ripping the heads off of their dolls, and just general harassment. I condoned none of that behavior; it wasn't the busted toys but rather the sheer audacity of their bullying that rattled me. When we finally found out why Jenny was crying because someone decapitated her dolls, and Janelle and Danielle so quietly distressed, and Kady hopping mad because she couldn't find her shoes, Janet and I grounded Michael and Milhail for a week. The boys were talking mostly about videogames and cartoons (the usual) instead of schoolwork. They had reason to be happy, since their punishment was going to end tonight. Frederick was happily munching on some fishsticks while little Norman was content in pushing (or throwing) away anything he didn't want to eat. It was a typical family night; Melanie's Playstation 3 (she hooked it up and left it at Janet's place because of the big-ass HDTV) was something the boys were looking forward to playing once their punishment expired. After dinner, I squeezed the last bit of punishment from the kids and had them help me do the dishes, laundry, and trash. Now free, the three older boys occupied with videogames downstairs while Janet and I got Norman cleaned up and ready for bed. Melanie's son was far less fussy than the other boys -- something that made him a favorite of all my darlings -- and the little tot was soon happily snoozing in Frederick's old crib. Despite my injury, I was feeling rather frisky and I kept giving Janet the eye throughout the meal until she gave me a swift kick under the table. "Stop it buddy," she growled when she leaned over to borrow some salt. "Not in the mood, and not in your condition." "What condition?" I gave her an annoyed glance. "It's just my hand." "Exactly," my First said gruffly, "You can get infected if you do what you normally do." I was about to say more when she lashed out with her foot once more. 'Shut it!' Janet seemed to say, and I relented until we were alone. Of course, that was before she got ready for bed. Now that she was full and content, my First was feeling as randy and as bawdy as I earlier in the evening. "Let's make it a quickie," Janet's breaths quickened as I pulled her top off, "Or the boys will get curious and wander up here." "Don't worry," I kidded her, "They'll be busy with those games for a while. Besides if they see us, they'll just think I'm hurting you." "Fuck you." She extended her middle finger. "You want to screw them up for life?" "Don't tell me you never thought about it." "About them walking in on us?" Janet stared at me in shock. "That's sick!" "No," I said mischievously, "I meant about your own parents doing it and you walking in on them." "Gross." She made a face and glared at me. "You know you're talking yourself out of some good nooky, right?" "Enough talk." I pulled her close and kissed her. "Schnoo-schnoo now!" My First chuckled at the piece of dated Futurama slang and happily returned my affection. Our bodies fresh from the shower, I savored the sweet heavenly scent of Janet's skin. I dropped little kisses over her soft, petite body. She shivered as I worked from her face, down her neck, over her breasts, and down her stomach. "Oh fuck yeah," Janet panted lightly, "Like that. Do it just like that." The spicy taste of her cooze enticed me to explore the contours of my First's belly, waist, buttocks, and thighs. I rolled her over and kissed her backside while pinching and squeezing good portions of her body. At her current age (37), Janet was still fit but I could feel the tight supple flesh had slowly been changing to a softer, more tender "feel". Two decades did that to people no matter how much they worked out. Still, I found it more exciting to find out how quickly we could get each other to cum if we weren't fucking around with foreplay. Janet must've sensed my change in mood, because she flipped around and lay me flat on the bed. I grunted with delight. This position was one of my all-time favorites with all my darlings, although some liked it more than others. Viktoriya -- for one -- was only happy if she was facing me while fucking. Despite our innate ability to communicate by mental broadcast, my dusky Russkie loved watching my face as I plowed her field. Janet though, didn't care. It was as if she had known me all my life. She slid herself over my body, her smooth thighs and buttocks teasing my swollen dick. I bit her shoulder gently and she let out a satisfied sigh. "C'mon fella." Janet's fingers grabbed my cock. "Let's -- ooh!!" I grunted with pleasure as my penis slipped against Janet's milky white thighs. Ever since I had started out-growing my lovely Lady Wu in body size, she's been trying out some of the positions Melanie had confessed to doing when we were younger. Hot-dogging Janet while I spooned her was something we both enjoyed. Janet reached down, her fingernails teasing the top of my prick while she massaged my shaft between her groin. I reached around her, gently squeezing her nipples with my injured hand and rubbing her stomach with my good one. I cautiously extended my telekinesis and "double-rolled" her -- from the inside, my telekinesis formed a gentle rippling curve while from the outside, my hand pressed down in just the right spot. My First gasped and I felt her body tense up in response to my probing. She reached back with her other hand and ran her lacquered nails through my hair -- just like how Shawn would when she was with me. The feeling was so good, I had to concentrate hard to stop myself from frying Janet's synapses. I reciprocated slowly and broadcast a weak stream of wanton emotion to my lovely mate. "Tug me! Jerk me! Fuck me!" Janet rasped as she gyrated her hips over mine, "Pig-stick me, you mean motherfucker!" "Oh-my-sweetness," I grunted as I breathed in Janet's lovely musk. She dug her nails a bit more into my cock and I felt a sharp surge of pain-pleasure as she changed her technique. Janet tensed up her thighs like a yoga exercise, suffocating my fuck rod. My dick was already slick with pre-cum and from her juices; it took little effort to slip my cock into her gaping vagina. "Oh gawd!" Janet inhaled sharply as I shifted my focus a bit to be in tune with my penetration. "Feel good sweetie?" I murmured in her ear. "Like you wouldn't believe," she shivered as I saw her skin get goosebumps from my efforts. So, with a little well-meaning attention, Janet's fears and suspicions about Rosalind were quickly squashed. When I finally spunked into her waiting womb, I was confident my First would stop her nosing around, and that she'd stop interfering with Andrew's affairs. I wished other things fell together so easily. While I could confide some things to Janet, I kept silent about certain issues that were of no concern to her. Besides, I had other worries and frustrations that few 'normals' could comprehend. Luckily, I had Viktoriya to vent to. Of course, my Russian beauty had her own problems -- problems I had to deal with in addition to my dumb-ass brother's. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- MY LITTLE BROTHER =============================================================================== Compared to Andrew, I got off easy from the whole affair. And Melanie was true to her word: she arranged a rotating schedule of grouping the kids into study and play groups with my other darlings. Henceforth the kids were all together and overseen by one other mother at least one or two days of the week. If all five available moms and the one dad were too busy, Shawn's mother watched them in the guest unit or her place in Alamo Square. Now, I was able to have some peace and quiet. While I didn't neglect the kids, they were still a bit too young for the tasks I wanted them to do. Melanie also kept her other promises: she kept mum about Rosalind and she spoke with Sachiko. Even with the combined efforts of Melanie and me pleading for Andrew's case, Sachiko staunchly held out. For a time, I wondered if Andrew's former girlfriend was some sort of psychic freak of nature -- Sachiko wasn't buying into our story. Before I could try anything with Andrew's ex, she relocated to Seattle for her new job. This sudden move came as a surprise, but it may have had something to do with me making headway with her older sister. At first, Gracia was on Sachiko's side; however, she became neutral to the affair after I broached the subject at the end of one of our meetings. Since I could approach Gracia without arousing suspicion, I worked my persuasion and convinced her to stay on the sidelines. From Sachiko's view, I had done some spade work on her older sister and the little witch wasn't too happy about it. Sachiko never forgave Andrew completely. That in itself put a freeze in their relationship for a time. During their break, Andrew threw himself at women -- not just Alexia but also several others too, including Kimberly, who was inclined to fuck anything with a cock and a hundred bucks, and Sasha, who asked if the Brothers Chen were brave enough to double-team all three of her holes (I declined but Andrew later confided she had all the makings of a sex addict). My brother buried himself into the thick of things to forget Sachiko but he still couldn't let go. Despite his mood of reckless abandonment, he kept silent on how the whole affair started. Happily (for me) so did Alexia, although I later learned it was because he had threatened her if she caused our family any more trouble. Regardless of the troubles Andrew had, Alexia found him attractive enough to put up with his eccentricities. Nonetheless, several things were working against them. Andrew worked for the U.S. Army as a civilian medical contractor. He had the job of counseling the bereaved families of soldiers killed in action, as well as physically injured survivors, and separating the conscientious objectors from the cowards. He was also tasked with passing or failing soldiers (especially those with a Muslim background) perceived by their superiors to develop problems. This was to minimize the number of incidents in the army where soldiers would engage in prejudicial practices against their Muslim comrades out of fear and ignorance, and the inevitable backlash that would follow. My little brother seemed a good solution as any for the Army brass: a pagan Chinese shrink assessing Middle-Eastern Islamic soldiers in a white man's Judeo-Christian army. While Andrew was open-minded and tolerant, he became increasingly disturbed by the viciousness and pettiness of the army's chain of command. This made him definitely more dour, more cynical, and less approachable. This, coupled with the miserly pay of psychologists contracted to the armed forces, pretty much dispelled the mystique Alexia had for Andrew. The two broke up after a month of dating, although my brother was right about one thing: the two did click on some level. While Alexia and Andrew no longer saw each other exclusively, they remained good friends; Andrew even introduced Alexia to her new boyfriend, a friend of his classmate who worked at the main office of Wells Fargo. That seemed to validate Yu-Ching's view about the Greco-Chinese girl being a gold-digger. Single again, Andrew found some unexpected help came from -- of all people -- Rachelle. My little brother liked and trusted her more than my other darlings. Andrew and Rachelle got along well when she and I were dating (back in school). When she and Janet were still on non-speaking terms, Rachelle hardly got lonesome because my brother would occasionally drop by and help her take care of the twins. It was to Rachelle whom Andrew now appealed for advice, and she did what she thought was right. My mocha-skinned mate decided it was a good idea to set up Andrew with Ami. Rachelle's circle of friends had been big throughout her life. Even her break-up with Craig didn't dent it much (just her move from Los Angeles). While Heidi stayed in Los Angeles after being widowed, Ghandia had moved back to Northern California after breaking up with her previous boyfriend (the dumbass I met at Jon-Peter's funeral). Ghandia dated a new guy, an Indian (from India, not an aboriginal American) software engineer who moonlighted as a disc jockey in several South Bay nightclubs. Rachelle arranged an impromptu reunion of old friends and college sorority sisters. The reason? 'I got a new job!! Time to celebrate!' Rachelle literally screamed in her email. I know what she wrote because I peeked. That, plus I did some mental wet-work at the San Francisco Presido and landed my black beauty a job at Lucasarts. Among those at the soiree was Ami. She had moved back to the city to stay near her parents after she completed her university studies. Andrew and Ami got to talking, and before long, she was hanging around the old house. No one was more shocked than I. When I heard about it, I confronted Rachelle during one of our evenings. It was shortly after we made up after our spat at the Simmons wake, so I broached the topic gently, as not to have it break into another argument. "Uh, sugar?" I asked, "How's Ami going to help Andrew out of this?" "I just said he should talk to his friends and check out his options," Rachelle said absently. "Almost the same thing you said!" "That was in regards to Alexia." I jerked my thumb sideways for emphasis. "I didn't actually mean for him to try another dish." "Bullcrap!" She put her hands on her hips. "You told them to stop talking to one another while you and Mel sort things out. How's that s'posed to work, Stanley? Even you didn't do that when you were seeing me and Janet!" "Well, I --" I stopped and wondered if I was meddling too much. Had I picked up my darlings' penchant for sticking my nose into the business of others? "Besides, Ami is good friend." My black beauty's eyes practically sparkled as she pictured Ami and Andrew in her mind. "She's been supportive of both of you all these years. How did you not see this coming?" "I dunno." I shrugged. "I guess it never crossed my mind." "It never crossed your mind that those two could fall for one other?" Rachelle laughed softly. "Oh sugar, now you're yanking my chain." "Honestly, it didn't cross my mind at all." I looked at her in bewilderment. "How could anyone see this?" "I could." She studied me carefully. "I guess it just took some time for them to realize it!" "Now you're yanking my chain." I gave her a wry grin. "Don't tell me you can tell the future." "If I could, I'd hit the lottery first," Rachelle sighed, "But I just pick up on how things are. Sometimes love is just plain weird. You just have to let it run its course naturally, right?" "It's still not helping Sachiko and Andrew," I insisted. "Screw that!" Rachelle growled, "Just let Andrew decide; Sachiko seems to have already! That's why he's in this mess, right? Because you told him to date more girls to even the score?" "I didn't tell him that -- not exactly." I felt my face grow hot before I asked the obvious question: "Who told you that?" "Everyone!" the mulatto said flatly. "But this is something your brother needs to work out himself, even if everyone's giving him advice. If he wasn't happy with Sachiko, it won't work out no matter what we think. It'll work out if it works out, get it?" "I guess so," I murmured and stroked her hand tenderly, "When'd you become so wise?" Rachelle sniffed sharply as she regarded me with an annoyed but mirthful gaze. "When I married you, you dense doofus. I always wondered about what you and I had, but I guess things --" "Worked out?" I finished for her. "Well I'm here, aren't I?" Rachelle was on the verge of being really irritated. "For better or worse!" "For better." I took her hands in mine. "Thank you, sugar." "You're welcome," she kissed my nose. So Rachelle was right. Ami never disappointed as a friend -- why would she as part of the family? Ultimately, I'd say the whole affair resolved itself quite nicely, if oddly. But I'll speak more of it later, because I had problems of my own around that time. =============================================================================== VIKTORIYA'S DILEMMA =============================================================================== Just a few months ago, Viktoriya was nearly beside herself after we told her what happened with Milhail at the zoo. Unfortunately, there was little she could do since she was out of the country. The night of the incident, Viktoriya was cheering on Freya in Germany. The ballroom dancing circuit and rhythmic gymnastics competitions didn't really coincide, but she made time for the skinny, blonde Dutch waife. If I didn't know Viktoriya had earnestly fallen in love with Freya, I would've been the densest man on earth. Nonetheless, the "incident" with Milhail did give Viktoriya a sincere fright. She and I arranged for me to fly out to New York City with Milhail so he could see his mother for the first time in two years. Again bad luck interfered -- this time in the form of illness. Our son came down with influenza (incidentally, infecting nearly everyone else) and he was confined to my unit with the other sick kids. With Milhail and me sick, I postponed the trip until he got better. Unfortunately by the time Milhail and I were fine to travel, school had started. Viktoriya was definitely frustrated. Cristobel was still convalescing from his injury from May. This meant Viktoriya was either dancing with partners she detested, or who didn't match her temperment and skill level. With all the chaos in her life, I was sure I'd hear no end of it when I would finally bring Milhail to New York City for Thanksgiving. So, with those plans made, I was understandably concerned when my assistant Pam interrupted a meeting I was attending in early October. It wasn't just any meeting -- it was one of the first official ones I had with Shawn, and we were both enjoying ourselves. Her firm and mine were working jointly for the Delancey Street Project; it was something that involved having DSP's rehabilitated substance addicts working on solar energy collection stations in the city. Even Jules Fontana was there. We tapped him to get on board with the project for his expertise and for him to pitch a few ideas he had worked on over the years since the eco-condo's solar wall. For people in the business like Shawn, Jules, and me it was more like fun and not really work. "Mr. Chen? Sir?" Pam squeaked, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's your son's principal. She says it's urgent." "Goddammit," I hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm going to ship that kid off to military school if he's in that much trouble." No, I thought. I'd likely do more than that. I probably would've wiped his brain as I had with those banditos