____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
o o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
o o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
o o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Lonely Corridor - 3 (MF, Tv-parody)
by Demara (dforest@weir.net)
(c) 1997
Chapter 4
A deep sigh escaped her lips as she settled her head back into her hands.
She knew that Jarod had performed simulations that resulted in the deaths
of people how had he handled it. What could he tell her, teach her about
surviving guilt. She knew that she could become him; she could pretend.
"Do I have the courage to lose myself in someone elses personality?
Will I come back as myself?" She whispers to herself. "Do I have
a choice? I want answers. No! I need answers." She stands up and stides
to the living room where she had left her lap-top computer. "Time
to get some answers."
She walked into the living room and picks up her laptop computer. She
takes it into the guestroom. She had not taken the time to furnish this
room, yet; and, it was still devoid of funishings and decoration. The floor
was covered with a thick, pile carpet in the softest of baby blues and
the golden vanilla walls reflected the filtered sunlight streaming in the
windows covered with fine royal blue draperies. "This will have to
do. Nothing on which for me to hurt myself." She whispered to herself.
"Well, let's get on with this."
She sat on the floor in the corner and opened the laptop and thumbed
the power on. "Hello, Krystal. What are we working on today?"
She sat thinking for a long time, the computer waiting patiently for
a reply. Finally, she said, "Computer, I will be trying an experiment
today. Set an alarm for two hours from now. If in the event that I do not
react to the alarm within one half hour be prepared to remote-call the
front desk mamager and inform them that there is a potential problem in
the apartment." She looked at the empty walls and wondered what she
was getting into.
"The alarm is set and the routing of your message is prepared.
What are we working on next?"
"Computer, read the information contained in Centre Pretender
File - Jarod once you have completed reading prepare for recording
voice input an place all information in a file entitled Centre Pretender
File - Krystal." She stood and moved away from the computer waiting
patiently for it to begin reading the life of this person she was going
to attempt to become.
In its usual voice the computer started to read from the file:
"Pretender file subject Jarod. Individual shows remarkable ability
in spatial reasoning skills. In ability testing, he scored high in the
areas of psychological stability, spatial reasoning including: Geometry,
application mathematics, and dimension analysis, and emotive concurrence."
"A breakdown of scoring in the three top categories are in order
from least to greatest: Psychological stability - rating of ninety-three
percent in the the ninety-ninth percentile. Descriptive breakdown - subject
shows a remarkable mental stability in forming attachments to things and
individuals. Subject will have great strength in relating to people, situations,
and living creatures in stressful situations."
"Spatial reasoning - rating of ninety-seven percent in the ninety-ninth
percentile. Descriptive breakdown - subject shows an ability to see shapes
and designs and duplicating objects. Subject will have great strenth in
relating to the world at large including the ability to visually breakdown
events over distance and accurately track objects, people, and things in
space. This will also include a breakdown of position as relates to time."
"Emotive concurrence - rating of ninety-nine percent in the ninety-ninth
percentile. Descriptive breakdown - subject show an ability to feel the
emotions contained within other entities. Subject will have great strength
in relating to people, situations, and living creatures in all manner of
situations. This strength can be enhanced to the point where this individual
can become another individual in terms of emotional content. Subject will
be able to accurately depict anothers reactions to a situation. Subject
can become a pretender."
The computers voice continued to relate additional information from
Jarod's file; but, Krystal had stopped listening. And, instead, had become
the young Jarod descriped in the original file. Her subconscious was still
aware of the computer's voice and was prepared to react if necessary; but,
her conscious mind was following a more distant path.
"Computer, switch to record mode, now." Krystal whispered.
"Record mode activated. Read-back discontinued."
"I finished my building." I looked at my building and the
actual building on the screen; they looked very much the same. I sat up
and then stood. "I'm finished." I looked at the mirror finish
on the sliding door. I'm certain there is someone out there.
The door opened and a tall man walks in. "I'm Sydney. I will
be taking care of you." He smiles at me.
"Why? Where's my mom and dad?" He doesn't answer me. Just
takes my hand a leads me from the room and my building. I'm taken to another
part of the building and given clothes and I'm left in a plain room. I
was told to change clothes and to go to sleep. "Where's my mom and
dad?" And, I cried myself to sleep thinking how lonely I felt down
that brightly lit corridor.
