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Alan

By: juliancoreto



Chapter 1 Life Cycles

Alan Marshall was a fine, respectful, upstanding young man. He visited his grandfather in the hospital every day after school He was a senior, and in his last semester, and he had plenty of free time, just counting the days until graduation. After graduation he had an internship at the local newspaper, a job he had won through a writing contest he had entered with one of his school newspaper pieces. Since getting into college and winning the contest he had passed off his editor-in-chief duties on the paper to his successor.

His grandfather was dying of congestive heart failure, and he had spent the last month in the cardiac care unit. There were no private rooms in the CCU, but there was a comfortable chair next to his grandfather's bed, and when the old man was sleeping, which was most of the time, Alan sat next to him and did his homework. When his grandfather was awake they chatted, mostly baseball, their common passion. One day while Alan was visiting, a new patient was brought into the room, and placed in the bed next to Alan's grandfather. Alan stood and looked over his grandfather's hospital bed to see the new arrival, but the nurse quickly drew the curtain to block his view. Soon after the new man was brought in, the nurses left. Alan then noticed that his grandfather was stirring, and the conversed for a bit, before he drifted back into unconsciousness. His parents arrived and they all stayed a few hours before going home for dinner.

A few days later Alan was leaving the hospital room and he couldn't resist the urge to have a peek at his grandfather's roommate. When he put his head through the curtain he saw that the man was awake, and he was gesturing at Alan to come closer. With a bit of trepidation Alan approached him. When he was right next to the bed the old man reached out and grabbed Alan's exposed forearm and gripped him tightly. Alan felt a strange sensation throughout his body, sort of like an electric shock. Then he heard a voice and looked down at the old man, but he could tell, even in the diminished light in the curtained off area of the hospital room, that the old man was not moving his lips.

"I am giving you my gift." The voice in Alan's head said. "You have the power to control the actions of others, and more powers will come to you as you develop your skills." Alan was scared by this strange experience, but he couldn't remove himself for the old man's grasp. The old man was staring up at him intently. Soon the strange sensation passed, and he stood rooted in place for a few seconds. Alan then realized that the old man was now talking to him." You are such a good boy, so devoted to your grandpa. You are a worthy vessel to carry the Seed. Use it well, and all you desire can be yours." The old man's voice was weak and raspy. When he released Alan's arm, his eyes closed, and an instant later all sorts of alarms on the monitors went off. Alan quickly left the room, passing two nurses and a doctor as they rushed to attend to the old man. 

The next day the bed next to his grandfather's was empty. When the nurse came to change his grandfather's bed Alan asked her about him, and learned that he had died the previous evening, shortly after Alan had left. Alan thought about what the man had said, and couldn't make heads or tails of it. If not for the strange feeling in his body when the man had held his arm, and that voice in his head, Alan would have chalked the whole experience up to coincidence: the man's death and their encounter happened at the same time merely by chance, but he knew that something had happened between them, and that the man's last act was deliberate. He had given Alan something called "the Seed" and had done so by the touch. Alan didn't know what the Seed was, but instead of doing his homework while his grandfather slept, he kept replaying yesterday's strange scene in his mind. He didn't even notice when his parents entered the room. Alan had been sitting still in the chair for more than two hours, and he hadn't even noticed the time.

When they got home that evening Alan's father asked how his day was. For a brief instant Alan considered telling his dad about the old man and the Seed, but he quickly reconsidered. He didn't understand what had happened, and he was certain that his father could shed no light on the situation.

The next day in school Alan found himself thinking about the old man and his message, and that strange voice in his head more and more. He wasn't concentrating, and during English class he was flustered when the teacher had asked him a question and he was so lost in thought he hadn't heard her. She raised her voice slightly to get his attention, but because Alan hadn't been paying attention he had no idea how to answer the question.

"Alan," she said with a note of exasperation, "I know you and your friends are suffering from senioritis, but you really do need to pay attention in class." Alan was stung by her rebuke, but only slightly so. English was one of his best classes, and he had been earning very good grades all year. He apologized to the teacher and the class continued. He resolved to pay more attention to the lesson, but was soon drifting out again, though this time he was concentrating not on the strange episode, but on his English teacher, Ms. Kelly. This was a familiar distraction for Alan and his male classmates. Ms. Kelly was a drop dead gorgeous example of the feminine form. 

She stood about 5'7", with dark red hair worn perfectly straight down to her shoulder tops, porcelain white skin dusted with a few very small freckles on her face. She had a slim figure and nicely rounded breasts, though she dressed conservatively, usually wearing a skirt which fell past her knees, and never too tight so as not to flaunt what Alan and his friends imagined was a spectacular ass, coupled with a blouse and a sweater in order to hide her bust. This being springtime, it was a cotton knit, a light yellow. She never dressed to turn the little boys on in their seats, but the effect was there, despite her better efforts. 

Alan didn't know how old Ms. Kelly was, but she had been teaching at his school for two years, so he estimated her to be about twenty five or so. She looked younger, and one of Alan's friends once remarked that she wouldn't look out of place on the high school's cheerleading squad, waggishly adding that she would raise the standards of that squad considerably. 

When the bell rang to release the class to lunch Ms. Kelly asked Alan to stay after. As Alan approached her desk at the head of the classroom he felt that strange buzzing in his body again, the same one he felt in the hospital with the old man, but this time it was concentrated in his head. After the class had exited Ms. Kelly busied herself with some papers on her desk, leaving Alan to wait quietly. This was part of her classroom management strategy, making a student wait after he or she had wasted class time by either inattentiveness, as in Alan's case this time, or by disruptive behavior. She thought to herself, "That Alan is usually pays attention, I wonder if there's something going on with him. Most of the boys I catch daydreaming are usually staring at my legs, but he seemed to be staring into space. I'll ask him if he needs to see the counselor."

"Did you say something, Ms. Kelly?" Alan asked. He could have sworn she had just told him to see the counselor, but wasn't sure she had spoken to him.

"Pardon?" she asked back.

"Did you just tell me to see the counselor" he asked.

"Did I?" she thought. "Could I have been speaking aloud while thinking?" Figuring she had indeed mumbled the last of her private thoughts she looked up at Alan and said, "You know, Alan, that might not be a bad idea. Is something troubling you? You seemed to be out of it today, and that's not like you." Alan thought about it, and though he knew that she was referring to the incident when she caught him thinking about the Seed, he also knew that he was staring at her throughout the second half of the lesson. He grasped for an excuse.

"I was visiting my grandfather in the hospital yesterday and I saw the man in the next bed die." That was a good one, he thought, and it had the added benefit of being true, well, at least part of the truth. She swiveled in her chair and put her hand on Alan's, expressing her sympathy about that traumatic event, and then asked about his grandfather. Alan told her that his grandfather wasn't expected to live long, the doctors and nurses were just keeping him comfortable in the face of the inevitable. She rose and gave him a light hug, just to show that she cared. She really wasn't supposed to have physical contact like this with students, but she felt that in this situation a little hug wouldn't be inappropriate, and Alan had always been a respectful and conscientious student, one of her best. She just pressed her head up against his shoulder, and clasped his left hand with her right.

"Wow," Alan thought, "I should have told her some sob story months ago. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her." Immediately the light buzz in his head intensified, and Ms. Kelly tilted her head up, running her pink tongue over her lips. Her head came forward and she stood up on her toes, her hand at the back of his head, leading him into her. Alan stood about four inches taller than his teacher and angled his head down to meet her lips. Her tongue shot into his mouth, caressing his gums on above his upper teeth before snaking past into his mouth, stabbing his tongue and licking the roof of his mouth. They both moaned softly and Ms. Kelly's arms came around his body, pulling him into her. Alan hoped no one would come into to spoil this.

At that moment, walking down the hall towards Ms. Kelly's classroom was Judy McClould, assistant principal of Harry S. Truman High School. She and Ms. Kelly had planned to meet for lunch that day, but just as she was about to reach the classroom she stopped. Without knowing why she turned on her step and went back to her office, carrying her brown bag lunch.

Alan was in heaven. The most beautiful woman he knew was passionately kissing him, holding him close. He could feel her heartbeat in his chest, though he wasn't completely sure it was hers he was feeling, and not his own, and her hands were exploring his back with an almost frantic abandon. He brought his hands up to feel her back and hold her, and her tongue became more frenzied, exploring every corner of his mouth. But when he dropped them down to rub her behind, she stopped suddenly and pulled back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked archly.

"Me? I didn't do anything, Ms. Kelly. You kissed me."

"You better get going. Right now." She was still breathing a little hard. Alan hesitated, and Ms. Kelly repeated, "Now!" So he took his leave.

There were only two periods after lunch, and Alan was even more distracted than before. Not only was he still puzzled about his encounter in the hospital, he couldn't wrap his mind around what went down in the English classroom. His last period of the day was Physical Education, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed the basketball headed towards his head as he ran down court. It didn't hit him that hard, but it unbalanced him, and he tripped over his own feet, his head striking the gym floor with a sickening sound. The coach ran up to him, but he was already hauling himself to his feet, telling his friends that he was OK. The coach had told his friend Greg to take him to the school nurse, and no amounts of Alan's protests could dissuade him.

"What's up with you Alan?" Greg asked. "The whole day it's like you're in a daze. Hello? Earth to Spaceman Alan?" Alan just told his friend that he was distracted by his grandfather's condition, and Greg left it at that.

Because the nurse made him lie flat on a cot for more than an hour he missed the final bell and the hallways were nearly silent as he walked back to the gym to change into his regular clothes. After retrieving his stuff he realized that he needed to get a couple of textbooks from his locker before heading out to the hospital for his daily vigil. As he turned the corner to reach it he bumped into Ms. Kelly. Startled, they paused for a moment. Alan began replaying the kiss in his mind, remembering the soft feel of her lips, how her body shuddered in his arms, her perfume.

"Oh, ah, Alan. I'm, eh, glad we ran into each other. Could you come back to the classroom. I need to speak with you. Alone." Ms. Kelly was almost stuttering, and she had a vaguely unhappy look on her face. Alan followed her back, enjoying the view. When they reached the classroom Ms. Kelly locked the door. She was almost red-faced about the lunchtime events, and she did not want any stray person in the hall hearing what she had to say to Alan.

"Alan, I don't know what came over me before. I've never done anything like that with a student, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. Just know that nothing like that will ever happen again." Alan was just staring at her. She wasn't sure she was getting through. Alan wasn't listening because he found it hard to concentrate with the object of his desire so close, and that damn buzzing in his brain had returned. Fighting the buzz, the only thought running through Alan's mind was, "She's so damn hot. What I wouldn't give to fuck her." All of a sudden Ms. Kelly's felt very warm, and extremely amorous.

She stepped up to Alan quickly, embracing him tightly, tilting her head up into a heated kiss. Alan was almost as shocked as earlier, but he knew better than to turn down a good thing. He pulled her into him, and they once again began exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. This time Ms. Kelly's moans were louder; though when Alan cupped her ass after thirty seconds of necking and she pulled back he thought it was going to be a replay of what happened during lunch period. This time however Ms. Kelly had pulled away so she could get her hands free to unzip her skirt. Alan's head was spinning. The buzz he felt had receded and he was astounded by the vision before him. Ms. Kelly was now pulling her sweater over her head, and her face was flushed red. She quickly shed her blouse and was standing before him in a white bra and matching panties. "So hot...I'm so hot," she kept repeating. 

She stepped forward, pressing her body into him again, reaching out to pull his shirt out of his pants. She ran her hands under his shirt and up his chest, groping him. Their heads came together and they were kissing again. After a minute she pulled her head back and then leaned into him again, licking his ear. "Take me, Alan. Right here. Right now. I need you to, to, uhh, uhhh, so good, that feels sooooo good..." Alan had unhooked her bra and it fell to the floor between them, her nipples hard, rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. Her tongue shot into his ear and she moaned again.

"Get undressed, young man. Now!" As he lifted his shirt over his head he felt her opening his belt. By the time he had tossed his shirt to the corner of the room she had zipped down his fly. He unbuttoned his pants and she frantically pulled them down along with his briefs, and then knelt before him, untying his shoelaces. Once she had his shoes off he lifted his legs one after the other and she shucked his pants off around his ankles. Swiftly she rose, pulling him into her again, her nipples raking across his chest. She was sweating, and it served as lubrication as she slid her body up and down her chest. "Touch me Alan...I'm so hot...I'm hot for you. Please?"

Alan picked her up an sat her down on the edge of her desk, then he leaned over and began suckling at her breasts. "Oh, Alan! That's so good. You know how to touch me. You know how to make me feel good." Her head tilted back, and she let out a low-pitched moan in pleasure. Alan put his hands at her hips and began to edge her panties down, and Ms. Kelly wrapped her arms around his neck for leverage and lifted her ass off the desk so he could pull her panties off. Alan stared at her pussy, admiring the neat triangle of her downy red pubic hair. Leaning her back so she was prone on the desk, he bent down and leaned forward so that the backs of her thighs were resting atop his shoulders. He saw that she shaved around her vagina, presumably for swimsuit purposes. The thought of his teacher wearing a skimpy suit made his blood boil as he advanced his mouth towards Ms. Kelly's womanhood. "Oh My God!" Ms. Kelly exclaimed as she felt Alan's hot breath, soon followed by his mouth, on her pussy. She began shaking and groaning in excitement as her young student began to eat her out in earnest.

Megan Kelly was by no means a virgin. She had given up her cherry on prom night, and when that bastard dumped her not a week later she was crushed beyond belief. During college she had slept with a few men, but only in the context of long-term relationships--she had learned her lesson. Up to this moment she had had five lovers, but none had ever put his mouth to her pussy. She wasn't even sure if she had ever orgasmed. The one thing she was sure of at that moment was that she was receiving more pleasure from Alan Marshall, high school senior, than she had ever felt before. Soon her body was bucking and thrashing wildly, her pelvis rising up to keep in contact with the lips and tongue of the young man before her. After just a few minutes the pleasure became almost unbearable. Her head started to shake from side to side, and her speech became indecipherable.

Alan knew she was about to come. He had only been intimate with three girls, and had only fucked one of them, but he knew the signs of approaching orgasm. Ms. Kelly's body became stiff, her knees bending around his neck to trap his head in her crotch, and she let out a prodigious scream: "Yes, yes Yes! I'm coming, Alan, I'm coming!" 

Alan stood up and watched her as she came down from her orgasmic high, studying her body. He was proud of his work; her nipples were visibly erect, her body covered in sweat, and by the looks of her she was hyperventilating. Her eyes were closed and the corners of her mouth were curved up in satisfaction. He leaned over and began to kiss her, first her perky breasts, and then up her neck, to her face, coming to rest at her lips. She opened her eyes and stared at him. She could not stop thinking that about the pleasure he had given her. Now she was sure-she had never orgasmed before today. Now she knew what an orgasm was. The student had taught the teacher. Their tongues continued to duel, and she began to become more relaxed, her breathing evening out.

Alan pulled her to an upright position, and then sat beside her on her desk. Their hands began roaming over each other again, and naturally her hands made it down to his cock. Alan was nervous. His cock was a respectable six inches, and while that was good enough for high school girls, he was worried that it wouldn't be enough to satisfy the goddess who sat beside him. At that moment he felt the buzzing in his head intensify, accompanied by a similar tingling in his penis. He shrugged the feelings in his penis to his excitement, but when he looked down at his crotch the sight amazed him. Ms. Kelly was masturbating him, and his cock was just to the point of full hardness. His cock looked much bigger. First he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but he put his hand down next to it to get a reference to its length, and it seemed to be half again as big, nine inches. It was also growing thicker than before.

Alan couldn't wait to try his new cock out, and he new exactly who the correct test candidate was. He extricated himself from Ms. Kelly's ministrations, and had her lay back again. She knew what was coming, and couldn't-wouldn't-object. Alan stood between her outstretched legs, guiding his massive cock to her pussy. When he made contact, he rubbed the head up and down her wet slit, teasing her, just a little. He knew that he couldn't hold out much longer with out penetrating her. Ms. Kelly began whimpering softly, her eyes looking up at him expectantly. "Put it in me, Alan, please. I need it, I need you now...so hot...I'm so hot." Alan shifted his weight forward and head of his enhanced manhood penetrated his lovely teacher. She sighed loudly, and then began to gasp as he pressed himself inside her. "So good, Alan, so hot." 


Alan, Amy & Karen



This story continues on from "The Hitcher". In the Hitcher John (29 fit, toned with long brown hair) picked up Karen (43, athletic build, short blond hair) at a service station where she was hitching. Needless to say passions rose on the way to her destination. John is the principle character.

Karen sipped her coffee, she was sat wearing only her blue one piece. I smiled she hunched forward, hovering the cup over the coffee table. She noticed my smile.

"What are you smiling at?" She enquired.

"You, sat there in just your underwear. You sounded quite prim and proper in the car. You said you were waiting for the right man after your husband."

"I was," she smiled, "I guess you were the right man."

"But I guess not the last."

She didn't reply. She just gave a wicked smile and sipped her coffee.

"God, is that the time?" She looked at the clock on my bookcase and stood. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Yeah, sure."

I thought to ask if I could join her, but she was already opening doors in my hallway trying to find the bathroom. I guess she was in a hurry.

When she was done she stepped out. The blue one-piece replaced by a white T-Shirt and tight fitting combat trousers. I offered her a lift to her sisters, which we found in the A-Z to be on the other side of Windsor to my flat. She agreed and I stepped passed her to take a quick shower myself.

On our way over I enquired about her sister. She was 17 years younger, and part of a large adopted family. So strictly speaking they weren't sisters. They both shared catholic parents, who weren't draconian, but drummed in stiff morals which most of their adoptive children held to. In total she had fifteen siblings, but Amy (her sister) was her favourite. When I asked why, she didn't say, instead she looked down sheepishly, into the foot-well before her.

Amy owned an uninspiring terraced house. The street was lined with resident only and pay-and-display spaces, it had been reduced to a single lane by the parking, so I parked in a space out of the way

"Would you like to come in for coffee?" She smiled and winked, "I'm sure Amy wouldn't mind."

"Okay", I said laughing slightly. I went to one of the parking meters and bought an hour ticket.

Karen stood at the door waiting for a reply as I wondered up behind her. Her small tight bottom pressed it's way through the combat material and I figured she was wearing a thong, but I wouldn't put it passed her to be wearing nothing. I was quickly realising that after all her years of a sexless marriage something had awoken in her. I was glad to be along for the ride.

The door swung open and a man stood in the entrance. Karen looked as if she was going to speak when a female face appeared under an armpit.

"Amy!" Karen smiled and opened her arms as the man stood aside.

"Karen!" Amy smiled briefly and gave her adoptive sister an uncomfortable looking hug.

"Amy, this is John. He gave me a lift from Bristol, straight to your door!" She gave me a knowing grin. "I offered him coffee, you won't disappoint will you?" Karen pulled Amy into her with the arm draped around her waist.

"Of course." Amy said somewhat disconcerted. "Karen, John, this is Alan."

"Hi." Said the man.

He was bout Karen's age, grey flecks in his hair. He sported a physique that said 'rower', although I guessed, like me, he probably visited the local gym. I shook his hand, it wasn't firm, but attained a good grip.

Amy led the way into the living room, through which the kitchen could be seen, dark and containing two sets of dishes. I figured Alan was probably Amy's boyfriend. Which was a shame, as although I was quite satisfied after my afternoon with Karen, I would find it hard to turn Amy down.

Amy had blonde hair, unlike Karen it was natural and settled nicely between her shoulders. She sported a curvy figure, probably a large 14 or small 16, but she had a very sexy midriff that seemed artificially sucked in, all in all a very hour glass figure. I couldn't guess at a bra size, I'd never gone out with a girl with breasts as big. I was going to enjoy this coffee, if for no better reason than the view. Karen, as before, wasn't wearing a bra. Her small breasts sporting dark hard nipples, which were faintly visible through the white of her T-Shirt. I made a mental note not to stare too long…

Conversation started easily with the journey Karen took across the country, the different people she received lifts from culminating in me. I felt slightly disappointed with the little said about our part together, but I guess she didn't want to mention too much, as Amy seemed a little prudish. Amy, despite her lovely figure, hid under flowing browns; a long suede skirt disappeared under her loose fitting brown silk shirt. She barely spoke during our conversation.

"I need to leave." I announced just as Alan appeared at the kitchen door with a bottle of wine.

"Oh, do stay for a glass or two. The evening is still early." He implored.

We discovered quite a lot in common despite the age gap. We even went to the same university. Even though 15 years separated our time there, some of the same dusty old professors were still in residence.

"I have a car parked outside." I pointed out.

"Oh, they're quite tight around here. The traffic wardens that is." Amy said looking to Alan and then Karen. 

That confirmed my suspicions that this was some sort of set up, to get Karen and Alan together. Alan had mentioned the dinner invite Amy had made, but she didn't mention Karen coming around. I'm sure Karen wouldn't turn Alan down, but it wouldn't be anything lasting as I think Amy hoped.

Alan reached down to his chair and rummaged around in his jacket, then passed me a round disc.

"Here, I always keep a spare on me in case I have a visitor. It's a pass, go put it in your car. If Amy hasn't room for you, I certainly have."

I hesitated for a moment, then looking at the bottle of Merlot I took the ticket, "Cheers, make it a large one."

Amy sat back in her armchair defeated.

It was getting cold outside and I was glad to be back into the warm house. Two more bottles, both white, joined the Merlot. Just Alan and myself drank the red as the conversation continued. Karen brought up her husband and the years of her sexless marriage and what she did to help her frustrations, Amy clearly disapproved. Soon both Alan and myself began to boast about our past exploits, the different places and girls.

"Have you ever slept with a stranger?" Alan asked the room in general.

"Not until recently. It was fun!" Karen replied smirking and trying not to look at me.

"Well, I've had my share of one night stands. You must've had some Alan?" I leaned over the edge of the sofa and nudged his arm.

"Well, what can I say?" He smiled, "Amy?"

She blushed, "Once." And that's all she would say under our group gaze.

"I need a pee." I said standing slightly wobbly. "Where's the loo?"

"Through the kitchen - down the back."

I sauntered over to the closed door, opened it and stepped through into blackness. The kitchen was straight and long with the bathroom housed in an extension at the end. I waited for my eyes to adjust, but after a minute still couldn't see anything. I tentatively walked to the bathroom, and after a quick fumble found the light switch. I stood and did my business, taking a piece of toilet paper I dried myself. I know it's not very manly, but I was drunk and rather hoping Karen may be interested before I left - I didn't want to leave a nasty taste in her mouth. I flushed grinning at the thought, then the light went out.

I was disorientated in the dark. I felt someone gently bump into me.

"Karen?" I said loudly.

"Shhh!" Came the reply.

I could feel a hand searching for the opening where I still hung out of my trousers - contact! A tongue licked across my mouth, the flavour of Merlot hung on my lips as I felt a welcome sensation wrap itself around my limp penis.

"What if anyone comes in?" I whispered

"Shhh!" Came the stern reply.

I didn't argue after that. To do so would have removed the warm mouth from my growing erection. I put my hands on the back of the head bobbing back and forth at my groin. They were quickly and firmly pulled away. I guessed Karen preferred to stay in full control. I didn't mind and was allowed to gently buck my hips into the welcoming orifice. I leaned back over the basin feeling the occasional bump of a nose on my pubic bone. The feeling of being surrounded so completely by a warm wet mouth was fantastic, I didn't think I would last long, and didn't care.

"Oh, I think I'm going to come." I said in the darkness, the pace quickened below.

I took the hint and responded by quickening my little thrusts. Grunting I came, closing my eyes at the peak of my climax.

"Thank you Kar…" I began, the lights came on dazzling me.

"Amy?" I could hear Karen; she was in the kitchen.

"Amy?" I queried, as my eyes adjusted to the light.

Amy stood before me at the entrance to the bathroom, one hand down the front of her skirt, her face reddening. Karen came up behind her and put a friendly arm around her waist. She looked down at my groin.

"Alan?" She queried.

"ALAN!?" I yelped.

"You didn't know?" He said swallowing.

"Well I never." Karen looked at Amy smiling. She grabbed Amy's arm and pulled it from the front of her skirt. "You liked watching huh?"

"NO!" Amy retorted, "Listening." She completed bashfully.

Karen put her free hand to Amy's stomach and looking at me said, "You know she's my favourite sister…"

Her hand slid into Amy's skirt. Amy never took her eyes away from Alan and myself. We were now fixed on the view of Karen and Amy.

"Uh." Amy exhaled as the hand moved under her skirt.

From where we were Alan and I could see the skirt begin to rhythmically move back and forth, the pace quickening.

"Karen, no." Amy finally moved her gaze from us to Karen.

I began to wonder about Karen's family, if this was any indication, I'd like to meet more of them. I looked at Alan, still kneeling before me, his head bent watching them. I felt uneasy and unsure about the man at my feet. Amy let out a little moan and I found myself distracted again.

"Why stop?" Karen asked, leaning into her. "You remember, that time when you celebrated you’re A-Levels and 18th. You got quite drunk…"

"But…" Her reply was cut short by Karen's tongue pressing into her mouth.

We watched the two girls, dumfounded. Amy's arm hesitantly reached around Karen, she turned and they were facing each other kissing. Alan took a breath to say something, but I stopped him placing my hand in front of his mouth, I didn't want anything to snap Amy out of this.

Karen kept working her left hand under Amy's skirt while the other found the zipper at the back; pulling it down and letting the skirt fall away. Amy's legs were wide and curvy, tanned slightly and smooth, Karen's hand was buried in a pair of large safe knickers.

"Mmmm" Amy breathed into Karen's mouth.

Amy played with the zip at the front of the combats between her and Karen, popping the clasp she slid a hand in sideways. Karen pulled back to allow her easier access. Both girls now played with each other, their hands still obscured by clothing.

Karen stepped back and took Amy by the hand, "Come on, where's the bedroom?"

Amy led the way, I looked at Alan, and he returned my stare. I nearly tripped over him as I headed for the door following. I guess we both wondered if they would let us watch. As I reached the top of the stairs I caught Karen's eye as she walked through a door. She looked straight at me and winked encouragement. I followed stepping through the door in time to see Karen throw Amy's knickers to the floor. Amy was already on the bed her legs spread waiting for Karen to fill the gap.

"Oh…" Amy moaned.

Karen's head gently bobbed in Amy's pubic region, the gentle slurping sound told me what Karen was doing. Alan bumped into the back of me. I could feel his erection prod me. I stepped aside quickly looking at him with a scowl.

"What? You didn't complain before." He said smiling.

Our eyes snapped back to the view as Amy moaned louder, her hips were bucking against Karen. She was runner her hands up her own body lifting her shirt and bra and cupping her large breasts, pulling her bra above them. Karen lifted her head and climbed onto of Amy reaching to her and kissing her full on the lips.

"Where is it?" Karen asked, Amy gave her reply by looking at her bedside table.

Leaning over Karen opened the draw pulling a small silver object from it, she twisted the black base and it began to buzz. Amy looked longingly into Karen's face, then momentarily down the bed at us, I smiled nervously before Karen blocked her view. Her hand was shaped into a fist around the object, which she pressed into the waiting Amy. This was the first time she was really exposed to us. The silver contrasted with her wet red lips. Her pubic region was shaved into a rectangle; all other hair had been removed.

"Oh god Karen." Amy said helping the vibrator enter her with a gentle push of her hips.

I was fully erect and still exposed. I never put the thing away in my shock and excitement at what had/was happening. I entered the room fully, Karen moved to the edge of the bed, one hand slipping the little silver vibrator in and out of her sister while the other gently massaged her clit.

Karen's bottom pocking up in the air. I was so aroused I seem to go into auto-pilot. I stepped toward her and reach out to either of her hips, my grip closing around the tops of her combats. She looked at me, nothing but lust in her expression. I pulled them away from her, down to her knees. She wore no knickers, her damp lips were open and I reached in with my face burying my nose into her anus as I my tongue licked her with long hard strokes from front to back. She moaned and pushed back into me.

Alan stood next to me, naked and aroused, his hand gently pumping his penis. It was longer than mine, an easy 8 inches, but I took pleasure in the fact that it was thinner. I looked up at him and moved away from Karen's backside winking. Alan took no time at all to move himself behind her, the two girls spread out before him, Amy writhing below. He pressed the tip of his penis into Karen, she grunted, and he popped himself back out. Placing his hands on her hips he pushed in hard with enough force to push Karen into Amy's stomach causing her to grunt.

"Oh, God yeah." Karen said, her face looking out sideways at me.

Amy was still pushing down on the vibrator buried in her still under Karen's control. I quickly undressed and walked across the bed on my knees, my erection swaying, glistening with pre-come.

I lifted Karen gently causing her to let go the vibrator. Alan slowed his pace watching me as I pulled her T-Shirt off. I was determined these two women would be naked too. Once the T-Shirt was dispatched she resumed her work on Amy, and with a hard thrust Alan forced her back onto Amy's stomach. Amy had her eyes closed and was startled slightly as I forced my hands under her, reaching for the clasp of her bra. She helped by lifting her weight slightly and it was undone.

I leant and kissed Karen, then Amy's stomach while my hands busily undid her shirt buttons. Opening the shirt I pushed her bra further up her large round breasts, my penis flexed at the sight. I leant across her and took the far nipple into my mouth, nipping it slightly I licked until it was hard, then I moved and did the same to the other. Her large nipples rose to greet my tongue every time I alternated my attentions.

Karen moved her hands to either side of Amy. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she bucked back into Alan, grunting. Amy opened her eyes wondering why she was no longer filled. I quickly moved to take hold of the vibrator and began to move it inside her.

My knees were placed on either side of her ears, my feet uncomfortably placed on the wall. I became aware of a gentle sensation on my tip, I looked down to see Amy's tongue snaking out lapping up the pre-come oozing out of me. I let my weight take myself into her mouth as I moved the vibrator in and out of her. I found myself prodding the back of her throat. A hand gripped the base preventing me from going further. I let my feet move sideways off the wall and began to thrust into her mouth, her hand always preventing me from going too far.

Karen's breasts rubbed against the back of my head, she was just above me. I didn't know if she found the sensation exciting or not, but it excited me. I kept the vibrator moving in Amy, resting my weight on my elbows between her legs, I used my spare hand to push back her clit-hood. Amy's pubic bone rhythmically moved toward me her pace quickening in reaction to her sisters mounting excitement. I opened my mouth and engulfed here, my top lip under her hood, my tongue flicking straight on her clit. My old Moari trick came into play, my tongue flicked fast and hard across her sensitive nub. Amy responded immediately with a moan and a few expletives. Karen looked up in surprise and watched as her sister ejecting me from her mouth to let out a low and hard moan, her body quivered causing the bed to shudder under her. It was enough to send Karen over the edge, her hips slamming backwards and her head ducked as she joined Amy in a chorus of groans.

I slowed my pace on the vibrator, eventually pulling it from the panting Amy. Karen's reddened face was panting between Amy's knees, Alan slowly sliding in and out. He was watching me. I looked up at him, my expression (I hoped) said no. He seemed to understand and his pace quickened within Karen bringing her back to grunting life.

He looked straight at me as he pumped her. I felt my erection being swallowed again by Amy. I stared at Alan watching him thrust in and out of Karen as she groaned beneath him. We matched our pace. As I fucked Amy's mouth he fucked Karen. He huffed and with one hard thrust he came within Karen. It sent me over the edge and I moaned releasing myself into Amy's mouth.

I lay staring at Amy's mound enjoying the after shock of my orgasm. Before me was Karen smiling, her arse was still in the air, Alan still forced deep within her. I took a deep breath and smiled.

"I could do with a coffee." I quipped.



Alan and Beth



Alan sighed as he watched Beth cross the yard to his greenhouse. She was such a help to him. She loved plants almost as much as he did and together, they had cross-pollinated many new species of exotic foliage. His private greenhouse was not only his solace from work, but also a showplace of blossom and vine, an oasis of sweet fragrance and heady perfume that aroused and thrilled the senses of all who came to marvel at it. He put down his potting spade and removed his gloves. This morning he would transplant the graft from their newest creation—a spider orchid in shades of umber and pearl. It had thrived under Beth's tender attentions. He smiled thinking about how her gentle hands pressed the soil around its fragile roots, how she was so specific about measuring its fertilizer and water. 

He pushed aside the wave of want and need surging up inside him. He had loved a woman once—a raven-haired beauty with mesmerizing eyes and soft alluring curves. But alas, she belonged to another. The affair had left him with bitter memories that tainted his efforts to pursue others. Then, at age forty, he met Beth. She was thirty, tall and thin with long brown hair that curled softly on the ends. One day she came to visit. She seemed to enjoy his creations and so he took the opportunity to invite her to become his assistant—explaining that he needed someone to help keep notes of his creations. She had eagerly accepted, smiling up at him with her pretty face all aglow. 

For months that had worked side by side, sometimes touching hands while moving a transplant to a larger pot or brushing shoulders while staking up an eagerly growing vine. His feelings for her had blossomed and at times he believed she was harboring feelings for him, but they never spoke of their inner thoughts, choosing rather to focus their energies on coaxing beauty out of seed and soil.

Suddenly a shrill scream broke into his thoughts. He lunged through the door of the potting shed, thoughts of Beth's safety filling his mind as he sprinted across the yard to the greenhouse.

Entering the greenhouse he found Beth sitting on the floor, her thin legs spread, her upper body braced by both hands. Potting soil was strewn across her body and sprinkled in her long brown hair. She blinked sad tear-filled eyes up at Alan. On the floor beside her lay his beloved orchid, its new growth broken and mangled, its tender roots exposed.

"I'm sorry."

Alan sucked in a quick breath. The sight of Beth sitting on the floor, her summer blouse and Bermuda shorts covered with dirt, her long legs exposed up to her crotch sent his mind reeling toward the erotic. He felt his prick begin to harden. He crossed the floor and kneeled beside her.

"I don't know what happened..."

He was overcome with wanting to console her and his lusty need to fuck her.

He stroked her hair, brushing the potting soil from the silky tresses, all the while his cock grew in his crotch. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He brushed the dirt from Beth's shoulders, then lowered his hands to her chest. His palm felt the thrust of a nipple. 

The aroma of moist potting soil and female phonemes assaulted his senses. He gazed down at Beth, a vision of loveliness despite the black smears of dirt on her silken flesh. Suddenly he took hold of her blouse and raised it over her head, pulling it off. She gasped slightly, then smiled up at him.

Her compliance fueled his actions. He reached behind her and released her bra. He reached out both hands and covered her small breasts. She sighed and pushed her body against his, reaching one hand to press against his erection. 

"Beth..."

"Alan..."

He stripped out of his shirt and loosened his belt, pushing his jeans off his hips. His erection sprang forth, bobbing at his crotch and begging to be touched. He took hold of Beth's shorts and yanked them down, exposing her bushy pussy and causing the dirt to spray across her white smooth flesh. 

Beth gasped and filled her hands with soil. She rubbed his chest, tweaking his tiny male nipples with gritty fingers. He laughed and swiped his hands across her belly sliding them low until he dipped one fingertip into her navel, leaving a black dirty smear as he preceded to lower his fingers to delve between her pussy lips.

She yelped and spread her legs. She grabbed his prick in one dirty hand and began pumping her fist. "For Gods sake, Alan! Play with me!"

He rubbed her pussy, fingering her clit and making her buck her hips in the spilled dirt. He grasped her breast and smeared the round mound with black soil. He breathed in the aroma of cunt and moist loam, filling his lungs as he bucked his hips against Beth's pumping hand.

Finally, the heat building inside him exploded in a crescendo of carnal need. He pushed her hand away and mounted her lush body. He drove inside her tight sheath and speared her warm insides. 

Beth grasped his shoulders and arched her back, opening herself up for his lunging thrusts. A cloud of dust rose around their thrashing bodies.

He hammered her insides. He pumped his hips and thrust deeply, making Beth cry out. Suddenly the orgasm was upon him. It came full bloom, ricocheting inside his body, spiraling along his limbs until he bellowed his release.

Beth panted and bucked her hips. She grasped his ass in grimy hands.

"I'm coming!"

"Beth, I love you." 

She writhed beneath him. Dust billowed up and coated their naked bodies.

"I love you, Alan." She panted to catch her breath. "I'm sorry about your plant."

"We'll create another." He stroked her hair. "We have a life time to create new varieties."

"Yes, darling."



Alan & Beth...Once & For All



The voice on the phone was the one that always sent his heart racing. Beth had this strange hold over him. She knew it. And there was no way he could deny it. Not that he wanted to.

"I'm moving in with him after the holidays," she told him. His heart fell. He knew that this was not only possible but likely. That knowledge was not enough to keep him from hoping that the call meant she needed him...now and forever.

"I'm happy for you sweetheart," he said half heartedly. "You know we need to get together one last time, right?"

"Yes, but it has to be soon"

So plans were made. They would meet in a town between their homes. He had big plans for her. The man she was preparing to spend her life with had no idea where her fantasies lay, how deep they ran inside her, or how to bring them out. Alan did. And he was going to give her at least one of her wilder fantasies.

They met in the lobby of the hotel that was to spend their last night together. He had butterflies in his stomach, anticipating what was ahead. He took her in his arms, kissed her deeply, gently slid his tongue between her lips. His hands found their way to her cute ass, gently massaging it. 

She let her tongue dance with his. Beth felt his cock getting harder against her stomach. She was already wet and thought she was ready for anything.

They got their room and went to change clothes. He had brought the outfit he wanted her to wear. She looked at it and giggled, "What do you have planned for me tonight?" You'll see, he replied," our last night ever will be amazing, something for you to remember always."

She put on the sheer black thigh highs. Then the black half bra, which showed the upper half of her nipples. Then the see through blouse, followed by the tight black knit skirt. Three inch heels finished off the ensemble. 

He really liked what he saw, and he knew that giving her her ultimate fantasy wouldn't be too hard to pull off. He laid her gently on the bed, parting her thighs with his shoulders. Lowering his head his tongue sought her clit. When it found her hardening little nub, she gave him an appreciative squeeze with her thighs, and a moan escaped her throat. 

Just as she was about to cum, he took his tongue from her sweet slit, rolled her on her belly and spread her ass cheeks. He licked up and down the crevice between her asscheeks, until the tip of it found her anus. That drove her insane with lust. She was raising her ass to meet him and he started driving his tongue into her anus. He reached around and fondled her clit until she came, screaming, his tongue buried to the hilt in her anus.

He gave her a few minutes to regain her composure, then he took her by the hand and led her to the hotel restaurant. To say that she attracted attention, would be like saying the cars go fast at Daytona. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant were glued to the lovely Beth. They would have been anyway, but not with the unabashed stares that were so obvious now. Part of her shied away from the attention, but it was a very small part. The rest of her was tingling with excitement. And she was still flushed from cumming so hard at the point of Alan's tongue.

After dinner they went to the other side of the hotel lobby. The club was rocking. A local cover band was playing some good old driving rock and roll. The beat was making her hot, and she didn't even realize it. While Beth was swaying to the music, Alan was watching the rest of the people in the club. Their eyes were on her. Not just the men, even the women were having a hard time turning away from her. Beth was oblivious to the attention this time, getting more and more into the music.

He led her to a table and went to get some drinks. Single malt Scotch for him, Long Island Iced Tea for her. Alan gave the bartender a little extra to make it stronger than usual. The drink had the desired effect. She was getting tipsy. Not enough to be wasted, but definitely enough to have lost her inhibitions. He wanted her to remember everything about this night...forever.

After they finished the first round of drinks, he took her to the dance floor. They were moving together like Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Again they had the attention of everyone in the club. After the song was over, Alan led her back to the table. He went for more drinks, this time regular strength. As he was waiting for the bartender, he saw a couple and two men that were seriously eyeing her. He walked to them and simply gave them a number 169. Their room number. If he read them right, Beth's fantasy was about to be fulfilled.

They had one more dance. They were moving so fast and hot together, her breasts slipped out of the half bra. He dipped her and the people he had given the number to got a clear view of her shaved pussy. She seemed to have no idea that she was being shown off. 

They finished the dance, then back to the table to finish their drinks. Alan made eye contact with the couple again. She tipped him a wink. The other two guys gave a wave as he led her from the club. 

When they got back to the room, Beth was ready for action. The drinks and dancing had made her so hot, she threw him on the bed, unzipped his pants and took his cock in her hot mouth. He was hard in an instant as she gave him the blowjob from heaven. As hard as she was going at his cock, it didn't take long. She swallowed every drop of his come and grinned at him when she was done, licking her lips seductively.

He started undressing her taking his time and kissing her bare flesh as he removed her clothing. when she was totally naked, she excused herself, and went to the bathroom. While she was in there, he set up the props. He attached two sets of handcuffs to the legs of the bed, and hid a blindfold under a pillow. When she came back to the bed, he was naked. He laid her on the bed, stealthily moving her arms over her head. Before she could react, he had one wrist in the handcuffs. She giggled at his playfulness, until he also had her other wrist secured. She looked up at him and he smiled. She relaxed again. When she laid her head on the pillow, he uncovered the blindfold, and put it in place. She was really getting excited. By not being able to see, the feelings she had when he touched and kissed her body were even more intense than usual. 

As he was kissing and touching her, the couple came into the room. Alan rose from the bed, and the man of the two took his place at her head. Seeing her tied up, the new man was erect immediately. He placed the head of his cock against Beth's lips and she started sucking. She had most of his cock in her mouth when the woman started kissing Beth's thighs. She made her way slowly, deliberately, up Beth's legs until she was kissing Beth's labia. She gently slid her tongue between them. Beth tensed up slightly, but only for a moment. The drinks were still having their effects on her, and this felt so damned good she didn't have the strength to resist. The other two men from the club came in and stripped, joining the mass of humanity on the bed. Each one took one of Beth's nipples in their mouths and began sucking hungrily. Between the licking on her pussy and the sucking on her nipples, Beth was about to cum, and cum hard. As her orgasm started wracking her body, the men sucking her nipples got up and placed their cocks in her immobile hands. She was able to get them hard quickly, just as the woman finished her dessert. Alan undid the handcuffs, but left the blindfold on. One of the men laid on the bed, his hard cock standing at complete attention. 

Beth felt herself lifted and lowered, until the head of his cock was against her anus. Then lowered more until it was inside her, completely. The man from the couple took his place between her thighs, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slit. Once the man in her ass was all the way in, the other started sliding his cock into her wet pussy. The other man placed his cock against Beth's lips, and she took it into her mouth. Beth was now living her ultimate fantasy. Having all her holes filled with erect cocks. Alan had the woman sit in the chair. He walked to Beth and took away the blindfold, so she could see what was happening. He then went to the woman and began kissing her, fondling her breasts at the same time. Beth looked over just in time to see him bury his tongue between her labia. Lucky Lady she thought, but not as lucky as me. 

The cocks in her pussy and ass were moving in and out against each other, and she could feel them rub together. She also knew that they'd be coming soon. She increased the pressure on the cock in her mouth so they would all cum at once. All four of them. She timed it well, feeling the cock in her ass shoot first, then the one in her pussy, which set off the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. Then the one in her mouth dropped it's heavy hot load. Listening to the action on the bed set the lady with Alan off. She screeched when he made her cum.

After sipping some champagne, they all kind of traded places. Beth still had all her holes filled, but this time she was being the aggressor, on her hands and knees and directing the action. Alan was buried balls deep in the woman's ass. This time all six of them came at the same time. The smell of sex was pungent. One by one they gave Beth a kiss. The woman gave a long deep kiss to Alan, along with their home phone number. 

Alan called housekeeping to get replacement sheets, while Beth cleaned herself up. After the sheets came, Alan joined Beth in the shower. They remade the bed and cuddled together. Beth was still glowing from pure sexual satisfaction.

"Now I can let you go my love. While my fondest wish was to fall asleep holding you forever, I can move on knowing I gave you the ultimate sexual experience. You'll always remember this night, and how much I love you. How much I will always love you.

With a tear rolling down her cheek, Beth fell asleep in Alan's arms for the last time.



Alan and Cassie: The Storm



This story is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. All characters are fictitious and are the property of and copyrighted by the author.

-------------

There was a flash of light and then a crash of thunder. I tried not to whimper but I must have made a noise because Alan, my study partner, looked up from the book he was reading.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered, a little embarrassed. I had a tiny fear of thunderstorms. Okay, it was a big fear. It wasn’t enough to send me screaming into the mental ward of the local hospital, but I didn’t like them, that was certain.

He looked as though he didn’t believe me, but went back to his book. We were in the tower room of the dorm we were both residents in. It was a converted mansion and housed those students who didn’t want to be disturbed with the stereotypical college partying. I had been there since my freshman year, Alan had only moved in this year.

The tower room was set aside specifically for isolated studying. You had to sign up and were only allowed two hours each session. Since there were only thirty residents in the dorm, there wasn’t a lot of jockeying for time. Another flash, another rumble and I twitched, trying not to show my fear. Alan shut his book with a sigh.

“It’s obvious something’s bothering you,” he said, turning in his seat to look at me.

“I hate storms,” I muttered again, “I have since I was a child. Whenever one would come around, my family could find me under the bed or in the closet, clutching a stuffed animal.”

Alan looked at me thoughtfully and I lifted my eyes to look at him. He had intense green eyes and dark brown hair that he kept short, completely opposite of the long hair of his fellow male students. We had been friends since we were paired together in an acting exercise our freshman year. His skin was still tanned from the summer break. I looked down at his hands. The fingers were long and strong, the palms just the right size to cup a woman’s breast…

I looked away as my face began to flush. Alan reached out and patted my hand sympathetically. 

He was oblivious to the fact that I was attracted to him, had been since that first day. He was the stuff wet dreams were made of. If he only knew how I masturbated to fantasies involving us locked in a sweaty embrace, fucking our brains out. I’d already gone through a vibrator per year since meeting him. Three vibrators, all because of one guy. I’m pretty sure that’s gotta be a record, but I wasn’t planning on calling Guinness. 

Another bolt of lightning, a huge crash of thunder. I looked out the window as the rain came pelting down. The tower room allowed a three hundred-sixty degree view of the campus. I shuddered as I realized the storm was practically overhead.

“Have you ever tried to conquer the fear?” Alan’s voice penetrated my thoughts and I looked at him. 

I could listen to him speak for hours. I felt a familiar tingle between my legs. I have a thing for voices. I realized it when I heard James-Earl Jones say “This is CNN” on the television. I was at a friend’s house and after hearing it, I realized my panties were wet. I excused myself to the bathroom, thinking that either my period had started or I’d wet myself. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t either, but the fact that I was turned on by his voice. I got so horny I sat on the toilet and fingered myself to a quick orgasm.

“I tried hypnotherapy,” I replied, “But that proved useless. I was in regular therapy for a month for it when I was younger, but the doctor said that it was a normal fear and that I’d outgrow it eventually.”

Alan nodded and again looked thoughtful. I tried not to fidget in my seat, as the tingle between my legs became a soft throbbing. My vibrator was going to get a workout tonight.

I tried to return to my studies, ignoring the wind and rain outside. I looked down at my book and noticed that my nipples were very hard and very obvious against my T-shirt. I groaned inwardly. My breasts are fairly large, topping a D cup. Personally I’ve always found them too big, but they go with my body shape, so I can’t complain too much. I’ve never been skinny, but neither have I been fat. My grandfather says I have a body like Marilyn Monroe.

“Cassie?” Alan’s voice made me look at him. 

“Yes?” 

“I have a suggestion,” he looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Okay,” my mind raced as to what he could possibly suggest as throbbing from my pussy increased to a steady thrumming. 

“I took a psych class last year,” he stood up and began to pace. God his body was tight and hot. He wore tight blue jeans that I wondered if he wore underwear or went au natural. The polo shirt he wore seemed to be a size too small for his broad chest and shoulders. He turned to look at me and I heard him say, “I was remembering something the professor had said about replacing a negative with a positive.”

“Huh?” I blinked and looked up at him in confusion.

“Something in your past has made you fear storms,” he explained slowly, “What you could do is do something that is so wonderful that it when the next storm comes along, you’ll remember the good experience rather than the fear of storms.”

Oh I could think of a few things that could make me forget this storm, my brain replied. My vagina convulsed in agreement. I could feel the moisture building up between my legs. I could swear I smelled my heat and desire. I stood up and walked to the window seat along the west window. I sat down, my denim miniskirt riding up high on my thighs. Alan came over and sat next to me. I looked at him and he leaned over, his lips touching mine.

My body tensed with desire as his tongue traced my lips. I opened my mouth and his tongue dove in, tangling with mine. I reached up and dove my fingers into his hair as his cupped my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my hard nipples. We both moaned and pulled apart. We sat for a moment, just looking at each other, and then we pulled off our shirts. I pulled off my sports bra at the same time.

“God you’re hot,” he muttered as his hands reached for my breasts. His fingers rolled my nipples in unison and I moaned, writhing under his touch.

He leaned over and kissed me again and I tried to devour him with my mouth. My hands roamed his chest and back. He didn’t have a lot of chest hair, just a light trace on the chest leading down to the waistband of his jeans. I began to fumble with the buttons as his head dipped down to lick then suck on my left breast. I moaned again and my fingers went lax. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move. All I could do was feel. His mouth moved to my other breast while his fingers played with where it had just been. I twitched and shuddered as I had a small orgasm.

Alan took hold of my shoulders and gently lowered me against the cushioned seat. As I tried to regain my senses, I felt his hands run along my waist and undo my skirt. I managed to lift my hips as he slid the skirt off. His face dipped to the juncture of my thighs and I felt him inhale and my pussy twitched. I wasn’t inexperienced when it came to sex, nor was I a complete slut, but I’d never had a guy just sit and sniff me. I looked at him and saw a look of bliss on his face. His eyes were closed as he ran his hawk-like nose along the edge of my bikini panties.

He opened his eyes and I parted my thighs. He smiled and looked up at me before looking back down. His mouth opened and cupped my mons directly over my clit. I jumped as his tongue snaked out and began to lick me through the material. My hands reached up and began to pinch and tweak my nipples as my hips twitched under his mouth. It was more than any fantasy I’d ever had.

His hands reached up and began to peel away the panties as he lifted his mouth. I moaned in frustration as he pulled the underwear down and off my legs. He sat up and watched as I wiggled, trying to relieve the tension. I couldn’t help myself. I reached between my legs and spread the lips of my pussy, showing him everything. His eyes were hooded as he watched me bring one hand back up to my mouth. I heard him groan as I slowly slid my finger into my mouth then out again, getting it good an wet. I brought that finger to my clit and flicked it back and forth.

My eyes locked to his as I pressed my clit over and over again, my other hand working one then two fingers into my hot wet hole. I was so turned on by him and the indecency of masturbating in front of him. I cried out as my climax came on quickly. I continued my ministrations as I came down. I looked at Alan and saw that he was rubbing himself slowly through the denim of his jeans. I removed my hands and sat up, offering my cream soaked fingers to him. He held my hand as his tongue licked off every little bit.

“Your turn,” I said, my hands going to the button fly of his jeans. I could feel his heat against my fingers as I undid each button, slowly. As I spread open the material, I saw he wore no underwear and that made my pussy twitch again.

He stood and helped me tug the jeans down. His cock bobbed freely near my face and I reached up, cupping him gently. He wasn’t huge but he certainly wasn’t small. I figured him to be about seven inches. The mushroom tip was flushed nearly purple while the hot velvet shaft was a shade or two lighter. A pearly drop of pre-cum appeared on the tip. I ran my other hand up and down his thigh and found a sticky spot. I grinned and leaned over, licking the pre-cum from his penis then leaning over to lick what had already leaked out from his thigh. He moaned as I trailed my tongue and mouth up his thigh to his balls. I proceeded to lick and suck them all over. 

His hands threaded into my hair as I avoided his cock. Finally I began to tongue the base and I felt him shudder. I licked up and down his cock, avoiding the head until I heard him moan my name. 

I smiled then sucked him into my mouth. I’ve never figured out how to deep throat a guy, but I could get over half of him into my mouth. I began to suck and bob my head, swirling my tongue long the shaft as I could, while one hand massaged his balls and the other stroked the base of his cock.

“Oh God, yes,” Alan muttered over and over again. 

His fingers gripped my head and I felt his balls tighten up. He was going to cum and I was determined to get him there. I increased my strokes on his cock with my hand as I moved my mouth to just the head. I ran my tongue all over and around it, paying close attention to the underside of the glans. 

“I… I… Oh God! CASSIE!” my pussy twitched as he shouted my name. I felt the head of his cock swell and I ran my hand quickly over the pulsing shaft. “I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his fingers convulsing on my head. The first salty sweet deposit of his semen landed on my tongue and I swallowed with a moan. His cock twitched at the vibrations in my mouth as more semen came out. I continued to swallow, moan and hum as he groaned loudly. 

I gently milked him, licking and sucking the head and shaft as the last few drops seeped out. I kept at it until his cock relaxed to a half hard state. Alan flopped onto the seat and lay back. I crawled up and lay myself over him. He looked at me, his hand brushing the hair back from my face.

“Wow,” he said softly before pulling my head down for a kiss. His tongue swept through my mouth, as though he wanted to taste himself. I moaned into his mouth and he answered with a moan of his own.

“Your turn,” Alan said with a grin as he pulled away.

I blinked at him as he sat us up and then lay me back on the seat. He leaned over me and kissed me again. His mouth slowly worked from my mouth to my jaw and then down to my neck. I tilted my head back as his tongue trailed along the area between my neck and shoulder. I shuddered. He licked along my collarbone before heading to my breasts.

He licked in a spiral from the outer edges into the center, but avoided my sensitive tips. My body was twitching with need. My hands reached up to guide his head and his hands took my wrists and held them away.

“Alan, please…” I moaned. I was on fire.

He chuckled and moved his mouth down from my breasts to my soft belly. He tickled my belly button before going lower. He still held my wrists as he nudged his body between my thighs. I spread them wide, propping one foot up on the seat. I was open and vulnerable to his whims, yet I was so aroused I could feel the hot slick moisture running down my pussy to the crack of my butt. Alan grinned knowingly then dipped down, just to inhale again.

“God you smell sweet,” his voice was low and breathy. My pussy twitched as his breath caressed across the hot lips and sensitive clit. His tongue dipped down and barely swiped across my outer lips. I gasped and moaned and he chuckled again, “You taste like rich honey.”

“God, Alan,” I was practically whimpering, “Just do it.”

“Do what?” he lifted his head to look at me. I whimpered this time and looked at him. There was a wicked glint in his eyes. “What do you want me to do, Cassie?”

“What?” I was lost in his voice again.

“Pay attention,” he commanded lowly, his tongue flicking my clit, “What do you want me to do?”

“Oh God,” I was at a loss. He was doing something no guy had done before. He was going to make me beg for it. God help me, I was going to do it too. 

“I want you to eat me,” my voice was shaky with my desire, “I want you to…”

“To what?” he flicked his tongue on the inside of my thigh just where it met my pussy.

“Lick me,” I begged softly, “I want you to use your tongue and lick my pussy. I want you to suck on my clit, make me come. Oh God Alan, please let me come!”

“Very good,” I barely registered the words as his mouth swooped down and began to lick in earnest. He licked all around the outer lips before diving down and licking up the crack and past my anus. 

My hips twitched as his tongue ran over it lightly. He skirted my hot hole as he began to lick and slightly nibble on the inner lips of my vulva. I cried out when he licked my clit only once before putting his lips over my vagina. His tongue snaked in and out of my hole, brushing the sides, bottom and top. His nose was barely touching my clit and I tried to wiggle my hips to get it closer but he pulled back.

“Do you want to cum, Cassie?”

“GOD YES!” I practically shouted my answer and he chuckled.

His mouth closed over my clit and his tongue flicked it as he sucked and I exploded. My fingers flexed and convulsed as his hands still gently held my wrists. My body arched as I pressed my hips to his face, his mouth working me over and over again.

“Ooohhhhhhh!” I wailed and thrashed on the windowseat for what seemed like an eternity. I was panting, trying to catch my breath.

Alan released my wrists to still my hips as he slowly nuzzled my pussy. My body began to relax as his hands stroked my hips and thighs. His mouth slowly moved up my stomach to my breasts, where he kissed each nipple. Finally he lay on his side next to me and cuddled me to him. I cupped his cheek with my hand and kissed him deeply, enjoying the taste of me as my tongue licked at his lips.

My hand slipped down and cupped his cock. He was hard again. I stroked him slowly as we kissed and he moaned. I let go and sat up. He watched as I went to the table and pushed our books to one side, then leaned over the table. I looked back to find him walking toward me, his cock bobbing before him. He held up a foil packet in his fingers and I nodded. I watched him open the packet and then slowly roll the condom over his shaft.

I felt a hand spread my pussy lips and I moaned, then whimpered as I felt the latex covered head glide over and around my clit a few times.

“Fuck me,” I was beyond caring if I begged or not. “Stick that hard cock in my hot pussy and fuck me.”

Alan chuckled and I felt the tip slip around the entrance to my pussy and I moaned as he teased me. I reached back and spread myself wider and the head slipped in. I groaned in frustration as it slipped out again. He chuckled again and I knew it had been deliberate.

“Dammit Alan!” I growled at him, “Stop teasing me and fuck me!”

“As you wish,” he said and his cock entered my pussy with a forceful thrust.

“Ooohh God!” we both moaned in heat. 

At this angle he’d filled me more than my last boyfriend ever did. I swear I felt every inch of him running along the inside of my vagina walls. 

His balls slapped against my clit as he began to move in and out. His hips thrust up against my ass as his hand came down and slapped it. I moaned and thrust my hips back at him. My fingers reached down to play with my clit and his balls as he slapped my other asscheek. 

“Do you like that?” His voice was still hotter than hell to me, but I could tell his control was slipping a little bit because he grunted at the end of the question.

I made a noise as he spanked me some more. I couldn’t believe it, but the spanks were intensifying the pleasure. I made another noise and wiggled my butt as he pulled out, making him chuckle. I felt him help me up and then turned me around.

I grabbed his neck and kissed him fully, my tongue swirling in his mouth. His hands reached down and grabbed my ass and pulled up. I moaned into his mouth as he sat me on the edge of the table. His hand lifted my right leg and threw it up over his shoulder.

I grabbed his cock and felt the heat through the condom. I thought for sure the latex would melt as I pulled him closer and wrapped my other leg around his waist. He pressed forward and was in me again. The table wasn’t all that comfortable but what Alan was doing was more than enough to make up for the discomfort.

He set the rhythm again and his mouth trailed along my jaw to my neck. I jumped as he lightly bit on the back of my neck just behind my ear. No one had ever done that to me before. He did it again and my pussy spasmed around his cock. He chuckled and licked the spot causing me to moan.

I snaked one arm around his neck to keep my balance as the other reached between us and I fingered my clit as his mouth went down my chest and captured a nipple. He sucked me for a moment then went back to my neck. 

Alan leaned forward, pushing me back and I lay on the table. I ran my fingers through his hair as he began to suck on my breasts again. His hand lifted the leg around his waist to his shoulder. 

He was able to get deeper penetration this way and I could feel the head and top of his cock rub along the upper wall of my vagina. A girlfriend had once told me this was where my G-spot was. I hadn’t believed her at the time, because I couldn’t find it with my vibrator and none of my lovers ever had.

Until now. 

“Oh God, ALAN!” I cried out, my hand clutching his head convulsively as my body began to shake with tension and need. Over and over his cock rubbed along that spot and I could feel my legs turning to rubber as my orgasm built up. “I-I’m c-cumming… Oh God! Yes! YES!”

Alan grabbed my hips more firmly as my pussy clenched around his driving cock. I barely managed to open my eyes as wave after wave of pleasure racked my body. Alan’s jaw was tense and he picked up the pace. I shuddered and came again.

“Aaahhh!” He cried out, slamming his hips to mine and holding them there for a moment before giving a series of quick rapid thrusts. I could tell he was cumming and I pulled his head to mine, my tongue licking at his lips before he kissed me.

He ground his hips into mine again, just rotating them in a tight circle. I could feel his pubic hair rubbing along my clit and I moaned. My body jerked with yet another orgasm as his tongue thrust into my mouth. I slipped mine along his, licking at the roof of his mouth. Finally we pulled back from each other, panting heavily. I gulped and he sighed.

“God Cassie,” his voice was hoarse, “I have wanted to do that since the day I met you in Drama.”




Alan & Lani - Juan & Nita



Author's note: To understand who the characters are and what has happened to them so far, you should go read, "Alan Gets Lucky" and "Alan and Nita meet again." This story will make more sense if you read the first two parts. Enjoy.

*

It had been about a month since Alan and Lani had run into Juan and Nita at the bar. That was the time they spent a wonderful weekend together at the beach condo. 

Alan and Lani got dressed nice and went back to Alan's favorite bar. There was always good music there, and they both loved to dance.

As they walked in, Juan waved to them and motioned for them to come sit with he and Nita.

Juan stood up and said, "Good to see you two!"

Then he shook Alan's hand and gave Lani a nice kiss on the lips.

Nita had stood up, too, and added, "I'm happy to see you both, also!"

She gave Lani a hug and then kissed Alan hello.

Alan replied, "I'm happy to see you two out having a good time."

Lani added, "Me too! Nice to see you."

They all sat down and started talking about what had happened since they had seen each other last. Juan ordered a round of drinks for everyone. Over the course of the evening, everyone danced, drank, and generally had a good time.

When it got to be closing time, everyone was wondering if anything was going to happen later. 

Alan spoke first, "We'd love to continue this party, but Lani and I have to be up early tomorrow. I'm taking her to Catalina Island for the day."

Lani said, "I'm really looking forward to the trip."

Nita spoke up, "I wish Juan would take me somewhere on a nice trip ."

Juan answered her, "I've taken you on lots of trips over the years."

Nita countered, "Yes, but not in a long time."

Alan spoke up, "Maybe the four of us can plan a trip somewhere together." 

Lani added, "That would be great fun. What do you say?"

Juan and Nita looked at each other for about two seconds and said right together, "Sounds great!"

Alan said, "Give me your phone number and I'll call you next week."

Then he handed Juan his business card. "This has my office number and our home number on it. Feel free to call us."

Everyone said their good-byes and shared goodnight kisses. 

These four were becoming good friends.

Over the next couple of weeks, there were several phone calls back and forth, and then they met at Alan and Lani's one evening.

Juan and Nita parked out front and went up the walk. When they got to the door, Juan rang the bell.

Lani answered the door, "Hi, guys! Come on in."

She gave Nita a big hug and kissed Juan hello.

Alan was just coming down the stairs as they came in. He walked over to them and said, "Hi, Juan." and shook his hand. Then he turned to Nita and said, "Nice to see you. Glad you could come over tonight."

Alan gave Nita a nice kiss hello.

Lani asked, "What can I get you two to drink?"

Both answered, "Iced tea."

Lani headed for the kitchen with Nita following her.

Alan said, "Sit down, Juan. I have some ideas for our trip."

The girls came back with drinks for everyone and sat down.

Nita asked, "What kind of trip are you thinking of?"

Alan started, "Well, we discussed what sorts of things we each like in our phone conversations over the last few days. Here's an idea I think everyone might enjoy. We can rent a nice sized houseboat on Lake Mead, which is real close to Las Vegas. We can stay on the houseboat, explore the lake, do some fishing, get some sun, just generally have fun, and enjoy each other's company."

Lani piped up, "I like the idea, but of course I like most of Alan's ideas for fun!"

Nita spoke up, "How many days were you thinking of, and what does it cost?"

Alan answered, "If we can all arrange to go on a Monday thru Thursday, we can have four days for the same cost as two days on a weekend. About $500 for each couple, which is less than some of the fancy hotels on the strip in Vegas."

Juan answered, "That sounds great to me. We all seem to be getting along so well. And I mean as friends, not just the sex part!"

Nita added, "Yes, we are becoming really good friends. But the sex part has been fun, too!"

Alan continued, "Some people have a problem going out on a houseboat with another couple, because there isn't much privacy. I don't see that as a problem for us though. We've all seen each other!"

Everyone laughed, and nodded in agreement.

Lani spoke, "Maybe we could even sneak off to Vegas for a wild night out." 

Nita asked, "Are you thinking about you and Juan, and Alan and I, going as couples for the evening out?"

Lani answered, "Well, it would be fun."

Alan and Juan looked at each other.

Alan spoke first, "Juan, it seems that our wives are plotting again."

Juan answered, "Well, they haven't had a bad plan yet. I'm okay with it."

Alan continued, "Sounds like a fun plan to me."

Lani spoke up, "We girls have been talking on the phone, too, you know. We thought you guys might like to have one wild night while we are on a trip out of town. We don't want to trade partners too often, it would take the thrill out of it. But for one night, I think it would be fun."

Nita added, "We don't want things to get out of hand. So, is everyone okay with just doing it once in a while, for fun and to add a little spice to life?"

They all looked at each other, everyone smiled, and nodded okay.

Alan said, "I'm glad we have all become good friends, and that everyone is okay with adding just a little spice, trading partners just once in a while, to have some extra fun, with it not getting out of control, and with no one feeling threatened or pressured."

Juan answered, "Nita and I have talked about this subject, as I'm sure you two have. We are happy, too, that we have all become good friends, with only an occasional fringe benefit!"

Everyone laughed. It was good to be with friends. 

The four of them enjoyed the rest of the evening together, discussing the planned trip, and other possibilities for the future. Finally it was time for Juan and Nita to go home. That old thing called work!

They said goodnight to each other, and Juan kissed Lani goodnight 

While Alan was kissing Nita. Juan and Alan shook hands, the girls gave each other a big hug, then Juan and Nita headed for home. 

Yes, these four were becoming really good friends!

It took about three weeks to work out all the details. Everyone had to get the same week off for vacation. Alan had to make the reservation for the houseboat. Figuring out what clothes to take was easy for Alan and Juan, but of course the girls wanted a couple of new things to take to surprise the guys. 

They got together one Saturday and went shopping. When Nita arrived at Alan and Lani's that Saturday morning, she was very happy. 

Juan hadn't taken her on a trip in a while, and now she was going shopping with her new friend, Lani, to buy a couple of new sexy things for the trip. 

Alan greeted her at the door, "Good morning, Nita." And kissed her hello. Then he said, "Lani will be down in a minute."

Lani came bouncing down the stairs with a big grin on her face.

"Hi, Nita! Are you ready to go shopping?"

Nita answered, "I haven't gone shopping in it seems like forever. Let's go!"

Both girls kissed Alan good-bye. He reminded them as they were leaving, "Don't buy too many things. We're only going for a short week." 

The girls were talking and laughing as they went down the walk to Nita's car. Alan waved and closed the door.

Lani and Nita wanted to make the guys happy, so they were going to buy some very sexy things for the trip. 

Lani asked, "Nita, do you have a really skimpy bikini, or do we need to buy a couple?"

Nita answered, "I have one, but it's pretty old. I think I want a new one to surprise Juan. Are you going to get a new one?"

Lani responded, "Yes, I have a couple at home, but I want a new one for this trip."

They got to the mall and parked. Into the mall they went, talking away like girls always do. They found a swim suit specialty shop that had lots of selections. 

Nita asked, "How skimpy a one are you going to buy?"

Lani answered, "Something with really bright colors, other wise the guys might miss it!"

Nita questioned, "That tiny, huh?"

Lani told Nita, "Why not! You may be a little older than me, but you still have a fantastic body. It will be fun to change as soon as we are on the houseboat, and see if Alan can concentrate on getting the boat underway."

Nita agreed, "Okay, you pick one out for me, too."

They looked at several, then tried a few on, and when they left the store each was carrying a very small bag containing a brightly colored, string bikini. If you put all the material from both bikinis together, it might have made half a handkerchief! Nita's was bright yellow which looked fantastic on her darker skin. Lani's was fluorescent pink which contrasted nicely with her skin tone. They were happy with their purchases, very sexy, and barely legal!"

Next, they went shopping for sexy dresses for the night out in Vegas.

After checking out a few stores, looking at several options, and trying on the few they liked best, each finally had the dress of their choice, in the bag, ready to wow the guys. They agreed not to let the guys see what they had bought until they put things on, after they were on the boat. They stopped for lunch, and enjoyed more girl talk.

Lani commented, "You really want my Alan to be in a frisky mood for our night out in Vegas. That little dress you bought should have his motor running all night!"

Nita answered, "What? Just because it is too short to dare bend over in, and cut so low and deep in front that I may spill out of it! I hope he likes it."

Lani answered, "Believe me, he will love it! And peach is such a great color for you."

Nita went on, "And what about that scrap of material you call a dress, to turn my Juan on? 

Lani responded, "I know my Alan would like it. He says lime green suits me. Like sherbet, lickable! And I hope it does turn Juan on. If he is going to be mine for the night, that's how I want him to be! And of course, it is such fine, sheer material, that I can't wear anything under it. 

I wouldn't want to have panty lines showing, and being basically a backless halter style, I can't wear a bra either."

Nita teased, "If you are not wearing anything under your little dress, neither am I! We are such naughty, but loving wives!"

Lani agreed, "Absolutely!"

They headed for the car. When they got back to Lani's, she hopped out and reminded Nita, "Remember, don't let Juan see your new bikini or your new dress. I'm just going to tell Alan that he has to wait!"

Nita answered, "It will be fun to see the surprised looks on their faces.

See ya, girlfriend!" 

Nita headed for home. Lani went up the walk and into the apartment.

Alan got up from where he was sitting watching a ball game. He pulled her in tight and kissed her sensuously. "Let me see what you bought."

Lani laughed, "Sorry, you will just have to wait and see what I bought after we are on the boat, and I have put things on for you, and for Juan, to see."

At Juan's house, Nita was just arriving home. He walked out to greet her and opened her door for her to get out. She got out and gave him a big hug and a deep kiss. 

She said, "You and Alan are both going to love what Lani and I bought today!"

Juan said quickly, "Let me see what you bought."

Nita just smiled and said, "Lani says you both have to wait until we are on the houseboat. Then you can see." She walked off toward the house, leaving Juan just standing there wondering. Finally he followed her into the house.

The guys were just going to have to wait, and be pleasantly surprised.

After what seemed like an awfully long wait, it was time to get ready for the week away. Each couple was busy packing things, clothes (with the girls not letting the guys see what they had bought!), fishing gear, sunscreen, and personal items.

The Plan was for Alan and Lani to take their SUV, and pick up Juan and Nita on Sunday morning about 10:00. Alan figured that since it was only about 350 miles, it would take something like 7 hours, allowing stops for fuel, lunch, and bathroom stops. 

They would be in Henderson, Nevada, by late afternoon. They had a motel room with two double beds reserved for the night. They would go out for a nice dinner, and just relax that evening. Then they would be ready to drive on down Lake Mead Drive to the marina on Monday morning. Once they took care of the paperwork at the boat office and got out of state fishing licenses for the guys, they could move their stuff from the SUV to the houseboat. Then the four days of fun could begin!

Monday morning saw everyone up, dressed casual, and going to a close by restaurant for breakfast. They stopped at a big grocery store, and bought everything they thought they might possibly need while on the water. Then it was on down to the marina at Lake Mead. Alan and Juan went in and took care of things at the boat office. The attendant told them to drive on down to their boat, and he would be down to give them a quick run down on the operation of the house boat.

Alan and Juan got back in the SUV and drove down to the dock. Everyone got out, just looking around at the marina. The boat attendant came and they all boarded the house boat. He gave everyone a quick tour of the boat and its features, and then showed the guys the operations for the boat. All the things about starting, backing, steering, docking, beach docking and anchoring. 

When the attendant was sure the guys had no more questions and felt comfortable with operating the boat, he said, "Enjoy your time on our beautiful lake. Be careful and have fun."

All four answered together, "We intend to!"

The attendant left, and the four of them started carrying their things from the SUV onto the houseboat. The houseboat was just like a small floating, two bedroom apartment, on a 50 foot boat. 

It had big twin outboard motors. It was completely furnished, the fuel tanks were full as were the fresh water tanks.

As soon as everything was on-board, the girls each went into their bedroom to change clothes. Alan went and parked the SUV in the marina lot, and came back to the boat.

When Alan was coming back aboard the boat, Juan was waiting for him.

Juan said, "The girls went to change clothes. Lets get this thing untied and ready to get underway."

Alan had just gotten to the control console, when Lani and Nita walked out of the bedrooms in their new tiny bikinis, and up to where Alan was. Juan was standing at the bow of the boat, ready to cast off the dock line.

Juan exclaimed, "You two look like you want to get lots of sun.... 

and lots of attention! Lani, you are a great influence on my Nita!"

Alan added, "Beautiful weather, a beautiful lake, and two beautiful, sexy ladies! Juan, we must be living right!"

With that he hit one starter button and then the second. Twin outboard motors came to life. Juan cast the bow line off, and Alan shifted into reverse. He slowly backed the houseboat clear of the dock, then swung the rear of the boat to the left. He shifted to forward, swung the steering to the right, and eased the throttles up.

They were on their way! This was living!

They were just going to motor out to the middle of the lake, which wasn't busy like it would be on a weekend, and stop for lunch. Alan was playing with the controls a bit to get used to how the boat handled. He had operated several other boats before, but not a 50 footer. He soon felt comfortable, and they were just cruising along. No hurry. As soon as the dock faded from view in the distance, the girls walked to the bow area, right in front of where Alan at the controls and Juan was standing beside him.

Nita spoke first, "We don't want tan lines!" As she stripped out of her tiny bikini.

Lani added, "No, not even little tan lines!" As she stripped, too.

Juan said, "I think I'm going to like this house boating thing even better than RVing! Would you ladies like someone to help you with sunscreen!"

Both answered, "Sure!"

Alan piped up, "No fair! I'm busy piloting the boat. But then, maybe that makes me the Captain, and I can give the orders! Lani, would you bring me a cold Coke, please?"

Lani answered, "Aye, Aye, Sir!" And headed for the galley. She came back with four cans of cold drinks.

It wasn't long before they were out where there were no other boats.

Alan throttled the motors down, and then shut them off. The boat wouldn't drift very far while they were having lunch.

Lunch was enjoyed in the deck chairs on the aft deck. When they were finished, Juan said, "Let's go find that cove the attendant showed us on our map. I want to get wet."

Alan fired the motors up, and they were underway. The cove was easy to find, and when they saw it, they marveled at how pretty it was. Blue water, a white sandy beach, and no one else there!

Alan eased the bow of the boat up onto the beach, and shut everything down. Juan tossed an anchor out off the stern of the boat to help stabilize it. They could climb down the bow ladder, right onto the beach. This was a great place to spend the first night. Fishing could wait until tomorrow!

The guys stripped out of their shorts and tennis shoes. Now everyone was naked. Alan grabbed a Frisbee and Juan lowered the bow ladder.

Everyone went down onto the beach. They had a spirited game of Frisbee for a little while. Finally Juan yelled, "Last one in the water has to fix lunch!" And dashed for the water. Everyone else joined in the race. Nita was the last one in.

They swam and splashed, chased each other around, and whenever Alan or Juan caught one of the girls, it always resulted in bare hugs and a few kisses. The girls weren't trying very hard to get away!

When they tired of this little game, they got out of the water and walked up on the beach, and over to the bow of the boat.

Alan said, "As Captain, I hereby order Lani to go aboard and get each of us the towel we forgot to bring to the beach with us."

Lani answered, "Aye, Aye, Sir! I'm at your service, Sir."

Alan teased, "Does that mean that my command, will be your wish?"

Lani rebutted, "I think the saying goes, your wish is my command."

Nita interrupted them, "I think everyone's wishes will be fulfilled before the trip is over."

Juan chimed in, "That's great! I have a long wish list!"

Lani went aboard and got the towels for everyone. She came back to the top of the ladder and said, "Right now, I'm the only one on the boat, so I guess that means I'm in charge. Everyone say please, and I'll give you a towel. When you are dry, you may come aboard."

The others all said, "Please?"

Lani tossed each of them a big towel. They dried off and then climbed up the bow ladder. Lani went to the galley to help Nita fix lunch. They all sat in deck chairs out on the aft deck in the nice sunshine for lunch. 

When they had finished eating, Alan spoke up, "You girls need some sunscreen, especially those tender bits that aren't usually exposed to the sun. And this time it is my turn to help!"

Nita stood up and walked back inside to get the sunscreen. When she came back out she walked right up in front of Alan.

She handed him the bottle and said, "Don't miss anywhere!"

He answered her, "Don't you worry, better to cover the tender parts twice, than take a chance on missing a spot!"

Lani stood up and walked over, "I'm next."

When Alan finished putting lotion all over Nita, and doing the tender areas twice, he said, "Okay, Lani, It's your turn."

Juan spoke up, "Alan, I think this is really, your turn!"

Everyone laughed. Alan started to put sunscreen on himself, but Nita interrupted him, "Let me help you, we certainly don't want certain places to get sunburned." 




Alan & Lani - Juan & Nita



She took the bottle of lotion, put some in her hand, and said, "I'm going to start here," grabbing his cock, "then I'll do the rest of you and finish up right here with a second application."

She tossed the bottle to Lani and said, "You better lotion Juan down, or should I say lotion him up?" Everyone smiled at her play on words.

They spent the afternoon playing on the beach and in the water. By evening they were tired, but happy. Juan fired up the propane grill on the aft deck to cook the steaks they had bought at the store. The girls set the table in the galley for dinner. They had some baked beans, some fresh French bread, a veggie platter they had picked up at the deli counter, and a bottle of fine red wine to drink. Yes, this was living!

The evening was spent lounging on the aft deck, looking at the stars, the lights of other boats , and the lights on shore in the distance.

Eventually they retired to the two bedrooms, with their own spouse.

They would all just have to think about sharing and enjoying each other's spouse until their night out in Vegas. Anticipation is a great aphrodisiac!

On Tuesday, the guys wanted to do some fishing. After a nice breakfast of bacon, eggs and hash browns, Alan started the twin motors on the boat, shifted into reverse, and ran the throttles up about halfway. Juan gave just a little tug on the stern anchor line, and the boat came off the beach. When Alan had backed out almost to where the stern anchor was, he swung the stern a little to one side as Juan hauled the anchor on board and stowed it in it's locker.

Alan went out of the cove and headed up the lake. When they got to a set of rocky cliffs on one side, he pulled in within about 200 feet of them and stopped the boat. Juan dropped the bow anchor. He hit bottom at about 50 feet. There was no one else around so everyone stripped. This looked like a good spot to try their luck. The lake had plenty of White Bass, Stripers, and a hybrid called a Wiper. A crossbreed between a White Bass and a Striper. 

Alan and Juan set about, as the saying goes, getting a line wet. The girls were just going to sun bathe and read. It wasn't long until Juan had a nice Wiper on the deck. Probably a three pounder. Before he could get his line back in the water, Alan had it's twin, hooked and was bringing it in. Then the fishing seemed to just stop. No bites.

Juan was about to suggest moving to another spot, when Nita walked up to him. She pushed his fishing pole to one side, straddled him while facing him, and sat down in his lap. He suddenly didn't care if the fish were biting. She was kissing him and when she reached down to his crotch, she found another kind of pole. She raised up slightly, aimed his cock at her now wet pussy, and lowered herself down onto him.

Nita said, "You can fish if you want to. Me, I'm going to fuck!"

She started riding him.

Alan and Lani had been just watching them. Lani asked him, "Do you want to fish... or fuck?"

Alan answered quickly, "Silly girl! Come try out this pole!"

Lani got out of her deck chair and strutted over to where Alan had been trying to fish. She straddled him the same way Nita had straddled Juan. She said to Nita, "I'll bet I get something before you do."

Nita smiled at her and picked up speed as she rode Juan's cock.

It only took a few minutes, with the excitement of doing it out on deck where they might get caught by some other boaters, to finish in what horse racing would call a dead heat. There was certainly no loser here!

Both couples just sat holding their spouse for a few minutes, basking in the after glow of good sex, and basking in the sunshine. 

After a bit, Alan said, "Juan, I think the girls should bring us a cold Corona, and some paper towels!"

The girls looked at each other, and got up at the same time. 

Lani said, "At least we let you each catch one nice fish for dinner, before we offered to let you use a different pole!"

The guys just smiled. Yes, this trip was a great idea.

The girls came back from the galley with a couple of paper towels and a Corona for each of their guys. They had stopped long enough to fix them selves a nice big margarita.

Everyone was just kicking back in a deck chair, sipping a cold drink, and enjoying a wonderful day. The fishing didn't get any better by after lunch, so they reeled their lines in, and just went cruising, looking at the gorgeous scenery. By evening they were back at their little cove. 

Dinner on this night was grilled fresh fish, fried potatoes, some green beans with bacon, more of the French bread, and a bottle of cold White wine. Another evening of relaxing on the aft deck. About 10:00 PM both couples said good night, shared kisses, and went to their own bedrooms.

There was no doubt that everyone was having naughty dreams on this night. Tomorrow they were going to just go cruising on the lower part of the lake, planning to end up back at the marina by late afternoon. Then they were going to get dressed up for their wild night in Sin City!

The guys were undoubtedly wondering what the girls were going to be wearing. Sweet dreams!

Wednesday went just as planned. There were some other boats on the lower part of the lake, so everyone had to wear a swim suit. Alan and Juan agreed that the girls looked fantastic in their tiny bikinis.

Alan eased the house boat up into it's slip at the dock, about 4:00 PM.

Juan stepped off onto the dock and handed the bow line to Nita. She tied it to the deck cleat on the bow. He then went aft and handed a dock line to Lani, who secured it to a cleat on the aft corner of the boat. Alan shut the motors off, and pulled the key out of the switch.

Everyone took turns using the shower in the one bathroom on the boat. It was too small to share a shower and save water. The guys didn't take long to get dressed in nice slacks, shirts and boots.

They sat down in the lounge on the couch, enjoying another cold Corona. 

Nita and Lani were each getting ready in their bedrooms. Nita knocked lightly on the wall between the bedrooms to let Lani know she was ready. Lani knocked right back. She was ready, too.

Both bedroom doors opened simultaneously. 

Alan and Juan were watching intently as the girls walked out. The girls strutted sexily over to where the guys were sitting, stopping a few feet in front of each other's husband.

The girls slowly turned a full circle, giving the guys plenty of time to enjoy the show.

Nita and Lani walked up right in front of Alan and Juan. Then they smiled and turned around, facing away from the guys. They seductively bent forward from the hips, as far down as they could bend. With their dresses being so short, the hem pulled up, exposing nicely tanned, bare butt cheeks with a pantyless pussy peeking out from between their legs. 

Juan exclaimed, "If we didn't already have dinner and show reservations, I'd vote for having desert first!"

Alan joined in, "Peaches or ice cream, two of my favorites!"

The girls straightened up and turned around, facing the guys.

As if right on cue, they both wrapped their arms around the guys necks, gave them a long, sensual kiss, and asked in unison, "Are you ready for a wild night, lover?"

Alan and Juan answered right together, "Damn right!"

They locked the house boat, and walked up the dock to the parking lot.

Alan unlocked the front passenger door, reached in and hit the switch to unlock all the doors, and stepped back for Nita to get in. Juan opened the back door on the driver's side for Lani to get in. The guys got in and they headed for Vegas. 

It was less than an hour's drive. Midweek was certainly better than on the weekend. Traffic wasn't as heavy, show tickets were easier to get and a bit cheaper. They had dinner reservations at a nice steak house.

As they walked into the restaurant for dinner, a hush fell over the dining room, as two sexily dressed beauties walked to their table, escorted by two smiling, proud guys! Dinner was wonderful with excellent service. 

Alan said, "Juan, I'll get dinner because you insisted on paying for the show tickets."

Juan answered him, "And we drove up here in your SUV using your gas. It all works out."

They had reserved seats, right down front in two couples sofas, for the topless show they had chosen. Everyone agreed that it was worth the extra cost, to have front row seats. The stage show was fabulous. But occasionally the guys found themselves looking at their sexy, scantily dressed partner for the night instead. Yes, life was good!

After the show was over, they stopped at a small lounge that had a sign advertising live music. Everyone enjoyed a couple of drinks and some good snuggle dancing, since the music turned out to be slow, sensual blues.

The ride back to the marina seemed to take a lot longer than the drive into town. Must have been that anticipation thing again! When they got parked at the marina lot, everyone got out, Alan locked the SUV, and they strolled down the dock, hand in hand, to the house boat.

Alan and Juan got the boat untied, and ready to get underway. Alan was just starting the motors when the girls came out of the bedrooms.

He was tempted to just shut the motors off right then. The girls were both dressed in filmy, see-through, pale pink, short baby doll night gowns. 

They had surprised looks on their faces, too. They hadn't bought them. Alan had left one laying on each bed just when he made his last little check on things before they had left the boat for dinner. 

He asked Juan, "Are you ready for that desert now?"

Juan answered, "OH, YEAH!"

Alan backed the boat away from the dock, shifted into forward, and shoved the throttles wide open. He was headed for the little cove as fast as the boat would go. Nita was snuggled up with Alan at the control console, and Juan and Lani were snuggled up on the couch in the lounge area.

The cove came into view of the boat lights none too soon to suit everyone. Alan knew where the cove was and just how to beach the bow, so all went smoothly. He shut the motors down. Juan went aft and tossed the anchor out off the stern.

No one even took the time to say goodnight. Each pair of lovers went into their ladies bedroom. No one even bothered to close a door. 

The stillness of the night was broken only by sounds of pleasure for the next hour. Then all was quiet, except for the sound of little waves lapping at the boat hull.

Everyone must have really been tired, as no one stirred until almost 9:00 AM. There were trips to the bathroom by all, then back into the bedrooms. Finally, about 10:30, after the boat had done considerable rocking, Lani finally asked loudly, "Anyone like some brunch? I think we all already had breakfast!"

Four still sleepy looking people came out of the bedrooms and headed to the galley. Lani said, "I planned for this morning. As soon as the coffee is done, and the sweet rolls heat in the microwave, we can go out on the aft deck, and greet the day."

After brunch was finished, they slipped off, one by one to get a hot shower. This day was going to be just a relax and do very little day. Get some sun, read a little, maybe even play some cards. But the boat wasn't moving until it was time to head back to the marina.

The four of them spent a relaxing, leisure day. Everyone agreed, this had been a fantastic trip. Finally it was time to head for the marina.

Alan started the motors, Juan pulled the anchor on board. The girls started packing up. They motored back to the marina, very slowly this time, not wanting the trip to end. 

When the boat was docked at the marina, an attendant came down to tie it up. Alan stepped out and told him that they would be up to the office in a minute.

Before gathering up their things, they all looked at each other, with looks of happiness and gratitude, for having become such great friends. 

Juan spoke, "Alan, this was a great idea! Again, we four have thoroughly enjoyed each others company. I'm so glad we met and became best friends."

Nita added, "And to think, it all started with my Juan being such a loving husband, wanting to see to my needs, even when he could barely move."

Alan said, "Little did I know, when I left work that day long ago, where life was going to take me. It's been a fabulous ride! First I meet Nita, then my company sent me to Hawaii and I meet Lani, we fall in love and get married, and then I finally get to meet Juan. Thank you again, Juan, for being a loving husband."

Lani spoke quietly, "I knew when I met Alan, that life was going to be good, and that I was going to be happy. But, I had no clue it could be this wonderful!"

They gathered up their things and headed up the dock.

*

Author's note: I hope you have enjoyed the Alan series of stories. 

If you did enjoy them, please take the time to give the story a good vote, or send me feed back. Thanks, and may life treat you well.



Alan and Marion



The doorbell rang and when I opened the door there was an attractive lady with a diffident smile.

'Mr. Turner?' she said, head cocked to one side.

'Yes that's me.' I replied.

'I'm Marion, your new cleaning lady.'

'Oh, good, come in.'

This was the replacement for Pauline, the wonderful old lady who my wife and I had employed for years to clean the house. She had retired, and recommended one of her neighbours as a replacement. I had agreed readily to her suggestion.

I had lost my wife a couple of years ago, in a hotel fire. It had taken me ages to get over the loss, and I was still having difficulty coping with domestic arrangements. I was hoping that Marion could just take over the cleaning duties.

We walked through to the seating area in the kitchen, and I offered Marion coffee which she accepted. We sat down to discuss arrangements. I looked at her. She was in her thirties I guessed, wearing a cotton smock and jeans- suitable clothes for cleaning. Her clothes hid her figure somewhat, but she was about 5ft 6, slim with longish legs, and a beautiful mane of wavy ash blonde hair. Her face was wide and intelligent with the suspicion of an impish grin.

'Pauline said she suggested I come round to take on her cleaning rota. Did she work for you for a long time?'

'Yes, more than ten years. She recommended you highly.'

'That's nice. I hope it will work out. We should discuss the practical arrangements.' We went on to talk about what was required, where the vacuum and all the cleaning materials where kept and so forth. Then I showed Marion round.

'It's a lovely house, Mr Turner.'

'Thank you. Call me Alan.'

'One thing I should mention Alan. Some times when I have completed my cleaning I need to go on for other things. You know, meeting people or whatever. Then I shall need to get changed. Is it okay if I do that here?'

'Of course, no problem. Whatever you need. It will be a weight off my mind if this works out, so I would like you to be comfortable working here. If you need a shower at the end of your session that would be no problem.'

She smiled, and looked at me slightly quizzically.

'Why thank you! I suppose I had better get on.'

'Okay.'

And with that I retreated to my office, whilst she got on with her tasks.

I gave Marion a key so that she could get on if I was not in the house. I was at home when she arrived the next week however. Once again I offered her coffee, which she accepted.

'Well how are you Marion?'

'I'm fine. It was a bit of a rush getting the children off to school, as they were playing up.'

'How many have you?' 

'Two, they are 16 and 12, boy and a girl.'

'You must have been young when you became a mum.'

She smiled.

'I was 20. I missed out on college, and haven't had the chance since.'

'Pauline didn't tell me very much about you. I don't even know your second name.'

'Oh. Well it is Monroe. I am Marion Monroe. Some people call me Marilyn!'

I smiled and she looked embarrassed.

'It is a good job you are beautiful.'

'Why thank you kind sir!'

'If I calculate correctly you are on the verge of living longer than Marilyn did. She did not make it beyond 36.'

'You never know how long you've got. Things happen, you lose people.'

'Don't I know it,' I said thinking of my wife, ' you sound as if you've lost someone.' She suddenly looked very sad.

'My husband died a couple of years ago. I'm a widow. That's why I am doing this cleaning job. I've got no qualifications and I need the money.'

'That's sad. I know how you feel.'

'Oh?'

'I lost my wife a couple of years ago too.'

'What a coincidence. My husband died in a hotel fire.' I was too stunned to speak for a moment.

'It wasn't that place in Yorkshire, was it?' I said and named the hotel.

'Why yes. How did you know?'

'That was how my wife died, in the same fire. Did your husband work for the same company?' I said and identified the company. 'They were having a management conference, and my wife was working for them.'

'Yes he did.' A tear ran down her cheek. 'I'd better get on.'

'Are you going to be okay?'

'No, I need a hug.'

'Come here.'

We held each other, overcome with our individual memories. I looked into her face.

'We have a lot to talk about. Do you want to stay for lunch?'

'No, I can't today. I've got an appointment after I finish here. But I am free next week when I finish.'

'Yes, let's do it then.'

'Can I take you up on your offer of a shower, before I go? I feel like I'd like to freshen up.'

'Yes of course.'

I was astonished by the coincidence of our both losing our marriage partners in the same fire. Maybe fate had brought Marion to my door. A lot of people round here worked for the same company, so I suppose it was not as unlikely as it at first seemed. I wondered if she was feeling quite as disturbed by it all as I was. 

And I found her very attractive, which complicated matters. I decided to get on with some work, to take my mind off it all. After all at 50 I was far too old to be thinking about her like that. She would want someone of her own age.

It was midday when I heard the shower going. I turned away from my computer and walked out to the sitting room. I thought Marion must be about to go and I suppose I wanted to bid her farewell.

A short while later she did appear, but not as I expected. She was looking damp and her modesty was protected only by a towel. She looked flustered when she saw me. And gorgeous.

'I forgot my stuff, my change of clothes. I left them out here somewhere.'

I stared at her transfixed. The likeness to Marilyn Monroe was not just in her name! I gathered my wits and managed to speak.

'I can get you a bathrobe if you like.'

She smiled as if maybe she enjoyed my discomfort.

'No, it's okay. Unless I am embarrassing you.'

'No, no...' She was now looking a lot more composed and in control. She hitched up the towel round her trunk tucking it in above her breasts. It came just to the top of her thighs. Just. She walked over to the window.

'You have a lovely back garden Alan. Do you do it all yourself.'

'Yes, I enjoy it.'

'It looks very private.'

'It is entirely private.'

'And it is a suntrap, yes?'

'Yes, it is a good place to catch the sun.'

'I miss the sun. I can't afford holidays just now.'

'Would you like to use the back garden?'

'Ooh, yes`please. Can I sunbathe there? I'll wear a decent cossie so as not to embarrass you.'

'You don't embarrass me.'

'You sure? I'd better get dressed now.' With that she undid her towel, giving me the briefest glimpse of her naked body, before doing it up again, grabbing her things and walking out. I think she got dressed in the shower room.

A few minutes later her head appeared round the door.

'Bye, Alan. See you next week.'

'Bye Marion.'

Well my cleaning lady had lodged herself firmly in my imagination. She was beautiful, sexy and attractive. I had no idea whether she would amount to more than a tantalising fantasy, but I longed to find out. I could hardly wait for next week and her return.

*************************************************

When she arrived she let herself in. 

'Hi, Alan, how are you?'

I emerged into the front hall from my office. She was wearing a short tee shirt and denim jeans, with a shoulder bag and flat shoes. Her hair was loose and I think she was wearing a little light and subtle make-up, as if she was taking care over her appearance. She had painted her finger nails pink. There was a gap between her tee shirt and the top of her jeans to reveal her tummy. I thought she was looking good.

'Hullo Marion, I'm fine. Eh, how are you?'

She looked at me a little puzzled.

'Are you sure? You look a little distracted.'

I realized I was staring at her. I cleared my throat, and pulled myself together.

'No I'm fine. Are you still okay about staying for lunch?'

'Yes, looking forward to it.'

'Would you like a coffee before you start?'

'If you are having one, yes that would be nice.'

We went through to the kitchen and Marion sat down. I produced two coffees and joined her. As she sipped her coffee I asked her how business was and whether or not she had filled her week with cleaning jobs.

'Yes, it is coming along. But it is not too well paid.'

'I suppose not.'

'I am thinking I should develop the business. I know others in my position, and I think I could develop a contract service employing them.'

'That sounds like a good idea.'

'I am trying to put together a business plan, but I am struggling with it. I need to get investment.'

'I could help you with that. Business management is my area.'

'That would be really helpful. What do you do?'

'I am a management consultant. I went freelance after I became a widower.'

'Oh, okay. I've been working on the business plan. I have a copy with me. Do you want to have a look at it?'

'Yes, let me do that.' She handed me a folder from her bag.

As Marion busied herself with the cleaning I retreated to my study. What I had been doing could wait, I would have a look at Marion's proposal. I took it out of its folder and quickly read through it. It was quite promising, but needed a bit of attention in key areas, such as the financial strategy, and the customer base. Maybe I could produce a revised version for her.

Later after I had worked on it, I stopped and stretched. I thought It could work. I got up and strolled into the kitchen to prepare lunch.

When it was ready I called out to Marion.

'Lunch is served.'

'Thanks,' she replied, 'I am just finishing up. I'll be along in a minute.'

Shortly she appeared, and sat herself down. I had made a tuna salad and had a bottle of white wine cooled and ready.

'That looks lovely Alan. Thank you.'

'Will you have a glass of wine?'

'Oh go on then. I have no more jobs today, so it will do no harm.'

I poured out two glasses of wine and she smiled as she sipped it.

'It is a good wine Alan.'

'Yes, it's okay isn't it?'

'I expect you are a connoisseur.'

'Not particularly of wine, but I do know business plans.'

'Oh.' She looked crestfallen. 'You don't think much of mine then?'

'Quite the contrary, I think it looks extremely promising. It just needs a few modifications and a bit of development.'

'Okay. Can you show me what to do?'

'Yes,' I said handing her the revised version I had been working on, 'but I think I have done it.'

'Oh, that's brilliant. Thank you.'

'Well, you'd better read it first.'

'Yes. Then there is the real problem of getting investment.'

'If you are happy with what I have done, then I will see if I can sort something out for you.' 

Marion gave me a big smile.

'I am sure I shall be. Thank you. You are a sweetie!' With that she leaned over and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.

Well that left me flustered. I had felt like I was in control, but now this gorgeous creature had given me a kiss. I was excited but nonplussed. She smiled at me again, pleased with the effect she had had.

'What do you think I should call the business?' she looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

'I am not sure, I haven't given it any thought.'

'I was thinking something like 'M.Monroe Services'. What do you think?'

'Yes. You could use a Marilyn type image as your logo.'

'I think you might be able to help with that too. Yes?'

'Might I?'

'Well yes. When I was cleaning your bedroom I found the evidence of your research.'

'Ah.' I had been looking at images of Marilyn on the internet, and I had printed off some of them. There was the famous pic of her with her skirt being blown upwards by a gust from a grating. There was also the Playboy selection, with her posing naked against a red background.

'Which would you recommend?'

'Well I suppose one of you with your skirt being blown would be suitably evocative of Marilyn.'

'You don't think I could carry off posing nude against a red velvet sheet?' She smiled at me mischievously. 

'I am sure you could, but....'

'But?'

'Well it would probably give your customers quite the wrong idea about the service you are offering.' 

She smiled and looked out through the window.

'It's a gloriously sunny day, Alan.'

'Yes, it is. Are you going to sunbathe?'

'Yes, if that's okay.'

'Please help yourself.'

'I think my idea of heaven just now would be a nice lazy sunbathe with a glass of your delicious wine.'

'I think we can manage that. Have you brought your costume?'

'Yes. Why do you ask?'

'I suppose I wondered if you were going to do a Marilyn and sunbathe nude.'

She smiled, and with her head to one side and her right index finger against her cheek, she replied in an approximate imitation of Marilyn's voice.

'Why Mr Turner, what kind of a girl do you think I am?'

While she was getting changed I got out a couple of loungers and towels and placed them on the patio. I had replenished Marion's glass of wine when she re-appeared. She was wearing a red bikini. I suppose by current standards it was not outrageous or unduly minimal. I mean it covered all the bits it was supposed to cover. But neither was it very large, with a triangular section over each breast. Her body was firm and well toned with not an ounce of fat. I thought she looked gorgeous and sexy as hell.

'Are you going to join me Alan?' Marion inquired as I handed her the glass of wine.

'I've got some work to finish off, and then I will.'

'Don't be too long. I shall need you to apply sun lotion to my back.'

'Right.'

I disappeared to my office and did the minimum that I needed to do. Then I went to my bedroom to get changed, slipping out of my clothes and pulling on a pair of shorts. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had always taken great care to stay fit and avoid putting on weight. I thought I was looking okay for my age. I pulled on a tee shirt and grabbing my glass and the bottle from the kitchen I joined Marion on the patio.

She was lying on her back sipping her wine.

'Hi Alan,' she said, and wiggled her toes. She had painted her toe nails pink to match her finger nails.

'Would you like some more wine?'

'Yes please.'

I poured some into her glass. She smiled at me.

'This is lovely Alan. I could doze off.' She turned over to lie on her tummy, and undid her bikini top.

'Would you like to apply some lotion please?'

I poured some of the lotion onto her shoulders, and began to spread it with my finger tips.

'Do you want the backs of your arms doing?'

'Mmm.'

I covered her arms as they lay by her sides. Then I returned to her shoulders and poured the lotion down the centre of her back, spreading it in both directions. I reached the top edge of her bikini bottom, and paused.

'What about the backs of your legs?'

'Yes please.'

I began at her right ankle, moving up over her calf and then I slowly rubbed the lotion on her thigh. She sighed. Then I repeated the process with her left leg.

'Thank you' she murmured, and wiggled her bum. 

I lay back. This was turning me on. I thought I had better change the subject. I poured out some more wine.

'I will have a go at firming up your business plan for next week.'

She turned her head to face me.

'I think you are already firming up,' she said with a smile eyeing the bulge in the front of my shorts.

'You are a very sexy lady.'

'Thank you. And you are a perfect gentleman.'

A perfect gentleman is the last thing I felt like being. I sipped some more of my wine wondering what next move might be appropriate, when Marion made a groaning noise. She was looking at her watch.

'Oh sod it, look at the time. I've got to go, the kids will be home. I was enjoying this.'

She stood up and her beautiful breasts were revealed standing proudly before me.

'Thank you for a lovely afternoon.' She kissed me warmly on the lips, and then strolled off to get changed. I lay back with my head in a whirl.

************************************************

I was working away from home the next time Marion came to do her cleaning stint. But I made excuses and was able to get back just before lunch time. I was keen to see her again.

Not that there was much likelihood of a repeat of last week. The English weather had played one of its usual tricks. Despite its being the summer the day was grey, cloudy and cool, so sunbathing was out.

Marion was wearing tight jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt. She looked up and smiled as I arrived.

'Hi Alan, how are you?'

'Fine, how are you?'

'I'm okay. Bit nervous.'

'Oh, why is that?'

'When I finish here, I'm going to the bank. I'm trying to get them to lend me the money to start up my business.'

'Well it is a good scheme, so they should be willing to lend you what you need. Do you want to have lunch before you leave?'

'That's very kind, but I wont have time I am afraid. Got to get changed and go. I am just finishing now.'

'Will you want a shower?'

'Yes please, just a quick one.'

'I'll get you a towel.'

'Thanks.'

A few minutes later I knocked on the door to the shower room to give Marion her towel. She opened it to me and I handed her the towel. She was just removing her bra. I stared at her naked body, as she stood with her hand on her hip.

'Go the bank like that and the manager will agree to anything.' I said. She smiled her wicked smile.

'As long as it is a male bank manager I suppose.' Or even a female one these days, I thought.

Well Marion had succeeded in putting my head in a spin again. One brief glimpse of her beautiful body and I didn't know whether I was coming or going. I longed to touch it and make love to her.

When Marion re-appeared she was wearing a smart black business suit with a demure skirt to just above her knee.

'You look very professional and quite the business lady.'

'Thank you, that was the intention.'

'Phone me when you know how you have got on.'

'I will.'

A few days later I received a telephone call from Marion.

'Hi Alan.' Her voice sounded strained.

'Hullo Marion. How did you get on?'

'No luck. They've turned me down. Bastards.'

'Gosh I am surprised. Did they give a reason?'

'Something about my lack of "match funding", whatever that is. And my lack of experience. Bastards.'

'Oh dear. Who did you talk to?'

'Some young guy, seemed like he was in his early twenties, still wet behind the ears. He was a real pain in the arse.'

'You must be angry and upset.'

'I am. Very.'

'Look, there are other ways of doing this. Will you be okay with my looking into it for you?'

'Oh. Yes, if you can, thank you.'

'I'll see what I can sort out for your next visit.'

'That is very kind Alan.' There was a catch in her voice. 'It is tough trying to sort this out on your own, you know?'

'I know. We can sort it out.'

'I'm grateful to you.'

'I should be back late morning. Why don't you stay for lunch and I'll explain what I have in mind?'

'Okay. I'll see you then.'

I worked on a revised version of Marion's business plan and contacted an investment grants organisation. Then I went to my bank to put in place the final part of my plan. By the morning of Marion's next visit I thought I had an arrangement which would work.

I arrived back just as she was completing her round of duties. It was a warm sunny day and Marion was wearing a light cotton dress and sandals. I thought she looked gorgeous, but then I usually thought that.

'Hi Alan, how are you?'

'I'm fine. Are you feeling any better?'

'Yes, but I am still pretty pissed off I am afraid.'

'That's understandable. Look, let me get through the door, and clean up, then I'll sort lunch and show you what I propose.'

'Oh, okay. I'll lay the table.'

Lunch was my usual cold meat salad, but I had a bottle of cheerful rosé wine to go with it. We settled down and as we ate I gave Marion a folder containing my proposal.




Alan and Nita Meet Again



Author's note: This story will make more sense if you read "Alan Gets Lucky" first. It will give you the lead up to this story. Enjoy.

*

Alan had been sent to Hawaii by the corporation he worked for. He had been there just a few weeks when he met her. (No, not Nita!)

He had gone to a luau and had met Leilani. She was a Hawaiian princess. Her long dark hair reminded him of Nita. That was a fantastic memory. Leilani was tall and slender. With just enough curves to be absolutely divine. They had a whirlwind romance. They both knew that they were made for each other. 

Alan adored her divine shape, her long dark hair, and her smile. But what he was most amazed by were her eyes. Like liquid pools, he could see all the way to her soul. Leilani, or Lani as he called her, loved Alan, not only was he ruggedly handsome and outwardly a true gentleman, but he was a wild American. She loved his "bad boy attitude!" She hoped he would be like that for ever.

They were married just a couple of months after they met. They lived in a nice apartment, looking out over the ocean for a few more months, and then Alan's corporation transferred him back to San Diego. Leilani was anxious to get to the states. She had never been off the Big Island. They flew back to San Diego, found a nice apartment, and set up house keeping. Alan was glad to be back in San Diego. There was so much that he wanted to show Lani.

They were soon established, and into the routine of married life.

Alan was happy to be taking his new bride to see all the attractions in Southern California. Lani was having the time of her life. They both enjoyed dancing, even though Lani had learned a whole different style of dancing than Alan, they quickly had become a great couple on the dance floor.

One Friday, Alan told Lani, "Tonight we are going to go out to my old favorite bar. I have some fond memories of that place, and I want to start making some fond memories of us now." 

Lani was thrilled.

Alan got dressed in nice dress pants, a western shirt, and his boots.

He wanted Lani to wear one of her authentic Hawaiian outfits. 

If any of his old friends happened to be out, he wanted to show off his new bride. They were a very happy couple. 

They drove down to Alan's old favorite bar. The parking lot was pretty full, but they found a place to park. It was in the same corner that Alan had left his car in a little over a year ago. He had a glorious flashback. But he was happily married now. That was all in his past.

They went in and managed to find an empty table by the dance floor. Alan wondered if it was the same one that he and Nita and Sylvia had shared. The waitress came by and Alan ordered drinks for them. A Corona for himself and some white wine for Lani.

They had danced a couple of times, but were sitting a fast one out.

Alan couldn't believe his eyes! There, walking across the floor toward him was his Mexican goddess and a muscular hunk of man holding her hand. The bar was pretty full, so he just acted friendly and said, 

"Its pretty busy tonight. We don't mind sharing our table." 

He wondered what Nita would do?

Instead of just sitting down, Nita spoke up, "How nice to see you again, Alan. I'd like you to meet my husband, Juan." Alan stood up and the guys shook hands. 

Alan caught his breath and said, "Nita, Juan, I'd like you to meet my wife, Leilani." 

Leilani smiled at them and said, "Just call me Lani." 

Nita stepped over to where Alan was standing, stretched up on her toes and gave him a little kiss. 

"I hope you don't mind, Lani, Alan and I are old friends." 

It was difficult to tell who had the most puzzled look on their face, Juan or Lani. 

Alan waved the waitress over. "Let me buy you two a drink, Whatever you want." 

Juan said, "I'll have a Corona." 

Nita said, " I'd like a margarita, frozen please." 

Over the course of the evening, the four of them talked, danced with each other, and just generally had a good time. Every one was in a great mood. While Alan was dancing with Nita he asked, "Does Juan realize who I am. How we happen to be old friends. You two have been married forever." 

Nita gave him that enchanting smile. Alan almost came in his pants! "Yes, he wanted to hear all about my evening when I got home that day. I told him every little detail. When I finished telling him our tale, he said, "You just wait until my leg is healed." A few weeks later he walked in from work one day, picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He's really strong. He was trying to do every thing he remembered me telling him."

"It was great, but somehow didn't have the excitement of that night long ago. He's a good man, my Juan!"

Alan was floored. He didn't know what to say. He just held her a little tighter for the rest of the dance. 

When the song ended, Nita said, "Juan and I have been here a couple of times, but you were never here." 

When they got back to the table Alan took a deep breath, hesitated, wondering if he really should say, what he wanted to say. 

He started, "Lani, you know that I had a sort of wild past before I met you." 

She broke in, "I know. Why do you think I fell in love with you. I love your bad boy attitude." 

Alan had never heard her tell him that before. He continued, "Juan, I'm really pleased to meet you. You are one loving husband, to have done what you did a year ago when your leg was broken. I was honored that Nita picked me. You have a fantastic wife!"

Juan spoke up, "I'm glad she picked out a good man. It's good to finally meet you." he laughed, "I've heard a lot about you!"

Lani broke in, "Will someone please explain to me what this is all about?" 

Nita spoke directly to Lani, "Honey, you have made a great choice for a husband. You are obviously very happy together, just like Juan and I." 

When Nita finished telling the whole story to Lani, just like she had told it to Juan, Lani spoke up, "It's great to hear your side of the story. 

I always wondered how much of Alan's story was true. Now I know it is all true. I'm so happy to finally get to meet the fantastic lady he raved about to me when I had asked him to tell me about some of his past experiences."

"I had asked him to tell me some of his past experiences, thinking it might give me ideas for things for us to do. Right now my mind is going crazy with ideas!" 

Lani grabbed Nita's hand and said, "Will you guys excuse us for a minute?" They headed for the ladies room.

Juan said, "I hope we haven't upset your wife, or caused a problem". 

Alan said, "No, I don't think so. Maybe you remember Nita telling you that I said there was no way I could ever thank you enough, for telling her to go out and get laid. Well there just may be a way."

The conversation in the ladies room went like this.

Nita said, "You are one lucky lady."

Lani responded, "So are you. That was such an awesome thing that Juan did for you. Thinking about your needs. He must really, truly love you, to trust you and not be jealous."

Nita replied, "I know he does. I'm sure Alan loves you the same way.

You are such a beautiful girl. I can see why Alan was enchanted by you. My Juan thinks you are spectacular!"

"Oh, really", responded Lani. "Well, he's quite the hunk, but you already know that!" "Of all the experiences Alan has told me about, the only one I'm sure he would like to repeat is the one with you."

Nita answered, "Now I feel honored! Maybe I could give Juan the same sort of gift he gave me. That is, if you're interested."

Lani quickly responded, "Interested? Damn right I'm interested! 

I'd love to experience what you have been enjoying all these years!"

Nita said, "We know the guys will go for it."

The girls walked back to the table with mischievous little grins on their faces, as Juan was trying to figure out what Alan was getting at. With out saying a word, they switched sides, and sat down in the "wrong" seats! 

They spoke up in unison, "Let's get out of here!" 

Now Juan knew what Alan was talking about!

As they walked out Juan said, "I know where to take this party to. When my boss gave me the keys to his beach condo and told me to help myself, that he would be gone for a week, I thought I might surprise Nita with a couple of nights at the beach. This is some surprise!"

Alan answered, "Sounds great! We'll follow you." 

They jumped into their two cars and headed for Ocean Beach. The condo was large and roomy. It had a large living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom downstairs. In the kitchen, they discovered a well stocked fridge, cold drinks, cheese, and some grapes. They found some crackers in a cupboard.

They all pitched in and made up a tray of drinks and snacks. Juan said, "We'll have to restock my boss's fridge later, but right now I think we should go up to the balcony. That moon shining in across the water looks beautiful."

He picked up the tray and headed up the stairs. The others followed. 

The stairway ended in a little hallway leading to two bedrooms with their own bathrooms. Both bedrooms had big sliding glass doors out onto the large balcony. Alan and Lani went in one bedroom, and Juan and Nita went in the other.

Both sliding glass doors opened at the same time, with each couple peeking out at the balcony. 

Juan stepped out and put the tray of drinks and snacks on a table. There were two, double sized loungers on the balcony. He stepped back into the bedroom with Nita.

Without a word, they both undressed.

In the other bedroom, Alan was reassuring Lani that everything was going to be fine. He said, "Let's surprise them by meeting them on the balcony, naked!" They quickly undressed. It seemed like this was all rehearsed, not spur of the moment, as both couples walked out simultaneously.

Everyone smiled. No one was surprised. Everyone was naked.

Each couple embraced their own partner with a tight squeeze and a sensual kiss. Then the girls traded places. The "new" couples each sat down on one of the loungers. They talked, enjoyed the drinks and snacks, marveling at the gorgeous full moon. When the drinks and snacks were gone, each couple snuggled up on their lounger.

It got very quiet, except for the little sounds of each couple exploring their new partner for the night. After about half an hour, Alan and Nita got up and went into one bedroom. Juan and Lani got up and went into the other bedroom.

When they finally woke up in the morning, the sun was shining. It was a glorious day. They found several swim suits, trunks and bikinis in one of the closets. Everyone found one that fit them. The girls were both in skimpy bikinis. They went out and played on the beach for a while.

After a while, they decided they were hungry. There really wasn't any "food" in the fridge. They all got dressed and walked down to a little corner grocery store. They bought eggs, sausage, bread, lunch meat, some cheese, some grapes, and soft drinks to replace what they had consumed. They made sure they had enough for two breakfasts and two lunches. They had all weekend!

Alan had suggested going out for seafood for dinner and the others eagerly agreed.

They walked back to the condo and enjoyed a nice breakfast. They were planning on a late lunch and then going out for a late, late dinner. They just lounged around the condo that afternoon. It seemed that everyone was tired. It was NOT from the dancing!

Late in the afternoon, they had lunch, out on the patio. They all went upstairs, undressed, and walked out onto the balcony naked. It didn't appear that the condos on either side of them was occupied. Once they laid down on the loungers, they were pretty well shielded from the view of anyone down on the beach. Again it was "mixed couples", still learning about each other.

After they had enjoyed a spectacular sunset, they went inside to get dressed for dinner. Alan make a wise crack at Lani, "We're going to wear these clothes out, just putting them on and taking them off."

Lani laughed. Alan had a great sense of humor. She loved that about him, too.

There was a fine seafood restaurant just a few blocks away, so they decided to just walk. This time it was with their own partner. Dinner was delicious! Alan said, "Juan, you provided us all with the condo for the weekend, dinner is my treat."

When they left the restaurant, they walked along the sidewalk by the beach to the condo. There was a quiet hush as they walked along, each holding hands with their own partner. When they got back to the condo everyone again undressed and went out on the balcony to let dinner settle and again, marvel at the gorgeous full moon. This night they were snuggled up with their own partner.

When they finally decided to call it a night, Juan and Nita said good-night to Alan and Lani. They said good-night back. They kissed each other's partner good-night, and retired to the bedrooms with their own partners.

Sunday was a carbon copy of Saturday, except instead of going out to dinner, the guys walked back down to the corner grocery and bought four juicy looking steaks. They also picked up some potato salad and coleslaw from the deli counter. While they were gone the girls tidied up the condo and put the dry swim suits away.

As the sun was going down, Juan fired up the gas grill. "It may not be charcoal, but it sure is easy", he said. 

Juan grilled the steaks and everyone sat down at the patio table to enjoy steak, potato salad, coleslaw, and great company! After dinner Nita and Lani quickly cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. The guys took out the trash so the condo was clean, as they had found it. Juan said, "I'll apologize to my boss for not getting the bedding and towels laundered."

They went back upstairs, each couple to their own room and undressed. They met out on the balcony. The girls each kissed their partner, and then it was again, "mixed couples" on the loungers. 

The moon was full. They were full. It had been a fantastic weekend with new friends! After a while, mixed couples retired to the bedrooms. They would all be tired again in the morning. 

Monday morning found four very tired, but totally satisfied people, dressed and gingerly walking down the stairs. They made sure that they had everything they had brought, which wasn't much. Juan locked the condo as they left. They stopped in the carport. Hugs, Kisses, and sad good-byes all around, that their weekend was over. Each couple got in their car and headed home.

Juan told Nita, "Thank you for the wonderful gift of a weekend with new friends." He reassured her, "Lani was fantastic. I thoroughly enjoyed her young body! But, it is you I love!"

Nita answered, "It was great to be with Alan again. Not as exciting as the first time, but in a way more enjoyable because I knew you were enjoying yourself, instead of being home in bed with a broken leg. 

I love you, Juan."

Alan said, "Lani my love, this has been an unbelievable weekend. Thank you for being you, loving, understanding, and adventurous.

I hope you enjoyed your weekend, and don't have any regrets'"

Lani answered, "Regrets? Only that the weekend had to end. This was all new to me. New and exciting. Juan is a great lover. Different from you, but very good! I love you, Alan!"

*

Questions, comments or suggestions are welcome.

Feel free to e-mail me.



Alan Ch. 02



Chapter 2 Connecting the Dots

Alan and his parents arrived home, and his mom heated some leftover chicken for dinner. There was little conversation at the dinner table. Alan's grandfather was deteriorating rapidly. The doctor had spoken to them while his grandfather was sleeping, telling him that Alan's grandfather had told the medical team in the CCU that he did not want any heroic measures taken to prolong his life, and by the doctor's estimation the end could come anytime from within a few hours to a few days. After dinner Alan's mother sat on the couch and began to cry softly. His dad sat down next to her and held her, and he could see that they were rocking forward and back, at a slow pace. His mom was taking this very hard. Her mother, too, had died a lingering death, of cancer, even before Alan was born, and the emotional toll of now watching her dad slip away was trying on her. Alan sat down on the other side of her and took her hand in his, and this seemed to brighten her spirits. She came out of her shell a bit, turned to him and kissed him on the cheek, tousling his hair. She smiled at him, and took a deep breath. He was glad he could be a comfort to his mom.

Alan's dad rose to answer the phone, and his mom put her arm around his shoulder. They sat quietly for a few minutes. "So," his mom asked, "how was school today?" Alan started to turn a little pink, but his mom was looking straight ahead, and didn't notice. Alan told her it was just another regular day, a short smile forming on his lips.

Later that night Alan was awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He was still shocked about the day's events. His life had taken a strange turn, not a bad one to be sure, but strange nonetheless. Some of what had happened could be explained. Having sex with an older woman, his teacher even, was unexpected, but not out of the scope of rationality. He peeled the blanket off of him and looked down at his body. The thing he couldn't begin to understand was the sudden growth spurt in his penis. He began to review the day's events in his mind, and was brought up short. Just before Ms. Kelly had taken his penis in her hands he had been worried about it size, but when she touched it, it suddenly grew. Alan got out of bed and turned on his desk lamp, pulling open the drawer to get his ruler. The memory of Ms. Kelly holding his penis was arousing him, and he wanted to measure his cock.

He pumped it in his fist a few times, and it began to grow to full length. With his left hand he place the edge of the ruler at the base, and saw that his erection measured nine inches. He was dumbfounded. Getting back into bed he thought back again to the tryst with Ms. Kelly and suddenly it hit him. That buzzing sensation, that was the key. He first felt it in the hospital during the strange encounter with the old man, and later, right before Ms. Kelly kissed him during lunch period. Again when he saw her after school, and the kicker, his cock had tingled right before she grasped at it. Whatever was happening to him, that buzzing, tingly, sensation was the common factor. He looked down again at his crotch and imagined his penis before it had grown, and it began tingling again. He watch in astonishment as it reverted back to six inches, and just to be sure, he wanted to measure it. He got out of bed again and stepped towards the desk, reaching for the ruler. When he was about two feet from the desk the ruler levitated and floated into his hand.

Alan was breathing hard now, a little scared by what was happening. He tried to remember what the voice in his head had said when the old man held his forearm. "You have the power to control the actions of others, and more powers will come to you as you develop your skills." The old man had given him something. Some kind of power. He had used it to fuck his teacher. He had used it to make his penis grow. He had used it to summon the ruler from the desk. And he realized he had almost no control. "Develop your skills," the voice had said. Alan went back to bed and concentrated on his penis. It started tingling again, and almost instantly returned to nine inches. He decided to see what else he could do. Going into the bathroom he looked at his hair. It was chestnut brown, like his mom's hair, medium length and a bit messy-bed hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. When he opened them his hair was smoothed out, like he had just combed it. He closed his eyes again, and upon opening them he was a blond. Again, and he was completely bald, like Michael Jordan. One last time, and his hair was back to normal. 

Looking down at his torso he saw that the long winter, followed by all the time spent sitting in the hospital with his grandfather, had left him about five to ten pounds over his "fighting" weight. Most of Alan's exercise came from bicycling, and he had barely put his ass in the saddle since autumn. Over the winter his parents had given him a car, the old one, when they bought a new model for his mom to use. He hadn't even been biking to school anymore, even when the weather had warmed up.

Thinking about it deeply he closed his eyes and felt his whole body tingle, and when he looked down he saw that he had slimmed down and toned up. He was having fun, and decided to slightly increase the muscle mass of his arms and legs, but his first effort was shaky, leaving him looking like Ah-nuld. "Too freaky," he said to himself, chuckling, and dialed it down considerably. He spent a good hour playing with his body, but in the end he looked almost exactly as he had, though he kept the nine inch dick and the improved muscle tone. Just as he was slipping under the covers, around one in the morning, dad knocked on the door with a grim look. "Alan," his dad started, "It happened. Grandpa Joe is gone. Mom's getting dressed, and we're going over now." Alan began to get dressed, all thoughts of the Seed pushed to the back of his mind.

A few miles away Megan Kelly couldn't sleep. She felt like she was going crazy. "How could I have let that happen?" she asked herself. "I could lose my job, be blacklisted from every school in the country. Everything I have worked for, down the tubes." For some reason it didn't matter to her as much as it should have. She knew in her heart that she was developing real feelings for the boy, and part of her brain was telling her that love was more important than a career in teaching. But for Megan Kelly teaching was a defiant act against the expectations of her upper-class parents. She really didn't need the job to support herself, her family was rich, and she was well provided for up until her recent twenty-fifth birthday by her mom and dad, when the trust left to her in her grandfather's will came under her control. People wouldn't have guessed by her middle-class lifestyle, but her trust contained millions of dollars, almost ten million to be exact. When she began teaching she could sense the unspoken disapproval from her parents. They had expected her to be an upper class wife and mother, Junior League, the right benefit committees, and the rest. They didn't understand why she wanted to work at all, let alone be a teacher.

The men from the funeral home retrieved the body of Grandpa Joe from the hospital, and Alan and his parents watched it disappear around the corner. His dad has his arm around his mother, supporting her, and Alan took the keys from him to get the car and bring it around. The funeral was going to be held the next day, and Alan took his parents home. They needed to sleep. It was almost three in the morning, and they planned to meet the funeral director at ten. On the car ride home Alan's dad told him that he wanted him to stay home from school tomorrow, because he and mom would be out making arrangements, and someone needed to be home to answer the phone.