and gang-bangers, and re-write his ass once he was older. It would've saved money for the military school, but I wasn't sure how his birth-mother Viktoriya would've thought about it. Then, I remembered how Milhail had tormented his sisters and I grew smug; Viktoriya would probably help me out once she knew the details. Maybe she and I could open a "discipline academy" if things didn't work out -- just spend our days brain-washing unruly teenagers and get paid handsomely for it. I saw Shawn gulp at the corner of my eye, but she dared not utter a word. At work, my plump petunia and I acted like close colleagues, but not a couple. Apart from our closest friends and family, we never introduced ourselves as husband and wife. The bigamy case really did a number on all of us, making us leery and suspicious. Still, Shawn was a busy mother. My doughty darling was the nicest one in the family (apart from Melanie). That was probably one reason why hard-headed Kady was so hard-headed in the first place. Compared to the other women, Shawn was a big softie when it came to discipline. Jamie knew when to draw the line and correct the kids (especially as Jillian grew into a teenager). Like Janet, my leggy Asian beauty would habitually punish the kids if they did something wrong. Even the normally mellow Melanie meted out punishment, as did Rachelle (although the mulatto's 'punishments' were more along the lines of chores she'd rather not do herself). Thankfully, the twin girls, Jillian, and her sister Jenny weren't much trouble. But Kady -- she was something else. She often got into as much mischief as the boys, and she was even more vindictive. After Milhail and Michael had played their latest prank on her, Kady got her revenge. When she was being watched by Janet, she got into the boys' room, took a box of my crushed colored chalks (Shawn and I used them for concept drawings) and poured their contents into the sock drawers. Kady had to content herself with just dirtying her brothers' socks, because she wasn't high enough to reach the other drawers. When Janet found the mess, I swore she was about to burst a blood vessel. Luckily, Shawn was present and picked up our little hard-case before my First smacked Kady's bottom raw. Shawn coddled her daughter so much, even Mother Benton was having a hard time getting her to behave. I often had to discipline Kady, which sent the little troublemaker running to her birth-mother for amnesty. Still, my darling dumpling was mindful of my temper (having experienced it when we were younger). She quickly sought a round-a-bout way to calm me down. "Don't be mad Stanley," Shawn piped up as I rose, "I'll take notes for you." That elicited some odd stares from some, although old man Jules nodded slightly. Fontana had met Kady and knew who her parents were, though he never publicly said a thing about it; we appreciated his discretion. "Thanks," I said as I slipped outside and took the call. "Mr. Chen?" a gritty female voice was on the other end. "Speaking," I said, "Who's this?" "This is Principal Olivia Munichek from Lawrence Elementary. Your son Mee--, Myhale?" "Yes, Milhail," I corrected her gently, "What'd he do?" "Do?" the principal sounded surprised, "Oh no, Milhail isn't in trouble. It's just that -- his mother -- or someone claiming to be his mother is here, but she's not using the name on the emergency contact list." "Oh." I frowned, despite the fact she couldn't see me. With so many kids, I had forgotten who was on whose emergency list. We had agreed to use the kid's birth mother and my name as the prime emergency contacts. However, Milhail was a bit of a problem. His mother was a thousand miles away, as was his maternal grandparents. My own parents were at work, so I never bothered them with the stuff we were supposed to be responsible for anyway. So, Janet and Melanie had coordinated with Viktoriya when Milhail was enrolled. Someone's name was put down there -- likely Janet or Melanie -- I just didn't know who off the top of my head. "And -- um, Mr. Chen?" Principal Munichek cleared her throat, "I don't want to alarm you, but Milhail didn't recognize the woman. I brought them into separate conference rooms so we can clear this matter up." My mind quickly rose to full alert. Was this another kidnapping attempt? I felt my insides grow numb. "Ah, I see," I waved Pam over and scrawled a note to give to Shawn. "Would you be able to bullshit them for about twenty minutes? I'll be there to sort this out." "Of course Mr. Chen," the principal lowered her voice, "But please refrain from using such language when you come to school." "Yeah sure." I slammed the phone down harder than I wanted. I jotted down a quick note: GOING TO MILHAIL'S SCHOOL. HAVE LAURA CHECK ON KIDS. I folded it in half and gave it to Pam with instructions to pass it onto Shawn before I zipped out of the office. Fifteen minutes later, I hopped out of my cab after having connected with Shawn and Mother Benton. They each quickly checked on the kids (Jillian at middle school, Michael at the elementary school, the young ones at the house) and remained on alert. I passed a $50 bill to the driver and ran into school without waiting for change. Man, I never thought I'd pay good money to speed back to school. A security guard led me to the principal's office where I introduced myself as Milhail's father. Principal Munichek was a short, sour-faced woman in her sixties who was like someone's feisty old grandmother. She was full of energy despite her age, and her quick movements revealed a mind untouched by the ravages of time. "It's a precaution, you see Mr. Chen," she told me as we walked towards the office with the mystery visitor. "I understand your concern," I said with a mellow tone, "School's changed plenty since I was here." "Oh?" the dwarfish principal looked at me sideways. "What class were you?" "1985," I said sheepishly, "Sorry, ma'am. I still get nervous when I'm heading to the principal's office." The lively crone laughed gaily and gestured, "This way Mr. Chen. The lady inside is --" "Viktoriya?!" I stopped and stared. "Stanislav!" my Baltic beauty brightened instantly as she ran towards me. The two of us embraced passionately as the white-haired principal took a step back in surprise. "You know her?" Munichek asked with some shock. "Of course." I felt the panic that had been building up in me give way to relief. "This is Milhail's mother, Viktoriya." "See? I told you!" The brunette glowered at the small crone. "Milhail just hasn't seen me for a while." "Well I see." The principal regarded us with grandmotherly disapproval. "I guess there's no harm in bringing the boy in now." "Please do." I smiled weakly as the old woman left. I turned to my lovely Russian darling, a million questions on my mind. "What're you doing here?" I asked her audibly and proceeded to bombard her with thought-speech: 'Why didn't you tell me you were coming?' 'How are you?' 'Are you all right?' 'How long are you staying?' "To visit!" Viktoriya smiled and kissed me several times on my cheeks and mouth, answering my other questions as best she could: 'I wanted to surprise you.' 'I am fine!' 'I'm glad to see you!' Only my final few questions did she disregard. As much as I wanted to press her for an answer, Milhail's shout of, "Dad!" grabbed our attention and he ran up to me and hugged me. Instantly, I felt Viktoriya's pang of jealousy and despair. My Slavic siren sat down, her whole person reserved, calmed, and sad. The principal bade some curious onlookers to clear the way and she shut the door to the conference room. "Dad." Milhail tugged at me so I leaned in close for him to whisper, "Who's that?" Viktoriya kept a brave smile for her son, but I sensed her mind broadcasting sadness to any who could've picked up her thoughts. "That's your mom," I said simply, "Don't you remember?" "You mean 'Phone-mom'?" he looked at me astonished. "I think 'mom' will do just fine." I ruffled his hair, but the boy remained silent. "Milhail," Viktoriya reached hesitantly for the boy, "Remember when I used to sing to you? And you told me how you loved the cartoon --" 'Yu-Gi-Oh Duellist's Destiny.' I pinged her a reminder. "-- You-Ghee-Oh?" my dusky Russkie butchered the franchise that had been cloned from Nintendo's Pokemon. "Kinda," Milhail sounded doubtful. The boy made no move towards his mother, preferring instead to hide behind me. I glanced at Viktoriya, whose self-discipline was stretched to the breaking point. She wanted to cry, but she'd dare not to. Thinking quickly, I took her by the hand and calmed her as best I could. "C'mon," I said quietly, "Let's call it a day. We have lots to talk about." Back home, everyone breathed a big sigh of relief (especially Melanie) when they learned it was Viktoriya who had came into town to see her son. It wasn't another kidnapping attempt, but just to be sure, I pinged and re-pinged the neighborhood to make sure. While Pincelli may have been scared off for now, I had a feeling he might be up to something after I made good with my own threats a few weeks ago. I filed a mental note to mind-hop the son of a bitch and check up on what he and his lieutenants were doing, just in case. I didn't want to take any chances. As for Viktoriya, everyone gave her a warm welcome and we headed out to an Olive Garden for a big family dinner. Despite putting Milhail next to Viktoriya, he preferred joshing, jostling, and joking with his brother Michael and making spit bubbles in his soda than conversation with his birth-mother. That night, I was with Viktoriya as she cried in my arms. She rapidly unloaded a mass of hurtful, angry barbs at Janet, Melanie, and me for alienating her from her son. Deep down though, we both knew she was partly to blame. Not being there for his most formative younger years meant as Milhail became aware of who "he" was and his brain formed concrete thoughts, he thought of Janet and my other darlings as his "moms" rather than Viktoriya. It's true what they say: "Out of sight" is "out of mind." Although Viktoriya could've telepathically stayed in touch with Milhail, we both agreed to restrict our gifts on the children. Aside from the potential for physical harm we could inflict, there was no telling how the others would react. When venting wasn't enough, Viktoriya began attacking the furniture. It wasn't physical assault though -- the furniture could've survived that. Instead, she was lashing out with her gift. With her telekinesis being boosted in my proximity, I was afraid she'd do serious damage to the support joints that held the building together. "Vika." I took her in my hands and shook her gently. "Stop it! That's enough!" "Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!!" Viktoriya struggled against me, her cheeks wet and her hair a brazen mess. 'Stop this foolishness.' I held her as tightly as I could without hurting her. 'Wrecking the building isn't going to help Milhail.' As I broadcast a thin feed of calming thoughts to her, Viktoriya slowly stopped her tantrum, but she still wore a vehement look on her face as she sunk into the wreckage of the couch. It was a good couch, I looked on ruefully. Viktoriya had made artful selections from Gracia's catalogs years ago. When I looked back at her, I saw her gaze sadly around her home in San Francisco. "I -- I used to roll him up the walls," Viktoriya said suddenly, "He loved it when I let him drop just a bit before I'd swoop in to catch him." I arched a brow, a bit surprised she had treated our son like an exercise ball. True, I used telekinesis to a mild degree on my darlings, but never so directly on the children. It was too risky on their small bodies. If I over-compensated or under-compensated or slipped slightly in my focus, I might've torn something or killed them. Viktoriya's gift though, was so much more potent that she was able to gently apply pressure across the whole of a newborn baby's body and not even leave a mark. I knelt beside my dance loving darling without saying a word. All I could think of was how to mend things. 'Mend?' The Baltic brunette picked up my immediate thoughts easily. 'I don't think I can.' 'There'll be time.' I brushed her cheek gently. 'I hate it, Stanislav.' Viktoriya's lips trembled as she began crying again. 'I hate it all.' Her grief was so alarming, it rattled my mind and threatened to put me under. Had my Russian darling's gifts evolved like mine had over time? Was she more susceptible to wild swings of emotion? I could only guess at the possibilities as I sought to comfort the weeping woman. 'Don't remind me.' I thought-spoke. 'But we'll figure something out okay? We always do.' 'But what can I do?!' Viktoriya sniffed. 'Even if I can teach here, I love Freya. But she's adamant about staying in New York.' Her frank and sudden revelation hardly jolted me. But with all the things that had been going on: my professional responsibilities, my private obligations, my projects, my hobbies, and my family, I felt completely dead and worn out. "Vika?" I spoke softly, "Would you like to take Milhail to New York to live with you?" "What?!" Viktoriya glared at me and spoke aloud, "Are you sure? But his brothers and sisters --!" "He'll be fine without them for a while." "No!" She pushed away slightly. "Not even for a moment." I suspected I knew why. The brunette beauty had not always been an only child. The mysterious disappearance of her half-brother had made her sensitive about Milhail's upbringing. Viktoriya did not intend to let her son experience growing up alone as she did. So, we debated our son's future not only that night, but the whole of the following day. She had taken a brief leave from her teaching to see Milhail, but she was squandering it on tit-for-tat arguments with me. While I finished my next set of plans for another project (a small renovation for the city's Farmers' Market), Viktoriya railed, bickered, and sniped every idea I was throwing out. I was beginning to wonder if my dusky Russkie simply flew back to San Francisco to to annoy the shit out of me. "Take him." I finally finished my plans and saved the project. "You and Freya can have a fun time with Milhail and you know it. It'll do him some good to be away from Michael's influence too." "Well, that's well meaning of you, but I still want his father around," Viktoriya snapped, "Freya doesn't have a dick --" "Until she straps one on," I interrupted her, "Look Vika. We both know where this is headed. He's our only child' he'll get used it, sweetheart." "But that's only if things were normal," she said flatly, "And things aren't!" I was tired of arguing and I only wanted this problem to be resolved. "I know." I rubbed my eyes. "But having him know his mother is important right now." 'Stanislav.' Viktoriya touched my face gently. 'You're not telling me something.' My thoughts distracted and my mind weary, I had let her slip into my mind. I tried to put the memories into order. As I had mentioned before, my parents had been estranged for a few years before they reconciled. With my adrenaline flowing, the worrying I was doing, and the stress from work, I hadn't taken notice of the similarities between Milhail's and Viktoriya's reunion and the one I had with my own mother when I was younger. My own mother had walked back into my life when I was around Milhail's age. What was supposed to have been a happy reunion was anything but. My son was a braver soul than I though. Milhail didn't panic and cry when Viktoriya greeted him. My Russian darling instantly picked this up and shrank back in surprise. "Kisa?" she asked aloud, "Your mama -- left you?" "It was a long time ago," I shrugged uncomfortably, "Don't worry about it." 'Stanislav.' Viktoriya took me by the hand before continuing in thought-speak: 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'What for?' I withdrew my mind and my body, trying to quash the memory. 'Because!' Her eyes widened as her hands touched mine. 'And for five years!?' My face froze with a weak smile. I was impassive about that incident because it was so long ago. Viktoriya was simply dredging up old hurt and she quickly sensed it. 'I'm sorry Stanislav. But kisa, why did you hide this from me?' 'It wasn't important.' I studied her lovely face. 'And besides, how's this relevant now?' 'It is! It is!' Viktoriya hugged me tenderly. 'My mama and papa never left me alone. I may have been left at a studio when I was younger, but I always knew they were there for me. How awful it must have been that you didn't know that!' She drew back and dipped her head in shame. 'You must think terribly of me to do that to Milhail.' 'Don't think it.' I hugged her tenderly and focused on her love for our son. "And what would he think if I don't stay?" she asked aloud. "It's not too late," I bumped foreheads with her. "Let's arrange for it okay?" 'No.' Viktoriya sniffed and sighed. 'No, don't. I will call the institute tomorrow.' I glanced at her, weary but pleasantly surprised. If she caught my thoughts and thought me a selfish bastard, she didn't say it. Heck, she didn't even think it. 'I will tell them I need to be with family.' Viktoriya swallowed and let out another heavier sigh. 'Right after I call Freya.' We sat like that for a while, reconnecting and trading thoughts at a rate that was faster than what we did when were were miles apart. Being physically together was far more satisfying. Soon, I felt the old urges arise. Viktoriya sensed it too and she rose to the occasion. 'Come on.' She pulled me into the shower where we undressed. 'It's been so long.' I traced a series of gentle bites along on her upper arm towards her neck. 'Yes, it has.' Viktoriya shivered with pleasure as we nuzzled and groped one another. When the hot spray hit our bodies, I lathered and rinsed her ass-crack before I tongued her puckered shithole. 'Oh, Stanislav! Do that!' Our bodies scrubbed clean and our minds abuzz from one another's presence, I carried her gently to her room and eased slowly into her. Viktoriya held me tightly as she sneezed once. I chuckled and kissed her cheek gently. Her dark eyes smoldered with desire as she pinched my nipples and gently scratched my neck. The raw skin-to-skin contact we shared only excited our physical love-making. Viktoriya cooed softly and kissed me as I began slowly moving my hips. 'You do this so gently.' Viktoriya smiled wanly. 'Not like Freya.' 'I thought women were more loving.' I thought-spoke. 'They can be.' She grinned shyly. 'You've been so busy, I haven't heard much about the others! Has Jay been with anyone lately?' I thought back to the trip to Las Vegas before the kidnapping. 'Just Rachelle.' I bit my lip gently. 'We had a three-way but nothing that was girl-on-girl.' 