
===============================================================================
  LEGAL DISCLAIMER
===============================================================================

The following literary work is one of historic fiction. While certain elements
may be recognized as based on actual events, the characters and personal
events are fictitious. No actual persons were involved in the creation of this
fictional work, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is pure
coincidence.

Certain characters portrayed within this work are copyrighted to Gould (1993)
and Cormier (1988). The author wishes to express his deep gratitude towards
the aforementioned for giving him creative inspiration when still a young man,
and to stretch one's imaginations beyond one's own reality. For this, and the
countless other aspiring writers in the mainstream and underground markets
you've inspired, the author sincerely thanks you. No malice or slight was
intended by the willful inclusion of your marvelous creations into this work.

This work is intended for adults, and features situations, dialogue, and
descriptions that are unsuitable for minors. Please be mindful of your local
laws and customs in regards to distributing or dissemination of obscene
material. Thank you.

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                          Inter arma enim silent leges

                     [In times of war, the law falls silent.]

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  AN INVISIBLE EMPIRE
===============================================================================

  You can see us, but you do not know where we are.

  You can hear us, but you do not know what we are.

  You can even speak with us, but you will not know who we are.

  We are an invisible empire, a secret kingdom, and we rule the world.

                                 =======
  -----------
  PREVIOUSLY:
  -----------

  Stanley relives the years between 2001 and 2007. Now a young father, he lives 
with his wives in San Francisco, and further masters his gifts until they 
approach the level of his mentor Tseng. Despite this improvement, he still 
achieves many of his goals through subversive and covert means. When Stanley's 
family is threatened by Shawn's father, he metes out swift and harsh 
retribution while maintaining a facade of wholesomeness.

  While Stanley does his best to inure his wives and children to the rigors of 
a rapidly changing world, reality wears at his idealism. Seeking an outlet, he 
beings to build a very private, and unique, residence in the San Francisco Bay. 
However, that project is not enough to stave off more immediate temptation. He 
carries on an illicit affair with one of his own university students, Rosalind 
Chae. As the year 2008 begins, he arranges to keep her as an on-going mistress 
separate from his household.

===============================================================================
  GIRLS NEXT DOOR 
===============================================================================

  As I had accurately guessed the year prior, 2008 immediately got busy. Apart
from cleaning up the remnants of the ricin and anthrax operations, the agency
sent me, Ghost Light, Mirage, and Masquerade out on a retrieval mission in
Montana. The asset sent in to infiltrate a local organization had gotten the
information we wanted, but he was now suspected as an infiltrator.

  So, we had to get him out before things went bad. Normally, Masquerade didn't
accompany us on field-ops, but she was called in due to this particular
emergency extraction. She was to maintain the asset's cover while we got him
out. Bethany did that with great skill, perfectly mimicking our agent so Ghost
Light could warp him outta there.

  To cover Masquerade's escape, Mirage caused a significant distraction while I
guided Bethany out using enhanced mind-sight and an ear-bud to disguise my
true potential. If she suspected my powers had grown, she definitely verified
it when I pinged her a few times to forewarn her of impending danger. I
trusted Bethany though; Tseng had given her a quick version of the empire's
story, though I got the feeling that she suspected there was something more to
it.

  Initially, there were complications in the operation. While the others fit
right in, I had to play the part of supervisory agent in charge. Dapper
Chinese gentlemen generally didn't hang around militia-infested Montana.
Regardless, the four of us completed our task and left without further
incident. More importantly, there was no bloodshed. The body count was for the
FBI and ATF to rack-up once we left.

  Because I had some time left of my leave of absence from the firm, I called
up Rosalind to see if she was available. Our arrangement wasn't without the
occasional exchange of body fluid. As much pussy I had at home, I didn't mind
porking Rosalind when I handed over her monthly allowance. True to our
agreement, Rosalind maintained a fairly high grade point average (around 3.9).

  Not having to worry about money freed her to focus on school work. I made
little demand on her time. Since she lived just across the bay, it was easy to
meet and arrange a casual encounter. Usually, it was a quick meet at a hotel.
Hence, I was surprised when Rosalind greeted me with some strange demands.

  "Oh hey, Stan," the Korean cutie chirped over the phone, "Where are you?"

  "An airport." I was vague; I never revealed too much to Rosalind. "I'm going
to be in later tonight. I was wondering if you'd be free tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow?" Rosalind sniffed and I heard the clickety-clack of her
Blackberry. "Oh yeah, fer sure! But um, can I bring some company?"

  I paused, a little surprised. "Sure I guess. Wait. Is it anyone I know?"

  I had said I wasn't there to control her life, and being permissive with
certain things was part of my nature. In fact, if Rosalind was bringing along
some people she found interesting, that was fine too. I only wanted to bone
her for about an hour or so a month. What she did the rest of the time was her
business.

  "Just some friends of mine. You bumped into one of 'em last time, remember?"
Rosalind lowered her voice before going on, "Um, Stan? Can you do four
thousand this time?"

  "Sure." I found my interest suddenly piqued. "But why?"

  "Uh--huh," Rosalind responded obliquely, "Yeah. My friends wanna party. So,
like it'll be a grand each okay?"

  I sensed her thoughts despite being a thousand miles away. Rosalind's friends
were in the room with her and partially listening in. Interesting. She's
either setting me up, or she just arranged an orgy for me. I grew mildly
suspicious, but played along, not wanting to wreck what plans she made.

  "Sure. No problem. The usual place?"

  "Um, let's try the coffee place near Wurster Hall," Rosalind suggested.

  "Fine," I said, "See you tomorrow, say noon-ish?"

  "See ya at noon," she replied and hung up.

  I was curious as I reached out and pinged Rosalind's mind. By the time my
plane took off from Logan International Airport, I had gathered enough to know
what was going on. Upon meeting my Korean cupcake the day after, I was
confirmed my suspicions. Rosalind had three friends who shared her apartment;
one of them I had bumped into on my way out the last time I visited. Rose's
roommates had seen her mood go from stressed out to sanguine in the short span
of three months. The questions were light-hearted at first. Then genuine
jealousy set in when the other girls got hints of her secret.

  Rosalind couldn't give away the whole story without seriously revealing how
much she was getting. But with Spring Break coming up, Rosalind grew
soft-hearted and decided to split her March payment in a hair-brained scheme
that would've given Melanie a run for her money. Her friends were three
nineteen year old college girls named Sasha Goodwin, Kimberly Brewer, and
Alexia Lambedakis.

  All were fairly pretty, and most guys would earnestly give up their left nut
for a single night with any one of them (let alone all at once). In my case, I
just splashed a wad of money and wondered how the hell I got into this mess.

  To be truthful, I wasn't all that much into the partying scene anymore -- not
with worrying about the kids at home. Besides, if I was screwing around, I
didn't want to think about what my darlings would do on their own time. As
Viktoriya's stunt in Italy had reminded me, I could've easily been the
cuckolded husband in a nest of harpies.

  Still, there was a quartet of slutty college whores who were willing to sell
it if the price was right, and I was an eager buyer. At a grand a night per
pussy, it was something amicable to everyone involved. Rosalind and her three
buddies were waiting for me at a coffee house on the corner of College and
Bancroft. It was a great place for design students when they needed a caffeine
pick-me-up.

  "Oh hiya!" Rosalind waved as I came into sight.

  I waved back as I approached the group, studying each of the new faces and
minds as quickly as I could. My former student was dressed in a loose orange
top and a pair of denim shorts. It was far less than what she wore when we
first met, but a spring heat wave had hit Berkeley early that year. I could
see her cute little feet and her painted toes from the sandals she was
wearing, her olive tan skin begging for a man's touch. Her other three friends
were just as enticingly dressed.

  Sasha was an exotic looker, much like Viktoriya. She even sat as primly as my
Russian darling. She possessed gorgeous brown hair done in two loose
pig-tails. She had sharp features, and her cheeks and jaw were chiseled in a
way that gave her strong Slavic features -- all which only enhanced her fierce
beauty. The girl wore a striped top that lifted her B-cups to form some
cleavage and which easily showed off her navel piercing. Her sandal-wrapped
feet peeked out past her black jeans, giving her an approachable, if
coquettish, air.

  Kimberly appeared more traditional "American" with brownish red curls and a
simple peach-tan top and white shorts. A pair of sunglasses were stuck into
her hair. Her inquisitive green-grey eyes flicked between the text messages on
her mobile phone and me. The tall girl appeared to be the biggest of the
bunch, her face having that "wideness" that was apparent when one looked at
her dead on. However, she had a pretty athletic body which practically
demanded attention.

  Alexia was a mix of between something Asian and (I guessed from her last
name) Greco-Macedonian. It didn't matter, for she was a definite hottie. She
wore a loose frilly shirt which she didn't bother tucking into her faded blue
jeans. Unlike the others who wore sandals or open toed shoes for spring, the
brunette had donned a pair of tan suede or leather boots. Her below-shoulder
length hair dangled behind her as she sat precariously without a care at the
cafe.

  So, it was in the midst of this quartet of young women, I made my
introduction and sat. We ordered and chatted. I was talkative, but only when
it came to asking them about the girls' lives and feigning interest in their
activities and hobbies. By now, I was used to steering and cajoling the
conversation with a quick smile and a little light mind-reading.

  Of course, I only spent as much time remembering what facts I needed to
successfully bed each of of those hussies. I knew one of them had troubles
with an on-and-off boyfriend, while another was experimenting with Ecstasy.
The third was into seriously hardcore vibrator usage. All of them though, were
struggling and nervous; none of them had prostituted themselves before.

  After lunch, Rosalind led the way towards her apartment. As I walked with the
four girls through the campus, I noticed our little group turned heads. I also
wondered if (and how) Rosalind had prepared this time. If she was as
loopy-headed as the last couple times, it would mean I have to do some
groundwork. When we were near the campus' South Gate, I told them I'd be back
in a bit after I drop by the Walgreens on Shattuck.

  "I know where the place is," I said, "I'll be right back."

  "But I got everything." Rosalind paused. "Or I think I did."

  "You think?" Kimberly elbowed the little Korean girl, "Are you sure?"

  "It's better to be safe than sorry." I gave them a shrewd grin and suggested,
"Why don't you head back and relax? I'll be back in a flash."

  Perhaps it was just to make sure I came back to go through with the whole
thing, but pretty pig-tailed Sasha tagged along. She and I made quite the cute
couple as we walked down sun-drenched Shattuck to the pharmacy. Without
batting an eye, I headed straight to the contraceptives section; Sasha toyed
gingerly with a stack of hairclips as I swept past the shelf.

  I grabbed a box of the correct-sized condoms and the largest container of
lubricant I could find, then headed for the checkout. The pimply-faced clerk
of course, had his eyes on Sasha's tight petite ass as she followed me outside
the pharmacy. I caught his fleeting thoughts as we went out of sight; none of
them were wholesome enough to remember or repeat here.

  Back at Rosalind's, I handed over my "donation" (essentially, the payment) to
the girls and they were seriously blown away by the dough I was spending. From
the thoughts I was grabbing, I determined that Rosalind had twisted the truth
a bit about the stipend she was getting to her so-called friends. I had fully
prepared and sorted four thousand dollars into four separate security
envelopes earlier.

  In addition, I carried my allowance of petty cash in small and large bills in
case things got more interesting. Lucky for me, the girls were satisfied with
what I had to offer; I needn't spend more.

  From Rosalind's lies, the other three girls thought I was paying her a mere
grand to fuck her brains out once a month. This of course, didn't jive with
reality. I was actually giving her a lot more dough and I wasn't actually
banging her whenever I felt like it. I could have, but I definitely wasn't.
Rosalind decided to be a bit generous and share her fortune this one time so I
could have one heckuva orgy. It was her way of "gifting" me something special
in her twisted way, and I was all right with it.

  Things got busy quick after I hit the shower. The Slavic girl, Sasha took the
plunge first by hopping in with me and sucking me off. I rammed her face a few
times but held off and refused to spunk. I wrapped my cock with a condom,
picked up the slight college freshman, and porked her silly. Sasha's arms and
legs were wrapped around me as I slammed her in the bathroom.

  However, I grew tired of how things were going, and decided to take things
further. I carried Sasha right into the living room where the other three
girls were lounging. Amidst their shocked and surprised gasps and stares, I
plopped Sasha on the floor and pummelled her right before their very eyes. The
show had an amusing effect on the girls as they cheered (or jeered) my
fuck-toy as she lost control over her body and orgasmed like she never had
before. I TK-rolled her G-spot a few more times, timing it with my own thrusts
to wipe her out.

  Emboldened, I pulled out of a shivering Sasha, put on a new condom, and
selected the next girl. Sensing her arousal, I grabbed Rosalind roughly by the
wrist. She gasped as I pushed her down on all fours and rammed right into her
without any pretense of foreplay. While this had the danger of being harmful,
I had enough control over telekinesis to ease myself in without physically
harming her.

  To Rosalind, it felt like a very slick, very lubricated, very warm, and very
massive dick had been shoved into her body and throbbed against her vaginal
walls. She cried out loudly as the other girls watched transfixed as their
friend turned into a wailing banshee. I drilled my extramarital fuck-nugget
until I lost count how many times she juiced over my fuck baton.

  When I finished with Rosalind, I grabbed the next convenient girl, Kimberly,
and pushed her onto the sofa. She uttered a wild screech as I split her pussy
with a mix of telekinesis and my freshly protected Chinaman's dick. From my
scans, I knew this girl enjoyed some light abuse. I lightly slapped her face a
few times while I porked her silly.

  Kimberly initially snarled, but it was a "happy" kind of snarl. I sensed she
wanted more so I decided to up it a notch. I squeezed out a large gob of goopy
lube and worked it over her puckered asshole. Having thrown both her legs to
one side, I was able to work a condom covered finger into her tight little
shitter. Soon, her ass was begging to be wrecked by anything longer than four
inches and thicker than an American dime.

  The frazzled hair beauty's eyes grew wide with fear and anticipation as I
pulled out of her cooch and mounted an Asian invasion on her tight, puckered
asshole. Her howl of, "Goddamn!!" drew the awe of her friends while I slammed
her like a well-oiled steam engine. My fingers left slight welts on her hips
and thighs as I rammed her over and over again.

  Kimberly grimaced like she was in pain, but she was clearly enjoying herself
-- her ass clamped down on my meat shaft with each stroke. I finally spread
her legs apart, and flicked her clit until she seized up and came in one huge
extended orgasm.

  "Rose, get me a paper towel." I pointed with my chin.

  Rosalind hopped to the kitchen and came back with a roll of towels. I took a
square and pulled out of Kimberly's asshole. She grabbed a few squares and
excused herself to the washroom. That was fine. That was also why Janet didn't
mind condoms when anal sex was involved. I quickly changed yet another condom
and pounced on Alexia.

  Despite her fiery appearance, this girl wasn't into the rough stuff. So, I
slowed my pace to make her comfortable. I spread her legs wide, letting her
shapely calves press against my chest as I entered her tight little hole. As
it turned out, Alexia was the circle's closet masturbator. She moaned softly
as I plowed her slowly and gently.

  "Shit -- I want that!" Sasha exclaimed quietly behind me.

  I turned around to see Sasha fingering herself; her digits slick and glossy
from her body fluids. Nearby, Kimberly had showered herself clean and was
bumping butts with Rosalind. I saw they were sharing a double-ended dildo that
was as glossy-wet as Sasha's fingers. Feeling adventuresome, I tugged Sasha
towards me and kissed her full on. She responded eagerly by pressing herself
against me. As I continued my thrusting, Sasha glanced at her chum lying on
the floor.

  "Hey Lexi." Sasha let out a drunk giggle. "Wanna eat me out?"

  Alexia blinked; she seemed apprehensive as her gaze shifted to me for my
opinion.

  I only managed a wry grin. "You'll never know if you don't try."

  The Greco-Asiatic brunette smiled shyly and nodded. Sasha straddled the other
girl's face and tongue-fucked my mouth while I stuck her friend, who in turn,
lapped up Sasha's dripping puss. By now, I had denied myself the chance to
shoot my spunk several times. I wanted release, but the feeling I got from the
four girls in the apartment were that they weren't yet satisfied. I glanced at
the clock in Rosalind's apartment and saw it was only a few minutes past 3
P.M. local time. I had been fucking these girls for less than an hour.

  "Hey pull out just a sec," Sasha said.

  I glanced down and saw that the doe-eyed girl with the pig-tails was leaning
over, and appeared to be sixty-nine-ing Alexia. She wasn't though. Instead,
Sasha was alternately licking her friend's clit and panting with her mouth
wide open, practically inviting me to shove my dick right in. Man, I thought
wryly, the guy who was going to date this nympho was in for a treat.

  I pulled out of Alexia and shoved my covered cock into Sasha's eager, waiting
mouth. She let her jaws slacken as I poled her slowly (and carefully; I didn't
want to knock her teeth out). My dick ached for release, but I denied myself
the pleasure. Slick with spit, spermicide, and lubricant, I pulled out and
slid back into Alexia with ease. I felt the busty Greek girl's pussy pulse
quickly as she came three times in quick succession.

  I slammed her a few more times before I left Sasha and Alexia alone. By now,
I was like a man following his basest desires as I got up and gingerly pulled
Kimberly on top of me. She gasped in surprise when I took her. Rosalind tongue
wrestled me while my hips bucked gently upward against Kimberly's baby-kettle.

  "Like it huh?" Rosalind asked after I drew back for some breath.

  "Y--yeah." I panted.

  "Cool, glad you do." She bent in close and kissed my neck. I gritted my teeth
and fought the urge to cum.

  "Can we join in?" Sasha and Alexia were kneeling just beside me.

  "In--na--min--net," Kimberly's face contorted as she uttered a soft cry and
climaxed again. The frazzled-haired girl let out a satisfied breath, leaned
over to kiss me, and got off the Miracle-Fuck that was my modest little dick.

  "Me next!"

  Sasha quickly impaled herself before anyone could contest her. And on and on
this went until it started getting dark. By now, I had maintained and erection
for nearly three hours. I wasn't using anything except a little mental
exercise to keep myself hard. The girls in the apartment were saddle-sore,
dehydrated, and more than a little irked that I still hadn't shot my load.

  "You know, I didn't believe you at first," Alexia said to Rosalind, "But your
boyfriend's dick is like solid granite or sum'thin'."

  I grinned more at the "boyfriend" tag than Alexia's compliment. Rosalind
giggled shyly as she bent down to kiss me.

  "Hey Stan," she whispered, "It's been great, but we got mid-terms next week
y'know?"

  "Ungh--yeah," I groaned as Sasha rode my fuck-shaft for the umpteenth time
now. I watched the petite dark haired girl shiver as she orgasmed yet another
time. She fell back, exhausted and breathless.

  "But you haven't cum yet!?" Kimberly glanced at me astonished. "We're fuckin'
the Man O'Steel here."

  "Ha-hah," Sasha giggled deliriously, "Supa'man! I fucked Superman!!"

  We all laughed a bit, but Rosalind got serious.

  "No c'mon guys," she said, "He paid us a lotta money. He's gotta cum,
y'know?"

  "What'd you suggest?" Kimberly asked.

  "I've got an idea," I said and the four of them looked at me. "I've been
holding back 'cause I didn't want to leave anyone out, but why don't the four
of you try sucking me off? Just another five minutes or so. I'll watch and if
I can't get off, we can try next time."

  "Sounds like a challenge" Rosalind said as she wore saucy smile. "C'mon! Show
your teeth and TEAR it up!!"

  The girls laughed as much as I did. If they only knew how fast Shawn and
Jamie made me blow my load, they'd be put to shame. Sasha placed herself of
over one of my legs and Kimberly the other, while Alexia and Rosalind lay
prone beside me. I found I could reach and grab Alexia's and Rosalind's cute
butt-cheeks as the four girls began licking, biting, and sucking my dick,
balls, and groin in earnest.

  Holy shit, it felt great! I shuddered and nearly came. Thankfully, I inured
myself against such stimulation and kept my erection. By now, Sasha and Alexia
would alternate being suckling the top of my prick while biting the length of
my shaft. Kimberly, wanting to find her own space, found that I groaned softly
when she took my balls into her mouth.

  "Oh yeah, that's good," I said through gritted my teeth as to encourage them.
"The balls, the tip, the whole thing -- ungh."

  The girls got the gist of it as they continued licking and mouth-fucking me.
I tugged Rosalind and guided her to suck on my erect nipples.

  "Feels good?" she mumbled as she kissed my nips.

  "Bite." I shivered with eager anticipation. "Just a bit."

  Rosalind grinned and bit me -- hard. Coupled with the sweet oral I was
getting from three other girls, my body tensed up and I blew my top. Alexia
squealed as my hand tightened over her lovely ass. Her squeal of delight
quickly became a cry of annoyance when she found most of my scuzz flew into
her hair.

  "Hole--lee--fuck!!"

  Sasha laughed as Alexia sat up. The Greco-Asian girl sat with a frown on her
face as she tried to untangle the soggy mess in her beautiful black hair.
Kimberly in the mean time, seemed like she was getting a second wind. I
watched her press her face tight against my scrotum and deeply inhale my man
scent.

  "Fuck that was awesome!" Kimberly murmured, "Hey, if you don't mind Rosie,
can I --?"

  "God, you're such a slut!!" Rosalind scowled at her friend then turned to me.
"Do you think you can? What'd you think?"

  As inviting as it was, I didn't want to jeapordize their academic careers.

  "I'd say hit the books," I said as I sat up, "But if you're in the mood, ten
more minutes?"

  "Thanks!" Kimberly nodded and scrambled for a new condom while the others
dispersed, grabbing their clothes, stretching, and yawning. In the meantime,
the tall Caucasian girl clawed my neck lightly as she settled her ass over my
still stiff dick.

  "I aim to please." I grinned at her and she smiled shyly back. I didn't know
I had it in me, but I found I could still walk after all that activity. By the
time I was dressed and ready to leave, it was dusk. Kimberly found the shower
was still occupied by Alexia (she was still scrubbing her hair clean of my
cum) so she and Sasha stepped out to grab some take-out. With the bathroom
occupied and Rosalind changing, I didn't want any more fanfare and I quietly
made for the door.

  "Hey!" It was my Korean honey. She had just stepped out from her room, cute
as a button. Rosalind was dressed in an oversized T-shirt, white socks and
panties. It made her look sweeter and younger than her age. The lil' Korean
spinner ran up and threw her arms around me. I sagged back a bit and returned
her embrace.

  "You're leaving without saying goodbye?" Rosalind looked at me.

  "Sorry." I rubbed her back gently. "I thought you were studying."

  "Well it only takes a sec to say g'bye!" She didn't relinquish her hold.

  "Sorry Rose." I gave her a gentle hug. "G'night. And let those friends of
yours know I had plenty of fun."

  "I'll bet." Rosalind's eyes sparkled as she asked, "You wanna do'em again
huh?"

  "Well, sure." I rubbed her cheek gently. "If they're up for it."

  "Let's wait and see if my Pell Grant comes through," she lowered her voice to
a bare whisper, "Then I can afford it to let you fuck my friends."

  "You're a wild one." I gave her a kiss on the nose. "Don't you get into
trouble now. Understand, sweetheart?"

  "I won't 'daddy'." Rosalind tip-toed and kissed me on lips. "I'll be good,
'kay?"

  We usually stuck with our monosyllable names when possible. However, the age
difference and how we saw each other nearly made it seem like we were father
and daughter (almost -- although I'm sure Janet would've gone nuts if she got
pregnant at age 18). I didn't let any of that faze me as I kissed her deeply.
The petite little K-gal cooed with pleasure and clutched me ever tighter as my
tongue slipped past her sweet lips and into her eager mouth. I finally had to
draw back for some air.

  "Be a good girl 'till I get back, 'kay?"

  "Yes'um." She kissed me passionately once more on the lips before I finally
left.

===============================================================================
  HOME FRONT 
===============================================================================

  Now you might think that a man would be wiped out after having balled four
college girls who were young enough to be his daughters. Not a chance. Instead
of taking the underground train, I found a secluded corner of the the
apartment block and flew up straight into the air. Using the small gyrocompass
on my hiking watch and the lights in the distance, I pointed myself towards
San Francisco.

  My telekinesis was still not as potent as Viktoriya's, but I had honed what I
had to a level of proficiency I wouldn't have dreamed of when I was younger. I
"pushed" on the soles of my shoes to achieve the height I needed and
maintained my balance by "jerking" the dress belt I wore.

  By doing this, I was able to safely "fly" without risk breaking something on
my body and I zipped towards the City by the Bay just a few feet over the
chilly water. I managed to land back home unseen and unnoticed after a short,
soundless flight.

  My building was quite impressive at night. Garden lamps lit up the front yard
with low wattage solar-powered LEDs. The lights gave the place an eerie
luminosity at night. Janet's house next door was similarly illuminated. I saw
one of her lights was on and I reflexively pinged. A-ha. A slow grin crept
across my face.

  Janet had taken Michael, Milhail, and little Frederick to stay at her house
for a little while. Despite our "no one under six" rule, my First bent it for
her son after I installed child-proof locks on the sliding doors. We also
carefully instructed both the older boys they were to NEVER go into the
backyard without an adult (Jillian, of course, didn't count and she could come
and go as she pleased with Janet's and Jamie's permission).

  I headed into my unit and glanced at my watch. It was nearly 9 o'clock. I
reheated and ate a pork bun, showered, brushed, donned some dress slacks,
shirt and jacket, grabbed a bottle of chardonnay, and ran back outside to my
First's residence. I rang her doorbell once and waited. I sensed Janet's
confusion as I felt her presence approach the front door. She spied me through
the peephole and greeted me in genuine surprise.

  "Stanley? What're you doing here? I thought tonight was your 'off-night'."

  "I got lonely." I flashed her my trademark smile.

  "You mean you got horny," Janet said dourly, "Is this a booty call?"

  "Maybe." I pouted and rubbed a shoe behind the other like a shy kid. "Aren't
you going to let your poor husband in?"

  Janet knitted her brow and glared with her arms folded across her chest.

  "Pretty please?" I leaned close and kissed her. "Ngoi-gwaju lei-a
Ling-Ling*." [* Cantonese: I missed you Ling-Ling.]

  My First reluctantly took my bottle of two-buck Chuck and stepped aside to
let me in.

  "Where're the boys?"

  "Probably asleep until you rang the bell." Janet shut the door behind me.
"For the record, you're too late to dine me."

  "So I'll just wine you. I'll think about the sixty-nining part."

  "Charming as always." She sniffed and walked past me with her head held high.

  "Don't be uppity Jan." I grabbed her and spun her into my arms.

  "What's gotten into you?! You've been acting all weird recently."

  "Mid-life crisis." I leered. "Does it matter? You're getting some tonight."

  "It does to me," she said peevishly, "You sure you're not taking something?"

  "Hmm, maybe. Does lady-juice count?"

  "Eww." Janet wrinkled her nose. "Fuck no!"

  "Oooh! Mom said a bad word!!"

  My First gasped as she and I looked up to see the oldest boys on the stairs.
Mikey and Milhail both registered shock on their faces that their mother had
said a curse word.

  "Hey guys." I grinned and winked. "You heard your mom. Gimme a hand and tie
her up for a spanking okay?"

  "Cool!" Mikey sped off to the kitchen, followed closely by Milhail.

  "You wouldn't dare." Janet levelled a glare at me.

  "Hey why not?" I shrugged, "You said it -- not me. Now you gotta be paddled."

  Janet shook her head in bewilderment as we composed ourselves.

  "Wait, wait a minute." She pushed me away. "You're kidding right?"

  "Do I look like I am?" I pointed at my face and gave her a 'You're in for it
now!' look.

  Janet shook her head, took the bottle of wine, and head into the kitchen.
Right as she stepped in, the boys came running back out the other side, their
hands full of orange nylon cord.

  "Dad!" Milhail called out, "Where's mom?"

  "You didn't see her?" I knitted my brow. "Come on, follow me."

  My sons and I went to Janet's kitchen and found it empty save for the bottle
of chardonnay.

  "She's escaped!" I feigned shock, "Fan out guys, let's find her!"

  "Awesome!! Mom's hiding 'cause she's gonna get spanked!" Mikey said
excitedly.

  "I'll get Freddy up and help!" Milhail ran upstairs to rouse his brother.

  "Great." I laughed and gestured for them to do their thing.

  I knew where Janet was hiding but the kids were so energized, I wanted to run
them tired so they could sleep well. I put the wine in the fridge and waited
until my three pint-sized deputies lined up before me. Little Frederick was
rubbing his eyes when he appeared, yawning.

  "Dad-da?" he yawned. "Where's mommy?"

  "Mom's in trouble!" Michael whispered, "She said the f-word RIGHT in front of
us!"

  "Oh?" Little Freddy blinked, his mind slowly waking up. "R'illy?"

  "You bet!" Milhail nodded. "We heard her say it too!"

  "Okay guys." I huddled with them, "Here's the plan: mom's gotta be hiding
around here somewhere. So spread out, search the rooms, and holler when you
find her, okay?"

  "YEAH!!"

  The kids shouted and fanned out with such exuberance, I hoped they wouldn't
get too rough. Janet wouldn't lift a finger to hurt them, but the two older
boys packed a punch when they ran, and either could easily knock her over. A
serious injury (even a bruise) at her age might turn out to be serious. Janet
wasn't that old, but she wasn't as young as she used to be either.

  I waited little bit for the kids to scatter throughout the house before I
took three steps towards the storage closet and opened it. Janet glowered at
me unkindly. She was scrunched up and sitting on the vacuum cleaner. I pulled
her up and out from the small space.

  "You irresponsible butthole," my First growled and nipped my cheek, "You're
lucky tomorrow's Sunday."

  I ignored her protests and tried to kiss her. Janet tried turning her face
away but I sensed which direction she was going to face, and gently headed her
off each time. She finally gave up and I kissed her full on the mouth.

  "Wo-louw-a*!" Janet said after she gently pushed me away. [* Cantonese: I'm
pissed!]

  "Ngmho kgum-le*," I scratched the backs of her hands gently. [* Cantonese:
Don't be like this.]

  Before she could say anything more, the boys came in shouting excitedly.
Frederick was hard at work pushing an office chair into the kitchen.

  "What's that for?" I asked him and pointed.

  "Ish'so mommy can be tied up!" he spun the chair around so it faced us.

  "Hah, smart lil'guy," I laughed as Janet's jaw dropped.

  "You -- wouldn't -- DARE!!" she let out an angry shriek as I scooped her up
with one hand to the loud cheers of the kids.

  Despite the rough-housing, I set her down as gently as I could in the chair.
Janet sat in quiet dejection with her hair frazzled and her blouse and dress
roughed up. The older boys laughed with glee as they wrapped several feet of
rope around their mother and the chair. Using my hand as a spacer (and a bit
of telekinesis) I made sure the bonds weren't that tight. I wanted to be able
to undo those bonds later so I could have fun with my lovely First.

  With our quarry captured, I rolled a defeated Janet into the first floor den
and closed the door partly. I brought the kids back out to the living room,
microwaved some popcorn, grabbed several boxes of fruit juices and sweetened
soy milk, and then I rolicked with them for a few minutes.

  "Okay guys, I'm going to see how mom's doing," I said, "You guys have fun got
it?"

  "Cool!" Milhail's eyes sparkled as I handed him the remote.

  "But dad," Michael whined, "I don't wanna watch Yu-Gi-Oh! I wanna watch
Spiderman!"

  "Everyone gets a turn." I patted my son's head. "Let your brother watch this
tonight and we'll do something you want tomorrow morning okay?"

  "Promise?" he asked.

  I nodded as Milhail turned up the volume to drown us out. Thankfully,
Frederick wasn't as picky as his brothers. My kid burped loudly from his black
currant juice and helped himself to some more buttered popcorn. I was spoiling
them rotten and I'd hear no end of it from Janet tomorrow. But that still
meant I could have fun tonight. I slipped quietly into the den and found the
chair empty. The rope was in a pile next to it.

  I reflexively pinged the vicinity gently, and sensed Janet's presence in the
master bedroom. I snuck upstairs quietly, passing a glance over the kids, who
were all glued to the TV. Mikey was enjoying himself despite his earlier
protest.

  As I neared the room, I cocked my head. I could hear the shower running, but
something was fishy. I pinged as I opened the door to the bedroom slowly. I
grinned as I realized that Janet was lurking in the darkness with a pillow in
hand.

  "Xei-yea*!" Janet pounced on me. [* Cantonese: You bastard! (in this
colloquial context)]

  I held my arms open and got whapped softly on the head for that act of
compassion. I laughed as I grabbed the pillow in one arm, and encircled
Janet's waist with the other.

  "Suiy-yun*!" [* Cantonese: Asshole (in this colloquial context)] She hissed
angrily with a rough smile, "How dare you leave me tied up in the dark!"

  "Sorry." I kissed her lightly.

  "You'd better be!" Janet bit my cheek playfully, "What're they doing now?"

  "Watching TV." I tossed the pillow on the bed and glanced towards the shower.
"You left that on?"

  "I heard you coming upstairs." Despite the dim light, I could see Janet's
cheeks dimple. "You're not the quietest person I know."

  "Maybe I'm just tubby." I patted my slight paunch comically.

  "Lucky you." She grinned wryly. "I have just the exercise for tubby hubbies."

  Janet pulled me to the shower where we had made our own entertainment. When
we were done an hour or so later, we checked on the kids. Frederick was
asleep, but the older boys were only nodding off and watching the Yu-Gi-Oh
fight whats-his-face again. I roused the boys and had them swish some
Listerine before they went to bed.

  For Frederick, I had to content myself with getting him to brush his teeth
while he was half-asleep. All that done, I put my sons to bed and headed for
the master bedroom.

  "Lei kao wai-xaiy di-xeimenjei-a*!" Janet glowered at me with some annoyance.
[* Cantonese: What a fine example you are! (colloquial trans.) literally: You
teach the children badly]

  She had just finished picking up the crumbs, cups, and napkins our boys had
left. I chuckled and turned the lights off. As mad as she sounded, I felt her
hands on my face and neck once I slipped into bed alongside her. All in all,
it was a very good night.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- WELCOME TO THE ROCK 
===============================================================================

  By early 2008, my project at Red Rock had been going on for over two years.
The last of the Marin county "problems" had been solved (not like I cared as I
did some of the work my contractors weren't allowed to). Early on, there were
a few environmental fanatics who gave me some trouble.

  A few of them even encamped on the island when I started excavation back in
early 2006. The digging crew had to go home that day (setting me back quite a
sum). When the contractor brought me the news, I was not in the mood to be
civil.

  Just days before, Viktoriya had left for New York. Additionally, I was
swamped with problems at home: aside from my money worries, I was taking care
of our three new-born daughters so they wouldn't keep their mothers awake at
night.

  Shawn's mother also chipped in, but dealing with one wailing infant was
already a chore -- three screaming kids called for ordering valium by the
pallet. Normally, Melanie would be able to help, but she couldn't because she
was sick from her own pregnancy.

  For an hour after I got the news, I honestly thought murder would be the best
solution. The waters around Red Rock were sixty feet deep; good enough for
what I had in mind. I had learned from the Mexican banditos and Armenian
mobsters that dissolving a corpse in sulphuric acid more or less made it
unidentifiable unless there was DNA residue.

  With telekinesis, I didn't even need to physically touch anyone to dispose of
them. Or, I could've just seized their minds and have them immerse themselves
in a tub filled with acid. Gruesome, but effective.

  Luckily, saner and more rational thoughts came through, and I contacted the
Contra Costa County Sheriff's office to file a complaint. As Red Rock's new
owner, I didn't like trespassers. Unlike the previous owner, I cherished my
privacy and property. Deputies made the arrest, and I had to go about the
residence in a completely different fashion to avoid having my place wrecked
by pissed off eco-terrorists.

  If I was confident the agency may not have an idea I owned Red Rock before,
there was no way to hide it now due to the police report. I didn't sense that
Cox knew about my latest purchase when we met a few weeks later. If the agency
knew about my new purchase, they were keeping Agent Cox in the dark. If that
were the case, the burly agent was simply a "dropbox" for his higher-ups;
through Cox, the agency could interact with me without endangering itself.

  Ultimately, Red Rock was nothing more than a speck of sedimentary rock (very
dense sedimentary rock) mixed with maganese (which gave it its red color) in
the middle of the ocean. I needed to keep it from wearing away too fast, so I
had contractors encase the windward side of the island in two to three inches
of concrete (this was mixed with colored sand to let the island retain its
reddish hue).

  On the leeward side, I planned the construction of a reinforced concrete and
wood pier where boats could dock. It would protrude out from the middle of the
eastern beach. While it was sturdy (and serviceable) I didn't plan on ever
using it -- I planned to fly there in the dead of night.

  A ramp (again, concrete) was planned along the rough pre-existing trail.
However, the trails only existed on the east and north sides. Half of the west
side was nearly a gradual drop-off into the ocean, and its other half was a
small slim beach filled with debris. The south side of Red Rock narrowed and
sloped sharply into the sea, with only a tiny rock spire marking the tip.

  The top of the island was at odds with the project I had in mind, and it had
to be partly leveled (that's what got the activists all riled up). I didn't
waste the excavated materials though. The dirt and rock that was removed were
pushed to the northwest side as a storm barrier.

  The residence was the hardest thing to design. Because of the new seismic
safety rules, I couldn't build a replica of my favorite house (Le Corbusier's
Ville Savoye in Poissy, France) without doing some serious pile-driving. Doing
that would've cracked the rock, and reinforcing the stilts with the steel
framed cagework as I had at my 43rd Avenue condo would've wrecked the design's
aerie-like aesthetic.

  So, I had to settle for a completely different kind of building, although it
retained much of the Modern-International style I loved. It's been called many
things by critics and admirers alike: Spire House, Top Hat, Ship's House,
Ship's Bridge, Zebra House, and even ugly, but to me the house on Red Rock was
always just that -- House on Red Rock.

  Outwardly, the house didn't look like a residence. From the south side, it
appeared to be a bunch of black coils around a large roughly rectilinear
structure. The black coils were essentially Shawn's solar wall but vastly
improved. Instead of having it do drainage and collecting sunlight, it focused
only on solar power collection and the tubes were much, much thinner.

  Where there were windows and openings, a column of standard photo-voltaic
cells were embedded above and below and linked to Shawn's system. These cells
were modular and replaceable -- forerunners of today's modular solar panels.