"Computer continue with read-back." Krystal said in a voice
that was not hers.
"Continuing from file date February 15, 1967. Subject has shown
a remarkable ability to learn from advanced texts. Higher studies in science
and mathematics are recommended. Note: subject may be able to work with
other individuals in biological studies if psychological studies are not
necessary."
"Additional scholastic records include...."
I'm now in a room with just a table and chair. There are several
object on the table and Sydney is standing in front of me. "Study
these objects Jarod. I'm going to ask you several questions concerning
them. Tell me when you are ready."
"I'm ready."
Sydney picked up the objects and held them behind his back. "Jarod
tell me what the object were."
"There was a globe, a small box, a larger box, and a pyramid."
"No, Jarod, tell me what the objects were."
I looked at him confused. I didn't understand what he was looking
for. To me they were a globe, boxes, and a pyramid. "What are you
looking for Sydney?"
"Each object has a specific emotional connection to people.
I want you to tell me that connection."
"Like what do I feel when I look at a globe?" I was starting
to understand what he wanted. "I feel completion when I see a globe.
Is that what you are looking for?" I so wanted to please him. He let
me see other books and listen to music when I did something right.
"No, I'm looking for the emotional connection that others have
had with these objects. Not just your reactions." Sydney shook his
head slowly.
"The last person to hold that was you Sydney. Am I to tell you
your reaction to it?" I wonder if that is what he wants. He said if
I did well today I could finish listening to the Magic Flute.
"What was my reaction to it." Sydney looked at me expectantly.
"You felt excitement. A happiness that this was going to happen.
You were nervous about what would happen; but, you still looked forward
to it."
"Very good, Jarod. I knew you could do it." Sydney smiled
at me. "How about the other objects?"
"You felt the same with all of them; except, the large box.
You felt that it shouldn't be included because of its difference in size.
You were not attatched to it." I know I got that right.
"Right, Jarod. I think your training is coming along very well.
You may listen to the rest of the Magic Flute. We're done here. Come on."
Time jumped forward. I'm now in a large room surrounded by boxes
and a false window. There is a movie playing on the wall and I have a package
in my hands. "I'm running up the stair. My hands are sweating. I'm
afraid of what I am about to do." I open the package to show a rifle.
I kneel at the false window and start shooting at the motorcade shining
on the wall. I can not fire enough shots in time. "He wasn't alone,
Sydney."
Sydney asked, "are you absolutely positive, Jarod." I nodded
my head. I was certain. He stood up from his seat just outside my field
of view and walked over to were I was still kneeling. "Where did the
other shots come from?"
I looked at him. "I don't know. I just know that I could not
have fired enough shots in time." "Can you take it one step further.
You can see the tape. Where did the other shots come from?"
"I don't know." I cried. "I don't know. I can tell
you what the gunman was thinking. What that man who was shot was thinking
and the thoughts from everyone else in the picture. I don't know where
the other shots came from. Just that I couldn't have fired them."
Sydney sighed. "Well, you gave us a start. Write down the emotional
reactions of each of the other individuals and then have that man return
you to your room." Sydney walked out of the room.
I'm walking down the corridor. My footsteps echo from the high walls
and arched ceiling. I only have a portion of the answers the client wanted.
Jarod is emotive. He uses the emotions of people to think of answers. He
doesn't take that further. I wonder if the Tower will deem this a failure
or a success. We did get a portion of the answers.
I enter an elevator and ride to the main floor. I walk to the end
of the hallway and knock at the door. "Come in." I open the door
and step inside. "Did the boy give us results? We can't wait much
longer for him to begin delivering."
"He said that Oswald could not have fired the shots in time."
Sydney paused, waiting for the question he knew would be asked.
"Where did the other shots come from?"
"He didn't know. He was able to tell us that no one pictured
in the film fired the shots."
"So, he couldn't complete the assignment." The man turned
from looking out the window. "He has to start to deliver or else we
cannot continue investing money and time into him." The man paused
then continued, "do I make myself clear?"
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes. He will be prepared."
"Have I made myself clear?"
I nodded, again. "Leave."
I participated in several other simulations and time flashed by.