'You're so self-centered.' Viktoriya stuck out her tongue and I suckled it before she admonished me further: 'And here I am encouraging you so I can enjoy myself.' 'Pervert.' I gave her an accusing grin. 'Takes one to know one.' Viktoriya gave me a toothy little smile and pawed my cheek. 'So do you want to tell me more about Freya?' I stroked her face. 'She's good company.' My dusky Russkie became thoughtful even while I dutifully fucked her. 'She's not Cristobel.' 'Not like us you mean.' I dismissed the invisible empire from my mind. 'That's correct.' Viktoriya dipped her eyes. 'Do you think it's wrong of me? To keep her like that?' 'I'm ... I'm not sure. But if you ... want to ... I can't ...' I began thrusting her harder and harder. My thoughts were getting distracted as I plowed my Russian bride. 'Oh I'm sorry kisa.' Viktoriya drew me down and embraced me. 'Slowly now. Slowly ... I have ... not ... had ... you in so long.' I sensed her thought-speech came out in bursts as she was losing her concentration. The two of us often found ourselves doing that as we neared sexual release. I felt her burning desire for me and for her partner Freya. Crazy thoughts drifted through Viktoriya's mind. She wished Freya had a dick and would fuck her raw, and vice versa. Those were some pretty kinky thoughts, and I glanced at Viktoriya oddly. My Baltic beauty caught my thoughts and grinned sheepishly. 'It's just for fun!' 'I'll say.' I thought-spoke briefly before I lurched forwards and came. "Eeeeee!!" Viktoriya held me tightly as a familiar warmth spread within her. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- BAD BUSINESS =============================================================================== The last few months of 2008 were pretty tame by most standards. The current administration was going into its lame duck period. NSA-PSI was still doing intelligence collection, but in a different direction. A lot of the focus now shifted to the domestic side. People like Faraz's sister Ami, became more the focus of our investigations, and for all the wrong reasons. If you thought U.S. policy makers launched operations in foreign countries just to secure fossil fuel, you'd only be partially right; they did send soldiers to the Middle East, but the Afghanistan theater was principally for the drug trade (mining the rare minerals and ores came later). To me, it made perfect sense. The drug traffickers in Mexico were where I had accrued most of my ill-gotten wealth in my youth. Additionally, the country's economy was taking a long nose-dive as several financial markets seemed to collapse (almost all at the same time). It wasn't simply the act of one man (Bernard Madoff was taking the heat), or one organization or entity (Goldman Sachs and AIG come to mind), or the repeal of the Glass-Steigal Act of 1933 (in 1999) but a rather a combination of everything. When things have been going wrong for some time, the mistakes compounded to become one REALLY big fuck-up. Personally, I regarded it all to be a massive mob-fuck mentality that had been going on since before I was born. In the ensuing wave of economic panic (coupled with the massive military expenditures overseas), people began getting pink slips and layoff notices. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be weathering the storm. Janet's firm cut staff, but she was retained after she agreed to a minor pay cut (she still bristles at that). Jamie's employer imposed a hiring and pay freeze, as did Rachelle's (she contended she was lucky to even land her new job). Only Melanie and Viktoriya both seemed unfazed -- but for different reasons. Melanie's job was never really a job per se since she was almost always just popping up at her workplace when she felt like it; I harbored a suspicion she was unconsciously persuading the owners so she'd get things her way. Whether she was or wasn't, the management soon put her on a contracting basis (this meant they could skip paying her health benefits). Melanie made do with what money she earned. The rest of us chipped in and covered her other expenses. Janet and I later worked out that the domestic services Melanie provided were easily worth at least $70,000 a year (gross). "Geez," Jamie soured when she learned of it. "She makes more than me!" Actually, that was a half-truth. The other women never paid Melanie, but they always reimbursed her for groceries and supplies. Gasoline and cars were never a problem, since we pretty much kept all the cars filled up. I gave Melanie a monthly allowance so she could process her car payments, along with her auto and health insurance (her and the baby's). So, Melanie was a content little housewife despite the fact she was not my wife (at least, not on paper). Only Shawn and I had serious trouble. While we both voluntarily reduced our own take-home pay once construction business slowed, there was no stopping the decline of development. Once building stopped, many of our colleagues had been laid off; Grace, Shawn, Jules, and I were now ear-marked for the unemployment line when people decided they didn't need that many designers and engineers anymore. Jules, older and far more experienced in the market than the three of us combined, began lining up work with agencies and other entites. The green bandwagon was a cash cow, and between Shawn's solar wall design and Grace's knowledge of materials, the four of us formed a partnership to handle rebuilding and renovation of the big slice of old houses and buildings that were built "pre-green". Shawn and Jules handled the mechanics and engineering, Grace oversaw materials and applications, and I wound up back in my old spot: drafting the construction drawings. The work wasn't easy -- just different. Since the buildings were already in place, the work was to do overlays of the existing plans with our modifications. I still wanted to pinch Shawn about the name though: Green-Haus. It came up during one of her silly moods. Grace loved it and I thought they were both just being idiots. Jules could've cared less so long as it was something novel we could sell. In any case, the name stuck and that was the name of our partnership. In Viktoriya's case, things were a bit more haphazard. Her employment at the institute didn't pay much and just covered the bare necessities -- an apartment with Freya, her commute, and food. That's one reason why Viktoriya wasn't ashamed in using her gifts a bit more openly than I. I was so worried about what she might try to do, I gave her a monthly allowance as well. This was to insure the impetuous Russian rascal wouldn't try something foolish, and get in trouble with the invisible empire. =============================================================================== OF MEN AND WOMEN =============================================================================== Of course, once Viktoriya came back to San Francisco to be with Milhail, things were a little different. Seeking to make herself useful, the Baltic beauty applied to the various dance companies in the city. Regretably, many weren't wholly interested in a dancer at the twilight of her prime (she and I were both 33 at the time). However, there was an interesting twist of fortune. Between the airings of popular ballroom dance shows (ABC's "Dancing with the Stars" and PBS's "America's Ballroom Challenge") there was a growing interest in traditional ballroom dance. With Janet's connections, Viktoriya found work as a private dance instructor for couples eager to learn. Jamie quickly created a site for my dusky Russkie to advertise herself (search optimization was easy once one realized how search engines worked), Shawn and Melanie pitched in on the graphics, and Rachelle helped produce short clips of Viktoriya demonstrating her skill. Ballroom dancing didn't have much going for it locally, but Viktoriya found part-term employment at a small ballroom school in San Bruno just as I left the country. She also arranged for private lessons on the side. For those, Viktoriya relied on the generosity of San Francisco's Community College; since the lessons taught there were non-credit, she'd simply borrow a small corner to teach her own students. Of course, I knew this was pushing it pretty far: Viktoriya wasn't really a college teacher, but she managed to con others into thinking she was part of the college class so she wasn't bothered. I made it a point to look for studio space once I got back so she could teach without hassled, and without me worrying that she'd reveal her true nature. Janet of course, was mindful about how I was supporting two other women (and a ton of kids). Her common sense prevailed over jealousy. My First easily made more money than I did since she could charge billable hours and overtime. Our combined income easily surpassed a quarter million a year (and more once my extra-curricular stuff got rolled in). Still, we were all pretty thankful none of us lost our jobs. Personally, I was doing okay. Before Faraz had died, I had consulted him about commmodities for industrial applications and he wasn't too sure (this was back in 2000 by the way). "Shit man!" Faraz had chided me, "I figured I'd ask you about that if it came up!" Unfortunately, he never got the chance. I didn't get the chance to tell him it was probably all bunk. Even as a kid, I never understood how a person's income could steadily rise to match the annual cost of living increase. Wouldn't prices have to go up as well to pay for the increased income? It all sounded like a bunch of baloney to me. Once I got some measure of control over my gifts, I began to understand how one succeeded -- by having command over something that others would pay for. Basically, it meant having a professional skill-set. That's one of the reasons why I chose to be an architect, draftsman, and a construction/materials manager; it was like a fallback if my gifts would suddenly disappear one day. The financial world though, was something I wasn't wholly familiar with -- I traded only in commodities and things I knew about. I steered clear of insurance policies and the other hokum espoused by the banks and financial wizards. I dealt with things that were tangible, or as tangible as they could be. As I mentioned earlier, I had started stock-piling precious metals and minerals. I did so after doing some research and surveying the manufacturing landscape of California. Silicon, lithium, gold, platinum, bauxite, and maganese (the last I had in small abundance due to the surface excavations from Red Rock) were all handy in various manufacturing processes from superconductors to batteries. With the technology boom steadily maturing, I figured this was safer than gambling on shaky stocks or government bonds. Governments could disappear or get over-thrown, but the ores in the ground would still be around for the taking. In any case, if I wasn't making a killing, I'd figure I melt the shit down and see if I could telekinetically mould it into jewelry for my lovelies. Thus, with all the buying I had been doing over the years (one could only launder so much with a chain of delicatessens, laundromats, and dry cleaners) that when the slump hit, I was sitting on several hundred-thousand of ounces of various metals and minerals when the slump hit. Since I bought slowly over the years (despite the steadily rising prices) I had quite a stock of non-liquid assets lying around. That, coupled with the stuff I swiped meant I had plenty of "wealth". Still, there was always more to be had. The U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) had been having problems with La Familia in Mexico's Guadalajara province. I found the unofficial liasion Tseng was using and picked his brain clean. Using that information as a starting seed, I assembled a task force to rob La Familia. By now, I hadn't heard from Tseng for some time. The last time we had a face to face was Lunar New Year's earlier in the year. It had become an annual ritual for us; we'd occupy a table at a random teahouse or porridge restaurant and he'd ask how Viktoriya and Melanie were doing. I'd answer blandly, knowing I couldn't really keep much away from him. Tseng seemed content to hear what I had to say about those two, as if my word counted for much. In any case, without Tseng, I was more or less on my own. For my cover, I used a lecture about environmental design and materials re-use at the University of Mexico. It was one of those "fun" lectures that occurs near the end of a school year. There was obviously little value (apart from having a get together of academia), so I took off after grabbing the lecture's materials and I skipped out on the rest of it. I flew out in a small chartered plane and met Galen (Kari was back in England with their baby). The cartels had gotten much more sophisticated laundering their revenue (doing it more often with smaller sums) so the approach was a little different. Along with a new guy Darrell Carson, we slashed through a few outlying bases and collected our loot. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch at the thought of the new guy; I had nabbed him a few years ago when Rachelle and I were in Los Angeles visiting her friends and extended family. As soon as Darrell set eyes on my mocha-skinned beauty, I knew he was trouble. Of course, with Rachelle looking the way she did (Janet said she looked like Vanessa Williams while Melanie thought she resembled an older Beyonce), I couldn't blame him. It wouldn't take long for Darrell to try something stupid, so I confronted him as soon as I could be alone with him. The chat I gave him was less of a lecture and more of a threat; I fended off his feeble attempts to cow me and demonstrated what I'd do if he ever did a thing to Rachelle or the girls. The scar I gouged on the concrete sidewalk pretty much made my point. For a time, I considered killing Darrell, but (at the very last moment) decided not to. Legality aside, I wasn't sure if I could clean the mess up in time before Rachelle came back from her little cigarette break. At times, I wondered if Tseng had the same thought cross his mind when he confronted me. It was possible, although I hadn't done anything to him personally ... So, I kept the occasional tab on Darrell, dropping in on him unexpectedly when I felt the need. While he was only mildly gifted, Darrell had expertise in other areas -- like having the street connections I lacked. I slowly trained him in my spare time, and encouraged him to learn to control his powers on his own. After a few years, I brought Darrell into the fold of the empire. By now, Galen had gotten out of the drug trade (it was a pretty dangerous business) and I suggested to the new guy that he shouldn't bother starting. "We stick to the money and jewelry," I said, "Leave the ammunition and weapons. Lord knows there's enough of that shit in South Central already." "Agreed," the wiry black nodded quickly. Knowing that Darrell was just starting out, Galen and I took a substantially smaller portion of the share. Just enough to cover some living expenses -- and have enough left-over to live comfortably for a year. Darrell, having grown up in foster homes and YMCAs, hadn't seen that much money in his life. "Just don't be stupid spending it all in a year, or even ten years," I said coolly and finished with thought-speech: 'Or they'll catch you.' 'And if someone does catch you.' Galen added gruffly, 'We'll catch you. And you won't like it.' The wiry black youth glanced at Galen and me fearfully before he gulped and nodded. "Save it up," I suggested. Darrell still hadn't gotten used to our way of conversing, so I spoke normally. "Study hard and get a job that says you earned this money. It's the best way to stay out of trouble anyway." "Uh, yeah." Darrell nodded quickly as he spoke, "I always wanted to go to college. Just never had the money." "Well you do now." Galen smoothed back his ruddy red hair. "Just be careful with it, eh lad?" "Yes. Do that," I chipped in, "And be clever about moving this stuff back home, unless you aim to sneak past the border like I do. You have nearly three million in cash and jewelry. Customs will be curious about you, so either you dress the part and look like you should be carrying that much bling, or you smuggle it." "I brought my passport," Darrell said, "I can play a rich guy." "And not just any rich guy," Galen spoke with his clipped African twang. "Say you're the son of some tycoon or got your windfall or won it gambling. Moving that much dough into a country like the U.S. or the U.K. will get you noticed, unless you really take pains to hide it." "Remember you can't fool machines," I reminded our initiate, "Just the operators. And if there's someone in a small room eyeballing you through a camera, you're in trouble, understand?" "I got it, I got it," Darrell nodded, "Man, y'all are paranoid." 