Richie could not keep to a single coherent train of thought as he pedaled home. It did not help that one involved a nice hard fuck with Heather whose big boobs were pressed into his back.

He tried not to resent Diane or Debby for depriving them of their opportunity. Richie wanted to get over it, but the more he tried to push the desire away, the more stubbornly it remained. His cock had hovered at half-mast since leaving Debby's house, flirting with all-out erection when his thoughts drifted back to the prurient.

His need was not born from a desire to control her, as sometimes it had in the past, but then came his father's scathing reply: Yeah, right. That why she's doing the horny two-step back there thanks to you?

Richie clenched his teeth as Heather shifted position again and uttered a short, husky sigh in his ear. He wanted to scream that he had no choice, that nowadays it seemed to just happen. If he wanted one of the Harbinger girls, she got hot for him. He didn't remember how it started or when, but he had no idea how to stop it.

Or you just don't want to know.

Richie grunted and took a turn too fast. Heather yelped when the bike nearly slid out from under them. He righted it in time before the front wheel could bump the curb. For fuck's sake, even Jason does it to Cassie! he shot back.

"Richie, you okay?" Heather said in a slightly quavering voice.

"Yeah, fine," Richie snapped. "Just fucking peachy."

He slowed through the next turn, but the bike slid anyway on the fresh snow cover. A few flakes still drifted down from a patchy twilight blue and gray sky, stinging his face as he picked up speed.

"Thank you for taking me to Mrs. Radson's and back, Richie," Heather said as her home appeared around the bend in the road. "My bike's in no condition to ride, and Melinda's would never have handled this snow."

Richie said nothing until he was about to race past the Sovert house, as if he never intended to drop her off. He wanted to take her back to his house and fuck her brains out. At the last second he took his feet from the pedals and scraped them along the snowy ground, cursing under his breath when the snow soaked into his socks.

"Well, here you are," Richie said. "And yeah, no prob."

Heather loosened her grip around his waist but did not let go. Richie still felt her bosom against his back, the pressure going up and down with the rhythm of her quickened breath.

"Um, Richie?" Heather said in a tentative voice. "Could we go to your house for a bit?"

Richie frowned. "What the hell for?"

Heather uttered a sigh both exasperated and husky. "Because I'm really fucking horny right now," she said in a strained voice.

Richie's hands curled tighter around the handlebars. He tried again to suppress his lust, but his cock swelled and ached from its awkward confinement. "Shit, I didn't mean--"

"Never mind what you meant, okay?" Heather said. "All I know is I'm wet and I could really use a fuck."

"You're not making this any easier."

"I'm not trying to." She hugged him and whispered in his ear. "I'm trying to get your cock in my pussy."

Richie closed his eyes and let out a low sigh. He writhed until his cock managed to shift into a less uncomfortable position. "Give me a freakin' break, Heather. Where the hell are we gonna do it?"

"If your mother's not home yet, can't we just do it at your house?"

"I have no fucking clue when my mother will be home. She doesn't keep to any sort of schedule."

Heather uttered a frustrated sigh. "I wouldn't push this hard if I didn't feel the need this bad."

"Yeah, what the hell is up with that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's the link. It was always pushing us into having sex with different partners. I got so messed up when I was given to Mistress that maybe it's trying to catch up."

Richie frowned. "Shit, I'd wish you'd stop calling that fucking bitch Mistress all the time."

"I can't help it! Now, please, let's go to your house and see if we can do this."

"Fine, but don't get your hopes up," Richie grumbled as he pushed off and pedaled past the Sovert house.

Richie's head spun with dozens of different excuses he could make for Cathy's presence, and each one sounded more lame than the last. He dreaded the idea that Heather would think less of him for the arrangement he perpetuated with Cathy almost as much as what Jason would say.

Richie turned up his driveway and skidded to a stop before the keypad. He punched in the security code, and when the door slowly rumbled up, it revealed the bumper of a car.

"My mother's home already," Richie said. "So you can forget that idea."

Heather remained silent as the door rose. She did not release her hold on him, and her breath quickened.

"You're gonna have to walk back to your place," Richie said. "My Mom's heard the door go up so she'll be expecting me inside."

"Richie, I--" Heather said in a helpless voice.

"Look, we can't do it now, okay? Not with my mother home."

Heather finally slid off the seat and wandered into the garage, looking around. Richie frowned and walked his bike inside between the car and the wall. "What?"

"Could we ... we could do it in here," Heather said in a low voice. "If we're quiet."

Richie stared at her over the top of the car. "Are you fucking nuts?"