An alarm rang in the distance seeming to resonate from another place,
another time. Who am I? My name is Jarod. No my name is Sydney. I'm Lee
Harvey Oswald. I'm someone. Who am I?
I looked around the room and stumbled over to the computer. Turning
off its alarm. It had been ringing for nearly twenty minutes. My memories
of the last two hours flooded my consciousness as I realized exactly what
had happened. Instead of becoming Jarod of today I had become Jarod of
yesterday. And, Sydney, and several other people as well. "Computer
remote link to the network and send recorded notes to laser printer #1."
The computer beeped as it set upon completing its task. "Computer
number of pages recorded."
"Four hundred and fifty-two pages. Standard print with standard
margins."
I looked at the computer in shock as the number registered. No wonder
my throat is dry and scratchy. I reached for the laptop and picked it up.
I carried it with me to the kitchen where I poured a glass of cold water.
As I drank it, I started to read my e-mail messages from the last several
days.
The messages in the mailbox, Krystal, concerned the various accounts
I had set up on the internet. Mostly confirmations of their settings and
addresses. The messages from Forest were from a mailing list I had joined
that sent information snippets from news sources. The messages from The
Centre mailbox had multiplied rapidly over the last couple of days. Personnel
had posted a new job in their educational division and a large number of
applicants has sent resumes and letters. Sydney had gotten several pieces
of mail from Jarod and Miss Parker had received a letter from Jarod as
well.
Miss Parker,
Did you figure out the message? You have already lost yourself. Are
you ready to find yourself? Come on Missy. Do you really want to find me?
You never will.
Jarod
I hurried into my workroom and shuffled through the DSAs from the last
several days. I found the one for the time corresponding to the date the
e-mail was read and placed it in my DSA on my usual workstation. I fast
forwarded to the time it was read and watched Miss Parker's reaction to
the letter.
She struck the delete key and ran her hand back through her hair.
She lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the computer.
"You cannot undo this delete, proceed with deletion?" She
paused. Then slowly moved the pointer to Cancel and clicked.
On her main mail screen, she chose reply. She left the message entirely
blank. She chose options and selected received receipt and read receipt.
"Now I will get a location for you." She closed the mail and
sent it.
As she started to stand, her computer beeped that she had mail. Two
pieces.
As she looked at them she realized they were her message and her
received receipt. He sent them from my mailbox. Aghh. She stood and strode
out of her office.
Krystal laughed softly. "That was priceless." She whispered.
She reviewed the DSA to the start of the scene and put a blank DSA in the
second slot in her reader. She recorded the episode to the second disk.
Once it was finished she removed both DSAs and turned the machine off.
The original DSA went back to its place on the DSA worktable; but, the
other she placed in a box marked Jarod. This was a box filled with disks
and copies of documentation relating to his actions. Things that once she
found him she would give to him. As memories. She smiled to herself.
Chapter 5
Krystal walked to the kitchen carrying the first portion of the print-out
of the pretending transcript and prepared herself a glass of water laced
with her headache medication. After drinking it, she settled into one of
the kitchen table's captains chairs. She began reading.
She read about the Empire State Building that Jarod had built. How he
had built it and why he had made specific changes in its achitecture. "It
will not stand up to high wind gusts. If I change this and that, it will
be stronger." These were reinforcements made in the mid-seventies
at the urgings of politicians who had been told there were possible
weaknesses in the building.
She read about his first night at The Centre. So, similar to her own.
A night filled with terror at being alone for the first time. Yet, never
really feeling completely alone because of the eyes always watching her
every move. She learned how he coped with that first night. How he changed
clothes and curled up on the large bed and sucked his thumb while crying
softly. He pulled the covers tightly around his little body and finally
fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
The next day, the strange man named Sydney came to see him. He said,
"Jarod, never suck your thumb. That is not exceptable behaviour here."
Sydney looked at him sternly. "We will start today by learning the
rules of this place."
"Where am I? Where's my mom and dad?" Jarod asked.
"The first rule is *never* ask about your mom and dad. They
do not want to see you ever again. You belong here with us now. This is
a rule you must learn now." He looked angry and just a little sadness
crept into his eyes. Underneath that tough exterior existed a gentle and
considerate man. But, that man was already being corrupted, destroyed by
something that he could not control.