'With good reason.' Galen snapped back with thought-speak. The youngster flinched from the ferocity of the mental broadcast. I settled for a silent, grim look of disapproval and he understood the gravity of the issue. "Well just be careful," I stuck to normal speech. "Even if you have to lose half of it to taxes or what-not, you'll still have more money than any sensible man would ever need. Just don't bite off more than you can chew. There's always more for the taking." Darrell nodded soberly as Galen and I grabbed our smaller shares. On that, the three of us parted ways. We had gone to Puerto Vallarta after our excursion and booked passage to go back to the United States. Galen was going to fly back to England from LAX while Darrell would melt back into obscurity. With Galen looking over the rookie, I was free to do something else. My darlings and I were going to celebrate the end of 2008 with a bang. To prepare, Viktoriya flew back to New York to get her affairs into order before moving back to San Francisco. With all the stuff that happened recently, I felt my darlings needed a vacation. So, I booked some rooms at a five-star hotel in Waikiki. The plan was for me to fly to New York after my "lecture", help Viktoriya pack, and then we'd fly back, grab our vacation stuff, and head back out. The women already knew something was up as I had asked each of them to wrangle some time off from the 26th to the 3rd of next year. Basically, I wanted all of us to spend a week of "away time" right after Christmas in a land of sun and fun. It would be a relatively short stay anyway since Rachelle couldn't get too much time off and Janet had a heavy case-load once the new year started. Additionally, Jamie would be tied to her 24/7 IT helpdesk, and Shawn and I still had that project for Delancey Street to complete, in addition to the stuff she and I were doing on the side. Viktoriya got away by quitting the institute; my dusky Russkie hardly cared as she was looked after quite well by me. However, she did have to come back to continue teaching her private students. Only Melanie was carefree, though she spent her time getting the kids to and from school and handling house-chores. With that plan in mind, I took a private plane to Cozumel, an island off Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. I managed to wheedle my way on board a liner headed back to New York City. It was cutting it close, but I needed to time it with the end of my "lecture trip". Besides, the leisurely cruise allowed me to play around with my telekinesis. I was on the stern deck, my collar turned up. The air gradually grew more chilly as the ship chugged northwards towards the Big Apple. I didn't mind the cold; I was just pleased I could be alone with my thoughts. With so much going on since the kidnapping, I was glad to be alone if just for a little while. After lunch, I stood on the observation deck and meditated until the sun set over the water. I focused on diverting the foam and waves churned by the ship's propeller to one side and then the other. While I exercised my gifts, I reflected on recent family developments -- all related to Viktoriya stirring up mischief before she headed back to New York. My dusky Russkie had grown bored once she was away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and decided to have some fun at the expense of the other women. It started with a night's celebration. With Viktoriya back in town, my six lovely darlings decided to have a night out. I could understand why they wanted to do so -- Melanie hadn't been out much since Norman was born, and both the foiled kidnapping and Viktoriya's return were certainly cause for celebration. So, shortly after Halloween, my six lovelies planned for a girls' night out. Shawn's mother and I were to babysit the kids. Jillian was supposed to help too, but I forbade it; she was to prepare herself for her SATs (standardized aptitude tests) so Jamie and I could gauge if she needed more assistance. If Jillian did poorly on her SATs, there was no telling where she'd end up. Jamie and I were adamant that Jill maintain her high marks so she would have as many academic choices open to her as possible. Just thinking about Jillian brought to mind another issue -- since she had just started high school, I wondered if Jill should have her own unit (and not just a room at Jamie's place). I brought the issue to both women: Janet could let Jillian take her unit and my First would be at the house. Both Jamie and Janet were leery of the idea. In Jamie's case, I understood her reasoning, but I was surprised by my forward-thinking First. That was until Janet reminded me what she had been doing when she was around that age. "I was doing you, remember?" Janet said acidly, "I was lucky you weren't some psycho like my ex." "Lucky you." I nipped her ear. "I don't think it's a good idea, Stanley." Jamie ignored our by-play. "I'm already stressed out of my mind now she's taking notice of boys. She's been clacking away on web-chats until midnight, and here you want to give her a condo to herself?" I nodded while she levelled a stern gaze at me, "Are you outta your mind? I think I'd die if I became a thirty-something grandma." "Well she's going to be on her own eventually, right?" I shrugged, "And I'm right across the hall to watch her." "Yeah, 'cause you're such a home-body," the leggy Asian mother said it in such a way that made Janet laugh. So that was the end of it, at least until Jillian was college-bound. So there I was, having just stepped out from my unit when I glimpsed the elevator stopping on my floor. The door opened and six sexy ladies dressed in a variety of short skirts (save one -- Shawn wore jeans), thin-strapped or slip-on high heels, and very little else stepped out and cheerfully waved at me. I nearly ran myself into a corner before I steadied myself and gawked while my six darlings stood line abreast at the end of the hallway. That was weird. The elevator went from the top floor all the way to the garage, so why were they stopping mid-way and taking the stairs the rest of the way? When I caught Janet's wild grin (and coupled Viktoriya's lewd thought-speech) I knew that something was going down. My eyes grew wide as I sensed what was going to happen. At a pre-arranged signal, five of my lovelies -- Viktoriya, Janet, Rachelle, Melanie, and Jamie -- hiked up their skirts and flashed me their lovely thighs while calling out luridly. Only Shawn (donning her pair of ripped jeans) couldn't do that. Instead, she lifted up her stretched top and exposed her big, bulging breasts. "Hullo Stanley!" My plump dumpling jiggled her massive boobage and winked. Thankfully, none of the kids wandered out onto the floor. My jaw hit the floor as the girls quickly composed themselves once more. My darlings blew me kisses and waved before they started downstairs, clamoring, "Bubbye Stanley!" "Love you sugar!" "Later lover-boy!" "Don't wait up!" "Catch me later, kisa!" I smiled sheepishly as my lovelies headed downstairs. Janet was the last in line and stopped at the landing. She glanced back at me and gave me a stupid smile. As I lightly sifted over her thoughts, my grin grew wider. Was that whole thing just now her idea? Not exactly; no more than a second passed when Viktoriya popped back around the corner. When my Baltic beauty grinned saucily at me, I realized that all this may not have been wholly Janet's idea after all. My eyes bugged out when Viktoriya stuck her tongue right right down the mouth of my First. Both women made out for a few precious seconds while I ogled them like a brainless idiot. Once they were done, the two of them drew back breathless, their cheeks red. Both Janet and Viktoriya looked towards me with big smiles on their faces, blew me kisses, and disappeared down the stairwell. I could hear them laughing at my expression. This time, I couldn't contain myself. I headed back to my room and whacked off. Afterwards, I washed up, and headed downstairs to Mother Benton's unit to help with the kids. That night wasn't over -- not by a long shot. The next morning, I dropped by Viktoriya's unit to make sure the coast was clear. That Friday night was a little different. Since I didn't know when my lovelies would be back, the younger kids had a sleep-over while the older boys -- Michael and Milhail -- spent the night in my unit. I suspected Viktoriya would be up to her old shennanigans again when she thought-spoke to me the night before. No more than an hour had passed since my darlings flashed me in the hall when she broadcasted in a drunken delirium. My dusky Russkie's thoughts were slurred and hazy, but I made out what she was trying to get across. She was going to get the others blasted, then have her way with them. Through the dimness of the club, the flashing lights and booming music, I saw Jamie and Janet were grinding on the dance floor while Viktoriya was doing shots off Melanie, Rachelle, and Shawn in places where I didn't think liquid would pool on a woman's skin. As much fun as that may have been, I was ready to paddle Viktoriya silly if she did something foolish. I was partly vindicated when I visited her early the next morning. I found Shawn and Melanie asleep on the floor of the living room, a small makeshift table with liquor, lemons, and limes between them. Jamie was on the couch, while Rachelle and Janet were nowhere to be seen. Only Viktoriya was awake, and she was dressed in a simple white bathrobe and sipping a glass of hot tea in the kitchen. 'Hallo kisa.' My Baltic brunette grinned at me mischievously. 'Morning.' I pinged and gave her a quick kiss. 'Have fun?' 'Yes, lyubimy.' Viktoriya batted her eyes innocently while my own narrowed. 'I know that look.' I shot her a worried glance. 'What'd you do now?' 'Nothing bad.' She sipped her brew while her dark eyes teased me. 'But I dare you to guess!' I surveyed the room and asked the obvious: 'Where are Janet and Rachelle?' Viktoriya's grin grew wider as she gestured towards her bedroom. She used her gift to open the door and my eyes bugged out at the sight. My First and my mocha-skinned mate were spooning nude under the covers. The Baltic brunette must've caught my disbelief because she quickly thought-spoke. She suppressed a giggle and wore a big grin as I tip-toed a bit closer to check on them. 'They finally kissed and made up!' 'I'll say.' I scowled darkly at her. 'How'd that happen?' She smiled coyly as she thought-spoke: 'Melanie and I kissed last night. She is so beautiful, Stanislav!' "Oh fer Chrissakes," I muttered aloud as her smile grew wider. Viktoriya had used Melanie to trigger a psychic event. My voice must've awoken both Janet and Rachelle, because the next thing I knew, the two of them were staring wide-eyed at each other. The cries of shock and surprise quickly erupted from their throats. "Oh my God!" Rachelle tried getting up and pulling the sheet around her, but it wasn't so easy. She and Janet were sharing the same bedcover. Thinking quickly, I grabbed an extra bathrobe hanging from the bedroom door and placed it gently beside them. Janet's face was beet-red as she gingerly took the robe. "Somehow, this wasn't what I envisioned when I asked you guys to get along." "Oh, shut up." Janet didn't meet my gaze as she tried getting dressed without exposing herself. "Hey, I'm not complaining." I kept on a straight face and squelched the laughter that threatened to bubble from my lips. "It's not what you think," Rachelle squeaked as she got up unsteadily. Viktoriya stood in the doorway with a sly smile. "Oh, actually --" I sensed Janet's and Rachelle's embarrassment and quickly rushed to hush my impetuous darling. "Okay Vika." I ushered Viktoriya outside. "Let's leave them be." 'Phooey!' She thought-spoke as she pouted darkly at me. 'Last night was like a wet-dream "cum" true!' 'I'll bet it was.' I pinged back and gently swatted her behind. I turned and gave Janet and Rachelle both a reassuring -- if goofy -- grin and closed the door before the others woke up and found them in that state. The two of them later made me promise never to speak of the incident again, and I agreed, if only begrudgingly. There was no reason for me to aggravate the situation. When Viktoriya wasn't having the time of her life with the other women, she was learning several new things. One was how to actually be a housewife. While she raised Milhail his first four years, dealing with children who could talk back was another thing. To help the kids connect with their Russian momma, we scheduled "homework check-up" and activities daily with Viktoriya. Having lived alone or with someone else picking up the slack (like Melanie) for so long, Viktoriya needed to familiarize herself with new responsibilities. It seemed to be working too. Milhail grew more comfortable around his birth-mother, and spent progressively more time at her place when it wasn't the site of an alcohol-fueled sapphic orgy. In fact, he spent so much time there that his brother Michael would sometimes stay over at Viktoriya's just so the two could play together. Janet was fine with it, since Frederick started becoming more of a handful and driving her nuts. The second thing my Slavic sweetie was trying to master was driving a car. Viktoriya's tutoring required her to learn how to drive, since cabs were scarce in the city and the public transportation a giant mess. Yes, it does sound ludicrous a thirty-something woman learning how to operate a motor vehicle, but it wasn't as weird as it sounds. Considering Viktoriya never needed a car whilst living in the Big Apple, or when she was younger and living with me, she never bothered to learn driving. So Viktoriya took some lessons under a licensed driving instructor but felt really there was nothing to it. She insisted that I sit in the car so she could practice more before she flew out. So, it was with some apprehension that I sat in my old Corolla next to her as she started the engine. 'Now, you sure you were listening to that instructor right?' I thought-spoke as I buckled my seat-belt. 'Yes, dorogoi.' Viktoriya gave me a sardonic grin as she broadcasted images of me dozing off in my old architectural history lectures. 'I am capable of staying awake during class Stanislav!' 'Well okay.' I mimed a sign of the cross and thought-spoke. 'I'm ready.' "That is not funny, Stanislav," Viktoriya sniffed audibly and put the car in gear. She lurched out of the driveway and I yelled, "STOP!!". The two of us pitched forward (luckily restrained by our belts) as the car screeched to a sudden halt. Melanie's face registered shock and relief as she sat in Shawn's mini-van just inches away from my front bumper. Viktoriya's first jaunt nearly plowed us right into my youngest darling as she came back with our daughters and little Frederick. Thankfully, Yu-Ching was alert and was idling waiting for us to pull out. Melanie caught the look of terror on Viktoriya's face (and probably my own) and she timidly waved for us to go. Viktoriya nodded nervously and inched out of the driveway at a snail's pace. When she drove a few blocks away, she pulled aside, her hands trembling so much I had to calm her down. "Sorry about that." I rubbed her back. "I -- I can do this." Viktoriya swallowed and switched back to thought-speech: 'I can do this.' "Yes, you can." I gave her a grin of reassurance. "It's just like dancing right?" "Hardly! No one gets hurt if you miss a step and collide with another couple. At least not enough to end up at the emergency room!" "You just need more practice." I became thoughtful. "Hey, why don't we head down to that boba place in Millbrae?" "What? Where?" she asked. "Betsy's Bean Shop off El Camino." I broadcast a memory from our last visit. "Remember? Last Saturday with Milhail?" Viktoriya blinked. "You're going that far for one of your little Chinese drinks?" "Of course." I passed along a weak grin. "You're driving." My svelte siren made a face at me but she nodded. Between the city's streets and the light highway traffic on Veterans' Day, we made it down and back in time for dinner without further incident. Naturally, I paid for the gas and drinks. I was happy and things seemed to be going pretty well. Viktoriya though, seemed only to be smiling on the surface. Either she was distracted by something, or hadn't really practiced hiding all of her thoughts from me. Eventually, I got the distinct feeling she missed Freya's company. Despite the happiness of her current situation, she still had deep rooted feelings for her lithe Dutch lover. What was a man to do when his wife loved not only him, but another woman as well? Include her into the family? I laughed at the thought. If that were the case, I'd likely be paying out of my nose and ears to harbor Gracia (at Janet's request) and Rosalind (at my request). At the time, that could work. I toyed with the idea for a while as I shifted my concentration from the surface of the water to the bubbling froth near the propellers. As the rhythmic reverberations from the engine cascaded from the propeller shaft, I grew calmer and more relaxed. I wondered if I could take in Gracia because Janet wanted a "friendly companion" and broach the prospect of Freya for Viktoriya. I could even use the two as a pretext to include Rosalind. Of course, the others may not see it that way; Shawn, Jamie, Rachelle and Melanie probably wouldn't stand for it. At the thought of Little Chen, I found myself frowning. She'd likely be the most vocal about that this time. I got a feeling that she was used to being the baby of the family, and me spending time with someone younger than she earnestly irked her. Melanie seemed okay with the prospect of me screwing around, but I could feel her jealousy. Still, she was easier to deal with than Janet. So long as I kept Melanie happy when we spent our time together, she kept quiet about what I did on my own time. But my on-and-off relationship with Rosalind aside, Freya was perhaps the most vexxing problem. She had been Viktoriya's lover for quite some time and an important person in her life. How could I ask my Russian honey to break cleanly with one lover for the whim of another? Though I was troubled by Viktoriya's situation, her return had definitely made the past couple of months very enjoyable. It was as if I was falling in love not just with the Baltic beauty, but all of my darlings once more. The morning after the girls' night out (and after Janet and Rachelle had refreshed themselves with some dignity), the seven of us took the kids out to the beach to enjoy the rest of the unnaturally warm Autumn afternoon. I brought along a digital camera and happily photographed the kids as they frolicked on the promenade. Jillian and the two older boys rode scooters while Frederick, Jenny, Kady and the twin girls had to be content with their tyke bikes. Little Norman rode in the stroller Melanie and I took turns pushing. Before the sun had set, my six darlings found themselves all sitting on a bench near the sea wall. It was a humbling and awesome sight, for all of them had changed so much since I had first met them. Shawn was chatting amicably with Rachelle; just like it was years ago when the three of us were in school. My plump petunia had definitely shed some pounds whereas Rachelle had gained a little weight. Now the two of them were nearly equal in body proportions. Next to them, Janet was talking in low whispers with Viktoriya about -- 'Discipline. Again. Ugh.' Viktoriya smiled externally but mentally rolled her eyes. 'I can't staaaaaand this any more. Now I do want to take Milhail to New York.' 'You're welcome to it.' I thought dourly. 'If you take me with you.' 'In your dreams, dorogoi!' The Slavic vixen flashed me a giddy barb before she became serious. 'Janna's a real stickler isn't she?' 'Yes, but it's for the good of the kids.' I pinged back. 'Take notes please, lyubimy.' 