3 comments/ 13890 views/ 1 favorites Shattered Glass By: james_futuo The plan was simple. Hop the fence in the southwest corner of the property, move through the trees to the tall bushes along the side of the house, pick the lock on the side door just off the laundry room, and disable the alarm. Advance to the second door passed the kitchen, the safe is located in the wall behind a framed, signed, personal letter from John F. Kennedy, out the same way you came in less than ten minutes. Like taking candy... It had been a year since I got the job in the law offices of Thomas Webb, a high profile attorney and political hopeful in the Arlington, Virginia/D.C. area. According to him, his great grandfather was one of the first English settlers at Jamestown. A smirk would smear his face and you could almost smell his smug satisfaction as he would say to anyone who would listen, "Back then it was Webbe with an e! Granddad was one of the first to call Virginia home!" He was married to a former Miss Georgia, who I must admit, seemed very nice, but who I was never sure about based solely on her taste in men. Tom Webb was the type of man who had never taken one sip of cheap liquor and never taken a bite without a silver aftertaste from his spoon. He was a man who wouldn't understand, a man who couldn't understand, what it meant to do what you've got to do. Unfortunately, I did. "$9.84." The gas station attendant held out his hand. I gave the attendant a ten dollar bill and he dropped the pack of cigarettes, the Gatorade, and the Snickers bar into a cheap plastic bag. I dropped the change in the penny cup and walked out. A pack of Wrigley's spearmint hidden in my pocket. I sometimes steal things like that, you know, for fun. I turned the ignition and James Brown screamed into the night air...It's a man's world... In a flash, I'm 12 years old again and my older brother, Lenny, and I are out on the front porch of our house on the South Side of Chicago, timing each other to see who's faster at picking the lock on our front door. James Brown screams from the old stereo, drifts out through the front windows and into the street. "You're never gonna beat me! I've gotta be the fastest lock pick this side of the Mississippi!" Lenny teases and falls over himself laughing. I snatch the pick and tension wrench out of his hands and yell, "Go!" The lock is set in place in seconds and I tumble through the front door. I push myself up off the floor and dust myself off. I can see down the front hall into the kitchen. A late afternoon sun shines bright through the dirty windows, bathing the kitchen in an ethereal glow. My mother is in her cooking apron and laughing as my father spins her, dips her, and dances her off her feet to the sound of music. In my memory, the scene resembles a moving Norman Rockwell, a remnant from some perfect time and perfect place that may or may not have existed. It's a sight I'll never forget. Dad died not long after that, killed by a drunk, off duty cop who was stumbling home from a bar. The cop spotted him coming out the back window of the local jewelry store. He claimed that my father pulled a gun, raised the weapon to fire, and only then reacted and pulled the trigger, putting two shots in Dad's chest. The evidence was all there, a .45 caliber pistol in dad's right hand, the diamonds in his left. Case closed. I rolled down the window and the cool air hit my face as I exhaled a long trail of smoke. Mom recovered as well as could be expected. She knew her husband's trade and the risks involved. She didn't have a break down or anything like that, she's always been a strong woman, but to say she was the same would be a lie. She simply turned into another cynical, middle aged woman, with a mild drinking problem. Something she never would have become. From the beginning, the investigation was a steaming pile. Everyone who ever knew Dad knew the cop's story was a lie. Dad never carried a gun. Never. The jeweler was an old Jew who lived down the street from us and, at first, reported to the police that some of the diamonds were still missing. Then one day he showed up at the house with a broken arm. "Fuck you, Jerry! Fuck you!" I peeked out from behind a corner as my mother screamed at him in the kitchen. The glow, gone. Mr. Berkowitz spoke closer to a whisper, his voice full of regret, "I'm sorry, Ann. My family..." "What about mine, Jerry?! What about Michael's?!" Mr. Berkowitz had to avert his eyes as she stopped and glared, acerbic and malicious. A glare that could cut down the strongest of men and the weak jeweler was no match. But she knew it was useless. "Just get out." "Ann, I'm..." "Just get the fuck out of my house." As it turned out, Mr. Berkowitz had asked my father to steal the diamonds. The insurance company wouldn't pay out unless it looked like a genuine burglary. So, Dad planned everything, the idea being they would split the insurance money and resale of the stolen goods down the middle. But you can't plan bad luck. We didn't have the money to fight the City and, at that time in Chicago, the corruption went right up the chain of command. No career aspiring detective in his right mind would take on an officer of his department, and my father, being a career thief, wouldn't get any sympathies from a jury. Besides, after all was said and all was done, nothing would bring Dad back. When I was young and had a bad day, I remember my mother used to come into my bedroom at night and whisper a fragment of Longfellow. ~Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; ~Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; ~Thy fate is the common fate of all, ~Into each life some rain must fall, ~Some days must be dark and dreary. That was the last night she ever did. I turned into a dark neighborhood and parked. I lit another cigarette as I took a quick inventory of my tools and stepped out into the night. It was a little over a mile through a field and forest to the back of the Webb estate, and I needed to get moving. Dad's death hit Lenny hard but opposite of what you'd expect. Lenny went straight. Never drank and never did any drugs. Finished high school and immediately enrolled in the Police Academy. He became a cop to fix the system. As he says, "Fight the man from the inside. Like a fucking virus!" His favorite song is that one by The Kinks and Ray Davies, I Am Your Man, and he still blasts it in his car on his way to the precinct every single day. ~Money and corruption are ruining the land ~crooked politicians betray the working man ~pocketing the profits and treating us like sheep ~and we're tired of hearing promises that we know they'll never keep. He's like a mod/punk Dirty Harry. Lenny's a good cop and a good man, but no one is perfect. Everyone has a vice and his is gambling. He gambles on everything and not just a final. On a football game he'll bet the coin flip, first downs, passing yards, quarter scores, and the amount of penalties. Anything you can think of, he'll gamble the outcome. Once he tried to bet me twenty dollars on whether the car in front of us would turn right or left. To say he has a problem is an understatement. A couple of days ago, my mother called. "Robbie?" she said loudly into the phone as if I was standing yards from the receiver. "Robbie? You there?" "Yeah, Ma, yeah," I answered, pulling the earpiece back, "I'm here, but I'm at work and can't talk long." "Robbie you gotta speak up. You know my hearing is going." She said. "Sorry, Ma," I said, a little louder. "How are you?" "Well, you know I'd be much better if you called once in a while." I rolled my eyes. "Your brother showed me how to get the e-mail so you could send one of those. And you know, I can read and I can write and the Postal Service has been running as long as I can remember and