Jarod started to cry. He began shaking from his silent sobs. "I
want my mom and dad."
"Understand this Jarod, your mom and dad do not want you any
more. They left you here with us because we wanted you and they did not."
His anger was barely held in check. "You must learn this. Otherwise,
we will not want you either, then where would you be? A child with no one
to care for him. No one else wants you." His features and voice softened
noticeably as he continued, "we want you, Jarod. I want you. You are
going to stay with us and I will take care of you."
Jarod slowly stopped crying and crawled into the open arms that Sydney
held out to him. He settled his head against Sydney's shoulder and stopped
shaking. "I want my mom and dad. I want to ask them why they don't
want me." He started to cry softly again with his face buried against
Sydney's neck.
She switched from Jarod to Sydney and her views continued:
"He's never going to adapt. He's far too young to bring here.
How am I supposed to train someone who cannot understand the basic concept
of don't ask." Sydney thought to himself. "He will not make it.
I wonder what they said when they told me they would take care of his
parents. If he fails what will happen to him. He cannot fail."
Sydney held the young boy a little bit tighter. He felt the tears
on his neck and felt the small body shake with his soft sobs. "You
will be alright here, Jarod. Everything will be alright."
Jarod shifted slightly, "everything will not be okay. I want
my mom and dad." His tear stained face looked at me with the wide-eyed
certainty that only a child has.
I found myself comparing this young face to the face of the grown man
Jarod was today and found the same wide-eyed certainty and curiousity.
He was never allowed to grow up mentally. I was lucky in that respect.
I was allowed to progress and develop even though I never really grew up.
It was surprising to realize how I changed from person to person without
missing anything. One moment I was Jarod, the next I was Sydney, and then
I was myself whoever I am. I was lucky in that respect, too. I had developed
a personality, a self. Jarod had never been given the chance to find out
who he was. I was just finding out what lengths The Centre had to go to
to create their pretender.
After that observation had been recorded, I became Mr. Raines. My raspy
breath came in rough gasps even at this early stage. I watched as Sydney
settled the small boy under the blanket on the bed. I watched as he came
to the door and exited.
"Sir. I'm sorry, I did not realize you were there."
"Is he going to succeed?" I blew a cloud of blue smoke
into Sydney's face as I turned away.
"Yes, Sir. He will succeed. He just needs to grow up a little."
Sydney hurried to walk beside me. "He just needs time to adjust to
The Centre."
"There is another. Someone with credentials and abilities that
far exceed this one. She was given to Markham temporarily. She will not
last long as a pretender. It would in all likelyhood destroy her young;
but, she would be a masterpiece."
"This one will suceed. He has abilities that we have not even
seen yet. I know it. I just have to draw them out." They stopped at
the elevator. "Sir. Please, give him time to adjust and I will show
you what Jarod is capable of."
"Is that what you intend to call him? Jarod?" A thick cloud
of smoke floated around my head and I drew the smoke from my cigarette
deep into my lungs along with a portion of the haze. As I blew the additional
smoke into my personal cloud, I looked at Sydney. He was a lot like his
brother. He was sensitive at heart, weak.
"I wonder if he is one of the traitors. One of the weak willed
creatures who were removing children from The Centre. Was he the
mastermind?" I thought.
They knew then what The Centre Railroad was doing. What they did
not know was who was involved and how they were getting the children out.
What did I do. My words continued rambling as I thought about the children
who had been saved and the people who had died because of what they had
been doing. How many people had died because of the security I had
designed....
"I was told that was his name." Sydney replied. "What
is his name?"
"Jarod." I said simply. I laughed silently to myself. "Someone
did something right with this one." I thought.
"Is Jarod his name, Sir? I would like to know. He has a right
to know."
"He has no rights, Sydney. He is going to be a brilliant lab rat. He
belongs to us as long as we want him. Turn him into something usable
or else there will be no reason for us to keep him. Remember, the rats
belong in the lab, they do not belong out there. Make him ours." I
drew on my cigarette again and then threw it at Sydney. It landed just
short of his shoes and smoldered there resting on the floor. "Remember,
I am in control. I say who stays and who goes."