  This of course, meant the southern facade had to best serve its function: to
collect what scarce sunlight there was in the foggy San Francisco Bay. To do
that, it was a generously curved and canted at a slight angle. This curve
matched the path of the sun as it rose and set, even in winter time.

  Inset into this "football" footprint was a cylindrical space that poked
through the two-level main structure. The third level of the central "tower"
(as some critics had described it) was gentrified mix of family room, lounge,
and observation deck topped with a tilted panel of solar cells similar to the
ones used on the south facing.

  The sloped roof was securely tied down in case of strong winds. The tower's
top had ventilation windows on the north side to let hot air out during summer
months. The top lounge of course, opened to the rooftop of the main building.
This rooftop was as sturdy and as sure-footed as my first building but the
walls consisted only of wire reinforced curved glass.

  Under that wondrous sunny space were the living, eating, and sleeping spaces
for about a family of four and two guests (I was unsure how many children I
would have at the time). In any case, this was a stretch to house six adults
on a deserted island (one could easily triple that for emergencies).

  Aside from the septic tank that allowed for non-biodegradeable waste, there
was a system of recycling the "white" water used for showers, dish washing,
and the drinking tap into "gray" water for irrigating the landscape.

  I planned to have replaceable batteries to store the energy collected during
the daytime; there were even customized socket connections for specially
designed exercise bikes and treadmills. These could be used to generate energy
for use later (you'd have to ask our electrical engineer Miriya Gasser about
that -- those machines were her design and let her keep that ass of hers
tight; you can bounce quarters off her butt).

  This fusion of technology, function, and the inhabitant's mindset was the
founding seed of my own theory of environmental design.

  Spatially, the house was partly a rich man's showcase and partly a home, much
like the Edgar Kaufmann Residence at Bear Run, Pennsylvania (Falling Water by
Wright, 1964). A main public concourse ran through from the "tower" to the
front of the house where the black coils were. I didn't have anything in mind
when it came to a main entrance and simply designed two -- one was pragmatic
and utilarian while the other was a little more osentatious.

  It would take a bit, but Gracia (who had done interiors but felt confident
enough to expand into landscaping for a laugh) made the grounds around the
house a bit more appealing.

  Of course, all this was just on paper -- or the pier was anyway. While all of
the planning was already done by the middle of 2007, the project was in
bureaucratic hell. The state's national park system was fine with private
property bordering protected land (the whole San Francisco Bay was considered
protected); however, that meant I couldn't do much construction around the
island unless I went through a bunch of commissions, panels, and hearings. It
was like a method to prevent a land-owner from developing his property without
actually saying so.

  I was personally pissed, but there was little I could do. There were too many
people and things involved; I wasn't able to pin-point and control key
personnel without seriously devoting time-off to maintaining it all. And this
time, I wasn't building on a lot in a city; it was a goddamned island and
everyone (and the agency no doubt) was looking over my shoulder and watching
my every move.

  So, while I could build on the island's interior, I had no way of getting
there (apart from chartering a chopper or using rubber dinghys) because I
wasn't able to construct a pier for boats to dock.

  I waited and brooded. And while I brooded, I went on working on the design's
interior with Gracia. Of course, Gracia was lagging on her design because the
two of us were being picky about materials that were modern, affordable and
readily available.

  Another reason for the frustration was due to Gracia having a difficult time
keeping Red Rock a secret, chiefly because she and Janet were on such good
terms. It was not as complicated as one imagined. Andrew (my little brother)
was dating Gracia's little sister, Sachiko.

  Although Janet had met Gracia before when the latter was working on the 43rd
Avenue condo, the two quickly formed a good friendship on their own. After
Andrew and Sachiko announced their engagement in 2007 (their undergraduate
studies having been completed), Janet found common ground with Gracia -- both
were professional, career-minded women.

  The only difference was that Janet was with me, whereas Gracia was still
single. This of course, did not go unnoticed by my sharp-eyed First.

  "Have you ever thought about her?" Janet brought it up one time after we had
finished.

  "Thought about who?" I shivered as she slid her smooth thighs over mine.

  "Gracia," my First said in a hushed whisper.

  "No." I chuckled, thinking she was making a joke. "I picture either Gong Li
or Kwan Chi-Lam* when they were twenty." [* Cantonese: actress Rosamund Kwan,
from various Hong Kong dramas, romances, and comedies. Most Westerners are
more familiar with Gong Li from her roles in 'Memoirs of a Geisha' and 'Curse
of the Yellow Flower', both films were geared towards international release.]

  "That's not what I meant." Janet nipped my ear. "I mean, what do you think of
Gracia?"

  "She's cool," I said absently. I was starting to nod off when I remembered
something. "Ah, yeah. Have to call her tomorrow to check out a new vendor."

  "You fan-tung*." [* Cantonese: Idiot. A word play on rice tub or container] I
felt Janet's fingers grope me lewdly. "I meant this. What does this guy think
of Gracia?"

  "Wait, what the hell?" I sat up and looked at her. "Is this the Janet I know?
You weren't taken over by a space mutant were you?"

  "Oh, it was just a thought," she said demurely. "I was speaking --
hypothetically -- that you could --"

  "Could what?" I eyed her warily.

  "You know what I'm trying to say." Janet grinned sheepishly.

  "With Gracia?" I gave her a look of distaste. "All while you still have
problems with Rachelle?"

  "Is this the Stanley I know?" she said as she squinted at me. "You don't
sound like yourself. Especially when I'm practically giving you the chance to
score!"

  "Listen, Gracia's excitable and a bit scatter-minded," I said, "That's why
she's a good decorator. I like working with her -- I just don't like hanging
around her."

  "Holy shit," Janet sighed and flopped down on the bed next to me, "I can't
believe you said that."

  "Well believe it." I scratched her knee gently, "Besides, I don't think
Sachiko would like it if I was fooling around with her sister."

  Never mind the "I think" part, I thought. Heck, I knew. Sachiko wasn't
particularly happy when Andrew revealed how many nieces and nephews he had.
The young psychiatry student's eyes went wide when she learned all those kids
were fathered by me and by different women.

  "So you do have limits." Janet teased me and kissed my shoulder.

  "Amazing but true." I knocked heads with her gently.

  "Wow," she said airily, "Wait 'till Gracie hears this."

  "Hey!" I gave her thigh a not-so gentle slap. "You shut up!"

  "Did you just tell me to shut up?!" Janet slapped me back as she scooted to
the edge of the bed, "Dai dahm-a lei*!" [* Cantonese: Oh you're full of
daring-do!]

  I grabbed her by the leg as she was trying to get away. Janet gave a startled
cry when I dragged her back under the covers and tickled her until she was
laughing so hard she was crying.

  "Stop! Stop!! STOP!!" she howled. Janet could barely utter anything else as I
cheerfully molested my obnoxious First. I rested on top of her petite, little
body.

  "Get off of me, you big lug." Janet squirmed to no avail. "Lei haido
hah-wo*." [* Cantonese: You're just a big bully.]

  "Oh, you just need to be taught a lesson." I nuzzled her neck. "If I can't
trust my wife with secrets, then who can I trust?"

  "Let's see." Janet ticked off her fingers."There's Melanie. Viktoriya. Shawn
Ellen --"

  "And a smart alec, eh?" I growled and silenced her with a kiss.

  Janet groaned as I pressed my soft body against hers. Twenty years was a long
time for many people, but I loved my First as much, if not more, after all
that time. I remembered her sweet teenaged body. I remembered how attractive
and exciting it was for me despite her relative pudginess and stocky body. I
thought I was one of the luckiest guys on the planet to have landed such a
smart, sexy girl who was as in love with me as I was with her.

  Jan was not simply "the first wife" but much more. While she specialized only
in civil business law, her career was taking off. She had a wide network of
connections through her working contacts. If that wasn't scary enough, she was
also the one who had forgiven me three times for my infidelities: first with
Melanie, a second time with Rachelle, and a third time with Jamie and
Rachelle. If that wasn't enough, I didn't know what was.

  Still, I had my own bad habits. I didn't gamble anymore because the one time
I did, I got carried away and got mixed up in something that put people I
cared for in danger. I also came away with a new woman to call my own (Jamie).
I kicked my smoking habit when Faraz and Ghandia announced their engagement.
With my best friend dead, I saw little point in reviving a habit we both
shared.

  Unfortunately, I was still addicted to pussy. That was a habit I had little
incentive to kick. In Rosalind, I found she was not only an eager dealer, but
she was an eager beaver as well.

===============================================================================
  FANTASY ZONE 
===============================================================================

  "You sure about this?" my little brother Andrew asked nervously as we neared
our destination.

  "Actually, I was going to ask you that," I replied casually as I parked the
rented mini-van by the curbside.

  "Sure I guess so." Andrew's fingers tapped his knee nervously. "I mean I
should be right?"

  I gave him a half-hearted shrug as we waited for our passengers. Okay, it was
a little crazy. It was only two months since I had had a five-way with
Rosalind and her friends. Between that, I'd been a bit busy here and there,
but I was most proud when Andrew and Sachiko announced that they had plans to
wed.

  Actually, it was all perfect since the two lunk-heads had been dating for
nearly five years. What disturbed me though, was Andrew never really hit it
off with another girl. Oh, he talked with them for sure -- don't get me wrong,
he wasn't an introverted freak -- but he never had the chance to score with
other women. Sachiko was his first, but the reverse was not true: she had been
very intimate with her two previous boyfriends.

  I saw Andrew was being willingly sucked into a new life by a rather
strong-willed Sachiko. And why wouldn't he? She was his first real long-term
girlfriend (like my Lady Wu was for me) and who was quickly becoming the
center of his life. There was a difference though.

  Like Janet, I too had experimented sexually with other partners (okay, so
some became permanent -- sue me). But in Andrew's case, not only lost his
virginity to Sachiko, he hadn't been with more than one woman.

  To me, that was unhealthy. I sensed he was being both belittled and bullied.
On that topic, Sachiko thought herself to be better than my little brother,
and unconsciously treated him so. It was probably the first, but perhaps not
the last, time I mind-read Andrew to check up on his mental well-being.

  So, I was going to fix that. I started the ball rolling when I called
Rosalind up and asked if the girls would be willing to make some spare change.
Of course, the answer was a resounding, "Yes!"

  I wished them all good luck on their finals and urged them to try and achieve
at least a 3.50 GPA (they all thought I had an academic fetish); everyone
managed to do so with the exception of Kimberly, who eked by with a 3.30.
Still, it wasn't really a requirement. I just didn't want them to stray from
their academic (and future) careers. So, the weekend after the last day of
final testing, I arranged to have the girls meet me for a Memorial Day Weekend
of debauchery.

  "And I'm bringing someone else along," I added, "My brother, Andrew."

  I heard some, "Ooohs" and "Aaahs" in the background. I sensed Rosalind was
suspicious, but she gave me a positive audible response. She practically had
to. Her Pell Grant didn't come through (her family was too well-off) and that
little stunt of hers in March had played havoc with her expenses.
Additionally, several things came to fore that let me splurge a bit.

  First, I had done some anti-pirate wet-work in the Indian Ocean as a favor to
Kari. Her childhood friend's parents were on a yacht hijacked by pirates
working off the east coast of Somalia. They were cruising north of the
Seychelles when they were nabbed.

  While Galen and Kari were formidable on their own, that particular band was
rather well-equipped and Tseng was not at their beck and call. For settling
that small nuisance, I got a tip on where I could grab some more loot without
disrupting Galen's and Kari's relationships with African warlords.

  Of course, those two wouldn't pay me -- money was just a means to an end. For
citizens of the invisible empire, knowledge and information were our coin. I
was fine with it. In exchange for my assistance, I nabbed a small shipment of
white gold from some rather rough looking 'normals'. I also got to feed dead
pirates to the sharks. It was all pretty cool.

  Secondly, my agency work was also profitable despite my dislike of Cox and
his cronies. NSA-PSI called me up one weekend, flew me out to Guantanamo Bay,
and I had a mind-to-mind with the newest batch of their tougher customers.
Instead of being physical, I generally asked them to spell their name, tell me
of their parents, etc. You know. Banal shit. I'd write it all down on their
dossiers (inking out corrections in red) and then shaking their hand.

  Of course, that's when the interrogation would take place. I still didn't
know any Arabic (apart from asking Ami to let me stick into her ass and then
her mouth while she nodded eagerly, and she only taught me that to prank Faraz
when we were younger) but the imagery and faces I got were handy. My skill in
doing impromptu pencil sketches also helped.

  So, I didn't think of it when I offered each of Rosalind's friends (and the
Korean cutie herself) a cozy ten grand (each) for three days and two nights of
their time. If you thought $40,000 for four girls and three days was crazy,
you didn't know much about the sex business. Considering the going rates of
escorts at the time, I was getting a fair discount.

  Of course, I picked out what I thought would be the best place to have fun --
Red Rock Island. While there wasn't any house there per se there was a
semi-permanent Quonset Hut used for emergency shelter by the workmen (who
were, of course, off that long weekend so I skipped on paying overtime). In
there were basic amenities like temporary showers and toilets.

  At the last minute though, I re-thought my plans. I didn't want the girls to
get the wrong impression, and I certainly didn't want them to know I owned my
own goddamned island. They might get ideas (like blackmail me) and while I was
sure I could deal with that quietly, I had enough problems already.

  Instead, I rented a small quaint cabin on the shore of Lake Hennessey in the
Napa Valley. It wasn't one of those log cabin dealies, but a modern thing
complete with modern amentities (like satellite television, refrigerator, and
running water). Initially, I was also looking to get a little more for my
money's worth by asking Melanie's brother Yu-Wah (now just called Anthony) to
join in. He was just starting college, single, and (unsuccessfully) seeing
other girls left and right on Facebook and MySpace.

  While I had some measure of pity for Anthony, I wasn't all too sure if he'd
be able to keep his mouth shut. If his older sister Yu-Ching was any
indication, he'd probably run his mouth off with the latest gossip just to
make some noise. I decided against letting him know anything at all and stuck
with just Andrew instead. He was my brother after all. In any case, I was sure
Melanie was cooking up schemes to set her own brother up with friends in her
network.

  Besides, I had my work cut out for me. Andrew was a bundle of nerves. He
wasn't sure how things would go. Apart from my suggestion that he lie to
Sachiko's face that he was unavailable that weekend, he was at a total loss of
what to do. That all went away when the four girls slipped out from their
building.

  His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped as they approached. The four girls
each wore shorts and tank tops. All had sunglasses, hats or caps, and travel
bags. I had suggested that it would be quite a weekend and they certainly
dressed for it.

  "Hi Stan!" Rosalind waved excitedly. I smiled and waved back as Kimberly blew
me a kiss Rosalind didn't see. I turned to Andrew and nodded.

  "After you help them with the bags, take the back seat," I said quietly,
"Just like I told you. Smile and enjoy yourself."

  My little brother gulped and quickly got out of the van.

  "Hi, I'm Andrew." I watched him fight to keep himself under control. "Lemme
help you with that."

  "Oh thanks!" Kimberly saddled him with her bag and hopped into the front
seat, right next me.

  "Don't mind her," Sasha said acidly, "That's Kim. Not a care in the world."

  Aside from the cabin, I rented a mini-van for the trip. My car wouldn't have
held everyone anyway and I wasn't using one of the family's vans; if someone
accidentally left something in the car, it would've been damning.

  Once we were packed, we drove about an hour through the quaint city of Napa
in the so-called "wine valley". We stopped for gasoline and a leisurely lunch
at one of the many diners nestled amongst the vineyards.

  I studied and pinged my party lightly. Andrew certainly was still
high-strung, but he was becoming more at ease as the girls asked him
questions. He spoke well enough after I gave him some pointers. If Andrew
talked, he stuck to his work, his school, his hobbies, and his likes. However,
I also told him to listen to the girls and to tailor his chat to their lives.

  "Women love that shit," I had joked with him earlier, "How does Sachiko stand
you anyway? And aren't you supposed to be the talker? You're studying
psychology for fuck's sake. You should be giving me lessons."

  "I don't think you need lessons." My brother regarded me with envy, "I still
can't believe you have six wives."

  "Yeah. About that," I became defensive, "Keep all that under wraps. Don't
talk about Sachiko or my business either."

  "I'll try and remember that," Andrew replied slowly.

  Of all the girls, I knew Andrew wanted desperately to fuck Sasha. Unlike last
time, she wore her hair in a single braid this time. With her beret, she
appeared very coquettish save for her facial expression. It made her look lewd
even if she wasn't acting that way. Must be something with Russian women that
turn the Brothers Chen on so much, I thought as I pinged Viktoriya.

  'Stanislav!' My Slavic siren greeted me with a yawn. 'Where are you? You've
been so busy, I've spoken more to Milhail on the phone than you!'

  'Been busy, honey.' I thought-spoke as Kimberly gave me the eye. I felt her
foot brush ever-so deliberately against my calf. Rosalind popped a French fry
into my mouth.

  'Very busy.' I patted Rosalind's thigh while smiling at Kimberly.

  It was a risk I was willing to take. Viktoriya was looking through my eyes
using mind-sight to see what I was doing. By selectively remembering and
blocking parts of my consciousness, I was able to have my Baltic beauty see
only what I wanted her to see: Andrew was alternately speaking and eating his
fries and mushroom burger.

  'Just you and Andreas?' I saw Viktoriya wrinkle her nose at the mirror.
'Where are Janna, Dumbo, and the others?'

  'At home.' I told the truth and decided to bring up a serious matter.
'Milhail hasn't seen you in a while with your competitions overseas.'

  'I know.' I saw her naked breasts heave with a silent sigh. 'Cristobel
sprained an ankle.'

  'In Marcello's company?' I teased her. 'Or in yours?'

  'With me.' Viktoriya seemed downcast. 'I slipped during practice and would've
broke my head if he hadn't caught me. Poor dear, he's in a cast now.'

  'Uh-oh.' I broadcast my sympathy reservedly. 'So what now?'

  'I -- I don't know.' Viktoriya gazed deep at her reflection in the mirror,
looking for answers in her own eyes. 'I don't know kisa. I'm scared.'

  I sensed her fear. Cristobel must've known it as easily as I did. Viktoriya
feared never being able to continue participating in her one passion. I never
danced well enough (even with telekinesis, it took concentration) to be her
partner in competition.

  With the Italian stallion, Viktoriya certainly turned heads of both sexes
when she hit the floor. Theirs was a solid relationship based on hard work,
trust, and shared passions (dancesport and hot guys).

  With Cristobel's current injury, Viktoriya was torn. She felt like she had
done it deliberately to remove herself from dancing so she could move back to
San Francisco and be with Milhail. She certainly wasn't able to take care of
him alone while she went to work each morning at the institute or travelling
to competitions in different countries.

  Now, as much as ever, I felt I could broach the subject with her; however, I
had other things on my plate at the moment.

  'Can I get back to you later?' I kicked myself inwardly for ending our
mind-link. 'I'll grab you later okay?'

  'Maybe.' I saw Viktoriya sniffle and compose herself. 'Freya and I are going
to drop by Cristobel's tonight. Cheer him up and see how he and Marcello are
doing.'

  'Nothing too crazy now.' I thought-spoke with worry, remembering what
happened in Italy.

  'Oh it's just a visit, kisa.' Viktoriya's sardonic grin coupled with her
shaking head put me at ease. 'I can't believe an old pervert like you fathered
our son.'

  'Takes one to know one.' I swigged the rest of my lemonade and blanked her
out. I could sense my dusky Russkie was miffed at not getting in the last
word. I knew she'd find a way to get back at me the next time.

  "Hey Stan," Rosalind nudged me, "Ready to go?"

  I blinked and saw the others were wiping their mouths, taking a last drink,
and pushing their plates aside. I nodded, waved for the check. We were back on
the road and arrived at the cabin about thirty minutes later.

===============================================================================
  CABIN FEVER 
===============================================================================

  Napa is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Actually,
this applied to the whole of Napa Valley, from Calistoga all the way down
(south) to the start of the Napa River. The valley was more of an agropom
(Russian for 'agricultural production and manufacturing') than a community.
The only differences were that Napa Valley vinyards were privately owned,
American flags flew everywhere, and Hispanic farmhands worked the fields
instead of Russian serfs.

  The cabin the six of us lived, slept, and fucked in was in a small town
called Oakville, which was a few miles from the city of Napa. We went down
there once for a day of quiet fun when we wanted to see what small town
America was like. Andrew and I had grown up in cosmopolitan San Francisco,
where every 2 out of 5 people were Asiatic or Mongoloid.

  We never felt like a minority when we were children. Rosalind and her three
friends, Alexia, Kimberly and Sasha were all born and raised in San Jose. The
six of us found it quite interesting to see a town with a population of merely
a thousand going about their business. All in all, an interesting trip!

  The cabin was by a small body of water called Lake Hennessey. It wasn't a
fishing lake, so Andrew and I had packed some jerked venison, some sweet rice,
and yams. Considering breakfast, we also brought along some fresh bread, a few
jars of jelly but no peanut butter for fear the girls were allergic to nuts.
The first day had gone pretty well. Andrew took Sasha, Kimberly, and Alexia to
the lake while Rosalind helped me out with some light house-cleaning.

  Afterwards, we headed out and enjoyed the rest of the day around the cabin,
playing peek-a-boo around trees, talking about aboreal architecture, and
generally flirting. We came back right before the sun started going down.
Sweaty, grimy, and a little worked up from our hike, Rosalind and I took to
the shower then enjoyed a sweet pre-dinner fuck. In fact, she and I were still
going at it when the others came back from their evening swim.

  When night fell, we had a quick bite to eat before we started the ball
rolling with some stories and more chatter. Andrew worked up the courage to
walk the girls through an exercise he had read about in his textbooks.

  "Okay, okay." He grinned and gestured his hands like a motivational speaker,
"I want all of you to close your eyes and picture yourself walking along a
forest path."

  "Like what were doing earlier?" Alexia giggled shyly and my brother's grin
grew wider.

  "Yes, like that," Andrew replied and continued, "Now along this path, you see
something on the ground. As you near it, it's a key. What material is it?"

  "Metal," Sasha said promptly.

  "Whoa. Sssh," Andrew hushed her, "Keep the answers to yourselves for now,
okay? We'll reveal it after this is over."

  "Gotcha."

  Andrew scowled lightly but went on, "Okay you take this key and continue down
the path and you come across a cabin. The key fits the door, so you open it.
The first thing you see is a table. What's it's shape?"

  I flicked my eyes at the four young women and saw a few faces wearing
thoughtful expressions. No one answered aloud though. Andrew was pacing the
floor as his voice rose a little bit.

  "Okay, you've had enough of this table," he said, "You open the door to the
cabin's garden. There's a big pond out back and there're geese there. How many
do you see?"

  I sensed the girls' answers but said nothing as my brother waited a bit
before he continued.

  "Now surrounding the cabin's garden is a well-built fence," Andrew rubbed his
fingers under his chin, "How high is it in relation to you? Can you peer over
it? Or through it?"

  When sufficient time had passed for the girls to decide, he continued his
narrative.

  "Now, you're going back into the cabin. You go past the table you saw earlier
and head out the front door." Andrew paused for breath. "When you open the
door, you find that the door opens, but you cannot step outside. Something is
preventing you from going outside or heading back inside the cabin."

  My brow arched a bit; was it possible my brother suspected my gifts? I waited
patiently, then realized it was part of his exercise. I was a bit too skittish
for my own good.

  "Outside the cabin, you see all the people you've ever known." Andrew's gaze
swept from girl to girl, studing their faces. "They're simply gazing back at
you but not saying anything nor can you communicate with them. How do you
feel?"

  "Ooh. Creepy," Rosalind gave up at being quiet and shuddered slightly as she
spoke, "So are you going to tell us what our answers mean, mister psychologist
man?"

  Andrew grinned and explained the answers: the key represented how a person
viewed material wealth; metal being the most common answer would be treated
as, "wealth is necessary as part of survival". The table represented how
someone viewed his relationships with strangers and other people.

  A round table meant the person was open and accessible to new people whereas
a rectilinear table meant an individual had certain rules about privacy -- my
table was ovoidal and my darlings were taking turns dancing on it whilst
blasted.

  For the geese (or ducks, or swans) in the lake, that meant how many personal
and close friends or acquaintances a person had. Some -- like Alexia -- saw
only two or three birds, while others -- like me -- saw a half dozen geese and
nearly double that number of goslings. I smiled inwardly as I thought about my
wives and children back in the city.

  The height of the garden fence was a measure of how one saw oneself in
relation to others around him (or her). A fence one couldn't see over could be
construed to mean a person was underestimating himself. A short fence (or in
the case of one answer Andrew heard in class, no fence but just a dirt track
to mark the garden's boundaries) may be taken to mean that a person viewed
himself as overly important.

  For me, I saw a bit over the fence's tops, but I blamed that image on the
short fence Andrew and I had built with our father at the old house. Still, it
was comforting to know that I saw my darlings -- gifted or not -- as peers.

  Finally, the part about the gathering of friends and "people you know" was
how one viewed one's death. The girls were thoughtful and shared their answers
(it ranged from 'creepy' to 'weird'). I was probably the only one a bit
disturbed by the explanation although I didn't show it. I had cheated death
numerous times in various locales.

  If I hadn't been gifted, I would've been dead many times over. But that
wasn't what irked me. What got to me were the looks of grief on each of my
darlings' faces as I imagined the scene.

  I had experienced the cold, numbing shock and fear from Janet after my close
brush with death at the bank robbery years ago. Viktoriya's naked fears had
also come through when she thought I had been buried alive when I tried
clearing the site at 43rd Avenue.

  In Japan, I tasted Shawn's brief flicker of fear when I grappled with the
maniac swordsman in the Shibuya; only later, after Kady was born did the
incident come up again.

  My muffin and I moving things around to fit a crib for the baby when an old
album surfaced with photos of our brief time together in Japan. She took one
look at the photos and started crying so uncontrollably, I had to take our
infant daughter for fear she'd drop her.

  Although I was probably never in any real danger, Shawn's imagination
(coupled with her estrangement with -- and recent death of -- her father)
pushed her emotions over the edge.

  It was this shared fear of being widowed that dwelt in the minds of my loves
after each birthed their respective children. Janet had kept quiet about my
hasty trip to New York City the day of the attack (to personally check on
Viktoriya).

  However, after the marriage, the bigamy suit, and the kids, it slowly got out
to the others that I was doing "contract work" for the government. In a post
9/11 world, the term "contracting" became increasingly connected with
mercenary work.

  Even though my role at NSA-PSI was support, the simple fact that I might be
in harm's way put the fear of God in each of my six treasures. Their fears
only heightened after Janet invited me to come along to the gun-range with
some of her co-workers. I generally refrained from any obvious display of
skill or prowess (save in the bedroom or the design studio) but when it was my
turn on the firing line, I instinctively fell back on my training.

  Before the previous shooter had taken his seat, I had loaded, fired, and
cleared my weapon. Although my score was nearly perfect, Janet was not
impressed. Instead, she was ashen-faced the whole ride back.

  Only when I calmed her down did some color return to her face. Janet thought
it was government training, although Viktoriya suspected otherwise. My Russian
bride put on a brave face, for she knew I was likely trained by a man who I
suspected of murdering her half-sibling.

  Of course, that didn't help matters along. While Viktoriya never imposed
limitations on my engagements with Tseng, she exacted a promise from me --
that I'd never walk into a warzone, no matter how much I was being paid.

  'I don't care how much you could make.' It came up again that very night I
was at Lake Hennessey. Her gaze bore into mine through her reflection in her
mirror. 'I would rather have a poor husband than to be a rich widow,
understand, dorogoi?'

  'Yes, milenky.' I thought-spoke with a dour note.

  'DON'T LIE, STANISLAV!!' Viktoriya's thought-speak approached a fevered
pitch. 'I know what you think you can do, you show-off! Don't think I won't
fly back and sock you in your bony old behind!'

  'I understand.' I thought with resignation. 'I'll be careful.'

  Viktoriya vented until her flatmate, Freya, came back. Personally, I thought
she was just angry over a lot of things. Aside from the latest frustration
from Cristobel's injury, Milhail was bonding more with Janet and Melanie than
with her. I also sensed whatever sexual attraction Viktoriya had for the
blonde rhythmic gymnast was either starting to wane, or being eclipsed by
other matters.

  Still, I knew my Cossack bride to be both impetutous and strong-willed. She
was also gifted like me. I wouldn't dare to apply any of my gifts on her mind.
Viktoriya had to decide how she wanted to live her life -- not I.

  I pushed all of these thoughts and worries out of my mind. It threatened to
wreck the mood I was trying to set. After Andrew's little exercise, I brought
out some limes, lemons, and a variety of liquor. The girls couldn't legally
drink (being only nineteen). But then again, I knew they wanted to.

  Things quickly got busy when Andrew and the girls got blasted doing shots off
each other's bodies with music blaring from an iPod and a set of mini-speakers
(the cabin was stocked with a solar battery that could power small devices and
the indoor LEDs).

  Despite the alcohol, Andrew felt studly enough to tackle Sasha, rip her
bodice off, and started licking her tits. Kimberly whooped drunkenly as she
grabbed my crotch and stuck her tongue down my throat. It became more or less
a general orgy after that, with my brother and I taking turns at each of the
four girls.

  Regardless of the relationship I had with Rosalind, it was not strong enough
for me to care if Andrew stuck his dick into her mouth and ass while I was
doing the same to her friends (and in the same room).

  My little brother may have been younger, more physically attractive, and
maybe even more virile than I was, but I had experience on my side. I held
back cumming while Andrew pretty much slaked his lust first on Sasha, then
Kimberly, and lastly on Alexia. By the time he wanted to do something with
Rosalind, he was too tired to get it up, and wound up cuddling with Alexia in
front of the fireplace.

  With Andrew snoozing, I had to pick up his slack and work a bit more to
satisfy the girls. I went at them in sequence: Kimberly, Sasha, Rosalind, and
then Kimberly again, and finally on Rosalind a second time. With Andrew
seemingly content with Alexia, I emptied my lust over Rose's perky breasts and
called it a night.

  The next day, we showered, dressed, and headed into Oaksville for some
supplies and sight-seeing. Andrew and the girls (not I) drank a little a local
wine and cheese festival (it was fortunate no one asked for their
identification to prove they were 21). Everyone had a good time, taking
pictures and goofing off.

  I also noticed a few things: Rosalind began walking with me hand-in-hand and
didn't try to draw Andrew's attention if she could avoid it. Andrew though,
seemed utterly focused on pretty Greco-Asiatic Alexia. However, he didn't deny
himself with Kimberly or Sasha back at the cabin. In fact, my brother had
those three girls in his room the entire second night.

  Filled with anxiety when he learned about this trip, Andrew had swiped some
Viagra samples from one of Sachiko's psychiatrist friends and crushed it into
a powder. He thought he didn't need it before, but after the first night, he
wanted a boost. Andrew took all the samples with water right before dinner and
now his appetites were unstoppable.

  The ruckus went on for so long, Rosalind and I slept downstairs in the living
room (the kitchen was built under the two bedrooms) to get away from the
noise. The dull thumping though, did put some ideas in our head. I porked
Rosalind in the middle of the cabin's living room. I stayed hard and watched
her bounce herself on my rigid pole until she spasmed and came.

  "That felt good." Rosalind kissed my chest.

  "Oh yeah." I squeezed her absently. "Glad you like it."

  My Korean cutie curled herself into ball while she lay atop me. We both could
hear Sasha's cries flow into Kimberly's droning moans, and then bleed into
Alexia's short, high-pitched gasps as Andrew fucked them one after another
without blowing his load.

  "Fer Chris'sakes." Rosalind buried her head against my chest. "They're still
going! I can't sleep!"

  "Wanna go again?" I put a warm palm on her smooth thighs. "Maybe I could tire
you out."

  "Can you?" she looked up at me. I felt her fingers feel my withered cock. The
condom had slipped off when I pulled out and my stomach was a little sticky.
Rosalind didn't seem to mind as she played with my semi-hard dick.

  "You keep doing that and I can." I kissed her lightly. Rosalind played with
me for a while, but I was earnestly exhausted. I had a lot on my mind -- not
to mention keeping Viktoriya out of my business by mentally "blotting" out
most of the day. The K-gal though, misread my inattentiveness for something
else.

  "You're not angry with me are you Stan?" she finally asked.

  "What?" I gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. "Why would I be?"

  "Because I blew your brother," she said quietly, "Then let him stick it in my
ass."

  "Well to be fair," I managed a dry chuckle before I continued, "You were
leaving yourself wide open."

  "I'm serious!" Rosalind looked at me, "Are you mad?"

  "A-ni-yo*." [* Korean: No (or negative)] I kissed her forehed and rubbed her
scalp, "Let's not talk about it."

  She settled down a bit and whispered, "Sa-rang-ham-ni-da*." [* Korean: I love
you.]

  I didn't have a good answer for her. Thankfully, the girl fell asleep before
she pestered me for one. As fun as Rosalind was, I didn't have deep-seated
feelings for her. In many ways, my former student was like my dead cousin
Aurora -- I had no problems fucking her, but beyond that, I felt no deep
personal attachment.

  This was a girl, who nearly a decade ago, had a schoolgirl crush on an older
man (me). Now she had done the dirty deed with a younger version of me and had
mixed feelings about it. I picked up her thoughts briefly before she drifted
off into sleep: 'Shit, that was weird.' 'I wonder if he thinks I'm just a
common whore.' 'He treats me so good though.' 'He's like a dad I can fuck.'
'God that Andrew is hot but I kept thinking of Stanley all the time ...'

  Sifting through Rosalind's thoughts, I slowly realized I had to limit my
physical contact with her. Although we only met briefly and on occasion, she
had already developed some sort of psychic dependency, or -- worse yet --
fallen madly in love with me. I cringed at the thought. It was like Melanie or
Aurora all over again. Another nagging worry came to me -- was she one of us
too?

  Whether she was or wasn't, I was sure Janet would definitely kill me if she
ever found out about Rosalind. Jamie might too. Her oldest was a mere six
years younger than the little K-gal lying nude atop of me. The age gap was so
close, it was icky. As I lay brooding over my current problems, something
stupid I had done years ago with Jamie came back to bite me in the ass.

===============================================================================
  OLD BUSINESS & NEW AFFAIRS 
===============================================================================

  It was a warm July day when the kidnapping went down. I had just returned
from Las Vegas with Rachelle and Jamie. The three of us were celebrating
Rachelle's raise at the Public Broadcasting Station (PBS-KQED in San
Francisco). Despite Jamie's past in Vegas, she came along (the others being
busy or taking care of the kids) because both she and Rachelle were "sporty"
kind of girls.

  I should probably explain a bit -- in America, the traditional stereotypes
and misconceptions about women not liking sports (and guys being totally into
it) were quickly quashed by the mid-1990s through popular shows like "The Drew
Carey Show" (ESPN's Erin Andrews was a post-9/11 thing). It had become "hip"
for women to share interests with their boyfriends or husbands, and the sports
event became something couples could share.

 I, on the other hand, never had much interest in any sport (except bedsports).
That could explain my chosen profession (although Jules Fontana was a
basketball fan and the Kosugi sisters were nuts about the S.F. Giants).

  Apart from Janet (who was only mildly fine with basketball because she put
office bets on the games), Jamie was the only other of my darlings who was
wild about sports. At first, I thought she was just trying to cozy up to me.
To my surprise, I found she enjoyed the rough-housing of ice hockey.

  "It's so cool Stanley!" Jamie tried explaining to me, "You're gliding on ice
and you have to get the puck past like ten dudes gunning for you. And it's not
like that b-ball crap -- the puck's fast!!"

  "Uh, okay." I patted her hand and suffered through a few games. While I could
have cared less about the teams or their players, I did have my fun by
telekinetically flicking the puck when it suited me. Over time, I noticed
Jamie's excitement rose as games became close, tense matches. So I basically
had my fun by interfering with games to keep her entertained. I'm sure I
really screwed the sports betters.

  What the hell are you looking at? No, I am NOT sorry for jerking your point
spread. If you're a gambling man, go bet on something the Chen wives have no
interest in -- like horse or automobile racing. That, or don't bet on sports
events in the San Francisco Bay Area.

  Rachelle was a sports fan too, but it wasn't any sport I approved of. It was
that mixed-martial arts stuff that was toned down and made legal for
television broadcast in the mid-2000s. To celebrate, I treated her to a UFC
(Ultimate Fighting Championship) event in Vegas. Jamie came along only
reluctantly, as she was deathly afraid of bumping into someone she (or
Pincelli) knew there.

  "Don't worry." I sought to reassure her and allay her fears. "That was a long
time ago."

  "But still!" Jamie seemed uneasy. "Where are we staying?"

  "Someplace classy," I said, "I was just thinking of taking you to the
Promenade."

  "Where?" My Asian beauty blinked with confusion.

  "The Deep Space Nine Promenade." I grinned and bumped my hips against hers.
"Remember?"

  "Oh. Oh!!" Jamie brightened instantly. "I forgot."

  Part of the Star Trek Deep Space Nine set that CBS Corporation had leased out
to a Las Vegas casino was being closed due to the lack of customers (that plus
the fact it was hemorhagging money). Before it closed, I wanted to take my
Trek-loving wife to check it out. So, it was just the three of us (Jillian had
summer school) and we spent a brief weekend there.

  The clerk hardly batted an eye when she handed me the key to a double
occupancy room, and the three of us headed to the lift. One guy accompanied by
two beautiful women in Las Vegas hardly drew any attention. I guess people
were pretty jaded in the City of Sin.

  The fights were held early evening, so we had a light meal then headed to the
event. It was mildly entertaining, but all through the evening, I fought the
urge to play havoc with a few telekinetic pranks. I was able to open my mind a
bit and soak in what moves and grapples the contestants were going for.

  While I certainly lacked the physical training to do what those contenders
could do, my gifts more than made up for it; imagine trying to detain a person
who could instantly cause you to have a stroke, or break your bones with a
simple thought.

  "That was fun!" Rachelle was all smiles afterwards as we headed back to the
hotel.

  "Glad to hear it, sugar." I laughed and turned to ask Jamie, "How 'bout you?"

  "It was pretty cool," she managed a grin as she replied.