despite all this technology, they say it's still running, so you..." I interrupted her, "Ma...really, I'm at work..." "I'm just saying, Robbie. Anyway, have you talked to your brother?" she asked. "No, it's been a while." "Well, Captain Murphy called and said this is the second day he hasn't shown up and no one can get a hold of him." Instantly, I knew he was in trouble. Lenny had only three loves in his life. One was Mom, two was his work, and the third was his gambling, which Mom was unaware. She continued, "Do you remember his friend, Detective...um...Mathis? I think? I'm not sure, but Captain Murphy said he sent Detective Mathis over to his house and his badge and gun were still there and all his clothes and things were still there." "I'm sure he's fine, Ma," I lied. "Maybe he met a girl." "That'd be nice, but I'm worried, so if you hear from him..." "I'll let you know. Talk to you soon, Mom. Love you." "Ok, sweetie, I love you too. Oh, and you better be taking care of Sarah." "She's healthy. Bye Ma." I said quickly and hung up the phone. Damn it Lenny. My life as a professional thief ended the night I met her. I was walking home from a job when I came around a corner to see her held at knifepoint, being pulled into the park. The next thing I remember, I was standing behind the thug. He hadn't heard or seen me yet. I threw my bag down to his left as a distraction. He gasped and everything went silent except for the pounding drum in my chest. His right hand pulled the knife away from her neck just enough for me to make a move. I grabbed his wrist with my left and twisted near the point of breaking. He fell backwards and I stuck him in the jaw with my right, knocking him out cold. I stood over him in the silence. Another gasp from behind me broke me from my trance. I snapped around. The dim yellow light from a nearby street lamp lit her face through the trees. Tears were running down her face and her mouth was open but she didn't make a sound. She was in shock...and she was beautiful. I held out my hand, "Come on, I'll walk you home." "We should call the police," she said, breathlessly. A pause as we looked at each other in the darkness. I thought about the score in my bag. "No," I said. She looked at me, frozen. I sighed and pulled out my cell phone, dialed 911, and handed it to her. She didn't take her eyes off me as she put the phone to her ear. She closed her eyes and took a breath, regaining her composure quicker than I expected. "Hello? I've just been attacked by a man in the park. Yes. Near Clark and Fullerton." I went over and picked up my bag. I always carried a couple of zip ties and I fastened two together and fixed the rapist's wrists. "My name is Sarah," she said into the phone, "Sarah Reeves. Ok, I'll wait for them there." She hung up and looked at me. "I have to go," I said. Without a word, she handed me the phone. I took it from her hand and there was another pause as we looked at each other. Silently, I nodded and turned away. From behind me I heard, "Wait." I stopped but didn't turn around. "I waitress Tuesday through Saturday nights at Sal's." I smiled to myself and walked off into the trees. The brush was thicker than I expected and it was slow going, but I was unconcerned. I had planned accordingly. The Webb's neighbors' lights were beginning to shine through the woods and the gentle rhythm of the wind through the trees was soothing and kept me calm. Every night for the next week and a half, I stood across the street from Sal's, chain smoking cigarettes and watching her through the windows. I could break into a warehouse with armed guards and a top notch security system without a sweat, but for the life of me, I couldn't get the nerve to go talk to this woman. Finally, on the twelfth night, the diner was slow. Fuck it, I said to myself. I stamped out my third cigarette and crossed the street. Sal's was a 24 hour, Hollywood themed diner that served classic American food. They were particularly good with breakfast, as most all night diners are. As I opened the door, Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny began to play on the jukebox. A bell rang as the door closed behind me and all the employees looked over. She looked up from the register and looked at me standing in the doorway. She stared back at me and I searched her face from across the room, looking for any sign to stay or flee. An older gentleman with a funny limp greeted me. "Evening, sir," said the old man, handing me a menu. "Feel free to have a seat anywhere. We have a special on waffles and the coffee's always free." I looked back up to where she was and didn't see her, the kitchen door swinging and creaking on its hinges. "Thank you," I responded after a pause, "I'll just take a seat at the counter." A few minutes passed and the old man brought over a cup of coffee. A group of college kids were sitting in a corner booth, laughing. A truck driver sat a couple of seats down the counter from me. Another older gentleman and his wife sat at a four top table, drinking coffee and doing crossword puzzles. A biker sipped soup in another booth. The kitchen door that leads to the back of the diner swung open. Time slowed down as she moved through the door towards me, like in some cheesy, 80's teen movie, but with a better soundtrack. That walk could have lasted forever and I would have asked for just a little longer. "Hi." She said, softly. Again, silence washed over the Earth. "Hi." I answered, nervously. We stared at each other for a long time. I sat motionless in my chair looking up at her. She was looking down at me from behind the counter. She bit her lip the way only young women know how to do, and I got lost in her and almost proposed marriage right then and there. A glass shattered in the kitchen, snapping us back to reality from our daydream. It was enough to ease the tension. We turned back to each other and laughed. The college kids, the biker, the older couple and the driver looked over at us and, embarrassed, we awkwardly apologized. And all it took to change my life was a shattered glass. "I'm glad you came in." She said, gently, almost as a release. "Every time that stupid bell on the door rang my palms got sweaty. In the last week, I've gnawed off all my fingernails and misplaced my keys more than I've ever done in my entire life." I said, "I've been standing outside for the last two weeks," and quickly realized how creepy it sounded and said sheepishly, "Wait. That's not what I meant." She smiled and I melted. "I mean that I've been standing outside, trying to get the courage to come in and say hello." She shyly laughed, "You had plenty of courage last week..." "That was easy compared to this..." She laughed again, "...like a walk in the park..." The old man came over and interrupted, "Sarah, the older couple and that biker guy are ready for their checks." "Ok, Sal," she answered and turned back to me, "Hold on a sec." She went over to the register to prepare the checks. Sal eyed me up and down on my stool. "I've never seen her crack." He said, as he turned his head to Sarah, "Not once. I've seen a thousand men try and a thousand men fail. But they all have a spot. It doesn't matter how strong or stubborn they think they are, every last one of 'em has a spot where they break. If a man is persistent and patient enough...if he can find where she breaks...that perfect place where she feels like a little girl all over again...take her where fairy tales and dreams come true..." Sal's voice trailed off as he leaned down on the counter until he was close to my face, and He whispered, "If you hurt that little girl, I'll cut your nuts off and feed 'em to ya in an omelet. You understand?" I looked at him and couldn't help but laugh a little bit. "Yes, sir," I said. He winked and smiled as Sarah