When fifth period came around, Ms. Kelly was anxious to see Alan, but was disappointed by his absence. One of the other students in class told her that she and Alan were in the same homeroom, and the teacher there had told the class that Alan's grandfather had died. Megan was torn between her relief at not having to confront him over their inappropriateness the day before, and her desire to be with him again, to hold him close to her body and feel his warmth, and feel the warmth running through her own body.

Later, in the principal's office, she asked the secretary about Alan and the funeral. The secretary told her that the funeral was tomorrow, Thursday, in the afternoon, and that the family would be receiving visitors that evening, after the burial. Megan didn't know if it was proper etiquette for her to show up at the house, but the secretary informed her that a good-sized contingent from the school would be going. Megan didn't know until then that Alan's mother was on the school board, but was glad that this gave her a good excuse to go to their house. The lesson in fifth period had went well, and she didn't know if it was because she lacked the distraction that Alan would have presented to her.

While his parents spent the morning at the funeral home making arrangements Alan used his unexpected free time alone to experiment with his abilities. The phone rang intermittently, mostly friends of his mom, and he had a quiet house to himself. He started with making objects move. He levitated some of the living room furniture and set it down softly. Once, when the phone was ringing and he was headed to the kitchen where he had left the cordless headset he realized that he needn't do so. Just as the phone reached him he opened his hand to take it. Since no one else was around he couldn't use his power to influence people, and the more he thought about doing it, the more questions in his mind opened. He wondered about the ethics of taking control of people. One problem he foresaw was that he had no one to talk to about his situation. He didn't think his parents would understand, let alone believe him if he were to tell them about the Seed. The other problem facing him was that there was no one to help him. The old man who gave it to him was dead, and he didn't know if any other living person had a seed of their own. Maybe he was the only one, maybe there were hundreds or even thousands of seed people. They might even be clubs or associations, Alan didn't know, and furthermore had no idea whom to ask, or even if asking was a good idea.

So far, he thought, he had only influenced one person, Ms. Kelly. He didn't not know about the assistant principal, or Mr. Stanton, his Physics teacher. Both of them were about to discover Alan and Megan together, the former during the lunchtime kiss, and the latter while Alan and Megan were having sex. The Seed had sent out a signal to each, at the behest of Alan's subconscious to stay away from the English classroom.

Around three o'clock Alan's parents returned. After the funeral home they had gone to Grandpa Joe's house to get him a suit of clothes to wear for the burial. Alan could see that his mother was physically and emotionally debilitated and he did what he could to console her. Thoughts of the Seed and his new powers evaporated.

The next morning Alan stayed home from school again. His father hadn't said anything to him about staying home, but since the funeral was today, at three in the afternoon, he figured that he would have to leave school early anyway, to change into his suit, etc. Plus, he his mom had begun to depend on him, and he wanted to be there for her. Around noon a few of Alan's friends from school showed up, giving up their lunch breaks to pay their respects. A bunch of his mom's friends had been milling about the house since after breakfast, and Alan was glad for it because they occupied his mom, keeping her mind off her loss. Alan took his friends out to the back porch and they shot the breeze for about a half an hour, until the time came that they had to head back to school.

After the funeral and the burial, the limousine dropped Alan and his folks off at their house. The street was lined with cars. Some of their friends and neighbors had gone to their house after the funeral to set up for the evening. Alan saw that the dinner table was pushed against the wall, groaning with plates of food and cakes. Someone had set up big coffee urns in the kitchen, and the house was littered with folding chairs which had been lent by the funeral home. Alan's mother sat on the living room couch and people came in dribs and drabs to pay their sympathies. Alan sat next to his mom for a while, but after a bit she shooed him away, telling him to hang out with his friends, so he did. There were a great many people in the house, friends and neighbors, relatives, people from his dad's law firm, and a bunch of people who knew his mom through her work on the school board. Alan even saw his principal from across the room. Some of his teachers, past and present, came over to him to offer their sympathies. He started to wonder if Ms. Kelly was here; he figured she wasn't. Ms. Kelly was relatively new in town, and he didn't think she knew his mother in a professional capacity. His mother had never mentioned knowing her, and Ms. Kelly had never indicated to him that she knew about his mother's position.

As he stepped into the kitchen to get a soda he saw her. She was standing around with a klatch of teachers from his school, and when he entered their eyes met. All of the teachers in her group turned and they greeted him individually, Ms. Kelly last. A few of them had hugged him, and she thought that since some already had, she could also. Megan stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck, her cheek resting for an instant on his. They parted, Alan got his drink and decided to leave the kitchen, thinking that his presence made Ms. Kelly uncomfortable.

As the hour grew late, the crowd in the house began to thin. As his friends left Alan would walk them to their car, and his dad did the same when his work colleagues left. Around nine o'clock he saw a bunch of people leave, and Ms. Kelly was at the coat rack which had been placed in the foyer, another loan from the funeral home. He excused himself from conversation had had been having with his dad, turning to Ms. Kelly and speaking in a voice loud enough so that the people still at the house could hear him, he addressed his teacher, "Wait up, Ms. Kelly, I'll walk you to the car and you can tell me about the reading assignments I missed." He saw her eyes widen for a brief second, and she responded, "Don't worry Alan, you can make those up anytime."

Alan approached her and said, still in a voice audible to the room, "OK, thanks Ms. Kelly." He paused for a second. "I'll walk you to your car anyway." Alan's dad watched them leave together, and he nodded his head in approval. "We've raised such a little gentleman," he commented to his wife, and she agreed. She didn't know what she would have done without Alan these past few days.

"Do you want to have 'the talk' now, Ms. Kelly?" Alan asked as they walked towards her car. "I have some time. My parents are busy with the visitors." Alan had a pretty good idea about what Ms. Kelly had to say to him. She used the remote on her key chain to pop the locks on her car, and gestured for Alan to get in on the other side. As he was settling himself in Alan considered his options. He had pretty much decided that he was OK with the idea of using the Seed to make changes to himself, and his ability to move objects with his mind was cool, but he resolved only to use it in private. He had considered the mind control aspects of the Seed carefully, and decided that it would be wrong, very wrong, to manipulate people into doing things they didn't want to do, and he believed he had the will power to follow through. If Ms. Kelly out and out refused to continue their affair he would live with it, but it looking at her, five days a week, for another three months (the rest of the school year) would be a massive test of his resolve.

He was surprised when Ms. Kelly started the engine. He turned to her, "What are you doing? I thought we would talk here." Ms. Kelly didn't say anything for a minute.

"Alan." She paused. "I think it would be better if we talked in private." As they drove conflicting thoughts raced through her mind. A few minutes later she pulled up in front a row of townhouses, parked, unbuckled herself, and got out of the car. Alan followed. After she had locked the door behind them she turned to Alan and threw herself in his arms, her cheek resting on his chest, tears pouring from her eyes. Alan wrapped his arms around her and held her, his shirt blotting her tears. She straightened up and pulled Alan into the living room, having him take a seat on the chair, while she sat on the sofa, facing him. She didn't want to sit next to him, not entirely trusting herself.

"I know why you want to speak to me, Ms. Kelly," he began. She looked at him, and sniffled, the reaction a byproduct of her crying jag in the foyer. Alan continued, "You want to tell me that we can't ever do anything like that again, that you could lose your job and get into a lot of trouble, right?" Ms. Kelly was listening, her chin resting on her chest, her eyes fixed downward, not daring to look at Alan. "Let me just say, Ms. Kelly, I understand, and if that's how it has to be, I can deal with it." He saw that his teacher had begun to cry again, silently, a solitary tear running down her cheek. He wanted to lean over the coffee table which separated them and wipe it off, but he decided that it might be inappropriate, so he sat quietly and waited for her to respond.

She raised her head up to look at him, wiping her tear away with the back of her hand. She was so emotional that her throat felt constricted, she thought she could barely breathe. When she tried to speak she could only whisper. "Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to say to you. B-but I'm glad you said it because a big part of me doesn't want to stop." She let that conversational bomb hover in the silent air for a few seconds before continuing. Alan strained to hear every word, her voice was so soft. As she began to speak again Alan could see that she was trembling. He got up and walked around the coffee table, sat next to her and held her. She gave a hushed moan and began shaking harder in his arms. Alan kissed her on the top of her head, admiring the pleasant odor of her hair, and she began to calm. When he thought that she had calmed down enough to speak again, he leaned back and gently pushed her away so he could see her face. Still, she didn't speak for a minute or two, but rather stared intently in his blue eyes.

He considered the situation again. He was not using his powers to force her responses. Granted, he hadn't known that he was using his powers last time, when they had sex in the classroom, but tonight he didn't feel the telltale buzzing in his head, or for that matter, his penis. If Ms. Kelly decided to continue sleeping with him of her own free will, he certainly had no objection. Lost in his internal deliberations, he took no notice as Ms. Kelly head approached his. He was shaken from his pensiveness by the feel of her lips brushing against his. He heartily returned the kiss, her mouth opening to admit his tongue. She tasted like coffee, he thought to himself. She broke the kiss and placed her chin on his shoulder, her body pressing in to his.

"Ever since that day I haven't been able to think about anything else but you, and what we did together," she began. She was about to tell him that she loved him, but bit her tongue, not wanting to spook him away. It was just a few minutes ago, when he held her and kissed the top of her head which had put her over the edge. 

She wanted him. 

She wanted to be with him. 

She wanted to be his girl. 

She hoped he would have her. Damn the consequences.




Alan Ch. 02



By this point Alan wasn't even surprised. He could feel the heat emanating from her as he held her. He began to let his hands roam over her body, rubbing her shoulder, back, and then her cute tushy. It was almost as if she was humming now, her body vibrating in response to his attentions. She was breathing through her nose, her lips clamped shut over his earlobe, and he could feel her hot exhalations on his neck. She reared back and faced him again, planting her lips on his, her hands reaching for the buttons on her blouse. She needed to feel his skin on hers again, immediately. Alan began unbuttoning his shirt, their lips never parting. She slipped out of her blouse and dropped it on the floor behind her, then grabbed Alan's shirt and tore it open, the last two or three buttons flying off in different directions.

Alan brought his arms up to pull her into him, his hands rising to reach the clasp on her brassiere. She gasped slightly as he unhooked it, pulling back and breaking their kiss as she wiggled out of it, allowing it to fall between them, resting on his lap. He opened his legs and she put her knees between his thighs, resting her ass on the back of her calves as she moved to recommence their kiss. Pressing her mouth to his, she parted his shirt and rubbed her hard nipples in his chest hair and up against his hard chest, mewling happily. She pulled his shirt down as far as she could, the collar touching the middle of his back and the rest of it bunched at the crook of his elbows. She was squirming with heat, and she realized with a start that she had begun licking his face, like a cat. Startled, she looked at him, and was giddy at his smile. He enveloped her in his strong arms, and stood lifting her to her feet. "Which way his the bedroom?" he asked, not letting her free from his hug. She pointed her head at the stairs, and he lifted her up in his arms, like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. She put her arms around his neck and he carried her up the steps.

Gently he lowered her to the bed. He straightened up and unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor. He slipped out of his shoes, and stepped out of his pants. He peeled his socks off. She was reaching behind herself to take of her skirt when he stopped her. "Let me do that, Ms. Kelly." She blushed. He got on the bed and leaned over her, kissing her breasts as he reached around to unzip her skirt. She lifted her ass of the bed and he threw it to the floor, his hands quickly at her hips to shed her of her panties. In the dim light of the room he tugged her underpants down, her legs rising to let him get them off her. He rolled over onto his back beside her, and she turned on her side so they could kiss. Hands went flying everywhere as they explored each other's bodies. In the back of her mind Megan was slightly confused. When they had hooked up earlier in the week she didn't remember Alan being so well defined, but she was not about to stop what they were doing to each other to complain or ask questions.

Alan's right hand reached down and felt her wetness. She gasped and moaned when she felt him touch her there and began to shiver with desire. "Alan," she hissed, "You make me feel so good. I need you. I n-n-need you to touch me. K-keep doing that." She was gasping, her body shaking violently, and when she came, she screamed out his name over and over again. Alan held her by her shoulders and rotated her so she was atop him. He nudged her into place, her dripping pussy rubbing against his turgid erection. Her eyes popped open when she felt his cock rub against her slit, and she raised herself up on her haunches and placed the head against her pussy. Slowly she sank down on his long cock, and this time it was he who gasped. She was tight, and the feel of her still-spasming pussy electrified him. He concentrated on not coming, and in the back of his skull he could feel the buzzing sensation again. When her ass rested on his pelvis he reached up to caress her rosy nipples, and she shuddered. "It's so wrong Alan, what we're doing, but I need it. I need you," she gasped, her face wearing a crooked grin. "I'm fucking you, Alan...I'm fucking you, Alan," she kept repeating, as if her mantra. Alan continued to toy with her nipples, gently pinching them, sometimes rubbing them with the flats of his palms in a circular motion, and after just a few minutes she came, her body falling forward, collapsing onto his chest, her screams of joy bouncing off the bedroom walls. 

Alan wasn't done.

He rolled her over and reinserted himself into her pussy, slowly pistoning his cock from tip to base. Ms. Kelly stared up at him with unbelieving eyes, too caught up in the moment to say anything. She began whimpering, and grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him down so she could drive her tongue into her mouth. He gradually picked up his pace, and after a few minutes was fucking her with great force. She arched her back and came, her body becoming stiff. Alan shot his load into her pussy and she groaned in pleasure, insensible from the passion she felt towards him. They collapsed, her body falling to the mattress, his on top of hers, his deflating penis gradually slipping from her depths. He rolled over onto his back and she rolled over too, placing the side of her face against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip, and her hand lightly stroked his chest, her fingers softly raking through his chest hairs. 

Alan glanced over to her bedstand and checked the time. When he got home he would tell his parents he went for a long walk to come to terms for his grief over Grandpa Joe. If they didn't buy it he would use the Seed to fix it, deciding that it wouldn't hurt using the power this one time. He would have to be more careful in the future.

Ms. Kelly was purring contentedly next to him in bed, and he continued to stroke her hip. They were both covered in sweat, which was evaporating and making them chilly, so he reached down and pulled at the comforter, which was folded up at the foot of the bed, over the two of them. They cuddled for awhile, enjoying their post-coital bliss, and Alan looked at the clock and saw that it was coming up on 10:30. He turned on his side and kissed her forehead, and she sighed in response. Propping himself up on his elbow he looked down at her beautiful face, with his free hand moving a few strands of hair out of her eyes. She looked back with a worshipful gaze, and he broke the silence. "Uh, Miss Kelly? Would you mind driving me home?" He paused a beat and added, "It's a school night and I have a curfew." She giggled at this and they detached and began to dress.

"You know Alan," she said as she slipped into a pair of slacks, "When we're alone, I'd like you to call me 'Megan'." They both thought this was extraordinarily funny for some reason, and with laughter in the air the went downstairs so Alan could put his shirt on before leaving the townhouse. At the door Megan peeked her head out to see of the coast was clear, and they ran to the car. 

Pulling up to his driveway the kissed briefly, and Alan let himself out of the car, and slowly made his way to the house. The buttons that had been ripped off his shirt were on the bottom, and he tucked his shirttails into his pants so no one could see the damage. The front hall was empty when he came in, so he hied it up the stairs, closing the door to his room behind him. As he was undressing to shower he heard a knock at his door and his dad's face appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. "Hey son, I heard you come in. Where did you disappear to tonight?" his dad asked. Alan told him the story about taking a walk, and his dad nodded in understanding.

After the shower Alan was sorry that he had washed Megan's smell off his body. He sat down at his computer, logged in and began to sift through his e-mail. It was only 11:15, and he usually didn't go to bed until after midnight, and tonight he seemed wired. He had expected Ms. Kelly-- Megan--to reject him because of propriety, but he was delighted by her lust for him. He hadn't even pushed her into doing it with his power. He gave up on using the computer, too distracted by the fresh memories of his encounter with Megan.

Firing up the CD player he slipped in a disc by the punk band Bad Religion, this one titled 'Stranger than Fiction'. His skateboard-freak cousins from California had turned him onto the band, and his parents' room was on the other side of the house, so as long as he kept the volume reasonable he wouldn't disturb them. Pressing the shuffleplay button he the lowered himself on the bed and began to relax. The second song that played was called "Hooray for Me," and the lyrics took on a whole new meaning for Alan.

"Tell me...can you imagine, for a second Doing anything just 'cus you wanted to? Well that's just what I do, so hooray for me... AND FUCK YOU!" 

and a later, slightly different version of the chorus

"Yeah tell me... can you imagine, for a second trying half the things you ever wanted to? Well that's just what I do, so hooray for me..." 

You know the rest.

NEXT CHAPTER: Alan loosens his self-imposed rules about his use of his powers



Alan Ch. 03



Chapter 3 Enter Kate, Stage Left

The clock radio began pealing at 7am, and Alan used his telekinetic power to flip the switch to silence it. It was becoming second nature to move things with his mind, but he only did it in the privacy of his bedroom. Emerging from the shower a few minutes later he dressed quickly and went down to get some breakfast. After a fast bowl of cornflakes, a banana, and a cup of coffee he headed out to school.

"License and registration," the cop at the side window asked him. Alan didn't know why the cop had pulled him over, but he was sure the policeman would tell him. They always liked to rub you face in it by explaining what you did wrong in an overcomplicated fashion. "Sir, you blew through the stop sign at Westervelt Road." Alan was sure the cop was telling the truth. He was distracted, both by thoughts of Megan and thoughts of the Seed.

Alan looked at the cop and thought for a moment. "Officer, I think you're mistaken. I came to a full and complete stop. Looked both ways and then drove on," Alan lied. The cop blinked a few times and seemed puzzled.

"I am sorry sir. You are right. You came to a full and complete stop. Looked both ways and then drove on. I don't know why I pulled you over. I'm going to let you go now, and I hope I didn't make you late." Alan grinned as he pulled away, watching the cop go back to the squad car in the mirror. Cool. It was like that scene in 'Star Wars' when Alec Guinness told the stormtroopers, "These are not the droids you are looking for." He was psyched, and in fact made excellent time to school, arriving early enough to stick his head in at the newspaper office. He made some comments in the margins of a few articles that were waiting in his box, and left them in the out box for the copy editors. The copy editor would hash out Alan's comments with the reporter, and then send it to layout. 

Walking to home room he was approached by numerous people offering their sympathies over his grandfather's death. His homeroom teacher paused taking role when he reached Alan's name to welcome him back. Two days out of school had taken a toll on his sense of rhythm, and he was further diverted by his anticipation of seeing Megan, and thoughts of his new abilities. His first period was a free period, and he was supposed to go to study hall, but he usually spent free periods at the newspaper office, one of the privileges of being in charge. As homeroom let out he was making his way there when he ran into his ex-girlfriend Pauline Van Devanter. He and Pauline had been friends for a long time before going out on a few dates. They had decided that they were better off as friends, and after the third and final date they had almost simultaneously suggested that they "just be friends." Pauline was also the sports page editor of the newspaper, a job Alan had championed her for, never having gone to a girl before. Pauline was a junior, about five feet tall in her stocking feet, dark brown hair and blue eyes, with a cute face.

The one problem with Pauline was her bitch of a sister, Kate. Kate, for some reason, disliked Alan, and was never one to hide her feelings. Kate was a senior like Alan, and was the leader of a click of popular girls. The two weeks that Pauline and Alan dated Kate made her hatred of him show in a variety of ways. She even forced one of her peons into make a pass at him, so as to drive a wedge between him and her sister. Alan and Pauline were standing in the hall chatting, Pauline offering her sympathies. Hundreds of students were milling about them, and Pauline had to stand close to him so they could hear each other. Alan had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and Pauline had placed her hand on his forearm. Just as they were about to part company Kate came around the corner, and seeing them made a beeline to confront her sister. "Haven't you had enough of that loser?" she sneered at her sister. Pauline knew better than to respond. Kate was a drama queen, and she wanted no part of this scene. Leaving Alan with a friendly peck on the cheek, she gave him a hand gesture indicating that she wanted Alan to call her later. Alan nodded and shot her a smile, watching Pauline leave, but Kate's blood was riled up, and she was itching for a confrontation with Alan. 

Even though Alan was fairly popular, he wasn't a member of the Truman H.S. elite. Sure, he was invited to some of the better parties, but not all of them, like Kate the Social Butterfly. Kate thought herself superior to him, and even though her kid sister wasn't on the same social plateau as her, she resented the fact that Pauline hung out the likes of Alan Marshall. When he briefly dated her sister she took it a personal affront. After Pauline left Kate began to needle Alan, unnerved by the stupid grin on his face.

Alan had decided to humiliate Kate, and just as the halls began to clear a plan formed in his mind. He decided that Kate would accompany him back to the newspaper office, and there she would rape him. She would tear off his clothes, and mount him like a bitch in heat, all the while being allowed to express her self verbally, questioning why she was acting that way. Alan didn't know if this was a free period for her, and he didn't care. He sort of regretted not making a move to get Pauline into bed, and he decided that fucking the bitchy Van Devanter sister would be fun. Plus, Kate was hot. She was taller than her sister, about 5'4" with a lithe figure capped with fairly big breasts, and a round, curvy bottom, displayed nicely in the pair of tight jeans she had on.

Alan let her tear into him for a few more seconds, and then put a sheepish look on his face and started walking away from her. Sending out a mental command, Kate followed him down the hall, spitting abuse. "Who the hell do you think you are, Alan Marshall? You don't turn your goddamn back on me you fucking twerp. Come back here, loser." She followed him into the newspaper office and he locked the door behind her. Dropping to her knees she grabbed at Alan's belt and began unbuckling it. "Stay the fuck away from my sister if you know what's good for you," she said as she unzipped his fly. Pulling his pants to his knees she added, "You were a loser in grade school, you're a loser in high school, and be prepared to be a loser for the rest of your life. Chad will mess up your face if I tell him to, and I will if I catch you sniffing around Pauline again." Alan's cock popped out and Kate began licking the head with the tip of her tongue, holding it steady with her right hand. After licking the shaft all around she put the head to her lips and gave it a kiss.

All of a sudden she realized what she was doing, and recoiled, a horrified look coming over her face. "What the fuck?" she cried out. She was confused. She had never had any sorts of feelings for Alan Marshall. Her hostility was not a mask for any subconscious desire. She really detested him. Why was she on her knees licking his penis? Why was she unbuttoning her blouse, and pulling her bra off? Why was she standing up to open Alan's shirt? She blinked hard and shook her head, trying to clear it, but found she couldn't stop running her hands all over Alan's chest. He was nicely buffed, and she was surprised that she was enjoying herself. After a minute she returned to her kneeling position and guided his cock into her mouth. She took about three inches, and then got the shock of her life-Alan was fully erect now, and Alan was huge. She crossed her eyes to gaze the length of his shaft, and couldn't believe her eyes. She had never seen a penis so large. Alan had been reading her thoughts the whole time, and decided to send out a wave of arousal. The back of his head buzzed momentarily, and immediately Kate's hips started churning.

Alan pulled his cock out of her mouth, took two steps to the left and pulled a chair out from a desk. Sitting down he noted with satisfaction that Kate has crawled after him, her eyes never leaving his crotch, and her tongue hanging out, also pointed at his dick. Alan stroked his dick, looking Kate right in the eye. She got his message, and buried her face in his crotch, kissing his shaft up and down. Taking him into her mouth again she reached down and began to take off her jeans. Alan put his hands on her head, holding her in place, and running his fingers through her raven-black hair. By the time her jeans were down to her knees she was licking Alan's balls, and had plunged her right hand into her pink silk panties. Curling her pointer and middle fingers into a hook, she pushed them up her pussy, and was surprised at her wetness. Groaning, she took his cock back into her mouth, relishing the flavor and hardness of his shaft.

Alan was enjoying himself. Letting her worship his manhood for a few more minutes, he then pulled her mouth off of him and pulled her to her feet by placing his hands under her armpits and standing up. Kate kicked off her sneakers, and wiggled the rest of the way out of her jeans. Alan reached between then, grasped the band of her panties at the hips and tore them off her body. Kate gasped.

"What the hell is going on here, prick? Let me go you bastard." Alan said nothing, for he had already decided to show his contempt towards Kate by not giving her any reply. He would remain silent through the whole encounter. Taking his seat again he held his penis in his hand, pointing straight up. "Fuck you, you bastard. There is no fucking way I'm gonna fuck you!" But as she was saying this she began to straddle him, the two of them facing each other. "No fucking way. No fucking way," she said as she positioned her dripping slit over the head of his penis. She kept repeating this until Alan penetrated her. Her eyes bulged, and she began chanting, "Fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUCK!" He pulled her down so that his whole cock was insider her, and held her still, impaled on his nine inches. She had stopped talking, and was gasping instead, her head tilted back in ecstasy. "Ohmigod," she screamed, as Alan sent a mental command for her to orgasm. Her hips began to rotate, and her crotch ground into his. 

Alan had given her a whopper of an orgasm, and she had never felt anything like it. Her boyfriend, Chad, the football captain, had been fucking her regularly, but he was good for about three minutes of unsatisfying friction, never once giving her a climax, and she had fallen into the habit of masturbating after their dates to get satisfaction. She prided herself on her ability to get her own rocks off, but the orgasm she just felt made those seem like nothing. Her entire body was on fire, and she felt the a slippery sensation where the two of them were joined. Looking down she saw that her pussy had secreted a great deal of lubrication upon orgasm. She tried to kiss Alan, but he brought up his hands to stop her. Alan had no interest in kissing her; she was still a bitch, he reasoned, and he didn't kiss bitches.

Holding her by the hips Alan began to lift and drop her on his erection. Kate was moaning and gasping, and occasionally she was able to form words into sentences. "What the, ah ah ah ugh, fuck are you doing, ah ah ah ugh, to, ugh, me." Her neck muscles were slack, and her head was tottering around uncontrollably. Alan didn't answer, instead sending a mental command for her to have another mind-blowing orgasm. He was fucking the hell out of her, and he wanted her to know it. After she had calmed down a bit he stood, his prick still buried in her pussy, pulled out of her briefly, bent her over the desk, and began fucking her from behind. Coming to her senses from the shift in position she began berating him. "Fuck you, Alan, you bastard. Stop!" But she was throwing her body back into his strokes, her ass slapping against his groin so hard that it was making an obscene noise. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Uh uh uh uh...Yes yeah yes Yes. Ohmigod! I'm fucking you..." 

Alan slowed his rhythm, allowing him to use his whole shaft, pulling out so that just the tip remained in her, and then slowly pressing forward until he was buried to the hilt. Kate's groans were constant now, her hot channel in a near constant state of spasm, and her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Her head was resting on it side on the desk, and sometimes she tilted it forward, so that her chin rested on her chest. This was so she could see him, and when he noticed her looking at him, he flashed her an evil smile. "So good, that feels soooooo good," she hissed at him. 

She saw Alan wet his finger by placing it in his mouth, and she wondered what he would do next. She was hoping he would diddle her clit, which was rock hard and rubbing against the edge of the desk. Instead he brought it to her asshole and began to tease her anus. "My God!" Kate thought to herself, "He's not going put his finger in my ass, is he?" Alan listened to her thoughts as he toyed with her anal ring, and shoved his finger in about half way. Kate immediately seized up in pain, and tears streamed out of her eyes, but she didn't cry out, or even ask him to remove the invading digit. Alan eventually forced his whole finger up her butt, and began pumping it and out slowly, matching the thrust of his dick in her tight pussy. He could sense her discomfort and he decided to modify her mind, making her like the feelings of his finger in her ass, but leaving intact the sense of utter degradation that came with them.

She came again, her pussy clenching around his penis, her ass squeezing his finger so hard Alan thought he would lose circulation, and her whole body stiffening and seizing up, her torso rising off the desk at a 45 degree angle. She didn't even scream out this time, just exhaled loudly, and then her body came back to rest on the desk, her tears now falling out of her eyes at a faster rate. Alan pulled his cock and finger out of her, and saw that her body was still twitching.

Spitting in his hand and then rubbing the saliva onto his shaft, adding to the moisture left there by her juices, he then placed the head up against her rosebud and pushed it past her tight anal ring. After the head popped through her sphincter, momentum carried him forward and he buried about half of his nine incher in on the first thrust. Using the Seed to relax her ass muscles, he soon had his whole length sheathed in her clenching butt. "You fucking piece of shit," Kate groaned, "I hate you. Oh! That feels so fucking good, you jerk. Fuck my ass. Harder...you bastard. Harder. Ungh yeah. Oh oh oh ah oh...yes!" Alan had commanded her to come, and he felt her pussy squirt out juice, striking his upper thighs. Alan came in her hot, buttery ass and pulled out, sliding down to sit in the chair. Kate hadn't moved. She was bent over the desk, her body continuing to shake, and she was breathing like she just ran a 10K. Alan pulled her off the desk and sat her in his lap, twisting her head around so they were face to face. "Did you like that, bitch?" he sneered. She didn't answer, just kept taking long breaths. Her eyes had a worshipful look to them as she stared into his face.

"Well, slut, why so quiet now?" he prodded. 

"Ohmigod." She finally spoke. "Ohmigod."

Alan reached around and began pinching her still hard nipples. She had nice boobs, he thought, soft and lush, about a C cup he estimated. Despite their softness they didn't sag a whit, and they stood proudly on her chest, high on her torso, her nipples pointed up. Alan's attentions were making her horny again, and she began to breathe more heavily again. "So, slut," he went on, taunting her, "Did you like it when my dick was in your mouth." Kate nodded. "Did you like when I fucked you." Again she nodded, becoming even more ashamed. "Did you like my finger in your tight ass? Did you like my cock in your ass?" Tears began to flow down her cheeks again, but she kept nodding.

"Which did you like better, my finger or my cock?" She didn't answer, so he pinched her nipples harder, lightly twisting them. She moaned, and through her moans managed to whisper, "Your cock." Her neck went all limp again, and she hung her head down in shame, no longer able to look him in the eyes. "You're just a little slut, aren't you?" She wanted to scream in disgust, run for the room and tell someone that Alan had raped her. Tell a teacher, tell the principal, tell the cops, but she couldn't seem to move. She wanted to be on Alan's lap. She wanted him to call her names. As much as the nipple pinching was turning her on, so was the humiliation of her situation. She wanted to do all of those things: to see Alan arrested for rape and sent to jail, but she just kept he place shook her head no. "Admit it, you fucking slut. You loved it in your ass." Her head kept shaking from side to side, tears down her cheeks, but she was visibly aroused by his hands on her breasts.

"I'm a slut," she moaned. "God," she went on, "You made me come so hard. I've never felt so good." Her body was bouncing a little in his lap, and there was fire in her eyes as she brought her head up to look him in the face. "I'm...I'm a slut, Alan. I'm your slut. Please, that was so good. I, I, I came so hard when you fucked my ass. I never knew...I'm your slut Alan. My body belongs to you. Use me. Anywhere, anytime. Please, you have to fuck me again, fuck my ass again, soon."

Alan stood and began to dress. As he rose her body slipped off his, both being slippery from the sweat of their exertions. She slid to the floor and laid face down on it. Alan could see his semen tricking out of her ass, and that she was still tremulous with arousal. He grabbed her shredded panties off the ground and wiped his dick with them, dropping them so they landed on her back. Pulling up his pants, tucking the shirt in and fastening the button he looked down at her with contempt. "Get dressed slut. I'll deal with you later, but I have a class in ten minutes." She turned over, and seeing him fully dressed she began to do the same, tucking the ruined set of underpants into her purse. 

When they were ready Alan checked the hall, surprised that no one had come to investigate Kate's screams and moans. Seeing that it was clear he walked her out, pulling the door closed behind him to lock it, he spun her around and backed her up against the wall, his face and inch from hers, and looking right into her pale blue eyes whispered, "Tell no one about this, slut." As he spoke he reinforced this command with his mind. She leaned up and in to kiss him, and he took her lower lip between his teeth and bit down, but not so hard as to break the skin and cause her to bleed. She groaned softly at this. 

Alan turned his back on her and walked away, headed to his double period physics lab. He didn't see her sink to the floor, her back sliding down the length of the wall. Watching him turn the corner she mumbled aloud, "I'm Alan's slut." The idea seemed to cheer her. Standing again, she began to make her way to her next class. Her tryst with Alan had caused her to miss first period French, but Mrs. Martin was always nice to her, and she knew it wouldn't be a problem. As she made her way down the hall she realized she was in discomfort. Her crotch was sore, and her ass hurt. Instead of going to AP European History she went to the nurse's office, and looking the way she did, with her hair in tatters, and covered in sweat, the nurse took pity on her, giving her a tylenol when she had complained of cramps. Kate got into a cot and pulled the scratchy wool blanket over her. Just as she drifted off she mumbled softly, "I'm Alan's slut." The nurse didn't hear. 

About an hour later the nurse woke her up, and Kate saw her mom standing over her. Ten minutes later she was bundled in the SUV. Mom had taken the keys to Kate's Jetta, giving them to the nurse to get to Pauline. "What's wrong Princess? You look terrible, all pale and sweaty. I told Conchita to warm up some soup for you before I left, and we're going to put you right to bed once we get home."




Alan Ch. 03



"I'm Alan's slut," Kate mumbled.

"What's that dear? I couldn't make out what you were saying." Kate was in the back seat, prone, her face buried in the cushions. She turned her head and in a louder voice she answered her mother, "I said, 'I felt faint.'" Her mother tsk tsk'ed as she signaled for a left turn out of the school parking lot.

Alan went to physics feeling good about himself. A week ago he would haven't have even dreamed about degrading another human being like he did to Kate, but he figured he was a bitch, and in a very slight way had it coming to her. She certainly seemed to have enjoyed herself, and the sight of her, looking like a living rag doll, pleased him. His clothes were a little disheveled, and as he waited for the bell to ring while standing outside Mr. Stanton's classroom for the second of the two physics periods to begin he used the Seed to take the wrinkles out. He saw Pauline approach him, and he straightened up. "Alan," she began, "I just want to apologize for my sister. Sometimes she lets her mouth run off, and you shouldn't take it personally. She's just Kate, and there's nothing we can do about it." Alan told her he wasn't offended, and she gave him a smile. "There is something I can do about it," he thought, "And I did." 

"She probably tore into you because she wasn't feeling well. She just went home with my mom. The nurse came and gave me her car keys." Pauline gave him another light peck on the cheek and moved off to get to her next class. He watched her saunter down the hall, looking at her from behind, and wondering if her ass would feel as good as her sister's had. Pauline felt his eyes on him, and turned, her long brown hair whipping over her shoulder, gave him another smile and moved along. "See you after school at the newspaper," she called out.

Wringing her hands Megan Kelly watched Alan among the group of students headed to her class. As the rest of the class entered she handed out the quiz. "Alan," she cleared her throat and continued, embarrassed by the croaking sound which came out when she called his name, "Since you missed the last two lessons you don't have to take the quiz. Could you run this over to the principal's office to me?" She held out a piece of paper, folded over. As he approached her, she walked him to the door. "Read it," she whispered. As the door shut behind him Alan walked towards the main office, and unfolded the paper.

"Come to my house at 5pm. Call ahead and I'll leave the door unlocked." On the paper was Megan's home and cell numbers, and her address, though Alan remembered the way to her house from the night before. Alan pocketed the paper and headed to the boy's bathroom, killing time until he could return to class without being suspicious. As he stood before the sink washing his hands the door to the stall behind him opened, and out came Geoff Sherman, the captain of the lacrosse team, and the school's biggest asshole, at least in Alan's opinion. Geoff was about 6'3" and had a hulking presence. He was know to bully smaller students, not to take their lunch money or anything like that, but just because he liked to intimidate. Mr. Mendoza, the math teacher and lacrosse coach always bailed Geoff out of jams when the administration wanted to discipline him. Alan disliked Mr. Mendoza, too. Geoff hadn't really ever hassled Alan before, but since they were alone, Alan presented a target of opportunity, and Geoff had poor impulse control.

"So, Marshall, you dweeb," he said as he moved closer to Alan, "How are you and the rest of the fairies at the newspaper getting along." He came up right behind Alan and stood menacingly at his back. Alan calmly continued to run his hands underneath the faucet. "What's that, punk, I didn't hear you," he said with a snarl, pushing Alan forward with his beefy frame until Alan's hips were pressed against the sink. Alan struggled out from between Geoff and the sink and spun around, reached up and dug his fingers into Geoff's clavicle, the fingers pressed between the bone and the flesh at the base of Geoff's thick neck, creating a depression in the muscle, the sinews stretching painfully. Geoff crumpled to his knees, and Alan used the Seed to temporarily increase his strength as he bent over and brought his left hand to Geoff's neck. As he squeezed Geoff with both hands, right on the collar bone, left around the neck he narrowed his eyes into slits and stared into his eyes.

"Don't ever fucking think you can touch me again." He left Geoff struggle for air for a half a minute, and then released him, pushing him over so he collapsed on the ground. Alan returned to the basin, and began washing his hands again. He kneeled down over Geoff and dried his hands on the bully's shirt. "If you don't want me to really fuck you up, never lay hands on another student in this school again. If I hear any shit about you, I'll smack you down so hard your kids will be born dizzy." Geoff whimpered in fear, terror blazing across his beady eyes as they watched Alan stride out of the bathroom. 

The day was turning out to be a good one.

Ms. Kelly was collecting the quizzes as Alan reentered the room, and Alan took his seat. As the period ended Alan packed his things slowly, and was the last student in the room. Walking to the door, he closed it instead of leaving, and then advanced on Megan, as she was erasing the board, her back to the door. Megan anticipated that Alan hadn't really left, and when he embraced her, wrapping his arms around her middle from behind, she let out a happy and contented sigh. "We have to stop meeting like this Ms. Kelly," Alan whispered in her ear, and she tittered. Turning within his arms she stood on her toes and kissed him, her tongue slipping past his lips. After a minute he pulled back, grabbed his backpack and let himself out. "See you after school," he said as farewell, heading to meet his friends in the cafeteria.

"Oh God, my panties are wet," Megan thought to herself as she sat down. "How can I teach this afternoon with wet panties?" Going to her closet and unlocking it, she took out the panties she had planned to change into after showering at the gym after her workout. Pulling her sodden underpants off, she used them to sponge the juices off her slit, placed them in her gym bag, and pulled the dry pair on. Instead of going to the gym she would go to the mall, to the fancy lingerie store, La Perla, and buy a couple of dozen pair of sexy underthings. Last time she was there she had spent more than a thousand bucks, and that was only for six pairs of panties and four brassieres. It would be expensive, but worth the price. She almost never indulged herself, but after her indulgences with Alan she was less hesitant about giving in to her desires. 

Entering the newspaper office after school that day Alan hoped that he wouldn't be stuck there for a long time. The paper was put to bed every Friday, and transmitted to the printers as e-mail attachments. On Tuesday mornings, stacks of newsprint arrived and were placed in bundles on racks throughout the school. Alan had taken the initiative in turning the paper from a semi-monthly into a weekly, and the principal and faculty advisor had agreed to try it out as a one-year only experiment, but Alan knew that if they were successful, the paper would be allowed to stay as a weekly the next year, and even though he wouldn't be around to see it, he felt that the accomplishment would be a proud part of his legacy. Alan immediately sensed that the office was in disarray, his two day absence more disruptive than he thought it would be. The senior editor was fighting with the layout editor, the copy editor was screaming at some freshman whose name Alan could never remember. Alan picked up a heavy dictionary and slammed it down on the conference table to get their attention. This shit was going to take awhile, and he prepared for the long haul. 

Alan began directing his people like a general commanding his troops. The staff may not have all liked him, but they respected him, and began to fall into line. Even with everyone now working instead of bickering, Alan foresaw that he would be stuck here until almost dinner time, and he cursed to himself. There was no way he could stop by Megan's that afternoon. After making his rounds to each of the workstations in the now relatively quiet room, he told each staff member individually what he needed from them, and then stood behind them, waiting for them to start bringing him problems and minor disputes to settle. 

Around a quarter of five Mr. Bar Levi, the faculty advisor came in and was pleased by the harmony and busy pace. Reporters and copy editors started drifting out once their copy had been check by Alan and passed down the room to layout, so the room was fairly empty. Mr. Bar Levi and Alan chatted for a bit, of course the teacher relayed his sympathies, and Alan asked Mr. Bar Levi to keep an eye on things for a minute so he could step out for a bit of fresh air. Once outside Alan speed dialed Megan (he had programmed her numbers into his phone while walking from her classroom to the cafeteria), and told her that he was stuck at the paper, but could he see her tonight? Megan instantly agreed, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. 

Already having decided to skip the gym Megan headed to the mall. On her way out after buying new, sexy panties she walked back to her car and realized she didn't have anything to do for the next few hours. Indulging herself, she drove to the hair salon. The place was fairly quiet, and Megan went whole hog: manicure and pedicure, and Antonio styled her hair. She had her fingernails and toenails lacquered a girlish pink. In the back of her mind she thought that the shade would make her look and feel younger, and with the age difference between her and Alan, every little bit helped. The girls at the salon talked her into a facial, arguing that the time it would take to perform would allow her nails to dry before she had to get back in the car. She realized she hadn't brought sandals, so she was stuck at the salon until her toenails dried, and agreed to the facial.

Pulling into the parking spot in front of her house, she strained to reach into the back seat of her car to retrieve the shopping bag from the lingerie store. As she was closing the door to her car, her neighbor Leila Tsing pulled into the spot next to hers. They were good friends, and shared almost everything, but Megan was embarrassed when Leila said, "Hey Sugar, you look hot! Big date tonight?" Then she spied the shopping bag, and a smile spread across her face. "Who's the new guy? Must be something special, spending all that money, huh?"

Megan let herself in the townhouse and Leila followed her in. Leila was much more experienced when it came to men than Megan. They were about the same age, and Leila was a physical therapist at the nearby hospital. She was slightly shorter than Megan, and had a lithe body, almost curve-less and unbelievably thin. Her ass was surprisingly rounded, and her breasts were only slightly too large for her frame. She had lustrous black hair, so dark it almost seemed navy blue, and she kept it long, and tied up in a pony-tail, framing her very cute face. 

Megan was torn. She thought Leila would be a good person to talk to about Alan. She wouldn't judge, and she did know a lot about men. On the other hand, her relationship with Alan was wrong in the eyes of society, and it would be risky to reveal anything about it to a third party. Megan turned circumspect, but Leila kept pressing her about her nail polish and the new hair style and underwear, and was sure that Megan was expecting a man. Some part of her felt sorry for Megan. Her friend never dated much, and the intervals between boyfriends had been lengthening of late. "What was that last guy's name?" she tried to remember. "Dan? Don?" Leila couldn't quite remember. He and Megan had broken up over six months ago, and Megan had been alone ever since. Leila could sense that Megan wanted to tell her about her new man, but something seemed to be holding her back. After dickering around the point for awhile Leila just decided to be blunt. "So, girlfriend, spill it. Who's the new guy?"

Megan's face reddened and she hesitated before answering, barely able to get the words out. Her mind raced with the thought that by confiding in Leila she would in some way betray Alan. But mostly she really wanted to tell someone, to share with someone. The last few days had been among the happiest of her life, and she was bursting at the seams to dish. "Promise me, Leila, that nothing I say leaves this room," waiting for Leila to agree. Her friend nodded and Megan continued, "His name is Alan, and we've only been, ah, seeing each other for a few days."

"Why the mystery Megan. We've always talked about stuff like this. What, is he married or something?" Megan told her the whole story, from the kiss at lunch, to the sex after school, to last night's lovemaking, but leaving out the raunchier details. As she narrated she noticed her friend was rapt with attention. When she finished she began to cry, and told Leila that Alan had stood her up this afternoon, putting her off until night. "I know I'm being stupid, but some part of me feels as if I'm losing him. I'm just going crazy, but being with him makes me so happy."

"Don't worry about it Meg. It's every high school boy's fantasy to make it with his sexy teacher. Hell, I even fantasized about one of my male teachers in school. So, he's the first guy to get you off, huh?" Megan nodded. "I've never been with a younger man, but I imagine the energy is incredible." Megan smiled. Talking to Leila had calmed her down, and the relief at having someone to talk to about Alan was a catharsis. They chatted a bit more, and confirmed their standing date to watch "Sex and the City" together on Sunday night. After Leila left, Megan took her bag upstairs and laid the new purchases out on the bed, trying to figure out which pair to surprise Alan with tonight.

Next Chapter: Megan purrs, Kate begs.



Alan Ch. 04



Megan Purrs, Kate Begs

Between 3:30 and 5:30 the staff had worked hard, only bothering him occasionally with questions or problems. He was even able to get almost all of his homework done. 

Alan stepped out of the office and called home telling his mom where he was. He really wasn't on such a short leash, but his mom was in a fragile state, and he was sure she would appreciate the courtesy. "By the way," Alan added, lying through his teeth, "Mikey Green asked if I wanted to come over tonight to play poker. If you don't need me around I'm going to go." Alan's mom told him not to be silly, almost insisting that he go be with his friends. As he was returning to the office Alan felt a little bad about lying to his mom.

Just as he finished his calculus problem sets Pauline Van Devanter came up to him, and pulled up a chair close. "So, Alan, how's it going? I hope my sister didn't wreck your day."

"No, in fact, just the opposite," he replied cryptically. Pauline moved onto other subjects, mostly concerning reporting assignments for next week's athletic schedule. Alan looked her over. Pauline had the build of an athlete. Trim and petite, she resembled a figure skater or an Olympic gymnast. Alan never knew her to play organized sports, but her older brother Cal was a great athlete, starting tight end on the football team at Truman, and now filing the same role at Dartmouth, indeed, one of the few sophomores to be a starter. Pauline had always idolized Calvin, and she was in many ways much closer to her older brother than she was to her older sister, even though she and Kate were nearer in age. She became interested in sports because Cal was interested in sports, and her life's goal was to be a sports journalist. She hoped to be the next Hannah Storm, and was thrilled when Alan had almost single-handedly installed her as sports page editor. They had been friends since junior high, though Kate had always been trying to get between them.

One of the sports writers called out for her and she went over to him, then made a few changes to his copy, printed his article out and brought it over to Alan. After giving it a cursory glance--he trusted Pauline--she told the writer to transmit it over the network to the layout editor's workstation for insertion. A few other editors came by as well, doing the same dance that Pauline had just performed, i.e. bringing copy for Alan's approval, and then sending it electronically to layout, but none chatted him up as Pauline had. By 5:30 almost everyone was gone. Mr. Bar Levi returned around then and scanned the printouts for content. Finding nothing too controversial, he left Alan and two editors to finish up. 

Right after he left, Alan turned to the two, Missy Peters, the managing editor (second-in-command), and Amanda Wallace, the layout editor, and asked them if they could handle the rest of the work without him. He really needed to get home, he explained. They understood, Alan having just lost his grandfather and all, and wished him a good weekend.

He trusted them, especially Missy, a junior, who was slated to succeed him when he graduated. They weren't really friends, but he respected her journalistic judgment and acumen. Amanda, though only a sophomore, was the best layout person he had ever worked with, a maestro with the graphics programs, so he was confident the next edition of the paper would come out fine.

Alan pulled up to his house about an hour before his mom put dinner on the table, and he kept her company as she cooked. She was still a bit subdued, and at dinner Alan's dad attempted to compensate, trying his best to liven up the mood. After dinner Alan rushed to his room to shower and change his clothes for his meet with Megan. He really didn't think of it as a date because they really couldn't go out in public together. He thought about the reaction people would have if they were seen together at the movie theater, or at Starbucks, holding hands, or being affectionate. His friends, he imagined would stare at the two of them goggle-eyed; and her friends and co-workers would probably be horrified, bringing down upon them all sorts of horrors. As he was getting ready he knew he had to be careful. If he dressed too sharply for poker night at Mikey's his parents would become suspicious, but he didn't want to show up at Megan's like a slob. He put on tan pants and a nice shirt, a knit pullover polo-style one, not wanting to lose anymore buttons. The thought made him smile.

It was fairly warm for an early spring evening such as this, and he shed his jacket as he walked to her door, folding it over his arm. He had called ahead while driving over, and she reminded him the door would be unlocked, and he should let himself in discretely. Alan noticed movement in the window of the townhouse next to Megan's; the curtains parted and quickly came back together. As he entered he saw her sitting in the living room, in the overstuffed chair so she could watch the door while waiting for him. Seeing him enter she crossed the foyer, putting her left arm around his waist, and with her right she turned the deadbolt. Alan bent over and kissed her neck, and she purred. They retreated to the living room, walking hand-in-hand, and sat beside each other on the couch, her body draped on his. Megan asked about his day, and Alan related the difficulties at the paper. Since she knew most of the people involved she often interrupted him, offering unvarnished opinions about the players.

"Megan, just when I came in, the person in the house next door, the one on the left, was watching me. Do you think we should be worried?" Megan had an embarrassed look on her face and said nothing. Alan could feel the buzzing in his head again, and was slightly startled realized that he could hear her thoughts. 

"Damn," she thought, "I never should have told her about Alan. She'll never tell, I hope, but I don't want to freak out Alan." Alan was flabbergasted about Megan's loose talk. He hadn't breathed a word to anyone about Megan, and with her position he figure she would be just as tactful. "I, uh, I don't think we should worry Alan. That's just my neighbor Leila, and she wouldn't say anything. We're friends." Alan probed her thoughts, finding out all he could about this Leila, and what about him Megan had told her. Convinced that Megan trusted Leila, Alan relaxed a bit, not that he was so tense to begin with. 

The doorbell rang, and Megan, full of trepidation looked through the peephole. "It's Leila," she whispered to Alan. "Let her in," he replied, surprising her. "You sure?" she asked back, and Alan nodded.

Up on "The Hill" Kate Van Devanter was awakening. ("The Hill" was the nickname for the section of town where the rich lived.) She realized that Pauline had come into her room and was sitting at the edge of her bed, and that's what caused her to wake.

"So," Pauline said softly, "Are you feeling better?" Kate stretched out and nodded. "What happened this morning. You seemed OK, but mom picked you up during second period." Pauline had a genuine look of concern on her face. She might have thought Kate could be a little bit of a bitch sometimes, especially to Alan Marshall, but they were still sisters, and Pauline cared about her.

"What did happen to me this morning?" Kate thought to herself. For some reason she had followed Alan to the newspaper office, spitting insults all along the way, and then she had practically torn off his clothes, sucked his penis into her mouth, mounted him, and then let him fuck her in her virgin ass. And despite the horror of it all she had had the most intense orgasms of her life, even when he took her ass. Even now, almost half a day later she couldn't make heads or tails of how it had happened. The only thing she really did know was that her body, her pleasure, now belonged to that jerk Alan Marshall. She was his slut, and he could do with her as he pleased. She would crawl across broken glass to feel that pleasure again. She would submit to his every whim just for the small chance to come like again.

She answered her sister in an exceedingly soft voice; Pauline strained to hear her. "All of a sudden I felt faint. I almost passed out. Uh, I was cramping and went to the nurse, and she put me in a cot and called mom. She brought me home, and I've been sleeping since this morning." Pauline bent over and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room. A few minutes later her dad came in, and also asked what had happened, receiving the same story.

Feeling well enough to go downstairs for dinner, Kate pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and a pajama top. The dinner table conversation was dominated by Pauline's stories of the day at the newspaper. Mom and Dad were very proud of all Pauline had accomplished, both on the paper and her good grades, and asked many questions about her work on the paper. Alan's name came up a few times, and then only in passing, but Kate pricked up her ears at each mention. 

Pauline was going out with friends after dinner, to see a movie. Once she left, Kate snuck into her room, found her address book in the top drawer of her desk, and scribbled Alan's phone numbers on a piece of scrap paper. Letting herself out she quickly made her way back to bed. It wasn't until she closed her bedroom door behind her that she realized she had ran the whole way to her room with the scrap of paper clutched to her breast.

Her dad knocked a few minutes later to invite her downstairs to watch a video. He intimated that they wanted to keep an eye on her, worried that she might faint. She agreed, and joined her parents in the den. Her dad started the movie, a tape he had rented knowing Kate hadn't seen yet, and for the first time since waking up she allowed thoughts Alan to float out of her mind.

Leila examined Alan like he was a stuffed animal on display at the Museum of Natural History. He was in good shape, had a nice looking face, handsome even. His dark hair was cut fairly short, and when he smiled over at Megan she could see that he had nice teeth. Megan seemed very uncomfortable with the situation, but Alan couldn't have seemed more relaxed. "So," Leila began, "You're Alan. Do you have sex with all your teachers, or just my friend Megan?" Alan laughed.

"Do you always ask such inappropriate question everyone you just met? Or is it something about me in particular?"

"You didn't answer my question," Leila shot back.

"As a matter of fact, Megan isn't the only teacher I'm carrying on with." A pregnant pause hung in the air. "I'm also seeing Mrs. Stafford, but just on the side." Megan burst out laughing, explaining to her friend that Mrs. Stafford was the school librarian, and was nearing seventy. Alan grinned and awaited Leila's next inquisitorial assault. 

Leila seemed lost for words for a second, and Alan went ahead and started scanning her mind. He first planted the command that she never reveal his relationship with Megan to anyone. She and Megan would be allowed to talk about between themselves, but Leila was precluded from mentioning it to any other person. He learned a few things about her: she was twenty-six years old, from New Jersey, now a physical therapist at the big hospital in Valhalla. She was fairly promiscuous, often dating, and sleeping with, more than one man at once, and sometimes (rarely) having one night stands. Leila, flustered by her inability to fling another zinger at Alan, soon left. Once she was gone Megan took him by the hand and led him to the door of her bedroom. Telling him to wait outside she stripped off her clothes, leaving only her new panties, went to her closet and took out her sheerest, shortest nightgown. After lighting a half dozen candles she called out for Alan to enter.

He came in and gave her a wolf whistle. She giggled. She was on the bed, up on her knees and he jumped on, plopping down next to her. She fell over, hugging him, and then reached out to undress him. "I didn't wear a button down shirt, because, you know," he said softly, and she giggled again as she pulled it off him. He opened his pants and she tugged them down, along with his shorts. He had left his shoes on the landing, and he took off his socks by sliding his left foot under the elastic right sock, then used his exposed right big toe to hook under the elastic left sock and drag it off his foot. He sat up and then sat her up, proceeding to pull the nightgown over her head and toss it to the floor. They laid back down, and he began running his hands over her body, paying close attention to her erect nipples. She purred, and her whole body began to warm up.

He got down between her legs and pulled the gusset of her panties to one side. "New panties?" he asked, and she beamed. He lightly blew on her pubis, sending shivers up her spine. Holding her panties to one side he ate her pussy to a screaming climax, then positioned himself to enter her. "Ready?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her before she could answer. He kept his lips plastered to hers as he sunk his cock into her depths, and because of that Megan was unable to answer verbally, humming into his kiss, her eyes communicating her pleasure at this act.

He fucked her for about fifteen minutes, varying his speed and depth of penetration. Megan had a very small orgasm near the start, and as she climaxed the second time he spilled his seed into her. Both of them panting, he collapsed on top of her, the rolled off, laying beside her. He looked at the clock at her bedstand and saw that is was coming up on 8pm. She curled up and put the side of her head on his chest, and he could feel the breath come out of her nostrils. It tickled.

"Megan," he asked, neither of them moving, "Could I ask you a favor?"

She kept still. She was savoring the moment. "What?"

"I'm a bit embarrassed to be bringing this up now, but my favorite TV show is about to start. 'Washington Week in Review' on PBS, Channel 13. I never miss it. Do you mind?"

Megan laughed. "No problem, sweetie. The remote is on the night table. Click away." After he turned on the TV and tuned it to channel 13, she brought her head up to rest it on his shoulder so she could also see the screen. He put his arm around her as the show started. It all seemed so domestic; she closed her eyes and imagined they were a long married couple, watching the tube before turning in for the night. She had even called him "Sweetie" and he hadn't even flinched. When the show ended they made love again, and then both drifted off to sleep. Alan had set her clock radio alarm for midnight, so he could make it home well before his Friday night 1am curfew. They got into the spoon position, Alan behind her, his body molded to her back, his arm draped over her middle.

She walked him to the door. He had turned the alarm off, and then dressed quietly in the dark, but she woke up soon after he did. Wearing a skimpy silk robe she kissed him goodbye.

Alan woke up early on Saturday morning, even before the sun came up. His two and a half hour post-coital nap in Megan's bed meant that in effect he had gone to bed much earlier than usual. Walking to his bathroom to brush his teeth he flipped on the radio for a forecast. The weatherman said that the unusually warm temperatures would continue for the next few days. Alan went down to the garage and pulled his bike down from the wall rack. He spent an hour working on it. First the pulled the cables and tested the tension, then he washed the frame, checking for rust spots. He lubed the pedal clips, and attached the chain lubrication device to the chain and cranked the pedals a few times to run the chain through the brushes.

After showering he donned a pair of shorts and leggings, and pulled a long sleeve poly-weave jersey from his armoire. He grabbed his cleats and headed downstairs. Sitting in the driveway he pulled on the cleats and adjusted the velcro straps. Straddling the top tube he clicked in his left shoe in the clipless pedal, pumped once to get rolling and them jammed his other cleat to the pedal. As he cleared the driveway he hit the button on the cyclocomputer to zero his odometer.

When he stopped to rest and eat one of the bananas he had stowed in the back pocket of the jersey, he glanced down at the odometer and saw that he had ridden 15 miles. Feeling good, he decided to do another fifteen before headed home.

As he was turning on to Westervelt Road, the main drag through town, he realized that he had biked almost thirty miles, with only one break and was barely winded. This was not unusual for him in the middle of the season, a few months into warm weather, but this was his first ride in months. The Seed, he reasoned, had increased his stamina. He had only two more turns before reaching home, and as he turned onto Van Rensselear Lane he saw Pauline, sitting on the bench swing on her front porch. She saw him too, and waved. Riding up her driveway he stopped right at the steps of the porch, dismounted and climbed the steps to sit beside her.

"Jeez., its early," she said in wonder. Alan glanced at his watch and saw it was 7:30. "What kind of miles did you make today?"

Alan told her thirty, but she didn't believe him until he told her to look at the odometer. She skipped down the steps, lifted his bike upright, looked at the readout on the computer and whistled. 

"How's your sister doing?" Alan asked as she returned to sit next to him.

"She look really ghastly when I saw her last night, but she seems better today."

They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the warm morning breeze. At 8 o'clock Pauline invited him in for something to eat.

"I'm not really dressed to be going into your house, Pauline." His jersey was damp with sweat, and he had unzipped the front, almost to his navel to get the most of the breeze. His shorts and leggings were tight, verging on the obscene, especially considering his new girth. He and Pauline had been sitting side-by-side, and she turned to give him a good long look. She was somewhat taken aback by his chest, not remembering him as being so toned. As he stood up she noticed the bulge in his pants. Momentarily distracted, she paused before speaking.

"Don't be silly. Come on in and I'll give you a good breakfast. Conchita always makes waffles on Saturday-from scratch. Don't be a spoilsport."

"An offer like that no man could refuse," he said while hooking his arm to hers. They walked in together, the metal cleats on the soles of biking shoes clicking against the floor of the porch. Once inside he shed his shoes, and they went to the kitchen.

Kate almost choked on her waffle when she saw him enter on Pauline's arm. She took a big gulp of milk and fled from the room. "Never mind her," Pauline said as Conchita set out two plates for them. Minutes later Alan was eating his waffle, Pauline had insisted on him taking the next one out of the iron. He ate slowly in order that he not finish his before hers was ready. He helped himself to a cup of coffee, and when Conchita brought Pauline's waffle she also placed two glasses of orange juice in front of them.

"How are you Mr. Alan?" Conchita asked. "I haven't seen you around the house in a long time."

"Well, Conchita, if I knew waffles were on the menu, I'd show my face more often." Conchita laughed.

"You're such a charm boy, Mr. Alan. You and Pauline made such a cute couple. You should go out again."

"Oh, Conchita, you're the living end," Pauline said laughingly. 

"Hey Pauline, you busy today? Maybe we could do something?" Alan asked her, only half teasing Conchita.

"Oh, Miss Pauline is free. She'd love to spend the day with you." Conchita quickly interjected before Pauline could respond. They all laughed again. 

"Well then," Alan said through the laughter, "It's a date. I'll go home and shower and change, and then come back to pick you up." Pauline needed to do some shopping and they quickly decided to head to the mall.




Alan Ch. 04



All three of them were still hooting it up when Mr. and Mrs. Van Devanter came down for breakfast. Alan rose to greet them, but Pauline's mom was in a bathrobe, and seeing Alan she excused herself to put on some more clothes.

"So, Alan, how's business?" Mr. Van Devanter asked, jocularly elbowing in the ribs. "Tearing up the roads, I see." They chatted for a bit, Mr. Van Devanter asking after Alan's mom, and he also congratulated Alan on his early admission to Columbia. "Good luck in the big city, son. Ah, once they've seen Paris how are we going to keep them on the farm?" he mused.

It soon came out that Pauline and Alan were going to head over to the mall. As Alan stood up to leave Mrs. Van Devanter pulled him aside. "Alan, Kate was sick yesterday, and I don't want her out alone. She also wants to go to the mall. With you and Pauline going, I was wondering if you could drive Kate, and maybe keep an eye out for her. Her dad an I are a little worried about her, and it would lift a load off our minds if she went over with the two of you." Alan agreed, and Mrs. Van Devanter gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're such a gentleman, Alan. You should come by more often--we'll never see you after you go off to college." Alan used the Seed to make the whole bunch in the kitchen think he had already left, and he headed up the stairs to Kate's room.

Entering, he heard the shower running, and he stepped into Kate's bathroom. He couldn't decide whether to pull her out of the shower, or wait for her to finish, and just as he was about to come to a decision, Kate emerged from the steamy chamber. Seeing him, and realizing she was naked, she let out a small scream, but Alan's powers saw to it than nobody downstairs could hear it. "What are you doing in here?" she gasped, putting one hand across her breasts, and cupping her vagina with the other to prevent him from seeing her.

He pointed to the toilet and looked her right in the eye. "Sit," he commanded, and she didn't even hesitate. Alan was thrilled; he wasn't even using the Seed to force her actions, and she was as docile as a newborn kitten. He reached behind her, taking her butt cheeks in his palms and nudged her forward. She was staring at him, her mouth agape, partly in terror, mostly in lust. He left her there, perched uncertainly at the edge of the toilet seat, and pulled the drain closed on the bathroom's sink, then turned on the hot water tap. He pulled the mirror towards him, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a fresh disposable razor and her shaving gel. After squirting a dollop in his hand he went back to her and lathered up her pubic hair. "Beg me slut. Beg me to shave your pussy." His eyes bored into hers, and she couldn't look away.

"Please," she whispered with a little-girl inflection in her voice, "Please shave me."

"Shave you where, slut?"

"Please, Alan, please shave my pussy." She was whimpering lightly as Alan continued to massage the gel onto her pubis. 

"Say 'Please Alan, shave my cunt.' Beg me to shave your wet, horny, clenching, dripping cunt. Now slut, beg!"

"Please Alan, shave my wet, horny cunt. I'm dripping. I need you to shave my wet cunt." Her breathing became ragged, and her nipples were so hard they probably could have cut glass.

Alan withdrew his hand, raking his oily fingers over her hard clit, eliciting a groan from Kate. Her back was at a 45 degree angle to the toilet seat, her tailbone resting on the edge with her crotch exposed both from above and below. Alan dipped the razor into the steaming basin of the sink, and slowly denuded her pussy of hair. He found a washcloth, wiped her off, and lathered her up again so as not to risk missing a single bit of her soft black fuzz. After finishing the second time he ordered her to lean over the sink, lathered up her anal ring and eliminated the few soft hairs which had surrounded her rear passage. After wiping off the excess gel from her ass, he slipped his finger up her rectum, and sent her a mental command to come.

"Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Yes, yes, yes, YES!" she wailed, her body bucking wildly.

Alan handed her a towel, and she started to dry off from her shower. When she was clam again Alan told her that her mother had asked him to escort her to the mall. "They're worried about you, slut," he sneered. "I told you mother I'd take good care of you," he added, giving one of her rock hard nipples a good strong pinch. With that he left, and Kate shuddered at the thought of spending the day with Alan.

Alan biked the last half of a mile home whistling a happy tune. Thirty minutes after arriving he was out the door again, cleaned and dressed. He let himself back into the Van Devanter house, and called up the stairs for Pauline and Kate to come meet him. Pauline came down immediately, making excuses for Kate running a little late. They retired to the den and sat with Mr. Van Devanter, who was watching a rebroadcast of last night's SportsCenter. Kate came down a few minutes later, and Mr. Van Devanter walked them out. Their dad stopped Alan at the door, letting the girls go ahead. He reached out his hand and expressed his appreciation for agreeing to keep an eye on Kate.

Alan started the car up and drove to the Mall. Pauline was sitting next to him, Kate in the back. Watching her in the rearview mirror he was pleased to see her squirming in her seat. Upon reaching the mall they began to cruise. Being there was as much about hanging, seeing and being seen, as it was about shopping. They stuck together, and Alan was surprised that Kate stayed with them. A good number of their classmates were roaming about, and a number of Kate's bitchy friends came up to her to see of she was OK, sneering at Alan and Pauline, their social inferiors. Some of them wanted to have Kate go with them, but she demurred, further surprising Alan--Pauline too.

Pauline was browsing through the racks at The Limited, and Alan sent out a mental command for her to keep shopping without taking notice that he and Kate were elsewhere. He and Kate walked out of the store, and Kate's heartbeat began to accelerate, in a mixture of dread and delight. Alan navigated them through the throngs, to the seamier corner of the mall, the section that contained, among other businesses, skateboard shop, the forlorn used record place, and the ear piercing place. Alan had never been in that shop, at least not while sober. 

Last year, on the last day of school, Alan and his friends started downing beers in the mall's parking lot right after the last classes had let out. It was sort of a town tradition, getting plastered in the lot the day your became an advancing senior. Alan had knocked back a few more than he could handle, and as a prank, his friends had half-carried him into the piercing shop, plopped him down in a chair, and picked out a nice gold stud. The chilly sensation of the iodine swab on his earlobe had shaken him back to his senses. The sight of the guy holding the piercing gun to his ear, finger cocked at the trigger, really woke him up. He screamed and leapt from the chair, hightailing it out of the shop. His buddies teased him over the summer about his high pitch of his voice when he screamed. "Look Alan, a mouse! Give us another shriek!" It was stupid but good natured, and his friends tired of it soon.

"Hey dude! I know you!" the proprietor bellowed at Alan when he entered the piercing parlor. The place smelled of rubbing alcohol and ganja, and Alan was sure the guy was stoned. Figuring the guy was high, and probably couldn't recall the scream from last June Alan declined to fill in the details for the stoner. Kate idly wondered what they were doing here, knowing in the deepest part of her brain what was about to take place, but hoping against hope she was wrong. The guy behind the counter took a long pull from a can of Dr. Pepper. "So dude, what can I do for you." He lowered his voice a few registers "We do tattoos in the back." Tattoo parlors were banned in this county.

"Oh no, sir," Alan replied, "We're more in the market for body piercing. What can you show me in the way of nipple rings. The little lady her is just itching for one, and this seems like the right place to get it done."

"Can the 'sir' stuff big guy. Call me Dirty Dan--everybody does, even my mother." He turned his head to face the back of the shop, "Ain't that right, Ma?" he yelled. She must have called out something back at him, but Alan couldn't make out what she was saying. Dirty Dan pulled out a case and set it on the glass countertop. Alan leaned over to peer into it, but Kate kept her place, not wanting to look at them. Dirty Dan went into a whole set of explanations about the differences between each example, but Alan wasn't listening closely. He wasn't so much interested in the differences between metals or gauge sizes. He was only concerned with aesthetic considerations. He immediately eliminated all of the post-style ones, shafts of metal capped with little BB's at each end. He wanted a ring. His eye stopped on one that was gold, and had a gold bead which was threaded through it, welded in the center.

"How much is that one? Is it real gold"

"Hey dude, good choice. Made that baby myself. Eighteen karat gold for the ring, the bead is 24, and that means pure gold, baby. You can't make the ring itself out of pure gold because it's too soft," Dan explained.

"It's very nice," Alan said to him, hoping the compliment would bring down the price. Sure, he could use his power to make Dirty Dan give it to him for free, but he liked the oaf, and chose not to cheat him. Dirty Dan took out of the case, and gave it to Alan. "Seventy five bucks, installation included," the latter comment directed at Kate. Kate stared into space, not hearing, or even thinking. Upon hearing Alan say that she was getting a nipple ring, she just shut down all thought processes, her mind unable to deal with the situation.

Alan approached her, the ring resting on his upturned palm. "Well, slut," he whispered at her, "What do you think?" His voice directed at her snapped her out of her trance, and she looked down. Actually seeing the ring, the ring that would soon be pushed through her nipple made it real for her. As she began really thinking about having a nipple ring her alarm receded, and she started to warm to the idea.

"After all," she reflected, "I am" Alan's slut, and if he wants me to get this then I have no choice." The total self-realization of her submissive condition was moving to the forefront of her consciousness, and Alan, reading her thoughts, was somewhat astonished by the trains of thought going through her head. 

He really hadn't turned her into a submissive with his power. In fact the last time he controlled her mental processes (as opposed to just her actions) was yesterday in school, when he used his power to make him jump his bones. Everything since then, including their post-fuck conversation when she declared herself to be his slut, Kate was on her own initiative. He wasn't even using the Seed to force her to have the piercing, and had merely commanded her to follow him into the shop.

After waiting a good thirty seconds for Kate to answer him, he finally received his reply. It was in that same little-girl voice she had used in the bathroom when she begged him to shave her. All she was able to say was, "OK, Alan."

Alan and Kate followed Dirty Dan into one of the back rooms. Dan pulled a curtain aside and revealed to them was a dentist's chair. Dan had salvaged it from a dumpster a couple years back, and using a staple gun loaded with wide gauge staples had reupholstered it, after a fashion, with a bunch of batiks he had laying around, souvenirs from his trip to Africa back in the seventies. As Kate settled herself into the chair Dan noticed that she looked a bit green around the gills, though he reasoned that most girls about to get a nipple pierced had that same look. "Hey dude, I gotta ask. The chick eighteen?"

Kate was reaching for her purse to show him her license, but before she could get it out, Alan spoke up. "Yeah man, she's eighteen." Alan complemented his statement with a little mental push, and Dan was powerless to do anything but to take him at his word. Dan then explained the whole procedure to them, while Kate took off her shirt and bra. First he was going to spray her nipple with ether, which would make it very cold very fast. Then he would paint it with iodine. The ring itself was already lying in a plastic cup holding an inch of rubbing alcohol at the bottom, to sterilize it. His long needles were on a shelf behind them, in a glass Barbicide jar, and Dan would wipe one off with a bunch of kleenex before driving it through her nipple. Then he would insert the ring, and then use a soldering iron to seal it shut. This would be followed by another swabbing with iodine, and finished off with a sterile dressing held in place by surgical tape. Kate put her bra in her purse, figuring she wouldn't be able to wear it after the procedure.

"Hey little lady, which nipple?" Kate said nothing, allowing Alan the decision. Alan thought briefly, and told Dan to pierce the left one, so that when he faced her he could play with it with his right hand. Dan was a little suspicious. The chick had barely said a word the whole time the two of them had spent in his shop. "Are you sure you want to do this Hon?" he asked her.

With a barely audible voice Kate told Dan to go ahead with it.

He immediately set to task, and his explanation actually took more time than the deed itself. When Dan started to get her prepped Kate gripped the armrests, her knuckles white as the membership of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Swiftly Dan pressed a thin needle through her left nipple, and Kate huffed and puffed through her clenched teeth, doing her best not to cry out in pain. He twisted it a few times to open up a nice hole, and removed it. He dried the excess alcohol off the ring, and then fed it through the hole. Reaching to the instrument tray he took up the soldering iron and sealed the ring. Before she knew it Kate was bandaged, and was pulling her shirt back on, her bra balled up in her purse. Dan gave Alan a handful of polyskin dressings, plastic bandages about two and a half inches square. They would keep her nipple dry when Kate was in the bath or shower. Alan gave them to Kate, who slipped them in her purse.

Dan took Alan back out to the front of the store, and Alan settled the bill. He pulled five twenties out of his wallet, and told Dan to keep it all. "Take your mom out to dinner tonight," he suggested. 

Dan bellowed with laughter, and then dropped his voice level, "Feel free to bring back anytime for the other nip. Next time I ain't takin' a cent over seventy five."

Alan walked back to get the slut and go. Kate was just getting out of the chair when he pulled at the curtain, and she gave him a weak smile. His pleasure over her new nipple ring gave her a sense of satisfaction and an aura of joy. When he was happy with her, she was happy with herself. Rising unsteadily to her feet she grabbed Alan by the arm to keep her balance. The pain in her nipple was intense, and as they emerged from the rear of the store Dirty Dan was holding a bottle of tequila. He laid three shot glasses on the top of the glass display case, and filled the glasses. Telling Kate that the tequila would take the edge off her pain, he insisted they join him for a pop. Though Kate had never had anything stronger than beer and wine, she immediately agreed, hoping that the alcohol would dull the throbbing pain in her nipple. She took the shot glass in one hand, and Dirty Dan put a warm lemon wedge in the other. Dan knocked back his drink, and then sucked the lemon, and Alan and Kate did the same. Alan slapped Dan on the back and they walked out, Kate holding his arm for dear life, Alan almost holding her up.

Alan and Kate headed back to the center of the mall. Kate seemed to be strengthening the further they got from Dirty Dan's. They sat in the atrium a bit, her head resting on 

Alan's shoulder. Alan scanned the mall with his mind and saw that Pauline was in Barnes & Noble, drinking a cappuccino while skimming some books she had taken from the shelves. She hadn't noticed that Kate and Alan had abandoned her. Alan figured to join up with her, and he and Kate rose to go. As he was nearing the bookstore the door to an employee's bathroom opened and a woman came out. Alan could see thorough the doorway that the bathroom was small and private, just one stall and a sink with a mirror. He stopped the female mall employee and had her come back to unlock the door for him and Kate. "Where are you taking me?" she asked in with an affectless tone in her voice. 

Leading her in and making sure the door was locked behind them, Alan pulled Kate's shirt off her and took her right nipple in his mouth. He bit down on it with half strength, and Kate moaned. Alan put his hands behind her and squeezed her ass, and the tension drained from Kate's body. Kate undid the button of her blue jeans, and Alan pulled them down as she was slipping off her shoes. Alan, his mouth now off her chest, grabbed her pussy through her panties and began to rub her through the fabric, and Kate started to pant.

He pulled at the fabric from the bottom, slowly drawing her panties down her legs. He thought her bald pussy was pretty, and started slowly massaging his fingers up and down her slit. Kate was starting to make a lot of noise, but Alan wasn't worried. They were in a locked bathroom, and even of someone came in and caught them he could deal with the situation using the Seed. "Be as loud as you want, baby. No one is going to disturb us in here." The gyrations of her body caused her panties to fall down all the way to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. Alan stopped rubbing her and pointed to his waistband. She took the hint, and opened his pants and pulled them down.

Alan kicked off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head, then backed her up, his hands on her shoulders as he faced her, marching her backwards two steps, so that her ass was up against the sink top. Leaning down momentarily he grasped her knees to spread her legs, and placed the head of his dick at the gates of her womanhood, holding the shaft in place. He rubbed the tip against her pussy lips, coating them with the small trickle of juices which flowed from within. Pulling it up a bit he passed it over her clit a few times, and Kate gasped loudly. "Do you want it?" Kate nodded. "What do you want?"

"Your penis," she whispered back.

"Call it a 'cock,' slut."

"Yes, I'm your cock slut. I want your cock."

"What do you want me to do with it?" 

"Please, Alan, please. Fuck me with your cock. I'm so horny I could die." Her gasping was starting to interfere with her ability to form coherent sentences.

Alan pushed about half of his dick into her, and her head fell back in bliss. "Do you want me to fuck your cunt?" he asked, holding himself still within her. "Maybe you want it in the ass again?"

"Please Alan, fuck me. Do it anywhere you want, but please fuck me." She was practically yelling. Alan started pumping in and out of her, and when he bottomed out she had an orgasm, her pussy clamping down on his invader.

"Next time, slut. I'll fuck your slutty ass next time," he taunted as he kept feeding her his nine inches. "I can't wait to see your nipple ring. I'll come over one day this week after school to play with it." His talk was turning her on, and she could sense another climax approaching. His next statement sent her mind reeling, and she came as he said, "Next weekend we'll come back, and Dan's going to pierce this one." He was pinching her exposed nipple as he said this, and even through her orgasmic haze she knew exactly what he meant. The very idea of it turned her on. At this point she was willing to go right back to Dirty Dan's and get the other nipple pierced right now.




Alan Ch. 04



Alan pulled out after her pussy stopped spasaming, and sat on the toilet seat, leaving the stall door open. "Come here and suck me off," he commanded, and Kate fell to her knees and crawled over to him. She took all she could in her mouth, about four inches, and began sucking, occasionally removing his penis, "No, his cock," she thought, from her mouth to lick around the crown and head, and then up and down the shaft before taking it back into her mouth. Just as Kate was beginning to wonder whether Alan would come in her mouth his semen shot out of the pee slit. He hadn't commanded her to swallow, be she reasoned that a submissive slut like her should always swallow; she hoped that by doing so Alan would be pleased with her.

Alan stuck his head through the half-open door, and then pulled it all the way open, dragging Kate out by the hand behind him. They met Pauline at the bookstore, and then Alan treated the girls to lunch. Pauline was in good spirits, and she and Alan dominated the conversation at the table. Kate mostly kept silent.

Pauline thought her sister, by not joining in the table talk, was being rude to Alan. She was going to give her a good talking to after he dropped them home.

Next Chapter: Megan bats from both sides of the plate, Kate becomes symmetrical.



Alan Ch. 05



What Immortal Hand or Eye/Could Frame thy fearful symmetry?

Alan spent Sunday relaxing around the house. He had some schoolwork to make up from the days he missed, and he set to it, lounging on his bed, his textbooks scattered around him. He was making good progress, but once in awhile his mind drifted back to his encounter in the hospital with the old man. He turned a page in his notebook to a clean sheet and began taking notes; on the top line the wrote in capital letters, "THE SEED."

1. Old man touched me.
2. Felt tingling sensation in whole body.
3. Heard voice in my head, but old man wasn't speaking aloud.
4. Voice said (not verbatim) "Am giving you gift. Power to control actions of others, more power to come later. Develop your skills"
5. Old man said, "You are good boy, worthy to carry THE SEED, use it well and all you desire can be yours."
6. Old man released my arm from his hands, and died. Tingling stopped when he let go.
7. Next day in school, buzzing sensation in brain when talking with Megan, and then she kissed me.
8. After school in classroom buzzing again, wondered what it would be like to fuck her, and then we fucked. I thought she looked hot, and she kept saying, "I'm so hot."
9. Buzzing in penis, grew 3"
10. Made ruler fly into my hand.
11. Modified appearance (hair, build).

His list continued to the bottom of the page, and then he turned it over and began writing on the other side. When he was done he read over it carefully. Turning over another new page in the note book, Alan headed this one, "Conclusions." As he put pen to paper he felt funny. The buzzing sensation returned, and he felt it through his whole body. The last thing he remembered before falling into a weird trance state was that the clock on his bedstand read 4:51pm. 

When he came to, the clock read 6:13pm.

Alan's head hurt. As he reached up to massage his temples he saw that the pen he had been using roll off the notebook and fall to the floor. Leaving one hand on his head, he lifted the notebook and glanced at it in amazement. Five pages were filled with writing Alan couldn't remember writing. Even more amazing was that the writing was not like his own handwriting. He was eager to read it, but his head was still spinning, and he felt sort of nauseous. He rested his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes waiting for the feelings to pass, about five minutes. Returning to his room after a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, he picked up the notebook and began to read the words.

Vessel Alan Marshall, you are the 109th receptacle of this Seed of Paishiya'uvada, the first Seed, the Seed of Hyrcanus. 31,273 lunar cycles ago I, Hyrcanus, created the seven Seeds. Five of them have been passed down through these many generations. Today, the fifth day you exist as the Vessel, the truth will begin to be known to you. My story is long, but I will endeavor to be brief. In the days and years to come more will be revealed to you.

Though history records me as a rebel, a usurper of the throne of my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, this is untrue. History is written by the victors.

History also records that I claimed to be the son of Smerdis, also known as Bardiya, the brother to Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes. I was not the son of Smerdis; I was the son of Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, and never a more loyal son there was, but this loyalty was repaid in my blood. Just before my death I transferred my Seed to Magi soldier loyal to me, my faithful attendant Ko'un-Zir, so that the truth of my loyalty and courage, my power and faith, would live on as long as the Seed was passed forward. 

You, Vessel Alan Marshall, will carry the record of my deeds, the truth of my action, and the power of the of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada for the rest of your life. The vessel of the truth of my life is the Vessel of the power of the Seed.

My uncle, Smerdis, usurped the throne of my father when Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, was away in Misri'im (which you know today as Egypt) putting down a rebellion. The pretender installed around him a mighty guard of Magian soldiers, circling the court of the Medes, and sent masses of centurions throughout the Empire to destroy all of the temples and monuments erected to the glory of my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes. So numerous were his soldiers that no one loyal to my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, could dare approach the Palace of Cambyses. I fled in exile, to the Tsai Klaldun Valley, to the delta of the Axa River. Hiding on an island in the delta named Paishiya'uvada, I lived among the wild horses, having taken with me two sacred relics: the Chalice of Ahuramazda, and the Orbis Tertius. 

Alone but for a small cadre of men and women loyal to the crown of my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, I created the Seeds, on the sacred hill of Arakadris. Using the powers hidden in the Orbis Tertius, I fashioned the Seeds, collapsing to the ground after the seventh emerged from the Chalice of Ahuramazda. I picked six men, the strongest and most loyal of my group, and bestowed upon them the powers that you, Vessel Alan Marshall, now possess.

Our plan was simple: by using our powers to bend the will of the minds of the men guarding the palace we would be able to penetrate the court and kill the cursed Smerdis. Our plan worked; I, myself, stabbed my sword into the pretender, shedding not a tear at his death, caring not he was my uncle. 

Then the slaughter began. We put to the sword thousands of people partisan to the hated Smerdis. The day of this slaughter, the tenth day of the month of Viyakhnah, was for generations celebrated as Magophonia, the festival of the Blood of the Magians.

My father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, returned to the court seven months later and was restored as king. When he learned that I was a vessel of the Seeds of Paishiya'uvada he saw me no longer as a faithful son and his ally against the treason of his accursed brother, but a son to be feared, a threat to his reign. I went away from court at my father's urging, to study at the great academy of Susa, but the messengers he sent ahead of me carried my death warrant. When I arrived at Susa the master of the academy, Nidintu-Bel (later to become, along with Atsani of Elamh, my father's hated enemy), murdered me in the doorway. With my last bit of strength I passed the Seed to my attendant Ko'un-Zir. The other six vessels were also marked for death, but four of them managed to transfer the Seeds to new hosts before being murdered. They had been tracked down by my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes using the Orbis Tertius and the sacred chalice, which allowed him to hide his mind, his deadly intentions, from the vessels of Seed.

Ko'un-Zir, having escaped the murderous Nidintu-Bel, fled back to the Palace of Cambyses, declared fealty to my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, and was welcomed back to court, later rising to become my father's trusted vizier. My father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes did not know that Ko'un-Zir was now the vessel of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada, the seed of Hyrcanus, his son, and that my former attendant had used the seed to secure his advancement. Ko'un-Zir died many years later, but not before he managed to destroy the Orbis Tertius. With it destroyed, the Chalice of Ahuramazda was rendered devoid of power, no longer a threat to the vessels. For centuries the inert Chalice of Ahuramazda was used in the rite of succession, the vessel of the holy oil used to annoint the newly crowned king.

The deeds of my entire life were given to the glory of my father Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, and Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, betrayed me. You are now among only five men alive on earth who know the truth. You hold almost unlimited power in your body, which is now the vessel of the first Seed of Paishiya'uvada, created by me more than 2,500 years ago. You have the power to control the actions of others, and more powers will come to you as you develop your skills. Use it well, and all you desire can be yours. 

I, long dead--my blood resting under the ground of Susa, buried beneath generations of dust and debris, yet still staining the hidden marble floor of the long-buried academy--have no more battles to wage. The monks and students of Susa tried in vain for years to scour the stain of my blood from their door, but without success. Their legend held that the red stains were the only monument to my life, the only marker of my existence. They were wrong. Your Seed, and the four others that yet survive, are my legacy. 

Vessel Alan Marshall, in this existence you are known by that name, but to the cosmos you are known by mine: Hyrcanus, the son of Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes; The creator of the seven Seeds of Paishiya'uvada; Exile in the Tsai Klaldun Valley, to an island called Paishiya'uvada; Champion over Smerdis the Heresiarch; Restorer of Devaryesh, son of Hystasapes, to the throne in Cambyses.

Alan reread the manuscript a dozen times over the next half hour before his mom called him down for supper, and he still didn't quite believe it. The story, though short, was a lot to digest, and Alan wasn't sure he was up to the task of dealing with it all at once. He planned to hit the library soon, and start researching the names and places contained in the account. For the short-term, he decided to head over to Megan's tonight, if only to take his mind off the new information.

Megan and Leila were relaxing in front of the TV, waiting for "Sex in the City" to start when Alan knocked. Megan kissed him on the cheek as she led him to the living room, delighted at the surprise. Alan didn't initiate anything right away, letting Leila and Megan enjoy the show. After it ended Alan offered to drive over to D'Agostino's to buy some pints of ice cream, and the girls agreed, telling him what flavors they liked. As he was leaving he made some mental changes to both of them.

"Great episode, huh?" Megan offered, draining the last few drops from her wine glass.

"Yeah. I wish my sex life was a good as theirs, maybe even as good as yours. Your hands were all over Alan while we were watching, it was turning me on just looking at the two of you. He really must be a stallion in the sack."

Megan tried to change the subject. "Hey Leila, which character do you think you're most like in the show?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably Carrie. I'm not a romantic like Charlotte, and I don't sleep around nearly as much as Samantha, and I'm definitely not a cynic like Miranda. Carrie seems like the happy middle among the other three." Leila paused. "But you're changing the subject. Is he a demon in bed? Come on, you can tell me."

Megan was worried that Alan could be back at any minute, and didn't want him catching them in this kind of conversation. She wouldn't mind talking about it another time. "Uh, hey, I've got a good one. If you were a man, which character would you like to sleep with?" she improvised.

"Don't want to talk about it anymore? OK, I'll humor you." She thought for a second. "Charlotte, because she had the least experience, so if I did a mediocre job in bed she might not realize it. You?"

Megan hadn't thought about it, so she agreed with her friend, citing the same reason.

It was Leila's turn to ask and she dropped a bombshell. "Which character would you sleep with, Megan?"

Megan was shocked, and refused an answer. Leila approached her, sitting next to her on the couch. "If you wont answer, then the topic has to be Alan." Megan shook her head, but Leila was having none of it. "What does he do for you? Does he lick you out? Does he fuck you hard?"

Megan refused to speak. This enraged Leila, and she grabbed Megan, pushing her back into the cushions of the couch, pinning her down so she couldn't escape. "Not talking, eh?" she half-sneered at Megan. She rammed her hand under Megan's skirt and slipped her fingers under her panties. Alan had set it up so that Leila would be the aggressor, and Megan would be a Kate-like submissive. Leila's fingers explored under Megan's panties, and she couldn't do anything about it, being pinned to the couch. Beads of sweat were forming on Megan's forehead as she fruitlessly tried to struggle out of Leila's strong grip.

"Does he touch you here?" Leila demanded as she put her fingers against Megan's slit.

"Yes," Megan whispered back, so ashamed she hoped she could just die.

"Does he rub you like this?" Leila asked, drawing her fingers up and down Megan's labia.

"Yes," Megan whispered, whimpering a little as Leila's fingers began to arouse her.

"Does he stick his finger's up you like I'm doing now?" she asked as she jammed two fingers into Megan's moistening pussy.

"Ooooh, that's so nice. Ohhh, what was the question?"

"Does he finger your wet pussy? Does he make you come with his hands? Do you melt at his touch?" Leila was watching Megan become visibly aroused. "Are you gonna come for me, honey? Is your pussy gonna squeeze my fingers until you come all over my hand?"

Megan couldn't do anything except gasp and pant, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Leila's steely gaze. Leila was now pumping the two fingers into her at an ever increasing pace. Megan felt Leila's thumb on her clit, and exploded, howling her orgasm so loud she thought she would wake the dead. Leila kept manipulating her, a new climax building from the ashes from the last one. After another two minutes Megan exploded again, and Leila finally got off of her, allowing her to sit up straight on the couch. When Megan caught her breath she looked up and saw that Leila was standing in the middle of the living room, naked. Leila marched at her, and pushed her over so that Megan was prone on the couch, facing up. Leila straddled her head, and pushed her pussy at Megan's mouth. Megan tried to turn her head away, but Leila had a good hold on her head. "Lick it Megan. Make me come and I'll lick you. I'm so horny from watching you come, I need an orgasm so bad." Leila rested more of her weight against Megan, her labia pressed against her pursed lips. She reached behind her and pinched Megan's nipple, twisting it hard. When Megan gasped in pain, her mouth opened and her tongue shot out and onto Leila's pussy lips.

The taste wasn't so bad Megan thought. "I wonder if we taste alike, and this is what Alan tastes when he eats my pussy." The thought turned her on, and she began tentatively exploring Leila's outer labia. Leila's pussy was covered in hair, unlike hers, which she shaved for a bikini. The hair was the same color as the hair on her head, coal black, and it was extremely silky. She had never given head before, not to any of her previous boyfriends, and certainly not to a woman, but she imagined that men's pubic hair wouldn't be as soft as Leila's was. A man's would probably be hard and wiry, and not as pleasant to run your tongue across like Leila's bush was. Though, if Alan ever asked her to go down on him, she wouldn't have hesitated for a moment.

"Lick me, Megan. Lick me," Leila urged, and Megan became for adventuresome with the path her tongue was taking. She licked up and rolled her tongue over Leila's clitoris. "Yesssssss," Leila hissed in response. She began to grind her pussy into Megan's face, urging her along with her words and responses. "Stick you tongue in my pussy. My pussy is wet for you. My pussy is burning up for you." Leila's entire existence was now centered around her pussy, and the pleasure it was receiving at the end of her neighbor's tongue.

Megan hesitantly stabbed her tongue into the depths of Leila's pussy. She was getting into the act of eating out Leila in a big way, and could feel her own pussy begin to moisten slightly. She even began to savor the taste of Leila's pussy, and her tongue began to move faster, in and out of Leila, occasionally pulling out to lick over her clit. Leila began to buck wildly, and Megan knew she was about to orgasm. Leila stiffened up and slammed her crotch into Megan's face, coming wildly around the invading tongue.

Leila was amazed at the situation. She had never had sex with another woman before. All of the threesomes she had been in were her and two men. She never even imagined that being with another woman could be so pleasurable. She got off Megan's face, and then flipped over, so that she was face-to-pussy, with her friend, the two of them forming a sixty-nine. She briefly admired Megan's pussy as she pulled the panties even more to the side so she could begin licking her. Megan's skirt was in a bit in her way, but Megan reached under and unzipped it, allowing Leila to pull it off. She eased Megan's panties off, getting a first look at her naked crotch. Megan was still undoing the buttons on her blouse when Leila plunged her tongue into the red haired pussy. 

Megan groaned, the distraction slowing her pace at getting naked. Leila began doing to her what she had done to Leila. She licked the lips of Megan's pussy up and down, paying particular attention to the clit.

Neither of them noticed that Alan had returned. Upon entering, seeing that his mental commands were being followed, he made himself invisible to the two of them. He took a seat on the chair facing the couch, unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out, slowly jacking off. "That Leila has one hot body," he thought to himself as he watched them go at it.

By then, Leila had forced her pussy down into Megan's face, and they ate each other to orgasm a few more times. Alan used his power to make himself visible again, and then cleared his throat, calling their attention to his return. "I see you were enjoying yourself in my absence, ladies." Megan's face turned so red she thought it might be a match for her hair. Leila, though, was unembarrassed. Megan had given her some of the best climaxes of her life. She mused about all the time she had wasted not pursuing sexual relationships with women.

Looking Alan over she was impressed by the size of his cock. She had seen bigger in her adventures, but Alan's was amongst the biggest, top five probably. She wasn't impressed by size alone, though, and she knew the proof of the fucking was in the doing, and right at that moment she was desperate for a nice fucking. "Howdy there cowboy, that's some big gun your packing there. Know how to use it?"

Alan, indulging her conceit replied, "Well there, Miss Leila, I reckon you can't be made the sheriff in this rough and tumble town if you can's shoot straight like I can. Care for a demonstration?"

Megan was collapsed on the couch, lazily watching the give and take between her young lover and her newest lover. She felt she should be upset, but for some reason she found it arousing; this was also Alan's doing.

"What's a nice sheriff like you doing in a cat house like this?"

"Just thought I'd stick my head in to see where the action was, Miss Leila. I hear they got a new player piano in this joint, and I thought I might take in some music."

"You know sheriff, some of the boys here in Deadwood think I'm a great singer. They especially like how I sing when they jam their hard cocks up my tight pussy. Ooh, goodness, me, I'm being very indelicate for a fine woman such as myself."

"You know Miss Leila, suddenly I figger the idea of listening to that new player piano seems a bit bland. Perhaps you would be so kind as to treat me to a concert. I understand you are an accomplished hummer. Perhaps a demonstration?" She watched with baited breath as Alan got naked.

Leila slid off the couch and walked on her knees over to Alan's chair. She took his cock head into her mouth and sucked for a minute, then began to lick up and down the shaft. Megan pulled herself up, and walked over, keeling next to Leila, wanting to see how it was done. She couldn't believe how much of Alan's cock Leila was taking in. Almost half of his shaft disappeared into her mouth, and Megan noticed that shiny saliva was slobbering down Leila's chin, some of it dripping off on to her chest. She was amazed at the relish with which Leila attacked Alan's cock.




Alan Ch. 05



Leila was actually moaning around his penis, not knowing that Alan was sending out waves of arousal with his mind. When Alan figured he was fully hard he pulled her up, and sat her down on his lap, his cock pressed against her ass cheeks. "The reports I heard were true, Miss Leila. You are the best hummer in the whole territory."

Leila's body was shivering with arousal; she had never known herself to be this turned on. 

"You know, Miss Leila, now that I've confirmed the humming part, I'd sure like to hear you sing." He cupped her ass cheeks and lifted her up . His cock fell forward between her legs, and she reached down to place the tip at her entrance. "Man, she's light," Alan thought, "She's almost as tall as Megan, but she can't weigh a hundred pounds." Alan's cock slowly began to creep up her wet channel.

"Ohmigod. Ohmigod! Ohmigod! OHMIGOD!" Leila screamed out. "Keep fucking me, sheriff. Ohmigod!" Bliss began to cloud Leila's mind as Alan was giving her the best fucking of her life. The pieces began to fall into place as she came to understand Megan's devotion to Alan. "I've only been fucking him thirty seconds, and I'd kill for him, too," she thought to herself through the haze of lust.

Alan, his hands never coming off her ass cheeks, continued to lift and drop her on his erection. After a few minutes Leila began chanting her "Ohmigod" chant again, all the way to a thrashing orgasm. Megan saw a trickle of juices, just a few drops really, drip onto Alan's cock, and without thinking leaned in to lick them off. Leila was still bouncing up and down on Alan's erection, and on a down stroke Megan's tongue came into contact with Leila's very hard clit. Leila howled at the sensation, and Megan began to lick her pussy lips as they slid up and down on Alan's cock, one of her hands rubbing her own slit, the other glued to Leila's clit. 

Leila began shrieking; it felt to her that she was in a constant state of climax, and she wasn't sure if it was one long and big orgasm or a series of smaller orgasms coming one after the other. She didn't care. Her body was bucking up and down with a force she had never felt before, and she thought she was going to pass out. A few seconds later, she did. Alan lifted her off of his penis, hoisted her up and set her down over on the couch, curled up in a ball. He noticed that she was sucking her thumb, and he thought it was cute. Megan crawled over to him and began licking Leila's juices off Alan's cock, like a pussycat cleaning her kitten. Holding his shaft in her hands she closed her lips over the head of his erection, the first time in her life she had taken a man in her mouth.

"Megan," Alan moaned out, "If you keep that up I'm going to come in your mouth." Thinking about it for just a second Megan decided she wanted to taste him. Pulling away, she looked up at him, their eyes meeting.

"Yes, Alan. Come in my mouth. I want to taste you." And with that she clamped her lips over his cock head again, toying with the pee slit with the tip of her tongue. Alan gasped and came in her mouth. Megan resolved not to miss a drop, but a small amount escaped her lips. It wasn't that there was so much of it, a bit more than a teaspoon she estimated, but she was unaccustomed to drinking come, and the force of the ejaculation took her by surprise.

Alan collapsed backward on the couch, careful to avoid the passed-out Leila. Megan, too, crumpled, her body resting on the living room rug. Alan nudged Leila awake.

"You girls ready for that ice cream now. It says on the carton, 'Best if eaten naked.'" Both Megan and Leila let out drowsy chuckles. Megan went into the kitchen, and soon returned with three bowls, and ice cream scoop, and spoons, grabbing some paper napkins as she walked back. Alan dished out the scoops, and they all relaxed on the sectional, slurping up the ice cream, talking little.

"Well, I'd better be going," Alan announced as he got up and reached 

for his clothes. "School night, you know." Megan giggled at their previously private joke. Turning right before the door he looked back into the living room at the two naked women. "Well, Miss Leila, it was sure nice making your acquaintance. Don't be shy about givin' this here sheriff a-callin' again if any of the town's bad element starts bustin' up the joint." As he left the heard the two of them break out in fits of laughter.

"So," Megan asked right after the front door closed behind Alan, "Care to spend the night?." Leila licked the last remnants of the ice cream off the back of her spoon as she nodded yes.

On the short drive back to his house Alan dialed up Kate's number on his cell phone. He had read the phone number from her mind yesterday afternoon. This was the private line, the one that rang only in her bedroom. On the second ring she picked up.

"Hey there, Kate," he said with genuine concern in his voice when she answered, "How are you feeling? Is it healing well, slut?"

"Uh, yes. I showered this morning, and the swelling is gone, but it's still a little sore. I've been taking Advil and it should be all better by tomorrow or the next day," she said flatly.

"Is it pretty? You know, you're such a pretty girl, and I hope the ring is pretty, too."

Kate's whole being lit up when Alan called her pretty, and she answered him with much more enthusiasm. "Yeah Alan, it's beautiful. Thank you for calling me 'pretty' and thank you for the ring. I didn't thank you yesterday, and that was wrong of me."

"Gotta hang up now, slut. Meet me in front of school tomorrow at 8am."

After he hung up on her Kate realized that she wasn't even bothered anymore when he addressed her as "slut." He thought she was pretty. She couldn't wait to have the other nipple pierced; she would try to talk him into going back to Dirty Dan's after school tomorrow.

Alan went home, finished the last of his homework by midnight, and was sleeping soundly moments after his head his the pillow. His exertions at Megan's house had taken a bit out of him, and he really was exhausted.

Feeling very refreshed upon waking, he quickly performed his morning ablutions, and was out of the house a little more that fifteen minutes after the alarm on the clock radio went off at seven. The weather had returned to normal, chilly with a strong wind whipping through the tree-lined streets. He got to school at 7:30 and was pleased to see that Kate was already waiting at the main entrance. They walked in together.

Alan had the keys to the newspaper office on his key ring, but he didn't want to go back there. Variety is the spice of life, and he was eager to have Kate in a new setting. Seeing that he had already shaved Kate's pussy in her bathroom, and then fucked her in the mall bathroom, he ruled out all of the school's many bathrooms. He tested a few doors as they walked down the halls, finding them all locked. "When my powers are more developed," he thought to himself, "I'll be able to unlock doors with my mind by manipulating the pins in the cylinder."

As they reached the end of the hall Alan found the door to the auditorium wasn't locked, and they went in. Taking a seat in the front row as he pulled his pants and shorts down around his ankles, he had Kate kneel in front of him. At once she set to work, licking his hardening rod all over. Her hands were free, so she undressed as she gave him the blowjob, quickly shedding her blouse, skirt, and panties , then reaching back to unhook her bra. Alan saw the flash of gold as her bra fell, and placed his hand under her chin, lifting her mouth off of him and pulling her upright so he could see Dirty Dan's work. It was very fetching, and with his other hand he cupped her left breast, then held the nipple ring between his fingers. "Careful," she hissed, "It's still a tad sore, and has been constantly erect since Saturday." 

"OK slut," he answered. "My, my, you were right. It is very pretty. Pretty like my little slut." Kate beamed, and then began taking her into his mouth again, sucking him with gusto. Alan pulled her head up again, and began maneuvering her onto his lap. He was going to take her like he did Leila last night. 

As the head of his cock parted her pussy lips she turned her head, looking at his face over her shoulder and asked, "Oh Alan, I thought you said in the bathroom at the mall you were going to fuck my ass next time."

As he lowered her cunt down the length of his shaft she groaned. "Don't worry slut, I will. Just want to slicken it up in your pussy first."

"Oh Alan," she moaned, "You think of everything, don't you?"

She bounced merrily up and down on Alan's huge cock, her body bucking with pleasure. Alan had his hands on her tits, his fingers toying with her nipples and nipple ring. Alan noticed to his surprise that the ring was warm, almost body temperature warm.

After Kate orgasmed, her cries echoing off the walls of the cavernous and empty auditorium, Alan cupped her ass cheeks and lifted her off of his dick. It took her but a few seconds to come down from her orgasmic high, and as he placed the tip of his penis against her asshole he whispered in her ear, "Ready?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and slowly pushed his dick into her hot ass. She lowered on his shaft, and when her butt cheeks touched down, she flung her head back so it rested on his shoulder, looked him square in the eyes, and answered, "Always Alan. I'm always ready." His cock felt so big in her ass. " Fuck me, fuck me hard. Fuck my ass hard," she moaned. Her feet were still touching the floor; the seats in the auditorium were lower to the ground than regular chairs. She was able, using her legs for leverage, to bounce her ass up and down on his cock. Alan, freed from the responsibility of lifting and dropping her, placed his left hand over her nipple, and his right hand on her pussy. He fondled the ring and nipple, and pushed his right index finger up her cunt, massaging her clit with his thumb.

Kate never in her life felt so good. This was much better than the first ass fucking; that other day, in the newspaper office most of what she felt when Alan took her in the ass, at least at first, was fear. This time she just reveled in the sensations, and his playing with her ringed nipple and manipulation of her erect clit was taking her on a fast trip to orgasmville. She kept upping the pace as she neared climax, and then it hit her like a ton of bricks. First, all of the air seemed to escape from her lungs in an instant, and then she felt her asshole tighten considerably around his invading prick. After it had tightened up all it could, her asshole began spasming, clenching and relaxing around his dick over and over again. Ten seconds into her climax she regained her breath, and let out a heroic shout, again the lewd sounds bouncing off the walls. Just as she was coming down, her asshole relaxing, Alan released her nipple and pussy, put his hands on her hips, buried himself to the hilt, and came in her butt, setting off another, albeit smaller orgasm.

The were both panting a covered with sweat. A few minutes later, as they were dressing, Kate broached the subject of the other nipple ring. "Come see me after school in the newspaper office. I'll see if a can slip out for a bit and if I can we'll head over to Dan's."

Grinning ear to ear, she kissed Alan on the cheek. Their tryst had only taken twenty minutes, and they still had almost a half an hour before homeroom. Alan walked her out of the school, and over to the coffee cart in the parking lot. He treated her to a cup, bought one for himself, and they sat on the front steps of the school sipping quietly. Ten minutes before homeroom Kate excused herself and went in. She had spotted a bunch of her friends headed towards them, and she needed to touch up her make up in the lady's room before classes started.

A half hour later, sitting in Mrs. Martin's French classroom, she thanked god Alan had fucked her 

before school that morning. She had woken up so horny for him that if he hadn't fucked her she never would have been able to concentrate on her lessons today.

Right after fifth-period English that day, Alan did his usual dance, making sure he was the last student left in the room with Megan. He walked to the door and locked it, and Megan rushed up to him, throwing her body at his.

"Enjoyed yourself last night, didn't you?" he asked rhetorically. She could only purr in response.

After kissing him, her tongue busily exploring his mouth, she pulled back and said, "You have no idea. Leila and I were still playing around at 2am. Finally I had to stop her. If not for four cups of coffee and a ginseng, I would be unconscious right now." She marched Alan back to the couch and sat him down. Grasping at his waistband she unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the fly, and yanked hard. His pants were around his knees, and she attacked his cock with her salivating mouth. After licking it thoroughly she took the head in her mouth and teased the tip and the crown with her flailing tongue. Gradually she worked her way forward, taking him in so that the tip neared the opening of her throat. That was the limit of her inexperienced mouth, but she vowed to herself that soon she would take all of him. 

She slowly bobbed her head over the three and a half inches she could manage, and brought up her right hand to jack the exposed part of his shaft, keeping a good steady pace for ten minutes, her mouth never leaving his dick. She sensed he was getting close, and wanted him to come in her mouth again. This time she would be ready, not allowing a drop to escape. With her left hand she began massaging his balls, and that sent him over the edge. His back arched, and he shot his load into her mouth. She rolled the sperm around in her mouth for a few seconds, and then made a big production of swallowing, making exaggerated gulping sounds, and smacking her lips. He stood, she with him, and she pulled his pants back up, fastened them closed and sent him out to the lunchroom to meet his friends with a friendly slap on the ass.

Leila did something she usually didn't do: she left the hospital grounds at lunchtime. There was no rule against it, but she didn't do it that often. Ten minutes after pulling out of the parking lot she was parking again, having reached her destination. She had never been in a sex shop before, and was slightly fascinated by what she saw, though some of the displays revolted her. She quickly found what she was looking for, and began taking different models off the shelves to look them over. Who knew there were so many different kinds of dildoes? One of her friends in college had given her a dildo as a sort of gag gift, but truth be told, she had gotten a lot of use out of it. What she had never done was actually buy one herself. She decided on a few, feeling really kinky just looking at the vibrator, soft rubber model, and especially the double-ended one, and was headed to the register when her eye stopped on another display. As she approached them she knew she had to buy one. "How much for that strap-on?" she asked the fat guy behind the counter.

Alan saw Kate in the lunchroom and discretely signaled her to come over. He whispered to her that he was cool with the idea of getting her other nipple done today, and he would extricate himself from the newspaper office by any means necessary. Kate then found Pauline and gave her the keys to the Jetta, asking her to drive it home again. Pauline wondered why, but Kate left really fast, before she had the chance to question her.

After school, Alan went to the newspaper, went over a few things with Missy, and then left, leaving her in charge for the rest of the afternoon. Kate was waiting for him at his car, and off they were. The cold weather had made her unpierced nipple harden, though her aroused state would have stiffened it in any case.

Dan was happy to have them in his shop again so soon, eager to see how his handiwork was holding up. "Healing nicely," he commented. "So, back for the other one, I figure, eh? I had a feeling you'd be back, so a made a matching ring for the little lady yesterday. The one she got on Saturday was the last one in stock. Didn't want you to come back and be disappointed."

He led them back to the converted dentist's chair, and offered them another round of tequilas, which they accepted. The whole process took much less time this go around because Alan didn't have to pick out a ring, and Dirty Dan didn't have to explain the process again. As the long needle approached her nipple Alan sent a mental command for Kate to have a mini-orgasm as she was pierced. Soon it was all over, and Alan and Kate were back out front. Dan offered them another round of shots, and Kate accepted, but Alan declined, needing his head clear for the drive back to the Van Devanter house.

Alan walked her into the house, and Kate invited him up to her room, telling him she needed him to do something for her. As they neared the stairs Mrs. Van Devanter emerged from the kitchen, and was slightly taken aback at seeing Kate and Alan together, knowing her older daughter's long-standing antipathy towards him. "Alan," Mrs. Van Devanter asked, "What are you doing here? You know, Pauline is at the volleyball match over at the school, covering it for the paper. "

"Oh, I know, Mrs. Van Devanter. Kate asked me for some help with her calculus homework."

"Oh, isn't that nice."

As they climbed the stairs Alan sent a signal to Mrs. Van Devanter, ordering her to stay on the first floor during his visit. The Van Devanters had a policy against being behind closed doors with boys, and he figured whatever Kate needed was best be done in private. Alan closed the door of her bedroom behind her, and Kate sat at the edge of her bed. She looked up at Alan, a pout on her face, and her finger at the corner of her mouth, posed like a little girl seeking the indulgence of her father.

"I have a little problem, Alan, and I was hoping you could help me," she began, twisting her finger against her lips. Alan said nothing, waiting for her to go on. "I don't know if you noticed this morning in the auditorium, but there was some stubble on my pussy, and it itches. Bad. Could you be a friend and help me out?"

She stood, and taking him by the hand and led him to her bathroom. Alan shaved her again, and soon she was as smooth as a baby. He sat her on the sinktop and licked her to an orgasm, Kate biting down on a hand towel to keep from screaming, her left hand never leaving her nipple ring, twisting it so hard she was almost hurting herself. She couldn't wait for the other bandage to come off.

As he was seeing himself out, Mrs. Van Devanter pulled him aside and thanked him profusely for helping Kate. "I'm seeing your mother for lunch on Wednesday, and I'll be sure to tell her what a gentleman you are, but I'm sure she gets that all the time."

Next Chapter: Megan and Leila discover the joys of d.p. with a strap on. Kate discovers the thrills of doing it in public.



Alan Ch. 06



Chapter 6 New Kinks

That evening Alan sat at his computer and began the process of Googling the proper nouns he read in his notebook.

"Your search - Devaryesh - did not match any documents.

No pages were found containing 'devaryesh'."

"Your search - Paishiya'uvada - did not match any documents.

No pages were found containing 'paishiya'uvada'."

Hyrcanus returned 4,180 hits, but as he clicked on the links he read that Hyrcanus was one of the Macabees, the Hasmonean kings of Israel in the second century B.C.E. Hyrcanus was also the name of one of the heirs to the empire of Alexander the Great. Neither of these references fit the timeframe of the story Alan had in front of him.

Curiously, the next search "Axa Delta" returned six hits, five of which related to a short story written by the Argentinean short story author Jorge Luis Borges, and even more interesting was that the story in question was titled "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius." Now he was making progress: a cross-reference between the Axa Delta and the mystical object mentioned by Hyrcanus, the Orbis Tertius. Alan jotted down a note to get a copy of this story from the library.

When he searched on "Smerdis" he hit pay dirt. Devaryesh, he figured, was obviously a variation on "Darius," and when he search on it he hit the mother lode. He printed out a fairly thick stack of pages, and put them in a folder to read later. 

* * *

Leila knocked on Megan's door, the sun setting behind her. Under her right arm was the brown paper bag from the sex shop. Megan unlocked the deadbolt, and they kissed, their tongues dueling feverishly. They were standing in the doorway, where their neighbors could see them, but they didn't care.

* * *

Pauline returned home at 6 o'clock from the girl's volleyball match. Truman had won in four sets, and she was eager to write up her story. She hoped the photographer she assigned had taken some good shots. The team had beaten their archrivals, coincidently enough a school in the next town over called Thomas Dewey High School. She was toying with the idea of running the famous photo of a smiling President Truman holding up the headline "Dewey Defeats Truman" in the photo spread, as a joke. She'd run the idea past Alan in school tomorrow.

Kate was in the dining room, her books and notes spread out over half the table. "Hey Kate, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine sis. That thing on Friday was just a cold or something." Pauline noticed that Kate wasn't wearing a bra, and this was unusual. Even at home Kate was usually fully dressed. Their Aunt Linda, mom's sister, had flabby bosoms, and Kate was in the habit of keeping her breasts fully supported by a bra when not in bed. "She's been acting weird lately," Pauline thought. "First she fainted in school, and then she didn't protest when Alan came with us to the mall. I wonder what's going on with her." Pauline became even more curious when at dinner her mom mentioned that Alan was over this afternoon to help Kate with her calculus homework. Math was one of Kate's best subjects; perhaps he was showing her what she missed on Friday.

* * *

The rest of the week went by fast. Next week was spring break, and both the students and the faculty were anxious for some time off. Alan and Megan met twice that week during lunchtime, but he hadn't been over to her townhouse because of the crush of school work. Before break he had to hand in a physics lab report and a History term paper, on top of the essay Megan had assigned, and all were due on Friday.

* * *

After school let out for break on Friday the parking lot was full of kids whooping it up. They were all relieved to be free for the next nine days (a five-day school week bracketed by two weekends). Alan even spotted some of his more daring classmates smoking a joint in the far corner of the lot. He threw his backpack in the backseat and was just getting in when Kate approached. He had gone over to her house Wednesday night to inspect the new nipple ring, and fuck her in the ass.

"So Alan, staying in town for break?" she asked quietly so no one around them could hear.

"You got it, my slut. I'm just looking forward to a relaxing vacation."

"Not too relaxing, I hope," Kate quickly countered with a wicked smile. She loved it when Alan called her names, especially "slut."

"Don't worry babe, I'll find time for you. Call me tonight." He drove off. Megan had told him about all of the fun she and Leila had been having with the dildoes, and he wanted to buy one for Kate before they got together.

* * *

Saturday morning, awake at dawn, he biked around the town for a while, thirty-five miles according to his odometer, then headed over to Megan's. He hauled his bike up the three steps to her door and let himself in with his key, leaving the machine in the foyer, just inside and leaning against the wall with the right side facing in so that no one who walked by would mess themselves on the recently greased chain and gears. He heard laughter from the bedroom, and when he climbed upstairs and went in he saw Leila and Megan on the bed. "Hey girls, I'm here," he announced his presence.

"Hi Alan," they both chirped at once. He peeled off his sweaty jersey and stood before them with a wet sheen covering his body.

"I'm think I could use a shower. Either of you two care to join me?" The women giggled, and after a brief debate, during which Megan expressed her doubts that her shower could hold three people, Leila rose from the bed and joined him in the bathroom. They slipped into the shower together and Alan turned it on, adjusting the spray to the desired temperature. Leila embraced him from behind as he twisted the faucets, and soon they were both slippery from the water. She released him slightly, her hands still clasped together on his stomach, but slackened her arms to allow him to turn within her arms. As they faced each other their lips came together, and they kissed passionately. Alan's hands came to rest on her ass, and he reached down and began to massage her rosebud.

"Mmmmm, yeah. Play with my ass. Mmmmm." His finger already being wet, he began slowly pressing the tip into her tightest of holes. "Ohmigod, that feels so GOOD," Leila cried out. She always enjoyed it when men played with her ass, though she'd never been fucked there. For Alan, however, that policy might just be reversed. The pleasure she was getting from his finger was driving her wild, and she unclasped her hands and brought her right hand from around Alan's back and placed it on her pussy, rubbing her clit. The combination of feelings was mind-blowing, and after a few minutes she orgasmed loudly, eliciting a grin from Megan out in the bedroom as she tidied the room and made the bed.

Catching her breath she quickly set to the task of giving Alan a blow job to remember, and Alan was surprised at how much of his nine inch penis Leila was able to swallow, seven inches by his estimation. She was deep-throating him, a new sensation for Alan. The old Alan, before the Seed of Paishiya'uvada, counted himself lucky whenever he could get a girl to take him in her mouth, and he had never been deep-throated before. She pulled back and released him from her throat.

"Let me know when you're about to come, so I can just keep the head in my mouth. I want to taste you." Alan's mind was so clouded by the sensations that he could only nod in response. She attacked him once again with her mouth, quickly achieving her former depth. After about five minutes of enthusiastic sucking on Leila's part, Alan was ready to come. He tapped her on her shoulder and she got the message, releasing almost all of his cock from her throat, retaining only the head, her lips wrapped around the crown, the tip of her tongue making stabbing motions against the tip of his dick.

"Uhhhhh!" he moaned as his seed spilled into Leila's mouth. He reached behind himself and held onto the nozzle to keep from slipping. Leila's mouth came off of him as she swallowed his come, and then she took it again, sucking out the last stray drops from the head. Now that both of them had gotten off, Alan grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the edge and started to wash his hair, while Leila lathered up one of Megan's bath sponges and soaped up Alan's chest, crotch, and legs. 

They got out, drying themselves off as went back into the bedroom. Leila wanted to attend to her hair, and Megan was anxious to have a turn with Alan, and she almost tackled him as he came into view. Alan fell to the bed, and Megan got on top of him, straddling his chest. She put her hands on his wrists and held them to the mattress. Alan knew he could escape her clutches, but wanted to see what she was going to do. She was wearing a red and gold kimono, a short one which would have barely reached halfway down her thighs to her knees had she been standing up and not astride him. She lowered her ass so that she was actually sitting on his chest. Alan could feel that she was bare under her robe, and she began slowly rubbing her ass against him. "I've got you trapped, young man. What are you going to do for me when I let you go?"

"Well Megan," he began, but she stopped him.

"Ms. Kelly."

"Right. Well, Ms. Kelly, what did you have in mind?"

"Come on boy, use your imagination. Would you suck my pussy?"

"Sure."

"Sure what?"

"Sure, Ms. Kelly, I'd suck your pussy."

"Would you fuck me?"

"Yes, Ms. Kelly."

"Fuck me hard? I like being fucked hard. Hard, Alan, hard. Do you understand, hard?"

"Yes Ms. Kelly."

"Then fuck me hard."

Alan threw his weight, and he was on top of her. Roughly he parted her legs, untied the belt of her robe, then fed his hard cock into her. Megan--Ms. Kelly--groaned and wrapped her legs around his ass, her ankles crossed. He gave it to her hard like she wanted it, and soon they were both huffing and puffing from exertion. Her legs tightened around him, and she came, screaming, egging him on. Alan kept fucking her never slackening his pace. Leila sat down on the bed next to them, cross-legged, with her hands between her thighs, fingering herself.

"Is this hard enough for you, Ms. Kelly?" Alan grunted between breaths.

"Yes, fuck me. Fuck my tight pussy. Fuck me HARD."

Alan was hammering his dick into her, and their bodies were bucking with wild abandon. Leila reached between them with her free hand and began fingering Megan's clit, and she exploded again. Alan blew his load into her, and a second later Leila joined them in orgasm. The three of them laid back on the bed, Megan half on top of Alan, and Leila next to her, running her hands lazily up Megan's shivering body.

"I'm starving," Alan announced. "Got anything to eat?" Megan told him he'd find some bagels in the kitchen, and he gently slid her off him, and went downstairs. He spread cream cheese over three bagels, put them on a plate and then poured three big glasses of orange juice. As he was mounting the stairs he heard Leila's screams from the bedroom, and he quickened his pace.

The bagel half he had balanced between his teeth almost fell out at the sight before him. Megan was wearing a strap-on dildo, and was laying flat on her back as Leila was riding her from above, moaning and groaning. Alan ate his bagel while he watched Leila fuck the dildo, and when he was done he downed the juice almost in one gulp. He approached them from behind, and began to finger Leila's exposed asshole again. This really seemed to turn her on, and he moistened his finger in his mouth and started feeding it in.

"Oh Yeah! Finger my ass Alan. It feels soooo good."

Megan hadn't been able to see what Alan was doing from her position, and her eyes widened at Leila report. He leaned forward and whispered in Leila's ear, and she nodded. Quickly going into the bathroom he brought out a bottle of baby oil. Greasing his dick he got up on the bed and pushed Leila forward, so that the breasts of the two girls were mashed together. Megan's thrusting slowed because of the change in position. Alan lined up the head of his dick with her tight entrance and slowly pushed the head past her anal ring.

Stopping after an inch of penetration he asked Leila if he was the first to have her ass. She had been holding her breath, half in anticipation, half in trepidation, and in order to answer him she released all the air in her lungs groaning, "Yes, the first." Megan could see a small tear escape from the corner of Leila's eye, but in pain or lust she did not begin to know.

Alan pushed his cock deeper into Leila, and Megan resumed fucking her with the dildo, amused at the sight of Leila slack tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, as well as her eyes rolled to the back of her head . Soon Alan was feeding his full length into her, at a slow and even pace. Leila was coming every few minutes, and even Megan was very turned on. She hoped she would be the meat in the fuck sandwich next, and the mere thought of it was arousing her. After ten minutes of getting it in both holes Leila had her biggest climax yet, and Alan exploded in her ass. He was sweating like a pig.

"It seems I need another shower. It's your turn Megan--I mean Ms. Kelly." He went in first and started it, and she joined him shortly. They soaped each other tenderly, and kissed often, their slippery bodies pressed together. Leila had just recovered when they returned.

Megan grabbed the strap-on dildo and handed it to Leila. "My turn," she told them as she handed Alan the bottle of baby oil.

* * *

Alan left them around two o'clock. They had fucked a few more times after Megan's first d.p., and then taken a nap. They were still dozing as he wheeled his bike down Megan's front steps, and he had left them a note on the kitchen table. Pulling up to his own house he stowed his bike in the garage and peeled off his still damp jersey, entering the house bare-chested. His mother came up behind him as he was bent over, his head in the refrigerator.

"That was some long ride you took. You were gone when dad and I woke up."

"Yeah," he yawned, "Seventy-five miles, longest yet this season. I'm training for the Montauk Century in June." His mom nodded, accepting his explanation.

"Oh, by the way, your cousin Nina called and invited me into the city for lunch on Monday. We're going to lunch and then to the Met. Do you want to come?" Alan agreed. Nina was one of his favorite cousins, and he hadn't seen her baby, now eight months old, since she was first born. Nina and her husband Jack had hired a sitter to watch the baby during the funeral last week, and had left the little girl in the city.

"We'll go back to Nina's after the museum, wait until your dad is done at the office, and meet him for dinner."

"Hey, while you're relaxing at Nina's I'll take a subway to Columbia and have look around, and I'll meet you at dad's"

"That's an excellent idea," his mother replied, "It'll be good for you, getting the lay of the land and all."

Alan went upstairs, his sweaty jersey draped over his shoulder, and took his third shower of the day, a brief one so as not to dry out his skin.