  It was as I suspected. The girls were watching male-dominated sports for the
same reason a guy would watch women's beach volleyball or girls' gymnastics:
for the sheer joy of watching the opposite sex parade and move around nearly
naked. I guessed that at our very core, we all had similiarities -- men and
women, citizens and 'normals'.

  I smiled and pulled Jamie alongside. With two beautiful women in tow, I
headed for the hotel's nightclub for a little evening snack. About an hour or
so later, Rachelle and Jamie had sufficiently unwound and were eager to head
back to our room.

  The room was double-occupancy, so there were only two full-sized beds. We
hadn't said anything about sleeping arrangements, although I had made plans to
crash on the floor. It was normal for me -- we all slept soundly in our own
beds at home anyway. So, when I hopped out of the shower, I was surprised to
find the two of them lying on a single bed and beckoning sweetly.

  "C'mere shuuu-garr," Rachelle sang, "We got a surprise for you!"

  Both women grinned as they bared their mid-sections. Despite the two of them
having churned out kids, both had bodies most thirty-somethings would kill
for. Jamie's stomach was pretty fit after taking up her job as an
IT-specialist (she often exercised and flexed in her cubicle while she watched
her email and messaging windows at work).

  Rachelle not only shared Janet's love of biking and skating, but she also
used the bars and dance pole in Viktoriya's unit to keep fit. I brightened
inwardly as I reflected how Viktoriya began pestering me to watch Rachelle
exercise after the mulatto asked my dusky Russkie to use the apparati in her
unit.

  'Please Stanislav?' Viktoriya pouted into her reflection. 'I'll let you watch
me and Freya fuck in return!'

  'I have a lot of work sweetie.' I thought back. 'But I'll try.'

  'Do that.' Viktoriya thought-spoke. 'Thank you, milenky!!'

  But back to the room in Vegas. I could see why Rachelle and Jamie had bared
their tummies. They had been messing around with some lipstick and written
crude messages on their bodies.

  "What's this? 'Tonight only: two for one deal'," I read aloud, "What the
hell?"

  Jamie grinned shyly as Rachelle winked and said, "Oh c'mon. I know you've
been staring all night."

  "Yeah, about that." I stepped near the nightstand to grab a tissue, "I'm
really tired --"

  I barely got further when Jamie called out, "Get him!!"

  She tackled me while the mulatto grabbed and pulled me onto the bed. I fell
onto the mattress with a soft crash, and felt the weight of both girls on me.
Before I could protest, one of them had torn off my towel. Now, I was nude
with two frisky girls grabbing and touching every inch of my body. My eyes
went wide though when I saw Rachelle holding a safety razor.

  "What th'hell d'you think you're doing?" I asked.

  "Hush up," Rachelle grinned as she explained herself, "I'm tired of getting
hair balls. I want you smooth down there."

  "What? Whoa!!" I began to protest but she silenced me with a generous helping
of breast.

  "Spread 'em Stanley," Jamie piped up as the other girl pressed her body
against my face.

  My sultry Asian siren had a small can of in her hand. She squirted a gob of
minty white foam and tucked a towel under my ass. I did as I was ordered and
Jamie lathered my crotch and groin with shaving cream. Rachelle began shaving
off my pubic hair. I relaxed as the girls worked over me; it was actually
pretty pleasant.

  "Hey, turn over." Rachelle rose and prodded me. "Time to do the back."

  "I better get another razor," Jamie said.

  I felt her hop off the bed as I rolled over on my stomach. The bed sagged
when Jamie returned. I felt the girls' hands hold my ass cheeks apart as they
shaved me clean and smooth. I was enjoying the feeling so much, I was getting
drowsy when I felt a hard smack on my ass.

  "Hey wake up, you!" Rachelle growled, "All done!"

  I rolled off and looked down. The girls had certainly done their job. I felt
pretty naked without my patch of hair. I was chilly too. I decided to step
into the shower for a quick rinse while the two women cleaned up. When I
stepped out of the shower, the girls were waiting for me.

  We wasted no more time as the three of us tumbled back into bed. Jamie loved
biting, but she had also gotten quite adept at mixing kisses and loving licks.
The Asian beauty sat on my chest, her bared Brazilian bush smelling faintly of
perfumed soap as she ran her fingers through my hair. I reached up and gently
grabbed a fistful of boobs. I rolled her nipples lightly between my fingers.

  Rachelle in the meantime, had forced my legs apart so she could suck my now
smoothed, hairless cock. My dark-skinned darling was a cock-gobbler. She
preferred taking in the whole thing (balls and all). As I heard wet,
schlurping sounds come from behind Jamie, I felt my cock grow hard and erect
inside Rachelle's warm waiting mouth and throat.

  "Uffuck." I gritted my teeth as I felt Rachelle take me completely into her
head.

  Jamie's mouth was half-open as she cast a saucy smile my way. Seeing me so
placated so I wouldn't struggle, she got up and lay beside me, kissing the
sides of my head and pressing her tits against me.

  "Holy shit!" Jamie laughed as she glanced at Rachelle. "Girl, you got some
appetite!"

  The mulatto mother had opened her whole mouth, encompassing my prick. Her
fingers were clutching my sides for support and her eyes were watering from
the effort. I reached down and grazed her temples lightly. Rachelle opened her
eyes and let my cock slide out of her mouth with a wet pop.

  "Ugh--fuck--yeah," she panted.

  I felt Jamie's hot breath on my dick as she ventured down south. Watching her
red tongue press heavily against the tip of my rock-hard cock was as great as
it felt. Rachelle copied Jamie's technique for a short while and it took
nearly all my focus to keep from zapping the two women senseless with my
desire.

  Neither of the girls were into other women (save Jamie, and she really had to
drunk to fool around) so the two of them didn't do anything out of the
ordinary that they didn't do with me. However, the three of us were nude in
close proximity to one another, and it was inevitable that the two women would
touch one another on occasion when they grabbed me. That was what happened
when the two of them briefly kissed as they sandwiched my cock between their
lips.

  "Oh God, you're killing me," I said through clenched teeth as Jamie and
Rachelle began having a tongue-fight over the tip of my dick.

  Hearing my cries of pleasure, both girls decided to swap techniques for a
bit. Looking for something to do, I grabbed Rachelle so she was on top of me.
I snurbed and licked her pussy until her slit parted slightly. I soaked in her
sweet, over-powering scent of her sex and began thrusting mildly between the
girls' lips.

  Jamie had gotten pretty wild with that lipstick, because on Rachelle's back I
saw the message: 'Real meat only - no plastic!' with an arrow pointed towards
her ass.

  That wasn't very nice, I thought as my black beauty backed her ass over my
face. Rachelle groaned as she began swallowing my cock in her gaping mouth.
Jay was too engrossed in biting the few portions of my balls where she could
get at. She settled on taking in each of my de-nuded balls in turn and
swirling it in her mouth before she popped it back out.

  I pressed my face hard against Rachelle's sweet chocolate ass and inhaled her
musk. Had I been a lesser man, I would've shot my load right then and there.
But experience had taught me to hold out for more. Slapping her buttocks, I
pushed Rachelle down towards my crotch. She got the message and quickly
mounted my cock.

  Jamie stood up and lay next to me as I fucked Rachelle. The black beauty rode
me for a good five to ten minutes before she convulsed with her first orgasm.
Rachelle slid off then watched as Jamie and I had our turn. Turning my Asian
lovely around, I saw Rachelle had been up to no good with her graffiti as
well. Scrawled on Jamie was the message: 'Cum on my back!' with a target on
the middle of her back. Reading this trashy stuff, I felt my nuts beginning to
ache so I quickly reached again for Rachelle.

  It took only about thirty seconds to get the lovely mulatto's musky fuck funk
splashed all over my pulsing cock. Jamie wrinkled her nose, hopped out briefly
and came back with a damp towel to wipe me off. Over the course of an hour, I
alternated between my two darlings. When they tired of being on top, I took
over and pumped them at a steady rhythmic pace that drove both women mad with
pleasure.

  I happily fucked Rachelle for the umpteenth time while Jamie lay next to her
exhausted and panting. Two minutes in, I felt I could cum and be satisfied. As
my thrusts came out stronger and more forceful, my mulatto minx propped
herself up on her elbows, spread her legs wide, and eagerly watched me slam
the shit out of her.

  "Fuck me sugar," Rachelle hissed in my face. "Yeah, like that. You know I
like you fucking me just like that."

  I gritted my teeth as the mulatto licked her lips lewdly. Jamie put a gentle
hand on my shoulder.

  "C'mon you filthy bastard," my sultry Asian vixen's face wore a cute little
snarl, "Blow her the hell away."

  I couldn't stop myself anymore as I lurched forward and came. Rachelle
squealed as I barely managed to pull out of her and blasted cock vomit all
over her dark tan stomach.

  "Oooh shit! Fuck yea!!" Jamie exclaimed with glee, "Look'it that!"

  Rachelle laughed as she panted and lay back to catch her breath. The mulatto
minx worked the cum on her belly over her smooth chocolate skin, the messages
scrawled in lipstick having rubbed off quite some time ago. Jamie kissed my
shoulders, chest, and arms as she knelt beside us.

  "Ungh shit." I shuddered. "Uhh, fuck."

  "Goddammit Jay!" Rachelle laughed. "You were right. Stanley does get more
turned-on when double teamed!"

  I shot Jamie a wry look, "So that's what you were planning all night."

  My Asian sweetie gave me a toothy grin and pinched me tenderly. I broke into
grins too, remembering how Viktoriya and I had accidentally triggered a
psychic incident that got Jamie into a three-way. It was a pleasant enough of
an experience that I had joked to the sultry woman afterwards, "We should do
this more often." I suppose that Jamie got it into her head that our trip
presented the chance, and she discussed it briefly with Rachelle.

  "Well, I didn't expect that." I smiled shyly. "Some vacation, eh?"

  "You said it, sugar." Rachelle sat up and wiped herself with a damp cloth. "I
thought you'd never cum!"

  I shivered with delight when Jamie kissed me on the neck and tweaked my
nipples.

  "So, how's the super-cock?" She licked my ear lewdly then whispered. "Have
enough left for round two?"

  I nodded and pounced on Jamie with renewed vigor. She ground her naked ass
against my balls when I emptied them, splattering baby batter all over her
sweaty backside. An hour later, I finished off rounds three and four as well.
After cumming my final time for the night, I felt a very sharp pinching pain
in my balls and winced painfully. I had suffered this malady several times
before -- if I ejaculated too much, my sphincter muscle would cramp up.

  "Stanley?" Rachelle squeezed my shoulder tenderly, "You okay, sugar?"

  Jamie was straddling me and she stopped moving immediately.

  "Did I hurt you?" she looked at me with worried eyes.

  "N -- no," I put on a brave face and stroked her calves, "Just an incredible
feeling that's all."

  "Oh." Jamie blushed crimson.

  "Hmm," Rachelle nibbled my ear gently then murmured, "I thought so. You
seemed to be enjoying yourself."

  "You bet." I couldn't help but smile.

  I kissed both women before I rose and cleaned myself up. The hot towels felt
great after an hour (and some) of uncontrolled sex. Soon, we were all ready to
settle down for the night. The three of us slept with just the two linen
sheets for cover. The combined body heat was more than enough to keep us warm.
In fact, Jamie complained a bit about being hot and I had to turn on the
air-conditioning to cool her down.

  "Ugh." Rachelle gathered a bit more of bedsheet, "That's too cold!"

  "Well I'm feeling warm," Jamie got up and tapped the other woman on the
shoulder. "Wanna swap sides with me?"

  The girls traded sides and we got to bed around two or three in the morning.
I was wiped out enough that Rachelle and Jamie had to drag me out of bed the
next day so we could check out on time.

  We had a few hours to kill before we flew back to San Francisco, so we had
lunch at the casino where the Deep Space Nine thing was set-up. It was a bit
disappointing to Jamie and me both. While the place looked the part, there
were no aliens and definitely no people to set the ambience.

  "Meh." Jamie wrinkled her nose cutely.

  "Sorry, Jay." I gave her wispy look. "Maybe we should've came here during the
conventions huh?"

  "I was never one for dressing up!" She let out a quick laugh before adding,
"I don't like Star Trek badly enough to do that!"

  Rachelle patiently browsed a nearby gift shop while Jamie and I snapped a few
pictures. There were two guys passing through who were dressed as Klingons
(bad ones) and I got them to pose with Jamie, me and Rachelle.

  I think those guys were pretty happy to have their arms around two beautiful
women, even if they weren't dressed like Orion Slave Women. There was really
nothing to the exhibit and we left a bit disappointed.

  "Maybe you can redesign my place," Jamie joked as we headed to the airport in
our rental, "Make it look like the Enterprise-D's interior."

  "You sure?" I asked. "The Enterprise-E's the newest thing on the block."

  "The what?" Rachelle followed the conversation as best she could while she
drove. "There was more than one?"

  "Yeah I'm sure," Jamie leaned forward a bit so we could chat. "Don't you
remember? The Enterprise-D was destroyed in Star Trek Generations."

  "Um, no," my black beauty said absently as she scanned for the signs to the
airport.

  "So, which deck?" I turned to face Jamie. "It's a huge ship and a lot of the
sets were prety spartan."

  "I dunno," the sultry Asian beauty mused, "I agree the rooms were pretty
empty, but maybe a cross between Sick Bay and Ten Forward might do it."

  "I agree," I nodded, "Good eye too. Sick-bay had good luminosity. Maybe I can
build you something that lets you run LCARS."

  "Oh yeah!" Jamie brightened up, "I should install that Star Trek Windows
theme when we get back! I've been dying to try it out and de-bug it."

  "You guys are such nerds," Rachelle looked at us so accusingly that Jamie and
I both laughed.

  Back home once again, I was more than eager to shift gears to get back to my
work at Down-To-Earth. I was thoroughly engrossed in detailing my current
project to some junior designers, a CAD draftsman, and our model-maker when I
felt this odd feeling of alarm and despair. I cut off so suddenly and swayed
that my assistant, Pam, grabbed me by arm because she thought I was going to
fall.

  "A--are you okay, sir?" she asked.

  "Yeah." I blinked and cleared my head.

  "I'll get you some water," she quickly hustled away.

  I felt an unease pass over me but as I pinged, I knew everyone in my family
was alive. I excused myself to the restroom, washed my face, checking up on
everyone the whole way. Viktoriya was fine; she was in Germany watching Freya
prepare for an upcoming competition. Janet was in court ripping into the
prosecution's witness.

  Shawn was downstairs in my building readying herself for a similar meeting.
Jamie was was surfing Amazon.com at work while she did pilates and keeping a
glance at the health of her company's network with a separate laptop. Rachelle
was supposed to be at the zoo with Melanie, and she was doing okay ... sort
of.

  Uh-oh. I froze and pinged again. Rachelle's mind was an array of images and
jumbled thoughts, much like that one time I had accidentally zapped her when
we were younger. Only this time, it was a lot fainter. Had I not known who
Rachelle Elizabeth Hollister was, I probably would've missed her completely,
or considered her dead.

  As I tried to determine the cause of this, my insides churned and grew cold.
Melanie was with Rachelle today. They were taking some of the children to the
zoo while Shawn's mother was watching the others at home.

  Mother Benton was also to insure that Jillian headed straight home after her
summer classes let out (having been a young man myself, I knew what temptation
was). Suddenly, my mobile phone rang; it displayed Melanie's number.

  "Yu-Ching?" I greeted her with worry, "I--"

  My youngest darling cut me off with a frantic cry of her own, "Rachelle's
been shot!!"

===============================================================================
  TAKEN 
===============================================================================

  Unlike Jamie, Janet, and Shawn, Rachelle's nine-to-five schedule gave her the
luxury of predictable "off" days. This meant she could assist Melanie with the
kids. On that particular day, my black beauty and Melanie took her twins,
Milhail, and baby Norman to the city zoo. That's when the kidnapping went
down.

  Melanie's first call would've been to the 911 dispatch (and not me) if not
for several mitigating factors. The 911 (emergency call number) service was
not integrated with the mobile phone network (only the land-line system) so
the call would've been routed to a state (or province) level center about 150
miles from where the emergency occured.

  I'd known about this when I heard about it as a passing news item some years
ago. With my contacts with local, state, and Federal level law enforcement, I
was shocked that little had been done to address the issue. We all knew this
(after I made light of it as part of our family's emergency preparations) so
Melanie was ready to grab the payphone across the street at the surf shop.

  Luckily, there was already assistance on hand. A Park Ranger's car had turned
from the upper Great Highway onto Sloat just as the grab occurred. Thankfully,
the ranger didn't immediately draw and fire, as the women and children were in
the way.

  However, the mere presence of uniformed police was more than enough to
scatter the kidnappers. They all piled into a black van (with a taped over
license plate), leaving Rachelle on the ground and Melanie in a painful daze.

  Rachelle wasn't shot -- instead, she was "shocked" (from a gun-shaped taser).
I had mistook Melanie's blubbering as Rachelle being "shot". I breathed an
immense sigh of relief when I burst into the treatment area expecting the
worse, only to find my mulatto sweetie fine, healthy, and not leaking an ounce
of valuable hemoglobin.

  The taser's needle had hit her in the thigh during the struggle. That caused
her to lose both her balance and her consciousness briefly. Rachelle was
physically fine, but Melanie was in bad shape. My little darling sported an
angry cut across her temple and was inconsolable.

  "They took 'em!" she wailed, "They took 'em both!!"

  If the kidnappers wanted to grab the kids, they were only partly successful.
Aside from baby Norman (who was just a year old), the masked men had nicked
Milhail when the boy tried to fight the kidnappers. After Rachelle got zapped,
Melanie put herself between the men and the twins, and got bludgeoned for her
effort. Only the presence of the park ranger cut short the attempt.

  The kidnappers hadn't gotten away clean. When the van pulled away after
Milhail was loaded, the man who had struck Melanie turned and ran. Finally
seeing a clear shot, the ranger fired his weapon and injured his calf. A
second shot had grazed his shoulder, spinning him around to the ground. He was
quickly captured and being treated under heavy guard at the hospital where we
were.

  "Are you the father?" someone asked me.

  "Yes." I turned to see a plain clothes detective studying me.

  "We have a few questions about --" he started but I stopped him with a wave
and a brief statement.

  "I wasn't there." I pointed to Melanie. "She was. Ask her. She can tell you
more."

  The detective glowered at me, but said nothing as I turned to my young
darling and gave her shoulder a heartfelt squeeze.

  "Do your best to remember okay? Any little bit you do will help."

  Yu-Ching nodded quickly, her lips trembling and her whole body shaking from
the shock. I pushed past the detective and the nurses. I found the Danielle,
Janelle, and Rachelle being questioned by a second detective in the hallway.
When the twins saw me, they both ran up and hugged my legs, talking excitedly
about what they saw, much to the second detective's annoyance. I calmed the
twins down and sat them down after promising them some chocolate chip cookies.
I turned to Rachelle, who looked at me with great distress.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  Rachelle nodded then asked, "How is she?"

  "Just a conk on the head," I glanced at the hallway detective. I knew him
through Jacob Waters when I did some extra "investigative work" for the San
Francisco Police Department.

  "Herbert Sanders right?" I asked.

  "Oh, it's you Mister Chen." The detective blinked in surprise. "I wasn't
aware that Miss Hollister was--"

  "Not now please." I stopped him with a wave, "I'm sorry to have interrupted
your questioning, detective."

  "That's quite all right." Detective Sanders nodded, "But yes, let's finish
Miss Hollister, and I'll let you go."

  Rachelle nodded and I left to grab the girls their promised sweets. As I
walked out towards the vending machines in a daze, I bumped headlong into
Jamie and Janet.

  "Stanley!!" Jamie rushed me headlong and nearly bowled me over with her
embrace, "What the hell's going on? Everyone's in a panic!"

  "It's Norman and Milhail," I said dryly. "They've been taken."

  "Taken?" Janet's face paled several shades. "You mean kidnapped?"

  I nodded soberly and she was incredulous.

  "But why?!"

  "Who knows." I shrugged. "Melanie, Rachelle and the twins are being
questioned by the police."

  "Oh God." Jamie's eyes widened. "Do they know who took them?"

  I caught the stern stare from Janet as I shook my head. Her eyes were pointed
at me like daggers. I sensed my First was wondering if my agency shennanigans
had anything to do with the kidnappings. I was almost positive it wasn't,
because snatches done by the company or the agency rarely failed and almost
never done in broad daylight. In the case of the heavy-hitting bagmen from the
bureau (the FBI) they would have had a second operator neutralize the park
ranger.

  No, this felt different. These guys were determined, but they were
unprofessional and unprepared. I hugged Jamie while I gazed innocently at
Janet. Instinctively, I shifted the blame elsewhere.

  I felt rotten about it, but if I did have something to do with this, then I
would endanger my family if my part in the empire was revealed. I applied some
little mental effort on Janet, and I managed to nudge her suspicion to the
plaintiffs in her current case (some fanatic group involved in a class-action
against medical insurance companies).

  My First was visibly unfazed, but inwardly, I sensed she was now thinking
about the possibility she may have done something to warrant a special visit
from some tough looking bagmen. It was certainly very odd for kidnappers to
randomly target two women at the zoo. I didn't need my wives buzzing around
and worrying themselves to death, so I asked about the other kids to get their
minds on something else.

  "How about Jillian?" I asked, "It would be a good idea to check on her at
school."

  "Shawn called when we were in the lobby," Janet quickly composed herself,
"She's taking her home right now. Laura's at the house and has everyone
accounted for."

  "Good," I replied. At least there was that.

  Jamie's grip on me suddenly tightened. That, plus the fact her fear was going
into overdrive, got my attention. I turned to see what had started her:
Jamie's eyes were fixated on the one kidnapper who had been caught. The
perpetrator passed his glance over us as he was lead away in handcuffs by the
police.

  My sultry Asian siren however, mis-read his gaze and was in a state of panic.
Meanwhile, Janet fearlessly stared back at the perp; she was livid with anger.
I couldn't blame her -- we were all angry. To get her mind off the bad things,
I pulled out some loose dollar bills.

  "Hey Jan," I tapped her gently, "Would you mind getting the twins some
cookies? I promised them a bag each to answer the detective's questions."

  "Good lord. The twins are going to eat themselves into a butterball coma."
Janet made a face and took my money. "Coming Jay?"

  "In a bit," the Asian beauty mumbled. As Janet stalked off, I looked at Jamie
who returned my gaze evenly.

  "Stanley? Was that one of the --?"

  "I think so." I gave her a reassuring grin. "Something wrong?"

  Nix that, I thought. Something was wrong. I took Jamie by the hand to both
calm her down and to quickly read her mind. Her thoughts were all over the
place, so I couldn't get a fix on what she was thinking; I had to coax it out.

  "You know him?" I asked her slowly, "Is is something the police need to
know?"

  Jamie swallowed hard, nodded, and whispered, "That guy, he used to work for
Joey, I think. I saw him around the casino before."

  "Interesting." I felt my jaw click.

  "Stanley," Jamie pulled my arm, "I brought this on. Oh god, this is my
fault."

  "What? Nonsense." I shook my head in disbelief, "That was nearly eight years
ago."

  "No I don't think so." Jamie leaned gloomily against the wall, "I'm sorry
Stanley. You're so nice to me and the kids, I shouldn't have just -- oh God
--"

  "Don't worry." I held her. "We don't know the whole story. Just calm down
okay? The others really need you to be strong now."

  Jamie sobbed quietly on my shoulder for a bit but my mind was already working
overtime. My beautiful Asian darling was probably onto something. How exactly
Joey Pincelli was connected made me stop and think. There were a lot of
possibilities to consider.

  While I wasn't positive the kidnappers had anything to agency business, I had
screwed over enough people that somehow, somewhere, I might've slipped up and
left a clue. It was hard to pin down though -- as I never took anything or
anyone back from an incident. If I did, they were simply the "package".

  Something inside nagged me though. I did break that rule once -- with Jamie
and Jillian.

  My mind raced as I thought back to what I'd done in Las Vegas all those years
ago. The police's involvement was already a given. If they dug up the reason
of the kidnapping, they may dig up more information about me than what I cared
to give out.

  That wouldn't be a good for me, my family, or the empire. Still, whether
Pincelli's people were or weren't mixed up with this, I still needed to get
our kids back.

===============================================================================
  ENHANCED INTERROGATION 
===============================================================================

  About an hour later, I was down at the Sunset-Ingleside precinct in the
observation area of the interrogation room. A detective was with the perp and
was interrogating him.

  It was a slow and painful verbal process. The kidnapper was Sicilian and
replied only in Italian (not English). The kidnapper could understand the
detective though, but I knew he wouldn't give any of that away unless he was
physically threatened.

  Inwardly, I counted my blessings that not many more cops would be involved.
In a kidnapping case like this, a SWAT team would be readied for the rescue.
As fortune would have it, San Francisco's SWAT team was called away to assist
their buddies in neighboring Oakland; a routine traffic stop had turned into a
firefight when the driver opened fire, downing the cops who pulled him over.
Now, there was a manhunt complete with roadblocks and room-by-room searches.

  And so, I found myself standing beside Detective Lieutenant Jacob Waters as
his man tried to press the suspect into handing over his kidnapping crew. For
now, I sensed Milhail was alive and safe, although a little scared. I wasn't
wholly sure about little Norman -- babies and young children were quite
undetectable to a telepath until they were able to formulate solid, concrete
thoughts.

  I suppose I could have blazed in at Milhail's location and hoped for the
best. Or I could find one boy safe, and the other dead. I didn't want to take
any chances.

  Besides that conundrum, I couldn't just reveal what I knew to anyone except
Viktoriya, and I had a feeling she'd might take things too far -- and perhaps
put both the family and the invisible empire in a troublesome spot. So I had
to stay my hand. My gifts, for all the power they had given me, were also
hampering me when it came to certain matters.

  And I knew time was ticking. There was no ransom so far, and I was getting
tired of being treated with kid-gloves by the police. I didn't know how long
it would be before the kidnappers would skip town.

  What would happend to the children then? I kept my mouth shut, my mind alert,
and myself calm. The detective in the room had been going on for some time and
the results were disappointing. I saw him walk up the one-way mirror and shift
his eyes left and right twice. Nothing.

  Not that we needed that; both Waters and I could hear him rail at the
kidnapper through the intercomm.

  "I haven't asked much of you have I?" I spoke so suddenly, Detective Waters
nearly spilled his coffee.

  "No not much at all." Waters nodded in agreement as he sipped his brew. "I
take it you've been busy with other things?"

  "The world's a dangerous place detective," I murmured firmly, my gaze never
leaving the perpetrator who kidnapped my boys.

  "Indeed it is," the gaunt policeman's tone was hollow.

  "I need a favor from you Waters," I said quietly.

  "You've never asked before," the old detective said slowly.

  He was right about that. Much of his success over the past few years had been
near miraculous breakthroughs in cases long thought to be cold or dead. I
simply checked in on a few here and there when it suited me. It took maybe
five minutes (excluding travel time) for me to determine if a suspect was
lying or not about a crime.

  When I could, I made up some bullshit and told Waters where to look for hard
evidence. Of course, I wasn't always successful. However, the occasional "win"
did make Waters' record look good and he was promoted and transferred to his
new posting.

  "I don't know if this," I gestured, "is going to compromise me."

  Waters' eyes widened, "Christ. You're still doing that shit?"

  "It's very deep extended cover," I replied airily, "I want to keep this as
quiet as possible. No press and as little paperwork as you can manage."

  "I can always manage without paperwork." The older man chuckled before going
on. "But Sanders and Richards are on this already, not to mention the Park
Service. What do I tell them?"

  "I suppose we can meet with them after this is cleared up." I leaned towards
the glass, my gaze focused on the kidnapper.

  Jacob Waters was silent for a bit then he said, "You want to have a go at
it?"

  It was dangerous, I knew, to showcase how I did things. But I had little
choice. I knew where Milhail was, and time was of the essence.

  "Do you mind if there were no records?" I glanced at Waters sideways.

  The old detective gauged me carefully, as if he could read minds; I knew what
he was thinking: he was hesitant to trust me to do essentially what was police
business.

  "Five minutes," he finally said, "But no more."

  I smiled gauntly and nodded. That was more than I needed for my theatrics.
With Waters and the other detectives away "getting coffee", I stepped into the
room and put on a show.

  The camera only caught the back of my head, it couldn't film my face from
that angle. I levelled a dead stare at the kidnapper and concentrated. I
pulled what information I needed out of him and by the time the detectives
came back, I was outside, waiting innocently by the door.

  "Detectives," I said coolly, "I require your assistance in retrieving my
boys."

  "Yeah," Richards said, "We don't know where, Mr. Chen. Please let us --"

  "I know where," I interrupted him with a raised hand.

  "What? How'd you --?"

  "Wait," Waters interjected, "You sure?"

  I nodded and the senior detective glanced at the suspect in the room. Waters
was mildly surprised, but said nothing. The suspect was none the worse for
wear even though he was glaring at our little group.

  "You're sure?" Waters repeated his question and I nodded again in reply.

===============================================================================
  RESCUE 
===============================================================================

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting alongside Waters in his car. The location
was actually under our noses the whole time. The van was found ditched;
witnesses reported they saw some men hustle black sacks into a different car
and take off towards the Excelsior district -- almost right next door to
Parkside and Sunset.

  The Excelsior was a residential district, although I wouldn't live there. It
was similar to the ghetto where Rachelle's parents had escaped from. It was
only Waters, Sanders, Richards, and myself. The few uniformed police officers
available were being called away to assist with the East Oakland shoot-out.

  "When it rains, it really fucking pours don't it?" Waters asked no one in
particular.

  I brooded silently as we sped towards the location with no siren or lights.
Secretly, I was wildly pinging and mind-hopping wildly into every presence I
could find. I knew exactly what I was going to do when I found my sons'
kidnappers, and their arrests were absolutely secondary. I wanted to know the
people behind it. So, I sat quitely in Waters' vehicle, yo-yo-ing my focus
back and forth until --

  Gotcha motherfucker.

  I had mind-sight with someone -- I didn't know who exactly -- as he (or she)
was looking at Norman. Melanie's son was still in his basinette/carseat and
was bawling out of annoyance. I guessed it was because he needed to change.
The 'normal' whom I was linked to shifted his gaze towards his side and I saw
Milhail sitting grumpily on the floor, bound, gagged and blindfolded so he
couldn't make noise or see their unmasked faces.

  Had I been anywhere else, I would've started the fracas by dominating the man
I was in. Right now, Waters, Sanders, and Richards were discussing their
approach. We were just three blocks away. I brought out my phone in full view
of the detectives, feigned dialing, and acted out some dialogue for their
benefit.

  "This is Chen. Need a scan for --" I had glanced at the GPS in Waters' car of
the building address I had plucked from the suspect back at the station and
repeated the coordinates. "Can you give me anything?"

  The reply on the end was simply, "Welcome to Verizon Wireless! Please listen
carefully, as our menu options have changed!"

  The three detectives were watching me with interest. I waited a moment and
decided how I could present my information. Too much and it tipped my hand.
Too little and some of us might die, or worse, my sons would. While I was fine
with the keystone cops dying, it may show badly for Jacob Waters.

  As much as I had disliked the man when I was younger, he had grown from asset
to a good "work" friend, and I'd hate to jeapordize his career for something I
could've done alone and with nearly zero risk myself. I hung up my phone. That
was enough acting for now.

  "Lots of people but it looks to be three men," I said coolly, "Armed of
course. Body armor likely. Relaxed but cautious. I think they're expecting us,
but not so soon."

  "You guys work fast," Richards eyed warily, "How good is this information?"

  "Trust your eyes on the ground," I said, "They're better than the ones in the
air. Or from space."

  "True enough." Richards nodded before he and Sanders headed off down the
street.

  "Perks of the job?" Waters asked warily and jerked his thumb skyward.

  "We had a satellite sailing over the city," I lied. "I borrowed one for a
minute. Sue me."

  Waters nodded. "I didn't hear that. But if I did, I would've done the same if
it were my kid."

  "Do you have a gun?" I asked him.

  "Right here," the detective lifted his arm slightly to show me his piece.

  "I meant for me," I said casually.

  Detective Waters eyed me carefully, "You're crazy if you think I'm going to
let you go in there."

  "You'd be crazier not to." I smiled blandly and prodded the brief memory of
me in Waters' bedroom holding him up with a silenced handgun nearly eight
years ago. I saw the detective's face twitch. He didn't realize it was me
broadcasting but he did vividly remember the incident. Still, he shook his
head.

  "Too big of a risk," he said, "Look, let us do our jobs, Chen. I got enough
to worry without covering you, even if you're with the government."

  I sensed Waters wasn't to be swayed. "Fine. At least give me a vest and I'll
follow you. Two sets of eyes are better than one."

  Waters soured but popped the trunk of his Cadillac, revealing quite a mobile
arsenal. I grabbed the spare Kevlar vest and donned it. The detective
lieutenant shifted nervously about.

  "You know how much trouble I can get in for this, right?" he asked.

  "That's only if I get shot," I replied smugly, "But you're on point, so
you'll draw their fire."

  "Thanks Chen." The detective slammed the trunk. "You're a goddamn comfort you
know that?"

  I chuckled lightly but in reality, I was only dimly aware of Waters as I
followed his lead. I had shifted my focus back into the kidnapper I had
mind-linked to before. I got the layout of the place -- a pretty standard if
run down home -- and focused on his TMP (Tactical Machine Pistol).

  It was a nasty piece of hardware for terrorists and urban fighting. Through
the kidnapper's vision, I telekinetically set the safety to ON. I then
suggested the fellow put Norman (bassinette and all) next to Milhail.

  Good. Now both kids were in one spot and below waist level. I hoped that was
enough to keep them safe. Some chatter came over Waters' radio and he
acknowledged. We started towards the house and I fell in line behind the
detective. As I walked, I shifted my focus to a second presence. This was the
second kidnapper, armed with a stubby little shotgun with a pistol grip.

  Fuck! This could get really nasty. The greatest firepower the detectives had
were old M16/A2s that fired three round bursts, and those small (almost .22
caliber) 5.56 NATO rounds were not going to do much to the kidnappers. Even
then, none of them were brought along because of the close quarters and the
presence of hostages. I pinged for the final kidnapper and found him lying
lazily on a sofa, a second TMP in easy reach.

  Holy fuck. We were going to get slaughtered. I quickly mind-hopped back into
the shotgun carrying baddie and tricked him into thinking he had some
intestinal discomfort. He grimaced a bit before he called out (in Italian) to
his comrades he was going to the can. He threw something to the third
kidnapper (the one on the sofa) before headed to the restroom, taking his
shotgun along. Inside, he pulled his pants down and started going about his
business.

  Focusing mind-sight on the third kidnapper, I got the number of the cellphone
he had. I dropped a bit behind Waters and dialled the number, being careful to
mute my end of the call. The third kidnapper nearly fell out of his lounging
position and scrambled to answer it. I had gambled correctly that he was not
briefed or prepared to take a call.

  By the time he answered, I had already hung up. That should give them
something to mull over. And because my phone's number was blocked, they
shouldn't be able to call me back. Still, I took no chances and put my phone
on "silent". One of my darlings could call at a bad moment.

  My focus shifted back to the first thug. As he neared the third kidnapper on
the sofa, I tipped his gun hand sloppily upwards and pulled the trigger.
Shouts of alarm ran through the house from both its inhabitants and the cops
closing in on it. I had deliberately aimed the first kidnapper's TMP into the
left chest of the kidnapper on the sofa.

  I needed him alive if just for a little bit longer. The kidnapper on the sofa
cried out in pain, dropping his phone and bringing up his gun arm. I spurred
the notion of betrayal in that fellow's mind. Before the first kidnapper had a
chance to say more, his face was riddled with bullets.

  "Shots fired," Waters rasped into his radio, "Shots fired! Go, go, go!"

  He glanced back at me and I had squatted low and was a bit away behind him.
He turned back quickly and moved out sight. As soon as he did, I snapped into
action. Accenting my motions with telekinesis, I stayed low amongst the
unkempt weeds of the yards of neighboring houses.

  As I speedily made my approach to the target house, I shifted my focus from
the kidnappers' minds to the kidnappers' hardware. The injured kidnapper had
done his part. When he studied his fallen compatriot in shock and surprise, I
lifted the dead man's TMP and emptied the magazine point blank at the third
kidnapper's stomach and groin.

  Two of the three were downed, and by now, I had reached the side of the
house. In fact, I was just on the other side of the last surviving kidnapper
-- the shotgun guy in the bathroom. His abdominal pain had suddenly gone when
I began the massacre in the other room. He pulled his pants back up and taken
up his shotgun. Not hearing anything except the crying from baby Norman, he
took position in the tub and waited.

  I pinged and found the cops were nearly to the door. I needed to act fast to
get what I needed. I pitched myself up with telekinesis so I was horizontally
parellel to the ground and slipped through the small casement window. The
approach was so silent and sudden, my TK-shrouded hands were around the man's
neck before he realized he was in trouble.

  Still, I took no chances. I slid his shotgun's safety to ON and completely
blasted his mind as I made physical contact. I didn't say a word as I wrenched
his head once to the side, snapping his neck. As I receded from his dying mind
I picked clean his thoughts.

  Fortune smiled on me, because this slain kidnapper was the team's leader. I
had found what I was looking for. With his memories, I began tracking back
towards the source. Whoever it was, they were now living on borrowed time.

===============================================================================
  BLOOD IN THE WATER 
===============================================================================

  Waters and I debriefed Richards, Sanders, and brought in that Park Ranger and
his immediate supervisor. The whole thing was to be as hushed up as possible,
barring any problems with the trial (considering what I could do, I
anticipated few problems I couldn't strong-arm).

  The paperwork was light and the official reports were scanty. Absolutely no
press was to be involved. This was to be a kidnapping case with few
eye-witnesses, and nothing else. No conspiracy, no delving into the matter(s)
behind the reason for motive. The police got one of the suspects and the
others were dead. Officially, the kidnappers were hard-pressed mobsters trying 
to ransom money from a semi-rich couple; unofficially, it was no one's business.

 Of course the shoot-out could hardly be contained; a gunshot near the zoo was
hard to ignore. Thankfully, around Christmas of that year, three dumb-shits
drew the heat from the zoo kidnapping/shooting by getting one of their own
killed by a tiger that escaped its cage. My darlings were horrified by the
incident, but I was positively jumping for joy at the attention the tiger
mauling was getting. It meant my family would be left alone.