came back over. "Honey why don't you take the rest of the night off? I can handle this crowd." Sal said to her and started towards the kitchen. "What? Sal, are you sure? I don't mind." She answered. I jumped in, "To tell you the truth, I was really hoping for some waffles." Sal turned back to me, "Oh, you'll get your waffle if you want it." Then to Sarah, "You are officially off the clock. I'll get you some coffee." And Sal limped back into the kitchen. Sarah sat and talked with me while I ate my waffles, and we sat there in Sal's Diner, talking and drinking coffee, long after I was finished. She liked her waffles with strawberries. She drank her coffee with cream and sugar. She liked romantic indie films and loved both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. The town she grew up in had less than five stop lights. She had her first kiss with a guy named Cory on a Ferris wheel. Her mother was a nurse and her father was a writer. She sang in the shower. Her favorite sound was the wind running through the trees. She preferred a bagel with cream cheese but also liked a good donut with glaze. When we finally left Sal's, the early workforce of garbage men, delivery men, and bus drivers, etc., was starting to filter in. Neither of us wanted to go home, so Sarah and I walked down to the lake. We kept talking and eventually I told her about my profession and about my father's death. "I don't care about the past," she said. "But if you want to see me again, you have to stop." I thought for a moment, but it was easy. "Okay." We sat quiet for a long time after that. As the sun rose over the lake, we made a promise to each other to never lie, no matter how big or small. We've been together ever since. Under the trees and cover of night, I stood looking up at Thomas Webb's house. I reached into my bag and put on my gloves. I pulled out my old mask and fixed it to my face. The memories of old jobs and scores rushed through my mind as I peered up at the mansion through the plastic. I traced the invisible path I was going to take through the yard. I visualized the layout of the interior one last time and pulled myself over the fence. "Hello?" I answered the private number on my cell phone a day after Mom called asking about Lenny. "Robbie?" I sighed. After a pause, I asked, "Lenny? How much?" He breathed heavy into the phone and said, "One fifty." "Christ, Lenny!" "I know...I...I know..." His voice trailed off. "When do you need it?" "By Monday morning." I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. Neither of us spoke for several moments. I broke the silence, "Len, Sarah and I don't have that kind of money, you know that..." "Yeah, I know..." he said, apologetically. He continued, "You know I would never ask you to do anything unless I was in some deep shit, Robbie." I did know. My brother never asked me for help. Sure, Lenny was a cop and he could ask some of the other guys on the force, but they can't protect him from that type of debt, not from the type of people he owed. If Captain Murphy found out he was down that much he'd probably stick his boot square up his ass and push him out the door and say, "You're on your own because you're a fucking dumbass!" And these people would make him just disappear. "I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything," I said regretfully into the phone. "I just don't know, man, I just don't know..." "It's all right, I'll check back with you on Sunday," he said. "Okay, Lenny. Be careful." "Thanks little bro," he finished and hung up the phone. I needed to think. I'll take an early lunch. I got up from my desk and grabbed my coat. At that moment, Tom Webb came walking by, talking on his cell phone. "Sorry, Bill, I can't this weekend. I'm heading to the shore with the missus." Amazed, I watched him walk away down the hall. Perfect. The lock set in place easier than I expected, especially considering my lengthy vacation. Still got it, I thought. Disable the alarm. I entered the code on the wall that I had stolen from my boss's computer and was quickly on the move again. As I rounded a corner, I clipped a side table, knocking a glass vase over. I watched it roll off the other side and I lunged for it, but it fell just passed my fingertips, shattering into a hundred pieces on the floor. A dozen roses lay scattered like victims on the hardwood. I froze, still outstretched, listening for any sound, any sign that anyone heard anything. I waited. Shattered Glass Nothing. Damn it, Robbie, focus. I pushed myself up and kept moving. I found the kitchen and made my way down the hall to the second door. Tom Webb's home office looked exactly as you'd expect from old money. Rich mahogany furniture, leather bound books on the shelves, a large fish tank bookended by fake plastic trees. I located the Kennedy letter on the wall and lifted it off. Holding my breath, I spun the dial on the safe, listening for the crack. Suddenly, from behind me, I heard the clear double click of a shotgun being locked and loaded. Pure fear and adrenaline rushed into my veins. "Don't you fucking move!" yelled a woman's voice as the lights came on. "Get your hands where I can see 'em!" My face was still towards the wall as I raised my hands to the side. I knew the voice. It was Mrs. Webb, drunk. God Damn it! What is she doing here? She's supposed to be gone for the weekend! Fuck! "Turn around!" she ordered. I followed her direction. There was Mrs. Webb, standing in the doorway, wearing a red satin chemise, pointing a 12 gauge shotgun at my chest. I need to think of a way out of this and I need to think fast. "Who are you?" she demanded. I didn't answer. Fuck, Robbie! Think! The only weapon around was my flashlight but I was at least 10 feet from her and I'd need to be within a yard to reach her. I'm fast, but she's holding the gun like a woman who knows how and she's probably not afraid to pull the trigger. "I'm calling the police." She stated and circled over to the office desk, never once taking her eyes off me. Holding the shotgun in one hand, she reached out and grabbed the phone. "No. Please Mrs. Webb. Wait." I called out from behind the plastic mask. She stopped dialing and dropped the phone. "Who are you? Take off the mask, slowly." I surrendered with a sighed and a bow of my head, finally caught. I slowly peeled off my mask. "Robbie?!" Mrs. Webb asked, looking for words and rightfully shocked. "Robbie, what on Earth do you think you're doing?" There's still a way out of this, I thought. "Mrs. Webb, my brother's in trouble." "What? Your brother? You have a brother?" "Yes, I do. And he owes a lot of money to some very bad people back home." "So you thought you could steal it?" "Yes," I told her. "You were supposed to be at the shore, with Tom. I wasn't going to hurt you. I promise. You weren't supposed to be here." A long pause. Suddenly she burst into tears. "Aw hell, Robbie..." she said through sniffles. "I was at the shore with Tom. I was there until his fucking little whore came banging on the door!" "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Webb," I said, my hands still held up and out. "Please, will you put the gun down?" "Oh. Yeah." She wiped at her nose and finally lowered the shotgun and I let out a sigh of relief. She walked around behind her husband's desk and flopped herself into the big leather chair. I relaxed a little, but I didn't dare try and break for it. There would be no point. She knew who I was and the only way out of this was to kill her or reason with her and I'm not the former type. She pulled out a bottle of scotch from one of the drawers. "Have a drink with me, Robbie..." she said more as a statement rather than a question. She poured two glasses and her tears began to subside. "Where are you from? Where's home?" She asked. "Chicago." "Oh, I