===============================================================================
  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.

===============================================================================

                               I. See. You.

                               -- Drebin 893 (Metal Gear Solid 4, 2009)

===============================================================================
  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 Chen becomes cognizant of his abilities while still a pre-teen. He
accidentally uses his "gift" to persuade his tutor, an older girl named Janet,
to seduce him. They engage in a secret, furtive relationship for four years
before financial difficulties keep Janet at a distance in college.

  Near the start of his junior year in high school, Stanley meets a young
latent empath named Melanie. While he considers her too young to be
attractive, the girl nonetheless becomes a psychic groupie. At the same time,
Stanley fosters a relationship with two more girls: one his age named
Rachelle, and a younger girl, Shawn, whom he treats with sisterly affection.

  Stanley's time is severely divided among his various interests: love,
academic, family, and otherwise, damaging his academic career and forcing him
into community college. Here, he meets a girl who is equal (perhaps even
greater) in mental powers who finds in him some commonality in lifestyle. As
his first year of college ends, Stanley meets a mysterious man who wields much
knowledge and power in the invisible empire.

===============================================================================
  DARK RECKONING
===============================================================================

  Rachelle lay atop me, her smooth thighs slid enticingly over my crotch,
threatening to draw me out from my trance. I cupped one of her breasts and
slid the length of my hand over her moist clam. She groaned and turned her
head to the side, her lips aching for mine. I obliged her lusts but kept my
inner focus on holding aloft a small barbeque grill outside in the backyard, a
mere ten feet away from where Rachelle and I were making arduous love.

  I would have gladly broadcast my conquest to my bi-curious Cossack cutie, but
her dance practice began in early evening at her new school. Viktoriya
threatened that if I played even one of my mind-pranks on her while she was in
class, she'd break into my house and tear me a new asshole. In any case, it
was the perfect excuse to practice my other exercises.

  My lovely black beauty, Rachelle Elizabeth Hollister, had come back for a
visit to her parents, but she could not stay long. We met and chatted about
our academic lives, then quickly made up for some lost time. However, little
did Rachelle know that I was slowly evolving; after having met Tseng, I felt a
new confidence surge through me as I began pushing the limits of my gifts. I
learned to improve my efficiency and potency, but I also possessed more gifts
than I originally thought I had.

  For example, I didn't know I was a psychokineticist. I found I had affinity
for telekinesis after I met Tseng. He surmises that Viktoriya's proximity may
have triggered my latent gifts. That, or I subconsciously learned from being
with her. In the meantime, the strength of my mental projection increased,
along with my psychic defences. However, my ability to persuade others pretty
much remained unchanged.

  In regards to conversational persuasion, I couldn't tell someone to do what I
wanted off the top of my head, but given enough preparation, I could nudge
someone in the right direction or even induce an itch; it's hard to
concentrate once you're scratching incessantly. As for my gift to persuade
others to not see me, someone who wanted to look for me would eventually find
me. Thankfully, I hadn't given anyone the reason to do so. 

  Tseng found me though. I realized then it didn't matter how powerful I would
be, he was far more powerful than I could imagine. As I entered Rachelle
with my wrapped cock, I found myself distracted as I wondered about my
eccentric mentor.

  I ran through my chat with Tseng again. He had walked with me and asked me
some direct questions: how long had I been using my gifts, where and when did
I use them, and how many girls had I absconded with. I answered his first
questions without aplomb or hesitation, but I took offence at his last
question. Tseng took notice and regarded me with his well trained eyes.

  'You can hide in your self-made harem all you want boy.' His thought-speak
was harsher and louder than his actual voice (which was quite tinny and
unimpressive). 'But what do you think would happen if the families of those
girls get wind of what you've been doing?' His eyes narrowed dangerously as he
went on broadcasting. 'Do you think they would spare you trouble for any of
that?'

  I didn't have an immediate answer ready, so I kept silent. Tseng dug deeper
and discovered my liaisons with Viktoriya and Melanie. The others he dismissed
once he realized they were not exhibiting any tell-tale signs of our gift.
When he explained his hypothesis of Melanie, I heard his tone soften. He
seemed interested in meeting her, but he did not say so.

  "She sounds passive," he said aloud in a hushed voice. "Keep her under
control and she'll die happily as an old woman."

  Tseng spoke normally that time. I suppose as powerful as he was, sometimes
speaking naturally was just that: talking normally. In regards to Viktoriya,
he seemed hesitant. It would be one of the few times he would be at a loss for
words. After I described what I saw her do, Tseng explained she was indeed a
psychokineticist. Possibly a quite powerful one with someone like me in her
proximity.

  "So what am I?" I finally asked.

  "You are a catalyst, Stanley Chen," Tseng turned to face me with a flat, dead
smile. "What powers you have, you piggy-back off others. When you are close to
another of the empire, you both increase in power."

  "Empire?" I blinked, not understanding. "What empire?"