  My boys were doing all right. Milhail and Norman were both fine. I had never
seen Melanie so emotional before or since as she hugged both her step-son and
birth-son and wouldn't let them go even when the nurses and doctors came to
examine them. I of course, got lambasted first by Waters (for assaulting the
house) and then by Janet (who was mortified at the risk I took).

  "Li-mui-chi gam-yeung chuet-fat wo-shum-keng dam-tui*!" [* Cantonese:
Everytime you do crap like this, you give me a heart attack!] She cried and
slapped me angrily afterwards. I grabbed her hand before she began hitting me
in earnest, and rolled her into a bear hug. Janet sobbed as I held her, much
as I did so many years ago. We hadn't fought so fiercely since she'd found out
about my infidelities in '02, and now ...

  I guess I could've ducked out, but I wouldn't leave the kids. I had covered
up the dead man in the tub as well the two in the living room before I untied
my son Milhail. He was surprised to see his normally unflappable dad a bit
ruffled and worried. Afterwards, things unfolded as I had predicted: Detective
Waters entered no more than a breath after I untied Milhail, followed shortly
by Sanders and Richards. The three found the situation neatly taken care of.

  "C'mon gimme a hand." I picked up Norman and set him on the kitchen table. I
set Milhail to task and had him help me change his brother's diapers.

  "You get those bad guys, dad?" my son asked me.

  "The police did." I gave him a gentle pat on his head. "You can thank them
later."

  I heard an audible snicker and knew it was Waters being pissed being left in
the dark. The detectives were suspicious of course. Why would the two
kidnappers in the living room blast each other?

  "You do a lot more than just analysis don't you?" Waters studied me
carefully.

  I glanced at him and said stonily, "Thank you, detective."

  Jacob Waters nodded dourly. He understood the need for cover. Besides, he
could take credit. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. When I saw
Milhail eyeing Waters' gun, I asked the detective if he could put it away.

  "Cool," Milhail said excitedly, "I wanna be a cop! Can I, dad?"

  "You can if you don't do anything bad," I said, "Understand?"

  Waters nearly scoffed until a glance from me told him to shut it. Milhail
nodded enthhusiatically while I handed him Norman's bassinet and all of us
left the crime scene. While Richards and Sanders were happy to have the case
gone off the books, there were too many people involved (especially with the
park ranger), so I did knock some heads together.

  It didn't matter if Cox or Tseng were available or not. It was my mess and I
cleaned it up with a combination of lies and forceful persuasion. Ultimately,
Jacob Waters and his two detectives got credit for the rescue. Before I left,
the detective lieutenant informed me in sober tones that Melanie and Rachelle
would likely need to testify against the surviving kidnapper if it went to
trial. 

  "Unless something happens to him too." I saw Waters glancing suspiciously at
me.

  "Should it?" A malicious thought briefly crossed my mind as I replied.

  I toyed with the idea of having the D.A. dropping the charges so the
kidnapper could be set free. Free from "normal" justice didn't mean he was
free from me. And while I was sure it was an open and shut case, the muscle
was cheap. The house where the kids were brought to was a dud too. It was
rented by one of the dead kidnappers and paid in cash.

  So, whoever were the brains behind the plot could theoretically try again.
When I told both Melanie and Rachelle what was being expected of them for the
criminal trial, I half expected them to be annoyed. Instead, they were hopping
mad and anxious to get to the stand -- all their fear had been wrung from them
with this ordeal.

  "Bring it on," Rachelle hissed coldly, "I want him locked up forever."

  "At best," Janet said softly, "It'll be ten to twenty years."

  The mocha-skinned mother shot her rival a hard glance, but soon softened her
gaze. If there was one good thing from the kidnapping's aftermath, it was it
finally melted the ice between my First and my high school sweetheart. Janet
brought Michael and Frederick up to Rachelle's place and even invited her and
the twins to the pool.

  "So we can talk," Janet said timidly when I confronted her about it.
"Besides, I need someone to vent about you, you reckless asshole."

  I smiled slightly. I knew it was hard of my First to apologize because she
generally took shit from no one. Rachelle suspected Janet was up to something,
but I finally coaxed my brown sugar into coming around.

  "She can't stay mad forever, Ra-Ra." I stroked her hand as we sat on her
balcony. "Jan's reaching out; would you be willing to meet her at least
halfway?"

  "Are you kidding me?" Rachelle blanched, "And are you sure?"

  "I'm serious." I nodded slowly. "And Jan is too."

  "Oh, all right, fine," she sighed, "I suppose you'd like us to be the best of
buddies now?"

  "That would be nice." I smiled wanly. "The kids have been clamoring for more
play-dates, too."

  "Oh okay, sugar," Rachelle pecked me on the cheek, "I'll try."

  That was one less worry for me, but I still had work to do. The last
kidnapper was shivved in lock-up by a shady looking inmate before his case
went to trial. That meant no trial, no deal, and -- most importantly -- no
clear answers. Waters and his detectives were suspicious, but since the other
inmate was a lifer, there was really no incentive for him to cooperate.

  However, being in the dirty tricks business for so long, I wasn't the least
bit surprised. The kidnapper's killer was another clue that someone else was
pulling the strings, and I soon formed a picture of how things went down,
ultimately confirming Jamie's suspicions. A Pincelli was involved but it
wasn't the Joey who died in Vegas, but rather his father Joseph Pincelli II
(Joey was the third in his family of recent times). Joseph Senior was in his
seventies and bound to a wheelchair.

  Exactly how a sly old man sired a rough-cut, midget-mobster greaseball like
Joey Junior was a mystery. Using what I learned, I mind-hopped through
mobsters all across the country, working my way from contact to contact,
thought-mining as I went. I thought Joseph Senior was the originator of the
kidnapping, but I was wrong.

  The old man initially wanted me killed. That was a simple, clean-cut plan,
and one which would've caused his own death when it failed and I would have
tracked him down to return the favor. Instead, he put a surveillance team on
me and started shadowing me. As for how he found me, it was a case of bad
luck.

  Before I had left Jamie's Vegas apartment all those years ago, I had left my
mobile phone number on a note at her place. When the note had served its
purpose, I threw it in her trashbin and forgot about it. After I took Jamie
back to California, I never went back there or gave it a second thought.

  Then, someone from the mob had begun looking into the various girls who
didn't show up for work after Joey Junior's peculiar death. Jamie's old place
was searched and they found the note and number.

  Here's where another slip-up cost me: the construction business was laced
with mob influence. It was a good way to launder their money, a necessary step
to make it in the legitimate world. With all the cash-only wheeling and
dealing I had done with my contractors for the eco-condo, it was a wonder
someone in Cosa Nostra hadn't picked up on Pincelli's incident and put two and
two together.

  While the businesses in the Bay Area weren't as intricately tied to the mob
(they're mostly fronts for the Tong -- Chinese families who are sometimes
involved in crime), there were still loose ties to the mafia east of Chicago
and St. Louis.

  It took nearly seven years and that project at Red Rock to further things
along. I occasionally used my own mobile number on work orders. With Red Rock,
I didn't have much choice since I wanted it to be a secret from my darlings.
Hence, my number -- the exact same one I had written down in Jamie's old place
-- was printed on some work orders I had signed off on for Red Rock. One of
them had been spotted by a sharp-eyed mob soldier who was privy to the elder
Pincelli's problems and he passed the information along.

  Of course, my involvement with Pincelli's death was just a suspicion on the
part of Joey Senior. There wasn't anything to go on since I had left no
prints, and apart from the number, it could've easily been someone else;
people could change phone numbers over the years. The mob was a lot of things,
but they didn't have a reliable person in the telecommunications business (at
least not the information end) to pull their weight and check up on
everything.

  With the only witnesses (apart from Jamie) dead, no one save the dealers and
old security tapes (long erased) could've placed me at the casino. Still, a
surveillance team was put on me. They snapped a few pictures of me coming and
going from my place, and then reported back to Joey Senior.

  That's when chance struck in the worst way. Craig Simmons, Rachelle's
ex-boyfriend was a friend of one of the survelliance team members. They were
both in a models' club that photographed young nude girls for a variety of
pornographic websites. When Craig got a look at his friend's pictures, he
wanted to talk to Joey Senior right away.

  What Craig said behind closed doors came to fore later when I scanned his
mind: I was screwing around with several women, and if Joey Senior had
suspicions that I had something to do with his son Joey's murder and Jamie's
disappearance (Craig was lying about the latter, but his lie was on the mark),
then the old mobster was likely right.

  That's when Craig suggested the idea that they kidnap one (or all) of my kids
to get at me. Normally, people like Joey Senior wouldn't listen to such a
crackpot (and dangerously overt) scheme such as the one being proposed.
However, the death of his eldest son seriously made him think about revenge.
So, he gave the go ahead.

  It was unfortunate that the kidnappers never tried a damn thing when I was
with any of my children at one of those insufferable Pixar movies. I probably
would've incurred quite a body count and spared Rachelle and Melanie from such
distress. However, the movie theaters were crowded and full of witnesses and
cops almost all the time. The kidnappers bided their time. They finally got
their chance that lazy summer day at the zoo.

  Okay, so fair's fair. I killed Joey Senior's son, so I understood his reason
for wanting to killing me. In a strange way, I had grudging respect for that.
But what I couldn't stomach though, was Craig Simmons. Bearing a grudge
against me was one thing, but initiating such direct action against my family
was a death sentence.

  Hence, it was with grim determination that I joined the family at Janet's
house for a massive but quiet supper two weekends after the kidnapping. The
place was packed with my five available wives, nine children, as well as
Mother Benton, Janet's mother and father, and my parents (the other in-laws
we'd usually invite individually to maintain the protocol of a single
marriage).

  The mood was joyfully subdued: the kids were safe, the physical injuries
suffered by Melanie and Rachelle would heal, and we had just got news about
the kidnapper's "accident" in prison. Nevertheless, I had unfinished business
with Craig Simmons.

  While the kids, mothers, and grandparents were downstairs, I quietly excused
myself and locked myself in Janet's restroom. There, I entered a deep, deep
trance and stalked Craig's final night. I surreptitiously sifted through his
memories earlier in the day: the gymnasium after a full day at the hip-hop
club, and then home.

  As I went through his mind, I was reminded once again how much a sleazebag
Craig was. He'd sweet talk the girls at the club to come back to his place,
where he'd drug them or get them drunk so he could have sex with them.

  The promises he made though, were all for naught. His was more a "pump 'em,
then dump 'em" attitude. Luckily, his latest infatuation -- a pretty
air-headed little Asian girl -- refused his advances and Craig went about his
business alone. I waited until he got home and watched him enter his
cookie-cutter North Hollywood home.

  Craig was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. As he was spreading the
mayonnaise, I focused my concentration on the kitchen window. With the light
on and the darkness outside, the window easily reflected the apartment
interior.

  When Craig saw "me" standing next to him as I appeared to him that night when
he was choking Rachelle at the Monte Blanc, his eyes flew wide and he turned
around to see -- nothing.

  "The fuck?" he glanced back and forth between the space where he thought he
saw me and the kitchen window.

  'Hello Craig.' It didn't matter that I thought-spoke to him now; subtlety was
not an issue at this point. The sleazebag whirled around, thinking I was
behind him.

  'I thought I told you to leave Rachelle and me alone.' I thought-spoke.

  "I--I did." Craig felt foolish talking to thin air. "What do you want?"

  'You lie.' I flashed him an image of a dishevelled Rachelle as I had seen her
in the hospital after being tasered. It quickly switched to his meeting with
Joseph Pincelli Senior. 

  "What the--?!"

  'Goodbye asshole.'

  The bastard never got in another word as I forcibly seized his mind. For the
final moments of his life, Craig Simmons not only knew who I was, but also
what I was. I bludgeoned his mind into submission by focusing on parts of the
brain that controlled his higher cognitive functions.

  By selectively cutting them off, Craig became a shell of a person. A normal
would know he (or she) wasn't in control of their body anymore; I was the
puppeteer who jerked their body around.

  This was the exact same technique I had used when Tseng and I had subjugated
the cartels in the Tecate region years ago. It used to be where Tseng was more
physical about it, while I was more of a sneaky bastard who fucked with the
minds of those who were going to be killed. However, there were instances
where we both forcefully intruded on a target to initiate a slaughter; I did
that now.

  However, getting rid of Craig wasn't as easy as one-two-three. His father was
a Congressman for a district in Los Angeles; Craig's sudden death or
disappearance would bring about some questions -- like law enforcement
snooping around and finding his connection with Rachelle, and then her
connection to me. So, I had planned a cleaner method for Craig to "retire":
death by gun. I needed to make it look like an accident, so I staged the whole
scene.

  As Craig watched his body go about under someone else's will, I could sense
that he was wondering if his mind had been damaged from the drugs he took, or
if he was dreaming. I plunked Craig's laptop on the kitchen counter, booted it
up, and set out a bottle of potent Scotch. Since I couldn't fake Craig's
penmanship, I forced him to type out his letter.

  To prevent the contents of the note from giving me away, I simply wrote that
he had committed sordid wrongs, and how he finally had enough of his unhappy
existence. I had Craig bid his family and the world goodbye, along with a
postscript that asked for forgiveness.

  After I saved the note and printed it, I puppeteered Craig's body to his
room, where I brought out his handgun. I then took him back down to the
kitchen, and broke out his cleaning kit next to the laptop and sandwich. I
scattered some cleaning paraphernalia around the counter, and after splashing
some lubricant and scotch around the magazines, it was time.

  By now, Craig was positively screaming to regain control, but to no avail. To
shut him up, I had him down six quick shots of scotch. As he began to blabber
from the alcohol, I loaded the gun with a single .45 hollow point cartridge,
levelled the weapon at his eye, and pulled the trigger.

  The shock of Craig's mind vanishing snapped my focus back to where I
physically was. I shook off the disorientation and pinged. When I was sure
that he was brain-dead, I rejoined my family downstairs. I felt a bit more at
ease and relieved after having completed a minor task on my "to-do" list. But
I wasn't done yet, and Craig Simmons had been the easy target.

  I needed to do more work to get to Joseph Senior -- the man was a goddamned
mob boss -- and deal with him. I was not sure if Joseph Senior had made known
his plan of revenge to anyone else, so simply killing him would've just caused
more problems. His followers would immediately be alerted (and incensed) if
something untowards happened to the elder Pincelli so soon after an incident
like this.

  I needed to strike back without actually "striking back". While mind-hopping
from one mobster to another, I soon found Joseph Senior's private orderly, a
mobster who served as his nurse. Once in control, it didn't take me much
effort to get the number of the phone next to his bed.

===============================================================================
  VENGEANCE, SHORT AND SWEET 
===============================================================================

  While I pursued my goal, Janet nearly stirred up a little stink on her own.
When I nudged her suspicions about the kidnapping towards the defendants of
her current case, she seized on it and started an investigation on her own.
Before things got out of hand, I jumped in and nudged her back, suggesting
that she was perhaps chasing ghosts.

  It was a good thing I caught her early -- if Janet discovered anything about
Pincelli or my involvement, she'd have to deal with the mafia or the invisible
empire. Both meant trouble for my relentless First.

  With so much on my mind, and so much more to do, my darlings thought I was
having a case of nervousness from the kidnapping. Shawn and Melanie were so
concerned, they organized an intervention to get me into therapy. Imagine my
surprise when I came home to my condo only to be confronted by a gaggle of
worried women clucking psycho-babble and pressuring me to go to an expert.

  "I'm fine. Really I am." I tried to weasel my way out. "There's no need for
this."

  "Well, I was the one who got tazed!" Rachelle exclaimed, "Not you, sugar! But
you're having more trouble coping than me!"

  "That ends it, Stanley," Janet glanced at me sternly. "Denying it to yourself
is one thing, but you can't lie to us! Something's troubling you and you're
going to see Doctor Phillips whether you like it or not!"

  Damn.

  Luckily, my sessions were one-on-one; I tricked the therapist into thinking
my sessions were over so I could go forward with my revenge scheme. After a
little digging, I found one of Pincelli's grandchildren living in Los Angeles.
She was a pretty girl named Juliana. Being one of Joey Senior's descendants
from his daughters, she did not share his last name.

  Juliana was pretty (but not super-pretty) and about Jillian's age. Long story
made super short: I kidnapped the little bitch. I didn't do anything to her
apart from the snatch though, so you can stop thinking I'm some sort of
monster; I had children of my own.

  Juliana was an easy mark, from an empire citizen's point of view. She was
flaky, scatter-brained, and distracted. All classic symptoms of what 'normal'
experts decry as attention deficit disorder. I simply "persuaded" her to ride
her bus to a different stop, transfer to another (less populated) route, and
walk around the corner. Like most child kidnappings done by my kind, she
vanished without a trace.

  Of course, having Juliana just "disappear" wasn't going to be my message.
Pincelli had to know he was playing with not just ordinary fire, but an
intelligent inferno which sought out targets.

  I locked an unharmed Juliana into the trunk of a luxury Buick I had stolen
earlier that day and -- in the dead of night -- "drove" it using telekinesis
while following in my own car to a mall's underground parking lot in Los
Angeles' Korea Town. This way, Juliana wouldn't be cooked alive when the sun
rose.

  Not being a total asshole, I left some bottles of juice and some dried
crackers in the trunk. As for the lack of a bathroom, I was sure Juliana would
come out of this with a healthy appreciation for running water and flushing
toilets. By using a clever combination of telekninesis and telepathy, I had
set-up the perfect, untraceable kidnapping: telekinesis denied the presence of
fingerprints and other physical evidence.

  I never touched the vehicle Juliana was locked in, and didn't do anything
else except the snatch. I only touched Juliana once -- on her forehead with
the knuckle of my finger. And that was to use my gift to scrub her memory of
my voice and face. I left Pincelli's granddaughter and drove the eight hours
back towards San Francisco.

  My plan was not terribly complex, and not wholly reliant on my gift. While I
was sure I could mind-hop easily from Joey Senior's nurse into his mind, I
wasn't all too sure of how'd he'd react when I deliver the news of his
grandchild's kidnapping. A "freak dream" -- similar to what I had used with
Waters years ago -- would be too coincidental, and that had the dubious
complication of tipping my hand with the empire.

  However, I needed a reasonably untraceable method to contact the elder
Pincelli. By the time I was back in Oakland's Chinatown, I had worked out how.

  I parked the car on a side-street, and hauled out a disposable TracPhone to
make my call (this was before the new security measure requiring credit or
debit cards to be used for pre-paid phones for fear insurgents would use them
as explosives detonators). I had brought along a cheap novelty voice-changer
(I think it was a Transformer's voice-changer, but made for telling jokes) and
held it between my mouth and the microphone as I spoke.

  "Hello Joseph Pincelli Senior?" I came out sounding a bit like a very polite
and comprehensible Jackie Chan.

  "Who is this?" Joey Senior asked. I heard a clatter of trays and the soft
rustle of blankets.

  "You threatened a friend of mine," I said casually, "And you nearly got away
with it too."

  "I don't know who you are," he started. "You got the wrong number."

  "My friend also wants to send you a message," I said, "He said your son Joey
died like a pig. That's why he got roasted in his own sty -- like a pig."

  There was silence on the other line. I heard a mild rustling, like he was
switching the phone to BlueTooth or trying to see who dialed.

  "What did you just say?" Joey Senior was fighting back his anger to keep me
on the line as long as possible. I figured that the number for a disposable
phone wasn't confidential, but I also knew such calls could be triangulated
using the locations of cell towers. I made my pitch quickly.

  "You had your chance to get revenge," I explained in my faux accented voice,
"Well, you blew it. But my friend is willing to let it go."

  I heard some more rustling in the background. Probably a bodyguard or orderly
bringing Joey Senior a paper so he could write out orders.

  "But be warned Pincelli," I lowered my voice to a deep growl, "My friend
isn't a push-over; he's pissed. If he finds you're behind any more business
directed at his family again, you can start ordering caskets for yours."

  Joey Senior said nothing so I went on.

  "Just in case you think this is a bullshit crank call, here're some names you
might find interesting."

  I glanced at the notepad I had written down all of Pincelli's children,
including their addresses, schools, jobs, and, in some cases, the names of
their children, and began reciting them. When I finished my list, I let loose
my final barb.

  "Oh, and you'll find your granddaughter Juliana in an unmarked blue car in
Los Angeles' Korea Town." I gave him the closest intersection of her location.
"I'd hurry up if I were you. We left her with some food but you know how hot a
trunk can get in the middle of L.A."

  "You -- you son of a --" I heard Joseph Senior's breathing becoming labored
as he tried keeping his rage in control. Damn. I hoped the fucker didn't die
of a heart attack before all this got wrapped up; the old boy dying would mean
I'd have to phone in Juliana's location myself.

  "This will be your only warning Pincelli," I said plainly, "And don't forget
one last thing."

  "What's that?" Pincelli rasped.

  "We know where you live too." I hung up before Joseph Senior made a reply.

  I was half-lying with that last threat, but I had his private number. I
suppose I could've tapped into agency resources and found a way to drop some
kind of ordnance right onto his home (once I found out where he was) but I was
positive that would've rubbed a lot of people wrong.

  I didn't notice it until I had shut off the phone, but my hands were shaking.
It wasn't Pincelli who scared me. It wasn't even Cosa Nostra. I knew if I
wanted to, I could make things very difficult for any organization or entity
-- I could probably find and destroy the whole network by mind-hopping from
one member into another.

  I was copacetic with committing crimes (up to and including murder). I was
fine with using my gifts to get expendable 'normals' to do my bidding. What
was not sitting well with me was the possibility that any of the mob should
come after my family. The very notion that some mafia shitbag ordering a hit
on my wives and children weighed heavily on my mind.

  I wondered how far I would go now. Would I break more laws, take more risks,
or even risk exposing the invisible empire to keep Pincelli in his place? I
shuddered and wondered what would happen, not to me -- I could care less at
this point -- but what would happen to the women and children.

  I sat in my car for the longest time, just staring at the disposable phone,
fearing it would ring. Finally, I took it apart, and pulled out its electronic
guts.

  I kept the rest of the phone, but the SimChip and circuit board I dropped
into the chilly bay by Jack London Square. My task done, I headed over the Bay
Bridge, and back home to my family.

===============================================================================
  LOVERS' SPAT 
===============================================================================

  Juliana was only mildly dehydrated when they recovered her. She didn't
remember anything about her ordeal save that she was grabbed by someone she
didn't see. Her kidnapping made the news and -- along with our family's recent
experience -- elicited a minor upwell of concern from my darlings.

  All of the moms looked over the children just once more now, fretting over
nothing. I played along and worried too, not entirely for show. I needed the
practice, because I had to put on another show shortly after Craig's death.

  Congressman Simmons (R-CA) issued a brief statement about his son's sudden
death two days after Craig's body was discovered. Nothing was louder in a
sleepy neighborhood of single story family homes than a .45 caliber round's
report (it would be something huge in that case).

  The death of the younger Simmons brought up some issues about gun control
again, but there was no spectacular fallout. Rachelle didn't even hear about
it until a mutual acquaintance of her's and Craig's called and told her the
bad news. She took the call in another room, but I easily sensed she was
experiencing a wide mix of emotions.

  "Craig's dead," Rachelle said simply when she stepped back out. "He -- he
shot himself."

  "Oh?" I kept my tone neutral. Inwardly, I was ecstatic.

  "Yeah," she sat and sighed, "I'm thinking about going to the memorial."

  "I understand." I smiled acidly.

  "Don't make it harder than it is." Rachelle lowered her gaze, "His father was
nice and Craig had some decent friends."

  "He had friends?" I came off a bit more sarcastic than I wanted.

  "Stanley! Please." She looked glum.

  "Sorry," I said. After a moment, I added, "Would you like me to come along?"

  "You don't have to," Rachelle murmured.

  "Hey, I'm still your husband," I reminded her gently, "Even though it's not a
matter of public record."

  "Well," she found herself grinning bravely, "If you insist on it, 'hubby'."

  I grinned as well. Rachelle and Janet had been mending fences. Aside from the
twins getting along well with Frederick, the two women shared some common
interests: good food, drink, and gossip. The latest thing they've been doing
was swapping dirty stories and odd habits of mine. They've also been learning
what words and phrases they've been using all these years to get me off, not
to mention sharing some common bedroom apparel.

  Rachelle and I attended Craig's service, but kept our stay short. Fearing
that I'd tip my hand, I wore a pair of leather gloves. My delight at Craig's
passing was great, but I had not desire to share it at his funeral. It was
certainly odd comforting the father of someone I had killed.

  Representative Simmons wasn't such a bad guy; I'd know because I dug his
mind. He didn't sleaze it up by chasing secretaries, or taking in too much
money and favors (all politicians took in money and favors during campaigning;
Simmons simply kept his shit sensible). His wife had died from cancer when
Craig was still in middle school, but he hadn't remarried.

  "You're Rachelle Hollister aren't you?" the elder Simmons greeted her.

  "Yes," the mocha-skinned mulatto shook his hand, "Yes I am. I'm sorry we have
to meet again like this. My deepest condolences for your loss."

  I followed suit. With the Hollisters, Rachelle and I had "jumped the broom"**
but apart from family and close friends, we refrained from referring to
ourselves as a married couple. We didn't want to give any enemies a potential
bullet to shoot us with.

  [** Author's note: 'jumping the broom' is an African-American wedding
tradition used to signify marriage. It was started during the slavery days,
when white churches did not perform marriage ceremonies between slaves; it is
accepted only in some circles.]

  "Ah." The congressman nodded then asked me, "And you are?"

  "Just Stanley," I said. "My condolences, sir."

  I wanted to add: Your fuck-wipe son ddeserved to die because he was such a
prick -- but I kept silent.

  Despite the somber setting, we made some light-hearted small talk. The old
codger seemed genuinely interested in Rachelle's welfare and had wondered
about her when she left Craig and L.A. Now with his son's death, the shocking
reality seemed to have hit the elder Simmons like a bat to the teeth.

  The photos and movies on Craig's laptop, the voicemails on his phone, and the
seemingly endless parade of girls through his place were evidence of
debauchery that shocked even the most jaded individual.

  But what surprised me when I was rooting through the older man's mind was how
the congressman still saw his son as a "little boy", and someone to be
coddled. When it became clear that Rachelle and I were a couple, the
congressman renewed his attention with us and asked us an odd question.

  "Pardon my curiosity," he asked, "But do you have children?"

  Rachelle blinked as we both nodded slowly. We were both surprised such
questions were being asked at a time and place like this.

  "Look out for them," the representative said, his eyes lost in thought, "They
grow up fast, and if you're not there to correct their mistakes, they become
more of a terror than they were when they're two."

  "Thank you." I kept my tone bland although I was enjoying the man's
discomfort. "We'll keep that in mind."

  The elder Simmons studied Rachelle and I knew he was pondering what Craig had
done to this lovely mulatto girl to drive her away. Rachelle fidgeted
uncomfortably until the congressman shook our hands again and went back to his
mourning.

  "That was an odd thing to say," I remarked as we headed back to our car.

  "Yeah." Rachelle walked stiffly with her arms tucked into each other. She was
wearing these big shades -- ones people wear to hide their eyes for the reason
of hiding their eyes (in addition to the sun).

  I glanced at her from the corner of my eye and delicately picked up her
thoughts. She was feeling genuinely sorry for the congressman, despite what
she had undergone from Craig. The elder Simmons was like a kindly second
father to her, and this whole thing was tearing her up inside.

  My casual attitude, coupled with maintaining an indifferent grin the whole
time certainly didn't help. To her, it was like I was a bit too giddy to be
mourning. Over-compensating was just as bad as lack of preparation.

  So much for putting on an act. As we drove back to LAX, Rachelle kept silent,
but I could sense she was glowering at me from the passenger seat.

  "Maybe I shouldn't have come," I said slowly to break the silence.

  "I said you didn't have to come," she said angrily. "I bet that poor man now
thinks I villified his son ..."

  "You didn't need to," I interjected, "He did so with his suicide note."

  Oops, I thought. The news mentioned a note, but no details were revealed to
the public. Goddammit Stanley, I kicked myself. Shut the hell up.

  "What note?" Rachelle's tone suddenly became concerned. "What'd it say?"

  "I --" I swallowed and gauged my words with care, "-- asked a friend of a
friend about the details. Just curious."

  "Stanley. Really." Her face registered disgust. "I can't believe you did
that."

  I feigned a mournful face and lied, "I had to know Ra-Ra. He hurt you. I had
to know if he was sorry."

  "And was he?" Her question hung in the air for a moment as I cranked my
brain, trying to see which answers would be the most believable.

  "I don't know exactly." I kept my tone neutral. "But I was told he felt sorry
being himself. Sorry, sugar."

  "Don't 'sugar' me!" Rachelle turned away, "Damn it, Stanley! None of this was
your business!"

  I kept my mouth shut and a lid on my temper. Outwardly, I knuckled under the
mulatto's harsh tongue, but I secretly began nudging Rachelle back into her
old self -- or as much to her old self -- with my gift.

  The memory of what I did would remain. Much of Craig was tied into Rachelle's
persona, so at the very least, I could lessen the blow and present myself as
just a nosy busy-body.

  Hopefully, my dark-skinned darling would forgive me -- eventually. That
unpleasant business aside, the fallout from the kidnapping brouhaha sucked up
time from other things.

  Aside from dropping some personal hobbies (for the time being) and letting a
construction manager handle Red Rock for me, I had to settle some sensitive
problems; the most sensitive was Rosalind. More specifically, it was Andrew's
and Sachiko's problem with Rosalind's roommate, Alexia.

  It's exactly what you think -- after that long weekend in May, Andrew got it
in his head that Alexia was the woman he could be with. They began seeing more
of each other through the summer.

  Sachiko got suspicious and began following him. Andrew didn't exercise enough
discretion, so he eventually got caught. She found him hugging Alexia in the
spare room (my old room) when she unexpectedly dropped in.

  One accusation lead to another, and it finally blew back to me as the one who
had planned that sordid weekend in Napa's wine country. However, my brother
and Alexia kept their mouths shut about Rosalind and her friends, not to
mention the money the sultry Sino-Greek was paid for "services rendered" (or
the fact I had boned Alexia before).

  Despite this wall of silence, I was singled out because I was covering for
Andrew and Alexia when they were away that weekend. Janet got word of it from
Sachiko's sister Gracia, and both in turn, berated me for breaking up such a
happy couple.

  Of course, that wasn't the end of it. The incident roused Janet's suspicion.
If I wasn't at home that weekend, and I wasn't in New York with Viktoriya,
perhaps I was also screwing around.

  Thankfully, Andrew and Alexia said nothing apart from the fact I was driving
them around. They knew revealing my part in the affair would only fan the
flames, and they needed my help because our parents were not so supportive (or
understanding) of how Andrew could cast Sachiko aside.

  "I don't know what to do." Andrew paced the floor in my condo. "How'd you get
away with this?"

  I looked at him, "You're asking me for advice?"

  "Of course I am! Who else do I know is a bigamist?"

  "According to public record," I reminded him politely, "Janet's the only wife
I know of."

  "Don't gimme that." Andrew made a face and sat down with his head between his
hands. "I really like her."

  "Who?" I asked, "Alexia?"

  "Well yeah," Andrew exclaimed, "Who else?"

  "Are you sure?" I asked, "It's not just your dick talking?"

  "Don't lecture me about that." He met my eyes long enough to shoot me a wry
grin.

  I fidgeted slightly. While I was at ease with my lifestyle, I hadn't expected
that my brother would lower his standards so much. Alexia was beautiful, but
she was only of average intelligence. Over time, her beauty would fade, but
her most important asset -- the thoughts in her head -- would determine how
good a wife she'd make. For now, I considered Alexia nothing more than a
convenient piece of meat.

  "I just want you to be sure," I said softly, "You have a lot riding on what
you do, or don't do in the next few days."

  "Don't I know it," Andrew said soberly, "All I know is that we connect.
Alexia and I hit it off at the lake and stuff, but it was that first night. We
talked and it was cool."

  I knitted my brow and scanned my brother's mind to make sure he wasn't
bullshitting me. Well, at least he thought he connected. I wasn't so sure
about Alexia.

  "I talked a bit more with her when we were in Oakville," Andrew went on, "But
we didn't get much time alone after that."

  "I can imagine," I said dryly and he blushed deep red. My brother had
absconded with three girls (included Alexia) to his bedroom for an all-out
orgy. I could only imagine how she felt about that, so I broached the
question.

  "She understood," Andrew said slowly, "I mean it was a crazy college thing.
But we started seeing each other during summer and we really like it. We're
really in-sync."

  "What about Sachiko?" I asked him.

  "That's why I'm asking you for advice." Andrew gulped. "I want her too."

  "Oh for fuck's sake." I leaned over and levelled with him. "You want to walk
down this road too? Because it ain't all fun and games."

  "I can do this," my brother said, "I mean, it's just the two of them."

  "For now," I corrected him, "What about a year from now? What about four
years from now? What if you meet another great girl you think you can spend
the rest of your life with?"

  "Well, isn't that what happened with Kam-Ling?" Andrew asked, "You were
seeing Rachelle a lot, I remember."

  "That's a complicated story." I waved off dismissively. I'd not told my
family about how Janet and I fell in love.

  "Okay so, what about Viktoriya and Shawn?" my brother pressed, "I only saw
them maybe once or twice when you and Yu-Ching were together a lot too. Don't
tell me you were able to keep them apart for that long?"

  "Even if I did," I gave him another wave, "What'd you think happened when
they found out about each other?"

  Andrew fell silent.

  "Listen ah-Pung*," I held up my hand, "I'm not saying Alexia's wrong for you.
I'm not saying you shouldn't go out with her. But you got to think about
Sachiko too." [* Cantonese: Chen Wei-Pung was Andrew's given name]

  "Then -- what are you trying to tell me?!" Andrew was confused, "Get back
with Ji-ko*?" [* Sachiko's name consisted of three syllables; here, Andrew
only uses the last two syllables as an endearment.]

  "Yes," I nodded, "If you like her, you'd better. Leave Alexia to me."

  Andrew's hands were curled into fists. I caught a sense of anger in him and I
wondered how much force I needed to punch my brother out.

  "I wish you never brought me up to Napa Valley," he mumbled. I could see the
young man was trying hard not to cry, so I clarified myself.

  "I didn't mean it that way; I'll go and talk to Alexia and see if she's
actually screwing with you."

  Andrew stiffly tried to compose himself. Damn these kids, I thought. They're
like time-vampires. And I thought my little brother had grown up so I didn't
have to worry about him.

  "How can you tell?" he asked me.

  "Trust me." I gave him a reassuring nod. "And just so you know I'm not
yanking your chain, I'll ask Yu-Ching to do the talking, okay?"

  "Thanks," Andrew said glumly.

  "You know you should've dated Alexia," I said, "And I mean date her -- not
dine and fuck her. You said you dated Sachiko for how long? Five years?"

  "Yeah." He nodded.

  "Now how about Alexia?" I sat back and studied him, "Do you like her enough
that you'd stay with her even if she looked like the Elephant Man?"

  "I -- I guess so," my brother didn't sound sure of himself.

  "Maybe I was a lousy older brother," I admitted, "Or maybe I should've been a
bit more forthcoming about what I was doing. But the amount of crap Kam-Ling
and Yu-Ching put up to get this far with me can fill a book or two, maybe even
three."

  "You guys seem so at ease with each other." Andrew's tone was envious. "I
wish I had that."

  "You did," I said, "With Sachiko."

  The young man hung onto my words.

  "Look, I didn't tell all about those two lunkheads because it wasn't
relevant," I explained, "But this kind of thing does require a lot of work.
And for me to do this with six girls is that much harder, understand? It's not
something that's just pick-up and play."

  "You mean 'Plug and Play'," Andrew corrected me.

  "You get the fucking idea," I snapped and he shrank back, nodding.

  Goddamn, I thought. I never figured I'd warp my little brother's brain into
doing something like this. I scanned him at different levels, trying to get a
good estimation of his wants and needs. I knew what he needed: Sachiko. The
weekend at Lake Hennessey was simply something to whet his appetite; I didn't
know it would've turned him into a womanizing bastard like me. With my gift, I
knew what Andrew wanted: a younger, less pushy version of Sachiko. To him,
Alexia seemed like that, but people change over time.

  "All right," I said and stood up, "Let me go make some calls."

  "Now?" Andrew's eyes grew wide.

  "Of course now." I glared. "Thanks to you, Janet's wondering what I did that
weekend. You're exactly like Yu-Ching when it comes to secrets, you know that?
A fucking sieve."

  "Sorry," he mumbled.

  "Okay, go home, focus on your work, and don't do anything stupid." I gazed
sternly at him. "No calls to Alexia. No calls to Sachiko. No calls, no
e-mails, no texting. Understand?"

  Andrew nodded glumly. For all I knew, Sachiko probably won't talk to you ever
again, I thought. I couldn't say the same with Alexia. I never got the
gold-digger feeling from her. Still, the very fact that she prostituted
herself to two men said plenty about her world view. I saw my brother out
before I headed back inside.

  As I walked upstairs to the fifth floor, I pondered how much I should
interfere. Technically, I could leave this alone. I played it out in my mind:
Sachiko would dump Andrew, he'll grow remorseful, enter a slump, and
eventually get over it. Knowing Sachiko, she'd probably start poisoning
Gracia's friendship with Janet (Sachiko was as bitchy as my First when things
didn't go her way).

  While losing Gracia as a friend was regretable, I feared that would've
jeapordized my relationship with Janet further. My First already suspected I
was cheating on her (again) so I had to plan carefully. After I regurgitated
Andrew's side of the story to Melanie, I asked her plainly for her opinion.

  "What'd you think?" I watched her youthful face carefully, "Does he have a
chance?"

  "Why do you come to me for all your lovers' quarrels?" Yu-Ching narrowed her
eyes at me, mimicking Janet's trademark squint.

  "Because you're the most persuasive person I know."

  I held out my hands, palms upturned. Melanie sighed but didn't answer as she
turned back to feeding Norman his puree'd meal of chicken and veggies. Leave
it to a chef to blend her own son's baby food. The injury dealt by the
kidnapper to my youngest darling had healed with almost no scarring. I wasn't
too worried about that. I was worried if her empathy would be affected in ways
I didn't know about.