like Chicago!" She said through the last of her sniffles. She held out a glass. "How much does your brother owe?" I took the glass from her hand and answered, "$150,000." "Will they take a check? Ha!" She said and cackled loudly, amused with herself. I stood silent. "Why didn't you ask Tom for the money?" "Mrs. Webb, we're talking about your husband, Tom, correct?" She cackled a laugh again and quickly drained her drink, "Ha! You're right. That son of a bitch would have laughed you right out of the room. And when I call him a son of a bitch, I mean it! His mother is a huge one. Huge. Fucking. Bitch!" She sat up quick in the chair as if all of a sudden she had a genius idea, a moment of clarity, "No! She's a cunt! A fucking cunt! Oh, that feels so good to say!" She shouted and stretched her arms into the air, then collapsed back into the chair, as if the mere sound of the word aroused her. She looked back up at me and took another sip of the smooth scotch. Her eyes lingered. "36 left." She said. "What?" I asked. "Go over to the safe...I'm giving you the combination." My heart nearly skipped, "Mrs. Webb, are you serious?" "Yes, I'm serious. You can't take all of it, though. Only what you need." I stood motionless, hesitant. "Go on, Robbie, it's ok." I turned back to the safe. "36 left." I spun the lock. "25 right." I reversed. "36 left." The safe clicked and fell open. My eyes went wide as I opened the steel door to see stacks of brand new bills in bundles of $10,000. There must be at least a million dollars here. I grabbed 15 of the stacks and began stuffing them in my bag. "Do you know the significance of that combination, Robbie? Do you know what those numbers are?" She asked me, the tone of her voice changing into something warmer, a new tenderness I'd never heard come from her. "No, Mrs. Webb." I answered as I shoved the neat green bundles into my bag. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs up on the desk, "They're my measurements, Robbie." She looked up to the ceiling, as if talking to no one but herself. "I turned 40 years old this year. He has no idea how hard it is to keep those measurements at 40 years." She closed her eyes and let out a sniffle, but kept it together. "And the worst part is," she sighed, "he doesn't even care. He's never cared." I listened quietly as she spoke and I watched her finish another drink. I looked at her feet propped up on the desk and followed their outline to her ankles. Without even realizing it, my eyes followed her legs further. They disappeared behind the desk, and I could see her nipples poking through the satin chemise. The tops of her breasts heaved on her chest as I examined her from across the room. Our eyes met, and her stare was piercing and filled with lust. She gasped and her body shuddered. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. "Robbie?" She softly asked and leaned back farther in the big leather chair. "Yes, Mrs. Webb?" I answered, uncertain. "Mmm," she purred. "Robbie, come over here." I walked around the corner of the rich, mahogany desk. Her eyes remained closed as I watched her. She pulled up the red satin chemise and spread her legs wide and dropped them over the armrests of the chair. She put both her hands on her knees and moaned faintly. She brought a hand to her breast and grabbed and squeezed on the outside of the fabric before slipping it underneath to her nipple. Her other hand reached her swollen pussy lips and she gasped and let out an audible groan. She still had not opened her eyes as she began to move her middle finger around her clit. Standing there, three feet in front of Mrs. Webb, I watched quietly as she touched herself. One hand pinched and pulled at her nipples, while the other had two fingers circling her clit and splitting her lips. She started to rub her pussy faster and she ran her other hand through her hair, tossing it about and shaking her head like a wild horse during the first spring bloom. Her moan got louder and her breath quickened. I could see a spot on her chair getting wet just below her taint as she massaged and tickled and played with herself. She played with her tits again as she brought two fingers up to her mouth and licked them and sucked on them, covering them with spit. She quickly brought those two fingers back down to her pink. Her breath was fast and heavy as she pushed her fingers into her vagina. She groaned loudly and her toes started to curl. She rubbed her clit with her thumb and played with her nipples and plunged her fingers into her pussy, again and again. She whimpered as her movements sped up and I could see it building inside of her. Her face twisted, her hips squirmed. All at once, she cried out and threw her head back as her body trembled and shook. Her husband's leather chair was soaked in her flowing pussy juice as I watched her body go stiff as she climaxed and screamed. Then she whimpered softly and her body relaxed as she came back down from her high. She continued to rub her pussy and play with her nipples. Her breathing slowed and she moaned softer and easier. She opened her eyes again and looked at me. "Mmm," she laughed and moaned again faintly as she said, "Robbie, take off your clothes..." I sighed and looked down at the ground. I can't, I won't. "Robbie, take...off...your...clothes..." she demanded. "But, Mrs. Webb..." She interrupted, "Robbie, now! You don't want me to call the police, do you? Tell my husband?" "No," I answered. "Of course not, Mrs. Webb..." "Then I suggest," She continued, "that you take off your clothes, mister." In an instant, my entire relationship with Sarah flashed before me. A thousand questions ran through my head. Would she leave me? Maybe she'll understand I had no choice? Can I live with myself if I don't tell her? She'll never have to know. If she forgave me, would she ever look at me the same again? How would I look at her? Would either of us be consumed with jealousy? What if I like it? I must have taken too long and I'm sure my face gave my thoughts away. Mrs. Webb said, "Robbie, I bet she doesn't want you to go to jail." I conceded and my shoulders dropped. I pulled my shirt over my head. Mrs. Webb watched me, earnestly. I untied my boots and my hands started undoing my belt and I looked down at her shamefully. "Aww, Robbie, don't look so sad..." I hooked my thumbs inside the elastic of my boxers and pushed them and my pants off at the same time. Mrs. Webb gasped and then let out a deep groan as I stood naked in front of her. "Robbie, Robbie, Robbie! Come closer," said Mrs. Webb, "your cock is..." her voice trailing off. She looked up at me from the big leather chair, her eyes as wide as mine when I opened the safe. I stood over her, my cock dangling inches from her face. "What do you want me to do to it?" She asked. "I don't want you to do anything to it," I said, "I have a woman." She slapped my thigh, "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Robbie." "I'll do what I have to do, Mrs. Webb." I said, turning my head away. "Let's just get this over with." She touched my thighs with her fingertips and scratched her nails down the back of my legs. She put her lips together and blew air softly on my cock. Naturally, I started to get hard. "Oops, looks like your little guy's not totally convinced." I sighed, "Mrs. Webb, it's not that I don't want it. I mean, damn it, do you know what would happen if I told the guys at the firm that the Mrs. Elizabeth Webb, who we all agree is the hottest and sexiest housewife this side of the Mississippi, had her face so close to my naked crotch that I could feel the heat from her breath and I turned her down? They'd castrate me!" She laughed and her face softened. "I'm serious," I said with a smile, "and I'd probably deserve it. Ken Wallace even found one of your old pageant swimsuit pictures on the internet, and uses it as his desktop wallpaper." She laughed again, and looked up at me like a high school girl who just got asked to prom for the first time or just found out from her friend that she heard from a friend of a friend of the boy she liked and that he liked her back. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah, really," I answered and squatted to eye level with her. "You're a beautiful woman and if this was a different time in my life, I would do terribly naughty things to you. But the love of my life is waiting for me at home and, the night I met her, I made a promise that I would never do anything to disappoint her." She held my gaze as she said, "that may be the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She sniffled again and looked down. I could see her mind flipping through the memories in her mental scrapbook. Maybe Tom Webb was once genuine and caring? Perhaps he once held her close and there was no one in the world for him but her? "I'm sorry," she muttered, and she turned her eyes to my dick. "What?" I asked, confused. All of a sudden, her hand shot out fast and grabbed hold of my prick. I fell backwards, surprised, onto the floor. "Robbie, your cock is gorgeous," she said as she started to stroke it. "It's so long and thick. And..." she purred, "it's so smooth." "Mrs. Webb, please, don't do this," I pleaded as my dick grew bigger. Oblivious, she wrapped her hand tight around my shaft and licked the tip with her tongue. She bent in and took my balls in her mouth and licked back up to the head. She slapped her tongue with it and then wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard. She moaned loud and closed her eyes and kept her hands moving, tickling my thighs and rubbing my hips and stomach as she continued. She swirled her tongue around the tip and then she opened her mouth wide, taking as much of me into her throat as she could. She gagged and pulled back off. Spit dripped down onto my stick. "Your cock is so big," she whimpered and shoved herself back down on it. She grabbed my hips and pulled down, passing her reflex. She gripped me with her lips and sucked hard as she drew her mouth off my cock. She pumped a spit covered hand up and down. She looked in my eyes as she took it back into her mouth, sucking in and out of her throat. I was on my back on the floor, and by now my cock was standing straight out into the air and covered in her saliva. Mrs. Webb stood up and bent over the desk. "Get up here, Robbie," she ordered. I did as she said, my dick pulsing and throbbing. She pulled up her red satin chemise. She groaned loud and squealed in anticipation, "Robbie, put your cock in me! Oh, please fuck me, Robbie? Please, fuck me?" She reached back and grabbed my cock, guiding me into her warm, wet pussy. I felt it slide in, her muscles clenching around it. "Oh Robbie, it's so big!" She cried out and I'm ashamed to admit how much it turned me on. "Robbie, fuck me with that big dick!" She spread flat on the desk and reached her hands between her legs and started rubbing her pussy as she continued, "Fuck me deeper! Fuck me harder! Fuck me faster!" Soon I was pounding into her, my balls slapping against her clit. She moaned loud and followed it with a whimper, "Pull my hair. Come on." I grabbed it and yanked back, forcing her body into an arch as I pounded her soaking pussy. I stared down at my cock sliding in and out of her, in and out, and my mouth gaped open. I could hear her moaning and groaning and calling out. I reached around and grabbed her tits. I leaned forward, pressing her against the table and grinding into her pussy. "That's it, Robbie, get into it!" I felt guilty, but I couldn't help it. A middle aged beauty queen, my jerk bosses wife, in her sexual prime, crying out my name, begging me for more. I had just broken into her house and now she wanted me to break her. It made me dizzy thinking about it. It was just too good. She flipped over onto her back on the desk and spread her legs wide and started furiously rubbing her clit. "Put it in my ass, Robbie, please put it in my ass!" She yelled out to the ceiling in between breaths. I shoved inside her tight little asshole and she screamed out with pleasure. I slid in and out of her ass as she rubbed her clit and pinched her nipples. Her breath quickened and her moaning got louder. Suddenly I could feel her juice spilling all over my shaft and she closed her eyes and said fast, "I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" She rubbed hard and fast and she whimpered again. "Ugh! Don't stop, Robbie, don't stop fucking my ass, Robbie!" She was shoving her fingers in and out of her pussy and I could hear the squish and the slap of her hand against her lower lips. "Robbie...Robbie...Robbie, I'm cumming!" She screamed and shook violently about on the desk as cum dripped from her pussy, flowed over my dick and dropped onto the rich mahogany. "Mmm, Robbie," she moaned, "I want you to cum, Robbie. I want you to cum all over my face. Please, cum for me, Robbie." My cock was harder than it had ever been. "Robbie, please," she pleaded, "I want your hot load. I want you to spray it all over me." I knew it wouldn't take much more. Grabbing her hips tight, I pushed my full length in and out of her ass. I watched her whimpering below me, her eyes closed, her mouth open. "I'm gonna cum, Mrs. Webb." She slid down off the desk and positioned herself under my cock, and opened her mouth like she was a porn star, waiting for her money shot. She grabbed my cock and she moaned and begged and pleaded as she stroked it hard and fast. "Give me that cum, Robbie. Cum for me." I closed my eyes and tossed my head back. I thought of Sarah as I heard myself moan and groan. I looked back down at Mrs. Webb as the first string hit her face. And then another. And another. "Yes, Robbie!" She yelled. "Oh, that's it!" Standing over her, I watched her squirm and moan beneath me. I had covered her face nearly complete with my thick cum, making it look almost like she was wearing a plastic mask. With one hand she scraped my cum into her mouth and licked her fingers, while the other maintained a steady stroke. "I can feel it sliding down my throat. It tastes so good," she said and closed her eyes and took my cock into her mouth once more to suck out every last drop. She opened her eyes to see me looking down at her in amazement. She smirked and stood up and fixed her red satin chemise. She flopped herself back down in the leather chair, exhausted. "You're a good man, Robbie. Put your clothes back on and go home to her." I put my clothes back on and reached for my bag. I turned to her. "Take it," she said, "you need it more than he does. And don't worry, no one will know about any of this." I nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Webb." She closed her eyes and slumped some more in the chair. "Call me Liz," she said and waved her hand in a motion for me to leave. "Oh and Robbie, you owe me a glass vase." I collected my bag and the rest of the tools. As I got to the door of the office, I looked back at Mrs. Webb, already asleep in the leather chair. I flicked the light switch off. The image was striking. The moon shined through the windows of the office, giving the room a ghostlike hue. A former beauty queen, once an icon of youth, perfection, and possibility, drifting off into a drunken sleep in a red satin chemise in her husband's leather chair. I was struck with sadness for her. She was just as alive and vibrant today as she was years ago, but totally unappreciated. Like an old painting, she was still the same color, just faded to a different shade. Changed by time, unknowing and against her will, into another lonely housewife, forgotten by her