Heather looked towards the door to the house as Richie came around the back of the car. "I can't hear anything from inside. I bet we could be quiet enough."

"I don't mean that. This garage isn't heated, and it's fucking freezing out!"

Heather turned her head when a ticking sound rose from the front end of the car. She placed her hand on the hood. "This is still warm. I could lay on here."

"Heather, that's ... that's fucking kinky, actually."

Heather smiled and stepped up to him. She draped a hand over his crotch. "And you don't have to worry about getting cold, since you'll be inside my nice warm pussy."

Richie ran his hands up her sides and cupped her breasts through her coat. "Shit, I don't fucking believe I'm going to do this."

Heather squirmed and let out a husky sigh, leaning into his touch. "As much as I enjoy this, you better get back in the house and check in with your mother."

Richie reluctantly removed his hands. "And just what the hell am I gonna say to her to explain me going back out to the garage?"

Heather's gaze darted frantically around the garage before falling on the bicycle. "Tell her something's wrong with your bike and you want to work on it."

"Yeah, okay. I'll get hell for working on it now, but I don't give a shit anymore."

"Your Mom doesn't seem to care much about--"

"I don't mean her. Never mind, long story. I'll be right back."

Richie thumped the garage door button with his fist as he headed inside, then slammed the door to the garage not a scant second before both Cathy and Sandra appeared at the end of the hall.

"What the hell took you so long to get inside?" Sandra demanded.

"Problem with my bike," Richie said. "Have to go back and work on it."

Cathy sighed. "Richie, I've been waiting all afternoon for you." She gestured to herself. "I even bought all this just for you."

If Richie's cock had not already been hard, it would not have had far to go after looking at Cathy's outfit. A frilly pink robe reaching only to the tops of her thighs was open in the front, revealing a very tight bra and skimpy panties of lacy black, the material translucent enough for him to see the outlines of her areolae and labia. Her legs were clad in black fishnets attached to a matching garter belt.

Yet as enticing as she was and as ready as his cock was, his mind was still on the hot redhead about to spread herself out on her Mom's car. Fuck, that really IS kinky, he thought.

"Yeah, you look great, Cathy, but it's not gonna mean jack shit if I let my bike fall apart, and I have an accident," said Richie. "And there's too many ways to hurt the family jewels on a bike. Want that to happen to me?"

Cathy gasped, eyes wide, and shook her head.

"All right, what shit are you trying to pull?" Sandra demanded.

Richie eyed her Aura. It writhed about as if agitated, spinning a little faster as he watched. "What shit? Bike's broke, I'm gonna fix it."

"Since when do you get to anything that fast?"

Richie rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, yeah, you caught me. I'm really working on my secret death ray. Tomorrow I conquer the world. Or I would have, if it hadn't been for your great mothering skills. Way to go, Mom, you spoiled my career as a supervillian."

Cathy hid her mouth behind her hand and giggled.

Sandra sighed and glanced towards the kitchen. "You're damn lucky I have dinner to prepare or I'd go out there and find out what's really going on."

"For chrissakes, I can't cut a break around here!" Richie cried. "If I let the bike fall apart, you'd ream me for not being responsible enough to fix it when I should have. So now I want to fix it, and you yell at me for that? What the fuck do you want from me?"

Sandra's eyes softened slightly. "What's wrong with it?"

Richie had a ready answer, as he knew his bike inside and out. "Fucking chain keeps trying to come off when I shift gears."

"Thought you fixed that last month."

"Yeah, I thought I did, too. Fucking el-cheapo crap they sold me at the store."

Richie's lie had a kernel of truth. He was already disappointed with the new chain, and it was only a matter of time before it slipped again. He watched as his mother's Aura grew more placid.

"Okay, fine," Sandra said in a flat voice. "Go fix your bike, but dinner is going to be ready in about twenty minutes."

"This means we can't fuck until after dinner, doesn't it?" Cathy said in a disappointed voice.

"I'm too hungry to enjoy it anyway," Richie said.

"Can I come along and watch you work?" Cathy said, starting down the hallway as Sandra headed back into the kitchen.

"What, are you fucking insane? It's freezing in there. Bad enough I have to freeze my ass off doing this. Just go back in the living room."

Cathy paused, gave him another disappointed look, then turned and headed away.

Richie let out a sigh of relief and ducked back into the garage. He stopped short and stared as the door closed behind him. "Holy ..."

Heather lay on her back on the hood of his mother's car. She had stripped herself of everything from the waist down and slid herself forward so her hips lay near the edge, her feet drawn up and legs splayed. Her pussy lay bare and inviting, her folds glistening and oozing. A drop trickled down her groin and ran down the side of the car.