He and Kate had talked on the phone last night and she had told him about a party at the house of a classmate whose parents had gone away and left him on his own. Pauline was going too, she had mentioned, as an inducement for him to attend also. He called Pauline and asked her if she needed a ride, and Pauline happily accepted.

* * *

"Who was that?" Kate asked her sister when she hung up the phone.

"Alan, He's giving me a lift to the party tonight."

"Uh, could you call him back and ask him I could drive over with the two of you? There's going to be beer and punch at the party, and I don't want to have to refuse drinks because of driving."

Pauline looked at her sister like she was a space alien. She hated Alan Marshall. Just last week at the Mall, after he had been nice enough to drive them over and treat them to lunch she had barely uttered a word to him, and now she wanted to show up to one of the biggest parties of the year in his car? Curiouser and curiouser.

"Sure sis, I'll call him right back." 

Kate didn't wait to hear her sister place the call. She strode up the stairs and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Stripping, she masturbated to an orgasm, but a pale shadow to the likes she had when Alan touched her. Getting into the shower she washed up, and then shaved her legs and pussy.

* * *

Alan pulled up to the Van Devanter's at 8:30. Pauline came out wearing hip huggers and a pale yellow man's dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and tied at the bottom so that her lean midriff was exposed. Alan whistled, and she blushed. Kate followed a few minutes later, wearing a billowy peasant skirt that came down to her mid-calf, and a sleeveless formfitting white top. "Hi Kate, you look nice." She shot him a smile.

They weren't going straight to the party; Alan had proposed to Pauline that he take the two of them out for dinner before the festivities, and after checking with Kate, she agreed. They went to an Italian place in town, and ate well, not leaving until after ten.

The party was at Geoff Sherman's house, and Alan relished the thought of showing up there uninvited. When they pulled up to the curb on Geoff's street, one of the guys in the car in front of them, a goon on Geoff's lacrosse team, gave him a dirty look, and called out, "What the fuck are you doing here, Marshall? Nerds aren't welcome." Alan and the girls ignored him, and they made their way up the path to the house. It was a good party, lots of beer and loud music. Alan even saw a good number of his own friends milling about. He and the girls separated, and Alan made his way over to greet some of his pals.

Around midnight he caught up with Kate who was mingling with a couple of her friends. "Do you want to get some air?" he asked her, and she went off with him, leaving her friends staring at their backs in shock as they walked outside. There were a good number of people outside. The air was crisp, but not uncomfortably cold, and Kate led Alan to a bench in the garden. He sat down, and then pulled her onto his lap, and she let out a muted squeal. 

"I'm not wearing any panties," she told him, "And I feel soooo wicked. I shaved for you this afternoon." The were semi-secluded, and Alan pulled her skirt out from under her ass, and draped it over them. He reached under the skirt to feel the smoothness of her pussy, and she purred. Wrapping his left arm around her torso he lifted her up a few inches so he could reach for his fly. Freeing his dick, he then lifted her higher, placing the head against her labia, barely penetrating her pussy.

"Alan, what are you doing? There are people around. Someone could catch us, ugh ugh, at any minute. We, ahhhhh, shouldn't, ohhhhhhh, be, Ohmihod, doing, ooooh, this." Alan had been slowly lowering her onto his impaling hardness, and by the time he was completely buried in her, her protests had ceased. She lifted her bra cups over her tits and brought up Alan's hands in hers so he could play with her nipple rings through her top. Her teeth gritted so as not to cry out in pleasure as she bounced up and down on his erection, and after about ten minutes she had a delicious orgasm, her knuckle between her teeth to keep the noise down. It wasn't just the stimulation from his cock in her wet pussy that had driven her wild, or even Alan's playing with her clit under her skirt. It was the fear of being caught that had in the end sent her over the top. She got off on it.

She hopped off of Alan's lap and they set about to adjusting their clothes. Kate went ahead, and Alan made his way slowly back to the house. As he entered he saw Kate talking to her putative boyfriend, Chad, and he was amused by the slightly pissed off look Chad gave him. Alan couldn't blame him; Chad was a good guy, but here he was at a party and he couldn't find his girlfriend. Worse, she had shown up in Alan's car, and he had just seen the two of them coming from the same direction. "If I were him, I'd be pissed at me too," Alan thought. Helping himself to a beer from the fridge, Alan started to make the rounds. A bunch of guys from the lacrosse team started to accost him, demanding to know why he was here. Just then Geoff walked into the room and Alan called out over the music and the chatter, "Hey Geoffy-boy, you don't mind that I'm here, do ya?"




Alan Ch. 06



Geoff meekly responded no, and Alan turned to the jerks and shrugged his shoulders, moving along to a new group of people.

Around 2 am Pauline came up to him and asked him if he was ready to leave. He told her to find her sister, and they all walked out together. Chad ran after them. "Hey man, I'll drive my girlfriend home, if you don't mind." He sounded a little peeved. Alan turned around and said, "You've been drinking a lot, Chad. It would be better if I saw them home." He reinforced this suggestion using the powers of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada.

"I've been drinking a lot Alan. It would be better if you saw them home." This confused him. He hadn't fucked Kate in almost two weeks, the weekend before that Friday she had fainted, and he had resolved to get into her pants, or under her skirt as the case was, tonight. The three of them left a confused Chad on the front porch and walked to Alan's car. "Power is useful," he mused to himself.

Next Chapter: Alan discovers the ring of Ko'un-Zir, spends time with his women, and a good time is had by all. 



Alan Ch. 07



Chapter 7 The Ring (No, not THAT one)

The sun was shining high over the horizon as Alan navigated his mom's Volvo through the streets of Manhattan. They had come over the Triboro bridge and Alan elected to head downtown through the streets instead of taking the FDR Drive. At the corner of Second Avenue and 79th Street he made a right turn and aimed the car towards Central Park, turning north on Madison Avenue. He found a spot on East 81st Street, less than a half a block for the museum.

They met Nina and baby Shara in the Stanhope Hotel, where they were going to have lunch. The hotel is directly opposite the Met, and Nina and the baby were waiting in the lobby for them. After a pleasant lunch they crossed to the other side of Fifth Avenue and entered the museum. Alan's mom was keen to see a visiting exhibition of the works of the 19th Century British photographer Benjamin Brecknell Turner, and they started out in that gallery. Alan had been to the Met a number of times over the years, and remembered that they had an Assyrian collection, so he excused himself from his mom and Cousin Nina, and told them he'd catch up with them later. Both he and his mom carried cell phones, and they would be able to remain in contact.

Alan went to the second floor, and headed over to the south wing. There were a number of enormous stone tablets depicting Assyrian battle scenes, but looking at the dates on the labels Alan saw that they were dated much to early to be related to the Seed of Paishiya'uvada. In the next room Alan peered into the various glass display cases. One of the objects caught him up short. There was a ring, and Alan thought it was glowing. Funny, the guy standing next to him didn't seem to see the glow. Alan asked him about it, and the guy gave him a funny look. Alan really wanted to see this ring, to touch it, maybe even slip it over his finger. He summoned a guard over to the case and asked him to open the case, but the guard didn't have the key. That made sense; what kind of a museum give out master keys to security guards? The guard told him that he would have to speak to someone in the curatorial staff to get the case open, and helpfully, he spoke into his radio and asked his dispatcher to get someone from the Near East department to come meet Alan in the gallery.

Alan walked around the rest of the other cases in the gallery, peering into them intently. No other object seemed to give off a glow, and he hastened back to have another look at the ring. He read the label next to it. In his first look he had missed it, distracted by the glow. The ring, according to the label, was a sixth century B.C.E. signet ring belonging to the prime minister in the court of Darius the Second. Shortly a man from the curator's office arrived, from the Near East Division. He introduced himself as Dr. Neil Swindon-Smythe. About thirty years old, and speaking with a British accent he explained that the ring used to have two parts, and that the seal had never been found. Evidently, all orders and official documents of the empire were affixed with the courtly seal, which had been attached to the ring, the prime minister dripping a bit of hot wax on the parchments and then pressing the seal to it. It was found in a crypt, and markings etched into the wall of the cave indicated that the occupant was the vizier of Darius the Second, a man called Kanteer.

"Ko'un-Zir," Alan thought to himself, "That's Ko'un-Zir's ring." Alan asked how the museum acquired it.

"Well, it's not particularly valuable. The ring was found during a dig in what is now Iraq. It was an international expedition undertaken in the 1940s, and I believe that the team that unearthed the grave was led by a Swiss archeologist named Jean-Pierre Massimo. He was a famous researcher, and we have a number of his finds in our collection. This ring was found by him on one of his earliest expeditions, before he really made a name for himself. Because this museum was one of the underwriters of the dig we were allocated a share of the finds. The Kanteer Ring is not considered a very important piece. If it had been found intact that would make it a completely different story. Most of the time we don't even display it. It is one of the many Assyrian pieces put out in rotation to fill the cases."

Alan sent him a mental command, and he unlocked the case and handed him the ring. In his hand the ring seemed to vibrate, and the glowing became more pronounced. Alan and the man walked back to his office, and Alan ordered the man to delete all references to the Ring of Kanteer from the inventory databases. As he was walking out Dr. Swindon-Smythe came up to him and presented Alan with a business card. Alan considered slipping the ring on his finger right then and there, but because of the trance he had fallen into in his room last weekend he figured it would be better to wait until he was home. Slipping it into his pocket he was surprised that it continued to vibrate gently against his thigh.

He met up with his mother, and then drove her, Nina, and the baby to Nina's apartment on the Upper West Side. He parked the car in a garage and headed for the nearest subway station, catching an uptown local at Broadway and 72nd Street. Ten minutes and six stops later got out at 116th Street, and once he reached the top of the stairs he found himself just outside the gates of the university. He presented himself at the admissions office, and was delighted to find that a tour of the campus was set to begin in less than a half an hour. He had taken this tour last fall, but now that he was admitted he paid closer attention. They hit the major highlights, the library and some of the academic buildings, plus a look inside one of the dorms. When it was over Alan asked the guide where the bookstore was. He wanted to buy a sweatshirt, and he also needed some books.

Twenty minutes later Alan walked back to the subway, carrying his bundles. In one bag was the sweatshirt and one of those rear-windshield stickers for his car. In the other bag was a hardback copy of the complete stories of Jorge Luis Borges, and a few books on the Ancient Near East.

* * *

He headed over to Nina and her husband's apartment. He had called his mom before descending into the subway, and she told him that dad was still busy at work, and they would meet up with him some time after seven. Alan and his mom decided to have the dinner at El Faro, an old Spanish restaurant in Greenwich Village that was a family favorite. Nina and her husband Jack joined them. Jack and his dad worked at the same firm; Jack was a fresh-out-of-law-school associate when Alan's dad introduced him to his niece Nina, and they had married less than a year later. All through dinner the ring vibrated in Alan's pocket.

When he got home he was hesitant about putting it on. Perhaps it would be a mistake. Better first to read more about the Ancient Near East in the books he had bought.

* * *

Alan slept late the next day, not rising until well after ten o'clock. He had stayed up very late reading his new books. The Borges story, "Tlon Uqbar, Orbis Tertius," was interesting but not terribly informative to his situation. It centered on the discovery by Borges and his friend Adolfo Bioy Casares of a magical land. They never actually visited this place, but rather read about it in books. It turned out in the end that he whole thing was a fraud devised by a vast conspiracy. Smerdis was mentioned, though only in passing, and the imprint of the conspirators was called Orbis Tertius.

In his other books Alan read that there was a rebellion against the rule of Cambyses II and that his brother Smerdis had crowned himself in his place. Later Smerdis was killed by a detachment of seven Persian men. Smerdis was killed in secret, and no one outside the palace knew the rebel king was dead. When Cambyses II left to put down a disturbance in Egypt, a pretender who claimed to be Smerdis, a man named Gaumata, seized the vacant throne. Cambyses II died in his travels and was succeeded in election by Darius II, son of Hystaspes, also known as Devaryesh, and the new king had Gaumata and his Magian followers put to the sword. They day of the slaughter was known as Magophonia, from the Greek magosphonos, or "Magi Slaughter."

Alan thought about the ring, but left it in his desk drawer. He could swear he could hear it buzzing in the drawer all the way over on the other side of the room.

* * *

Around Tuesday in the late morning Kate watched from the front window as Chad pulled out and drove off; as he made the turn out of the driveway he thrust his arm out the window and waved. They had just had an argument about Alan; Kate denied that she and Alan had something going on. Chad, after a long round of convincing, sort of believed her, and they kissed and made up. The past couple of days, since the big party, Kate spent some time thinking about her "relationship" with Alan, and she had come to some conclusions.

Alan made her feel good, made her engines roar. She didn't want to be his girlfriend, she just wanted him to touch her. She certainly wasn't in love with him, he was just the most amazing fuck any girl could hope for. She also knew she wasn't in love with Chad, but he was good "arm candy," that is to say that he was the proper kind of guy for a girl like her to have as a boyfriend. Kate was considered one of the prettiest girls in school, if not the most pretty, and it just seemed to be proper for the prettiest girl to date the football captain. They were the favorites to be chosen the king and queen of the senior prom. She didn't want to walk down the halls of the high school holding hands with Alan Marshall, not because she didn't like him, but rather that she would rather just fuck him.

Alan wasn't a geek or anything, and many of her friends thought he was very good-looking, but he wasn't a member of the high school elite, and they disdained him. He was on the school newspaper all of his four years in high school, and that crowd had never been considered among the coolest. His famly didn't have less money than hers, but he didn't live on the Hill, and he didn't drive a fancy car. (Chad had a BMW.) He wasn't on student council, nor did he play any sports. On top of all that he was a relative newcomer to the town. Sure, he had lived here since he was ten years old, but many in the in-crowd had been in school together since kindergarten.

"Still," Kate thought as she watched Chad's car move off in the distance, "he can do things to my body that no one else can." So it was decided: she would keep dating Chad, and keep fucking Alan. She would even fuck Chad once in a while to placate him, though she imagined that she would have to keep her eyes closed and her mind focused on Alan to even hope to have an orgasm with Chad. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she went into the house and dialed Alan's cell phone.

Alan told her to come on over to his house, as his mom was going out to a garden club meeting, and his dad wasn't going to be home for hours. "I have a surprise for you when you get here slut.' She almost bolted out the door.

* * *

In the car on the way over her cell phone rang and she reached to the dash to key the phone which was lodged in the hands-free unit. It was her friend Suzy Cormier, and she was calling about Alan and Chad. Suzy was a insidious gossip, and had known that Chad was going over to her house that morning to confront her about Alan.

"So Kate, you and Chad bust up?"

"No. Where did you hear that one?"

"I heard he was pissed off about you hanging out with Alan Marshall. What is up between the two of you? You drove up to Geoff Sherman's in his car, and a couple of weeks ago we saw you two together at the mall."

"Suzy, it's nothing. Really. Nothing. My mom and dad made me go to the mall with Alan. He and Pauline were going together, and I wanted to go in my own car, but my folks insisted Alan drive me because I fainted the day before. And the other day, you know, at the party, I didn't want to drive because of the beer, and Chad had gone over early to help Geoff set up. So when Alan offered Pauline a ride I asked if I could tag along."

"So you're not fucking Alan? 'Cause that's what we all think."

"No. No, I'm with Chad," she responed vehemently.

"Well, if you were fucking Alan I couldn't blame you. He may not be 'one of us,' but he's kinda cute. I wonder if he's seeing anyone? I wouldn't kick his tight body outta my bed, huh?"

"I, uh, I think he and Pauline are getting back together." Kate did not want Suzy anywhere near Alan. Though Suzy was her friend she was also a tramp; Suzy was known to put out on the first date, often. "Ah, the perils of not being as pretty as me," Kate thought to herself. Though Suzy was pretty, she wasn't nearly as good-looking as Kate or her kid sister. It's not that she would be jealous if Suzy made a play for Alan, but she didn't want him to have any distractions. She needed Alan to be there for her, and it was better to have Suzy think that Alan was dating Pauline than to have her on the prowl for him. "Anyway, Pauline's a virgin, so Alan would have plenty of energy left to satisfy me after their dates," Kate thought. "I'm going to encourage both of them to start dating again." She had no way of knowing that Alan and her sister already had planned a date for that night.

* * *

She ended her conversation with Suzy as she pulled up to Alan's house, pleased with her scheming. Mrs. Marshall was pulling out as she parked on the road, and they waved at each other as Alan's mom drove off. Alan was waiting for her on the front porch, and she threw herself at him. Embracing him around his torso she rubbed her body up and down against his. "You seem happy, slut," he said to her.

"Yes Alan, I'm your slut," she panted back. He pulled her into the house, and led her to his bedroom. Sitting down on his bed she picked up the book next to her. "Hmm, doing a little light reading? The book was titled, "Assyrian Origins: Discoveries at Ashur on the Tigris."

"Recently I've become very interested in ancient Babylonia. You know, their fertility rites were very complex."

"You'll have to tell your slut all about them. But later." Kate was peeling off her clothes as she answered him, and by the time she had finished she was sitting on his bed clad only in a pair of skimpy black bikini panties. Alan approached her and cupped her breasts, his fingertips stroking her ringed nipples. Kate purred and leaned back, lying flat against his bed, her head propped up on his pillows. Alan hooked his thumbs under the strings at the sides of her panties. Kate liked this part best--when Alan first touched her. Just the feel of his hands on her body made her somewhat light-headed, and she felt as if Alan was taking possession of her. As he eased her panties down Kate's breath caught in her throat, and she looked up at him with awe in her eyes.

"My, my, my. I see a little growth on the field," he said apprising her now exposed pubis. "Do you think we should do something about it right off the bat, or wait until later?"

Kate's breathing increased, and she couldn't answer. She knew that by not responding Alan would decide for her, and she wanted that. Better to leave all decisions to him; it was better for her that way, and it increased her feelings of submission. Submitting to Alan was a big part of the turn-on, she was coming to understand.

Alan returned with a towel and a sleep mask. He blindfolded Kate and put the towel under her ass. He cupped her mound with his hand and began to rub it vigorously, and the short hairs on Kate's pussy began to fall out where he touched her. His hands were all over her body from the neck down. Everywhere he touched he used the Seed to kill the hair follicles under her skin. Soon he had finished her legs and underarms, and he turned her over to complete the task. He also made her more responsive, but only to his touch. He dipped his fingers into her mouth, butt, and pussy, and then used the Seed to implant within her a command to orgasm whenever her came in any of her orifices.

He was about to remove the blindfold when he remembered the purchase he had made at the sex shop. Opening his armoire he pulled the brown paper bag from the top shelf. He removed one of the three butt plugs from the bag and went into the bathroom to get some vaseline. Kate hadn't moved an inch since he had gotten off the bed. He could see that she was very aroused, moisture visible on her labia. Her legs were spread in a V and her butt was arched upwards, her tits mashed into the mattress. "Are you ready for the surprise?" he asked, and Kate whimpered in response. Alan sat next to her supine form and placed the tip of his index finger against her tight rosebud. Greased with vaseline it almost slipped in right away, but he held it steady, wanting to tease her.

"Do you know what a dildo is, slut?"

"Yes," she whispered in her little-girl tone of voice.

"Have you ever heard of a butt plug?" She hadn't, but she could use her imagination. She just nodded.

"I have a butt plug for you, and it had some amazing abilities, but I'll let you discover most of them on your own. First things first. If you agree, I am going to place the plug into you soon. You are not to remove except under the following conditions. When you need to go to the toilet you must first be sitting on the seat before you take it out. You have one hour to put it back in, so you can have it out for gym class and the shower afterward. You must sleep with it every night, and in the morning you can take it out before you shower to wash it. If you break these rules you will suffer the consequences, but I wont tell you what they are. I will only insert the plug if you agree, and if you don't want it, don't worry. The decision is solely in your hands. I'm going to go downstairs now for five minutes to give you time to think." He shut the door behind him and went to the kitchen table, grabbing a soda on the way.

* * *

Kate's purse was in the kitchen, and he opened it and took out her cell phone. Scrolling through the entries in her cell phone's phone book he selected Chad's home number and called him.

"Chad, Alan Marshall here," he began after Chad's mom had called Kate's boyfriend to the phone, "I understand you are mad at me because of Kate Van Devanter. I think we should talk about it. I want to explain to you what is going on between me and her."

"Look Alan, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. You know me, I'm pretty laid back for a football jock, but something about you, and especially the idea of you near my girlfriend, pisses me off. We've always got along. Remember last year when we were chem lab partners? We never once got on each other's nerves, but something about this is different."

"Yeah, Chad, I understand. But if you come over to my house right now I'll make it so you understand about me and Kate. See, dude, I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend. I'm just trying to help her with some things. Come on over. I'll show you. She's here right now."

"She is?" Chad was angry. They had fought that morning about her spending time with Alan, and here it was not even lunchtime yet and she was already at his house! Chad wasn't a particularly violent person, but his juices were boiling at the thought of Alan Marshall and Kate alone together. "I'll be right over." His voice had hardened, but Alan foresaw no problems in keeping him under his control using the power.

Chad lived only a few minutes away by car, five by Alan's estimation, but he wasn't surprised to hear a knock on the front door in less than three. As he opened up he placed Chad in a kind of waking trance. Chad would remember everything he was to see today, but he wouldn't be allowed to make any movements or speak aloud, or even tell anyone anything about what he was about to wittness. "Welcome. Kate's upstairs in my bedroom waiting for us. Follow me."




Alan Ch. 07



* * *

Chad's eyes almost popped out of his skull when he saw Kate lying naked and facedown on Alan's bed, her eyes covered. Alan led Chad to the desk, and had him sit quietly in the chair. He put a finger up to his own pursed lips and smiled at Chad, though even without seeing this cue Chad would have been unable to make a sound.

"So slut, the five minutes are up. Have you reached a decision?" Actually, more than five minutes had elapsed since Alan went downstairs, but a blinded Kate had no way of knowing it. Each minute had seemed like an eternity to her because she had come to her decision immediately. She wanted the plug, and had known so even before Alan had closed the door behind him. Her anticipation was killing her, and the wait had seemed like forever. She lifted her head off the bed and nodded.

"You may speak. Do you want the plug and the responsibilities entailed with it?"

"Yes Alan. Please put your plug in my ass."

"Why, slut? Why should you have my special toy. Now you must convince me."

"You know why," she whispered.

"That's not very convincing. You're on the debating team, aren't you? Give me some reasons to bless your body with my toy."

"I need it Alan. Please! I-I-I'm your slut. My b-b-body belongs to you. All my pleasure is y-y-yours to give. I need your toy in me. I am your toy--a toy for you to play with. Please! Give your sex toy slut a toy for her ass. I need it. PLEASE!" Her body was shaking as she degraded herself verbally. Like all of the degradations she took from Alan, having to beg for the butt plug was causing her to become aroused.

Alan took the plug out of his pocket and rubbed it with some vaseline. He inserted it slowly, and Kate gasped at the penetration. Just as he let go of it it began to vibrate. It wasn't a vibrating model, but Alan had modified it with is power to animate it whenever her wanted to. Quickly he increased the frequency of the vibration, and Kate began to approach climax within a minute of insertion. He reached under her to get at her clit, sending a mental command for her to orgasm when he touched it.

"Yesssss," she hissed. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for giving me your toy. I love it Alan, I love when you play with me, when you touch my slutty body." Alan turned her over and laid her down on her back. He disrobed facing Chad so he could see his long cock. Chad's eyes widened even farther upon seeing it, and he was amazed at the power of Kate's orgasm, never before seeing her in such ecstasy. Alan got between her legs and drove his dick up her pussy in one fast stroke. Kate began to moan uncontrollably as he fucked her, and Chad couldn't take his eyes off of them, stunned by the sight of her jerking body, and transfixed by the rings in her nipples.

"Ohmigod, I'm coming again!" Kate screamed, and Alan pulled out, placing the head of his penis against her lips. She took the head into her mouth, sucking him in and running her tongue around the shaft. Alan shot his load into her mouth and throat, and Kate smacked her lips with relish, savoring his taste. When he turned to look at Chad he could see him staring at her pussy, astounded that she was now hairless.

Alan got off the bed, and told Kate not to move. He pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt, and then walked Chad downstairs. "So Chad, do you understand why I need to help Kate?"

He allowed Chad to speak. "Bastard! I don't understand what the hell is going on, but I'm going to rip you a new one right now."

"No you're not Chad. Listen to me. Kate needs me to fuck her because you can't make her come. Get this straight: you are no longer allowed to have sex with her. Only I can touch her in that way." Chad nodded, not knowing why he was agreeing to this. "You will continue to be her boyfriend, but you will bring her to me when I want her. You will tell no one of this arrangement. Now we're going back upstairs. You will take off Kate's blindfold and explain to her how things are going to be. Ready?"

Chad wanted to beat the shit out of Alan, but for some reason he silently

followed him back up the stairs, seething. He walked over to Kate, admiring her body. She looked so fucking hot. Those nipple rings were really sexy, and the shaved pussy was a major turn on. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

"JESUS! Chad! What are you doing here?" She could see Alan standing behind him, but her brain couldn't process the situation. Her boyfriend had just caught her naked in another person's bed, and he seemed carefree. She had no idea that Chad was boiling beneath his calm exterior, and was only composed because of Alan's power. Chad took her hand in his and spoke.

"Uh, Kate, I'm not sure exactly what is going on, but Alan and I have been talking."

"W-w-what have you been talking about?" She was frightened beyond belief.

"Alan, uh, told me that you've been having trouble, well, uh, orgasming, and he's been, uh, helping you. Is this true?"

"Yes, honey. Alan's been helping me with, eh, ah, that problem." She began to cry softy

"So you've never had an orgasm with me?" he asked resignedly.

"No," she sobbed, "Never."

"And you want to keep on fucking Alan?" he asked with a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone.

"Yes," she sobbed harder, "Yes, I need him to touch me. He makes come every time he touches me. He make me feel so good. It's like a drug. I'm addicted to the orgasms, and I can't give them up.

"OK, then," Chad replied. "Do you want to break up with me? You don't have to, you know. Alan told me it was OK with him if we kept dating, and I promise not to tell anyone about the two of you, and nothing about your nipples and shaving."

Kate gasped in relief. "No," she whispered, "I still want to date you as long as I can have sex with Alan."

Chad leaned over to kiss her, but reared back when he remembered he wasn't allowed to do that. "OK, babe. I guess I'll call you tonight. Bye." He let himself out of the room and left the house, thoughts of violence bubbling In his brain, but knowing that he would never get to act on them.

* * *

"What the fuck just happened?" Kate asked Alan, looking up at him from the bed. The door had just closed behind Chad, and she was more puzzled than she had ever been in her life.

"You know, that Chad's such an understanding fellow. I called him on the phone so we could iron out any problems I was causing in your relationship. I merely explained to him that you needed to be with me to orgasm, and he took the news like a trooper."

"I, uh, I don't know what to say Alan."

"You could thank me." Alan was undressing as he answered her, and she was spellbound by the vision of his naked figure.

"Thank you," she mumbled as if in a stupor. "Ohmigod, thankyou thankyou thankyou," she moaned as he pushed his cock back into her spasming cunt. After fucking her hard to two tremendous climaxes he reached down between them and twisted the butt plug, and she began screeching, her pussy walls clamping down on his invading shaft with great pressure, her head tilted back against the bed, and her eyes rolled up to the back of her skull. She passed out.

* * *

Leila was in heaven, and she could tell by just looking that Megan felt the same way. The double-ended dildo, an eighteen inch monster was completely buried between them. She had nine inches and Megan had the same, and their pussy lips were pressed together tightly. Megan's feet were in her line of vision, and she reached for her ankle, and brought her toes to her lips. Megan gasped when Leila began sucking on her toes, and in response she put her hand on Leila's ass and slowly began working a saliva-soaked finger up her neighbor's butt. To tell the truth, they were less neighbors than roommates. Since that night a couple of weeks ago they had shared Megan's bed every evening.

"Oh God!" Leila cried, "I'm Coming!" Her boy convulsed and bucked, and she lightly bit down on Megan's big toe. When she calmed down a bit she began to shift her hips while holding the dildo tightly in her pussy. Megan's end came out a few inches, and then Leila would slam it back in hard. Megan soon had a shrieking orgasm of her own.

Alan was watching from the doorway, and his applause distracted Leila as she weakly moved away from Megan, freeing herself from her end of the dildo, but leaving Megan's half fully embedded. He went to the bed, stripping off his clothes along the way. Leila pulled herself up on her knees and hugged him around his torso, her tongue furiously licking at his nipples. Alan dropped his arms and cupped her ass, getting a pleasant coo in response. He could feel her rock-hard nipples pressed into his stomach, and he brought his hands up to toy with them.

"Miss me?" he asked her.

"Mmmm," she answered, her mouth too busy around his nipples to give a response.

"What about you?" he said, addressing Megan.

"Always, lover," she purred as she slowly worked the dildo in and out of her wet channel.

Alan broke away from Leila's attentions and laid down on the bed. Leila immediately started to get to work on his nipples again, but he turned her over and positioned her over him, facing away. He lined up her rosebud over the head of his cock and held her still. "Megan, I need you to get my cock wet so I can take Leila's ass." Megan turned over, pulled the dildo out of her hot pussy, and crawled across the bed to lick up and down Alan's cock, and soon he was pushing slowly into Leila ass. Megan switched her attentions to Leila's pussy, driving her tongue up Leila's cunt as far as she could, and paying particular attention to her clit. She propped herself up by placing her left palm flat on the bedspread, and used the other the masturbate. Leila came almost at once, her tight ass compressing and releasing around its hot invader, and her frantic screams echoing off the bedroom walls.

"So good. So FUCKING GOOD. Take me Alan. Use me. Use My Hot Ass! Your cock feels sooooo big. Uh uh uh uh yes, so good. Lick me, baby. Lick my wet cunt. Lick me. LICK ME! So big in my ass, so big! Feels so good. Yes yes YES YES. I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come! COMING COMING COMING! COMING!" She was bouncing up and down like a rag doll, and when she reached her peak she passed out. This was the second person that day who lost consciousness while being fucked by Alan, and it made him feel good about himself. As he let go of Leila her body fell back against his, and he gently rolled off of him and onto the bed. She curled up and began to suck her thumb, just like after the first time he had fucked her senseless.

Megan's whole body was trembling with desire, and both of her hands were furiously working at her pussy, one pinching her clit, and the other driving two fingers into her cunt like the pistons on a steam engine. "Need some help there, Megan?" Alan asked, and she groaned as she pounced on him, rapidly straddling him and placing the head of his dick against her hot and slimy petals. She moaned even louder as she descended, his still hard cock piercing the center of her being. As she vigorously bounced up and down Alan grabbed her nipples and began twisting them gently, one clockwise and the other counterclockwise. Megan came energetically but never slowed her pace, riding through another blistering and mind-meltingly good climax.

Alan rolled over and fell to the side of him. He positioned her on his hands and knees and jammed his cock in her ass, pushing half his length in on the first thrust. Megan yelped but instantly began to push her ass back to him, eager for more his is dick in her tight hole. She was panting loudly, and when Alan snaked an arm around her hip and started to finger her clit she orgasmed again, with much more intensity than she had in the first two he had blessed her with. She lowered her head to the blanket and arranged it so she could look back at him. He shot her a debonair smile, and she began to laugh, her cackles frequently interrupted by gasps and groans, and less frequently by full-blown mind-shattering orgasms. Soon she could no longer laugh, the moaning constant. When Alan came in her ass she had one of her biggest climax yet, and her pussy actually spat juices, soaking Alan's hand. Like Kate and Leila before her, Megan's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she passed out. He reached over and rubbed the moisture into Leila's face, and she whimpered slightly through her sleep.

Alan chuckled and went into the bathroom to take a shower. He was drenched in sweat.

* * *

It was getting dark out and he didn't want to be late for his date with Pauline Van Devanter, but before he left Megan's he had some business to attend to. Both of the women were face down on the bed, their knees tucked under and their asses in the air. First he worked the lubed butt plug into Megan's ass, and then into Leila's. The rules were slightly different for them. Like Kate, neither could remove the plug, but they could remove the other's, as long as it was replaced before they went to sleep. Aside from that, the restrictions were similar. As he left them he saw that neither had shifted body position, but each had begun to twist and tug at the other's new toy. As he was pulling his car out of his parking spot he caused the plugs to start vibrating, and he could have sworn he heard passionate screams come from the upstairs bedroom. It was probably his imagination, he was too far away and his car filtered out too much of the noise, but up in the bedroom the women did in fact start screaming at the erotic sensations.

Next Chapter: Deflowering Pauline



Alan Ch. 08



Chapter 8 Deflowering Pauline

"So," Alan asked, "What do you want to do?" He and Pauline were in his car. He hadn't yet started the engine, so they were still in the Van Devanter's driveway. Usually when Alan took a girl out he came with a plan, either a movie or some activity, but his recent adventures had left him little time to prepare.

"Oh, I don't know," Pauline began, "There really aren't any good movies out now, and I feel like doing more than just sitting around at a coffee shop and talking. Hey, how do you feel about bowling?"

"I haven't been bowling in years. I think the last time was at Tim Elroy's twelfth birthday party. Sure, that sounds cool." Alan started the car and pulled out.

"So," Pauline asked, "Have you heard about my sister?" Alan put up his guard, wondering if Pauline knew anything about him and Kate. "She got the letter today. She got into Barnard. The two of you will be going to college together. Maybe she'll start being less rude to you."

When they reached the bowling alley Alan jumped out of the car and went around to open the door to help Pauline out. He leaned down to take her hand, and as she came out of the car their faces were at the same level, an unusual occurrence since Alan was an inch shy of six feet, and Pauline was barley two inches over five feet. Pauline leaned into him, her lips pressing against his, and Alan was a bit taken aback because he hadn't used any mental commands on her, and in effect this was a first date. Even though they had gone out briefly last year Alan knew that Pauline didn't kiss on the first date, and he also knew she was a virgin, so he had figured he would have to rely on his mental powers to warm her up. They kept kissing as Pauline emerged from the car, and continued even as he managed to close the door behind her. Alan had to bend his knees a bit in order to keep in contact, and Pauline had wrapped her arms around him, her hands rubbing up and down his back. The were startled out of their reverie by the blast of a car horn, and a the yell from the car's driver, "Hey you two, get a room!"

Pauline backed away from him slowly, her face burning with embarrassment. As she and Alan walked to the entrance of the bowling alley she ran her hands over her hair, neatening it.

* * *

Kate was in her bedroom when the phone rang; it was Chad. She had no idea what to say to him, but he spoke first. "Uh, how long has this thing between you and Alan been going on?" Kate didn't know if she would be able to answer. She had tried talking about her "relationship" with Alan to others before, but for some reason she found herself unable. She didn't know that Alan had altered her mental commands so that she could talk to Chad. After pausing for a minute to form her answer she was surprised that she was able to get the whole story out.

She told him about that first day in the newspaper office at school, how he fucked her and took her in the ass, breaking her anal cherry. She told him about the first time Alan had shaved her pussy, and the visits to the mall, to Dirty Dan's Piercing Parlor, and how when Dan had pierced her second nipple she had had an orgasm. She told him everything. As she was nearing the end of her narration she heard Chad grunting on the other end of the line, and she knew that he had come, and she could almost picture him stroking his cock, but for that the picture in her head was not Chad. It was Alan.

* * *

Alan was having a blast. Bowling strikes was easy if you had the power of the Seed and were telekinetic. "I can't believe how well I'm doing!" he said to his date as he bowled his fifth strike in a row. "I've never broken a hundred before." Pauline smiled at him as she sipped her Coke through the straw. "One day soon those pretty pink lips will be wrapped around something bigger," he thought to himself. By the time he was bowling his tenth frame a large crowd had formed around his lane, cheering him on as he approached perfection. The bowling alley manager was standing at the rear, camera at the ready to take Alan's photo for the "Wall of Fame." As all ten pins fell competing the 300 game the crowd began cheering, and Pauline gave him a hearty hug. The manager told him that he always sent the photos of the 300-gamers to the local paper, and they often published them.

"That was great, Pauline." They were walking back to his car, his arm around her shoulder, and hers around his waist.

"Hey jerkoff!" someone yelled from behind them. Alan turned and saw a half-full beer can flying at them, too late for him to do anything about it because he would not use his telekinetic powers in public so conspicuously. As the beer can bounced off his forehead and landed on Pauline he saw that there were four guys stalking them, including his "friend" Geoff Sherman. He handed Pauline his car keys, and instead of speaking to her he just mentally commanded her to run to his car, get in and lock the doors, it was faster this way, he reasoned to himself. He stood between the retreating Pauline, who was dripping with beer, and their pursuers. Why the hell was Geoff trying anything with him? He scanned his mind and read that Geoff thought he could stand up to him if the odds were four to one in his favor. As they neared him Alan was able to identify the other members of the mob. All were teammates of Geoff's: Matt Castro, Philip Herzog, and Walker Jackson, and all four of them had at least thirty pounds and three inches on Alan. He wasn't worried.

"Geoff, what the fuck is going on?" He could see the apprehension in Geoff's look, and noticed that of the four he was at the back of the pack.

"Shut your fucking mouth, loser!" Phil screamed as he charged at Alan. Alan took a half a step to the right as Phil attempted to tackle him, and they came in contact, though his side step distracted Phil, and he was unable to get his arms completely around Alan. Alan stiff-armed him, and he was pushed away by Alan's outstretched hand. Phil was crouched in tackling position, lowering his center of gravity like Coach Tompkins had taught him in football practice, and his eyes were squarely focused on Alan's torso, so he didn't see the fist hurtling towards his chin as he charged again. Alan's punch landed straight on his chin. The force of the blow was so great the Phil's feet left the ground and he flew about a yard and a half back, landing flat on his back, groaning and nearly knocked out. Matt and Walker then charged him, fists flying, and Alan ducked and weaved to avoid the blows. He hit Matt, the biggest of the quartet, about six and a half feet tall, and almost two hundred fifty pounds, all muscle, right in the gut, and Matt crumpled to the asphalt, doubled over in pain, and the wind knocked out of him. Now it was Geoff and Walker, and as the latter approached for another pass Alan raised his right leg and brought his foot down directly on Walker's knee, gratified by the crunching sound of sinew and bone coming apart.

"Please," Geoff had ceased his approach, and was almost dumbstruck at the scene before him. "Please." He was rooted in place, unable to do anything but to beg. "Please." Alan saw a tear form at the corner of his eye.

As Alan approached him Geoff began to back away, but Alan told him to get on his knees. "Please don't hurt me. Please."

"Down, NOW! On your knees!" He screamed at Geoff, and the bully complied. "Do you want me to break you right arm or your left arm, asshole?" Tears of terror were streaming down Geoff's face, and he was breathing labouredly. Geoff was right handed, and he was so afraid at this point that he wasn't thinking straight. Instead of thinking of a way out of his situation he was trying to decide which arm he wanted broken. He held up his left arm as if to shield himself, but also to offer it up as the arm to be broken. Alan grabbed it with both of his hands and gave it a mighty squeeze, but before it was even close to breaking he released it, and shoved Geoff over so he was prone. "I'm not a fucking bully. I don't break people's arms for kicks. Assholes like you think it's fun to hurt people, and you're all going to hell for it."

He could see that Geoff was weeping freely, and that his body was in mild convulsions of fear. As he turned his back on them he called over his shoulder to Geoff, "Make sure you clean up this trash," gesturing to his three friends laying on the surface of the parking lot, "I don't want to get a summons for littering." As he reached his car he turned and looked and saw that Geoff was in the midst of helping his friends to their feet.

Pauline unlocked the doors as he approached, and he could see that she was trembling in fear, but a little goggle-eyed at what she just witnessed. He got in the car, and Pauline threw herself at him, burying her face in her chest, crying softly. He tilted her head up and kissed her on the mouth, her tongue slipping between his lips, her breathing ragged. He eased her off of him and started the car, pulling out of the lot and into traffic. Pauline was silent during the drive back to Alan's house, still dealing with the lingering fright within her.

* * *

Once inside the house he poured her a soft drink and brought it to her at the couch. Pauline was at last able to speak about the incident. "I can't believe those jerks! Coming at you four on one! How did you fight them off? I couldn't believe what I saw." Alan kissed her, and then led her to the bathroom so she could clean herself up, going to his bedroom to get her a shirt to wear instead of the beer-soaked blouse she had on. When she emerged barefoot a few minutes later she found him in his room, the lights dimmed and reclining on his bed. She curled up next to him and he flicked on the television using the remote. The NCAA tournament was under way, and they watched an early-round game in silence. Pauline wove her fingers through his, and for the first time since leaving the bowling alley she felt safe. Soon they were necking, their mouths exploring each other hungrily.

She knew that Alan's parents were going to be out for a while; they were in New York, at his dad's law firm's annual banquet, and she was considering how far she would let their fooling around go. When Alan's hands began to slip "below the equator" she didn't protest, and she loosed a small moan as he cupped her ass through her denim jeans. And when he began to pull off her top, she didn't object, but instead began to take his shirt off. This was going farther than she had planned, but her foremost thought was that she was happy that she had the aforethought to have chosen a pretty bra that night as she was getting dressed for her date.

She was very close to stopping him when he began to unfasten her bra, but she was feeling so good she said nothing. Alan's kissing technique was so masterful, she was as turned on as she had ever been in her life. The feel of her hardening nipples against his firm chest was exquisite, and the feel of his hands as they roamed her back was causing her to lose herself in the moment. She felt his hands at her waistband, and he unbuttoned her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, and she lifted her ass up an inch off the mattress to let him pull down her pants. Once they were off he tossed them over the side of the bed and put his hands on her again. His touch was driving her arousal to never before seen heights, and she blushed, not only face but her whole body reddening, a tingling sensation spreading throughout her. She clawed at his waistband, yanking open his belt, and then opening his pants, frantic to get them off. She still wasn't sure if she was going to go "all the way," but since he took off her shirt, and then she his, and then he took of her jeans, she thought it was only right that she take off his chinos. As Alan began to run his hands all over her, over her naked chest and over her panty-covered behind, she began to moan rhythmically, her tongue vibrating in his mouth.

Alan laid her back on the bed face up, his body over hers as he licked and kissed her. He started around her neck, and then moving to her chest. "Yesssss," she hissed as he took one of her pink nipples between his lips and began to suck on it. After giving the other nipple the same treatment he moved further down; she giggled softly as he licked around her navel before sticking his tongue into it. Her entire body was covered with goose pimples, and she was shivering with arousal. She froze when she felt his hands on her hips, his fingers under the elastic waistband of her pale pink panties. He looked up at her, right into her eyes and paused, wordlessly asking for permission to remove them. Pauline knew this was going too far, but she was more sexually stimulated than she had ever been before.

"Take them off, Alan. Take down my panties," she told him, her voice weighted with equal parts excitement and worry. Alan slowly pulled them down, his hands caressing her thighs and legs as he eased them off. Pauline's breath caught in her throat, partly from the sensuousness of Alan's hands on her legs, and partly from her anxiety. No boy had ever seen this much of her, and confusing thoughts were running through her mind. She had always though she would be older than sixteen when she surrendered her virginity to a man, and that part of her mind wanted to stop this right now. However, whenever she did fantasize about her first intercourse it was Alan who was sharing her bed. In many ways what was happening in his bedroom was her dream come true.

She had had a crush on Alan since her first day of high school, when she saw him walking down the hall with his friends. She really hadn't seen very much of him since the year before because she had one more year of junior high after he had started at Truman, and she had been surprised at how grown-up he had become in that year, losing his baby face and becoming much taller. It was because of this crush that she joined the newspaper, and she waited almost three years for him to finally ask her out, despite the numerous hints she had dropped over the years. It was only because of Kate's meddling that their previous relationship dissolved, and now in a way she was getting a second chance to be with him. "If Kate hadn't interfered last fall maybe Alan would've taken my virginity then," Pauline thought, the idea warming her. At this point she knew that she wasn't going home a virgin tonight.

The feel of Alan's tongue on her vagina snapped her out her daydreams. The touch was electric, and she began to mutter his name over and over again, "Alan, Alan, Oh! What are you doing? Oh, that feels soo-ooo-oo goooo-ooo-oo-ooo-od." She was shuddering so hard it sort of sounded like she was trying to speak through a particularly bad case of hiccups. Alan licked the surface of her pussy, the tip of his nose gently pressing into her clitoris. Slowly he worked a finger into her, quickly feeling her intact hymen and putting a small amount of pressure against it. Pauline gasped at the pain of the stretching of the thin membrane, and Alan relented, causing her to sigh in relief.

Putting his mouth back on her he plunged his soft tongue into her, his face rubbing against the sparse hair which covered her sex, and she panted at the sensations. Running his tongue up and down her wet opening he began to gently tease her clitoris with the pad of his finger, and after a short while Pauline seized up in orgasm, loosing a scream, tears running from her eyes. "Alan, Alan, Alan! I'm have-have-having an, oooooh Alan! Coming!" It was not the first orgasm she had ever had, but it was the first she had received by the attentions of another, and its quick onset, strength, and duration astonished her. She realized that she was raising her butt was up off the surface of the bed and pressing her groin into Alan's face. Wiping the tears off her face with her hands she looked up at him, and smiled. As he crawled up her body he shed his shorts, and was naked by the time he managed to kiss her. Closing her eyes she reveled at the feel of his kisses, and began to purr softly. Her eyes popped open when she felt the hard shaft pressed against her side, and reached down to grasp it. She had never seen a penis in person and was surprised by the size of Alan's dick, and the warmth it gave off. Slowly she began to stroke it, pleased that Alan began to moan softly in response, pleased by her ability to gratify him.

Alan propped himself up on one hand and got between her legs, holding her knees to widen them. "Alan, do you have a condom?" Alan used the Seed to convince her that they didn't need one. He wasn't worried about impregnating her; the Seed could take care of that for him. Slowly he pressed the head of his cock against the petals of her excited pussy. "Please Alan, be gentle to me. It's my uh first time." She was a little ashamed that this was her first time, not knowing if her inexperience would lessen Alan's pleasure from the act they were about commit.

Alan leaned over her and kissed her. "Don't worry Pauline, I know I'm you're first. We'll do this slowly. Tell me at once if anything doesn't feel right and I'll stop." Pauline was so overcome with emotion at his response that she lifted her head off the pillow and gave him a hard passionate kiss, a signal to continue her deflowerment.

"You're so big. I don't know if you will be able to get it all in," she whispered, worried that her short frame wouldn't be able to take all of him, wouldn't be able to please him.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you," Alan whispered back, as he wiped a stray tear from under her eye. He pushed in slowly, the head of his penis resting against the thin membrane of her hymen. "This is going to hurt a little when I push through. Are you sure you want to keep going?"

Pauline could feel the heat coming off his penis as it rested on her maidenhead, and she couldn't think clearly enough to speak, so she nodded, her eyes aglow as they met his.

"Oh!" she squeaked as he pushed through her virginity. The pain was brief but sharp, and she could feel her heartbeat accelerate, realizing her forehead was bathed in sweat. "That-that hurt, ugh." Alan kept still as she gathered herself. "Keep going. I want more of you in me." She moaned as Alan slid a few more inches into her, and when he began to pull out and push in with a very slow rhythm she started to pant. "Oh! That feels nice. Ummmmmmm, very nice, very nice, very nice, very nice." Alan had buried almost two-thirds of his cock in her and he gradually increased his rhythm, quickening and slowing down based on Pauline's facial expressions. It seemed to him that she preferred a slower pace, and he accommodated her, gently sawing in an out. Her legs came around his body, and he lowered himself on top of her, supporting himself with his arms, and tilting his head forward so they could kiss.

Her panting increased in frequency and volume, and Alan knew she was nearing orgasm; within a minute she came, and Alan ceased his attack. Pushing himself up he looked between them and saw that he had all nine inches in her, and he could see a small trickle of virginal blood escaping from her vagina at the point where he ended and she began. He withdrew and laid beside her holding her close. Pauline looked down at his cock and saw that he was still hard. She was somewhat confused by this as she assumed that he came when she did. She thought that men always came when women did, and after that they went soft, able to perform again only after a good night's sleep. She realized she had a great deal to learn about sex, and was hesitant about asking Alan if he had orgasmed, worried that if he hadn't it must have been something she had done wrong.

After a few minutes of cuddling she couldn't quell her curiosity, and asked. "Did you have, you know, an orgasm?" Alan drew her even closer and told her he hadn't, but not because of her. What Alan didn't say was that he could hold out as long as he wanted because of the seed, nor did he tell her he had been monitoring her anxieties, and that he wanted to calm her fears. They laid together for awhile, caressing each other's sweaty bodies and watching more of the basketball game. Soon both of them became amorous again, and Pauline was moaning as Alan had started to lick and suckle at her nipples. When he drew back from her she opened her eyes and saw that he was holding his penis upright in his hand, the head pointed towards the ceiling. "Want to go for a ride?" he asked her, a crooked grin on his face.




Alan Ch. 08



Not really knowing what to do Pauline straddled his body, and placed her pussy lips against the head of his cock. Alan held her by her hips as she sunk down on him, completely enveloping his erection inside her moist vagina. When he was buried to the hilt her knees had reached the bed, and she began to bounce up and down, slowly, as she was discovering she liked. "This is great!" she thought to herself. His penis felt wonderful, so warm and filling, scratching an itch she didn't know she had before this night, and the job he was doing on her nipples with his gentle fingers was fantastic. In this position she could control the pace, and she loved it when Alan sometimes lifted his hips off the bed to meet her at the end of her down stroke. She gave a mellow grunt every time he did this, excited by the feel of the power of the strokes.

Sweat was pouring off of her, and she could see that Alan was also becoming quite soggy. When she orgasmed, her cries echoing off the walls of his bedroom, her body shook so hard she was worried that not only would she fall off his erection but off the bed as well, Alan grabbed her by the shoulders and bent her over to kiss her, spraying his ejaculate in her spasming channel, and when she felt the splashes of come in her she came again, courtesy of Alan's power. Alan, his slowly softening erection still lodged inside Pauline, pulled a comforter over the two of them, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

It was still relatively early, not yet 10pm; Pauline didn't need to be home before midnight, her vacation curfew. After a short hour's nap Pauline awoke and moved quietly into the bathroom. During their rest Alan's erection had totally deflated and slipped out of her, and he didn't stir at all when she had risen. Pauline Van Devanter looked at herself in Alan's bathroom mirror trying to see if she could notice a change in herself. "I'm a woman now," she thought to herself, and that thought brought a smile to her lips.

* * *

When she returned from the bathroom she was slightly startled to see that Alan was awake, and a brief panic overtook her; she was naked and Alan could see all of her. Immediately realizing that she was being silly, after all they had just had sex and he had seen her naked the whole time of it, she giggled and jumped back into bed. There was a west coast game on the TV, and they watched for a little while, Pauline settling comfortably in Alan's warm arms. When the game ended shortly after eleven, they dressed and went downstairs. They had a deep conversation while watching the game, and Pauline was relieved that Alan considered them a couple. "So, are we back together?" he had asked, and Pauline answered him by getting in top of him and kissing him. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" he chuckled when she released him.

During the short drive back to the Van Devanter house Pauline dozed off, and didn't wake up until after Alan had opened the passenger-side door and unbuckled her seatbelt. He helped her out of the car and they walked up to the house. As they were kissing on the porch the porch light came on and Mr. Van Devanter opened the front door. He was embarrassed at catching them, though they quickly broke apart at hearing him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my little girl and Alan Marshall." He wasn't mad at Alan, or anything. Teenagers kissed, and if there was any boy he didn't mind kissing his baby daughter it was Alan. He invited them inside, insisting that Alan stay for a mug of cocoa, and Alan politely accepted.

Pauline's mom greeted him warmly as they saw the two enter, and asked about their date. "Oh mom, we had a great time. We went bowling and Alan had a perfect game. His picture's going to be in the newspaper! Then we went back to Alan's and watched some basketball on TV." Mrs. Van Devanter was making the cocoa as Pauline recounted her date, and Alan was glad that the excited girl didn't mention the other things they had done that night, the fight in the parking lot or the lovemaking. Kate came down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She was happy to see Alan, and it showed.

"Hey Alan, it looks like we'll be in school together next year."

"Yeah, Kate, I heard from Pauline."

"I just think this is wonderful," Mrs. Van Devanter interjected, "You and Kate will be able to ride the Metro-North trains together when you come home. And it's a load off my mind that she wont be all alone in the big city!"

Pauline walked Alan to the front door and they started kissing again on the porch. In the kitchen Mr. Van Devanter was telling his wife, in hushed tones, that he had caught them at it before, and it pleased her to know that Pauline had gotten involved with such a fine young man. She was sure that a nice guy like Alan would never press sex on her daughter, or any young lady for that matter.

* * *

Alan started his car and pulled around the corner. He parked and cut the engine; pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, he keyed in Kate's number as he walked back towards her house.

"Hello."

"I'm coming back to the house. I've parked around the corner. Open the backdoor and wait for me there." He clicked off.

* * *

Kate was so excited she was almost hyperventilating as she made her way to the rear of the house. Alan was standing right outside the back door, and she quickly and quietly led him up the back stairs and to her room. Kate's room was at the end of the long hall, the farthest away from her mom and dad's master suite. Between them was Calvin's room, then the guest room, then Pauline's. She was sure that no one would be able to hear them when they got down to business. She didn't know that Alan had the power to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed.

"Suck my cock, slut," Alan commanded her once the door shut behind them, and as she fell to her knees she began to peel off her clothes. She crawled to him on her hands and knees, not because he had commanded her to do so (even mentally), but because the act made her feel degraded, and that aroused her. By the time she crouched before him, his pants were off and his proud erection was sticking straight out. Kate worshipped it with her mouth, first kissing and then licking it all around before taking it into her mouth. Alan used the Seed to relax the muscles of her throat and lower her gag reflex, and Kate was surprised to see she was taking him all the way in. His pubic hair tickled her nose, and even that turned her on. "Taste anything different, slut?" he half-sneered at her. "I took Pauline's cherry tonight. Can you taste her on me?" Kate moaned around his shaft, and began pumping his cock into her mouth even faster. "So, that's why Pauline seemed so happy downstairs," she thought through the haze of her arousal.

Alan moved over to her bed, and she crawled after him. She took his dick back into her mouth and started to deep-throat him again. She could feel his cock vibrating and expanding in her throat, and just as she knew he was about to come he reached across her body and yanked the butt plug from her clutching rectum. As she came he shot his load down her throat, and she came again, moaning and humming around his shaft. "The next time I fuck Pauline I'm coming to you right after, while my dick is still wet with her juices. I'm going to use her pussy juice as the lube when I fuck your hot ass." Kate removed her mouth from Alan's cock and just groaned in excitement. The very idea of it was so sick, so perverse, but she could feel the juice running out of her own pussy, so turned on was she at the thought of what Alan had just said.

Alan flipped her over and put her on her hands and knees. He reached under her and pawed at her dripping gash. "You like that idea, don't you, slut?" Kate just whimpered in response. "What now, slut? What do you want me to do to you now?" More whimpers. "Do you want me to fuck you, slut? Do you want my big cock in your tight slutty pussy?" Kate continued to whimper, tears of arousal dripping from her eyes. She felt such a strong need to be fucked. If Alan didn't sink his cock into to her soon she was sure she was going to die. "Do you want my hard dick, my big dick up your slutty ass? Well, slut, speak! Ask and you shall receive."

"Pleeeeease Alan," she hissed, "Please fuck me. Use me. I need it in me so bad. Please, please put your big dick in me. Fuck your little slut. Fuck me please. I'm going to die if you don't fuck me." She was panting in need, and Alan sunk his cock into her red-hot pussy in one strong stroke. As he hit bottom Kate had another orgasm, her body bouncing off the mattress. "Ohmigod! Yessssss! Fuck your slut! Fuck your slut! Fuck your slut! I love it so much! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I'm coming again Alan. I'm coming on you big cock while you fuck your slut. It's so good. Fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard."

Her calling him "Master" amused him. He had never ordered her to do that, neither verbally nor by mental command. She really was a submissive. Alan pulled out of her cunt and quickly penetrated her ass, and Kate had another massive orgasm as he took her that way. "Yesssssss! My ass, Master. Use my ass. Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck it. Use your slut's ass, Master. I love it!" She exploded into another mammoth climax, and yet another a half-minute later when Alan came in her ass. She lifted herself off the bed and turned to embrace him. Her sweat-soaked body slid against his as she rested her head against his chest. "We're going to have a great time in college next year," he told her, and she looked into his eyes. "Yes, Master, I know we are."

Next Chapter: A New Friend 



Alan Ch. 09



A New Friend

It was the Sunday night, the last night of spring break. Alan spent the day completing his assignments for school, and by early evening he was done. He fiddled around on the computer for a bit, surfing sites and reading e-mails, but by eight o'clock he was bored. "The Simpsons" was a rerun so he had decided not to watch. With nothing much to do Alan began to clean his desk and organize his papers, but before he had made much progress he came upon the ring.

He had enclosed it in a sheet of notebook paper and some tape, and when he drew it out from the desk drawer it took him half a second to realize what it was. Slowly he unwrapped it. It just looked like a regular ring now, not glowing or buzzing like it had before. He examined it closely; it was silver but badly tarnished, unsurprisingly because it was two-and-a-half millennia old. He decided to polish it, and as he put it down on the desk it began glowing and vibrating. He picked it up again, and it stopped. Palming it in his left hand he went downstairs and grabbed a rag and his mom's silver polish and quickly returned to his room, closing the door behind him. He had never polished silver before so he didn't know if he should apply the polish to the ring directly or first to the rag. He scooped out some polish, a gooey pink substance, and rubbed it on the rag with the tips of his fingers, then placed the ring in the center of the moist part of the rag, folded it over, and began to rub the ring through it. After a few seconds he stopped to check his progress and saw that the ring was now gleaming.

"Should I try it on?" he asked himself silently. He was still new to his powers, and he didn't know what the ring would do to them. He put the ring down again so he could continue to think. This time the glow from the ring was intense, so intense that the light was almost blinding, and when he reached down to pick it up again, in hopes of stopping the terrible light from damaging his eyes he was chagrined to see that it was not abated. "For some reason this ring wants me to wear it," Alan was figuring out, so he slipped it on his finger, the middle finger of his right hand. He didn't know why he chose that finger, but it felt right.

Instantly the light faded, and after a few seconds it had stopped completely.

"Alan," he heard his mother call from downstairs, "Were you expecting company? There's someone at the door for you."

Alan went downstairs and saw his parents speaking to his unexpected guest. He wasn't quite sure who this man was, but he was certain that he had something to do with the ring, the Ring of Ko'un-Zir.

"Ah, there you are Alan," the man began. He had an accent, European for sure, it sounded like to Alan. He couldn't tell if it was French or British because it sounded like a little of each. "It's nice to meet you at last." His parents were at a loss, and he could see his father about to say something, but instead he took his mother and they walked away from Alan and the stranger, and up the stairs.

"I don't want to be rude or anything, but who are you?"

"Awfully sorry young man, frightfully discourteous thing to do. Well, you know, manners were never my string suit. I am Jean-Pierre Massimo, and I am here because of you. Because you are wearing the ring."

"I've heard of you! The man at the mus--" Alan stopped short, not wanting to tell Massimo that he had stolen the Ring of Ko'un-Zir from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. "You're an archaeologist, that's uh, that's where I've heard of you."

"And you, young man, you are the vessel of one of the Seeds of Paishiya'uvada."

"What are you talking about?" Alan bluffed.

"Please don't patronize me Alan. You are a vessel of the Seed. There are five Seeds in existence, and you contain one. You received it last month in the hospital from its former vessel, a man named Grossman."

"I didn't know his name." A few seconds later Alan realized he had blown his bluff.

"So, the lies are over, thank goodness."

"How did you know? Did the ring tell you? I know you found it in Iraq many years ago, so you must know something about it. Please Mr. Massimo, I know virtually nothing about the Seed, and less about the Ring of Ko'un-Zir."

"Patience my son, all in good time. And by the way, it's 'Dr. Massimo.'"

"Sorry."

"Call me Jack. Everybody does." He laughed.

They went into the living room and sat across from each other. Alan noticed that Jack was also wearing a ring identical to his own, but he held his tongue, wishing for Jack to tell him more.

"Just out of curiosity, do you know which of the Seeds you contain?" Jack asked him.

"Uh, yeah. My Seed is the Seed of Hyrcanus."

"Really! Well I'll say! Excellent, excellent." He clapped his hand on his knee. "The first of them all, well met!" He paused before continuing, leaning closer to Alan as if to confide, "I am the vessel of the third Seed, the Seed of Cyaxares." 

Alan had a million questions, and Dr. Massimo could see him chomping at the bit to ask them. "Right, right. You are dying to ask me some questions, but please, all in good time. I am used to lecturing, so you'll have to indulge me.

"So, about a month past you became the vessel of the Seed. And earlier this week you 'acquired' the Ring of Ko'un-Zir at the museum in Manhattan, correct?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"After the firing and arrest of Dr. Swindon-Smythe I realized that someone had found my ring at the museum, and I had to rush there to rectify the situation."

"Oh Jeez! He was arrested? That's awful." Alan dropped his eyes, ashamed of himself.

"Oh, I fixed it for the chap. He's back on staff--as you Yanks say, 'No harm, no foul.' However, if your powers had been more advanced this would not have happened. Before I leave here tonight you must promise me to practice."

"But I don't really know what I'm doing. How am I going to practice? Is there a manual or something?"

Jack chuckled. "Sorry young man, there's no set of instructions. Just find a quiet hour to exercise your powers. You don't need to meditate, you need not concentrate. Just exercise your powers like you would your body. The better you become using the skills you know you have, the easier it will be to discover new ones."

"How did you find me?"

"Oh simple really. I had the chief of security at the museum review all of the videotape from last Monday, and then I 'hired' a private investigator to track you down. He found your cousin Nina first because she lives in New York. I paid her a visit this morning and she told me where you live. The clumsy alterations Swindon-Smythe made in the curatorial databases pinpointed the time of your visit, so thankfully we didn't have to sit through watching hours upon hours of videotape. It was quite easy, really. A lesson to you for the future to cover your tracks better, what ho.

"And now we come to the ineffable motive of my contact: the ring. How much do you know about the creation of the Seeds?"

Alan told him about the incident when he passed out and found the story written in his notebook, and he even went upstairs and retrieved it to show to his visitor.

"Very good, very good. I hope you are keeping this in a safe place? You might think about a safe-deposit box." Alan agreed.

"So, after Ko'un-Zir destroyed the Orbis Tertius he had five rings fashioned from the metal. He took the orb to Achnai the Smith, the best metal worker in all of Mesopotamia. To prevent it from ever being used as a weapon against the vessels, Achnai melted the orb down in his oven and then mixed the pure silver of the orb with base metals, but before he did this Ko'un-Zir had him set aside enough slag to make the five rings."

"What do the rings do? Do they increase my power?"

"No, not really. They may help you to develop them faster. Your learning curve will shorten, and your mastery of your abilities will intensify. You will be able to discover the limits of the Seed better."

"Do all of the vessels find rings?"

"No, as of yet only two have been found. Both of them be me, as a matter of fact. But I'm not here for a pat on the back, don't you know, don't you know."

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here? Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I have never met another vessel, though I was close to tracking down Grossman when he met his end. I left the ring at the Met on the off-chance that another vessel might encounter it there. Since New York is a major tourist attraction, and the museum is one of the most visited places there, I figured it was the best place for it." He paused a bit before continuing, "I must say, I'm frightfully excited to meet you."

They talked for awhile longer, Dr. Massimo suggesting a few exercises for Alan to do to develop his powers, and when the hour grew late Jack took his leave, suggesting he would drop in again, but making no promises. He left an address, care of a Swiss bank, which he told Alan would forward any messages.

* * *

The next Saturday morning Alan was up with the birds. Since he had been setting aside an hour each day to exercise his Seed powers he was finding that he could get by with about half the sleep he previously needed. There was a club ride this morning and he decided to go. The local bicycling club sponsored group rides every weekend of the year, but Alan really didn't like to ride in very cold weather, so it had been months since he last joined a ride. As he was wheeling his bike down the driveway he was startled by a voice. "Hello there! Hello, you on the bike?" He looked across the road and saw a girl dressed for cycling. She was doing stretching exercises as she called out to him, and Alan crossed the road to talk to her.

"Hello," she offered a gloved hand, "I'm Chloe, the Anderson's au pair. And you are?"

"Alan, Alan Marshall. I live there," he answered, pointing his thumb back over his shoulder to his house.

"Nice to meet you Alan Alan Marshall," she joked, and they both grinned at each other.

"I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new?" Alan was enjoying the conversation; Chloe's sexy British accent was nice to listen to.

"I just started a few weeks ago. The Andersons are away at Mrs. Anderson's mum's in Connecticut, so I'm free this weekend. Just thought I'd take a spin around the town and have a look. Where are you headed?"

Alan explained about the club ride. "Forget that," he told her, "Do you want to ride with me? I'll blow off that other thing."

"Sure," she answered, and they set off. "I hope you can keep up with me. I'm a serious rider, unlike most of you Americans."

"Do you want to set the pace, or shall I?" he asked back, a small smirk evident.

"Better off you, I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me. My chums and I ride long distances back in England."

They mounted up and Alan led her down the road, keeping a moderate pace. After they'd covered a couple of miles they reached the old state highway, a thoroughfare which saw little regular vehicular traffic, less so on the weekends, and almost deserted on a weekend in the morning. The road was built in the 1930s, and unlike the new highway, which had been built three decades later, it was unevenly graded, rolling hills and valleys of asphalt. Alan picked up the pace and Chloe stayed with him. After a few more up-and-down miles he accelerated again, popping up out of the saddle to power his way up a particularly steep hill, or as it was called in the parlance of cycling, "a good hill." As he neared the crest he turned to see how Chloe was faring, and he could see her struggle to climb the incline. She too was up out of the saddle, and he could tell she was huffing and puffing. 

He faced forward again and shifted out of his climbing ring into the small one. As he zipped down the hill he cranked the pedals hard, and by the computer on his handlebars he saw he was approaching seventy miles per hour. Quickly coming to another hill, albeit a smaller one, he shifted again and climbed it almost effortlessly, his momentum helping him traverse it. He hammered on the pedals for another couple of miles or so and then pulled to the side of the road and waited for Chloe to catch up. He was sitting leaned up against a tree facing the road, his bike resting against the opposite side, taking long pulls from his water bottle as she pulled up to him, gasping for breath. She laid her bike on the ground gently, walked up to him and fell to her knees in exhaustion. He pulled a second water bottle from the rear pocket of his racing jersey and held it out for her, and she grabbed it from him gratefully, falling down on her side as she did so. She pulled the valve open with her teeth, squeezed some water into her mouth, swished it around a bit and then spat, immediately returning the bottle to her mouth and sucking water like she had just crossed a desert. In less than half a minute she had drained the whole thing, and she just stayed down on the grass, breathing heavily, occasionally letting loose a groan.

"Sorry about that," he said to her. She didn't answer immediately, marshalling her energy and respiration.

"I should be apologizing to you. I thought I was teasing you. Americans aren't supposed to be good a cycling! They all drive cars and never exercise. You had to go and pull a David Millar on me!"

"Figures you would pick a British cyclist!" he roared in laughter, and she began to chuckle as well. "What I did was more of a Jacky Durand, you know, pulling away from the pack on a long and unadvised escape. Hey, we Yanks can bike, or have you let Lance slip your mind?"

She had managed to pull herself upright by now and was looking at him with interest. "So, you know a bit about racing do you? Well, you managed to tear up the road this morning. I haven't been dropped on a ride in more than three years! David Millar's got nothing on you."

"Well, I wouldn't say that! I've never won a stage in the Tour de France, nor have I worn the yellow jersey like him. Though you know, of course, that he only wore the yellow because of a fluke."

"You take that back!" and they both laughed. Alan pulled two bananas from his jersey and gave her one, and they munched in silence for a moment. As she stood up to go back to her bike she squealed, grabbing her thigh and collapsing to the grass. "CRAMP!"

"Do you need me to help?"

"Cheeky chap, aren't we? Trying to get near my knickers right off the whistle, eh?" she taunted through gritted teeth. Alan went over to her and began massaging the bothersome thigh, and using the Seed caused her knotted muscles to relax. "Mmmm, lovely, bloody nice." After a short while he helped her up and they remounted their bikes.

Alan unzipped his seat pack and pulled out a small bottle of Tylenol, and gave her two. She popped them in her mouth and pulled her water bottle from the cage on her bike, and swallowed them down. "Thanks love!" she said to him, flashing a dazzling smile. 

"Do you want to keep riding, or should we head back?"

"Back, I think. Ugh! I don't fancy riding those hills again."

"We'll go another way. Through the streets. More traffic, less hills, but a slightly longer route OK?"

She nodded, and they were off.

* * *

"Look, I feel bad about pushing you so hard out there," Alan told her as they pulled onto their street, "Let a guy take you out for breakfast?"

"Lovely, mate. Let me just shower off. Meet you at your house in thirty?"

"Cool with me."

Half an hour later Alan watched her amble across the road up to his door. He was waiting on the porch, having quickly cleaned up and changed. As he watched her approach he was taken aback by her looks. She was almost as tall as him, probably 5'9", and she had a killer body. He had noticed it before, when she was dressed in her tight cycling gear, but seeing her in a pair of tight jeans and form-fitting blouse she was absolutely stunning. Her long blonde hair, which had been tucked into her helmet under a bandana before, was tied in a ponytail, and he hadn't noticed her eyes because she had been wearing sunglasses on the ride. They were pale blue, and gorgeous. Alan intercepted her in the driveway, and led her to his car. They went to a coffee shop in town and ate heartily, their appetites stoked by the ride.

"So, tell me about yourself," he asked her.

"Oh I'm just a London girl spending a wee bit in the colonies. Figure I'll spend a half a year with the Andersons and then see a bit of this great land of yours before I head back home to University."

"How old are you?"

"Well, that's not a gentlemanly thing to ask a lady, you know! But of you must know, I'm eighteen. Just finished 'high school' as you Yanks call it, and have been an au pair here in the states since last summer. I go back in September."

"Where were you before the Andersons?"

"I was in a small town in Pennsylvania, and I couldn't be happier to be out of there! Thank god the mum there decided to quit her job and send me back to the agency. But enough about me, mate, tell me about you."

"Oh, well, there's nothing much to tell. I'm in my last year of high school, and then I'm off to college in the fall. Columbia in New York City, though I'm hesitant to inform you that Columbia used to be called King's College until we got wise and threw off the yoke of British oppression. " She thought that was funny, and told him she was envious. She would be willing to cut off an arm to get the chance to live in New York City.

"So that's it? You just go to school and nothing else? Surely there's more to you? I mean it's not everyday you meet a guy who is both handsome and can drop a cyclist like me. Hmmm, girlfriend?"

"There is one girl I'm seeing now."

"Tell me."

He told her about Pauline, how they were friends for many years and then they went out for a bit, and stopped, and then started up again recently. "That's sweet," she said.

"So, you, boyfriend?"

"Nah, not at the moment. It's frustrating you know? Haven't had a good snog in a long time. You sleeping with Pauline?" She figured she would get a blush out of him, but he was nonplussed.

"Yep. Her and a few others to be truthful."

"Really. Now I am fascinated. Do tell."

"I took Pauline's virginity a few days ago, but I'm also sleeping with her older sister, whom I have turned into a sex slave. I'm also fucking my English teacher, and her next door neighbor. The two of them are also sleeping together."

Chloe's eyes were as wide as the English Channel. She had almost choked on her coffee, and her hands were shaking as she returned the cup to her saucer. "What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me right."

"How? How? How are you doing this? I mean you are a tasty treat to look at, as I'm sure you've been told," Alan grinned at her waiting for her to continue, "But I mean good god man, I never would have pegged you for some sort of a satyr."

"There's an easy explanation. I have the power to control minds, among other powers."

"Now you're just making up stories."

"Want to see a demonstration?"

"Not likely!"

"See that waitress over there? I'll make her drop those plates of food she's got." Chloe turned, and watched her do it.

"That doesn't bloody prove anything!"

"What kind of proof do you need?"

"Do something to me. Me mum and I went to a hypnotist's show once and he chose me from the crowd, and I was the only one who he couldn't get to go under. Try me."

Alan looked at her and gave it a moments thought. "Open your blouse and show me your tits."

"Yeah, right, boyo!" But as she was protesting she began to unbutton he blouse, and after she had pulled her bra down she dropped her hands to her side. "Nice try, mate. You didn't even try to put me under. The last chap had a gold watch on a chain."

Alan looked at her chest, and she followed his gaze. "Oh my stars! How did you do that?" she half-screeched as she rearranged her bra and top to cover herself back up.




Alan Ch. 09



"Told you. And it's not hypnotism. It's mind control." Chloe got silent, unable to think clearly. The waitress, not the one Alan had used in his demonstration, came with the bill, and he paid it. They sipped coffee for a while and then he asked if she was ready to leave, and she slowly rose from the booth.

"Thanks for breakfast, Alan," she said as he was leaving a tip on the table. She was still a little stunned as he led her back to the car. As he got in next to her and was about to start the engine she put her hand on his arm and said, "Wait."

They sat in silence for a moment until she could finally speak.

"I have a million questions."

"I don't know if I will be able to answer them all, but shoot."

"How did you get these powers?" Alan gave her a very short version of how he became a Vessel of the Seed.

"Interesting. Completely loony, but interesting. Uh, next question. Aren't you taking a risk by telling me this? How do you know I wont call the newspapers, tell the vicar, what have you?"

"No risk at all. You can't tell anyone about this. I've altered your mind to make you unable to do so." She looked back at him with a smidgen of fear behind her eyes.

"Are you going to, you know, force me to shag you?"

"No. Why? Do you want me to?" 

She laughed a little laugh. "Truth be told, I was going to try to get you to shag me anyway." Now it was his turn to laugh a little laugh.

He started the car and headed back.

* * * 

"So, what now?" They were standing in the Anderson's spacious den; Chloe was barefoot, and Alan had been admiring her pretty feet. She hadn't said much since the coffee shop's parking lot, and Alan could see a touch on anxiousness in her.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not sure. Are you, uh, controlling me now?"

"Not really. The command I gave you so you wouldn't reveal my secret is a permanent one. It's like a passive control. That's the only hold I have over you now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I uh, I uh feel...randy. Are you sure you're not doing that to me?"

"Completely. Do you want me to control you?"

"Well, part of me does, and part of me does not."

"This is a really interesting conversation," he began telling her, but she cut him off.

"You're teasing me now, aren't you, love?"

"Hah! I like it when you call me that. It's so British and sexy." She giggled. "No, I'm not teasing you. This is interesting because you are the first, oh, how shall I put this, 'partner' I've ever told about my power."

"Really? I'm surprised. It's a bit of a turn on knowing about it."

"Why?" he asked her with a note of surprise in his voice.

"Power is sexy. Someone once said it's the ultimate aphrodisiac."

"Henry Kissinger, former Secretary of State; though in my house he is generally agreed to be a toad-like war criminal. We're liberals, don't you know."

"Enough politics. Let's go to my room," she told him as she took his hand and led him to a small bedroom at the back of the house, right off the kitchen.

"I've decided. I want you to control me," she whispered to him as the door shut behind them.

"You don't really have a vote in the matter. For all you know I've been controlling you since this morning."

"This may sound weird, but that's a huge turn-on."

Alan began unbuttoning her blouse, and her breath caught in her throat. "I'm helpless to stop you, love."

"Actually you're not," he shot back, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Well then, I'm not going to in any case," she chuckled. Alan threw her blouse to the side and she reached behind her back to pop the catch on her bra. She had lovely breasts, though small—smaller even than Pauline's. Her nipples were exquisite; very tiny, the circumference not much greater than that of a dime, but perfectly round aureoles, bright pink with nipples that were so pointy they seemed conical when hard, which they were now.

"Oh my, that is nice," she purred in response to his manipulations of her breasts. "I can't wait for you to take off my jeans and knickers."

He was feeling her ass, and said, "Wow these jeans are tight. It might be a task getting you out of them."

"I'm looking forward to it, boyo. Hey, you're the man with all the powers! It shouldn't be that hard for you to separate me from my knickers, should it?"

Alan just took a few steps back and leaned against her dresser. She bit her tongue, afraid she had insulted him. All of a sudden she was floating two feet in the air, standing straight up. "My lord! What are you doing?"

"Just a little demonstration." 

She felt something moving at her waist and was shocked out of her skin to see that her pants were being unbuttoned by an invisible hand. The zipper followed, and in a flash her jeans lay in a ball at her feet. "Bravo!" she called back at him.

"Do you want me to remove your panties—sorry, knickers—this way, or in the usual manner?"

"Hmm, you decide," she giggled.

Alan concentrated and used his power to rip the panties right off of her, the tattered remains falling beneath her like so much confetti.

"You sexy beast!"

He floated her across the room and settled her on the bed. He got down next to her and she leaned up at him, kissing him, and thrusting her tongue in his mouth.

"Mmm, tasty," she purred as they disengaged. Alan put his hand on her exposed pussy, running his fingertips through her soft patch of brown pussy hair. "Not a natural blonde, hmm?"

"No, love. Disappointed?"

"Not really. You are a sexy thing nonetheless." He thought for a minute before continuing, "Do you want to be?"

"Do I want to be what?" she asked, confused.

"A natural blonde. I can make it happen."

She thought for a second. "If I say OK, could you change me back later?"

"You bet."

She nodded, and waited for him to do something. "Well boyo, are you going to do it or not?"

"Already done. Look down." She did and gasped. It was unbelievable and incredibly sexy. Not that her pussy looked all that much more sexy with blonde hair rather than brown, but the idea that he could affect her like that with merely a thought was immensely arousing.

"Wow!" She didn't know what else to say. "What else can you do?"

Alan didn't answer with words, he just fed a finger up her pussy and ran his thumb slowly over her clit.

"Double wow!" she panted, her whole body turning an aroused shade of pink as she ground her crotch into his hand. "But I meant, what else can you do with your power?"

"Patience my little British biscuit. Patience, all in good time." He fingered her for a few minutes and she began to huff and puff. "You look like you just biked up a big hill, all of that gasping for breath." She managed to laugh through her panting. He used his free hand to undress himself, and when he got his shorts off he used his power to make her look at his cock, and orgasm upon catching sight of it.

"AYEEEEE! Yes! OHMYGODINHEAVEN!" Her screaming swiftly gave way to incoherent grunting and groaning, and she carried on for close to a minute, her body stiff and shaking as her pussy convulsed around his finger.

She gasped and panted for a short while before she was strong enough to speak. "My, my, my, that was lovely. Was that you or, you know, the power?"

"Does it matter?" he asked her, again looking deep into her pretty blue eyes.

"No," she whispered, "It doesn't. Wow. That was the best."

"Nice to know," he told her as he ran his hands up and down her body, causing her to become aroused again.

"Mmmm, keep that up," she purred.

"You have an incredible body."

"Thank you, but--"

"But what?"

"I've had complaints."

"Morons! What is there to complain about this magnificent form?" His began moving his hands around with more fervor, and Chloe began to get really excited. When he reached her breasts she put her hands over his and held them there.

"These. I'm flat-chested. I've actually lost boyfriends to birds with bigger chests."

"Morons. A pretty face like yours is much more alluring than a pair of big tits."

"Really," she gasped, returning his gaze, her eyes fixed on his. "That's one of the nicest things a man's ever said to me, in a weird and kinky sort of way."

"So the men in England prefer cows to goddesses?"

"Oh, stop it now. You're so bad." She said noting for a minute, luxuriating in the feel of Alan's hands on her body. "I'm this close to getting implants, you know. But maybe now I wont because if you."

"Hmmm."

"What, love?"

Alan replaced his hands on her breasts. "What are you now, an A cup?" She nodded. "How about now? A B cup. I think, yes?" She looked down, flabbergasted at the change.

"Oh my word!"

"Like?"

"Yeah. Not too big, and they're very pretty. Thank you." There was a tear in her eye.

"How about a C cup?" She looked again, and they seemed immense, but before she could say anything he had already turned them back to a B. "C cup is too big, even though you are very tall, you are somewhat slim, though they did match your tight and curvy bottom." She giggled despite her state of arousal.

He dipped a finger into her pussy, and after pulling it out held it up to her and showed her. "I'm going to fuck you now."

He got between her legs and put his hands under her ass, lifting her up off the bed .

"You're so big," she hissed, staring down her body and taking in the sight of his hard cock.

"Worried?"

"A little. I've never seen one so large before. Be gentle, mmmmmm." He was rubbing the head of his erection up and down her pussy lips. "It's like I'm a virgin again."

"How old were you when you lost your cherry?"

"Ugh, ah, that's lovely! Uh, what was the question?"

He began to repeat himself, but she cut him off in mid-sentence, "I was mmmmm sixteen, mmmmmm."

"Was it a good experience?"

"Not really. The bloke came in like ten seconds, and I didn't get off, mmmmmm."

"Well, when I take your virginity this time you'll have a much better time."

"What, mmmmm, uhhhhh, are you talking about 'this time?' I'm not a virgin! Ah ah ah put it in PLEASE!"

"As a matter of fact, you are a virgin. I just used my power to restore your hymen. I'm going to bust that cherry, but good!"

"Oh! That's so fucking kinky. Mmmmm, ah ah yes! Take my cherry, I love it."

Alan fed the head of his cock into her, and kept going until the tip rested against her maidenhead.

"Oh my GOD! If I didn't know what was happening I'd be out of my mind! Come on, love, push it through!" He did and she squealed in pain.

"OK?"

"I will be, love, once you start fucking." He chuckled, and began to push and pull in and out of her. Her body took on that blush again, and she began to grunt rhythmically to his strokes. Soon her breath became ragged, and the grunting gave way to gasping and whimpering, and soon after she climaxed, her body seizing up, her pussy clamping down on its invader and releasing a copious amount of juices.

"OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, FUCK ME, YES, FUCK ME, HARDER, YES, HARDER, YES, HARDER! PLEASE! COMING!"

He fucked her through two more screaming orgasms, continually quickening the pace of his strokes, Chloe constantly calling for him to fuck her with more force. By the time he came in her, simultaneous with her third orgasm, they were both dripping with sweat, and Chloe's whole body had passed the mere blushing stage (a light pink when he began to give it to her) and was now in full crimson mode. He collapsed beside her heaving body, and she threw her leg over his, her hands roaming over his chest.

"That was," she paused, "Words cannot even begin to describe." He half-turned to her and began playing with her new breasts in a relaxed manner. She giggled. "Like 'em, huh?"

"Hey, I do nice work!" he shot back, enjoying the shapeliness of her enhanced bust.

"That you do, love, that you do," she purred contentedly.

Next Chapter: The nosy Guidance Counselor.



Alan Ch. 10



Ask Me Some Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies

"I don't know how to begin. I've never come here with this type of situation."

"Well, why don't you start at the beginning? I've been your guidance counselor for four years, and you've only come to see me about college applications. Since you're going to Georgetown on a football scholarship--congratulations by the way--I know it's not about that. Something is troubling you, I can see that."

"I'm embarrassed." He couldn't look her in the face.

"Don't be. You can tell me anything. I've heard it all before."

"Maybe I'd be more comfortable talking to a man. Is Mr. Keltner in his office?"

"Please, talk to me. I want to listen. It's my job you know." She smiled, and he looked up and gave a half-smile back.

He inhaled sharply, and an uneasy silence followed.

"Is something the matter at home?" she prodded. "Are things alright between your parents, or between you and your parents?"

"No, it's nothing like that." His voice had a pathetic quality to it.

"Something is obviously bothering you." He leaned back in his chair, considering whether coming to the guidance office was a good idea. He had stood in the doorway unsure if he had the guts to enter, when Mrs. Hall saw him and roped him into her office.


"My girlfriend is sleeping with another guy," he blurted.

"Oh, Chad, that's awful. She broke up with you?"

He didn't answer.

"You'll be OK. Hey, you're the football hero! You led the team to the league title. I'm sure the girls will be all over you once they hear you're back in circulation. It'll be tough, for sure, but you'll get over her." She was trying to rebuild his confidence.

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry Chad, I really am. When did this happen. You and Kate have been dating for almost a year, and you seemed so happy together, but do you really want to be going out with someone who would betray you like that? Count yourself lucky, in a way."

"We didn't break up."

"Really? She slept with another boy and you forgave her? Well, that's very noble of you. Forget that last thing I just said." She paused. "Have you talked about it? Did she promise you it wouldn't happen again?"

"You don't understand," he answered, his voice choking up.

"OK, explain it to me."

"She wants to keep dating me, but not have sex. She only wants to have sex with him. It's like she's his slave or something."

Kimberly Hall leaned forward in her chair. Though she had assured the young man in front of her that she had "heard it all," this was new to her. "What? Slave? Who, Chad, who is Kate having sex with? This is important. I need to know. I have a legal responsibility to report abuse, so you must tell me."

Chad thought he was going to pass out in fear and shame. "Alan Marshall. Kate is," his voice strangled up as he said the next word, "fucking Alan Marshall. And he is also dating Pauline." Chad wiped the tears from his face.

* * *

Kim Hall didn't know what to do for a second. Composing herself, she sent Chad Krieger to the nurse's office to lay down for the rest of the day. She then went to the main office and looked up Kate Van Devanter's schedule. A few minutes later she had reached the classroom, and after a brief conversation with Mr. Eichler, Kate's social studies teacher, she was walking with her back to her office.

"I don't understand, Mrs. Hall. You're not my counselor. Where's Mr. Ruggerio?"

Kim ignored her protests and gestured Kate to take a seat. "Before we start I just need to know, are you OK?" Kim asked the girl.

"I'm fine. What makes you think otherwise?"

"Chad Krieger was just in here, and he told me that Alan Marshall may be abusing you. Is there any truth in that?"

"No."

"'No.' That's it? That's all you have to say? 'No.'"

"Right."

"Did he threaten you? Did he tell you he'd hurt you if you said anything to anyone?"

"No."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"Yes."

* * *

Kate left Mrs. Hall's office and walked to the end of the hall. After turning the corner she broke out into a run. She knew that Alan was in Math class because her friend Suzy was in the same class, and by the time she reached the door to the classroom the bell was about to ring. She cornered Alan as he came out and led him to the end of the hall.

"We've got trouble. Chad went to Mrs. Hall and told him about us. What are we going to do?"

"Come with me, slut. I'll take care of it." 

"Where are we going?" she whined.

"We're going to see her. I'll explain everything to her."

"NO!" she gasped, causing heads to turn in the hallway.

"Are you questioning me, slut?" he asked her sotto voce.

"Yes. Maybe. No," she whimpered softly.

He pulled her aside, into an alcove. "Who am I?"

"Y-y-you're Alan. I don't understand."

"Who am I to you?"

"My m-m-master." She began to tremble slightly.

"If I say that we're going to see Mrs. Hall, why do you question me?"

"S-s-sorry, Master."

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page." He petted her on the top of her head, and she smiled, glowing inside.

* * *

Kimberly Hall spent the last five minutes in her office with the door closed, weighing her options. She didn't have enough evidence of abuse to make a report. Kate was certainly not being abused at home; there had never been any signs of that. Chad was her boyfriend, the most likely candidate for being her abuser (the order of usual suspects running parents first, boyfriend second), and she didn't think he was knocking her around. Alan Marshall was the least likely person she could come up with to paint as an abuser, and the story which she had been presented with, that Alan was abusing Kate Van Devanter was similarly unlikely. He just didn't seem to be the type. Complicating all of this was the fact the Alan's mom was on the school board, a very powerful position. The best course, she had decided quickly, would be to make quiet inquiries among the teachers who taught Alan, Kate, and Chad. She would not at this time be calling the county's Child Services Department. If the story turned out to be a delusion on Chad's part, this whole thing could blow up in her face if the authorities were involved. There was a knock on her door.

"Come in."

The door opened and she was shocked to see that Kate and Alan were standing in her doorway, together. "Hello. I'm surprised to see you."

"Kate told me about your conversation just now, and about what Chad had said to you, and we're here to clear some things up."

"OK." Mrs. Hall had no idea where this was going.

"Before I start I would like to know just exactly what Chad told you."

Kim saw this coming; of course Alan would want to know that, but it was against policy to tell one student what another student had said in a private counseling session. She was just about to open her mouth and say, "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that." But she didn't; instead she said, "Chad told me that you were fucking Kate. That you have turned her into a sex slave, and were abusing her."

"Why did I tell him that?" she thought, kicking herself.

"Interesting," was his only response.

"Well, is it true?"

"What if it is?"

"I would be duty bound to report you to the county."

"Why?"

Kim sputtered, "Because it's wrong! That's why."

Alan turned to Kate, "Are you my sex slave?" She nodded. "Am I abusing you?" She shook her head. "Satisfied?" he asked, turning back to the counselor.

"No I am not. This is disgusting. I'm going to have to, at the very least, tell the principal, and also your mother. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Look, I'm not doing anything to Kate that she doesn't want me doing." Kate nodded vigorously.

"What in god's name are you talking about? Kate?"

"Go ahead, slut, tell her."

"Alan is my master. He can do anything to me that he wants, and I 

love it all."

"W-what what does he do to you? Does he hurt you?"

"He fucks me. He fucks me until I scream. Sometimes I come so hard I pass out. He calls me his slut, and I call him master. He took me to the mall and allowed me to get my nipples pierced. He shaves my pussy and fucks me up the ass. He gave me a dildo--a butt plug--and I wear it all the time, unless he wants to fuck me in the ass, that is." She told this all in a happy and singsong voice, and Mrs. Hall looked like she was going to vomit.

"I don't understand this," Kimberly told the pair, horror evident in her quivering voice.

"Show her," Alan commanded Kate.

"Hmm?" Kate asked, not knowing what was expected of her in this situation, strange ever for her.

"Take off your clothes, slut, and show her your rings and pussy." Kim froze, not believing that Kate would actually strip, but sure enough Kate was taking her things off without hesitation. She gawked at the sight of Kate's pierced nipples and shaved mound.

"You just made your last mistake young man. Now I know there's proof of your abuse because I see it right in front of me," the counselor scolded Alan, a gleam of triumph in her eyes. "Forget about the Department of Child Services, I'm calling the police!" She reached for the phone, but for some reason couldn't follow through.

"Sit," he said to her calmly, pointing at her office chair.

"You mind your mouth, young man!"

"Sit." She sat.

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, understand?" Kim nodded, not knowing why. "My little slut here never had it so good. Isn't that right?"

"Yes Master, I never had it so good." Kate voice took on that little-girl quality like in past situations when Alan dominated her.

"Go over to Mrs. Hall and take off her clothes."

"What?!?" Kim protested, but she was powerless to resist as little Kate Van Devanter came forward and began removing her from her suit.

"Oooh, look at her nipples. They're nice and hard!" Kate exclaimed as she stripped the counselor to the waist.

"Good eye, slut. And what do those hard nipples tell us about her?"

"She's a dirty slut," Kate giggled. "Just like me!"

"Right you are, my good little slut. Right you are. Stand her up and remove her pants."

"I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. What's happening to me?" she sobbed as the naked Kate approached her. Kim was amazed to find herself going along with this, and she slipped out of her pumps before letting Kate stand her up. 

"Oh Master, can you see how wet her pussy is?" Alan looked down and saw a few drops of moisture clinging to the guidance counselor's fine brown pussy hair. "She really is a huge slut! Are you going to use her like you use me?"

"I don't know. She has a decent body. Hey slut, how old are you?"

Kim really didn't want to answer. She was supremely uncomfortable with this whole situation, and she certainly wasn't going to answer to the name "slut."

"Master asked you a question," Kate hissed at her as she twisted Kim's nipples. "How old are you, slut?"

"Please stop hurting me. Please!" Kate refused to relent her assault on Kim's nipples. "Argh! Thirty-two! I'm thirty-two. PLEASE stop doing that." Tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes.

"Hmmm, she has a nice figure for a woman in her thirties," Alan said. "And now we know that she knows how to beg." Kate continued to twist Kim's nipples, and Kim was amazed to find that she was becoming aroused by it. She could feel her juices running down her thighs despite the fact that she hated what was happening to her at the command of Alan and the assault of Kate. "Release her, slut."

Kim gasped in relief as Kate stopped twisting. "Please," she sobbed, "I don't want to do this with you." She buried her face in her hands.

"Yes you do."

"Oh my god," Kim thought to herself, "He's right. I'm so turned on." When she looked up she gasped upon seeing Alan with his pants down, Kate happily sucking his penis.

"She's getting me hard. Hard for you. But you'll have to beg. You'll have to beg me to fuck you."

Something snapped in her mind. "Oh my god. Please. Please fuck me. I want to come like Kate does. Please, like she told me. Call me your slut. Please? I need it so bad. So bad. I'll do anything if you fuck me. I'll call you my master. I'll be your slut if you just fuck me with your hard cock. Oh god, I need it now."

Alan pulled out of Kate's mouth; normally she would be disappointed, but instead she was looking forward to watching Alan put it to this meddlesome bitch. She watched as he grabbed Mrs. Hall by the shoulders and laid her down on her desk. Wasting no time he lined up his cock against her dripping slit and pushed in, sinking half of his dick in with the first thrust.

"Yes! Oh my god, YES!" the counselor screamed, grateful that her office was soundproofed for privacy.

"You like that, bitch?" Kate growled into her ear.

"Yeeeeeah! I love it. FUCK ME. Fuck me hard." Kate looked on, one hand fingering her pussy, the other twisting her butt plug. Alan was pounding into Mrs. Hall, his cock hammering her drenched channel and making squishing noises.

"I'm COMING," Kim screamed at the top of her lungs. "So good, so good," she kept repeating. Alan pulled out of her and beckoned Kate over. He bent her over the desk next to the trembling Mrs. Hall.

"Oh Yeah! Use me. Please Master, use your slut." Kate moaned when Alan withdrew the butt plug from her, jerking it out of her clenching rear end. "Put your hard cock in my ass. I LOVE IT IN MY ASS!" she screamed as Alan plunged his cock into her tightest hole. Her near constant wearing of the butt plug made for an easier entrance, but her asshole was almost as tight as it was the first time he had entered her backdoor.

Oh, oh, oh, mmmmm, that's so nice. My Master's hard cock up my tight little ass feels soooo nice"

"You like it, don't you slut?" he asked her in a voice loud enough for the now recovering Kim Hall to hear over Kate's screaming and groaning.

"I LOVE IT! Ugh, ugh, ugh, Who wouldn't love your nice hard big cock in their ass?"

The guidance counselor watched this dirty scene, slack-jawed at what she was witnessing. It was so disgusting, and she shuddered. But it was also one of the hottest things she had ever seen, and without even looking down she knew that her nipples were still hard as rocks.

"Do you really like that? Kate?" she asked her.

"Mmmmm, yeah! It feels so nice. Everything my Master does to me makes me feel good."

"And that, uh, dildo? The thing he took from your--" she paused, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer to this question. "The butt plug? You like that too?"

"Oh god yes. It feels so yummy. Especially when I'm sitting on a hard chair, like the, ugh, ugh, oh, like the kind here in school. COMING, Master. FEELS SO GOOD."

"That's a good slut," he told her, patting her gently on the head; she was filled with overpowering feelings of well-being, as if the warmth of a thousand suns was shining down on her body. He addressed his two slaves, "You two, on your knees, next to each other, facing me, your cheeks pressed together."

"Oh goody, a face bath!" Kate exclaimed, and she and Kim got into position. Kimberly knew what was about to happen, and half her brain was screaming at her body to resist, but she didn't. The other half was ecstatic at the prospect of feeling his jism coat her face, and that half won the battle.

"Here it comes!" Alan bellowed, his voice deep and throaty. He used his power to increase the volume of his ejaculation, and in seconds both of their faces were dripping with liberal amounts of come. He sent a mental command to both of them to clean the other off, using only their mouths and tongues, and they set to it, eagerly lapping his juices off the other. Kim was tentative at first, but Kate's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon their efforts 

took on a franticness which shocked her to her core.

Alan reached down and put his hand under Kim's chin. She resisted only slightly as he made her look up into his eyes. As he stared into her she tried her best to look away, but she didn't know whether she wanted to look away out of a sense of shame, or if she wanted to look away because it would be wrong to look into his masterful eyes. "Do you understand now?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I understand."

"You will tell no one."

"I will tell no one. Who'd believe me anyway? I didn't believe Chad when he told me." A tear formed in her eye. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

She looked down again, not able to face him in her shame. "For not believing," she sobbed.

"It's OK now," he bent down, whispering into her ear, "You understand." He stroked her long brown hair. Suddenly she was filled with the most delicious sense of happiness she had ever experienced, but the tears continued to fall.

* * *

"You handled that so well, Master," Kate giggled at him after they left Mrs. Hall's office.

"Do I detect some doubt in you, slut?"

"Never," she shot back at him, her face a portrait of seriousness.

They reached the end of the administration hallway and parted. "I'll call you later," he said as a farewell.

"You promise?" she mock-pouted.

"Everything I say to you is a promise."

"Lucky me," she answered, her whole body briefly shivering.

* * *

Jack was right, Alan realized. His initial efforts at control and been clumsy and badly thought out. He had pacified Chad that day at his house, but his simple commands did not prevent Kate's boyfriend from blabbing to his counselor. Instead of going to his next class he decided that something needed to be done about Chad straightaway. Then it hit him. His next class was physics, the only class he and Chad shared. He walked up to the physics lab less than five minutes before the bell rang, and used the time to plan out what he was going to do the tattle-tailing football jock.

Someone was behind him. "Hall pass?" He turned. A kid stood before him, a freshman, or a sophomore at most, wearing a bright red hall monitor's arm band.

"Go away," he said calmly to the pest, and the kid walked down the hall. The bell rang and the halls quickly filled with his classmates, but Chad was not among them. He didn't know then that Chad was on a cot in the nurse's office, quietly weeping. A quick scan of all the minds in the building, and he set off, ditching physics. It mattered little anyway; Alan had found that one of his powers allowed him to learn and process information at a near infinite speed. He had read all of his textbooks over the past week, and had moved on to more advanced books recently. He spent his classroom time using his power to make the students and teachers think he was paying attention and participating, be really her was using the time to daydream and practice his powers.

"Hi, I'm here to see Chad," he told the nurse.

"In the back," she pointed.

Chad was sleeping flat on his stomach. Alan decided it would be cruel to wake him. He made a few modifications to him, and then left. It was over so fast that he was less than a minute late to physics. No one noticed when he entered and took a seat. 


From now on Chad would be unable to communicate to anyone, in any way, what was going on between Alan and Kate. As a nice twist, any time Chad felt the urge to spill the secret he would piss in his pants.

* * *

Alan was only half-surprised the next morning to receive a note in homeroom from the guidance office. It was from Mrs. Hall, asking him to come see her first period. After the bell rang he sought out Pauline, reaching her just as she came out of her homeroom, and gave her a little kiss on the lips, their morning ritual for the time between homeroom and first period.

"So, Mrs. Hall, what can I do for you?"

"I, uh, don't know, Alan. Can I talk about it?"

"Shoot," he chuckled.

Tears started running down her face. "I'm so ashamed," she sobbed. "I went home last night and--no, I'm too embarrassed to talk about it."




Alan Ch. 10



He walked over to her and sat next to her on the couch. When he began stroking her hair she shuddered uncontrollably. "There there. There there."

Kim sniffled and cleared her throat quietly before she was able to continue. "I went home last night and practically raped my husband. But," she paused, not sure she was able to go on.

"But what? You can tell me."

"I didn't feel it with him. Not like yesterday. Not like with you." With that admission she completely broke down, weeping freely in front of him like she hadn't before.

"What didn't you feel. An orgasm?"

"No, I had an orgasm. Mark always makes sure I get one." She sniffled again. "But it wasn't as good as with you."

"What do you think the problem was? You're a psychologist, and as the saying goes, 'Psychologist, shrink thyself.'" She laughed, burying her face in his chest.

"The sex was nice," she began hesitantly, "But it didn't feel as good as what you did to me yesterday. I think--" she gave a pregnant pause, "I think I need to be dominated. You awoke something in me, and my husband doesn't provide it for me."

"Doesn't provide, or can't provide?"

"I don't know," she whispered with a fearful tone.

"Well, you'll never know if you don't ask. Tell him. Tell him you need him to dominate you, to tie you up, do kinky things to you, and hammer you until you scream in ecstasy."

"You're right. I was so afraid over what happened yesterday. Afraid that sex with Mark would just be a pale shadow after that. Thank you, I'm going to try it."

"Anything else you need for me to do?"

She looked up at him, not sure if she had the guts to continue "I'm hesitant to ask."

"Try me."

"I was so aroused watching you fuck Kate in the ass, but I'm afraid. Just looking at her made me want to do it, but I know Mark's never done it, and so I was thinking that if you're willing I'd like my first time to be with someone experienced like you."


"OK. Do you want to do this 'regular' or would you rather be dominated?"

She shot him an evil-looking grin. "What do you think?" 

"Before we begin in earnest I need to ask you a question. Do you have any lotion?"

She pulled open a desk drawer and handed him a bottle. He ordered her to strip, and she started off by doing a strip-tease, slowly peeling off her skirt. Alan was having none of this. He had ordered her to strip, not prance about. Grabbing her by her shoulders he hissed at her, "I didn't tell you to dance for me, bitch." She gulped. "Once I let go of you you'll have ten seconds to be naked. Any clothing left on you I will tear off your body, understand?" She nodded. "Pardon me, did you say something, bitch?"

"I understand."

"Wrong answer!" He didn't want to go to easy on her. "You will address me as 'Sir.' Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she gasped, and before Alan finished counting to ten she was naked. He bent her over the desk, and plunged his cock into her pussy, "OHMYGOD!" she shrieked.

"Just starting the process of lubrication, bitch, although you have a nice tight cunt. Maybe I'll stay in here. Change my mind. Convince me to fuck you tight virgin ass. Beg."

Kim could barely think straight through the haze of lust Alan's cock was stirring in her from his forceful fucking, but she was determined to have her ass fucked, so she gathered her wits as best she could. "Oh, please Sir, fuck my ass. I need it so bad in my ass. You know I'm a, ah ah ah ah virgin there. You'll be my first. You'll always be the first up my ass. Please! Ooooh, your cock feels so nice up my slutty cunt, OHMYGOD YES! I'm coming, Sir, I'm coming around your huge hard cock." There was a brief pause in her begging while she orgasmed around Alan's invader, but once she started coming down she resumed. 

"Please. Now. In my ass. Please?"

Alan yanked his cock out of her spasming cunt and placed the head against Ms. Hall's rosebud. He squirted some lotion on his dick and rubbed it up and down the length before pressing into her. Using his power he relaxed her sphincter and activated her anal-erotic feelings. There was near silence in the room as he forced his erection into her. Kim was too stunned and too turned on to say anything, managing only an occasional groan, and Alan only punctuated the silence to whisper filthy suggestions into her ear from time to time.

Soon she was bucking back against him as he stroked his full length in and out of her tight clutching rear passage, her groans increasing in volume and frequency. Alan could see that she was getting worked up, and started ramming her faster. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the clock on the wall, and decided that he needed to get out soon, because the period was about to end. Just as he was about to transmit a mental command for her to orgasm, she came on her own, her body stiffening, and her ass clenching around his dick. She was so aroused she couldn't get words out of her mouth, and merely moaned.

He shot his load into her ass, and she reacted with a start, a loud groan escaping. "Gotta go, bitch," he told her as he pulled up his pants and fastened his belt. He grabbed his bookbag and split. Kim barely had the strength to move, but she managed to haul her tired bones over to the couch, collapsing into a deep sleep. Her last thought before she fell into blessed unconsciousness was that she was glad she had the foresight to cancel her appointments until after lunch.

Next Chapter: Odds and Ends



Alan Ch. 11



The House Always Wins

Quiet time. 

Alan was lying on his in a hammock reading a novel, "Aura" by Carlos Fuentes. Pauline was dozing next to him, on her side and half curled up into a ball, her back pressed into the side of his body. It was the first really warm day of spring and they were taking advantage of it, trying to spend as much time outside as they could get. A half hour ago they finished lunch on the deck, and Pauline's parents had returned inside the house. Pauline had suggested the hammock, and they had both taken books; however the big lunch had taken its toll on her, causing her to nod off almost immediately.

By the time Alan finished reading the book, a novella really, not long enough to be a novel, he too dozed off.

The afternoon turned overcast and chilled; Alan was awakened by Pauline shivering through her sleep beside him on the hammock. Her long brown hair was on him because in their slumber she had nuzzled her head in his armpit, and he was amused by it, absorbed by its sheer volume; it smelled of chamomile. It completely obscured his shoulder, and stray bits of it had worked their way up under his neck, tickling him pleasantly He lifted his arms above his head, stretching out, and let out a hearty yawn. Mr. Van Devanter, who was about fifteen yards away and watering his vegetable patch turned and waved. Alan hoisted himself out of the hammock, casing her to stir.

"When did it get so cold?" she asked him sleepily.

"Not sure. We both drifted off into dreamland." She sighed contentedly.

"Umm," she purred, stretching out on the now roomier hammock, "I'm far too wiped out to move, but much to cold to stay out here." She stretched again. "Help me up?"

He pulled her up and out of the hammock and gave her a little kiss on the lips, and was about to follow her back into her house, but her dad called him over.

They chatted for a little while, mostly about growing vegetables, a topic which interested Alan not at all.

"Come inside with me, we should talk," he said to Alan, a wicker basket of radishes under his arm.

"Uh oh, this doesn't sound good," he chuckled, and Mr. Van Devanter assured him there was nothing to fear.

They went into the kitchen, finding Pauline's mom at the sink filling just-washed clay flower pots from a huge bag of store-bought soil. She smiled at him as they came in.

"First off, who told you you could sleep with my baby?" Mr. Van Devanter asked. It was such a shocking opening, and not only to Alan. Pauline's mom dropped a flower pot into the sink, smashing it.

"What?" she screeched.

"Relax. Relax. I was just kidding, Helen. The two of them were out back in the hammock reading, and they both nodded off. Jesus, can't anyone here take a joke?"

"Oh," her mom said clutching her heart, her tone of voice suggesting that the weight of the world had just been lifted off her chest. Mr. Van Devanter gave her a meaningful look, and soon she left them alone in the kitchen.

"You know of course that we--Pauline's mom and I--think you're a great guy. We couldn't be more happy with this situation, with you an our baby girl dating."

"Thanks."

"Oy, I've been dreading this day for years."

"I don't follow," Alan replied.

"You'll understand when you have a daughter."

"Oh," Alan said, grinning at Mr. Van Devanter, "That."

"I not just because she's my daughter. She's my baby, you understand. When she's forty she'll still be my baby. It's just hard, though you being the person I'm having this conversation makes it all the more easy."

"I think I know what you're trying to say."

"Good, then I'll be brief: Don't hurt her. Got it?"

"You bet."

"Whew," Mr. Van Devanter exhaled, "That was easier than I thought it would be."

* * *

Alan hung around the house a while longer. Pauline was up in her room having a nap, and he and her dad watched some early season baseball in the den. Mr. Van Devanter had invited him into the den and cracked 

open two beers, a surprise.

"I am sure you've had this before, eh."

"Yeah. My dad and I sometimes have a beer together."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not leading you down the path to perdition."

After a few innings Kate came home; she had been out with friends and was surprised at seeing Alan still at her house. Alan and her dad greeted her, and her heart started racing when she saw Alan rise and follow her up the stairs to her bedroom. She could feel his presence behind as she walked across the upstairs hall, and she realized with a start that her pussy was dripping.

"My parents are downstairs," she whispered as he closed her bedroom door behind them. "Pauline is home."

"Get undressed," he ordered. She did while looking at him with look that mixed her belief that this was ill advised with one of high lust.

He approached her as she was finishing and gave her a gentle push onto the bed. "I thought you understood, slut. You are mine. Property." She began to nod in agreement. "I use you when I want, where I want."

"Please," she half-squeaked, half-whispered, "Master, please. Use your slut. I will never for a moment doubt you again. I will never for a moment even hesitate when you command me." Alan was slowly running is fingers up and down her bare slit, and Kate could no longer continue her begging, consumed as she was by the feelings he was drawing out of her body.

"Hmm, your pussy is very wet, my slut."

Through her gasps she answered him, "No, Master, ahhhhh, it's your pussy." Their eyes met and she smiled at him.

"Nice answer." He put his mouth against her labia and snaked his tongue into her moist depths.

"Oh my god!" she squealed. "Yessssssssss!" Alan licked her pussy vigorously, his right hand twisting and tugging at her butt plug, his left pulling at her nipple rings causing her breasts to stretch away from her body. Kate came explosively at this treatment, her body shaking and twitching, her hips bucking at his face. He moved up, pressing his body on top of hers so that they were face to face. Kate licked her own juices off his face, gasping and moaning with the after effects of her prodigious orgasm. "Please fuck me," she panted. "Please, put you dick in my--I mean, your--cunt. It's soooooo wet. Wet for Master's cock, my Master's big cock. Please?"

Alan slowly entered her, and the sensation, the feeling of being used by him, took her breath away. "You like that, slut?" She moaned contentedly as he slowly pumped in an out of her. The plug in her ass came alive, vibrating inside of her. She was incoherent with lust, and just as she had bucked her pussy into his face, she was now thrusting her hips up at him, desirous of more of his cock in her. She looked down at their joining and saw he was burying himself in her to the full, but she wanted more. She wanted a harder fucking, wanted to feel him piston in and out of her so that their bodies came together with slapping force. Alan increased his pace. "More," she moaned. "Harder, yes, faster, fuck me, Master, use your slut. I want you to feel this hot cunt squeeze you big cock." As she felt herself crescendo towards a monstrous climax she began to twist her nipples by the rings.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Kate, sweetie, are you in there?" her mom asked from the other side of the door. Not waiting for an answer she turned the knob and entered. Alan took charge of the situation. He used his power to project an image into Mrs. Van Devanter's mind that she was not seeing Alan fuck her middle child, but rather she saw the two of them demurely conversing. "Oh, hi Katie. I wasn't sure you had come home yet."

Kate mind was exploding, and not just from the heroic fucking Alan was throwing her way. "Ugh ugh, yeah Mom, I just got back a-a-aaaaaaaaaaaa little while ago," she managed to speak through her climax. She didn't understand her mother's calm reaction at seeing her fuck Pauline's boyfriend, who had not even paused his rutting when the 

door had opened.

"Oh, Alan, I didn't see you there! I just got off the phone with your mom. Were all going to go out for dinner tonight. I insisted because your mom had barely been out of the house since you grandfather died, and she needs a good night out." As she was leaving she turned and added, addressing Kate" I'm so happy to see you and Alan getting along so well. It'll make Pauline so happy to know."

Right after she left Kate's orgasm hit her like a runaway freight train, her shrieks echoing off her plaster walls. It was Alan coming inside of her that set her off, and it took more than a few minutes for her to becalm herself enough so she could speak. She was about to ask him, "What just happened?" but thought better of it. There were still a great many things she didn't comprehend, but she did know that she was Alan's property, and slaves don't ask impertinent questions of their masters. Whatever Alan did to her, she accepted.

* * *

"I just saw Alan and Kate upstairs getting along like a house on fire," Mrs. Van Devanter told her husband.

"Good. I know last time it was Kate who caused them to stop dating." He bit down on his pipe. He had stopped smoking it years ago, but still kept a few around anyway. "Good," he said again, unaware of any double meanings in his wife's report.

Alan appeared downstairs a few minutes later. Mrs. Van Devanter and the girls were upstairs getting ready for dinner and Alan and Mr. Van Devanter were passing the time at the backgammon set. Alan was experimenting with his powers by manipulating the dice, giving himself bad or mediocre rolls at the start of games, and then gradually improving them. He found that he could double Mr. Van Devanter midway through the game and then win two points every time, sometimes four, if he was doubled back.

"Wow, that's some game you have there," his opponent said. "You should come to the club on poker nights and hustle some of the guys who play this instead. You'd make a fortune at twenty dollars a point!"

Alan thought this was an excellent idea, but didn't tell that to him. He was contemplating a trip to Atlantic City or one of the Indian casinos in Connecticut, and a good night of backgammon at the country club would provide a needed bankroll.

* * *

Two weeks later Alan was driving to Atlantic City alone in a rented car. He had considered taking someone with him, either Chloe the au pair next door, or Megan and Leila, but thought better of it. He had more than five thousand dollars in his pocket, won from the stock brokers and high-powered lawyers at his country club last Wednesday night. He might have won more, but after a few hours nobody would play him. His dad and Mr. Van Devanter even managed to win a few hundred from side bets on the games he played.

It was nearing dusk when he reached the casino. He had stopped in New York for two Italian suits, some fancy dress shirts and silk ties, a new pair of black shoes (also Italian), and a hundred dollar haircut. "I should have sprung for a fancy watch," he thought to himself as he handed the car keys to the valet. He tinkered with his appearance on the way down, making himself look about ten years older than his eighteen year old self, matching his new papers.

He had contacted Jack through the Swiss Bank, FedEx'ing a letter and writing of his plans to make some money at the casino. Jack had telephoned back and told him to see a man in Manhattan first. This man was an "employee" of Jack's, and he provided him with a fake set of identity papers (birth certificate, drivers license, passport), a social security number, a nice credit history, and an American Express card (platinum) under his new false name.

A few hours later he was up twenty thousand dollars. He was playing blackjack, and using his power her could read the hole card of the dealer. Actually he had two methods; either he read the mind of the dealer, or he focused on the card itself, reading through it to see the concealed value. He was also careful 

not to arouse suspicion. He didn't set out to win every hand, and even made some intentional mistakes, doubling down at the wrong times. He was at a $1,000 max table, and he never varied his bet, always putting down just five hundred for each hand.

"Hi, mind of I join you?" A pretty young thing sat down next to him, not waiting for his response. "I'm Lisa." She flashed him a dazzling smile. She had a tight body capped with a drop-dead gorgeous face. Alan stood and pulled out a seat for her. "You seem to have the touch tonight. I hope some of your luck will rub off on me." She leaned into him at this, her arm brushing against his as if to illustrate her point.

"Hi, I'm Carl Sutherland, nice to meet you," giving her the name on his false papers. He scanned her mind. Her name was not Lisa, it was Anne-Marie, and she wasn't a random gambler, she was from casino security. She was there at his table to see if he was cheating.

Anne-Marie Nicoletti had been with the hotel for about a year, and was well schooled in the various ways players try to con the casino. She had recently been promoted after exposing a ring of slot-machine cheats. The ring had recruited little old ladies to play machines they had first modified after breaking into them. The old women had aroused little suspicion even after a month of big takes, but she had been the one to see the emerging pattern, and the credit for the bust was hers. 

She watched her target play. She had been roaming the floor when her supervisor had radioed her to check out table nineteen. In the jargon of this particular casino Alan was a "mustang," an unknown player who was doing "too well." She watched him even more closely; if he was cheating he was very good at it. She looked around as he played, checking to see if there was a partner somewhere on the floor who was signaling to him what the dealer's hole card was. Nope. She watched his hands as he bet, looking for the telltale signs of a computer in his suit. Nope. She watched the dealer for a while, checking if he was weak in some way. Strike three.

Alan chatted with Lisa/Anne-Marie as she did her job. Since she had sat down Alan had lost, intentionally, five thousand dollars. "Sorry," she said to him, "I seem to have brought you bad luck."

"It comes, it goes," he said as he grinned at her. Alan decided that since she had just seen him lose $5,000 it was time to start winning again. He upped his bets to a thousand per hand, and in less then a half an hour was up more than $75,000. "You turned out to be lucky after all," he said to her smiling. Alan looked at his watch, and seeing it was only about 10pm asked her to dinner.

"Are you staying here?" she asked him, hoping for the chance to search his room.

"No, I'm not staying the night." She was disappointed. Alan called one of the pit workers over to take care of his winnings. He was informed that the floor manager wished to speak to him in the office. Anne-Marie watched Alan go to the rear of the casino, and she knew that if he did have some sort of cheating device on him the scanners in the doorway leading to the office would betray him. As she watched him disappear into the back she went to the phone and called her supervisor.

"Did you see anything?" he asked her quickly.

"Zip. What did the overheads get?" she asked him, referring to the ceiling-mounted cameras which watched all that transpired in the gambling den.

"Like you said, Zip. Bupkes. Less than Zip. He's coming. Gotta go."

* * *

Alan had a brief conversation with the floor manager. He was invited to the back where a cashier would count his chips and cash him out. Alan was suspicious; he had seen the Scorsese movie "Casino" a few years back, and the scene with the cattle prod and the bal peen hammer came forward in his consciousness. The man led him to his office and began to tote up the chips. Alan scanned his mind, relieved that his motive was not to do violence, but to simply keep him in the casino, in the hopes 

that Alan would lose back his money to the house. Alan gave the manager the information required to have his winnings transferred to his Swiss bank account, and he saw the man's eyes widen at this, the fact of Alan's status as a "player" becoming ever more clear. This eased his tensions, and he was about to tell the floor manager that he had to leave, but the man told him that if he wanted to spend the night his room would be comped. He also told Alan that anytime he came back her would be allowed into the VIP room. 

Alan accepted his offer, and told the man that he was thinking about dinner, and then perhaps another trip to the tables. The man lifted the phone on his desk and got Alan a table at the hotel's best restaurant. As he went back out into the casino he saw "Lisa" and again invited her to join him for dinner.

They sat down at the table and talked while waiting for their drinks. Anne-Marie gave him her cover story, that she was visiting the casino with her rich father, a real estate developer from Ohio who was playing high-stakes poker in a private room. Alan gave her his cover story, that he was an international business consultant based in Geneva and New York, spending a day or two in Atlantic City because he had a few days off between one engagement in Philadelphia and another in New York. 

They ate and drank well. The casino management had a bottle of wine brought up from the cellar. "Lisa" excused herself and called her boss for instructions.

"He's not in any if the black books," Peter Milburn told her. This meant they had no good reason to ban him from the tables.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked him.

"Code 14."

It was now Anne-Marie's task to get Carl back to the tables. Statistics had shown that the more a player played, the worse his odds got. Keeping him at the table was the paramount task then.

"It's still early," she told Alan as they rose from the dinner table. She noticed that he had left a five hundred dollar tip, cash, but tried not to stare. "I'm going to keep playing. Want to join me?" she asked flirtatiously. Alan knew what she was doing, and played along. As he returned to the casino, a pit boss led him and Anne-Marie to the VIP Room, a smaller and quieter chamber right off the main floor. It was like a smaller version of the main casino, but without the loud noises caused by the slot machines. Alan sat down at the table and signed for $25,000 in chips, all in hundreds, and the room manager went to the cashier and drew them. There were no limits at the tables in here, and Alan bet either one or two thousand per hand. On hands he knew he was going to win he bet two grand about two-thirds of the time. On hands he knew he was going to lose her bet one grand almost every time. Soon he was up more than $200,000, and he increased his bets to either five or ten thousand. Anne-Marie and the rest of the casino staff watched with increasing dismay. As Alan passed the half a million mark she feigned fatigue and told him she was done for the evening.

As the dealer set to counting Alan's chips the pair chatted off to the side. "So, what's your secret?" she asked him. The scanner in the doorjamb of the floor manager's office showed nothing, but she wasn't 100% sure he wasn't concealing some sort of gear on him. As he played in the VIP room she watched his hands to see if they were entering data on a miniature computer. One of the advantages of the room was that cell phones and other radio transmitters could not penetrate its walls, so had he been using a partner on the outside and been receiving signals he would have been cut off. But he kept on winning. She had to find out how he managed to do it.

"Secret? What do you mean?" he answered her feigning innocence. He smiled at her as he said this, and for the first time that night Anne-Marie looked at him as a person, not as quarry; she really hadn't noticed before how handsome he was.




Alan Ch. 11



"You just won hundreds of thousands of dollars tonight. Do you 

have a system?"

"Well, in a way I do. Come, let's go to the bar and I'll explain it all to you."

She could barely contain her excitement; if he was counting cards or using some sort of device she would soon know, and perhaps get another raise if she exposed him. She took his arm and they walked back out into the main room. Alan asked the pit boss the way to the bar. Anne-Marie said nothing, not wanting him to know she knew her way around the hotel and casino like the back of her hand. Just as the reached the lobby he paused. "You know," he began, "I might not be too comfortable spilling my secrets in an open bar. Let's go up to my room and have drink up there." She agreed. Alan went to the front desk and checked in to his room. They had set him up in a suite on one of the upper floors of the towering hotel. When he pulled out his credit card the clerk told him it wasn't required, and Alan asked him to have his car brought up and his overnight bag delivered to the room.

* * *

Alan and Anne-Marie rode up in the elevator in silence, his eyes fixed on the floor indicator, hers on him, studying him closely. She was excited; it was the thrill of the hunt. He would, she was sure, willingly tell him how he managed to cheat the casino--her casino--out of more than half a million. She was anticipating the scene; after he had spilled the beans she would press the red button on her pager to alert the security office that he had confessed, then she would pull her badge and detain him until the backup arrived. She didn't know two important details: one, the money Alan won was already safe in Switzerland because he had used his power of influence to override the manager's better judgment and had it immediately transferred; once money is wired to a Swiss bank almost no force on earth could dislodge it, and anyway, the instructions on Alan's account caused the money to be almost immediately transferred to another bank, this one in the Bahamas. Usually in cases of suspected cheating no monies left the casino until the investigation was closed, and Anne-Marie was under the impression that this one was still open. That was her second misconception: Alan had used his powers again to evaporate the suspicion of the manager. Even if she pressed her panic button on the pager clipped to her waist no one would come; in any event, he wouldn't let her get that far. 

Alan poured her a drink, bourbon on ice, and one for himself and sat down next to her on the couch. Her legs were curled under her, and her skirt had ridden up just above the knee.

"Well, Carl, We're alone at last," she said jokingly.

"Yes we are, Lisa," he agreed. "What was that you wanted to talk about? Oh yes, I remember now. My secret method."

She pricked up her ears. Her left hand moved unconsciously to her waistband, coming near to her pager. "Please," she grinned at him, a look of triumph glowing on her eyes, "Do tell."

"It's rather simple really." He paused. Anne-Marie's mouth was dry with anxiety and anticipation. "I simply go to a casino, and win gobs of money at the blackjack table. At some point in the evening I will be invariably joined by a pretty woman such as yourself, and then I invite her up to my room so she can ask me how I do so well at the tables. Then I take her to bed."

"What the hell are you talking about? I just want to know how you won all that money. I have no interest in sleeping with you! Just tell me how you did it."