I turned and pressed the button and the elevator doors opened. I
stepped inside. I stopped the doors as they were closing, "His name
really is Jarod; but, he will never know more than that. You were given
his first name; nothing else. He will never find-out who he is while I
am alive." I removed my hand and the doors slowly closed. I lit another
cigarette. "Unfortunately, that may not be very long." I sucked
the blue smoke and coughed.
I stood there looking at the elevator doors for a long time. Finally,
the smoldering cigarette captured my attention. I stomped on it and ground
it out; deperately wishing I could do the same thing to the man who had
just entered the elevator. "I wish I had your strength Catherine."
I whispered to myself. "I hope he never thinks to have a pretender
investigate you. He would destroy you."
I turned and walked back to Jarod's room, just to check on him. I
stood outside his room and watched him through the observation window as
he slept peacefully. "Will I ever be able to sleep peacefully after
I have destroyed your life?" I had worked with other pretenders and
had assisted in experiments; but, this was the first individual that I
would raise and train on my own. I was the one responsible for the success
of this boy. If I failed, he was as good as dead.
I read through another hundred pages of information from my session
and learned of Jarod's early training. His early education for sharpening
his pretender skills and the simulations he performed. Eventually, I came
to the John F. Kennedy assassination simulation that Jarod had failed to
complete.
"I don't know where the other shots came from." I cried.
I just didn't know. I wasn't able to tell. "I don't know where the
shots came from." I repeated.
"Think, Jarod, think." Sydney urged. "Where did the
other shots come from?"
"I don't know." I started to cry. "I don't know."
I thought about running from the room; but, they would just catch me and
bring me back. "Refuge." I whispered. "Refuge, Sydney."
"Okay, Jarod." Sydney waved to one of the men at the door.
"Write down the emotional reactions of each of the other individuals
and then have that man return you to your room." Sydney left the room.
I started writing on the yellow pad that Sydney had left. I began thinking
about what emotions each person was feeling. The lady in the pretty pink
dress feels fear, rage, distress. The driver feels he failed in some way.
The man who was shot thought to himself, "I didn't realize it would
hurt so much." But, his thoughts were destroyed by the next bullet.
"They killed him." I said softly. "Someone killed him and
I just saw it and felt it." I started to shake and cry.
The man walked over and touched me on the shoulder. I couldn't control
my reaction. I kept crying and edged away from his touch. "Go get
someone." He ordered the other guard.
A very tall man was brought into the room. He was not Sydney or any
of the other people who normally was around. A small, thin girl stood just
inside the door. He had signaled her to stop and wait there. "What
is the problem?" He asked. The film restarted as he walked toward
me. He watched the film until the man was shot and his thoughts were
silenced.
"Who's is he?" He asked the man who had brought him in.
"Sydney's."
"Where is he?"
"He went to give a report, the results."
"And he left this boy here, alone?"
"We are here."
"As I said he left this boy here, alone."
He walked over to me and laid his hand gently on my shoulder. He
seemed to transfer a sense of calm to me through his touch. I settled as
he drew my attention away from the film and the pad. "What is your
name?" He asked me.
"Jarod. Who are you?"
"I'm Markham. Are you going to be alright, now?"
I nodded my head and settled back into the chair. Everything didn't
seem so terrible now. I could finish. "Who is she?" I pointed
to the girl, who had now walked into the room to better see the film.
As it replayed the scenes, she watched with a detatched gaze. She
did not feel the emotional connection to the people. "Why is this
film running for the boy?"
I realized that I was probably older than her in age; but, she far
exceeded me in age in other ways. "I was supposed to tell who fired
the shots that killed that man."
"He's not in the picture. The man was located there." She
pointed to the upper corner of the wall.
As the film restarted, I mentally placed the person on the grassy
knoll; but, I still could not make a connection to the person. "I
cannot see him."
"Here." She reached out for the pad and pencil I had been
using. She quickly sketched a picture of a man dressed in a long, black
coat and a black hat. She peeled back the layers of outer clothing in the
next picture, showing a clear view of the man's face and hands. The next
sketch was of the man's arm showing a strange painting, tatoo of a creature
breathing fire, holding a knife and a gun in its clawed hands. "That
is the man you need to see. Do you need more?"
I looked at her face. The look she gave me was one of disdain. She
had never failed he was certain. He tried to become her as he had so many
others. He approached and was repelled by a wall which she had guarding
her. "Does she even know herself?" He thought.