"Like what you see?" Heather said in a husky voice, giving him a small grin.

"Fuck yeah."

"I figured we wouldn't have a lot of time, and frankly, I don't think either one of us needs the foreplay. Now, please," Heather placed her hands under her thighs and spread her legs further. "Fuck me as hard as you can."

Diane trembled as she knelt upon the bed, the pillow and vibrator jammed under her mound. Her breath was a steady, soft pant, the vibrator buzzing on its lowest setting as it had been for what felt like forever but what Debby had promised would be no more than ten minutes.

She resisted the urge to rock her hips and rub her clit against the shaft of the vibrator. Her pleasure had risen to a maddening low plateau and remained. Her nipples felt hard and tingled with need. She almost begged Debby to touch them.

Her eyes were closed as she envisioned a stream meandering through a meadow, its banks far wider and deeper than the water which flowed within. Debby had been very particular about how she was supposed to envision it.

"Very good, Diane," Debby said in a gentle voice. "Imagine it as a gentle flow. Don't let it get any faster or deeper just yet."

Diane swallowed and nodded.

"Imagine it tied to your sexual pleasure. Your pleasure won't get any higher if it doesn't."

Diane let out a long breath as the vibrator's buzz became more insistent. She shivered and tried to clench the muscle Debby had pointed out at the start of the session. She trembled with the effort and tried to keep the imagery alive in her mind.

"I'm s-still rising," Diane breathed, her hips squirming.

She felt Debby's hand on her hip. "Keep still if you can. You're doing fine, Diane. You're rising less quickly than you would have. Try to hold it as long as possible."

Diane's hips jerked and she uttered a gasp when her pleasure spiked suddenly. She let out a ragged breath, her thighs tensing as she sought to regain control over a muscle she could not see and barely feel. The spike slowly eased.

"Oh, excellent, Diane!" Debby said. "Very nice recovery."

"I can't hold it for long," Diane moaned.

"That's all right. Now, imagine the stream running faster and higher. Slowly. Let the water ease in."

Diane squeezed her eyes further shut to block out as much ambient light as possible. She imagined herself standing by the stream watching it rise. She managed to get a clear enough picture that she could almost hear the rush of water rise in volume as more swirled in from the headwaters.

Diane uttered a soft moan as her pleasure rose to match, and her breath quickened. She tried to remain still, but her hips squirmed anyway.

"That's it," Debby said. "Keep control. Keep it there."

Diane heard the buzzing grow louder, but she felt no immediate spike in stimulation. Only when she absently shifted her weight to relieve a slight cramp in one of her legs, her pussy sliding forward on the shaft of the vibrator, did she feel the surge of rising pleasure.

Diane gasped and tried to take control again. She tensed and squirmed as she managed to push it down, but just barely. "I think I-I'm losing it," she murmured.

"Hold on just a little longer," Debby said. "You really are doing just fine."

Was the buzzing louder again? She told herself she was imagining things. She envisioned the stream again, now a small river which came into very sharp focus. For a moment she was able to block out all else save for her aching and buzzing pussy.

"More water now," Debby said. "Imagine the river running higher, but not quite all the way."

In Diane's mind's eye, water roared forth and lapped at the banks, as if receiving a flood of rainwater from upstream. She uttered a gasp and shivered as her pussy began a precipitous rise, and she realized that Debby had indeed turned up the vibration under the cover of speaking to her.

"Uhng! ... Uhnn ..." Diane moaned, struggling to regain control. She managed to slow the rocket towards orgasm, but crept upwards until her pussy strained near the edge. "I-I'm going to cum ... I have to cum ... oh God ..."

"Easy, easy," Debby said. "It's okay. Delay as much as possible. Let the river you're envisioning come to the top of the banks."

Diane panted hard, trembling from the effort to keep her hips as still as possible to stave off the final crest. She had almost lost the imagery, but when she reestablished it, the river had become a raging torrent close to overflowing its banks.

"Do you have that in your head now?"

Diane nodded quickly, her hands clenching and unclenching, an ache forming inside her where the muscle she held gripped so tight began to fatigue.

"Now the other imagery I told you about. The little pool off to the side. Let me know when you have it."

Diane struggled to remember as her pussy strained harder. Her mental image had almost dissolved before she added it to her mental landscape. Just off to the side of the river, she had envisioned a depression in the ground, empty of water.

Diane whimpered and nodded. She wasn't going to be able to hold it for more than a few seconds. Her pussy strained so hard at the edge that it ached in a less pleasant manner. Her thighs clenched, radiating the discomfort down her legs.

"Let the water rise to the banks and flow gently into the pool, then let go."