He reached over and put his hand on her thigh before answering her. "You have a lot of questions."

"Yes Goddamnit, I do. Come on tell me!"

"Why do you want to know? I mean, we spent almost this whole evening together and you barely gambled, so it couldn't be tips you're looking for, could it be? Perhaps you have some other motive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she huffed. His hand on her thigh was bothering her, but for some reason she neither recoiled from his touch, nor asked him to remove it.

"May I ask you a question, Lisa?"

"What?" she replied somewhat petulantly.

"How long have you worked in casino security?"

She tried not to flinch, but was unsuccessful. "How," she whispered to him. "How did you know?" Her eyes widened with a bit of terror. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this.

"It doesn't matter, does it, Anne-Marie?"

"Who told you that name? M-my name is Lisa."

"Yes, yes, yes, your name is Lisa from Cincinnati, and you are the personal assistant to your father the real estate king of the Ohio Valley. You name is Lisa, not Anne-Marie Nicoletti from Pleasantville, New Jersey."

"What the fuck is going on here?" she replied archly. "This is it for me. I'm out of here RIGHT NOW." But she made no move to get up, and no effort to remove his hand from her thigh.

"I don't think you're going anywhere," he told her as his hand began moving up and down her thigh. He pulled her pager off the waistband of her skirt and placed it on the side table next to the couch.

"I'm, I'm warning you. I'm armed."

He leaned over to her, his mouth scant inches from her ear, "No, Anne-Marie, you're not." His hand slipped under her skirt and made its way to her stocking tops.

"Please stop this. I don't want this. Please."

"You're free to go. Just get up and leave." She couldn't move. Suddenly his hands began having an effect on her. She felt her nipples harden underneath her bra, and the skin-to-skin contact between her thigh and his hand started stirring delicious feelings inside her.

"Oh," she gasped, "That feels so nice. But I don't want to do this. Mmmmm, please stop that." 

"Are you sure?" he asked her, punctuating the question by licking her ear.

She groaned briefly, but then got her wits about her. "Yes. Stop, please. Take your hands off of me."

He stopped, his hand leaving her bare flesh, and she instantly she regretted it. All of the pleasant sensations ceased, leaving her feeling numb and empty inside. On the plus side she found herself able to stand up from the couch. He walked her to the door; feelings of desire flooding her with every step.

* * *

Back in the elevator she was somewhat relieved to be out of there. It was very unprofessional of her to be in such a situation with a suspected cheat.

Peter was still in his office when she got downstairs. "Nothing," she told him, "He revealed nothing. I still don't know how he did it, and it's driving me crazy."

"What are you talking about?"

"The guy. You know, Carl? He wouldn't let on how he did it."

"Carl? Carl Sutherland? Oh, don't keep worrying about him. I checked him out on the computer. He's not in the banned players database, and his credit report says he's very rich, so we doubt he's a con man."

"Well Jesus Fucking Christ, Pete! Why couldn't you tell me that before I went up to his room? He had his damn hands, I mean, he, uh, tried to get his hands under my skirt."

"Why in the hell did you go up to his room? Don't start making risky plays to get yourself more attention and promotions. Please, we already think you're great, with a big future in the company. And if you're going to go up to a mark's room at least let somebody down here know about it so we can have backup ready."

"But I did tell you, damnit! Don't you remember? We discussed it right here in this office not an hour ago. Please, Pete, please don't tell me that I was up there all alone." He didn't answer, just nodded his head, and Anne-Marie suddenly realized that the thought of being alone in a room with the handsome Carl Sutherland, without backup waiting right outside was not an unappealing one.

Her shift over, Anne-Marie went to her car in the employee's lot, but try as she might she couldn't bring herself to start it up. There was something magnetic about Carl. Sure, he came on a bit strong, but she remembered the way she felt when he was touching her, and she was torn between wanting that feeling again, and her desire to be as 

far away from him as possible.

She was back in the lobby waiting for an elevator, and was startled when she heard the chime go off and saw the doors come open before her. She had no memory of getting out of her car and returning to the hotel. Her mind had instead been busy spinning rationalizations: since Carl was no longer a target of investigation she could go back to his room without jeopardizing her position.

* * *

"Well, I'm surprised to see you again after what happened just now," he said to her in the doorway, leaning casually against the jamb.

"Uh," she was embarrassed, "Can I come in?"

"Is this business or personal, Anne-Marie?" he asked with a smirk.

"Personal," she answered meekly. He stepped aside and let her back in. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow. The television in the sitting room was on, tuned to CNN, and she could see the bottle of whiskey on the table, both glasses still next to it.

"Why did you come back?" he asked her as he poured two more drinks, then sat next to her.

Taking it, she gulped half of it down. Dutch courage, she thought to herself. "I wanted to come back to apologize."

"Why the fuck did I say that?" she thought bitterly. "I was just doing my job."

"Apologize? Why? You were just doing your job. I understand completely." That relaxed her. She really wanted to ask him how he knew she was who she was, but she figured that by doing it she would appear to be weak.

"I lied to you." 

"Yes, I know that. You told me your name was Lisa."

"Well, yes, that was a lie, too.

"'Too'?"

"You know, when you asked me that question before?"

"Which question?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper and she was sure she was never more red-faced in her life as she went on. "'Are you sure?' When you asked me 'Are you sure?' and I told you to take you hand off my leg. I lied to you. I wasn't sure." She took his hand and placed it on her thigh again, and the feelings returned. "No that's not right either. I was sure--sure that I wanted you to touch me more." She began to purr as he got under her skirt, and yelped when his fingertip reached her bare pussy.

"That's strange," she thought through her arousal. "When did I take off my panties?" But she chose not to dwell on it because the sensations coming from her moistening slit were much more pleasant to concentrate on instead. He fingered her, his thumb resting on her clit, massaging it.

"The feels so nice, Carl. Ugh, don't stop, please." He had removed his hand from her pussy and had started on her blouse. His mouth was on her breasts, and she felt as if she was being fed an electrical current. "Oh!" she gasped when he gently bit down on her left nipple. Her hands frantically shot to his chest, mad with desire, and she soon had his shirt off. His chest was magnificent, and she pushed him off of her so she could grope it properly, first running her hands over it, and then her tongue; when he moaned back in response she felt extremely proud of herself.

He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. As she followed him she reached behind her with her free hand and unzipped her skirt, and when it fell to her feet she stepped out of it, never losing pace with him. Closing the door behind them he turned to face her, and they kissed, their tongues wrestling furiously. She dropped to her knees and opened his pants, then pulled down his shorts. Instantly her mouth was around his erection. He groaned again, and she was again flooded with prideful glee. Vigorously she blew him, ecstatic when he came in her mouth.

He pulled her up to him so she was standing, and then he backed her up to the bed and laid her down on it before burying his face in her snatch. His tongue was amazing, penetrating her, then licking her clit, then licking around her labia, before starting the cycle again by penetrating her. She realized she had never been sucked this well 

before as she trashed wildly on the bed, her moans filling the room. "Oh Sweet JESUS, that's so fu-fu-fucking good!" she screamed, her pussy shoved into his face, her hands clutching his head against her sex. Before she had even begun to recover from her immense climax he had placed the head of his cock against her slit. He looked in her eyes, and she nodded back, staring with unbelieving eyes at the amount of pussy juice--her juices--smeared on his face. He thrust in her and she gasped loudly, "Yesssss! Ohmigod, YES!" He built up speed, intending to do so slowly but she convinced him otherwise.

"Faster. Faster! Fuck. Yes. Harder. Please, FUCK ME HARDER!" Her body was bouncing up and down off the mattress, her pale skin deeply flushed, and her light brown hair flying every which way.

"I'm glad you decided to come back," he said to her evenly, a malevolent smile on his face, but she didn't see it because her eyelids were clamped down in pleasure.

"OH! MY! GOD! I'm going to COOOOOME!" she hollered, her body convulsing in orgasm, her arms and legs moving about without control. She was amazed and certainly delighted when he did not come inside her clamping pussy but continued to fuck her with the same hard strokes, and mere minutes after her first, she came violently once again. This time she could not speak, just grunt in passion. After that he slowed down some, and she loved it just as much that way.

"Your cock feels so good," she groaned. "I've never felt anything like this. Fuck me, yes, fuck my pussy. It's so wet. Never been this wet. Can you hear it? Can you hear the squishing sounds you cock is making in my pussy? I LOVE IT," she screamed as her pussy clamped down around his erection yet again. "A machine, you're a fucking machine. A fucking fucking machine. Get it?" she giggled despite her intense feelings arousal.

"Good one," he said through a laugh.

"Not as good as you. You're so fucking good that I'm gonna come again if you keep that up. Ugh ugh Yeah!" As her pussy walls tightened around his dick again he shot off his load and she howled in delight.

They fucked two more times before the sun rose, sleeping between encounters, and then he took her to the café in the hotel for breakfast. She suggested it, telling him that if they stayed in the room they would only fuck more, not eat, and they were, she argued, both hungry from the evening's exertions. After breakfast they went back to the room and fucked again.

He told her he would call her, and promised to come back to the casino soon, and for some reason, despite her past experience, she believed him. He gave her his business card (another creation of Dr. Massimo's man in Manhattan. The number on it was to that office in New York, automatically programmed to either bounce to Alan's cell phone or take a message, the outgoing announcement informing the caller, "You have reached the offices of Sutherland Consulting..."), but told her he spent a great deal of time traveling, mostly in Europe and the Pacific Rim, so it might take some time for him to get back to her. He chuckled when she slipped the card into her bra.

It was still fairly early on Saturday morning when Alan drove out of the casino driveway. He had to get the car back to the agency in New York, and then drive back in his car to Westchester. He was returning home $500,000 richer than when he had left. Life was good.

Next Chapter: Graduation (Summertime, and the Livin' is Easy)



Alan Ch. 12



Graduation (Summertime, and the Livin' is Easy)

At nine AM Alan threw the garment bag holding his cap and gown in the backseat of the car and headed to school. It was the day before graduation, and though there were no classes scheduled for the seniors, there was a commencement rehearsal at noon. He planned on spending the morning hanging out with friends and cleaning out of his locker a year's worth of detritus.

As he was going through his locker, making ample use of the large wastebaskets placed in the hall for the departing seniors, Alan chatted and hugged many of his friends. He probably wasn't going to see many of these people for years, perhaps not until his first high school reunion, five years away, though some of them he would see during breaks and vacations.

"Alan."

"Alan."

He turned and saw both Ms. Megan Kelly and Mrs. Kimberly Hall, approaching him from opposite directions. Kim spoke up first. "I, uh, need to see you in my office. Could you spare a little time?" 

Megan noticed the twinkle in the guidance counselor's eyes, but said nothing of it. "When you're done with Ms. Hall could you come by my classroom. I, ah," she improvised, "Need some help moving some things."

Alan shut the door behind him and Kim pressed her body hard against him, her bosom mashing into his chest as she kissed him forcefully. She pulled back, gasping. "I know I said that we weren't going to do this again after that time you were nice enough to, you know..."

"Fuck you up the ass?" Alan grinned at her, and she returned the smile.

She lost her train of thought, savoring the memory of the day Alan broke her anal cherry. "Mmmm, that was such a nice morning." Her eyes glazed over slightly and her body trembled against his. "I was wondering..."

"What?" he asked, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"Well, since you're graduating and all, would you..." She trailed off again, and her body rubbed against him harder. He put his hands on top of her shoulders and pushed her back to arm's length.

He looked right into her eyes and he saw her need. "Say it," he muttered as he continued to stare into her.

"Please," she gasped, unable to break eye contact.

"'Please,' what?"

"F-fuck me," she whined, her body trembling so much that Alan had to grip her more tightly. "Please," she gasped, "I neeeed to be used."

Alan led her to the couch and sat down beside her, his hands stealing under her skirt; she wasn't wearing panties, and her pussy was shaved. She began purring as he rubbed her pussy lips, and to his surprise his hand came against a small metal ring which was fitted through the hood of her clitoris. "Hmmm, what's this, Mrs. Hall?" he asked her as he diddled with it. Kim's face flushed instantly and she looked away from him.

"M-my h-husband got that for me," she said sheepishly.

"He got it for you, or you got it for him?" he asked her back, an eyebrow arched.

"I, uh, he, uh, he took me to New York for some, uh, f-fetish, uh, items, and we went into a shop that also did, uh, things like that." She barely rose above a whisper, and he had to strain to hear her tremulous voice. He slipped a finger into her and she gushed, her warm juices soaking his hand. She brought her fist up to her mouth and gasped, biting down on her index finger. The stimulation got her going, and she proceeded to tell the teenager about the things she and Mark, her husband, had been doing of late. 

The handcuffs he used to chain her to the headboard; the blindfold he covered her with during some of their hottest encounters; the spankings which excited her to no end; the gags, the sex toys; the times when he covered her body in oil and used her repeatedly; their thrice weekly shaving ritual; his forbidding her to wear panties; the sex in public places.

She became more and more animated as she went on, in part due to Alan's fingers, but mostly at the thrills she was reliving by recounting her experiences out loud for the first time. Her orgasm ended her stories; Alan wasn't sure if she was out of things to tell or merely wrecked by the climax. A drop of drool escaped the corner of her mouth and was slowly tracing a wet path to her jawbone. He lifted her summer dress by the hem, and she raised her arms over her head to allow him to get it off. She was wearing a satin bra with lacy edging, the same light green her dress, and garters and hose to match. She noticed him admiring her lingerie, and informed him that Mark chose her outfit every morning now, both the underthings and the dress; she no longer wore pants. He reached behind her and unclipped her bra.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled softly, "Those look familiar." He nipples were adorned by two gold rings, with gold beads in the center, nearly identical to the pair he had bought for Kate.

She smiled at him, and explained. "Mark and I went to three or four places before we found these. He couldn't understand why I was being so picky about them, but after seeing Kate's I knew I had to have a pair like them." She punctuated her remarks by pulling off his shirt and rubbing her erect nipples into his hard chest.

"A nice pair," he commented as he reached up to play with her rings. She began to purr again, and then slipped to the floor, kneeling in front of him.

"May I?" she asked, her hands approaching his zipper.

"May you what?" he replied, his eyes boring into her.

"May I suck your cock, sir?"

"By all means, slut." She giggled at being called a slut.

She pulled at his zipper with mounting excitement, and gasped when his raging erection came into her view. He lifted his butt off the couch, allowing her to pull his pants down to his ankles, and then she bent down to untie his shoes and take them and his socks off so she could slip his pants completely from him. She kissed his feet as a sign of her submission. Alan liked that. "Lick them," he ordered, and she got to work. He reached down and pulled her up by her hair, and she buried her face in his crotch, inhaling deeply and reveling in his scent. He smelled so masculine, she thought giddily as her tongue made its way up and down the underside of his shaft, and around his balls. She enjoyed pleasuring him this way, delighted at the sight of his penis rising to full mast and knowing that she was the reason why, but she really needed to take him in her mouth.

"May I suck your cock now?" she gasped, "Please, Sir, I need to b-blow you." Her body was on fire, and she could feel the first tricklings of pussy juice slide down her inner thighs. He nodded and she took him into her mouth, groaning around the head of his cock as she did. She began to build up her rhythm, and in short order his cock was penetrating her throat. It took mere minutes for her to deep throat him all the way, her lips nestled in his pubic hair.

He was impressed. "Wow, I can't believe you're taking me all the way. It took Kate weeks to suck me as deep as this," he commented.

She popped her mouth off of his knob and smiled up at him, "As my husband is always saying to me, 'Practice makes perfect.' This is nothing. He's almost as big as you, and a lot of the times my arms are bound behind me when I suck him off." She replaced her mouth on his enormous erection and resumed her sucking.

After five minutes she began to feel tired and confused. Recently she had been able to get her husband off in minutes. All of the aforementioned practice had made her into one outstanding cocksucker. She never minded getting Mark off quickly, secure in the knowledge that her well-trained mouth could have him hard again in no time; but Alan was challenging her. She was giving him everything she had, and he seemed nowhere near climax. It was both maddening and terrifying to her. "Sir? Am I doing something wrong?" He could see a tear forming in one of her eyes. She didn't know about his abilities; he reassured her, the he pulled her up and laid her down on the couch. Leaning over Alan took one of her ringed nipples between his teeth and bit down with moderate force; Kim heaved her body up at him, groin mashing into his, loving the sensations running through her breast, and feeling his hardness against her body.

Alan removed his mouth from her chest and settled between her legs. She watched raptly as he placed the head of his gigantic cock against her dripping pussy. Fluids were freely escaping from the entrance, and she arched her back to give him a better target.

"Yessssss!" she hissed as she felt him enter her. She began to grunt in time with his thrusts, and after an explosive orgasm she began to cry. "Thank you. Thank you," she sobbed. "It's SO good. UGH. I really needed this." Soon after she came again, her pussy clamped down on his shaft, her juices fountaining out around his invading cock.

He pulled her up and sat her down on his lap. Her head came down against his shoulder and she looked up at him.

"More?" he asked her jocularly.

"More," she whispered, dead serious. She ground her butt into his thighs, and rubbed her back against her erection. He cupped her ass cheeks in his palm and lifted her up so she was completely above it. She reached down and placed it against her own sopping pussy lips, but he stopped her.

"No, slut. Not this time," he commanded, and she understood instantly, shifting his cock back and her hips forward so that the head came to rest at her backdoor's entrance. She sank down on his shaft slowly, and when she fully enveloped her he placed his hands over her hips and held her still. Even though she had been taking her husband in her ass for many weeks, she was still startled at the sensation, and even more startled at how much she loved it. Here, now, in her school office, with an eighteen year old boy buried to the hilt in her tightest passage, the feelings were indescribeably good. The taboo natures of the coupling (both the anal aspect and the student-teacher aspect) ramped up the eroticism to a degree she had never experienced. All of the pleasures she had had were because of that strange encounter with him lo those many weeks ago. He was like a jailer with a key, releasing her from a prison of dreary sex into a depraved world of kinkyness and desire.

Alan pulled her head back and twisted his so he could sink his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it frantically, lost in wave upon wave of forbidden pleasure as he began to lift and drop her clenching butt on his erection. Soon she took over her own movements, allowing him to move his hands to other parts of her body. He especially enjoyed playing with her new jewelry, and his hands on her clit were driving her up the wall. Her pussy leaked juice, and it was dripping back onto his cock, providing further lubrication. Since her office had no windows and it being the middle of June it was quite warm, made warmer by the frenetic fucking within. The insulation for the soundproofing usually kept it cool inside, but the steaminess of the two lovers managed to raise the temperature to the point that both were drenched in sweat.

As Alan was about to come he jammed three fingers up Kim's soaked and spasming snatch, and placed his thumb on her pierced clit, mashing it against the fingers buried within her. She stiffened and let out a thunderous yell, her butt rippling around his squirting cock. She slid off of him and curled up into a ball on the carpet, unable to catch her breath for a few moments.

"Clean me off," he barked at her. Her butt had obviously been well trained. Alan was almost to the point of passing out himself from their fun and games. His chest was also heaving, and he was drenched in perspiration. Once she had licked him clean she looked up at him with worshipful eyes, awaiting permission to speak. He nodded at her.

"Are you staying in town this summer, Sir?"

* * *

As he made his way down the halls to Megan's classroom he was constantly stopped by classmates. He gave his friends as much time as he could spare, signing many yearbooks and posing for pictures. It was a quarter of eleven, and the commencement rehearsal started at noon, so he figured he had time to stop and chat a bit.

By the time he reached Ms. Kelly's classroom it was just past eleven. She was standing at the slightly ajar door watching him walk towards her, and when he was within reach she grabbed him a pulled him through, locking the door behind them.

"This is so sexy!" she exclaimed. "This is the last time we're gonna fuck in this room."

"Ah, it takes me back," he joked, smiling at her, and she cracked up.

"So, how was your 'meeting' with Kim Hall?" she smirked. She was delighted at his blushing in response. "I thought so," she giggled. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully, "I wonder if she's into girls."

"I don't know about her," Alan shot back, "But I do know that I'm into girls!" He held her at her hips and she leaned in and up to kiss him.

"I'm really going to miss this. Leila and I have been talking about it, and we've decided to spend more time in Manhattan next year. One weekend a month we're going to take a hotel room in the city and see some shows, go to some galleries, museums, perhaps a concert now and then at Lincoln Center."

"Oh? Is that all you're planning on doing?" he asked mischievously.

"Well, Leila is a big Mets fan, so we'll probably take in a game when we can," she teased as she rubbed her hands up and down the from of his pants, stimulating his growing bulge. He pulled sharply at her skirt, popping the snaps and throwing it to the floor; she gripped his package in response.

"Oh, there is a certain someone we know is about to move to New York, and if we can find the time we plan to ring him up."

"Hmm, anyone I know?" She sunk to her knees as she opened his pants and pulled them down with his shorts. His hard cock sprung out at her, and before she brought her mouth forward to take it in she tried, with as much discretion as she was able to manage, to wipe a stray drop of drool from her lips.

"Why as a matter of fact, you do," she said hoarsely as she brought her lips to the head of his cock.

It was a delightful blowjob for Alan; the jocularity of their give-and-take caused Megan's attentions to be very playful. Usually when she sucked him off there was a submissive quality about her. Though not nearly as submissive as his Slave Kate, Megan enjoyed the way Alan used her masterfully, and showed proper respect to his dominant position. After all, he was her teacher as much as she his; he had opened up a whole new library of pleasure to her, not only with their own encounters, but with Leila as well. Every night when she and her Asian girlfriend took to bed she thanked heaven for having Alan show her this whole new world.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was smiling, both with her mouth stretched around his dick and with her pretty green eyes, sparkling up at him. She was absolutely entrancing like this, and he became lost in her happiness. She truly loved doing this for him, and it showed both by the look on her face and the effort she was putting into it with her much talented mouth. He had planned on fucking her after a little mouth play, and he wanted her on her desk, just like the first time three and a half months ago, but her enthusiasm was infectious. He came in her mouth, not because he wanted to move on to the main event, far from it in fact. He was worried about running out of time though.

Megan smacked her lips. "Sit down for a second," she asked him as he began to maneuver her over the desk. "I need to ask you something." They went to the couch in the back of the room and sat. Megan had a faraway look in her eyes and said noting for the time being, and he allowed her her pensive silence. He refrained even from touching her, not wanting to distract her; neither did he use his powers to read her mind. He often used this power, but less and less with people he was close with.

"Leila and I have been talking a lot recently. We've been discussing the future." There was a lump in her throat, and the words were coming with difficulty. "We're going to live together; she's giving up her lease and moving in with me."

"Great!" he enthused, "I know you're going to make each other very happy."

She smiled and continued, "We have a favor to ask. It so weird. You've already done so much for me--for the both of us, I mean."

"You seem very nervous, and that's unlike you," he said as he stroked her cheek. "Ask me. I might say yes, I might say no, but you seem like you're gonna explode if you don't ask."

She exhaled sharply before going on. "I guess it all started last weekend. Leila just found out that she had gotten in to medical school."

"Really? That's great. Where?"

"Right here. I mean, in Valhalla, at the hospital where she works. She'd applied last year, and was on the waiting list, and she just got the letter on Saturday. And because of that great change coming to her life we got to talking, and after hours and hours of it we decided that I was going to quit my job and have a baby."

"Uh, and is that where I come in?"

"We went over this a hundred times. We thought about an Asian father, so the baby would be half and half, but we decided in the end to ask you first. Hell, if you are OK with it maybe Leila could get pregnant later." She giggled.

"Look," she went on, somewhat nervously, "We're not asking you to make a lifelong commitment here. The two of us could raise it by ourselves, and we would tell him or her only what you would want us to tell." Her anxiety was beginning to get the best of her, and she was nearing a breakdown.

Alan leaned to her and pulled her close, kissing her cheek and ear. She threw her arms around him and began to weep quietly. He ran his hands over her body, smoothing her clothes, calming her. 

She looked up at him teary-eyed, "So?" she sniffled.

His mouth was right up against her ear, yet his voice was so soft she had to strain to hear him. "I would be honored," he whispered.

"What does that mean?" she sniffed. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes," he whispered, as he licked her ear again, eliciting a lovely groan from the redhead. She was so happy she began crying again, almost shattered in her relief. He held her tight for a few more minutes, and Megan began to calm.

"When do you want to do this?"

"Today. I'm ovulating," she looked up at him with eyes hopeful and slightly moist.

He checked his watch. "I have to be at rehearsal soon. I'll tell you what, we'll do it once now, and then we'll go back to your place and fuck again."

Megan lit up like a Christmas tree, and then sunk to her knees and bared his cock for another round of sucking. She took him into her hot mouth, and glued her eyes to his. She really was extraordinarily sexy, he thought as she sucked him, losing himself in the beauty of her shimmering green eyes.

Fully erect, he pulled her up and laid her on the couch. She groaned at his penetration, her eyes still locked to his. The overwhelming surge of happiness she felt was not because of Alan's power; she was thrilled at the prospect of motherhood, and supremely content that her baby would be his. As her orgasm approached she grabbed him around the neck and pulled him into a kiss, her moans echoing in his mouth. She spasmed upon feeling his seed spilling into her; she knew. She knew she was pregnant. Alan collapsed over her, his weight pressing down on her, and she held him to her body tightly, whispering thankful babblings to him.

As he rose she blew him a kiss, but when he tried to help her up she demurred, wanting to remain in place so his swimmers could make their way to her ovum. She was covered in sweat, and in the dim light of the room (the shades were, of course, drawn down) she shined. Alan dressed for the commencement rehearsal, coming back to the couch and leaning over her to kiss her before he left. 




Alan Ch. 12



* * *

The run through of the ceremony went smoothly, and before he knew it he was in his car headed over to Megan's--now Leila and Megan's--house. Megan had surprised him, showing up at the rehearsal midway through and taking her place among the faculty. The looks she shot him were anything but discrete, but nobody had noticed, so no harm, no foul. Anyway, tomorrow was her last day, so she could be as bold as she pleased, he reasoned.

Entering the house he was grabbed by Leila. Megan had called her from school, and she had taken the afternoon off to be with them. She shoved her tongue down his throat and tasted him ravenously. Alan expected further attack, but instead she broke away, and taking him by the hand led him to the bedroom.

Megan was on the bed, wearing a pink frilly nightgown, a short one which barely reached mid-thigh. Leila slowly undressed him, but when Alan reached down to unzip her skirt she stopped him.

"This is about Megan, not me."

After she had removed all of his clothes she crawled across the bed to her lover and pulled the nightgown off. She sat Megan up and got in behind her. Alan got on the bed and moved in between Megan's legs, which were in between Leila's legs. Slowly, very slowly, he penetrated Megan's womanhood. Megan moaned; Leila sighed, her eyes sparkling up at Alan.

"Do it, Alan. Fuck her. Make us a baby. Put our baby into her." Over and over, as if a mantra. Periodically Leila leaned forward to kiss him, exploring his mouth with her tongue hungrily, then starting again on her chanting.

Megan seized up in orgasm, her body giving a great heave towards Alan, and he again loosed his seed into her fertile womb. Leila placed a pillow under Megan's ass and snuggled up next to her.

"Sorry I can't stay," Alan said from the doorway, fully dressed. "My parents are taking me out to dinner in honor of my graduating," he explained.

Leila walked him to the door. "I'm taking the day off to come to graduation," she told him after a long and passionate kiss.

* * *

Alan and his classmates sat on the stage. Dr. Worthington, the principal, called each student forward one at a time to confer their diplomas. Alan also received an award for special school service for his excellent stewardship of the school newspaper. He saw his parents beaming from the field.

He would miss high school, he decided. It was a pretty good run, better of late since he had received the Seed of Hyrcanus. He milled around the grounds afterward, talking to friends and faculty; he was most pleased when he bumped into Geoff Sherman and his bully buddies, and tickled when Geoff's dad tried to rope his son into posing for a picture with him. Geoff blanched and mumbled an excuse, and Alan moved on, noting that Walker Jackson still limped from their encounter in the bowling alley parking lot.

In high school Alan was something of an important person. He hadn't really thought of himself like that until he was called up for his award. In college he would just be another freshman in a much larger pool of students, not a senior or a student leader. It was a slightly melancholy transition, he mused.

Next Chapter: Flashback to prom night. More summer fun.



Alan Ch. 13



Promenade yer Partner, Round and Round...

"You look fantastic! Stunning!"

"Thanks, Mom," Pauline answered, blushing furiously. It was the afternoon before the prom, and Pauline was at the salon. Mrs. Van Devanter had been ferrying her daughters about town all morning and afternoon. Kate was at the dressmaker's, which was Pauline's next stop. Mom was going to take Pauline there and drop Kate off in exchange back at this salon.

Her usually billowing light-brown hair was up, held by lavender ribbons and the better half of a can of hairspray. Her fingernails and toenails were lacquered to match the hair ribbons. After some last-minute hemming and stitching her dress would be ready, also the same color. She was giddy with anticipation.

This was all a bit new for her; she had never been a satin and lace type of girl. No tomboy her, but she hadn't really been one to doll it up very often. She preferred comfort to coture; not that she was ever indifferent to her appearance. Rather she strove to find the happy medium between form and function, favoring nice skirts and pants, pretty blouses, eschewing short skirts and clingy tops. But for the prom she went whole hog: a spaghetti-strap dress, open-toe shoes (dyed to match), this ultra-feminine hairstyle, and the nail polish.

* * *

"Gorgeous! Absolutely Gorgeous!" James Van Devanter enthused as his two daughters came down the staircase. Pauline was resplendent in her lavender dress. It was low-cut and tapered to the waist. The bottom was separate, a knee length skirt under a pale translucent ankle length piece which sort of resembled a sarong. It wasn't your typical prom dress, and that was what she wanted. Kate was wearing a more traditional dress, a pastel yellow off the shoulder number, tailored up top to hug her lush figure, cut very low in the back, the hem coming to her mid-calf. Her hair was French braided and up, two yellow bakelite barrettes holding them in place. Mrs. Van Devanter had helped them with their makeup, and they both seemed to glow. Their dad was clicking away like a half-crazed paparazzo.

Alan and Chad, waiting in the living room, came out upon hearing the fuss. They had spent the last twenty minutes or so successfully avoiding conversation. Chad had barely said two words to him since that day, weeks ago, when he confided in his counselor. After he pissed himself a few times he realized that it was pointless to try to tell anyone about what was happening between Kate and Alan. The most embarrassing time was when he had shown up at the Van Devanter's knowing that Kate was not home. The reason he was sure Kate wasn't home was because he had just dropped her off at Alan's.

* * *

It was a late-May Saturday night, the weekend before Memorial Day weekend. They had been out on a date, a teen social at the country club; Kate's cell phone rang just as he had returned from the punch bowl with two glasses. Kate was on her cell phone, and he could tell, just from her side of the conversation to whom she was speaking.

"Yes, Master." Pause. "i'll be right over, Master." Pause. "Yes, he's right here. We're still at the club, Master." Pause. "No wonder You and Pauline left early." Giggle. "i'm sure she was good, she is my kid sister, after all." Throaty laugh, then calmly, "Yes, Master, we came in his car." Pause. Giggle. A look from her which made him feel like the lowest form of life on the Planet Earth, followed by a short--yet derisive--laugh, which he was sure came at his expense. "i'll see You soon." She hit the end button, terminating the call.

"Pity," she said to him, sighing wistfully. "I was hoping to stay till the end of the dance, but when He calls, I go." She picked up her purse and started out. Try as he might he couldn't resist following. As he passed the entrance he spied the trashcan near the door. All he had to do was throw his car keys in the trash! Then he wouldn't be able to take his girlfriend over to Alan Marshall's house, and that turd wouldn't fuck his pretty little Kate. In a way he would be protecting her! 

He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the keys, but for some reason he was unable to grasp them. Meanwhile he was still incapable of ceasing his forward progress behind Kate. He kept jabbing his hand into his pocket and coming up empty. Fuck! Goddamn hands! What the fuck is going on?

Kate was waiting at his car, tapping her foot impatiently. When he was within five yards of his Beamer he was at last able to fish his keys out of his pocket, but instead of heaving them into the bushes he just pressed the electronic button on the fob to pop the locks. Kate jumped in and fastened her seatbelt, but he seemed rooted in place, trying with all his will to keep himself from even opening the door on his side. She upbraided him, and his resolve crumbled.

It was a short drive to Marshall's house, and he attempted to talk her out of going, but she was having none of it. As he turned onto Alan's block he was shocked to look at her. She was touching up her makeup in the vanity mirror on the visor, and he could see her quivering in anticipation, her shoulders vibrating, making it harder to work the lipstick across her mouth evenly. He cut the engine and gave her a doleful look. "Kate, baby, are you sure you want to go in there? You don't even know what sick and perverted things he's going to do to you."

She laughed. The sound of it cut through him like a rusty chainsaw. It was a cackle of pure contempt, and it tore him up inside.

She opened the door and started up the path. "Let's go, my Master wants you to come in, too." she ordered, and he found himself following her again, right into the house so he could face Alan Marshall, his humiliation personified. The haughty puke opened the door as she approached; he was wearing slippers and a bathrobe.

In the living room Kate fell to her knees, kneeling before him as if he were a god, which to her he was. By merely prostrating herself before him she was becoming aroused, her nipples popping out to press against the fabric of her dress, her shaven slit slowly secreting juices, the labia becoming sensitive and puffy. She nuzzled her face in Alan's groin, enjoying the feel of the soft material of his robe against her cheek. Alan reached down and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, and it fell to her waist. Her gold nipple rings sparkled in the light. He parted his robe and she mewled as he held the head of his cock against her bright red lips, smearing his manhood with her lipstick. She kissed the head lovingly, and then licked around the crown, savoring the taste of him, greedily lapping up his pre-come.

Her eyes had been closed, and she had all but forgotten that Chad was still here when he spoke.

"Alan, please," he whined. "Do I have to stay here and watch this shit?"

"Yes. Shut up. I'll let you go soon."

Kate's oral skills were fantastic. She had him fully hard in almost no time, and in just a few minutes was taking him to the hilt, her throat stretched out around him, her lips nestling in his pubic hair as she moved her face forward and back on his shaft. She was slobbering profusely and making obscene slurping noises, a curtain of saliva on her chin and all around her mouth, glistening by the light of the room, and little droplets of it falling to her chest. Periodically she would release him and rub his shaft across her cheeks, over her neck, and she even leaned forward to swish her glossy black hair around his crotch; but these were just respites, times she needed to catch her breath before swallowing him whole again.

Alan moved back to the sofa and pulled Kate along with him. He sat, and she crawled up onto the couch on all fours, perpendicular to him, her mouth quickly covering his erection again. He reached under her to rub her pussy.

"You're incredibly wet. More than usual," he commented wryly.

She lift her mouth off of him, gasping because she had been deep throating him. "i like it when you make him watch," she chuckled.

"And you like it when I use you, don't 

you?" This was for Chad's benefit, for he had no doubts that she liked his use of her. She demonstrated that every time, in both word and action.

He pulled her up so she was sitting next to him. "Tell him," he said softly. She looked up at her master with questioning eyes, so he elaborated, "Tell Chad why you ditched the dance and came here at my order."

She looked over at the pathetic form of her quote-unquote boyfriend. He was slouched in a chair, facing them, his eyes downcast. Alan put one arm around her shoulder, the hand hanging down and rolling her nipple and ring through his fingers, causing her to pant gently as she continued to answer Alan's questions.

"Because You wanted me to come here. Because You're my Master."

"But why, my little slut," he pressed on, and Chad noticed her quiver when he called her that, "Why did YOU want to come here tonight?"

"i don't understand," she whimpered, her upper lip tremulous. "i came here because You wanted me to. Isn't that the right answer?" She shifted a bit in her seat so she could look at Alan, so she could see His face and gauge His reaction. She wanted so badly not to displease Him.

"Did you want to come here because of the sex?" he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, not a decibel more than was needed so that Chad could hear from where he was seated.

"Yes," she exhaled, beaming at him.

"But there's something more, isn't there?" he asked, leading her on.

"i, i don't know. i think so. B-but i'm not sure what You are trying to get me to say, Master. Please! Just tell me the words and i'll say them." She began to sob lightly, and He took His hands from her tits and hugged her to Him, holding her firmly in His arms and caressing her gently until she calmed.

"When I called you just now, when you were at the dance, did it excite you?"

She nodded.

"When did you begin to get wet?"

"Almost immediately," she cooed. His gentle hands on her body were very relaxing and comforting.

"But you said before that you like coming to me, that you liked serving me, for the way I touch you and use you. Right?"

"Uh huh." A glimmer of comprehension lit in her eyes.

"But you were already becoming aroused. Before I touched you. Before I used you." He was running a hand through her long and silky black hair, and it made her feel extraordinarily kittenish.

"Yes, my pussy was already dripping wet by the time we got to his car." She was going to go on, but he stopped her. He wanted to lead her to water, not just give her the map.

"Why? Why were your juices flowing even before you arrived here and I started using you?"

"Uh, anticipation?"

"OK. Any other reason?" he smiled down on her.

She thought for a bit, chewing her lips as she worked through the problem.

"Um, reliving memories. You know, thinking back to the other times You used me. 

"OK, another reasonable answer. But concentrate now. Let's review recent events: One, I called you. Two, you agreed to come her right away. Three, your pussy immediately began to get wet, and before very long was completely soaked." He paused to let her reflect on that. "What were you doing when you pussy began to moisten?"

"i was walking to the car."

"But in a broader sense, what were you doing right then and there. Don't answer right away, give it some thought." She went back to absently chewing her lower lip. 

Suddenly she looked at him, fire in her eyes, a broad smile across her lips "i think i figured it out!" she squealed excitedly.

"Go on," he prodded bemusedly.

"i was following Your orders, Master. That's what turned me on! i was OBEYING You."

Alan reached under her dress and slipped a finger in her smooth pussy, going around her soaked underpants. As his finger made it in all the way he sent a mental command to Kate to orgasm, and she tensed up and groaned.

"By George, I think she's got it!" Alan exclaimed with his best Rex 

Harrison imitation, and she laughed despite the climax still raging through her. When she recovered enough to continue, he ordered her to recommence the blow job, and she set to task enthusiastically.

She could tell Alan was nearing the end of his string. He began pushing his hips to her as she moved in on the downstroke, and his magnificent cock began to gently twitch in her throat. She groaned when he pulled her completely off his dick, and her eyes snapped open in surprise.

"Why?" she half-moaned, half-whined.

"You question me?"

"No, Master. Sorry, Master," she whimpered.

"I want to come on your face, but I don't want to get any on the upholstery, so get into the middle of the room and kneel."

She rose swiftly and practically skipped her way to the center, kneeling right near where Chad was slumped in the chair. Alan held back, waiting for her to take position. "She's so damned cute," he thought to himself. He held still even longer, watching her in the dim light of the room. Her shiny body shook gently as she kneeled. Her knees dug unto the deep carpeting of the den's floor, and thereafter her ass came to rest on the back of her nicely toned calves. When she had completely settled down her excitement overcame her, and Alan watched as she began to ever so lightly bounce her ass up and down over her long legs. "Ready?" he asked gently, his eyebrow arched.

"Always," she sighed wistfully.

"What are you ready to do?" he asked her, his voice becoming louder, more masterful.

"Ready, Master, to receive Your come on my face?"

"Is that all, slut?"

"No, Master, No! i'm ready, always ready to obey You!" she groaned, her bouncing increasing in pace.

"Why? Why are you always ready to obey?"

"Because, because, BECAUSE i LOVE IT! i LOVE OBEYING YOU, MASTER!" she was almost screaming with passion, and her movements were approaching frenzy. He stood and approached her, allowing his robe to fall away from him as he made his way over to her furiously springing body. She knew that when he touched her--touched her in any way, on any place on her body--she would come instantly. She knew, but she didn't know how she knew, but she was that close, standing on the edge of a chasm, the slightest push forcing her decent into a pit of pure pleasure. He stood before her and she reached up to take his cock in her hands. As she touched him she knew she was right, and exploded in orgasm.

"Aiyeeee," she screamed. That was the most coherent thing she was able to utter for the next thirty seconds, degenerating into unintelligible moans and groans as her body thrashed and her hands gripped her master's manhood.

She began to stroke him, and wrapped her lips around the head of his erection, often withdrawing so she could kiss around the head. Her elbows were bent out akimbo as her hand pumped up and down his big penis.

"Yes, Kate. Pump it. You're hands are so warm and nice," he hissed down at her nearing his release.

"Shoot your come at me, Master. i want it so much! Soak me. Please. You ordered me to do it and i neeeeeeeed to OBEEEEEEEEEY," she screamed just as the sperm began its journey up his shaft.

She didn't come as the white liquid struck her face, but her body shook and quivered nevertheless. Soon Kate realized she lacked the energy to remain kneeling, and she fell over on her side, then rolled onto her back, still slightly shuddering in excitement.

Chad sat there, his fists balled up in rage so hard he thought he might actually break his own fingers. She's such a fucking slut, he thought. Then it hit him. She's not really a slut, not in the most basic sense of the word. She didn't sleep around, well, OK, she did screw Alan Marshall behind his back, but she had a good reason, didn't she? I could never get her off, so she had no choice, right? And she's really has been faithful to Alan, right? Well, that was certainly a mark in her favor, wasn't it?

He shook himself. What the fuck am 

I thinking? Why am I trying to rationalize her disgusting behavior?

He began to weep from his confusion. Alan looked at him because he had heard the sobbing. This is so fucking humiliating! Then, a change. Whatever force that was holding him here had evaporated. Chad stood and slowly backed out of the room. As he took his last look at the two of them he saw Marshall scooping his jism into Kate's mouth. She licked it off his fingers with enthusiasm.

"Mmmm...come," Alan deadpanned, doing a fairly good Homer Simpson impression, and she giggled, the sound of which was still echoing in his ears as he closed the front door of Alan's house behind him.

* * *

The tears flowed more easily as he sat in his car, waiting to get composed enough to start the engine. It took a few minutes.

What to do? What to do?

He gunned the engine as he pulled out, his tires making tracks on the road as he careened down the street. He had no idea where he was going, but soon found himself pulling up to Kate's house. Mr. Van Devanter let him inside.

"Hey, where's my daughter?" he asked the quarterback jocularly, a friendly punch to the arm.

"Good question, honey," Kate's mom agreed, laughing.

Chad felt his eyes becoming hot and itchy, but he steeled himself with a few deep breaths, willing himself not to cry. "I have to tell you something," he began ominously. 

This got their attention.

"Is Kate OK?" Helen Van Devanter gasped, worry evident on her face.

"I can explain," Chad whined, hesitation in his voice and manner.

"What, Chad? What?" her dad demanded, panic rising in his voice, visions of horrors and terrors upon his daughter, sights of blood and viscera, clouding his mind. "Is Katie hurt? Goddamnit, son, Speak!"

"No, it's nothing like that. I, I, I, I just dropped her off at the Marshall's. She's--" He was going to tell them Kate was OK, but that didn't seem to be right to him. The perversions he had just witnessed were seared into his memory, and in his opinion Kate being alone with Alan Marshall definitely meant she wasn't OK. "She's unhurt. B-but she and Alan--"

Mr. and Mrs. Van Devanter visibly relaxed at this news.

Oh my fucking god!

Oh my fucking god!

Oh my fucking god!

I have to get out of here, RIGHT NOW!

Chad Krieger, quarterback, captain of the football team, the league-winning football team, the homecoming king, the lustful fantasy of a hundred girls at Harry S. Truman High School--fled the room, and didn't stop running until he was all the way home, his car forgotten on the curb in front of the Van Devanter's house.

"Am I imagining things, or did he just pee his pants?" husband asked wife.

"I'm not sure, but he has seemed weird lately, hasn't he?" wife asked back, a tinge of wonder coloring her voice. "I'm going to call the Marshall's and see what's going on." She lifted the phone.

* * *

"Hello, Alan?"

"Hi, Mrs. V."

"Kate wouldn't happen to be over there with you, would she?"

"Yeah, but she can't come to the phone because I'm giving her a bubble bath. She's gonna sleep over."

"Uh, OK. Tell her goodnight from us, and I guess we'll see her tomorrow." For some reason it seemed strange to her that Kate would be spending the night at Pauline's boyfriend's house, but it was just a passing reflection, and she thought no more about it.

* * *

She looked great, he thought to himself as her dad kept snapping away. Pauline too, for that matter, though she wasn't really his type. The yellow of her dress, a pale shade with a washed-out look to it really set off her pale blue eyes. It was a bitter pill. Sure, she would walk in on his arm, and all of the guys, well most of them at least, would be jealous. But they didn't know. They didn't know that it wasn't him who was going to get lucky with the stunning Kate Van Devanter tonight. They didn't know that his ostensible girlfriend was the sexual toy of the turd standing less than ten feet 




Alan Ch. 13



away. The more he thought about it the better he started to feel. Yeah! 

They *didn't* know, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna tell them. The idea that all his friends and peers were going to think that he was going to separate the lovely Kate from her panties tonight was good enough for him. 

"BUCK UP," he ordered to himself. "ACT LIKE A MAN." He managed a smile at last.

Before he knew it they were in the limo. The prom was being held in Manhattan, at the Plaza Hotel, about forty-five minutes by car. Chad mostly kept quiet, staring out the window. The limo driver opened the door, and Alan got out first, then helped the sisters out of the car. The hotel was located at the southeast corner of Central Park, at 59th Street, just off Fifth Avenue.

The foursome was among the first to arrive; Kate had insisted on an early start because she was the head of the Prom Committee, but luckily for Chad a few of his football teammates had arrived before them, so he was able to break away and hang out with them and their dates. It was a blessing almost, that Kate was chairing the committee. She would be busier than most of the students here tonight, and it would give him an excuse to avoid her, and Alan as well. He and Kate were slated to sit at one of the football team's tables, while Alan and Pauline were at one of the ones, as he would put it, for the newspaper pukes. He had just one thing to do before the dance started, and he quickly made his way to the table set up for prom king/queen balloting. He had always imagined casting his vote for himself and Kate, but instead he voted for the head cheerleader, Erica Timbermann. "Serves her right," he thought hatefully, hoping enough of his classmates would vote as he did, denying Kate the crown..

* * *

Alan, Pauline, and Kate each had a marvelous time. Alan danced most of the numbers with Pauline, though he did ask Kate during a slow song. Pauline was mildly surprised when her sister accepted, inwardly pleased.

Kate was thrilled; she had been hoping Alan would ask her. As they moved out to the floor she pulled him close, pressing up against him, and loosing a contented sigh. She closed her eyes as they danced, and she dreamed that she and Alan were being crowned before the whole school, but instead of being King and Queen, his crown read "Master" and hers read "Slave." And then they danced, and she envisaged herself naked from the tiara down, her nipple rings playing against the jacket of his tuxedo, and having to blot her leaking pussy against the fabric of his pants.

Their dance was the last one before the dinner was served. Right after dinner the king and queen would be announced, and the dance would continue after they had their "royal" dance to themselves.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Dr. Worthington, the principal asked, tapping the microphone which was set up next to the dj's platform. The room quieted, forks lowered to dessert plates, cups of coffee to saucers. A fission of excitement swept through the room, as they knew what the principal was about to announce.

"Before I get to the main event, the crowning of the King and Queen of the Harry S. Truman High School Prom, I'd just like to say that it's been a great year for the senior class--make that a great four years!" The room erupted with applause.

"I hope you will join me in thanking Mr. McDaniel and Ms. Lewittes, faculty advisors for the class of '02. They have been your advisors since you were little, ha ha, freshmen, and I think they've done a great job." More applause as the pair of teachers stood.

"Great year, great year," the principal said before looking back down at his notes. "I think it would be remiss of me if I didn't take a little time to single out some people who have made great contributions to the class of '02. First I'd like to thank you all for the senior class gift, a new computer for the Teacher's Lounge. It will be a welcomed tool for us to use in preparing to teach the future classes of what is soon to become 

your alma mater. Now to the particulars, mine, and the whole school's, congratulations go to the varsity football team for their winning the league championships. I'd like for the team members here in attendance to please stand." The team stood, basking in their admiration.

"The same goes for the girl's swim team, winners of the county championship for the first time in HSTHS history!" The swimmers rose and took their kudos from the prom-goers.

"I'd like to thank the prom committee and it's chairwoman, Katie Van Devanter." Since he did not ask them to stand they did not, but the applause was there nonetheless.

"Congratulations to Anne Sweeny and the rest of the Annual's staff. I'm sure I say this every year, but this year's yearbook was the best ever!"

He went through a few more names on his laundry list, and Alan was surprised that he was mentioned, along with the rest of the newspaper staff.

"And now the announcement you're all waiting for: Prom King and Prom Queen. The votes have been tabulated and here are the results." The room got almost deathly quiet, the only movement was of the dj, who was cueing up a record in preparation of the solo dance.

"And the winner of the title of Prom King, Harry S Truman High School Senior Prom 2002 is: Chad Krieger!" The quarterback rose, very pleased. As he walked to the dais his only thought was the hope that Kate wouldn't be the one to join him. Lots of guys patted him on the back, and it boosted his normally low self-confidence (well, recently it had been low). Mrs. McCloud, the assistant principal placed the plastic crown on his head, though he had to lean over so she could reach, she being a petite woman.


"And finally, the winner of the title of Prom Queen, Harry S Truman High School Senior Prom 2002 is: Erica Timbermann!" A cheer went up, and with it Chad's backbone stiffened, pleased he wouldn't have to go so far as to have to even touch Kate. Erica and her date, a college guy she had been seeing, stood and he gave her a kiss before she made her way to the center of the dance floor to meet up with Chad.

"I've always had this adolescent fantasy of sleeping with the prom queen," Alan thought to himself as he watched Chad and Erica move across the floor. "Hey, what the hell? I mean I am an adolescent after all!" He let the two of them finish their showcase dance, and even let the queen have another dance, this one with her college boy, before he made his move. Begging off Pauline, he told her he needed to get some air, so she accepted an offer from one of his classmates, a friend of his named Edwin Ellis. "Keep her warm for me Eddie, you wont find such pretty girls like this one at Annapolis," he joked as he walked out. Pauline and Ed laughed.

* * *

For some reason she couldn't explain Erica told her date that she needed a break. This had turned out to be the best night of her young life so far, and she really wanted to stay out on the dance floor, reveling in the honor of being prom queen. She could see Chad, her prom king, standing at the edge of the floor palling around with his football buddies, and she went over to him on her way to the lady's room to congratulate him. As she was at the edge of the ballroom she saw that Wally, her date, was dancing a fast number with Kate Van Devanter, and though it was fitting that her guy was dancing with Chad's girl. "I can't believe I beat Kate Van Devanter out for prom queen. And by just one vote, no less!"

The lady's room was empty. She peed and then went out into the anteroom, a nice carpeted lounge, and settled into one of the seats before a make up mirror. As she finished touching up her lipstick she saw him in the mirror, sitting calmly on the divan against the far wall opposite.

"Jesus," she gasped, "What are you doing in here, Alan?" Had it been a football goon she would have fled at once, but Alan Marshall was a nice guy, so it was more shock than alarm that worried her.

"You look great, Erica," he said evenly.

"Thanks," she blushed, "Come on, I'm about to head back. Let's go together, and I'll let you dance with me." Alan in the women's bathroom was really weirding her out. He rose and crossed the room to her, and she held out her hand, assuming he was offering to help her out of her seat, but instead he grasped her at the wrist and leaned over and kissed her. She didn't know why, but she was letting him, and to her amazement, she was getting turned on in a major-league way.

"This is so wrong," she hissed as they broke apart, "You have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend," she managed to get in before he again covered her mouth with his. She surrendered to the kiss, he ass squirming in her chair.

"This is so wrong," she repeated.

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?"

"Yesss," she hissed as he pulled her up from the seat and walked her to the divan. "Ohmigod, Alan, what if someone comes in and catches us?"

"I locked the door." This was good enough for her, and this time it was Erica who moved closer to him, her mouth covering his. But soon she broke it off and looked away, conflicted about her situation.

"I can't," she sobbed, her chin sinking to her chest, eyes closed tightly. Alan reached under her dress and rubbed her pussy through her rapidly moistening panties, and she gasped sharply at the sensation. "I can't. You don't understand. I want to, but I can't." She sniffled. "I really really want to, Alan, but I can't."

"But Erica, you're the prom queen, and I want you. Can't you feel it? Why? Why can't you?" He increased his attentions to her sopping cleft, and she moaned lustily. Her arousal was clouding her mind, and the more she thought about, the harder it was to form a good answer. Still, she persevered.

"Don't, ah ah ah, don't make me say it. Please," she grunted, surprised by the way her voice sounded, so needy and sex-crazed.

"I'm sorry, my queen, but I must insist. Why?"

"I'm a v-v-v-v-v," she whimpered.

"A what?" he teased. He slipped a finger around the edge of her panties and into her. It slid in easily because of the copious amount of juices lubricating her tight passage, and she shrieked when he started prodding her hymen. She thought he was going to pop her cherry right then and there, and was relieved when he relented his assault against her thin membrane

"You're a virgin, oh, well, that's a big deal" he said with a note of concern in his voice, though she couldn't tell he was feigning it.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she cried in relief as he withdrew his finger. "What, what are you doing?" she bawled softly. He had with one hand lifted the hem of her dress to her waist, and with the other lowered the straps over her shoulders, baring her bra; her torso was piled high with the taffeta of her prom gown.

"Shhhh, don't worry, Erica, I'm going to take care of you real well." 

She believed him. 

Pulling her up her dress fell off as she stood upright. Before she knew it she was at the divan. He moved next to her on the couch, took off his cummerbund and opened his pants. She gasped in surprise at his girth. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, having never seen one in person before. "Are you nervous," he asked her. She nodded, not trusting her voice. "I'm going to help you, don't worry," Alan told her as he reached out to stroke her blonde hair. "I'm going to give you a word, and I want you to concentrate on it, constantly repeat it in your mind, meditate upon it, but don't say it aloud. OK?"

"OK," Erica whispered in reply. "What is the word?"

"Surrender."

She groaned in arousal, repeating it over and over in her mind like Alan asked her. Her body felt like it was humming, tingly all over. Surrender. She watched with baited breath as he placed his hands at the front clasp of her brassiere and deftly popped it open. Surrender. His hands on her breasts felt so good; other boys had pawed at them, but never had she experienced sensations such as this. 

Surrender. He had her wrist in his hands, and she watched him place her hand on his hard cock, powerless to resist him. Surrender. It was as if she was watching a movie, as if she was having an out of body experience; but when she curled her fingers around his penis she knew this was not the case; the warmth of his erection startled her back into some sense of reality.

Surrender.

"Are they all that big?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, so low in fact that she had to strain to hear her own question above the pounding of her heart. Surrender. He laughed. Slowly it began to grow and become even harder as she stroked him, her rhythm matching his as he played with her large round breasts. Surrender. Surrender. Surrender.

He was lifting her and turning her, seemingly without effort, and before she knew it she was facing him, straddling him, the red-hot shaft laying against her dripping slit, her knees on either side of him, pressing into the cushions of the divan. Surrender.

"What if I don't want to do this?" Surrender.

"You don't?" he asked, a look of genuine surprise across his face.

She bit her lip. Surrender. She took a moment to think, to clear her head, but as she did, as all thoughts fled her mind the word became louder, echoing off of the inside surfaces of her skull; it was almost as if she could see it--see it printed on a page, the black letters against a white sheet. S-u-r-r-e-n-d-e-r.

Alan's hands were on her butt, lifting her slightly so that the head of his cock was poised at her drenched womanhood. Surrender. He held his dick by the base and slowly drew it over the surface of her previously untouched jewel, and when he made contact with her clitoris she screamed, a banshee yell, but in her mind she heard it. SURRENDER!

"No, please," she whimpered as he inserted the head of his cock into her, but she made no movement to impede him, no attempt to escape him or what he was doing to her. Surrender. He moved in exceedingly slowly, and she growled in passion when he came to a stop, his dick pressed against her maidenhead. Surrender.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked forlornly, small tears running down her cheeks. Surrender.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm waiting for you, lovely Queen Erica." Surrender.

"Huh?" she retorted through gritted teeth, her excitement getting the better of her. Surrender. "What are you waiting for me to do, Alan?" Surrender.

"That's obvious, isn't it?" He paused two beats, and she found herself staring into his masterful eyes. Surrender. "I'm waiting for you to..." Pause for effect. "...Surrender."

She groaned, and to her amazement her pussy spasmed around the end of his cock, her walls clenching tightly around him, and spurt of juices gushed out of her, wetting his erection. He felt her start. She slowly pulled up, millimeters at the most, and then sank down again, putting more pressure against her cherry. Another attempt, more pressure. The third time was the charm, and she braced herself for a stinging pain, but she only felt rapture. She had done it. She had surrendered.

"Oh My GOD!" Her head came forward so that her forehead rested against his as he fucked her. She was tight. Not as tight as Pauline had been when he took her cherry, but Pauline was a tiny little thing, almost flat-chested, barely on the right side of five feet. Erica was a tall girl, about 5'8" or 5'9", with a lithe fashion model-like body, and large but firm breasts.

"Mmmmm, yeah," she exclaimed, a smile finally creeping across her lips. She looked straight into him, her blue eyes sparkling. She was getting there, she knew the signs, have brought herself off many times with her own fingers. "Oh, Alan, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."

"Just go with it, baby, surrender to the pleasure." But by the time he had finished the sentence she had come. It was that word. She had forgotten it over the last few minutes, but hearing him say it brought it all back to her, and her 

body seized, and her back arched back until she was perpendicular to him, her back resting on the tops of his thighs. Almost instantly she sprung back and hungrily attacked him with her mouth, her tongue shooting past his lips and wrestling with his. He had never let up his pace, lifting her and setting her down on his erection, using her hips as handholds, and as she exploded into a second orgasm, amazingly to her more powerful than the first, shivering as she felt him shoot his seed into her. Exhausted, she lowered her head and rested it against her shoulder. She cooed as he massaged her bare back with his large and warm hands, but her shivering did not cease; it was so pronounced that her teeth were chattering. Alan put his arms all the way around her and hugged her tightly, and her trembling subsided quickly. In a few moments she was composed enough to sit up, and she let out a squeak when she felt his softening shaft slip from her. She giggled, and looked at him again.

"Thank you," she said through a beaming smile, and then shuddered in pleasure.

He lifted her off of his lap and then stood and help her up. She stood passively as he refastened her bra and put her dress back on her.

"Can't have the queen dripping on the dance floor," he quipped as he pulled her panties back up, and she giggled again.

"Oh my, how long have we been in here? There must be a huge line out there for the bathroom!"

Alan glanced at his watch. "No, just ten minutes."

Her eyes widened. It had felt like hours!

"I'll go first, and you follow in a minute or two," he told her. She nodded.

"I can't believe what just happened. I can't believe what I just did," she thought in wonder.

Surrender.

* * *

"Miss me?" Alan asked Pauline as he returned to the ballroom.

"You were gone?" she joked.

"Yeah, just getting some air."

"Come on, loverboy, let's dance," she said as she stood on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek. They hit the floor.

After a few minutes Pauline pulled back slightly. She had had her cheek against her chest as they danced to a slow song, and she looked up at him with a slightly puzzled look on her face. "Why is she looking at you like that?"

"Who?"

"Erica."

"No idea," he said, pulling her back against him.

* * *

After many hours the prom finally had to come to an end. Alan, Pauline, Kate, and Chad went up to their rooms. As far as the Marshall, Van Devanter, and the Krieger parents knew, Alan and Chad would stay in one, and the sisters in the other. Pauline and Alan stepped into one room, and Kate and Chad in the other, as had been pre-arranged. Alan left the room almost at once, and knocked on the door of the other. Chad answered. Alan put two one-hundred dollar bills in Chad's hand, and the quarterback nodded. Ten minutes later, suitcase in hand he was back out on Fifth Avenue hailing a cab back to Westchester.

"I'm pooped," Pauline announced when he returned. "I know it's prom night and all, but could we not 'do it' tonight?"

"OK."

"Oh great, I just want to take a nice relaxing bath and get into bed. I can't wait to wake up beside you in the morning."

"That's a promise," he said seriously, and she laughed.

"Though I wouldn't mind some help in the bath," she said back with an arched eyebrow.

It was so romantic, she thought to herself. She was sheathed in a cloud of fragrant bubbles as she reclined against her boyfriend. He was lightly massaging her, and if he kept it up she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't fall asleep, right here in the tub. Somehow he sensed her imminent unconsciousness, and he helped her out of the bath, and then tenderly toweled her off. Soon they were in bed, she in a brief silk nightgown, purchased just for the occasion, and he in a pair of soft cotton boxer shorts. Mere minutes after her head hit the pillow she was out like a light. Alan waited fifteen minutes before getting up. Quietly 




Alan Ch. 13



he found his bathrobe in the dark of the hotel room, and then walked across the hall to be with Kate. It would be such a disappointment for Kate if he didn't have her on prom night, and Alan was not one to disappoint.

"Master!" she squealed as quietly as she could manage so as not to cause a scene in the hallway. He shooed her inside, and she pounced on him, wrapping her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. He threw her down on the mattress, and she laughed uproariously. They both peeled off their robes, and Alan laid down on the bed beside her.

She was amazed by the his tenderness that night. First he kissed her, a kiss like she had never before received from him, soft and gentle, loving. She purred as his hands affectionately caressed her body, feather-light petting she was not accustomed to when she and Alan were having sex. Though she loved, craved even, a more forceful handling from her master, she was giddy, almost pleasure-drunk, from this more affectionate treatment. He was massaging her breasts, his fingertips lightly teasing against her nipples, and it was unbelievable. Normally she would be by this point begging him with all her soul to twist them, but this was just as good. Normally she grunted and groaned at his touch, but tonight she sighed.

As much as she was aroused, she was confused. "Master?" she began to ask a question.

He shushed her, and continued his gentle manipulations.

"Master?" she began again, this time with fear in her voice.

He pressed his mouth right up against her ear. "Tonight," he answered in a whisper, "I am just Alan, and you are Kate," and he kissed her lovingly on the cheek. She laid flat on the bed while Alan positioned her legs apart. He hovered over her, and as he penetrated her he bent down to kiss her. Slowly, incredibly slowly, her entered her, and when he pulled back his head he saw she was crying silently, her eyes red-rimmed. Alan licked away her tears and kissed her again, all around her face. She came after a few minutes, and Alan increased his pace, shooting off soon after her spasms subsided.

"Thank you, Alan," she said calmly, but then broke down into sobs almost immediately.

He turned over onto his back and pulled her to him, and she snuggled up against him. He tested the waters, seeing if she was able to talk. "Kate?" he asked. "Katie?"

"Huh?" Her answer was almost inaudible.

"Can I ask you a question?" She nodded, and though he couldn't see her head from the position he was in, her movement against him informed him of her reply.

"Why, Kate? Why were you so mean to me for all those years?"

"I, uh, I don't know." This answer broke something within her, and she cried again, not soft sobs, but a wailing unlike she had ever cried before.

"No, Kate, please don't cry, please." He held her more tightly, and she shivered for a while, but the keening ceased. "You didn't like me for some reason. Something I did, or something I was?"

"I don't know, Alan. I don't know." She managed to hold herself together now. "I think I'm a mean person. I hardly like anyone at all. You were an easy target of, oh I can't think of the right word. Scorn."

"Why?"

"Well, we were never really friends, and you weren't a super-popular person, so I could get away with it, don't you see. It's easy to pick on a total loser, so where's the fun in that? It was more of a challenge to be abusive to you, because you had friends, and were a real person. Plus, you were around, but you weren't around. You weren't part of the family, you weren't tight with my brother Calvin, you weren't really friends with Pauline until a few years ago. Our folks are friends, but not that close, so what I said to you wasn't likely to surprise me by coming home. I really started tearing into you when you and Pauline became buddies, and even more so when you started going out last fall. It just perturbed me, but for the life of me I can't tell you why.

"Since that day in the newspaper 

office, you know, since we started, you know, I discovered something about myself. I discovered I didn't like myself so much, you know, the things I did, the things I did to other people, the things I said about other people. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been trying to change. I think it's something you've shown me. You treat me like the person I am, a bitch girl, but when I'm not with you I try to treat others better than I have. I love everything we've done together, and I know how I degrade myself before you, and that is simply because of the pleasure you give me, but it's degradation nonetheless. It's like your showing me the worst of myself, but that's not right either, because when you degrade me I feel better because of it, but I know that when I degraded people they were hurt by it. So I use that, I channel it. I am nicer to people, I think. I stopped gossiping, I stopped cutting people down. I stopped doing a lot of bad things. 

"Because of you. Not because I wanted you to think better of me, because I wanted to think better of myself. Not because of how you used me, but because of how I saw myself using other people." She paused and sniffled. "Tell me, Alan, please. Tell me I'm a good person."

Alan turned and kissed her forehead. "You are."

"I love you," she whispered. He hugged her even more tightly, but she sat up in bed. "And please, Alan, please don't tell me you love me too, because I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be loved, yet."

He pulled her back down to him and kissed her again, this time on the lips. "'Yet,'" he said. "One day, one day soon, you will be."

Next Chapter: Making Preparations



Alan Ch. 14



Making Preparations

People pointed and stared at him that night as he walked through the artisan's quarter of the capital. Many knew who he was, but even those that did not were transfixed by his regal bearing and the resplendent uniform of his attendants, two full centurions. It was not often that the vizier waded amongst the everyday folk of the city, and whispers and murmurings broke out as he passed each doorway. It had been many years since he ventured this way, still longer since he had made a night visit, and back then he was a figure off little note, a simple Magian soldier, the personal attendant to the crown prince, not a remarkable personage in his own right. He ignored the mutterings of his subjects, moving smartly towards his destination without pause. A few times people tried to entreat him, either inviting him in for some warmed wine and hot cider, or asking for his intervention in some legal dispute, for he was the penultimate legal authority of the empire, his rulings could only be overturned by the emperor, which they all knew had never happened yet. None took notice of the battered leather satchel held by one of the centurions, a non-descript valise made of goat leather, slung around his shoulder and resting on his left hip, rubbing against the dull metal of his bronze armor.

"You will wait here," he said curtly to the soldiers, though not without a tinge of politeness. "Allow no one to enter."

The right hands of each centurion hand came to his hip, and the older one gave over the satchel while their eyes scanned the street, taking in the movements of the people about, illuminated, such as it were, by small cooking fires scattered hither and yon. Each took up post on opposite sides of the arched doorway. The house/workshop they were now guarding was an anomaly for this section of the capital, made of stone and mortar, not the more inexpensive wood like most others on this block. Steam and smoke drifted up from the rear of the house, byproducts of the forge in the rear yard. A small boy, perhaps eight years old, perhaps younger, approached them from down the street and stopped in front of them, coming no closer than about ten cubits or so. He looked upon the pair with eyes full of fascination and awe. Since they did not address him he stepped no closer, a trace of fear ascending his spine.

Upon entering the house the vizier saw his host, Achnai the smith. He mixed not with workers and artisans much lately, but remembered dealings with this man in the past, in his former life, that of a soldier and a young courtier. Achnai, he knew, was superbly skilled at metalworking, and an honest man to boot. These were not the reasons he was chosen for this important task. The most important cause which drew the vizier to this place was the fact that Achnai was a foreigner, a descendent of the Israelites who were deported from their homeland, Judea, during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, and brought in exile to Babel. Though some of their number had returned to their motherland after Emperor Cyrus had issued a decree allowing it, many had remained. It was a good thing for the empire, too, for many of these Jews were skilled at useful trades, and their contribution to the empire was disproportionately high in comparison to their numbers. 

Recently over a shared cask of wine the vizier and Mecumman, the tax minister, had discussed the benefits of keeping these outsiders among their midst, and his companion had astounded him with tables of figures showing the amount of taxes paid by these people. By means of a double tax on Jews the empire was currently flush with gold and silver, money needed to support the armies of Devaryesh in their campaigns. This money was even being used to finance the construction of the new royal salt works at Pumbedita, a project dear to the heart of the emperor.

At the sound of his entrance the smith leapt to his feet. "Prime Minister, peace-be-to you!" he cried, "To what do I owe this great honor?"

"Peace-be-to-you, my old acquaintance. It has been a very long time since I have been here, Achnai." The vizier allowed his eyes to wander, scanning the interior of the workspace, and added warmly, "I see much has not changed in the shop since I last visited."

"Please, Minister, please, have a seat if you would. My furnishings are more humble than I am sure you are used to, but--"

"Gladly," the visitor replied, and with a stately gesture indicated to Achnai that he too could sit. Achnai pulled two wooden chairs up to the hearth which dominated the room, and than went to the cupboard for a flagon of wine and two earthenware mugs, placing the cups on the table, and the wine near to the fire so it would warm.

"You are alone?"

"Yes, Vizier. My wife is across town. My eldest daughter had a child last night, and my wife is still with her. Except for my apprentice, Shemaryahu, who is still in the shop, cleaning the tools, we are alone."

They chatted for awhile, waiting for the wine to become ready to drink. A chilling breeze came through the doorway, for there was no door, but rather a rug covering the entrance. Ko'un-Zir sized up his host one last time before deciding whether to entrust him with this important task. He had chosen this Hebrew because no Baal worshipper would take the assignment. These Jews paid no heed or fear to the cult of the empire, and so would be without qualms against destroying one of its sacred relics. Shemaryahu came shuffling into the room and placed some dishes on the table between then the two men, silently retreating at his master's nod of approval. 

Ko'un-Zir took a honeyed almond from the nearest bowl and placed it over his tongue. He liked these Jewish treats, a proclivity he kept secret from his fellow courtiers. The confectioners of his own people never made these nuts as well as the Jewish ones, skipping the brief brining the Jews gave their almonds before sweetening. Achnai poured the wine, and they got down to business.

"I have a commission for you," the vizier stated plainly.

"Yes?" the Hebrew smith answered, hoping that his guest didn't pick up the raw excitement in his voice. A royal commission! With the money he earned on this job he would be able to make a dowry for his last unmarried daughter; the very thought of it began to consume him.

"Two commissions, actually."

Achnai was ready to faint, but he composed himself.

The first commission was simple. The Prime Minister wanted a necklace made for his wife, a filigreed piece, similar to one he had seen in a market stall in Tyre. He brought a drawing on parchment, and Achnai perused it, named a reasonable price, six talents of silver over the cost of the gold, and they quickly agreed on a delivery date.

Ko'un-Zir and the smith drank to the agreement, but instead of continuing he became pensive, not relating the details of the second commission right away. He reached for the wine and poured another cup for himself, and then gestured to his host to ask if he needed a refill.

"Thank you sir, but I would rather pour my own," Achnai said apologetically to the second most powerful man in the empire, if not the world. This stirred up a memory in the vizier, and he realized that his host was following the Jewish custom which forbade them to drink wine which had been poured by a gentile. He was not upset, though he could understand Achnai's consternation; Ko'un-Zir felt ill, and it was showing on his face. Being in the presence of the Orb did that to him, but after tonight that danger would cease forevermore. He reached down under the table and pulled up the satchel, opening it and removing the silver sphere from within. Power radiated from it, though only the vizier, Vessel of the First Seed, felt its waves.

"I want you to melt this down," he said, almost grunting in discomfort as he spoke to the artisan. "I want you to melt this down, and then mix the slag with other metals, other silver ingots you have in your shop. The metal of this orb is exceedingly pure, and it must be mixed with less pure metals."

Achnai thought to ask why, but held his tongue. If the vizier wanted this done, his will be done.

"I will return in ten days. You will have by then melted down this orb, mixed it with baser metals, and created a replica of the orb for me. Oh, and don't forget the rings we discussed earlier." He reached to his waist and pulled a large pouch from his waistband, placing it on the table. "One hundred talents of silver," he stated, bemused by the widening of Achnai's eyes. Within thirty seconds he was gone, giving last instructions to the centurion who was taking up temporary post on the street in front of the Hebrew's home/workshop. As his distance from the Orbis Tertius increased he began to feel better, his powers returning.

* * *

The summer was in full swing. Alan worked at the local paper five days a week, rotating among departments every week or so. It was fun; he liked the people there, and the work was interesting. Both Kate and Pauline were working with non-profit groups which had

received generous grants from the Van Devanter Foundation, a charitable organization (similar to the Ford Foundation, but on a rather less grand scale) funded by the family fortune, and chaired by their dad. 

Pauline's job was in town; she was a camp counselor for a day camp for the children of illegal immigrant workers. There had been in the last few years some accidents involving some of these children. With no child care options, and without even the six hour respite school provided to their parents, immigrant children were often brought to work sites, not the best place for them. The local authorities, with a generous grant from the Van Devanter foundation, had established a day camp, two day camps, actually, for these kids. Pauline was assistant activities director for the girl's camp, and also group leader for the nine-year olds.

Kate worked in the city, driving in every day in her car; she was a staffer at a shelter for teen runaway girls. She had never done anything like this before, but just a little bored by the day camp work of previous summers she asked her dad to assign her something tougher, and though James was hesitant, he agreed in the end. Kate worked longer hours, often leaving for New York not long past 6am, and sometimes not returning before dark, though she only worked at the center four days a week.

She was more at ease with herself since that night in the Plaza. She was seeing a therapist, though not mentioning a word of what was happening between her and Alan. Mostly she was focusing on why she was not as nice to others as she could have been. Kate was healing.

Her encounters with Alan were as satisfying as ever, perhaps more so. There was a new tenderness about him; no longer did he verbally abuse her, and he even cut down on humiliating her so much she was thinking of asking him to keep at her a little, but she held her tongue, the submissive streak Alan had brought out in her holding her back. He almost never called her filthy names anymore (she sometimes missed that, too), and she had never called him "Master" since that night, prom night. This gave her the strength to do some things she didn't think she was ready to do.

First on that list was breaking up with Chad. She had kind of planned to just say goodbye to him when they went off to college, allowing nature to take its course, as it were. But right after the prom she called it off. When she threw the big graduation party at the family beach house on Fire Island Chad didn't even bother to show up, though she had invited him, and his new girlfriend, Suzy Cormier, her gossipy friend.

* * *

"Delivery for you," the mailroom guy said as he laid the package on Alan's desk. Alan was sitting in his cubicle at the newspaper culling wire service reports for possible use in the next edition of the paper. The newspaper mostly was concerned with local matters, and had no national or international correspondents. The only out-of-town reporter worked in Albany, and she was more of a stringer than a full-time staff member, so it fell to Alan, who at the time was rotating through the Nation/World desk, to keep his eye on the AP and bring "possibles" to the editor, Arthur Mahoney. He had spent a week at Obits, and another at the Local Business desk before coming to Nation/World. Though it was considered a very low-prestige part of the paper, he liked it, and liked working for Mr. Mahoney.

The Clarion was a "second paper." Most people who read it did so primarily for local coverage, and read the Times or the Wall Street Journal for their main source of national and international news. Arthur had explained to him that his was one of the least important desks at the paper because of this, but no self-respecting paper could call itself a newspaper without a minimum of world and national coverage.

Arthur Mahoney was a stereotypical newspaper man, right out of central casting, from the bottle of rye whiskey he kept in his desk drawer, to the hat with the press badge stuffed into the band which hung from a hook next to his desk. He never actually wore this hat, understanding that he would be laughed at if he dared, but Alan saw in the photos gracing his walls that he used to--including one of a very young Arthur Mahoney asking President Eisenhower a question at a news conference.

The paper closed at eight pm, and Mahoney rarely showed up before two in the afternoon. It was Alan's job to clip wire reports for him, and also to suggest headlines to go with them, if they didn't like the wire service ones. Arthur also wrote a twice weekly column on national affairs, and often had Alan doing some research for that. Alan was enjoying this assignment immensely.

"Delivery for you."

"Thanks," Alan replied. He tore open the box, a small FedEx mailer, and peered inside. There was a leather case, about for inches square and three inches tall, hinged at the back. He opened it and gasped.

It was a ring, a ring just like the one he had on his finger, just like the one Massimo wore as well. There was no letter or card either in the leather box or the mailer. Alan froze, not knowing what to think. He couldn't concentrate for more than the better part of an hour.

"Why would Jack send me his ring?" Alan thought to himself. It was the only explanation: the ring came from Massimo. No other person knew he was a Vessel of the Seed, and no other person knew about the rings, and what their significance was. He looked at the outside of the box and studied the waybill again. London. He knew no one in London. Sighing and shaking off his doldrums he turned back to his computer and began to once again scan the AP. The fourth story on the website caused a chill to run down his spine. The headline read "WORLD FAMOUS ARCHEOLOGIST DEAD IN LONDON HOTEL FIRE." He knew, without even clicking on the link to the story, he knew.

* * *

LONDON (AP) July 19, 2002

World famous archeologist Dr. Jean-Pierre Massimo died tonight in a three-alarm fire at the Hotel du Nord, one of this city's most expensive and exclusive hotels. The alarm was sounded shortly after 7 pm local time, and the fire department was on the scene within minutes. After getting the fire under control the firefighters made a room by room search of the hotel, and found Dr. Massimo near death in his suite shortly after 8 pm. He died in an ambulance on route to the hospital, and was declared dead at 8:23 pm.

Two firefighters were taken to a nearby hospital and treated for smoke inhalation; they were held for observation and the released after a few hours. The Swiss-born archaeologist was the only fatality. Police and Fire Department spokesmen were unwilling to comment at this time about the source of the blaze.

Professor Massimo was one of the giants of twentieth-century archeology; at the time of his death he was semi-retired, holding emeritus teaching positions at both Oxford University in Britain, and Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut. Most of his most famous field work was decades behind him. Born in Geneva in 1913, the son of a physician and an opera singer, in the first half of the twentieth century Jean-Pierre Massimo spent much of his time away from home, on digs in the Middle East. After taking a doctorate in from the University of Basel at the age of 24 he led famous expeditions near Baghdad and Damascus. Retiring from field-work he spent the next fifty years teaching at many of the world's leading universities including Harvard, Duke, Cambridge, the Sorbonne, Moscow University, McGill, Columbia, Hebrew University, and many others.

His wife, Emile, died of cancer in 1979, and he is survived by a son, Claude, a physician in Geneva, and four grandchildren.

* * *

"Shemaryahu, help me with this." Achnai was holding a pair of iron tongs and indicated to his assistant to grab another set. They lifted the ceramic pot from the huge oven and placed to on the stone workbench. It was heavy, filled almost to the brim with molten silver, and they rested their arms for a few seconds before reattaching the tongs to the hooks on either side of the pot and then took it into the workshop proper. 

They poured half of the molten metal into one pot, and the other half into another one. Achnai dipped a small iron ladle in each one and set some of the silver aside to make the rings. He instructed his aide to wait in the shop and skim off the impurities which would rise to the top of the pots while he set the next set of silver, the baser silver, into the oven. Shemaryahu waited for the impurities to rise, but they did not come. 

This was amazing silver, so pure, so beautiful. The young apprentice had never seen silver such as this, its purity unheard of. Furtively glancing to the oven room he figured he had time, so he took the ladle off the peg in the wall and dipped it into the pot of molten silver, then quickly poured it into a simple ingot die and tied the two halves of the casting device together with a short length of linen rope. By the time his master had returned the die was safely hidden the his cubby, lost among his tools and equipment. 

His training would soon come to an end, and he was already planning his own shop, so this silver would help him get started. It was crazy really. The Prime Minister had commissioned his boss to destroy and then forge one of the most sacred relics of the empire. Achnai had not recognized the orb for what it was, but he knew, having seen it paraded through the streets up to the temple during one of the religious parades. Crazy!

* * *

"Young man? Are you OK?"

The feminine voice shocked Alan back into reality. He had been sitting in his cubicle staring blankly forward for a while, and hadn't noticed anyone approaching. He was surprised to see who it was; the publisher of the paper, Jamie McConville stood before him, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Sorry, Ma'am. I spaced out for a minute."

"Quite alright," she said testily, as if to convey that she didn't really mean it. "Is Mr. Mahoney around?"

Alan didn't know where he was. Some days he drove into Manhattan and had long liquid lunches with some of his old-time pals, usually at a tavern near Times Square. Since Mr. Mahoney didn't carry a cell phone or pager Alan sometimes had to call the bar and ask the bartender to get him to the phone. A few days ago he didn't return before closing, and Alan had put the whole section together by himself. He couldn't quite remember what the old man had said before, whether he was going into the city this afternoon or not, so distracted was he by the wire service report. "I'm not sure, Ma'am. Could I help you with anything?"

Jamie McConville was a decent boss, as evidenced by her giving a position to a dinosaur like Mahoney, and another thing in her favor was that it was she, as publisher of the paper, that had awarded this prized internship to Alan, so he liked her. Many of the others on the staff, the real workers, not interns like him, did not share this opinion. Oh sure, Mahoney liked her, but that was because she viewed him as a newsroom legend, and was always nice to him, and furthermore Mahoney and her dad were correspondents together in the war, so she always thought of him as Uncle Art. One of her first acts since inheriting the paper upon the death of her father was to coax Mahoney out of retirement and hire him for the Clarion. She knew he wasn't a top-notch reporter anymore, but she liked the idea of having him around. He could always make her laugh, something she was in need of because of her numbing, soul-suppressing marriage.




Alan Ch. 14



"No, don't bother. If you see him or if he calls in from whichever bar he's wasting away the afternoon, tell him I need to talk with him." She turned and made towards her office. Alan admired the view, her tight skirt framing her butt nicely. He could only see a little of her legs under the length of her mid-calf skirt, but they looked nice.

Alan tried the bar in the city, but they told him that Arthur hadn't been in today. That finished, he took his package into the bathroom and entered a stall, locking the door. He placed the box on top of the toilet paper dispenser and sat on the seat. Before doing anything else he re-checked the packing material, looking for some sort of note or message, but found none. Examining the ring he saw that it was identical to his, and identical to the one Massimo was wearing at the time of their meeting. 

Now Jack was dead.

Conclusions?

This ring before him was most likely Jack's. But why would he send it away? Did he know he was going to die? Was he missing something? Was there a message that wasn't getting through? Should he put the ring on?

He looked down at his hand, considering this. He had on occasion tried removing his own ring, but each time the blinding glow and the roaring buzzing sound prevented him from leaving it off for more than a few seconds. He had noticed that no one else could sense the glow or buzz from it; he had tried removing it once in school, and though he had been affected by the attempt, no one else even turned around. In fact, no other person but Jack had even ever noticed that he was wearing it. No one ever asked him about it, or even commented on its appearance. Should he just put the new ring on next to his own? He tried that, Nothing happened.

"Well, here goes nothing," the mumbled to himself as he took his own ring off his finger. Instantly he knew something was different. In previous attempts his ring had began to glow at once, as he was slipping it down his finger, before it was even off. This time, nothing of the sort happened. He placed it in the box, next to Jack's (at least he thought it was Jack's) ring.

He reached into the leather box with his left hand, and took the new ring between his thumb and forefinger, placing it gingerly into his right palm.

It began to glow faintly, not the blue glow he was accustomed to, but a rich scarlet red. With a healthy dose of trepidation he slipped on the ring.

Immediately he lost consciousness.

Well, not exactly. It was more like a trance. He could feel his whole body tingling, just as it had those many months ago in the hospital when the old and dying man had transferred the Seed of Hyrcanus to him.

"Alan," a disembodied voice called out to him.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled back, trough his trance. He felt drugged. He heard the voice again, calling his name. Alan concentrated, and through his haze he recognized the voice, that of Jack! 

"I am here," the voice answered.

"Where?" he grunted back.

"Do not concern yourself with that just now. As you must know, I am speaking to you through the ring--"

"--But, but--"

"I'm dead, yes, but that, ahem, little fact is not so important now. I need you to listen now, and listen carefully. There is a danger present against us. Someone is targeting the Vessels. I have been sensing their presence for some time now. This is why I sought you out and came to meet you at your house."

"Who?"

"I don't know who and I don't know how. My only message to you right this moment is that you should be ever vigilant against danger. Before I 'died' I transferred my Seed into my ring. This is how you and I are communicating now. One day in the future you will pass my Seed to another vessel. Do not concern yourself about that just yet; you will know when to do it when I let you know. In the meantime, place this ring on your left middle finger, and replace your ring on this finger. I will be in communication with you later."

"So...I have two Seeds now?" Alan asked, confused.

"No, you only have your Seed, but you are wearing my ring, which had my seed within. From time to time I will contact you through it, and will give you instructions to carry out. I will, at some point, need you to retrieve my research, so you can study it and 'together' we can identify our pursuers, and then neutralize the threat. Understand?"

"Yes, some of it at least. Are you really dead?"

"My body, the vessel you are familiar with is dead, but since sensing this threat I began to take precautions, and make preparations for my death. I will instruct you later in what I need you to do, but for now, live life as you have been recently, just beware of this new danger."

Alan passed out.

* * *

An hour later, while Alan was sitting at his desk, finally able to concentrate on work, Arthur walked through the doors, coming right over to their desk. Alan told him that the boss was looking for him, and Mahoney went to see her. He returned after about a half an hour, shaking his head sadly, but opting not to share what passed between the two of them.

"Your not in any kind of trouble, are you? I mean, for being out drinking with your old newspaper buddies?" Alan asked him.

"Nah, kiddo, nothing like that," Mahoney replied, the scent of Bushmill's heavy on his breath. "We didn't discuss work. Personal stuff." He left it at that.

They picked their stories from the wire, including the one about the death of the famous archaeologist in London, an began cutting some for length, and rewriting the headlines of others. Ninety minutes later they were done, and Mahoney went out, probably, Alan thought, to another bar.

Alan stayed at his desk. Some nights there was something for him to do around the newsroom, and he was always eager to help. He also liked using the paper's computer system; its internet connection, a T1, was much faster than his dial-up at home.

He did some mindless surfing, still preoccupied by the day's events, not realizing the lateness of the hour.

* * *

Jamie McConville sat at her desk staring out of the window, not really seeing the parking lot below. A glass of white wine was in her left hand, and it wasn't her first.

"That fucking bastard," she thought to herself.

This morning as she was about to leave for the office the phone rang in her house. She was gathering up various items, putting them into her purse, and decided to let the machine take the call. Just as she was heading out the door, the caller began to leave a message.

"Hello, this call is for Mr. Rayford," the woman said. Philip Rayford was her second husband, whom she married two years after being widowed upon the death of Gordon McConville; she and Philip were married now for four years. "This is Lauren, the pharmacist at the Walgreen's on Brick Street. I'm just calling to let you know your prescription is ready. Have a nice day." Click.

Jamie sat in her car for more than five minutes debating what to do. As far as she knew her husband was not taking any prescription medicines. Did she have the right to invade his privacy and go see what the prescription was for? One factor pushed her over the edge; it was the Walgreen's calling, not their regular pharmacy, which was a mom and pop store called Roth's.

Viagra! "The son of a bitch hasn't laid a finger on me in months, and he's taking goddamn Viagra." She might have chalked it up to the possibility that Phil was getting the pills for their own lovemaking, but that balloon was deflated when the pharmacist said, "Please remind your husband that this is his last refill." His LAST refill. There had been others. Bastard!

Jamie had remained calm in the store, but by the time she reached her car, quiet tears began rolling down her cheeks. As she closed the door an settled in behind the wheel she was bawling. She wished she had never married the bastard. She wished her father was still alive so he could hold her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. She cried some more before she was able to start the car and head to work. "Thank god I still have Uncle Art."

* * *

"Divorce the asshole," Arthur had said immediately, once she had managed to sob out her story. He hugged her, and she wiped the tears from her face on the shoulder of his shirt.

Now here she was, eleven o'clock at night, holed up in her office afraid to go home, half in the bag. "For Christ's sake! I'm some kind of pitiable cliché," she thought bitterly. She switched to coffee.

Twenty minutes and two cups of java later she locked her office and turned to go out. She walked as steadily as her fuzzy head would allow. She almost made it, too; just as she made the last turn around the end of the far row of cubicles she saw him, that summer intern kid. Just the surprise of seeing him there, because she expected that she was alone, caused her to stumble slightly. Worse still, the kid noticed. There was a pile of phone books right outside a cubicle, and her alcohol-sodden brain didn't process the fact of them in time. Coupled with the surprise of seeing Alan, she tripped, but caught herself, her hands grasping the wall of the cubicle opposite his.

"Mrs. McConville? Are you OK?" he asked, standing up and approaching her. She was still off-balance, and he helped her regain her footing.

"Thank you, young man," she said wearily. "I'm sorry about all of this." She straightened out her skirt, and when she looked up she saw him watching her. She blushed almost imperceptibly. "Oh my," she thought to herself, "Why hadn't I noticed before that he was so cute?" Because she was married to a man she thought was faithful to her, as she was faithful to him, that's why, she reasoned.

"What, what is your name again?" she asked him, returning his stare.

"I'm Alan Marshall, the summer intern."

"Right, right, now I remember. Sorry again. How -hic- are you enjoying yourself this summer? Everybody been nice?"

"Oh, yeah, everybody's been great, and I'm learning a lot. Thanks again for the opportunity."

"You're welcome." She paused, her eyes never leaving him. Could she do it? Was she really thinking about cheating on Phil with this, with this, well there was no other word for him. Was she really thinking about cheating on Phil with this *boy*? She was.

"Would it be too much of a bother if I asked you to drive me home? I've had a little too much wine, and, well, you know," she asked him coyly. She didn't think he knew she was coming on to him, and frankly, she wasn't sure herself.

Alan scanned her, finding out about her cheating husband, her plans to divorce him, and her desire to get back at him a little. From inside her mind he could see that her husband was away on a business trip, in San Francisco, and that her twelve year old daughter was away at sleep away camp up in the Adirondacks.

"Sure, uh, Mrs. McConville. No problem."

"Please, call me Jamie."

No one in the office, with the exception of Arthur Mahoney, called her by her first name. She didn't allow it.

* * *

"What can I get you? " she asked while standing next to the bar in the living room of her rather large house. Alan thought the Van Devanters had a big spread, but this place was approaching mansion status. This was her place, not Phil's. She had grown up in this house, just 

her, daddy, and the servants. Her alcoholic mother had abandoned them, skipping town with her boy-toy tennis instructor for Europe when Jamie was a sophomore in high school. The irony of tonight--that she was tipsy and trying to seduce a teen boy--was not lost on her.

Alan could sense she was nervous, both in the regular way, and with his powers. He could have cracked a joke at this point, pointing out that technically he wasn't old enough to drink, but didn't want to freak her out, something his abilities told him she was close to doing.

"Whatever you're having."

She poured a finger and a half of bourbon each into two glasses, then added a single ice cube into the each one.

"So, tell me about yourself," she asked, her face visibly flushing. She coupled the question with her hand coming out to rest against his forearm. He could hear her breathing accelerate as she waited for his reply.

"Not much to tell really," he told her. She walked him over to one of the couches, the nearest one, before he continued after they were seated. He told her about editing the high school paper, among other things, and she paid rapt attention seemingly fascinated by the mundane details he was sharing with her. She licked her lips, making sure he was watching her as she did so.

She leaned into him, "Tell me more," she said softly, batting her eyelashes. Flirting she was good at, though she had never been the aggressor, never been the seducer. She was swiftly reaching her comfort limit, hoping he would pick up the hints she was dropping with her mood and body language and make a move already. "I mean, for pete's sake! A man would have figured it out by now: a good looking, semi-intoxicated woman invites a man, a handsome boy, into her house, her empty house. Make a damn move!" her mind was screaming out, hoping he would get the message.

Alan leaned into her, covering her mouth with his. Jamie groaned, all the muscles relaxing, letting him pull her into the kiss. It was as if the boy could read her mind.

"Is that what you wanted, Jamie?" he asked playfully.

"Yessssss," she hissed, her face inches from his, her whole view taken up by his nice-looking face. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth, the tip tracing the inside of her upper lip. He sucked the whole upper lip into his mouth, then released it, moving down to the lower one, biting down on it softly. She groaned in arousal, unable to think coherently. 

"Is this what you want?" he put it to her again. Jamie nodded, then pressed her lips to his, this time her tongue doing the exploring. He stood, and then lifted her up, cradling her in is arms, surprising her with his strength.

"Which way?"

"Hmmmm?" she responded, lost in a haze of lust.

"The bedroom. Which way to the bedroom?"

"Up the stairs. End of the hall. Hurry, please. Let's go," she panted. She craned up her neck to kiss him, wanting more than anything else in the world to feel his mouth on her again.

Up in the master bedroom he laid her gently on her frilly canopied bed. Her breathing was fast, and she writhed about, wanting him on her, his body pressed against hers. He stood next to the bed, slowly, undressing. Jamie reached for the buttons on her blouse, but he stopped her.

"Don't do that," he ordered, his voice both commanding and soothing at the same time. As he shucked off his pants with his right hand, now naked only but for his shorts, he reached out with his right, brushing her hands away from her blouse buttons, and then opened her blouse, exposing her lacy bra. She lifted her butt off the bed to allow him to unzip her skirt and pull it off of her, than laid down next to her, drawing her in for another one of those kisses she found so dizzying. Jamie admired his body with both her hands and eyes, almost drowning in the sensuousness of his embrace. She felt his hands on her back, unclasping her bra, and groaned into his mouth. Before she knew what was happening his mouth was on her left breast, his tongue lashing her nipples.

Alan was surprised by the firmness of them for a woman so old; well, she wasn't so old. She was, by his guess, in her middle to late thirties, but that did make her the oldest woman he had been with thus far. Her breasts were small, and very firm, with pinkish-brown nipples and very small areolae; instantaneously they were erect, and Jamie gasped at the feelings of bliss shooting through her body. He reached down and felt her flesh through her panties, her secretions soaking through the thin fabric.

"Take them off," she gasped. He complied, and saw that her reddish-brown pubic hair matched that of her head. He tossed them to the floor beside the bed and reattached his lips to her breasts, slowly working a finger between her folds, his fingers lubricating with her flowing juices.

"Ah ah ah ah," she whinnied, her vagina spasming around his invading digits. "Please, I'm, oh my GOD--" she moaned throatily as he began to move his fingers in and out of her, wiggling them as he did.

"Please, I'm going, ah ah YES, crazy. I need you in meeeee!." Alan slowly slid his jockey shorts down and tossed them over the side, and her eyes bulged at the size of his erection. It was hard and an angry red.

"You want me to fuck you, to fuck you with this?" he asked as he held his dick lightly in his right hand. She was transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from it.

"Yes," she whispered, "Right now."

"You're the boss," he quipped, lining the head up to her dripping slit. He slid in, and she shrieked, her body shaking violently as he fed his whole length into her. Her trembling continued, even when he stopped moving, resting his large cock in her buried to the hilt. She didn't orgasm just yet, but she was as turned on as she had ever been in her life.

"Fuck me, Alan, fuck me now," she pleaded, her lips quivering and dry. As he began to pull and push she responded by trying to pace her hips with his thrusting, and her tremors became even more intense and herky-jerky. After only a few minutes she came with tremendous force, her pussy walls clenching vigorously around his cock, and her screams filling the overlarge bedroom. Amazingly, or maybe not (after all he was a boy and not a Viagra-popping asshole like her soon to be ex-husband), he held back, slowing his thrusts considerably, but now using the full length of his cock to pleasure her. After she came down a bit from her climax she felt like she was floating on a cloud, relaxed to her core. It had been a long time since she had felt this way, not since the last time she and Gordon, her late husband, had been in bed. The memory brought a tear to the corner of her eye, and she shut them, just relaxing and reveling in the sensations this boy was stirring in her. He fucked her for a long time, giving her numerous orgasms, but unlike the first one, the ones which followed were small, gentle explosions. As she gasped and shuddered again--she had lost count at this point--he came inside her, and she moaned his name aloud upon feeling him deposit his seed within her.

Alan rolled onto his back and settled in beside her, and she turned onto her side and snuggled up into him. "Thank you," she sobbed quietly, her emotions run amok both from the shitty day she had just had, and the devastating impact of the lovemaking just concluded. "I needed that more than you will ever know." Her head was on his chest, and he bent his neck forward to kiss the top of her hair, sending a wave of peaceful contentment through her. She began to purr as she laid on his body, shivering slightly from the evaporation of perspiration from her overheated body in the air conditioned bedroom. 

They laid together for a long time, and then Alan gently extricated himself out from under her and sat up on the edge of the bed, bending over to reach his clothes.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, her voice aquiver, as she trembled in the chill air of the semi-darkened bedroom.

He looked over his shoulder back at her. "Uh, home."

"Please, can you stay the night? I really can't be alone tonight." Alan saw that she was nearing tears, so he dropped his pants and laid down next to her, just holding her until she stopped shaking. They slept.

In the middle of the night, just before four o'clock, she woke him up, and they made love again.

Next Chapter: Danger from afar, plus, college orientation.



Alan Ch. 15



Off to College

Can you get e-mail from a dead person? Looking at his inbox Alan concluded that you could. 

It was just shy of two weeks since he had learned of the death (maybe?) of his mentor, Dr. Jean-Pierre Massimo, and receiving his ring in the mail. Jack had sent him a message through the ring, or, perhaps was using the ring to communicate from another plane of existence. All he knew was that Massimo's Seed, his earthly manifestation of heavenly power, was within the silver band Alan now wore on his left middle finger.

The e-mail read:

Alan,

Please go to the savings bank on the northeast corner of 80th Street and York Avenue, in the Yorkville section of Manhattan. I have a safety deposit box there in your name. The branch manager has a key waiting for you, and with your powers, have him give it to you. Inside the box you will find compact discs which contain about one-third of my research, as well as all of the information (not much, regretfully) I have managed to glean about our opponents. The information you will find on the discs will lead you to the rest of my research.

Buy a laptop computer. It should have no Ethernet or other networking capabilities. The data on the discs should never be uploaded to a computer which can be connected to an internet connection or even a simple telephone line.

Further instructions will be in the materials you get from the bank.

Jack

* * *

Following the instructions which he read off the card, which had been scotch-taped to the outside of the package in the safe-deposit box, Alan took it unopened to an office in midtown Manhattan, the same office he had went to to procure his fake I.D. that he used for his trip to Atlantic City. The office belonged to a middle aged lawyer named Wilkins, a solo practitioner.

As he sat in the office's anteroom waiting for Wilkins to appear Alan studied his surroundings; the office consisted of four rooms, including this anteroom where the matronly secretary sat behind a polished oak desk. Three rooms were arrayed behind her. The middle room was a conference room, a large oblong table dominating its center, the walls lined with bookshelves groaning under the weight of volumes of New York Code and Federal Registers. The attorney's office was on the left of the conference room, its door closed at this time. The other door was locked; where the doorknob usually would have been was a rather sophisticated piece of electronics, a complex lock with a reinforced keypad, plus a hand and fingertip scanner. Unlike the doors to the other rooms, this one looked to be made of heavy-duty steel.

Wilkins ushered him into his office, the East River and the United Nations visible from the window. "Please sit down, Mr. Sutherland. This whole thing is a complete shock to me. If it wasn't for all of the work Dr. Massimo's death has caused, I fear these past few weeks would have found me staggered from the shock of it all." Alan (in the guise of his alter ego, Carl Sutherland) nodded, and the lawyer continued. "Dr. Massimo was my only client, the only client I have ever had. He hired me straight out of law school and set me up in this office, so my grief is not just professional, but personal as well.

Alan offered his condolences, which were accepted graciously.

"Once I received official confirmation of his death from the British authorities I broke the seals on several envelopes Dr. Massimo had left for me in the event of his death. Most of his estate will be transferred to his son in Geneva, but some of it will go to you, particularly certain items in his person collection of artifacts, as well as all of his field research notes, and most of his papers, too. One of the subsidiaries of his personal corporation, Cyaxares LLC., will now be under your control. Dr. Massimo instructed that upon his death all shares in it shall be transferred to you."

Wilkins placed the first document back into a folder and grabbed another off his desk and removed a second set of instructions. "The 

office on the opposite side of the conference room was Dr. Massimo's

personal space for when he was working in New York. It is now

yours." Wilkins handed over yet another envelope to Alan, and Alan noted that this one had remained sealed, and was addressed to him. "Instructions for getting past the security door," Wilkins informed him.

"Thank you. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No sir, that is all," Wilkins told him, but Alan could sense by the tone in his voice he wanted to say something else; he scanned him briefly.

"Are you sure?" Alan asked him, and understanding the nervousness on the lawyer's face.

"Ah, well, uh, not to be indelicate at this sad point, and I know we don't really know each other so well, but, um, I was wondering if you were going to continue to, ah, retain the services of this firm for all of your legal needs."

Alan agreed and saw Mr. Wilkins relax visibly. He had the lawyer send his secretary out to lunch; he wanted the anteroom clear when he tried the door of Jack's office. Alan entered the code contained in the letter on the keypad. A small screen appeared in the middle of the apparatus, a small metal panel sliding away to reveal it. Alan spent the next half hour or so answering multiple-choice questions by pressing on the keys of the keypad.

Jack had written a program to authenticate him, the questions asking for information only Alan, as a Vessel of a Seed would know the answers to. When the computer in the door was satisfied that it was really Alan Marshall standing before it Alan was prompted to flatten his hand up against the sensor so his palm- and fingerprints could be recorded. The machine also asked for a new access code, and a voice print. 

Alan thought he as done, but the machine also asked for a "danger" code, a false password which would delay the opening of the door of the office by ten seconds, while small explosive charges in the computers detonated, obliterating the stored data on the hard drives, and incendiaries similarly caused all of the files in the file cabinets to go up in smoke, then triggered halogen fire extinguishers mounted in the ceiling.

At long last, Alan gained access to the office. A windowless space, with a lacquered wooden table in the center, the tabletop half taken up by a large computer monitor; one wall was lined end to end with black metal file cabinets, heavy duty-looking ones, made of the same thick steel as the door, each also sporting miniature versions of the same locking mechanism. The other walls were covered with maps and diagrams made on Massimo's expeditions; most were yellowed, and some even had frayed edges. Alan rested the steel case he had that morning removed from the bank in Yorkville next to the monitor; he examined it closely for the first time; not wanting to attract too much attention in the bank, he had merely placed it in a canvas zip-up bag and left. There were no hinges, no releases to press to pop it open. He knew it wasn't a solid block of steel, not only by its weight, but also because he could feel the box's contents shift within, and anyhow, hadn't Massimo's e-mail message tell him that there were computer discs inside? Running his fingers over the whole of it Alan was confused; just as he was going to give up and start looking at the computer in front of him, he heard that voice.

"Don't try to open it with your hands. It only opens at the command of the Seed's Vessel."

"Jack?"

"I am here," the disembodied voice uttered.

"Is there some specific command that I need to use to open the box?"

"No, just will it open, and it will be."

Alan looked at the box, and in less than a second he heard a pop. The top of the box was raised and slightly askew, and he took the lid off completely and set it to the side. Inside were the discs as promised, and he examined the jewel cases, reading the labels and putting them back in order. Satisfied he was organized now, Alan replaced them in the box, refit the lid to the top, and 

locked it using his power. He took a cab to a large chain electronics

store, and bought a laptop using the credit card with the name Carl Sutherland, his Atlantic City alias. By the time he returned to Wilkins's office the secretary was gone for the day, and the lawyer's office door was shut. Deciding it was safer to leave the original discs behind the impressively secure office door, Alan transferred all of their data to his new laptop, filed the disks in one of the cabinets, then placed his computer into the now empty steel box, and put the box in his canvas bag. Exiting the building, he hailed a cab and told the driver he wanted to go to Grand Central Station; he had a nagging feeling, impossible to pin down, that he was being watched.

* * *

"Four to One, We have a visual. Out." His partner picked up the telephoto and shot off as many pictures he could before the mark got into the taxi.

"Copy zat, I see him," a heavily accented voice said, his voice distorted by the speaker of the radio. "Remember your instructions. You and Eight are to follow him, and no more. Surveillance only. Repeat, repeat, do not approach too close. Out."

"That's affirm. Four to One, I copy instructions. Out." He put the car in drive, and pulled out to follow the cab his target had just hailed. He didn't know why he was following this man. All he did know was that he had spent the last two weeks sitting in a parked car on Forty-sixth street between Second and Third, waiting for the signal for whom to follow. Seven hundred dollars a day he was getting paid for this; nice work, if you can get it. The agent he knew only as "One" had spent the last two weeks working as an elevator operator in this office building, waiting for the mark, whoever he was, to enter the office on the twenty-sixth floor. Once he was identified it was his job, "Agent Four," to follow the mark home, and set up surveillance there. "Easy," he thought to himself, counting his money in his head.

"He's getting out," Eight said. "Look, up there." The cab had stopped, and the dome light on its roof was lit, indicating a now vacant cab. Two pulled to the curb, twenty yards behind it, and Three jumped out, following the mark into the station.

Grand Central Station was teeming with people, this being start of rush hour. Three followed the mark, figuring that he would head for the ticket windows, but instead he followed him straight to the platforms. Must have bought a round trip ticket, indicating he lived in the suburbs. He relayed this information over the radio.

"Shit! Where in fuck did he go?" Agent Eight swore to himself. Just as the mark neared the north side of the station a great group of people came streaming out of an arched passageway, interspersing themselves between him and the mark.

"Eight to Four, I LOST HIM," he said frantically into his radio, trying his best to keep his voice down. "I'VE LOST THE MARK!"

"Find him, now," the voice answered back, not Four, but One.

Eight searched all of the platforms, and walked through all of the trains idling on the platforms. He knew he had about a fifty-fifty chance; about half of the trains would pull out before he had a chance to search them.

Twenty minutes later it was all over. He had failed. He reported in.

"Return to base for debrief. Out."

Ten minutes later he was at the base, which by coincidence was only a few blocks north of the station, in a non-descript office building on Lexington Avenue. His fellow stalkers on the pursuit team were already there when he and Four came in together. Four was not looking forward to this, but One could not have been more understanding or calm.

"I never really expected to track him down zo fast. Who knew if he vas even going to show his face at the lawyer's? Ve've made good progress. Starting in the morning ve'll deploy one team at the lawyer's, and two teams at the station. Ve'll spot him again, and next time we vont lose him."

One dismissed his team. The photos 

would be ready tonight. The next day he'll start sending teams of

agents to all of the towns which are serviced by Metro-North, and have them shown around. A train conductor, a station worker, someone has to know where he was from. One of his men had bribed the manager of the computer store, so at least he had a name, "Carl Sutherland," but a database search hadn't turned up any address other than c/o Stanley Wilkins, Esq., P.C. The data team on the other side of the Atlantic would be tasked to investigate further.

He opened his laptop and wrote his report. That done, he started the encryption program; this program took a long time to do its business, encoding his text with such complexity that the fastest code breaking computer in the world would need at least a month to unscramble it. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed, his left hand absently playing with his necklace. 

The necklace consisted of a thin chain looped through a hook on the top of a small silver sphere. The silver was very pure, his boss had informed him, and he must under no circumstances remove it while on the mission. Duplicates of his necklace were worn by all of the members of the pursuit team, and they were under similar instructions, forbidden to remove them until the end of the mission.

* * *

Alan found a seat. It was still early in rush hour, and the cars were less than half full. Plus, he had reached the station just as the inbound train had pulled in, and he had almost fifteen minutes before the turnaround. Sitting there quietly reading his newspaper he still had that feeling in the back of his mind, a feeling of being watched, or even chased. He tried scanning all of the minds in his vicinity, but nothing jumped out. He lowered his antennae, and went back to reading. Had anyone been following him, his transformation from thirtyish Carl Sutherland to teenaged Alan Marshall would have surely thrown them off his trail.

"Guess who?" a familiar and singsong feminine voice called. Kate had snuck up behind him and covered his eyes with her hands.

"Hi, Kate."

"Spoilsport," she pouted, coming around from the row of seats behind his and settling in next to him. "I wanted you to guess!" she mock-whined. "What were you doing in Manhattan?"

"I, uh, came in to have lunch with my dad. Went computer shopping after." Well, the latter was true.

"Cool," she said idly.

"Why are you taking the train? I thought you drove in."

"Car's in the shop. Busted fuel pump. Bummer."

"Sorry," he replied, genuine concern in his voice. Kate loved that car. Once she started college she would probably be experiencing withdrawal symptoms from not driving it.

The train pulled out, right on schedule, picking up speed in the tunnel. Kate leaned over towards him, resting her head on his shoulder, her fragrant black hair tickling his nose. Alan rested his right hand against her thigh, feeling her warmth trough the fabric of her knee-length denim skirt. She sighed contentedly.

Alan closed his eyes, unleashing his mind to delve within her thoughts. She was thinking about the night of the spring break party, when she and Alan had fucked in the garden as the party continued around them.

The train slowed and then stopped in Harlem. A few more people got on, but soon they were back at full speed. Kate looked down the center aisle; a businessman was exiting the bathroom and heading back to his seat.

"Come on," she whispered to him, sitting up straight and taking his hand in hers.

"What?" he answered, a puzzled look on his face. He knew what she was thinking, but decided to play the innocent.

"The bathroom," she said slyly, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"So? I'm not stopping you," he replied, a small smile creeping across his face, letting her know he was on to her.

"I want you to come with me, to the bathroom," she said as she pulled him up off the seat. Fifteen seconds later they were inside, the door locked. Though the cars of the 

commuter train were well air conditioned the bathrooms lacked a/c vents, and the warmth in the small chamber was instantly uncomfortable; Kate began pulling at her clothes.

She reached to his waist and pulled his shirt out of his chinos, her hands busily exploring his chest and back as he leaned in to kiss her, sucking her tongue from between her lips

and into his mouth. She growled softly, dropping her hands to his belt buckle and unfastening it. He wriggled out of his pants letting them fall into a bunch around his ankles, and her hands attached themselves to his groin, rubbing his cock through the thin material of his underpants.

He turned her around so that she faced the mirror. One of his hands went to take down his shorts, and the other stole under her skirt, his thumb hooking the waistband of her panties. Her flesh was warm and 

quivering at his touch.

This was one of the parts she liked the best, when Alan took down her panties. It made her feel so, so--her mind rolled around, looking for the right word--so "taken." Once she felt the panties bunched around her ankles she lifted up and stepped out of them, then reached forward, putting her hands on each side of the small sink, bracing herself.

Once she was situated Alan took her smooth firm ass in his hand, caressing the silky flesh as she tried to stifle her moans. He dipped lower, his fingertips dancing across her rapidly moistening slit.

"Hrmph, yeah!" she panted through her clenched teeth. "Touch me, touch me like that. " He gently explored her folds as she arched her back, pressing her ass into his hands. She gasped again as he slowly inserted a finger up her, and contracted her muscles, bearing down to squeeze the invader with her tight vaginal walls. She was about to come; Alan knew the signs well. Right before her climax he withdrew.

Kate growled at the loss of stimulation. She felt like a balloon about to pop from being over inflated, but just as she was about to explode the air began to be released from the valve. It was maddening, though she didn't have long to wait. Just as she thought she was about to lose her mind she felt the head of Alan's prick at her pussy. She pushed back at him, hoping to trap the tip of it in her cunt, knowing it was a long shot. He slowly ran the head up and down her sopping labia, and she shook and trembled in desire and anticipation. Alan kept at this longer than usual, thoroughly soaking his erection with her juicy secretions; the wait was excruciating to her; Kate's trembling accelerated, and he could actually hear her teeth chattering as he sent her into a frenzy.

She gathered herself as best she could under the circumstances, trying to get composed enough the speak, to plead with him to spear her with his cock. Even if he had not been able to read her mind Alan would have known what she wanted. He saw in her eyes, which were glassy and expectant with arousal, her pupils extremely dilated, begging him to penetrate her.

"Here you go, baby," he whispered as he simultaneously pressed his dick into her steaming channel and leaned over her to place his mouth directly at her ear.

"Hrmph, oooooh yesssssssss!" she hissed back at him, thrusting her ass against his groin as he sunk into her to the hilt. She knew she had to keep the noise level down, protected as they were only by the flimsy walls of the lavatory. As he began to pump in and out of her she tensed, clenching her jaw shut, breathing deeply through her nose, and concentrating on staying quiet. It seemed to be easier if she kept her eyes open, and she stared into the mirror. The image of herself being fucked by Alan was an amazing turn-on. The strangled look on her features, contrasted with his calm visage was dizzying to behold.

"Oh God," she squeaked as she felt him probe at her anus. Upon his penetration she came like a freight train, or more fittingly in this case, a commuter train, biting down on the side of her hand to squelch her screams. She managed to keep 




Alan Ch. 15



quiet, but at the expense of some nasty looking bite marks on her palm and the back of her hand. Alan was matching the pace of his fucking to that of his finger moving in and out of her ass.

"You're teasing me, aren't you?" she said quietly.

Alan looked up into the mirror, amused by the smirk on her face. "What are you talking about, Katie? 

I'm not teasing you, I'm fucking 

you."

She grunted as Alan speeded his attack at her provocation. "Do you know how long it's ugh ugh been since you put that great big dick of yours up my tight little ass?" She punctuated the question by jiggling said ass. "Before the goddamned prom."

Alan hadn't thought about it. "Really? Has it been that long?" He and Kate had been taking it easy of late, well, easy for them. He didn't really dominate her all that much since the night in the hotel room; Kate had broken down and confided in him that she was, at her core, an unhappy person. Alan knew from scanning her mind that she was seeing a therapist, but since she hadn't mentioned it to him he hadn't asked her any questions about it. Peering into her mind now he saw that she missed being used, being dominated. She didn't quite want to go back to how it was, with her being a sex slave, calling him, "Master," and all that, but she liked it when he took control of her.

"Yeah, that long," she moaned. Alan slowed his pace and began plumbing her deeper, and she shuddered in reaction.

"Hmmm. So what are you trying to tell me?"

"F-f-fuck. Eeeergh! My! Ugh! Assssssssss!"

"Well, since this is your show, I guess I will," he replied as he withdrew from her sopping pussy. Needing no further lubrication he placed the head of his dick at her rear entrance and slowly entered her tightest passage.

"Harder, faster, yes," she huffed while he took his time penetrating. She gasped feeling at once his prick bottoming out in her ass and one of his hands on her pussy, fingertips playing across her painfully erect clit, and then moaned as she felt him pull out a bit, then fuck back into her. She began to rhythmically contract and relax her sphincter, sometimes holding his cock so tight she could actually feel the blood flow pulse through his cock.

Kate began to buck wildly, her herky-jerky motions checked only by her need to keep tight hold to the sides of the small basin. Stifling her desire to scream out at the top of her lungs when she climaxed, she let out huge gasps of air, her head shooting back, her long black hair whipping against his face. "Come in me!" she demanded, worried that if he continued to fuck her ass she would pass out. "Come in me, Alan, come in my tight ass!" The tight passage was still spasming wildly around his dick, and he obliged, blasting a prodigious amount into her rectum; Kate relaxed and sighed contentedly. His penis softened and slipped out of her, and she stood upright, pressing her back into his chest, slowly massaging herself against him. He felt that she was a bit unsteady on her feet, so he wrapped his arms around her middle to stabilize her.

A few minutes later they were back at their seats, a few stations from home. Kate called her mom on her cell phone to let her know she didn't need a ride home, that Alan would give her a lift.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" she asked.

"Going to the movies with Pauline."

"What are you seeing?"

"No idea. I always let her pick. She's got better taste in movies than me. What're you doing?"

"I have to be back in the city at 6:30 in the morning. I'll watch a little TV and turn in early."

"Do you like your work at the center?"

"It's challenging. You know, 'There but for the grace of God go I,' and all that. Almost all of the girls there are abuse survivors, and they all have these dead eyes, like they've seen hell, or worse. It's very depressing, but I try to help anyway I can."

"Why do you go in so early?"

"I work in the kitchens, supervising the girls who prepare breakfast. 

Sometimes I can even get one or two of them to open up and talk while we're working. I think their defenses aren't so high in the early morning because they're tired. That's why I volunteered for breakfast."

Alan got a flashback from prom night. "You're a good person," he said in all earnestness as he put his arm around her shoulders. Kate looked up and beamed at him.

* * *

"Nothing?" he asked incredulously. "No one in any station recognized him from the photograph?"

Agents had spent the last two weeks 

scouring all of the stations, and nothing had turned up. Agent One dreaded making this report to his boss, a man unkind to failure. If it were up to him he would take the lawyer and interrogate him, but his instructions were to the contrary. A team of agents had broken into the lawyer's office, but found nothing much of interest, though they weren't able to penetrate one of the offices within. The only thing they had found was an appointment calendar on the receptionist's desk with that name, Carl Sutherland, entered for the time the mark had shown up. A more thorough search on the name revealed little; the only address listed was the office itself, and the credit report showed lots of cash, but no hints as to its source.

He decided to reduce the size of his team; two sets of agents sitting on the office building, and three sets deployed at Grand Central Station in shifts. If the trail picked up again he could always rehire the rest.

* * *

"Dude, your mom's on the phone. Again."

Alan took the receiver from his roommate and had a brief conversation with his mother, centering on whether he had enough pairs of boxer shorts and socks. Mom had just been shopping and bought him some more, and wanted to know if she could come down into the city and drop them off, and perhaps take him to lunch. She worried about him not getting enough to eat. Alan agreed, and he and his mom agreed on a day early next week. He hung up and turned to his smirking roommate.

"She's my mom. She worries about me," he sheepishly explained.

"Yeah, my mom worries about me too, but you don't see her calling every day, do ya?" Soren shot back.

"Hey, for my mom it's a local call, so quit yer bellyaching. You're just worried that she's tying up the phone and your girlfriend wont get through." Soren threw a pillow at him, but it was a glancing blow, and failed to draw blood.

It was a few weeks into the semester, about a month after he came to campus (the first week was taken up by orientation). Alan was having a blast; for the first time in his life he didn't have a curfew, didn't have to tell his parents where and with whom he was going out. It was freeing.

Unlike many--or perhaps most--college freshman, he actually liked his roommate. Classes were tough, but exciting. College was a whole different way of learning, mostly by its rhythms. Instead of having every class every day like in high school, his college courses met two--or in some cases three--times a week. Most of the material covered was not spoon-fed by teachers, but assigned as reading.

The biggest shock came in the last week. On his first essay for his English composition class, a class for some obscure reason known here as "Logic and Rhetoric," he had received a C. Never in his life had a gotten a C on a paper! Sure, a B here or there, but this was unprecedented. The TA had office hours in a few minutes and Alan planned on seeing her and asking her what the problem was.

The campus was swarming with students as he walked along College Walk, the pedestrian path that bisected the grounds. His destination was Philosophy Hall, on the eastern edge of school, easily identified by a cast of Rodin's Thinker out front. His progress was slowed by recent friends coming up and chatting. Mike and Autumn from his biology section stopped him, and they made plans to get together for a study session. 

The TA was using an unused seminar room to meet with students; she had 

no office of her own. A hand-lettered sign taped to the door read "Miranda Gorman," and listed her office hours. "It's always a pain, giving back the first assignments," Miranda, the TA told him with a sigh as he took a seat across from her.

"How so?" he asked her.

"All you young geniuses," she started, a mocking tone heavy on her voice, "Aren't used to getting bad or average marks. Why, I'll bet you've never gotten a grade less than an A in your whole life, and you're puzzled at--" she glanced at her grade book and found Alan's line in it "-- at why I gave you a C. Huh? Am I right?"

"Well," he replied softly, "I can't lie to you; I did get some B's on some written assignments in high school, but those were lab reports for Chemistry and Physics. But I've never gotten less than an A on English or History papers, and I was editor-in-chief of the school newspaper."

Miranda's eyes twinkled a bit at his admission. The past four freshmen had claimed they'd never received less than an A on anything, ever. "Hmm, an honest man. Where's Diogenes when I need him?" she joked, assuming that the boy sitting across from her wouldn't get the reference.

"I don't know," he rejoindered, "Getting his lantern serviced? It is nearing the end of the month." Miranda broke up in surprised laughter. They got down to business. Alan pulled out his paper and she reread it quickly. The problem turned out to be his newspaper experience. A reporter tends to write in discrete paragraphs, so that if an editor decides to make cuts, whole graphs could be excised without compromising the readability of the piece as a whole. Miranda impressed upon him the need to make his writing more flowing, paragraphs which built upon one another to form one big mountain, rather than a chain of small hills. He thanked her as he stood to leave, making a small joke which she found very funny.

As she stood to walk him out he gave her a once-over, and she him. There were no other kids in the hallway waiting to meet with her, so they walked out the main door of Philosophy Hall together, and then walked down the gargantuan steps of Low Library towards College Walk.

"Do you have classes tomorrow?" Miranda asked coyly as they neared the gates on the Broadway side of campus.

"No, I lucked out. No Friday classes," he told her. As he answered he looked at her, and though it was hard to read the expression on her face in the twilight of the hour Alan had other ways of reading her. When he peered into her mind he was almost shocked by the images running through them. Almost.

* * *

A few hours later, back at her apartment.

Alan and Miranda had met a bunch of her friends at a bar and grill of Broadway, sharing finger food and a few pitchers of beer. It was your typical grad student outing, consisting of quaffing intoxicants and complaining about faculty advisors. Alan didn't add much to the conversation, but held his own.

Silently they had walked together to Miranda's building, a small walk-up on Claremont Avenue. She invited him up. 

He accepted. 

He knew what he was in for, and was looking forward to it. Miranda thought she was going to surprise him, so he decided to play along and not burst her balloon. She led him into her second floor apartment, a small two bedroom, the kitchen table groaning under the weight of papers to correct, books and journals, and research notes. The couch was covered with junk, so she cleared space enough for the two of them and beckoned him to sit next to her.

"You seem--I don't know--older than a freshman," she said quietly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Older?"

"Yeah," she half said, half sighed. "You kept up tonight. The conversations in the bar." She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips, and he returned the gesture, his hands coming around her, lifting her blouse slowly upwards. She batted his hands away. "Slow down," she hissed, "You're not in high school anymore. Let's take our time." She looked deeply in 

his eyes, and they sparkled at him.