  It was then Tseng revealed the invisible empire and explained the rules of
its citizens: do not reveal the empire or commit to actions that may expose
it; do not interfere with the lifestyle of another subject of the empire, even
if you may disagree with the choice of lifestyle personally; interfere only if
the lifestyle threatens to expose the empire; when required, all citizens of
the empire must unite and quell those who may expose our existence to the
'normal' world.

  To this last rule, Tseng had taken it on himself to seek out "new citizens"
and teach them how to properly use their powers, and with absolute discretion.
At the time, I thought the empire consisted of telepaths like Tseng, Viktoriya
and myself, and the occasional oddity like Melanie; little did I know it
stretched to cover other sorts of weirdness.

  Tseng was certainly unhappy when he heard about my experiments during my last
trip to America's heartland. However, none of that seemed to be too obvious.
He was surprisingly knowledgeable when I described the incident at the
pizzeria.

  "Thankfully, it was taken care of," he said simply.

  I then realized that Tseng (or others like him) had been surreptitiously
shadowing me for some time. I asked how long the empire had been watching me.

  "Long enough," was the answer.

  Tseng seemed to relax as he got the rest of my story. When I finished, he
related an incident when one young fool decided to control a small town; Tseng
confronted and destroyed him, then with a few others, psychically erased the
trauma and physical evidence that the errant telepath had caused.

  "It was a shame," his voice was banal. "He would have been a great citizen,
had he just exercised some self control."

  "You are telling me this why?" I asked.

  "So you do not make the same mistake."

  Then, to demonstrate how he had "neutralized" the problem, Tseng extended his
arm to touch a nearby street lamp. His fingertips barely scratched the surface
but I heard a screech and saw the shavings fall from the metal surface.

  "Discipline and control," Tseng regarded me with his cold dead eyes. "Without
it, you will endanger yourself and the other two as well. 'Normals' --" he
used a term unique in our kind's vernacular, a thought-symbol that combined
the ideas of death, endless torture, and deadly experimentation by faceless
men holding scary instruments, "-- must NEVER know what you are."

  "So you would kill me," I said matter-of-factly. I lowered my voice, "And
Viktoriya." 

  "Yes." His voice held no emotion.

  "Yu-Ching too?" I glared at him. "She's harmless!"

  "One is timid, the other brazen," the gaunt man said. "The little one won't
warrant undue attention unless you cease watching her. Viktoriya can be
dangerous, but she is not foolish. It is not her nature. You found that out
personally."

  My face flushed deep red. Indeed Tseng was right about Viktoriya. She had
been spying on me before I was aware of her. How careless of me! I knitted my
brow with worry.

  "You will keep them under control for your sakes."

  "Why me?" I asked. "You don't even know me."

  "I know you enough that you will keep them docile until you tire of them,"
Tseng spoke of my darlings like disposable luxuries. "Then we shall see."

  "That won't happen," I became defensive.

  Tseng said nothing as we walked on a little more.

  "You can meet them," I relaxed my tone. "Speak to them both as you are doing
now."

  "No." 

  He was firm but offered me no explanation for his refusal. Tseng instructed
me in a way that only a telepath can: with sharp bursts of mental
instructions. While I could withstand thought-speech with Viktoriya, it was
different with Tseng. After a minute, I was dizzy and ill. I had to sit on the
ground to pull myself together. The mysterious man didn't stick around though.
He tersely imparted his message, his lesson, and that was it. When I looked up
again, Tseng had disappeared and in my mind was a singular message:

  'I'll be around.'

  My thoughts drifted back to what I was doing. I ran through the choice bits
of training and simply realized I just needed to practice. Multi-tasking was
what I was working on now. Rachelle was lying under me, her warm body yielded
to the pummeling I was giving her, but I kept concentration on keeping the
grill in the backyard off the ground. Looking back at my meeting with Tseng
was simply another exercise.

  All this was taking a toll on me and I was straining. Rachelle could see me
but didn't understand what I was preoccupied with. She thought I was trying
hard not to cum so she decided to help me along. She entwined her arms around
my neck and drew me down. Rachelle's scent drove me over the edge and I shot
my load. At the same time, I lost my concentration and the grill crashed to
the ground with a clatter.

  "What was that?" Rachelle clutched me tightly.

  Unlike Janet, I brought Rachelle home to meet my parents, especially since
Andrew had met her last year. I introduced her not merely as my old classmate,
but a girl whom I was dating. This gave us some measure of privacy.
Nonetheless, Rachelle was shy about my parents (or worse, both our parents)
walking in on us while we were making the sign of the inverted starfish. Like
Janet, Rachelle learned to be very discreet about our love-making. The loud
clatter in the backyard made her jump.

  "It's probably just a cat," I groaned and ground my hips against hers,
frustrated she had cut short my exercise.

  "You should go check," Rachelle sighed and stroked my back. "You know, just
in case."

  "Yeah," I rolled off her, chucked the condom into the trash, and started
dressing up.

  "Stanley?"

  "Yeah sugar?"

  "Are you still seeing Janet?"