Diane threw all her remaining mental discipline into that one idea, and water began pouring into the depression faster than she had intended. Before she could correct it, the imagery dissolved for good when her pussy erupted into its too long suppressed orgasm. Her hips rocked, sliding her clit along the shaft and spiking the intensity even harder.

Debby suddenly gasped and panted. "Uhng! ... oh Goddess ... oh, yes, Diane ... v-very good ... uhhng!"

The imagery long since gone, Diane opened her eyes. She saw Debby on her back, legs splayed, her bosom rising and falling with her quickened breath. Diane moaned as her climax slowed and fell into a steady, gentle rhythm, a delightfully constant flow of pleasure she had never managed except sometimes with Heather, and only when everything happened just right.

"Oh God," Diane moaned. "Oh wow."

"K-keep going," Debby breathed. "Oh Goddess, that's wonderful!"

Diane closed her eyes just to enjoy the sensation a little longer without any distraction. She tried to conjure the river again, as she was supposed to let it retreat from the banks along with her orgasm, but it would not come.

"It's fading," Diane said with some chagrin. "I can't maintain it any more."

"That's okay ... you did very well ... mmm, nice ..." Debby let out a slow, satisfied sigh and sat up. She smiled at Diane. "I must say, I feel a little guilty."

Diane's hips squirmed. She could still feel her pussy throbbing faintly. "Huh? Why?"

"I feel I may be doing this for partially selfish reasons. That was intensely pleasurable."

Diane's lips twitched into a small smile. "I guess I did do a few things right." Her hips shifted again. "And, wow, I only just stopped cumming now."

Debby switched off the vibrator and extracted it. "Considering you've only just started learning to do this, you've come quite a long way. Right now you seem to be better at keeping your orgasm going rather than slowing your rise."

"I can't believe it went on that long," Diane said as she pulled the pillow out from under her. "I've had that happen to me maybe twice, and I never knew what caused it."

"Sometimes if you're with the right person, and you're in the right mental state, it can indeed just happen."

Diane's smile widened. "Well ... I was with Heather those two times. And when I did it just now, I couldn't get the picture of the river in my head, at least not completely."

Debby nodded. "You and your fellow Harbingers have already tapped further into your sexuality than many adults have done their entire lifetimes."

"And you don't mean just that we've had more sex than most adults have had."

"To be honest, that may also be true. But, no, just the act of having sex does not give you any further insights into the potential of your sexuality." Debby paused and lay a hand on Diane's thigh. "If there is anything positive to come out of Haven, it will at least leave all of you with the ability to have a far more rewarding sex life in the future."

"If that will carry over if ... when the Darkness is gone," Diane said in a soft voice.

Diane saw the brief look of melancholy in Debby's eyes. Despite having made progress, Diane had trouble seeing beyond it. The idea that her mother had almost been taken by Heather's mother had given her a renewed pessimism about the future.

She felt the need to explain her feelings to Debby so she would not feel like she had failed Diane somehow, but Debby responded before she could find the right words. "It's true that the presence of the Darkness is a catalyst, but I see no reason why you would all lose your insight unless you chose to neglect it. In the meantime, we'll take it one step at a time."

Diane nodded and decided not to mention her mother after all.

"What I want you to take away from today's session is that you have learned how to be more in control of your sexuality. That is very important."

Diane gave Debby a tiny smile. She did feel a little less vulnerable, though she was unsure how long that would last. She hoped this was the start of a break with her submissiveness. Maybe now she would not feel like she was in danger of being enslaved every time she was alone.

At the same time, she could not help but be glad that Jason lived on the other side of town.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

On the heels of that thought was the realization that this could have been said about a lot of things which Heather had done after finding the House. Having sex on the hood of a car while her partner's mother was in the house was something she would hear about others doing and shake her head at how foolish they were to risk discovery.

Then again, none of them had stakes as high as hers riding on the sexual act.

Heather panted hard as Richie's body slapped against hers almost loud enough to drown out her moans. Her blouse was open and her bra lifted so her breasts could bounce freely with his vigorous thrusts. The nipples were rock-hard from both her mounting excitement and the biting cold.

"Oh God," Heather moaned in a breathy voice as she tried to keep her voice down. "Oh yeah ... yeah, like that ..."

Richie grunted and tightened his arms around her legs, rocking his hips harder until Heather clutched her breasts when they ached from bouncing so hard. Heather closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing but his cock in her needy folds. It became easier as her pleasure rose, her pussy straining for release.

This has to work, Heather pleaded before the rising tide of sexual bliss drowned out her thoughts.