She kissed him again, and Alan, after waiting what he deemed to be a requisite amount of time, started to lift of her blouse again. Again, she swatted at his busy hands. "I get it," Miranda chuckled, "You're ready." She stood and took him by the hand and led him into what he assumed to be her bedroom, but once inside yet again she rebuffed his attempt to remove her top. "Patience," she counseled, her forefinger stroking his lips. She guided him to the bed, and gently laid him down upon it, then straddled his waist and bent over to lock her lips to his again. This time it was her hands lifting up his shirt, and he allowed her to remove it. Now stripped to the waist she attacked his nipples with her mouth and teeth, gently nibbling on them, pleased by his soft groans she received in reaction. Keeping his mind focused on his nipples she took one of his wrists in her hand and brought it up over his head so that his hands were hanging off over the end of the futon pad. Working quickly she attached it to the restraint installed to the top of the frame, and a few seconds later both wrists were bound.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Quiet," she half-barked at him. "Do as I say and you'll have a good time. Don't do as I say and you wont. Got it? I'm in charge, and don't you forget it," she snarled. Her eyes were shiny with arousal as she surveyed him prostrate on her bed. She went to her closet and took some things out of it, not letting him see what she was getting, and then disappeared into the bathroom.

She was a different person when she emerged five minutes later. Gone were the khaki pants, Doc Martens and flannel shirt she had before. Now she stood before him as a bitch goddess in heat. Her leather boots were thigh-high and stiff, black and polished to a high gloss. Her panties were black and leather, though matte, softer looking than the boots. The bra holding her generous bust was of the same material as the panties, with holes cut in the cups to allow the nipples to peek through. Her face was almost as shockingly different as her change in attire. Her pale skin was even whiter than before, heavily masked by make up, and her lips were painted a great vivid scarlet. Her wavy light auburn hair, which she had worn loose earlier in the evening, was pulled back into a severe bun, held in place by a clip.

"Oh my god," Alan gasped in feigned surprise, aware of her plans for this encounter as far back as she did, from the time the left office hours together.

The first thing she did was to take off his pants and underwear, shooting an appreciative glance at his large and rapidly expanding erection. "Nice," she remarked as if evaluating a piece of meat at the butcher's shop. Holding his cock with her fingertips she raked her nails up and sown the length until it reached full hardness. "Very nice."

She moved up his body walking on he knees and placed her crotch in his face. Alan could smell her excitement through the heavy material of her leather panties. She reached under herself and popped the snaps at the crotch of her panties and jammed her pussy into his mouth. "Lick it," she hissed, "Lick it good, and if you make me come, maybe I'll let you come."

He attacked her pussy with his lips and tongue, his task made a bit awkward by the restraints on his wrists. Miranda began to thrash lightly against his head, small mutterings and moans escaping past her lacquered lips. "The kid's not bad," she thought to herself as her arousal accelerated. "Not bad at all," as her gasps became audible. He was concentrating on her clit, and the sensations were electrifying. She was about to orgasm and her upper body shook in arousal, her nipples pointy through the openings in her bra. She screamed, her cry echoing off the walls of the room. Unable to keep upright her body fell forward, her hands flat against the wall in front of her to hold herself off of him.

"What a find!" she said under her breath after her gasping subsided. 

She lifted herself off his face and collapsed on the mattress next to him.

"Are you gonna release me now?"

"Maybe soon," she said, a smile on her lips. She gently took his cock with her fingers again, teasing him anew with her nails.

* * *

The front door of the apartment opened with a squeak.

"Randa? You home? You'll never guess who I saw tonight! Randa?"

"Who was it?" Miranda answered calmly from her bedroom through the half-opened door.

"That fucking creep, Steve Ganske. He tried hitting on me ag--" Laura Drayton froze in the doorway, seeing her roommate, her part-time Mistress, geared up in her dominatrix outfit. On the bed next to her was a guy she'd never seen before, sporting the largest penis she'd ever seen. Laura lowered her eyes respectfully. "I'm sorry, Mistress Randa. I'll shut the door behind me," she said reverently.

"No. Go to your room. Prepare yourself and come back immediately."

"Now we're in for some fun," Miranda said slyly to the bound freshman chained to her bed. "Hmmm," she said languidly, one hand idly tracing patterns on his bare chest, the other still stimulating his manhood with her nails, "I wonder what my little teenager would like now." She considered the cock in her hand. "Make that not so little." An evil look came across her face. "Would you like me to, I don't know, suck your cock?"

"Yessssss," he whispered as she tightened her grip over his erection, the nails digging in slightly.

"I didn't say you could talk!" she barked. "Let's try again. Would you like me to suck your cock?"

He nodded.

"Pity for you. I don't suck cock." 

The door to the bedroom opened and Miranda's roommate reentered. Laura was wearing nothing more than stockings, a garter belt, and nipple clips; in addition to a dog collar, a blindfold hung loosely around her neck, waiting for her mistress to blind and bind her.

Miranda gestured to the door, and the shivering girl standing in it. "Like I said before, I don't suck cock. That's her job," she said wickedly. To Laura, "Come here, cocksucker, and show this boy how you suck a nice cock. This is Laura, my cocksucker," she explained with an even voice after turning to face him again.

Alan thought he heard Laura moan, but couldn't be sure; his pulse was beating in his ears, his eyes fixed on his dominatrix teaching assistant. Once Laura had knelt on the bed Miranda look her by the ears and steered her towards his groaning erection. Laura quickly engulfed the helmet. Alan groaned in response; her tongue was a frenzy against his hardness. Miranda ordered him to be silent, and he quieted down.

"That's right baby. Suck him. Suck him hard. Suck him good. Yeah. He's got a nice cock, doesn't he, baby?" 

Laura nodded, half his dick swallowed down; Alan almost moaned again, but thought better of it. 

"Suck his cock until he comes. He's going to come down your slutty throat, and you're gonna swallow it all. You'll do that, wont you baby? You swallow all of his man cream for me, yes?" Laura nodded again, even more of him filling her throat.

"Don't miss a drop. Ooh yeah, that looks so nasty, your nose buried in his pubes. Good job. Good job, baby. Swallow it all when he comes, or I'll punish you. Yeah, suck it like that. Swallow all his nasty man come, his boy come, and then keep sucking him. Get him hard again. Get him hard again so he can fuck your Mistress. Do it, baby, do it for me, do it for me, do it for me, do it for me."

Alan, with his power to control his own orgasm, could have let this go on all night, and her was tempted to draw it out as Miranda continued her filthy litany of command and encouragement. But all good things must come to an end, so he spewed into Laura's mouth, keeping the volume of his ejaculate low to spare Laura any punishment. Laura pulled her mouth off of him and opened wide, showing Miranda her come, apparently a tradition between the two of them, and then made an 




Alan Ch. 15



over-dramatic show of swallowing it down before taking him in her mouth again, to make him hard for her mistress. Alan quickly regained his erection, surprising both women.

Miranda pulled Laura off of him by her hair, marched Laura over to the corner of the room attaching her collar to a chain and covered her eyes with the blindfold, returned to the bed and then straddled him. "You're gonna be a good boy now, aren't you? You're gonna make me come, yes?" She half-groaned as she lowered herself slowly onto his dick, small gasps escaping her mouth; she had never been with a man so large. Alan decided to toy with her, and using his powers blocked her ability to orgasm. Up and down, up and down she stroked herself onto him, her excitement boiling, but for some reason she didn't understand, not boiling over. "Fuck!" she moaned, frantic with sexual excitement but unable to climax.

"What's wrong, Miranda?" he asked her, the evil grin now spreading across *his* face.

"Mistress! Call me M-mistress!" she barked back as best she was able through the haze of lust enveloping her. Sweat was pouring down her face, down her neck and over her bust, soaking the leather of her bra. Whenever he thrust up at her small droplets of perspiration dripped off her diamond-hard nipples and landed on his abdomen.

"No, I will not," he shot back with a harsh tone in his voice.

She slowed her bouncing, both because her mounting fatigue and the shock at this boy's defiance.

"Listen to me, son," she whispered through half-clenched teeth, "I thought I laid out the rules after I strapped you down. I'm in charge here. Now shut up and f-fuck me" There was a horny weariness to her voice.

"You're in charge? Then why can't you come? Huh?" Alan brought his hands up and grabbed her breasts through her bra, squeezing them roughly, her nipples pressing insistently into the palms of his hands.

"How,  did you do that?" she shrieked, her eyes fixated on his unbound wrists as she ground her crotch into his.

"Magic," he snarled back, rolling her over and off of him and getting on top, then slamming his cock fully into her. Miranda screamed incoherently. He strapped her in to the restraints attached to the bed's frame; she was too week with exhaustion to resist.

"What are y-you g-g-gonna do to me," she asked fearfully.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said simply. "I'm gonna fuck you to within an inch of your life, and then I'm gonna come in your mouth," he explained as he sunk his cock into her steaming and juicy depths. And I'm gonna make you come so hard your toes are gonna curl up."

She groaned deafeningly loud. "NO!" Alan stopped his attack, just the head of his dick resting inside the entrance of her pussy.

"No? You don't want that?" He gave her another inch, feeling her walls contract against his invader.

"No," she insisted, her mind a fury of contradictions. He was in control, and she didn't like it, but what he was doing to her was so powerfully erotic the excitement was insanely arousing. She could feel it, her juices dripping out of her womanhood to her ass and then onto the sheets.

"No? You want me to pull out? You want me to get dressed and leave? Or do you want me to fuck your tight little pussy and then come in your slut mouth?" he taunted her writhing form as he slowly pronged her with an inch of his cock, slowly pushing and drawing out, feeling her rubbery pussy lips grasping his shaft in an attempt to keep him from escaping her warm depths.

She couldn't think straight, and the loss of control was terrifying to her, a Mistress, a person who tried her best always to stay in control. "No," she grunted not knowing if she said that so he would continue or cease fucking her. She was out of her mind with lust.

Alan took that to mean that she wanted him to stop, and he pulled out of her, an obscene slurping noise resulting as her gash gave up his cock. He walked over to the corner where Laura was cowering and trembling and took off her blindfold. 

She looked up at him, her vision dominated by the sight of his twitching erection, covered in her Mistress's secretions. It looked delicious to her and a drop of drool escaped from the corner of her mouth. This man--this boy--standing before her had dominated her Mistress, her dominatrix. He stared at her, saying nothing, and she moved her head as far forward as her chain would allow, licking the glowing pink head of his penis. "Yummy!" Laura thought. He took a small step towards her and she took his tool in her hand, rubbing it against her face and licking the shaft.

"Are you ready?"

Laura didn't understand the question. She shrugged and continued to nuzzle his dick, her long blond hair tickling his most sensitive organ.

He pulled back and then knelt in front of her so their faces were level. "Are you ready? To help me?"

Her pale blue eyes shimmered, wide as pools, and she slowly nodded her assent. He reached behind her neck and released her from the collar, also detaching it from the chain. After disconnecting the nipple clips he led her over to the futon, so they were in sight of the quivering Miranda, and stood her in front of him leaning forward so that his chin was lightly resting on her left shoulder, then whispered his instructions in her ear. Her eyes went wide with shock and arousal. He left the room, leaving the door open behind him as he made his way to the refrigerator for a drink.

"What are you doing?" Miranda croaked loud enough for him to hear in the next room. "No, slave, stop, don't do that. I am your Mistress, damnit! Let me go, please." Alan downed half a bottle of water before coming back in, and he saw that Laura had followed his directions perfectly. Miranda was naked on the bed. No bitch-goddess boots, no leather bra and panties, only the collar, the slave collar, the collar she had used to restrain Laura. The blonde graduate student sat at attention in a straight-backed chair facing the bed, her hands crossed demurely over her naked crotch. 

"Please Alan, please let me up. I'll fuck you. I'll I'll I'll I'll even let you--" she paused, the thought almost sickening her, "--come in my mouth, please?"

"I don't know, Miranda. Laura here has been most cooperative, unlike some people I know, unlike some people in this very room, as a matter of fact," he retorted, toying with her. "I think Laura deserves a little attention, don't you? Watch carefully what I do for her, because if you're a good girl I'll let you have some too." He winked at Laura as he said this, and she began trembling again at the thought of things to come.

He motioned for her to stand, and took her place on the seat, then pulled her quaking body onto his lap, his hard cock resting against her ass. For the first time he stopped to take her in; she had a fantastic body, all curves, petite and very soft. He'd be surprised if she had ever seen the inside of a gym. There was no stringiness to her muscles, nary a right angle on her entire body. She was the essence of femininity. Her breasts were medium-size and beautifully shaped, capped by nipples so pale pink they almost matched her skin tone; a light dusting of freckles went from the bridge of her nose to the top of her bosom. Alan had his arms around her waist and his fingers in her mound, one teasing her clit, the other stroking her lips, occasionally running through the neatly trimmed patch of yellow pubic hair which crowned her vagina. Once she was sufficiently wet he would lift her and set her down on his dick, and that time was soon approaching.

Miranda looked up from the bed, her eyes wide and her jaw slack, taking in the sublimely erotic scene in front of her, wishing her hands were free, so badly did she want to play with herself. At least they hadn't blindfolded her, though that was of small comfort in her current situation.

* * *

Laura was a squeaker. She let loose a loud one when he penetrated her, groaning deeply as the whole of him made it way up her tiny pussy, a 

passage never nearly stretched so much before. As he bottomed out she squeaked again, and yet more once he started lifting and dropping her, his hands firm on her fleshy hips.

"Yessss!" Laura gasped out. "Fuck me like that, yes!" Alan realized this was the first time she had said anything since shortly after entering the apartment.

"Looks good, don't it?" Alan said, addressing the bound Miranda on the bed. Miranda licked her lips and nodded. Watching Laura orgasm on the end of his gargantuan dick was one of the most thrilling sights she had ever seen, and judging by her roommate's moans she sure sounded like she was having the time of her life, and she wanted some of that for herself; the throbbing in her pussy was telling her so.

Before Miranda knew what was happening the pair had shifted. He was doing her from behind now, Laura face hanging a few inches above her own. Suddenly Laura dropped her head down and attacked Miranda's mouth with her own, and Miranda eagerly reciprocated, her horniness overcoming her fear over the loss of control, her tongue busily exploring her roommate's gasping mouth. Alan reached forward and cupped Laura's forehead, drawing her away from her bound lover.

"Tell her," he ordered Laura curtly. "Tell her this is the best fucking you've ever had. Tell her how it feels."

"Oh God yes! So good. So hard! So long! So big in my tight little pussy. The best! The best! The best! The best! The best!" she chanted mindlessly, her face a mask of unadulterated pleasure and lust. Miranda felt the flow from her pussy increase.

"Oh my GOD! It's happening! AGAIN!" the blonde submissive screeched as she exploded anew in an orgasm of epic proportions, collapsing half on the bed, half on her chained roommate, a cheek pressed into Miranda's own heaving tit. Alan kept pumping into her, and in less then two minutes she exploded again, but less frenzied this time, as she was nearing the end of her stamina. As he pulled his still hard cock, shiny and dripping with Laura's juices from her hot channel, the small girl have a last moan and passed out, her body limp against Miranda's.

Alan lifted her up and carried her to her room, ignoring the crazed look Miranda was shooting at him as they left. After gently depositing her on her bed and pulling up the comforter to cover her, he quickly swallowed down the rest of the bottled water on the way in to Miranda's bedroom.

"So, what did you think of that?" he asked her sneeringly.

"Please," she huffed. "Pleeeease."

"What do you want? What do you want me to do?" he asked back, a mock innocence in his voice.

"Do that to me. Please," she pleaded.

"Fuck you?"

"Yesssss. I need it. Please. I want you. I w-w-w-want to c-come like that. Like sh-sh-she did."

"You'll be a good girl?"

"Anything. Anything, p-please," she whined.

"You'll suck my cock? Drink my come?"

"Yes!" she answered without the slightest hesitation.

He walked to the head of the bed and fiddled with her cuffs, releasing her from her bonds. He laid down on the mattress, and pushed her upright. "Show me. Show me how a GOOD GIRL sucks cock."

She attacked him with her mouth, licking the underside with the flat of her soft tongue. She had absolutely no experience in this; growing up she had simply refused, and as a Mistress she had slaves for this task. She improvised, mixing kissing and licking and sucking into an opera of lust.

He tapped her on her shoulder and she understood, taking the head back into her mouth, waiting expectantly for it to explode. She needed not to wait long, and to her surprise she savored the taste of him. He flipped her onto her back, spread her legs and knelt between them. Amazingly he hadn't lost a whit of his hardness, and she gasped aloud when the head of his prick came to rest on the lips of her drooling pussy, nestling itself against the soft auburn curls which covered her pubis.

"Beg."

This was a game she had often 

played with Laura, so she knew what to do. "Fuck me, please, fuck me. I want to feel it in me, please. I'll be a good girl, a good little girl, I promise, but please fuck me now. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," she howled as he filled her at last, her entreaties degenerating into incoherent grunting as he hammered in and out. Her entire body shook violently as he gave it to her, her head bouncing off the pillow, her arms and legs flailing about. Less than a minute after penetration she climaxed, her tight wet pussy grasping strongly at its invader, a shower of juices flowing briskly from her pussy, drenching his shaft and trickling off of his swinging balls.

"Come in me," she begged. "Shoot your juice in my pussy, my good-girl pussy," she squealed. "I have to feel it!"

Groaning himself, he came into her spasming channel, collapsing forward, covering her body with his own. She embraced him, her arms coming around his back, her legs encircling his sweaty ass.

"So good. So fucking good," she muttered mostly to herself as she drifted off into her dreams.

* * *

The following Wednesday in class Miranda handed back the next batch of essays to her students. Alan flipped through the paper, excited that the comments were all positive. The grade however brought him up short.

D- Please see me at my regularly scheduled office hours, this Thursday, 5:30 to 7.

There was a smiley face under the grade.

Next Chapter: The pursuers close in.



Alan Ch. 16



Prey

"Hey, Paul, I could lose my job for this, you know," the paunchy middle-aged retired NYPD detective said sotto voce to his former colleague as he hesitantly pushed a plain white envelope across the Formica tabletop.

"I know, Mike, but this should make it right," Paul Riley, known on his current job as Agent Nine, replied to his former partner as he passed a paper bag containing a hundred hundred dollar bills under the table.

They were sitting in a diner in lower Manhattan, not far from where the towers once stood. The nervous man was now employed in the corporate security department of the most-popular cell phone carrier in the metropolitan area (rhymes with "horizon"). The day before they had met at a bar in midtown, and the agent had given his old buddy a cell number he wanted traced, including the carrier frequency for that phone, and the billing information. Once they had this data they could send out a few vans with sensitive antennae and get a location for the target by triangulating the signals they monitored.

The break had come a few days earlier; Agent One, the team's leader had decided that they had exhausted their leads. The target had not been spotted during long weeks of mind-numbingly boring surveillance-- neither at the lawyer's office nor at Grand Central Terminal.

After consulting with his boss in London, Agent One and a team of three other agents had broken into the law office again. They couldn't gain access to the steel-doored room, and the attorney's office itself contained nothing of use to them, but the secretary's desk yielded an important clue. Her desk calendar, the calendar upon which she logged her boss's appointments and calls, showed an appointment with Carl Sutherland (a name which they knew to be a pseudonym) at the exact time they had first spotted the target; more importantly there was a phone number next another, more recent entry in the call log, 914 area code, indicating that this Sutherland lived in one of the suburbs north of New York City, in Westchester County, most probably, but perhaps Rockland or Orange counties, or even one of the other more distant suburban regions.

Further investigation--there was no entry for the number in the reverse directories, and Agent One had called the number itself the outgoing voicemail announcement indicated it was a cell phone, and this complicated things, making it harder to pin down their prey. This was why One had dispatched Nine, the retired detective to meet and bribe his old friend from the force, ten thousand up front, another ten when the info was delivered.

* * *

"Hey," Soren greeted him as Alan returned to their room on a cloudy Saturday morning in October. Alan could sense the dejection in his voice.

"What are you doing back?"

Soren had left Friday morning and taken a train home; he was from Rockville, a suburb of Washington, DC, and his girlfriend was a freshman at the University of Maryland, about halfway between the nation's capital and Baltimore.

"My girlfriend wanted me to meet someone: her new boyfriend. His name is Charlie, and he's a senior. Pre-med. Isn't that great?" he asked facetiously, grimacing.

"Oh shit. Jeez man, that's terrible," Alan commiserated. "Come, I'm taking you out for brunch." Soren demurred. "Seriously," Alan insisted, "Come on, we're going to La Rosita."

La Rosita is a Cuban coffee shop on Broadway and 108th Street. It's cheep and delicious, and Alan ate there at least once a week. After a brief bit of haggling Soren agreed; it was one of his favorite eateries too. The crisp autumn air made Alan wish he had worn a jacket, but since it was a relatively short walk he decided not to run back into the dorm for one. Soren, Alan could sense by scanning his roommate's mind, was on the cusp of a serious depression. His now ex-girlfriend, Debra, had been his first serious relationship, and he seemed devastated by the loss; they had spoken on the telephone almost everyday since school had begun.

After their cafes con leche had 

arrived Alan started the conversation, because his roommate had said nothing for a long while.

"Look, don't blow a head gasket over this, dude. I can spout off all of the clichés: long distance relationships almost never work out; she's your high school girlfriend, and those relationships aren't meant to be permanent; there are plenty of other fish in the sea; etc. But you don't want to hear them, so I'll leave it at that and not try to chew off your ear. What I do want to say to you is this: these are supposed to be the most fun years of your life. Don't fall into a funk about some girl who broke your heart. I know it sucks for you, and I know you loved her--" Soren looked up at Alan and stared him in the face, a questioning look in his eyes, "--Yeah, I heard you on the phone, I could tell by the way you talked to her, and about her that you loved her, but you have to move on. Now, I don't mean go out and marry the next girl who rocks your world. Just go to parties, drink beer, flirt, you know? I'm not going to let you stew in the room for the rest of the semester. Anytime I have someplace to go, you're coming with, and I wont take no for an answer. OK?"

"m'kay," he answered morosely mumbling into his coffee.

Two middle-aged men with short haircuts and flesh-colored wires snaking out of their jackets and into their ears came in an took a table near Alan and Soren. They made an effort not to look directly at the two teens. One of them sat facing them, not looking their way, while the other sat opposite, observing them in a mirror on the wall in front of him. He put his hand on his cheek and whispered into a microphone his sleeve. No one in the coffee shop took any notice. A surveillance van was parked across the street on Broadway.

Soren digested this little speech as he ate his eggs, rice, and beans. He was still very quiet, trying to hold back the tears. On the way back to the dorm they had stopped at a corner waiting for the light to change, and Soren put his arm around his roommate, around Alan's shoulder. "Thanks," he croaked, a half of a smile forming on his lips.

Alan smiled inwardly as he gave his roommate a pat on the back. "Lock up your daughters: Soren's on the loose!" he joked, and was rewarded with Soren's hearty laughter.

* * *

"Yes, I understand, Your Lordship. Your instructions will be carried out to the letter. We will take the boy on the first of December. Surveillance teams have him covered twenty-four hours a day. It will not be a hardship. I will call again if there are any, ah, unusual developments." Agent One was consciously avoiding saying the word "problem." 

"You do understand, Tadeusz, the penalty for failure," the voice on the other end of the phone said, the arctic coldness--intensified to a great degree by the clipped tones of an upper-class British accent--of his voice easily transmitted through the international circuits.

"Yes, Your Lordship, I understand."

"You are doing an adequate job. Continue down this path."

Tadeusz Karick hung up, shuddering slightly. He knew very well the consequences, for he had executed the leader of the failed London team, the team that had failed to capture Massimo. A bullet to the back of the head would ruin your day, and he resolved not to be the next recipient of such a treatment. He had done a great deal of "wet work during his dozen year's service with the StB, the Czech equivalent to the KGB, and he had hoped his now freelance status meant murder was a part of his past.

He gave another shudder, thinking of that terrible summer night just a few months ago; he had coaxed the last "Agent One," a disgraced former commander in the French Surete, his true name unknown to him even as he rested the barrel of his pistol, silencer attached, against the back of his head, pulled the trigger, and then shoved him into the Thames.

Two mornings later, sitting in a cafe and sipping coffee, his stomach lurched violently as he spied the front-page photo in the morning's 

paper, a picture of two bobbies standing near the riverbank holding two long poles with hooks at the end, fishing out of the water the corpse he himself had deposited in those waters. He didn't want to, but found himself compelled to read the article anyway. Yves-Marc Didiere. "Shit! I didn't want to know his name," he had thought at the time. "There but for the grace of God go I."

Now Karick leaned back in his office chair, looking out the window and zoning out while watching the cars crawl downtown in heavy Lexington Avenue traffic, hoping that his second-in-command wouldn't be tasked with the job of dumping him into the river--in this case, the Hudson.

Little did he know that his date with a nine millimeter headache was forthcoming, no matter the outcome.

* * *

On the other side of the Atlantic the photographs and reports were being closely examined by the man Karick referred to as "Your Lordship." The former Czech intelligence operative had good reason to address him that way, for the man who employed him was indeed a member of Britain's upper house, a hereditary Lord whose mother's second husband just happened to be Jean-Pierre Massimo's father's second wife. The London team had bollixed the job, though the death of Massimo, his step-brother, was hardly saddening for him.

"Alan Marshall," Lord Thornbow thought to himself. "I should have known." All of this could have been avoided if Swindon-Smythe had contacted him sooner. This Marshall, this boy, is a much fatter target than Jean-Pierre ever was. Probably new to his powers, unsure of himself. A satisfied grin crept across his leonine features. Soon, very soon, the power would be his. He pressed a button on his desk, and his assistant, Mr. Patel, entered through a side door.

"You have reviewed the files of all the New York team members?"

Patel nodded, he was a man of little talk.

"I have just spoken with Mr. Karick in New York. We will be taking action on the first day of December, in the late evening. That is the last day of a four day holiday weekend in America. Thanksgiving. You will depart two days earlier. You know what you must do."

Mr. Patel bowed in the formal fashion and withdrew. The day before they grabbed the boy all but three members of the New York team would be dismissed, sent packing with extremely generous cash bonuses. Karick and two others would take the boy to their secure location, a warehouse in the Bronx. There, Mr. Patel knew, they would meet their end; he himself would do the deed. After that he would transfer Alan Marshall to another van, and set the warehouse afire as he left, then proceed to the second secure location and rendezvous with Lord Thornbow.

He checked the files of all the men on the overall team, and picked the two others to accompany Karick; about half the squad was made up of former NYPD officers and detectives. None of them would die in this operation, because their murders would be too conspicuous.

* * *

Kate was in her dorm room, studying for a French quiz, when her roommate came in.

"Hey, Kate."

"Hey, Scarlet, s'up?" she answered back casually. Scarlet had been acting sort of weird lately. When they first met in person at the beginning of the semester, after spending the summer e-mailing and IM'ing back and forth, they had really hit it off, hanging out together and going to parties together, but about a week ago the amount of time they had been spending in each other's company had been trickling off dramatically, and it wasn't due to course load. Even when they alone together in their room over the last seven days or so Scarlet seemed distant, Kate thought.

"Nuthin' much, you?" she said diffidently.

"Same old, same old."

Scarlet went over to her desk and started on her own coursework. The radio played softly in the background, and neither spoke or moved from their desks for the better part of an hour.

"Listen, Kate, there's something I have to tell you, but I've been hesitant because I'm not sure if you'd take it well," her roommate said nervously, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Kate put her book down slowly and swiveled her chair to face her. She could see the tension written across Scarlet's face. "What is it?" she asked guardedly, thinking she had offended her in some way.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, and I will totally understand if you don't want to room with me anymore, but," she paused, sighing portentously.

Kate looked at her, suddenly very worried, no longer that she had done something wrong, but now simply worried about Scarlet. "You can tell me, I promise. Are you in some kind of trouble? Can I help? What?"

"No, no trouble." She paused again, her throat suddenly becoming really thick with anxiety. "I've decided to become a L.U.G."

Kate was puzzled, and worried. "Lug, what's a lug?"

"Not a 'lug.' An L.U.G., a Lesbian Until Graduation. See, the thing is, I like boys and all, but I've recently found out that I'm bisexual, and while I'm in college I'm only going to, uh, do it, with girls. That way I can concentrate on classes, not guys."

"Whoa! What brought this on? And when exactly did you find out that you were bi?"

"Are you upset? It sounds like you are. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I'm really really sorry. If you're uncomfortable I could put in for a new room," she exhaled rapidly, unable to look Kate in the eyes. This was unfolding just as she had feared; she should have waited until later in the semester.

Kate put up her hand to stop her. "No, no no, it's not that. It's just a lot to take in all at once. I'm just curious as to when this all happened, and no, I don't want another roommate, so just relax on that score," Kate assured her.

Scarlet visibly relaxed. "Well, you could say to some extent I've always had certain, um, feelings towards other women, but I never acted on them before I came here. The place I come from is fairly conservative, and I would never have acted on those, um, tendencies, there." Scarlet was from small-town Ohio, not a place that looks too kindly on most sorts of sexual experimentation.

"I see," Kate said, hoping that she would continue without further prompting; trying to frame a question that Scarlet wouldn't think was judgmental was taxing, to say the least, and Kate really, really, really didn't want to come off that way.

Scarlet said nothing for about half a minute, gathering her thoughts. "You know Jessica, that girl from my seminar? Jessica Starmer?"

Kate knew her. Tall and blonde with large breasts and a curvy behind, a very pretty face. She nodded.

"We were talking, Jess 'n' me, and she just kind of brought it up. We got lunch after seminar last Thursday. She has a very serious boyfriend back in L.A. He's a senior at UCLA, and he's planning to go to law school out there, so they'll be on opposite ends of the country for the next four years. So I asked her, like, 'How can you stand it? Being so far apart for such long periods of time.' And she said, 'Phone sex.' And I laughed, and asked her if that was enough, you know, like as a joke. And there was this twinkling in her eye, and then she explained what being an L.U.G. meant, and I almost choked on my veggie burger! Then I asked her, 'What does your boyfriend think of you having sex with other girls?' And she's all, 'What do you think we talk about when we have phone sex?' And then we both cracked up.

"So we talked some more, and I admitted to her that I had had sexual feelings towards other women--OK, she wormed it out of me--but that I was sure I wasn't completely lez," Scarlet said softly, almost whispering, a dopey grin on her face. She stopped for a good thirty seconds before mustering the courage to go on. "So I went back to her room--her roommate was at a class--and we, um, did it." Her eyes were sealed shut in embarrassment for the last part.

Kate and Scarlet talked for the next hour. She assured her roommate she wasn't offended or anything, 

and that she didn't mind continuing sharing space.

"I had a feeling, like, you'd be cool with it," Scarlet said near the end of the conversation, a slight smirk across her face.

"Why is that?" Kate shot back teasingly.

"I can tell you're into some kinky shit."

Kate's face reddened. "Oh?" she said stiffly.

"You deny it?" Scarlet asked playfully.

"Why would you think that?" Scarlet could see the tension spread thought Kate's whole body, especially her face.

"It's just something about a girl with pierced nipples and a shaved vagina that set me to thinkin' I'm not dealing with a future nun here," she joked, winking, and watched in satisfaction as the color of Kate's face matched her own name.

"You've seen that?" Kate asked in half a state of shock; she thought she had been extra careful in concealing this from her roommate. "Anyhow, I'm not Catholic."

Scarlet giggled.

* * *

"So, it didn't freak you out?" Alan asked her later that same day, the early afternoon sun shining through the window. The two of them were laying in Alan's bed, his softening erection slowly slipping from her depths as he held her, spooning her from behind. Even though he was picking up the thread of conversation from before they had fucked, Kate knew what he was talking about. She had told him about Scarlet right before they had started up, but that conversation had been interrupted by the commencing of the "festivities."

"Which part?" she asked. "The idea of lesbian sex? The idea of living with one, sorta? Am I worried that she'll try to make move on me?" she giggled, considering her situation. "Nah, it's just the surprise of it all. Hey, my sex life is nothing to tell momma about, either." She punctuated this with a laugh.

They spoke quietly for a few more minutes, and then disengaged. Kate cleaned herself down below with some tissues she grabbed off of Alan's desk, and began to dress. "I spoke to Pauline this morning. She's getting kind of serious with Brian Lacy, but I think she didn't want me to tell you."

"No, I know about them. He's a great guy."

"That sounds a little forced, Alan."

"Not at all," he assured her sincerely. "Pauline and I, as you surely know, decided that we would each see other people. It's not as if we were married or anything. We only dated five months, for God's sake. I love her, but some of that is a brother/sister-type thing. She was always my friend first, and my girlfriend second, even during senior year."

Kate chuckled, "Alright, alright. You convinced me. If you're lying, you hide it very well."

"Well, not to change the subject or anything, BUT, what are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"Library. Paper due on Thursday. Dinner in the dining hall. You?"

"Same. Which library?"

"Lehman. Paper's for Poli Sci."

"What a coincidence, mine too. Go get your stuff and I'll meet you downstairs."

"Deal," she replied, a smile forming. Sex with Alan was great, OK, better than great, but she also liked spending time with him. Kate returned after a short while and they walked to the other end of campus, out the Amsterdam Avenue gates and up a few blocks to Lehman Library. They filled each other in as to the topics of their respective Poli Sci papers, and then Alan told her about his conversation with Soren earlier that day.

"I might know some people," she said thoughtfully, her mind sorting out a list of potential candidates for Alan's roommate's rebound relationship.

"Cool," he said back, oblivious to the van slowly following the pair of them up Amsterdam.

They found a big table in a quiet corner of the library, set their stuff down and headed off into the stacks, each in separate directions, reuniting at their table after about a half an hour or so. They put in a good two hours of work; Alan finished up first. Sitting back in his chair he stretched his back, regarding Kate closely; she didn't look up from the texts she was 




Alan Ch. 16



concentrating on. A slightly wicked thought entered his mind, a very small seed of a plan, though germinating rapidly into a full-bloomed course of action. He entered her busy mind and made a few modifications, both to her mind and to her body, among other things ramping up her latent (though since Scarlet's revelation, much less latent) curiosity about girl-girl sex. 

She looked up, catching him staring at her face, and she blushed.

"What?" she asked playfully, twirling a finger coquettishly through her raven-hued locks. She giggled.

"Oh, nothing really. I'm all done here. How much longer do you have?"

Kate told him not much longer, and Alan volunteered to photocopy the articles she wanted to take back to the dorm for later consideration.

* * *

Later that night in bed Kate awoke with a start, shaken by the potency of her wet dream. In the dream Kate was reliving her encounter with Alan and Kim Hall in the latter's guidance office. 

Alan had thrown one helluva good ass fucking at her that morning, but her dream kept spinning her back to the interplay between herself and Mrs. Hall. On that morning all those months ago she had stripped Mrs. Hall out of her clothes and played with the older woman's nipples, then Alan had sprayed their faces with his yummy come. In the past when her mind had revisited that particular episode she glossed over the parts when she and Kim Hall had touched each other, but now they were front and center, rolling feverishly around all corners of her brain.

As quietly as she could Kate got out of bed and peeled off her sticky panties, tossing them into the small hamper she kept by the door. As she was pulling on a dry pair she realized the flow of juices secreting from her burning hot pussy had not abated, so she crept back into bed bare beneath her long cotton nightgown. It was just as well; she really needed to frig herself off anyway, knowing somehow she would never be able to sleep without first finding release. Thank God Scarlet had come home drunk this Saturday night/Sunday morning; if she was lucky she would still be able to make a little noise when she came.

Barely two minutes later Kate was astounded by the sheer brute force of her climax, and even though she was doing her best to stifle her howls she froze in terror when she saw Scarlet start to stir. Her nipples were so hard, and seemed to her so scorchingly hot that she thought she could actually feel the metal of the rings which pierced each one start to soften. It was to her great relief that her slumbering roommate merely rolled over and continued to snooze.

Kate was still gasping for breath a few minutes later, flat on her back. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, that felt good," she thought to herself. After catching her breath she slowly reached under the blanket and ran a hand over her still-drooling pussy. Maybe forgoing panties was a mistake; as her orgasm hit Kate had felt an enormous spray ('A spray!' she marveled) of come shoot out of her slit. Her nightgown was soaked with her warm girl juice, practically from the waist to the hem, for the fabric of it had been bunched up on her thighs just below her crotch.

In the end it took more than five minutes for her to even gather up the stamina to sit up in bed, and more to make it across the room so she could have her sopping nightgown join her drenched panties in the hamper. She hadn't enough energy to strip off the moist sheets from the bed, so she reluctantly slipped back in between them; immediately her fresh nightgown began to become sodden from the residual dampness on her bedding.

She need not have bothered. Four more times before the sun came up she was jolted out of similar dreams, each time to find herself soaked from waist to toes with fresh gushing torrents of warm sticky girl come, each time having to masturbate before falling back asleep, bringing forth yet more streams of ejaculate, never once working up the strength of will to get out of bed and change.

She woke early, making sure she was 

up well before Scarlet. Her sheets and blanket were tacky from all her semi-dried spendings. She hadn't planned on doing any laundry that day, but nevertheless she stripped the bed, even flipped the mattress, bagged up sheets and blanket with the contents of the hamper, and took it all to wash. If she was lucky she would be back upstairs before Scarlet woke up to her hangover. She considered taking something to read in the laundry room, but didn't.

She had some serious thinking to do.

Waiting for the elevator she jerked with the realization that in one of her dreams she was making love, no, fucking Scarlet, and in another she was fucking someone named Mistress Randa, though she didn't have the slightest clue as to who she was.

"Are you going to use that washer?" a girl she didn't know was asking her impatiently.

Kate snapped out of her trance. A minute before she had opened her laundry bag while standing in front of this machine, and was instantly transfixed by the delicious odor emanating from within it. Who knew pussy juice smelled so fantastic? Surely not Katie Van Devanter; at least not until today.

She had some serious thinking to do.

After setting off the washer on its cycle she stepped out for some much needed fresh air. Though it was chilly out Kate felt very warm on the inside. She sat on a bench, her mind racing a million miles per hour. She thought if she sat perfectly still she would be able to ignore the gooey wetness in her panties, a wetness threatening to escape out and seep straight through her blue jeans. Thirsty, so very very thirsty; that was her next order of business.

She had some serious thinking to do.

* * *

"Patel?"

"I am here, Your Lordship."

"Report."

"It is ready, Your Lordship."

"You've done well, though I expected nothing less."

"You are far too kind, Your Lordship."

"I will see you in New York." Lord Thornbow replaced the secure telephone unit's receiver to its base. He pressed a button, and a liveried servant entered holding a silver tray with a crystal glass and a decanter of brandy. The servant placed the tray before his employer on the desk, bowed curtly and left. They did not exchange words.

Next Chapter: A Thanksgiving weekend to remember, or perhaps not. 



Alan Ch. 17



Captured for a Time

The plates were long cleared from the table, and the men sat around the living room, a football game shining off the screen of the television, volume turned low so as not to disturb the baby resting in his cousin Jack's arms. Jack was married to his cousin Nina, and Shara was their first baby, though number two was a work in progress, more than seven months along inside Nina's belly.

Nina sat down next to Alan on the couch, across from her husband and Alan's dad. She ruffled his hair as she did when he was a kid and she was his babysitter. "So," she said with an accusatory tone in her voice, "You move to the city and we see all of a grand total of ONE time since September? I don't know whether to be hurt or insulted."

"Sorry Nina, been busy, but the phone works two ways. You haven't called me. I'd be glad to come over, especially if you're cooking." Before the first baby was born Nina was the sous-chef at a very well regarded French bistro in Tribeca. Now she was a stay-at-home mom, and loving it.

"Pig," she snorted. "I'll call you."

"After the new year," he insisted gently. "Exams start in about two weeks." She agreed. Alan was impatient for the whole gang to go home. They had eaten at four, and it was nearing eight. 

He had plans to stop by at Megan and Leila's that night, but it would be bad form to sneak out while the guests were still hanging around. Leila still took and occasional shift as a PT, despite her med school status, because she liked doing it. She was thinking of doing her residency in sports medicine. Since school was on break for the holiday and a lot of people went away for Thanksgiving, the hospital had begged her to work both Thursday and Friday, so the two of them had remained in Westchester. It was just as well for Megan. She had yet to tell her parents that she was bisexual, and for that matter, bisexual with a live-in female lover, and for that matter, that she was pregnant out of wedlock. Every time she was working up the nerve to tell her folks she could just imagine her father having a heart attack, her mother a stroke.

Alan pulled up to their house and parked shortly after nine. Megan answered the door. "Welcome to the farm," she greeted him with a chuckle.

"Farm? I don't get it."

"You've come to see me--the cow--haven't you?" Megan took a step back from the doorway, and Alan could see her stomach. She was showing her five month pregnancy, a bulge visible from underneath her sweater.

"You look beautiful."

"That's what I keep telling her! Hi, Alan," Leila said coming over and kissing him on the cheek. After he sat down Leila returned from the kitchen with a glass of wine. The minute he had drained it she took it back from him and went back to fill it.

"You don't have to get me drunk," he laughed.

"Megan insisted," the trim Asian woman confided, "If you're drunk you wont think she's fat." Leaning closer she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "She thinks she isn't pretty since she started to show. It's up to us," she added with a twinkle in her liquid brown eyes, "to convince her otherwise."

With that she stood and took his hands, pulling him up and guiding him up to the bedroom; Megan followed closely behind. Leila stood behind him, turning him so that he was facing Megan and sat him on the end of their bed. As she worked her hands at his shirt buttons she stared over his shoulder at her red-haired lover. "Tell her Alan. Tell her how lovely she is."

"You're gorgeous, Megan. You always were, and you always will be." Megan gasped, her hands playing with the top button of her blouse, but too afraid to unbutton it, afraid that if he saw her naked he would recoil in shock. He approached his former teacher; Leila had unfastened all the buttons, and as he stepped to Megan she had held on to his shirt, so he was topless as he approached her. Gently he removed her hand from her neck, grasping the top of her blouse, and with a deft touch popped open the neck button and pulled the blouse over her head and off her. She pressed her body to his, and he could feel the smooth hardness of her belly. He dropped his arms down from around her neck and rested his palms against her pregnant abdomen, making gentle strokes all around it, and at the same time lowered his mouth to hers.

They kissed for a long time, distracted only by Leila undressing them; once she asked Megan to step out of her skirt, and then took off Alan's shoes and socks, then his pants and underwear. Alan led Megan, clad only in her panties, over to the bed, and sat down on it, pulling her into his lap. She groaned as he fondled her breasts, now more sensitive due to the hormones of pregnancy, her head lolling back to rest against him as the pleasure began to overtake her, little hums and gasps escaping past her trembling lips. Leila joined them on the bed a minute later, completely nude, taking charge of the situation.

Alan laid back on the mattress, and Megan straddled him, Leila kneeling behind her, in between Alan's outstretched legs. Holding Megan by her now more meatier hips she guided her onto his erection and then pulled her down so she sunk down all thy way.

"Ooof! Ah, ah, MY GOD, it's been sooooo loooooong!" the redhead exclaimed, her passions rising as she felt Alan fill her completely, a feeling complemented by the incredible sensation Leila was causing by strumming her hardened nipples. She could feel the softness of Leila's breasts pressed into her back as she rode up and down on Alan's hard cock, and the very idea of it still excited her.

"Tell her again," Leila demanded of him, "She still needs to hear it. Tell her again, and again, and again. She wont listen to me," she ordered him, her eyes boring into his with a frightening sense of determination.

"You're so pretty," he gasped up at his pregnant partner. "So pretty, so pretty, so pretty."

Megan began to cry, tears spilling down her face and over her heaving bosom. "Thank you," she squeaked (hormones again, she thought to herself), a split second before her body seized up as she orgasmed. Alan came in her, and she quivered at the sensation of it, then collapsed and rolled off of him, a stewing morass of emotion. As she laid beside him her hands danced up and down his chest, and watched Leila take his manhood into her slurping mouth, cleaning him of their combined juices, and getting him hard for round two.

Once he was ready she gave him a swat on the side of his butt, and her sat up and moved off to the side of the mattress. Leila positioned herself over the supine Megan so that they were face-to-face, her wiggling behind a tempting target for their teenaged lover.

As Alan sunk into her she lowered her face, and pressed her lips against Megan's. Leila moaned, and Megan snaked her tongue past Leila's hot lips. He began to thrust in and out of her clenching pussy, enjoying the sound of loud slurps that her tight passage emitted; her syrup coated his dick from tip to root, the excess falling in dribs and drabs on the bedspread, pooling between its folds.

Leila's moans and groans increased in fervor and loudness as Alan increased the pace and force of his fucking. As Leila bucked her throbbing pussy back against his throbbing cock Megan was finding it difficult to maintain her lip lock with her Sapphic partner; to deal with this she placed her hands on Leila's temples, holding her fast.

It was a good thing, too, for just as Megan gained a grip on Leila's bouncing head an enormous climax exploded throughout the Asian woman's sweaty body. Alan climaxed as well, and they collapsed into a sweaty mess on the top of the bedspread.

"Mmmmm," both women purred. Alan settled himself between them, caressing each one lightly. He stayed the night. Megan drifted off first, Leila's soft cries echoing in her ears, "Yes, my ass, so g-good, ahhhhh!"

* * * 

The train was crowded for a Sunday evening, filled mostly with college students like himself returning to school. He didn't see anyone he knew in his car, so he used to time to study. He had a term paper due for his history intro class, and his outline was complete as the train pulled into the Harlem station. He hailed a cab on 125th Street for the very short trip back to Morningside Heights, and stared blankly out the window as the cab headed west to Broadway.

"Excuse me," Alan heard the heavily accented voice behind him say. He had just dismissed the cab at the corner and turned towards campus.

"Yes?"

"Vhich vay is to Columbus Avenue? I'm a bit lost, I thinks." He had a piece of paper in his right hand and held it up for Alan to see, an address scribbled on it.

Alan turned forty-five degrees and gestured south and east. Columbus Avenue terminated at 110th Street, one block east of Amsterdam.

"You need to walk down Broadway a few blo-"

He didn't finish his sentence.

The foreigner stepped forward and held him up, preventing Alan from collapsing to the pavement.

His partner pocketed a small white device, a jet injector filled with tranquillizer, just as the van pulled up to the curb. In a matter of seconds Alan was inside and the van was pulling away, headed for the Triboro Bridge, and then on to the Bronx.

Karick dialed a number on his cell phone and spoke immediately upon hearing an answer on the other end. "Team Alpha to base. Extraction successful." He thumbed the END button, not waiting for a response. He had a bad feeling, growing worse the further north he went. Just a few blocks shy of the rendezvous he reached into his pocket and depressed a button which caused the cell phone to ring, though no call was actually incoming.

"Yes," he said into the device for the benefit of his vanmates. He paused for a few seconds and said, "Understood," and then keyed the END button. "Let me out here," he instructed the driver. "I haff to go back to ze office and clean out all of ze files. I'll take the subway."

* * *

Mr. Patel folded his own phone closed, and then placed it in his pocket, his left pocket. He felt his jacket's right pocket, double checking that his pistol was there, and properly situated for swift removal. He rubbed his hands together, his breath visible in the unheated expanse of the warehouse, wishing he had a nice cup tea to keep him warm. A light snow sprinkled, though not enough to accumulate. "All the better," Patel thought to himself. Snow keeps people inside, and the fire he was about to set would not be discovered for a few extra minutes due to the reduced street traffic. The only problem was the homeless; upon arriving at the warehouse a few hours earlier he had to scoot them out from the squatting places. He could have brandished his weapon, but thought better of it. Hundred dollar bills were a much better method, and the six bums had gladly accepted them as an inducement to vacate. He just worried about more showing up.

While in the middle of these musings he saw the headlights of the van coming up the alley, where the side entrance of the warehouse was located. "Money," Patel thought. "That's when I'll take care of it." He would wait until they were distracted by the wads of cash he would place in their hands to "take care of business."

"Where is One?" he asked the two before him.

"He told us he had to go back to the office to shred the files. You didn't know?" one of them explained.

Patel shrugged, not wanting to let on his frustration. Karick was smart, demanding half his payment upfront and deposited into a Swiss account. He must have suspected that he would be terminated upon completion, so he took what he had already been paid, and ran. "Well, we didn't hire him because he was stupid," he thought. His Lordship would not be pleased by this complication, but there would be time enough to rectify this later.

After the van had pulled in through the loading doors Mr. Patel directed the team to strip Alan Marshall of all his clothes and possessions and place him in the second van.

"These rings," one of the agents said with a tone of exasperation. "They wont fucking budge."

"Let me see," Mr. Patel said impatiently, but he was no luckier than the soon to be dead man. "OK, well leave them. I'll cut them off of him later."

"OK," the agent responded, not really caring, and looking forward to his payoff.

Mr. Patel reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and withdrew two packets of cash.

Two minutes later he was pulling out of the warehouse, the first smoke wisps rising behind him; he tapped his jacket and felt both packets, replaced.

* * *

Alan came to his senses sometime later. He was moving, he could feel. His was--for some reason he didn't understand--naked but for a straight jacket and a length of rope binding his ankles together, flat on his back on an rattling ambulance gurney.

He was very groggy. His whole body ached.

He tried his powers against his bonds. No joy. Underneath the gurney, though he couldn't see it, was a large sphere of pure silver, slightly less then the diameter a regulation basketball. The waves coming off of it served to deaden his abilities. He struggled for awhile longer, but fatigue and a nasty headache got the better of him.

The van came to a halt; Alan's eyes popped open, but all he could see was the inside of the roof of the van. He heard the front door open, and expected to hear the back door open shortly, but it did not. Two men were standing just outside of the rear of the van. They were on a gravel driveway, Alan could sense by the sound of their footsteps. They spoke for a few minutes, but he couldn't make out the words.

After a period of time indeterminable to him he heard one of the men reenter the van and pull into a garage. The back door popped open, and the opener was surprised that Alan was conscious. Alan felt something against his neck, and he dropped off into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

Mr. Patel cut the engine inside the garage and directed his underlings to remove the boy from the van and roll him into the mansion. Using the connecting door he entered the house and made his way to the living room.

"Report," Lord Thornbow demanded.

"Success. He's being moved now. The men have their instructions."

"Any problems?"

"Well, he was awake when we opened the van just now, but that isn't such a problem. Our friend Karick did not show at the warehouse. I'll put some of my people on it."

"Agreed," his boss replied, pouring the Indian man a small brandy. "You have done well, as always, Mr. Patel." If all went as planned Karick would not be a problem, living or dead. He clinked his glass against that of his servant and they sipped. His Lordship picked up the receiver on his desk phone and pressed for the intercom. A few seconds later they were joined by another.

"Neil, please come in. I'd offer you a drink but you have work to do. The boy is in the basement. Mr. Patel will show you the way."

"Yes, Your Lordship, straightaway. Thank you again," Dr. Neil Swindon-Smythe said as he bowed and allowed the swarthy man to show him to the dungeon.

* * *

"Dungeon" wasn't exactly the word Alan would have used to describe the room to which he was confined. It more closely resembled a hospital room; the walls were white and antiseptic, and he was still, of course, lying bound in a straightjacket on a hospital gurney. Furthering the scene was the IV bag on the stand next to the bed, a catheter in his arm slowly feeding fluids to his veins. He didn't know what they were giving him, but he felt debilitated. It was morphine, dulling his senses, reaction time, and mental defenses.

The only thing out of place, that made him know he wasn't really in a hospital (besides, of course, they way he got to where he was) was a small silvery-looking sphere suspended from the ceiling in a clear mesh net. It was slightly smaller around than a basketball, and it was brilliant in the fluorescent lighting of the room. Had his mind been unclouded by the morphine he would have been able to discern wave upon wave of mystic energy emanating off of it, enveloping Alan in a virtual downpour of powerful heavenly radiation.

Dr. Swindon-Smythe stopped at the alcove just outside the boy's cell and spoke to the guard and physician outside the door who had been monitoring the CCTV.

"Any movement?" the archeologist asked.

The guard shook his head.

Swindon-Smythe swiped his keycard through the reader mounted on the wall near the door and waited for it to click open; he entered, the doctor trailing him.

"Wake him up," Swindon-Smythe directed.

"First I'll switch him from the straightkacket to the regular restraints," the doctor said, not waiting for assent to do so.

The doctor retrieved a canister of oxygen and some tubing from the closet and placed a mask over the semi-unconscious prisoner's face, turning the valve open to full blast. When he saw this was having effect he briefly lifted up the mask and waved some smelling salts under Alan's nose. This did the trick.

"Well, well, well, we meet again, young man."

"You!" Alan groaned softly.

Swindon-Smythe didn't answer; instead, he walked back out into the alcove and pulled a small rolling cabinet into the cell. From it he pulled a few small talismans and fetish items of the cult of Ahuramazda, some of them recently unearthed by teams digging with the financial backing of Lord Thornbow, others stolen from museums, private collections, and even government storehouses, over the last few years.

The scientist arrayed the small items around the room in no particular formation, at least as far as Alan could tell. There really wasn't a pattern; Swindon-Smythe was just spreading them out around the room to see if any would react to be being in close proximity to a Seed carrier. He doubted they would. His walkie talkie crackled from its cradle on his waist. "Yes, my Lord?"

"The rings. Remove them."

Swindon-Smythe didn't bother to answer; he knew he was being observed through the camera. He signaled for the doctor to return, and he came in carrying shears designed to cut off rings, something found in every hospital emergency room, and something the doctor knew how to use.

SNAP! 

"Shite!" the doctor swore.

"What happened?" Swindon-Smythe asked, looking over the doctor's shoulder.

"The tool just snapped apart. I've never seen something like that happen before."

"You cut him." The doctor had poked Alan after he lost control of the shears after they came apart violently; there as a small jagged laceration on his middle finger, about a two centimeters long, and it was oozing steadily. It took the doctor just a few minutes to clean the wound and drop three stitches into Alan's finger. It usually took longer, but since the boy was on a morphine drip he didn't have to give him a local. The two men withdrew to the anteroom and Lord Thornbow joined them presently.

The doctor had a small medical saw, the kind used to remove fiberglass casts, and he said it would take a bit of time to get it down from the truck and brought to the cell. Lord Thornbow ordered him to proceed, and the doctor shuffled up the steps to retrieve it.

"Will it prevent us from succeeding if we can't get the rings off of him?"

"I'm not sure, my Lord. He obviously had the powers when I first met him at the museum last spring, and that was before he had acquired the ring, so it's hard to say. We're flying blind with most of this."

Lord Thornbow nodded ruefully. "When the doctor returns tell him not to bother just yet. Tomorrow, if we still can't remove the rings we'll just have to cut his fingers off. Begin the interrogation." This was a mistake.

* * *

Years of careful planning were coming to fruition for Lord Thornbow. The acquisition of the abandoned silver mine in southeast Turkey was the key. It had taken him many years to pull that one off. First, years and years of study of the ancient legends. The scientific analysis of the metal had led him there.




Alan Ch. 17



He had met Jean-Pierre Massimo at Oxford; he was a young student and Massimo was a fortyish lecturer. His mother, recently widowed had visited him from London the same time that his professor's father had been staying in England, and the two had hit it off. At first he had liked the his new step-brother, but there was always something about him, an easiness with which Massimo navigated life's oceans, that was troublesome. 

He had taken his course in archeology and became fluent in Arabic because of it; it was no great surprise that the intelligence services came calling after him after he had received his degree. Massimo was disappointed in his choice, hoping his new stepbrother would follow in his footsteps and lead a major dig or two, but it was not enough to rupture their relationship seriously.

Twenty years he spent in MI6, though very little of it in the field, and when he was in the field it was as a "legal" agent, attached to an embassy or a consulate, covered as a cultural attaché or some such, running agents and informants. It was in the mid-1970s that his background in antiquities first came to play in his career. He was well aware of the legend of Paishiya'uvada, having read some texts on it in university. Most of them were vague in details.

A few months after he was posted he was in the shopping district, browsing in his favorite antiquities shop he came upon a scroll. Mustafa, the proprietor, seeing what he was examining told him that it was probably worthless, but nonetheless a fine example of a pre-Mohammedan Arabic legend scroll. His Muslim clientele was mostly uninterested in such things, and he offered the diplomat a fair price. Thornbow examined it more closely, and studied the title, "The Scroll of Hyrcanus," and that name rang a bell. He bought, paying Mustafa two hundered pounds; it was money well spent, as it turned out.

* * *

Alan played the innocent. No, he told Dr. Swindon-Smythe ("Call me Neil"), he had never heard of Hyrcanus. Jean-Pierre Massimo. Who's he? Powers? Mind control? Telepathy? Telekinesis? Fairy tales and fantasy. His inquisitor wasn't buying it.

"Tell me, Alan, where did you get those rings?"

"What rings?" the captive teen asked groggily. No one had ever noticed them before, except of course Jack Massimo, but he had been a fellow Vessel.

"The rings on your middle fingers. One on the right, one on the left. Come now, son, it's me you're talking to. I remember when you stole one of them from the Met. What interests me now is the other. Where did you get that one?" Swindon-Smythe gestured to Alan's right hand, indicating the Ring of Hyrcanus, though he was asking about the ring on the other hand, the Ring of Cyaxares, the ring Jack had sent him.

"Stole? I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

Swindon-Smythe sighed and walked to the door of the cell. He stuck his head through it, said something Alan couldn't hear, and the doctor entered shortly. Sodium pentathol was injected into the port on the IV, and the doctor placed an EEG monitor on the table next to the gurney and then began applying the contacts to Alan's head; he punched some buttons on the IV pump and the morphine drip was halted.

The doctor and Swindon-Smythe stepped out into the anteroom and waited for the pentathol to take effect. The debilitating effects of the new agent was different; he was no longer so weary, though his head became more fuzzy. As his fatigue lessened he began to be able to make out the waves coming off of the orb hanging over him. They looked like a disturbance radiating in a pond when a pebble was thrown into it, the orb being the pebble. The waves were pale yellow in color, and their frequency was lazy. 

He tried to move, and found that he could angle his neck to the side enough to see his hands. The rings were glowing too, one blue, the other red, each emitting colored fields which covered their respective hands like mittens of tinted radiances. The ring which was Massimo's was glowing brighter, its color field larger and stronger. Alan again tried to use his powers to release him from his bonds, and he concentrated on the leather restraint holding his right wrist. He was unsuccessful; he couldn't tell if it was because of the yellow waves or the drugs. He couldn't concentrate hard enough to make the buckles release. They twitched a little, and Alan saw that whenever they did his rings glowed more strongly, but it wasn't nearly enough to loosen them. After just a few minutes he was out of breath with effort and his head hit the pillow with moderate force. His breathing was improving, thanks to the oxygen and cessation of the morphine, and he took in great draughts of air, building up stamina for his next attempt.

Swindon-Smythe and the doctor reentered and approached him, the doctor taking up station at the EEG and Swindon-Smythe on the other side of the bed.

"Anything?" Swindon-Smythe asked the physician as his colleague considered the tracings.

"Nothing interesting. Looks like a normal set of brainwaves. If he is altered in some way, I can't tell."

"Oh well, it was a long shot." Swindon-Smythe gently patted Alan on his cheek to get his attention. "The rings. We were talking about the rings."

"Water," Alan croaked. "Please."

Swindon-Smythe held a cup up to Alan's mouth and allowed him a couple of sips.

"Tell me about the rings."

"Rings?" Alan said numbly, not trying to dissemble. His mind was fogged by the various drugs coursing through his system.

Swindon-Smythe placed his hand on the top of Alan's head and turned him so his right hand was straight in his view, paused for a few seconds and then rotated his head to the other direction so Alan could view his other hand. Alan saw the rings, but was more attentive to the glowing aura each one was emitting. Massimo's ring was glowing even brighter now, the luminescent field edging closer to the surface of the shimmering surface of the silver orb suspended above the gurney.

"You stole one of them from the Museum. I was there. I opened the case for you. Do you remember?"

"Yessss," Alan answered, sounding a bit drunk. "Museum," he mumbled. "Case." The drugs were working now.

"Now we're finally getting somewhere," Swindon-Smythe thought to himself. He looked up at the camera in the corner of the cell and nodded.

"Tell me about Paishiya'uvada," he put to Alan.

"Seeds," Alan mumbled. "Seeds of Paishiya'uvada. There used to be seven. Five now. No, four." The aura of Massimo's ring was millimeters from reaching the orb.

"What is the Seed?"

"Power. Hyrcanus was the son of Devaryesh. Used power of Seed to defeat his Uncle Smerdis who had taken throne from, from Devaryesh. Devaryesh had Hyrcanus killed because he had the power. Used orb," Alan explained languidly, his eyes shifting to take in the sight of the orb suspended above him, and saw Swindon-Smythe follow his gaze. "Used orb and chalice of Ahurmazada--"

"You mean 'Ahuramazda,' don't you?"

"Whatever." The aura from Jack's ring was slowly enveloping the silver sphere and the waves radiating off of it were losing strength and frequency. Alan could feel himself recuperating, though he knew somehow the process would be a slow one. "Hyrcanus had a servant. As he died he gave Seed to him. Ko'un-Zir. Kanteer. Ko'un-Zir had Orbis Tertius destroyed. Made rings for Vessels from metal."

"What is a Vessel?"

"Person who has Seed called Vessel. Vessel of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada. Please, water."

"And you are a Vessel," Swindon-Smythe said as he held the cup against the prisoner's lips; it wasn't a question. Alan said nothing, knowing that by denying his status he would be tortured, and by confirming it he would be killed. It startled him to realize that he knew this because he was reading Swindon-Smythe's thoughts. He was getting better.

They talked for another hour at least, though Alan couldn't be sure how long, his sense of time adversely affected by the medications. As his bearings returned slowly he became much less forthcoming with his answers. At one point the doctor stepped up and injected more pentathol into his IV port, but Alan was able to counteract it.

Frustrated, Swindon-Smythe picked himself up from his chair and left. The waves coming from the orb had ceased, choked off by the aura streaming from Massimo's ring. After he was alone for a few minutes he heard Jack's voice again.

"Jack?" he said aloud, his voice raspy.

"Don't say anything. There are listening devices in the room. Just listen."

"OK," Alan whispered.

"I know you're feeling better. I can sense it."

Alan nodded slightly.

"When they give you more drugs you will be able to neutralize the effect, but you must act to all outward appearances that you are still dopey. In a few hours," the voice of Jack Massimo said, though it went silent as the doctor reentered. The doctor looked Alan over, and check to see that the stitches were holding and the wound showed no sign of infection. He left.

"In a few hours," the voice went on, picking up from where they had been interrupted, "You will escape. They are going to cut the rings off your fingers, and failing that they will amputate them to get the rings. We cannot let that happen. You wearing my ring is the only thing keeping both of us alive. Understand?"

"Yes," he mumbled quietly.

"Get some rest. I will help you."

Alan fell asleep. The guard outside his room watched him slumber on the closed circuit system, reporting to Lord Thornbow every fifteen minutes that the prisoner was secure.

* * *

"It seems to me the matter is simple. The power of the Seed is passed from one person--Vessel, if you will--to the next at the time of death. Why don't we just kill him?"

"Neil," Lord Thornbow replied thoughtfully, "What if it's not as simple as that? What if the Vessel has to pass this on willingly? I understand the risks are greater by keeping him alive, but if you keep at it he will, eventually, give us the information we need. Once I know what I need to do to get his power, the Seed of Paishiya'uvada, we will kill him, and wash our hands of it."

"Yes, your Lordship," the younger man replied, though not entirely convinced.

"He's fighting it."

"Yes, I noticed that. I'll talk to the doctor about upping his drugs. Perhaps we'll try the hallucinogenic therapies if he continues to stonewall."

"If the doctor agrees. He's the expert with this." Lord Thornbow took on a pensive cast. "How do you think he's doing it? He can't be using his abilities, assuming he does indeed have them. If he is a Vessel the orb should be absorbing his power, right? We do know that much."

Swindon-Smythe, who had fashioned the Fourth Orb himself, and was justifiably proud of his work, thought it unlikely that Alan Marshall could be using his powers in such close proximity to it. "I followed the instructions in the scroll precisely. I used only the silver you provided, and we double-tested it. It is chemically identical to the small spheres in the necklaces. I don't see how it could not be functioning."

"Yes, I agree," Lord Thornbow said moodily. "It's been a long day for me, travel and all. I will see you in the morning, and will expect a report.

"Goodnight," he said, leaving the study and going upstairs to the bedroom.

Swindon-Smythe hastily beat his way back to the dungeon.

* * *

Alan was feeling better. The doctor was stending next to the bed, checking the readout on the EEG monitor, and then took his pulse and blood pressure. He made some notations on the chart and began to leave the room. He paused at the door, and stood stock still for more than a minute.

Alan was reaching out with his mind, struggling against fatigue and the aftereffects of his exposure to the orb's radiation. "Stay," he thought, trying to keep the doctor in control.

"What are you doing," Neil Swindon-Smythe asked the doctor, his voice testy. "Close that bloody door," he ordered as he approached the entrance to the cell. Alan's spell was broken.

"Ah, sorry. Just lost in thought," the doctor said as he stepped aside to allow Neil to enter.

"Go get some coffee, it's been a long night, and we need to stay focused." The doctor left.

"You're looking better. I see the water has helped. Are you ready to answer more questions?"

Alan nodded, closing his eyes in concentration. He reached out with a tendril of thought to probe Neil's mind, asserting the start of some semblance of control.

"How did you get the Seed you have? How did you become a Vessel?"

"I think you've made a mistake. I only read about this Seed stuff, you know, in books and stuff. It's a story. A fairy tale. You can't possibly believe it," Alan said wearily.

"It's a story. A fairy tale. Yes, I don't believe it," Swindon-Smythe said back, his voice rote.

"Your awfully sorry for bringing me here," Alan Obi-Wan'ed.

"Yes," Swindon-Smythe agreed. "Awfully sorry," he said, nodding, as he began undoing the restraints. Alan sat up in bed.

"Where did you put my clothes, Neil?"

"Don't know," Neil replied distractedly and truthfully.

"Go find me some."

Swindon-Smythe left the room and made his way upstairs, to his own room and pulled his suitcase from the closet. While he was gone Alan got out of bed and removed the surgical tape holding the IV cathter to the crook of his elbow, and then removed the EEG contacts. Just as he finished he heard the cell door click open, and he turned, expecting Neil had come back with some things for him to wear.

"What the FUCK are you doing?" the guard bellowed. He had watched Alan on the monitor, and wasn't sure something was really wrong until he had begun to remove the IV and the contact pads. He was standing in the doorway, his handgun held in a two-handed grip.

Sindon-Smythe stepped between Alan and the guard. "It's all right," he said calmly. The guard shrugged and put his gun back in his holster. Alan had the guard get into the bed and Swindon-Smythe attached the restraints and covered him with the blanket. Alan looked around the room, and saw noting that would hold the orb, so he stepped out into the anteroom and poked around until he found a gym bag. It belonged to the guard, and he brought it back into the cell and emptied the its contets onto the floor of a closet. The guard was struggling in his bonds, so Alan sent out a command for him to fall into a deep sleep, and instantly he was still.

The orb was heavy, and it was a bit of a struggle for him to manuver it into the bag, but Neil helped, and soon it was zipped closed.

"We're going," Alan said tersely to Dr. Swindon-Smythe, and they made their way up the stairs into the main house. There were two more guards upstairs, but soon they too were sleeping.

"Where are we?" Alan asked as he started the car. Neil was in the passenger seat, the bag with the orb in the trunk. It was snowing hard and windy, the wind making the flakes swirl violently in front of them, and visibility was low.

"New Jersey. Hunterdon County."

Alan wasn't familiar with the area. Neil told them they were about an hour and a half from New York, though that was in regular conditions. He thought it would take longer in the snow, and he was right; I-78 was a mess. Alan watched the sun come up over the Manhattan skyline as he drove It took more that two and a half hours before they reached the Holland Tunnel. Alan drove to Wilkin's office and let himself in, Neil following closely behind. He locked the archeologist in his office with the steel door and told him not to touch anything, an order reenforced with the power of the Seed. Neil laid down on the floor and dozed off. The sun was just starting to come over the horizon on this Monday morning, and it had been a long day for him; he was exhausted. Truth be told, the last few weeks had been just as exhausting, and he was grateful for the chance to rest.

Wilkins showed up a few hours later. Alan explained that he had a friend staying in his office for the time being, and the lawyer lent Alan some cash, since his wallet was now burnt up in a Bronx warehouse. Wilkins agreed to arrange for Alan to get all of the papers and credit cards lost in the incident replaced, and he and Alan arranged for a more permanent place to stash Neil Swindon-Smythe. The corporation Alan owned, Cyaxares LLC., had a number of properties, so that would take care of that.

Alan was still worried, and he still knew next to nothing about the abductors beyond Neil. When school broke for Christmas they would sit down for a long together and hopefully Alan would get some information out him. Also added to his checklist was polwing through Massimo's research notes, and spending a fixed time each day honing his abilities.

As he hailed a taxi to take him back to campus he saw a slightly familiar face looking his way from across the street, and it wasn't until he was paying the cabby that he figured out who it was. The foreign guy who had asked for directions last night. A shiver crawled up his spine. He was still being watched.

Karick did not pursue him from the office, figuring that he was headed back to his college. He would approch him later, and confess all. He had a strange premonition that Alan Marshall was the only person on the planet who could keep him alive.

Next Chapter: Training



Alan Ch. 18



Training

Karick and Swindon-Smythe sat in the small office and waited for their boss to arrive. As the newest employees of the Cyaxares corporation they were unsure of what their jobs would entail. Both put their coffee cups down as they heard the outside door of the suite open, and stood when Alan and Mr. Wilkins entered. Alan gestured for them to sit, and they did.

Karick figured his job would be primarily concerned with security; he was, after all, a former intelligence agent. Swindon-Smythe was less sure. The last month had been rough on him, mostly imprisoned in the secure office two doors down from Wilkins's own space. The new office was just a few floors down from his former jail, in the same building in midtown Manhattan, almost all the way east, near the United Nations. Three or four evenings a week, as his end of the semester schedule allowed, Alan had come to question him, and though he did not want to betray any of the secrets of his former employer, Lord Thornbow, all of the confidences came pouring out of him in a torrent of candor; he knew why he was unable to hold back, and it softened the blow.

Karick had approached Alan, at home in Westchester, two days after Christmas. He had watched Mr. and Mrs. Marshall leave the house, all dressed up for a night out, and then knocked on the door. Alan had answered, and they stared at each other for more than a few seconds, and something weird happened inside Karick's mind, something he didn't quite understand even now, two weeks later. All of the details of his operation against the boy came spilling out of him as they sat in the den of the Marshall house. In the end Karick was worried that Alan was going to have him eliminated, but these fears turned out to be groundless; instead an offer of employment was proffered and promptly accepted. Alan gave him two weeks of leave to gather up his wife and daughter, and with the new identities provided by Mr. Wilkins, relocate them out of harm's way; as Karick sat in his new office across a table from his boss and his boss's lawyer the tan he had acquired in Australia, where he got his family settled, was only just starting to fade. He felt fit and alive, a stark change from the past year which had mostly been spend sitting in cars and offices on stake-outs, first watching Jean-Pierre Massimo, and then Alan.

Alan had breezed through his exams and papers; his power allowed inhuman bouts of concentration coupled with the ability to eschew sleep as was his will. He spent a minimum of two hours of each day honing his mental abilities, and slept only every other day for three hours, with short naps after exercising his mind powers. He began with a process he called memory mining, for lack of a better term. Until then he had mostly limited himself to using the powers of Paishiya'uvada to compel people to do his biding; he got information from his subject by compelling them to speak to him truthfully. Now, with barely an effort after hours of tiring practice he could actually dig into people's minds, finding all he needed within them, and without their needing to be questioned. All of his other free hours had been dedicated to plowing through Massimo's notes. He also practiced planting false memories into others, but for some reason found that more difficult.

When Karick had returned from Down Under two evenings earlier Alan had spent a good deal of time inside his head with his new skill; Swindon-Smythe had been "mined" previously, and what he had learned from him, coupled with what had come out in the interrogation sessions had at once chilled him and reassured him. Thornbow, though very knowledgeable about the Seeds of Paishiya'uvada and the Orbis Tertius, possessed far far less than what was contained in Massimo's files.

The meeting went quickly; Karick indeed was put in charge of security, primarily Alan's personal security, and Swindon-Smythe was assigned the task of retrieving the rest of Jean-Pierre's research, scattered as it were across the globe in four locations. Alan left the details to be spelled out by Wilkins, who in addition to his lawyerly duties was now the CEO of Cyaxares LLC, ostensibly an international consulting company dealing in all things concerning archeology; Alan was the president of the company, but the lawyer was going to do most of the work. 

The company did in fact have a number of fairly lucrative contracts with various Middle Eastern and Central Asian countries, most prominently with the government of Israel, and had a staff of fifty or so antiquarians and researchers, based out of an office in Rome, though they spent most of their time in the field. The head of operations, a former university professor named Bernard Lawson, had flown in the week before to meet Alan and Wilkins to update them on the current status of the company's projects and contracts. Alan had been impressed with the man's erudition and management skills; Lawson agreed to the contract extension he and Wilkins offered him.

Karick began assembling a team to keep Alan from being kidnapped again, and another to begin surveillance on Thornbow. Alan had insisted, and Karick had agreed (though it made the task more difficult) that Alan's security be as unobtrusive as possible. He wanted guards, he just didn't want to see them. He also agreed to have a miniscule transponder implanted subdermally, so that if he ever was taken again the security would be able to track him electronically, and he had a panic button installed on his cell phone.

By the end of the week Swindon-Smythe was ready to leave. His appearance was altered by Alan. Formerly he was a slight man of average height, dark brown hair and brown eyes. Now he stood six feet even, light blue eyes, light brown hair, and a broad beefy frame. Wilkins arranged for papers in his new name, Harry Medford; his flight to Lisbon left Saturday morning. A town car picked him up from his corporate apartment. Alan expected him back in a month, for after Portugal he was headed to Damascus, then to Singapore, and finally to San Francisco; in each city the arrangements would take a week or longer to deal with; his orders were to contract with bonded couriers to fly from New York and meet him in each city once he had retrieved his bundle, and customs officials had to be bribed. * * *

Kate was looking forward to going back to school. It wasn't that she disliked being home, but the freedom of college living agreed with her. It was somewhat startling that first night home when her parents asked her where she was going as she was preparing to leave after dinner. She was just so used to coming and going as she pleased without informing them; she didn't resent it, and in fact her relationship with her folks had never been better, a combination of the two of them seeing her as an adult now that she was an undergraduate, and Kate's own regimen of self-improvement. She kept up with her volunteer work, and was in general far more nice to people then she was before, less inclined to judge people by their social standing and popularity. 

This "new" Kate was working for her, and she had far more friends then she used to have, and the quality of her friendships was much better than in the past. Take Scarlet, example; the "old" Kate would have barely tolerated her as a roommate, to say nothing of a friend. OK, she was a nice enough person to be sure, but she didn't dress as fashionably as girls she used to pick as friends--she wasn't as cool.

But she liked her. A lot. Maybe too much. Especially since Scarlet's revelation that she was bisexual and confining her partners to other women for the duration of her college years.

The dreams were getting to her. Every so often Kate had wildly erotic dreams about being with other women sexually. The first was the night after Scarlet told her that she was a Lesbian Until Graduation. So potent were these dreams that whenever she had them she awoke to drenched bedclothes and sheets. Each time she was jerked out of her slumber by these powerful fantasies she had to masturbate, further wetting herself with vaginal secretions. She had asked Scarlet what she should get her for Christmas, and her roommate had asked her to consider girl-girl sex. They laughed, Kate nervously, Scarlet jokingly, but Kate was indeed considering it. She had, since last March, always used Alan as her jerk off fantasy, but more and more the thoughts of sex between her and Scarlet, or her and other attractive girls she knew, were intruding . Sometimes they even popped into her mind when she was having sex with Alan, especially when he went down on her.

Now, with just three days remaining before the dorms reopened on Monday, she was almost going out of her mind with anxiety. It was becoming harder and harder for to deny the fact that she was attracted to girls, and the conflict brewing within her soul was almost sickening. It was early evening, and she was waiting to hear from Alan. His parents were leaving for a long weekend in Caribbean and she was going to drive over after they left for the airport.

"You're biting your nails again, sis," Pauline called over from the other side of the Van Devanter's living room. "Anything the matter?" her sister asked, putting down the paper.

Kate ceased and desisted from chewing a cuticle, and look over at Pauline. She was dressed up for a date with her new boyfriend, Brian Lacy, waiting for him to pick her up.

"Nah, s'nuthin. I'm OK."

"Good," her sister responded, punctuating this with a warm smile.

"Thanks for asking. So how are things with you and Brian going?"

"Really good. He's such a gentleman, maybe too much of a gentleman."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know. He's very nervous around me, around girls in general. He might be a really handsome guy, and a jock n'all, but he could barely work up the nerve to hold my hand at the movie on our first date. I'm loosening him up though," she added with a giggle.

Kate giggled too. "How loose?"

"Well," Pauline laughed, "last week at the movies he managed to put his arm around me, but he did recoil when I put his hand on my boob."

"Maybe he's gay," Kate joked.

"No, I'm pretty sure he's not. After awhile he did put his hand back, plus he's a real good kisser. It's kind of a nice change, you know, being the assertive one, you know after Alan. God, Alan was so commanding. I gave him my virginity before I even knew what was hap--"

"You what!" Kate shrieked bemusedly, knowing that Alan had fucked her.

"Oops! Little too much information there, huh, sis? Oh well, wasn't a secret or anything, just don't tell mom or dad."

"So how was he, Alan, I mean?" Kate asked, her high level of interest shining across her face.

"Unbelievable," Pauline sighed, not knowing that Kate was one person who really could believe it. Pauline was lost on her reverie for a few seconds, broken only by the sound of the doorbell ringing and Conchita letting Brian inside. "If I can't bring Brian along soon I might just give Alan a call. I'm kidding, of course, I'd never do that to Brian, but the thought is very tempting." She exited to the giggling all around.

Kate sat around for most of another hour waiting for Alan to call, reading the latest New Yorker. She was going to give that guy a piece of her mind. The nerve! Stealing the innocence of her underage sister!

* * *

When she pulled into the Marshall's driveway Alan was waiting there, and before she could cut the engine and get out of the car he opened the passenger door and slipped in next to her.

"Where are we going?"

"Video store and take-out. OK?"

"Sure," she said, a small smile on her lips. "What do you want for take-out, pizza or Chinese?" she asked when she stopped at the stop sign before the turn onto Westervelt Road.

"In the mood for some Thai? There's that new little place on State Street that I've been wanting to try."

In response she punched him in the arm.

"What he hell was that for?" he asked, grinning, The blow not being very hard. "OK, OK, no Thai. Pizza?"

"Thai is fine," she mock-snarled. "That was for Pauline. She sorta let it slip before that you took her virginity, and I had to pretend I didn't know."

"Oh. That. It was last spring. Does it bother you? I didn't hurt her."

Kate paused before answering, biting her lip. "No, not really. I mean, she was your girlfriend and all. I mean, when I slept with you I actually had a boyfriend, and I never thought what we did was wrong. Well, I did at the beginning, but that soon passed," she chuckled. "She said you were unbelievably good, and I held my tongue at that. I know how good you are."

"You're giving me a swelled head!"

They got a movie first, and then to the Thai place where they got green curry with chicken, pad thai, and sticky jasmine rice. Back at his house Kate unpacked the bags while Alan was in the kitchen retrieving dishes, flatware, soft drinks, and glasses. They started the movie and sat in the den, eating off the coffee table. When the food was consumed they paused the tape and did the dishes together. When they went back to the couch Kate curled up in his arms.

"So how was she? Pauline, I mean. We, uh, never really talked about it before," she asked as the end credits rolled up the television.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked suspiciously

"Yeah. I promise, it wont bother me."

Alan took his time in framing his response. "Uh, different than you."

"Good answer. Very," she paused searching out the right word, "Diplomatic."

He laughed. "I'll show you 'diplomatic,' lassie," he bellowed as he grabbed her and pushed her off the couch and then chased her up to his bedroom, Kate cackling all the way. She stopped short at the entrance and Alan crashed into her, sending the pair of them tumbling through the doorway and falling over onto the carpeting. Alan picked her up and stood, throwing her onto the bed, and she loosed a giddy scream. Almost instantly he was on top of her, caressing her body through her clothes, his lips plastered to hers. They made out for a while, and then Alan rolled onto his back while the two of them caught their breath.

"What are you in the mood for tonight?"

"Surprise me," she said looking into his eyes, her own twinkling.

"Wait here," he said after a short kiss and then got off the bed and went over to the closet, and Kate slipped out of her clothes. He pulled a small bag from the closet and carried to his bed stand. The first thing he pulled out was her old butt plug, a device Kate hadn't seen in months, since high school. She giggled, but her arousal increased just by looking at it. Not asking her permission to insert it he gave her a light smack on her thigh, and she rolled over dutifully. He slowly pushed it up her hairless pussy, hearing a throaty moan in response. Once it was sufficiently lubricated he worked it up her tightest passage, and she couldn't help but to pant and purr.

"Feels so good, Alan. Yesssssss."

"What did you call me?"

"Master," she quickly corrected. "Feels so good, Master." He couldn't see her face because she was facing away and face down, but she was lit up like Shea Stadium for a night game.

He gave her a playful swat on her rear and ordered her to turn over and put her hands up over her head. Before she knew what was happening each of her wrists was attached to separate restraints which Alan then tied to the headboard with a length of cord.


"Hmmm. This is new, Master. I think I'm gonna like this," she whispered.

"I'm sure you will," he shot back, slowly drawing his fingers across her moistening pussy, eliciting a soft groan. Alan laid down on the bed, his mouth inches from Kate's wet cleft. The sensation of his warm breath against her nether lips was insanely maddening to her, the teasing of the act almost unbearable. Her pink nipples firmed up, the rings shining in the soft lighting of his bedroom.

"Please," she whined. "Lick me, please."

"'Lick me please, Master,'" he reminded her, tapping lightly on the protruding end of her butt plug to emphasize his point.

"Yes," she gasped. "Maaaaasterrrrr." Her entire body began to heave as best it could in the bonds as Alan stuck his tongue in her, tracing light patterns over her labia, but exasperatingly he was avoiding her hot clit for the most part. To make matters worse for her, just as she was about to reach her peak he stopped and withdrew his head from between her thighs.

"Hmmm," he said languidly as he inserted one of his fingers halfway up her tight pussy before using it to slowly stir her juices around. "I wonder."

"Wonder what? Master," she managed to say through her panting and gasping. So close! So very close!

"Well, you seem to like it when I play with your pussy, don't you, slave? When I lick it." Kate nodded vigorously.

"I wonder," he repeated, trailing off.

"Ah ah ah. W-wonder what, M-master?"

"When I was eating you, what were you thinking about? Who were you thinking about?"

Kate flushed, redness spreading all over her face and chest. He knew! How the fuck did he know? As Alan licked and played with her just now she wasn't thinking about him, but rather Scarlet. The shame of the idea of being with her bi roommate was furthering her arousal, and somehow Alan sensed this. Son of a bitch. "What are you talking about, Alan, I mean, Master?"

"You were thinking of Scarlet, weren't ya?"

"No," she gasped. Alan had increased the rhythm of his manipulations upon saying Scarlet's name, and she realized that her lie was pathetic.

"Admit it," he cajoled, sinking another finger to her soupy channel, and Kate groaned in response, afraid to speak lest she spill the beans. "Come on, say it. You think about Scarlet eating your pussy when I go down on you."

"Noooooo," she moaned, and Alan slowed his fingering.

"Say it, and I'll let you come, slave."

"P-p-please, please let me come," Kate gasped.

"Admit it, slave, you fantasize about being with Scarlet. It makes you wet."

Kate's eyes shot open, thinking about all the soaked sheets and panties she had washed in the last month. An orgasm of epic proportions was building within her, and she shook her head from side to side in an attempt to deny what Alan was suggesting. Droplets of sweat flew off the ends of her hair, spraying about his bedroom, but her mouth gave in at last. "Yesssss, Scarlet," she screamed, her body racked with tremors. Juice spurted from her folds, drenching Alan's hand as she shook and trembled in orgasm. Her thighs clamped together, trapping his hand in her hot pussy while she cried in release. The shakes finally passed and Alan extricated his hand from her pussy, and had positioned himself next to her on the bed, gently kissing her face, licking the drool of from around her lips.

"Feel better?"

She nodded.

"The truth always feels better, doesn't it?"

She nodded again, looking down across her body in the process. Her thighs were glistening with her girl-come, gleaming from her pussy straight down past her knees. It already began to feel sticky down there, and she would have liked a shower, or, at the very least, the opportunity to wipe herself down with a towel, but she was still tied to the headboard, and thought better of asking Alan--tonight, her Master--for the chance to clean up. She let out a satisfied sigh and looked at his face.

"How, how did you know?" she asked, her embarrassment written across her once-again blushing face.

"When the subject is 'What turns on Katie Van Devanter' I consider myself an expert," he retorted with a laugh, and she laughed with him.

"Yeah, you push my buttons like no one can."

"So, are you going to?" he asked a little while later, breaking off a hot and heavy kissing session.

"Am I going to, what? Master."

"Scarlet," he said, grinning slightly.

"Are Scarlet and I going to, uh, do it? Is that what you're asking, Master."




Alan Ch. 18



"'Do it?'" he repeated back to her, his gaze level and slightly intimidating.

"Uh, make love?" She could tell by his expression that this wasn't the phrase he was wanting to hear.

"Fuck. Are you and Scarlet going to fuck?"

"I, uh, I will if you, like, want me to, Master."

"No, Kate, no. No taking the easy way out here. I know it's easier for you to do things if I order you to, or if you can rationalize that way, but it's me, Alan, asking you, Kate, if you plan on having a sexual encounter, if you plan to fuck Scarlet. Forget 'Master.'"

Kate bit her lip, her mind racing a mile a minute. As she spoke her lips began to tremble, and her answer came in the barest if whispers. "I want to. I want to f-fuck Scarlet. I want her to eat me out. To eat my pussy, and to eat hers."

Alan wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye, but that was the full extent of her crying; had had expected more. "OK," he whispered back soothingly, and held her around her torso, kissing her upward-extending bound arms softly until she was still again. He touched her face and she inhaled sharply. "Now back to the fun, my little horny slave."

"Yes, Master, yes," Kate exclaimed as he got on top of her and pushed his cock into her sopping wet snatch. She came in less than a minute, her pussy walls clenching down on his hot shaft, more and more girl juice squirting out of her pussy and around his dick, soaking both of them where they were joined. Alan dropped his head down to her pink nipples and sucked on them, toying with the gold rings with the end of his tongue, and this set her off again, her mind awash with the sensations of the moment and the anticipation of what waited for her back in the dorm when she and her roommate returned from break on Monday. "Coming, Master, coming again, OH GOD YES!" she growled as his fucking took her on that magic ride to ecstasy again and again, her body convulsing in release every few minutes until her stamina failed her and she could only quiver and moan as Alan continued to screw her. Her last feeling before passing out was a monster of an orgasm she experienced simultaneous to shooting his come into her wet passage. She awoke a while later, her arms released, cuddled up with Alan spooning behind her, his crotch wedged into her so that he was putting a small amount of pressure on the protruding end of her butt plug, and she ground her ass back into him, enjoying the sensation of fullness in her bottom. She knew he had awakened when she felt him start to play with her nipple rings.

"I'm gonna call my parents and let them know I wont be home until morning, OK?" she asked, and he agreed.

Clicking off her cell phone she got back into bed and snuggled up to him, and he spooned her as before. His hands on her breasts were extremely arousing to her, and it was a small struggle to make conversation.

"I wonder what it'll be like, uh, fucking Scarlet."

"You'll never know if you don't try."

"Sometimes I think I'm a pervert," she sighed.

"Oh, and what does that make me? Hmm?" he said, pinching her nipples until they hardened under his fingers.

"Boys are," she paused, thinking this through, trailing off. "Guys are different. Your fantasies are supposed to be, well, uh, more, uh," but she couldn't articulate what she was trying to say. "What bugs the shit out of me is that I like it so much. When we went back to the Master/slave thing I really liked it! I was so wet just thinking about the plug, and following your orders, and I loved it, but a small part of me thinks that its wrong. And the worst part is, I'd do it all again at the drop of a hat. Scarlet even picked up on it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it was kind of funny, see. The day she told me about being a lesbian--I mean bi-- she said she thought I wouldn't get too upset by it, and I asked her why, and she said any girl with nipple rings and a shaved vagina is kinky to begin with, so a little lesbianism wouldn't be too much to deal with. SHE KNEW!" Kate sighed before going on, "Am I kinky?"

"Everybody's kinky, in their own way. Don't worry so much. You don't want to be my slave, always, do you? I mean, you like college and making friends, right?"

"Right."

"And if I asked you to give up everything in your life to serve me forever as my twenty-four hour a day full-time slave, all thoughts centered around me, you'd turn that down, right?"

"Hah! But I know you would never ask me to do something like that! You're a nice guy, and nice guys don't pull shit like that, tempting as that offer might be."

"So you'd think about it, huh?"

She giggled and reached up, pressing her palm against his forehead, pushing him slightly away. "No!" she laughed, "As much as I like you, and like being your occasional slave, no."

"Good," he breathed, hugging her tighter. "You're just a slight submissive personality. You want this sometimes, but not at the expense of a 'regular life,' right?"

"Yeah. It's amazing. I never knew before you showed me that day back in high school, in the newspaper office. And now, I've been having these dreams, dreams about other women, sexual dreams, and not just about Scarlet."

"Who else?"

"Mostly about Mrs. Hall. About that morning in her office, remember?"

"I remember."

"And someone else, a Mistress. Fuck, I'm so fucking kinky."

"Profane, perhaps, but not so kinky."

"I know," she said sheepishly.

"Does it feel good? When we 'play' together?"

"Uh huh."

"Is it hurting anybody?"

"Nuh uh."

"Are you living your life as you like living it? Do you like school, friends, your volunteer work, all that?"

"Yeah?"

"And sometimes, once in a while, you like having your cute little tush filled with a plug, and you like calling me 'Master,' and you like obeying my commands. And now you're thinking about having sex with other females, just to see if you like it, to see if the experience matches your fantasies. Have I summarized the situation correctly?" he asked jovially.

"That's about it, yeah."

"You're a healthy young woman, with a health sexual appetite, and a healthy dose of sexual curiosity. You just finished your first semester at one of the best colleges in the country, and you got a 4.0. You have a sister that loves you, parents who adore you, a group of runaway teenage girls who think you walk on water because you take an afternoon a week to spend time with them and help them. You have me, and I think you're the bomb, one of the best people I know. You have a roommate who wants to jump your bones. Life is good for you, Kate. You know this."

She was crying silently. "I know. Sometimes my mind just spins out of control. The therapist I was seeing last year wanted to put me on some kind of anxiety pill, and I turned him down, but you put stuff in such good perspective. You're better than any pill," she sniffled and rubbed her body into hers. "I feel like such an asshole. There are people out there with real problems, and I'm just some whiny trust-fund girl with a slightly confused sexual identity. Fuck me all to hell!"

"Everybody's got problems," he assured her. She sniffled in response. Alan held her, lightly caressing the parts of her body available in their position, and she calmed.

"Yeah, and my problems are smaller than most. Thanks for showing me that, I mean it."

"Glad to be of help, slave."

"Ooh! Playtime again, Master?"

"You betcha, toots."

She rolled over to face him and pushed him onto his back then shimmied down his body until his hardening manhood was level with her mouth. He groaned as she took him between her lips, and he sucked in his breath as she swallowed him to his root.

"Oh yeah, baby, a nice healthy blowjob," he moaned as she bobbed up and down on his straining erection, and she chuckled around his cock at the word "healthy." Kate looked up into his eyes, staring at him, daring him to look away, and he was somehow unable. Her eyes were piercing as her black hair bounced to and fro to the rhythm of her fellatio, and he was transfixed by her beauty. Only when he shot his load into her sucking mouth was he able to close his eyes, and that was because of reflex.

Amazingly, to Kate, he stayed hard, and she squealed when he reached down and gave her a light spank on her pretty ass. She got the message and rolled onto her hands and knees. Alan teased her, slowly withdrawing, and then reinserting the butt plug until she was panting and mewling in arousal.

"Please!" she gasped, and he did not disappoint, at last pulling the toy from her ass and replacing it with his cock before the aperture closed all the way. She screamed upon its entry, not in pain--for her ass was well used to taking his length--but rather in excitement. So wrong this all was, taking Alan in her butt, but it felt so good, so right, like he said, healthy. Kinky, too. 

It was healthy to explore her sexuality this way, not to mention satisfying. And now he was reaching around her crotch, his hand diddling her soaked pussy, bring forth manic yelps as his fingertips made contact with her oily clit. The shudders came without warning, presaging an orgasm of almost excruciating power.

"Y-yes! Fuck me! F-fuck my tight little whore slut ass, Master! I'm I'm COMING! COME WITH ME. Fuck yourself into my slutty ass, MASTER!"

As they reached orgasm together Kate screamed unintelligibly and was no longer able to support her body's weight with her arms, collapsing to the mattress, causing his still spurting dick to spray semen across her back. It pooled in the small of her back, and with her last bit of strength she reached behind herself and scooped some into her hand, then began drowsily licking it off. She fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth.

* * *

Alan turned of the lights after tucking Kate under his covers, showered and went to the basement. He needed little sleep so he decided to devote a few hours to training. From the documents he had studied from Jack's CD-ROMs he had written up a preliminary exercise schedule based on a long document, Jack's "Seed Journal," Massimo's catalog of his use of his powers, a very handy document, Alan had found. Tonight he was concentrating on TK, the movement of objects with his mind. This had been one of the fist powers Alan had experiment with after receiving the Seed of Hyrcanus last spring, but after reading the "Seed Journal" Alan had seen how rudimentary and clumsy those efforts had been.

When he noticed the sun breaking through the windows he went back upstairs and settled down next to the worn out body of Kate. He found himself fatigued after his training sessions, and though he usually required only a few minutes of rest to recuperate, he drifted off to his first real sleep in a few days. He needed it, he realized. Even Vessels need to recharge.

Next Chapter: Kate's (new) first; reports from the field.



Alan Ch. 19



Chapter 19: Kate's (new) first; reports from the field.

"You're such a coward," he said in between bites of his pizza. He, Kate, Scarlet, and Soren were splitting a pie at V&T, a college favorite across the street from the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Soren had stepped away to chat with some people he knew at another table, and Scarlet was in the lady's room. Kate had just admitted that she hadn't acted upon her attraction to her roommate, despite the fact that she had resolved over vacation to do something. It was the first Thursday night after the start of spring semester classes, and every time she tried to screw up the courage to approach Scarlet in a sexual manner she lost her nerve . She had tried to be more provocative around her, mostly by dropping her reticence over being naked in her presence. Scarlet had gotten many peeks at Kate's smooth pussy and pierced nipples these past ten days or so, but had not made a move on her.

She sipped her Diet Coke, red-faced.

"What's the hold up?" he asked

"I don't want to talk about it here, OK?"

"'Kay. Later," Alan answered, amusement dripping from his voice as he took another bite.

After the pie had been demolished, the foursome made their way back to campus. Scarlet didn't say anything explicit, but Kate knew she was meeting Jessica tonight in the latter's dorm room, so she invited Alan to her room to study and hang out. It was still fairly early, not even eight o'clock when Alan arrived, his knapsack slung over his shoulder full of books. They settled on her bed with her head nestled under his shoulder, Kate plowing through a book for her lit class and Alan did some reading for history.

* * *

"Scarlet's with her, uh, friend. All night." Kate told him, not looking away from her text.

"Oh?"

"I just can't work up the guts to, you know, come on to her. I flirt a little, but she hasn't clued in or anything. It's kinda strange. I thought she was in to me."

Alan sat up and Kate repositioned herself do they were facing each other. "You have a block when it come to initiating sex."

Kate agreed.

"And you're also on the, shall we say, submissive side of the spectrum."

Kate nodded.

"Would it help if I introduced you to someone? I mean, are you holding out for Scarlet as your first?"

"No. Would you? That would be great."

"This person I know is exactly what you're looking for. And, maybe if I ask her, she and you can work on your dominant side together."

"Who is she?" Kate asked, her breathing accelerating.

Alan paused before answering, deciding whether or not to tell Kate he had been sexually involved with his English instructor, but after a brief thought he went ahead. "Her name is Miranda. She was the grad student who taught my L&R section last semester. She is a dominant, well mostly, and she has a submissive lover, Laura. We hooked up in the fall. She had never been submissive to a man before. Before she met me, that is."

Kate giggled, and Alan fished his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket.

"Y-you're calling her n-now?"

"Why not?" he replied with a wink. "The night is young," he added, consulting his watch, seeing it was half past 8 pm. "Neither of us has class tomorrow, and she probably doesn't, either."

She waited with baited breath as Alan dialed the number. She could only hear his side of the conversation.

"Hello, Miranda? It's Alan. Ha ha, yeah. Good times, good times. Speaking of which, I have a little, ah, situation I think you can help me with. Are you busy now? Great. Be over in a few. Bye!" He turned to Kate, who was a bit shell shocked by the possibilities before her. "Katie, get your coat. No, wait, first you have to change."

"Change?" she asked, her voice tinged with fear.

"Yeah. Take off all your clothes," he said over his shoulder as he walked away from her and towards her closet and bureau. By the time he had turned back around, a lace bra and panty set in hand, Kate was standing in the center of the room, trembling in her naked glory. He passed her the skimpy lingerie and turned back to continue pick her outfit. A tight canary yellow sweater went on next, no blouse underneath it, and though she objected at first to the skirt ("Jeez, Alan, I can't wear a skirt, it below freezing out!") she nonetheless donned just-above-the-knee length garment. No hose, but a pair of cute ankle socks and a her nice sneakers. 

"W-where are w-we going?" she asked breathlessly as he took her hand and they started to the elevator bank.

"It's not too far. Actually, you're closer to her apartment than I am."

* * *

Miranda lived in a small building on Claremont Avenue, The back of Barnard's vest-pocket campus abutted Claremont. Alan lived closer to the center of campus--in Carman Hall, just opposite Butler Library--on the other side of Broadway so it took the pair less than five minutes to reach Miranda's. 

Kate was somewhat surprised seeing Miranda. She had expected either a very lesbian looking type person, butch haircut and a muscular physique, or a dominatrix-like appearance. She was just a pretty woman, about an inch or so taller than herself, with very attractive reddish-blonde hair, a trim figure with nicely rounded rear end. Kate spied her perky breasts capped with hard red nipples poking through a tight white t-shirt. After taking their coats, Miranda ambled over towards the kitchen and motioned with her head for Alan to follow her in.

"Who is she? Is she your girlfriend? She's so gorgeous," Miranda babbled.

This was a tough question for Alan. He had never really reconciled who he was to Kate, so he answered carefully. "Uh, she's sort of my girlfriend. We're not officially dating, but we spend a lot of time together. We went to high school together."

"Oh, trying to get into the panties of the high school crush, huh? Well, how do I fit into this whole situation? I'm confused."

"Oh no, I've had Kate many many times. She's, uh, my part-time slave."

Miranda sucked in her breath, her eyes glistening with desire. "How do I get to be your part-time slave, Alan?" she asked coquettishly, her eyelashes batting to beat the band.

"Yeah, well, anyway," he started, changing the subject. "Katie has never had a lesbian experience, and she wants to, but doesn't quite know how to get started, so naturally, I thought of you. She's also, as you can guess, submissive, another reason why we're here."

"My lucky day," Miranda sighed. "Laura's gonna kick herself for going away skiing 'til Sunday night. So how should I play it, hmmm? Bitch Goddess Slave Mistress? Or just a regular seduction? Just the two of us, or are you going to play as well?"

"Go with the seduction bit, and I'll play it by ear on the joining in."

Alan went back to the couch and sat next to Kate, and he took her hand in a reassuring manner; her palm was slightly sweaty.

Miranda handed both of them bottles of Stella, and took a mean drag from her own. They spent ten minutes or so chatting, and Kate started to relax as she got to know her host. After a little while Miranda took position on the couch next to Kate, and now Kate was sandwiched between Alan and Miranda; she had not released her grip on Alan's hand, and was still a bit nervous.

All of a sudden Miranda leaned over and kissed Kate gently on the lips, and felt the freshman girl stiffen slightly. Alan felt it too, as the strength of Kate's clasp on his hand hardened.

Miranda was staring into Kate, and when the latter opened her eyes as the kiss broke Kate could see the intense expression showing on Miranda's face. Kate had a desperate desire to please, her natural submissiveness coming to the fore, so she leaned into Miranda and tried to kiss her, but the redhead pulled back and gently placed her hands on Kate's shoulders.

"Relax, Kate, let me," she whispered as she brought her head forward and slipped her tongue slowly into Kate's mouth. Kate was taken aback by the sheer softness of the kiss, it was gentle and undemanding. Feeling more and more comfortable as the seconds elapsed she turned into Miranda, and was embraced her softly around her middle, hands tracing placid patterns on Kate's back. When Miranda broke the kiss Kate sighed, and brought her arms around Miranda, running her palms over the smooth cotton of Miranda's t-shirt, testing the flesh underneath.

Miranda was really turned on by Kate, from her looks to her smell, to how her mouth tasted on hers.

"Hey there, Stud," Miranda winked at Alan, "How 'bout leaving us two girls alone for awhile? Just a little while."

And with that she showed him to the door.

"What's this? A change of plans?" he asked in the doorway.

"I know what I'm doing, so trust me. Come back in a couple of hours. Then we'll have some fun together. All together," Miranda promised, pressing her spare set of keys into his hand right before she closed the door on him.

"Now where were we?" she asked Kate with a smirk as she came back into the living room and rejoined her on the couch.

Kate's head was spinning, dizzy, lost in the breathtaking erotic haze her first timid attempts at girl-girl contact had put her in. Miranda took her in her arms again and they touched foreheads, their eyes boring into one another.

"Kiss me again," Kate breathed, almost trembling at Miranda's proximity, tilting her head to the side to allow Miranda to complete the act. Kate felt warm, and she could feel a similar heat coming off her partner, and was swiftly again rapt to Miranda's attentions. She offered no protest--neither verbal nor physical--when she felt Miranda's hand on her knee, journeying up her thigh towards her crotch, and she gasped in Miranda's mouth upon feeling fingertips tenderly stroking the fabric of her panties, gingerly manipulating the flesh beneath.

With a satisfied smirk on her face Miranda noted that the silky material was warm and damp. She pressed harder against Kate's clothed pussy, and she felt the outer lips of the black-haired girl's pussy bloom open, causing a gush of juice to flow out and soak the fabric under her fingers.

"MmmmMMMmmmMmm!" Kate moaned, closemouthed, her lips still ensnared against Miranda's. As they ground their mouths against each other's, as their tongues dueled against the other, slowly swirling in battle, Miranda felt Kate's hot breath pelt against her face, forced through the small apertures of Kate's small nostrils.

It was Kate who broke the kiss, jerked back at feeling the other girl's fingers snake around the edge of her panties and into her soupy pussy.

"Yess!" the dark-haired teen hissed, grinding her pussy against the invader. Miranda peppered her face and neck with little kisses, and massaged Kate's chest through the sweater.

"You like that, don't ya, baby?"

"Yes. Please. More," she managed to blurt through quivering lips. "More." And before she knew it she and Miranda were in the bedroom, on the futon, Kate topless and pantyless, her skirt hiked up around her waist, flat on her back with Miranda sitting next to her. Miranda leaned over and kissed her, one hand fooling with a nipple ring, the other calmly exploring Kate's hairless snatch, fingers teasing in and out, often stopping for a minute or two just to sport around with the engorged clit, then plunge back into the steaming depths. Miranda took her time, bringing Kate time and time again to the brink of release, and then pulling her back.

A fog of lust and passion enveloped Kate, and she lost herself in the enormous turn-on of it all. Her mouth on Miranda's became frantic, and without knowing what she was doing her hands grabbed the bottom of the older girl's shirt and began to tug it upwards. Miranda leaned back, breaking off the kiss and titty play, but making very sure to keep her fingers buried in Kate's sweltering twat as she did. Kate made swift work of Miranda's top, tossing it over the side of the bed, and then propped herself up enough to reach Miranda's right breast with her frenzied lips, trapping a garnet-colored nipple between them and sucking hard.

"Oh yes, baby, like that, just like that. You're doing wonderful, baby, my baby girl. You like the taste of my nipples, of my little titties, yes. Like that, baby, just like that."

It was a novel experience for Kate, though she loved it, surprised by the level of her ardor in the act. Not only that, but it was turning her on, big time. Even thought Miranda had temporarily abandoned her interest in Kate's ringed nipples they remained hard as rocks, and the fingers in her pussy were bringing her closer and closer to climax. As he licked and sucked the older girls breasts she moaned, increasing the vibrations thereby enhancing Miranda's pleasure; in response Miranda upped the tempo of her manipulations of the teen's pussy, thereby amplifying Kate's moans, leading to faster frigging, etc. etc.

It was a vicious cycle, soon coming to its denouement.

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeiieeeeee," Kate screeched, loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her head snapped back, a pop audible as her mouth released the stiff nipple it had been lavishing. "Oooooooooooooh! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," she squeaked, her pussy flooding with girl come to the overflow, then soaking Miranda's hand and wrist as the latter continued to masturbate her, painting her smooth pubis with creamy juices. Miranda brought her head down and planted delicate little kisses all over the writhing sweaty teen; when Kate regained enough strength she grasped Miranda's head tightly in her hands and dragged her lips up to her mouth and kissed her ravenously. They necked for quite some time, and then helped one another out of what remained of their clothes.

As they cuddled Miranda languidly drew her fingers through Kate's smooth wet pussy lips. Kate felt the tingly sensations spread throughout her body yet again, her mind drifting inward upon itself, quiet mewls escaping past her lips; she barely noticed right away that Miranda had brought those moist fingers to her mouth. "I'm tasting myself," Kate thought in wonder, her mind only slightly registering the import of the act. Her tongue made a few tentative journeys out of her mouth and was soon avid to the task of cleaning her own juices off the hands of another. Sure, many times since first submitting to Alan she had sucked him off after he had fucked her, but lately she had noticed that her secretions had increased in output to a dramatic degree.

"Tastes nice, doesn't it, baby?" Miranda purred, and Kate nodded dumbstruck in response, her mouth now filled with the redhead's dainty come-soaked digits, worshipping them with her lips and tongue, actively missing them when Miranda periodically removed them to gather more juices from her still dripping gash. Now instead of just sticking her fingers in Kate's mouth Miranda was rubbing the juices all over Kate's face, then she lapped the juices off the younger girl's face, and Kate shook in arousal.

Miranda reached down and spread Kate's pale slim legs and descended between them. Kate could feel the other girl's hot breath caress her pussy and she shivered slightly at what was to come. Ever so slowly Miranda drew near to the damp slit before, her cheeks rubbing against the inside of Kate's quivering thighs, savoring feeling of the silky skin.

"Ooh!" Kate yelped as she felt the first contact of Miranda's tongue on her outer lips. Miranda's licks were feather soft as she soothingly explored the denuded gash, swirling her tongue about, avoiding the hardened clit which crowned the opening. It was different, very different from what Alan did when he ate her out; tranquil yet shockingly exciting at once. Gradually Miranda picked up the pace and range of her explorations until Kate was driven into a frenzy of excitement, her body shimmying and shaking all over the place, her butt bouncing off the futon mattress and up into the enthusiastic mouth consuming her. She gasped when Miranda at last favored her clit with a few firm licks, running the tip of her tongue over and around it in a circular patters.

"That feels sooooooo goooooooood," she moaned as Miranda added a finger to the equation, at first just rubbing the outside of her pussy, and then slowly, slowly, slowly pushing inside all the way. She was rapidly approaching orgasm, and Miranda could see the signs, from the blush spreading over Kate's whole body, to the acceleration of her respiration and bodily tremors. Suddenly the finger abandoned Kate's cunt, and she came at an instant as Miranda forcefully shoved it up her little asshole.

"OH GOD YES!" she roared, her tightest passage spasming uncontrollably around the older girl's finger, her pussy squirting copious fluid over Miranda's still attacking tongue. "Coming, COMING, COOOOOMING!" Her body jerked around the bed so much she actually flipped over, and Miranda stayed with her, her finger still buried up her tight rump, pumping in and out with a steady cadence. Just as she came down from her orgasm her body seized again when Miranda began diddling her clit rapidly with her free hand, and she exploded anew, screaming out incoherently as she shook and shook in release. Miranda rose up and kissed her hard, and Kate's tongue eagerly explored the other girl's face, lapping up the shiny secretions which covered it with a glossy sheen.

They rested until Kate recovered. Miranda pulled her up se that they were sitting, facing each other; neither of them spoke. Miranda reached out and began to massage Kate's nipples, and Kate, after brief consideration, began to treat Miranda's nipples likewise. Miranda moved her hands down to Kate's pussy, and Kate mirrored her, and when Miranda pulled her fingers from Kate's gash and licked the juices from them, Kate followed suit, giving her her first taste of another pussy besides her own. Miranda tasted different, and very pleasant.

Miranda laid back on the bed and opened her thighs in invitation, and ever so slowly Kate found that her mouth was drawing near to the red-haired fringed pussy. First she touched it, drawing her fingers up and down through the pouting pink lips, and before she knew it her face was mere inches from it, the aroma of Miranda's excitement almost dizzying. She withdrew her fingers and leaned into it; her nose made first contact, brushing against the hard clit, and Miranda sighed, her body relaxing, thighs spreading wider to allow Kate to get her face all up in there.

Miranda gasped when she felt Kate's tongue begin its tentative explorations, just the tip of it touching her pussy, and the gasps turned into moans and groans as the tonguing became more adventuresome. Her hands snapped down, gripping Kate's black mane gently, holding her mouth to her crotch. "Yes, baby, like that. Good girl. Lick me. Put your mouth on me. Good girl, good girl," she hissed, and Kate took the cue, jamming her tongue in as far as it would go.

It was an exceedingly pleasant experience. It was much different from sucking Alan's cock, which was hard and unyielding. Pussy was soft and silky, and Kate was not only licking she was rubbing her whole face into it, smearing juices all over. She brought her right hand up and inserted one, then two fingers in Miranda's quivering channel, and her mouth settled on her clit, first just kissing it gently, then taking the flesh between her lips and swirling the point of her tongue over it in ever increasing speeds, and at last closing her mouth over it and sucking.

Miranda exploded in orgasm, her upper body bucking and bouncing wildly off the futon mattress, her thighs clamping shut around Kate's head, trapping the younger girl into place. Kate didn't mind, and kept at her, jamming her slippery fingers in and out of Miranda's still-gushing twat. The fires of passion with in the older girl rose up once again, and as her orgasm consumed her she beat her fists against the mattress; once the climax had passed she pulled Kate off of her and hoisted her up so they were face to face. Their tongues dueled, and Miranda licked all her feminine secretions off Kate's face.




Alan Ch. 19



* * *

Alan let himself back into the apartment. The bathroom door was open, and he could hear the shower running; he stripped down to his shorts and pulled the curtain aside. Kate and Miranda were washing one another and looked at him as the curtain opened.

"Hey there," Miranda said seductively.

"Hi," Kate squeaked as Miranda ran a hand over her pussy.

"Mind if I join you?"

"It'll be a tight fit. Why don't we adjourn to the bedroom?"

Alan had helped Kate dry off, and on their way back he pulled Kate aside.

"How was it?"

"Great!"

"Did you eat her?" he asked, and Kate's blushing in response told the answer.

The room reeked of sex, the smell of pussy tickling his nose. Miranda was reclining in the bed, propped up by a pillow when Alan and Kate entered. "So, what should we do now?" she asked with an evil grin.

"I want her to eat you while I fuck her from behind," Alan decided, pushing Kate onto the bed so she was facing Miranda's pussy, her ass up for him. Kate got down to business, and had Miranda screeching in no time. Alan buried his face in Kate's pussy, his lips lapping up the trickle of fluids that were coming out of her engorged gash. Kate shuddered when she felt Alan lick around the ring of her anus, but kept eating away at Miranda nonetheless. The two girls orgasmed together, and Alan knelt behind Kate and teased her opening with the head of his shaft, rubbing the tip against her pussy lips, and from time to time inserting it in her just an inch before withdrawing.

Kate's mouth was a frenzy on Miranda's hot pussy, Alan's teasing stoking the flames of her passion. Miranda came again, her legs curling around Kate's head, locking in place again, and Alan shoved his cock into Kate's pussy, half his dick entering with the first thrust. Kate's head shot back with such force that, amazingly, she broke free of Miranda's legs and screamed. "OH GOD YES, FUCK!" 

Alan kept feeding her cock and soon he was fucking her with the full length. Kate lowered her head and rested the side of it against Miranda's crotch and belly. "Fuck me Alan, fuck me good. FUCK MEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He kept at it until she climaxed, girl juice shooting out around his cock and dripping on the bedding, adding itself to the moisture already there. He rolled Kate on to her back next to the other girl, still shivering and trembling, and approached the recumbent Miranda. She sat forward and immediately began slurping at his cock, soaked with Kate's spendings.

"Mmmm, I love sucking cock, but only your cock," she purred between licks. Kate watched them with drowsy eyes.

"I know how you feel," she put in. "I never liked going down on a guy before I began sucking his cock."

"I  never went down on a guy before  Alan. He  made  me  do it, and  I couldn't   believe  much I     liked it." She pulled back for a second, and added, "But never for anyone else. I even liked eating his come! ! ! !"

"Oh yeah, I know! I love his come! I never swallowed before he first made me. I also love it when he comes on my face, although I'm not too picky about where he comes. In my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass, it's all good."

"He fuck you in your ass?" Miranda asked. She had ceased her oral attack and was slowly jacking him with her right hand as she turned her head to look over at Kate. Her mouth and face were covered with saliva, and it shined in the light of the bedroom. "He does? Do you, uh like that?" Kate turned bright red and nodded vigorously.

"I thought that was just for the guy," Miranda continued.

"No," Kate shot back, interrupting. "I love it there. I come every time," she said, pride brimming in her voice.

"Every time you were assfucked, or just with Alan?"

"She's only assfucked with me. I took her cherry back there."

"Do you want to try it?" Kate asked, a smile forming on her lips. Miranda was shocked that it was her, and not Alan, asking the question. She had never had anything larger than a finger in her ass (which she loved), and the thought of taking Alan's monster up her rear passage was fear provoking, but, on the other hand, Kate did seem so enthusiastic, and her enthusiasm was infectious. She nodded, to Kate, not to Alan.

"Oh, goody!" Kate laughed, clapping her hands. "I'll help!"

"What do I do?" she asked Alan.

"Kate's the director of this little play, so ask her," Alan replied, grinning over Kate.

Kate had Alan lay on his back and she had Miranda lay face down. After licking around her rosebud for a few seconds she went into the bathroom and looked through the medicine cabinet for some sort of lubricant. She found a bottle of cream and went back into the bedroom. Miranda had repositioned herself and was laying on top of him, and he was lightly rubbing and pinching her distended nipples. She reached between them and began rubbing lube on Alan's erect penis, and then, without any warning to Miranda, shoved a slippery finger up her upturned ass.

"Ooh! That feels good!" Miranda cooed as Kate slowly fingered her ass while at the same time planting little kisses all over the skin of her bottom. Kate's other hand began work on massaging Miranda's pussy, and before long the red-haired girl was writhing in ecstasy.

"I think she's ready," Kate announced, and helped Miranda turn over and straddle Alan's slippery cock, facing away from him. She maneuvered the older girl so her tight rosebud was resting against the tip of the hard cock below her. Just as his dick pierced the tight anal ring Kate snaked out her tongue and licked all around Miranda's dripping slit, which caused her to relax her ass muscles and take a few inches of Alan in her ass.

"Oh, JESUS!" Miranda moaned.

"Feels good, huh?" Kate asked.

"I, uh, think so, yeah!" she grunted as Kate pulled her down so that more of her tightest passage could consume the length of Alan's cock. When she bottomed out Kate held her still and began licking her again. She wanted to fuck Alan, but Kate's grip holding her in place, her ass impaled unmoving on the monster of a cock, was strong, so she concentrated on the magic Kate's busy tongue was conjuring. "She's really getting good at that!" she thought in wonder as Kate mouthed her dripping gash.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" she screamed as a force-five hurricane of an orgasm consumed her. Kate released her handholds at her hips and began, with Alan's help to slowly raise and lower her puckered hole on his erection. Almost immediately Miranda exploded again, her sweaty body falling back to rest on his. Kate moved to the side of them and plunged her tongue into the older girl's mouth as her fingers diddled Miranda's bloated clit. Alan was gently moving his dick in and out of her clenching asshole as Miranda regained her bearings.

"Turn me over," she hissed, then directed Kate to lay back and open her legs. Alan got behind her and plunged his cock up her butt with one stroke as her mouth descended upon Kate's pussy. As he increased the speed and strength of his strokes Miranda's tongue became a whirlwind of passion as she gave Kate a thorough licking. The black-haired girl screeched and clamped her thighs around Miranda's head. Miranda screamed in Kate's pussy as she came again, setting Kate's fires anew, and Miranda was still gasping in release as she felt Alan empty his balls into her quivering rectum. He collapsed on top of the pair of them, and then they rearranged themselves to get comfortable. He hadn't slept in more than two days, and his eyelids were heavy. Kate had gone to the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth, and the two women were taking turns swabbing down his semi-soft cock.

He slept.

Kate and Miranda each gave his cock a few quick licks and snuggled on opposite side, and soon they too were slumbering.

* * *

"Excellent, I'll see you on Tuesday," Alan said into his cell phone, and clicked off.

Neil had just arranged for the last of the data to be shipped to New York with no questions asked, and would be back in New York the next morning. His assignment was to study the research full-time, Alan joining him when his schedule allowed, but three afternoons a week minimum.

Next Chapter: Resurrecting Dr. Jean-Pierre



Alan Ch. 20



Chapter 20: Resurrecting Jack (part 1)

As the spring semester's end approached Alan was as busy as he had ever been. Between preparing end of term papers, studying for final exams, his regular meetings in midtown with Wilkins and the others, the birth of Megan's baby (Marshall Philip Kelly ("Phil"), 7 pounds even), and his daily readings of the complete files and notes of Jean-Pierre Massimo, left him little time for leisure.

To make matters worse, for some unknown reason he was losing his ability to get by with scant amounts of sleep. He still required less than the average person, but now he was sleeping everyday, sometime for more than four hours at a stretch. His other abilities were unaffected, and if anything, becoming sharper.

The documents that Neil Swindon-Smythe had recovered were a treasure trove of information about the history of Hyrcanus and a few of his fellow Seed Vessels; also extremely useful were Jack's personal journals. Alan had learned a number of new tricks reading the diary. Now he could pass through doors, as if he was a ghost, and he could also turn invisible, not only to people, but to cameras and the like. He was always able to make others not see him by using his mind control powers, but this was more useful in this day and age, with surveillance cameras ever-present; though each of these trick took enormous mental effort, sometimes leaving him drained for hours after his training sessions.

In the back of his mind Alan was worried. He hadn't "heard" from Jack Massimo in months, since the night of the kidnap. If Jack was out there somewhere he still had no idea where, and the silence was troubling. On top of all that the dreams he was having were sort of freaking him out. He knew that they contained clues to where Jack was and how to restore him, but he couldn't cipher the clues in a fashion that made any sense. The one thing he was sure of was that he needed to go to Europe to figure it all out, to retrace Jack's last steps on earth. Once the semester ended he was headed off, and he was lucky to have Mr. Karick as a guide. Who better to help him go back over Jack's last days than the man who had been assigned to watch him every minute of every day? As he thought this through he arched his back, stretching the muscles, hearing the vertebrae click back into alignment, and he sighed.

He was reading at his desk, the laptop open, its screen glowing in the darkness of the room as Soren slept soundly in his bed. He was reviewing the text of the Scroll of Hyrcanus, his namesake, for perhaps the hundredth time. He was tired, his eyelids heavy. He persevered for another thirty minutes and then snapped the laptop closed, unplugged it, replaced it in its steel box, and used his mind to seal the box shut.

Crawling into his unmade bed he collapsed even before he could undress and pull the covers over himself, but he did not sleep. A dull buzzing sensation fell over his restless body, and out of the corner of his eye he began to sense the unearthly glow emanating from Jean-Pierre Massimo's ring. With his last ounce of strength he lifted the hand which bore this ring and held it right in front of his face, and the glow increased, nearly blinding him in rush of pure white light. The vision began. He saw it through Jack's eyes, heard it through Jack's ears, smelled it through Jack's nose.

Florescent lights, white walls, and the smell of antiseptic assaulted his senses.

* * * 29 June 2002

He could feel them getting closer; more to the point, he couldn't feel them, and that was more worrying than anything. 

As he made his way through the highways and byways of his adopted hometown he could sense the voids in his power, the null points in his perceptive abilities. He had just left the offices of his financial managers in the City of London, his car just a few feet in front of him, idling at the curbside when he saw a man across the street watching him. It was nothing new; people had been watching him for the better part of a century. But this watcher was different. He had no mind to him. No mind that he could probe and read, and after reading minds, probing the innermost thoughts of nearly all the people he had encountered over these last decades, the reality of being in close proximity to an impenetrable consciousness unnerved him.

He could feel them getting closer. More to the point, he couldn't feel them, and that was more worrying than anything.

* * *

A hospital. 

The Cancer Ward. 

A stench of death, of impending mortality, pervaded the whole of the corridor.

"I'm very sorry, sir. Visiting hours have ended," the nurse said, trying to edge him to the bank of elevators. He was undeterred.

"A terrible way to die," he said, evenly, his eyes a million miles away. Emile had died in a place like this, the twenty-year old memory still afresh in his brain.

He had been lecturing, in the States. He hadn't even know she was ill. All of their phone conversations and letters, and she hadn't even broached the subject. Brave was she as she faced the final journey, braver than he would have been in her place. Had he known the solution would have been child's play. 

His flight landed and he had made immediately for the hospital. The doctor, a model of Swiss efficiency, had laid the facts before him. "One week, Dr. Massimo, perhaps less. I am sorry, there is nothing we can do for her now. We will see that she is as comfortable as can be, and let nature take its course."

It was too late for him to do anything about it. Damn it all to hell! If he had only been here in Geneva a month ago he would have been able to reverse its progression. But now--now it was even out of his hands.

"Yes, sir, a terrible way to die," the nurse repeated, shaking him back to the present. "But, you'll still have to leave. Visiting hours have ended."

He reached out with a mind probe, relieved that his powers were not failing him in his old age, and took control of the woman beside him.

He scanned her brain for information. He was looking for a patient, one in a situation he could use to his advantage.

He closed the door to Mr. Dickinson's room and sat on the bed next to the dying man, laying hands on him like a shaman, a faith healer of old. He concentrated, using all his will, all his strength.