  I had noticed over the years that mental presences in Melanie's proximity
seemed to vanish along with her own. When the kidnapping occured, Rachelle's
presence was nearly invisible. I hazarded that Little Chen's powers were more
potent if she was running the gamut of the most extreme feelings: fear, anger,
and joy. I wondered though, if she would be able to persuade Sachiko.

  "No," Melanie murmured as she fed another spoonful of tasty paste to Norman.

  "What was that?" I blinked.

  "You're thinking if I'm going to help your stupid brother patch things up
with Sachiko," she cast a glance at me. "The answer's 'No!'"

  "But I didn't ask yet." I smiled bravely. Inwardly, I wondered if Melanie was
reading my mind.

  "You didn't have to ask," my little darling chirped. "I can see it on your
face."

  "And what's wrong with asking?" I sat beside mother and son. "He thinks he's
in love."

  "That's the problem," Melanie said dourly, "He met that other girl when?
Three months ago?"

  "Yes, there abouts," I nodded. It wouldn't surprise me that the news of this
had become everyone's business now.

  "That's too short a time," she said as she scooped another spoonful of paste.
"Andrew's known Sachiko for years, but this Alexia is really just a hussy."

  "Funny coming from you," I blurted before I could stop myself.

  "What's THAT s'posed to mean?" Melanie glared at me angrily. "I've known you
since we were children. That's different!"

  Norman gave an excited cry and burped, throwing up a little of his dinner. I
grabbed a damp cloth and quickly wiped up the mess.

  "Sorry," I said as Melanie packed away the baby's food for later.

  "Look," she moderated her voice once more, "Ah-Pung just lost his head. Let's
give him some time. In the meanwhile, lemme see what Sachiko thinks."

  "I thought you weren't going to help," I said as I eyed her suspiciously.

  "I'm not." Melanie folded her arms across her chest and stared back. "I just
want to see what she thinks."

  I felt mildly uncomfortable. "Hey, look. If Jan's been saying things ..."

  "Stop it, Stanley." Melanie glared at me, her dark doe eyes flashed angrily.
"I know you've been seeing someone besides us. I just don't want to hear it,
okay?"

  "You -- you can tell?" I asked weakly.

  "Of course I can!" She enclosed my hands with hers and put them between her
breasts, "I feel it! I don't know how, but I feel it. Here! Understand?"

  "All this time," I murmured in astonishment, "You didn't say a thing."

  "Because I didn't want to worry you." Melanie dipped her eyes. "You know I
hear things. Even when we were little."

  As I stood there in my little wife's tender grasp, I felt her anxiety. She
knew it wasn't normal to hear the occasional thought from people, and probably
thought she was either crazy or delusional. Melanie, in her naivete, had
elected to remain silent about her condition, which was quite normal for our
kind.

  So, I thought darkly. My selective memory experiment didn't work. At least
not with Melanie. And still, I hesitated to tell her about the invisible
empire. To reveal it so suddenly after having known her for -- what? Eighteen
years? That would've been too much. Now, I felt rotten on top of guilty.

  "Is she younger than me?" she finally murmured. I glanced at her. Melanie's
face was serene but I felt her hands trembling. At this range, I knew I had to
tell her the truth.

  "Yes," I managed to stammer. Her lips twitched only slightly as she phrased
her next question.

  "Is she younger than Jillian?"

  I felt my face grow hot; I flinched as if I'd been slapped.

  "No," I answered firmly, "She was a student from the class I taught at the
university."

  A sign of relief returned to my Lady Chen's face as she peered at me with her
round doe's eyes.

  "Would you forgive me?" I mumbled.

  "I always have," she said softly, "Why do you think I stay by you?"

  Fuck me to tears, I thought. I was scum. I also felt dizzy and mildly queasy.
Was it little Yu-Ching? Or was it just me feeling like the world's biggest
ass-hat? Melanie released my hands and hugged me. Her tiny head rested against
my chest as she spoke once more.

  "I'll talk to Shawn Ellen," she murmured, "She's been through a lot too. You
leave Andrew's business to me, okay?"

  I nodded mutely.

  "But promise me, Stanley." Melanie looked up, her eyes wet. "Promise me you
won't see her again."

  I didn't know why I hesitated, but I did -- if only for the briefest of
moments -- before I nodded in agreement.

  "But," my little darling's tone grew somber, "If you have to, just don't give
her children. It won't be right."

  I blinked and saw her gazing again at my face. It was as if she could sense
my thoughts, although I knew it to be untrue. I gazed back at her sweet face
and thought-spoke: 'You can't read my mind can you, Yu-Ching? Can you read me?
Have you been reading me for all these years?' Melanie stared back evenly
without a response, audible or otherwise. Finally, she shook me lightly.

  "Dapp-wo-a*!" she cried softly. [* Cantonese: Answer me!]

  "I -- I will," I cursed lightly, prompting an admonishing gaze from her.
"Promise."

  "I know it's been stressful around here lately," Melanie sighed, "But I'll
talk to Ling-jie* [* Cantonese: Elder Sister Ling, otherwise known as Janet]
and we'll make it more like a home and less like a zoo. Okay?"

  "Okay." I bumped foreheads with her. "You know best."

  She made a small noise that only a woman of her noble character could make.
We stayed like that for a while until Norman began clamoring for attention.
Melanie sighed and picked up the toddler, but he started squirming and
reaching for me.

  "Here, you take him." She handed him to me then stretched her arms. "I'm
gonna get his bath ready."

  Melanie lazily wandered off, yawning a bit. My guilt and unease seemed to
subside as she retreated from the room. With a burning desire to understand
what was going on, I followed her to the bathroom but the feelings didn't
resurge. Strange, I thought about what happened as Norman drooled, kicked, and
squirmed, trying to escape my grasp.

  After we bathed and put the baby to bed, we had some quiet time to ourselves.
While I was touching her, I felt no discomfort or unease. Melanie seemed to
have dismissed the earlier argument altogether as we made out on the sofa.

  After a few minutes of play though, she begged off to show me a little ditty
she had been practicing on her zither from John Woo's "Red Cliff". It was a
pleasant, soothing moment as I watched her slender fingers pluck the strings
of her instrument.

  "Did you like it?" she asked as the music faded.

  "It's very relaxing." I smiled. "I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

  "Sure!" She seemed delighted, our earlier argument seemingly forgiven (and I
hoped, forgotten). Melanie strummed her zither again, this time putting in a
few artful inflections that were not there before. As I watched her play, I
dared to wonder who exactly was the woman I knew as Chen Yu-Ching.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- COLD TURKEY ... KINDA 
===============================================================================

  "So, you're never seeing me again?"

  Rosalind sat rigid in her chair as monkey-suited waiters brushed by us. They
were trying not to notice, but it was hard not to. A thirty-something year old
man on a date with a scantily clad twenty year old girl generally meant sordid
business was going on.

  "No. Our agreement stands," I said, "But I'm going to be busy for a while, so
I won't be able to drop anything off with you for some time."

  The tiny Korean girl was trembling not from cold but from anger, although one
may not have guessed it immediately with her choice of clothing. She wore a
slim cocktail dress of blue fabric accented by a gold linked chain. I liked
that dress, because it was something I had foolishly given her for Valentine's
Day about six weeks into our arrangement.

  "Besides," my words came out measured and slow, "You could use the time to
learn new things."

  "I am," she glanced at me haughtily and whispered, "Or had you forgotten how
you like spinning me around like a top?"

  "I meant new building techniques," I said with distaste, "That other kind of
'skill' won't get you into a firm."

  Rosalind adjusted her skirt, drank a little wine and stared despondently at
her plate.

  "Look here." I slid her a small tin. "This is for you, and it should last you
a year -- or at least, until I get back."

  She opened the tin gingerly. It was the same one Tseng had given me years
earlier, only now it had a safety deposit box key and a business card of a
bank near where she lived in San Jose.

  "What's this?" she asked.

  "I opened a safety deposit box with your name and mine. You'll find your
money there. I'll make annual deposits until you're done with school; you just
email me or leave a copy of your grades."

  "Okay. Like, wow." Rosalind gulped then eyed me curiously. "Umm wait; don't I
have to sign in or something? How'd you get a box without me being there?"

  "I told the clerk you were busy."

  Actually, the box was only in her name, although she and I could access it;
it was for purposes of obscuring the paper trail. I simply fuzzed the mind of
the clerk so everything was set-up nicely without me needing to leave anything
save my name.

  That business with the kidnapping now made me hyper­-paranoid about my
information getting out. With this arrangement, I could leave money, love
letters, or anything I wished without having to deal with Rosalind in person.

  "Thanks Stan." Rosalind paused and bit her lip gently. "So does your wife
know?"

  "She suspects," I said slowly as I thought of my wives in plural. I still
hadn't told Rosalind the truth, but I doubted it mattered now.

  "Ah," she nodded. "I understand, now. How'd she find out?"

  "Probably Andrew," I lied and briefly touched on Andrew's and Alexia's
affair.

  "Shit." Rosalind soured. "I told her Andrew probably had a girlfriend. I'm
sorry if she caused trouble."

  "I'll deal with it." I gave her a reassuring smile.

  "You sure?" She tilted her head slightly. "I mean I could tell Lexi to shove
it."

  "I think Andrew's girlfriend already did." I chuckled. That and more. Sachiko
didn't look it, but she swore like a sailor in both English and Japanese.

  "Well I'm just trying to help." Rosalind's tone approached a whine.

  "Don't worry about it." I patted her hand, "You just focus on your studies."

  "'Kay daddy," she murmurmed softly.

  "Good girl." Despite how much trouble I was going to get myself in, I grinned
at her words. Rosalind smiled shyly and fidgeted like a little girl. She
measured her next few words with great care.

  "So, will you be all right?" Rosalind asked.

  You don't know the half of it, I thought. But to shut her up, I simply
nodded.

  It was already hard to lie to this sweet girl. I wondered why I couldn't stop
seeing her though. Heck, even Melanie got the feeling I couldn't stop seeing
this girl. Leave it to Yu-Ching to know me better than I know myself. The two
of us made small talk about her progress and the design program while our
after-dinner coffee was served, the tension swirling around the table.

  "Well, are you all right?" I asked her.

  "To be truthful," Rosalind took a deep breath, "I hate this. I hate not
seeing you. But I guess I don't have much of a choice right now."

  "Choe-song ham ni-da*," I said haltingly. [* Korean: I'm sorry for doing you
wrong.]

  "A-ni-e-yo*!" she beamed bravely at me. [* Korean: No problem!]

  As we headed back to the car, I pinged the area for any mental presences that
I had remembered from the time I left for Berkeley till now. So far, so good.
If Janet was snooping, she was doing it with private investigators and not
herself, as I knew she was back home working on her current case.

  Rosalind and her friends were at the same apartment (leases were generally
year to year). Because the place was so crowded, I simply rented a room at a
nearby hotel near the San Francisco Aiport so we could be alone. If I looked
the part of a business man, I could pay all cash and get away with it.

  The Korean cutie's cheeks burned bright red as she slipped into the room with
me. We weren't planning to spend the whole night there anyway -- and we
weren't thinking about doing any sleeping. Rosalind jumped me as soon as the
door shut behind us. Her short stature and tiny body made her a great
fuck-toy.

  She squealed playfully as I carried her to the shower. After a good
scrubbing, the two of us slipped into bed, our bodies keeping us warm under
the thin bedsheets. I fucked her slowly and wondered how I was going to
extricate myself from the situation without treating her like a disposable
condom.

  I had put myself into this situation before with Aurora. My cousin -- who had
fallen deeply in love with me -- had died young, robbing me the chance to
properly break with her. Now, I had put myself into that same position again.
It was like I was trying to unconsciously correct some past wrong.

  Thinking about Aurora only made me uncomfortable; Rosalind, misreading my
face, hugged me tightly and wouldn't let me leave after we were done. I
reluctantly spent the night with Rosalind. I knew deep down that she and I
shared wouldn't last; what made it worrisome was Rosalind knew it too, but she
was taking our relationship more seriously than it should be.

  The prospect of zapping her so she'd forget everything was something I didn't
want to dwell on. Still, if the need arose, I knew I'd do it. Despite the
great-hearted act Melanie had done, I was sure I couldn't count on the same
leniency from the others. With a heavy heart, I began planning for the
inevitable day Rosalind Chae would finally be freed from me.

===============================================================================
  A WEEKEND WITH MY FIRST 
===============================================================================

  Janet was still hopping mad over the whole Andrew/Alexia affair. Having
befriended Gracia, my First was at first apalled by Andrew's behavior. Then
her suspicions began going into overdrive.

  Thankfully, Melanie's tearful pleading prompted me to do the right thing. I
stopped seeing Rosalind just in time, because Janet had begun snooping around
on her own.

  Since I could read her so readily, it was easy to determine where, when, and
what Janet was planning on doing. So, for a few weeks, I did what my wife
expected me to do: drop by my businesses, do some swimming with Shawn at her
pool, expand on that set of obsidian and flint knives I'd given Melanie last
year, and spending time at home with the kids. I even found the time to teach
Janet a bit about cars.

  When Andrew and I were kids, we helped our father around with the cars. It
was so we'd have some basic knowledge about automobiles so we wouldn't be
royally ripped off when we visited a mechanic. Of course, all that was useless
by the time we grew up.

  I was able to accurately determine if someone was lying to me using my gift,
and Andrew leased a hybrid (which, at the time were all serviced by their
dealers anyway). Still, I didn't mind the know-how.

  Janet and I were at her place one weekend, going through all the motions with
our family's fleet of cars: checking the tire pressure, cleaning the
radiators, changing the motor oil, refilling other fluids, and just examining
the cars' bodies for dings and signs of rust. And while the eco-condo's garage
easily held eight cars (four on each side of the elevator), its driveway
wasn't great for working on them.

  Janet's driveway was long and deeply set-back (her property's set-back was
nearly fifteen feet, which was perfect) so her garage became something of my
domain as it filled up with a wall full of tools, parts, and charts (all
secured in case of a quake of course).

  We went from my First's boxy Camry (which ran very smoothly thanks to her
weekly trips to CostCo and her keeping it in a garage) to Melanie's Volkswagon
Beetle (the new version based off the VW Golf's chassis) which she bought
because it was Nintendo's "Pika-car". After the smaller cars were done --
Jamie's second-hand Civic, my Corolla, and Rachelle's Element -- I moved onto
the larger vehicles: Jamie, Janet, and Shawn each owned a mini-van.

  This was for the sheer number of kids we had to shuttle around. Janet talked
the other two into buying them. Despite being burdened by her own mortgage, my
First was always willing to demonstrate she was the "mature one" in the bunch
(despite the fact she could resort to some really immature shit both in bed
and when she was jealous).

  Since a car was a car (even if it was a second-hand car), the trio purchased
three used Siennas from a Toyota dealership in Colma. The three of them
wrangled a pretty good deal even without my interference. While Janet, Jamie,
and Shawn "owned" the vans, they were more often than not parked in my
building with the keys (and booster/carseats) hanging next to the elevator so
anyone could use them in a hurry.

  Of course, I didn't really need my First there to help with the maintenance
schedule, but I wanted her around. Apart from trying to bond with my darling
Janet, I actually needed a second person present to channel mind-sight through
so I'd know when to stop the car when going up the ramp.

  I suppose I could've stood to the side and simply pushed on the car's chassis
(while it was in neutral) but seeing a driverless car roll silently up an oil
change ramp was too obvious.

  In any case, our heated discussion about Andrew's and Sachiko's break-up
quickly dissolved as we set our minds to work. I found I was able to "nudge"
the argument out of her mind by persuading her we'd best leave it alone. I
knew it was better anyway; Yu-Ching had already promised me she'd do something
about it.

  In any case, I was probably going to go to bat for my little brother --
that's if I had the chance to get close to Sachiko and warp her mind without
arousing suspicion.

  "So you got all that?" I asked as the last car was done.

  "I think so."

  Janet was physically tired despite the fact she dressed for the occasion. She
hadn't had this much strenuous physical activity since we fucked as teenagers.
She sat down and rubbed her ankles while I checked a few final things on
Janet's mini-van (I noticed one of her parking lights had gone out and
dutifully replaced it).

  I grinned as I watched her body twist, her arms flex, and her lovely face
yawning from today's effort. Janet had worn a pair of old overalls she had
picked up at a thrift store expressly for the purpose of rough tasks around
the house. The top she was wearing was paint-splattered short-sleeved
body-hugging T-shirt that snugly wrapped around her tits.

  "What the hell are you looking at?" Janet caught me staring.

  I grinned and gave her a sly wink. She sniffed audibly and turned away in
disgust. I knew that apart from her overalls and t-shirt, the only other thing
she was wearing were a pair of Lady Hanes. I knew because I peeked. Instead of
ogling my wife, I probably should've been paying attention. I put my hand down
on the tray of parts sitting on the engine compartment and tipped the whole
thing over.

  "Goddammit!" I swore loudly and Janet shook her head.

  "Fong-fei-a-li*," she admonished me. [* Cantonese: Clumsy and sloppy! (a
verbal beration)]

  Normally, it wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, but the tool
tray was what I used to store various nuts, bolts, screws, washers, and other
small items. Because I was lazy, I also used it hold some of the smaller
turning signal and parking light bulbs. After I crawled around to pick up all
the loose parts and locating the small bulbs that were still intact, I saw
Janet's pensive stare had turned to shock.

  "Something wrong?" I started to laugh then I winced.

  "Ow." I looked down and saw my hands were quite bloody. I didn't even notice
I had injured myself as I scrambled madly trying to grab the spilled contents
back into the tray. Something cut me at just the right angle (and at just the
right spot) at the base of my palm to release a large stream of blood.

  "Are you okay?" Janet ran up to me with a damp paper towel and a roll of
gauze.

  "I think so." I made a face and started walking towards the laundry sink.

  "Stop, stop!" Her voice rose to a near panic. "Let's get you bandaged first!"

  I stood still as Janet picked the wound clean of dirt, bits of glass, and
debris. I grimaced slightly when she wiped off the initial mess of blood. As I
expected, a fresh pulse of blood instantly welled up and oozed out from the
wound. Luckily, my injury wasn't that serious, but I noticed Janet's hands
were shaking as she wrapped my hand with gauze.

  "I'll be all right," I assured her, "Thanks."

  "You should be more careful," Janet said.

  "Sure no problem," I said and began clearing stuff from the driveway.

  "Don't just say it like that!" she snapped angrily.

  "Well, how do you want me to say it?" I asked and dragged the carjack noisily
over the sidewalk.

  Janet composed herself and said, "Say it like you mean it."

  I stopped, stood, and encircled her with the arm with my good hand to hug
her.

  "Well, I believe you do care." I grinned.

  "Stop joking around." Janet punched my shoulder. "I'm serious!"

  She was about to say more when I silenced her with a kiss. She responded less
than enthusiastically, but I felt her mind and body relax as I teased her
mouth for a good minute or two.

  "I'm glad you feel better," Janet said once I stopped to catch my breath,
"C'mon, let's get cleaned up for dinner, okay?"

  I nodded in quick agreement. That weekend was a fun one despite my injury. It
hurt when I flexed my palm. My First took notice and made a bad joke that I
was now reliant on her and the girls for relief and comfort.

  "Relief?" I asked her, "What? Why?"

  "You know why." Janet stuck her tongue out and resumed her cooking.

  She kept her language clean because the kids were around. My four sons were
sitting around the table tonight because Melanie had to work at the Cliff
House; the two older boys were also being punished. Shawn, Rachelle, and Jamie
were having their own little soiree at the eco-condo with the girls.

  While we didn't want to segregate the girls from the boys, Michael and
Milhail had been misbehaving and playing pranks on their sisters -- hiding
their shoes, ripping the heads off of their dolls, and just general
harassment.

  I condoned none of that behavior; it wasn't the busted toys but rather the
sheer audacity of their bullying that rattled me. When we finally found out
why Jenny was crying because someone decapitated her dolls, and Janelle and
Danielle so quietly distressed, and Kady hopping mad because she couldn't find
her shoes, Janet and I grounded Michael and Milhail for a week.

  The boys were talking mostly about videogames and cartoons (the usual)
instead of schoolwork. They had reason to be happy, since their punishment was
going to end tonight. Frederick was happily munching on some fishsticks while
little Norman was content in pushing (or throwing) away anything he didn't
want to eat.

  It was a typical family night; Melanie's Playstation 3 (she hooked it up and
left it at Janet's place because of the big-ass HDTV) was something the boys
were looking forward to playing once their punishment expired.

  After dinner, I squeezed the last bit of punishment from the kids and had
them help me do the dishes, laundry, and trash. Now free, the three older boys
occupied with videogames downstairs while Janet and I got Norman cleaned up
and ready for bed. Melanie's son was far less fussy than the other boys --
something that made him a favorite of all my darlings -- and the little tot
was soon happily snoozing in Frederick's old crib.

  Despite my injury, I was feeling rather frisky and I kept giving Janet the
eye throughout the meal until she gave me a swift kick under the table.

  "Stop it buddy," she growled when she leaned over to borrow some salt. "Not
in the mood, and not in your condition."

  "What condition?" I gave her an annoyed glance. "It's just my hand."

  "Exactly," my First said gruffly, "You can get infected if you do what you
normally do."

  I was about to say more when she lashed out with her foot once more.

  'Shut it!' Janet seemed to say, and I relented until we were alone. Of
course, that was before she got ready for bed. Now that she was full and
content, my First was feeling as randy and as bawdy as I earlier in the
evening.

  "Let's make it a quickie," Janet's breaths quickened as I pulled her top off,
"Or the boys will get curious and wander up here."

  "Don't worry," I kidded her, "They'll be busy with those games for a while.
Besides if they see us, they'll just think I'm hurting you."

  "Fuck you." She extended her middle finger. "You want to screw them up for
life?"

  "Don't tell me you never thought about it."

  "About them walking in on us?" Janet stared at me in shock. "That's sick!"

  "No," I said mischievously, "I meant about your own parents doing it and you
walking in on them."

  "Gross." She made a face and glared at me. "You know you're talking yourself
out of some good nooky, right?"

  "Enough talk." I pulled her close and kissed her. "Schnoo-schnoo now!"

  My First chuckled at the piece of dated Futurama slang and happily returned
my affection. Our bodies fresh from the shower, I savored the sweet heavenly
scent of Janet's skin. I dropped little kisses over her soft, petite body. She
shivered as I worked from her face, down her neck, over her breasts, and down
her stomach.

  "Oh fuck yeah," Janet panted lightly, "Like that. Do it just like that."

  The spicy taste of her cooze enticed me to explore the contours of my First's
belly, waist, buttocks, and thighs. I rolled her over and kissed her backside
while pinching and squeezing good portions of her body. At her current age
(37), Janet was still fit but I could feel the tight supple flesh had slowly
been changing to a softer, more tender "feel".

  Two decades did that to people no matter how much they worked out. Still, I
found it more exciting to find out how quickly we could get each other to cum
if we weren't fucking around with foreplay. Janet must've sensed my change in
mood, because she flipped around and lay me flat on the bed.

  I grunted with delight. This position was one of my all-time favorites with
all my darlings, although some liked it more than others. Viktoriya -- for one
-- was only happy if she was facing me while fucking. Despite our innate
ability to communicate by mental broadcast, my dusky Russkie loved watching my
face as I plowed her field.

  Janet though, didn't care. It was as if she had known me all my life. She
slid herself over my body, her smooth thighs and buttocks teasing my swollen
dick. I bit her shoulder gently and she let out a satisfied sigh.

  "C'mon fella." Janet's fingers grabbed my cock. "Let's -- ooh!!"

  I grunted with pleasure as my penis slipped against Janet's milky white
thighs. Ever since I had started out-growing my lovely Lady Wu in body size,
she's been trying out some of the positions Melanie had confessed to doing
when we were younger. Hot-dogging Janet while I spooned her was something we
both enjoyed.

  Janet reached down, her fingernails teasing the top of my prick while she
massaged my shaft between her groin. I reached around her, gently squeezing
her nipples with my injured hand and rubbing her stomach with my good one. I
cautiously extended my telekinesis and "double-rolled" her -- from the inside,
my telekinesis formed a gentle rippling curve while from the outside, my hand
pressed down in just the right spot.

  My First gasped and I felt her body tense up in response to my probing. She
reached back with her other hand and ran her lacquered nails through my hair
-- just like how Shawn would when she was with me. The feeling was so good, I
had to concentrate hard to stop myself from frying Janet's synapses. I
reciprocated slowly and broadcast a weak stream of wanton emotion to my lovely
mate.

  "Tug me! Jerk me! Fuck me!" Janet rasped as she gyrated her hips over mine,
"Pig-stick me, you mean motherfucker!"

  "Oh-my-sweetness," I grunted as I breathed in Janet's lovely musk.

  She dug her nails a bit more into my cock and I felt a sharp surge of
pain-pleasure as she changed her technique. Janet tensed up her thighs like a
yoga exercise, suffocating my fuck rod. My dick was already slick with pre-cum
and from her juices; it took little effort to slip my cock into her gaping
vagina.

  "Oh gawd!" Janet inhaled sharply as I shifted my focus a bit to be in tune
with my penetration.

  "Feel good sweetie?" I murmured in her ear.

  "Like you wouldn't believe," she shivered as I saw her skin get goosebumps
from my efforts.

  So, with a little well-meaning attention, Janet's fears and suspicions about
Rosalind were quickly squashed. When I finally spunked into her waiting womb,
I was confident my First would stop her nosing around, and that she'd stop
interfering with Andrew's affairs. I wished other things fell together so
easily.

  While I could confide some things to Janet, I kept silent about certain
issues that were of no concern to her. Besides, I had other worries and
frustrations that few 'normals' could comprehend. Luckily, I had Viktoriya to
vent to. Of course, my Russian beauty had her own problems -- problems I had
to deal with in addition to my dumb-ass brother's.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- MY LITTLE BROTHER 
===============================================================================

  Compared to Andrew, I got off easy from the whole affair. And Melanie was
true to her word: she arranged a rotating schedule of grouping the kids into
study and play groups with my other darlings. Henceforth the kids were all
together and overseen by one other mother at least one or two days of the
week.

  If all five available moms and the one dad were too busy, Shawn's mother
watched them in the guest unit or her place in Alamo Square. Now, I was able
to have some peace and quiet. While I didn't neglect the kids, they were still
a bit too young for the tasks I wanted them to do.

  Melanie also kept her other promises: she kept mum about Rosalind and she
spoke with Sachiko. Even with the combined efforts of Melanie and me pleading
for Andrew's case, Sachiko staunchly held out. For a time, I wondered if
Andrew's former girlfriend was some sort of psychic freak of nature -- Sachiko
wasn't buying into our story.

  Before I could try anything with Andrew's ex, she relocated to Seattle for
her new job. This sudden move came as a surprise, but it may have had
something to do with me making headway with her older sister.

  At first, Gracia was on Sachiko's side; however, she became neutral to the
affair after I broached the subject at the end of one of our meetings. Since I
could approach Gracia without arousing suspicion, I worked my persuasion and
convinced her to stay on the sidelines.

  From Sachiko's view, I had done some spade work on her older sister and the
little witch wasn't too happy about it. Sachiko never forgave Andrew
completely. That in itself put a freeze in their relationship for a time.

  During their break, Andrew threw himself at women -- not just Alexia but also
several others too, including Kimberly, who was inclined to fuck anything with
a cock and a hundred bucks, and Sasha, who asked if the Brothers Chen were
brave enough to double-team all three of her holes (I declined but Andrew
later confided she had all the makings of a sex addict).

  My brother buried himself into the thick of things to forget Sachiko but he
still couldn't let go. Despite his mood of reckless abandonment, he kept
silent on how the whole affair started. Happily (for me) so did Alexia,
although I later learned it was because he had threatened her if she caused
our family any more trouble.

  Regardless of the troubles Andrew had, Alexia found him attractive enough to
put up with his eccentricities. Nonetheless, several things were working
against them.

  Andrew worked for the U.S. Army as a civilian medical contractor. He had the
job of counseling the bereaved families of soldiers killed in action, as well
as physically injured survivors, and separating the conscientious objectors
from the cowards. He was also tasked with passing or failing soldiers
(especially those with a Muslim background) perceived by their superiors to
develop problems.

  This was to minimize the number of incidents in the army where soldiers would
engage in prejudicial practices against their Muslim comrades out of fear and
ignorance, and the inevitable backlash that would follow.

  My little brother seemed a good solution as any for the Army brass: a pagan
Chinese shrink assessing Middle-Eastern Islamic soldiers in a white man's
Judeo-Christian army. While Andrew was open-minded and tolerant, he became
increasingly disturbed by the viciousness and pettiness of the army's chain of
command.

  This made him definitely more dour, more cynical, and less approachable.
This, coupled with the miserly pay of psychologists contracted to the armed
forces, pretty much dispelled the mystique Alexia had for Andrew.

  The two broke up after a month of dating, although my brother was right about
one thing: the two did click on some level. While Alexia and Andrew no longer
saw each other exclusively, they remained good friends; Andrew even introduced
Alexia to her new boyfriend, a friend of his classmate who worked at the main
office of Wells Fargo. That seemed to validate Yu-Ching's view about the
Greco-Chinese girl being a gold-digger.

  Single again, Andrew found some unexpected help came from -- of all people --
Rachelle. My little brother liked and trusted her more than my other darlings.
Andrew and Rachelle got along well when she and I were dating (back in
school). When she and Janet were still on non-speaking terms, Rachelle hardly
got lonesome because my brother would occasionally drop by and help her take
care of the twins.

  It was to Rachelle whom Andrew now appealed for advice, and she did what she
thought was right. My mocha-skinned mate decided it was a good idea to set up
Andrew with Ami.

  Rachelle's circle of friends had been big throughout her life. Even her
break-up with Craig didn't dent it much (just her move from Los Angeles).
While Heidi stayed in Los Angeles after being widowed, Ghandia had moved back
to Northern California after breaking up with her previous boyfriend (the
dumbass I met at Jon-Peter's funeral).

  Ghandia dated a new guy, an Indian (from India, not an aboriginal American)
software engineer who moonlighted as a disc jockey in several South Bay
nightclubs. Rachelle arranged an impromptu reunion of old friends and college
sorority sisters. The reason?

  'I got a new job!! Time to celebrate!' Rachelle literally screamed in her
email.

  I know what she wrote because I peeked. That, plus I did some mental wet-work
at the San Francisco Presido and landed my black beauty a job at Lucasarts.
Among those at the soiree was Ami. She had moved back to the city to stay near
her parents after she completed her university studies. Andrew and Ami got to
talking, and before long, she was hanging around the old house.

  No one was more shocked than I.

  When I heard about it, I confronted Rachelle during one of our evenings. It
was shortly after we made up after our spat at the Simmons wake, so I broached
the topic gently, as not to have it break into another argument.

  "Uh, sugar?" I asked, "How's Ami going to help Andrew out of this?"

  "I just said he should talk to his friends and check out his options,"
Rachelle said absently. "Almost the same thing you said!"

  "That was in regards to Alexia." I jerked my thumb sideways for emphasis. "I
didn't actually mean for him to try another dish."

  "Bullcrap!" She put her hands on her hips. "You told them to stop talking to
one another while you and Mel sort things out. How's that s'posed to work,
Stanley? Even you didn't do that when you were seeing me and Janet!"

  "Well, I --" I stopped and wondered if I was meddling too much. Had I picked
up my darlings' penchant for sticking my nose into the business of others?

  "Besides, Ami is good friend." My black beauty's eyes practically sparkled as
she pictured Ami and Andrew in her mind. "She's been supportive of both of you
all these years. How did you not see this coming?"

  "I dunno." I shrugged. "I guess it never crossed my mind."

  "It never crossed your mind that those two could fall for one other?"
Rachelle laughed softly. "Oh sugar, now you're yanking my chain."

  "Honestly, it didn't cross my mind at all." I looked at her in bewilderment.
"How could anyone see this?"

  "I could." She studied me carefully. "I guess it just took some time for them
to realize it!"

  "Now you're yanking my chain." I gave her a wry grin. "Don't tell me you can
tell the future."

  "If I could, I'd hit the lottery first," Rachelle sighed, "But I just pick up
on how things are. Sometimes love is just plain weird. You just have to let it
run its course naturally, right?"

  "It's still not helping Sachiko and Andrew," I insisted.

  "Screw that!" Rachelle growled, "Just let Andrew decide; Sachiko seems to
have already! That's why he's in this mess, right? Because you told him to
date more girls to even the score?"

  "I didn't tell him that -- not exactly." I felt my face grow hot before I
asked the obvious question: "Who told you that?"

  "Everyone!" the mulatto said flatly. "But this is something your brother
needs to work out himself, even if everyone's giving him advice. If he wasn't
happy with Sachiko, it won't work out no matter what we think. It'll work
out if it works out, get it?"

  "I guess so," I murmured and stroked her hand tenderly, "When'd you become so
wise?"

  Rachelle sniffed sharply as she regarded me with an annoyed but mirthful
gaze.

  "When I married you, you dense doofus. I always wondered about what you and I
had, but I guess things --"

  "Worked out?" I finished for her.

  "Well I'm here, aren't I?" Rachelle was on the verge of being really
irritated. "For better or worse!"

  "For better." I took her hands in mine. "Thank you, sugar."

  "You're welcome," she kissed my nose.

  So Rachelle was right. Ami never disappointed as a friend -- why would she as
part of the family? Ultimately, I'd say the whole affair resolved itself quite
nicely, if oddly. But I'll speak more of it later, because I had problems of
my own around that time.

===============================================================================
  VIKTORIYA'S DILEMMA 
===============================================================================

  Just a few months ago, Viktoriya was nearly beside herself after we told her
what happened with Milhail at the zoo. Unfortunately, there was little she
could do since she was out of the country. The night of the incident,
Viktoriya was cheering on Freya in Germany.

  The ballroom dancing circuit and rhythmic gymnastics competitions didn't
really coincide, but she made time for the skinny, blonde Dutch waife. If I
didn't know Viktoriya had earnestly fallen in love with Freya, I would've been
the densest man on earth.

  Nonetheless, the "incident" with Milhail did give Viktoriya a sincere fright.
She and I arranged for me to fly out to New York City with Milhail so he could
see his mother for the first time in two years. Again bad luck interfered --
this time in the form of illness.

  Our son came down with influenza (incidentally, infecting nearly everyone
else) and he was confined to my unit with the other sick kids. With Milhail
and me sick, I postponed the trip until he got better. Unfortunately by the
time Milhail and I were fine to travel, school had started.

  Viktoriya was definitely frustrated. Cristobel was still convalescing from
his injury from May. This meant Viktoriya was either dancing with partners she
detested, or who didn't match her temperment and skill level.

  With all the chaos in her life, I was sure I'd hear no end of it when I would
finally bring Milhail to New York City for Thanksgiving. So, with those plans
made, I was understandably concerned when my assistant Pam interrupted a
meeting I was attending in early October.

  It wasn't just any meeting -- it was one of the first official ones I had
with Shawn, and we were both enjoying ourselves. Her firm and mine were
working jointly for the Delancey Street Project; it was something that
involved having DSP's rehabilitated substance addicts working on solar energy
collection stations in the city.

  Even Jules Fontana was there. We tapped him to get on board with the project
for his expertise and for him to pitch a few ideas he had worked on over the
years since the eco-condo's solar wall. For people in the business like Shawn,
Jules, and me it was more like fun and not really work.

  "Mr. Chen? Sir?" Pam squeaked, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's your son's
principal. She says it's urgent."

  "Goddammit," I hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm going to ship that kid off
to military school if he's in that much trouble."

  No, I thought. I'd likely do more than that. I probably would've wiped his
brain as I had with those banditos and gang-bangers, and re-write his ass once
he was older. It would've saved money for the military school, but I wasn't
sure how his birth-mother Viktoriya would've thought about it.

  Then, I remembered how Milhail had tormented his sisters and I grew smug;
Viktoriya would probably help me out once she knew the details. Maybe she and
I could open a "discipline academy" if things didn't work out -- just spend
our days brain-washing unruly teenagers and get paid handsomely for it.

  I saw Shawn gulp at the corner of my eye, but she dared not utter a word. At
work, my plump petunia and I acted like close colleagues, but not a couple.
Apart from our closest friends and family, we never introduced ourselves as
husband and wife. The bigamy case really did a number on all of us, making us
leery and suspicious.

  Still, Shawn was a busy mother. My doughty darling was the nicest one in the
family (apart from Melanie). That was probably one reason why hard-headed Kady
was so hard-headed in the first place. Compared to the other women, Shawn was
a big softie when it came to discipline.

  Jamie knew when to draw the line and correct the kids (especially as Jillian
grew into a teenager). Like Janet, my leggy Asian beauty would habitually
punish the kids if they did something wrong. Even the normally mellow Melanie
meted out punishment, as did Rachelle (although the mulatto's 'punishments'
were more along the lines of chores she'd rather not do herself).

  Thankfully, the twin girls, Jillian, and her sister Jenny weren't much
trouble. But Kady -- she was something else. She often got into as much
mischief as the boys, and she was even more vindictive.

  After Milhail and Michael had played their latest prank on her, Kady got her
revenge. When she was being watched by Janet, she got into the boys' room,
took a box of my crushed colored chalks (Shawn and I used them for concept
drawings) and poured their contents into the sock drawers. Kady had to content
herself with just dirtying her brothers' socks, because she wasn't high enough
to reach the other drawers.

  When Janet found the mess, I swore she was about to burst a blood vessel.
Luckily, Shawn was present and picked up our little hard-case before my First
smacked Kady's bottom raw.

  Shawn coddled her daughter so much, even Mother Benton was having a hard time
getting her to behave. I often had to discipline Kady, which sent the little
troublemaker running to her birth-mother for amnesty. Still, my darling
dumpling was mindful of my temper (having experienced it when we were
younger). She quickly sought a round-a-bout way to calm me down.

  "Don't be mad Stanley," Shawn piped up as I rose, "I'll take notes for you."

  That elicited some odd stares from some, although old man Jules nodded
slightly. Fontana had met Kady and knew who her parents were, though he never
publicly said a thing about it; we appreciated his discretion.

  "Thanks," I said as I slipped outside and took the call.

  "Mr. Chen?" a gritty female voice was on the other end.

  "Speaking," I said, "Who's this?"