"Harder ... fuck me harder ..." Heather pleaded.

Richie leaned forward and changed the pace. His thrusts came further apart, but he rammed into her with each one, bodies coming together in loud report.

"Uhng! ... Uhng! ... Uhng!" Heather grunted as each thrust spiked her pleasure higher, plateauing each time his cock drew back. She arched her back as she strained ever closer to the edge, her hands clenching into fists. She had told Richie to hold back her orgasm as long as possible, that she would tell him when she absolutely had to cum, but now her throat had locked up. She could only strain and pound her fists against the hood of the car.

Richie got the message, and she clenched her teeth to hold back a scream as her pussy gushed. Richie groaned and jammed his throbbing cock deep inside her. Her hips jerked, a second burst of fluid spraying from between their joined bodies.

Heather gasped and whimpered as she struggled not to cry out, the throbbing so intense her whole body reverberated to the same staccato rhythm. Richie was panting harder than she had ever remembered, trembling as he kept his body jammed to hers. She still felt his cock throbbing inside her, letting out a yelp as her orgasm seemed to renew for a moment. Her pussy squirted for a third time, albeit much weaker.

Her hips jerked to that rhythm for a few seconds before it finally abated. She let out a long groan as her arms dropped limp to the hood of the car, her head lolling to one side. "Oh ... my ... God ..." She moaned.

Heather felt him withdraw, his cock still semi-hard. She let out a ragged sigh as her pussy gave a few last lingering weak throbs before settling into a lovely post-coital ache.

"Goddamn," Richie muttered as he staggered back.

Heather heard a note of distress in his voice and lifted her head. She let out a gasp and struggled to sit up. "Oh, shit, Richie, I hadn't even thought about that, I'm sorry!"

Richie had not wanted to get too cold, so he had lowered his jeans and briefs rather than remove them completely. Now much if it had been soaked by Heather's copious ejaculation.

"Don't worry about it," Richie growled as he pulled them up his legs.

"But if your mother sees that--"

"I'll just tell her I got dirty from working on the bike. She can yell at me for that instead."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Richie, I can smell it from here. She's not going to be fooled."

Richie shrugged. "I'll just smear some grease on my jeans. It smells like a combination of sweaty socks and bird shit."

Heather smirked. "You know just the right romantic thing to say to a girl after sex, you know that?"

Richie snorted. "Yeah, me, romantic. Right. Look, I don't want to chase you out of here, but--"

"I know." Heather hopped off the hood of the car and shivered when her bare feet touched the ice cold concrete. Fluid trickled down her legs, but she did not bother asking for a towel. She wanted to get away before anyone discovered them. As she gathered her clothes, she looked towards the garage door with some chagrin. "So how do we get me out of here?"

Richie shuffled along the front end of the car and stood next to his bike. "Through the garage door, same way you came in. How the hell else did you expect to leave?"

"But that will alert your mother, won't it?"

Richie grabbed a jar with a faded and stained label from a shelf. He turned towards Heather and frowned. "Fuck."

Heather looked around and pointed. "There's a back door here. Does this lead to your back yard?"

"Yeah, but the downstairs bathroom window is there, too. It's got that frosted glass crap on it, but there's so much shit on the ground under the snow that you're gonna make some sort of noise."

Heather sighed as she pulled up her jeans. "Shit, I wish we had thought of this before we started."

Richie slammed the jar down and shimmied around the front of the car. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'll just make up some excuse. I'll--"

Heather jumped when a muffled voice came through the door into the house. "Richie! Dinner in five minutes!"

"Fine, Mom, I'm almost done!" Richie bellowed back. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she picks this one day to pretend at being a mother."

Heather's eyes widened, but she repressed the urge to ask for an explanation. She wondered how much was going on in his home life that he was not telling the others.

Richie stepped over to the garage door control, his hand hovering over the button. "Okay, get ready to run when I open this in case my mother comes in here."

Heather donned her coat over her still partially unbuttoned blouse. She stepped over to the garage door and nodded.

Richie jammed the button, and the door jerked and rumbled up. "Go!" he hissed.

Heather had to wait for the door to clear the ground enough for her to duck under it. Just as she bent down, she heard the voice of Richie's mother again growing steadily louder. "What the fuck are you doing in there?"

"I used the grease, Mom!" she heard him yell back as she took off down the driveway. "It stinks like a monkey's armpit in here!"

Heather kept to the edge of the driveway so she would remain out of sight if her mother entered the garage. She yelped as her feet nearly flew out from under her when she hit the snow-packed sidewalk. She picked her way through it as quickly as she could muster before hitting the clear sidewalk beyond it.