From the private bathroom off to the side he heard the bathtub overflow and went in there to turn off the taps. Water helped. Water made it easier. He eased himself into the tub, fully clothed, and submerged beneath the surface of the water. Through the hazy, shimmering surface of the water he stared at the tiled ceiling for a few seconds, and then closed his eyes and concentrated. A few seconds later he broke the through the surface, his lungs taking in great draughts of air. Dripping wet he made his way back into the room. As he passed the mirror he was only slightly startled by his new appearance which was now identical to the dying man laying in the bed.

Dickinson opened his eyes and they almost popped out of his head at the sight of Massimo. He thought he was having an out of body experience, like when in the movies a person dies and a shadow of them emerges and walks around the room. His double (Massimo) walked up to him and covered Dickinson's eyes, and he was asleep again. Massimo concentrated again, and in almost an instant Dickinson's appearance was transformed to match that of Jean-Pierre Massimo. Water helped.

* * *

The suitcase was the last of his things left in the dorm room. All the rest of his stuff was packed in his dad's car. He was leaving for London in three days, with a security team headed by Mr. Karick, and he figured it was better to pack his bag before he moved back home.

As he was taking a long last look around his room his mom popped in and came over right next to him. "So, sweetie, are you ready?" she asked, reaching up and ruffling his hair.

"Yeah, mom, let's go," Alan replied kissing her on the cheek.

"It's a shame you're only going to be home a few days before you leave for your job in Europe," she sighed.

"I'll be back in a month or so, so there'll still be two months that I'll be home," he said back, putting his arm around her shoulder. With his free hand he grasped the handle of the suitcase and they went out together.

That evening his family and the Van Devanters, plus Brian Lacy (Pauline's boyfriend) went out for dinner at an Italian place a few towns over from where they all lived. Pauline looked very happy with herself, both over her impending matriculation at Harvard (coupled with Brian headed for MIT), and generally with her lot in life. She would be spending the summer again working at the local day camp, this summer as the head of girl's half; Kate was going to be working again with runaways, this year taking groups of them on Outward Bound expeditions sponsored by her family's foundation.

After dinner Alan and Kate begged off further family activity and went for a drive. The made their way aimlessly around the town for awhile and then stopped for coffees. Kate found them seats while Alan was at the counter. There was a long line, so it took more than a few minutes for him to join her.

"Miss me?" he asked, a goofy smile across his face as he settled in next to her on the couch in the Starbucks.

"A little."

"Really? I was joking."

Her face took on a furtive look and she glanced away for a moment before replying. "I'm going to miss you. When I'm away. When you're away." She turned her head again, not want to see him as she asked her next question. "Are you, you know, going to miss me? This summer?"

He thought about it for a moment. Despite their rocky start and past history he knew that he was developing feelings for her, had been, in fact, for quite some time. He knew Kate loved him, and it wasn't due to any changes he had made to her. He knew form as far back as senior year, prom night to be exact, when she had sobbed and broken down and blurted out her growing feelings.

He was going away, perhaps for a month, perhaps longer, and he knew within himself that he was going to miss Kate, miss her company, in bed and out of it. The past year and a half or so had seen a startling transformation in her, and though some of it had been at his instigation, much of it had come from inside her. He unlocked her in a way, and by that freedom she was able to grasp at the things that made her unhappy, to grab them at the root and pull herself out of her destructive patterns, destructive patterns she subconsciously knew would have, if not gone checked by Alan, turned inward on herself to a higher degree. Alan understood perfectly the role he played in her transformation, but it did nothing to stanch the feelings they shared for each other.

"Yes, Katie, I'll miss you."

She put her hands on him and leaned in and kissed him.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he said cryptically.

A few minutes later he stopped the car and parked.

"What are we doing here? How are we getting in?"

He thought quickly and made up a story. "I still have the master key from when I was in charge of the newspaper." When the had reached the double steel doors he made her turn her back, ostensibly to keep a look out. He jingled his own keys a bit while he used his mind to unlock the doors.

"This is really weird, being back in high school, and all," she commented as they moved through the dark and silent halls. He had her "keep lookout" again as he forced open the door to the newspaper office, and within seconds of stopping at the previously locked door they were within.

She pressed up against him, on her tiptoes, trying to place her lips against his, but she found herself unexpectedly rebuffed. "What's the matter?" she asked, a quizzical expression across her pretty face.

"Can we talk first?"

"Uh oh, that doesn't sound good," she said quietly.

"No, it's nothing like that, I swear," he replied, guiding them to the ratty old couch which was pushed against the back wall of the room. They sat and turned towards each other. He took her hands in his.

"This is where it all began," he said distractedly, his eyes roaming the room, frequently stopping at the desk where he first took her. Kate shivered at the memory of it and he squeezed her hands tighter. "I just wanted to say, to tell you," he began, losing his thread. There was silence for an uncomfortable interval. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry. For, uh, doing that to you. That day."

She leaned into him, her head resting on his chest, her ear pressed against his shirt. She could hear his heartbeat throbbing. She blinked a few times, successfully stemming an impending flow of tears. "It's OK," she mumbled loud enough for him to hear, "Really, it's OK."

"No! It's not OK. When I think back on what I did then I feel, well, bad about it."

"No. Stop. You're trying to tell me something, and you're using this whole mea culpa thing to avoid it," she told him as she sat up straight and looked him right in the eye. "Spill."

"Do you remember prom night? In your room, afterwards? What you told me?"

"Y-yes," she stammered through trembling lips, her eyes moistening.

"I-I-I think I feel the same way."

"You, you, you l-love me?" she asked as the waterworks opened up. He nodded.

"I think so."

"Good enough for me," she giggled through her tears, kissing him passionately.

"But that doesn't change the fact," he began, interrupting her kiss, "That I was wrong when we, uh, did it that first day."

She put her hands on his cheeks, drawing his gaze to hers; she was expecting this scene for awhile, and had a speech ready. "I don't care about that. You've never heard me complain." She paused, thinking back on that day. Her pussy began to ooze at the memory. "I didn't like you. I never did--before that day, I mean. You were a nice enough guy, but I thought you were a wimp. I was with Chad then, and my naïve little self thought he was, to use the phrase, all that and a bag of chips. I was," she choked up a little here, "a very, very, very unhappy person, only I didn't know it then. Looking back on that period in my life, before, uh, THAT day," she shuddered for a second before continuing, "I was a bitch, especially to you, and I hated myself. What you did to me that day, I mean, what WE did that day, well, there's no other way to put it--you rocked my world. I mean, of course sexually. You know that, right? That was the best I had ever had, but like a factor of a thousand," she giggled. "But I was, uh, rocked, in like other ways too. Wimpy Alan Marshall (sorry), so powerful, so, so so--I don't know what.

"I was a girl on the cusp of womanhood, and I was making a bad transition, and you pulled me back from the brink. By, ah, dominating me like that, you made me a little girl for just a bit longer, and I was able to, to, I don't know, self-reflect, something, something. I mean to say that by being your slave, your submissive I was finally able to focus on Kate the person, not Kate the popular, Kate the status seeker. You took away a small part, OK, a large part of my identity when you made me a slave to your lusts. 

"But looking back on me at that time I really didn't have an identity to speak of. I had an identity as the hunky quarterback's boyfriend. I had an identity as the girl who was invited to every cool party. I had an identity through the fancy labels in my clothes, the cool car I got when I turned seventeen, the big house my parents lived in. Those things were of me, but the weren't me me. You know what I'm talking about?" 

He nodded, waiting for her to continue; even someone who wasn't a telepath could tell she wasn't quite done. She began to gently rub his cheeks as she went on.

"And you! You were alright. Not too cool, not too nerdy. A regular guy. You seemed happy about who you were, and in a way I was jealous of that. And I hated you for that. And then, and then, that day in this room. OH MY GOD!" 

They both broke down in hysterical fits of laughter.

"I mean, I know you weren't, uh, that you didn't do that for MY benefit! You DID get a nice, uh, ride," she said with a twinkle in her eye. 

He chuckled

"Where in the hell did that come from. Why did I follow you then?" she sighed. "Oh well, the mysteries of the universe, I guess. But, and this is a big, humungous, gigantic, enormous, vast, BUT, I'm really really really really really really really really glad it happened. So quit yer grousing, and stop beating yourself up already, OK?"

She kissed him, hard.

"OK," he said pulling back for a second, a wry grin creeping across his features.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked, turning a little red-faced.

"I'm happy," he said, evenly.

"Happy?"

"Happy to know you. Happy to have you. Happy you have me. Pick one."

She devoured him again, her tongue wildly exploring his mouth, her hands rapidly exploring his body, touching all of her favorite parts. She was hungry for him, and was impatient in her clothing. She pulled away from him and peeled off her shirt, and practically tore off her bra, then guided his hands to her quivering chest, sighing deeply as he began to touch her all over her exposed skin, as he was not content to confine himself to her generous breasts, but tickled her flanks and caressed the smooth skin of her stomach and back.

When she thought she could take no more she stopped his hands by grasping him at the wrists and pulled away so there was a foot of space between them on the sofa. Hurriedly she shimmied out of her pants as she watch him disrobe. The room was hot and humid, the air conditioning system in the building switched off until the morning, and she could see the fine sheen of sweat covering his well-built form. She was perspiring slightly herself as she jumped on top of him, her pantied-covered pussy rubbing hard into his exposed shaft.

"Kate?"

"Hmm?" she answer languidly, concentrating on the feeling of his hardness sliding up and down her crotch, enjoying the feeling of it spreading the stickiness under the thin cotton fabric. "W-what?"

"I hate to sound crude, but, why are you still wearing your panties?"

She giggled lazily. "You know why." A slight gasp escaped as the head of his dick rubbed right against her clit.

"Am I missing something?"

"Silly Alan, I left them on so you could take them off. I  like it when you  take them off. Take off my panties, you silly boy, now ."

Slowly he eased them down as far as he could in their position, and Kate wiggled them off the rest of the way. Now his erection rested skin to skin against her dripping gash, and she began to hump up against it, saturating the surface of his cockflesh with her plentiful girl juices. She put her palms down on her shoulders and hoisted herself up a bit, looking deeply into his eyes. He knew what she wanted and took hold of his slippery manhood, lining the tip of it against her gushing cleft. Slowly she sank down on him, devouring his manhood with her body. As she came to rest fully impaled she loosed a quiet moan and rested her head on his shoulder, content not to move. She could feel his hands on her back and flanks lightly rubbing her skin, and she shivered in arousal.

After a few minutes of just being held Kate reared back and started to slowly bounce and twirl back and forth on his shaft, and he helped her out by holding her at her hips and leisurely lifted and dropped her down on his dick. Her moans became louder as she began to jerk her hips down, smashing her crotch into his, but neither of them said a word, they just stared into each other's faces. Hard as it was to see in the dim light of the empty office Alan could still make out the passion painted across her delicate features. Kate let out a fast yelp, and hugged him tight as her wet channel spasmed around him, and he came with her. They held one another a while longer.




Alan Ch. 20



* * *

"Have we changed?"

"Hmm? What are you talking about, sweetie?" Alan asked.

It was twenty minutes later, and he was driving her home through the town's dark and deserted streets. 

Alan was paying more attention to flicking his hi-beams on and off that Kate in the seat next to him.

"What are we? You know, boyfriend and girlfriend? Lovers? Master and slave?"

"Weeeeelllll," he began, drawing out his words exaggeratedly, "I cannot assume to speak for you, but in my mind you're my girlfriend. OK?"

She sniffled and wiped a tiny tear from the corner of her eye. "OK," she whispered. She paused a few seconds. "But what about, you know, the other girls?"

"Yours or mine?" he shot back with a wicked grin. 

She laughed. "I think I just walked right into that one. OK, then it's settled."

"What's that."

"You are my boyfriend, I am your girlfriend, but both of us can have girls."

He laughed.

* * *

Alan had never been to Europe before; his family vacations had usually been inside the continental U.S. and Hawaii, with occasional forays to Mexico, and once to the West Indies.

It was a shame really that he wouldn't get a chance to play tourist; his business in Europe was business. They were in Geneva, their second stop. London had proven fruitless; visits to the hotel where Massimo had been killed hadn't turned up anything, and his office at Oxford had similarly yielded nothing of importance.

Claude Massimo met the trio (Alan, Karick and Swindon-Smythe) in his office. After an exchange of pleasantries they got down to business.

"Please, please, sit down. You are Alan Marshall, yes? I didn't know you were coming, but I've been expecting you nonetheless. Please, sit. Do not be puzzled. It's rather simple, you see." Dr. Massimo leaned over and twirled the combination lock on the safe concealed in the credenza behind his desk and quickly righted himself holding a small metal box, about four inches by eight, as deep as it was wide.

"When our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Wilkins from New York, flew over last year to help me settle my father's estate, well, that was the first I ever heard of you, Mr. Marshall. I take it you and my father were close?"

"We, uh, had a special bond."

"I don't mean to be indelicate, but, ah, how shall I state this? Ah, by, uh 'special bond,' ah, does that make us half brothers? I'm sorry to ask, but knowing my father as I did I am well aware that there are unacknowledged half siblings of mine peppered across the globe, and, uh," he petered off in half embarrassment.

"No, Doctor, nothing like that, but for various reasons I would rather not elaborate upon I cannot comment further."

"Oh. Fine fine. And uh, is Mr. Sutherland, Carl Sutherland joining us? I'm somewhat curious about him."

"No," Alan stated plainly, not wanting his host to know he and Sutherland were one and the (almost) same.

"My father was a very wealthy man, and he left me a large amount of money, and more to charities and institutions and such. I begrudge this Sutherland person nothing, but I found it very strange that such a large portion of my father's estate was given to a man I had never met, never even heard about before his passing. I was just curious."

Alan looked the man over, inside and out, and decided he was just nervous. He was more interested in the box, hoping Alan would open it in his presence.

"Do you know what it is?" Claude Massimo asked. "I tried opening it," he admitted with a furtive look on his face, "But it seems to me to be one solid piece of metal."

"Just a little project your father and I were collaborating on."

Later, back at the hotel Alan opened the box. Neil was right by him, Karick watched the door. 

"What is it?" Dr. Swindon-Smythe asked, his voice ripe with anticipation.

"Empty. Just a piece of paper, parchment, I think. Blank," Alan answered, showing him. The box was steel, lined with green felt, peeling at the edges.

"Let me have a see," Neil said, taking the parchment and examining it. "Old, maybe centuries old. Perhaps," he began, drifting off into thought, "Perhaps it is like the box itself. Could you, ah, do that magic bit you do, like opening the box, like. You know, unlock the message on the paper like you unlocked the box?"

"Good idea!" Alan said excitedly, but to no avail. The paper remained blank even after Alan concentrated over it.

"It might be chemical," Karick said, coming in from the suite's other room. "I know a man, documents expert--we used to work together ages ago. He might be able to help." He unpocketed his cell phone and began to make calls. A few hours later they were on an evening train to Paris.

Next Chapter: Resurrecting Jack (part 2) 



Alan Ch. 21



Chapter 21: Resurrecting Jack (part 2)

"He said he would only meet with me, but I figure that with your abilities that wouldn't pose a problem," Karick said as the trio stood on the curb, the taxi having just deposited them in one of Paris's seedier neighborhoods. They had set out from the hotel not long after first light, after checking in and leaving their bags in the rooms.

"No, that wont be a problem," Alan agreed.

Karick rang the bell and led them in after their host buzzed them door open. Alan immediately took charge, calming the man's fears.

"I don't like it," he said quietly to Karick, who assured him Alan and Neil would be discrete. When the former Czech intelligence agent started to introduce his colleagues to the grubby document expert he was cut off. "Call me...Viktor," obviously making up a name on the spot.

"Alright, Viktor," Alan said, extending his hand out, but it was not taken.

"You have the document?"

Alan nodded, and handed it over, and the three of them followed Viktor into his work room. Viktor held it up to the light, looked at the wordless parchment wordlessly for a few seconds, and then clamped it down on a lightboard. A magnifying glass, attached to the side of the lightboard by a swinging arm, was moved into place, and Viktor took station over it. Without moving his head from the glass he reached to a side drawer and pulled out a tool that looked like a needle on a mount, and then scraped some of the parchment away at the corner. The next table over had a small-model gas chromatographer and he prepped the sample for analysis.

"What do you think?" Karick asked.

"I'll know on a few moments, but my best guess is that it is vellum. Sheepskin, probably about mid-fifteenth to sixteenth century. From the way it's been cured and treated I would guess Central Asian origin, Uzbek or Tadjik, a very small chance Armenian. Quite possibly..." he drifted off, but his eyes lit up at the last thought.

"Is there a hidden message?"

"What?" Viktor asked. "You're looking for a message? You should have said that at the outset," he grumbled as he opened some cabinets looking for something. He came back with a spray bottle and without asking permission saturated both sides of the parchment.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" Alan yelled.

"Nothing to fear, nothing to fear, boy. Just watch. The solution is almost completely inert." Viktor flipped a switch and the room's light all went off, including the lightboard, and a black light flickered on from both the ceiling and from within the belly of the board. In the dim glow of the room Alan could see him beckoning for him to come closer to the parchment.

"I can state with authority, and you can ask your friend Tadeusz what kind of authority I am, that this paper is blank. You see how clean it is. No pen marks of any kind, no print marks of any kind. No kind of writing or printing instruments have impacted on the paper. A virgin, you get it? Virgin!" he laughed, a rheumy cackle.

The gas chromatographer beeped and Viktor sat down at a p.c. which was attached to it by a cable. The results meant nothing to Alan, and he watched with interest as Viktor loaded a CD into the drive and ran a comparison program. "This will take some time," they were informed by their host.

Alan and Neil went looking for a café, while Karick stayed behind to keep an eye on things.

"So, Karick, you've come up in the world, I see," "Viktor" said once the others had left.

"The Cold War is over, my old friend. I have to make a living somehow. To tell the truth, I consider myself lucky. It is a good job. No wet work."

"You never did like killing."

"No, but I did it, unhappily. And you? Now you forge passports and identity papers for the highest bidders, not for love of Lenin and Marx. More rewarding for you too, no?"

"Victor" sighed. "The more things change...most of my, ah, clientele, are Russians, fucking Russians. Mafiya scum, and kleptocrats calling themselves without a hint of irony 'New Capitalists,'" he grumbled. "The pay is better, but the more things change..." he added with a laugh.

They chatted of trivial things while the computer searched the database looking for a match to the sample; the computer was fairly ancient, and taking its time. When the match had been found Karick keyed his cell phone and called Alan and Neil back from their coffees.

"Samarkand," Viktor pronounced triumphantly. "From the workshop of the Master, I would guess early 1500s."

"The Master?" Alan asked.

It was Neil, to the surprise of the other three who answered. "The Master of Samarkand, a dyer, name unknown, who worked from about 1480 to 1515. His product was of exceptional quality." Neil pointed to the parchment laying on the lightbox. "This is the Stradivarius of paper, parchment, whatever," he said correcting himself. "If the provenance can be proven," he ventured, getting a small snarl from Viktor in response (so unused he was to having his expertise questioned), that is one valuable piece of parchment."

"Valuable, yes," Alan thought, "But that doesn't quite help us along in our quest however much it's worth."

"The bleaching process used by him," Viktor began, taking up Neil's point (and a bit perturbed at being upstaged and doubted), "Is quite distinct, decades, no centuries ahead of his time. From the finish on the document I should have pegged it off right away, but I've never seen an unused piece of his product."

Later, back at the hotel Alan asked him if that was the clue. "Do we need to go? To Samarkand? I'm willing, but that corner of the world is not exactly considered safe." Uzbekistan borders Afghanistan.

"No, Alan, there's nothing left there. The Soviets pretty much plundered the country back in the day, and the best experts about the Master are all in Russia now. I know one, he lived in Moscow. He consulted with the museum back when I worked there. Should I call him? Try to see if he's still around? He'll be terribly excited seeing an unused parchment."

"No hold off on that. Karick's team had been watching Massimo since before I even acquired my powers. So we know that Massimo was never even near Central Asia for a long time. Damn it! Somehow there's a message on that parchment, and I just don't know how to get at it. What's worse, the dreams are back, and more frequent, more powerful. It's like being here, on this side of the Atlantic, I'm closer to the solution, and Jack is trying to guide me more. This whole fucking thing makes no sense."

"Whoa, whoa, step back a minute. You getting frustrated will not help you get over this thing."

"You're right," Alan exhaled.

"Let's look at this thing from a logical point of view, OK?"

"OK," Alan responded, rubbing his temples trying to massage the stress away.

"Massimo is out there somewhere. In some form, yes?"

"Yes."

"The most important think we have to keep in mind is that HE wants YOU to find him," Neil reasoned.

"I never thought it through like that. Yes, you're right," Alan said sitting up straighter. "This is good, keep going."

"He wants you, and no one else to find him," Neil said of the top of his head. He hadn't really developed a full argument, so he was winging it. "He has to leave clues, but clues only you can understand."

"Yeah. Keep going."

"No. I'm spent. There's something we're missing.Shit. I need a vacation."

"Yeah," Alan said as he slouched back again. "You know what? We do need a vacation. It's Friday, so we'll stop for the weekend. The next two days, at the least, no work. I mean it. We need to recharge."

Swindon-Smythe and Karick made arrangements to visit their native lands, England and the Czech Republic, respectively, and neither was worried about being seen, their altered apprearences and new identity papers eliminating that problem. For the first time in a few weeks Alan was alone.

* * *

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Alan looked up from his paper, the International Herald Tribune, and saw two women standing abreast his table. It was a sunny morning as only an early July day in Paris can be light. After the dampness of Switzerland it was a welcome respite, and he took advantage of it, choosing to sit at an outside table for his morning coffee and croissant. The two young ladies before him were about his age, perhaps a few years older.

"No. Go right ahead," he allowed, signaling to the waiter to come and take a new order. After the garcon had gone back inside the café Alan introduced himself.

"Nice to meetya, Alan, I'm Margo and this is Lisa," the blonde one said, extending her hand. She was almost as tall as he, and she had, from what her could see, a very nice, curvy figure, punctuated by wide flaring hips. Lisa was slighter and darker, with a trim body and small but very attractive breasts. Both wore shorts, Margo a button-down shirt with the tails tied up to expose her tummy, Lisa a plain white t-shirt, and Alan could tell that she was bra-less.

"So, what brings you two ladies to Paris?"

"Oh, we're bouncing around Europe for the summer, Eurail pass and all. We just graduated," Lisa said. She had a slight Hispanic accent.

"Congrats! Where did you go to school."

"I went to G.W., and Lisa went to Colgate. But we grew up together and we're both going to law school at Virginia, next month. You?"

"Oh, I just finished my freshman year. Columbia." The pair was impressed.

"Are you backpacking this summer, too?" Lisa asked, though she somehow doubted it. Alan was dressed too nicely to be someone living out of a rucksack. She admired the lines of his Italian suit while waiting for his answer.

"I wish! No, I'm over here for work. Just taking a few days off. So, you grew up together. Where?"

Margo answered. "Montclair, New Jersey. Heard of it?"

"Yeah actually, I have. I'm from Westchester, so were from the same area really, and one of the guys on my hall last year is from there. Do you know Paul Sullivan?"

"The name sounds familiar," Lisa said thoughtfully. "Is his older sister Melissa? Lissa Sullivan? She was in our class, and I think she had a younger brother."

"Oh, I don't know," Alan answered. "Maybe. We never discussed brothers and sisters."

Their coffee and breakfast came and they set out sipping and chewing. Alan had his cup refilled and glanced at the paper from time to time, not wanting to seem rude. He noticed that there were a couple of vacant tables in front of the café and wondered why the two coeds hadn't taken one, but had asked to sit with him. So, he asked.

"Oh, ah, well, we saw you reading the English paper, and we've been sort of starved for conversation lately. Neither of us speak French, only Spanish, so we figured you'd be someone we could talk to," Lisa said.

"I take it," Alan said, proceeding delicately, "That Spanish is your first language," he asked Lisa.

"Yeah, that's easy enough to tell. I was born in Costa Rica, and we moved to the States when I was ten. That's when I met Margo," she said, casting a friendly glance her friend's way."

"Why did your family leave Costa Rica?"

"My dad got a research fellowship at a hospital in New York, and we never left. My mom is half-American (her mom was born there), so citizenship was never a problem, and dad's fellowship turned into a permanent position."

"Yeah," Margo piped in, "My dad's the one that hired your dad. And that's that. We've been friends ever since. Best friends."

"So let me get this straight, two doctors have daughters and they both go to law school. It must be their worst nightmare!" Alan joked. The two females giggled, and assured him that their fathers, though slightly unnerved by the career choice, were supportive nonetheless. 

"What's your job?" Margo asked. Alan told them he had an internship with a multinational antiquities consulting company, and left it at that. When the comestibles were at last consumed the three agreed to spend the day together, seeing the sights Paris had to offer.

* * *

It wasn't that late, just after nine, but the three of them were relaxing in a bistro, bowls of onion soup before them, a bottle of vin ordinaire mostly sipped away. All three of them were foot-weary, and Margo was a little drunk, listing to the side, occasionally brushing against Alan. He didn't mind; she reminded him of Kate. A blond, slightly older, taller, and more confident Kate. Lisa had been less affected by the night's revels. From time to time she reached out and peeled the label from the glass of the wine bottle; it was a habit, a little bit of a compulsion, something she always did.

"Soren, my roommate back at college, does that too."

"What?" Lisa asked.

"That thing you're doing with the bottle. He does that too, though mostly with beer bottles."

"It's getting on late," Lisa commented, consulting her watch. "Shit, I wish our hostel wasn't all the way over on the other side of town."

"You could stay at my hotel," he offered. The women blushed. "One of my business colleagues went to London for a couple of days, and the other to Prague" he hastily added. "You can use their rooms, a suite, actually."

"Sure," they both said at once.

"Nice place," Lisa said approvingly, eying the sumptuous three bedroom suite. "What was it you said you did, again?"

"Oh, just a summer intern, me," Alan lied. "The room is being paid for by the company, so..." This seemed to satisfy the two of them.

Lisa went into one of the bathrooms to take a shower, and Margo took another one. Alan slipped off his shoes and suit coat, and took his tie out of the pocket and hung it up in the closet in his room. After a very short while both ladies emerged from their respective bathrooms wearing the hotel's white fluffy bathrobes.

The room service man knocked shortly thereafter; he deposited the coffee service and Alan signed for the tip. Margo and Lisa eagerly helped themselves as Alan dashed off for his own shower.

"How do you take yours?" Margo asked as Alan reappeared.

"What?" He had a towel over his head, drying his hair, rubbing it vigorously back and forth over his pate.

"Coffee. How do you take your coffee?"

"If it's good coffee, black"

Margo poured him a cup and he made his way to the couch and took it from her. As they sipped and enjoyed the view from the window Margo thought about the day just passed. They had gone out that morning looking. It had been so long since they had spent time with an English-peaking person, so they had gone to three cafés before seeing Alan. His copy of the IHT had pegged him as a probable American, and he had been reading the baseball box scores as they approached, and that clinched it.

In a word, they were lonely, and by meeting Alan they had lucked out. Not only was he what they were looking for at the basest level, a fellow Yank (even from the same part of the country as they were), but he was nice and charming and witty, and good company. Though he wasn't movie-star handsome he was OK to look at. He had a really good job, judging by the luxury of the hotel and this suite, and he dressed well.

"So. what are we doing tomorrow?" Lisa asked from the couch opposite, her mouth curled up in a small grin.

"Whatever you like, ladies," Alan answered, returning the smile.

"Cool," Margo, this time, "We'll need to head back to the hostel in the morning to change our clothes and stuff."

"Yeah," Lisa said, "I'm glad for these robes. I wasn't looking forward to getting back into my sweaty clothes, though we will have to a some point."

Margo leaned in closer to Alan, he shoulder lightly pressing into his. She had a loopy smile on her face, and it wasn't from drink. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Alan pressed closer to her. "I do."

"What's her name?" Lisa asked, her eyes shiny. They didn't know it but Alan was increasing their arousal. He, too, had been lonely of late, his only companions a British archaeologist and a former Czech intelligence agent. He hadn't seen Kate in weeks, and he was horny as hell; just spending time with these two attractive women made him realize he had been without sex for a long a period since he had become a Vessel of the Seed.

"Kate, her name is Kate." Alan told them a few things about his raven-haired girlfriend.

"Is she pretty," Margo asked, batting her eyelashes. "As pretty as us?"

"She's very pretty. You," he said indicating Margo with a wave of his hand, "Remind me of her, though she is a little curvier, and she has this really nice head of black hair, I mean really really black, like coal."

"I bet she wouldn't be to happy to know you were spending the night in a hotel with two pretty girls like us, huh?" Lisa asked, her breathing shallow.

"We, uh, have an arrangement."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard that one a hundred times." Margo said with a dismissive snort, and Lisa agreed. Alan used his power to up the erotic feelings the two of them were experiencing. On the opposite couch Lisa began to rub her thighs together in a languid rhythm, and Margo began to tremble almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah," Lisa added, "What? An open relationship? You get to sleep with all the women you want to and she gets to sleep with all the men she wants to?"

"Not quite," he said, looking right at her. Lisa felt like this guy could see right through her, and she was turned on like she had rarely been before.

"Oh," whispered Margo at his side, her hand lightly stroking his exposed thigh, her fingertips tracing a soft pattern on his knee. "What, you get to sleep with women and she can't? You cad, you," she giggled.

"Actually, it's simpler than that. I get to sleep with all the women I want, and she gets to sleep with all the women she wants. Fair's fair, don't you think?"

Lisa sucked in her breath hard. She had never been with another women sexually, but it was one of her deep-seeded fantasies, a fantasy which had increased of late. Spending all of this time with Margo in close quarters recently had, in some small way, made her bisexual tendencies a little less latent.

For Margo's part she was completely stunned. Not only had she never had any sexual contact with another woman she had never even fantasized about girl-girl sex. She knew of it, of course, but never thought about it much. If she wasn't so turned on at this moment she would have bolted to the bathroom, dressed quickly and fled the room. Alan had scanned them during their day out together so he knew where, so to speak, the pieces stood on the board.

"You're kidding," they both said at once.

"I assure you, I am not. Kate loves me, and I love her, but she also loves having sex with women, so we decided that both of us could pursue that," he paused to think of the right word, "Avenue."

"That is so, so--" Margo was flailing mentally trying to decide what she thought of this.

"--HOT!" Lisa squeaked. She shifted position slightly, her ass grinding into the cushions of the sofa trying to deal with the tingling she felt below the waist. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the inside of the robe, stimulated by the arousal within her and the feel of the soft fabric without her.

"Lisa!" Margo objected, but her companions could sense its half-heartedness.

"It doesn't turn you on?" Alan asked, his hand against her thigh slowly moving towards the hem of her robe. She said nothing, her eyes fixed on his moving hand. She was silent as it slipped under the cloth, and she shuddered as she felt his fingers at her cleft. She moaned as she looked up at him hungrily, her blue eyes sparkly with desire. As he began to rub her slit with his fingertips she gasped and didn't fully hear him as he restated the question; she was distracted by the sight of her best friend standing up and shedding her robe before coming over to their side of the coffee table. Lisa sat on the other side of Alan and began kissing him on his neck and shoulder, but her eyes were fast on Margo, and she shivered imagining what Alan's hands were doing under her friend's robe. 




Alan Ch. 21



"Does it turn you on? Two girls, doing whatever?" the question was put to Margo again, but this time by Lisa.

"Yesssssss!" Margo hissed, raising her groin up in hopes of increasing contact with Alan's magic fingers. She wasn't quite sure if she was answering the question or just giving a general endorsement of what was happening to her, but upon hearing it Lisa jumped up, moved around Alan and fell to her knees in front of Margo, he hand rapidly joining his under the blonde's robe. As Lisa forced a finger up Margo's pussy Alan sent the blonde a mental command that she should come once Lisa got all the way up there, and Margo shrieked in release, her chest heaving as he lower body seized up in orgasm.

"No," she whimpered as she writhed on the couch, her body warm yet still shivering at the treatment she was receiving at the hands of Alan and her best friend, "This is, this is wr-wrong," she muttered through her convulsions. Lisa started licking her pussy, and her head fell back, her neck limp as she shaked and writhed under her best friend's lingual attack.

Alan moved his head in to cover her mouth with his, but he was beaten to the punch by the kneeling brunette. Margo was shocked, shocked that she found herself kissing another girl, but she melted at the contact; Lisa was so hot she could feel her womanly secretions drip off her mound and slide down her inner thighs. She gasped when she felt the tip of Margo's tongue tentatively emerge and lick around her mouth, and groaned upon feeling enter her mouth. She tasted delicious, and hoped Margo thought she tasted just as nice.

Before she knew what was happening Margo found herself being led to one of the bedrooms, Lisa holding her left arm, Alan her right. Her legs felt like jelly and she was sort of half-dragged along. The two of them deposited her on the bed; her robe had slipped off during the journey, and she hadn't realized she was naked until she felt the bedspread against her skin. As she tried to sit upright Lisa tackled her and laid down on top of her, pinning her by the wrists to the top of the bed. They kissed again, and if truth be told Margo had never had a more passionate make out session. She had almost forgotten all about Alan when she felt him softly cupping her tits, and she shuddered in response. Suddenly Lisa's mouth abandoned hers; she opened her eyes and saw Alan and her friend now going at it. The respite gave Margo a chance to breathe, a chance to think. "If I'm smart I'll get out of here, and maybe drag Lisa off with me," she pondered, but in the end she did nothing. Unconsciously her hand made its way down her body until her fingers were buried in her crotch, her fingertips tickled by the silky yellow pubic hair. Watching them go at it was turning her on even more. Alan had flipped Lisa over so she was flat on her back, and she could see his hard cock slowly rubbing against her glistening pussy. Without knowing why she reached out and grasped it, guiding it to Lisa's opening. Lisa screamed at penetration, and Margo held onto the portion of his penis that was still outside her friend.

"Man, she's tight," Alan thought as he slowly fed his cock into Lisa. He was thinking about moving Margo's hand off his dick so he could fully penetrate Lisa, but it really didn't matter, there was no way that he was getting more than half of himself inside her. He slowly pulled out a few inches and fed them back in, keeping up a slow rhythm, but Lisa was having none of it.

"Ha- ha- harder," she moaned, lifting her hips off the bed, trying to get him to fuck her harder. "Fuck me harder!" Margo softened her grasp on the exposed portion of Alan's cock as he began to pump Lisa with greater force, though he was unable to force more of himself in her. Lisa's face was bright red, and she began to mumble something in Spanish Alan couldn't quite make out. After a few minutes Margo, following Lisa's mammoth first orgasm, took her hand away, startled at how drenched it was with Lisa's juices. Alan and Lisa were concentrated on each other, and making sure neither of them were watching her she gradually brought her wet hand to her lips; cautiously he tongue came out her mouth and tasted the shiny girl come. By the time Alan looked her way she was avidly cleaning her palm.

Without Alan's prompting, either verbal or mental Margo lowered her head and captured the closer of Lisa's nipples between her teeth.

"Oh Yes, Margo! I like that!" Lisa squealed, her jaw vibrating with passion. "Uh, uh, more," she gasped. Another orgasm rolled through her body, and Alan came in her, exacerbating the shocking sensations she felt. She was panting as Margo kissed her, and their tongues dueled feverishly; Lisa's face took on a wry smile as she tasted herself on Margo's lips, and she gasped again as she felt her friend move down on her body. Margo licked Lisa's nipples for a short while, and then she lowered again and considered the sight of the come-filled pussy before hesitantly swiping her tongue across the dark-haired slit.

Alan watch the scene unfold with a giddy look upon him; Lisa's eyes rolled back and she began to grunt as Margo devoured her. Hard again, Alan shifted, kneeling behind the crouching Margo, and she started feeling his hot erection against her ass cheeks, shivering in arousal as he rubbed the head of his prick up and down her sopping slit.

"Fuck me now," Margo hissed, pulling her face away from Lisa's pussy; Lisa put her hands on the back of Margo's head, her fingers woven through her blond mane, trying to get her back in place. Margo growled in her pussy as Alan sank most of his cock into Margo's steaming womanhood.

"Mrrrmph! Mrrrmph! Mrrrmph! Mrrrmph!" was all Margo was able to express, her mouth occupied with Lisa's pleasure.

Lisa came first, one fist pounding the mattress, the other clenching around a handful of Margo's light-hued locks.

"Ow! Shit! Lisa, the hurts," Margo yelled at her writhing friend, shaking her head vigorously, successfully escaping the painful grasp Lisa had of her hair. "Ooooooh, yeah!" she moaned as she felt Alan's cock moving within her. He was giving her full strokes, pulling out so just the head was nestled in her sodden snatch, then powering forward so his groin slapped against her firm butt with a smacking sound. Lisa, recovered to some extent, shimmied down the bed and got under her friend, her mouth immediately settling on one of Margo's swinging breasts, the her hand massaging the other. From time to time Lisa swapped breasts as Margo became lost in a haze of multiple orgasms, her pussy clamping down and squeezing Alan's dick as she gushed out juices around it.

"No, w-w-w-w-wait. I've never had it there b-b-before," the blonde stuttered upon feeling Alan withdraw and place his oily cock head against her sphincter.

"Shhhh, baby, you'll love it," Alan assured her as he used his Seed powers to relax her aperture and increase her suppressed desire for anal sex.

"Ohmigod! Is he doing what I think he's doing?" Lisa exclaimed.

"He's fucking, he's fucking, he's fucking my butt," Margo whined, her body stiffening as she felt an inch or two invade her tightest passage. As Alan slowly penetrated to her full depth Margo felt Lisa's fingers at her vagina. Two fingers of Lisa's left hand went right to Margo's stretched front passage, Lisa used the fingers on her other hand to gently strum at Margo's engorged clit. The eroticism of it finally allowed Margo to relax, her mind and conscious effort clouded by her lusts, and she was astonished to realize that Alan had sunk all of his huge cock up her virgin ass. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the feelings the two of them were fomenting within her, but she just lost it, degenerating to her basic animal responses. Inarticulate, she became animalistic, grunting and groaning like a beast, her rumblings accelerating as Lisa shimmied down again and began to lick and suck at her cunt.

As Alan shot his load in her spasming ass Margo orgasmed again and passed out, her pussy pinning Lisa's head to the bed. Lisa scampered out from under Margo quickly, in time to watch Margo's little rosebud contract back, a trickle of Alan's pearly seed trickling out and dripping to the bedspread.

"Gross. Hot," she panted, pulling Alan into an almost breathtaking kiss, wiggling her sweaty body against his as he licked Margo's spending from her shimmering face. Before long two of them found themselves in the shower, Lisa on her knees trying to take as much of his wonderful cock in her mouth as she could. The petite Latina was disappointed with her efforts, only swallowing about three inches, but Alan would be the last to complain. Her tongue fluttered around his glans in an exquisitely delightful manner, and before long her was unleashing stream after stream of his come in her mouth and down her eager throat.

Alan fucked Lisa's ass when they returned to the bedroom, surprisingly a more "successful" endeavor; Lisa's rear passage was able to accommodate his shaft to the hilt, though not without a long and drawn out effort. He took her from underneath, his hands caressing her butt as it rose up and fell down the length of his dick, his eyes often coming to rest on the small butterfly tattoo on her left cheek. Margo didn't stir in the slightest as Lisa's screams echoed of the hotel's walls as Alan hosed her ass full of his semen.

* * *

Lisa turned over, onto her back. Margo was nestled beside her, curled up in a ball, her head under Lisa's arm. Lisa felt as if she couldn't move, she was stiff and tired. Through the doorway of the bathroom she watched raptly as Alan went about his morning business. The mirror was steamy with a small patch in the center wiped away, and she relaxed as she witched him shave. The vapor went away gradually, and when Alan finished washing the stray bits of later off of his face he spied her watching him, and winked. She gathered up her strength and sat up and he turned to face her.

"Morning. How you feeling?" he asked.

"Ugh, like a truck hit me, but in a good way," she laughed. Margo still hadn't moved.

"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "Listen, would you call down for room service while I dress? Just dial '0' and ask for breakfast for three plus coffee."

While Alan was in the next room checking the messages on his cell phone and calling his attorney in New York out of her earshot, Lisa picked up the phone. To her annoyance she was placed on hold, and while she waited she began rubbing her fingers across the tatty velvet lining of the steel box open on then nightstand next to the king sized bed. Without realizing what she was doing she started to peel the material away from the inner hull of the box, and it wasn't until Alan had reentered the bedroom that she realized she had completely removed it.

"Sorry about your box," she said sheepishly.

Alan played it cool, though he was a little pissed off. He walked over to her side of the bed and assessed the damage. Still playing it cool he made no reaction upon seeing what Lisa had revealed through the force of her habit. At the bottom of the box he saw a depression in the steel, circular, and to his eye the exact diameter of the rings her wore on each hand. "Holy shit! he thought. Margo was waking, and she and Lisa needed little convincing of the need for showers. Though they considered having it together, in the end the opted to use separate bathrooms. With them out of the room Alan practically yanked off Massimo's ring and gingerly fit it into the depression in the box. Nothing. He tried his own. Nothing. He rang up Neil and told him of the new development, and they discussed it briefly. Hiding his disappointment as the girls returned he sealed the box and put it on a shelf in the closet. The breakfast came, coffee, rolls and butter with little pots of fresh warm jam, and fruit, and the three of them inhaled it, ringing down again for another round of coffee.

Reluctantly the Lisa and Margo dressed in yesterday's clothes. Alan had the concierge arrange for a car, and the three of them motored over to the youth hostel, where the two ladies changed their clothes. Margo needed to remove her contact, not having the opportunity the night prior, and she came back downstairs wearing a fetching pair of tortoise shelled glasses. Both of them were also donning large backpacks.

"Checking out?" Alan asked, a smile beginning to form.

The two of them were taken aback.

"We didn't assume, or anything," Margo blurted.

"I just thought," Lisa said at the same time.

"No problem, no problem. We'll take the car back to my hotel and leave your stuff," he assured them, and they let out massive sighs of relief.

They decided to keep the car for the day, and the driver took them to Versailles. Karick and Neil were due back in a couple of days, and Neil had mentioned on the phone that morning some things they might try with the ring and the box..

Next Chapter: Resurrecting Jack (part 3) 



Alan Ch. 22



Chapter 22: Resurrecting Jack (part 3)

It turned out to be child's play, though Alan waited for Neil and Karick to return before doing it. The three of them sat around the table in the suite's living room, and Neil and Karick watched with baited breath as Alan fit the ring in the groove on bottom wall of the box, rested the blank parchment over it, and then sealed the box. A low hum came forth, followed by a mandala of light, brilliant colors, shapes moving about to and fro in no particular fashion, filling the room with its brightness.

"It's happening," Karick said in wonder.

The glow grew to the extent that the three in the room had to avert their eyes, but after a few moments it began to flag, and they waited for it to disappear completely, fidgety in their places. Neil was the first to move, taking the box in his hands, almost cradling it like a baby and holding it out to Alan. He used his powers to open the lid, and the three of them gasped at what was before them. In neat printed text on the center of the creamy parchment stood two lines of text.

Alan spoke first. "So, how's your Hebrew?" he asked handing the page to the archaeologist.

Neil grinned proudly, "I won a prize, at Cambridge," taking the offered sheet. He looked befuddled. Each line had a four letter word followed by four two lettered words, but the problem was that Neil only recognized the first (four letter word) on each line. "Tzaphon, Mizrach," he repeated a few times, thinking to himself all the while.

"What does it mean?" Karick asked, impatience clear in his voice. "Tzaphon? Mizrach?"

"The first word on each line is a direction. Tzaphon is north. Mizrach, east."

"And the other words?" Alan put in.

"That's the thing. They're not words. See those apostrophe looking things? The diacritic marks over the second and third words on each line? That usually indicates some sort of abbreviation, but not any I'm readily familiar with. I wish I had some references with me, an Alcaly or a Jastrow," he sighed, then explained that the these were dictionaries, the former a modern Hebrew unabridged dictionary, and the latter a two-volume glossary of rabbinic literature.

Neil began to get is jacket in preparation to go out and find a Jewish bookstore when Karick had a masterful flash.

"You know," he said slowly, gathering his thoughts, "It seems to me that the words on the parchment are coordinates. You know, so and so far east, so and so far north. Usually that sort of data is expressed with numbers, though."

Neil's jaw almost hit the floor. "Idiot!"

"Hey, I might not know much about these things," Karick protested, but Neil cut him off.

"No, Tadeusz, you're not the idiot. I am. You see, Hebrew doesn't really have numbers, as we recognize them. They use letters for numbers. For example, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, Aleph, had a value of one, the second letter, Bet, had a value of two, and so on. The tenth letter, Yod, had a value of ten, and the eleventh letter, Kaf, has a value of twenty, etc. The letter Qoof is one hundred, followed by Resh, which is two hundred. See! The letters are numbers, and the first apostrophe, a single apostrophe indicates minutes, and the second indicates seconds. The last one is obviously fractions of seconds."

Karick reached in his bag and yanked out a palmtop computer and a GPS snap-in module. He had acquired many gadgets and gizmos since coming to work for Alan, and was thrilled that this set would be useful.

Neil deciphered the letters into coordinate numbers, and Karick entered them into his machine with his stylus.

"North 48 degrees, 15 minutes..." He paused. "East 16 degrees, 22 minutes..."

The three of them gathered around the mini-computer and waited for the map to be drawn. Once it appeared Alan picked up the phone and called Cyaxares HQ in Rome. The secretary put him on hold after he instructed her as to what he needed. She came back on after a few minutes. Alan thanked her and hung up.

"Our flight to Vienna leaves in three hours. Call the front desk," he added to Karick, "And tell them we're checking out."

On the way to the airport they stopped at a computer store and bought a CD-ROM atlas. The palmtop was fine for some things, but they needed something which could be shown on a larger display (Neil's laptop, in their case) to see their coordinates with the accuracy required to carry out the mission.

* * *

Though the coordinates from the parchment told them where to go, once they got there they didn't know what to do. There were no more clues, it seemed to them. They were standing on the tree-lined Margaretenstraße, not far from the Bacherplatz. Karick lit a cigarette and looked around. The stone buildings looked all alike to him on this pleasant and leafy block. The three of them decided to split up and lap the street a few times.

About ten minutes later Alan spotted it. There was a small apartment building at the bend in the street, and it had two entrances, one for the upstairs apartments, and a separate entrance for one of the three ground floor homes. The second door was painted red with an ornate lacquered black symbol about four inches square centered upon it, cut into the wood of the door in relief. Neil's circuit of the neighborhood caught up with his after a few moments, and when he saw what Alan was staring at he smiled.

"Is it?" Alan asked. Neil nodded. The black symbol sort of looked like a Hebrew letter, but wasn't. Alan didn't have his notebook computer loaded with all of Massimo's notes and journals with him, but from studying it religiously the past year he had no more doubt, after Neil confirmed it, that he had found what he was looking for. The black symbol was unmistakably the representation of the Seal of Cyaxares. Neil pulled a small camera from his pocket and snapped a photo of it. Karick joined them presently as they waited.

With sweaty palms Alan opened the gate and stepped up to the red door, the others behind them. He knocked.

No answer.

Alan and Neil crossed the street while Karick fetched their rented car. He pulled up and the three settled in for a day of surveillance. The sun was high in the sky, the afternoon uncomfortably warm. Karick had turned off the motor, not wanting to waste gas in case they had to follow someone with the car, and they all missed the comfort of air conditioning.

The Czech, a trained and experienced espionage agent, long-used to the vigor of stakeout work, was the only among the three of them not to doze off as the hour meandered from mid-day to early evening.

* * *

He nudged Alan with an elbow, and the younger man came awake with a start; the small commotion roused Swindon-Smythe in the backseat. Together they watched a plump matronly-looking woman pass through the gate and unlock the red door. In seconds it was shut behind her, and seconds after that Alan, Karick, and Neil were out of the car and crossing the street. Alan knocked; as they waited for he woman to open the door they heard shuffling feet from behind the door. Alan closed his eyes and quickly scanned the mind of the occupant. After only a second his eyes popped open in shock, though thinking about it later, he realized his sense of shock was misplaced at the time. The only two people he had met with minds had been altered by another were Wilkins and his secretary, Harriet; they had been people Massimo had dealt with in the past, so he was not surprised to find their heads messed with. As the door opened a fraction of an inch he realized he was about to meet a third.

"Hallo?" the woman greeted them. Up close Alan could see that she was very pretty, for a woman of her age, which he guessed to be somewhat closer to sixty than fifty. Alan asked her if she spoke English, and she nodded. Karick spoke German, but he was glad not to have to use him as a translator.

"I was wondering about the glyph on your door. It's very pretty, can you tell me about it?"

The woman smiled, "Ja, ja, come in, please, I am Greta," she said brightly, beckoning them with her arm. Though Alan couldn't tell it, because of the block on her mind, this was her programmed response. Whenever someone asked about the symbol on her door, a symbol carved and painted by her lover of many years, the late Dr. Jean-Pierre Massimo, she was to invite them in. 

As they made to the sitting room Alan scanned her more closely, and to his amazement he realized he couldn't fully see her mind. There were places in her memory that simply did not exist. As she returned from the kitchen with a tray of tea and pastry Alan took control of her.

"You have something for me, don't you, Greta?" He couldn't order her to give the next clue over, and was hoping she would volunteer it.

"Ja." She was following her programming. Anyone who came calling and asked about the glyph would also expect the steel box, she knew.

"May I have it?"

She shuffled off again, returning quickly. In her hand was another steel box, almost identical to the first. All the eyes in the room were on it as she handed it to Alan. He looked up to thank her, and was faced with the business end of a rather nasty looking revolver. His mind screaming a mile a minute Alan took control of her more forcefully, at a merely physical level using his TK powers, and she lowered the pistol to her side, the barrel pointing to the rug. Karick came up to her and with a great deal of effort pried the gun away from her. Neil helped her to the settee, and she sat placidly. With the danger passed Alan released his hold on her, and she burst into tears.

"Very sorry, very sorry," she cried. "I was just following instructions, but you are like him, like he was," she moaned. Alan understood now, the dark parts of her mind suddenly lit up. Massimo had left a clue with her, with instructions to kill anyone who asked after it, knowing that Alan would be able to handle it like no one else could. After she brought her emotions under control she leaned over to the side table and pulled her small leather phone book from it, flipping the pages. The others watched questioningly as she did this except for Alan. She had two numbers to call, one in case she needed bodies removed from her house, the scene cleaned, and another for this eventuality. Both numbers stood alone on one page, neither attached to a corresponding name. She had noticed them in the past, but before this moment she hadn't known why they were recorded there, despite the fact they were written in her own hand. She dialed then handed Alan the receiver as the call was being put through.

"What do I say?" Alan asked the shaken woman.

"'The ring of Cyaxares seeks its owner.'" she quoted, seemingly from a trance.

"Greta?" the voice on the other end asked. "Greta?"

"'The ring of Cyaxares seeks its owner."

"Ach! I understand. Who is this?" the man asked.

"I'd rather not say over the phone. Can we meet?"

"Ja. Are you staying at Greta's? I can be there in less than an hour."

Alan had the man hold on for a minute while he consulted the other guys, then asked the man on the other end of the phone to meet them at their hotel, which was closer to the center of town. The man told Alan how he could be identified (a yellow flower in the lapel of his jacket), and disconnected. As they said their goodbyes to Greta tears began flowing down her cheeks. "I miss him so," she sniffled. Alan would have liked to have told her that Massimo would soon be back, but he did not, for two reasons. First, he had no idea if that was indeed to be the case, and second, it was unsafe to tell anyone what he and his fellows were attempting.

* * *

"Please, call me Wally," Walter Von Hoff told them as the hostess led them to a table in the hotel's formal bar.

"Nice to meet you, Wally," Alan said as he gestured for the man to have a seat. Alan and the two others arrayed themselves around him. With his mind Alan sensed the changes Massimo had made to this man, and he guessed that the small cloth satchel Wally carried held a box identical to the one recently received from Greta.

Alan and Neil had huddled in the back seat of the car as Karick drove them back to the hotel. A few seconds after the car had been put in drive Alan had popped the top off of the box, and another piece of parchment had fluttered out of it. This time the printing was already visible (an address in London), though he and Neil had agreed that it couldn't hurt to peel out the lining and look for another ring groove. If found, they would repeat the earlier process, however, after arriving at the hotel they sequestered themselves in their suite, and had found no depression similar to the one in the box they had received from Claude Massimo.

"So," Wally asked, an eyebrow arched, "You were friends with Jean-Pierre?"

"Yes," Alan assured him, "We had a very special bond."

"Hmm," Wally said, disinterestedly. "He never mentioned you, though he was almost notorious for his secretiveness." He paused, his expression turning darker. "How can I know this is true."

Alan attempted to take his mind by force, but was unable. Something that Massimo had done to him had made him immune, perhaps to all mind control, or perhaps to all mind control not emanating from the mind of Massimo himself. Alan had to think fast.

"The box. Did you bring a box?"

"It can't be opened," he answered haughtily, though taken aback that the boy knew that he was carrying one in his banker's briefcase, and cursed himself for revealing that he was indeed bearing one.

"The box is for me," Alan assured him.

"So says you, but how can I know that?"

"I can open it."

"Show me," he challenged, placing the steel container on the table. Alan pressed his hand to the lid and closed his eyes. In an instant, the lid slid off. Wally was impressed, and at that point noticed Alan's rings.

"Ja," he said, his voice deeper than its usual bass, "Ja, it does belong to you. Jean-Pierre told me that whomever could open the box should receive it."

After dissuading Wally from having a peek inside, they watched him drain his glass of beer and leave, then returned to the room. Once the box had opened, controlling Wally had been child's play, his mental shield peeled away as had Greta's. Alan peeled off the felt liner, and placed both his rings into their allotted grooves on the inside hull of the case. He covered them with the parchment and sealed the box. Nothing happened. He reopened the box and reversed the positions of the rings. The light show returned, and all three of them were chomping at the bit waiting for it to end. They each had a feeling, unspoken as it was, that their quest was nearing an end. The address in London, coupled with whatever information from this new box, they hoped, would lead them to Jack.

"What does it say," both Karick and Swindon-Smythe asked, anxious for a response.

Alan held it up, to better see it in the light. "Theodore Dickinson."

The name meant nothing to any of them, but they were looking forward to meeting him. Neil plugged his laptop into the hotel jack and entered the name through a number of search engines, cross referencing the name with Massimo's, but without satisfaction. London is where Massimo was last, and London was where they were headed. Dickinson might be the last station on a very long trip.

* * *

"Please check your records again," Alan almost begged. "Are you sure, no patient, or staff member named Dickinson, Theodore Dickinson?" The woman tapped a few more keys, trying her best to be helpful. The address on Greta's parchment had turned out, to their surprise, to be a hospital

"Let me check one more time. I'll widen the search." She tapped again at the keyboard. The machine hummed, the server in the corner of the room spinning internally. "Ah," she said, triumph in her voice, "Yes, indeed. Mr. Dickinson was in hospital from June prior until October. He was transferred to a nursing home." She pulled a small pad to her, a pen from her hair, and scribbled an address, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Neil, who was closest. With the thanks of three men in her ears she closed the door behind her, and settled back to her workaday routine. She glanced out her window in time to see her recent visitors hail a cab.

The street was filled with school kids as they crossed the street heading to the long-term care center at the far corner. Alan and the two others could still hear the dismissal bell ringing from inside the school opposite. The center was a gray building, wide and squat, five stories tall from the looks of it. A guard in the foyer directed them to a small office off the main hall. They had come to a hospital, and it seemed they had come for naught.

"Are you a friend of Mr. Dickinson's?" the desk nurse asked, her suspicion evident. Mr. Dickinson had been in residence at the center for more than six months, and today was the first time anyone had appeared to see him.

Alan sent a probe through her mind, implanting commands for her to trust and believe what he said. "He is a friend of my father's," the young man assured her.

"Well, that makes some sense," she thought, reaching under the desk to depress the button which released the gate. She double-checked her patient roster before directing the trio to the third floor.

"This place is creepy," Neil shivered as they waited at the lift. Neil had made a cell phone call from the cab and had learned, to their supreme disappointment, that the center was a resident care facility for comatose and vegetative patients, a hospice really, but one meant for people with chronic conditions, not just for end-of-life care. The loudest sounds in the building were the clicking and the beeping of the various machines and readouts attached to its inhabitants. The charge nurse on Dickinson's floor led them to his room.

First things first they closed the door and had a look around; Alan sent out a broadcast command for the staff to keep away. There were three patients in the room and one empty bed. Dickinson's bed was the closest to the door, and they checked under his bed and in his closet for a box, but found none. If Massimo, before he had died had left something in his care they were seriously out of luck. They had a private investigator looking into the man's background, but, if as the nurse had told them, the man had no family, then there was no one to seek out to learn about their next clue. As Neil and Karick continued to look about the room Alan peered into Dickinson's mind. It was as if it was blank, wiped of all thought process and memory. Alan stepped out into the hall and flagged down a passing nurse. After asking after Mr. Dickinson's condition she went back to the main station at the end of the hall and paged the doctor. It took just a few minutes for her to arrive.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Kellin, may I help you?" The doctor was a graying woman of slightly less than average height. She wore thick lensed glasses, a chain resting against her white coat.

"Yes, nice to meet you. I'm Alan Marshall, and Mr. Dickinson was a friend of my father's. Business associates, actually. What can you tell me about his condition?"

The doctor was going to give him the short-shrift answer, after all it wasn't as if this young man was a family member, or anything, but to her very mild amazement she went into great detail, most of it too scientific and jargon-filled for Alan to understand. Alan dismissed her, mentally, and returned to the room to see if Swindon-Smythe had come up with anything.

"Nothing, boss," Karick said, his hands out, palm up, at his sides. Neil nodded.

"What happened to him?" Neil asked, hoping against hope that their trail had not just been cut off.

"Brain tumor, benign. The doctor said that it wont kill him, but it is interfering with the centers of his brain which allow him to speak, or even understand the words of others. His motor skills are also affected. He's forty-six years old, and could live another forty years like this. I scanned his mind, but there was nothing." He took a seat next to the patient and closed his eyes, sighing. "Just our goddamned luck, the guy we're looking for in a coma. And worse, no living family." His eyes snapped open, and the other two stared at him, but he shushed them. Closing his eyes again he peered into Dickinson's mind again exploring the depths, unlike his first, perfunctory, scan. He was still for many minutes. Karick and Neil watched with interest as Alan stood and stretched his back, twisting to and fro.




Alan Ch. 22



This was maddening to them. Clearly, Massimo had entrusted a part of the secret to this man, and when he had done so Dickinson was already hospitalized. "Why would he do that?" Alan thought bitterly. "Why would he leave a clue, one of a chain of clues, to a man with a brain tumor, someone who would not be able to communicate it at the proper time?" Karick and Swindon-Smythe were suffering similarly dreary thoughts.

"Well, boss, what now?" Karick asked, somewhat despondent.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Alan assured them, settling back into the chair and closing his eyes once more. Dead ends. Every time he tried to access the memories of the patient he came upon dead ends. His back was becoming stiff again in the uncomfortable chair, and instead of standing again and stretching out he merely used his powers to relax the muscles. 

It hit him. 

Slowly he entered Dickinson's mind again, this time not concentrating on the mental aspects, but rather the physical ones. The tumor was large, closer to small orange than golf ball sized. Alan concentrated harder, and it began to shrink. It was slow work, but got easier as the mass reduced. At some point Alan realized his eyes were open, and he watched the patient's breathing accelerate as his condition improved. Suddenly something was wrong. Dickinson looked as if he was having a seizure, his arms and legs jerking, his mouth frothing with saliva. Alan stopped what he was doing and concentrated instead on calming the man, and after a short while he was at peace. With more care, more attention to both reducing the tumor and keeping Dickinson from seizing, Alan continued his work, all the while hoping that if the patient regained consciousness they would be one step closer to Massimo. One by one Alan severed the blood vessels feeding the tumor, sealing them up after they were disconnected, then obliterating the bad tissue itself.

Dickinson groaned, the first response they had seen outside the seizure, and Alan stopped. Neil and Tadeusz stiffened in fright at the sound of the man making noise. Neil wanted to get the nurse, but Alan vetoed the idea. It was nearing sunset when Dickinson stirred again; he tried to sit up, but his atrophied muscles would not allow it. Alan nodded to Neil, who was standing on the other side of the bed, and the two of them helped him up. With great effort the man turned his head, first to Neil, then to Alan.

"Alan," he hissed, his voice raspy, both from a dry mouth, and underused vocal cords. Chills ran up the spines of the three.

"Do I know you, Mr. Dickinson?"

The middle-aged man smiled, but was unable to speak, though he let loose a raspy laugh, and weak as it was, Alan and the others could hear the triumphant character of it.. He nodded. Karick came over and propped the pillows behind him and Alan and Neil let go. Alan came about to the foot of the bed so he could face Dickinson. The withered man looked at him, a steely concentration on his face. The ring on Alan's left hand, Massimo's ring began to glow. Neil and Karick couldn't see that, but they could read the expression on Alan's face. Alan smiled even wider, and took the ring from his left middle finger and cupped it in his hand. As he walked closer to Dickinson it glowed brighter. Alan took Dickinson's left hand with his right and placed the ring in the center of the sick man's palm. Slowly Dickinson moved as he brought the ring to his right middle finger. Alan averted his eyes as there was some sort of flashover effect only he and the resting man could see. 

"The ring of Cyaxares has found its owner."

* * *

After receiving the ring Massimo's powers had returned, though he was still weak as a kitten, both his vessel and his Seed very fragile. The powers were coming back, slowly. He had explained to Alan what was happening, and it reminded the teen of the first days and weeks after he himself had had that strange encounter in his grandfather's hospital room.

He wasn't even Ted Dickinson anymore. Two days after Alan wiped the minds and records at the care center he took Dickinson back to the hotel. Once there, over coffees a recovering Massimo instructed on what he needed done to reestablish himself.

"If you please," Massimo asked after settling into one of the rooms of Alan's suite, "The boxes." Alan and Neil gathered the three boxes, the one from Claude Massimo, and the two from Vienna, and set them before Jack, or Ted, whatever. Alan had noticed that each successive box was slightly smaller than previous one, but hadn't paid it much attention. Massimo took the middle box, Greta's, and placed it inside the largest, Claude's, then nestled Wally's, the smallest, inside. He placed the three lids on, smallest to largest, and sealed them. Resting his hand on the lid of the box he closed his eyes and meditated for a few seconds before making a fist and tapping his ring on the lid three times, then removed his paw and allowed the largest lid to slip off. Alan stood at his shoulder and watched as he revealed the contents; the inner two boxes and parchments were gone, replaced by a passport, British, unlaminated and without photo, ready to conform with whatever identity Massimo was to choose, a driver's license, similarly blank, a small leather-bound notebook, and two Zip 100 disks.

"Cool," Alan breathed.

The notebook held all the information Massimo needed to start his life anew. He excused himself to the bedroom and emerged in just a few minutes. "My man from the passport office will be here in an hour. I need a name for him to inscribe on the document and enter in the ministry's system. Help me think one up," he said excitedly. He thought for a few seconds. "Lazarus. How about Lazarus?" he asked the room. 

"Jesus Christ," Neil guffawed.

"No, Dr. Swindon-Smythe, 'Jesus Christ' is too gaudy, even for an egoist such that I am. I may have lost many inhibitions over the years--due to my powers, and now my resurrection--but my sense of shame has yet survived my rebirth. Perhaps as a small tribute to my new vessel form I'll fashion myself Theodore. No, I still want to be a Jack, always liked that name. How about John? Hmmmm. Jacob, that's it Jacob Theodore Lazarus! With a name like that I'll be able to join a synagogue," he laughed.

"You're not Jewish, are you sir?" Neil asked. Though he never had the chance to study with Massimo, having been schooled at Cambridge, with Massimo at rival Oxford, he knew quite a bit about the professor, him being one of the giant's in Neil's chosen field of study.

"No, my grandparents were Christian, but my parents were more," he paused feeling his way about his new mind for the right word, "more cosmopolitan. My late wife was Roman Catholic, devout, as is my son and his family."

"I'm surprised," Alan interjected, "that you had any religion at all, I mean, after becoming a Seed Vessel. Doesn't our mere existence sort of disprove Christianity? All Western religions?"

"Not really," Lazarus replied, a cocky grin on his face. "Tell me, Alan, what faith is yours?"

"Now? Nothing. I know, or more likely, I am, the living manifestation of the truth of the words and deeds of Hyrcanus. Before? Nothing really."

"Really? Your parents gave you no religion?"

"Well, my dad's side is Society of Friends, you know, Quaker, but he really doesn't do much with them. Once a year he writes a check to the American Friends Service Committee, but that's about all."

"And Mrs. Marshall?" Jack asked.

"Jewish, but not religious. How do they put it? 'Unobservant.' She was raised in a secular home, and hasn't been to services in years. Besides family events I have never been to a house of worship. I can count on two hands the number of times I've been to synagogue or a church."

"Hmm, what about the Quakers? Have you spent any time in their churches?"

"Quakers don't have churches, the have meeting houses, and if you'd ever been to one you'd know in an instant they're not churches. I went to my dad's uncle's funeral down in Bucks County, and there was no way to tell you were in a Christian building. There isn't even a cross on the wall. So I guess you could say I'm half-Jewish."

"No such thing, Alan," Neil put in. "You're Jewish."

"What do you mean?" Alan asked, curious.

"Yes," Lazarus said, "As young Neil put it, you are Jewish. Any issue of a Jewish woman is Jewish, simple as that."

"Yeah, but I wasn't raised that way, so I considered myself secular."

"Have you read the Bible?" Lazarus asked, sort of changing the subject.

"Not much," Alan admitted. "Just the parts needed to work through the documents I read."

"Well then, you know that it is written in the book of Ezra-Nehemiah that the Jews were released from their captivity. The Babylonians, who had exiled them, were defeated by the Persians."

"Yeah," Alan put in, "I know the history, mostly from reading your notes and stuff."

Lazarus was pleased, and it showed on his face, happy that Alan had done his "homework" so diligently. "And the Persian Emperor, the one who conquered Babylon, you know his name?"

With the power of the Seed Alan had instant recall. "Cyrus."

"Cyrus, yes, 'Cyrus the Anointed.' Tell me, young Neil, what is the Hebrew word for anointed?"

"Mashiach," Neil answered, delighted and honored to be witness to a lecture by the legendary Massimo. "Messiah."

"And so," Lazarus continued, pacing the room as was his habit when he lectured at the world's great seats of learning, "Cyrus the Messiah, was succeeded by Darius, Devaryesh, for our purposes. Darius, though not the Messiah, granted permission to the returned Jews in Jerusalem to reconstruct their Temple, so one can assume," he rolled his eyes indicating his sarcasm, though only Alan caught the gesture, "That he too was dear to the God of the Hebrews. Therefore, we can postulate, though not with out a great deal of intellectual acrobatics, that when Hyrcanus forged the Great Seeds of Heaven, he was in a way in service to the Jewish faith, for by making them, then using them to restore Darius, he was in assistance to the Hebrews."

Neil didn't buy it. "That is very convoluted, sir. The jumps are enormous!"

"Well, it's just a suggestion, really. I'm not saying it happened."

They all laughed.

* * *

Karick left the next day for Geneva, calling from the bank office for further instruction. Lazarus had his accounts moved to an account already prepared in the Turks and Caicos. 

Mr. Wilkins in New York was similarly busy; he was being dragged around town looking for a place for Massimo to live, not his favorite use of his time. Massimo had decided that for reasons of safety he was relocating to New York, at least until his Seed abilities had returned to a point of his liking. By his own evaluation he was too weak to travel, and would be for a month or so.

"I need to assemble a staff," Lazarus told the trio the night before Alan was to fly home. "First, a personal assistant, preferably one who knows a thing or two about security." Karick would be staying at Jack's side until he arrived in New York, but Neil was headed for Rome to work on Cyaxares company business.

Alan thought he knew of the perfect candidate. "Jack, would it bother you if your assistant slash security person was a woman?"

"No, not at all," he said, an eyebrow arched. "A pretty one, I hope."

Alan grinned.

* * *

His parents were thrilled to see him. He had been gone for almost six weeks, and he let his mom fuss over him for a few days before heading out again. He wasn't going far, so they weren't too disappointed, and he promised not to be gone for more than one night. Kate was still up in Maine, so his time was all his own. She would be returning in a week, the thought of which brightened his spirits; he really missed her.

He gunned the car down the New Jersey Turnpike, a rented BMW, and he enjoyed testing the engine; of course, he wasn't afraid of a ticket. The cell phone, resting on the leather seat next to him trilled, and he slowed to the speed limit before reaching it.

"Mr. Marshall, it's Harriet. I have a call for Carl Sutherland, on the Sutherland Consulting line. It's Anne-Marie Nicoletti. She says she's returning Mr. Sutherland's call. Shall I put her through?"

"Yes, thank you, Harriet."

"Carl, is that you? I got your message."

"Hey Anne-Marie, what's up?"

"Same old, same old. Are you coming here?"

"Are you free?"

"For you baby, anytime!"

Alan chose a different hotel this time, and not ten minutes after checking in Anne-Marie knocked on his door. He appraised her, though not really knowing why because he had no idea of Jack's taste in women. Still, he liked what he saw. She was taller than he remembered her, about 5' 7", plus heals, though he realized immediately that she was wearing taller shoes this time, and his eyes were playing trick on him. Her sandy brown hair was cut short, a pretty cut nonetheless, and the color worked well with her very pale skin tone. Her breasts were small, but as he remembered, nice and pointy, and she had a beautiful figure, lithe, willowy, and somehow powerful all at once. As they kissed Alan did a mental mining of her, an ability he had yet to develop when they had first met. What he learned pleased him.

Anne-Marie was twenty-seven years old. She had dropped out of college, Rutgers, after her second year. Her father, a Trenton cop, had died of a heart attack while on duty. Unable to continue her education because of financial reasons she had entered the state police academy in Sea Girt, and spent two years on the force. She was then recruited by the casino, the combination of her good looks and law enforcement experience making her irresistible to the hotel management, which was in dire need of undercover casino security personal, especially of the feminine variety; her black-belt in karate didn't hurt either. She had a keen tactical sense, and a vast amount of the security knowledge needed to keep Jack out of danger. By the time the kiss was broken, Alan's mind mining expedition completed, it was settled, at least for him, and he knew he had a surefire way of convincing her.

"So," she half-moaned, a shit eating grin on her face, "Are we staying in, or going out?"

"Out."

Alan and Anne-Marie took the elevator to the lobby and walked briskly to the cashier. The cashier's eyes widened considerably, first when Alan requested a quarter of million dollars in chips, all in $5,000 denomination, and then when he passed over his credit card. It had been a long time since she had seen one like it; usually they were green, or maybe even gold or platinum. This one was black; she knew what that signified. She counted out the chips, but not before pressing a button under her desk, summoning the pit boss. He came in short order, leading them to the V.I.P. room. Alan and Anne-Marie settled at a blackjack table.

Anne-Marie was pleased that Alan had chosen a different hotel this trip, especially after watching him clear slightly more than a million dollars in just under three hours.

"You never did get around to telling me the secret of your success," she joked at dinner, taking another big sip from her wineglass.

"That's not how I remember it," he laughed, and laughed again watching her turn bright red, the shift evident even under the dim restaurant lights. Her temporary crimson complexion matched well with her dress, a short green number, glittery and backless. When the plates had been cleared after the main course Anne-Marie scooted around, taking the seat next to him in the booth. As they ordered coffee and dessert she slowly ran her hand up his thigh, stroking it through the fabric. The waiter retreated and she rested her head against his shoulder. Alan moved his arm so he could touch her. His hand stole under the hem of her mini-dress, the backs of his fingers flat to her pussy, rubbing it slowly through the increasingly saturated fabric. Anne-Marie hummed in rhythm to his light strokes, her arousal accelerating as her whole body reddened. They shared a crème brûlée though he had ordered it for himself. She had eschewed dessert, wanting to watch her figure, but couldn't resist him as he held the spoon to her mouth. As he fed her with his left hand he continued touching her moist panties with his right; more often than not her mouth was already open as the spoon approached, silently panting from sexual excitement. The dish, it seemed to her, was taking forever to finish. She was startled out of her reverie by the clanking of the spoon against the plate as Alan fed her the last of it.

Anne-Marie flagged down a passing waiter. "Check, please," she ordered, shifting her thighs, feeling the moisture pool in her panties. Alan signed for it and led her out, to the elevator bank; she was panting lightly. The doors opened and they entered. 

Alan moved closer and held her, but she demurred as he leaned into her to kiss

"Cameras in the elevator," she gasped, taking a step back, knowing that like the at the casino where she worked, all public spaces were monitored.

Once in the room she hugged him to her tightly, her hands slipping under his jacket, rubbing his back. Alan reciprocated, and she purred at the feel of his hands against her bare flesh. He pulled her as he walked to the bedroom, and she followed eagerly. They faced each other, Alan folding his suit coat over the chair, Anne-Marie releasing the catch at the rear of her neck, the dress slipping off her, pooling at her feet. Alan inhaled, for she was without a bra, her proud breasts high on her chest, hard ruby nipples pointy and upturned. Clad in only her heels and panties she approached him, then helped him out of the rest of his clothing. As they kissed Alan's hand slipped under the elastic waistband of her panties, exploring her. He slowly fed her pussy his middle finger, enjoying her moans. His thumb twiddled her clit as he continued to finger fuck her, and he was rewarded with an almost animal franticness her part, her tongue a frenzy in his mouth. She came mightily, and he had to hold her up, one arm around her back, the other hand remaining at her drenched crotch. 

Down only to his briefs he carried her two steps to the bed and laid her down on it, settling in beside her. Her hands searched under the fabric of his shorts, his slipping under her sodden panties, green, like her dress, darker in the center due to her female sections, the scent of which was highly arousing to him.

Her mouth at his ear, "Take me, Carl, take me, please," she huffed, his fingers driving her to a fever pitch. "Oh GOD," she screamed, coming as two fingers slipped up her wet pussy, his thumb pressed against her clitoris as he slowly finger fucked her. "Please," she begged, "I need you in me, NOW!"

Soft tears ran down her cheek as she felt the head of his cock tease her gates. Slowly, ever slowly, Alan entered her, her pussy walls spasming gently as he fed her length to her hungry opening. "Yessssss," she hissed as he seated himself fully within her, pausing for a short second before withdrawing slightly before probing deeply again. Alan kept his pace deliberate for a long time, it felt to her, but in fact was just a couple of minutes. She felt her orgasm rising, but knew she would not be able to peak if he didn't up his pace. "Harder," she groaned, "Faster, please, faster." She bucked her hip at him, her ass rising from the surface of the bed as he increased the speed of his fucking. "Yes," she chanted, "Yes, yes Yes, YES!" Suddenly she screamed, the force of her orgasm startling. The walls of her pussy clenched his dick, and her body seized, every muscle stiff. As he came inside her she moaned again, small tremors ripping through her essence.

As she lay panting and gasping for air after he removed himself from her and got next to her on the bed, holding her, she could feel the sweat drip off of her, her own heartbeat, and his as well. Nothing else existed for her at that moment. She slept.




Alan Ch. 22



* * *

Alan awoke to a most pleasing sensation. Opening his eyes slowly he was greeted by the sight of Anne-Marie, or at least the top of her head. She continued to bob her mouth up and down his cock, unaware as yet that her attentions had roused him (in more ways than one) from his slumber.

"Morning," he said, half groaning at the pleasure she was giving him.

She released him with a pop, and grinned up at him. "Good morning," she replied with a giggle, then recaptured him between her lips. She hummed as she sucked him, and he found himself aping her, humming along. Alan came quickly. He could have held out indefinitely, but the pleasure was intense, and he didn't want to overdo it.

An hour later, at the breakfast buffet Alan broached the subject of Anne-Marie working for Jack.

"I have a client who is looking for someone with your qualifications. He's from England, and he's moving to New York within the month," he explained, going on to tell her that the man was semi-retired, a former import-export executive who would be doing some work here and there. The job would be to insure his personal security and manage his affairs.

She was hesitant; she liked her job, but Alan painted a very glamorous picture, and she agreed to consider it. Jack would be arriving in a couple of weeks, and "Carl" told her he would call to arrange an interview.

Next Chapter: Getting Jack settled in the Big Apple; the return of Kate.



Alan Ch. 23



Lord Thornbow leaned back; the leather desk chair squeaked slightly as he did so. Mr. Patel stood to the right of his boss's desk, facing the visitor, his eyes had a distracted look about them, but his ears taking in all.

"I might have a way, but," the supplicant began, his accent thick, but Thornbow cut him off mid-sentence.

"I am wholly uninterested in 'mights,' Takuya-san. Have you, or have you not?"

The visitor hesitated, and shuddered slightly, either in fear of his host or his proposed solution, he knew not. "Hai. Y-yes." He nodded, his body language communicating that he was pulling out the last resort option, an option he would sooner not have to use. It was not too late, he mused, though if he continued on this course, the point of no return was imminent Mr. Patel excused himself to the small private office just off that of his Lordship's. The smaller room was wired for sound, so he would be able to hear the offer without Takuya knowing. His choice was now made. There was no turning back.

As the Japanese visitor handed over a folder he pleaded with Lord Thornbow, "In exchange for this you must promise me two things. I must regain complete control of my family, and," dropping his voice to a whisper, "He must die, he must--this I demand."

Thornbow slowly turned the pages in the folder, moistening his the tip of his index finger as he did so to facilitate the action. He did not answer until he had completed the dossier. As he closed the folder he deigned to answer. "Agreed, but you must leave the artifact with me."

Takuya opened his attaché case and removed a small chamois bag with a drawstring at the top and handed it across the desk to Lord Thornbow, who opened it and removed a piece of mineral greatly resembling obsidian, about the size of a child's fist. Oblong, tapering to the end to form a blunted point, the dark glass-like substance seemed to have a luster to it belying its black hue. Lord Thornbow noted that it was surprisingly warm to the touch.

"When she has completed the task for me, when delivery is made, I will return this to you, and not before. Then he will die. The control of your family will once again be yours. I need not say, Takuya-san, that I am a man of my word."

"No, indeed, Your Lordship, you need not," was the answer the Japanese visitor gave as he stood and then bowed formally.

Mr. Patel returned and showed the visitor to the door.

* * *

It was a hot day in the concrete jungle that is Manhattan. Alan waited on the stoop in the early morning, the contractor due to arrive at any moment. A few minutes before nine Wilkins arrived, his briefcase bulging. The closing on the house, a medium-sized single-family brownstone in the West Nineties, just west of Amsterdam Avenue, had taken place at Wilkins's office the Friday before, and Jack would be arriving in two days, renting an apartment on a short-term basis at the Apthorp until the renovation and modifications were complete. Alan was glad to see Stan, because he himself did not have a set of keys with which to allow the workers to enter. 

Wilkins pressed Alan about coming into the office one day over the coming week. "It's a feeding frenzy! The amount of money just laying around is enormous. I've talked to Bernard, and he thinks this contract could just about equal all of the work the company has ever done, in pure dollar amounts." The chaos in Iraq, specifically the looting of the National Museum and Library had necessitated the U.S. government to put out a request for bids for contractors to coordinate the restoration of the collections, including recataloging all of the recovered items, and a setting up of a system, in conjunction with Interpol, for tracking the illicit trade in looted artifacts. "We're talking low eight figures, Alan. We need to set up a conference call with Rome, us, and Neil. We need Neil back here, or at the very least, in Rome. We need to hire a lobbyist, someone who knows who has the juice in Washington, and most importantly we need Jack to get in on this. He has the most knowledge."

"Yeah, totally," Alan put in, trying to stanch the lawyer's over enthusiasm. "I'll talk to him when he gets in. Pencil in Thursday or Friday, but I'll let you know." He checked his watch, worried about the parking meter and missing Kate's flight. "It's a good thing Jack can travel so soon," he added absently, as he bid a good day to his attorney, and headed to his car.

Kate's flight was late, so he bought a coffee from a stand in the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia. She had taken off from a small airport in Maine, and then transferred to the shuttle in Boston. When the flight arrived, only about ten minutes late, Alan watched the stream of passengers as they came out, but Kate was one of the last off the plane. 

"Am I ever happy to be home," she said wearily as they made their way to out of the terminal. 

At first glance she looked good. Alan had never really seen her with a tan, but even her near-religious application of sun block during her canoe trips in Maine had not prevented Kate's usually porcelain from bronzing. She was wearing a halter top tucked into khaki shorts, and sandals. Her upper body was toned, real definition to her arms, but her belt was cinched tight. Alan could tell she had lost weight, and she looked over-thin. They kissed in the terminal, the commuters averting their eyes to their wet reunion, and he took her duffel bag and led her to the car.

"What are you doing?" he asked with alarm as she began unbuckling his belt, leaning over his groin to better see what she was doing.

"You have to ask?" she giggled.

He grasped her by the shoulders and put her back in her seat. "Not here," he said with a grin. "Patience," he counseled, pulling out of the lot and steering the car towards the Grand Central Parkway.

The ride back to their hometown was fast due to the lull in heavy traffic common at midday. Kate filled him in on the going on of her summer.

"Well, for a pilot project, it went really well. We had three groups of girls, and each group spent a week in the canoes, and then three days doing life skill building exercises. This summer we put through thirty girls in three groups in forty-five days. Next summer I want to double that, so I'm going to start drafting grant proposals for next year right away."

"Isn't it your dad who hands out the grant money?" he asked with a smirk, not taking his eyes off the road so she couldn't see the expression on his face.

"Yeah," she admitted, "But don't forget, there's still all the committees each proposal has to pass, and then the board of directors."

"Yes, the board of directors. Your aunts and uncles. Cousins. Your brother Cal. Your dad's old college roommate."

"It still has to be a good proposal," she sniffed.

"Are you going to do it yourself, or get professional help?"

"I'm thinking that if I can squeeze the money out of the foundation I'll hire a full- or part-time employee. Something to talk to my dad about. Someone to handle all of the organizational stuff, and the proposal writing, and I'll just supervise and participate in the summer programs."

"Cool. It's nice to see you getting into something like this."

* * *

Michiko did not understand why the abbot of her monastery wanted to see her. A novice, a boy of twelve or thirteen, had interrupted her in the midst of her morning meditations, not at all a happenstance occurrence, handing her a small square of rice paper with the message upon it. Straightening her robes as she stood, she followed the boy through the hewn-stone passageways to the central courtyard. The novice stopped in place as she crossed the open area to the opposite side, towards the abbot's office, not following her along. 

She scanned the boy's mind as they parted, hoping for a clue as to the nature of this unusual summons. She had lived at this holy place near the northern end of Hokkaido almost half her life, rarely even leaving its walls. Now twenty years of age, at first a novice, then a student, and now a Mistress of the Art, a teacher of others; the last nine years had been spent honing her skills, deepening her abilities. Sadly, however, her sweep through the mind of the young messenger told her nothing. It was, of course a breach of protocol for her to even probe him at all, but he was new, unskilled in the Art, and would know nothing of her trespass. She was only slightly worried that the abbot would learn of her bad manners; he himself had recently told her that her own skills surpassed his, implying that at his retirement he planned to push for her to succeed him, to become the abbess. As she reached the entrance to the abbot's place she put her worries behind her, confident she could suppress within her the act she had just committed from his ken.

The door to the abbot's office stood before her, a door made entirely of wood, not a nail or any other metal a part of it. Even the hinges were of wood. The ritual upon entering his office was simple. One did not knock, but merely pulled the door and entered. There was a small stand holding a candle, and the visitor lit the candle, which illuminated the anteroom. The anteroom was separated from the main room by a rice paper screen, and the abbot would know the visitor had arrived by seeing the light from the opposite side of the screen. Michiko did this, and then knelt. Mere seconds passed before the abbot bade her to enter.

"Much of what I am about to explain to you, young mistress, will not seem to make any sense to you, but listen you must nonetheless."

She nodded.

He continued: "From time to time masters and mistresses are required to do service outside these walls. Often in the past, young one, these tasks have been distasteful, perversions of our code. Service to the Empire, to the emperor himself, made demands on our order, demands we would have been happier not to undertake. Gladly, those days have passed.

The abbot reached for a small glass of water on the table between them, and Michiko did likewise.

"I regret to inform you that your services are needed, needed outside the confines of our monastery."

A loud knock on the outer door interrupted him, startling them both. The abbot closed his eyes, frustration and dread upon his face. "Enter," he sighed. The new party opened the door and pulled the screen open without invitation. The man who intruded was big, especially for a Japanese, more than six feet tall. He wore a black Western-style suit, a white shirt with solid black necktie, but what caught her eye the most was the collar. Not the collar itself, but what was peeking out from the top of it. She saw the edge of a lick of flames, brilliantly inked into the man's skin.

Yakuza.

A gangster. The last sort of outsider she had ever expected to contaminate the purity of this place.

"This man," the abbot said, not bothering with proper introductions, "Will inform you of your task."

The gangster grunted, at which the abbot blanched.

"If you would be so kind," the abbot said to the Yakuza, gesturing to the door, but the man failed to budge. His mission orders were explicit: once in sight of the mistress he was not to leave her side until she was delivered to Tokyo.

 the abbot projected.





She bowed to her abbot and followed the man out. In the car to the airfield she scanned the gangster's mind, finding no information contained therein the slightest bit helpful.

* * *

When Alan and Kate arrived at her house they found it empty. Conchita, the family maid, was on a long vacation, Pauline was at her job, as was her dad. The question her mom's whereabouts were solved by a note left on the kitchen table.

"Hi Kate,

Welcome home. Sorry I'm not here to see you, but Aunt Vicky fell in her apartment. We think it's her hip, and I'm at NYU Medical Center dealing with the doctors. You can reach me on my cell if you need to.

Love,

Mom"

"Who's Aunt Vicky?" Alan asked, reading the note over her shoulder.

"Not my aunt, my mom's aunt. She's like really old, eightysomething."

"Oh yeah, I think I met her at Pauline's sweet sixteen."

"Probably. You know what this means? We have the house to ourselves." She took his hand and led him to the stairs, but they were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. It was a steady BEEP BEEP BEEP, rather than its usual trilling ring, signifying that this was a call coming in on the secure line. Alan released her hand and answered the call.

"Sorry about this, I have to take this call," he said to her as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Alan?"

"Yes, Karick, it's me."

"I'm back in New York, at the office. You have to come in. Now."

"Now?" he asked with some exasperation. He was really looking forward to some alone time with Kate.

"Yes, it's imperative. Are you at home?"

"No, at my girlfriend's."

"Good. Do not go back to your house." Karick hung up.

Slightly puzzled, Alan pocketed his own phone and shrugged his shoulders as a form of apology to Kate. She had heard his side of the conversation, so he didn't need to explain. "I'll see you later," he said as he kissed her cheek at the door.

Karick had called immediately after he had cleared customs at JFK, and his cab reached the entrance of the office building just as Alan was walking up.

"What's the big deal?" Alan asked as they entered the building. Karick put his finger to his lips and whispered that he wanted to wait until they were behind closed doors. Locking the door behind them the former Czech intelligence agent rushed to the computer in the corner and booted it up.

"So?" Alan asked again.

"The team in London. They've spotted him. He's moving. Coming here. The Indian, Patel." Karick often spoke like this when he was excited or anxious, spitting out short sentences in machine-gun fashion. He beckoned Alan over and tilted the screen. A slideshow of surveillance pictures was running, the first showing Patel, the man who had arranged Alan's kidnapping last Thanksgiving weekend (which Karick had carried out), leaving a Belgravia mansion in a black car. Karick's London team had trailed the car to Heathrow, calling him on the way, and Karick had grabbed the next flight. It was the first time the London team had spotted Lord Thornbow's right hand man since last year.

"Where is he now?"

"The Marriott in midtown. I have a small group watching the hotel."

Alan understood why his summons had been so urgent. Patel meant trouble. "So what now? I can't go home?"

"No, I have a team headed up to your place right this moment. I needed you here, and not there, to give them time to get settled."

The phone on the desk started to ring, and Alan answered. It was Jack, calling from London.

"Sorry to put a bit of a scare into you, young man, but Tadeusz and I discussed it, and we decided that his place was next to you, for the moment."

"No, no, it's cool. I understand. When are you coming in?"

"Two days from now, and a good thing, too. I think I'll be needed. When my step-brother makes his move through this Patel fellow he will be in for quite a surprise. I don't think they reckoned they were going to face two Vessels, as opposed to just you." He bade his good-byes and hung up. Five minutes later Karick's team called in to say they were in place. Alan agreed to lend his car to Karick for a few days. It was better that way, anyway, since Thornbow's people undoubtedly knew of his, and he could always borrow either his mom's or dad's.

"Be careful," Karick said as Alan walked out into the hall. The door to the office clicked shut behind him.

* * *

The burly gangster said nothing to her on the drive to the airfield, instead concentrating on the road. To her surprise, upon leaving the abbot's office, she saw that her belongings had been packed into a small suitcase, her sword in its scabbard placed neatly to the side.

A small private plane was waiting on the field's lone runway, its engines already turning, and they boarded forthwith. Thankfully, from her point of view, the gangster (his name Kozo, a fact he had not volunteered, she had to steal it from his mind) took the seat farthest from hers. Without having anything better to do with her time she leaned back in the plush seat and slept. Danger would come to her, she knew, but it was on a distant horizon; Kozo, though dangerous, was not the slightest danger to her.

The sun was high in the sky, near midday, she guessed, as the plane began its descent. The change in pressure, that faintly uncomfortable popping of the inner ears, awakened her. A limousine was waiting for them at the bottom of the small set of stairs which protruded from the aircraft's hull, but to her surprise Kozo did not follow her in after depositing her things in the trunk. The chauffeur closed the door right after she had settled in and pulled away with her alone in the rear. The windows were dark, not merely tinted but completely opaque; the divider separating her from the driver was raised, so her view of the outside was entirely blocked. She shut her eyes and opened her mind, her powers allowing her to follow the route precisely. They were leaving the city, traveling southwest. The highway was jammed as always, and the going slow. She opened her eyes, no longer interested, deciding instead to use the time to meditate. 

Lost within herself she was shaken out of her trance by the opening of the door. The chauffer offered her his hand as she got out of the car, but she gestured him off. The house before her was modest in size, but the garden was large. She walked the path the driver had indicated, and it was less than a minute before she came upon her host. He stood square in the path, blocking any progress. He welcomed her and invited her to a small sitting platform next to the garden's artificial pond. The man was all business, and their conversation was short.

Quickly they went through the dossier, and in less than a half hour after arriving she was back in the limo, headed back to the airport; a copy of the dossier and a mobile phone awaited her on the back seat in the limo's passenger compartment. 

Though her host had told her his name was Hiroshi, she knew that he was Takuya Tagumi older brother of the head of one of Tokyo's biggest Yakuza clans. One of his men had stolen the crystal, and in return for her first killing this Alan Marshall person, and then performing the other more distastful act which she chose at that moment not to dwell upon, her order's property would be restored. On this she concentrated, caring little about the target himself. Her training, which included hours in the classroom participating in long and drawn out ethical debates, should have stirred revulsion within her at the mere thought of this mission, but she was following the dictates of her abbot, the head of her order, and so was able to push these feeling to the back of her mind.

On the long flight over the Pacific she reviewed the dossier repeatedly; according to it Alan Marshall was a Master, like she was, but his power was derived from some other source. There were no gaijin in her monestary, and knew of no other similar institutions. If he really did posses powers like her own, which a small part of her doubted, she would have to move swiftly. She could not afford to stalk him for any significant amount of time, for he would be able to sense her presence. Her contact in New York, a man named Patel, would tell her where the boy could be found, and she would set out for his location forthwith, and do the deed. She would work at night.




Alan Ch. 23



* * *

"What was that all about?" Kate asked on the ride back to her house from the station a few hours following his abrupt departure.

"Just some report I was working on. The deadline was moved up, so I had to go into the office to put on the finishing touches and send it off."

She kissed him. "Well, it's nice to have you back, but unfortunately we're no longer alone."

As she led him into the house he heard voices from the kitchen. Pauline was back from her summer job, and was chatting with their brother Cal, their Mom, and to Alan's surprise, his mom as well. The were all having dinner together, the Marshalls and the Van Devanters. The dads were on their way, taking the next hour's express from the city together.

Dinner was taken in the dining room, for with all of the members of the two families present the kitchen table would not have been big enough to accommodate. It was still early when the plate were cleared away by Kate, Pauline, Cal, and Alan. Cal was going into Manhattan to meet up with some of his college buddies (borrowing Kate's car), and Pauline was going to the movies when her boyfriend, Brian, whose summer job didn't let out until 8, was able to pick her up. Alan and Kate set out on foot for a jaunt around the neighborhood. The two sets of parents were in the den, Mr. Van Devanter setting up for a four way game of Scrabble.

As the reached the foot of the Van Devanter's drive Alan held out his crooked arm, and Kate weaved hers through it. Arm in are they walked, and it wasn't long before they had tunred off Westervelt Road and onto Vaughters Lane. Alan's house was near the end of the cul-de-sac. The didn't talk much on the walk over, Alan distracted by the ominous reappearence of Thornbow's agent, and Kate was a little tired from traveling, and just happy being with him. Alan stuttered his step at seeing the surveillance van parked two houses up the lane from his own, but Kate didn't seem to notice, lost in her own thoughts.

After they climbed the three porch steps to his front door Kate wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him down into a kiss. Breaking the kiss Alan smiled and put his mouth to her ear, licking and sucking at the lobe. She ground her body against his, her long skirt swaying in the light breeze, the hem of its soft material tickling her calves.

"How much time do you think we have?" she asked, her voice muted, breathless.

"Hmm...at least one Scrabble game amount of time," he said back, releasing her ear to do so.

She plunged her hand into his pants pocket.

He straightened up with a jolt. "Hey! Not out here."

"No, silly," she giggled, continuing to fish around in his pockets, "I'm just looking for your keys."

Upstairs in his bedroom they stood at the side of his bed as they undressed eachother. Alan leaned into her and she fell back onto the bed, her skirt on the floor, her blouse unbuttoned and open. Something was bothering Alan, and had been since he had collected her from the airport, and now, watching Kate take off her blouse it dawned on him. He could see Kate's ribs through her skin. When he had hugged her at La Guardia she had seemed slighter to him, but seeing her full in the flesh was nearly shocking. The cups of her bra were loose around her breasts, and her panties were similarly baggy, the elastic of the waistband bunched up around her hips. Her skin was ever so slightly slack over her flesh.

Kate could sense something was wrong just by the way he was looking at her. Her feelings of concern was mirrored by the look of worry in his eyes. She followed his gaze down her body.

"Lost a little weight on the trip. But it's not that bad. A little aerobics, and some other stuff, and I'll tone right up. Been meaning to shed a few pounds, anyway."

"A few pounds, Kate? How many have you lost?" he asked her pointedly, his tone demanding

She sat up on the bed and looked away from him, his staring highly unnerving. "Fifteen," she answered in a tone so low Alan had to strain to make it out. A small clear drop formed at the corner of her eye, and she turned away farther, swinging her legs over the far side of the mattress, so he wouldn't see. "You think I look awful, don't you?" she sniffed. Alan sat down on the bedspread behind her and enveloped her in his arms. 

"No, baby, no," he soothed her. "It's just," he paused, his mind floundering for the right way to put what he needed to say into words, "It's just that you look so, uh, unhealthy, that is, I mean to say, it just seems so unhealthy for you to have lost this much weight."

She wriggled out of his grasp and fell on him. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"Don't apologize. You had a very strenuous summer, and the food couldn't have been that good, right?" She nodded, her silky black hair running up and down over his chest, hot tears dripping over his skin. He held her awhile longer, until she mostly quit shivering, and then she looked him in the face and drew him into a kiss, which warmed her to the point that her trembling ceased in full. She positioned him on his back and then straddled him, reaching around behind herself to deal with the clasp of her bra, but before she could release it he opened his eyes and took her in again.

"Milkshake," he said evenly.

Kate stopped what she was doing. "Pardon?"

"Milkshake," he repeated, scooting out from under her. "Get your clothes on, were going out for milkshakes. Maybe some chili fries, too." He gave her a playful swat on the ass.

"Uh, Alan, don't you want to, uh, you know?" she asked with a blush.

"Milkshake."

She didn't move except to drop her hands from the clasp, and looked at him with an uncomprehending gape.

"Do I need to make it an order from you Master?"

She grinned, reaching for her blouse.

* * *

She was achy and tired from the long flight. Following the instructions she had removed from the pouch back in the second limo she hailed a cab and directed it to midtown, to the Marriott. Halfway across the Triboro bridge the cell phone in her pocket rang, and she answered it promptly.

"You have arrived?"

"Hai, yes."

"Good. Listen and do not speak. Your room has been reserved. You will find further instructions and information in there. I will be in touch with you by means of this phone regularly. We have been tracking the boy's movements, and we will let you know where he can be found when the time is right to move against him. You are understandably weary from your travels. I will call again tomorrow, around midday." The caller clicked off.

She didn't like the sound of what she was hearing. She was the trained Mistress of the Art, and she, she felt, should be the one deciding when the correct time was to make her move. If the target was as dangerous as the dossier had made him out to be then only she was qualified to be the judge of these things. Too tired to be indignant she settled back into the seat of the cab, looking forward to a long night of sleep and an uninterrupted meditation session in the morning.

* * *

"You have some chocolate on your chin," Alan told her, an amused tone to his voice. She ran her finger over it and licked it off. Alan had just started up his dad's station car, an ancient Cadillac sedan, more than twenty years old, only used by Mr. Marshall to drive to and from the Metro-North station on work days. The engine was old and somewhat unreliable, and the car never left the borders of their small suburban village.

They had had a nice time at George's, the diner/ice cream parlor. As they entered they saw old classmates arrayed around the establishment in knots and bunches. A few friends who hadn't yet been seated when Alan and Kate arrived invited them to join them, and the hostess led them through the restaurant section to a booth in the back, away from the jam packed ice cream counter. Alan ordered a large chili fries for them to share, and a coke, and Kate chose a chocolate milkshake. All in all they spent a happy hour, gorging themselves and catching up with friends. 

"Well, that was fun," he offered, and Kate agreed.

As he turned off State Street towards their neighborhood she put her hand on his arm. "No, keep going, up to Staunton Road."

"Huh?" he asked.

"Trust me," she shot back, a sly smile crossing her lips. She directed him to a back road, behind the old, now disused, post office, and he pulled the rickety car into a small opening among a copse of trees. In an instant they were in the spacious backseat. As they kissed Kate pulled his shirt from out of his waistband and ran her palms up and down his body. Alan had his hands on her butt, massaging her gently. She moaned, her tongue vibrating within his mouth, and before long he was stripped to the waist. Now it was Alan's turn to moan. 

Kate had broken their kiss, attacking his nipples with her lips and tongue as her hands went furiously to the task of unbuttoning her blouse and shedding her brassiere. That done, she slipped out of her skirt as he was unbuckling his belt. She grabbed at the waist of his chinos and yanked them down, her fingertips curling around to grab his briefs as well. As Alan kicked off his pants from around his ankles and sat back, she descended on his hardening cock, first licking around the head, and then taking him in a few inches. He ran his fingers through her dark hair as she did this, and it wasn't long before he was completely erect. 

He pulled her off of him and laid her down on the wide bench seat. She scooted back and brought her knees up, spreading them just enough so he could settle between them. As he caressed her inner thighs as he moved to her, she began to hum to herself. It had been ages, she realized, since she had been with him last, and she really missed it. His shaft settled against her moist and hairless slit, and she loosed a small moan, calling out to him. Slowly he rubbed himself against her tacky flesh, and after a very short while his cock was coated with her secretions.

"Oh, Alan, yes," she hissed as he entered her slowly, their eyes locked to each other's. Before she knew what was happening he was laying atop her fully, his mouth once again pressed to hers, his slithering tongue seeking hers. He began to fuck her gently, only very gradually upping his pace, and even then he never approached a full head of steam. To Kate it seemed to be going on forever. He moved back into a crouch after a few minutes, and she could see the moonlight shining off their sweaty bodies. The insides of the car's windows began to steam up as she moaned out her passion. He was still giving it to her slow, and it was inscrutably pleasurable, his thrusts making her climb higher and higher on a ladder of ecstasy, though not permitting her to make the ultimate leap. Through near chattering teeth she began to chant, "Alan, Alan, Alan..."

He realized something as they made love. He had been home for nearly a week, but until this moment he hadn't really felt fully returned. Being with Kate was special to him, though she wasn't his only partner, and wouldn't be going forward. Lost in his musing he wasn't paying full attention to her, and the suddenness of her climax startled him back into the here and now. Her back arched, and she let out a stifled scream, her teeth grinding together in an attempt to control her volume. Alan at last began to increase the rapidity of his thrust, and after a few minutes of this they came together. He collapsed, falling off the backseat for a moment before righting himself. Kate turned on her side and made herself small against the seat back and the snuggled together for a while, chatting of frivolities, her hands languidly rubbing all around his bare chest. The necked for a bit, and then redressed and made for their neighborhood, laughing at their luck at not being caught.

* * *

The sleep did her good, though she had found the soft mattress less confortable than her usual spartan sleep mat. She was up more than two hours before the call was expected, so she meditated for one of those hours, and used the other to do her sword exercises. If she had her way she would move against him this very night. She was anxious for the call to come, and anxiety was very out of character for her. With nothing left to do she went over the maps and photos once again. There was a particularly good aerial shot of the target's house, and she pored over it, focusing on the large tree in the front yard. A good place to conceal one's self, a good place from which to strike. Five minutes after five. "What is this delay?" she thought. The phone chirped, and she speeded over to the table to answer it.

* * *

The whole day seemed off putting. Something was seriously wrong. If he was more of a comic book fan he might have said his spider sense was tingling. As it was, all day long the small hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.

He didn't know it, but Jack was having the same experience. All through his long trans-Atlantic flight he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going wrong. He had planned to head straight for the sublet apartment, but by the time he landed he had changed his mind, directing Karick to drive straight to Alan's house, hoping against hope he was not too late.

Next chapter: If I had a hammer... 



Alan Ch. 24



The street was dark as she briefly exposed herself to view. The Indian had dropped her off a few blocks from the target's house, and she stealthily moved through various yards; each time she had to cross a path she made a complete job of looking all about, making sure she was not seen. It was slow going, but before long she was standing in the Marshall's back yard. She pressed herself against the side of the house, inching to the front. Taking a deep breath she then darted out of cover, and in seconds was silently scampering up the tree. There she waited. She inserted the tiny speaker in her left ear and scanned up the road. It really was a good place to set up. The road dead ended a few meters behind her, so there was no way Alan Marshall could hope to sneak up to her. Her muscles tensed as she spotted headlights turning onto the street, but the Indian transmitted into her ear that this was not her target's arrival. Her hands were sticky, and she wiped them free of tree sap against her black robes.

She waited a long time. Most of the lights in the houses were already out for the night as she ate a simple meal of sticky rice wrapped in seaweed. From time to time a car came down the lane, but each time her earpiece crackled with the information that the vehicle in question was not her target's car. She wore no timepiece but knew the hour was very late. Many a time as she waited she considered meditating, but rejected the idea, wanting to remain fully alert.

Two pinpricks of light appeared in the distance, enlarging as the car approached. This time it was him. She rolled her head, loosening her muscles. The car pulled up to the house, not coming up the drive, but taking the spot by the curb. This came as no surprise to her. Hours before she had watched as Marshall's parents returned home, the vehicle, piloted by the father slipping in next to another one in the two car garage. Her body tensed as she prepared to spring from her hiding spot. She heard the engine shut down. There was a brief pause before she saw the interior lights of Marshall's car come on and the driver-side door swing open. The wind was picking up as she dropped to the grass below her.

Alan got out of the car and shut the door. The whole day he had been bothered, a feeling in the back of his mind that something wasn't quite right. It had receded by late afternoon, after he had left to pick up Kate at the train station, and by halfway through their sushi-and-a-movie night out it had disappeared almost completely. Now, however, it was returning, and with a bit of a vengeance. After dropping Kate off at her house and steering his dad's station car the few blocks home, the dull throbbing reappeared, something like a faint headache. He had looked around after cutting the engine, but had seen nothing, and reassured by the presence of the security men in the van halfway up the block, he had gotten out.

* * *

Karick had been pissed off for the last three hours. His hands gripped the wheel tightly as he drove, too tightly for comfort. He had just picked up Jack at the International Terminal at JFK, and had been relieved that the old man--well, not so old man now that he inhabited the body of Theodore Dickinson--had ordered him to take him up to see Alan at once. The problem was that Alan wasn't answering his cell phone. Karick didn't know how long Alan had been off the air, but he knew that he'd been trying to get a hold of him for the last three hours, and had as yet been unsuccessful.

Jack was in the back seat, reading over some papers as Karick sped up the Bronx River Parkway, doing at least twenty over the limit. His new assistant, Peter Gant, a former U.S. Army Ranger, was trying to calm him. 

"Slow down, slow down," he counseled, "You're just going to get pulled over, and that'll just set us back."

"Young man," Jack piped in from the backseat, "We are in dire circumstances. There is no risk of our being pulled over. Leave the local constabulary to me."

Peter did not understand, but decided not to question how their passenger would prevent the smokies from stopping them. Karick put his foot down, and the car rocketed farther ahead.

Patrice and Eric, the two watchers on duty a few doors down from Alan's house set their cards down as they saw his car come down the street. Their shifts were soon to end, and they were looking forward to the rest of the night off. Eric turned in his swivel captain's-style chair and checked the monitor. The tiny transponder implanted behind Alan's knee responded to the signal and chirped an answer to the machine's interrogator. A small blip appeared on the screen and he keyed the two-way radio feature on his cell phone, paging Karick.

"Nest to Sentinel, Alan pulling up now. Are you still unable to raise him?"

The frantic quality to Karick's voice was evident through the ether. "He's there?"

"Affirmative."

Karick picked up speed. Jack then suggested that the two guard grab Alan and get him away from the house. Karick relayed the message. Patrice grumbled at these new instructions, ones contrary to the protocols he had been briefed with when he started this job. As Alan got out of the car they did the same.

* * *

She was about fifteen meters from him, advancing steadily. He had only taken a few steps towards his house when the quiet of the street was broken by voices coming from up the block.

"Alan! Mr. Marshall, sir!" two men cried out as they made their way towards the driveway. She watched her target pause, turning to face the calls. She sprung, her sword held high in a two-handed grip.

Just as he was completely turned around Alan noticed something out of the corner of his eye, a tiny flash of reflected light off a long thin metal object. "A sword. Headed at me," his brain instantly processed. He took a step backwards, the sole of his right foot coming down on an acorn, one still green from the recent rain, one scattered by the recent gust of wind. He fell on his ass, hard, but luckily as he saw the sword miss him, whistling through the air where he was, seconds before, standing upright.

A figure, clad in all black, its face obscured by a mask, twisted around, bring the sword towards him. Not thinking he reacted, using his powers to defend himself. With a clatter, the long weapon went flying down the road, more then twenty feet. He expected the bearer to be startled, allowing him a second or two to regroup, but the ninja-like figure paid this development almost no heed, kicking him while he was attempting to lift himself up, the crepe sole of her shoe smacking against his face, the back of his head striking the pavement with force.

"Hey! You there! Freeze!" Alan heard one of his guards yell. His vision, though blurry from the blow to the head, could still make them out, advancing toward him rapidly, their sidearms drawn, pointed at his assailant.

Her attention distracted momentarily, Alan hoisted himself to his feet and began to inch away from the scene as quietly as he could, his steps wobbly. The ninja person had turned his back on him, dealing now with the others. She waved her arm out, and to Alan's shock his two rescuers crumpled to the ground in midstride. Alan had managed to put about a dozen feet between him and the attacker before the ninja turned back.

"Keep away," he mumbled as loudly as he could through his swollen mouth. A warm trickle of blood was flowing from a small gash on the back of his skull, down his neck and under his collar, and he was slightly groggy. She sprung at him again, and it was all his effort to repel her with his mind. She was practically flying at him, her right foot tracing an arc through the night air headed right for his chin when he pushed against her with his mind. She missed him and curled into a ball as she landed, rolling over and bouncing up into a battle position in a single smooth motion. Her eyes darted over the landscape, searching out for her blade. She spotted it almost at once, lying on the hard pavement almost at the mouth of the next house's driveway. Clapping her hands together dramatically she concentrated on it and it lifted off the surface of the road, soaring to her hand. Alan saw it too, and he diverted it with his TK. It flipped over, the point of it now flying towards Michiko, and she dove out of its path so as not to be impaled.

Alan kept with it, causing the shaft of the blade to be impaled in the oak in his front yard, halfway to the hilt. The ninja, who by this time Alan had deduced was a woman, jumped up again, but he was quick enough on his feet to dodge this time.

"You've made a mistake coming here," he said with more confidence than he actually felt; blood was dripping from his mouth, and he spat to avoid swallowing some of it. He watched her wheel around, and midway through her move he reached out with his power to seize her mind. To his consternation he couldn't get a grip on her consciousness. Furiously he concentrated, but it was futile, like trying to hug a greased sow.

His mind probe momentarily startled her as she was in mid-kick, but she brushed it off easily; it did, however affect her aim, and her blow to him was only glancing, connecting with his side. Twisting her body around she struck at him with an open hand, connecting with a chop to his gut, and he doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of him. Seeing this she scampered over to the tree and began to wrestle with the handle of her sword, trying to pry it from the trunk. She could hear him gasping a few meters behind her as she freed the weapon. Turning to him again she raised the sword high and advanced. Just as she was about to strike the deadly blow something went wrong.

She was flying backwards, and with a crash she collided with the oak tree, a massive blow, her whole body aching at the impact. "The little bastard," she thought bitterly, picking herself up off the grass, one hand brushing dirt and debris from the front of her robes while the other hand seized the handle of the sword. "Two can play at this game."

He was running down the road, trying to get away. A quick thought and he was down, having tripped over an invisible obstacle she had created in his path. By the time she had caught up with him he was on his feet again, making to run. A flash of steel and he was bleeding from a cut, though not as deep as she would have hoped, a gash running from his right shoulder to his left hip. His shirt was in tatters, and soaked red.

Alan lashed out with his TK and she went flying again, landing with a thud about thirty feet away, but to his chagrin she was on her feet within a second or two, charging again. Behind him he could hear a car approaching, its headlights casting long shadows on the roadway. She was almost at him once more, and with his strength abandoning him he repelled another attack, knowing within himself that he had not the vigor to do so again. His vision was blurry, both from the pain he felt and the copious amount of sweat dripping off his forehead and stinging his eyes, as he watched her approach again. With a vague sense of distraction, like he was a character in a martial arts movie, and not a soon to be victim, he watched the steel blade as it swooped towards his neck. He was going to die. He was going to die in the next three seconds.

She heard the squeal of the brakes, but paid it no heed. The moment of victory was at hand, and she would not be distracted from her mission. Two hands gripped on the handle of the sword, one quick slash and it would be over. She was already thinking about the follow through of her slashing action when the sword once again skipped from her hands, clattering to the pavement. Three men were approaching her, two with handguns pointed right at them. "Well," she thought, "This wont be anything but another slight annoyance, like the first two." Once again she waved her arm in the prescribed motion and said the proper incantation, but to her horror, nothing happened.

She was struck by a blow of immense proportion, not a physical blow, but a battering ram of pure mental energy, flooring her. This new player, the man in the middle of the pack of three walking towards her position, was playing the game on a higher order of magnitude, she feared. Slowly she rose from the ground to confront this new threat, but no sooner had she righted herself, spitting blood, than another wave of psychic power overwhelmed her.

Alan was sitting, propped against the Anderson's mailbox, blinking rapidly. Jack and the two others ran up to him. "I'm alive," he croaked, straining with effort to get the words out.

"Yes, my friend, but only just," Jack said quietly, crouching beside him. A few lights went on in the houses on the street, but with a quick global command from Jack they were swiftly extinguished, the residents returning to their beds. Alan could see his attacker, laying flat on her back in the center of the road, unmoving. Karick and the other man were tending to the two guards, trying to rouse them while Jack tended to his wounds. He could feel Jack's hands on the back of his head, and it felt as though he was being tickled as the skin on his scalp was knitted back together. A similar process took care of the bloody wound to his torso, and he attempted to stand up but Jack held him still, telling him not to move.

The former Dr. Massimo left his side and went to help with Patrice and Eric, all the time keeping a sharp eye on the attacker lying in the road. The two security men had been stunned into unconsciousness, and it wasn't long before they were finding their feet, slowly making their way back to the surveillance van, Peter and Karick fast on their heels carrying the ninja's limp body between them. Jack returned to the mailbox and sat beside Alan, his eyes closed.

"You're still a trifle shocky, Alan," he said very quietly, taking one of Alan's hands in his own.

Alan felt soft pulses of energy pass through their manual connection, and was soon feeling a whole lot better. Karick went over to the van and instructed them to wait, then returned to Alan and Jack, standing guard, his gun at his side.

By his wristwatch Jack spent almost ten minutes pulsing Seed energy into him as they sat quietly on the semi-deserted street, Karick pacing around them. At long last he felt his two companions grab him from his underarms and lift him up. Karick went and moved the car, parking it around the corner and out of sight as Jack led Alan back to his house and up to his room. Tadeusz joined them shortly thereafter.

"That was some scary shit," Alan commented after quickly downing a glass of water Jack had fetched.

"You're telling me!" Karick laughed, though his face was all business.

"Who is she, Alan?" Jack asked, his features circumspect.

"No clue. She was powerful. I couldn't penetrate her mental defenses. She came this close to killing me. It's a good thing you got here when you did."

"Yes," Jack replied dryly, "But it would have been a better thing if you would have answered you cell phone."

"Fuck! I turned it off when I went into the movie theater, and forgot to turn it back on when we left."

"Well, that's water under the bridge now," Karick said, "But I do hope you'll be more attentive in the future."

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat all night, but there are matters pressing, none more so than the young woman now out cold in the van. Rest up, my young friend," Jack said as a farewell, patting Alan's head paternally. He was asleep in minutes.

Jack stopped Karick as they were halfway down the driveway back to the car. "I think it is time to pick up the Indian. He is near, but headed back to Manhattan, to the hotel. We will collect him there. You and I will ride back in the van with the girl. Leave Peter and the Buick here to guard Alan." Karick nodded and jogged ahead to issue instructions to his team.

* * *

He didn't see all of it, but he did catch the end of it, and that was enough. After signaling the woman he had put his car in gear and made his way to the end of Marshall's block, parking just around the corner. With great care he inched his way on foot through the first yard to see the battle, and to be ready when the mission had been carried out. The appearance of the newcomers was a sorry happening, but there was nothing for him to do but flee. It was his luck that he was an unknown element as yet, he believed.

* * *

"OK, boss, where to?" Karick asked as they pulled away from Alan's street. He was driving with wet shoes, something he had never really liked, but was tonight a consequence of having to hose the blood off of the pavement in front of the Marshall house.

"Federal Plaza, in Manhattan," Jack instructed, and Karick accelerated through the dim streets towards the highway onramp.

"This time of night?"

"The guardians of democracy never sleep, my friend, though I myself could use some. I'm a little jetlagged."

It was child's play for Jack and Karick to gain admission to the building. Within minutes the INS and the FBI were in possession of the photo of Patel snapped just a few days before as he left London for Heathrow and the USA. The agents didn't know why they were to detain the Indian, but the knew that Mr. Lazarus was to be informed immediately when it happened.

The assassin was lodged in the secure office in Wilkins's suite, and at long last Jack was able to rest.

Two days later Mr. Patel was removed from a Dulles to Heathrow afternoon non-stop, and within hours the FBI had turned him over to Jack.

* * *

"I don't remember if I said this the other night, but thank you for saving my life. And thank Karick and the other guy, too.

"What I don't understand is the why of it," Alan was saying as he took a bite out of his steak. Jack paused as he brought his wineglass to his lips. They were in a semi-secluded booth at a midtown steakhouse a few days after Patel had been caught.

"My stepbrother is smart, but sometimes that is not enough. One can be too persistent for one's own good, a lesson he is dire need of relearning. I think a small part of him understands that this obsession of his, his thirst for power, is going to one day spell his doom, but his arrogance clouds his judgment to such a degree that he denies the folly of his course."

"What has the woman been saying?"

"Nothing, not a word, at least with her mouth. Her mind, on the other hand, is quite a revelation."

"So you've been successful in penetrating through her defense? I tried that night, but I couldn't get a hold around it. It was..."

"Slippery, yes, I've run into that problem myself," Jack chuckled.

"So how do you get around it?"

"Well, first thing, when you and her were doing battle she was honed for combat. Over the last few days I've been keeping her unconscious most of the time, and taking my time working around her ingrained defenses. I haven't learned much from her, but Patel has been most illuminating. Just the fact that she can repel our advances as she is able is the illuminating thing." Jack proceeded to tell Alan what her had learned by interrogating the Indian.

"But, but, but," Alan sputtered, "That wouldn't have worked! He really wanted to kill me and take my ring? Cut my hands off? Why would he think that my power derived from the ring?"

"Unlike us Vessels, he knows nothing of the true nature of the Seed, of its history, its origins. After his first attempt failed he became even more obsessed with the promise of the Seed, and is now willing to do anything, not matter how rash or badly thought out the plan might be. To a man with a hammer, every problem looks like a nail."

"So, what do we do now? Are we going to go after him, neutralize him as a threat?"

"For now, we do nothing, at least nothing overt. I'm going to release Patel soon, let him go back to his master if he wants, and if he has the balls to go back to London, he'll report to me, though I doubt he'll risk the wrath of my brother. The female presents a far greater threat, and I will be concentrating my efforts on thoroughly shattering her defenses. When the house is ready she will be moved there. I had one of the small rooms in the basement made into a sort of makeshift brig. It's getting late. We should adjourn for the evening. I'm meeting your friend Anne-Marie tomorrow," he added with a wicked grin.




Alan Ch. 24



* * *

The limousine Mr. Lazarus sent arrived at ten in the morning, and Anne-Marie was ready for it, having awakened at six. She was nervous. She really did love her work at the casino, and could see herself making a career there, but the picture Carl had painted for her, a glamorous life filled with travel and interesting--and varied--work had its attractions as well. The struggle within her caused a restless night, and so, when the summer sun rose over the shore and filled her bedroom with early morning light she was almost relieved that the suspense was nearly over. She would know. Today was the day she would know whether she would be departing her comfortable existence for a new more cosmopolitan way. In the four hours between her rising and the arrival of the car she fussed. First over her make up, spending more than twice her usual time applying the cosmetics, albeit with her usual feather-light touch, and then over what to wear, settling, after numerous false starts on a just-above-the knee tan skirt, a matching jacket, and her fanciest, most stylish white blouse, one that was cut low, but not too low. She checked her hose over and over looking for runs, putting aside three pair before finding a completely unblemished set, and then donning them in an extremely careful fashion. Too nervous to eat she sat at her kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee for more than an hour waiting for her ride, looking at the morning paper, but not actually focusing on it enough to read the words.

She took the paper with her when the chauffeur had led her to the car, and during the ride up the turnpike she managed to stanch her nervousness enough to read it. She was surprised when she reached the office building that Mr. Lazarus was waiting on the pavement to meet her, but he explained as he climbed into the car that their first meeting was to be over lunch, and he directed the driver to a nearby restaurant.

The lunch went well, she thought. The job, as he described it sounded interesting, and had he asked her for a decision right then and there she would have accepted, but he made no such gesture. After lunch they returned to the office and she met Karick. Immediately she liked him; he seemed very competent, and she was put at ease by being among a fellow security professional, though he was reticent about clueing her in fully to his background. He showed her around the small offices and gave her a brief about what her position would entail. Mr. Lazarus disappeared for a few hours, upstairs to his lawyer's office he had said. Karick drove her to her hotel around four in the afternoon and got her checked in. She would be meeting the board of directors the next morning for her final interview, and tonight Mr. Lazarus was taking her out to dinner and a show.

* * *

"Alan, she's everything you said she was," Jack enthused over the line.

"Yeah, she's great, huh?"

"Pretty, intelligent, good at her work. Even Karick thinks we should hire her! And those legs, wow! It's very good not to be an old man anymore."

Alan suggested he suppress her memory of Carl Sutherland. "I think it would make things less complicated, and anyway, she's going to know me as Alan, so I'd rather not have to keep two stories straight in my head." Jack agreed.

"So, what are you going to do with her tonight?" Alan asked.

"We're going to the dinner and the theater, and then I'm going to seal the deal. Gotta run," he said, finishing up the call, the lascivious tone of his voice fully transmitted.

Alan went back to his books, a high afternoon sun the only source of illumination as he reclined on his bed. He had to declare a major at the end of the coming school year, and he was leaning towards something to do with ancient history or archaeology. The department at Columbia for these topics is called Middle Eastern and Asian Languages and Cultures, or MEALAC, and he had spent yesterday afternoon browsing through its homepage, making printouts of the class pages which had reading lists and syllabi. He had ordered a great many of them from Amazon, and found others in the local public library. Jack had even volunteered to teach him some languages, Classical Hebrew, Aramaic, and Akkadian, and with his abilities he would be able to take them in in no time.

He had wanted to spend the day with Kate, but when he called her earlier in the afternoon Mrs. Van Devanter had told him she'd gone out, not knowing where she went. He tried to raise her by cell phone, but it just clicked through to her voicemail each time he had called. They had soft plans for that evening, and he wanted to talk to her to firm them up.

Around five o'clock in the evening he finally reached her. She wouldn't say where she was, telling him she had a surprise, so he returned to his reading, losing track of time. When he looked up from his pages twilight was falling. The doorbell had just rung, and he heard his mom greet the visitors. He got up from his desk making towards the door, figuring it was Kate, and just as he pulled it open she came barreling into the room, smashing into him and wrapping him into a ferocious embrace, kissing him, and turning him around in place all in one motion so that his back was to the door.

"So what's my surprise?"

Kate cleared his throat, and taking that signal Scarlet appeared in the doorway. "My I present...Miss Scarlet Cavanaugh!"

"Wow," he smiled, "Good surprise! When did you come in?" He gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Just now," she answered, returning the kiss.