  "This is Principal Olivia Munichek from Lawrence Elementary. Your son Mee--,
Myhale?"

  "Yes, Milhail," I corrected her gently, "What'd he do?"

  "Do?" the principal sounded surprised, "Oh no, Milhail isn't in trouble. It's
just that -- his mother -- or someone claiming to be his mother is here, but
she's not using the name on the emergency contact list."

  "Oh." I frowned, despite the fact she couldn't see me.

  With so many kids, I had forgotten who was on whose emergency list. We had
agreed to use the kid's birth mother and my name as the prime emergency
contacts. However, Milhail was a bit of a problem. His mother was a thousand
miles away, as was his maternal grandparents.

  My own parents were at work, so I never bothered them with the stuff we were
supposed to be responsible for anyway. So, Janet and Melanie had coordinated
with Viktoriya when Milhail was enrolled. Someone's name was put down there --
likely Janet or Melanie -- I just didn't know who off the top of my head.

  "And -- um, Mr. Chen?" Principal Munichek cleared her throat, "I don't want
to alarm you, but Milhail didn't recognize the woman. I brought them into
separate conference rooms so we can clear this matter up."

  My mind quickly rose to full alert. Was this another kidnapping attempt? I
felt my insides grow numb.

  "Ah, I see," I waved Pam over and scrawled a note to give to Shawn. "Would
you be able to bullshit them for about twenty minutes? I'll be there to sort
this out."

  "Of course Mr. Chen," the principal lowered her voice, "But please refrain
from using such language when you come to school."

  "Yeah sure." I slammed the phone down harder than I wanted. I jotted down a
quick note: GOING TO MILHAIL'S SCHOOL. HAVE LAURA CHECK ON KIDS. I folded it
in half and gave it to Pam with instructions to pass it onto Shawn before I
zipped out of the office.

  Fifteen minutes later, I hopped out of my cab after having connected with
Shawn and Mother Benton. They each quickly checked on the kids (Jillian at
middle school, Michael at the elementary school, the young ones at the house)
and remained on alert. I passed a $50 bill to the driver and ran into school
without waiting for change. Man, I never thought I'd pay good money to speed
back to school.

  A security guard led me to the principal's office where I introduced myself
as Milhail's father. Principal Munichek was a short, sour-faced woman in her
sixties who was like someone's feisty old grandmother. She was full of energy
despite her age, and her quick movements revealed a mind untouched by the
ravages of time.

  "It's a precaution, you see Mr. Chen," she told me as we walked towards the
office with the mystery visitor.

  "I understand your concern," I said with a mellow tone, "School's changed
plenty since I was here."

  "Oh?" the dwarfish principal looked at me sideways. "What class were you?"

  "1985," I said sheepishly, "Sorry, ma'am. I still get nervous when I'm
heading to the principal's office."

  The lively crone laughed gaily and gestured, "This way Mr. Chen. The lady
inside is --"

  "Viktoriya?!" I stopped and stared.

  "Stanislav!" my Baltic beauty brightened instantly as she ran towards me. The
two of us embraced passionately as the white-haired principal took a step back
in surprise.

  "You know her?" Munichek asked with some shock.

  "Of course." I felt the panic that had been building up in me give way to
relief. "This is Milhail's mother, Viktoriya."

  "See? I told you!" The brunette glowered at the small crone. "Milhail just
hasn't seen me for a while."

  "Well I see." The principal regarded us with grandmotherly disapproval. "I
guess there's no harm in bringing the boy in now."

  "Please do." I smiled weakly as the old woman left. I turned to my lovely
Russian darling, a million questions on my mind.

  "What're you doing here?" I asked her audibly and proceeded to bombard her
with thought-speech: 'Why didn't you tell me you were coming?' 'How are you?'
'Are you all right?' 'How long are you staying?'

  "To visit!" Viktoriya smiled and kissed me several times on my cheeks and
mouth, answering my other questions as best she could: 'I wanted to surprise
you.' 'I am fine!' 'I'm glad to see you!'

  Only my final few questions did she disregard. As much as I wanted to press
her for an answer, Milhail's shout of, "Dad!" grabbed our attention and he ran
up to me and hugged me. Instantly, I felt Viktoriya's pang of jealousy and
despair. My Slavic siren sat down, her whole person reserved, calmed, and sad.
The principal bade some curious onlookers to clear the way and she shut the
door to the conference room.

  "Dad." Milhail tugged at me so I leaned in close for him to whisper, "Who's
that?"

  Viktoriya kept a brave smile for her son, but I sensed her mind broadcasting
sadness to any who could've picked up her thoughts.

  "That's your mom," I said simply, "Don't you remember?"

  "You mean 'Phone-mom'?" he looked at me astonished.

  "I think 'mom' will do just fine." I ruffled his hair, but the boy remained
silent.

  "Milhail," Viktoriya reached hesitantly for the boy, "Remember when I used to
sing to you? And you told me how you loved the cartoon --"

  'Yu-Gi-Oh Duellist's Destiny.' I pinged her a reminder.

  "-- You-Ghee-Oh?" my dusky Russkie butchered the franchise that had been
cloned from Nintendo's Pokemon.

  "Kinda," Milhail sounded doubtful. The boy made no move towards his mother,
preferring instead to hide behind me. I glanced at Viktoriya, whose
self-discipline was stretched to the breaking point. She wanted to cry, but
she'd dare not to. Thinking quickly, I took her by the hand and calmed her as
best I could.

  "C'mon," I said quietly, "Let's call it a day. We have lots to talk about."

  Back home, everyone breathed a big sigh of relief (especially Melanie) when
they learned it was Viktoriya who had came into town to see her son. It wasn't
another kidnapping attempt, but just to be sure, I pinged and re-pinged the
neighborhood to make sure.

  While Pincelli may have been scared off for now, I had a feeling he might be
up to something after I made good with my own threats a few weeks ago. I filed
a mental note to mind-hop the son of a bitch and check up on what he and his
lieutenants were doing, just in case. I didn't want to take any chances.

  As for Viktoriya, everyone gave her a warm welcome and we headed out to an
Olive Garden for a big family dinner. Despite putting Milhail next to
Viktoriya, he preferred joshing, jostling, and joking with his brother Michael
and making spit bubbles in his soda than conversation with his birth-mother.

  That night, I was with Viktoriya as she cried in my arms. She rapidly
unloaded a mass of hurtful, angry barbs at Janet, Melanie, and me for
alienating her from her son. Deep down though, we both knew she was partly to
blame. Not being there for his most formative younger years meant as Milhail
became aware of who "he" was and his brain formed concrete thoughts, he
thought of Janet and my other darlings as his "moms" rather than Viktoriya.

  It's true what they say: "Out of sight" is "out of mind." Although Viktoriya
could've telepathically stayed in touch with Milhail, we both agreed to
restrict our gifts on the children. Aside from the potential for physical harm
we could inflict, there was no telling how the others would react.

  When venting wasn't enough, Viktoriya began attacking the furniture. It
wasn't physical assault though -- the furniture could've survived that.
Instead, she was lashing out with her gift. With her telekinesis being boosted
in my proximity, I was afraid she'd do serious damage to the support joints
that held the building together.

  "Vika." I took her in my hands and shook her gently. "Stop it! That's
enough!"

  "Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!!" Viktoriya struggled against me, her cheeks wet and her
hair a brazen mess.

  'Stop this foolishness.' I held her as tightly as I could without hurting
her. 'Wrecking the building isn't going to help Milhail.'

  As I broadcast a thin feed of calming thoughts to her, Viktoriya slowly
stopped her tantrum, but she still wore a vehement look on her face as she
sunk into the wreckage of the couch. It was a good couch, I looked on
ruefully. Viktoriya had made artful selections from Gracia's catalogs years
ago. When I looked back at her, I saw her gaze sadly around her home in San
Francisco.

  "I -- I used to roll him up the walls," Viktoriya said suddenly, "He loved it
when I let him drop just a bit before I'd swoop in to catch him."

  I arched a brow, a bit surprised she had treated our son like an exercise
ball. True, I used telekinesis to a mild degree on my darlings, but never so
directly on the children. It was too risky on their small bodies. If I
over-compensated or under-compensated or slipped slightly in my focus, I
might've torn something or killed them.

  Viktoriya's gift though, was so much more potent that she was able to gently
apply pressure across the whole of a newborn baby's body and not even leave a
mark. I knelt beside my dance loving darling without saying a word. All I
could think of was how to mend things.

  'Mend?' The Baltic brunette picked up my immediate thoughts easily. 'I don't
think I can.'

  'There'll be time.' I brushed her cheek gently.

  'I hate it, Stanislav.' Viktoriya's lips trembled as she began crying again.
'I hate it all.'

  Her grief was so alarming, it rattled my mind and threatened to put me under.
Had my Russian darling's gifts evolved like mine had over time? Was she more
susceptible to wild swings of emotion? I could only guess at the possibilities
as I sought to comfort the weeping woman.

  'Don't remind me.' I thought-spoke. 'But we'll figure something out okay? We
always do.'

  'But what can I do?!' Viktoriya sniffed. 'Even if I can teach here, I love
Freya. But she's adamant about staying in New York.'

  Her frank and sudden revelation hardly jolted me. But with all the things
that had been going on: my professional responsibilities, my private
obligations, my projects, my hobbies, and my family, I felt completely dead
and worn out.

  "Vika?" I spoke softly, "Would you like to take Milhail to New York to live
with you?"

  "What?!" Viktoriya glared at me and spoke aloud, "Are you sure? But his
brothers and sisters --!"

  "He'll be fine without them for a while."

  "No!" She pushed away slightly. "Not even for a moment."

  I suspected I knew why. The brunette beauty had not always been an only
child. The mysterious disappearance of her half-brother had made her sensitive
about Milhail's upbringing. Viktoriya did not intend to let her son experience
growing up alone as she did. So, we debated our son's future not only that
night, but the whole of the following day.

  She had taken a brief leave from her teaching to see Milhail, but she was
squandering it on tit-for-tat arguments with me. While I finished my next set
of plans for another project (a small renovation for the city's Farmers'
Market), Viktoriya railed, bickered, and sniped every idea I was throwing out.
I was beginning to wonder if my dusky Russkie simply flew back to San
Francisco to to annoy the shit out of me.

  "Take him." I finally finished my plans and saved the project. "You and Freya
can have a fun time with Milhail and you know it. It'll do him some good to be
away from Michael's influence too."

  "Well, that's well meaning of you, but I still want his father around,"
Viktoriya snapped, "Freya doesn't have a dick --"

  "Until she straps one on," I interrupted her, "Look Vika. We both know where
this is headed. He's our only child' he'll get used it, sweetheart."

  "But that's only if things were normal," she said flatly, "And things
aren't!"

  I was tired of arguing and I only wanted this problem to be resolved.

  "I know." I rubbed my eyes. "But having him know his mother is important
right now."

  'Stanislav.' Viktoriya touched my face gently. 'You're not telling me
something.'

  My thoughts distracted and my mind weary, I had let her slip into my mind. I
tried to put the memories into order. As I had mentioned before, my parents
had been estranged for a few years before they reconciled.

  With my adrenaline flowing, the worrying I was doing, and the stress from
work, I hadn't taken notice of the similarities between Milhail's and
Viktoriya's reunion and the one I had with my own mother when I was younger.

  My own mother had walked back into my life when I was around Milhail's age.
What was supposed to have been a happy reunion was anything but. My son was a
braver soul than I though. Milhail didn't panic and cry when Viktoriya greeted
him. My Russian darling instantly picked this up and shrank back in surprise.

  "Kisa?" she asked aloud, "Your mama -- left you?"

  "It was a long time ago," I shrugged uncomfortably, "Don't worry about it."

  'Stanislav.' Viktoriya took me by the hand before continuing in
thought-speak: 'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'What for?' I withdrew my mind and my body, trying to quash the memory.

  'Because!' Her eyes widened as her hands touched mine. 'And for five years!?'

  My face froze with a weak smile. I was impassive about that incident because
it was so long ago. Viktoriya was simply dredging up old hurt and she quickly
sensed it.

  'I'm sorry Stanislav. But kisa, why did you hide this from me?'

  'It wasn't important.' I studied her lovely face. 'And besides, how's this
relevant now?'

  'It is! It is!' Viktoriya hugged me tenderly. 'My mama and papa never left me
alone. I may have been left at a studio when I was younger, but I always knew
they were there for me. How awful it must have been that you didn't know
that!'

  She drew back and dipped her head in shame. 'You must think terribly of me to
do that to Milhail.'

  'Don't think it.' I hugged her tenderly and focused on her love for our son.

  "And what would he think if I don't stay?" she asked aloud.

  "It's not too late," I bumped foreheads with her. "Let's arrange for it
okay?"

  'No.' Viktoriya sniffed and sighed. 'No, don't. I will call the institute
tomorrow.'

  I glanced at her, weary but pleasantly surprised. If she caught my thoughts
and thought me a selfish bastard, she didn't say it. Heck, she didn't even
think it.

  'I will tell them I need to be with family.' Viktoriya swallowed and let out
another heavier sigh. 'Right after I call Freya.'

  We sat like that for a while, reconnecting and trading thoughts at a rate
that was faster than what we did when were were miles apart. Being physically
together was far more satisfying. Soon, I felt the old urges arise. Viktoriya
sensed it too and she rose to the occasion.

  'Come on.' She pulled me into the shower where we undressed.

  'It's been so long.' I traced a series of gentle bites along on her upper arm
towards her neck. 

  'Yes, it has.' Viktoriya shivered with pleasure as we nuzzled and groped one
another.

   When the hot spray hit our bodies, I lathered and rinsed her ass-crack
before I tongued her puckered shithole.

  'Oh, Stanislav! Do that!' 

  Our bodies scrubbed clean and our minds abuzz from one another's presence, I
carried her gently to her room and eased slowly into her. Viktoriya held me
tightly as she sneezed once. I chuckled and kissed her cheek gently. Her dark
eyes smoldered with desire as she pinched my nipples and gently scratched my
neck. The raw skin-to-skin contact we shared only excited our physical
love-making. Viktoriya cooed softly and kissed me as I began slowly moving my
hips.

  'You do this so gently.' Viktoriya smiled wanly. 'Not like Freya.'

  'I thought women were more loving.' I thought-spoke.

  'They can be.' She grinned shyly. 'You've been so busy, I haven't heard much
about the others! Has Jay been with anyone lately?'

  I thought back to the trip to Las Vegas before the kidnapping.

  'Just Rachelle.' I bit my lip gently. 'We had a three-way but nothing that
was girl-on-girl.'

  'You're so self-centered.' Viktoriya stuck out her tongue and I suckled it
before she admonished me further: 'And here I am encouraging you so I can
enjoy myself.'

  'Pervert.' I gave her an accusing grin.

  'Takes one to know one.' Viktoriya gave me a toothy little smile and pawed my
cheek.

  'So do you want to tell me more about Freya?' I stroked her face.

  'She's good company.' My dusky Russkie became thoughtful even while I
dutifully fucked her. 'She's not Cristobel.'

  'Not like us you mean.' I dismissed the invisible empire from my mind.

  'That's correct.' Viktoriya dipped her eyes. 'Do you think it's wrong of me?
To keep her like that?'

  'I'm ... I'm not sure. But if you ... want to ... I can't ...' I began
thrusting her harder and harder. My thoughts were getting distracted as I
plowed my Russian bride.

  'Oh I'm sorry kisa.' Viktoriya drew me down and embraced me. 'Slowly now.
Slowly ... I have ... not ... had ... you in so long.'

  I sensed her thought-speech came out in bursts as she was losing her
concentration. The two of us often found ourselves doing that as we neared
sexual release. I felt her burning desire for me and for her partner Freya.
Crazy thoughts drifted through Viktoriya's mind. She wished Freya had a dick
and would fuck her raw, and vice versa. Those were some pretty kinky thoughts,
and I glanced at Viktoriya oddly. My Baltic beauty caught my thoughts and
grinned sheepishly.

  'It's just for fun!'

  'I'll say.' I thought-spoke briefly before I lurched forwards and came.

  "Eeeeee!!" Viktoriya held me tightly as a familiar warmth spread within her.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- BAD BUSINESS 
===============================================================================

  The last few months of 2008 were pretty tame by most standards. The current
administration was going into its lame duck period. NSA-PSI was still doing
intelligence collection, but in a different direction. A lot of the focus now
shifted to the domestic side. People like Faraz's sister Ami, became more the
focus of our investigations, and for all the wrong reasons.

  If you thought U.S. policy makers launched operations in foreign countries
just to secure fossil fuel, you'd only be partially right; they did send
soldiers to the Middle East, but the Afghanistan theater was principally for
the drug trade (mining the rare minerals and ores came later). To me, it made
perfect sense. The drug traffickers in Mexico were where I had accrued most of
my ill-gotten wealth in my youth.

  Additionally, the country's economy was taking a long nose-dive as several
financial markets seemed to collapse (almost all at the same time). It wasn't
simply the act of one man (Bernard Madoff was taking the heat), or one
organization or entity (Goldman Sachs and AIG come to mind), or the repeal of
the Glass-Steigal Act of 1933 (in 1999) but a rather a combination of
everything.

  When things have been going wrong for some time, the mistakes compounded to
become one REALLY big fuck-up. Personally, I regarded it all to be a massive
mob-fuck mentality that had been going on since before I was born. In the
ensuing wave of economic panic (coupled with the massive military expenditures
overseas), people began getting pink slips and layoff notices.

  Thankfully, everyone seemed to be weathering the storm. Janet's firm cut
staff, but she was retained after she agreed to a minor pay cut (she still
bristles at that). Jamie's employer imposed a hiring and pay freeze, as did
Rachelle's (she contended she was lucky to even land her new job). Only
Melanie and Viktoriya both seemed unfazed -- but for different reasons.

  Melanie's job was never really a job per se since she was almost always
just popping up at her workplace when she felt like it; I harbored a suspicion
she was unconsciously persuading the owners so she'd get things her way.
Whether she was or wasn't, the management soon put her on a contracting basis
(this meant they could skip paying her health benefits). Melanie made do with
what money she earned. The rest of us chipped in and covered her other
expenses. Janet and I later worked out that the domestic services Melanie
provided were easily worth at least $70,000 a year (gross).

  "Geez," Jamie soured when she learned of it. "She makes more than me!"

  Actually, that was a half-truth. The other women never paid Melanie, but they
always reimbursed her for groceries and supplies. Gasoline and cars were never
a problem, since we pretty much kept all the cars filled up. I gave Melanie a
monthly allowance so she could process her car payments, along with her auto
and health insurance (her and the baby's). So, Melanie was a content little
housewife despite the fact she was not my wife (at least, not on paper).

  Only Shawn and I had serious trouble. While we both voluntarily reduced our
own take-home pay once construction business slowed, there was no stopping the
decline of development. Once building stopped, many of our colleagues had been
laid off; Grace, Shawn, Jules, and I were now ear-marked for the unemployment
line when people decided they didn't need that many designers and engineers
anymore.

  Jules, older and far more experienced in the market than the three of us
combined, began lining up work with agencies and other entites. The green
bandwagon was a cash cow, and between Shawn's solar wall design and Grace's
knowledge of materials, the four of us formed a partnership to handle
rebuilding and renovation of the big slice of old houses and buildings that
were built "pre-green".

  Shawn and Jules handled the mechanics and engineering, Grace oversaw
materials and applications, and I wound up back in my old spot: drafting the
construction drawings. The work wasn't easy -- just different. Since the
buildings were already in place, the work was to do overlays of the existing
plans with our modifications.

  I still wanted to pinch Shawn about the name though: Green-Haus. It came up
during one of her silly moods. Grace loved it and I thought they were both
just being idiots. Jules could've cared less so long as it was something novel
we could sell. In any case, the name stuck and that was the name of our
partnership.

  In Viktoriya's case, things were a bit more haphazard. Her employment at the
institute didn't pay much and just covered the bare necessities -- an
apartment with Freya, her commute, and food. That's one reason why Viktoriya
wasn't ashamed in using her gifts a bit more openly than I.

  I was so worried about what she might try to do, I gave her a monthly
allowance as well. This was to insure the impetuous Russian rascal wouldn't
try something foolish, and get in trouble with the invisible empire.

===============================================================================
  OF MEN AND WOMEN 
===============================================================================

  Of course, once Viktoriya came back to San Francisco to be with Milhail,
things were a little different. Seeking to make herself useful, the Baltic
beauty applied to the various dance companies in the city. Regretably, many
weren't wholly interested in a dancer at the twilight of her prime (she and I
were both 33 at the time).

  However, there was an interesting twist of fortune. Between the airings of
popular ballroom dance shows (ABC's "Dancing with the Stars" and PBS's
"America's Ballroom Challenge") there was a growing interest in traditional
ballroom dance.

  With Janet's connections, Viktoriya found work as a private dance instructor
for couples eager to learn. Jamie quickly created a site for my dusky Russkie
to advertise herself (search optimization was easy once one realized how
search engines worked), Shawn and Melanie pitched in on the graphics, and
Rachelle helped produce short clips of Viktoriya demonstrating her skill.

  Ballroom dancing didn't have much going for it locally, but Viktoriya found
part-term employment at a small ballroom school in San Bruno just as I left
the country. She also arranged for private lessons on the side.

  For those, Viktoriya relied on the generosity of San Francisco's Community
College; since the lessons taught there were non-credit, she'd simply borrow a
small corner to teach her own students.

  Of course, I knew this was pushing it pretty far: Viktoriya wasn't really a
college teacher, but she managed to con others into thinking she was part of
the college class so she wasn't bothered. I made it a point to look for studio
space once I got back so she could teach without hassled, and without me
worrying that she'd reveal her true nature.

  Janet of course, was mindful about how I was supporting two other women (and
a ton of kids). Her common sense prevailed over jealousy. My First easily made
more money than I did since she could charge billable hours and overtime. Our
combined income easily surpassed a quarter million a year (and more once my
extra-curricular stuff got rolled in). Still, we were all pretty thankful none
of us lost our jobs.

  Personally, I was doing okay. Before Faraz had died, I had consulted him
about commmodities for industrial applications and he wasn't too sure (this
was back in 2000 by the way).

  "Shit man!" Faraz had chided me, "I figured I'd ask you about that if it came
up!"

  Unfortunately, he never got the chance. I didn't get the chance to tell him
it was probably all bunk. Even as a kid, I never understood how a person's
income could steadily rise to match the annual cost of living increase.
Wouldn't prices have to go up as well to pay for the increased income?

  It all sounded like a bunch of baloney to me. Once I got some measure of
control over my gifts, I began to understand how one succeeded -- by having
command over something that others would pay for. Basically, it meant having a
professional skill-set. That's one of the reasons why I chose to be an
architect, draftsman, and a construction/materials manager; it was like a
fallback if my gifts would suddenly disappear one day.

  The financial world though, was something I wasn't wholly familiar with -- I
traded only in commodities and things I knew about. I steered clear of
insurance policies and the other hokum espoused by the banks and financial
wizards. I dealt with things that were tangible, or as tangible as they could
be.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had started stock-piling precious metals and
minerals. I did so after doing some research and surveying the manufacturing
landscape of California. Silicon, lithium, gold, platinum, bauxite, and
maganese (the last I had in small abundance due to the surface excavations
from Red Rock) were all handy in various manufacturing processes from
superconductors to batteries.

  With the technology boom steadily maturing, I figured this was safer than
gambling on shaky stocks or government bonds. Governments could disappear or
get over-thrown, but the ores in the ground would still be around for the
taking. In any case, if I wasn't making a killing, I'd figure I melt the shit
down and see if I could telekinetically mould it into jewelry for my lovelies.

  Thus, with all the buying I had been doing over the years (one could only
launder so much with a chain of delicatessens, laundromats, and dry cleaners)
that when the slump hit, I was sitting on several hundred-thousand of ounces
of various metals and minerals when the slump hit. Since I bought slowly over
the years (despite the steadily rising prices) I had quite a stock of
non-liquid assets lying around.

  That, coupled with the stuff I swiped meant I had plenty of "wealth". Still,
there was always more to be had. The U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) had
been having problems with La Familia in Mexico's Guadalajara province. I found
the unofficial liasion Tseng was using and picked his brain clean. Using that
information as a starting seed, I assembled a task force to rob La Familia.

  By now, I hadn't heard from Tseng for some time. The last time we had a face
to face was Lunar New Year's earlier in the year. It had become an annual
ritual for us; we'd occupy a table at a random teahouse or porridge restaurant
and he'd ask how Viktoriya and Melanie were doing. I'd answer blandly, knowing
I couldn't really keep much away from him. Tseng seemed content to hear what I
had to say about those two, as if my word counted for much.

  In any case, without Tseng, I was more or less on my own. For my cover, I
used a lecture about environmental design and materials re-use at the
University of Mexico. It was one of those "fun" lectures that occurs near the
end of a school year. There was obviously little value (apart from having a
get together of academia), so I took off after grabbing the lecture's
materials and I skipped out on the rest of it.

  I flew out in a small chartered plane and met Galen (Kari was back in England
with their baby). The cartels had gotten much more sophisticated laundering
their revenue (doing it more often with smaller sums) so the approach was a
little different. Along with a new guy Darrell Carson, we slashed through a
few outlying bases and collected our loot.

  I felt the corner of my mouth twitch at the thought of the new guy; I had
nabbed him a few years ago when Rachelle and I were in Los Angeles visiting
her friends and extended family. As soon as Darrell set eyes on my
mocha-skinned beauty, I knew he was trouble. Of course, with Rachelle looking
the way she did (Janet said she looked like Vanessa Williams while Melanie
thought she resembled an older Beyonce), I couldn't blame him.

  It wouldn't take long for Darrell to try something stupid, so I confronted
him as soon as I could be alone with him. The chat I gave him was less of a
lecture and more of a threat; I fended off his feeble attempts to cow me and
demonstrated what I'd do if he ever did a thing to Rachelle or the girls. The
scar I gouged on the concrete sidewalk pretty much made my point.

  For a time, I considered killing Darrell, but (at the very last moment)
decided not to. Legality aside, I wasn't sure if I could clean the mess up in
time before Rachelle came back from her little cigarette break. At times, I
wondered if Tseng had the same thought cross his mind when he confronted me.
It was possible, although I hadn't done anything to him personally ...

  So, I kept the occasional tab on Darrell, dropping in on him unexpectedly
when I felt the need. While he was only mildly gifted, Darrell had expertise
in other areas -- like having the street connections I lacked. I slowly
trained him in my spare time, and encouraged him to learn to control his
powers on his own.

  After a few years, I brought Darrell into the fold of the empire. By now,
Galen had gotten out of the drug trade (it was a pretty dangerous business)
and I suggested to the new guy that he shouldn't bother starting.

  "We stick to the money and jewelry," I said, "Leave the ammunition and
weapons. Lord knows there's enough of that shit in South Central already."

  "Agreed," the wiry black nodded quickly.

  Knowing that Darrell was just starting out, Galen and I took a substantially
smaller portion of the share. Just enough to cover some living expenses -- and
have enough left-over to live comfortably for a year. Darrell, having grown up
in foster homes and YMCAs, hadn't seen that much money in his life.

  "Just don't be stupid spending it all in a year, or even ten years," I said
coolly and finished with thought-speech: 'Or they'll catch you.'

  'And if someone does catch you.' Galen added gruffly, 'We'll catch you. And
you won't like it.'

  The wiry black youth glanced at Galen and me fearfully before he gulped and
nodded.

  "Save it up," I suggested. Darrell still hadn't gotten used to our way of
conversing, so I spoke normally. "Study hard and get a job that says you
earned this money. It's the best way to stay out of trouble anyway."

  "Uh, yeah." Darrell nodded quickly as he spoke, "I always wanted to go to
college. Just never had the money."

  "Well you do now." Galen smoothed back his ruddy red hair. "Just be careful
with it, eh lad?"

  "Yes. Do that," I chipped in, "And be clever about moving this stuff back
home, unless you aim to sneak past the border like I do. You have nearly three
million in cash and jewelry. Customs will be curious about you, so either you
dress the part and look like you should be carrying that much bling, or you
smuggle it."

  "I brought my passport," Darrell said, "I can play a rich guy."

  "And not just any rich guy," Galen spoke with his clipped African twang. "Say
you're the son of some tycoon or got your windfall or won it gambling. Moving
that much dough into a country like the U.S. or the U.K. will get you noticed,
unless you really take pains to hide it."

  "Remember you can't fool machines," I reminded our initiate, "Just the
operators. And if there's someone in a small room eyeballing you through a
camera, you're in trouble, understand?"

  "I got it, I got it," Darrell nodded, "Man, y'all are paranoid."

  'With good reason.' Galen snapped back with thought-speak.

  The youngster flinched from the ferocity of the mental broadcast. I settled
for a silent, grim look of disapproval and he understood the gravity of the
issue.

  "Well just be careful," I stuck to normal speech. "Even if you have to lose
half of it to taxes or what-not, you'll still have more money than any
sensible man would ever need. Just don't bite off more than you can chew.
There's always more for the taking."

  Darrell nodded soberly as Galen and I grabbed our smaller shares. On that,
the three of us parted ways. We had gone to Puerto Vallarta after our
excursion and booked passage to go back to the United States. Galen was going
to fly back to England from LAX while Darrell would melt back into obscurity.
With Galen looking over the rookie, I was free to do something else.

  My darlings and I were going to celebrate the end of 2008 with a bang. To
prepare, Viktoriya flew back to New York to get her affairs into order before
moving back to San Francisco. With all the stuff that happened recently, I
felt my darlings needed a vacation. So, I booked some rooms at a five-star
hotel in Waikiki.

  The plan was for me to fly to New York after my "lecture", help Viktoriya
pack, and then we'd fly back, grab our vacation stuff, and head back out. The
women already knew something was up as I had asked each of them to wrangle
some time off from the 26th to the 3rd of next year.

  Basically, I wanted all of us to spend a week of "away time" right after
Christmas in a land of sun and fun. It would be a relatively short stay anyway
since Rachelle couldn't get too much time off and Janet had a heavy case-load
once the new year started.

  Additionally, Jamie would be tied to her 24/7 IT helpdesk, and Shawn and I
still had that project for Delancey Street to complete, in addition to the
stuff she and I were doing on the side. Viktoriya got away by quitting the
institute; my dusky Russkie hardly cared as she was looked after quite well by
me.

  However, she did have to come back to continue teaching her private students.
Only Melanie was carefree, though she spent her time getting the kids to and
from school and handling house-chores.

  With that plan in mind, I took a private plane to Cozumel, an island off
Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. I managed to wheedle my way on board a liner
headed back to New York City. It was cutting it close, but I needed to time it
with the end of my "lecture trip". Besides, the leisurely cruise allowed me to
play around with my telekinesis.

  I was on the stern deck, my collar turned up. The air gradually grew more
chilly as the ship chugged northwards towards the Big Apple. I didn't mind the
cold; I was just pleased I could be alone with my thoughts. With so much going
on since the kidnapping, I was glad to be alone if just for a little while.

  After lunch, I stood on the observation deck and meditated until the sun set
over the water. I focused on diverting the foam and waves churned by the
ship's propeller to one side and then the other.

  While I exercised my gifts, I reflected on recent family developments -- all
related to Viktoriya stirring up mischief before she headed back to New York.
My dusky Russkie had grown bored once she was away from the hustle and bustle
of the Big Apple and decided to have some fun at the expense of the other
women.

  It started with a night's celebration. With Viktoriya back in town, my six
lovely darlings decided to have a night out. I could understand why they
wanted to do so -- Melanie hadn't been out much since Norman was born, and
both the foiled kidnapping and Viktoriya's return were certainly cause for
celebration.

  So, shortly after Halloween, my six lovelies planned for a girls' night out.
Shawn's mother and I were to babysit the kids. Jillian was supposed to help
too, but I forbade it; she was to prepare herself for her SATs (standardized
aptitude tests) so Jamie and I could gauge if she needed more assistance. If
Jillian did poorly on her SATs, there was no telling where she'd end up. Jamie
and I were adamant that Jill maintain her high marks so she would have as many
academic choices open to her as possible.

  Just thinking about Jillian brought to mind another issue -- since she had
just started high school, I wondered if Jill should have her own unit (and not
just a room at Jamie's place). I brought the issue to both women: Janet could
let Jillian take her unit and my First would be at the house.

  Both Jamie and Janet were leery of the idea. In Jamie's case, I understood
her reasoning, but I was surprised by my forward-thinking First. That was
until Janet reminded me what she had been doing when she was around that age.

  "I was doing you, remember?" Janet said acidly, "I was lucky you weren't some
psycho like my ex."

  "Lucky you." I nipped her ear.

  "I don't think it's a good idea, Stanley." Jamie ignored our by-play. "I'm
already stressed out of my mind now she's taking notice of boys. She's been
clacking away on web-chats until midnight, and here you want to give her a
condo to herself?"

  I nodded while she levelled a stern gaze at me, "Are you outta your mind? I
think I'd die if I became a thirty-something grandma."

  "Well she's going to be on her own eventually, right?" I shrugged, "And I'm
right across the hall to watch her."

  "Yeah, 'cause you're such a home-body," the leggy Asian mother said it in
such a way that made Janet laugh. So that was the end of it, at least until
Jillian was college-bound.

  So there I was, having just stepped out from my unit when I glimpsed the
elevator stopping on my floor. The door opened and six sexy ladies dressed in
a variety of short skirts (save one -- Shawn wore jeans), thin-strapped or
slip-on high heels, and very little else stepped out and cheerfully waved at
me.

  I nearly ran myself into a corner before I steadied myself and gawked while
my six darlings stood line abreast at the end of the hallway. That was weird.
The elevator went from the top floor all the way to the garage, so why were
they stopping mid-way and taking the stairs the rest of the way?

  When I caught Janet's wild grin (and coupled Viktoriya's lewd thought-speech)
I knew that something was going down. My eyes grew wide as I sensed what was
going to happen. At a pre-arranged signal, five of my lovelies -- Viktoriya,
Janet, Rachelle, Melanie, and Jamie -- hiked up their skirts and flashed me
their lovely thighs while calling out luridly.

  Only Shawn (donning her pair of ripped jeans) couldn't do that. Instead, she
lifted up her stretched top and exposed her big, bulging breasts.

  "Hullo Stanley!" My plump dumpling jiggled her massive boobage and winked.

  Thankfully, none of the kids wandered out onto the floor. My jaw hit the
floor as the girls quickly composed themselves once more. My darlings blew me
kisses and waved before they started downstairs, clamoring, "Bubbye Stanley!"
"Love you sugar!" "Later lover-boy!" "Don't wait up!" "Catch me later, kisa!"

  I smiled sheepishly as my lovelies headed downstairs. Janet was the last in
line and stopped at the landing. She glanced back at me and gave me a stupid
smile. As I lightly sifted over her thoughts, my grin grew wider. Was that
whole thing just now her idea?

  Not exactly; no more than a second passed when Viktoriya popped back around
the corner. When my Baltic beauty grinned saucily at me, I realized that all
this may not have been wholly Janet's idea after all. My eyes bugged out when
Viktoriya stuck her tongue right right down the mouth of my First. Both women
made out for a few precious seconds while I ogled them like a brainless idiot.

  Once they were done, the two of them drew back breathless, their cheeks red.
Both Janet and Viktoriya looked towards me with big smiles on their faces,
blew me kisses, and disappeared down the stairwell.

  I could hear them laughing at my expression. This time, I couldn't contain
myself. I headed back to my room and whacked off. Afterwards, I washed up, and
headed downstairs to Mother Benton's unit to help with the kids.

  That night wasn't over -- not by a long shot. The next morning, I dropped by
Viktoriya's unit to make sure the coast was clear. That Friday night was a
little different. Since I didn't know when my lovelies would be back, the
younger kids had a sleep-over while the older boys -- Michael and Milhail --
spent the night in my unit.

  I suspected Viktoriya would be up to her old shennanigans again when she
thought-spoke to me the night before. No more than an hour had passed since my
darlings flashed me in the hall when she broadcasted in a drunken delirium.

  My dusky Russkie's thoughts were slurred and hazy, but I made out what she
was trying to get across. She was going to get the others blasted, then have
her way with them.

  Through the dimness of the club, the flashing lights and booming music, I saw
Jamie and Janet were grinding on the dance floor while Viktoriya was doing
shots off Melanie, Rachelle, and Shawn in places where I didn't think liquid
would pool on a woman's skin.

  As much fun as that may have been, I was ready to paddle Viktoriya silly if
she did something foolish. I was partly vindicated when I visited her early
the next morning.

  I found Shawn and Melanie asleep on the floor of the living room, a small
makeshift table with liquor, lemons, and limes between them. Jamie was on the
couch, while Rachelle and Janet were nowhere to be seen.

  Only Viktoriya was awake, and she was dressed in a simple white bathrobe and
sipping a glass of hot tea in the kitchen.

  'Hallo kisa.' My Baltic brunette grinned at me mischievously.

  'Morning.' I pinged and gave her a quick kiss. 'Have fun?'

  'Yes, lyubimy.' Viktoriya batted her eyes innocently while my own narrowed.

  'I know that look.' I shot her a worried glance. 'What'd you do now?'

  'Nothing bad.' She sipped her brew while her dark eyes teased me. 'But I dare
you to guess!'

  I surveyed the room and asked the obvious: 'Where are Janet and Rachelle?'

  Viktoriya's grin grew wider as she gestured towards her bedroom. She used her
gift to open the door and my eyes bugged out at the sight. My First and my
mocha-skinned mate were spooning nude under the covers.

  The Baltic brunette must've caught my disbelief because she quickly
thought-spoke. She suppressed a giggle and wore a big grin as I tip-toed a bit
closer to check on them.

  'They finally kissed and made up!'

  'I'll say.' I scowled darkly at her. 'How'd that happen?'

  She smiled coyly as she thought-spoke: 'Melanie and I kissed last night. She
is so beautiful, Stanislav!'

  "Oh fer Chrissakes," I muttered aloud as her smile grew wider.

  Viktoriya had used Melanie to trigger a psychic event. My voice must've
awoken both Janet and Rachelle, because the next thing I knew, the two of them
were staring wide-eyed at each other. The cries of shock and surprise quickly
erupted from their throats.

  "Oh my God!" Rachelle tried getting up and pulling the sheet around her, but
it wasn't so easy. She and Janet were sharing the same bedcover. 