She glanced behind her from three houses away and slowed, her throat stinging from the cold. Above her, most of the clouds had broken up, revealing the deepening velvet twilight. She pulled her coat closed around her as she approached her house.

She felt the energy she had just procured whirling in her mind. So far, nothing was trying to usurp it. Heather let out a ragged sigh. She had taken a huge gamble and it had paid off. She had gambled that the return of her precognitive visions -- albeit only weakly expressed -- meant that some of her Mistress' control had worn off, so she could keep sex-generated energy to herself and not fuel her own enslavement.

She wished she could get together with Diane one more time before she had to go back to her Mistress come Sunday night. She had let their shared sexual energy drain away so it would not be used against herself. She hoped what she had gained now would last for the next two days and protect her little sister a bit longer.

Mike rolled onto his back with a windy sigh, though whether from satisfaction or relief he could not tell. His flagging cock lay limp against his chest, the post-fuck ache noticeable only if he concentrated hard enough. He might as well have laid in bed with her and talked about the weather.

His companion rolled on to her side, draping an arm across his chest. She snuggled her fifty-something body next to his, black hair spilling over his chest. "So what's on your mind?" she asked in a languid voice.

Mike closed his eyes and draped his hand over them for a moment. "Betty, who the hell says anything is wrong?"

His girlfriend-of-convenience -- her name for herself rather than his -- swirled a finger through his chest hair. "Honey, we're compatible in a lot of ways except one. When I get stressed, I get better in bed. When you're stressed ... well ..."

Mike let out another sigh. "Yeah, I know, that could've been better."

"You've been better. A lot better." Betty smirked. "Why do you think I like having you around? You make this old woman feel like she's got some time yet before she gets put out to pasture."

Mike wrapped an arm around her and swept her over him. Her heavy breasts covered his chest, which he gazed at with a small grin. "If you can still fuck, you're not old."

"So what's the matter, hon?"

Mike closed his eyes again. No matter what his thoughts, he still saw it faintly, like the background of a stage play. If he focused on it enough, he could see his son fucking some sweet-looking redhead on the hood of a car.

Nothing would rid him of these images which once plagued him only at night but now persisted into the day, like some haunting specter. He could drown them out when he wanted to -- except, it seemed, when he most needed to do so, such as while having sex with Betty.

"You wouldn't understand," Mike finally muttered.

"Try me."

Mike opened his eyes and found her earnest gaze on him. "You'll think I'm going fucking insane."

"I've already had people tell me that for letting you stay here. It's all in the eye of the beholder, hon."

Mike paused, staring into Betty's eyes as if hoping it would somehow reveal what her reaction would be. "I can't stop thinking about my son."

"The son you had with that Sandra gal you told me about? So what's so insane about that?"

"It's the way I'm thinking about him. I feel like someone's, I dunno, injecting these thoughts into my head."

Betty tilted her head. "How so?"

"This is so fucking difficult to explain."

"Mike, you did tell me once that you miss him sometimes."

"Yes, I miss him, but there's a difference between a passing thought and seeing his entire life play out with me as some sort of fucking ogre trying to bash him down at every turn!"

Betty drew back, an eyebrow rising.

Mike frowned. "Yeah, you do think I'm insane. Fine." He shoved her off and swung his legs over the bed. "I'll just get the hell out and find a motel or--"

Betty grabbed his shoulders as he stood and slammed him back down onto the bed. He nearly bounced off when Betty dropped to the edge of the bed beside him. "That look of mine did not mean get the hell out, hon. That look means: if there's anyone in need of a nice strong drink right now, it's you. Now wait here."

Mike wanted to protest, but Betty had already bolted, and he was distracted watching Betty's ass cheeks bounce and sway as she headed out of the room. He closed his eyes and saw the breasts of that sweet redhead bouncing up and down like in some cheap porn movie.

Shit, Mike thought. Like father, like son.

The image played in real-time. He could not get it to pause or repeat, as if it were being projected like a movie against the inside of his skull. Why was he getting this and not something else? Why always things related to sex? At least this time he did not have to hear himself verbally abusing the kid.

Betty returned and handed him a glass filled with ice and at least two fingers worth of rich amber liquor. She took a sip from her own as she sat down next to him. Mike braced himself and took a large mouthful, only to have it go down far easier than he was expecting. "Goddamn, this is fucking smooth."

"Broke out the good stuff for you, hon," Betty said with a grin.

Mike stared. "What, the fifteen year scotch? Fuck, you should save that for a special occasion, not waste it on me."

"Shut up, have another hit, then talk to me."