"I was picking her up at the airport," Kate chimed in.

"So how long are you in for?"

"I'm in for good," Scarlet informed him. "I was working for the Ohio Environmental Protection Agency as a paid intern this summer, collecting and analyzing water and soil samples, but the budget crunch forced not only all of us interns being let go, but a whole bunch of the real employees got laid off."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alan told her, sympathy drawn on his face.

"Yeah, well, that's the way the cookie crumbles, as my dad would say. It was a great summer, anyway. Kate said she'd find work for me for the next few weeks down where her dad works, so I got a flight, and here I am."

"What about your stuff? Don't you have to go home to pack?" Alan asked.

"Nah," Scarlet explained, "I stored a bunch of stuff in Kate's basement at the end of the semester, and I brought two big suitcases with me, plus my parents have to drive my kid brother to Boston College in a few weeks, so they'll all swing by with the rest of it."

"Yeah," Kate added, "And she's staying with me until school starts, plus when her folks and brother come through, they're staying with us too. I just have to clear it with my mom, but I'm sure it'll be OK."

"ALAN!" his mom yelled from the foot of the stairs, "ARE KATE AND SCARLET STAYING FOR DINNER?"

Kate and Scarlet nodded, and Alan went down to tell his mom. The girls followed, and soon Mrs. Marshall taken up Kate and Scarlet's offer to help; Alan was given the task of making the salad, Scarlet at setting the table, while Alan's Mom and Kate fussed over the rest of the cooking. Mr. Marshall got home just before seven, and they all repaired to the dining room. Both of Alan's parents had a great deal of questions for Scarlet, not having met her before, so dinner took longer than usual, and it was after half past eight before the table was cleared and the dishes and pots in the dishwasher.

Alan was wiping dry a serving platter Scarlet had just handed to him when Kate excused herself to use the bathroom. She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice. "What happened to Kate? She looks like a skeleton."

"Don't worry, we're working on it. She lost some weight on her canoe trips, and she was thinking about keeping off, but I told her she looked unhealthy. Trust me, when I picked her up she was even thinner. Her mom even approached me and we talked about it out of Kate's earshot. I seems that she was anorexic during her sophomore year in high school. Mrs. V said it wasn't too bad a case, but she did see a psychiatrist for more than a year."

They heard the toilet flush, and Alan continued, sotto voce, "I don't think its that, and I've been pretty much on her to put some of the pounds back on." He was going to keep telling, but Kate reappeared.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" Kate asked. She had a feeling they had been talking about her, judging by the way they had both clammed up upon seeing her come back, and she wanted to break the tension.

"What's there to do in a small suburban town on a Thursday night?" Scarlet asked.

"Well," Kate told them, "My folks are in New York for the night."

"Why is that, dear?" Mrs. Marshall asked reentering the kitchen.

"My mom's Aunt Vicky broke her hip, and she was released from the hospital today, and the private duty nurse doesn't start until Monday, so my folks are staying in her guest room until then."

"How 'bout we rent a movie or two, pick up some ice cream?" Alan offered.

Kate wanted to object to the ice cream, she was getting sick of it, really, but held her tongue as she saw that Scarlet thought it was splendid idea. Because Alan had to phone his Uncle Lou--it was his birthday--the girls left without him for the grocery and the video store, thanking his mom for dinner as they left. It wasn't until he had hung up that he realized that he didn't have a car, his still with Karick. The station car was making funny noises, probably because with Alan using it at night it had seen more miles than usual. He went to the garage and took his single-speed off the rack on the side wall. It was the only bike he owned which had its original pedals, ones which didn't require him to wear specialized cleats. 

He reached the house before the girls returned, and waited for them on the front porch. He was surprised to find the house empty. Conchita, he knew, wasn't due back for a few more weeks, but he wondered about the whereabouts of Pauline and Cal. 

Kate cleared up the mystery when thy returned. First, she had Alan take Scarlet's heavy suitcases from the trunk of the Jetta, and then she told him that Cal was in Philadelphia taking the tour of a few medical schools he was interested in applying to, and Pauline was a chaperone at a campout for her summer charges. Alan hauled Scarlet's stuff up to the guest bedroom while Kate fired up the DVD player, and Scarlet scooped out the ice cream. Alan was pleased that the one of the pints the girls had bought was pistachio, his favorite flavor. The film was "Secretary," which surprised him, as it was very risqué. As they watched the movie Alan plunged into Kate's mind. She had, he learned, never gotten her courage up to take Scarlet to bed. Dipping into the redhead's thoughts he learned that Scarlet didn't even know Kate was bi. He was also surprised to find out that Scarlet had been sleeping with guys over the summer, well, just one, but it was still a surprise nonetheless.

The film was making Kate hot. The scene where the lawyer spanked the secretary and then jerked off over her ass was kind of gross, but on the whole she was turned on. Alan hadn't tied her up at all since she returned from Maine, and now with Scarlet's arrival she wouldn't get the opportunity to fuck him tonight. She rubbed her legs together, hoping neither of her companions would notice; Alan did.

After the movie was over Kate took the bowls into the kitchen and washed up.

"So, your job was good, I mean besides the budget cuts?"

"Yeah," Scarlet answered. "Commuting sixty miles to Columbus five days a week was draining, but I liked it, and I made some good friends, well, one, really." She blushed.

Alan arched an eyebrow, though he didn't betray that he knew Scarlet had been fucking a guy while home for the summer. "Good friend? Does she have a name?" he asked, eliciting a blush.

"Jeremy," she croaked, embarrassed as all get out. Kate had always told her that Alan could see right through a person, and this was the first time she had experienced it first hand. They way he looked at her, the arched eyebrow, the inflection in his voice when he asked the question, it was like he was penetrating her innermost thoughts.

"Jeremy, interesting name for a girl," he kidded. "So, tell me about him."

Kate called over from the kitchen, asking each of them if they wanted a beverage, listing off what was in the fridge, and Alan asked for a root beer, Scarlet for a diet coke.

"He's from the next town over, a junior at Ohio State, and we carpooled. One day I would pick him up, and the next he would come get me."

"Who're you talking about?" Kate asked, coming back in.

"Scarlet's boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Did you sleep with him?" Alan asked, his expression sly.

"That's none of your business!" was her shocked retort, but he was looking at her again, that same piercing glance. "Well, um, OK, yeah, we, uh, yeah."

"Scarlet!" Kate exclaimed, a faux horror in her voice. "What happened to 'Lesbian until graduation?'"

"Well, you see," she started, grasping for an explanation, "Technically, I wasn't in school, you see, and uh, he was, uh, is, really cute, and you see, really good at, you know, uh good in, uh, bed." The color on her face matched that of her name, as she kept on sputtering.

"So, are you and this Jeremy a couple?" Kate asked, taking a seat after handing out the cans of soda and placing a bowl of fruit along with a bowl of pretzels on the table in front of them.

"No, it was just a summer thing. Long distance relationships suck."

"Oh, poor baby," Kate said sympathetically, stroking the other girl's red hair.

"Oh, Kate, it wasn't like that. We agreed to, uh, hang out again next summer, or maybe this Christmas break, if both of us were still single."

"So you're no longer an LUG?" Alan asked.

"I'm not sure," Scarlet admitted. She hadn't been with another woman since the school year had ended, mostly because she wasn't ready to reveal that part of herself to her friends and family back home, and that made finding a willing female partner impossible over the summer. She was beginning to get confused. Was Kate just being nice to her, or was she coming on to her? They had shared a room for ten months, and never had her roommate held her they way she was doing now. Even more confusing was the fact that her boyfriend, a boyfriend Scarlet knew Kate was madly in love with, was sitting five feet away, watching them from his seat in an overstuffed den chair, and amused look on his face.

"I uh, found that I missed being with a guy, and," she paused shivering as Kate's hands migrated down to her back, massaging it gently. Her nipples popped out, so she hugged herself so he wouldn't see. "I uh still like girls, very much, and uh, I think a small part of me wanted to sleep with a guy so I would see if I, uh, really wanted just to be an LUG, or maybe see if I was becoming an out and out 'L,' you know?. Kate, what ARE you doing?"

Kate had managed to untuck Scarlet's t-shirt from her jeans during Scarlet's explanation, and was now under the fabric.

"I never told you," Kate began, "But last year, after you told me about you and Jessica, ah, doing it, I began to have fantasies about doing another girl. Right before spring semester started Alan and I had a threesome with this really really cute grad student he knows." She punctuated this revelation with a lazy swipe of her tongue across Scarlet's earlobe.

"Really?" Scarlet gasped in a breathy whisper.

Alan nodded. Kate popped her bra clasp.

"Hey guys, I'm not sure about this."

"Why?" Kate teased, licking her again on the ear. Scarlet shuddered, feeling her panties moisten.

"Well," Scarlet began, marshaling her thoughts, "When you and Alan and the grad student had that, ah ah ah, threesome," she started as Kate began distracting her by playing with her pointy nipples, "You were just--JESUS that feels nice. What was I saying? Oh ummmmmm, yah, you weren't really a couple yet. But now."

Kate cut her off, "But nothing," she insisted, ending the conversation with a tender kiss, which Scarlet returned with passion.

* * *

Jack put on his jacket and stowed his necktie in the left pocket. The night had been a success in more ways than one. Over a pre-theater dinner at Picholine Anne-Marie had agreed to come work for him. She would be in charge of his personal security force, as well as being a consultant to Cyaxares, reporting to Karick. He had made a significant breakthrough with the Japanese woman, penetrating her memories for the first time earlier in the day, and the sex he had just had with Anne-Marie, his first since his resurrection, was smashing.

He had dismissed the driver at the theater, with the intention of walking her back to her hotel after the curtain fell. All through the show, a new musical, one which featured puppets having sex, no less, but one which had garnered excellent reviews, he had slowly increased her level of arousal, reducing it when the play ended, but only slightly. They chatted as they walked up Seventh Avenue towards Central Park South, where the hotel was located.

Using his mind to distract her she didn't even realize that her new boss was walking her up to her room.

"So," he began, his voice soothing, "To a new beginning." He had opened the mini-bar and poured out two nightcaps. She glanced over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. He was very handsome, different from the guys she was regularly attracted to. His brown hair was salted with bits of gray, but that would have been more noticeable if it wasn't cut as short as it was. There was a rugged quality about his face, and he had a strong chin. His eyes, in her opinion, were perhaps his most alluring feature, a steely blue, almost gray. He was older than the men she had previously dated, but that just made him seem more debonair in her eyes. "Salut," she answered his toast before taking a sip.

Suddenly he was closer. She could feel his whisky-scented breath on her face. "Welcome to the team, welcome to the big city, Anne-Marie."

She kissed him, softly on the lips, both of their mouths closed. It was a fleeting buss, in no way obscene, but she recoiled. "I shouldn't have done that, sir."

"Quite alright, quite alright," he answered, holding his ground. They were still standing face-to-face inches apart. He put his hand on her bare shoulder, brushing her hair off of it and leaned in. This time their mouths opened as they came together, and by the time she broke it off she was panting slightly.

"Sir..."

"Call me Jack. I don't stand on ceremony." He leaned in again, but she retreated.

"Sir...Jack, we shouldn't be doing this."

"I wont tell if you wont," he joked, pressing his mouth to hers. He arousal returned, and she slipped her tongue past his lips, tasting him, tasting the slight sour flavor of the liquor. His hands ran up her back and she shivered in the embrace. A terrible thought flooded her mind. Carl Sutherland had pimped her to this man. She tried to break away, but he resisted. With more force she extricated herself from his arms and turned her back on him, stomping over to the window and looking out on the beautiful city, a small tear staining her cheek, her mascara ruined.

"What's the matter, Anne-Marie?"

"Is this a set-up?" she sobbed. Carl had done this to her, too. Seduced her. Now it seemed like he was just passing her around. She didn't love Carl, but he had been her lover, and now feelings of betrayal were welling up inside her. She was nobody's whore. Shit, even her current arousal was similar to when she was around Carl. She felt she had been manipulated, and she didn't like it.

"Carl? Who is Carl?" Jack asked, sincerity dripping from his voice.

"Pardon?" she asked bewildered. In an instant all memory of Carl Sutherland was wiped clean from her mind by the man a few feet away wielding the power of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada, the third Seed, the Seed first given to Cyaxares of Akkad. She crossed the carpet to stand near him again. "Where were we?" she asked with a smile. He arms encircled her again as their mouths met, and she held his wrists briefly, guiding his hands down to cup her ass. She was very horny, her previous upset completely vacated. Soon he had maneuvered her over to the bed, his jacket strewn over a chair, her heels left by the window. He was strong, she felt in her bones, and not just physically. He had a magnetism about him she had noticed upon their meeting. His lips and tongue explored her neck, some of her most sensitive locations, and she writhed and moaned in arousal. Her hands were all over him, feeling him through the soft cotton his shirt, scrabbling fingers dispensing with the buttons. After she had stripped him to the waist her hands explored his chest. He had a very good body for a man his age, which she pegged somewhere in the mid-forties, hard but not bulging muscles, a sprinkling of soft brown hair covering his pecs and middle, tapering off as it wended its way down to his navel. She bent forward and licked one of his nipples, bringing out the desired response.




Alan Ch. 24



He lifted her onto the bed and knelt on the bedspread next to her. He held her left leg in his hands, slowly working at removing her stocking. He took the top of it, which came to an end just above her knee, and gently started rolling it up. In less than a minute both were off, and she shucked up her hips as his hands rested against the waistband of her panties, allowing him to get them off her. He moved north, raising the hem of her dress up, and she held her arms straight of as he stripped it off her. His mouth came to rest in her cleavage, and to her surprise and delight he managed the to undo the closure with his teeth. She giggled at that, and he shot her a devastatingly handsome smile. She felt gooey between her legs as she reached over to him and unbuckled his belt, then fought his hands off so she herself could get his pants open. They both laughed at that, the light giving off from the fixture sparkling off his unusually colored irises. As their tongues danced against each other's she was aware that he was taking off his pants, and she had no objection. Down to his shorts he pushed her back against the mattress and crouched between her legs, licking at her moist center.

"Oooh, that feels nice!" she exclaimed as he tongued her pussy, adding his moisture to her own. Her hips bucked up and her clit was crushed against the flesh of his nose. She howled in delight and repeated the action after hearing no complaint from his end. Through two gasping, screaming orgasms he licked her with no let up, and she was covered with a shiny sheen of sweat before she pushed him away. He rolled over next to her and they kissed again, and this time she tasted herself, not single-malt on his mouth. The idea of it turned her on even more. As he settled against the headboard she pulled off his underwear and began to lick his rod with soft small strokes. He moaned her name aloud, which cheered her to no end.

After a few minutes she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Anne-Marie, you'd better stop. I don't want to...finish...like this."

She came off him with a pop and looked him square in the eye, a loopy grin plastered across her face. "Jack, do you have a problem getting it up? Getting it up again?"

"Not in the slightest, my dear. Not in the slightest."

"Then lay back and let me finish."

He came in her mouth and she swallowed it down in a nasty gulp, and to her glee she noticed he barely softened after the orgasm. She straddled him and rubbed her wet slit against his cock. Soon it was as hard as before, and he brought his hands up to hold her at the hips, guiding her over his erection, the head poised at her soaked entrance.

"Do it," she moaned, "P-please."

He pulled her down, penetrating her, his groin rising to meet hers. A shock of electricity went through her, or so it felt, as he began to fuck her with long even strokes. He was a better lover than that guy, whatshisname, she mused, though it was a fleeting thought as she swiftly approached orgasm.

"Aieeeeeeeeeee!" she screeched as her pussy contracted, clamping down around his hot cock. He paused in his motions, letting her spasms pass before continuing, but soon he repositioned himself, him on top, thrusting between her clammy thighs. She was tiring quickly, and glad to be underneath now as the pace of his fucking accelerated, bringing her closer and closer to release as the minutes wore on. She felt him tense above her and she exploded again as he spent himself within her.

They snuggled for awhile, each unable or unwilling to speak for a moment.

She broke the silence. "Wow. I mean, wow! That was, well, wow!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Anne-Marie," he whispered, tilting her head and giving her a small kiss on the tip of her nose.

She giggled.

"I'm glad I took this job."

"You speak for both of us, I assure you."

She sighed and began to drowse in his arms, her silky hair rubbing against his shoulder. He held her for awhile before rising. The Japanese assassin was awaiting him, and it was unwise to leave her without proper supervision for long stretches of time. Before he left her wrote a short note on hotel stationary for Anne-Marie. He checked his left pocket again, assuring himself he wasn't forgetting his tie, and then made a quick stop in the bathroom, stealing one of the hotel's washcloths, stowing it in the right pocket of his jacket. He clicked off the bedroom light and quietly shut the door so as not to wake Anne-Marie. The curtains were blocking the rising sun as it tried to infiltrate the room.

* * *

She had always been attracted to Kate, even before she knew she was bi, but Kate had-- for as long as she had know her--Alan, so she never even dreamed that what was now happening would ever possibly happen. Her eyes closed, she found herself lost in the kiss.

This was so weird, Scarlet thought as the worked their way up the stairs to Kate's bedroom. Kate had spent the last five minutes kissing her and mauling her on the couch. Now here she was, topless, Kate holding by the hand, leading her up to her bed. Alan was acting strange as well. He just sat there across from them, a wry smile on his face. Kate had wiggled her way behind her, and she found herself resting her back against Kate's large firm breasts. She had half expected to feel the nipple rings, but the fabric of the bra obscured them. She felt a hand work the snap on her jeans, and the other rubbing circularly, rhythmically on her tummy. She took a deep breath as Kate drew down the zipper; Kate smelled really nice. Alan was watching still, not doing anything; it was unnerving, but she stared at him, finding that she couldn't look away from the amused expression he was showing. Kate licked the back of her ear as she snaked a few fingers under the waistband of her panties; her eyelids clamped down and she shuddered as those digits made gentle contact with her wet center. The pad of Kate's index finger came to a halt resting on her burning clit, and Scarlet could feel her stickiness seep through her panties and trickle down her thighs.

"Kate," she called out, half in whisper, half in moan. "Kate, p-please." The black-haired girl's answer was to bring her other hand to the red-furred pussy and worm a finger in as she continued to massage the clit. "P-please," she entreated again, tears of pleasure running uncontrollable down her freckled face. Kate made a long and lazy sweep around her ear again, causing her to shudder with even greater intensity, finishing off by taking the lobe between her lips and giving a playful suck. Trembling, Scarlet tried again. 

"P-p-please, K-kate," Scarlet sobbed. Through her blurry eyes she saw that Alan was unstirred. Blinking through her tears, unable to articulate herself she focused on his face, trying to get a message to him without having to speak. This attempt was complicated, in fact compromised, because even if she could get a meaning across she had no idea what that would be. She parted her lips in an effort to say something, but Kate was moving, no longer behind her, but right at her side; her hands continued their manipulation despite the shift. As she finally concentrated the will to open her mouth Kate shifted her body slightly, tilted her head, and kissed her, her tongue swirling about behind Scarlet's teeth. Scarlet moaned into the kiss, her body shivering in pleasure. Out of the corner of her eye she could still see him sitting placidly, like this sort of thing happened every day. Kate broke the kiss and began kissing and licking her neck, and she gasped. Her verbal abilities returned. "What are you doing?" she croaked.

Kate looked her right in the eye and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, "Whatever you want."

Kate's face filled her whole field of vision, and she blinked a few more times in rapid succession, trying to gather herself. "Why am I fighting this?" was the only thought running through her bliss-addled brain. She closed her eyes trying to summon another thought, but Kate's lips had returned to her own, and she returned the kiss. Her whole body shuddered with a mini-tremor, her hips grinding her pubis into Kate's palm. Suddenly Scarlet felt Kate pull away, her hand removed, her lips gone. Scarlet's eyes fluttered open in time to see her roommate stand and take the first step towards the stairs. Alan remained in place. Scarlet realized she was panting. She could feel individual beads of her own moisture clinging to her crotch and upper thighs.

She was confused. Why did Kate stop? Why was she leaving? Where was she going? She looked at Alan with questioning eyes, but he was riveted to the sight of the retreating Kate. Scarlet turned her head to follow his gaze. Kate was taking her time moving to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Without thinking, without actually making a decision, Scarlet hoisted her butt off the couch and fell in line behind Kate. Kate was now a few steps up, and when Scarlet reached the foot of the stairs she heard him move in the background. She twisted around, and to her surprise saw that Alan was tidying up the living room, collecting the empty cans, picking up stray bits of snack food, and the like. She resumed following Kate, bewildered, but taking her offered hand.

The upstairs was dark, the only light coming from Kate's bedroom. Scarlet moved slowly, because she was unsure of her steps in the dimmed hallway, and because if she were to walk any faster her unbuttoned jeans would fall down. Kate stopped her just inside the door, and Scarlet was greeted with a french kiss, Kate's hands busy beneath with her chest once more. They could faintly hear Alan moving about downstairs, but Scarlet could tell Kate was paying it no mind. She shivered in the coolness of the heavily air-conditioned room.

Kate led her to the bed and put her almost limp body in a sitting position on the edge of the mattress, kneeling on the carpet to grab the blue jeans at the cuffs. With an almost violent flourish Kate yanked the pants right off of her friend, and then was up, pouncing like a great tiger. Scarlet was now on her back, Kate lying right on top of her. Kate grabbed her head and held it still as their lips met again.

Scarlet lost all sense of time as they made out on the bed. She had no idea how long they had been embracing before Kate slithered down her body, giving her rock hard nipples a tweak as she did so. She raised her ass of the bed to allow Kate to remove her sopping panties, and squealed as she felt Kate's tongue part her cleft.

She wanted to watch, so she propped herself up on her elbows, knowing she wouldn't be able to sustain the effort for long. She could only see Kate's lustrous black hair busy at the apex of her thighs, but she could certainly feel the magic her mouth was doing. Just before her stamina failed her she saw him enter the room. In a way, he was coming to help, and he stood beside her next to the bed, repositioning Kate's pillows so she didn't have to hold herself up any longer. Then he retreated to the foot of the bed and began undressing Kate, starting with the sneakers and shorts. Kate slowed her licking, shifting so Alan could strip her properly, and Scarlet moaned in disappointment when Kate lifted her head from her crotch so Alan could removed Kate's t-shirt and bra, dropping all the garments in a mound on the floor. Kate returned her face to Scarlet's pussy, and the red-haired girl sighed with satisfaction. She was nearing her peak, her hips a dervish of motion as she rubbed her womanhood into Kate's eager mug. "Ohhhh! That feels s-s-s-s-o, mmmmmmmmmmmm!" she moaned as her body bucked with arousal.

As she returned to earth she realized that Alan hadn't yet joined them on the bed, but she was in no condition to ask because Kate's tongue was rapidly sending her into orbit again. He body shook with orgasm again, and she melted into the bedding, too exhausted to move a whit. Kate's body covered her again, and she found herself licking her own juices off the other girl's face, though slowly, as she had little energy.

"Kate?" she asked between licks.

"What, baby?"

"Is he just going to watch?"

Kate slid off her body and turned to Alan, who had seated himself in the armchair near the door of the bedroom. "Well, how 'bout it, champ?" she asked him with a playful wink. "What's the holdup?"

"Just waiting for an invitation, s'all," he chuckled.

Kate turned back to Scarlet. "So? Should we invite him?"

Scarlet nodded weakly, just happy to be following Kate's lead in this. Alan moved to the bed, and Scarlet was between them. Each of them took one of Scarlet's pink nipples in their mouths and began to suck gently, causing Scarlet to sigh. Alan lifted his head and suddenly Scarlet found herself kissing him, their tongues dueling as they explored each others mouths; she could taste the last residue of root beer in him as her eyes fluttered shut. Kate was fingering her tenderly, and her thighs closed around the invading hand, holding it tightly to her. Her eyes snapped open as Alan broke the kiss and Kate wrestled her hand away at the same moment. She looked both of them in the eyes, one at a time, as she felt Kate's hands on her knees, parting them for Alan to settle between, and then turned her focus downward as she watched him disrobe and maneuver his penis, the biggest one she had ever seen, her foggy mind was able to note, to the outer lips of her red-haired pussy. 

"He'll kill me with that thing," Scarlet gasped, addressing Kate.

Kate stroked her hair reassuringly, "No baby, you're wet enough. Don't worry, I should know."

Alan fed a little bit of his cock into her and she felt her petals part to allow him the entry. He was thick, wider than to what she was accustomed, the feelings a mix of pleasure and discomfort, though biased to the former of the two; a small tear began to roll down her face, but Kate swiftly licked it away.

"Do you want some more?" Alan asked, concern evident in the tenor of his voice. Scarlet nodded, and she grabbed Kate hard as more of Alan's dick invaded her. Alan took his time, slowly feeding his cock into her dripping channel, and Scarlet gasped and moaned at the progress. It took more than a few minutes of rocking in and out before all of Alan was inside her, and when that happened Scarlet looked up to see Kate taking position over her, presenting her shaved pussy to the now upturned face. As Scarlet began to tentatively lick the smooth lips Alan began to pull out and push in, at first using far less than half his length, but gradually building speed and using nearly all of his shaft. Kate faced Alan, and the leaned into each other as he fucked Scarlet and she rode her face. As Alan kissed Kate, Scarlet sucked her to a quivering orgasm, and her shouts echoed off the bedroom walls; neither Alan slowed the pace of his fucking, nor Scarlet the slithering of her tongue in and around Kate's pussy.

As Kate steadied herself against Alan, her hands gripping his shoulders to stay upright, she felt Scarlet moan into her pussy, and could feel her quiver and shake in a mighty climax. Now it Alan's turn to be kept upright as he growled and came in Scarlet's trembling depths. He was leaning against Kate, who was pushing back so he wouldn't topple.

Scarlet was having trouble breathing steady as Alan and Kate dismounted from her. She watched as Kate reached over to the nightstand and turned off the lamp. In the dark Kate nudged her over and laid down; the cuddled, Alan on the other side of Kate, holding her. Scarlet was asleep within minutes.

* * *

The sun was rising higher over the East River as Jack approached the office building. He bought a pair of cheap sunglasses from a West African street vendor right after leaving the hotel, so he wasn't bothered by the glare.

As he expected, Harriet, Stan's secretary was already in the office as he entered, but what she was doing took him aback. She was hammering away at the lock on the steel door with her stapler.

"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.

"Hmm? What?" she asked. Her eyes were glassy, and as he interrupted her she came to realize her surroundings. Jack sent her back to his desk, removing the commands the girl had implanted there.

"So," he thought, "She is awake. Awake and scheming." He went to the bathroom and wet the washcloth with cold water. Back in the office he unlocked the door and entered, not turning on the overhead lights, just the small desk lamp. She was feigning sleep. He wiped her forehead of sweat and grime with cloth, then pulled a chair over to the couch where she was bound.

"You cannot fool me, young lady."

She made no movement. Jack peered into her memories; she resisted.

He could see it now, in the chapel of the monastery, on a raised wooden platform in the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of prayer mats. A piece of black glass resting on a cushion. Twenty or more of the monastery's residents bent in prayer, with some sort of energy emanating from the crystal, washing over their prostrate forms.

"Perhaps the source of their powers, this energy," Jack thought as he attempted to probe farther into her mind.

A meeting, in the abbot's office.

"Ouch!" he swore, rubbing the pain out of his forehead. This memory she was desperately trying to protect.

He pulled the door closed behind him, and sent Harriet out for coffee. Try as the assassin might, her resistance would crumble, and he would learn the secret of the meeting with the abbot. It was just a matter of time.

* * *

Next Chapter: Sophomore year



Alan Ch. 25



The rest of the summer had passed happily, blackout notwithstanding. Scarlet's parents had swung by with the rest of her things, and Alan enjoyed meeting them and her brother. A few days later Alan's folks and Mrs. Van Devanter drove the three of them and their stuff back to campus; Mr. Van Devanter was still in Cambridge with Pauline, getting her settled into her dorm and attending some parent orientation and welcoming events. He was on cloud nine, one of his offspring at last following in his Crimson footsteps.

Alan was rooming with Soren again, this year in Shapiro Hall, a dorm on the opposite side of Broadway from the center of campus. They liked it because it was quiet; a great many of the buildings on campus were undergoing renovation due to the upcoming 250th anniversary of the founding of the college.

Kate had a single in Brooks, a dorm right on Barnard's campus. Scarlet was in another single just across the hall. 

A week into classes Alan met Jack at the office. Jack updated him on his last month of progress with the female assassin. He hadn't fully exploded her mental shields, but he was getting close. Most of what he learned concerned her last mission, and he was viewing tantalizing memories concerning some kind of crystal artifact, the details of which the ninja (ninjess?) was trying desperately to conceal. Wilkins, Karick, and Anne-Marie joined them after a scant hour, and Alan was updated as to the efforts in securing the Iraq contracts, and on security and business matters in general. Anne-Marie mostly kept out of the conversation, chipping in a comment or two when the talk touched on one of her areas of responsibility. When the trio had left Alan asked why Anne-Marie had been taken notes.

"A promotion, my dear fellow!" Jack enthused.

"What?"

"She is now an ex-officio member of the board, and the corporate secretary, on top of her regular work. She was compiling the corporate minutes."

"So she's working out? I'm glad."

There was a twinkle in Jack's eye, the source of which Alan was knowledgeable.

Harriet, Stan Wilkins's secretary came in with coffee service, and Alan and Jack helped themselves to some brew. Jack asked about his classes, and Alan pulled out his schedule.

"Hmm," Jack said between sips of coffee as he examined the printout. "You're taking both Aramaic, at school, and Classical Hebrew with me; that's ambitious. Well, well, well, I see you in good hands with your other classes as well. Mancini for Literature and Sources of the Ancient Near East."

"Do you know him?" Alan asked.

"Know him? Know him?" he was almost choking. "Why, he trained at my feet! An excellent sort, yes." He scanned the paper again, taking note of who was teaching the Aramaic language class. "S. O'Dwyer? I didn't know Seamus was at Columbia. A very able chap, but be careful, or you'll be speaking Aramaic with an Irish brogue."

"I keep that in mind," Alan answered with a chuckle.

Jack couldn't make out the rest of the classes on Alan's schedule. "What's CC?"

Alan explained that Columbia had a rather extensive core curriculum, the centerpiece being a lit course known as CC, covering stuff from the ancient Greeks to the modern period.

"Well, enough of that. Are you ready?" Jack asked as he made to unlock the heavy door.

"Ready," he responded, steeling himself.

The door swung open slowly. Alan followed the older man in, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the windowless office. The young woman was wearing a collar around the neck, attached to a heavy bolt in the center of the room. The leash had only five feet of slack, so her movements were quite limited. She was handcuffed with two soft leather cuffs encircling her wrists, connected by a short length of steel chain. Her ankles were bound likewise. She was blindfolded with a black nylon cloth, and she was wearing gym shorts and an I  NY t-shirt. 

Alan arched an eyebrow at Jack, and he responded telepathically.

"She is still dangerous. He physical combat skills match her mental acumen, therefore the cuffs and collar," the former professor projected. "As for the clothes, well, what can I say, or in this case, think. The shorts have an elastic waist. I couldn't very well nip her off to the shops to try things on, could I have? A very nice young man from Senegal, proprietor of a small table right outside the train station, sold me the chemises," he added, gesturing to the touristy shirt, "ten tees for forty dollars. I could never pass up a bargain."

She had been asleep when the pair had entered, but she was clearly awake now, her head swiveling around trying to hear the movements of her captors. She could sense them communicating telepathically, but was unable to tune into their mental conversations. Her frustration mounted, a she squeezed her eyes shut under the sash of cloth which blinded her. She had no idea how long she had been imprisoned, and her terror was starting to build.

Dying in battle was one thing, but capture was a far worse thing. She knew her mission was a dangerous one, but never had she imagined circumstances like the one she now found herself in. The man, the older one, the one who had thwarted her at the last moment of triumph, was getting to her, breaking her down, eroding her mental defenses, and she was coming to realize that it was just a matter of time before she crumbled completely. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this. The arrogance of her training astounded her, overwhelming the sense of shame she knew she should at this instant be rightly feeling. Never in her years of training and mastery of the Art had she been instructed against the possibility of capture. Such a fate had never befallen a member of her noble order.

One of them was touching her, holding her by the shoulders and lifting her into a crouch. She was pushed onto the sofa, on her back. She did not resist, knowing she had no choice. The only saving grace was that she hadn't been raped, but she feared that this would not be the case for long. She trembled. A hand on her head, attempting calm her. Sympathy, just what she needed. With a mighty effort she lashed out with her weakened mind, hoping the physical contact would help transmit her commands more powerfully.

Alan tensed, feeling her mental energy stream forth. His hand hurt as he held it to her forehead. It stung, but was bearable. "What's she doing?" he asked Jack, speaking aloud for the first time since they entered the room.

"Attack," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. Alan withdrew his hand and the sting dissipated.

"She's much weaker," Alan projected, resuming the communication by mind. "It was almost effortless to keep her from my mind. In fact, I didn't even know she was attacking until you said it."

Jack approached the couch and sat her upright. Alan took the left flank, his partner the right.

"I think it's time we double up on her," Jack projected into Alan's mind. "She's been eating of late, a good thing too, because she refused the smallest bite for quite a while. I think the isolation has been trying on her."

"What do you need me to do?" Alan asked, his lips not moving.

"Try to scan her."

Alan tried. He got virtually nowhere. He could see inside her mind, but all was shadowed by the shields protecting her consciousness. Jack was monitoring his progress, and shot him a wry grin as Alan withdrew his ineffectual probe.

"What were you looking for?" the older man asked.

"I was trying to learn why she allowed herself to be set against me. We already know some of it, the part having to do with Lord Thornbow. What we still don't know is why she and her order have allied themselves with him."

"A vexing point, yes. Did you see the crystal, the black crystal on the wooden stand in the center of the chapel?"

"What about it?"

"I believe," Jack said slowly, marshaling his thoughts, "that we have reached the ineffable core of our dilemma, and by 'our' I am referring to all of us, you me AND the girl."

Before he went on he tightened the assassin's bonds and led Alan out of the secure room, into the conference room next door.

"I've been making some calls, asking around, making inquiries," the European gentleman began as he gestured Alan to have a chair.

"But, but, you don't know anyone, or rather no one knows you," Alan sputtered in reply.

"My dear boy, when you are a Vessel of the Seed, introductions, and, dare I say, earthly pedigree means nothing. There are numerous human resources available here in your fine city. I had a very interesting afternoon with an elderly professor down at NYU yesterday afternoon, and another interesting meeting the day before last up at your current place of education. If you didn't know it, the Starr East Asian is an excellent resource. Sad to say, I haven't discovered too much about this monastery, but time, young man, is most certainly on our side."

Alan voiced his doubts. "Your brother--"

"STEPbrother," Jack corrected sharply, but without malice.

"Your stepbrother has made two attempts on me, and tried to kill you in London last year. Tell me again: How is time on our side?"

"We have a number of natural advantages, or supernatural advantages, you might say. First, we are Vessels. Second, my stepbrother thinks there is only you. Third, Mr. Patel informed me there is no firm backup plan if the young lady next door was to fail. Fourth--no--I could go on, but you get the point.

"There are legends, Alan, legends of ninja assassins with almost supernatural power. Never confirmed to the most slightest degree. I believe our female guest is myth personified. We need to find this mysterious order, and perhaps ally ourselves with them. I'm somewhat surprised that nobody's come looking for her."

Jack went on to tell Alan of his research, but Alan didn't follow much of it. After a while Harriet came in and asked if they wanted to order lunch up, and they did, Jack ordering for himself and a separate meal for the prisoner.

Wilkins came in after lunch and the rest of the afternoon was spent at business. Jack had sheltered some of his investments and business concerns from his estate, and Wilkins had spent much of the summer reorganizing them under the Cyaxares umbrella. The lobbyist in Washington was making progress with the Iraqi contracts, but the three of them agreed that Jack's presence in D.C. would be required to close the deals. He and Anne-Marie would be leaving Monday, and spending the whole week away, and Alan agreed to stop by the offices each day to feed and tend to the prisoner.

Still, Alan was uncomfortable as to the manner in which the corporation was now structured, specifically that he was President and CEO, and he made his worries known.

By the time they adjourned Jack was President and CEO, and Stan and Alan were board members. Karick and Neil were also added to the board, and Anne-Marie was confirmed as corporate secretary, a non-voting member.

* * *

A few weeks later...

Kate sat with her friends at a table in McIntosh picking at her food. Alan was late, something very out of character for him. She was following the conversation, but not really participating, and with a shock she realized that Scarlet was leaving, along with almost all of her companions.

"Hate to dine and dash, dear," the redhead said as an apology as she bussed her stuff of the tabletop, "but I have about two hundred pages of sociology to read by tomorrow."

The only one left at the table beside Kate was a fellow sophomore, a pretty blonde named Jenna, who Kate had noticed being increasingly catty towards Scarlet over the past week.

"I know you were roommates and all," Jenna sneered, "But I can't for the life of me understand why you're still friends with her."

"Who?" Kate asked, "Scarlet? Scarlet's great. What the beef between the two of you? I thought you liked her."

"Really?" Jenna sniffed. "How much do you really know about her?"

Kate turned away for a second, troubled by what Jenna was insinuating, and she saw Alan enter just as Scarlet was exiting. They met near the door and exchanged pleasantries. Kate stood and waved so Alan would see where she was sitting.

"That your boyfriend?" Jenna asked, watching Alan and Scarlet chat.

"Yeah, that's Alan."

Kate had only begun hanging out with Jenna since the start of this term. They sort of knew each other freshman year, but they had lived in different dorms, and hadn't shared any classes. This year they were in two classes together, and lived only a few doors down from each other.

"Well, from what I've seen, Kate," she said acidly and starting in again, "You wont have to worry about Scarlet stealing him," she said, smugness clear in her tone, "I know for a fact she's a dyke. You know, a--"

"Excuse me?" Kate said with indignation dripping from her voice, now that Jenna was laying her cards on the table.

"You know, a lez, a carpet muncher, a--"

"I know what you meant," Kate huffed, "And you shouldn't spread rumors."

"It's not a rumor. I saw her kissing Jess Starmer. Her door faces mine, and last Sunday night Jess went in there and didn't come out until morning. And when she left I saw them swapping spit, and--"

"Just can it, Jenna! Scarlet's like my best friend, and you shouldn't be a gossip. Hi Alan." He had just arrived with a sandwich in hand from the Montague's Deli counter.

"Are you two ladies gossiping? Anything good?"

"No, nothing really," Kate said quickly, her eyes shooting daggers at Jenna. The other girl took the hint.

"Nice to meet you Alan. Gotta run, I've got Latin American Literature in Translation in five. See ya 'round."

"She seems nice," Alan said, putting his tray down next to Kate's.

"I thought so until just now," Kate answered.

"What happened?"

"She called Scarlet a dyke. Scarlet is very private about her sexuality, you know, and by this time next week everybody's going to know she does it with girls. You and I plus a few more people know, but her boyfriend back in Ohio doesn't, her family has no idea. It could get back to them," Kate sighed.

"Maybe we can figure out a way to have Jenna not tell."

Kate snorted, "Fat chance of that."

"Don't be so sure," her boyfriend replied, a wry smile plastered across his face. He changed the subject. "I'll come by tonight, we'll get some dinner, and I'll study in your room."

"Sleepover?" she asked expectantly. He nodded.

* * *

Jenna Roush stepped off the elevator; it was near ten o'clock, and she was satisfied that she was prepared for her next day's classes, having cloistered herself all afternoon in a library carrel. As she made her way down the hall greeting friends she could see the dyke's door was closed. The idea of having a lesbian right across the hall disgusted her. What was worse was that she had actually witnessed it. She had heard a quiet rumor that Scarlet was gay, and so she had mostly tried to avoid being near her when she could avoid it, and she made it her business never to be alone with the damned dyke. She liked Kate, admired her really. Kate was rich, exceptionally smart, pretty, and had a cute (but not movie-star handsome) boyfriend. All of her friends who knew Alan thought he was great, but, in her mind, if Kate was friends with that fucking rug muncher, this Alan fellow could do better.

Kate's door was open as she passed, and to her surprise, the only occupant of the room was Alan, lying on her bed propped up with a big bunch of pillows, a book in one hand, a pencil in the other.

"Hello."

"Oh, hi. Jenna, right?"

"That's me," she giggled seductively. "Where's Kate?"

"Finished her coursework, so she went to UFM to get some sodas and snacks. Should be back soon. Are you looking for her?"

"What are you reading?" she asked, twirling a finger through her blonde locks.

"Enuma Elish."

"Huh? What's that?" she asked as she moved towards the bed.

"The Epic of Gilgamesh. I'm reading it for this great class I'm taking. Literature and Sources of the Ancient Near East."

She was standing right next to him, so close he could smell her perfume. "You can read that?" she asked.

"Sure. I'm still learning the cuneiform, but it's an interlinear translation and transliteration. See, each line of Akkadian text is followed by a phonetic rendering, and then a translation."

"Impressive." She sat down next to him, her boob pressing into his arm. "Is that what you want to study? Old stuff?"

He laughed, and she knew she was getting to him, her feminine charm doing its business. Guys were easy, calculus was hard.

"Yeah," he said, "I like this stuff." He made a last note in the margin and closed the book. "How was your class? Latin American Lit?"

"Great. It's a great class." She leaned against him with more of her body. He didn't object.

"Hmmm, maybe I'll take it next year."

"I," she started, leaning in to him, her face approaching his, Alan not objecting, "Highly," she continued, her lips almost brushing against his, "Recommend it," she concluded, pressing her mouth to his.

"Stop," Alan commanded, holding her by her shoulders, pushing her away and holding her at arms length. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"She's not good enough for you. Her best friend's a lez. Hell, they probably were licking each other out all last year, when they were roommates."

"What's going on in here?" Kate asked, setting the shopping bag down.

"Kate," Jenna gasped, "I can explain."

Kate shut the door and turned the desk chair to face the bed and sat. "This I've got to hear. OK, Jenna, shoot."

"I'm sorry Kate, I really am. He started coming on to me, and I should have tried harder to get away, but he grabbed me, hell, he's still grabbing me!"

"Oh? And what, pray tell, were you doing in my room, with my boyfriend. I know you tried to steal Carole Foster's guy last semester. Keep this up and you'll get a rep."

"You don't believe me!" she gasped in false indignation. "Your animal of a boyfriend tries to feel me up, and you don't believe me?"

"Alan?" Kate asked, looking right in his eyes. Verbalizing the question was unnecessary. He shook his head, grinning, winking at her.

"You bitch!" Kate yelled, though not loud enough for her voice to carry.

"You're the bitch!" Jenna shot back. "Just you wait. The minute I leave this room I'm going to tell everybody on the hall that your boyfriend is a filthy rapist who tried to get over on me because you and your bitch friend Scar-lez go down on each other every other night!"

Kate shot out of the chair, moving faster than Alan had ever seen her reach and slapped the blonde girl on her cheek, hard.

Jenna was stunned, and decided to flee before things got out of hand. She shoved Alan off of her and sprang off the bed, heading for the door. "Fuck, I'll tell everybody that you and Scarlet started hitting on me, and it was a close escape just to get out with my panties intact."

"Stop," he said again. His voice was calm and measured, and for some reason she couldn't fathom she obeyed, her hand inches from the door knob. "Turn around," he commanded so quietly she had to strain to hear him, but she acquiesced nonetheless. He was looking right at her, and for the life of her she couldn't tear her eyes from his.

"You owe us an apology. Scarlet, too, but that will come later."

She tried to speak, but couldn't find her voice. She was outraged, and as her lips flapped soundlessly as bile built up within her. She tried to scream, to berate the pair of them, but nothing came out. As her hate built within her she became more and more frustrated, her horror boiling over as she realized she was unable to move or speak. She passed out, her back sliding down the door until she was sitting, her head lolling forward.

Alan took two steps to the door and grabbed her under her arms, lifting her up, turning, and the dropping her flat on her back on Kate's mattress.




Alan Ch. 25



"What happened to her?" Kate asked in horror.

Alan turned to her and locked his eyes to hers. He stepped forward as she collapsed towards him, and he caught her before she fell. 

"Pleasant dreams, ladies," he chuckled as he nudged Jenna aside to make room next to her for Kate on the narrow dorm room bed.

* * *

Jenna opened her eyes, scared by her unfamiliar surroundings, and by the fact that she was naked. The torch on the stone wall cast dim light through the dungeon. She tried to get up and look around but she was shackled to the damp wall by her wrists, flat on her back, reposed on a straw mat; it was itchy on her soft skin.

She started as she heard the door to the cell open with a rusty squeak and tilted her head as far as her stiff leather collar would allow. Through the bars she could see Alan, his hand moving the barred opening over to the side, allowing his entrance. Once the cell was open she strained against her bonds, trying with all her might to free herself, but it was useless. Through teary eyes she saw him watching him from the entrance. He had made no move to enter. He was laughing at her, a soft yet powerful sort of chuckle, and it sent chills running up and down her spine.

"W-what are you doing--"

"Silence, slave," he boomed.

Her mouth closed in mid sentence, and she looked away from him in fear.

She heard him take a few steps into the room, but she refused to look up.

"Look at me, slave."

His voice was so powerful, and she was unable to remain defiant. Her body was wracked with the shivers as she looked upon him. He was chilling to behold. He was dressed in black, from top to bottom, his boots, pants and jacket leather, a fabric shirt under the jacket. Suddenly he was leaning over her, and she felt him fiddle at her wrists, releasing her from the wall.

Her first thought was to fight, to knock him down and run away, but she was unresisting as he pulled her up and spun her around. He clipped the wrist cuffs together and spun her back.

Her eyes were glued to the floor, well, as much as the uncomfortable collar would allow. She felt his hand on her neck, and he played with the collar for a few seconds before cupping her chin and forcing her gaze upwards. She gasped as she saw his face clearly for the first time. The light of the torch reflected off his gentle eyes, but she felt the power that was emanating from them.

"Do you know why you're here, slave?" he grunted.

"No, Alan, I don't. P-p-please let me go," she sobbed.

She squeaked as he swatted her bottom.

"I am your master, and you will address me as such."

She tried to spit in his face, but she was restrained by fear.

"Do you know why you're here, slave?"

"No. LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGH--" Slap, harder this time. "N-no, Master."

"You've been naughty." He placed his palm flat against her forehead and a stream of words and images swam through her mind, the scenes of this afternoon and evening played like a movie through her brain. A tear escaped and slid slowly down her cheek.

He unshackled her with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," she cried, understanding filling her. She was wrong. Her Master had shown her that. She felt an overwhelming need to repent. Master's hand skimmed up her head to the top, and he took her by her hair; it hurt a little, but she knew she deserved it. He pushed her to her knees.

CLIP CLOP CLIP CLOP. Footsteps approaching. Her terror returned.

* * * 

Kate stood at the entrance of the cell, a little disoriented. She was in a dungeon, torches lining the hall as she had passed a series of empty cells on each side. It sort of reminded her of her dorm, both from the smallness of the rooms, and the same distance between each door. She could see that the last cell on the right was open, and she made her way there, though she couldn't say why. As she entered she saw Alan and Jenna. He was clad in black and she was naked. Kate smiled, a wicked look on her face. Right then she noticed her own attire. Like Alan she was in all black, all leather in her case. Her boots were knee high, four-inch heels. She wore a bustier and black leather panties. There was a riding crop in her right hand which she hadn't previously noted.

"Mistress Kate, so glad you could join me," he said, not turning to greet her. Kate fell into her role in an instant.

"A pleasure, Master Alan. Has this one been naughty?"

"Indeed, indeed. In deeds and words, Mistress Kate, she has been very naughty."

Jenna moaned in despair, and to her alarm, arousal. She could feel moisture at her cleft, a bead of her feminine nectar dripping down her inner thigh. Alan took one step to the side, and Jenna gasped at the sight of Mistress Kate.

"Hmmm, Master Alan," she said in a thoughtful tone, "Be so kind as to remind me what we do to naughty slaves."

"Tell us, slave, what do we do to naughty slaves?"

"I don't know," she said morosely. Alan leaned over and slapped her on her butt again, this time harder than the last. She yelped at the sting. "I don't know, Master," she whispered, her voice bursting with fright.

"Mistress Kate, please be so kind as to tell this little slave what we do to naughty slaves."

"It would be my pleasure, Master Alan." She strode with confidence to the cowering blonde girl and hoisted her to her feet. In her high heels she towered over the shivering slave, when without the shoes they would have been roughly the same stature. Jenna shivered when Kate cupped her chin just as Alan had, and she looked up into the raven-haired girls eyes as her whole being shook in fear. Though Kate was looking right at her, the answer was directed at him. "We punish them, Master Alan, we punish naughty slaves so they wont be naughty anymore."

* * *

Though hoping against hope that this nightmare would end this instant, Jenna resigned herself to her fate. She watch in horror as Alan ("Shit, Master Alan, Master Alan, Mistress Kate, Mistress Kate," she drummed into her own mind, hoping to avoid another smack on her ass) pulled a leash from the pocket of his leather jacket, handing it to Mistress Kate. She heard a click and realized that the leash was now attached to her collar, and she offered no struggle as she was dragged across the stone floor to the other side of the room. She allowed herself to be bound to a leather upholstered sawhorse, her cuffs fastened to opposite ends of the horse, her leash wrapped around the crossbar so that there was less than two inches of slack from her collar.

She could hear them behind her, feel the breeze caused by the air being displaced by their movements. Neither of her tormentors spoke, nor did they touch her, but she could hear their footfalls nonetheless, preparing something.

Suddenly Alan stood before her, his groin inches from her face, the smell of his leather tickling her nose. He fiddled with the leash and she felt more slack come to her leash as he held her head between his powerful hands, lifting her view to him. His eyes were scary with determination.

"I want you to count each one," he said in that quiet and commanding tone of his. She betrayed no reaction, not quite understanding what was about to happen to her, not quite knowing exactly what was expected of her.

* * *

With a start Kate realized she was gripping a paddle in her right hand. I was padded with calf leather, and she stroked the fingertips of her left hand over the surface of it. The handle was walnut, and she thought the piece was beautiful as she admired it in the flickering torchlight. She felt his eyes on her and looked his way.

"Now," he said sternly.

Kate struck Jenna, the blow slapping across her cheeks. Jenna screamed, though louder than she should have considering the force of the smack Kate had dealt her.

"Count it," he ordered the bound girl.

"Why are you doing this?" she sniffled once she was able to deal with the pain.

"Now," he repeated. A replay.

"Please," the blonde girl cried. "I'm sorry! I-I-I'm a liar! I admit it!" she bawled. "Kate, please don't do this to me. I lied! I came on to him! I admit it! I admit it! Please!"

"Again!" Smack. "Count it."

"Three," she whimpered, her face wet with tears.

"No, little slave. No. That was one."

"NO!" she screeched. "That was three. She hit me three times! Please."

"Count it, slave. That was one. If you don't count it, it doesn't count," Kate said, and even though Jenna couldn't see her, she could almost visualize Kate sneering at her.

"One."

Her head was yanked up by her blonde mane, and she shook in terror as she saw Kate before her, Alan having taken a short step aside. The paddle was right in front of her face, just below the eye level, and she whined, fearing Kate was about to hit her in the mouth.

"Kiss it," the black-haired girl commanded, "Kiss it and thank me for punishing you, you worthless little lying slave."

"Thank you Mistress Kate for punishing this worthless little slave liar," she moaned as she showered the shiny leather of the instrument of her torment with little kisses. She moaned again as Kate retreated to the position behind her, steeling herself for another blow.

"Two!" she screamed out, her ass afire in pain. "Thank you Mistress Kate for punishing this lying slave," she sobbed. Kate held the paddle before her once more, and she worshipped it with her trembling lips.

"Three! Thank you Mistress Kate..."

"Four! Thank you Mistress Kate..."

"FIVE! Oh my GOD!"

The bound coed trembled as ecstasy consumed her. Her body convulsed and she thrashed against her bonds. Her pussy spurted girl come and she felt both her inner thighs soaked, almost to the knees.

A sinful smile spread across Kate's face.

Jenna felt weak. Her tremors had not yet subsided, yet she felt her arousal accelerate again. As she gathered her wits about her she realized that someone was playing with her pussy, dragging their fingers through her silky blonde pubic hair and rubbing their fingers against her dripping slit. Her eyes shot open and she saw Alan still standing in front of her, so by simple process of elimination it was Kate diddling her. Just the thought of it made her want to vomit, but her body was betraying her, and she felt unable to control her reactions, wiggling her butt against Kate's probing fingers.

"Uh, ugh UGH UHUHUHUH!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the stone walls of her cell as she approached her peak. Kate withdrew her hand and Jenna slumped against the hide cover of the sawhorse, whimpering in frustration.

"Did she thank me for number five?" Kate asked with an arched eyebrow.

"No, Mistress Kate, she most certainly did not."

Black leather obscured her vision as she was at last able to pry her eyelids open. Without bidding her kissed it, slobbering all over the smooth surface. "Thank you, Mistress Kate," she hissed between kisses.

"Why are you thanking her, little lying slave?" Alan asked, his voice hard.

"For punishing me, Master Alan."

"And why are you being punished, slave?" Kate asked, gripping her by the hair to look her in the face.

"B-b-b-because I've been bad," she said with a gulp. Salty tears slid down her pretty face and into her mouth, her mouth she was unable to close to her continued panting.

"And how was it that you were bad, slave?" Alan asked quietly.

"I was going to accuse you of rape, and Mistress Kate of being a lesbian," she whimpered.

"So being a lesbian is an accusation?" Kate asked the bound girl, outrage clear in her tone.

"It's disgusting," she whined, quickly adding, "Mistress Kate." She opened her eyes as she heard them move about her. Before she knew what was happening each of them were unlocking her wrists. She felt like a used-up rag doll, unresisting as they each took one of her arms and led her a few steps away from the sawhorse. In mere seconds she was on her hands and knees on the damp stone floor of the dungeon, each wrist anchored to a peg set in the floor. Alan put similar cuffs on her ankles, and she offered no opposition as he attached these to another pair of pegs.

* * *

Alan decided to awaken Kate first. She was confused and disoriented, but he used his powers to allay her concerns. He instructed her to retrieve her gear from the closet and don the dominatrix outfit. She was excited, never having an opportunity to wear it as yet. Together they undressed the unconscious blonde, and Alan let Kate have the honor of snapping the collar closed around Jenna's neck. The split duties when it came time to put the cuffs on her, Alan handling the ankle set, Kate the wrists.

* * * 

The room began to change subtly as she scanned around. The walls became less blurry. As she looked up at Alan she noticed over his shoulder that a poster of Rene Magritte's "The Betrayal of Images" was tacked to the stone wall. Jenna found that curious, because the same poster, a painting of a pipe with the legend "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" scripted at the bottom, also hung on Kate's wall, right over her desk. The lines between this dream and reality were smudging, and it was starting to make her even more upset.

As these disturbing thoughts coursed through her brain she abruptly realized that the scene was continuing to shift; no longer, she realized, was she bound to pegs on the floor. The walls surrounding her were still wet stone, but she was now half on a bed, her wrist cuffs clamped to the metal frame. The bed was identical to the one she slept in, and she was startled to comprehend that she was now bound to Kate's.

She blinked. The walls changed.

She blinked. The torches were gone, the room now illuminated by the overhead lights and the lamp on Kate's desk.

She blinked again. All trace of the dungeon was gone. She was in Kate's room, she was sure. It had been a dream.

She sighed in relief and closed her eyes, happy the nightmare was over.

"So, my little lying slave, you are awake?"

The shock of hearing those words jolted her and she tried to stand up. To her horror she realized she really was tied to the bed. She was naked. She felt a collar around her neck, and she could feel the leash resting centered on her back. She tried to shift position, rattling the cuffs on her wrists against the bed frame. Her knees dug into the bare floor, and she could feel the moisture drip slowly down her inner thighs.

Her ass hurt, like she had been--"Ohmigod! NO!" her mind screamed "It was just a dream. This can't be true! This cannot be happening!"--spanked. She wriggled in her bonds, her chest rubbing against the bedspread. The coolness of the room was soothing against the overwarm skin on her butt. Kate walked into her line of vision, and she gasped as she saw Kate was wearing the dungeon apparel like in the dream.

"Please just let this be more of the dream," she thought.

"If you will it, it is no dream," Alan said from behind her.

She was shocked, it was like he could read her mind! She tried to kick back at him, but to her dread she realized that her ankles were shackled as well, the bond connected to each other by a short length of chain. (She figured this out by the tinkling sound made when she tried to attack him.)

"What did you say?" Jenna asked, bewildered.

"If you will it, it is no dream," he repeated.

Kate arched her eyebrows, amused. She came over to him and whispered, "What in god's name are you chattering about?"

"It's a line from a movie. The Big Lebowski."

She giggled.

Jenna shivered despite the warmth of the room. Alan picked up the paddle from the desk, and Jenna flinched when she felt him rub it over the flesh of her ass.

"P-please," she begged.

"Why are you being punished?" Kate asked, her voice sharp.

"Please," she cried.

"Master Alan," Kate said, nodding towards Jenna's upturned butt.

SMACK.

"Why are you being punished?" she repeated.

"Be-because I was bad," she whimpered.

"And what happens to little slaves who've been bad?"

"They get punished, Mistress Kate, they get spanked."

SMACK.

She gasped aloud at the sting but she could feel her slit moistening again, droplets wetting her thighs.

"Thank your Master," Kate instructed. "Thank him for taking the time and trouble to punish you, you little liar."

"Thank, ah ah ah, you," she gasped out as she trembled.

"How many more, do you think, Mistress Kate?" Alan asked through his grin.

She shared his smile while she considered the situation. "Hmmm, well she has been bad, hasn't she?" Jenna quivered as Kate debated with herself. "Hmm, but it's just her first time, so I figure two more. Sound about right?"

Kate ordered Jenna to count off the two remaining swats and thank her Master for both, and she complied. After that Kate released Jenna from the shackles, rubbing her wrists and ankles to help get the circulation flowing. When at last she was free Jenna dropped to her knees and hugged Kate around her waist, crying and thanking her new Mistress. Kate stroked the girl's hair gently, consoling as the blonde got the shakes out of her system.

"It's going to be OK, little slave, I promise," Kate assured, and Jenna looked up at her with a look an admixture of fear, arousal, joy, and submission. Kate pulled her up and sat her on the bed, allowing her to use a small blanket around her shoulders to keep the shivers away, and Jenna was profoundly grateful.

"Where are my clothes?"

Kate took her by the chin and kissed her lightly on her lips. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, little slave," Kate assured, kissing her again.

And she didn't.

She could hear Alan move about the room, doing things, but she didn't have the will to raise her eyes, which were fast on her hands folded in her lap, to see what he was doing. He had obviously turned on the heat, because she felt the room warm, and heard the rattle and hum of the unit kicking to life. Still, she shivered slightly. Kate held her tight, her arm slipping under the small blanket, and if Jenna had the energy to be startled by anything she would have been startled to realize that she was enjoying the touch of the dominant girl; she purred quietly as Kate massaged her.

"Are you OK, hon?" Kate asked, her mouth inches from Jenna's ear.

The blonde nodded, and Kate repositioned them so that Jenna was on her lap and she herself was half-reclined against her pillows, her hands lightly caressing Jenna's belly and hips. "She has a really nice body," Kate judged. Jenna was firm of flesh with small perky breasts. Her stomach was flat, and her body tight, unlike Kate's own curvy form. The blonde shivered as Kate lazily stroked her flesh.

She recoiled slightly, fearful as Alan sat at the edge of the bed right before her, and began to tremble as she watched him place a hand on her knee; the leather paddle rested across his lap, and she stared at it with immense dread. Kate took this as a signal to continue, and Jenna gasped when she felt Kate's fingers ruffle through her golden thatch. Her head began to shake as Kate masturbated her, signaling her objection to this handling, and she fought the pleasurable sensations in order to speak.

"No!" she hissed, "P-p-please Kate. Don't do that."

"Doesn't it feel good?" Kate whispered, her mouth less than an inch from the trembling girl's ear. She gave it a slow lick around the perimeter for punctuation.

"It's wrong. It's wrong." Jenna cried as she bucked to and fro, trying to shake herself loose from Kate's soft embrace. In response Kate tightened her arms around Jenna, and her free hand seized one of the girl's nipples, pinching it hard.

"Ow! Shit! That hurts!" she cried as Kate began to twist the nipple. The hand massaging her pussy picked up speed, and despite the discomfort of her chest her arousal accelerated.

"Kate, please, stop tha--"

The hand at her pussy shot up and now Kate began abusing both her breasts, and the pain silenced her long enough for Kate to speak. "That's three times, just now, Slave Jenna, that you have failed to address me by my proper title."




Alan Ch. 25



To Jenna's relief Kate ceased to pinch and twist, and instead began to lovingly stroke her nipples and breasts, and it felt divine, at the very least in comparison, uncomfortable as she was with the situation. "I'm sorry, Mistress Kate." Her pale face was wet with tears.

"We must punish you for that," Alan put in, his right hand closing around the handle of the black leather paddle.

"No, please Master, please Mistress, I will do anything."

"We will hold you to that, slave," Kate murmured in her ear, licking it again.

A flurry of movement; Jenna's languid mind could barely keep up as she was repositioned and Kate and Alan took there places. She was now kneeling on a small throw rug in the middle of Kate's room, her wrist cuffs clipped together behind her back. 

Kate stood before her, her eyes fierce. "You called Scarlet very bad names."

"I'm s-sorry Mist--"

"No slave, don't speak, just listen." Jenna shivered and nodded. "Scarlet is you Mistress's friend, and a beautiful person."

Jenna nodded, and Kate continued, "Just because she takes pleasure in the touch of another woman doesn't make her any less of a person than anyone else." Kate reached to the snaps on either side of the waistband of her black leather bikini undies, and they fluttered to the ground between the high gloss leather boots.

"Pick them up, slave," her mistress demanded. Jenna struggled to get free of the cuffs which had her arms pinned behind her.

"How do you expect--"

SHWISH. The end of the riding crop came down and struck her left nipple, and Jenna bit back a scream; it wasn't that bad, compared to how Kate had twisted it, and in fact Jenna sort of liked the way it was tingling, the aftereffect of pain as the hurt receded.

"Don't be stupid, slave," Kate said, her words clipped. Jenna understood and bend over and took the panties between her teeth. With a big effort she righted herself back into the kneeling position.

One of Kate's hands patted her head like one would an obedient pet, and the other took the panties from her lips, handing the to Alan. She felt so humiliated, but she realized, again to her horror, that this whole scene was arousing her. It was then she realized that Kate's vagina was void of hair, and though she was slightly revolted she could not stop staring at it, and a small part of her brain wondered what her pussy would look like bald. She shuddered.

And now the smell was affecting her. She knew what that smell was, she knew from long experience lying awake in her dark bedroom back home, and her dorm room here. She had always had a healthy sex drive, and she got herself off almost every night, though only once in a while cleaning the wetness from her fingers in her own mouth. She liked the taste each time she did so, bit always had tried to resist the temptation, hating herself when she gave in, thinking it belied homosexual tendencies she wanted more than ever to eradicate from within herself.

She was terrified, her worst nightmare coming true. She knew that Kate would demand her mouth on the bare pussy, and she knew she would be helpless to resist, not only because she feared the paddle and the crop, but because her own lust would get the better of her. She realized she wanted to taste that. She believe she wasn't attracted to girls, but as the aroma invaded her nose and brain, she knew she was at the very least attracted to the taste, to the smell. Her eyes itched, and she become conscious of the fact that she hadn't blinked in far too long, so she did, but her stare was fixed on Kate's exposed flesh. It wasn't until Alan spoke (and even then, she was so concentrated that his words meant nothing to her) that she remembered he was still with them.

"Yes, Alan, she does seem interested. Isn't that right, slave? You like my pussy?"

"Yessssssss."

SWISH! Her other nipple now stung.

"What?!?" she cried, but quickly saw her mistake. "Sorry, Mistress," she mumbled.

"Better," Kate said. "What do you like about my pussy, slave?"

"It-it-it smells nice, Mistress."

"You like the smell, huh?"

"Yes...Mistress." She was glad she hadn't forgotten again, but it was close.

"Do you like how it looks, slave?"

"Yes, Mistress, it's very pretty, smooth."

"What about how it tastes? Do you like how it tastes, slave?"

"I-I-I don't know, Mistress."

Alan stood next to Kate, and he dipped a finger in the shaved pussy. Kate sighed in delight as he stirred his finger around her insides. He withdrew his digit and held it in front of Jenna's mouth, but to their surprise Jenna clamped her lips shut, her head shaking from side to side. If the wanted to taste that they would have to spank her, or whip her with the crop, she decided defiantly. She refused to be a willing participant in tasting another woman's juices. Despite this resistance she was unable to look at anything other than Kate's moist hairless slit, or Alan's fingers, shiny with those juices, but she remained steadfast.

"That's funny," Alan said to Kate.

"What is?"

"Well, our little slave here really gets off on the taste of her own pussy," Alan explained as Jenna cringed, "So I'm just surprised that she wouldn't want to taste yours."

As Jenna's jaw dropped as a result of the revelation Alan quickly pushed his finger past her lips. She tried to bite down hard, hurt him bad so he would retreat, but to her alarm she merely closed her lips around it instead, and began to suck Kate's stickiness off him. Alan pulled his finger out slowly, amused that Jenna pursed her lips around it trying to keep him from escaping. He scanned her thoughts and found she was much more comfortable submitting herself to him than to Kate.

"It tasted good, didn't it, Jenna?" he asked. He called her by name intentionally, trying to throw her off guard. It would be interesting to see how she reacted to his calling her Jenna, and Kate referring to her as a slave.

"Um hm," the cowering blonde nodded as she responded.

"Would you like more, Jenna?"

She nodded, embarrassed to admit she did, ashamed that she enjoyed having Alan's finger in her mouth. She watched in with dread as Kate inched her crotch closer to her face, and wanted to protest, wanted to ask him to get more of the tasty juices with his finger and feed her, and her stomach heaved as Kate pressed her shiny slit against her lips. She kept her mouth shut for almost a half minute, but the smell was so seductive, sweet and maddening. Her resistance crumbling, she felt her tongue pass through her closed lips and wiggle in Kate's sex, and soon thereafter she was licking all around, trying her best to gather all the juices secreted. She could feel Kate tremble with excitement, and she was please with herself for doing a good job.

Kate was panting when she pulled Jenna away from her gooey center, and the kneeling coed looked up with her at fear. Kate understood that Jenna was afraid she had failed to please her Mistress, so she patted her on the head again, and Jenna's eyes relaxed at the implied praise.

"What are you?"

Jenna knew how to respond right away; it was not for nothing that she had gained admission to such a good college. "Slave, Mistress," she whispered.

"You just licked me out. What does that make you?"

Jenna shut her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks. "Don't make me say it, Mistress, please?"

"You liked licking me out, I can tell. So, that makes you a lez, a dyke, a rug muncher, if I had a rug to munch, that is."

"NO!" she gasped. "No, you made me! Tied me up! I didn't want to..."

Alan leaned behind her and unbound her hands. Kate removed the collar and the leash. Jenna sighed with relief. "It's over. It's over. It's over," she thought with glee, though not daring to move an inch without their by or leave. She rolled her head around, grateful to be able to move it at last, and she rubbed her wrists as Alan removed the ankle cuffs. She stood after he tapped her shoulder, her eyes darting over the room to find her clothes, hungry for escape. When she turned towards the bed she saw Kate reclined against some pillows, her ass up to the edge, feet flat on the floor.

"Kate, where are my clo--"

But she was cut off, both by Kate's harsh tone, and the fascinating vision of seeing Kate caressing her denuded crotch with the flapped tip of the crop. "Come over here and lick my pussy, finish what you started."

As she fell to her knees and bustled towards the bed and Kate's wet slit she appreciated the fact that she was unbound and Kate hadn't called her a slave. Just as her face was within a few inches of Kate's pussy, Alan stopped her.

"Why?"

"What? I don't understand...Master?"

"Why are you about to go down on her? Did she order you? Are you tied up? Is she forcing you? And you can drop the 'Master' for now."

"N-no..." She looked up at him, and didn't see the paddle. Kate had stashed the crop behind her under the pillows, and it was now similarly out of sight. She looked back at Kate, and recognized that despite her prejudices, she wanted this. Badly. Her own pussy was drenched, she could feel little drops of her own nectar clinging to her bush and sliding down her thighs. She had never been this aroused. She leaned in again attempting to bury her face in Kate, but he held her, frustrated her.

"Why?"

"B-because I want to!" she groaned, lunging at Kate, burying her lips and tongue in the puffy flesh.

"Good girl, good girl," Kate moaned as she played with the blonde mane at her waist. She pulled on the hair gently, not enough to hurt, or even to move Jenna's mouth off her pussy, but just enough to expose the kneeling girl's neck so Alan could reattach the collar. Jenna groaned as she felt it snap closed around her, sending delightful sensations tingling up her Mistress's spine. She groaned again as Alan gave her a few light slaps with the paddle, driving both girls to orgasm.

She lifted her mouth off Kate's pussy, licking around her mouth to capture the juices covering her face, shivering with satisfaction. She heard Alan address her from behind, but her mid was still swimming.

He repeated the question. "Why?"

"Because I liked it." Her mid rocked at the recognition that she did indeed enjoy this. He slapped her again with the paddle, and she added, "Eek! Master!"

Kate was going down on her as she laid flat on her back, and she panted with arousal. She could feel something pressing at her lips. something warm, something hard, something huge. Both her eyelids and her lips popped open as Alan pressed his erection into her mouth, and she was proud as he groaned aloud as she began to play with his cock with her lips and tongue. Kate was driving her mad with the sucking and licking, and her ministrations with the end Alan's cock--a cock so large she had to cross her eyes to see fully down the shaft--accelerated. As her groans transformed into feral grunts it took supreme effort on her part to not let him escape from her jaws, but she managed. As she writhed on the bed in the most enormous climax yet this evening he spurted a prodigious blast, and she did her best to take it all, but there was far too much. Semen escaped from the corners of her mouth as she at last released him, screaming so loud she worried the whole hall would hear, not knowing there was no chance of that happening thanks to Alan's abilities.

She felt at once sluggish and stimulated, and offered no resistance as her two dominants rearrange her on the bed. Alan was now reclining, Kate on top, slowly bobbing up and down on his immense erection, screaming out her passion as he fucked her to orgasm after orgasm while Jenna licked at their joining as she had been directed. After a slew of climaxes Jenna was now right on Kate's hairless pussy as the black haired girl continued to scream as she bobbed now, her ass impaled.

It when on for more than an hour, the positions and the level of arousal entirely new to the new slave girl. She screamed so loud she thought she would have a sore throat the next morning as Alan fucked her from behind as Kate rubbed her clit with gentle fury.

"PLEASE MASTER ALAN! FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR LITTLE SLAVE! COOOOOMING! COMING! COMING! COMING! COMING!" she shouted at the end as she felt him spill himself in her wildly undulating pussy.

She passed out.

When she awoke she was startled to find herself in her own bed, lying atop the covers, Alan and Kate at the edge of her mattress. Kate cleaned her face and groin with a warm washcloth.

"How did I get--" she croaked, her throat throbbing, her mouth dry

"Shush," Kate ordered, holding a bottle of water to her mouth. It was one of those sports bottle, the kind with a hard nipple at the end, and she blushed, remembering spending much effort licking and sucking Kate's hard and ringed nipples, but she was grateful her Mistress was taking care of her.

Alan stroked her yellow mane as he forced commands into her mind. She would not speak if Scarlet's orientation to anyone. He had mined her memories and was relieved to see she hadn't already revealed anything yet. She would be submissive to Kate, and , to a lesser extent, him. He didn't shackle her mind so that she wouldn't be able to speak about this night. He wanted to see if she would have the courage to talk about it.

"Almost time for bed, sweet slave," Kate said, withdrawing the bottle, but leaving it within reach.

"Thank you, Mistress," Jenna mumbled as best she could. "Please, blanket."

"Just one last thing," Kate said.

Jenna opened her sleepy eyes, but couldn't react at all when Kate reached into the pocket of the her robe and took out a small dildo with a notch near the end, a small perpendicular handle right at the top. Without outward expression she cringed as Kate lubed it with a small amount of jelly and brought it to her crotch. She did manage a gasp as she felt it against her rear pucker, and she shook in terror, clenching as hard as she could to prevent the anal invasion. Alan put his hands on her blonde muff, casually exploring her mound. She let out a tired breath and relaxed, but this ran counter to her position, as Kate used now had a much easier time inserting the plug up her butt. When it was securely in place, her ring of flesh tight around the notch she let out a small breath. It didn't hurt, yet it didn't feel good. It was weird, but strangely sexy. It made her wonder again how a cock, a cock like Alan's, would feel back there, thought she had first encountered watching Kate thrash in ecstasy as Alan did her back there.

"One last thing before we leave, slave."

Jenna pricked up her ears, concentrating though the overwhelming fatigue.

"You are not allowed to remove the plug. If you have the need, you must come and see me."

Jenna nodded, and drifted off.

* * *

Alan held Kate as she drifted off. He was not too tired, and he extricated himself shortly thereafter and sat at the desk and studied. He would slip back in before she awoke.

* * *

The junior diplomat stood at the arrival gate. Though he had never heard of the passenger, he had his orders. The man was traveling with full diplomatic protections, and should be accorded deference at a ministerial level. He was told that this man would be the first of the flight.

To his surprise the man coming down the jetway looked more like a holy man than a politician, but he wasn't paid to be caught off guard, so he buried the thought. He reached for the man's carry on bag, and the man allowed him to take it.

"Arigato," he said with a weary voice.

"WELCOME TO JOHN F. KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT," the sign overhead said in huge letters.

Next Chapter: Entente Cordiale



Alan Ch. 26



"Go somewhere where there are lots of people and wait for me. I'll have Karick pull the car around and call you once we get moving. Keep away from this guy."

Alan clicked off his phone and walked smartly to Broadway, to the West End Grille, and ordered a draught beer, brushing off the counterman's request for proof of age with a light mental push. He took a small sip and called Massimo back.

He considered the last half hour...

It was a cool early November night as Alan snapped his laptop closed and stowed it in his backpack. He had eaten a fast dinner in Wein Hall's cafeteria and then spent the last five hours finishing a paper. His joints were a little stiff; he had worked on the paper at the Hungarian Pastry Shop, a small coffee house opposite the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, a few blocks from campus. The Hungarian was a student hangout; people spent hours within its confines, some just reading, others talking, some, like him writing and working. It's been said that a significant number of doctoral dissertations were wholly composed within its cave-like interior.

As he emerged onto Amsterdam Avenue he was braced by a chilly wind. He zipped his parka up and pulled his knit cap over his head so his ears were covered, and then donned a pair of wool gloves.

He could have gone back to his dorm through the streets, a more direct route than cutting through campus, but he had borrowed a book from a friend, and needed to return it right away. Steve, the lender, lived in Wallach, so he headed north to the wrought iron gates to campus, at Amsterdam and 116th. As he emerged through the tunnel formed by Kent Hall on his right and Hamilton Hall on his left, he could see the expanse of the center of campus. Only a few steps into the clear and he was brought up short. There was a man sitting alone on the sundial in the center of College Walk. That in itself was not unusual; people were always hanging out there day and night; but this man was Japanese and middle aged, dressed in a monk's garb. He wasn't even wearing a coat to protect himself from the cold night.

Alan reached out with his mind and sent a stealthy probe forward; he held back from giving the full scan, hoping not to alert the monk. To his horror, the monk turned and saw him, and Alan knew he was revealed. He hastily retreated to Amsterdam Avenue, and decided to walk down two blocks so he could cross to Broadway and avoid further contact. He had barely taken a few steps when he realized he was being stupid. He had been tracked again. The monk knew who he was and where he lived, both on campus and at home. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants, bit the end of his glove and brought his head back to free his right hand, and speed dialed Jack.

* * *

Leaving three-quarters of his pint unfinished on the bar when he saw the car pull up Alan turned his collar up as he made his way to the exit.

"We've been waiting for you. It's surprising really that it has taken so long."

"Please forgive me," the abbot replied, "My English is weak."

Alan and Massimo nodded, waiting for the man to continue. They were sitting on facing stone benches at the western edge of Morningside Park, a weather-beaten chess table between them. It was late, past midnight. Occasionally a dog and owner passed, but as this was a very underused byway they were seldom disturbed.

"I am here to barter, if that is the right word. Trade."

"What is it that you would like?" Massimo asked, his voice remaining deeply respectful. "What do we have that a man such as yourself, could possible want."

The monk said nothing for a minute, preparing his answer.

"You want the woman," Alan said.

"Yes, I want her back, for the order, but, that is entirely up to you."

"If not the woman, than what? What else?"

"You...I...Apologies. I know you have abilities like those of the members of my order. Before I can make you an offer I feel I need to ask exactly how much information you have managed to extract from her."

Alan was about to say something, but Massimo raised his hand, stopping him.

"I'm afraid," Jack answered, "That to do so would provide you with information concerning the extents and limits of our abilities. You understand."

The visitor sighed. "Very well. Then I must be frank. An object has been stolen from us. In order to secure its return she was sent to kill you," he said, nodding is head at Alan. "This object is vital to the continued existence of my order, and we had no choice but to cooperate. Had it remained in Japan we would most likely have been able to effect its return, but we are now certain that it is no longer in the country."

"We know who has it."

Jack shot him an unpleasant look, unhappy that Alan had shown their cards so early in the hand.

"You don't even know what it is," the abbot insisted.

"A small stone. Shiny and black. It's usual place is resting on the altar in the center of your chapel."

"Yes, yes!" The abbot licked his lips, but only because the cold wind was chapping his lips.

They we all getting tired of being out in the open, so Jack suggested they adjourn to his brownstone, and they all left. Jack put their visitor in one car with Peter, and Karick drove Alan and Massimo.

"When we get to my place, boy, let me do the talking."

* * *

Alan was prepared to leave for London at once, but Jack and the abbot wanted to wait. The reasons for the delay were twofold: Michiko needed time to regain her strength, and Thornbow had gone missing. The surveillance operation in Britain had kept close tabs on him for more than a year, not a hard task with a person so public as His Lordship, but he had not been spotted in weeks. They had followed him to his country estate in the Midlands, but had seen neither hide nor hair of them since then. Either he had holed up or shaken the watchers, and until they knew for sure they had no good business over there. If he was cloistered in his castle they would wait him out, and if he wasn't, they were confident the trail could be reacquired if they were patient.


By the end of the night the abbot was installed in Jack's guest room, and Michiko in the townhouse's basement apartment. Her novice would be arriving in two days to attend her in her recuperation.

Karick would be leaving the next morning. He was planning to ramp up their surveillance operation against Lord Thornbow, and to do so properly he felt he needed to be closer to the action.

For Alan, one of the benefits of this new alliance was that his own security had to be lessened. No longer would Cyaxares-employed security men and women trail him around campus; they were needed in Britain. They weren't obtrusive, but he knew they were there, and sometimes he wished he could have a more normal college life. He was discussing the new security protocols with Karick on Massimo's stoop when the Jack popped his head out the window and called Alan inside.

"She wants to talk to you."

"Michiko?"

Jack nodded.

"OK."

Jack led the way, down the stairs from in back of the kitchen, and he knocked and waited for her reply before letting Alan enter.

She was in bed, the cover pulled up to her shoulder line, propped up on a pile of pillows so that she was nearly sitting upright.

"Hello," he offered. Her eyes had never left him since he had crossed through the door, as if she was worried for another attack.

"Good evening," she answered, her voice still betraying the weakness of her condition.

"So, what is it you want to talk about?"

She did not answerer right away, marshaling her thoughts. The silence was deafening.

"If you're still not feeling well, I can come back later."

"No, please stay. I want to thank you."

"For what?" he asked. "For capturing you and keeping you locked up for weeks on end?"

"Yes," she replied, to his shock. "I have been doing--I think the idiom is 'soul searching'--and I have come to some decisions. One day I will tell you about them, but for now I just wanted to thank you."

"I understand," he said, but he didn't really.

"Also, the two of you could have raped me, with nothing to stop you, and without any consequence, and for the fact that you did not, I am still grateful."

"Yeah, well, we didn't capture you for that reason, you see. We took you because you attacked me--"

She tried to interrupt, to explain what she had attacked, but he held up his hand, and she allowed him to continue.

"--No, I understand why you did what you did. We kept you not for sexual pleasure, but to gain intelligence."

"Yes, with your abilities I'm sure your quests for sexual pleasure are easy ones at that."

He blushed, for the first time in a long while. At her request he turned off the lights as he let himself out.

* * *

Jenna hand paused before knocking on Kate's door. She had really, really, needed to use the toilet. She had fought her urges all day, not wanting to face the humiliation of having to ask another human being permission to perform a simple biological function, but the discomfort was approaching unbearable levels.

It had been a weird day after a sleepless night; as she sat in her classes the plug felt funny. It didn't hurt or anything, but she felt uncomfortably full, and she had to position herself carefully as she sat so as not to put too much pressure on the plug. Her one attempt at removing it had not gone well. The second it came out her stomach heaved, and she felt an intense nausea pass through her, with cramps so severe they made her monthlies seem like a hiccough. Curled up in a fetal position on the floor of her room she grasped blindly for the plug and replaced it to stop the terrible sensations. Disobedience equaled discomfort seemed to be the lesson of the day.

"Hi Jenna, what's up?" Kate asked the blonde girl.

"Can I come in, please?"

"Why?" Kate could see that Jenna was uncomfortable, uneasy, and shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. Kate had an inkling as to why Jenna was here.

"I have to ask you something in private," Jenna said, her voice at a regular volume, but she dropped it to a near whisper before she added, "Mistress."

Kate smiled and stepped aside, allowing the fidgeting girl to enter. "You don't have to call me that. We're not playing now."

"Oh, OK. Um, well, I need to, uh, go to the bathroom," Jenna said as she unbuttoned her pants and slid them down just past the bottom of her panties.

"Here?" Kate asked with mock alarm.

Jenna turned her back to Kate and pulled her panties down just off the hips so that the white plastic of the plug was visible. "Please, Kate, take it out. It's been like torture. I've been holding it in since five o'clock."

Kate took a wad of Kleenex from the box on her desk. Jenna moaned as she felt the dildo move within her, and she let loose a small "eek" as it popped free. Kate set it in the tissues and handed it to her as she was redoing her pants.

On the toilet Jenna considered her position. In the most pressing matter she realized at once she would have to return to Kate's room to put the plug back in. Kate had the lube, and though she thought it was possible to reinsert the plug without any jelly, she shuddered at the thought. The next thing she realized was that it might not be a bad idea to get to know Kate better, and not just in the "biblical" sense. She needed to humanize herself in Kate's eyes. Chat her up a little.

She wiped herself, and cleaned off the plug with plenty of hot water before returning to Kate's room. Kate gave her the tube of jelly, and then was so kind as to help her put the toy back in.

"What are you working on?" Jenna asked, gesturing towards Kate's desk. The monitor showed an essay in progress, and the computer itself was surrounded by neat piles of note cards and photocopies of research.

"English Lit. paper. It's coming along nicely. It's on Blake's use of religious imagery."

They made small talk about school work for a bit until Jenna steered the conversation towards more personal subjects.

"So how long have you and Alan been together?"

Jenna was slightly puzzled by the blush this question brought forth from Kate as she stuttered out an answer.

"A little more than a year."

"Oh. Did you meet him here?"

"No. We grew up together. I've known him since elementary school. His mom was the music teacher in our middle school. They moved to our town when we were in third grade, uh maybe fourth, I can't exactly remember."

"So you knew him in high school?" Jenna asked, still confused by the embarrassment these innocent questions seemed to bring out in Kate.

"Yeah," Kate mumbled.

"Was he always that way?"

"What do you mean, 'that way?'"

"I think you know what I mean, Kate. You know, that commanding presence he has, like he can look right through you and see your most secret thoughts. The way he can get you to do whatever he wants."

Kate's face was bright red now, her thoughts shuffling back to the day Alan had first fucked her, that day when he had first imposed his will open her. She sighed wistfully, enjoying the recollection. "Yeah, I know what you mean. We do that a lot together. I'm not always 'Mistress Kate,' you know. I love it when he takes the lead with me, like we did with you last night. No, he wasn't always that way. Most of high school he was just this nice, quiet guy, the kind you would give a second glance to. Sometime during senior year he just transformed. The 'Commanding Alan' like appeared out of nowhere."

"So you didn't hook up until you got here?"

"No, that's the weird thing," Kate answered, surprised that she was sharing so much info with Jenna, "We slept together almost all of spring semester in high school, but we weren't boyfriend/girlfriend. I was dating this really cute guy named Chad, though he was a dud in the sack, and Alan, if you can believe this, was dating my sister."

"You're shitting me!"

"No, God's honest truth. I broke up with Chad right after the prom, and Alan and my sister decided that with him going to college they should see other people. Pauline started dating this really nice guy. She and Alan are still really close friends, and she doesn't mind at all that we're together now. She told me she thinks he's good for me. I was amazed really, when I told her we were a couple. She's really in love with her new boyfriend, AND she still talks to Alan about twice as often as she talks to me. It's weird really. I think he loves her in his own way. Pauline's the sister he never had. I know it's a cliché, but it's true."

"And he obviously doesn't mind that you're into girls."

"I wasn't into girls until recently. Actually, Scarlet's the one who got me thinking along those lines."

"And was Alan surprised?"

"No. If you can believe it, we actually discussed it a lot before I actually had sex with another woman."

"Scarlet?"

"No, someone else." As Kate wasn't too forthcoming about her first lesbian encounter, Jenna decided not to press.

"What about you?" Kate asked. "I know almost nothing about you."

Jenna started with the bare facts. She told Kate that she grew up in Denver, but that her family relocated to Houston during the summer between her freshman and sophomore years in high school. Her dad is an executive with a Christian television syndicate, and her mom teaches religious studies at a Dallas area christian academy, and they would each have heart attacks if they knew what she had done last night. They thought she was a virgin, not knowing she had been sleeping with boys since she was sixteen.

"I'm surprised your folks let you come here. I mean Barnard has such a liberal reputation, and New York, well, isn't the center of all sin in the universe?"

"Yeah," Jenna laughed, "You would think, wouldn't you? They are worried about me like that, but my mom went here, and loved it, so I'm a legacy."

They conversed for a long time. Both were surprised how easy it was to talk to the other. Kate had always considered Jenna a bitch, akin to the way she was not so long ago. Jenna never really had many girlfriends. She always hung out mostly with guys, teasing and flirting. It was one of the things that made her hesitate before enrolling at Barnard, that she would have to hang out with women. She had really never seen the need to it before, but now she realized that she had missed out on having relationships with members of her own gender. The sex that happened between her and Kate was still somewhat an uncomfortable situation, but she was resigned to it, and now that she knew Kate better she was feeling less awkward. By the end of their hour together Jenna was amazed that they were even making plans for an outing next week.

As she stood to make her exit she felt the plug. She considered asking Kate to help her out by removing it, but did not want to seem to be trying to cash in on their new friendship.

"Leaving so soon?" Kate asked, her eyebrow arched. She had noticed that even though their chatter had been friendly, Jenna had retained a bit of her natural standoffishness, that she had made sure to always stay physically out of close range.

"Well, yeah, I thought--"

"You know, Jenna, we just had our first real conversation, and we learned a great deal about one another, but in all this time you never once brought up last night."

Jenna blushed.

"So," Kate continued, "You come in here, ask me to remove a plug from up your butt, and then spend the next half an hour just pretending it never happened?"

Jenna backed away from Kate, bumping into the dorm room's closed door, and was then unable to move at all as the black-haired slowly advanced on her. "P-please. I don't want to talk about it right now."

"OK, Jenna. Don't talk about it, if that's what you want," Kate whispered, nose-to-nose now with her prey. Kate leaned in, tilted her head and pressed her lips lightly against Jenna's. The blonde moaned softly and allowed Kate's slithering tongue entrance past her own trembling lips. Her knees buckled slightly as arousal built rapidly within her. Kate reached around and placed her palm against the back of Jenna's head, cupping it, as she slowly led the trembling girl back to the narrow bed.

Kate threw an arm around Jenna's shoulder and drew her close for another kiss. "Did you like that?" she asked the trembling girl, receiving an affirmative nod in response. "Do you want to kiss me some more?" Another nod. As she resumed the kiss Kate brought her free hand up and cupped Jenna's petite breasts, teasing the nipples so that she could feel them harden through the other girl's thin cotton shirt and satiny bra.

Jenna pulled back and gasped, "Oh my, that feels so good!"

Kate removed her arm from around Jenna and peeled the t-shirt from her. "I want to suck your nipples," she said, a sultry whisper in Jenna's ear. Jenna nodded again and reached behind her own back to unfasten the bra clasp.

Jenna purred as Kate suckled on her. Her head fell back, limp, her eyes closed so to concentrate on the pleasures running through her. She ground her ass into the mattress, trying in increase the wonderful feelings as Kate's lips and the hormones coursing through her caused her to approach release. She moaned as Kate nipped a little at her left nipple while simultaneously squeezing the other. So close.

"This is wrong," the small part of her brain that was yet to succumb to total bliss screamed out, and she summoned the strength to push off of Kate and scamper down the length of the bed. She held her arms over her breasts in a small attempt at modesty, and panted as she tried to return her breathing to normal.

"Let's not do this, Kate, it's wrong," she whimpered.

"What's wrong? I'm doing it wrong? It didn't feel good?"

"No," she sobbed quietly, "It feels good, but I don't want it to."

Kate pulled her sweater over her head and slipped off her bra. Jenna's eyes became fixed on the glinting rings. Kate held one of her own nipples between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a light pinch.




Alan Ch. 26



Without quite knowing what she was doing Jenna felt herself being drawn to Kate's chest. As she took a ring between her teeth, her tongue darting out to wet the nipple, she shivered in lust as she felt Kate run her finger through her golden locks. Kate's black hair hung low and tickled Jenna's face, but the funny sensations did nothing to keep her at task arousing Kate's pale pink nipple.

"That's right dear," Kate praised, worming her hands between them now, making a path towards the snap on Jenna's trousers. Immediately Kate's fingers were inside Jenna's damp panties, and the blonde coed's body spasmed and seized briefly as she allowed Kate to slide up her sopping channel. Jenna's mouth detached, and she loosed a loudish groan as Kate's stimulation made her too frenzied for her to keep her concentration on sucking Kate's nipple and ring.

"Oh God, Kate, O God!" she howled. Her skin was flushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, her whole body vibrating as she came, a small trickle of juices dripping over Kate fingers and palm. Kate used these fluids to paint the outside of Jenna's pussy, leaving a large dollop over the blonde's hard protruding clit, and immediately set to wringing another orgasm out of the spasming girl's lust filled body.

Things were happening too fast for the dizzy Jenna, but when Kate pulled away to take the rest of her clothes off Jenna saw her chance, and in a flash was bolting towards the door, her clothes in her hands. She streaked out of Kate's room and into her own, relieved that the hall was empty of her classmates.

Just as she had finished Kicking off her shoes and turning the deadbolt, the phone on her desk rang. She answered.

"You'll be back," Kate said calmly, then disconnected.

Jenna got in bed and pulled the covers over her, all the way so that even her head was shrouded, and curled up into a little ball. She tried to cry, but the tears wouldn't come; she realized she was more horny than scared. She wriggled her right hand between her thighs, the fingertips brushing against her moist slit, and began to play with herself. Usually she masturbated slowly, drawing out the arousal in order to increase the reward, but this night she frigged herself with abandon, and it wasn't much more than five minutes later that she climaxed, one hand rubbing her pussy, the other gently twisting the plug in her ass.

She tried falling asleep, but instead tossed and turned. Giving up, she put her pillow on her chair and pulled out some homework. Every so often she fidgeted, the plug rubbing against the sensitive membranes of her rear passage, stimulating her sexually. After about an hour she stood to stretch out, and was taken aback at the sight of her own feminine juices staining the pillowcase.

Three doors down Kate prepared herself for bed. First she put all of the work she had done in her backpack, so she would be ready for the next day, then plugged her laptop into the charger. After brushing her hair out she donned a nightgown and slipped under her covers. Just as she was about to turn off the lamp her cell rang, and seeing it was Alan, she picked it up.

"Hi."

"Hey, babe. Just wanted to say goodnight."

"You're so sweet. Guess who came over tonight?"

"Who?"

"Jenna."

"Reeeeaaaally?" he said, drawing it out so it sounded funny. "So, what happened?"

Kate told him about Jenna stopping by because she needed the plug removed, and then regaled him with the subsequent events.

"She sounds confused," Alan commented. Kate agreed.

"I think I'm going to sit back and see how this plays out, you know, not press her or anything. It shouldn't take long. Her body is sending her signals her brain is trying hard to ignore. Wish you had been her though. It's still a little strange to me taking the dominant role."

"Sorry, babe, couldn't have been helped. There's this little crisis down at the office, and I was needed."

"I thought that was just a summer internship? How come you're still involved?" she asked.

He paused before answering, and she thought his connection might have been dropped.

"I really like the company, Kate, and I think I'll end up working here after graduation. I know it's early, but I'll see. They're sending me to London for a few days, but I don't know when. I might have to miss a little school, but I think it's worth it."

"Wow, a summer in Europe, and soon a few days in London. This sounds so glamorous. Do they have any openings?"

He laughed. "I'll ask, but I doubt it."

There was a knock at the door, so Kate signed off, not before they set up a time and place to meet for lunch the next day.

Kate got out of bed and went to the door, opening it just a crack. Jenna was standing right outside her door. She was wearing red athletic shorts and a loose white t-shirt. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she looked up and down the hall, relieved that no one was about to see in this condition.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she half whined, half whispered.

"Christ," Kate exhaled, "Come in," she added, pulling the quivering girl by the wrists and shutting the door.

"I don't deserve this," Jenna sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Kate said soothingly, laying Jenna down on the bed, stroking her hair. It was like looking into a mirror. She saw much of herself in Jenna's current state. Before she became involved with Alan she had been a gossip, she had destroyed people's reputations with her words and deeds. She had feared and scorned "the other." And now she was doing it again, in a way. Jenna was against girl-girl contact, and she and Alan had forced it upon her.

"We shouldn't have done that to you. Last night. Wrong."

"I liked it," Jenna sobbed. "I liked it. That's the worst part. I want to do it again, but I know it's wrong, so wrong. And the thing you and Alan put in me, it's a constant reminder." She turned her head and wiped the tears from off her face with Kate's blanket. "I'm really really sorry for what I said about Scarlet, and the rumors I was planning to start about her, I really am."

"I know, Jenna, I know that now," Kate said, peeling the covering off her trembling body. Again she took a handful of Kleenex and removed the plug; Jenna grunted in reply, and then, to Kate surprise, shivered with pleasure.

More surprising was what she did next. As Kate returned from stowing the plug in the closet Jenna sat up and embraced her, leaving a trail of three hot kisses along the side of her neck. Kate broke the embrace and stared deep into Jenna's light blue eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Jenna's answer was to plant her lips against Kate's, slipping her tongue deep into Kate's mouth. Kate laid her down flat on the bed and put her face in Jenna's crotch. The blonde moaned when Kate's tongue began to gently explore her folds, and to Kate's surprise she brought Jenna off with less than a minute of licking.

Kate moved up, laying atop Jenna, and they kissed passionately. Jenna tried to get out from under in order to return the favor, but Kate stopped her.

"Relax," Kate told the still trembling girl. "We both need to sleep." Kate rolled off her and they held each other. Jenna fell asleep facing Kate, curled up with her lips around one Kate's nipples.

* * *

When Alan got back to the dorm he was brought up short by the Baltimore Oriole baseball cap hanging from the door. Soren had company.

His roommate had rebounded well from last year's depression, a depression sparked by losing his high school girlfriend to another suitor. He had bummed around the rest of freshman year, not dating at all, but since the start of his second year had seemed transformed, becoming something of a hound.

Alan stood outside the closed door and peered in with his mind. Soren and his "date" were going at it hot and heavy. The woman, Nia, an extremely beautiful fellow sophomore of Indian extraction were fucking slowly on the bed. Soren had been nearly obsessed with her for the last few weeks, and Alan chuckled, glad he had found success.

Yet he was impatient. He took control of Nia's mind, sending her immediately into orgasm. Her tight channel clenched around Soren's member, and he spurted off into his condom. Alan allowed them to cuddle for a couple of minutes, and then prodded them to dress. He walked back towards the elevator and did an about face, making his way back to his own door, so it would seem to them that he was just arriving. Just before he reached the door it opened, and he saw the two of them come out, dressed for cold weather.

"Hey, Alan," Soren greeted him, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Hey," he responded. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Nia was still a little shaky on her feet as she extended her hand towards Alan, and after a brief introduction Soren and Nia left so he could walk her back to her dorm.

Fifteen minutes later Soren was back, his cheeks reddened by the night's chill. Alan looked up from his studying and gave a short laugh.

"How many is that this semester, Sor?"

"I don't keep score," his roommate replied with mock indignation, knowing full well this was the eighth chick he had bagged in the last nine weeks. "We can't all be like you, Alan, limiting ourselves to one woman." Not for the first time did Soren wonder how a regular looking guy like Alan had lucked his way into a fine piece of ass like Kate. 

"If you only knew," Alan mused to himself.

Soren stripped off all his clothes and grabbed a towel, headed for the shower, and Alan went back to his books. It took him less than two hours to dispatch all his coursework for the coming week.

* * *

The rest of the semester passed quickly. There had been no sighting as yet of Lord Thornbow, and the "Inner Council"-- Alan, Jack, the Abbot, Michiko, and Karick--were debating whether to break into His Lordship's London flat and/or baronial estate in search of clues. Alan and Karick were in favor of an immediate move, but Jack and the Japanese contigent were advising caution; Michiko's health was improving daily, and the Abbot thought she would be ready for action sometime in early January. This was reassuring for Alan, because he figured the reticence on the part of Jack and the monk would recede once the ninjess was able to fight.

Kate and Jenna's relationship was progressing, though into what was hard to pinpoint. Kate circle of friends opened up to admit the blonde Texan, helping her to be more at ease with herself and around others. She hung out with Scarlet, Jess Starmer, and the rest of Kate's L.U.G. friends, but to date Kate was her only female lover. Jenna had even gone to bed with Soren.

It had been somewhat disappointing for the both of them. Jenna was very attracted to Soren, he being one of the most good looking guys she had ever laid eyes on. In bed, however, it didn't seem to work out. Jenna had become acclimated to lovers taking a firm and commanding hand with her, and while Soren was an above average fuck, he was anything but dominant. It was another revelation, and it was in some ways more sobering than what had happened to her at the hands of Alan and Kate. In her quiet contemplations she began to wonder if she would ever find sexual satisfaction except at the hands of a forceful partner, or partners plural.

With finals done and the dorms still occupied for another couple of days, they decompensated. Kate's hall threw a party, liquor abounding despite the underage status of most participating. It was the fist time Jenna had tasted alcohol, and she was quickly smashed. More than a few of the hall's denizens noted how Jenna seemed to be hanging on to Kate the whole night.

Alan showed up around midnight. He was at a meeting down at the midtown offices, but arrived before the party really got revved up. He greeted Kate with a kiss on the lips, and all the guys and girls hooted.

Things started to quiet down around three, and Alan and Kate retreated to her room. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the door and Kate admitted Jenna. She ran over to Alan and kneeled before him, pulling at the tab of his zipper, and within seconds his substantial cock was halfway down her throat, a place it knew well since the month before. Kate giggled and knelt beside Jenna, planting soft kisses on the side of her neck and cheeks.

Alan withdrew his cock from her mouth, but Jenna grabbed him and ran around her face, coating her featured with her own saliva. Kate joined in on this too.

"I'm going to miss you, both of you," Jenna mumbled, referring to her impending departure for winter break.

"Back at ya," Alan chuckled.

"Could I ask a favor?"

Alan looked down at her, peering into her clear blue eyes, wide as saucers. She looked so cute like that, he could barely refuse her anything at this point. "What?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Could you remove my plug before I go home?" She didn't look forward to becoming nauseous each and every time she had to move her bowels.

"And what, little slave, do we get in return?" Kate asked mischievously.

Jenna bit her lip, pondering. "I don't know."

"Hmmm," Kate mused aloud. "Well, your butt should be nice and ready for Alan's cock by now."

Jenna blanched, but was willing to go that far. "OK," she squeaked.

"Yes, well," Kate continued, "That would be a nasty treat for him, but what about me?"

Jenna bit her lip again, suddenly anxious despite her relaxed state due to her residual intoxication. "What do you have in mind, Mistress Kate?"

"First things first," Kate announced, her plan already developed. She pulled Jenna towards the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees for Alan to bust her anal cherry. Kate removed Jenna's plug, greased both of them, and guided Alan's dick to her rear opening. Jenna hissed as she felt the head of his cock enter her tightest hole.

"Oh God, she so fucking tight!" Alan exclaimed, pushing himself farther into her clenching butthole.

"Yes! Fuck my ass!" Jenna wailed as he did just that. To her astonishment she came when he had fed her just over half his length, and came again as Kate began to masturbate her, flicking her enflamed clit and slowly driving two fingers up her pussy. After awhile Alan was all the way in and had began a rhythm, and she trembled wildly as he reamed her.

"Come for me, Jenna, come all over my fingers," Kate commanded, and Jenna shook and shook until she believed she would actually shake apart into a thousand little pieces. Her whole body was drenched in sweat, a great pool of it covering the channel over her spine, an even larger one in the small of her back. As she heaved with an enormous climax her head shot up causing her hair to thrash around, loosing untold thousands of tiny sweat droplets all over the room, wetting Alan and Kate.

"Ah AH AH AH FUCK," she screeched, as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Her last conscious memories were of her tight ass clamping down on Alan's dick, and him spurting his seed far into her bowels.

Alan pulled out and allowed Jenna to collapsed onto the bed. Even though she was out, her body continued to twitch for more than a few minutes. Kate cleaned him off with some baby wipes.

"Sorry babe, I know you had some plans for her," he said as Kate took a few more wipes and began to clean the sleeping blonde, "But I guess that was a bit too much for her."

"It doesn't really matter," Kate shrugged. "For what I have planned for her she really doesn't have to be awake."

Alan arched his eyebrow, curious.

* * *

Jenna was thankful that Kate set an early alarm for them. Her flight to DFW was leaving Newark at 1pm, so she had to make an early start.

She had awoken in Kate's bed--no surprise there. The real surprise was when she got in the shower. She was soaping herself all over when it hit her, and she suppressed a shriek when she looked down to confirm.

She was hairless between her legs! It sickened and excited her, though truth be told the excitement more than outweighed her feelings of foreboding.

She couldn't resist, frigging herself to two orgasms before turning off the water and drying off. Back in her room she finished up packing her suitcase. Her butt plug was on her desk, a note from Kate underneath.

"Dear Jenna,

"Take this home with you for break. You'll have no problem removing it whenever you want. I would suggest wearing on the way because you never know if a baggage inspector will go through your stuff.

"Merry Christmas,

"Your Mistress Kate."

Well, if nothing else, an interesting flight.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Game's Afoot!



Alan Ch. 27



Chapter 27: London Stalling at the Top of the Dial

Alan paused at the door before entering the room, so unused was he to seeing Michiko fully dressed and upright, not to mention outside of Jack's townhouse. She'd just returned from three months in Japan, and the last time he'd seen her she was being wheeled down a jetway for her flight out. She looked amazingly fit, poised for battle.

The chill given off by the conference room's air conditioning caused the sweat on the back of his neck to quickly evaporate. Months had passed since he and Jack had agreed to combine efforts with the Japanese order, and to their collective frustration, neither hide nor hair had been seen of their target.

Karick tapped a few keys on the laptop, and after a scant second his presentation started. He narrated as the subsequent images filled the screen.

"The London apartment is a bad choice for this operation, for the following reasons," he began

Karick's presentation went on a good hour, with plenty of discussion and debate, breaking up just before five o'clock. Jack wanted Alan to hang around for a private discussion, but Alan begged off.

"Between summer school and coming here every day, with the commute time from the 'burbs tacked on, I'm stretched a little," he explained to his mentor, apologetically. "I pretty much promised my folks I'd be home for dinner five nights a week this summer."

Since the next day was Friday, the only weekday on which Alan didn't have classes he would be able to come in for most of the day. He rode the train home with his dad, talking about the Mets game they were planning on watching on the tube that night.

* * *

It was just a day short of a week later that Lord Thornbow was first spotted. Well, spotted was not quite the right verb. Alistair Thornbow had been playing in a casino in Monte Carlo. Credit for the catch was shared equally by Jack and his assistant Anne-Marie. Jack had told her of his stepbrother's propensity for the occasional flutter, and Anne-Marie had used her contacts in the gaming industry to have any activity on Lord Thornbow's line of credit captured, and the information forwarded to New York. Within an hour of receipt Karick and three of his team were on route to Monaco.

The next morning Alan, Jack, Anne-Marie, Stanley Wilkins (their attorney, and fellow board member), and Peter Gant (Karick's number two, a former Army Ranger) huddled in the conference room around the speakerphone listening to Karick's report.

Monte Carlo, they agreed, was far too urban for the operation the had planned. They had already discarded London as a battleground due to its density, and Monaco was even less suited for this reason.

"So we're still on the same page?" Karick asked near the end of the call. "We wait until he returns to Bankington Hall, his country estate."

"Agreed," Jack concurred, Alan nodding beside him. "We will stick to the plan you already detailed. An urban confrontation is to be avoided."

"Why don't we double the watch on his country estate?" Alan suggested.

"That will be difficult," Karick answered, "He seems to have upped security there, with roving patrols every hour in the day, and every two hours in dark."

"Well," Jack noted, "That is good news!"

"How so?" Alan asked.

"Simple, dear boy. He would not increase security unless he was planning to return. His London flat is hard to reconnoiter because it is so proximate to various embassies and whatnot. With these constant changes in terror alerts that neighborhood is too secure for us to keep close tabs on him there. We are lucky in that he probably doesn't realize he is safer in the hurly-burly of London, than in what he believes is his much-more-secure country retreat. The time to move against him will soon be at hand."

Karick thought about what Jack had to offer for a moment, and then agreed fully. "Right then, I'll put Peter in charge of the mobile team, and I'll go on to England to lead the static team in at Bankington Hall. Peter will call me at the first sign of movement in this direction, and I'll get in touch with you."

"We'll have a jet fueled and standing by at Teterboro."

Another week went by, and still Thornbow hadn't returned to England. Peter's team was trailing him, now in Spain, and Michiko and the abbot had gone ahead to case the country estate. She liked to be very familiar with the terrain before any operation, and the satellite pictures Jack had secured for her study only revealed so much. Cyaxares had just opened a London branch office with two employees transferred from Rome, and Jack was able to pre-ship their swords and other weapons to it.

* * *

When he spoke to Kate that night she seemed a little bummed when he told her he was probably going to have to go off again to Europe, but he had assured her that it was only going to be for a very short while. Either way, if just for an inspection visit, or a confrontation with Thornbow, he wouldn't be away for more than seven days. It wasn't even that she was around to miss him. This summer she was supervising her troubled teen program again, though not actually going on the canoe trips as she had last year. The foundation had rented her a small office in Portland for the summer, and her dad had rented a small apartment there. Most of her days were filled with the logistics of shuffling over two hundred teens and ten counselors through five week-long sessions. Alan had come up every other weekend to visit.

As he was watching the Met game with his dad that night something Kate had said during their past weekend together came back to him. Just as he was about to board his flight to Boston to catch the shuttle she had made him promise something, something he hadn't yet done for her.

"Promise me you'll call Pauline, and meet her for lunch in the city. She's having a miserable summer, with Brian dumping her and my dad insisting on her working for Uncle Edward instead of doing what she wants."

He had agreed, and then almost instantly it had slipped his mind.

Pauline had figured that she would end up working in town, at the foundation's summer camp. However, she had gotten a prized summer internship with the new NFL network, which sadly she had to refuse when her dad had informed her that she would be working this summer at the bank. Her Uncle Edward was head of the family concern, Van Devanter & Sons, one of the largest privately-held investment banks in the world. She had protested vigorously, but to no avail. With Calvin headed to med school, and her sister ensconced securely with her foundation work, Edward had been quite firm that their branch of the family had been remiss at supplying VDS with new blood. It was Helen Van Devanter who had convinced her in the end. "Just do it for this summer," Pauline's mom had counseled. "If you really hate it I'll lean on your dad, and you'll never have to go back again."

On top of all that, the day before she came home from Harvard, she and Brian had split. She had complained to him that he never seemed to make time for them to be together, and they had fought. The argument ended when Brian said she was taking their relationship too seriously, and suggested that perhaps they weren't right for each other. It was a good thing she didn't have to drive home, that her parents had come for the move back, because she spent the three days following her falling out with Brian either crying or brooding.

At a commercial break Alan keyed Pauline's cell number into his own.

"Hey, cute stuff, whashapnin?"

"Shit, Alan, I can't talk now."

"Why, what is it?"

"I'm stuffing two hundred invitations to the bank's summer outing into dammed envelopes. They have to go out tomorrow." She sounded fragile.

"OK, then I wont keep you, except to ask, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?"

"Nothing," she answered. "I'll probably end up doing some sort of stupid busy work here in the office. Why?"

"Wrong answer, babe. I'm taking you out."

"I'm sure that wont be possible. Uncle Ed keeps me on a short leash. He's a nice enough guy, but he's always in my face, talking up how great a company this is, explaining in excruciating detail the ins and outs of investment banking. I haven't had ten minutes to myself this whole summer."

"Don't sweat it, I'll talk to him. See you at one. Bye." He hung up before she could try to talk him out of it.

When he picked her up the next afternoon, after making things cool with her uncle by implanting a few commands in him, he was surprised to find her so collected. They talked a bit as they waited for the elevator, and he learned that Kate had been exaggerating a little. Pauline was completely over Brian, he learned right off the bat. She had cried for a few days, and been slightly depressed for a few more, but the happy bubbly Pauline was in evidence, and just to make sure, he scanned her, worried she was putting up a brave front for his benefit.

Since Alan had cleared a long lunch for them with Pauline's uncle, and the day being so mild after the long heat wave, they decided to walk over to Chinatown. They ate in a hole-in-the-wall on Mott Street, and caught up. She kissed him, demurely, on the lips after the cabbie let them out back on Wall Street, and Alan caught an uptown IRT express train back to Grand Central. Minutes later he was in the office, and Jack had disappointing news.

"Hong Kong," he said, pronouncing it like a curse. "He's scheduled to speak at a conference of international NGOs. He'll probably bore them to death with his diplomatic doublespeak. They'll soon learn from my dear stepbrother that a few postings, and a brief ambassadorship to Upper Volta, or whatever the hell they now call it, an expert doesn't make."

"Do we know about his itinerary after Hong Kong?" Alan asked.

"Not yet, but Anne-Marie is working on it," Jack replied.

An hour later Karick called from England. The abbot and Michiko had a proposal, and all of them spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon hashing it over on a conference call. All save Karick were enthusiastic about it, and in the end the former Czech intelligence officer agreed to head over to the Continent to acquire the best equipment.

Two days later Thornbow's estate and London flat were rife with the latest state-of-the-art bugging equipment. Michiko and the abbot had brainwashed the staffs to allow the team's entry. Even under the threat of torture Thornbow's servants would be unable to remember allowing Karick access to the residences.

However, there was some troubling news in Michiko's report.

* * *

"Fuck! I feel like I'm going to boot!" Alan swore as he stepped over the line. He was covered in sweat, his face flush, clothes disheveled. He stumbled towards the door, almost gasping to regain his breath. Quickly he was through it, the night breeze cooling him, making him feel slightly better than death. Jack was sitting in a lawn chair which was backed up right against the barn, waiting his turn for the "torture."

"Boot?" the older man asked.

"Puke, ralph, heave--ya know--vomit." Alan mumbled as best he could.

"Ah, I see. Well, perhaps you've had enough for today. I'll have someone drive you home."

Alan nodded, relieved that Jack had suggested this; he didn't want anyone to think he was a pussy, but spending four hours near the Fourth Orb was completely draining. Jack threw him a towel, and he dried his face. As he stepped into the second car of his two car convoy he saw through the windshield Jack square his back and stride purposefully into the barn.

One of the security staff drove him in his car, to be driven back to the base by the driver of the lead car. Once out on the road, another wave of fatigue came at him, and he only just managed the energy to unbuckle his seatbelt and squirm his way into the back seat so he could stretch out and attempt sleep.

Michiko had come back from Britain with intelligence that made little sense to her, but was highly troubling to Alan and Massimo. During her reconnoiter of the grounds and dwellings of the estate she had encountered numerous metallic spheres scattered across the landscape, and throughout the castle. Neil examined the pictures the security team had snapped with telephoto lenses, and confirmed that they looked identical to the Orb he had fashioned back when he was in the service to Lord Thornbow; the result being that Alan and Jack were spending at least four hours each day exposed to the sphere's radiation.

Inoculation, Jack called it. By inuring themselves to the effect of the orbs they would be better able to carry out their "mission." Alan had agreed at first, but the very experience of exposing himself to whatever it was that the silver sphere was radiating had caused second thoughts to assert themselves numerous times.

The driver woke him a few block from his house, and not five minutes later was he asleep in his bed. He and Jack had been sleeping much more than usual than a "regular" Vessel, certainly attributable to the effects of the training with the orb; in fact, he sleep patterns and requirements were now similar to that of a normal person.

The long days and nights were getting to him. Each day he was up at 6:30, took an early train into the city, mornings at Columbia, in class, a few hours in the afternoon at the office (mostly familiarizing himself with the far-flung Cyaxares holdings), then an early afternoon train home. He ate each night with his parents, and then drove up to Jack's rented farm, more than an hour and a half north, into the Hudson Valley, rarely returning before one in the morning. It was a good thing Kate was away because he doubted he had the vim to be around her, to take care of her needs.

That next morning he allowed himself to sleep in, not arriving in Manhattan until after ten. He reasoned that since there were no scheduled meetings that day until after lunch, he would not be missed, but by when he walked in Anne-Marie cornered him, pulling him into her office over his protest that he was coffee-deprived.

As she trained him on the new communications gear which had arrived that day, Alan appraised her. She was stunning as always, dressed smartly in a white summer blouse and a skirt which was hugged her figure tightly, its length just barely on the right side of proper office convention. She had always dressed well; her allure was a necessary part of her work as an undercover casino security agent. The thing was that now she no longer needed to be appealing for professional reasons, yet continued to dress to titillate.

* * *

Two weeks later Alan was flying off the London. Karick had established a training camp on a rented estate halfway between the capital and Dover, and he was taking the red eye to join the rest of the team after a few days of business in the capital. Jack had departed New York a few days previous, and all the necessary equipment had been routed through the corporate offices. Karick had drilled the "normals" (non-Vessels) in their roles for the past month, and with electronic surveillance indicating that Lord Thornbow was soon to arrive back in Britain, the time of action was nearing.

The flight itself was uneventful; however, he had a surprise encounter at Heathrow.

"Alan! Alan! ALAN!" he heard. He resisted turning his head, for the name on his travel papers was not his own, and he feared he was still within earshot of Passport Control. Instead he and his traveling companion, his bodyguard Pete, made smartly for the door and the waiting car. Just as they reached the exit Pete glanced back at their pursuer.

"Shee-yit," he whispered to the increasingly nervous Alan, "If she was looking for me, I'd let myself be found!"

Alan twisted around just enough to catch sight of her. "Jesus, Chloe."

The spring of his senior year of high school, not long after he became a Vessel of the Seed of Paishiya'uvada, he had a brief sexual relationship with the British au pair from across the lane. She was one of a small number of people who knew that Alan possessed his cosmic abilities, though he had used them to see that she would not be able to communicate to anyone that he was anything other than a regular guy.

"Go ahead, Pete, I'll catch up," he told the bodyguard as he pushed through the door.

She had been running to reach him, and when she did she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. "I thought that was you!"

"Chloe, how are you?"

"Great, thanks partly to you." She shuffled through her overlarge purse and extracted a glossy catalogue, a catalogue familiar to women, and more than a few men--Victoria's Secret. She flipped the pages excitedly, and proudly showed Alan her picture. "It would never happened without you, you know."

Alan was about to ask what she was talking about, but instead stole the explanation from her mind. She had, before becoming an au pair, made the rounds of the London modeling agencies, without finding success. Though her rejections had never been specific, the message had been clear, she wasn't "curvy" enough to get work. Since her initial encounter with Alan, she hadn't had problem, and since returning to England following her year in the States she had slowly been building up her portfolio. Juggling modeling with university had been tough going at first, but she was managing, he read from her thoughts.

"So, what brings you across the pond?"

"Just a little business," he answered, and explained a little about the company he worked for, leaving out the delicate details. They had reached the car, and Alan offered her a ride. She declined, explaining that her agency was sending a car. She grabbed an eyeliner pencil from her purse and wrote her mobile number over her photo in the catalogue, tore it from the book and stuck it in the pocket of his suit coat.

Pete, waiting at the car, gave Alan a sly grin. "So, who's Chloe?"

"Oh, Chloe Mayhew, just some Victoria's Secret model I know."

"You're shitting me," he croaked.

"I'm shitting you negative. She wasn't a model when I met her." Alan explained how he came to know the fetching blonde Brit, leaving out the X-rated parts of their story.

* * *

Jack was waiting for them in the London office; the Japanese contingent was out in the country at Thornbow's estate with Karick. Jack gave an update on Thornbow's movements, and Anne-Marie brought Alan and Peter up to speed on the status of the preparation, and as to what sort of equipment and supplies still needed to be obtained. It was only yet early afternoon when all important matters had been fully discussed, and Alan, who had been cooped up, either in a plane, in a car in London traffic, and in the cramped offices, since ten pm New York time the night before, needed some air. Begging off offers of company from Jack, Peter, and even Anne-Marie, he set out on his own.

The London branch office was located in Wapping, a neighborhood dominated by some forlorn docks, and enormous office building housing Rupert Murdoch's metropolitan newspaper holdings. Alan found a quiet bench opposite a pub, sat down and willed himself to relax. The weather was cool, much more mild than he was used to after experiencing all his past summers in New York.

He called Kate in Maine.

"Hello?"

"Hey Katie, what's up?"

"Nothing much."

"Are you OK?" he asked. "You sound out of breath."

"Oh, it's nothing, really."

"What are you doing?"

"Masturbating, if you must know," she grunted. He cracked up. Looking at his watch he noted that it was early evening on the East Coast. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Just hanging out. The last group of girls arrive tomorrow, plus Miranda is coming over on Wednesday. We're gonna play. And what are you going to do tonight?"

"Probably sleep. The time zones are starting to catch up with me."

"Are you going to be back in New York by the time I come home from Maine?"




Alan Ch. 27



"I'll try, but I can't promise." He could hear her pout from across the Atlantic.

After a quick call to his mom and dad he dialed the number Chloe had scribbled earlier that day. The result of their brief confab was that he was to pick her up at seven.

* * *

An unfamiliar, though stunning, young woman opened the door to Chloe's flat. She stood in the open doorway looking him up and down.

"Hello," Alan offered.

She said nothing in response, continuing her inspection, her gaze increasingly contemptuous.

"Uh, Alan Marshall. I'm here to pick up Chloe."

The sentry's eyes widened in disbelief at that piece of intelligence.

"And you are?"

The door shut in his face came by way of answer. He could hear voices now from within the apartment, the rancor in them increasing.

The door opened again, and Chloe ushered him inside, pulling him by the forearm. "Sorry about that. Just Barbara being Barbara."

Alan had a brief glimpse of the inscrutable Barbara as she slammed the door of what he assumed was her bedroom with enough force to make the windows rattle. "Not very friendly, eh? Didn't say as much as a word to me, just blocked the door and stared."

"Don't be insulted. It's not you specifically, she dislikes people in general. My agency placed us together, and at first it was off-putting, living with someone like her, but talking to others I've learned that there are worse defining traits in flatmates than Barb's silent contempt."

"What's her deal?" he asked as Chloe slipped on her shoes.

"Search me. She barely deigns to talk to me at all."

"Wow! You look great."

Chloe blushed, her skin tone rising to match the slink pink summer dress she had donned. Her legs were bare, feet barely covered by a pair of matching sandals with one-inch heels. Her light blonde hair was tied in a neat pony tail, held together with a tortoise-shell appliance, her perfume applied with the most proper of light touches.

"Thanks," she replied through a thousand watt smile. "Sorry I'm running a bit behind."

"Don't worry about it."

"Do you need to ring up the restaurant to let them know we'll be late?"

"Shit."

"You didn't reserve somewhere?" she questioned incredulously.

"Guilty. Well, I'm sure we'll find somewhere to eat. Any ideas? This is your town, after all."

She shot him an exasperated smile. "Oy, we'll never get into anywhere even half-decent without a booking."

Now it was his turn to be incredulous. "You mean to tell me that on a Thursday night in late July you need a reservation to eat, as you put it, 'anywhere even half-decent?' What kind of place is this city of yours?"

"London, baby!"

"Oh, just pick a place. I'll see we get in. In case you have forgotten, I can be VERY persuasive when and if the need arises."

"I thought you only used that to get girls," was her snarky retort, as she put her earrings on.

"Yes, well, to see that you don't go unfed this night, I'm willing to branch out, just this once."

"You're such a goof," she giggled, dragging him, at long last out the door.

They encountered one of Chloe and Barbara's neighbors coming up the front steps, and Chloe introduced Alan to Will, a doctoral candidate in mathematics who had the flat next to hers. He was a tall guy of slightly above average looks, spoiled by an ill-fitting wardrobe, but sporting a very stylish pair of eyeglasses.

"Seems like a nice enough guy," Alan said as they made it through the main door of her building.

"Yeah, he's sort of a project of mine. He's not bad looking, and he's sweet, but he a nerd. I picked out his new frames for his glasses last week, and next week we're going clothes shopping."

"He has a thing for you?"

"No," she laughed. "If you must know, he fancies Barbara, for the life of me I can't tell why. She doesn't give him the time of day."

"Yeah," Alan said with a grin, hailing a taxi, "I'm a member of that club."

The went to a stylish little place in Chelsea. Alan thought Chloe had been joking when she suggested he use his power to secure them a table, but she had been right, the place was packed to the rafters, with another mob hovering around the bar. He had suggested she try to exploit her fame as a model to get them seated, but she told him she wasn't famous. The lingerie catalog she had shown him was her first really big booking, and it hadn't even been mailed out yet.