'If you think it's best, milenky.' Viktoriya heaved a mental sigh. I smiled as I watched Janet's lustrous mane of black hair shimmer and shine as her eyes blazed with energy as she spoke. Viktoriya nodded along -- I had to mentally prick her a few times so she'd pay attention -- her long hair had been shortened significantly, being cropped just above her shoulders. When my dusky Russkie was competing in dancing competitions, she would use hair extensions to recreate the look she had over a decade ago. My littlest darling Melanie still had the longest natural hair of the bunch. Little Chen was busy rummaging through her baby bag -- Norman must've dirtied his diaper again -- while Jamie was standing by, alternately looking over her shoulder and watching the kids. I could see my Asian beauty's eyes dart here and there, oblivious to everything except the locations and activities of the kids. That damn kidnapping made everyone wary. Nonetheless, watching these six great ladies stirred a fierce pride deep within me. There women were my women. My wives. Without even thinking, I brought up my camera, framed all of them, and snapped a quick picture. Despite being bright outside, the camera's flashbulb went off. That instantly alerted my darlings, and I couldn't take another shot without them noticing. There was a scowl here and there, but they were mostly surprised by the sudden attention. I sensed no malice or anger. In fact, as I stood there looking back at them, I sensed a collective feeling of mirth and appreciation. "Sorry." I gave them all my trademark grin then turned away to examine my prize shot. Of all the pictures I took that day, I made special effort to print and preserve that one photo. Don't get me wrong -- I loved the kids, but I cherished my darlings more. Back on the ship, I found myself mulling over Viktoriya's infatuation with Freya when I detected the faint presence of someone familiar. I turned my head towards their direction but saw nothing. Still, that didn't mean no one was there. I focused my concentration just a bit and I arched a brow. I knew who it was. =============================================================================== NATURE VERSUS NURTURE =============================================================================== The liner had an enclosed observation lounge to protect couples from the chill, so I thought I was alone on the open after-deck. Apparently, I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time I was distracted when I was lost in thought. "Stop messing around Mirage," I said casually, "If someone sees you, you're going to be compromised." I spoke loud enough for her to hear (she was about three meters away) but low enough so only we could hear over the rustling wind. When Phillipa didn't reappear instantly, I made it a point to glance directly at where she was. "I know where you are," I rasped, "So stop screwing around." "You're such a cheater Snake Charmer," Phillipa Roget growled as she slipped back into view, "I was trying to be stealthy." Like many times before, one moment there was nothing, and the next there stood a pretty, skinny red-head. She looked like she was dressed for the beach. Phillipa was clad in a demure one-piece white swimsuit with a half-sarong covering her ass. She was standing exactly where I had guessed she'd be. Thankfully, the deck was devoid of people; that, coupled with the fact that the sky had grown quite dark, made it highly unlikely anyone saw us. "It's not cheating if you're using the stuff you're born with." I nodded at her. "What're you doing here?" Phillipa came up beside me in a huff, "On vacation without my Aunt Susan for once." "Oh really?" I studied her. "I thought you were studying at the University of New York. Graduation present?" "Kinda, yeah." The red-haired girl leaned lazily against the railing. "And you?" "Vacation." I relaxed as I realized our surroundings. That plus Phillipa wouldn't be able to read my thoughts. I guessed that was why I was missing Rosalind ever since Viktoriya came back to the city. With Viktoriya and Melanie in my proximity on a daily basis, the chance of them causing me no end of trouble was always present. With a 'normal' girl, I was able to let my guard down. Added was the fact that Rosalind required less time and effort, and I was quite content to use her tender body like a fuck-post. Speaking of tender bodies, I noticed my eyes had strayed down to Phillipa's crotch (along to other parts of her body). The white swimsuit she had on was either very form-fitting or a shade too small, because I easily made out the bumps that formed her cunt lips. As I gawked hungrily at her camel-toe, I felt my blood rush to my ears. "Dude!" Phillipa snapped her fingers. "Eyes up here!" "What? Sorry." I forced my gaze upwards and threw in a bland grin for good measure. "My mind was elsewhere." "I'll say." The red-head met my grin with her own. "Don't you get enough at home?" I regarded my co-worker carefully, and wondered what she may have heard. A quick, light scan and I knew not only Mirage and Masquerade had been chatting during operations, but perhaps more annoying was that they were chatting about me. Goddamn women and their goddamn gossip, I thought dourly. They couldn't even stop at work. And this wasn't just any work, it was a touch away from being government wet-work. Although neither woman had been required to commit violence during an operation, I knew Bethany and Phillipa were trained to kill as a precaution. I decided to go with the honest route. "What have you heard?" I asked. "Lots of things." Phillipa smiled thinly and tapped her forehead. "But I bet you already know what." "Not always." I sought to change the subject. "Look, it's getting late. I'm heading back in." "Already? You don't sound happy to see me. What're you doing out here all alone?" "Architectural lecture," I started, and just as quickly stopped. I realized I didn't need to lie to Phillipa (or not that much). "Sounds like fun." The red-head's eyes sparkled with mischief. "So, wanna get me in trouble, handsome?" "No." I arched a brow, "And what kind of question is that?" "Well, you'd better escort me back then." She made a loop with her arm. "Remember all those people who vanished on cruise ships?" "Yeah sure." I smiled acidly, remembering how one of my first unauthorized jobs was retrieving kidnapped American nationals kidnapped abroad. I never worked cruise ship disappearances, but I had a feeling I wouldn't find the bodies from those incidents. The ocean was a big place to scour for psychic emanations, even for me. "Didn't you come with friends?" I asked. "No, just me." Phillipa shrugged politely. "Between 'work' and school, I didn't have that much time for much else." "Not even for friends?" I gave her a curious look. "That's odd." "It's complicated," she said. I sensed she didn't want to talk about it, but I left my mind and my ears open. Phillipa and I headed back into the liner, where the lean red-head managed to weasel a dinner out of me. I suppose I was setting myself up for it, since I was open to the possibility -- and I might've put the suggestion in her head. Phillipa came down to the restaurant in a casual white sleeveless (and backless) blouse and pants, while I stuck to my dark slacks and shoes. I wore a white shirt and rolled up sleeves. We made light conversation over traditional Mexican fare: some chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables for me while Phillipa dined on carne asada. "Yub, yub, thanks for the grub." Phillipa grinned as we ordered some after-dinner drinks. I grinned back, but only because a piece of black bean had stuck around, making her appear to be missing some teeth. "You got something stuck here." I pointed at myself, miming as her reflection. "Damn." Phillipa frowned as she wiped the stain with her napkin. "And here I was thinking I was all charming." "You could be, if you weren't so transparent all the time." She stuck her tongue out at me, but the mood remained cheerful. I sipped my canned soda carefully; I had stuck to that or sweet teas all the while. Mexico's water was horrible and I didn't wholly trust bottled water, not after I learned how to inject toxins using a hypodermic; done at the bottle's neck, the hole was near impossible to spot. Agency spooks could inject something into a bottle then have an unknowing waiter serve it up, and I'd be none the wiser. All that sugar was really getting to me though. I felt jittery and hyper ever since the conclusion of the La Familia "task". I wasn't really thinking straight, although I was still cautious. I re-pinged the room and gradually extended my awareness over the entire ship. Of the several hundred or so passengers, I sensed they were all fairly 'normal' and mundane. Nothing weird except for the two agency talents -- me and Phillipa -- at the ship's bar and grill. If I was hyper-paranoid about something, it was with Phillipa not being watched or followed by the agency. I had assumed that Cox or his bosses would want to keep tabs on her. Then I remembered the GPS tracker the agency had injected her with years ago. Doubtless the agency was using that transmitter. They didn't need to send agents on a cruise liner to shadow her. That business with the transmitter was another reason why I was so paranoid around the NSA. I absolutely refused medical treatment while under agency auspices; I chose my doctor after carefully scanning him (as I did for all my other specialists) and accepted no injections. When I accompanied my kids and wives to their doctors, I did the same to them -- sometimes even dropping by their offices afterwards to do my thing. If I had the slightest trace of suspicion, I declined the doctor's services or I would probe him a bit more to find out more. The agency never did try anything like that against me (so far); I suppose they weren't willing to try, or didn't find it necessary. Nevertheless, I kept my guard up as I watched Phillipa sip her after-dinner Manhattan through a straw. Watching her suck daintily on that thin tube, I realized I was interested in fucking her, and I didn't have any qualms about it. Well that's just dandy. Not only was I copacetic with screwing around on my wives, but I was going to do it with an agency asset. That should give the NSA one more reason to move against me. My pulse quickened a bit as I looked over Phillipa's body and basked in her loveliness. Her ivory white skin was marred only by a light sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Having grown up since the agency nabbed her in upstate New York, the girl had turned out to be quite a lovely young woman. Her red hair was a bright copper color and held back by a white hair-band. I could see her temples pulsate as she swallowed. "Stanley? Dude!" Phillipa looked up to see me ogling her. "Are you mentally undressing me?" "Is that a crime?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "No, I guess not." She grinned at me, her teeth now pearly white. "So, how're things back home?" "Can't complain." I returned her grin. "And you? How's your aunt?" "She's fine, I guess." Phillipa fiddled with her drink. "I think Uncle Stephen is going to ask her to marry him." "Who the hell is Uncle Stephen?" "Aunt Susan's boyfriend." She threw me a tepid grin. "Oh right, you never met him have you?" Reading her mind, I saw Tseng's face as he and her Aunt Susan attended Phillipa's high school graduation. That in itself didn't throw me into a panic, but the fact that Tseng had a first name did. I had known my mentor for well over a decade and at no point did he make it known he went by any other name apart from "Tseng". I cooled visibly as I put two and two together and realized why Tseng hadn't been around much. Phillipa confessed that "Uncle Stephen" had dropped by to see her "Aunt" Susan more and more as the years passed. I wondered what the hell he was up to now. Was he establishing himself in a 'normal' setting? Heck, I didn't think of Tseng as being 'normal' in any sense of the word. I only had limited contact with him and always viewed him with a healthy mix of fear, awe, and caution. The simple fact he was now "settling" with a normal woman like Phillipa's so-called aunt was an astonishing turn of events. "I wouldn't know," I lied impassively, "I remember just you and your aunt when I last visited." "Yeah, I figured as much." Phillipa sounded disappointed. "He's a real tight-ass all the time. Can't figure out how my aunt puts up with him." Maybe because he's adept at fucking her brains out and using you to further his own agenda was my thought, but I put forth a more positive response. "You'd be surprised what people put with out of love." "I guess so." Phillipa played with her straw a bit before she resumed her sipping. The two of us finished our drinks then tried some mojitos (what? I don't think it's a gay drink ... shlurrrp). I normally didn't imbibe alcohol, but I did so on a dare. Phillpa dared me to try something just to prove that I wasn't the stuck-up rigid asshole like her "uncle". I gleaned this and a bit more while I rummaged carefully through her mind. Apparently Phillipa wasn't who "she" appeared to be. As alcohol slowly took over both of us, I sensed Phillipa's deeper anxieties come to the surface. I sensed that the beautiful woman before me was supposed to be born a man. That certainly gave me pause. As the lovely red-head chattered away, I slashed through my stupor and sorted through the thoughts I was getting from the increasingly drunk Phillipa. It hadn't come up when she at the orphanage (she was too young to have shown any abnormality) and of course, her Uncle Pauly wasn't really aware something was wrong. After the agency had snatched her in early 2000, she had been examined by a gynecologist, and the findings were added to her dossier. Phillipa Roget should've been "Phillip" Roget. She suffered from a physical disorder known as androgyn insensitivity syndrome (AIS). In the lanky red-head's case, she had complete AIS (or CAIS) where her body very nearly rejects processing androgyn, a hormone that assists in determining a person's sexual phenotype. Basically, Phillipa was genetically a guy, but looked -- from nearly all other respects -- like a totally hot fuckin' girl. I was mildly in shock as I sat listening to Phillipa giggle, hiccup, and burp like a sweet, young thing. She knew what she was (a medical fact that was delivered to her and her aunt by a non-agency doctor) and took it in good stride. Her "aunt" Susan seemed shocked at first, but something told me Susan probably knew her "niece" was something special. My mind went back to the reports from Sherwood, and slowly pieced things together. From her grand-uncle's novels, I'd known that the Roget family curse of invisibility passed from uncle to nephew. With this new medical tidbit about Phillipa, I finally understood why Tseng had so much interest in Mirage. And my mentor probably knew from the start, I thought darkly. Which led me to another line of thought: Were our gifts inherent in our genetic make-up? If so, why wasn't my brother Andrew or Yu-Ching's brother Anthony gifted? More importantly, would my kids have such talent? Viktoriya and I had worried over Milhail, but the boy didn't seem to be anything "special" -- or at least not yet. I remembered when I was dimly aware of my powers in grade school; perhaps Milhail was a late bloomer. Or perhaps all my kids were talents. Fuck me. The fear I had in the back of my mind for years suddenly became more concrete. Was this why the agency was turning a blind eye to me and my polygamous business? Were they allowing me to create a small unit of "talented" individuals, then snatch them? A chill slid down my spine as I drafted countless plans what the NSA may have had for me and my family. "Hey! You listening to me?" Phillipa's sharp whine interrupted my thoughts. "Sorry." I mumbled and grinned sheepishly. "Was thinking about something else again." "Really?!" Her jaw nearly dropped. "Dude, you're a pervert." "What?" I blinked and quickly scanned her mind. Oops, I thought. Phillipa had been chatting away, oblivious to my vacant stare. We had been drinking and carousing there for so long, the place was slowly being transformed into a dance club as the hours went by. "Feliz navedad" (basically Christmas in Mexico) was coming and the place was decked for it. Phillipa had asked if I would be interested in dancing. Of course, it didn't help that I had locked my gaze blindly on her chest when I mentally checked out. "Sorry." I chuckled. "But you do look very pretty." "I do, don't I?" It wasn't even a rhetorical question as Phillipa smiled and threw her rusty red locks over her bare shoulder. I found myself grinning widely in her company. "Show off." She grinned back, the two of us in the know about her antics. After the anthrax and ricin trace operations, Mirage had been doing some snatch jobs and surveillance with the agency. Phillipa was able to hide a compact, hi-res, low-light digital camera on her person, and enter premises and facilities guarded by 'normal' security. All she did was take pictures and she had gotten quite good at it. Phillipa was even able to operate the camera while invisible, so she was quite a handy with a lens. After one particularly boring debriefing, Phillipa decided to literally "show off". She followed Cox around and snapped a picture of him while he was taking a dump. Masquerade and Ghost Light thought the xerox copies were hilarious, although I was sure that was simply showing the agency higher-ups the dangers of Mirage's abilities. I was right: within 48 hours, more advanced sensors were installed at agency headquarters. It was as if the agency's command echelon were already too aware of what we were able to do. Adams' immaturity I could forgive; she was about Shawn's age, and my plump rumped petunia sometimes did some things like she was still a girl half her age, like using these giant Hello Kitty infested e-mail signatures when she'd correspond with me about project work orders. Naturally, these'd get forwarded down the line. Some construction managers thought the emails were coming from Gracia (she's Japanese, so yeah, why not) and it'd surprise the heck out of them that a 30 year-old, big-breasted white woman would cheerily acknowledge, "Oh, that's from my email!" Both Bethany and Shawn had similar backgrounds (minus the Horten's sordid family business): both were raised by a pair of traditional white mom and dad in a middle-class America. Reese on the otherhand, was a total loner, and a borderline domestic abuse case just waiting to happen. The only thing that kept him from crossing the line were Millie and his mother's murder by a Hezzbollah terrorist named Matar. With Millie, I knew his relationship was becoming strained. She was getting on in years, and wanted children, but he was afraid he'd turn out to be as abusive as his father. When David displaced me to Guantanamo in late '07 or early '08, he mentioned off-hand he and Millie had bumped into Viktoriya when she and Freya were in Manhattan. It was there the Reeses found out my Russian bride and I had a son. Soon, I got the sense from David that Millie really put up the pressure, and it was starting to drive him away. In doing so, the bore started talking to me. If that wasn't