Mike stared into his scotch for a moment before finally taking another long pull. It settled like a smoldering coal in his stomach. "Yeah, that's right, get me drunk and ply me for all my secrets," he said in a less combative voice.

Betty took a sip from her glass. "You got it."

Mike sighed and hunched forward, setting his elbows on his knees. He stared into his drink and swirled the ice cubes around with his finger. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, Betty. It's like I can't leave that place behind anymore."

"You mean Haven?"

Mike nodded. "I didn't tell you even half of the shit that was going on when I left. That town ... there's something just ... just wrong with it. Like something evil set up house there some time ago."

He heard only silence at first, and then the clink of cubes in Betty's glass.

"Yeah, you think I'm batshit crazy," Mike said, hanging his head.

"Hon, I've never heard you say anything hinting at ... well, the supernatural I guess is the best word. So when you suddenly start saying things like that, I listen. Hard."

Mike looked up. "Yeah? And you can still say I'm not crazy when I tell you I think the town was trying to call me, like it wanted to lure me back?" He thumped his glass down on the night table and grabbed his pants off the floor. He fished out his cell phone and flipped it open. "Here, all these numbers that called me, all from Haven. Just a fucking open line where I can hear breathing. Fucking breathing. Nothing else."

Betty took the phone and let out a slow sigh. She wrapped an arm around him and drew close. "I don't know if anything supernatural really is behind this, but shit, that can spook anyone. Fuck, I'd be spooked if something like that happened to me."

Mike gave her a look of appreciation even if he could not bring himself to express it in words. He snatched the phone from her and tossed it on the nightstand.

"So what does your son have to do with all this?" Betty asked. "That's sort of where you started."

"I don't know if it does. It's like I'm seeing into his life. Names pop into my head from fucking nowhere like I've known them all along."

"Huh," Betty said, looking thoughtful.

"I'm not talking about just random thoughts, okay? Random thoughts just come and go, they don't play out whole scenes like they're being televised and my head is a fucking antenna! Now tell me I'm not crazy."

Betty drew her arm tighter around him. "I don't know what to tell you, but you're not crazy."

"But it is crazy!" Mike declared. He grabbed his glass from the table and took another gulp. It had already loosened his tongue, and he did not want to stop to think about what he was saying. He had to get it off his chest before it ate him alive. "You can't see what other people are doing hundreds of fucking miles away."

"I know, and that's probably not what's really going on, but I think things like this happen for a reason," Betty said. "You're having these ... thoughts, visions, whatever ... for a reason."

"Damned if I fucking know what it is."

"Maybe I do. You said something about being an ogre to your son?"

Mike frowned. "I know what the hell you're going to say. Don't go there. I was never abusive towards my son."

"Whoa, slow down there, pardner!" Betty snapped. "I never said that and never meant it. You told me what went down with that bogus child porn rap, and I never doubted your story there, either. So, no, that's not what I was going to say."

Mike let out a long, tremulous sigh and stared into his glass. "Sorry, that was the scotch talking. I mean, yeah, my son has done some boneheaded things, and if these thoughts I'm having of him are any reflection of real life, he's still doing boneheaded things." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Like now."

"Oh, are you seeing him doing something right now?" Betty asked. "What is it?"

"Fucking some pretty redhead on the hood of a car." Mike paused and blinked. "Fuck, on the hood of Sandra's car! In the garage! Jesus H. Christ, does that kid have a fucking death wish? Doesn't he ..."

Mike trailed off when Betty began laughing. "I'm sorry, hon, I can't help it. I'm reminded of the story you told me about when you fucked your prom date inside the first car you found unlocked, and it turned out to belong to the principal."

Mike glared at her, but then slowly broke into a faint smile. He chuckled and took a more sedate sip of his drink. "Shit, if that kid really is following in my footsteps, he's gonna be really fucked up. Anyway, yeah, he's done stupid things, and I'd call him out on it, but I never put him down or called him some of the names I hear myself calling him."

"I don't doubt that for a minute. But maybe you're worried that he's going to expect you to act that way if you ever see him again."

Mike frowned, but not in anger. "No offense, Betty, but what the fuck does that mean?"

"He was only six when you left, right?"

Mike nodded.

"I've read that there's a lot of kids who grow up blaming themselves for a divorce, especially if they don't know what the real circumstance were."

Mike remained silent to parse what she said, his brain slowed by alcohol.

"And if you really feel that there's something wrong with that town, you can't tell me you don't feel some sort of guilt over leaving him behind."

Mike clenched his teeth and squeezed his fingers around the glass until the ice rattled. He brought it to his lips and took a shaky sip. "It wouldn't be so bad if ... if Sandra hadn't ... if I didn't think she was in league with whatever it is ..."