They talked over the wine and food throughout dinner, catching up. Alan told her about breaking up with Pauline, Megan and Leila having his baby, dating Kate, and even a few of his more peripheral adventures.

Chloe told him she was not serious about modeling, her sole motive was to support herself through her university years, and if she was lucky enough, salt enough away to help her younger brother make his way through college. She wanted to be a cell biologist, or perhaps go to medical school and become an immunologist. She limited herself in taking modeling jobs while school was in term, and made up for it during breaks. When she had encountered Alan in the airport she was returning from a photo shoot in Cologne, and she was leaving the next day for fittings in Milan.

* * *

"Want to go back to your place? Maybe some dancing?" he asked as they left the restaurant.

"Uh, where are you staying?"

"The Savoy. Why do you ask?"

"Barbara hates it when I have company of any kind."

"I can take care of that," he said with confidence.

"Oh yeah, I forgot for a minute whom I was dealing with."

"In fact," he added, "I have an idea."

When they reached Chloe's building they made a slight detour to Will's door. Chloe invited him over to have a drink with her and Alan. Will understood that Barbara would be objectionable to all this company in her apartment, but couldn't resist. As the trio entered Barbara favored them with a nasty sort of glare, and then retreated into the sanctity of her bedroom, the door shut firmly.

An hour later Barbara was fuming. This was her apartment, Chloe just a renter of a room. Chloe knew how much he hated having lots of people around. First there was this Yank, a breed she could hardly stand to be around, and then she had the temerity to invite the loser from next door, said loser having a propensity to follow her with his eyes whenever they encountered each other in the hall or lobby.

It sounded like they were having a great time, though. Happy conversation, glasses clinking together with frequent regularity, punctuated at intervals by laughter all around. She was, to her own great shock, coming to regret her self-imposed solitude. She felt herself waver, but held tight. As she reached for the handle to yank open her door and upbraid them, a change came over her. She could feel it, like a shiver running down her spine, yet unlike and she had felt before.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, in a gentle tenor of voice neither Chloe or Will had ever recalled hearing before; Alan had never even heard her speak up to this point.

Alan was non-plussed, and even Chloe, though wary, understood that Barbara's willingness to join the group was due to Alan's influence. It dawned on her almost immediately that Alan was opening up Barbara to Will's advances.

Will, who had been semi-reclining on one of the sofas, straightened up and made room for Barbara next to his place. Alan popped open a beer and gave it over to Barbara, and they settled down. After a half hour Alan and Chloe removed themselves to her bedroom, leaving the nascent couple alone in the living area.

"Ouch, you naughty boy!" she half-squealed half-whispered once the door was closed behind them. "I should have seen that one coming from a field away. Barbara and Will. Brilliant!"

"He's a nice guy, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Maybe she needs a nice guy to loosen her up. And besides, now you'll have more free time."

"Come again?" She was confused by the last part.

"Well, now the spiffing up of Will can be Barbara's project."

"But I liked doing that with him. It was fun," she mock-whined.

"OK, OK, now the both of you can remake his style. Sheesh! You think you're doing a girl a favor!"

"Come here, big guy," she growled, pulling him by his necktie, dragging him to the bed. As she plopped them down onto the bedspread her short dress rode up almost to her hips. "Did you like the stuff I was wearing in the picture."

He nodded. "It was very pretty."

"I'm wearing it now."

He rolled on to his back and she straddled him. He lifted the hem of her summer dress, and she put her hands straight up in the air, so that he could take the dress right off of her. She hadn't lied; she was clad now only in the baby blue frilly bra and panty set he had seen in the catalogue photo, a photo now resident in his suit coat pocket in the outer room. She bent down to kiss him, and he hugged her to him. "I wonder what Barb and Will are doing right this minute," she giggled between kisses.

"I must be an awful lover," Alan sighed.

"Why on earth would you say that?"

"You're thinking of Will and Barbara."

"Well," she said with a hint of arousal coloring--or in her case, colouring--her tone, "You'll just have to change my mind."

"Hmmm...how far do you want me to go with that?"

"Changing my mind?" she asked as she rubbed herself against him, occasionally licking at his neck and chest. "I trust you, so as far as you want to take it."

"Tell me a fantasy, a situation you always wanted to act out."

She hesitated. There was silence between them for about a minute, broken up only by the sound of Barbara's laughter from the living room. "You're going to think it's a trifle tame," Chloe offered.

"Don't worry about what you think I'm going to think."

"OK," she breathed, "I was thinking about the time we did it. When you took my 'virginity.'" He nodded, remembering. "I'd like to do the same to you."

"Got it. Put your dress back on," he said with a grin. He got up off the bed and took off his tie and shirt, and then went back out into the living room, a vacant living room, he noted Barbara's bedroom door was closed, and he could hear muffled conversation from the opposite side. He waited two beats and then knocked on Chloe's door, not waiting for her to answer, and stuck his head through. "Hi, Mrs. Mayhew, I finished cutting the lawn. Is there anything else you need me to do before I go?"

She quickly got what he was playing at, and played along. "Um, oh, Alan, yes, come right in. There is something you could do for me, now that I think about it."

"Sure thing," he answered a little nervously. He looked at her like a teenaged virgin would look at a beautiful and scantily-clad woman, avoiding her eyes, taking furtive glances at her well displayed legs and pert breasts, reddening when he thought he was being caught. "W-what do you need me to do?"

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and motioned for him to take the seat facing the bed. "How old are you now, Alan?"

"Um, sixteen, almost seventeen, ma'am."

"Please, call me Chloe. You make me feel so old calling me Mrs. Mayhew or ma'am."

"O-OK, Mrs. Mayhew."

She laughed, and he blushed harder. "Are you thirsty? You must be hot from being out in the yard."

"No, Mrs. May--Ch-chloe, I'm OK."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

He looked away because he knew she was aware he was staring at her. "No, not right now, Chloe."

"But you did?"

"Yes," he said, emphasizing his answer with a vigorous nod.

"What was her name, the last one?"

"Um, Marjorie."

"Did you kiss her?"

He nodded.

"Did you do anything else with her?"

He nodded again, looking as if his embarrassment would soon become fatal.

"What did you do with Marjorie, Alan?" she asked breathlessly. "Please, tell me."

"Once we were kissing, and she let me put my hand on her sweater," he choked out.

"You mean on her breast, don't you, Alan?"

He whimpered and nodded, feeling his cock stiffen at the memory.

"Is that all?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

He shook his head, his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"What else, Alan?"

"She touched me through my pants," he said, almost blubbering.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

He nodded.

"Don't be. Just relax," she ordered, and watched a little of the tension drain out of him. "Is that the farthest you've gotten with a girl, Alan?"

He nodded.

"Come over here and sit with me."

"O-OK, Chloe."

"That's a good boy. Oh wow, you worked up quite a sweat cutting the grass. Take off your t-shirt, and I'll fetch you a towel." She was back a moment later, shooing him off when he tried to take the towel, and began to dry off his back. "Does that feel good?"

"Yes, very."

"Why aren't you and what's-her-name still going out?"

"She ended it. An older boy asked her out, and now she goes with him."

"Oh, Alan, that's awful! Were you sad?"

He nodded.

"Lots of girls like older blokes, because they know that older blokes have more experience. They are just little girls who don't know better," she said with a derisive snort. "But I know that ex-per-i-ence is not all that it's cracked up to be." He shuddered as she walked her fingertips up his arm. "Alan, do you think I'm pretty?"

He made googly eyes at her, too spooked to say anything.

"Mr. Mayhew is always traveling on business, so you're such a dear to take care of me, I mean my yard for me."

"You're welcome, Mrs. May-, Chloe."

"I also feel safe knowing such a strapping young man like you lives just next door. Always there to lend a hand, help out around this lonely house of mine," she sighed. "There is something you can help me with," she continued as she moved the towel to his chest.

"What?" he whispered, his face inches from hers.

She kissed him, and he groaned. His hips buckled as she slipped her tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth.

He broke away. "Mrs. Mayhew! What are you doing?"

She didn't answer, just placed her mouth over his, her hands caressing his chest, teasing his nipples. He groaned into the kiss, and his hands began to timidly explore the her back, rubbing tentative patterns in the fabric of her dress.

"I'm so lonely, Alan, would you help me?"

"I don't know what to do," he said pitifully.

She shot him a dazzling smile. "Don't worry, baby. I'll show you what to do. Unzip my dress please, it's in the back." She turned away from him so he could reach the pull, and his hand trembled as he lowered the zipper down to the end. He could see the waistband of her frilly blue panties, and his hand lingered at the small of her back. She turned to face him again, and he jerked his hand away as if burned, afraid she would think he was taking liberties.

"Sorry Mrs. Mayhew. Your skin is so soft."

"My husband brings me lotion from Paris." She saw him freeze up at the mention of her husband. She dropped her voice to a throaty whisper. "He's there right now. Paris. He leaves me alone all the time." She moved the shoulder straps of the dress so that the slipped off, holding the dress up so it wouldn't fall down. "Have you ever seen a naked woman, Alan?"

"I-I've seen pictures."

"But never in real life?"

"N-no, ma'am."

"I told you to call me Chloe. Would you like to see more of me?" 

He nodded. She lowered the dress so that it was bunched up at her waist.

"It's important, Alan, to know how to undress a woman. Many boys, even men, become flummoxed with the brassiere. I think right now I'll take it off myself, but later we can practice."

His eyes were riveted as she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra closure and shucked it off, and he gasped as her breasts and hard nipples came into sight. "Do you want to touch them? You can, you know."

He reached out and took her breasts in his hands, and started rubbing them, playing with the nipples.

"Ow, no, gently, Alan, gently. Women like a soft touch."

He did as told, and she began to purr softly, rubbing her ass against the bedspread. "Lick them, but softly, gently, OK?"

He nodded and went at it, but after just a bare minute she pulled his head from her chest. "Take off your pants, everything," she gasped, shedding the dress and wiggling out of her panties. "You're so big," she moaned. "Bigger than my husband. You have got to fuck me with that, right now." She laid back and spread her legs, beckoning him to mount her.

He was trembling as he positioned himself above her. He placed his cock over her blonde thatch and shifted back to attempt penetration, a task he failed to achieve. He stabbed blindly a few times more before she reached down and took him in her hand.

"Oh god, Oh god, Oh god, Oh God, FUCK," he bellowed as he spurted all over her hand, crotch, and stomach. He jumped from the bed and started reaching for his clothes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I have to go, I'm sorry," he wept as he moved around the room looking for his socks.

"ALAN! Come back to bed. RIGHT NOW! Put those clothes down." He dropped his stuff and approached the bed, stopping one stride away from her, small tears running down his cheeks.

"Don't cry, really, it's natural. Don't worry really," she soothed as she pulled him back to the bed. She took his dick in her hands and began to give him a gentle handjob. It took him virtually no time to get hard again as she stimulated him, kissing away his tears. She rolled on her back again and pulled him so he was on top again. He tried to put her in again, but she stopped him in mid-try and guided him to the mouth of her pussy.

"Oof!" she grunted as he entered her. "Go slow, Alan, I'll tell you when you can go faster, 'K?"

He nodded, feeding her a little more of him. She groaned and groaned as he pushed forward, and she came as he came to rest all the way inside her. He did nothing, minding her admonition to let her set the pace.

As she came back from her climax she blinked her eyes a few times to refocus on his face, a broad smile painted across her features. With all her strength she lifted her head from the pillow and kissed him with tongue, and she giggled as she felt his manhood jerk in her depths as a response.

"Oh, baby boy, that was wonderful. Pull out a little and push in again. That's right, just like that. Now a little more and a little harder."

He fucked her for a long time, periodically slipping out when he misjudged the pertinent distances, and though he expressed embarrassment, she just pulled him by the member so he was in her again as quick as possible. She came more times than she could remember, her nerves frazzled with orgasmic pleasure, taking no pains to quiet or restrain herself in any way.

"Mrs. Mayhew, Mrs. Mayhew, Mrs. Mayhew! I'm going to lose it again!"

"Yes dear boy, YES, shoot all yourself in me. It's alright! I'm protected."

He loosed an enormous moan as he shot off in her, and she trembled exhaustedly beneath him, too worn out to come again.

"Did I do OK, Mrs. Mayhew?"

"OK, Alan, charade over," she sighed, hugging him hard.

"Was it everything you expected?"

"That, and more," she giggled. "You're some actor."

"Likewise," he said with a grin.

"I wonder what Barb and Will are up to."

Alan closed his eyes and "looked" into the adjacent bedroom. "You don't want to know."

"Quit teasing. Tell me," she demanded.

Alan put his hand on her forehead, and shared his view into Barbara's bedroom. Barbara was tied to the bed with the sashes from two silk bathrobes, her wrists fastened to the headboard. She was face down on the mattress, and Will was fucking her from behind, spanking her as he went along. Alan withdrew his hand, and the scene faded from Chloe's vision.

"I never thought Will was like that. He's so meek."

"Actually, this is what she insisted on. When I altered her I forced her to confide in Will how she wanted it. This is all her. He's the reluctant party."




Alan Ch. 27



"You think you know a person," she laughed. "Well, that's not quite true. I really know very little about her, come to think of it. So what are you going to do with them? Leave her like this, you know, digging on Will, or will you change her back?"

"What to you think best?"

"Well, kudos to Will."

"OK, I'll leave her like this."

She chuckled. "It's going to be a blast living here, watching this unfold."

* * *

It was just after dawn when Alan awoke. He let Chloe sleep as he gathered his things and dressed, and was surprised to see Barbara sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Morning, Barbara."

She didn't stir. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, a blissed out look upon her. A smile made her already beautiful features even more alluring.

"Morning, Barbara," he repeated. She snapped out of it, favoring him with an even wider smile.

"Good morning, Alan. Want some coffee? Will made it before he had to run."

"Sure. Should I help myself?"

"No, that's OK, I'll fetch it."

"So," he said, taking a sip, "You and Will, huh?"

She blushed crimson. "I know, I never would have predicted this. But he's always been sweet on me, and last night, I just don't know what came over me."

"Well, thanks for the java. I'm going to say bye to Chloe, gotta run."

London was awakening as he stepped out onto the pavement. Trucks were delivering bread and milk and whatnot as he made for the Tube. A block short of the station a black sedan pulled up right next to him as he was waiting to cross the lane.

"Get in," Karick said, his voice horse from too many Balkan Sobranies. "He's in London."

Next Chapter: Rumors of War 



Alan Ch. 28



It was a straightforward operation, and nearly well executed, which made the death at the end of it come as a complete shock. It started out simple; it became complicated, as all things seem to do.

* * *

Alan and Karick rendezvoused with the waiting surveillance teams shortly before noon. The car bringing Jack and Anne-Marie was about an hour behind, but that didn't matter too much, as this was certainly not a daylight mission.

The Abbot and Michiko were practicing their moves in a small clearing in the nearby woods, and Peter and the rest of the paramilitaries were stripping, oiling, and checking their weapons. No more dawdling; they were moving this night.

After Jack arrived they all formed in a circle and had a mission briefing. The Abbot spoke to them about the Stone, and what precautions they should take if the encountered it, then Karick ran through the lay of the land and the blueline plans of the house, then moved on to describe once again the security, both technological and human.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the public woods adjacent to the estate, drilling. They were to be split up into three groups. Michiko would lead Team A, Jack was in charge of Team B. Alan was on Team C with Karick, led by the Abbot. He wasn't at all insulted by the fact that he wasn't one of the leaders; as the youngest and least experienced he knew that he was a follower in this company. When they broke for dinner Michiko slipped off and made a quick reconnaissance into the grounds of the estate.

"Keep that away from us," Jack called out as she returned. Nestled in her arms was a silver sphere, about the size of a basketball.

"I think it's a decoy," she said, her pace not slowing.

"What makes you think that?" Alan asked, edging away from her.

She tossed it to him, and on reflex, with consequences forgotten, he caught it. The orb was surprisingly light. He ran his palm over the metallic surface, and his fingers quivered, though not as much as they should have if this was a true copy of a true Orb. Neil took it from him and walked it back to the van. With his expertise in metallurgy and archaeology he gave it a once over, and then tested it with the gear in the van.

"Silver plate, if you believe the equipment, jacketed over an aluminium core." he stated with a chuckle.

Jack was not as amused. "Mr. Swindon-Smythe!"

Neil gulped. He recognized the professorial tone. "Yes, Professor?"

"What conclusions can the class draw from these data?" Jack asked, gesturing to the open laptop screen.

"Well, sir, it was my understanding when I was in Thornbow's employment, that the supply of Orb silver was limited. One possibility is that the spheres on the pedestals scattered over the grounds are decoys; perhaps some are silver plated and some are pure."

"We will proceed with caution," Massimo pronounced gravely.

Since it was summer, night did not begin to fall until after eight. By nine the sky was dark enough for them to begin their assault on Bankington Hall. The three groups moved into their starting positions, from three different approaches into the estate. Alan's group was coming in from the woods that fringed the south of Thornbow's land. The woods were a public thoroughfare, making them difficult for Thornbow to have fully secured; Jack's group was coming in through the east gate, or to be more precise, over the high stone wall just north of it. Michiko's group, the first to go in, would also be using the wooded approach that Alan's group was forming in, just from a different part of it.

Alan checked the pockets of his black jumpsuit for the nth time since he had donned it an hour ago. All his gear was in place. In the rear pocket at the small of his back he felt the small handgun through the material. 

Having never fired--or for that matter, touched--a firearm until a few weeks ago, he hoped he would not have to use it, or even remove it from its pocket. The bud in his ear crackled; Anne-Marie informed them that Team A had moved in. Two minutes later the Abbot's Team C, and Jack's Team B would start.

Two minutes passed, and the go signal from Michiko's team did not come. Alan wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jumpsuit, and then fiddled with the black balaclava, combing his hair with his fingers, tucking all his hair under it. His foot was tapping an impatient staccato rhythm on the forest ground.

"You nervous?" Karick asked.

"A little," Alan replied.

"You should be worried a lot, so consider yourself ahead of the game," he answered grimly. Just as he was about to say more Anne-Marie came on the air.

"Teams B and C, move out," she broadcasted. Michiko and her bunch had taken the security center. It was time to go.

* * *

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

Thornbow squirmed in his seat, almost as upset by the thought of what the duct tape was doing to the upholstery of his Louis Quatorze armchair as he was by the fact that he was bound to it at the wrists and ankles. "No," he sneered at the stranger, a man he was quite sure he had never once before laid eyes upon.

"My name," said Jack, "Is Jacob Theodore Lazarus."

Alistair Thornbow belied no reaction to this bit of intelligence; Jack expected none.

"My name before it was Jacob Theodore Lazarus was Jean-Pierre Massimo."

This time Thornbow was thunderstruck. "How is that--It can't be--you're lying!"

"Brother," Jack continued acidly, "You know of what I am capable, do you not?"

Thornbow nodded, defeat evident in his face.

"Two years, brother. Two years you stalked me, haunted my steps. Because you wanted what you can never have. Decades you have desired it, for almost all that time believing it to be myth, a legend unworthy of a child's fantasy. Five years ago, in this very room--I remember it was like yesterday--you showed me the talisman. A small Mesopotamian idol of tarnished silver. Just being in the same room with your collection's latest acquisition knocked the wind from my sails. That fateful day when you began to form the slightest of notions about my nature. Suspicions. Yes, you were suspicious of me for years, but the happenstance of my dizzy spell in the presence of your new trinket ignited the evil scheme within you. And so, you came at me, and to your bitter disappointment, you had me killed. Or so you thought, at any rate. And then, and then you turned your attentions you this young man," he spat, gesturing at Alan. "You almost killed him. Twice."

"What do you want, Jack?" Thornbow snarled.

"You know exactly what I want."

"So, you mean to do murder?"

"Killing you," Massimo said, "Is the last thing I can afford."

Thornbow slumped in his chair, relieved he would be spared. "Then why? Then what?"

"Anne-Marie," Jack said into his radio microphone built into his sleeve, "Please signal the Abbot to join us in the office."

The new intruder was another stranger as far as Thornbow was concerned, though seeing that the middle-aged Englishman standing before him was his octogenarian Swiss step-brother, for all he knew this Japanese monk was in fact Churchill.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Abbot. No first name, no surname, I'm afraid. He must become nameless to head his order, a tradition, you know. As a rule, people fear what they cannot name, Alistair, and though I have found this chap to be most delightful company, it is, nevertheless, a rule you should heed.

"You have something of his," Jack concluded.

"And if I give it, you'll leave?" Thornbow asked.

"Where is it?" the Abbot asked.

"You must promise--"

"I am a man of honor, Mr. Thornbow."

Thornbow closed his eyes and sighed. He was coming to the realization that defeat was now inevitable. "I don't know where it is."

Jack scanned his mind, and was surprised to see he was telling the truth. An ingenious plan, really: Lord Thornbow had over forty people in his employ or confidence. To conceal the stone he had sent a memo to each member of his staff. They had gathered in his ballroom, the stone at the center of the long dining table. After their boss had excused himself each employee drew a lot from a basket. The "winner" was to take the stone out of the estate and secure it, with none of the others knowing who had taken it, or where it had been placed.

For Jack this was another complication. Now they had to lasso each and every one of these people, from business managers to chamber maids, footmen to private secretaries, and bring them to be interrogated.

"Is it OK if I go?" Alan asked, nausea beginning to overtake him. There was blood on his shoes, though the body of the one Thornbow had shot had been already removed.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked. The grounds and house weren't yet fully secured.

"I have to get out of here," Alan half-shouted, running out.

Jack cast a meaningful look towards the Abbot, and the Japanese man followed Alan out the door. The Abbot spoke quietly in his microphone and asked Anne-Marie to send Michiko into the office to join Jack. He reasoned that she was better equipped to deal with that situation than he was in any event.

"Alan, please, wait for me. I am an old man, and I cannot keep up with you," the Abbot projected. Though his English was improving, they found it most convenient to communicate telepathically, in a sort of bridge language. Alan thought in English, and the Abbot heard him in Japanese, and vice-versa.

Alan snorted, but slowed; he had seen the Abbot in action, and his protest of age was insincere. After witnessing the Abbot in battle, catlike and quick, slow would be the last word he would use to describe this man.

"You are upset, young man, and understandably so. It is a terrible thing to see a man die. If you had told me that the only man to die tonight would be one of our own, and this man in particular, I would not have been able to believe it. Sometimes things do not go as planned, and we have to deal with the consequences."

"He was my friend," Alan sniffled. "He saved my life, in a way. Made me understand the dangers about me, at a time when I thought I was unstoppable. He had a family--a wife and a daughter!--did you know that? I never even met them, and now I have to go to them and tell them daddy is dead! Do you fucking understand that?"

"Death, Alan, is a part of life, one which we all have to face."

"Tell that to his ten year old daughter," Alan projected angrily, his face wet with tears. "No! That's my fucking shit ass job."

"Tell them this: tell them that Mr. Karick died doing his duty."

"Duty? Goddamn you Abbot. We're not the fucking army. We came for your fucking sacred stone."

"Now, now, that's not the whole truth, Alan. Pull yourself together, young man. We are here to eliminate a common threat. Mr. Karick understood that, which is why he was a leader--the planner--of this mission, which is why he burst through that door despite our warnings. He wasn't conscribed. Not to speak ill of the dead, but this was his plan. He would be proud, as I am, that it is so far a success."

"Success? Success? Where is this stone of yours?"

"We will find it. It is only a matter of time now. I have been patient for a long time, and I beg the same of you."

"I need to leave, Abbot. I can't stay here."

"If that is your wish. Dr. Massimo, Michiko, and I will organize the search for the one entrusted with our stone."

"I'm leaving," Alan said aloud, though making no move to the door.

"As I said, go," the Abbot spoke. "None of us would dare presume to stop you."

Still, he didn't budge.

The Abbot projected: "You see, young man, you want to go, but something his holding you back. Do you want to know what that is?" He paused, allowing time for Alan to answer, but the young American just stood there, trembling. "Duty, Alan, you stay out of a sense of duty. Honor, Alan. Honor. This man in there," he said derisively, and Alan knew he was speaking of Thornbow, "He is without honor. A thief. A murderer. A small man who thinks he can get what he wants without understanding the nature of it, even to the slightest degree; but a dangerous man nonetheless. Mr. Karick understood all of this, and that is why he came here tonight. He could never have led a normal life with that detestable man unchecked. It came to a sorrowful end.

"Go, Alan, find his wife and child. Do what you can for them. Tell them that because of the efforts of Mr. Karick they are now safe. You need no more duty in this place. They need you now."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing, Alan, calling me at three in the morning?"

"I'm sorry, Kate, I just needed to hear your voice."

"Are you crying? Is everything OK?"

"Yes. No. My colleague was killed tonight. A friend of mine."

"Oh my God! What happened? Are you OK?" she cried.

"I'm OK. Just shaken up. I'll tell you when I get home."

"Come home now. I'll meet you. Things are winding down here. I just have to juggle some things and I'll meet you."

He didn't say anything, but she knew he was still on the line.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm not OK, Katie, but I will be when I see you."

He hit END, and went to find Neil

"Are you done here?" Alan asked him. They were standing in the driveway of Bankington Hall, a safe distance from the panel truck holding all of the seized orbs.

"I'll just be a minute," Neil replied, his voice cracking. Alan could see he was just as traumatized by Karick's death. He pulled down the rear door of the truck and padlocked it.

"I need to go."

"Go?" Neil asked, taken aback. "Go where?"

"Home, Neil, I need to go home."

"OK."

"I can't drive a car in Britain. Would you take me? Now?"

"Sure. OK. Sure. We'll take one of the rented Opels, leave the Land Rovers for the rest of them," Neil said, his voice shaking, leading the way back to the edge of the road.

They reached the car in minutes. Alan got in on the left, and Neil behind the wheel. Neil turned the ignition and started it up, but made no move to put it in gear. After a few seconds Alan looked over and saw that he was weeping quietly.

"I feel the same way, Neil. He was an excellent friend."

"That he was. That he was," Neil said, collecting himself, as he put the car on course for London.

Alan made some calls while they were motoring down, and to his disappointment he discovered that the he wouldn't be able to get a flight out until morning. He had Neil take him to the Savoy, and when Neil made to leave, to return to Bankington Hall, Alan insisted he take the suite's other bedroom. It didn't take them long to hit the minibar.

"I'm calling Irina in the morning," Neil declared after they had toasted Tadeusz, referring to Karick's wife.

"Did you know her?" Alan asked.

"Last Christmas I couldn't come back here, and Karick couldn't go all the way to Australia. Irina and Katja flew to Montréal, and Tad insisted I come along with him."

"Why Montréal?"

"Karick wanted his little girl to have a European Christmas. The year before he had spent with them in Melbourne, and he had a vile time. 'Christmas in summer,' he told me, 'is a perversion!' He did some looking around, and decided that the closest he was going to get to a Prague Christmas was Quebec."

"Don't call her," Alan said. "We'll go together and tell her in person."

"I'd like that," Neil replied, a smile forming on his features for the first time in hours.

* * *

Alan had called Harriet, his lawyer Stanley Wilkins's secretary, from the plane, and she arranged a livery to pick him up from Newark and take him home. Neil had driven him to the airport before heading back to Bankington Hall. Once he was home he called his folks, who were both out, to let them know he had arrived. He didn't mention the reason he had cut his trip short. He called Kate next, catching her on the road. She was already past Mystic, and would see him in a few hours. He napped.

His mother stroking his hair awoke him. "Honey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, mom."

"You sounded depressed on the phone before. Are you sure?"

He smiled. "It's good to see you, mom."

"You push yourself too hard, Alan. School this summer, and a job, plus whatever you were doing at night. I worry after you."

"I'm taking one more trip, and then I'm home for the rest of the month," he sighed. "I'll help you with your rosebushes every day until I head back for school."

She laughed, delighted. "Tell me about your trip."

"Nothing much to tell, really."

"And the next one?"

"Just a couple of days. Three at the most."

"OK, you'll tell me when you'll tell me. You know I don't like to pry. Come downstairs and help me make dinner. Your dad should be home soon."

"OK, mom. Oh, Kate's joining us."

"I thought she wasn't coming back until Friday."

"She wanted to see me," Alan said.

"That's nice. She's a sweet girl. You should marry her."

"Want those grandchildren soon, do you?" he laughed, and she laughed with him.

"From your lips to God's ears, as my dad used to say."

Kate and Alan sat in the backyard after dinner. He didn't say much and she just put her arm around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Over the din of crickets she asked him about Karick.

"Tell me about your friend from work."

So he did, saying as much as he could without betraying the others in his cabal, Jack and the Japanese monks. He told her about all the time they had spent together the summer before, when they hopscotched around Europe looking for Jack. He told her about the wife and child he had never met, and how he had to go to them and tell them about the killing.

"Do you want me to come with?" she asked.

He thought about it for a second, trying to formulate a good reason why she shouldn't come, but his mind went blank.

"Sure," he answered, smiling at her. "That would be great."

They went back in the house and watched television with his folks for a while. At eleven his parents went upstairs to their bedroom. Alan and Kate watched the news snuggled up together. Just before the sports came on Alan's cell phone rang. It was Jack, calling from Thornbow's estate. They had managed to compile a full list of all the personnel involved in the stone-concealing scheme, and had so far interrogated nineteen of the forty-six people involved. Most of the nineteen were household staff at Bankington Hall. There were a couple of servants at the London flat, and a few people in Lord Thornbow's parliamentary office, and the remainder were spread out over the rest of Britain. Jack figured they would see them all by the next week. After the update Jack handed the phone to Neil, and they made plans for Australia. Karick had moved his family to Melbourne, to a neighborhood named St. Kilda, chosen because of its good-sized Eastern European community. Alan and Neil decided that it would be easier to meet in Melbourne. Neil would fly to Singapore and change planes, and Alan and Kate would fly west, spend a night in Hawaii, and then on to Melbourne. Neil promised to call Harriet in Stan Wilkins's office to book the flights.

"So we're set?" Kate asked, as he came back from taking the call in the kitchen. He had made no effort to keep quiet, and he assumed he had heard his end of the conversations.

"Yeah, I'll have the exact details about the trip tomorrow, probably before lunch."

"Cool," she answered with a yawn. "I'm pooped. Ready for bed?"

"Are you staying here? I thought--"

"Do you think your mom and dad would object?"

"Probably not," Alan thought aloud. Besides, if they did, he could just use his abilities to smooth things over. "But what about your folks? You just got back and they've barely seen you."

"My parents are practically living in the city this summer. Remember my mom's Aunt Victoria? With the broken hip?"

He nodded.

"She's a little batty," Kate explained. "The only way my mom got the latest in a long line of home care nurses not to quit was to promise to be there a lot. They tried getting her to move in with us, but she refused."




Alan Ch. 28



"So your parents share an apartment with a batty old woman. Sounds claustrophobic!"

"It's not all that bad. Mom and Aunt Vicky get along real well, and her apartment is huge. It's a duplex on lower Fifth Avenue, with views right over Washington Square Park."

"They live there? Full time?"

"No, just a couple of nights a week, and all day Sunday."

"Oh. Well. Sure then, let's go upstairs."

The walk up to his bedroom seemed to take a great deal out of him, Kate noticed. She helped him undress and get in bed, and then she took a shower. She came back to bed wearing a fresh pair of panties. Looking through her bags she tried to find a clean t-shirt, but she was at a bad time in the laundry cycle; instead of taking one of his she just slipped in beside him.

She really didn't expect any physicality between them this night due to Alan's parents in down the hall and his fatigue and low spirits. She snuggled against him, and he held her.

"Mmmm, you smell good," he muttered, drifting away.

* * *

The ever-efficient Harriet booked passage for Alan and Kate by the next morning for a Saturday-night flight, two days hence. Alan was at a loss with what to do with more than forty-eight unscheduled hours, having been since before spring finals since he last experienced such a freedom. Lucky for him Kate was there to fill the time. Mostly, they relaxed. It was as if they had returned home for a vacation, rather than the other way around. 

Alan spent the next morning puttering around the house. He and Kate did their laundry together in his basement, and Kate made several calls up to Maine to see if the last set of girls were completing their program in good fashion, and dealing with some last-minute details. Alan's mom made them lunch--grilled cheese sandwiches, a favorite from when he was a boy--and they swing on the porch glider between washing machine and dryer loads.

"My mom likes you," he told her as the first shower of raindrops pit-patted against the roof of the overhang.

"Really? Sometimes I can't tell."

"When I started going out again with Pauline, the second time, your dad pulled me aside and gave me 'The Speech.' I don't think there's an equivalent for mothers and girlfriends, so my mom is a little stymied. But she likes you. She told me," he said.

"What did she say?" Kate asked, holding her breath after squeezing out the words.

He chuckled, but said nothing, and she gave him as gentle an elbow to the ribs as she could manage.

"She told me I should marry you."

Kate gasped, and then the air became stuck in her throat. It took her the better part of thirty seconds to regain her composure. "And what did you say to that?"

"I teased her about her desire for grandchildren."

"What did you think?"

He considered what to say for a moment. "Well, certainly not before we finish college."

"No, Alan, that's not exactly what I'm asking," she started, without enough courage to look at him. "What do you think about us?"

"Would you even marry me, Katie?"

She thought about giving a very emphatic answer, but not knowing his thoughts she kept it simple, "I would."

"Hmmm," he mused, "I'll tell you what, if, by the time we graduate, I can't find a better gift than an engagement ring for you, I'll give you one."

"Deal," she laughed, pulling him up from the glider and back into the house for the last of the wash.

As they folded laundry Alan had a small smile; Kate noticed.

"It's nice to see you not depressed or scowling," she offered.

"I was thinking about our deal we just made."

"And that made you smile?" she asked.

"It's just not how I imagined it would be, you know, us getting engaged. I imagined getting down on one knee, in some nice spot I had picked out somewhere..."

"Well, don't think of it like we got engaged. You can still do that if you want," she promised.

"OK, I'll consider it a rainy day project," he laughed.

"A what?"

"You know, one of those things you put off until the weather turns bad, like re-alphabetizing your CD collection, or throwing away old bills."

"So I guess I should start praying for rain two Junes from now," she giggled.

* * *

Alan's parents had theater tickets that night, and Alan and Kate were left to fend for themselves for dinner. He fired up the gas grill in the back yard and he and Kate had burgers and beer. After they cleaned up they went into town and saw a movie, though Alan had difficulty concentrating.

Back at the house Kate got ready for bed; she would have to return home in the morning, to unpack her luggage and pack a new bag for Australia, but tonight she was staying close to Alan. She slipped into the shower behind him, startling him. He turned, and she embraced him, standing on her tippy-toes to kiss him, and he returned the kiss hungrily, wrapping himself around her slippery body.

She broke the kiss. "Foreplay only in the shower. I need to be fucked in a bed."

"I love it when you whisper sweet nothings in my ear," he deadpanned, and she cracked up. 

After a brief, but nevertheless thorough, washing up, they removed themselves to the bedroom. Kate was hungry for him, and she pushed him down on the bed before he had fully dried off. He tried to get up, but she threatened to retrieve his bag of goodies from the closet and cuff him to the headboard, so he stayed down. She covered his body with her own and pressed her lips against his, their tongues dueling. Alan realized again just how much he had missed her, how much of a comfort it was to have her in his life. For all her frailties she was his rock, the most stable thing he had going in life outside his mom and dad. While he was musing he didn't even notice that Kate had broken their kiss and was now laying a trail of kisses down his chest and belly.

He groaned when she took his dick in her mouth, his hands gently stroking her black-as-a-raven's-wing hair. He allowed himself to give up control, and came in her mouth, feeling her shudder with orgasm as he did.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, licking around her lips to capture the few escaping drops of his ejaculate, "I missed that."

As she held his member in her hands, caressing it to get him hard again, she whispered, "And I missed you too."

Alan kissed her, tasting the last remnants of his sperm on her lips, then moving down to kiss and lick at her neck. She purred in response, her hands working feverishly at his burgeoning erection, and in no time at all he was fully hard. He turned her over, so she was on her back, and descended to be on top of her. Kate spread her legs in invitation, groaning quietly as he entered her.

"So long," she hissed, "It's been too long, Alan. It feels so nice being underneath you."

He put his mouth on hers and they melted together as he slowly fucked her, her small whimpers escaping their joined lips. He kept his place slow for much longer than usual, and she came more than a few times, her pussy clenching around him as her body seized and released in orgasm.

"Oh God," she muttered after a crashing orgasm, "Come in me. If you keep fucking me I think I'm going to die."

He kissed her again as he loosed himself within her, and she sighed, licking their mingled sweat from her upper lip, and then his chest.

* * *

As planned, they met Neil and went to see Karick's widow. To Alan, she seemed surprisingly calm when they broke the news. She explained that she was the wife and daughter of soldiers, and she had, at least on some level, been prepared for this eventuality. They settled on some financial arrangement, chief among them that Karick's salary continue indefinitely (at Alan's insistence), and left.

Twenty-four hours later Alan and Kate were home. As promised, the rest of the summer passed fairly uneventfully. Just before Labor Day, news came from across the pond that Jack and the Abbot had at long last determined which of Lord Thornbow's underlings took possession of the crystal, and on the holiday itself, while he was over at the Van Devanters for a barbeque, Jack called to tell him it had been retrieved.

Kate was about a thirty yards away as Alan spoke on the phone with Jack; she was chatting with her siblings. As she watched Alan snap his phone shut and pocket it, she could almost see a weight lifting from his shoulders.

* * *

A month into the fall semester Kate was frustrated. Since she and Alan had discussed getting married she had cut back on her sleeping with girls. It wasn't really a conscious decision on her part, nor was it in any way something Alan had brought up, but in the back of her mind, now that they were semi-engaged, she no longer sought it out.

The problem was that she was seeing less of Alan. He had loaded up his schedule with courses, hoping that a heavy workload, combined with the past summer session and the next summer session, he would be able to graduate in three years. His lack of time for her left her yearning, a condition she had not been used to since she and Alan had started fucking.

Picking up the ringing phone she found Scarlet on the other end. Since returning to school she had only one brief make out session with Scarlet, not allowing it to go any further, to both their disappointments. Tonight, Kate found herself severely tempted. She had intuited that, irony of ironies, Scarlet had been getting her sapphic release from, of all people, Jenna. Jenna's scorn of Scarlet, and her threat to spread rumors of Scarlet's orientation (no matter that they were true) is part of what caused Kate--but particularly Alan--to break Jenna, turning her into a bisexual submissive. Jenna was in fact the only girl Kate had fucked since returning to campus; she had allowed herself the indulgence because Alan had been part of that scene. After that September threesome she had been able to resist.

"Hey, baby," Scarlet cooed from the other end of the line. "What's cooking with you and Alan this fine Saturday night?"

"He's in the library," Kate said flatly, "Again."

"Oh, poor baby, you're becoming a library widow."

"Yeah," Kate chuckled, "Tell me about it."

"Well, if you're looking to play, come over to Jess's. Were having a, uh, little get-together."

"Oh? Who's going to be there?" Kate asked, already having figured out exactly which kind of "get-together" Scarlet was hinting at. She felt her resistance crumbling. Since Alan had unleashed her sexuality, her needs had increased to a point that Alan's recent lack of time had kept her unsatisfied.

"Oh, you know," Scarlet answered, "Me, Jess, Jenna, Nila, and some new girl. Just a few bottles of wine, and we'll see what happens."

"Sounds fun," Kate said, "But I have that sociology essay to finish."

"Kate, quit lying to me. You handed that paper in on Thursday. I went with you, remember?"

"OK," Kate said sheepishly. "Sorry. What time?"

"Whenever you can make it," Scarlet giggled. "Promise me you'll COME."

Both cracked up at that.

Kate studied and killed time on the computer for a few more hours, and at about eight pm she set out for Jess's dorm. On her way there Alan called her on her cell, and she reluctantly admitted where she was going, and for what purpose. She braced herself for his disapproval, and to her half-relief, half-disappointment, it did not come. He did ask her of he could spend the night, and she agreed.

At ten o'clock Alan closed his books and left the library. He dropped his stuff off at his dorm, East Campus, and made his way back across campus to Kate's dorm at Barnard. The desk guard called up to Kate's room so she could come down and sign him in, but she wasn't there. He tried to hail her on her cell phone, to no avail. She had mentioned she was going to "hang out" with Scarlet and some friends, so he tried Scarlet next, also without success. Closing his eyes he did a wide perimeter scan of the neighborhood. He never had a problem finding Kate because he knew her mind so intimately. Sighing and wishing the desk guard a goodnight he headed over to Plimpton dorm. He should have guessed she'd be there. Jess Starmer, Scarlet's first lesbian hookup was an RA in Plimpton. As he trudged up Broadway, and then took a right onto 120th Street he tried Kate's cell again. No answer.

When he reached Plimpton he had the desk clerk tell him which room was Jess's and let him pass without getting signed in. He took the elevator a few floors up and made his way down to the end of the hall. When he was about halfway down, Jess's door opened and a girl, from her looks, a first-year, stumbled out. She looked in a daze, almost drunk as she staggered towards him. She was very attractive, with pale skin and flowing brown hair, and her brown eyes had a glassy look, like she was intoxicated with pleasure. Her Barnard t-shirt was on backwards and inside-out. Alan passed her with a smirk, having already "seen" what was going on in the RA's room once he got to the floor.

He knocked; Scarlet opened the door. Jess didn't have a roommate, but as an RA lived alone in a double room. Scarlet was naked save a cropped top t-shirt and a fine sheen of sweat. She giggled and kissed him on the cheek dragging him inside. Clothing was strewn around the room. Kate was sitting on Jess's lap, the tall blonde gently stroking Kate's slit.

"Hi Kate, glad to see you are enjoying yourself," he greeted her. She shivered as Jess slid two fingers up her. "Hi Jess, ladies." He nodded in a friendly way at Jenna and Nila, who were sharing an armchair, touching each other gently.

"Hey Alan," Jess replied. "Surprised to see you. How did you get past security?"

"I have my ways," he answered with a sly grin.

"Well, then, welcome. Enjoy the party!"

"I'm, not sure that's such a smart idea. I saw the results of what you did to that girl who just staggered out."

Jess chuckled, "Who? Simone? She begged me for two weeks to come to one of my 'parties.' She really wanted to explore her, um, 'other' side, ya know? I don't think she knew what she had signed up for. 

"You on the other hand, as I'm led to understand, know exactly how to treat a woman," she continued, "Or so I'm told," indicating Kate, Scarlet, and Jenna, with bobs of her head. Her fingers inside Kate were quickening as she rubbed Kate's clit with her thumb. Kate was starting to gasp with pleasure, her tight little butt grinding into Jess's lap.

"I never kiss and tell," he riposted

"So are you just stopping by, or are you here to have some fun?"

"I'm allowed to join in?" he asked, grinning. "I thought this was Ladies Night."

"Well, there are five of us here. I'm sure some of the others can make use of you," Jess replied. She was faithful--in her own special way--to her fiancé back in Los Angeles, and only had sex with women when they were apart.

Alan looked down when he felt someone on the floor press against his legs. It was Nila, a very petite engineering student he had taken a few classes with in years past. She was of Indian heritage, her parents having immigrated from the subcontinent before she was born. She had a thick Queens accent.

"So, Alan, you wanna to play?" she asked, taking hold of him by his belt.

He looked over at Kate, who was looking glassy-eyed, like he had seen Simone looking in the hall. "Kate?" he started, "Do you think I should play?"

Kate shivered under the touch of Jess, and could only nod in response. Nila unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and shorts down all at once, gasping as his large dick sprang up at her. "It's beautiful," she hissed.

"Nila has only limited experience with cock," Jess deadpanned. "But I must agree, you are, ah, gifted, in that department," she said, licking her lips.

Nila grasped it with her little hands, her thumb and index finger circling the shaft, barely touching. She settled herself in front of him, her knees dug into the rug, her little buttocks resting on the back of her calves. Jenna joined her, taking the same position to her left. She kissed the head of his dick, and then pulled back, allowing Jenna to repeat the action.

"I've sucked off a few guys," Nila confessed, her voice a bare whisper, her eyes locked with Alan's. "But I never let a guy fuck me. When I met Jess I found I really liked eating pussy, and I thought I was a lesbian. I was never one of those LUG's, I just liked licking slit." Jenna licked all around Alan's penis as Nila shared her sexual history with the group. "I guess you could say I'm an oral sort of gal." She took Alan's member away from Jenna, sucking the head and a few inches of the shaft into her mouth, until the head just reached the entrance of her throat. She gagged slightly and pulled back a little, allowing her tongue to swirl around the crown of his cock. Jenna, with no dick to occupy her, started rubbing Nila's fuzzy pussy, occasionally flicking the Indian girl's clit, sometimes inching a finger into her. Nila moaned, her mouth full of Alan, and he growled at the sensation of her mouth vibrating around him. 

In the background he heard Kate orgasm, and by the time he mustered the concentration to turn his face away from Nila's piercing dark eyes he could see Kate and Jess on the bed, Kate kneeling between the blonde Californian's almost impossibly long legs, her tongue gently stroking Jess's pussy, her nose rubbing through Jess's golden pubic hair. Nila redoubled her efforts to make Alan turn his attention back to the blowjob she was providing, and he swiftly complied. Nila was shaking visibly as she blew him, mostly due to Jenna's fingering job, but partly at the thought of how the whole night was developing now that Alan was here. She knew that any man who could keep Kate satisfied in bed was sure to be an outstanding lover, and though Kate was extremely circumspect about her sex life with him, Jenna was far less reticent about sharing the dirty details. Just a few weekends ago she had spent the night with Jenna, and the blonde Texan had told of the previous semesters activities.

Nila was aware that Kate had a kinky streak, noticeably visible when she considered Kate's nipple piercings and bare crotch, but the perversions that Jenna had described, the spanking, the anal sex, her submission to Alan and Kate, symbolized by the butt plug, hearing those descriptions really turned Nila at the time, giving her one of her fiercest orgasms in memory. When Alan had entered the room this night Nila had half decided that she would give him her cherry, but hadn't decided whether it was to be this night or some other. As she concentrated on giving him oral pleasure, and though distracted by Jenna's talented fingers, she was quickly coming to a realization that the time was ripe. She did not know that Alan was using his influence to help her come to this decision.

She spat Alan's cock from her mouth, drool covering her chin and dripping down onto her perky breasts. Grabbing Alan by the wrist she pulled him to the spare bed. As he allowed himself to be pulled along by Nila he glanced behind him, seeing that Kate was still licking Jess's pussy, and Scarlet, whom he'd almost forgotten about, was fucking Kate from behind with a strap-on dildo. Kate was grunting into Jess's pussy as Scarlet pounded her, and Jess had a firm grip on Kate's long raven tresses.

Jenna laid down on the bed first, and Nila lounged between her legs, her back pressed into Jenna's tits, legs spread wide. Alan could see the moisture clinging to Nila's sparse black bush as he positioned himself on top of her and Jenna. Jenna reached behind herself on the bed and pulled one of the myriad of pillows and slid it under Nila's elfin ass.

"Please," she whimpered, her body trembling as she felt the blunt head of his cock make contact with her sticky labial lips, "Be gentle."

"Nila's a virgin," Jess declared from across the room. "I offered to pop it for her, but she didn't let. I guess she's just an old fashioned kind of girl." The trio on the other bed had finished their go 'round, and Alan could hear in Jess's voice that she was still trying to catch her breath. This information was not news to him, but he had to pretend it was so.




Alan Ch. 28



He looked down at her, and she confirmed it with a look that even a non-mind reader would be able to catch. He pushed in very slowly, halting as he came to rest against her maidenhead. He was concentrating hard, and so instead of talking, he sent out mental commands. Jess and Kate crossed the room and each took hold of Nila's legs, one on each side, gently brushing their hands over her calves in a soothing manner. Scarlet sat on the bed next to Nila and with her right hand teased a nipple, and with her left gently caressed her stretched-out pussy lips. Jenna, who was half behind Nila, and half underneath her, teased the other nipple and massaged the Indian girl's clitoris. In less than a minute Nila was gasping and moaning, her body shaking harder than before; Kate and Jess had to take a firmer grasp on her lower extremities, as most of her herky-jerky action was happening below her waist. Jenna was cooing into Nila's ear assuring her that everything would be all right, as the dusky-skinned bucked up and down, Alan's cock rubbing against her thin hymen. Suddenly her eyes rolled up into her sockets and her whole body stiffened and seized. She screamed in orgasm as her girlfriends massaged and manipulated her. Partway through her climax her cute little butt came off the pillow and her hips rolled towards Alan. Without him moving an inch the head of his cock pierced her cherry, and she screamed and howled in pain mixed with pleasure.

"Oh my God!" she wailed as Alan began to move once again, pressing himself deeper into her pulsating channel. "Yes! More! Please, please, please," she screamed as Alan began pushing and pulling his manhood within her. Her eyes rolled back again, and she screamed out another orgasm as his shaft rubbed against her clit and Jenna's fingertips. Scarlet leaned over her and pressed their lips together, and Nila opened her mouth, admitting the redhead's tongue. Alan was unrelenting, and she could not breathe with peak efficiency with Scarlet in her mouth. With her next earth-shaking climax she broke away from Scarlet's kiss, screeched so loud that she almost caused damage the ears in the room, and passed out, a huge smile plastered on her face. Jess put on a robe and went to the bathroom, returning with two warm wet washcloth. Alan slowly withdrew from Nila, and Jess and Kate cleaned the two of them, washing away the crimson traces from Alan's penis and Nila's pubis.

"Well, there's a first time she'll never forget," Jenna chuckled as she extricated herself out from underneath the slumbering, no longer virgin Nila. "That is, of course, if you didn't kill her."

Playtime continued until after one in the morning. Alan fucked all the women save Jess. About an hour after her deflowering Nila awoke. A tad stiff at first she decided to watch for a bit. Alan was sitting in the arm chair, and Jenna was in his lap bopping up and down on his erection. It took a few minutes before Nila realized that Alan was fucking her ass. Actually she would not have known if Jenna hadn't screamed, "Fuck my little asshole with your monster cock, you bastard!" Nila's eyes widened in shock. Kate saw this and shot her a sly grin before kneeling before the fucking pair, and burying her face in Jenna's hairless pussy. Jenna screamed loudly as she came, bucking so hard she fell off of Alan's dick and onto Kate, both of them hitting the deck in a tangle of arms and legs. Kate immediately popped up and took Jenna's place on Alan's cock, first sliding her pussy down his length for a few minutes, just long enough for her to come, her pussy undulating around his shaft. When she recovered she lifted up and Alan guided his erection to her rear passage. Kate kept quiet as she rode her tightest passage up and down his massive organ, and she locked eyes with Nila, who by that time was able to sit up.

Nila's attention was fixed on the scene of Alan and Kate fucking. She was almost hypnotized watching it, and when Kate beckoned her over with a wave of her hand, Nila went without thinking at all, kneeling as she saw Kate do when Alan was reaming out Jenna. She bent over and licked at Kate's bald pussy, avoiding as best she could Alan's dick. She may have been euphoric with pleasure, but tasting Kate's ass on Alan's penis was not something she remotely considered erotic.

As Alan, Kate, and Scarlet left Nila, Jenna, and Jess were pushing the two beds together and settling down for the night. When they reached the elevator Scarlet started laughing, and the other two looked to find the source of their amusement. Curled up in a ball adjacent to the elevator doors was Simone, the first-year whom Alan had seen stagger out of Jess's room hours before. Alan helped her to her feet, and the three of them took her back to Sulzberger, her dorm on the Barnard side of campus. Alan and Kate bid Scarlet adieu on the west side of Broadway and crossed back to East Campus. Less than a minute after the door was closed and the lights turned off both were asleep in each other's arms.

* * * 

It was not until mid-November until Alan saw Jack. It was taking months to dismantle Thornbow's network of spies and goons. Mr. Patel, His Lordship's former right hand man, was recalled from his unplanned retirement to assist. "By the time I'm done with him," Jack boasted in a phone conversation with Alan, "That bastard wont even remember having a step-brother."

The Abbot and the stone had returned to Japan, but Michiko had remained in Britain to assist Jack and the team. Just before Jack came back to New York, Alan had read a story in the New York Times about the high rate of murder and disappearance plaguing the upper level of Tokyo's leading crime family. The article was filled with quotes from Japanese law enforcement, speculating about what was happening; Alan had a firmer grasp on what was happening than those policemen did, despite never having visited Japan.

They gathered at Jack's completely restored townhouse for a celebratory dinner, plenty of wine and merriment evident around the long table. Peter looked relieved to be back in his native land, and was red-faced from alcohol almost as soon as the festivities commenced. When the party was over and Alan was making to leave and head back to campus he was surprised to see Michiko follow him out the door. She walked him to the end of the block and stood as he waited for a taxi.

"Do you remember that night? The night the Abbot came, and I was moved from the office to Jack's guest room? When I told you that one day we would have a very important conversation?"

Alan nodded.

"That day is tomorrow." She gave him a small kiss on the cheek and pushed him into his cab.

NEXT CHAPTER: Occidents Will Happen 



Alan Gets Lucky



Author's note: There are loving wives, but there are also loving husbands. This is a story about both. 

I'm Alan, and I'm going to re-live a fantastic memory by telling you this story. I'm an early-thirties white guy. Just under 6 feet and just under 200 pounds. I'm in good physical shape and have been told that I am ruggedly handsome. 

I work in an office and I'd had an absolute bitch of a day. One of my two assistants was on vacation, and the other had called in sick. My unreasonable boss still expected all of the work to get done. What the hell did he think I was? Triplets? Obviously I got out of work late.

I was just going to go home and chill out.

The traffic on my drive home was typical late rush hour. Sort of like a moving parking lot. I was really in a bad mood by the time I got home. I went in my apartment, went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge and chugged about half of it. Damn, my last one! Grabbed a T-V dinner, I hate those things, and stuck it in the oven. I finished my beer and went for a nice hot shower.

After my shower I just slipped on a pair of boxers and went to get my dinner out of the oven. I sat down in my favorite chair, turned the T-V on and started channel flipping while I ate. The couple of ball games that were on, weren't my teams, the movies I had already seen, and nothing else looked interesting. Great, I can't even enjoy a relaxing night at home. 

I decided I might as well get dressed and go out. I didn't feel like just sitting quietly at home, stressed out! I dressed in good jeans and a western shirt, put my boots on, and headed for my favorite bar.

I was glad traffic had thinned out some. The drive to the bar was about 20 miles, but it was my favorite place, and I might see some friends there.

I found a parking spot over in the corner of the lot, locked my car, and walked to the front door. I went in, stopped at the bar for a beer, and found myself a table where I could see the dance floor. 

Looking around the room, I couldn't believe that none of my friends were out tonight. I mean it was Friday night! As my eyes made their second pass around the room, they suddenly just stopped. An exquisite creature had caught my attention. 

Lustrous waist length, dark as midnight hair. Large brown eyes fringed with thick lashes. Beautiful full lips, slightly parted, with just a touch of color, that just begged to be kissed. A figure that would make angels sigh with envy and legs that went on forever. What a treat it would be to have those legs wrapped around me!

I took another big swallow of my beer, trying to work up the courage to go ask her to dance. She was just standing there, talking to some girl at a table across the room Obviously no one else had been brave enough to ask her to dance. 

This Mexican goddess must have sensed that I was staring at her. She looked directly at me and gave me a dazzling smile. There was no one sitting close to me so I knew the smile was for me.

I was still just sitting there, pondering the situation, when she started walking toward me. She was so graceful it was like she was just floating across the floor. I swallowed hard as she stopped in front of me. 

"Hi, I'm Nita, dance with me." 

"I'd love to. I'm Alan." I answered, as the band started to play a nice slow song. 

She was the perfect fit, under my arm, as we started to slow dance. She laid her head on my shoulder and snuggled in close. 

I wondered, "What have I done to deserve this? My angel must be watching over me."

I was glad it was a long song. We just chatted quietly about the bar and the band. 

When the song ended, she said, "Come sit with us, and meet my girlfriend." 

I was more than willing. 

When we got to the table where she had been standing, she said, "Alan, meet my friend, Sylvia. Sylvia, meet Alan, he's a good dancer."

I said, "Hello Sylvia, a pleasure to meet you." 

Sylvia answered, "Please sit down." 

The beer back on my table was almost gone anyway, so I didn't worry about it. 

I asked, "What are you girls drinking? My treat." 

I called the waitress over and ordered two margaritas and a Corona. The band was just going on break, so we had a few minutes to get acquainted.

It was their first time there, and they were disappointed that no one had asked either of them to dance. 

I made smart assed comment, "I'm available." 

They both laughed. Over the next few hours I danced a few times with Sylvia, but I spent the rest of my evening dancing with Nita. Both were good dancers.

Finally, the bartender yelled, "Last call for alcohol!" 

I knew the band was only going to play one more song. I grabbed Nita by the hand and we stepped out onto the dance floor. I was sad that my wonderful evening was about to end. 

You all know that when two girls go out together, they are leaving together. It's like a pact, one isn't leaving without the other. Damn girls' rules anyway!

The song was one of those real slow snuggle songs. Some people refer to them as belt buckle polishers. Nita was snuggled in real tight. Pressing her lovely breasts into my chest, with one arm up around my neck. I was pretty sure I was going to get a nice good-night kiss, or two, when I walked them out to their car. 

Nita whispered in my ear, "Sylvia has to go home to her husband, but I'm not finished partying. My husband, Juan, is laying in bed at home, with his leg in a cast from his toes up to his crotch. I've been really bitchy at home lately, with no sex. He just can't do much with his leg still hurting from his accident." 

She continued, "Tonight, he handed me his car keys and two large bills and he said, Honey, In my condition I can't do anything for your horny condition. I love you very much, but you need to go out and get laid! Have fun, and I'll see you tomorrow."

I was blown away! She had come down to the bar looking for a nice guy to relieve her, shall we say, "sexual tension". And she had picked me! I forgot all about my earlier bad day, my luck had certainly gotten better. 

Nita said, "I love dancing with you. Usually, if a person is a good dancer, they're pretty good in bed, too. I'd love to dance some more with you before I take you to bed."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. The only place I could think of that had music all night long was Tijuana. It was only a little over an hour away. 

I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "We can dance the night away in TJ, if you want to go, you bad girl!" 

She looked up at me, and gave me a sensual kiss with her soft lips. 

I had my answer. 

Nita said, "We'll take Juan's car. Just leave yours here. We can drop Sylvia off at home. If her husband sees Juan's car he won't think anything about it. You have to drive, though. Okay?" 

To answer her question, I simply kissed her. Body language speaks well!

We stopped at the table to get Nita's purse and to get Sylvia. The three of us walked out to where Juan's car was parked. Nita unlocked the passenger front door, opened it, and hit the little switch to unlock all the doors. 

She said, "Alan, open the back door for Sylvia". 

I opened the door and Sylvia got in with a very puzzled look on her face. Nita handed me the keys, and got in. I closed both doors, walked around to the driver's door and got in. 

Nita said to Sylvia, "Were going to drop you off and then Alan and I are going to ---" 

Sylvia cut her off, "Don't say it! That's TMI. I don't want to hear it."

Sylvia gave me directions to her house, which wasn't very far. We stopped in front of her house and she leaned up over the seat. 

She said, "Thank you for the drinks and all the dances. I had a good time."

I had turned around when she started speaking to me, and she planted a very nice good-night kiss on my lips. 

I answered, "You're welcome and thank you." 

She said good-night to Nita and got out. She was headed up her front walk as we drove away.

Nita scooted over next to me and I put my arm around her. I was glad Juan's car had a bench seat and an automatic transmission. Not bucket seats and a floor shift. 

Her face was beaming with anticipation of what we were going to do. She told me she had never done any thing like this before. That she loved Juan, and would never cheat on him, but he had TOLD her to go get laid. 

She said, "I'm so hot and bothered from not getting any for the last six weeks, that I really hope you are as good in bed as your are a dancer." 

I was going to do my damnedest to live up to her expectations!

We talked as I drove, about almost everything. 

We were almost to the border when Nita said, "We better not take the car into Mexico. Park in the big lot at the border and we'll walk across and catch a cab to downtown. That's what Juan and I always do when we come down to shop."

I parked Juan's car and was about to get out when Nita stopped me. She pulled me to her and the kiss she gave me was heavenly! Long and slow and deep! Damn this girl could kiss! 

As we broke the kiss, she reached over to my crotch and squeezed my cock thru my jeans. I was hard! 

She said, "Be patient in there, it will be worth the wait."

I got out, adjusted my cock in my jeans, and went around to open her door. She waited for me to be a gentleman. She got out and hit the lock button on her door. 

I had Juan's keys in my hand. I put them in my pocket and we headed for the border crossing.

We walked, holding hands, thru the gate and took one of the waiting cabs to downtown. We drank and danced at a couple of clubs. 

She insisted that I let Juan pay for the drinks. I wasn't going to argue!

After about three hours, Nita said, "Okay, I'm all danced out. Now I want to go somewhere where I can ravage you!" 

We left the club, caught a cab back to the border, and went thru customs as the sun

was coming up. We got in Juan's car and headed for the highway. 

We realized how tired we were. It was 6:00 AM! We had only driven as far as Chula Vista when I saw a quaint little hotel, just off the freeway. I took the next exit and went back to it. They had one room available. We took it. It was on the second floor at the end of the hall.

It certainly wasn't fancy, but it was clean, had a nice bathroom, a big over-stuffed easy chair, a TV, and a queen size bed! 

As soon as we entered the room, Nita put her arms around me and said, "Juan told me to go have a good time, and even though all the dancing was fun, the real fun starts now!" 

I answered, "I'm up for that!"

Nita looked serious for a minute, and said, "Juan and I have our family, so I've had my tubes tied." 

I answered, "After my divorce, I decided I didn't want another family. I have two beautiful daughters. I had a vasectomy. I guess that makes us Double Safe."

Nita smiled that heavenly smile again and said, "It feels so much better without a condom." 

I answered, "I agree!"

She stepped back, and started a slow, seductive strip tease. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a lacy white bra, contrasting wonderfully against her skin. She unzipped her skirt, letting it slide down over the swell of her hips, and let it just drop to the floor as she stepped out of it. 

She put her shoulders back as she removed her blouse, thrusting her breasts out to me. She was now just in her bra, a tiny scrap of material that could hardly be called even a thong, her stockings and her heels.

She reached behind herself and unhooked her strapless bra, teasingly paused, and then let it slip from her breasts to join her skirt on the floor. 

I was mesmerized by the view of her beautiful golden globes, topped with chocolate tipped nipples. My mouth was watering for a taste. 

I reached out with both hands, cupping a breast in each hand. I flicked my thumbs up across her nipples, she moaned. I started to gently knead her full mounds of flesh. Firm, but still oh so soft.

I sucked lightly on each nipple, imagining that the were candy kisses. Instead of melting in my mouth, they got rock hard! 

She pulled back from me, but before I could even think that I had done anything wrong, she pulled my shirt tail out of my jeans and literally ripped it open. Thank God for snaps! 

She said, "Take your boots off!" 

I sat down in the big easy chair and took off my boots and socks, as fast as I could and stood back up. She unbuckled my belt and I undid the button and zipper on my jeans to get them off as quickly as I could. My boxers followed them to the floor.

She pushed me back down into the chair. I was sitting down, but my raging hard-on was standing up. She stood in front of me and seductively slid her tiny thong down over her curvy hips and down her long gorgeous legs. I was in heaven. 

She stepped out of her heels, but left her stockings on. They were thigh highs. 

She took a deep breath, and said "I have never done this with anyone but Juan." 

I answered her, "I am honored, and thrilled, that you chose me!" 

She stepped forward and straddled my lap, with her knees spread wide, resting them on the chair. We shared a kiss that would melt anyone's resistance. 

She said, "Lets do this!", as she lowered her pussy slowly down over my cock. 

I know where the term, "tunnel of love" came from. We were a perfect fit, my cock just long enough to reach her cervix, and just big enough to be a tight fit. 

She kissed me again, and then slowly started to ride me. She said, "Lets go slow. I want this to last a while." 

I was certainly agreeable. I didn't want to cum quickly and disappoint her. No, I was determined to give her the fucking of her life. I also thought that it might be the fucking of my life!

I reached up and massaged her breasts, occasionally lightly pinching those marvelous nipples. It seemed like every time I pinched her nipples, she had an orgasm. I was glad the alcohol had slowed me down a bit. I didn't want to cum yet. We lasted for about twenty minutes. Just enjoying each other. 

Finally I said, "Lets move to the bed." 

I stood up, holding her to me. She wrapped those gorgeous legs around me. It felt as good as I had imagined back in the bar. I walked the few steps to the bed, carrying her. The covers were already turned down.

I gently laid her on the edge of the bed. It was nice and high, one of those thick, pillow top mattresses. She laid back, with the most enchanting smile on her face. I raised her legs up to my shoulders.

I had my feet planted firmly on the floor. I slowly started thrusting into her, going as deep as I could, just touching the bottom of her tight pussy, then backing out 'til just the head of my cock was in her.

After a few minutes of teasing both of us, I knew I was about to lose control. I started thrusting harder and faster. I felt her muscles clamp down on my cock as she had an intense orgasm. 

She was moaning loudly, almost yelling. 

I shot stream after stream of my man milk into her. I leaned down over her and we held each other tightly.

After a few minutes of just holding each other, she spoke, "God I needed that! You were wonderful!" 

I said, "You were wonderful, too! I'll have to agree with you, good dancers do make good lovers."

I stood up, and went to the bathroom. I came back with two warm wash cloths and handed her one. We cleaned up and then snuggled up in bed. We went to sleep, face to face, holding each other.

I was awakened a couple of hours later, feeling those wonderful, soft lips bringing my cock back to life. I woke up as my cock was waking up. 

She spoke softly, "We only have today. I want you again." 

She rolled over onto her back. I moved over on top of her, laying between those longs, shapely legs. 

She wrapped her legs around my ass, as I eased my swollen member into her dripping wet, waiting pussy. She was ready to go at it again. There was no slow teasing, no waiting, none of that this time. 

It was fast and furious. Kissing, hugging, thrusting, squeezing, moaning and groaning, like it might be our last time. We climaxed together in a fierce finish. 

We spoke almost in unison, "Damn, that was fantastic!"

I rolled off beside her and we went right back to sleep.

The next thing I heard was Nita saying, "Wake up, Alan." 

I stirred and sat up on the edge of the bed. She was standing in front of me, looking at me. She was holding a cup of in room instant coffee in each hand. I hadn't even smelled it, I was in such a deep sleep. 

"Have a cup", she said. 

I reached out, but instead of taking one of the cups of coffee, I took her delicious breasts in my hands, as she held the cups out to the sides, out of my way.

I slowly sucked one of her dark nipples into my mouth. I sucked hard and bit down gently. 

She squirmed and said, "Don't make me spill the coffee!" 

I moved to the other nipples as I said, "Just be careful."

sucked her other nipple into my mouth, again sucking hard and biting down gently. 

She let out a moan as her orgasm over took her. 

She said, "I'm still sensitive from earlier. You don't play fair!"

I let her nipple slip slowly out from between my lips. "I'll take that coffee now, and I won't need any sweetener." 

She gave me one of those looks, handed me a cup, and sat down in the big easy chair, only a few feet away, facing me. She leaned back in the chair and took a sip of coffee. She slowly and sexily spread her legs as wide apart as the chair would allow.

I just sat there. Unable to speak or drink my coffee. There before me was the most beautiful Mexican goddess anyone could imagine. Her long hair spilling down over one shoulder, but not covering her breast, full and firm with a luscious dark nipple, long shapely legs, and a small patch of dark hair above her womanhood. It wasn't shaved, but it was neatly trimmed. 

I thought, "Juan, you are one lucky bastard!"

I knew this was a one time thing, a chance of a lifetime, and I was going to make the most of it. I looked at the clock, it read 5:30 PM. 

I filled my mouth with hot coffee, letting it warm my tongue. I sat my coffee on the night stand and swallowed the coffee as I stood up and walked to Nita. 

She looked up at me, and I could see the lust, deep down in her eyes. 

I got down on my knees between her legs. I smiled at her. I slid my hands slowly around her silky smooth ass, and pulled it right to the front edge of the chair. She leaned back in the chair as I raised her legs up and hooked them out over the arms of the chair. 

I wasn't looking at her eyes now! I was staring at a swollen, wet, pink pussy, inviting me to devour it. I started with long slow licks all the way along her outer lips. They puffed out more, exposing her inner lips. I reached up with my fingers and pushed the hood of her clit up, exposing her engorged button. 

I gently sucked it into my mouth and started flicking my tongue up and down over it. Nita exploded, flooding my mouth with her juices. I let her recover, and then made her cum again with my tongue. She was extremely sensitive at this point. I started pushing my tongue as far into her as I could, then withdrawing it to again lick her engorged love button. She came twice more! 

Finally she moaned, "Let me rest a minute. I'm too sensitive! I can't stand it!"

I stood up and picked up one of the wash cloths from earlier. I wiped my face and then leaned down to kiss her. She was still holding half a cup of coffee in one hand. 

I reached out and took her cup, setting it on the night stand, and said, "You didn't spill a drop." 

She gave me a wicked smile and answered, "Maybe not coffee, but, -----." 

I knew what she meant. 

I let her rest for a couple of minutes, catching her breath. 

Then I said, "One more time." 

I grabbed the pillows off the bed and put them on the floor in front of the chair. When I knelt down in front of her, with my knees on the pillows, my cock was positioned perfectly at her entrance. She was spread wide open. I leaned down and we shared a hungry kiss. 




Alan Gets Lucky



Then teasingly, I slowly slid my cock all the way to the bottom of her hot, slippery pussy. I started using a few short strokes, and then a fast hard one, and then repeat it all over, again and again. She was enjoying my style. 

After a few minutes of teasing, it got serious. No more short strokes, just long, fast hard ones. Every time my body slammed into hers, it sounded like someone was getting spanked. Smack, smack, smack. 

I felt her muscles start to spasm, milking my cock. It put me over the edge and I flooded her cunt with cum!

She was panting for breath and her whole upper body was flushed. Her orgasm was the strongest, most intense one, of all the orgasms I had given her! We had saved the best for last.

I collapsed forward, leaning into her. We just held each other, basking in the after glow of togetherness! Neither of us wanting to lose the intimate contact by separating our bodies. 

When my cock finally started to soften, I raised up and gave her a tender kiss. I pulled my cock from its warm, wonderful resting place, and sat down on the edge of the bed. I looked at the clock again. It now read 6:30 PM. 

I handed her cup to her and we quietly drank our now cold coffee. It didn't seem to matter. 

What a wild 24 hours it had been since I had walked out of work yesterday. It was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced. 

Nita finally spoke, "I guess I should take you back to your car and I should get on home to see how Juan is doing. By the time we drive back and I get home, it will have been almost 24 hours since he told me to go get laid." 

She went on, "This has been a wonderful 24 hours! I'm glad I picked you, Alan. You were just what I needed."

I felt like I had just been given a medal of honor. I said, "Nita, if you ever need me again, I hope I'm around and available!" 

She laughed.

We enjoyed a long leisurely shower together, just rubbing and touching. Sometimes just holding each other as the hot water ran down over us. We were running out of hot water so we got out and dried each other off. 

We got dressed, checked out, and started back. She was driving now. We drove thru a fast food place to get something to eat. We were both famished!. We ate as she drove, and talked about how wonderful our one night and day together had been.

When we got back to the bar where I had left my car, it was still sitting there in the corner of the lot. Saying good-bye was difficult and awkward. 

The last thing I remember saying was, "Tell Juan there is no way I can ever thank him enough, for telling you to go get laid!" 

She answerd back, "Maybe our paths will cross again some day. At least I hope so." 

We shared one last passionate kiss. 

I got out, closed the door, and she drove away. 

I got in my car and just sat there for a while. Thinking back over the previous 24 hours. 

"Alan," I said out loud, "You too, are one lucky bastard!" 

I finally started my car and headed back to my apartment. I wondered if I would ever see her again.

*

Questions, comments or suggestions are welcome.

Feel free to e-mail me.



Alan in the Office 01



Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, containing accounts of his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.

His younger friend Alan told the following tales to Ron. These stories stand alone from the RON'S JOURNAL series.



******************** 1: Fun in the office

Sylvie's sleek voice whispered into my ear.

"Geez, Alan, have you seen Monique this morning? She's so pissed off, her ears are glowing red!"

Set in her dark black face, Sylvie's shining too-green eyes matched the sheath dress that revealed just enough of her sleek skin and generous curves. I turned from my computer terminal as my fellow Programming Assistant eased into my cubicle and sat on my credenza, crossing her well-muscled legs.

"Well, I noticed that our pouty little friend seemed to pout even more than usual today," I said.

I glanced at Sylvie's legs and body, as she intended, then looked up to those bright eyes framing her wide nose and generous mouth.

"Her boyfriend just dumped her and she's about to go ballistic. You know how she is. When she gets like that, she looks like she could rape somebody."

"Oh shit, I hope it isn't me," I breathed. Fat chance.

The subject of our gossip, tart cold Monique of the pouting lips and breasts, the subtle thighs and ankles, who always dressed as some old pud's fantasy of a naughty Parisian schoolgirl, glided by without looking at us. I feared my colleague's return. 

"Who could Felipe prefer over Monique? She's just the hottest piece on this whole campus, and you know it. Felipe must have gone to some whole other level."

Sylvie grinned, "Seems like Felipe spent some time with Leilah down in ops."

I was nonplussed. "Wow, he managed to crack her tight Persian shell? He must be slicker and sexier than anyone imagined."

___

The time: midmorning on a late autumn day in 1980. The place: the big computer center of a regional bank, in San Francisco's suburban East Bay. What the bank called its "country club campus" sat at the edge of open rolling grassy hills. We inmates called it the "tiny cubicle office building" or just "Green Hell".

Besides massive IBM System 370 computers, the campus complex housed hundreds of programmers, plus the operations and support staffs. Dozen-person teams of programmers were herded in Groups and Sections on the upper floors. Downstairs were the Operations pukes who fed and ran the machines. Thus was our world enclosed. 

Each Group manager hired a Programming Assistant to maintain the software libraries of the project teams, track batch-job submissions and runs, coordinate outputs, all that necessary tedium. There were over a dozen of us PA's in Green Hell. We were mostly clerical, but some, including me, had qualified for the brutal in-house programmer training class. We would soon start its next cycle. Those who survived would emerge as Professionals.

Most Group managers were male, and hired attractive female PA's. My desirable boss Cyndi, just five years older than me and a rising star here, had hired ME because I was smart, and not ugly, and she felt a certain chemistry. I beat 100 other applicants for the job.

The PA's I consorted with were mostly lovely young things dressed to be easy on male eyes. Ah, when Group manager Lynda needed a PA, she hired Terence, who was, if you will excuse my language, a screeching flaming faggot. Lynda was dominant, aggressive, loud, profane. Her husband Larry was innocuous. I envisaged Larry wearing a French maid's costume in their bedroom.

Sylvie, Monique and I were PA's for adjacent Groups. Sylvie was sweet and smart and hot for me. Monique was cold and reserved in the office but the inner Monique was voracious and ruthless. Those who thwarted Monique faced the brunt of her icy steel-edged anger. Few endured her anger twice.

___

I was not surprised when Monique stalked by a little later and ordered me, "Number three, five minutes."

I sighed and, at the appointed time, headed for Supply Room #3.

As I keyed through the door, I saw Monique's black lace panties and a tube of lube on a shelf next to where she sat on a flat-topped supply cart. She stood, walked to me and dropped my trousers and boxers. She knelt before me and sucked my cock to rigidity. She spit into a paper towel, sat on the cart again with her skirt raised and her legs spread wide, her cunt obviously lubed, and said, "Fuck me. Hard."

I obliged, roughly shoving into her cunt and slamming her for several minutes. She shoved me back, bent over the cart with her pussy aimed at me and said, "Again. Harder." 

I pounded away at her exquisite ass and fingered her clanging clit until she grunted and pushed me away.

"I'll get you again later," she said as she resumed her panties and strode haughtily into the corridor.

I quickly jerked-off to relieve my swollen cock, and then stumbled back to work.

I met my girlfriend Moira in the cafeteria for our regular lunchtime session. We munched our sandwiches and headed to the changing rooms for our around-the-campus run. I admired her slim but curvy Irish figure when she emerged in shorts and a sports bra. Real red hair in just the right places - that was Moira.

Moira was a senior programmer in a Group upstairs from my Section. I had met her in Santa Barbara after I finished my six-year Navy service the year before. The civilian world did not really need my skills with torpedo warheads, so I was studying those ominous devices, computers.

When the bank hired Moira, I tagged along with her, and wormed my way into Green Hell. We lunched daily and slept together nightly. She did not seem to know how or where I spent my breaks downstairs.

Just before the afternoon break, Sylvie sashayed into my cubicle.

"Did Monique bust your nuts this morning? Poor Alan. See me in number five in ten minutes, OK?"

I keyed into supply room #5 on the other side of the wing in just five minutes. I sat on its supply cart and slowed my breathing, trying for a quick meditation.

Sylvie came in, shoved the door shut, and quickly skinned her too-green sheath dress up over her head. She wore nothing but green pumps on her feet and a woven-sliver chain around her strong neck. She drew me to her.

Just as I dropped trou and kissed Sylvie deeply, the door opened and Monique marched in and pulled off her panties.

"I thought I'd find you two here. Alan, lick me."

Monique pushed my head into her open crotch. I slurped her already-damp cunt. She seemed to use anger as foreplay. She pulled me up by my longish dark hair, dropped to her knees, and blew me to woody hardness. Sylvie stood in a corner, a look of wonderment adorning her glorious glabrous nudity.

Monique stood, pushed Sylvie onto her back on the supply cart, and bent to her.

"Alan, fuck me. Sylvie, I need to get the taste of man out of my mouth. Spread your legs."

Monique tongued the pinkness within Sylvie's dark pussy as I pistoned into her. The supply cart rolled back and forth with our exertions. Monique reached up and abused Sylvie's nipples. Sylvie gasped, and groaned, and came wetly. I continued pounding Monique's butt until she grunted, pushed me back, and stood straight.

"That wasn't bad. As a reward, you can suck my pussy. Lay down on the cart."

Sylvie and I exchanged places. Had she expected this encounter? Monique climbed up, straddled my head, and shoved her used cunt onto my mouth. I did my best. Our mixed juices did not taste too bad.

With my legs hanging off the cart, my unrelieved cock stood out like a lonely sword. Sylvie bent over and backed her wet pussy onto it, sheathing it as her dress had sheathed her own body. She moved her hips back and forth, fucking me as if I were some demonic dildonic device.

I mouthed Monique until I came like a fucking firehose in Sylvie's flaming cunt. My epileptic-like shaking almost threw Monique from the supply cart, but she had locked her knees and hands tightly on my head. She dismounted at her own pace.

"You two can go back to work now. But I'm warning you – DON'T FUCK WITH ME!"

Monique grabbed her panties and marched out. Sylvie and I stared at each other, dazed. She came over and held me and kissed me. I finally got to nuzzle her ample breasts. We quivered together for a minute.

"Wow, I sure hope her next boyfriend lasts longer," Sylvie muttered. 

We cleaned ourselves off as best we could, and helped each other get dressed. We still stank of sweat and sex and sin. Ain't no way Moira wouldn't smell this on me on our drive home. What to do?

I returned to my cubicle. My phone rang a few minutes later.

"My team meeting is running longer than expected. I'll be about a half-hour late," Moira explained.

"No problem," I replied, "I'll just take another run when I'm through here. See you at six then, love."

Whew. I could run, and shower, and be all squeaky-clean and safe and loyal when next we kissed.



******************** 2: Fun with the cow-orkers

Green Hell was a family-oriented workplace. Many employees there were married couples, or seriously dating. Intra-office relationships were encouraged. 

Management was not dumb. Programming was a high-stress occupation, with lots of drug and alcohol consumption. Uninvolved mates could not always understand the long hours and intense concentration involved. At other large computer centers, divorce rates were high. Same-shop partners of Green Hell staff knew exactly what their mates were going through. Tensions eased markedly. (Except Monique.) Productivity improved. Happy staff made for good business.

Moira and I had close friends there, mostly other couples. 

We spent many funny evenings with Rog and Suzy, playing cards and drinking wine after their two kids were put to bed. Moira and Suzy occasionally gave fashion shows for Rog and me, modeling dresses and swimsuits, but we did not go beyond that. When Rog started pulling tax scams, we were glad we had not been closer to them.

Hog-riders Phil and Denise were another matter. Phil was a long lanky Texan who occasionally snorted a little coke. Denise was a cute little chestnut-haired ex-nun. What kind of guy was Phil? The kind who could persuade a nun to divorce Christ. Figure it out.

We four regularly went camping together in the Sierra Nevada Mountains on weekends. We threw gear and supplies into the back of Moira's old pickup, and Phil and Denise rode their Harleys in loose formation, all of us chatting on VHF radio.

We would find a remote campsite, pitch one roomy tent, cook up a good meal, sit around the campfire (naked on warm nights) and pass the wine and joints. Then we would crawl into our tent and join in various couplings and triplings and quadruplings. No cocks went into the guys' mouths or any rectums, but just about everything else happened.

One night, at a rough site below Lake Tahoe, I was eating Denise who was eating Moira who was eating Phil – and a bear growled nearby. Phil did not quite get his cock bitten off, but he was seriously impaired for the rest of the weekend. Hey, more pussy for me!

Other times, we added a raft to our gear, and we would ride wild creeks and rivers, naked whenever possible. The gals always sat together so that if a wave bucked Denise from the raft, Moira could grab her line and haul her back in. Yes, Moira was strong. Every rescue earned a long kiss.

The day after setting up camp, we would go hog-riding, with Moira sticking her tits into Phil's back while I kept my hands on Denice's breasts as I rode behind her. Their saddlebags were loaded with blankets and sunscreen, just in case.

"That knoll off to the left seems like a good place to spread the blankets."

"Damn straight. Hang on, the track up there looks a bit rough."

"You always give me plenty to hang on to, Denise. Mmmmm..."

"Shut up or all you'll get is sloppy seconds."

"What, again?"

Moira's ex-manager Anaya (from India) married her debugging specialist Josef (from Austria) in a garden ceremony. After the reception fizzled out around midnight, the newlywed couple invited Saul and Farizah (from Israel), and Moira and I, into their hot-tub. The wedding-night orgy lasted till dawn.

Anaya's wedding present was a series of triple penetrations, with Josef sheathing himself in her anus while Saul and I traded off fucking her pussy and her mouth. Josef's present involved receiving Saul's long clean cock in his rectum while Anaya, Moira and Farizah took turns going all oral-genital with his mouth and cock. I was satisfied with whichever woman was not otherwise occupied at any moment.

Josef and Anaya's first anniversary party was a near repeat of the wedding-night festivity, except that Farizah had broken with Saul and had hooked up with Tamara (from Uruguay). Anaya's TP required the addition of a big dildo, and Josef got my cock up his butt this time. Otherwise, as with the previous orgy, we all managed to find varied pleasant combinations through the night.

Josef and Anaya, and Saul and Farizah, and later Farizah and Tamara, all lived some distance from us, so we did not drop into each other's homes and beds very often, but they remained lusty friends.

___

Things slowed down a little while I was in the programmer training class.

The class was non-trivial. Each student worked their full daily 7 1/2+ hours job, had a quick dinner, then had another 7 1/2+ hours of classwork and homework. Except for a couple one-week vacation breaks, this lasted for TEN MONTHS.

Nobody failed. Unlike college, the instructors' goal was not to mystify students, but to prepare them to WORK, as team members. A couple students in my class dropped out because of family problems, but we had no divorces nor suicides, and nobody flunked out. Failure was not an option.

At graduation, we each received a CERTIFICATE OF SURVIVAL. And we moved into much higher-paying jobs.

All except for our friend Judy. Judy had been a senior business analyst with an MBA, got tired of the corporate horseshit that entailed, and took a major pay cut to move into software engineering. That eventually bored her too. She later quit, got ordained as a Unitarian pastor, and started a radio ministry for agnostics. Go figure.

Judy was small and dark, taut and intense, painfully neurotic with justifiable Mommy issues. Judy rode masochistically painful bicycle races. She loved the California Death Ride over the highest Sierra passes. She invited Moira and I into her Berkeley Hills house, invited us into her bed, and damn near massacred us with her lust.

Judy validated the truism: Never go to bed with a woman with more problems than you.

Dyan was totally different, tall and thin and dark, dressed like a hippie, and radiating an aura of peace and calm and joy. Dyan said her life's goal was to be a saint. She spent her breaks riding a building elevator while in a full lotus position, meditating. 

Dyan had married a much older famous jazz guitarist, and devoted herself to managing his remaining career. After he died, Dyan transformed herself, from saintly Earth Mother computer programmer, to the slickest and calmest business consultant we have ever seen.

Dyan only shared herself with her closest friends. Moira and I treasured her friendship, and her lips, and the rest of her truly miraculous body and self.



******************** 3: Trouble brewing with management

I received a note from Cyndi requesting my presence. This woman who hired me had been promoted to Section director, moved out of her big cubicle to a bigger office, and was now my new boss Takuma's boss.

Cyndi had an almost beautiful face framed by neck-length brunette hair, with piercing blue eyes, and a beautiful body she kept carefully concealed inside professional garb. Her brown jacket and knee-length skirt revealed little flesh but could not hide her curves. As I mentioned, we shared a certain chemistry. Her strong personality always seemed tinted with a slight trepidation when she spoke to me.

Cyndi's stern expression softened when her eyes met mine. She trembled slightly, then gathered herself up.

"Alan, I know you'll be graduating in a couple weeks, so you won't be Takuma's PA much longer. You'll need to get with him to interview your replacement candidates. And I shouldn't tell you this, but you'll probably be assigned to Merrill's team over in Section Six. You might want to preview their software so you'll have a leg up when you get there."

"Thanks for the tip," I nodded. Oh boy, Merrill's PA was dear sweet Rachel. We'd had fun before. We could again.

Cyndi looked down at some papers on her desk, took a breath, and looked up.

"Alan, I know you've been involved with some of the PA's. And I know that your girlfriend Moira doesn't seem to know. And I want to warn you, Alan: You either need to be extra discreet, or you should break off your little affairs. You and Moira can go far together, very far. Don't ruin your chances."

Cyndi took another breath.

"Alan, I'm not the only one in management who's noticed the effects of your games. My boss, and his boss, are both aware of disturbances among the PA's. Some other Section directors have their suspicions. It's been better since Monique grabbed Achebe and stopped her little shit-fits. But once you're a programmer, you won't have access to the supply closets. You'll have to look elsewhere for your playtimes."

I thought to myself, "Maybe I won't have keycard access – but Rachel will!"

"Does 'elsewhere' include a director's locked office?" I asked as I stood and moved towards her.

Cyndi sighed. I leaned over, held her head in my hands and kissed her softly. I unbuttoned and removed her tight brown jacket. I rubbed her face and her neck. Her nipples hardened and protruded through her thin bra and blouse. I fondled her gently.

"Oh FUCK, Alan, how do you do this to me?" she gasped as she stood. I slid her skirt and lace panties to her ankles and off her feet.

Cyndi undid my belt and dropped my trousers and boxers to the floor. She stroked my enlarged cock. I moved my fingers around and into her already wet pussy. She moaned and sat on the edge of her desk, legs spread.

I move forward. She guided me into her inviting depths. We were still for some moments, then slowly started thrusting into each other. My hands were on her breasts. Her arms were around my neck. She pulled my face to hers and kissed me as if her life depended on it.

Our groins impacted fast, forcefully, fatally. She cried with her little death. I expired into her mouth. Our juices inundated her desk. After a timeless time, I softly pulled out of her, but still held our torsos and faces together.

"Cleanup on aisle three," I whispered. 

Cyndi slapped me gently. "You're the cleanup crew today."

This wasn't a good time to lick her clean, so I settled for a handful of tissues from her top desk drawer. We straightened ourselves, everything normal except for blushes and pulses.

Our chemistry still blended well.

Lunchtime approached. Moira and I ate and jogged and showered, and resumed our tasks. My tasks took me around the building, to the other wing, past Merrill's team. Rachel winked at me. I leered in response and kept going, back to my cubicle.

Sylvie put her hand on my shoulder as I keyed-in some job run data and said, "Number four in ten."

In the supply room, Sylvie shucked off the tight metalflake blue dress that matched today's contact lenses. Yesterday, she had been candy apple red; the day before, her favorite iridescent green. Tomorrow she might be safety orange. She took her status as a "colored girl" very seriously.




Alan in the Office 01



"I have a meeting in just a few minutes. We don't have time for facials or fucking today," Sylvie said, "so get your damn fingers over here and inside me."

I quickly had my mouth on one tit, one hand on the other, and three fingers manipulating her pussy, while she expertly jerked my cock and strummed my nipples. We both came satisfactorily.

"Cyndi gave me a ration this morning, told me that we're drawing attention of the mucky-mucks," I said as we put ourselves back together. "Maybe her boss needs some distractions."

"So Tomanski needs to be distracted, hmm? I have some ideas – maybe including his wife. Stay tuned."

I could hardly wait.



******************** 4: Adventures in software engineering

The programmer training class was exhausting, demanding a full workday every day, followed by just as much time for classwork and homework. We trained in top-down structured analysis and design, COBOL program coding and debugging, JCL and batch processing procedures, and just whose buttons to push in Operations to get jobs to run smoothly.

Moira and I built a Heathkit home computer system, soldering and screwing parts together. She built the printer. Our cats watched from nearby safe ledges; close encounters with soldering irons persuaded them to keep their distance from our enticing work. Now I could submit test compiles from home.

Moira did not keep extended office hours unless forced to by production or debugging crises. Such crises inflamed her Irish temper. So instead of driving home with her after class, I usually caught rides with fellow students Judy, or Brenda or Katarina, who lived in our direction. 

I rode with Judy many Friday nights – she would stay over for the weekend – and we usually stopped for an en-route roadside fuck during the thirty-mile drive.

Brenda was my age, not too tall, with beige hair that hung past her oval face to sweep past her full breasts. She was married, perpetually horny, and drove a sunroof SAAB. We drank cold wine as we rolled and shared rude gossip about our classmates. We often stopped for oral fun, taking turns lying atop the car, legs hanging through the sunroof, while being eaten by the other from the driver's seat.

Brenda was afraid of her husband Andre, and of Moira, and never accepted invitations into our bed.

"Alan, if Andre ever finds out about us, he'll divorce me, or worse."

"What, you think he isn't screwing your babysitter already? If not, he's gay."

"My grandmother babysits for us. Oh shit, I hope he's not screwing her!"

Katarina was nearly as tall as I, a long dark beauty with cropped black hair and perfect curves. She was married to Georges, a locomotive driver, what most in the US would call a railroad engineer. Katarina sometimes slept over with Moira and me when Georges was away on long runs. And not just for hot sex – she used our computer for her own COBOL compiles. 

Katarina drove some friends to San Francisco for a huge memorial vigil in Golden Gate Park after John Lennon's assassination. I stood with Katarina and fucked her from behind as the crowd around us sang ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

Class eventually ended, the day before my 26th birthday. The company threw a graduation party for the survivors.

We gathered at the ritzy hotel, drank the celebratory champagne, listened to the usual speeches, sucked up more free champagne, and stepped outside to smoke and snort and neck. I deep-tongued lovely classmates I had not touched before, was groped by some who had not touched me before, and watched with amusement as our lead teacher kissed his boyfriends. 

Many of us went upstairs to a large suite for the Survivor's Orgy. It went about as you might expect. The company paid for our visits to an STD screening clinic the next day.

___

I moved to my new job on Merrill's team. I maintained relations with Rachel, our programming assistant, but did not really have time anymore to engage with the other PA's. This was another type of graduation for me – from clericals to engineers as fuckmates, and not so much in supply closets.

Xenia joined the team a couple months after me. She was a lean Greek girl with curly jet-black hair and nervous feet. Whenever she sat for more than a minute, she slid her sandals off and rubbed her almost prehensile appendages together, her toes caressing each other. Have you ever seen big toes twiddle?

I found Xenia's thin bare feet enticingly sexy. She noticed my staring, and smiled. She often found excuses to come to my cubicle, sit in my extra chair, and set her bare feet into my lap. I knew to massage, not tickle. She blocked the outside view while toe-grasping my cock through my trouser fabric.

"Ummm Xenia, what's your most engrossing sexual fantasy?"

"Oh, I just wish I were double-jointed, so I could pinch my tits with my toes while I frig myself with my fingers – with my butt in the air, and a hot cock or two sticking down into me."

"Be sure to give me a video," I gasped as her toes finished me off.

Sheila was older, maybe forty, a senior analyst on a neighboring team, an English gal with shimmering silver hair in a long swirling bob, and a penchant for tight grey skirt suits that showcased her fabulous butt and thighs and generous bosom. She also noticed my staring. When we rode an elevator together, she usually contrived to grind that smooth ass into my hot crotch.

I snared Sheila one afternoon and persuaded her to accompany me to her minivan.

"But Alan, what do you want with me? I'm old enough to be your, umm, your youngest aunt."

"Yeah, well, I shagged her too," I crooned into her earlobe as the elevator descended.

Sheila slapped me gently but led me on to the parking lot.

Dina, also on a neighboring team, was without a doubt one of the absolute hottest women I have ever been near, almost a Hungarian Barbarella clone. Her husband Lazlo ran a limousine service. She lived near Moira and me and regularly carpooled with us.

Moira's rebuilt 1969 Chevy longbed stepside pickup had a front bench seat and a stick shift on the floor. With no room for a center passenger, Dina sat in my lap. She favored short skirts and crotchless panties. We often rode home with Dina impaled on my cock while Moira reached over to rub her thigh and clit.

"Hey guys, Lazlo has a party job tonight and won't be home till late. Do you mind if I spend the evening with you?"

No, of course we did not mind, especially after she drizzled honey on us both and licked it all off.

___

Many team leaders and Group managers followed the Green Hell tradition of weekly team lunches and potluck picnics. The lunches were at nearby restaurants, the picnics in local parks. Much wine was always consumed. Most teams were very international, so the potluck offerings were quite varied and delicious. 

If two or three of staff somehow disappeared together for some few minutes, well, that was expected. Yes, these weekly team-building activities were fun.

Sheila raised Newfoundlands; she was always given doggie bags of leftovers to feed the huge Newfies. Talk about lucky dogs! I was a pretty lucky dog too, because I had an open invitation to join in Moira's team's feeds, with all the attendant shop talk and gossip and flirtation. My social circle kept expanding.

We had another food-oriented tradition: testing new hires for flexibility. When someone from outside the Bay Area was hired, the first team lunch was at a local Moroccan restaurant. Customers sat on the floor, shoeless, on thin pillows, around a low round table covered in communal food dishes and no tableware, and ate with their fingers. Some folks quit and flew back to Iowa or Georgia the next day. Good riddance.

The test for sexual flexibility was simpler. If they did not respond to signals, they were left alone.

The above stories seem to imply that all the Green Hell staff did was feed and/or fuck each other, in and/or out of the office. Not true. Not quite, anyway. We actually did manage to work productively. The proof? The bank did not go bankrupt. Successful software was produced. Bonuses were awarded. And yes, fucks happened.

Sylvie did manage to distract Tomanski, the Division exec. I did not catch all the details, but the distraction somehow involved a camcorder, Tomanski's lovely Eurasian wife, several large cocks of various colors, and significant quantities of leather and latex. Tomanski stopped fretting about clerical sex.

Programming assistants remained highly desirable because they held the keycards to the supply rooms, the closest we had to boudoirs in Green Hell. Get on a PA's bad side, and they might charge rent.

Alas, all good things come to an end. A small financial group in Seattle with only a couple dozen manic programmers hired Moira and I as a package deal at triple our previous salaries. The money sure was nice, but we lost all our friends and fucktoys. And the new workplace did not have the same loose vibe. Those guys just could *not* be seduced.

Headhunters from Silicon Valley eventually lured us back to the Bay Area. I'll tell those tales later.



AUTHOR'S NOTE:: I have yet to finish Ron's notes about Alan's adventures, and stories told by others of his friends. Your feedback is more than welcome.



Alan in the Office 02



Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, containing accounts of his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.

His younger friend Alan told the following tales to Ron. These stories stand alone from the RON'S JOURNAL series. You should read Alan's prior episodes before continuing here.

 ******************** 5: I left my heart ass cock in San Francisco

"I'm going nuts. I haven't fucked anyone but you for weeks now. I mean, you're OK, but I want more."

"I know what you mean. I love your pussy to death, but I sure miss variety, and not just whipped cream."

"Has this whole office been castrated? I flash some nice cleavage but they just look at their printouts."

"Their obsessions aren't our obsessions. And I think all the rain has grown lichen between their ears."

Seattle sucked.

Well, not totally. Just in comparison to the San Francisco Bay area. Too wet, too cold, too culturally isolated in the early 1980s. No Microsoft billionaires pumping cash into the scene, not yet. And too many sexually repressed workaholics, at least among the geeks and suits of the financial group that hired us. We didn't find many compatible connections outside the office either. Translation: not enough fuckbuddies.

Moira and I had been together for a few years. Her slim, athletic, bouncy Irish figure, just a little shorter than my 6"1', featured juicy anatomical delights, and real red hair in all the right places. We fit together very nicely, internally and externally, but we weren't exactly committed, not exclusively.

Our motto: Do nothing behind my back that you wouldn't do in front of me. Well, sometimes I fudged a bit.

My background was in torpedo warheads (for the US Navy). Moira's was in security systems. We were about equally techno-geeks. A couple years before, we had built a Heathkit home computer system, soldering and screwing components together. She built the printer. That was a non-trivial task.

We celebrated that project's completion with a small orgy, just our closest half-dozen friends. The computer monitor scrolled ASCII porn pix to inspire us. Hey, geek sex is still sex, right?

Jobs offering mucho dinero had us migrating up the Left Coast from balmy Santa Barbara to the active East Bay to frustrating Puget Sound. Seattle was just over the edge for us. When a Silicon Valley software shop offered us buckets of money for our financial programming expertise, we jumped. Sure, we can add banking features to the Gnosis product line, no problem!

The best part was, we didn't have to work around Sunnyvale. The pros running Gnosis realized that their financial wizards would do best in close proximity to other money pukes. Thus, we worked on Montgomery Street, San Francisco, near the headquarters of Transamerica, BankAmerica, Wells Fargo, and Crocker banks, the valley of the shadow of cash.

We bought a condo on the edge of Chinatown. Just a short walk to work. Very convenient. Fast foot-commute plus long lunch hours equal plenty of time for mid-day fucking, with friends.

I've mentioned our old cow-orkers. Xenia, the lean Greek woman with curly jet-black hair and nervous feet, and Sylvie, the spectacular black ('colored') girl who switched contact lenses to match her vivid clothes and body decorations, now worked nearby. They often joined us for lunchtime fun, sometimes together.

Sylvie's color today was safety-orange. Orange contacts, orange lipstick, orange beaded choker; orange finger- and toe-nails; orange circles painted on her ebony breasts and inviting navel, like targets; orange-dyed muff. Her breast paint was being washed away by my and Xenia's tongues as we slurped her tasty tatas.

I was in a half-69. Sylvie fisted my cock; her head turned to lick my nipples as I mouthed her aureoles. I had a clear view of Moira's and Xenia's ministrations. They were awfully fun to watch.

I saw Moira's talented tongue busy in Sylvie's slippery snatch. Sylvie's bodily twitches correlated with Moira's munching. When Moira looked up, her nose was orange too, almost like a circus clown. Some muff-dye had rubbed off, yes. I should have snapped a photo. Where's my Kodachrome?

Xenia lay beside Sylvie and Moira's linked bodies, her twitchy nearly-prehensile feet massaging Moira's beautiful butt. Moira really liked a good rubdown, especially while her face was buried in pussy. 

One of Xenia's feet traced Moira's crack from the top down. Her toes moved to tickle and probe Moira's anus. Moira jumped and worked Sylvie's cunt even harder. Xenia and I intensified our efforts on Sylvie's tits. Sylvie thrashed and screamed, "oh shit oh shit oh shit!" Her clenching knees nearly pinched-off Moira's head after drowning her with secretions.

Sylvie soon rolled away gasping. Moira rolled over grinning wetly. I moved to kneel above Moira's chest and stick my cock in her mouth. Xenia slid down between Moira's legs and gave her a good tongue-lashing. I reached back to fondle Moira's breasts as her hands reached up to tweak my nipples.

Sylvie recovered. I looked at her. "You're not done yet, are you? Get your mouth over here!"

Sylvie got on her knees, straddled Moira's head, stuck her tits into my chest, and sucked my tongue down her throat. Moira's hands swiveled to cup Sylvie's breasts. I could tell when Sylvie's nipple got twisted -- that's when she bit me. It's amazing I still have a tongue left.

The timer beeped. Lunch break was over; time to go back to our jobs. Too bad. Well, we could so it again tomorrow. And Moira and I could (and would) have someone else over that night.

___

Some of our old friends were still in the area and still connecting with us. On some weekends, we lured short intense Judy from her Berkeley Hills home. Other weekends, we went sex-camping with Harley-riding Phil and Denise, the ex-nun. But we were also tied into a network of new friends, mostly other Financial District info-workers. More about them later.

Moira was the senior systems design engineer in our group. As such, she was summoned to the Gnosis home office in Sunnyvale every Monday for meetings more secure than teleconferencing would allow.

I usually spent my Monday lunchtimes non-sexually. Weather permitting, I often took a sandwich and my sketchpad to Portsmouth Square. I watched older Chinese guys playing cards, chess, go; watched locals do their Tai Chi exercises; watched the passing human scene; and I sketched what I saw. Active seeing means focusing on the moment, the concrete -- a good way to clear distant abstractions from the mind.

This Monday noon was sunny through a thin marine-layer haze, almost warm. I wore denims and a Greek cap. A Eurasian girl walked past my perch several times during my hour there. I sketched quick portraits of her from various POVs. Fairly tall, a great figure in her tight jeans and sweater, long black ponytail emerging under a black beret, various expressions masking her green eyes.

I cheated and did an imaginative sketch of her striding naked down the sidewalk, long black hair spread and flowing in the breeze, a dragon tattoo on her firm ass. And that's when she walked up behind me.

"Having fun with me, I see. Hey, how did you know I had a tattoo there? You been talking to my friends?"

"You just seemed like you *should* have that tattoo. And please introduce me to your friends. Tell them I'm Alan, and I live and work nearby, and I'm not harmless. Let them think you live dangerously."

"Well, if they'd even talk to you, they'd tell you that I'm Andrea, and that I'm vicious, so watch out. But first, you'd have to convince them to talk."

"Super! I love vicious models. Can I do a set of sketches of you with knives, whips, chains, bombs?"

"How about you sketch me as a sneering leather nun wearing nine-inch heels while I crack my horsewhip on your nasty ass?"

"Sounds good to me. My place is just around the corner. Bring your own accessories, or use my toys."

"Are you serious about this? You think I'd just throw myself at some starving artist I met on the street?"

"I'm not starving." I wrote my home numbers on the back of my business card. "Call me sometime."

Andrea eyed the card. "So you're a geek *and* an artist. The worst of both worlds. What if I call you and a woman answers?"

"Just offer to bring wine and a fresh tube of lube. You'll be more than welcome." I smiled innocently.

"I just might do that," she said, walking away. I admired and sketched her perky bouncing butt. She looked over her shoulder and winked at me, then disappeared into a crowd climbing to Grant Avenue.

Andrea didn't call that week. I shuffled her out of my consciousness.

___

The next Monday was warmer. I was dressed in black, my nylon Gnosis jacket open over my BYTE MY BAUD tee shirt. I was on my corner perch, sketching. Andrea snuck up behind me again.

"Have you undressed any other poor innocent girls lately? Do you sketch them with tattoos and weapons?"

"Only houseguests get to pose with the big guns. And none of our guests is very innocent. Are you?"

"No, I'm vicious, remember? I'm only innocent when I go to court, and I'm not in court very often."

"If you raped my poor ferret Reggie, and were charged with animal cruelty, would you still be innocent?"

"If I had the right lawyer, sure. But if Reggie enjoyed me, it wouldn't really be cruelty, would it?"

"Let's ask him." I pulled the little stuffed toy ferret from my bag and asked, "Reggie, would you like Andrea to rape you?" I wagged his fuzzy head up and down. "See, he's cool with it." I wiggled my little finger as a naked ferret dick. "Hey, you got him all excited. You've gotta do the honorable thing now."

"Yeah, what I've heard about nerds is true. You ARE all nuts. Do you play porno-ferret computer games?"

"I used to play them. Now I write them -- much more fun. And it's a nice break from financial software."

"You told me you lived nearby. Would you like to go play hide-the-ferret?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said, taking her hand and leading her away.

Andrea gaped when she saw the condo's living room, probably because the walls and ceiling were seamlessly covered with mirrors. The big plush couches, upholstered in burgundy synthetics, made it a great space for partying. The swing hanging from the ceiling helped. So did the space heaters that steamed the place nicely.

"Holy shit, Alan, you don't need weapons here. This is enough to perforate my brain."

"That's why we use indirect lighting. Or maybe you'd like a blindfold?"

"I think I'd better keep my eyes on you the whole time I'm here," she said, pulling her sweater over her head. Her black sports bra immediately followed. She kicked off her sandals, then slid her jeans and panties off in one smooth motion. I gazed at her body as I quickly stripped down. Well-endowed but not overly so, a trim waist over inviting thighs and athletic legs, a neat black bush. Gloriously sexy.

"I'll keep my eyes peeled too." I said. My little head rose in appreciation.

Andrea turned to me and held her hand on my chest, arm extended, her eyes shooting green laser light into mine. She held my gaze for a long moment.

"I hope you don't think I'm some wanton slut. But good-looking guys who do art or music in public just make me wet. And I've been watching you on Mondays for quite a while. Why are you only there on Mondays?"

I raised her hand to my lips and nibbled her palm. "Because the rest of the week, I'm here at lunchtime for wild orgies. Monday is usually my day of rest. A guy's gotta take a break sometime, y'know."

"Orgies with ferrets? You really are kinky." She wrapped an arm around my neck and kissed me while her free hand fondled my testicles. My randy rod was now fully extended, locked and loaded.

I left a trail of kisses down her body. I pressed my hands into her butt as I tongued her navel. I pushed her back onto a waiting couch and spread her legs. I knelt and kissed her hips and thighs and calves and feet. I kissed my way back up, and nuzzled her moist muff. She spread her legs further.

"How good is your tongue when it's not busy talking, fella?"

I demonstrated.

"Oooh, that's nice..."

I circled her puffy labia, zig-zagged across, spiraled slowly into her tunnel.

"Oh, yeah..."

I looped around her clit, swooped down her slit, tongue-fucked her vagina again.

"Holy fuck, Alan..."

I circled her clit again, then eased my thumb into her. She jerked and twitched.

"Don't you dare stop!"

I sucked her clit deeply, tongue-lashing her to loud convulsions. She screamed. My mouth filled with her broth. I kept going. She screamed again. She pulled my head deeply into her, then pushed me away, moaning.

"No more, no more..."

"Phase two," I said, picking up her limp body.

I carried her to the one-meter-wide swing, set my butt on its leather-covered seat, and put her in my lap facing me, her legs extending past my thighs. With my hands under her ass, I lowered her down. My taut tool slid easily into her cloud-forest cunt. 

She wriggled to set herself fully down on me. She purred.

Then I switched on the vibrating solenoid inside the swing seat. She started.

"What the fuck?"

We swung slowly, vibrating, buzzing, her clit pressed humming against my pubic bone, my mouth wandering between her face, her neck, her tits. She came a couple more times, not quite so loud.

"Phase three, my turn," I said. 

I stood with her legs and arms wrapped around me, her pussy still impaled on my cock, and laid her on the couch, missionary-style. I fucked her, faster then slower then faster, then frenzied. Andrea fiercely wrapped her legs and arms around me and quivered. I came with a happy howl and some superheated spurts. Andrea cried and oozed along with me. We slowed, cooled, fell apart, talked.

"You're pretty good for a kinko, Alan."

Andrea held me close, our wet thighs intertwined, flexing.

"I like cooking with fresh food. You're a real dish, Andrea. I'd like to eat you again sometime soon."

"I bet you say that to all your victims."

Andrea chewed on my shoulders and upper arm and bit my elbow.

"Only the survivors, baby. Tell me, what do you do when you're not raping poor innocent ferrets?"

"I make women look funny. They think they're being fashionable and chic and bleeding-edge, but they're mostly losers."

"Don't knock the losers. Without them, we winners would have much worse competition. Gloat."

We disentangled, showered, fucked again under the hot-water spray, rinsed, mostly dressed, and flopped down on a clean couch. She fetched her business card from her purse and wrote her home numbers. Her card was from a clothing design studio near the Empress of China restaurant.

"Can I invite you back her for another session or ten?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. Do you have an orgy scheduled for tomorrow or can I have you to myself again? And by the way, just how many women do you have staying here? Looks like a platoon or more."

"I guess the dozen bottles of different brands and flavors of herbal douches in the bathroom were a giveaway, then?"

"Well yeah that, and also each one has a different name tag on it. What, you run a cunt cleaning service?"

"As much as possible, yes. And there might be some visitors for lunch tomorrow. Or come by this evening; shouldn't be anyone else here but my roommate and me. And the ferrets, of course. But they don't bite."

"That's because they're from Toys-R-Us. So I won't have to worry about rabies, just the clap."

"We sit in front of big CRT monitors all day. The radiation has killed all the germs and spirochetes. We're pure, pure as the driven snow, pure as a mountain stream."

"A likely story. Anyway, I'm busy tonight. My sister's having a divorce party."

"And I must get back to the office now. Call me if you want anything."

"How about if I just want to you to fix my refrigerator?"

"I write software. Sorry, that's a hardware problem."

******************** 6: One good poke deserves another, and another, and another...

Moira saw the latest trophy when she got home from her day in Sunnyvale. She examined the black panties pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen. She took a whiff.

"Oh, so you found a new playmate today. She smells... Asian?"

Yes, Moira is a connoisseur.

"Yeah, I found her in Portsmouth Square. Here are some sketches."

I handed her my sketchpad.

"Not bad. What does she do?" Moira headed toward her closet, ready to change into jogging togs.

"Software, of course. But the other kind. She's a fashion designer. I haven't seen her stuff yet."

We hit the street for our usual Embarcadero run, the bay on one side, hills on the other. We didn't talk until our halfway break at Fort Mason.

"So is this Andrea coming over tonight?" Moira stretched a bit.

"Probably not. Something about celebrating her sister's final decree."

"Mmmm, last time I did one of those parties, I ended up daisychaining with about a dozen of Farizah's girlfriends. And then some."

"Yeah, I remember. You were bruised for days afterward. Hey, you want to have some company tonight?"

"Love to, but Larry handed me a new load of crap today and I gotta do a preliminary design by tomorrow. I'll need a few quiet hours to squeeze ideas out of my brain. When the owner 'suggests' that a project is high-priority, I'd better respond fast, or else we'll be back in fucking Seattle. Why don't you go hang with Suzanne tonight?"

"Good idea. I'll try not to poke a hole in the floor."

Our upstairs neighbor Suzanne was an amazon from Belize, a competitive weightlifter and about the strongest person I've ever encountered. One of her favorite tricks: bench-pressing my body to dip my stiff cock into her open mouth.

After one frightening fuckfest, she lured me into pressing some godawful heavy weight, and then stuck a finger up my butt. I dropped the weight. It made a hole in the floor. All the way through, into our condo. It landed very close to Denny, who was eating Moira, who was eating Ana. Yes, a bad case of slurpus interruptus.

We jogged home, showered, fucked, showered again, and dined. Moira hit her project. I hit Suzanne's door. I knocked; no answer. I twisted the doorknob; it was unlocked. I ventured inside.

My knock had gone unanswered because Suzanne was on her back and was occupied. At both ends. Fanon's cock occupied her cunt, and Twyla's pussy occupied her mouth. Business as usual. Fanon and Twyla both noticed me, and waved. Suzanne grunted when their motions changed, then returned to her concentrated efforts.

Twyla was a little redhead from Texas, also a competitive weightlifter, but in a totally different weight class than Suzanne, and thus was no threat to her. Fanon was a chunky guy from the Dominican Republic, an Olympic-class shot-putter. All three had skin about the same shade of walnut brown. Suzanne and Fanon were naturals; Twyla worked-out nude in the sun a lot. All were much stronger than I was. But they were gentle.

Twyla motioned me over to the sofa, stooped a little, and sucked my cock down her throat while still enjoying Suzanne's tongue. I twisted the nipples on Twyla's small breasts in thanks. Suzanne's mighty ass rested on the sofa's arm; Fanon stood between her raised legs and pounded away.

The chain-reaction climax was top-down but incomplete. Twyla thrashed and yelled and squeezed juice into Suzanne's mouth. Suzanne convulsed, her scream muffled by the pussy on her mouth. Fanon kept pounding.

Twyla stood up from Suzanne's face. Suzanne saw me and yelled, "Hey! Switcheroo!" She pulled away from Fanon's cock and rolled over onto her hands and knees.




Alan in the Office 02



"Fanon, shove your fat dick back in there! Twyla, get under me! Alan, c'mere and fuck this girl! Move!"

And that's what we did. Twyla stuck her butt atop the other sofa arm and assumed a 69 under Suzanne, licking Suzanne's clit while Fanon pounded away, sometimes swallowing Fanon's cock. Suzanne alternated my cock between her own mouth and Twyla's cunt. I could have used a little more foreplay, but I didn't complain.

I felt my impending blast, my balls bloating. Suzanne squeezed my scrotum and swallowed my climax. I guess she found that stimulating, because she went rigid. And I guess her grasping cunt squeezed Fanon's cock sufficiently to trigger his own volcanic release, and then Suzanne's full-body contortions. Whatever the exact sequence, Suzanne received buckets of semen from both ends.

Twyla's mouth was under Suzanne's pussy, and received Fanon's and her drippings. Fanon slowly pulled out of Suzanne. Twyla inhaled and slurped and cleaned his cock.

We all lay back and rested. The next round would probably require lubricants. Too bad Moira had to work.

Then Xenia pushed the door open. Wow, fresh meat! Where's the Vaseline?

___

The Gnosis Financial development office occupied most of an anonymous building near the eerie BankAmerica monolith. DECsystem hardware hosted our local terminals, linked to the corporate mainframes in Sunnyvale, with some PDP minis for standalone projects. A pretty small shop, for all that we accomplished.

The core San Francisco staffers were programmer-analysts and liaisons who could communicate with the banking pukes down the street, to translate financial jargon into computer code. We weren't wild beasts like systems programmers, who are best left locked in a dark basement and thrown raw meat every couple days. But we weren't broom-up-the-butt suits either. And yes, we knew how to have fun.

Tuesday was just another day in the office. Scan the overnight printouts and interoffice memos. Brief team meetings on status updates. Write some CYA memos. Quickly screw Ana, bent over a credenza in her office. Work through the morning coffee break. Run regression tests on some troublesome modules. Break for lunch. Go home with Moira, Ana and Denny for dim sum and sex. Back to the office. Do a structured walk-thru of some proposed functions. Keep Veronica awake during another boring meeting by fingering her to a quiet orgasm. Work through the afternoon coffee break. Handle a last-minute crisis. Get home way after dark.

Wednesday was similar, except that Andrea called.

"Morning, Alan. I know this is short notice, but are you free for lunch today?"

"Just me, or would you like to come to the condo for company?"

"I think I'd like to see what other bodies look like in your mirror room."

"No problem. Ring the bell at noon, we'll be there. See ya."

Moira and I had gathered Sylvie and Veronica for lunch. Veronica was a tall blonde bombshell wearing a retro op-art classic. Sylvie was a dragon lady today. Her contacts were green and reptilian. Her ears dripped jade. Her green silk sheath dress, deeply scooped in front and back and slit high on the sides, bore subtly embroidered dragon patterns. Her high-spike shoes looked venomous.

Sylvie and Andrea instantly formed a mutual admiration society.

"So you're Sylvie? I love your style, much better than I expected with that dress. I designed the dress. I usually see my dresses hanging on anorexic burnouts and self-deluded grandmothers. You look spectacular!"

"What, you're THAT Andrea? No shit? I *love* your designs. It's really you? You're my hero! Let's fuck!"

Sylvie and Andrea stayed in 69's and scissors and finger-fests for most of the lunch break, leaving me and Moira to molest Veronica on our own. We moved through most of the three-way combinations. Our mirrored images were indeed interesting, when anyone bothered to look. Then the timer beeped. Back to work, ho hum.

Wednesday afternoon inflicted another boring meeting, this one featuring some wanker from Wells Fargo who told us, in a cadaverous monotone, everything we already knew about transaction interfaces. Yawn.

Veronica sat next to me at the conference table, wearing a black blouse and miniskirt. She was nodding off. My cure was simple: I ran a finger along her slit. This woke her up. I circled and spread her labia. This put her on edge. I probed her vagina. She sat up straight. I started diddling her clit. She looked like she was actually interested in something. The boring wanker thought he was making points. Feh.

Thursday and Friday were nothing to write home about. The weekend was fun, but I am sworn to secrecy.

The next Monday was warmer. After munching a fajita wrap, I was perched at the corner of Portsmouth Square again, watching and sketching. Sparkles caught my eye. I looked up the hill toward Grant Avenue and saw two precious-metal apparitions. The glowing bodies approached, scintillating in the sunlight. I recognized Andrea and Sylvie, dressed contrastingly. They walked hand-in hand.

I saw details as they neared me. Sylvie wore gold cats-eye contracts, gold hoop earrings, plain gold wrist and ankle bracelets, gold pumps. Her dress was tight, reached from high neck to mid-thigh, and looked more like tight chain-mail than woven metal -- shimmering, flowing, highlighting her ebony facade. Andrea wore the same, but in burnished silver, showcasing her Eurasian splendor. My eyes burned in their sockets.

"Hey there, kinko," Andrea said. "Is that a ferret in your pocket or are you just glad to see us?"

"Yo Alan, have your eyeballs melted yet?" Sylvie asked. "We aimed our lasers right at you."

"You fuckers are just about impossible to sketch, dammit. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"Think of it as evolution in action," Andrea said. "Adapt or be devoured. Grow new eyeballs."

"I surrender, I'm yours," I said. "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks and malicious code."

Sylvie eyed me. "Whips and chains are trivial for you. We'll just make you eat McFood till you rot."

"No, he's already rotten," Andrea said. "But at least he can fuck." She inspected me. "Well, somewhat."

They were attracting attention. I think that was their intent. Heads swiveled. Tai Chi'ers froze. Games of go and chess and cards all stopped. Hardons popped. Birds fell dead from the sky. Et fucking cetera.

___

Sylvie and Andrea showed up at the condo for lunchtime sessions about every other day for the next few weeks. They always appeared in matching or contrasting over-the-top outfits. They had been almost inseparable since they met, and had moved in together. Their style sense would keep them together.

One lunchtime, they dressed in star-studded denim suits, Sylvie in white, Andrea in black. This was pretty subdued for them. And they didn't look happy, nor horny.

Moira and I saw their raw expressions. I immediately brewed a pot of chamomile tea, with a touch of opium.

"OK, spill it. What's wrong?" Moira asked. Sylvie grimaced. Andrea gulped.

"I have a problem, guys, a really big problem. You know the tongs have the turf here pretty well staked out, and they don't mess with each other much, not in the community here. Mostly they tussle about how to divide and share in outlying areas. San Francisco has been pretty stable.

"But now there's a new player. The PLA [People's Liberation Army] has decided they want control of as many Overseas Chinese communities as possible. Beijing sent a few tough PLA guys here to 'organize' the tongs and businesses. They've kept this quiet from the media, but there's already been a lot of killing, with tong guys just disappearing, maybe with their fingertips sent home. There's a major hidden war going on.

"And I'm collateral damage. My atelier has been shut down. My boss thought she was targeted because of her links to tong leadership, and she just split, maybe to Brazil. And I got word that I'm too high-profile, too well-known for my designs, so I'm on a shitlist too. I can't work in couture any more. I can't even sell scarves in a tourist shop. They'll kill me."

Sylvie spoke up. "We have an idea. Andrea has to disappear, but I don't. We could start our own atelier, with my name on it and Andrea hidden away doing the designs. She has a zillion ideas for designs that are nothing like what she's done before, so they won't be identifiable as hers.

"The problem is, we don't have the startup capital. We've found the right studio and shop space down the peninsula, and we have graphics shops and fabricators lined up, ones who never dealt with Andrea's old atelier, so they can't be linked back to her. But we still need up-front money to get this rolling.

"That's why we've come to you. You're good friends, you've been great with me for a long time."

Moira interrupted. "Yeah, ever since Alan was screwing you in the supply rooms over at Green Hell." Sylvie and I had a lot of fun at Green Hell, our former employer's East Bay computer center.

"You think I didn't know about that? I just wish you both had invited me in a bit sooner." Moira glared, but the corners of her mouth were smiling slightly.

Sylvie hesitated, then drove on. "Er, ah, well... Anyway, we know that this will be a moneymaker. You know how well Andrea's designs have sold. Her work is just great. And I've handled design business before.

"So here's our offer. How would you guys together like to own fifty percent of our firm? The four of us would be general partners, each with a twenty-five percent share. I run the business. Andrea does the designs. You guys put up the seed money and are richly rewarded." She named a large six-figure amount.

I looked at Moira and said, "Let's talk." We whispered in the kitchen for a minute, then returned.

"The money is OK," I said, "although we'll have to cash in some Gnosis stock options. But we want a slightly different share allotment. For our cash, we get thirty percent each, and you two divide the remaining forty percent as you wish. If things go well after two years, you'll have the option of buying-back some of our shares. We need this so we can be in control until you show success."

Sylvie took Andrea's hand. They communicated silently with their eyes and muscles. They nodded and turned to us.

"Deal!"

We all stood and hugged and kissed.

"I'm glad that's settled," Andrea laughed. "Can we all fuck now?"

We sealed our new partnership wetly, loudly. Then the timer beeped. Back to work, ho hum.

___

NEXT: Alan gets to have fun in other offices, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:: I have yet to finish editing Ron's notes about Alan's adventures, and stories told by others of his friends. Your feedback is more than welcome.