man, like his baseball cards in the attic. I took the long way home and pulled up to our apartment just before first light. I shut off the engine and opened my bag to peek at the money inside. Lenny would call in the morning and I'd drive up to Chicago. I'd tell him if I found out he gambled ever again, a single dollar, I would forget he was my brother. I zipped the bag closed and got out of the car. Leaning against the hood, I lit a cigarette in the cool morning air. I sat smoking and thinking about the night. Through the dark, I heard Sleepwalk drift into my ear and I looked up at our place and could see our bedroom window open. I put out my cigarette and went to the house. I climbed the stairs as the glass slide whistled along the steel string of the guitar. The world once again fell into lazy slow motion as I got to our bedroom door. She was sitting there on the edge of the bed wearing one of my old t-shirts and sweatpants. She looked up at me, uncertain. I smiled at her. She smiled back. Shattered Glass I crossed the room and held out my hand. She took it and stood up and I pulled her in close. We danced and the music played. I kissed her soft lips. "Is it done?" She asked. "Yeah, baby, it's done." "And never again?" She continued, "I only agreed because he's your brother." I smiled back at her, "I know, darlin', never again." "I was so worried, Robbie," she whispered and put her head on my shoulder. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's all going to be okay," I assured her. She looked back up at me and kissed me deep. She held me in close and I felt her tongue touch mine. I picked her up and laid her down on the bed. The music played and we kissed each other passionately as she worked at my belt and undid my pants. She slipped her hand into my boxers and gripped my cock to life. I kissed down her neck and down her stomach and pulled down the sweats. I yanked them off quickly and shoved my pants off and threw them in a pile together on the floor. Falling back on top of her, our bodies tangling together. It felt like our first time. She moaned as I bit her ear. She rubbed her hands through my hair and scratched her nails down my back. My cock was already hard and her pussy was already dripping and I slipped inside. We both gasped as I held close and deep in her. I started moving my hips, grinding into her. Slow at first, I built up speed as our tongues danced. Her breath quickened and I sped up my thrusts. Her pussy was warm and wet around my throbbing cock. She bit my shoulder and I moaned and she whimpered and our bodies moved as one. No one felt as good as she did. I closed my eyes and tried to hold back. I groaned loud and she moaned back. I felt the walls of her pussy squeeze down and I heard her say, breathlessly, "Robbie, I'm cumming." I couldn't take anymore and my body stiffened and I pushed deep into her one last time. I could feel the muscles inside of her relax and contract over and over, pulling the cum out of my cock. She whimpered and gasped as with every squirt shooting deep inside of her. I collapsed and rolled off of her, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the long night. I heard her moan softly and she curled up in my arm, laying her head on my chest. She fell asleep almost instantly. As I laid there in bed, I felt the steady rhythm of Sarah's breath on my skin. I looked out the window at the first light of the sun. I fell asleep. Shattered Glass The following story was difficult to place into one category. The only sex in the story is Incest. But this may be better off in Erotic Horror. I'm not sure. Either way I'll get comments about where I should have put this. I am warning you that this is not so much about sex as the mental breakdown of a woman. This was actually written for a college assignment. I added more sex in the Incest scene later. The class was Folk Tales and Fairy Tales, and the following story is my modern fairy tale. If you stick around till the end I'll have some words to why it's a fairy tale. Thanks and I hope you are entertained by it. ***** Cassandra had a secret and lived in fear of this secret getting out. At first it just started with thoughts that weren't right. She couldn't be able to describe it any other way than that. Tiny thoughts that had her worried about her feelings. So she did what she thought any normal person would do. She squashed the aberrant thoughts. She ignored them till they went away, locked them up in a deep dark pit at the bottom of her consciousness. After awhile the thoughts went away. She was neither happy nor unhappy with this. As part of the conditions of locking them away she couldn't feel relieved if they were gone. But then she began having disturbing dreams. The tiny thoughts were manifesting in her nightly imaginings. She couldn't allow this. Again she didn't know how to deal with these images. They were no longer thoughts but pictures her brain was showing her. So after several nights of interrupted sleep and too much thought on her problems, she came to the conclusion of medication. Now she slept peacefully. But these thoughts turned images did not want to be ignored. They did not want to go away. They wanted to be reflected up on poor Cassandra's consciousness. They wanted to be seen. So they fractured. No that's the wrong way to say it. She began to fracture. Now the images were seeking her out while she was awake. And Cassandra was terrified. Now she was caught up in waking dreams where the Other would reveal her darkness. But Cassandra saw that the Other only showed up when she looked in a mirror or reflective surface. So she refused to watch her reflection in the mirrors. The horrible images and the devastating emotions that came when she viewed herself in gilded frames terrified her. She at first destroyed all the mirrors in her house, but found guests curious as to why she had no mirror in her bathroom. Afraid of people finding out her dreadful secret she placed mirrors in her home but mentally noted where they were at all times so as not to be caught unawares. Unfortunately it wasn't always mirrors she had to deal with. Obviously she couldn't drive with her condition. Public Transportation was the safest way to travel. So on one sunny morning while sitting on the bus seat facing the window she noticed that due to the tinting on the windows and the sunlight outside it caused a reflection. She felt her pulse start to race and her face paled then heated. She watched in stupefied horror as her reflection stared eerily back at her. It began to grin maniacally at her as it looked around. The silent laughter could be felt hollowly in her chest. It stood up, and its tongue grotesquely licked its lips as it took stock of the other passengers. This was it, the Other, its image the same as Cassandra's own. Dark hair seemed to be raggedly instead of her neat curls. Its dark eyes shinny in a face that seemed too small for its distorted mouth and glinting eyes. An older gentleman had been sitting next to the reflection. It reached in to its purse and pulled out a large knife, its serrated edges glinting evilly in the innocuous morning light. It grabbed the white hair of the man and before the reflection could blink, viscous blood sprung up from his throat, spraying other passengers and the interior of the bus was saturated with the blood and death of the unlucky man. She felt herself mentally screaming and tried to break her gaze away from the petrifying tableau taking place in front of her. She knew she had to pull her eyes away or she would be stuck watching this nightmare play through. She prayed silently to her god for help, to let her be released from her horrifying sight. Distantly she felt the bus come to a shuddering stop; people began to move around her. She became jostled; she