"Oh, fuck," Betty murmured, drawing him close. "I didn't know that part."

Mike found himself clutching her. Somehow the glass of scotch had made it out of his hand and on the floor beside Betty's feet without spilling. He let out a long, shaky sigh. "It's fucking stupid, thinking she's part of something I can't even point to, like some dumbass conspiracy theory."

"Yeah, I know, when you've been wronged like that, it can feel like everyone's against you."

Mike looked at her. "You really think that's what's causing all this? Some big fucking guilt trip I'm laying on myself?"

"Well, it doesn't explain the odd phone calls, but everything else, yeah." Betty handed him his drink. "Because, hon, you're the kind of guy who could do that."

"And how the hell would you know?" Mike said in a voice more of curiosity than challenge."

Betty smirked. "Remember that night when you told me everything about your ex-wife? The way you harped on that little affair you had the last time you were in Haven after the divorce?"

Mike snorted and took a sip of his drink. "Hardly an affair. Just a one-night stand with some coppery redhead I ran into. I don't even remember her name. Pamela, maybe."

"Yeah, but from the way you had described it to me, it sounded like it pretty much tore you up with guilt."

Mike sighed and stared into his drink again. Every time he turned around, something else he would rather forget was dredged up from his past. He tried not to be upset with Betty, as she was only trying to help.

Even though he couldn't remember the name, he could remember her. He'd recognize her in a moment if he ever saw her again, unless she had really let herself go over the past eight years. He had tried to tell himself that, legally, the marriage was over, but emotionally he had felt as if he and Sandra were still husband and wife.

Mike frowned. The memory of the sex would have been more pleasant if he had not seen that black shit around Sandra the next day. Nothing Betty could say could ever explain that. He doubted that guilt would make him conjure up a fake black fog around his wife.

"I dunno, maybe you're right," Mike grumbled. "I'd rather believe it was in my own head than any of the fantastic shit I've come up with. Makes me wish I'd never read a single fucking word Stephen King ever wrote."

Betty chuckled. "I'll worry about that only if you start leaving papers around the apartment saying 'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'"

Mike looked up and started laughing halfway through her statement. He gave her a quick hug and finished off the rest of his drink. "Hey, why don't we throw some dumbass movie in your DVD player and veg on the couch the rest of the evening?"

Betty smiled. "Sounds good to me." She jerked her head towards the bed. "Maybe we'll try again in the morning after you've had some sleep. You look like you haven't slept properly in days."

Mike grinned. "Thanks, Betty, for putting up with me."

Betty smirked. "Hey, when you're relaxed and firing on all cylinders, you make this fifty-year-old frump feel like a hot babe."

Stacy trembled as her pussy ran molten and dripped to the floor as she knelt before the vision of her Mistress like a supplicant to her goddess. Her shimmering eyes held both need and adoration as they beheld the ethereal figure clothed in inky black. "Nothing, Mistress," she said in a husky voice.

Are you quite sure of this, my pet?

Stacy's hips squirmed as her pussy hovered just short of orgasm. "J-Jason cannot hide his thoughts from me when he is in my office," Stacy said in a quavering voice. "If he had learned anything of any plans by the Harbingers, I would have found it."

The Harbingers must be planning something. They have been too quiet for too long.

"I'm sorry if I failed you, Mistress."

Oh, not at all, my slave, not at all.

The Darkness' silky tones felt like a sensual touch all over Stacy's body. Her pussy rose and crested, a few moments of mindless, throbbing pleasure reminding her of the never-ending joy of obedience to her Mistress. "Uhnn! ... Thank you ... oh, thank you ..."

You are doing very well with Jason. He should be ready soon. Then we will stop the Harbingers from ever interfering again.

Stacy let out a ragged breath as her throbbing settled to a gentle rhythm, a constant stream of soft pleasure radiating from her pussy through her whole body, until her entire psyche reverberated to the same orgasmic beat. She wrapped her arms around herself, pushing up her breasts and moaning as the skin stretched tight around her throbbing nipples. "Oh yes ... mmm ... is there a danger, Mistress?"

There should not be. The journal is a dead end. I had seen to that long ago, and the only one who could reveal the truth is conveniently dead.

"You were so clever, Mistress!" Stacy gushed as her hips rocked in time with her continuous orgasm. Slowly, it faded, and she let out a long satisfied sigh when it was done.

Continue your work as you have, said the Darkness as it faded from view. I must reserve my energies for when the time is right.

Stacy stood. "Yes, Mistress, I will obey," she said and watched as the vision vanished.

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