  Thinking quickly, I grabbed an extra bathrobe hanging from the bedroom door
and placed it gently beside them. Janet's face was beet-red as she gingerly
took the robe.

  "Somehow, this wasn't what I envisioned when I asked you guys to get along."

  "Oh, shut up." Janet didn't meet my gaze as she tried getting dressed without
exposing herself.

  "Hey, I'm not complaining." I kept on a straight face and squelched the
laughter that threatened to bubble from my lips.

  "It's not what you think," Rachelle squeaked as she got up unsteadily.

  Viktoriya stood in the doorway with a sly smile. "Oh, actually --"

  I sensed Janet's and Rachelle's embarrassment and quickly rushed to hush my
impetuous darling.

  "Okay Vika." I ushered Viktoriya outside. "Let's leave them be."

  'Phooey!' She thought-spoke as she pouted darkly at me. 'Last night was like
a wet-dream "cum" true!'

  'I'll bet it was.' I pinged back and gently swatted her behind.

  I turned and gave Janet and Rachelle both a reassuring -- if goofy -- grin
and closed the door before the others woke up and found them in that state.
The two of them later made me promise never to speak of the incident again,
and I agreed, if only begrudgingly. There was no reason for me to aggravate
the situation.

  When Viktoriya wasn't having the time of her life with the other women, she
was learning several new things. One was how to actually be a housewife. While
she raised Milhail his first four years, dealing with children who could talk
back was another thing.

  To help the kids connect with their Russian momma, we scheduled "homework
check-up" and activities daily with Viktoriya. Having lived alone or with
someone else picking up the slack (like Melanie) for so long, Viktoriya needed
to familiarize herself with new responsibilities.

  It seemed to be working too. Milhail grew more comfortable around his
birth-mother, and spent progressively more time at her place when it wasn't
the site of an alcohol-fueled sapphic orgy.

  In fact, he spent so much time there that his brother Michael would sometimes
stay over at Viktoriya's just so the two could play together. Janet was fine
with it, since Frederick started becoming more of a handful and driving her
nuts.

  The second thing my Slavic sweetie was trying to master was driving a car.
Viktoriya's tutoring required her to learn how to drive, since cabs were
scarce in the city and the public transportation a giant mess.

  Yes, it does sound ludicrous a thirty-something woman learning how to operate
a motor vehicle, but it wasn't as weird as it sounds.

  Considering Viktoriya never needed a car whilst living in the Big Apple, or
when she was younger and living with me, she never bothered to learn driving.
So Viktoriya took some lessons under a licensed driving instructor but felt
really there was nothing to it.

  She insisted that I sit in the car so she could practice more before she flew
out. So, it was with some apprehension that I sat in my old Corolla next to
her as she started the engine.

  'Now, you sure you were listening to that instructor right?' I thought-spoke
as I buckled my seat-belt.

  'Yes, dorogoi.' Viktoriya gave me a sardonic grin as she broadcasted images
of me dozing off in my old architectural history lectures. 'I am capable of
staying awake during class Stanislav!'

  'Well okay.' I mimed a sign of the cross and thought-spoke. 'I'm ready.'

  "That is not funny, Stanislav," Viktoriya sniffed audibly and put the car in
gear.

  She lurched out of the driveway and I yelled, "STOP!!". The two of us pitched
forward (luckily restrained by our belts) as the car screeched to a sudden
halt.

  Melanie's face registered shock and relief as she sat in Shawn's mini-van
just inches away from my front bumper. Viktoriya's first jaunt nearly plowed
us right into my youngest darling as she came back with our daughters and
little Frederick.

  Thankfully, Yu-Ching was alert and was idling waiting for us to pull out.
Melanie caught the look of terror on Viktoriya's face (and probably my own)
and she timidly waved for us to go.

  Viktoriya nodded nervously and inched out of the driveway at a snail's pace.
When she drove a few blocks away, she pulled aside, her hands trembling so
much I had to calm her down.

  "Sorry about that." I rubbed her back.

  "I -- I can do this." Viktoriya swallowed and switched back to
thought-speech: 'I can do this.'

  "Yes, you can." I gave her a grin of reassurance. "It's just like dancing
right?"

  "Hardly! No one gets hurt if you miss a step and collide with another couple.
At least not enough to end up at the emergency room!"

  "You just need more practice." I became thoughtful. "Hey, why don't we head
down to that boba place in Millbrae?"

  "What? Where?" she asked.

  "Betsy's Bean Shop off El Camino." I broadcast a memory from our last visit.
"Remember? Last Saturday with Milhail?"

  Viktoriya blinked. "You're going that far for one of your little Chinese
drinks?"

  "Of course." I passed along a weak grin. "You're driving."

  My svelte siren made a face at me but she nodded. Between the city's streets
and the light highway traffic on Veterans' Day, we made it down and back in
time for dinner without further incident. Naturally, I paid for the gas and
drinks.

  I was happy and things seemed to be going pretty well. Viktoriya though,
seemed only to be smiling on the surface. Either she was distracted by
something, or hadn't really practiced hiding all of her thoughts from me.

  Eventually, I got the distinct feeling she missed Freya's company. Despite
the happiness of her current situation, she still had deep rooted feelings for
her lithe Dutch lover.

  What was a man to do when his wife loved not only him, but another woman as
well? Include her into the family? I laughed at the thought. If that were the
case, I'd likely be paying out of my nose and ears to harbor Gracia (at
Janet's request) and Rosalind (at my request).

  At the time, that could work. I toyed with the idea for a while as I shifted
my concentration from the surface of the water to the bubbling froth near the
propellers. As the rhythmic reverberations from the engine cascaded from the
propeller shaft, I grew calmer and more relaxed.

  I wondered if I could take in Gracia because Janet wanted a "friendly
companion" and broach the prospect of Freya for Viktoriya. I could even use
the two as a pretext to include Rosalind. Of course, the others may not see it
that way; Shawn, Jamie, Rachelle and Melanie probably wouldn't stand for it.

  At the thought of Little Chen, I found myself frowning. She'd likely be the
most vocal about that this time. I got a feeling that she was used to being
the baby of the family, and me spending time with someone younger than she
earnestly irked her.

  Melanie seemed okay with the prospect of me screwing around, but I could feel
her jealousy. Still, she was easier to deal with than Janet. So long as I kept
Melanie happy when we spent our time together, she kept quiet about what I did
on my own time.

  But my on-and-off relationship with Rosalind aside, Freya was perhaps the
most vexxing problem. She had been Viktoriya's lover for quite some time and
an important person in her life. How could I ask my Russian honey to break
cleanly with one lover for the whim of another?

  Though I was troubled by Viktoriya's situation, her return had definitely 
made the past couple of months very enjoyable. It was as if I was falling in 
love not just with the Baltic beauty, but all of my darlings once more.

  The morning after the girls' night out (and after Janet and Rachelle had
refreshed themselves with some dignity), the seven of us took the kids out to
the beach to enjoy the rest of the unnaturally warm Autumn afternoon.

  I brought along a digital camera and happily photographed the kids as they
frolicked on the promenade. Jillian and the two older boys rode scooters while
Frederick, Jenny, Kady and the twin girls had to be content with their tyke
bikes. Little Norman rode in the stroller Melanie and I took turns pushing.

  Before the sun had set, my six darlings found themselves all sitting on a
bench near the sea wall.

  It was a humbling and awesome sight, for all of them had changed so much
since I had first met them. Shawn was chatting amicably with Rachelle; just
like it was years ago when the three of us were in school.

  My plump petunia had definitely shed some pounds whereas Rachelle had gained
a little weight. Now the two of them were nearly equal in body proportions.
Next to them, Janet was talking in low whispers with Viktoriya about --

  'Discipline. Again. Ugh.' Viktoriya smiled externally but mentally rolled her
eyes. 'I can't staaaaaand this any more. Now I do want to take Milhail to New
York.'

  'You're welcome to it.' I thought dourly. 'If you take me with you.'

  'In your dreams, dorogoi!' The Slavic vixen flashed me a giddy barb before
she became serious. 'Janna's a real stickler isn't she?'

  'Yes, but it's for the good of the kids.' I pinged back. 'Take notes please,
lyubimy.'

  'If you think it's best, milenky.' Viktoriya heaved a mental sigh.

  I smiled as I watched Janet's lustrous mane of black hair shimmer and shine
as her eyes blazed with energy as she spoke. Viktoriya nodded along -- I had
to mentally prick her a few times so she'd pay attention -- her long hair had
been shortened significantly, being cropped just above her shoulders. When my
dusky Russkie was competing in dancing competitions, she would use hair
extensions to recreate the look she had over a decade ago.

  My littlest darling Melanie still had the longest natural hair of the bunch.
Little Chen was busy rummaging through her baby bag -- Norman must've dirtied
his diaper again -- while Jamie was standing by, alternately looking over her
shoulder and watching the kids.

  I could see my Asian beauty's eyes dart here and there, oblivious to
everything except the locations and activities of the kids. That damn
kidnapping made everyone wary. Nonetheless, watching these six great ladies
stirred a fierce pride deep within me.

  There women were my women. My wives. Without even thinking, I brought up my
camera, framed all of them, and snapped a quick picture. Despite being bright
outside, the camera's flashbulb went off.

  That instantly alerted my darlings, and I couldn't take another shot without
them noticing. There was a scowl here and there, but they were mostly
surprised by the sudden attention. I sensed no malice or anger. In fact, as I
stood there looking back at them, I sensed a collective feeling of mirth and
appreciation.

  "Sorry." I gave them all my trademark grin then turned away to examine my
prize shot. Of all the pictures I took that day, I made special effort to
print and preserve that one photo. Don't get me wrong -- I loved the kids, but
I cherished my darlings more.

  Back on the ship, I found myself mulling over Viktoriya's infatuation with
Freya when I detected the faint presence of someone familiar. I turned my head
towards their direction but saw nothing. Still, that didn't mean no one was
there. I focused my concentration just a bit and I arched a brow. I knew who
it was.

===============================================================================
  NATURE VERSUS NURTURE 
===============================================================================

  The liner had an enclosed observation lounge to protect couples from the
chill, so I thought I was alone on the open after-deck. Apparently, I was
wrong. It wouldn't be the first time I was distracted when I was lost in
thought.

  "Stop messing around Mirage," I said casually, "If someone sees you, you're
going to be compromised."

  I spoke loud enough for her to hear (she was about three meters away) but low
enough so only we could hear over the rustling wind. When Phillipa didn't
reappear instantly, I made it a point to glance directly at where she was.

  "I know where you are," I rasped, "So stop screwing around."

  "You're such a cheater Snake Charmer," Phillipa Roget growled as she slipped
back into view, "I was trying to be stealthy."

  Like many times before, one moment there was nothing, and the next there
stood a pretty, skinny red-head. She looked like she was dressed for the
beach. Phillipa was clad in a demure one-piece white swimsuit with a
half-sarong covering her ass.

  She was standing exactly where I had guessed she'd be. Thankfully, the deck
was devoid of people; that, coupled with the fact that the sky had grown quite
dark, made it highly unlikely anyone saw us.

  "It's not cheating if you're using the stuff you're born with." I nodded at
her. "What're you doing here?"

  Phillipa came up beside me in a huff, "On vacation without my Aunt Susan for
once."

  "Oh really?" I studied her. "I thought you were studying at the University of
New York. Graduation present?"

  "Kinda, yeah." The red-haired girl leaned lazily against the railing. "And
you?"

  "Vacation."

  I relaxed as I realized our surroundings. That plus Phillipa wouldn't be able
to read my thoughts. I guessed that was why I was missing Rosalind ever since
Viktoriya came back to the city.

  With Viktoriya and Melanie in my proximity on a daily basis, the chance of
them causing me no end of trouble was always present. With a 'normal' girl, I
was able to let my guard down.

  Added was the fact that Rosalind required less time and effort, and I was
quite content to use her tender body like a fuck-post. Speaking of tender
bodies, I noticed my eyes had strayed down to Phillipa's crotch (along to
other parts of her body).

  The white swimsuit she had on was either very form-fitting or a shade too
small, because I easily made out the bumps that formed her cunt lips. As I
gawked hungrily at her camel-toe, I felt my blood rush to my ears.

  "Dude!" Phillipa snapped her fingers. "Eyes up here!"

  "What? Sorry." I forced my gaze upwards and threw in a bland grin for good
measure. "My mind was elsewhere."

  "I'll say." The red-head met my grin with her own. "Don't you get enough at
home?"

  I regarded my co-worker carefully, and wondered what she may have heard. A
quick, light scan and I knew not only Mirage and Masquerade had been chatting
during operations, but perhaps more annoying was that they were chatting about
me.

  Goddamn women and their goddamn gossip, I thought dourly. They couldn't even
stop at work. And this wasn't just any work, it was a touch away from being
government wet-work.

  Although neither woman had been required to commit violence during an
operation, I knew Bethany and Phillipa were trained to kill as a precaution. I
decided to go with the honest route.

  "What have you heard?" I asked.

  "Lots of things." Phillipa smiled thinly and tapped her forehead. "But I bet
you already know what."

  "Not always." I sought to change the subject. "Look, it's getting late. I'm
heading back in."

  "Already? You don't sound happy to see me. What're you doing out here all
alone?"

  "Architectural lecture," I started, and just as quickly stopped. I realized I
didn't need to lie to Phillipa (or not that much).

  "Sounds like fun." The red-head's eyes sparkled with mischief. "So, wanna get
me in trouble, handsome?"

  "No." I arched a brow, "And what kind of question is that?"

  "Well, you'd better escort me back then." She made a loop with her arm.
"Remember all those people who vanished on cruise ships?"

  "Yeah sure." I smiled acidly, remembering how one of my first unauthorized
jobs was retrieving kidnapped American nationals kidnapped abroad. I never
worked cruise ship disappearances, but I had a feeling I wouldn't find the
bodies from those incidents. The ocean was a big place to scour for psychic
emanations, even for me.

  "Didn't you come with friends?" I asked.

  "No, just me." Phillipa shrugged politely. "Between 'work' and school, I
didn't have that much time for much else."

  "Not even for friends?" I gave her a curious look. "That's odd."

  "It's complicated," she said.

  I sensed she didn't want to talk about it, but I left my mind and my ears
open. Phillipa and I headed back into the liner, where the lean red-head
managed to weasel a dinner out of me. I suppose I was setting myself up for
it, since I was open to the possibility -- and I might've put the suggestion
in her head.

  Phillipa came down to the restaurant in a casual white sleeveless (and
backless) blouse and pants, while I stuck to my dark slacks and shoes. I wore
a white shirt and rolled up sleeves.

  We made light conversation over traditional Mexican fare: some chicken, rice,
and steamed vegetables for me while Phillipa dined on carne asada.

  "Yub, yub, thanks for the grub." Phillipa grinned as we ordered some
after-dinner drinks.

  I grinned back, but only because a piece of black bean had stuck around,
making her appear to be missing some teeth.

  "You got something stuck here." I pointed at myself, miming as her
reflection.

  "Damn." Phillipa frowned as she wiped the stain with her napkin. "And here I
was thinking I was all charming."

  "You could be, if you weren't so transparent all the time."

  She stuck her tongue out at me, but the mood remained cheerful. I sipped my
canned soda carefully; I had stuck to that or sweet teas all the while.

  Mexico's water was horrible and I didn't wholly trust bottled water, not
after I learned how to inject toxins using a hypodermic; done at the bottle's
neck, the hole was near impossible to spot. Agency spooks could inject
something into a bottle then have an unknowing waiter serve it up, and I'd be
none the wiser.

  All that sugar was really getting to me though. I felt jittery and hyper ever
since the conclusion of the La Familia "task". I wasn't really thinking
straight, although I was still cautious. I re-pinged the room and gradually
extended my awareness over the entire ship.

  Of the several hundred or so passengers, I sensed they were all fairly
'normal' and mundane. Nothing weird except for the two agency talents -- me
and Phillipa -- at the ship's bar and grill.

  If I was hyper-paranoid about something, it was with Phillipa not being
watched or followed by the agency. I had assumed that Cox or his bosses would
want to keep tabs on her. Then I remembered the GPS tracker the agency had
injected her with years ago. Doubtless the agency was using that transmitter.
They didn't need to send agents on a cruise liner to shadow her.

  That business with the transmitter was another reason why I was so paranoid
around the NSA. I absolutely refused medical treatment while under agency
auspices; I chose my doctor after carefully scanning him (as I did for all my
other specialists) and accepted no injections. When I accompanied my kids and
wives to their doctors, I did the same to them -- sometimes even dropping by
their offices afterwards to do my thing.

  If I had the slightest trace of suspicion, I declined the doctor's services
or I would probe him a bit more to find out more. The agency never did try
anything like that against me (so far); I suppose they weren't willing to try,
or didn't find it necessary.

  Nevertheless, I kept my guard up as I watched Phillipa sip her after-dinner
Manhattan through a straw. Watching her suck daintily on that thin tube, I
realized I was interested in fucking her, and I didn't have any qualms about
it.

  Well that's just dandy. Not only was I copacetic with screwing around on my
wives, but I was going to do it with an agency asset. That should give the NSA
one more reason to move against me.

  My pulse quickened a bit as I looked over Phillipa's body and basked in her
loveliness. Her ivory white skin was marred only by a light sprinkling of
freckles on her nose and cheeks.

  Having grown up since the agency nabbed her in upstate New York, the girl had
turned out to be quite a lovely young woman. Her red hair was a bright copper
color and held back by a white hair-band. I could see her temples pulsate as
she swallowed.

  "Stanley? Dude!" Phillipa looked up to see me ogling her. "Are you mentally
undressing me?"

  "Is that a crime?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

  "No, I guess not." She grinned at me, her teeth now pearly white. "So, how're
things back home?"

  "Can't complain." I returned her grin. "And you? How's your aunt?"

  "She's fine, I guess." Phillipa fiddled with her drink. "I think Uncle
Stephen is going to ask her to marry him."

  "Who the hell is Uncle Stephen?"

  "Aunt Susan's boyfriend." She threw me a tepid grin. "Oh right, you never met
him have you?"

  Reading her mind, I saw Tseng's face as he and her Aunt Susan attended
Phillipa's high school graduation. That in itself didn't throw me into a
panic, but the fact that Tseng had a first name did. I had known my mentor for
well over a decade and at no point did he make it known he went by any other
name apart from "Tseng".

  I cooled visibly as I put two and two together and realized why Tseng hadn't
been around much. Phillipa confessed that "Uncle Stephen" had dropped by to
see her "Aunt" Susan more and more as the years passed.

  I wondered what the hell he was up to now. Was he establishing himself in a
'normal' setting?

  Heck, I didn't think of Tseng as being 'normal' in any sense of the word. I
only had limited contact with him and always viewed him with a healthy mix of
fear, awe, and caution. The simple fact he was now "settling" with a normal
woman like Phillipa's so-called aunt was an astonishing turn of events.

  "I wouldn't know," I lied impassively, "I remember just you and your aunt
when I last visited."

  "Yeah, I figured as much." Phillipa sounded disappointed. "He's a real
tight-ass all the time. Can't figure out how my aunt puts up with him."

  Maybe because he's adept at fucking her brains out and using you to further
his own agenda was my thought, but I put forth a more positive response.

  "You'd be surprised what people put with out of love."

  "I guess so."

  Phillipa played with her straw a bit before she resumed her sipping. The two
of us finished our drinks then tried some mojitos (what? I don't think it's a
gay drink ... shlurrrp). I normally didn't imbibe alcohol, but I did so on a
dare. Phillpa dared me to try something just to prove that I wasn't the
stuck-up rigid asshole like her "uncle".

  I gleaned this and a bit more while I rummaged carefully through her mind.
Apparently Phillipa wasn't who "she" appeared to be. As alcohol slowly took
over both of us, I sensed Phillipa's deeper anxieties come to the surface. I
sensed that the beautiful woman before me was supposed to be born a man. That
certainly gave me pause.

  As the lovely red-head chattered away, I slashed through my stupor and sorted
through the thoughts I was getting from the increasingly drunk Phillipa. It
hadn't come up when she at the orphanage (she was too young to have shown any
abnormality) and of course, her Uncle Pauly wasn't really aware something was
wrong.

  After the agency had snatched her in early 2000, she had been examined by a
gynecologist, and the findings were added to her dossier. Phillipa Roget
should've been "Phillip" Roget. She suffered from a physical disorder known as
androgyn insensitivity syndrome (AIS).

  In the lanky red-head's case, she had complete AIS (or CAIS) where her body
very nearly rejects processing androgyn, a hormone that assists in determining
a person's sexual phenotype. Basically, Phillipa was genetically a guy, but
looked -- from nearly all other respects -- like a totally hot fuckin' girl.

  I was mildly in shock as I sat listening to Phillipa giggle, hiccup, and burp
like a sweet, young thing. She knew what she was (a medical fact that was
delivered to her and her aunt by a non-agency doctor) and took it in good
stride. Her "aunt" Susan seemed shocked at first, but something told me Susan
probably knew her "niece" was something special.

  My mind went back to the reports from Sherwood, and slowly pieced things
together. From her grand-uncle's novels, I'd known that the Roget family curse
of invisibility passed from uncle to nephew. With this new medical tidbit
about Phillipa, I finally understood why Tseng had so much interest in Mirage.

  And my mentor probably knew from the start, I thought darkly. Which led me to
another line of thought: Were our gifts inherent in our genetic make-up? If
so, why wasn't my brother Andrew or Yu-Ching's brother Anthony gifted? More
importantly, would my kids have such talent?

  Viktoriya and I had worried over Milhail, but the boy didn't seem to be
anything "special" -- or at least not yet. I remembered when I was dimly aware
of my powers in grade school; perhaps Milhail was a late bloomer. Or perhaps
all my kids were talents.

  Fuck me. The fear I had in the back of my mind for years suddenly became more
concrete. Was this why the agency was turning a blind eye to me and my
polygamous business?

  Were they allowing me to create a small unit of "talented" individuals, then
snatch them? A chill slid down my spine as I drafted countless plans what the
NSA may have had for me and my family.

  "Hey! You listening to me?" Phillipa's sharp whine interrupted my thoughts.

  "Sorry." I mumbled and grinned sheepishly. "Was thinking about something else
again."

  "Really?!" Her jaw nearly dropped. "Dude, you're a pervert."

  "What?" I blinked and quickly scanned her mind.

  Oops, I thought. Phillipa had been chatting away, oblivious to my vacant
stare. We had been drinking and carousing there for so long, the place was
slowly being transformed into a dance club as the hours went by.

  "Feliz navedad" (basically Christmas in Mexico) was coming and the place was
decked for it. Phillipa had asked if I would be interested in dancing. Of
course, it didn't help that I had locked my gaze blindly on her chest when I
mentally checked out.

  "Sorry." I chuckled. "But you do look very pretty."

  "I do, don't I?"

  It wasn't even a rhetorical question as Phillipa smiled and threw her rusty
red locks over her bare shoulder. I found myself grinning widely in her
company.

  "Show off."

  She grinned back, the two of us in the know about her antics. After the
anthrax and ricin trace operations, Mirage had been doing some snatch jobs and
surveillance with the agency. Phillipa was able to hide a compact, hi-res,
low-light digital camera on her person, and enter premises and facilities
guarded by 'normal' security.

  All she did was take pictures and she had gotten quite good at it. Phillipa
was even able to operate the camera while invisible, so she was quite a handy
with a lens.

  After one particularly boring debriefing, Phillipa decided to literally "show
off". She followed Cox around and snapped a picture of him while he was taking
a dump. Masquerade and Ghost Light thought the xerox copies were hilarious,
although I was sure that was simply showing the agency higher-ups the dangers
of Mirage's abilities.

  I was right: within 48 hours, more advanced sensors were installed at agency
headquarters. It was as if the agency's command echelon were already too aware
of what we were able to do.

  Adams' immaturity I could forgive; she was about Shawn's age, and my plump
rumped petunia sometimes did some things like she was still a girl half her
age, like using these giant Hello Kitty infested e-mail signatures when she'd
correspond with me about project work orders. Naturally, these'd get forwarded
down the line.

  Some construction managers thought the emails were coming from Gracia (she's
Japanese, so yeah, why not) and it'd surprise the heck out of them that a 30
year-old, big-breasted white woman would cheerily acknowledge, "Oh, that's
from my email!"

  Both Bethany and Shawn had similar backgrounds (minus the Horten's sordid
family business): both were raised by a pair of traditional white mom and dad
in a middle-class America.

  Reese on the otherhand, was a total loner, and a borderline domestic abuse
case just waiting to happen. The only thing that kept him from crossing the
line were Millie and his mother's murder by a Hezzbollah terrorist named Matar.
With Millie, I knew his relationship was becoming strained. She was getting on
in years, and wanted children, but he was afraid he'd turn out to be as
abusive as his father.

  When David displaced me to Guantanamo in late '07 or early '08, he mentioned
off-hand he and Millie had bumped into Viktoriya when she and Freya were in
Manhattan. It was there the Reeses found out my Russian bride and I had a son.
Soon, I got the sense from David that Millie really put up the pressure, and
it was starting to drive him away. In doing so, the bore started talking to
me.

  If that wasn't enough for me to dislike him, I soon found another reason to
hate David's guts. When we started working together, I peeked into his mind
when I could and knew Ghost Light had foiled (or tried to foil) some more
plane and ship hijackings. Over the years, I pieced together that Reese and
his overt tactics had, in part, lead to the 2001 WTC attack. 

  When further hijackings failed, someone in the insurgent network put forth a
plan to simply plow the damn plane into a target, and damn the consequences.
So, in a way, David unknowingly instigated some events that killed Aurora. I
wondered how long the agency had taken to figure this out, or worse, realized
it but said nothing.

  My insides churned as a new thought came to me. Tseng might have badly
misjudged the agency's potential, or he had surrendered me to be a decoy to
throw them off the invisible empire. Was Tseng compromised? Or was it
blackmail? And if Tseng had misjudged the agency, then what? What was his next
step? I wondered what would be in store for me down the road. 

  If the agency was tracking me, then all the other empire citizens I was doing
"odd jobs" with were all being compromised (from Feodor to the most innocuous
empath). I felt uneasy as I sipped my drink, and wondered what to do. My
red-headed dinner companion though, drew me away from my thoughts with a
simple question.

  "So? You wanna dance?"

  "Who? Me?" Even I thought I sounded surprised.

  "Of course you." Phillipa's sky blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Who else?"

  "Sure." I came off a bit more enthused than I wanted and she quickly got into
the swing of things.

  Man, I thought ruefully. I'd fuck anything that even remotely looked like a
woman. I made a note never to go back to Thailand again. Thankfully, Red
Rock's previous owner lived and worked fairly far inland; I think I probably
would've spent way too much time in the katoey bars (like my old co-worker
Franky).

  Still, what the hell. While I sensed Phillipa's anxiety, I also knew how she
thought -- mentally, she was a woman. Growing up, Phillipa always thought she
was a girl not simply because she was treated as one, but because she felt
like a woman, even though she genetically wasn't. I mulled over the weird
situation as I took Phillipa's hand and led her to the dance floor.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- BALLS OF STEEL 
===============================================================================

  Allow me to segue just a bit, and let me reveal just a bit more about one of
my wives. Melanie was very sexually uninhibited when she was young. As she
grew up, she learned more and more about sex (and having it) not just from me,
but from her "Janet jie-jie" and experimenting with stuff she found on the
internet.

  Yu-Ching was copacetic with orgies and three-ways with the other girls, as
long as she got her share of attention from yours truly. When I maintained
that Melanie was a pervert, with Janet and Viktoriya essentially for
second-place, I meant it. I learned how far Melanie was willing to take things
soon after Viktoriya came back.

  It was late evening when I dropped by her place. Rachelle, Jamie, Janet,
Shawn, and I had just come back from my parents' place. It was an early
holiday dinner, with the actual Christmas dinner scheduled to be at Janet's
house for a change.

  My First was both unbelievably excited and stressed out due to the fact her
parents would finally meet the other wives nearly eight years after "marrying"
me. She was definitely glad that we'd be in Hawaii the next day.

  That night, Melanie had work at the Cliff House, and Viktoriya had some last
minute "dance lessons" for a rich couple (they were invited to attend the new
president's inaugural in February next year, in 2009). So, those two
lunk-heads weren't in attendance, and it was completely understandable.

  My mother had made a special broth for my youngest darling; it wasn't
favoritism as much as it was practicality -- Shawn, Viktoriya and Rachelle
didn't care for traditional Cantonese cooking (although everyone approved of
Melanie's Asian fusion dishes).

  Jamie and Janet hadn't had children lately, but Melanie had Norman just last
year. Additionally, the kidnapping left a nasty scrape on Little Chen's head.
Thus, my mom brewed some yun-xum tong* [* Cantonese: Mandrake broth or stew]
for Melanie.

  I brought the pot of soup to her place, along with Norman. Milhail and
Michael were in my unit, probably making a mess of my home PC with their
obnoxious Spore penis creatures, and pushing their luck until I got back to
take them to Viktoriya's.

  I knocked on Melanie's door and waited patiently for an answer. No one came
to the door. In fact, I waited so long, Shawn came out with a bag of
recyclables and wondered why I was still up and about.

  "She isn't back, or she isn't home?" Shawn became pensive.

  "No. Just no answer." I struggled under Norman's growing weight and the pot
of stew. Shawn held out her arms and I gladly handed the boy to her.

  "Did you call her, Stanley?" she asked as the toddler stirred and began
whining.

  "No, not yet." I began to grow uneasy and fiddled with my phone. "I'll
check."

  Despite the performance I was putting on for the benefit of my pretty and
plump wife, I retained enough focus for my precious Melanie. I pinged
automatically and felt that she seemed to be fine, although I didn't know
exactly where she was. Her presence was so dim and unobtrusive, it was often
hard for me to sense Little Chen at all.

  "Hey." Shawn tapped my arm. "I'll put Norman up at my place tonight, okay?
You find Mel and get some sleep."

  "Will do. Thanks pumpkin." I gave her a warm kiss.

  "Good night, Stanley." The doughty woman headed back to her condo.

  Once she was out of sight, I cracked the lock with telekinesis and headed
into Melanie's unit. Sure enough, it was empty. I put the pot of soup into the
refrigerator and left a note for Yu-Ching before I headed back out. I started
downstairs and stopped. I thought I had felt something -- almost like a pip --
from Melanie.

  Weird. It came from Viktoriya's unit. Was Yu-Ching there? I headed to
Viktoriya's door and knocked. Instantly, I heard a soft shuffle of feet and my
dusky Russkie's thought-speech popped into my mind.

  'Stanislav! You're home?!' Viktoriya greeted me while she was staring at the
front-door from across the room. I could make out the light at the bottom of
the door and my shadow from her mind-sight.

  'Yes, everyone is.' I thought-spoke: 'Didn't you hear us?'

  'No. I was a little distracted.' From her mind-sight, I could tell Viktoriya
hadn't budged since we started chatting.

  'Vika.' I pinged her lightly. 'Is Melanie in there with you?'

  'Yes.' Viktoriya replied and I instantly felt her nervousness.

  'Hey, whatever you're doing, I promise I won't get mad.' I rubbed my temples
to calm myself.

  'All right, lover.' She pinged back. As Viktoriya kept her eyes on the front
door, I suspected I knew why and she broadcasted a weak reply: 'It's just that
Melanie doesn't want you to know.'

  'I think it's a little late for that.' I decided enough was enough, and ended
the charade by knocking on Viktoriya's door.

  "Vika?" I knocked softly on the door again and called out audibly, "Are you
in? Have you seen Melanie?"

  There was a moment or two of awkward silence as Viktoriya seemed to gesture
just at the edge of her vision. I sensed her nodding her head and Melanie soon
whisked into Viktoriya's view. Little Chen was dressed in a white cotton robe,
her feet bare. I didn't need to be a psychic to know what these two were doing
all night. I blinked my eyes to adjust to the darkness when the door creaked
open.

  "Stanley?" Melanie squeaked softly.

  "Hello sweetie." I grinned at her. "May I come in?"

  Yu-Ching nodded shyly and stepped aside. My Slavic beauty was wearing only a
loose t-shirt and a pair of Lady Hanes. She was sitting rather demurely -- if
awkwardly -- on the hardwood floor with a towel under her sweet, smooth ass.

  Seeing the cushions, bottles of lubricant, and a small pile of towels (with
something obviously hidden underneath), I stared accusingly at both women.
Melanie immediately caught my look and leapt to her own defence.

  "It's not like that!" she exclaimed.

  "Tell me about it then." I looked between the two.

  I stayed and managed to wrestle the story from them. As it turned out,
Melanie and Viktoriya were both having quite a time by themselves. My youngest
darling had bought some hay-kun* [* Cantonese: Art of the empty fist, or
qi-gong] balls some time ago. They were made of brushed metal and were
supposed to be rolled in the palm of one's hand for exercise.

  However, Melanie had found another use for ben-wa balls. After putting the
baby to bed one day, she got bored and decided to find some objects she could
masturbate with. With a little trial and error, Melanie learned that she could
lube up the balls and insert them into her vaginal cavity. She found that when
she walked with those metal spheres inside her, she could barely keep herself
under control.

  Aside from those metal spheres, Melanie also tried golf balls (the golf
course at Lincoln Park sold PGA-rated ones with right amount of dimples),
hundred-sided dice (they were about the size of a golf ball and I had outgrown
Dungeons & Dragons), and even some decorative porcelain eggs sold in
knick-knack and oddity stores (don't ask; though, I think those were
left-overs from one of Rachelle's shopping forays).

  Yu-Ching even tried the vibrating eggs being sold in sex shops (those were
made of polymer and latex, so while they were soft and pliant, they didn't
retain body heat), but nothing seemed to have the same feel as those metal
ben-wa balls.

  Little Chen -- now just a big pervert -- had finished with work early. She
came home and found Viktoriya had come back early as well; Vika's clients had
gotten winded and decided they had enough dancing for the night. The two women
had a sit-down dinner together, Viktoriya broke out the alcohol, and one thing
quickly led to another.

  Initially suspicious, Viktoriya tried Melanie's technique anyway, and it
simply floored the older woman. Viktoriya could barely walk (let alone crawl)
when she heard me knock on the door. While my Russian bride could diddle
herself with telekinesis, it was still under her control. There wasn't much
surprise left for her to do it that way.

  However, Melanie's metal spheres were quite a novelty. And unlike
telekinesis, there was more than a "pressure" factor; the metal surface warmed
to the touch and the heat they retained made them quite a unique experience.

  So, I grabbed a glass of chilled water, sat back, and watched as Viktoriya
and Melanie both joyously jerked themselves the rest of the night. Finally, at
one point during their festivities, I was forced to participate.

  Each of the girls had a pair of those exercise spheres (Melanie had several
sets; I suspected they were either replacements or they were "presents" for
the other women). I held one of the balls after Viktoriya squeezed it out of
herself. It was hot to the touch (having been brought up to her internal body
temperature).

  Smiling brazenly, I rolled it over her stomach and the Slavic brunette cursed
pleasurably in her native tongue. I hadn't heard Viktoriya swear in Russian
since the marriage four years ago.

  Hearing her so excited was infectious. I rolled the ball towards Viktoriya's
manicured snatch and slipped it back inside with a little trouble while I
teased her asshole with my other hand. The Slavic brunette didn't say a damn
thing -- she only hissed loudly and threw herself at me, furiously biting,
kissing, and licking my face and lips.

  Melanie, twirling around the condo's stripper pole, was gyrating herself
silly to get off. Seeing us make-out on the sofa, Yu-Ching tried joining in
and collapsed to the floor when she tried to walk.

  "D--don't start without -- me," Melanie begged as she wobbled towards us,
shuddering and shivering as the twin balls jostled inside her vaginal cavity.

  I hadn't cleaned up, so I wasn't in an amorous mood. Instead, I was content
to lie with both my darlings and, with a little telekinetic boost from
Viktoriya, slowly nudged the balls inside both my lovelies. As I had my palms
over their stomachs (this to free their hands to stroke their own clits), it
appeared that I was massaging them and moving the balls around.

  Viktoriya knew this wasn't the case, but we still didn't want Melanie to know
about our telekinesis. On top of all that physical contact, there was the
simple stacking of our psychic power -- Viktoriya, me, and Melanie were
creating one hell of an event.

  Almost too late, I feared that the kids in the building might be affected
(they were, but only by going into an excitable state) but as quickly as that
thought popped into my head, I squashed it, afraid that either of my lovelies
would pick it up.

  In any case, the two women were soon swooning and blindly shooting their sex
scuzz all over. What wasn't soaked up by my slacks dripped onto the floor and
formed a small puddle. For a moment, I even wondered if I needed a mop because
the two women were gushing like crazy. My lovely Melanie experienced such a
rush, she even blacked out.

  As her eyes closed, Yu-Ching murmured an apology, and said she'd pick up
Norman in the morning. With that, my youngest darling drifted off, her two
metal spheres lying next to her sleeping form.

  'I'll take care of her tonight kisa.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she kissed
my face and neck. 'I'll see Milhail tomorrow.'

  'All right.' I relented while I cupped her meaty, muscular ass. 'Norman is at
Shawn's tonight; tell Melanie for me would you?'

  Viktoriya clutched me tightly as the two spheres inside her began to move.
'Of course, Stanislav! Yes!'

  'Is that in regards to the kids or you just jerking off, sweetheart?' I
mentally scolded her and began to lead her in a slow rumba.

  'Oh my God, kisa! Don't. Please don't!' Viktoriya pleaded with me, her eyes
wide. 'I can't do that with these things in me! I just can't!!'

  'Wanna bet?' My mouth twitched mischievously.

  My beautiful Baltic brunette swooned as she instinctively swayed her hips.
That was apparently the crux of Melanie's technique. When a woman walked, she
sashayed her hips, and her vaginal cavity would shake like a high-rise
building in an earthquake.

  Unlike a rectilinear skyscraper though, the vaginal cavity was more like a
slinky that one held an end of and twirled like a mobile. This of course,
meant that small, round objects the size of a ping-pong ball would roll around
inside the cylinder -- and make women go ga-ga.

  Viktoriya and I took no more than a dozen steps when her legs buckled from
the activity. I gripped her tightly as she trembled and fell into my arms. She
was cumming like never before, and she fought the urge to scream by biting my
sides.