enough for me to dislike him, I soon found another reason to hate David's guts. When we started working together, I peeked into his mind when I could and knew Ghost Light had foiled (or tried to foil) some more plane and ship hijackings. Over the years, I pieced together that Reese and his overt tactics had, in part, lead to the 2001 WTC attack. When further hijackings failed, someone in the insurgent network put forth a plan to simply plow the damn plane into a target, and damn the consequences. So, in a way, David unknowingly instigated some events that killed Aurora. I wondered how long the agency had taken to figure this out, or worse, realized it but said nothing. My insides churned as a new thought came to me. Tseng might have badly misjudged the agency's potential, or he had surrendered me to be a decoy to throw them off the invisible empire. Was Tseng compromised? Or was it blackmail? And if Tseng had misjudged the agency, then what? What was his next step? I wondered what would be in store for me down the road. If the agency was tracking me, then all the other empire citizens I was doing "odd jobs" with were all being compromised (from Feodor to the most innocuous empath). I felt uneasy as I sipped my drink, and wondered what to do. My red-headed dinner companion though, drew me away from my thoughts with a simple question. "So? You wanna dance?" "Who? Me?" Even I thought I sounded surprised. "Of course you." Phillipa's sky blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Who else?" "Sure." I came off a bit more enthused than I wanted and she quickly got into the swing of things. Man, I thought ruefully. I'd fuck anything that even remotely looked like a woman. I made a note never to go back to Thailand again. Thankfully, Red Rock's previous owner lived and worked fairly far inland; I think I probably would've spent way too much time in the katoey bars (like my old co-worker Franky). Still, what the hell. While I sensed Phillipa's anxiety, I also knew how she thought -- mentally, she was a woman. Growing up, Phillipa always thought she was a girl not simply because she was treated as one, but because she felt like a woman, even though she genetically wasn't. I mulled over the weird situation as I took Phillipa's hand and led her to the dance floor. =============================================================================== INTERLUDE -- BALLS OF STEEL =============================================================================== Allow me to segue just a bit, and let me reveal just a bit more about one of my wives. Melanie was very sexually uninhibited when she was young. As she grew up, she learned more and more about sex (and having it) not just from me, but from her "Janet jie-jie" and experimenting with stuff she found on the internet. Yu-Ching was copacetic with orgies and three-ways with the other girls, as long as she got her share of attention from yours truly. When I maintained that Melanie was a pervert, with Janet and Viktoriya essentially for second-place, I meant it. I learned how far Melanie was willing to take things soon after Viktoriya came back. It was late evening when I dropped by her place. Rachelle, Jamie, Janet, Shawn, and I had just come back from my parents' place. It was an early holiday dinner, with the actual Christmas dinner scheduled to be at Janet's house for a change. My First was both unbelievably excited and stressed out due to the fact her parents would finally meet the other wives nearly eight years after "marrying" me. She was definitely glad that we'd be in Hawaii the next day. That night, Melanie had work at the Cliff House, and Viktoriya had some last minute "dance lessons" for a rich couple (they were invited to attend the new president's inaugural in February next year, in 2009). So, those two lunk-heads weren't in attendance, and it was completely understandable. My mother had made a special broth for my youngest darling; it wasn't favoritism as much as it was practicality -- Shawn, Viktoriya and Rachelle didn't care for traditional Cantonese cooking (although everyone approved of Melanie's Asian fusion dishes). Jamie and Janet hadn't had children lately, but Melanie had Norman just last year. Additionally, the kidnapping left a nasty scrape on Little Chen's head. Thus, my mom brewed some yun-xum tong* [* Cantonese: Mandrake broth or stew] for Melanie. I brought the pot of soup to her place, along with Norman. Milhail and Michael were in my unit, probably making a mess of my home PC with their obnoxious Spore penis creatures, and pushing their luck until I got back to take them to Viktoriya's. I knocked on Melanie's door and waited patiently for an answer. No one came to the door. In fact, I waited so long, Shawn came out with a bag of recyclables and wondered why I was still up and about. "She isn't back, or she isn't home?" Shawn became pensive. "No. Just no answer." I struggled under Norman's growing weight and the pot of stew. Shawn held out her arms and I gladly handed the boy to her. "Did you call her, Stanley?" she asked as the toddler stirred and began whining. "No, not yet." I began to grow uneasy and fiddled with my phone. "I'll check." Despite the performance I was putting on for the benefit of my pretty and plump wife, I retained enough focus for my precious Melanie. I pinged automatically and felt that she seemed to be fine, although I didn't know exactly where she was. Her presence was so dim and unobtrusive, it was often hard for me to sense Little Chen at all. "Hey." Shawn tapped my arm. "I'll put Norman up at my place tonight, okay? You find Mel and get some sleep." "Will do. Thanks pumpkin." I gave her a warm kiss. "Good night, Stanley." The doughty woman headed back to her condo. Once she was out of sight, I cracked the lock with telekinesis and headed into Melanie's unit. Sure enough, it was empty. I put the pot of soup into the refrigerator and left a note for Yu-Ching before I headed back out. I started downstairs and stopped. I thought I had felt something -- almost like a pip -- from Melanie. Weird. It came from Viktoriya's unit. Was Yu-Ching there? I headed to Viktoriya's door and knocked. Instantly, I heard a soft shuffle of feet and my dusky Russkie's thought-speech popped into my mind. 'Stanislav! You're home?!' Viktoriya greeted me while she was staring at the front-door from across the room. I could make out the light at the bottom of the door and my shadow from her mind-sight. 'Yes, everyone is.' I thought-spoke: 'Didn't you hear us?' 'No. I was a little distracted.' From her mind-sight, I could tell Viktoriya hadn't budged since we started chatting. 'Vika.' I pinged her lightly. 'Is Melanie in there with you?' 'Yes.' Viktoriya replied and I instantly felt her nervousness. 'Hey, whatever you're doing, I promise I won't get mad.' I rubbed my temples to calm myself. 'All right, lover.' She pinged back. As Viktoriya kept her eyes on the front door, I suspected I knew why and she broadcasted a weak reply: 'It's just that Melanie doesn't want you to know.' 'I think it's a little late for that.' I decided enough was enough, and ended the charade by knocking on Viktoriya's door. "Vika?" I knocked softly on the door again and called out audibly, "Are you in? Have you seen Melanie?" There was a moment or two of awkward silence as Viktoriya seemed to gesture just at the edge of her vision. I sensed her nodding her head and Melanie soon whisked into Viktoriya's view. Little Chen was dressed in a white cotton robe, her feet bare. I didn't need to be a psychic to know what these two were doing all night. I blinked my eyes to adjust to the darkness when the door creaked open. "Stanley?" Melanie squeaked softly. "Hello sweetie." I grinned at her. "May I come in?" Yu-Ching nodded shyly and stepped aside. My Slavic beauty was wearing only a loose t-shirt and a pair of Lady Hanes. She was sitting rather demurely -- if awkwardly -- on the hardwood floor with a towel under her sweet, smooth ass. Seeing the cushions, bottles of lubricant, and a small pile of towels (with something obviously hidden underneath), I stared accusingly at both women. Melanie immediately caught my look and leapt to her own defence. "It's not like that!" she exclaimed. "Tell me about it then." I looked between the two. I stayed and managed to wrestle the story from them. As it turned out, Melanie and Viktoriya were both having quite a time by themselves. My youngest darling had bought some hay-kun* [* Cantonese: Art of the empty fist, or qi-gong] balls some time ago. They were made of brushed metal and were supposed to be rolled in the palm of one's hand for exercise. However, Melanie had found another use for ben-wa balls. After putting the baby to bed one day, she got bored and decided to find some objects she could masturbate with. With a little trial and error, Melanie learned that she could lube up the balls and insert them into her vaginal cavity. She found that when she walked with those metal spheres inside her, she could barely keep herself under control. Aside from those metal spheres, Melanie also tried golf balls (the golf course at Lincoln Park sold PGA-rated ones with right amount of dimples), hundred-sided dice (they were about the size of a golf ball and I had outgrown Dungeons & Dragons), and even some decorative porcelain eggs sold in knick-knack and oddity stores (don't ask; though, I think those were left-overs from one of Rachelle's shopping forays). Yu-Ching even tried the vibrating eggs being sold in sex shops (those were made of polymer and latex, so while they were soft and pliant, they didn't retain body heat), but nothing seemed to have the same feel as those metal ben-wa balls. Little Chen -- now just a big pervert -- had finished with work early. She came home and found Viktoriya had come back early as well; Vika's clients had gotten winded and decided they had enough dancing for the night. The two women had a sit-down dinner together, Viktoriya broke out the alcohol, and one thing quickly led to another. Initially suspicious, Viktoriya tried Melanie's technique anyway, and it simply floored the older woman. Viktoriya could barely walk (let alone crawl) when she heard me knock on the door. While my Russian bride could diddle herself with telekinesis, it was still under her control. There wasn't much surprise left for her to do it that way. However, Melanie's metal spheres were quite a novelty. And unlike telekinesis, there was more than a "pressure" factor; the metal surface warmed to the touch and the heat they retained made them quite a unique experience. So, I grabbed a glass of chilled water, sat back, and watched as Viktoriya and Melanie both joyously jerked themselves the rest of the night. Finally, at one point during their festivities, I was forced to participate. Each of the girls had a pair of those exercise spheres (Melanie had several sets; I suspected they were either replacements or they were "presents" for the other women). I held one of the balls after Viktoriya squeezed it out of herself. It was hot to the touch (having been brought up to her internal body temperature). Smiling brazenly, I rolled it over her stomach and the Slavic brunette cursed pleasurably in her native tongue. I hadn't heard Viktoriya swear in Russian since the marriage four years ago. Hearing her so excited was infectious. I rolled the ball towards Viktoriya's manicured snatch and slipped it back inside with a little trouble while I teased her asshole with my other hand. The Slavic brunette didn't say a damn thing -- she only hissed loudly and threw herself at me, furiously biting, kissing, and licking my face and lips. Melanie, twirling around the condo's stripper pole, was gyrating herself silly to get off. Seeing us make-out on the sofa, Yu-Ching tried joining in and collapsed to the floor when she tried to walk. "D--don't start without -- me," Melanie begged as she wobbled towards us, shuddering and shivering as the twin balls jostled inside her vaginal cavity. I hadn't cleaned up, so I wasn't in an amorous mood. Instead, I was content to lie with both my darlings and, with a little telekinetic boost from Viktoriya, slowly nudged the balls inside both my lovelies. As I had my palms over their stomachs (this to free their hands to stroke their own clits), it appeared that I was massaging them and moving the balls around. Viktoriya knew this wasn't the case, but we still didn't want Melanie to know about our telekinesis. On top of all that physical contact, there was the simple stacking of our psychic power -- Viktoriya, me, and Melanie were creating one hell of an event. Almost too late, I feared that the kids in the building might be affected (they were, but only by going into an excitable state) but as quickly as that thought popped into my head, I squashed it, afraid that either of my lovelies would pick it up. In any case, the two women were soon swooning and blindly shooting their sex scuzz all over. What wasn't soaked up by my slacks dripped onto the floor and formed a small puddle. For a moment, I even wondered if I needed a mop because the two women were gushing like crazy. My lovely Melanie experienced such a rush, she even blacked out. As her eyes closed, Yu-Ching murmured an apology, and said she'd pick up Norman in the morning. With that, my youngest darling drifted off, her two metal spheres lying next to her sleeping form. 'I'll take care of her tonight kisa.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she kissed my face and neck. 'I'll see Milhail tomorrow.' 'All right.' I relented while I cupped her meaty, muscular ass. 'Norman is at Shawn's tonight; tell Melanie for me would you?' Viktoriya clutched me tightly as the two spheres inside her began to move. 'Of course, Stanislav! Yes!' 'Is that in regards to the kids or you just jerking off, sweetheart?' I mentally scolded her and began to lead her in a slow rumba. 'Oh my God, kisa! Don't. Please don't!' Viktoriya pleaded with me, her eyes wide. 'I can't do that with these things in me! I just can't!!' 'Wanna bet?' My mouth twitched mischievously. My beautiful Baltic brunette swooned as she instinctively swayed her hips. That was apparently the crux of Melanie's technique. When a woman walked, she sashayed her hips, and her vaginal cavity would shake like a high-rise building in an earthquake. Unlike a rectilinear skyscraper though, the vaginal cavity was more like a slinky that one held an end of and twirled like a mobile. This of course, meant that small, round objects the size of a ping-pong ball would roll around inside the cylinder -- and make women go ga-ga. Viktoriya and I took no more than a dozen steps when her legs buckled from the activity. I gripped her tightly as she trembled and fell into my arms. She was cumming like never before, and she fought the urge to scream by biting my sides. My Cossack cutie clamped down so fiercely that she ripped my shirt open with her teeth. Feeling her hot breath searing against my skin, I was getting pretty damn hard myself. After a few more seconds, she caught her breath and was herself once more. 'Was it as good for you as it was for me?' I laughed audibly but pinged her in our silent tongue. 'Fuck you, Stanislav!' Viktoriya scowled darkly at me. 'Not a bad idea.' I wore a sneer. 'I'm hard.' She snatched me quickly by my hair and pushed me down to the floor. It wasn't anything rough, but she was irked I had perverted her sport into an unrelated intimate act. My dusky Russkie squatted over my chin, her face a mask of sheer concentration. I gazed at her snatch and saw that it was starting to part. When I saw the silvery sheen of the first metal exercise ball peek out from the folds of her labia, I grinned like a madman. You nasty bitch, I thought. 'Call me more names, kisa.' Viktoriya thought-spoke instantly. 'And I'll give you what they call a Cleveland Steamer!' 'Why not.' I dared her. 'You tore my shirt already. I'm throwing it out.' Viktoriya nearly stumbled, as she had not expected that answer. 'I was only joking!' She looked at me in total shock. 'Are you serious?!' 'I hope not, lyubimy.' I stroked her calves. 'Because it'll just be another mess for you to clean up.' 'Selfish bastard!' 'Whatever.' I managed to plant a kiss on the insides of her thigh as I pinged a response: 'But I do want to taste you.' Viktoriya gasped as my tongue teased the folds of her twat and asshole. I ran my tip of my tongue around the edges of the ball, testing and teasing my Slavic siren until she popped the sphere out. Luckily, Melanie was asleep and I was able to use telekinesis, otherwise the ball would've knocked out my front teeth. I plucked the ball out of mid-air with a solid telekinetic grip before I physically secured it with my fingers. Like before, the sphere was hot to the touch. Having been inside Viktoriya nearly all night, it was also heavily scented. I rolled it down my cheek, across my lips and under my nose, savoring her strong, sweaty, fuck musk. Her pussy still dribbled joy juice, and drops of the stuff splashed warmly against my face. 'Here ... comes the other ... one.' Viktoriya was straining again. 'Just ... just a second.' I was getting dizzy with lust. I picked up Viktoriya and carried her to the bed. She barely had time to protest before I took my hard cock out and slipped smoothly into her. She was so slick, there was barely any resistance. Viktoriya inhaled sharply -- then just as quickly sneezed. I chuckled as she sought to avert her gaze, if only briefly, before we kissed. She gasped when I began moving, then ultimately cried out when she came again. Moments later, the second ball popped out from her body, completely slick with both our juices. 'Good ... night ... milenky.' Viktoriya was snug under the covers as I slipped out of her room. 