broke from the reflection and quickly looked around. The older gentleman that had sat beside her had accidently bumped her as he got up. He was now heading out the door. She looked up at the sign proclaiming the stop point and realized she had missed her stop. She quickly gathered her things and walked off the bus and hurried to work. Her pulse still thundered in her throat, she could taste the fear in her mouth. She knew she had to put this episode behind her, letting it linger would only make her day worst than it had started out to be. She quickly placed the incident in the lock box in her mind and continued on to work. Cassandra reached home after a long tying day. She was not only physically exhausted but mentally as well. She gingerly made her way to her master bedroom where she stripped to take a relaxing bath. She sighed as she slipped into the warm water. She was already beginning to feel more human. As she felt her muscles unknot she glanced up at her shower stall. Its glass surface was clean and shinning in the ambient lighting in the bathroom. Cassandra immediately knew she had made a mistake. Her reflection looked on as the Other one smiled in a monstrous way. She watched helplessly as it took the razor next to it and began to shave its hair around its face. All the while Cassandra could feel its mocking laughter echo in the room. When it had seemed to finish its work on the shaving it rinsed the blade off before glancing at Cassandra. It seemed to need her to watch it. It took the sharp razor and began to lick it. Cassandra watched in complete horror as it's tongue began to bleed. It occasionally spit blood and flesh out into the bathwater. Still it continued on licking the blades, tearing the muscle of its tongue. Its eyes flashed with twisted humor as it removed the blade from its tongue. Slowly it raised its self from the tub. Cassandra's body was reflected as pearls of water beaded on the skin, mixing with the blood running down its mouth. It examined the blade and frowned in contempt. It dropped the razor back to the tub then reached behind it and pulled out a pair of scissors. The metal winked in the lights from overhead. Cassandra wished she could wake from this walking dream. But she was powerless to stop it. She watched with horror as the Other took the scissors and ran them down its breasts and across its stomach. The blades were closed, but Cassandra knew this was just the buildup of something truly horrifying. It lovingly kissed the scissors before sucking on it. It performed a mock fellatio on the scissors while occasionally opening and closing them. Fresh blood poured from its mouth. Slowly it removed the shears from its mouth and spread its legs, placing its leg up on the seat of the tub. Then it started to place the cutters at the entrance to its womb and shoved the cutting instrument into it. It threw back its head in pleasure or pain, Cassandra was unsure which. As it continued to masturbate itself, blood seeped from its center and Cassandra felt less of a hold on her. She quickly threw her head back, hitting the wall, it silenced any imaginings and the pain helped her break the connection to it. She rose from the cold water and dried herself off with abrupt movements. She ran from the room and crawled into her bed. She reached out a shaking hand to her pill bottle. She swallowed a sleeping pill and silently lay under her covers, quivering from fear and revulsion. And somewhere deep inside she was trying to quash the arousal that was unexpectedly heating her body. The swift pill pulled her under and in no time she was fast asleep where nothing could frighten her or harm her. The next morning Cassandra woke refreshed and planned to enjoy her day off. Her stomach told her how she missed her supper the night before, so she pulled on her pajamas and went out to the kitchen to eat a breakfast of champions. As she was eating her simple meal, her phone rang and she glanced at the display and smiled as she answered the phone. "Hey bro, how are you doing?" she asked of her favorite brother, Brett. He was a few years older than she, but they were close even as adults. They were both single and often hung out if neither had plans. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over and enjoy some steaks I'm making this evening?" he asked her. "Oh, yeah! I would love to come over. Do you want me to bring anything?" she inquired. After he replied in the negative and they chit chatted for a few minutes, they hung up. For the first time in a few days Cassandra felt better about her life and was genuinely happy. Cassandra spent the rest of the day cleaning her small apartment, getting ready to go to her brothers and generally avoiding all reflective objects. She arrived at her brother's house on time. They ate out in the back yard where he had a patio and sliding glass door off of his living room. He too lived in an apartment but he made more money than she and was able to afford a better living space. They enjoyed talking and catching up since the last time they hung out. They were laughing and joking when Brett told her he had something to show her. She smiled as he told her he bought something new for the house. He was always out shopping and making his digs, as he called them, looking good and completing his style. She walked inside with him and he told her it was in the bedroom. She walked in and looked around, not seeing anything that was out of the ordinary. She looked at him inquiringly. "Come on let's sit on the bed," he grinned and took her hand. She smiled in return as they sat on the bed. She couldn't help it, his humor was infectious and the laughter that he was holding back was making his lips twitch which made her want to laugh too, "Now you have to close your eyes and no peaking. OK?" she nodded her head and closed her eyes. He gently maneuvered her back on the bed where she was now laying on her back instead of sitting on the bed. Somewhere inside of her she began to worry what he was doing. She was concerned about what he was going to show her as well. "Ok, now you can open your eyes," Brett said with a smile. Cassandra slowly opened her eyes and gazed up into a mirror covering the ceiling. She could see the shock in her eyes as her brother lay next to her grinning ear to ear. She could see his lips moving as he continued to talk but what worried her was that the Other was now looking at him. Its gruesome smile twisted its lips revealing no damage from last night as it sinuously licked its lips. She watched as it sat up and began to crawl towards her brother. She silently screamed for it to stop. She didn't want to watch her brother get bloodied by this fiend. She didn't like to think about the man on the bus or how the Other might do to her dear sibling. The Other ran its hands up and over Brett's chest and up to his face. He seemed to be enthralled as it leaned in and began to kiss him. Cassandra was too shocked to try to get out of the waking dream. She watched as the kiss grew, shirts were removed and echoes of passionate moans and sighs reverberated through her mind. The Other straddled Brett's lap and ground against him. He in return lifted his hips to its thrusts. Brett was cupping its breasts and it threw its head back in ecstasy. Cassandra watched the erotic scene unfold, ignoring a part of her that was aroused by the sight of her body though not her mind making love to her brother. It quickly shimmed out of its pants and sank in front of Brett. Slowly it unbuttoned and unzipping his pants. It lowered his pants and he quickly lifted his hips to help. It smiled up at her handsome brother and swallowed his cock into its mouth. His moan was loud in the overly quiet room. It began to bob it's head up and down his throbbing shaft, now sounds