  My Cossack cutie clamped down so fiercely that she ripped my shirt open with
her teeth. Feeling her hot breath searing against my skin, I was getting
pretty damn hard myself. After a few more seconds, she caught her breath and
was herself once more.

  'Was it as good for you as it was for me?' I laughed audibly but pinged her
in our silent tongue.

  'Fuck you, Stanislav!' Viktoriya scowled darkly at me.

  'Not a bad idea.' I wore a sneer. 'I'm hard.'

  She snatched me quickly by my hair and pushed me down to the floor. It wasn't
anything rough, but she was irked I had perverted her sport into an unrelated
intimate act. My dusky Russkie squatted over my chin, her face a mask of sheer
concentration. I gazed at her snatch and saw that it was starting to part.
When I saw the silvery sheen of the first metal exercise ball peek out from
the folds of her labia, I grinned like a madman.

  You nasty bitch, I thought.

  'Call me more names, kisa.' Viktoriya thought-spoke instantly. 'And I'll give
you what they call a Cleveland Steamer!'

  'Why not.' I dared her. 'You tore my shirt already. I'm throwing it out.'

  Viktoriya nearly stumbled, as she had not expected that answer.

  'I was only joking!' She looked at me in total shock. 'Are you serious?!'

  'I hope not, lyubimy.' I stroked her calves. 'Because it'll just be another
mess for you to clean up.'

  'Selfish bastard!'

  'Whatever.' I managed to plant a kiss on the insides of her thigh as I pinged
a response: 'But I do want to taste you.'

  Viktoriya gasped as my tongue teased the folds of her twat and asshole. I ran
my tip of my tongue around the edges of the ball, testing and teasing my
Slavic siren until she popped the sphere out. Luckily, Melanie was asleep and
I was able to use telekinesis, otherwise the ball would've knocked out my
front teeth.

  I plucked the ball out of mid-air with a solid telekinetic grip before I
physically secured it with my fingers. Like before, the sphere was hot to the
touch. Having been inside Viktoriya nearly all night, it was also heavily
scented.

  I rolled it down my cheek, across my lips and under my nose, savoring her
strong, sweaty, fuck musk. Her pussy still dribbled joy juice, and drops of
the stuff splashed warmly against my face.

  'Here ... comes the other ... one.' Viktoriya was straining again.

  'Just ... just a second.' I was getting dizzy with lust.

  I picked up Viktoriya and carried her to the bed. She barely had time to
protest before I took my hard cock out and slipped smoothly into her. She was
so slick, there was barely any resistance. Viktoriya inhaled sharply -- then
just as quickly sneezed.

  I chuckled as she sought to avert her gaze, if only briefly, before we
kissed. She gasped when I began moving, then ultimately cried out when she
came again. Moments later, the second ball popped out from her body,
completely slick with both our juices.

  'Good ... night ... milenky.' Viktoriya was snug under the covers as I
slipped out of her room.

  'G'night Vika.' I gently placed a spare wool blanket over the sleeping
Melanie and tucked her in as well. I let myself out and headed back upstairs
to my unit.

  "Where've you been?" Janet greeted me unhappily when I opened my door. "And
what happened to your shirt?"

  "Hey baby." I grinned sheepishly. "What're you doing here?"

  "Getting shafted apparently," my First retorted as she studied the
irrepairable rip, "Weren't you supposed to take those two kids to Viktoriya's
so we could have some free time today?"

  "Today?" I looked at her quizically then glanced at the wall clock. "Damn,
it's past midnight already?"

  "Well apparently! I guess times flies when you're --" Janet wrinkled her nose
as the stench of lovemaking reached her nostrils. "Oh sweet cripes, Stanley!"

  "Sorry." I sped off to the restroom to get changed. "It was --"

  "You don't have to go into the details," she said and gave me a disapproving
look.

  "So how'd you know?" I asked as I dumped my soiled clothes into the hamper.
Despite the fact the shirt would no longer be worn, I was going to wash it; I
planned to recycle it as a rag.

  "After I tucked in Freddy, I saw your lights were on." Janet lowered the lid
on the toilet and sat on it while we talked. "When I saw Milhail and Michael
in the window. I knew you obviously weren't home."

  "Sorry," I replied over the showerhead's hiss, "Yu-Ching wasn't at her place,
so I got worried. I found her at Vika's."

  "I'm sure she had an explanation." She tilted her head and became thoughtful.
"Scratch that. They both did, didn't they? So, what's got my man so excited?"

  "Balls." I turned off the shower and told her about Melanie's sex spheres
while I towelled dry.

  Janet suddenly had this dreamy look on her face. "Oh wow."

  "What is it?" I asked, "Something wrong?"

  "No. No, nothing's wrong." She grew thoughtful. "Oh jeez. I was so busy at
the firm, I didn't even get it."

  "Get what?" I pressed as I bundled myself up in a bathrobe.

  Janet smiled sweetly and took my hand. "C'mere and I'll show you."

  She took me across the hall to her room. My First generally split her time
between her unit in the big building and her own house next door, coming and
going as she pleased. She'd entertain guests at her house, but when things got
too hectic, or she just wanted some quiet, Janet would bundle the kids up, and
head to her cozy condo across the hall from mine.

  My wife dug out a small box containing two exercise balls. They were exactly
the same type as the ones Viktoriya and Melanie were masturbating with
earlier.

  "She gave me these for my birthday," Janet confessed.

  "When was this?" I asked, "I thought you got you that hundred dollar a pound
tea you were raving about."

  "No, it wasn't this year," she said and shook her head, "This was before she
had the baby."

  "That long ago?" I whistled. "Wow. Holy crap."

  "I never really had need for 'em." Janet took one of the balls out and
examined it. "I do my hay-kun naturally; this stuff is for tourists anyway."

  I chuckled. "Leave it to Yu-Ching to find a new use for them."

  "She's always been inventive. So, you want to show me how they work?"

  I arched a brow as I saw she was studying me.

  "Isn't it a little late?" I asked.

  "Not for me it isn't." Janet stood and gave me a saucy smile. "I took
tomorrow off."

  I chuckled and gave in to my lovely First's wanton wiles. It was rare that I
could teach her a few things and I found I relished doing it -- then doing
her. After a little lubrication and letting her experiment a bit, Janet was
writhing with pleasure in my arms. Of course, not even that prepared me
adequately for the weirdness that was Phillipa Roget.

===============================================================================
  SECOND-TYPE WOMAN 
===============================================================================

  Phillipa giggled and leaned drunkenly against the wall as I slid her keycard
to her room's card slot. After a bit of dancing and some more drinking (she
drank, I didn't), the red-headed girl was totally blasted and wanted nothing
more than to head to her room and "have fun". I barely got the door open
before Phillipa decided to play a dangerous prank -- she vanished.

  "Catch me if you -- hic -- can!" she teased as her giggles receded down the
hallway.

  Goddammit. I jammed the jamb of Phillipa's room with a spare coin just in
case the keycard got lost. There was no telling what I needed to do to get her
back. If the security cameras on the ship were on (they usually were), they
might've caught her disappearing. It was precisely this sort of overt,
obnoxious, carelessness that drew unwanted attention; it compromised Ghost
Light in Greece, and embroiled me in mafia bullshit.

  Luckily, the security in that part of the ocean-liner was pretty light. Only
the lobby, elevators, and part of the decks had cameras. I pocketed Phillipa's
keycard and went looking for her. I didn't have to go far. I found her in the
corner by the emergency stairs.

  I didn't want to, but I had to brain-buzz her to get her to stay put. I did
so after I telekinetically slapped the camera in the hall to the side so it
couldn't see us. I took Phillipa by the hand and felt her mind and body tingle
from my touch.

  "Nuh'fair!!!" she whined once before I put her over my shoulder in a
fireman's carry.

  Phillipa -- the girl and her clothes -- slipped back into view quickly once I
buzzed her a bit. Unlike that time I floored her, this was a "fun buzz"; it
was weaker than the incapacitating zap, but a little stronger than the
"pleasure" zap I'd feed my women. Phillipa instantly responded by giggling
madly from both real and imagined hilarity.

  As I headed back the way I came, I slapped the camera back to its original
angle once I was sure I was cleared from its view. I'm certain the security
people would be suspicious about that brief outage, but I didn't need more
recorded footage of me. I lugged the obnoxious girl back her room, all while
she was singing drunkenly -- and loudly --  much to the dismay of everyone,
from the sleeping guests to myself. This was earnestly a lot of attention,
although I played it off as the husband dragging his young, drunk wife back to
the honeymoon suite.

  "Why huw'wo 'der daaah'ling!!" Phillipa laughed at a red-faced elderly
Mexican man as he passed by us in the hallway.

  He grinned at us, showing off his golden teeth. His expression was friendly
enough -- he thought we were either crazy in love or cheating our asses off. I
mentally followed him to his destination just to be sure he was innocent of
who Phillipa and I were; as it turned out, he was a senior technician from the
engineering deck, and he'd just gotten himself some extramarital puta from
another room on this deck.

  Ah, adultery. How sweet it was as long as one wasn't caught.

  While Viktoriya hadn't broken past my mental barriers about Rosalind, I was
rather nervous about how quickly Melanie guilted me over the affair. She kept
mum about it, but I still wondered how she was able to get past my meticulous
preparations. If she picked up on what I had done, was it perhaps that I was
thinking about Rosalind when I shouldn't have been?

  So, what to do about Phillipa? I realized I was going to at least stick
around and keep the girl in her room until she sobered up. Otherwise, there'd
be no telling what the hell she'd do "for fun".

  Phillipa stretched and smiled dreamily as I threw her onto the bed. Seeing
her so frazzled, I started having second thoughts until she flung out her foot
and groped my bulging crotch with her toes. As I danced on the edge of whether
or not to go ahead with this, I felt myself getting progressively hornier as
Phillipa drew me closer by clasping her legs around my waist. She gawked at me
with her bright blue eyes as she absently sucked on a finger.

  Mirage was a tall girl (even taller than my tallest darling, Rachelle) and
that put her on my level when I crawled on top of her. I hazarded a guess this
may have had something to do with her physical condition (true, as I found out
later) or (as I thought at the time) maybe she was simply born tall. I put
myself over her and began kissing her face; Phillipa groaned and encircled my
neck with her arms.

  Whatever physical problem the red-head thought she had, I didn't see many
flaws on her body. By now, even Melanie had some parts of her body only a
husband could love. Phillipa though, still in the prime of her youth,
possessed a near-perfect body; she was a living Galatea. I also noticed she
was mostly hairless. Apart from the thick fountain of hair on head, her body
only had a very pale, translucent peach-colored fuzz. I undid Phillipa's
blouse and fondled those perky B-cups of hers. She squealed softly when I
snurbed them playfully.

  "Oh man. Wow," Phillipa sighed as she lay back on the bed, "You do that so
good."

  "Mmm-hmm." I extended a hand and started undoing her pants.

  Almost instantly, I felt her thoughts go into overdrive: 'Oh man, this is
going to be hard to explain.' 'I wonder if he could tell.' 'Ah fuck that, I
wonder if it'll hurt like hell again.' 'Maybe I should just suck him off and
call it a night.'

  That was interesting, I thought as I kissed her navel, eliciting a soft coo
from her throat. I wondered how "different" she was. I was sure I didn't see
male genitalia when Phillipa was wearing a swimsuit earlier in the evening.
Not like that would've done much to deter me. I thought back to what had
happened at Franky's club.

  My old co-worker had left the building business before the economy cratered,
then used his savings to buy and renovate a club in the city that catered to 
male-to-female transfolk and female cross-dressers. I received the dubious
honor of being one of the first VIPs at his club after I approved the design;
he set me up with a hot little shim who hailed from Hawaii the night of his
grand-opening.

  At the time, I had just started seeing Rosalind, so I wasn't eager to
experiment; however, after Franky and I finalized the details of the
remodelling job (as a friendly favor, he signed off on the work-order,
allowing me to launder my money and the project cost him next to nothing), I
succumbed to my uncontrollable libido, and accepted a blowjob from Franky's
"hostess" when I took her home. I had no qualms fucking the tranny's pretty
face (she was pretty advanced in her transition) while I watched her boobs
bounce and jiggle, but that was as far as I went.

  Now I wondered what exactly was Phillipa's ailment; I was prepared to stop if
I saw anything I didn't like. I licked her lovely white calves and thighs, and
slowly made my way slowly towards her crotch. I had a little trepidation about
what I'd find there, but I soon found I had nothing to be alarmed about. Her
cunt was baby smooth and almost like the model of what a perfect pussy should
be. I examined it with amazement as I alternately kissed both sides of her
groin, much to her delight.

  "Oh gawd -- oh mah' gawd," Phillipa slurred, "You're drivin' me fuckin'
crazy."

  "Yeah," I murmured as I began working over her exposed gash.

  That's when it hit me. Her pussy was -- to put it mildly -- way too tight and
dry. Having enjoyed the favors of my wives for some many years, I knew what a
cunt should have looked like for a woman her age. Phillipa's pussy was oddly
small; almost like she hadn't gone through puberty. Sensing my hesitation, the
lanky red-head grew wary.

  "Something wrong?" she asked, her tone quickly sober.

  "No, I just --" I grunted and shifted over to her side, "Just need to get
used to you."

  "Oh." Phillipa cast her eyes downwards.

  She didn't speak as I re-adjusted my position to be beside her. Once I
started on her again though, she let out a pent-up sigh. I sensed her
frustration though, and carefully made light of her discomfort.

  "Something the matter?"

  "I think you know already," Phillipa said quietly, "Don't you?"

  "I try not to pry." I stroked her shoulder gently. "Unless you want me to."

  "That's rather nice of you," her tone was sarcastic as she turned over to
face me.

  I sensed she was trying to gauge me and wondering whether or not I was
telling her the truth. Of course, I had already scanned her, but she didn't
need to know that. I played nice and put on my best smile.

  "You want to tell me about it?" I asked gently.

  Phillipa chewed her lip a bit, unsure how to even begin. While she fretted, I
decided that she could benefit from a little persuasion. I released a thin
stream of thoughts -- what I wanted to do to her cunt, her mouth, her ass --
as the backs of my fingers glided over her smooth alabaster skin. The pretty
red-head shivered uncontrollably. She purred when I gently scratched her groin
with the tips of my fingers.

  "C'mon." I nuzzled her. "You can tell me."

  "I -- I'm a guy."

  "Say again?" I humored her. "You don't look like one, but that's one good
excuse --"

  "No Stanley. It's not that." She took a deep breath and started, "It's called
A.I.S., or androgyn insensitivity syndrome ...."

  I lay beside her and listened to Phillipa as she explained her condition. It
was nothing I hadn't gleaned from her although she was able to fill in some of
the messier details. She had no ovaries or a fallopian tube. Additionally, her
cunt couldn't lubricate, and it was probably not as flexible as a genuine
woman's birth canal would be. That's why the sex -- the horrible, horrible sex
-- she had engaged with a boy in college was ---

  "-- the most painful thing I ever did," Phillipa finished flatly.

  "If you suspected it was going to be that bad," I pointed out, "Why'd you
disrobe?"

  "Because," she spoke softly and lowered her gaze, "It's what you were
thinking about all night."

  "You can read minds now?" I chided her, "So much for my job."

  "I don't need to be a mind-reader to know what you were thinking about."
Phillipa wrinkled her nose. "From what Bethany's told me, that's all you think
about."

  Nosy bitch, I thought. I knew Masquerade was an empire citizen, but her skill
with telepathy wasn't something she advertised to the agency, or anyone else.
Now that I knew what she could do, I likely would have to deal with it, as
well as everything else Bethany had her hand in. Just what I needed. More
fucking problems.

  "Don't believe everything she tells you," I growled and Phillipa found the
temerity to laugh.

  "And why wouldn't I?" She leered warily at me. "Beth told me about the girls
you were juggling way back then."

  "Yeah," I said slowly, "About them. Maybe I should level with you. I mean,
you revealed something very personal."

  Her gaze didn't waver, and she waited with bated breath. Phillipa trusted me
enough to tell me her little secret, so ought I not give something in return?
It seemed only fair ...

  "I kinda married 'em all," I blurted. Ah yes, I thought. I'd rather be
prosecuted as a bigamist than reveal the invisible empire. As much as I loved
my family, I feared the empire -- and the likes of Tseng would do to them --
even more.

  "Wh--what?!" Phillipa's jaw dropped. "No way! You married those girls she
said you were dating?"

  "Yes. And three more," I corrected her, then mentally kicked myself for
having such a big mouth.

  "Wow." She flopped back on the bed. "Jesus, Stanley. So, what're you doin'
here with me?"

  "Vacation sex," I replied candidly. "You can't imagine, but I sometimes have
more work at home than I do in the field. Cover story and all."

  "Yeah." Phillipa looked at me oddly. "I guess it's the nature of the job,
huh?"

  "I guess."

  I glanced at her and saw the scared, slender ginger I had cornered and caught
years ago. The same pity I had for her then, I had now. Her face and mine were
fairly close. Phillipa's eyes met mine and I gave her my trademark grin.
Before she could say more, I kissed her.

  The red-head gasped in surprise as I gently teased her lips, begging her to
part them. She placed a hand on me as if to push me away, but I took hold of
it and calmed her down. I rolled the girl on top of me. I satisfied myself
with running my palms down her sides.

  She had broken off our kiss, but she didn't protest; instead, she merely
turned her head and let me plant kisses on her neck and the side of her head.
I cupped her ass and gave her milky muffins a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft
sigh from her. With the weight and warmth of Phillipa on me, I felt my cock
strain against the fabric of my pants.

  By now, she hadn't done much save hold my head in a desperate attempt to keep
control. Though she could've easily prevented me from going further, at no
point did she resist as I licked and kissed her tits, neck, and face.

  "Sss -- Stan -- leee," Phillipa gasped, "I -- I think you should -- ohh!!"

  In an instant, I flipped her onto her back, and I was holding her legs up and
over my shoulders. She had adopted the look of a trashy whore, thanks to her
obscene choice of body decoration. Her sky blue toenails had tiny colored
stickers on them, and cheap plastic earrings made her look like she was fresh
out of high school. The thought of her being that young though, only made me
hornier.

  My cock strained in the confines of my slacks, and Phillipa understood my
need for release. Her legs fell to the side, revealing her tiny, hairless
slit. I removed my shirt and unzipped my pants. Had I any less experience, I
would've dived right in. However, I knew that I had to be cautious, so I
proceeded carefully. She had mentioned it hurt before; I knew that to be true
if the woman wasn't ready. So, I gingerly fingered the red-head.

  Despite Phillipa's stature, her little bare pussy was abnormally tight and
small. I could barely fit my index finger in, let alone several fingers. I
heard her inhale sharply as I nibbled and played with her cunt. That's
interesting. She was truly fucking tight. I spooned her, but didn't stop
teasing her sensitive spots, bottom and top. Thinking back to my past
experiences, I remembered the first time when Yu-Ching and I consumated. Janet
had used some lubricant (a lot of it). I wondered if it might work now.

  "Hey, you have lubricant right?" I asked, "Something slick? Oily?"

  "I got suntan lotion." Phillipa pointed lazily at her travel bag. "In there."

  I got up and rummaged through her things. Sure enough, there was a bottle of
suntan oil, but I found something better.

  "Petroleum jelly?" I turned and asked her. "What'd you need this for? Baby
rash?"

  "Not exactly." Her cheeks became bright red. "I get chapped lips a lot. I
just need a bit when I go out."

  "Well looks like you brought along enough to last you a while," I held up the
fist-sized jar.

  "It's cheaper than the small tubes." 

  I undid the jar lid and scooped a hefty amount of jelly. I rubbed my fingers
together, examining the gel. This stuff was pretty slick.

  "Wh--what are you doing?" Phillipa asked.

  "What do you think I'm going to do?" I gave her a wry grin.

  The red-haired girl gasped when I slathered a thick glob of petroleum jelly
around her sweet, smooth cunt. She chewed her lip and lay back, eyes shut. Her
body was tense and I sensed she was both excited and scared; her thoughts in
turn, excited me. I parted her legs and worked in a slick, jelly-covered
finger.

  Phillipa whimpered as her cunt slowly swallowed my finger, knuckle by aching
knuckle. Damn, she was hot -- and I was referring to her body temperature. I
felt her fuck-hole rhythmically pulse around my finger. When I hilted my digit
into her body, I began to flex it.

  "Yeah, shit baby." I kissed the top of her knee. "Look at that. See my
finger? It's going to get better in a bit."

  Phillipa's eyes were open now, her lips parted and her breathing was becoming
more rapid. She brought her head up to see me slowly stroking her undeveloped
baby basket. Using mind-sight, I could see her gaze was now focused on my
rapidly hardening cock. Almost immediately, I felt her heart leap to her
throat. Thoughts of: 'Omigod, he's going to do it.' 'He's going to stick that
in me.' 'It's so damn -- big already -- fuck!' 'Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god
...' ran through her mind.

  I pulled my finger back out, and reached for the jar of jelly. It was the
brand that had the scent of baby powder; the smell reminded how I used talcum
powder on my lovely Melanie when she was younger. The memories spurred
nostalgia, guilt, and carnal lust within me. I covered my prick with the gel
and crawled on top of Phillipa.

  "Oh man. Oh wow, wait," she tried pushing me off, "What about a condom?"

  "What about it?" I gently caught both her hands and pinned her to the bed.

  The young woman gulped as she realized I was going to fuck her raw. "But I --
oh!! Ow!!! OWWW!!"

  My dick bumped awkwardly against her lips, but with the years of skill I had,
I nudged my cock a bit with telekinesis and penetrated her. Phillipa cried
softly as I slowly lowered myself into the depths of her body.

  "Oh God, stop! Stop, please!!" she hissed in my ear, "It hurts, Stanley! It
hurts so much!"

  "Yeah, all right."

  I gritted my teeth and settled on top of her. I fought the urge, lest the
slightest movement injure her. I could feel Phillipa's tight cunt wrapped
around my cock. It was as tight, if not more so, than when I had broke Melanie
in all those years ago. The warm, wet jelly's powder scent was still in my
nostrils, and I desperately wanted to get things going. I could show her the
pleasures of being a woman.

  The red-headed girl though, was panting -- almost hyper-ventilating -- as she
clutched me tightly, afraid that I'd move. As much as I wanted to listen to
Phillipa, my body reacted naturally. My face was buried to the side of her
head, and the sweet mix of her perfume and sweat was overriding my
self-control. My cock involuntarily twitched and she gasped.

  "Oh-m'God, Stanley," she whispered hoarsely, "Th--that felt nice."

  "It did?" I propped myself so I could look into her eyes. She nodded
slightly, her eyes sparkling with fear and excitement.

  "Okay," I said softly, "I think I can just loosen you up a bit. Just tell me
if you're hurting, all right?"

  Phillipa didn't answer, but nodded again. I propped myself over her, and
gently kissed her trembling lips. The girl was so wound up and tense, her
thoughts were bouncing around all over the place; I had to get her relaxed, or
her cunt would never loosen up. I bit her lips softly, my fingertips gently
stroking her ears and neck. The slender red-head slowly relaxed; her breathing
became more rhythmic and her body more limber.

  Soon, she was mimicking the little things I did to her. When I teased her
lips, she would come back with a quick kiss on my chin. When I'd gently bite
her ear lobes, she'd wrap her arms around me, stroking my neck and urging me
on. After a few minutes of teasing, Phillipa signalled she was ready.

  She gasped when I pulled out. Seeing her eyes closed, I froze and waited for
her to give the okay. She opened her eyes again and nodded. This time, when I
pushed myself back in, she moaned.

  "Oh yeah," Phillipa sighed. "It's better, Stanley. But go slow. God, please
go slow."

  "Yeah, I'll try," I gnashed my teeth. Damn, this was harder than I thought.

  The thought-stream I was getting from Phillipa was pretty much what I
expected -- she was horny and in heat. That made it difficult to maintain my 
tempo, but I gave it my best shot. The red-head watched me with a mix of 
curiosity and fascination as I slowly pumped her nubile body. Her warm, 
alabaster skin was silky smooth where it touched me. Her breasts were tipped 
by hard, pink nipples; nipples untouched by piercings or teething tots, and 
jiggling with each thrust I made.

  Phillipa, unsure of what to do with her hands, reached for me and I took hold
of them. I bent over her once more, my hands pinning hers to the bed. She
writhed under me in mild protest, but I held fast.

  "Try something else, sweetheart," I said.

  "Like what?" she asked confused. "And how?"

  "Just try. Play around," I did my best to explain as I kept fucking her.

  "Oh." 

  Phillipa looked down, watching my fuck needle threading her hairless baby
basket. She parted her legs more, exposing her cunt more to my assault. After
a few powerful strokes, she clamped her legs around me and I reduced the depth
of my thrusts. Experimenting further, she began running her smooth soles of
her feet over the back of my calves, making me shiver with delight.

  "Oh, wow." The ginger girl gave me a wide grin. "I get it now. Geez, Bethany
was right -- you're such a perv."

  I grunted as her eyes grew as wide as her smile. Because I was pinning her
hands down, I was just hovering an inch or so above her. Phillipa craned her
head up and kissed me on the shoulder. She was getting braver now, and I felt
her working down towards the nape of my neck. An intense feeling of release
was coming over me when I heard her giggle.

  I blinked and saw she had disappeared -- or partly so (a new trick!). Her
whole body was translucent and white-grayish, almost like the covers of the
bed. Looking down, I dimly made out my cock, slathered in petroleum jelly,
poling furiously at the invisible walls of Phillipa's pussy. The red-head
managed to keep her face visible. I saw her beautiful eyes sparkle with
mischief as she tried adjusting how much her body faded.

  "Look, look Stanley!" She laughed softly. "I can see your cock in me! It's so
cute!"

  Despite the weirdness, I had to smile. Phillipa gave me a toothsome grin as I
whispered fiercely in her ear.

  "I'm -- cumming."

  "Really?" The rest of her body quickly returned into view. She gave me a look
of concern and asked, "Do you think that's wise?"

  "N--no." I barely uttered a reply when I surged my hips forward in one
powerful thrust.

  "OH-GAWD!!" She winced as I unloaded a full blast of infant gunk into her
body. Phillipa gasped, sputtered, and held on for dear life as I strained my
body and drained my balls. I collapsed on top of her, my gel-covered cock
twitching in her cunt.

  "Stanley, you fucking douche." She eyed me unhappily. "You're so lucky I can
never get pregnant!"

===============================================================================
  FREE LOVE 
===============================================================================

  Helping Viktoriya pack and move was one of the most uncomfortable things I
had to endure, although it was nowhere as hard as when Janet confronted me
about Rachelle and Jamie a few weeks after 9/11. It wasn't the fact that I had
just committed some serious adultery, but rather, I had to watch Viktoriya
suffer as she parted with her lover, Freya.

  On a happier note, Phillipa was a joy. The two of us spent the night in her
cabin after some more intimate activity. The next morning, I ordered room
service and we had a civil breakfast. Things only got kinky when Phillipa
surprised me in the shower with an invisible blowjob. I watched my cum splash
inside her mouth, then slowly fade into nothingness as she swallowed my joy
juice.

  But she knew when to stop; we parted company shortly before the ship docked.
Before I disembarked, I checked the vents and ceiling of Mirage's cabin one
last time before I left. I was still suspicious that no one was shadowing her.
Did the agency know Phillipa and I were on the same ship? Or were they
confident the tracker they implanted was enough? Perhaps they filmed me while
I was in-coitus with the lean red-head.

  Blackmail was always a possibility, even if Phillipa had innocent intentions.
I left only when I was satisfied there was nothing amiss and took a cab to
Viktoriya's place in Brooklyn. Once there, I found her in the midst of moving
heavy furniture into a cargo truck with a few other people.

  "Hallo Stanislav." Viktoriya gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "You know
Marcello, but here're some other friends I'd like you to meet ...."

  The crowd was just a few of my dusky Russkie's institute and dancesport
friends, all utterly forgetable. Cristobel's boyfriend, Marcello, and Freya
were the only ones I'd seen (through mind-sight or photos) before. The others
were all 'normals', although I suspected the pretty boys were Cristobel's
playthings, and the women were Viktoriya's toys.

  'Nice guess, friend.' Cristobel thought-spoke. 'But they're just friends and
dance partners.'

  'Look who's talking!' Viktoriya's snappy mental barb was evident. 'You'd have
your weekly orgies if it weren't for that ankle of yours!'

  'Well, that's only half-true.' My wife's dancesport partner confided. 'Vika
usually locks the women into her room before things get interesting. She never
shares, Stanley.'

  'Do I have to hear this?' I pinged. 'And don't you need to flex that ankle
before the joint becomes immobile?'

  'Well yes, thank you for the reminder, sir.' Cristobel's presence receded and
dimmed. 'Take care.'

  Outwardly, I gave Viktoriya a bland smile, while she greeted me with a
timidity I rarely saw. After I placed my bag in her room, I helped with the
rest of the move. According to Viktoriya, Freya would be moving into
Cristobel's and Marcello's flat; with Viktoriya gone, Freya would need both
the company and help with rent.

  Right after the truck was loaded, Viktoriya took me to dinner near the Radio
City Music Hall. After dinner, she showed me a nice surprise: as it turned
out, Viktoriya was a part-time Rockette. She'd substitute for permanent
members who were out sick or otherwise unavailable.

  "You never mentioned that before." I was genuinely surprised. "How long had
you done that?"

  "For a while now. And I have to give it up," Viktoriya playfully chided me in
public. "See how much I put up with you? And putting poor Freya in with two
boys, you monster!"

  As much as it was "poor Freya this" and "poor Freya that", I did notice that
Viktoriya was visibly reserved with me when the pretty Dutch girl was around.
The more I hung around them, I felt more like a third wheel than a husband.

  During the Saturday Night Live taping (it was the December 19 episode), the
two were holding hands and giggling as soon as the house lights went down. I
was beginning to get the distinct feeling that whatever Viktoriya was going
for, it wasn't a wifely role back in San Francisco.

  It left me wondering what she was doing. Was Viktoriya simply going through
the motions for my sake? For Milhail's? Or was it something else? I was so
focused on this, I was again surprised once we were on board the plane. I saw
Viktoriya looking despondently out the window when I ambled back to her from
the restroom.

  'Something wrong?' I thought-spoke.

  'What do you think?!' Viktoriya mentally hissed back. Outwardly, she remained
motionless as she stared blankly out the window.

  She ignored me even as I settled down beside her. The air in the third-class
cabin stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. The cramped quarters were more
uncomfortable than cozy, and my insensitivity towards Viktoriya's suffering
wasn't helping. She finally turned when I took up her hand, and I could see
she had been crying.

  'I'm sorry.' I dipped my eyes. 'I didn't realize you two were that close.'

  Viktoriya let out a breath, almost as if she had been waiting for me to
apologize.

  'It's okay, Stanislav.' She rested her head against my arm. 'I knew she was
just to keep me company; I think she knew it too.'

  I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and Viktoriya sniffed. Between poking around
her mental veil and drawing on the few thoughts of Freya's I picked up during
my brief stay, I formed what I knew to be the truth of the matter: while
Viktoriya sincerely loved Freya, it wasn't wholly mutual. Freya did enjoy
Viktoriya's company, but the skinny gymnast sometimes found my Russian bride a
bit too much. Viktoriya was especially overbearing when Freya wanted to see
other people.

  Was it jealousy? The instant I thought of it, I felt her nails dig into my
hand.

  'I'm not jealous!'

  'I didn't mean it that way.' I clarified my thought, but Viktoriya still
wasn't happy.

  'It's not fair.' She thought-spoke sadly. 'You got what you wanted,
Stanislav. Why can't I have what I want?'

  I didn't have an immediate answer, but I empathized with her plight. Had
Viktoriya been born a man, she'd be setting up her own harem, just like me. Or
maybe she could, if just --

  'Don't even think of it.'

  'Think of what?' I kept my innocent mentality.

  'I know what you're thinking, and it won't work.' Viktoriya grew uneasy. 'If
you think Janna was jealous before, what will you tell her if you bond Freya?
She wouldn't even be your wife!'

  'No, she wouldn't.' I felt my heart skip a beat; I couldn't believe I was
proposing this shit. 'Because she'd be yours.'

  I heard Viktoriya's sharp intake of breath. For the longest time, she didn't
say anything, but I could pick up what she had going through her mind (despite
her trying to hide them). I let Viktoriya hide her thoughts from me, content
that I was doing only what I thought to be right. When I dared to look her
way, I saw her dark eyes cautiously staring back.

  'Are you sure, kisa?'

  'If it makes you happy.' I smiled nervously. 'Although ...'

  'Although what?'

  'If I were you, I would ask her to come.' I thought-spoke. 'I wouldn't make
her.'

  'Why, of course.' My Slavic siren lowered her eyes. 'I understand. It
wouldn't be love would it?'

  'No, it wouldn't.' I rubbed her hand, and felt her fingers interlock with
mine.

  Viktoriya reached up to kiss me and I returned her affection, although the
overall mood of our trip back was glum. Still, there was nothing else but to
settle down for the rest of our flight. She moped all the way home despite my
best attempts to cheer her up.

  Even the brief stop at her parents' in Indiana didn't do much to lift her
spirits, although she put on a brave face the whole time. Thankfully, things
were pretty much ready by the time we came home. We barely got past the front
door when Melanie stepped out from Viktoriya's unit.

  "Oh!" She seemed startled, but quickly started to chatter away. "You're home
early! Why didn't you call? I thought you wanted this to be a surprise!"

  "Surprise?" Viktoriya asked.

  "What surprise?" I echoed.

  Melanie wasn't part of what I'd planned. Little Chen barely got out another
word before excited cries erupted past the door and the three of us were
quickly surrounded by the kids, all clamoring for attention.

  "Dad!" "Da-daa!!"

  "Well, glad to see you too," I struggled to keep balance. "Now please make
yourselves useful and help your mother with her stuff."

  The two older boys each wrestled a suitcase while the twins scampered off
with Viktoriya's purse. Jenny, Kady, and Freddy were too small, and had to
satisfy themselves with carrying our coats and a carry-on. Jillian was nowhere
to be seen, but I sensed she was already upstairs helping in the kitchen. We
headed into Vika's unit and found Melanie had strung up a welcome banner, and
in the midst of setting up something more when she was interrupted by our
arrival.

  "Welcome home." The little woman hugged Viktoriya.

  'Are you blushing?' I thought-spoke.

  Viktoriya ignored me but managed to whisper, "Thank you."

  "Hey, dad." Michael pulled my sleeve. "Can I stay here instead of mom's
tonight?"

  "Sure," I said absently, and just as quickly stopped. "Wait. What'd you do
now?"

  "Nuthin'," my son whispered conspiratorially, "I just wanna play with
Milhail."

  "I know you do," I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, "But your mom
misses you too. Play tomorrow, okay?"

  My oldest son looked unhappy, but he didn't complain.

  "'Kay guys, we're going to have dinner in a little bit," Melanie announced
and clapped her hands, "C'mon! Time to go. Upstairs, now!"

  Michael shuffled out the door, sullen and depressed. The younger kids
obediently followed their brother, with Little Chen herding them from the
rear. Only Milhail remained. He nervously looked on as his mother got to
unpacking her things.

  Despite the brief sleep-overs Milhail had just a few months before,
Viktoriya's move back signified that things would be different. The boy would
live chiefly with her now, and not with Janet, as he had the past couple
years. For a six year old, it was a pretty big change.

  I had anticipated this and had tasked him with finding and wrapping a gift to
keep him occupied. When Viktoriya disappeared into the bedroom, I gave my son
the thumbs up. Milhail sped off to his room, zipping right past his mother in
the hallway.

  'My he's grown.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she stepped back into the living
room.

  "Don't run, Mily!" she called out. "You know the floors are slippery!"

  The boy didn't answer and Viktoriya sighed.

  "I'm sure he heard you." I patted the small of her back.

  'I know he did.' The Baltic beauty looked unhappy. Suddenly, she cocked her
head. 'Stanislav? What are you planning?'

  I put a finger to my lips and grinned. 'I know it's hard for us to be
surprised, but let's pretend, okay?'

  Viktoriya was about to respond when Milhail came back out with a small
wrapped box.

  He timidly held out the gift and murmured, "Merry Christmas, mom."

  "Spasee-baa." Viktoriya knelt so she could be eye-to-eye with her son. "Thank
you. But it's not Christmas yet."

  "I know." Milhail nodded. "But dad wanted me to give it to you early."

  "Did he now?" She passed me a curious glance before she asked, "May I open
it?"

  The boy smiled and nodded as she gently tore off the gift-wrap.

  'Don't look at me.' I joked mentally. 'It's coming out of his college fund.'

  'So juvenile.' Viktoriya broadcasted a mental sigh. 'Won't you ever grow up?'

  'No.' I pinged her playfully and immediately felt her exasperation.

  Luckily, Viktoriya's eyes quickly softened when she opened the velvet box.
Inside was a small gold locket. She took it out and examined it carefully.

  "Open it, mom." Milhail said excitedly. "Open it! Open it!"

  Viktoriya's eyes welled up once she did. Inside the locket, a current photo
of Milhail was on one side, while the other had one of him as a baby and being
affectionately kissed by his mother.

  "Do you like it?" he asked shyly.

  "Yes." Viktoriya hugged him tearfully. "Yes, very much. Thank you, Milhail.
Merry Christmas. I love you."

  Milhail beamed proudly as he hugged her back. "Merry Christmas, mama."

  'Merry Christmas, sweetheart.' I thought-spoke. 'Love you much, Vika.'

  'Oh, Stanislav.' Viktoriya was high with emotion. 'Love you much, kisa.'

===============================================================================
  COPYRIGHT: 2010. THIS WORK IS CONSIDERED PRIVATE AND ITS DISTRIBUTION IS 
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             DISTRIBUTION OF THIS DOCUMENT MAY BE CONSIDERED A VIOLATION OF 
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             FINES, INCARCERATION, OR CAPITAL OR OTHER FORMS OF PUNISHMENT.

             PLEASE CHECK WITH YOUR LOCAL LAWS BEFORE CREATING OR DISTRIBUTING 
             OBSCENE AND OBJECTIONABLE MATERIALS.

     AUTHOR: MAXIMILLIAN ZHANG

     EDITOR: FERMAT and VOYER

     E-MAIL: GREY228 [ON] HOTMAIL

===============================================================================