'G'night Vika.' I gently placed a spare wool blanket over the sleeping Melanie and tucked her in as well. I let myself out and headed back upstairs to my unit. "Where've you been?" Janet greeted me unhappily when I opened my door. "And what happened to your shirt?" "Hey baby." I grinned sheepishly. "What're you doing here?" "Getting shafted apparently," my First retorted as she studied the irrepairable rip, "Weren't you supposed to take those two kids to Viktoriya's so we could have some free time today?" "Today?" I looked at her quizically then glanced at the wall clock. "Damn, it's past midnight already?" "Well apparently! I guess times flies when you're --" Janet wrinkled her nose as the stench of lovemaking reached her nostrils. "Oh sweet cripes, Stanley!" "Sorry." I sped off to the restroom to get changed. "It was --" "You don't have to go into the details," she said and gave me a disapproving look. "So how'd you know?" I asked as I dumped my soiled clothes into the hamper. Despite the fact the shirt would no longer be worn, I was going to wash it; I planned to recycle it as a rag. "After I tucked in Freddy, I saw your lights were on." Janet lowered the lid on the toilet and sat on it while we talked. "When I saw Milhail and Michael in the window. I knew you obviously weren't home." "Sorry," I replied over the showerhead's hiss, "Yu-Ching wasn't at her place, so I got worried. I found her at Vika's." "I'm sure she had an explanation." She tilted her head and became thoughtful. "Scratch that. They both did, didn't they? So, what's got my man so excited?" "Balls." I turned off the shower and told her about Melanie's sex spheres while I towelled dry. Janet suddenly had this dreamy look on her face. "Oh wow." "What is it?" I asked, "Something wrong?" "No. No, nothing's wrong." She grew thoughtful. "Oh jeez. I was so busy at the firm, I didn't even get it." "Get what?" I pressed as I bundled myself up in a bathrobe. Janet smiled sweetly and took my hand. "C'mere and I'll show you." She took me across the hall to her room. My First generally split her time between her unit in the big building and her own house next door, coming and going as she pleased. She'd entertain guests at her house, but when things got too hectic, or she just wanted some quiet, Janet would bundle the kids up, and head to her cozy condo across the hall from mine. My wife dug out a small box containing two exercise balls. They were exactly the same type as the ones Viktoriya and Melanie were masturbating with earlier. "She gave me these for my birthday," Janet confessed. "When was this?" I asked, "I thought you got you that hundred dollar a pound tea you were raving about." "No, it wasn't this year," she said and shook her head, "This was before she had the baby." "That long ago?" I whistled. "Wow. Holy crap." "I never really had need for 'em." Janet took one of the balls out and examined it. "I do my hay-kun naturally; this stuff is for tourists anyway." I chuckled. "Leave it to Yu-Ching to find a new use for them." "She's always been inventive. So, you want to show me how they work?" I arched a brow as I saw she was studying me. "Isn't it a little late?" I asked. "Not for me it isn't." Janet stood and gave me a saucy smile. "I took tomorrow off." I chuckled and gave in to my lovely First's wanton wiles. It was rare that I could teach her a few things and I found I relished doing it -- then doing her. After a little lubrication and letting her experiment a bit, Janet was writhing with pleasure in my arms. Of course, not even that prepared me adequately for the weirdness that was Phillipa Roget. =============================================================================== SECOND-TYPE WOMAN =============================================================================== Phillipa giggled and leaned drunkenly against the wall as I slid her keycard to her room's card slot. After a bit of dancing and some more drinking (she drank, I didn't), the red-headed girl was totally blasted and wanted nothing more than to head to her room and "have fun". I barely got the door open before Phillipa decided to play a dangerous prank -- she vanished. "Catch me if you -- hic -- can!" she teased as her giggles receded down the hallway. Goddammit. I jammed the jamb of Phillipa's room with a spare coin just in case the keycard got lost. There was no telling what I needed to do to get her back. If the security cameras on the ship were on (they usually were), they might've caught her disappearing. It was precisely this sort of overt, obnoxious, carelessness that drew unwanted attention; it compromised Ghost Light in Greece, and embroiled me in mafia bullshit. Luckily, the security in that part of the ocean-liner was pretty light. Only the lobby, elevators, and part of the decks had cameras. I pocketed Phillipa's keycard and went looking for her. I didn't have to go far. I found her in the corner by the emergency stairs. I didn't want to, but I had to brain-buzz her to get her to stay put. I did so after I telekinetically slapped the camera in the hall to the side so it couldn't see us. I took Phillipa by the hand and felt her mind and body tingle from my touch. "Nuh'fair!!!" she whined once before I put her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. Phillipa -- the girl and her clothes -- slipped back into view quickly once I buzzed her a bit. Unlike that time I floored her, this was a "fun buzz"; it was weaker than the incapacitating zap, but a little stronger than the "pleasure" zap I'd feed my women. Phillipa instantly responded by giggling madly from both real and imagined hilarity. As I headed back the way I came, I slapped the camera back to its original angle once I was sure I was cleared from its view. I'm certain the security people would be suspicious about that brief outage, but I didn't need more recorded footage of me. I lugged the obnoxious girl back her room, all while she was singing drunkenly -- and loudly -- much to the dismay of everyone, from the sleeping guests to myself. This was earnestly a lot of attention, although I played it off as the husband dragging his young, drunk wife back to the honeymoon suite. "Why huw'wo 'der daaah'ling!!" Phillipa laughed at a red-faced elderly Mexican man as he passed by us in the hallway. He grinned at us, showing off his golden teeth. His expression was friendly enough -- he thought we were either crazy in love or cheating our asses off. I mentally followed him to his destination just to be sure he was innocent of who Phillipa and I were; as it turned out, he was a senior technician from the engineering deck, and he'd just gotten himself some extramarital puta from another room on this deck. Ah, adultery. How sweet it was as long as one wasn't caught. While Viktoriya hadn't broken past my mental barriers about Rosalind, I was rather nervous about how quickly Melanie guilted me over the affair. She kept mum about it, but I still wondered how she was able to get past my meticulous preparations. If she picked up on what I had done, was it perhaps that I was thinking about Rosalind when I shouldn't have been? So, what to do about Phillipa? I realized I was going to at least stick around and keep the girl in her room until she sobered up. Otherwise, there'd be no telling what the hell she'd do "for fun". Phillipa stretched and smiled dreamily as I threw her onto the bed. Seeing her so frazzled, I started having second thoughts until she flung out her foot and groped my bulging crotch with her toes. As I danced on the edge of whether or not to go ahead with this, I felt myself getting progressively hornier as Phillipa drew me closer by clasping her legs around my waist. She gawked at me with her bright blue eyes as she absently sucked on a finger. Mirage was a tall girl (even taller than my tallest darling, Rachelle) and that put her on my level when I crawled on top of her. I hazarded a guess this may have had something to do with her physical condition (true, as I found out later) or (as I thought at the time) maybe she was simply born tall. I put myself over her and began kissing her face; Phillipa groaned and encircled my neck with her arms. Whatever physical problem the red-head thought she had, I didn't see many flaws on her body. By now, even Melanie had some parts of her body only a husband could love. Phillipa though, still in the prime of her youth, possessed a near-perfect body; she was a living Galatea. I also noticed she was mostly hairless. Apart from the thick fountain of hair on head, her body only had a very pale, translucent peach-colored fuzz. I undid Phillipa's blouse and fondled those perky B-cups of hers. She squealed softly when I snurbed them playfully. "Oh man. Wow," Phillipa sighed as she lay back on the bed, "You do that so good." "Mmm-hmm." I extended a hand and started undoing her pants. Almost instantly, I felt her thoughts go into overdrive: 'Oh man, this is going to be hard to explain.' 'I wonder if he could tell.' 'Ah fuck that, I wonder if it'll hurt like hell again.' 'Maybe I should just suck him off and call it a night.' That was interesting, I thought as I kissed her navel, eliciting a soft coo from her throat. I wondered how "different" she was. I was sure I didn't see male genitalia when Phillipa was wearing a swimsuit earlier in the evening. Not like that would've done much to deter me. I thought back to what had happened at Franky's club. My old co-worker had left the building business before the economy cratered, then used his savings to buy and renovate a club in the city that catered to male-to-female transfolk and female cross-dressers. I received the dubious honor of being one of the first VIPs at his club after I approved the design; he set me up with a hot little shim who hailed from Hawaii the night of his grand-opening. At the time, I had just started seeing Rosalind, so I wasn't eager to experiment; however, after Franky and I finalized the details of the remodelling job (as a friendly favor, he signed off on the work-order, allowing me to launder my money and the project cost him next to nothing), I succumbed to my uncontrollable libido, and accepted a blowjob from Franky's "hostess" when I took her home. I had no qualms fucking the tranny's pretty face (she was pretty advanced in her transition) while I watched her boobs bounce and jiggle, but that was as far as I went. Now I wondered what exactly was Phillipa's ailment; I was prepared to stop if I saw anything I didn't like. I licked her lovely white calves and thighs, and slowly made my way slowly towards her crotch. I had a little trepidation about what I'd find there, but I soon found I had nothing to be alarmed about. Her cunt was baby smooth and almost like the model of what a perfect pussy should be. I examined it with amazement as I alternately kissed both sides of her groin, much to her delight. "Oh gawd -- oh mah' gawd," Phillipa slurred, "You're drivin' me fuckin' crazy." "Yeah," I murmured as I began working over her exposed gash. That's when it hit me. Her pussy was -- to put it mildly -- way too tight and dry. Having enjoyed the favors of my wives for some many years, I knew what a cunt should have looked like for a woman her age. Phillipa's pussy was oddly small; almost like she hadn't gone through puberty. Sensing my hesitation, the lanky red-head grew wary. "Something wrong?" she asked, her tone quickly sober. "No, I just --" I grunted and shifted over to her side, "Just need to get used to you." "Oh." Phillipa cast her eyes downwards. She didn't speak as I re-adjusted my position to be beside her. Once I started on her again though, she let out a pent-up sigh. I sensed her frustration though, and carefully made light of her discomfort. "Something the matter?" "I think you know already," Phillipa said quietly, "Don't you?" "I try not to pry." I stroked her shoulder gently. "Unless you want me to." "That's rather nice of you," her tone was sarcastic as she turned over to face me. I sensed she was trying to gauge me and wondering whether or not I was telling her the truth. Of course, I had already scanned her, but she didn't need to know that. I played nice and put on my best smile. "You want to tell me about it?" I asked gently. Phillipa chewed her lip a bit, unsure how to even begin. While she fretted, I decided that she could benefit from a little persuasion. I released a thin stream of thoughts -- what I wanted to do to her cunt, her mouth, her ass -- as the backs of my fingers glided over her smooth alabaster skin. The pretty red-head shivered uncontrollably. She purred when I gently scratched her groin with the tips of my fingers. "C'mon." I nuzzled her. "You can tell me." "I -- I'm a guy." "Say again?" I humored her. "You don't look like one, but that's one good excuse --" "No Stanley. It's not that." She took a deep breath and started, "It's called A.I.S., or androgyn insensitivity syndrome ...." I lay beside her and listened to Phillipa as she explained her condition. It was nothing I hadn't gleaned from her although she was able to fill in some of the messier details. She had no ovaries or a fallopian tube. Additionally, her cunt couldn't lubricate, and it was probably not as flexible as a genuine woman's birth canal would be. That's why the sex -- the horrible, horrible sex -- she had engaged with a boy in college was --- "-- the most painful thing I ever did," Phillipa finished flatly. "If you suspected it was going to be that bad," I pointed out, "Why'd you disrobe?" "Because," she spoke softly and lowered her gaze, "It's what you were thinking about all night." "You can read minds now?" I chided her, "So much for my job." "I don't need to be a mind-reader to know what you were thinking about." Phillipa wrinkled her nose. "From what Bethany's told me, that's all you think about." Nosy bitch, I thought. I knew Masquerade was an empire citizen, but her skill with telepathy wasn't something she advertised to the agency, or anyone else. Now that I knew what she could do, I likely would have to deal with it, as well as everything else Bethany had her hand in. Just what I needed. More fucking problems. "Don't believe everything she tells you," I growled and Phillipa found the temerity to laugh. "And why wouldn't I?" She leered warily at me. "Beth told me about the girls you were juggling way back then." "Yeah," I said slowly, "About them. Maybe I should level with you. I mean, you revealed something very personal." Her gaze didn't waver, and she waited with bated breath. Phillipa trusted me enough to tell me her little secret, so ought I not give something in return? It seemed only fair ... "I kinda married 'em all," I blurted. Ah yes, I thought. I'd rather be prosecuted as a bigamist than reveal the invisible empire. As much as I loved my family, I feared the empire -- and the likes of Tseng would do to them -- even more. "Wh--what?!" Phillipa's jaw dropped. "No way! You married those girls she said you were dating?" "Yes. And three more," I corrected her, then mentally kicked myself for having such a big mouth. "Wow." She flopped back on the bed. "Jesus, Stanley. So, what're you doin' here with me?" "Vacation sex," I replied candidly. "You can't imagine, but I sometimes have more work at home than I do in the field. Cover story and all." "Yeah." Phillipa looked at me oddly. "I guess it's the nature of the job, huh?" "I guess." I glanced at her and saw the scared, slender ginger I had cornered and caught years ago. The same pity I had for her then, I had now. Her face and mine were fairly close. Phillipa's eyes met mine and I gave her my trademark grin. Before she could say more, I kissed her. The red-head gasped in surprise as I gently teased her lips, begging her to part them. She placed a hand on me as if to push me away, but I took hold of it and calmed her down. I rolled the girl on top of me. I satisfied myself with running my palms down her sides. She had broken off our kiss, but she didn't protest; instead, she merely turned her head and let me plant kisses on her neck and the side of her head. I cupped her ass and gave her milky muffins a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft sigh from her. With the weight and warmth of Phillipa on me, I felt my cock strain against the fabric of my pants. By now, she hadn't done much save hold my head in a desperate attempt to keep control. Though she could've easily prevented me from going further, at no point did she resist as I licked and kissed her tits, neck, and face. "Sss -- Stan -- leee," Phillipa gasped, "I -- I think you should -- ohh!!" In an instant, I flipped her onto her back, and I was holding her legs up and over my shoulders. She had adopted the look of a trashy whore, thanks to her obscene choice of body decoration. Her sky blue toenails had tiny colored stickers on them, and cheap plastic earrings made her look like she was fresh out of high school. The thought of her being that young though, only made me hornier. My cock strained in the confines of my slacks, and Phillipa understood my need for release. Her legs fell to the side, revealing her tiny, hairless slit. I removed my shirt and unzipped my pants. Had I any less experience, I would've dived right in. However, I knew that I had to be cautious, so I proceeded carefully. She had mentioned it hurt before; I knew that to be true if the woman wasn't ready. So, I gingerly fingered the red-head. Despite Phillipa's stature, her little bare pussy was abnormally tight and small. I could barely fit my index finger in, let alone several fingers. I heard her inhale sharply as I nibbled and played with her cunt. That's interesting. She was truly fucking tight. I spooned her, but didn't stop teasing her sensitive spots, bottom and top. Thinking back to my past experiences, I remembered the first time when Yu-Ching and I consumated. Janet had used some lubricant (a lot of it). I wondered if it might work now. "Hey, you have lubricant right?" I asked, "Something slick? Oily?" "I got suntan lotion." Phillipa pointed lazily at her travel bag. "In there." I got up and rummaged through her things. Sure enough, there was a bottle of suntan oil, but I found something better. "Petroleum jelly?" I turned and asked her. "What'd you need this for? Baby rash?" "Not exactly." Her cheeks became bright red. "I get chapped lips a lot. I just need a bit when I go out." "Well looks like you brought along enough to last you a while," I held up the fist-sized jar. "It's cheaper than the small tubes." I undid the jar lid and scooped a hefty amount of jelly. I rubbed my fingers together, examining the gel. This stuff was pretty slick. "Wh--what are you doing?" Phillipa asked. "What do you think I'm going to do?" I gave her a wry grin. The red-haired girl gasped when I slathered a thick glob of petroleum jelly around her sweet, smooth cunt. She chewed her lip and lay back, eyes shut. Her body was tense and I sensed she was both excited and scared; her thoughts in turn, excited me. I parted her legs and worked in a slick, jelly-covered finger. Phillipa whimpered as her cunt slowly swallowed my finger, knuckle by aching knuckle. Damn, she was hot -- and I was referring to her body temperature. I felt her fuck-hole rhythmically pulse around my finger. When I hilted my digit into her body, I began to flex it. "Yeah, shit baby." I kissed the top of her knee. "Look at that. See my finger? It's going to get better in a bit." Phillipa's eyes were open now, her lips parted and her breathing was becoming more rapid. She brought her head up to see me slowly stroking her undeveloped baby basket. Using mind-sight, I could see her gaze was now focused on my rapidly hardening cock. Almost immediately, I felt her heart leap to her throat. Thoughts of: 'Omigod, he's going to do it.' 