of sucking as well as Brett's moans were echoing in the bedroom. It was obvious even from a spectators point that Brett was close to orgasm. It pulled itself off of him and crawled up into his lap. It sank down on his hardness, allowing a slow entry into her wet cunt. He was no passive participant in this either. His hands were roaming its body, pinching its nipples and making it moan and gasp in delight. It began to ride him in earnest, his hands gripped its hips and pounded himself in counterpoint to its movements. It head was thrown back as it screamed in orgasm and its milking cunt threw Brett into convulsions as his sperm filled load launched into its womb. As she watched the couple in their post coital sprawl she became aware of the uncomfortable throb in her own womb. She couldn't let this continue. She had to get out of the dream. She silent screamed as she reached out to stop the dream. For the first time she tried to confront the Other instead of running away. She focused on the mirrored images of the Other and herself, she reached out and felt herself being pulled upwards. She concentrated not on the uncomfortable feeling of distortion but on confronting the thing that had ruined her life and state of mind. Cassandra felt the blackness that comes with unconsciousness descending on her, she tried to resist it, but it was futile. She passed out and knew nothing. Cassandra woke up in a large white room. She looked around and saw she was alone. The walls and floor were padded. One wall was mirrored. "Hello?" she called out. Glancing around her, she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. From the mirror came a cracking noise. She watched as the mirror splintered, spider webbing etched through the glass as it seemed to shatter from with it. Out stepped the Other. They sized each other up in silence. Cassandra twitched nervously as she looked at it. It seemed to have no problems with the situation. "Where am I?" Cassandra took the opportunity to ask. "You are in my world now, blind eye," it laughed and from somewhere came the sound of shattering glass. "Where's that? What is it?" Cassandra asked, trying to draw it out. Fear making her nervous. "Well, blind eye, you entered my world," it smiled, "I wondered how long it would take before you would try to seek me out," it began to circle around the room. Cassandra moved with it, keeping it in sight. It noticed and laughed the shattering glass laugh again. "No worries, blind eye, I do not wish to harm you," it smiled, or tried to but Cassandra only saw evil lurking in its face. "Why do you keep calling me blind eye? And why would you not hurt me?" she asked. "Well, I can't hurt you without hurting myself, and that wouldn't be fun," it smirked, "And I call you blind eye because you turn a blind eye to me and what I want," it laughed mockingly, "It's not healthy." "I don't understand what you mean," Cassandra inched away from it as Other came closer to her. "It's okay, you'll understand soon enough," it replied, it raised its hand and caressed Cassandra's cheek, "I am so going to enjoy this," and before Cassandra could react, the Other back handed her. Cassandra cried out in pain as she flew through the air and crashed into the padded wall. "Now you will see what you really should have seen, instead of ignoring it blind eye," It said as it walked to the mirror. It stepped through. Cassandra watched in silence as the mirror knit itself back together. Silent tears ran down her face as she viewed what she now realized was her prison. "Cassandra! Wake up damn it!" Brett yelled at his sister as she lay prone across his bed. He shook her again as worry spread through him. He watched as she gasped in his arms. He gently laid her down as she came too. He saw confusion clouded her eyes before clearing as she looked around. "Are you all right? Should we get you to a hospital?" Brett asked. "No, no, I'm fine," she raised herself up and glanced around again, "I'm fine, I don't need to see a doctor." "What happened? It was like you zoned out then passed out," worry filled his eyes as he watched her. "I haven't been sleeping well," she replied sheepishly, "I must have been more tired than I thought I was. Your bed was so soft and comfy I must have fallen asleep," she said with a grin. Brett smiled in return. He helped her up and walked her out of the room. They continued their visit without incident. "Are you going to be all right, Cassandra?" Brett asked her as she was about to leave. "Yeah, I'm fine," she smiled at him, "I'm going to go home and get some sleep and I'll be just fine." She left her brother's house and went to her own home. She laughed up at the stars twinkling above as she walked to the bus stop. She waited patiently but couldn't seem to wipe the smile off her face. She was free at last and couldn't wait to do what she always wanted. "You really shouldn't have kept me bottled up, blind eye," she said out loud. A few people waiting for the bus with her looked at her warily, "I am going to have so much fun!" She grinned at the people around her. They cautiously stepped away from her as she boarded the bus. Cassandra sat watching the mirror. Horror ran through her veins as she viewed the Other controlling her body. It was free to roam around. To make true the visions it had been showing her for weeks. Though she wished to cry she had no tears left. She was in a soft white prison with no way out. She realized now that the Other was she. She wasn't as ignorant as that. But the Other had spent a long time trapped in her mind; it knew the rules of the land better than she. "I wish I could find a way out of here," she said to herself. Somewhere she heard shattering glass again. She briefly wondered about that but quickly forgot about it when a mirrored door appeared adjacent to the wall to the wall the Other traveled through. Cassandra quickly got up and walked over to the door. She gently pushed on it and it opened into another room, but this had several people moving around and working what appeared to be controls boards. They all worked with quick efficiency and in total silence. "Ah crap!" one man cried as smoke came from a board in front of him, "It's taken over the guilty conscious complexes; I don't have anything else to try to stop it." "Yeah well, it's got control of all the motor movements as well as vocals," one woman grumpily retorted. "Um, excuses me? What's going on here?" asked Cassandra in bewilderment. The woman and man glanced at her since they had stopped moving after making their reports. It seemed everyone else was still busy doing their jobs. "You're in the central nervous system of Cassandra's brain, whom are you?" asked the man sizing her up, "You kind of look familiar." "I'm Cassandra. Can you tell me what you're doing in my central nervous system?" she asked politely, though she felt bewildered and wanted to scream. "Well, the unconscious part of you, which we've been calling Other Cassandra or OC, has taken over most of your body," the woman looked at her, "Got any suggestions as to how we get control back?" "No," Cassandra looked around at her head and realized a lot of the people who had been running around trying to save her had stopped. "Is there anything that she hasn't been able to control? Or hasn't bothered with trying to control?" asked Cassandra. "Hmm," the man looked about. Many of the control boards were blank or smoking from the effort it took OC to take over the body. "It seems she hasn't taken over Autonomic Nervous System, which controls the heart, lungs, bladder and some of the other internal organs in the body that most people can't operate on a conscious level," he paused looking around, "Probably thought we wouldn't give it a heart attack or try to kill ourselves to get it to back down."