I came back to the present and back to myself with a shock. My headache
was still there it had not gone away; it had not even lessened. "That
was me." I whispered. "Does she even know herself?" He had
asked. "He did not even know himself; but, he could recognize another
like him. I had met him at The Centre and had forgotten." I pressed
my hands to the sides of my head as it pounded.
I stood and reached for the little bottle of medicine. I filled the dropper
then changed my mind. I just picked up the bottle and drank a mouthful
from it. It tasted terrible; but, I had to get rid of this headache. I
settled back into the chair and pushed the printouts to far end of the
table. I struggled to take a breath and slowly released it.
As I slowly fell asleep, my head drifted forward onto my crossed arms.
My rest didn't last long as the phone next to me rang. I woke with a start
and reached for the cell-phone mentally noting that it was one whose number
I had not given to anyone. "Hello." I said as I answered it.
"May I speak to Jarod?" A male voice asked.
"You must have the wrong number. No one named Jarod lives here."
I didn't immediately recognize the man's voice. It was vaguely familiar,
though.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you." I heard a click as he hung
up the phone.
"Broots." I thought. I stood quickly and had to grab the table
for support. When my vision stabilized and I could see the room once again,
I started into the computer room. I pulled the current DSA of Broots's
office from the recorder; I heard the next disk snap into place not missing
a second of recording. I hurried to the reader and slipped the disk into
place. I punched play and fast-forwarded to the end.
I watched as Broots punched in a telephone number into his office line.
When the person on the other end answered he asked, "May I speak to
Krystal?" A pause then, "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
I zoomed the picture on the phone, he had it attached to a recorder and
next to the recorder and phone was a list of phone numbers. I quickly
recognized several of the phone numbers which had been assigned to my
cell phones.
"They must have requested the numbers of all the phones which have
received phone service over the last several weeks. This is a tactic that
could work." I thought as I settled back into the chair. "I hope
they have not been given information about me. They could compare the voice
on that tape to the voice prints from my simulations. Good thing that my
phones were all registered to different names and different addresses."
I gasped as a sharp pain ran through my head. I stood and walked slowly,
carefully over to my lap-top. I opened it and thumbed it on. "Hello,
Krystal. What are we working on today?"
"Computer, what day is it?" I was thinking about the number
of pages I had compiled during my pretending session. I could not have
completed that much information in only two hours.
"Wednesday."
It had been Sunday when she had started the simulation. She sat in complete
shock as the day registered. She quickly thumbed back on the reader and
looked at the date in the corner. "No wonder I have a headache. I
have not eaten since Friday." She turned the reader off and tossed
the DSA onto workcenter. She picked up the lap-top and stumbled back into
the kitchen.
With the lap-top on top of the simulation printout, she began rummaging
through the refrigerator. "I realize now why the kitchen looks unused.
I never use it." As she pulled out the apple and orange that had been
pushed to the far back of the refrigerator. A peek into the freezer showed
it to be equally empty. "Computer, what time is it?"
"The time is eighteen hundred thirty-one hours."
"Computer, powerdown to standby mode."
She reached for the phone book and located a restaurant that delivered.
She called it up and order one of everything on the menu. A moment later
the night manager was notified and was going to call her as soon as the
food arrived.
Twenty minutes later her intercom buzzed signalling the arrival of her
food and she quickly rode the elevator down to the lobby. She paid the
bill and hurried back to her apartment. "I'm going to have to go shopping."
She dropped the packages on the kitchen table; being careful not to disturb
the computer and printouts. After opening several packages, she began
eating.
The restaurant specialized in Italian food and had sent an excellent
arrangement of handmade pastas all smothered in rich sauces. She sampled
it all. After finishing most of the food, she packaged up the small stack
of leftovers and placed them in the refrigerator. Her headache was gone.
"Now I'm tired."
She took a long hot shower and changed into a black, silk kimono and
went to the furnished guest bedroom. Since she used her master bedroom
as a work area she slept in this smaller, more conservative room. She
quickly curled up in the bed and settled into a deep restful sleep. No
mysterious dreams disturbed her solitude.
On
to the Next Part
Demara
dforest@weir.net
© 1997