'He's going to stick that in me.' 'It's so damn -- big already -- fuck!' 'Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god ...' ran through her mind. I pulled my finger back out, and reached for the jar of jelly. It was the brand that had the scent of baby powder; the smell reminded how I used talcum powder on my lovely Melanie when she was younger. The memories spurred nostalgia, guilt, and carnal lust within me. I covered my prick with the gel and crawled on top of Phillipa. "Oh man. Oh wow, wait," she tried pushing me off, "What about a condom?" "What about it?" I gently caught both her hands and pinned her to the bed. The young woman gulped as she realized I was going to fuck her raw. "But I -- oh!! Ow!!! OWWW!!" My dick bumped awkwardly against her lips, but with the years of skill I had, I nudged my cock a bit with telekinesis and penetrated her. Phillipa cried softly as I slowly lowered myself into the depths of her body. "Oh God, stop! Stop, please!!" she hissed in my ear, "It hurts, Stanley! It hurts so much!" "Yeah, all right." I gritted my teeth and settled on top of her. I fought the urge, lest the slightest movement injure her. I could feel Phillipa's tight cunt wrapped around my cock. It was as tight, if not more so, than when I had broke Melanie in all those years ago. The warm, wet jelly's powder scent was still in my nostrils, and I desperately wanted to get things going. I could show her the pleasures of being a woman. The red-headed girl though, was panting -- almost hyper-ventilating -- as she clutched me tightly, afraid that I'd move. As much as I wanted to listen to Phillipa, my body reacted naturally. My face was buried to the side of her head, and the sweet mix of her perfume and sweat was overriding my self-control. My cock involuntarily twitched and she gasped. "Oh-m'God, Stanley," she whispered hoarsely, "Th--that felt nice." "It did?" I propped myself so I could look into her eyes. She nodded slightly, her eyes sparkling with fear and excitement. "Okay," I said softly, "I think I can just loosen you up a bit. Just tell me if you're hurting, all right?" Phillipa didn't answer, but nodded again. I propped myself over her, and gently kissed her trembling lips. The girl was so wound up and tense, her thoughts were bouncing around all over the place; I had to get her relaxed, or her cunt would never loosen up. I bit her lips softly, my fingertips gently stroking her ears and neck. The slender red-head slowly relaxed; her breathing became more rhythmic and her body more limber. Soon, she was mimicking the little things I did to her. When I teased her lips, she would come back with a quick kiss on my chin. When I'd gently bite her ear lobes, she'd wrap her arms around me, stroking my neck and urging me on. After a few minutes of teasing, Phillipa signalled she was ready. She gasped when I pulled out. Seeing her eyes closed, I froze and waited for her to give the okay. She opened her eyes again and nodded. This time, when I pushed myself back in, she moaned. "Oh yeah," Phillipa sighed. "It's better, Stanley. But go slow. God, please go slow." "Yeah, I'll try," I gnashed my teeth. Damn, this was harder than I thought. The thought-stream I was getting from Phillipa was pretty much what I expected -- she was horny and in heat. That made it difficult to maintain my tempo, but I gave it my best shot. The red-head watched me with a mix of curiosity and fascination as I slowly pumped her nubile body. Her warm, alabaster skin was silky smooth where it touched me. Her breasts were tipped by hard, pink nipples; nipples untouched by piercings or teething tots, and jiggling with each thrust I made. Phillipa, unsure of what to do with her hands, reached for me and I took hold of them. I bent over her once more, my hands pinning hers to the bed. She writhed under me in mild protest, but I held fast. "Try something else, sweetheart," I said. "Like what?" she asked confused. "And how?" "Just try. Play around," I did my best to explain as I kept fucking her. "Oh." Phillipa looked down, watching my fuck needle threading her hairless baby basket. She parted her legs more, exposing her cunt more to my assault. After a few powerful strokes, she clamped her legs around me and I reduced the depth of my thrusts. Experimenting further, she began running her smooth soles of her feet over the back of my calves, making me shiver with delight. "Oh, wow." The ginger girl gave me a wide grin. "I get it now. Geez, Bethany was right -- you're such a perv." I grunted as her eyes grew as wide as her smile. Because I was pinning her hands down, I was just hovering an inch or so above her. Phillipa craned her head up and kissed me on the shoulder. She was getting braver now, and I felt her working down towards the nape of my neck. An intense feeling of release was coming over me when I heard her giggle. I blinked and saw she had disappeared -- or partly so (a new trick!). Her whole body was translucent and white-grayish, almost like the covers of the bed. Looking down, I dimly made out my cock, slathered in petroleum jelly, poling furiously at the invisible walls of Phillipa's pussy. The red-head managed to keep her face visible. I saw her beautiful eyes sparkle with mischief as she tried adjusting how much her body faded. "Look, look Stanley!" She laughed softly. "I can see your cock in me! It's so cute!" Despite the weirdness, I had to smile. Phillipa gave me a toothsome grin as I whispered fiercely in her ear. "I'm -- cumming." "Really?" The rest of her body quickly returned into view. She gave me a look of concern and asked, "Do you think that's wise?" "N--no." I barely uttered a reply when I surged my hips forward in one powerful thrust. "OH-GAWD!!" She winced as I unloaded a full blast of infant gunk into her body. Phillipa gasped, sputtered, and held on for dear life as I strained my body and drained my balls. I collapsed on top of her, my gel-covered cock twitching in her cunt. "Stanley, you fucking douche." She eyed me unhappily. "You're so lucky I can never get pregnant!" =============================================================================== FREE LOVE =============================================================================== Helping Viktoriya pack and move was one of the most uncomfortable things I had to endure, although it was nowhere as hard as when Janet confronted me about Rachelle and Jamie a few weeks after 9/11. It wasn't the fact that I had just committed some serious adultery, but rather, I had to watch Viktoriya suffer as she parted with her lover, Freya. On a happier note, Phillipa was a joy. The two of us spent the night in her cabin after some more intimate activity. The next morning, I ordered room service and we had a civil breakfast. Things only got kinky when Phillipa surprised me in the shower with an invisible blowjob. I watched my cum splash inside her mouth, then slowly fade into nothingness as she swallowed my joy juice. But she knew when to stop; we parted company shortly before the ship docked. Before I disembarked, I checked the vents and ceiling of Mirage's cabin one last time before I left. I was still suspicious that no one was shadowing her. Did the agency know Phillipa and I were on the same ship? Or were they confident the tracker they implanted was enough? Perhaps they filmed me while I was in-coitus with the lean red-head. Blackmail was always a possibility, even if Phillipa had innocent intentions. I left only when I was satisfied there was nothing amiss and took a cab to Viktoriya's place in Brooklyn. Once there, I found her in the midst of moving heavy furniture into a cargo truck with a few other people. "Hallo Stanislav." Viktoriya gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "You know Marcello, but here're some other friends I'd like you to meet ...." The crowd was just a few of my dusky Russkie's institute and dancesport friends, all utterly forgetable. Cristobel's boyfriend, Marcello, and Freya were the only ones I'd seen (through mind-sight or photos) before. The others were all 'normals', although I suspected the pretty boys were Cristobel's playthings, and the women were Viktoriya's toys. 'Nice guess, friend.' Cristobel thought-spoke. 'But they're just friends and dance partners.' 'Look who's talking!' Viktoriya's snappy mental barb was evident. 'You'd have your weekly orgies if it weren't for that ankle of yours!' 'Well, that's only half-true.' My wife's dancesport partner confided. 'Vika usually locks the women into her room before things get interesting. She never shares, Stanley.' 'Do I have to hear this?' I pinged. 'And don't you need to flex that ankle before the joint becomes immobile?' 'Well yes, thank you for the reminder, sir.' Cristobel's presence receded and dimmed. 'Take care.' Outwardly, I gave Viktoriya a bland smile, while she greeted me with a timidity I rarely saw. After I placed my bag in her room, I helped with the rest of the move. According to Viktoriya, Freya would be moving into Cristobel's and Marcello's flat; with Viktoriya gone, Freya would need both the company and help with rent. Right after the truck was loaded, Viktoriya took me to dinner near the Radio City Music Hall. After dinner, she showed me a nice surprise: as it turned out, Viktoriya was a part-time Rockette. She'd substitute for permanent members who were out sick or otherwise unavailable. "You never mentioned that before." I was genuinely surprised. "How long had you done that?" "For a while now. And I have to give it up," Viktoriya playfully chided me in public. "See how much I put up with you? And putting poor Freya in with two boys, you monster!" As much as it was "poor Freya this" and "poor Freya that", I did notice that Viktoriya was visibly reserved with me when the pretty Dutch girl was around. The more I hung around them, I felt more like a third wheel than a husband. During the Saturday Night Live taping (it was the December 19 episode), the two were holding hands and giggling as soon as the house lights went down. I was beginning to get the distinct feeling that whatever Viktoriya was going for, it wasn't a wifely role back in San Francisco. It left me wondering what she was doing. Was Viktoriya simply going through the motions for my sake? For Milhail's? Or was it something else? I was so focused on this, I was again surprised once we were on board the plane. I saw Viktoriya looking despondently out the window when I ambled back to her from the restroom. 'Something wrong?' I thought-spoke. 'What do you think?!' Viktoriya mentally hissed back. Outwardly, she remained motionless as she stared blankly out the window. She ignored me even as I settled down beside her. The air in the third-class cabin stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. The cramped quarters were more uncomfortable than cozy, and my insensitivity towards Viktoriya's suffering wasn't helping. She finally turned when I took up her hand, and I could see she had been crying. 'I'm sorry.' I dipped my eyes. 'I didn't realize you two were that close.' Viktoriya let out a breath, almost as if she had been waiting for me to apologize. 'It's okay, Stanislav.' She rested her head against my arm. 'I knew she was just to keep me company; I think she knew it too.' I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and Viktoriya sniffed. Between poking around her mental veil and drawing on the few thoughts of Freya's I picked up during my brief stay, I formed what I knew to be the truth of the matter: while Viktoriya sincerely loved Freya, it wasn't wholly mutual. Freya did enjoy Viktoriya's company, but the skinny gymnast sometimes found my Russian bride a bit too much. Viktoriya was especially overbearing when Freya wanted to see other people. Was it jealousy? The instant I thought of it, I felt her nails dig into my hand. 'I'm not jealous!' 'I didn't mean it that way.' I clarified my thought, but Viktoriya still wasn't happy. 'It's not fair.' She thought-spoke sadly. 'You got what you wanted, Stanislav. Why can't I have what I want?' I didn't have an immediate answer, but I empathized with her plight. Had Viktoriya been born a man, she'd be setting up her own harem, just like me. Or maybe she could, if just -- 'Don't even think of it.' 'Think of what?' I kept my innocent mentality. 'I know what you're thinking, and it won't work.' Viktoriya grew uneasy. 'If you think Janna was jealous before, what will you tell her if you bond Freya? She wouldn't even be your wife!' 'No, she wouldn't.' I felt my heart skip a beat; I couldn't believe I was proposing this shit. 'Because she'd be yours.' I heard Viktoriya's sharp intake of breath. For the longest time, she didn't say anything, but I could pick up what she had going through her mind (despite her trying to hide them). I let Viktoriya hide her thoughts from me, content that I was doing only what I thought to be right. When I dared to look her way, I saw her dark eyes cautiously staring back. 'Are you sure, kisa?' 'If it makes you happy.' I smiled nervously. 'Although ...' 'Although what?' 'If I were you, I would ask her to come.' I thought-spoke. 'I wouldn't make her.' 'Why, of course.' My Slavic siren lowered her eyes. 'I understand. It wouldn't be love would it?' 'No, it wouldn't.' I rubbed her hand, and felt her fingers interlock with mine. Viktoriya reached up to kiss me and I returned her affection, although the overall mood of our trip back was glum. Still, there was nothing else but to settle down for the rest of our flight. She moped all the way home despite my best attempts to cheer her up. Even the brief stop at her parents' in Indiana didn't do much to lift her spirits, although she put on a brave face the whole time. Thankfully, things were pretty much ready by the time we came home. We barely got past the front door when Melanie stepped out from Viktoriya's unit. "Oh!" She seemed startled, but quickly started to chatter away. "You're home early! Why didn't you call? I thought you wanted this to be a surprise!" "Surprise?" Viktoriya asked. "What surprise?" I echoed. Melanie wasn't part of what I'd planned. Little Chen barely got out another word before excited cries erupted past the door and the three of us were quickly surrounded by the kids, all clamoring for attention. "Dad!" "Da-daa!!" "Well, glad to see you too," I struggled to keep balance. "Now please make yourselves useful and help your mother with her stuff." The two older boys each wrestled a suitcase while the twins scampered off with Viktoriya's purse. Jenny, Kady, and Freddy were too small, and had to satisfy themselves with carrying our coats and a carry-on. Jillian was nowhere to be seen, but I sensed she was already upstairs helping in the kitchen. We headed into Vika's unit and found Melanie had strung up a welcome banner, and in the midst of setting up something more when she was interrupted by our arrival. "Welcome home." The little woman hugged Viktoriya. 'Are you blushing?' I thought-spoke. Viktoriya ignored me but managed to whisper, "Thank you." "Hey, dad." Michael pulled my sleeve. "Can I stay here instead of mom's tonight?" "Sure," I said absently, and just as quickly stopped. "Wait. What'd you do now?" "Nuthin'," my son whispered conspiratorially, "I just wanna play with Milhail." "I know you do," I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, "But your mom misses you too. Play tomorrow, okay?" My oldest son looked unhappy, but he didn't complain. "'Kay guys, we're going to have dinner in a little bit," Melanie announced and clapped her hands, "C'mon! Time to go. Upstairs, now!" Michael shuffled out the door, sullen and depressed. The younger kids obediently followed their brother, with Little Chen herding them from the rear. Only Milhail remained. He nervously looked on as his mother got to unpacking her things. Despite the brief sleep-overs Milhail had just a few months before, Viktoriya's move back signified that things would be different. The boy would live chiefly with her now, and not with Janet, as he had the past couple years. For a six year old, it was a pretty big change. I had anticipated this and had tasked him with finding and wrapping a gift to keep him occupied. When Viktoriya disappeared into the bedroom, I gave my son the thumbs up. Milhail sped off to his room, zipping right past his mother in the hallway. 'My he's grown.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she stepped back into the living room. "Don't run, Mily!" she called out. "You know the floors are slippery!" The boy didn't answer and Viktoriya sighed. "I'm sure he heard you." I patted the small of her back. 'I know he did.' The Baltic beauty looked unhappy. Suddenly, she cocked her head. 'Stanislav? What are you planning?' I put a finger to my lips and grinned. 'I know it's hard for us to be surprised, but let's pretend, okay?' Viktoriya was about to respond when Milhail came back out with a small wrapped box. He timidly held out the gift and murmured, "Merry Christmas, mom." "Spasee-baa." Viktoriya knelt so she could be eye-to-eye with her son. "Thank you. But it's not Christmas yet." "I know." Milhail nodded. "But dad wanted me to give it to you early." "Did he now?" She passed me a curious glance before she asked, "May I open it?" The boy smiled and nodded as she gently tore off the gift-wrap. 'Don't look at me.' I joked mentally. 'It's coming out of his college fund.' 'So juvenile.' Viktoriya broadcasted a mental sigh. 'Won't you ever grow up?' 'No.' I pinged her playfully and immediately felt her exasperation. Luckily, Viktoriya's eyes quickly softened when she opened the velvet box. Inside was a small gold locket. She took it out and examined it carefully. "Open it, mom." Milhail said excitedly. "Open it! Open it!" Viktoriya's eyes welled up once she did. Inside the locket, a current photo of Milhail was on one side, while the other had one of him as a baby and being affectionately kissed by his mother. "Do you like it?" he asked shyly. "Yes." Viktoriya hugged him tearfully. "Yes, very much. Thank you, Milhail. Merry Christmas. I love you." Milhail beamed proudly as he hugged her back. "Merry Christmas, mama." 'Merry Christmas, sweetheart.' I thought-spoke. 'Love you much, Vika.' 'Oh, Stanislav.' Viktoriya was high with emotion. 'Love you much, kisa.' =============================================================================== COPYRIGHT: 2010. 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 EDITOR: FERMAT and VOYER E-MAIL: GREY228 [ON] HOTMAIL ===============================================================================