  I looked back at Rachelle. She was sitting upright in my new bed. It was
smaller since I had a drafting table in my room now. This mean when I had a
girl over, I generally slept on the ground afterwards. Rachelle regarded me
with sad, quiet eyes.

  "What do you mean?" I sat next to her. Somehow, this was vaguely familiar. I
had thought I had undergone something similar a year before.

  "I could see it in your eyes," Rachelle cast a downward glance. "And there's
a new picture of her on your desk."

  "Oh." I cursed inwardly.

  Janet had taken a new photo of herself (dressed in a spiffy business suit to
match her new haircut) and Melanie planted the sucker in my room as a
"sisterly" favor. Janet might as well have come into my room and pee'd all
over the place to mark her territory. I looked at Rachelle and explained
myself. I feared I had to relive my fiery argument with Janet all over again,
but to my surprise, Rachelle didn't react as I expected.

  In an ironic twist, she confessed that she had been screwing around down in
L.A. While she flirted with a guy here and there, there was one in particular
who she let him get a little closer. She fucked him a week or so before she
flew back to the city. Ghandia hadn't a clue, or else she would've leaked it
back to Faraz (then back to me) so this was news to me.

  I didn't know if I should act elated or jealous, because frankly, I felt
neither. Rachelle was entitled to do what she wanted with her body. While I
enjoyed my time with her, I hadn't expressly asked for her to be exclusive. In
fact, I had not even thought to bring it up while we were dating. So, I
decided to approach it as gently as I could.

  "Oh sugar," I patted her hand. "That's all right. You had fun and stayed safe
right?"

  Rachelle nodded, her eyes brimming with emotion.

  "I'm sorry about Janet," I said. "But she's a good friend and we always
played safe, as I am with you."

  My black beauty bit her lip and looked so downcast I tried to soothe her.

  "If I hurt you, I'm sorry," I forced myself to smile. "If you can't stand me,
I'll go."

  "I don't know what to say."

  "Well, you always wanted to meet more of my friends right?" I joked despite
the situation. "Even back in school!"

  "Not THOSE kinds of friends." Rachelle made a face then her brow arched as
she realized something. "That girl at the paper --!"

  "Shawn," I put a hand on hers to calm her. "What about her?"

  "Did you?" she glared at me. "And while we --?!"

  "Yes," I confessed. "Her too."

  "God," she inhaled sharply. "This, this is so --!!"

  "Bohemian?"

  Rachelle sniffed. She learned that term when we were watching that episode of
M.A.S.H. one late night. It was the one when Major Winchester fell in love
with the French army nurse. I was taking a humanities course at the time and
was simply excited to have found a usage of the term. My black beauty had
chided me about making television boring by turning it into, "edu-tainment."

  "You know," I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Shawn wanted to get to know
you. I think she admires you."

  Rachelle scoffed and looked at me sternly. "Don't patronize me. I mean, would
you like to meet Craig?"

  "Sure," I shrugged. "If you're okay with it."

  "Stanley, sugar." She stopped and soured; she called me that so often, it
came naturally. "Look, I didn't mean it that way."

  I patted her cheek and gave her an "Eskimo kiss" by touching my nose to hers.

  "Rachelle. We're all adults. Let's not dwell over nothing."

  My mind was both adventuresome and generous, and my spirit was infectious. I
had grown, as did Rachelle. Such pettiness was not worth the strain on either
of us. Soon, I could sense Rachelle let go of her jealousy over Janet as much
as I did over her dalliance with some guy whose name I'd already forgotten. We
stayed like that for some time before we spoke again. 

  "We're going to be late," I kissed her.

  We got dressed and headed out. We were late for Jon-Peter's and Heidi's
official engagement dinner party. To both our credit, Rachelle and I behaved
like adults. Faraz, Ghandia, Jon-Peter's parents, Heidi's parents, and her
brother Patrick were there to hear the good news. Together, Rachelle and I
wished them happiness we both were searching for. It came for us later. Much
later.

===============================================================================
  TASKED TO ASK
===============================================================================

  As my time at community college neared its end, I had the dubious opportunity
to participate in the first of many assignments. The man Tseng had not spoken
to me, physically or otherwise, for some time. Therefore it was very curious
thing that I got a summons in the form of a mental flash. It was a quick and
dirty thing: a still of a building, a clock, a day on the calendar, and then
nothing. 

  Had I been a 'normal', I would have blanked out from the psychic shock. As I
wasn't, I didn't. While I withstood the uninvited telepathy, it was
unexpected, like lightning from a clear blue sky, and I nearly stumbled and
fell. Thankfully, I was not alone. 

  In one of those rare days I had crawled ahead of my studies, I opted to spend
a half day of leisure with two of my treasured darlings: Shawn Ellen Horten,
who was about to graduate high school in a few short months and go onto San
Jose State, and Melanie Chen, who had just celebrated her 13th birthday some
weeks earlier and would soon attend the same middle school as my brother
Andrew.

  Shawn caught me by the arm, eliciting an immediate response from Melanie. I
leaned on both girls and contented to simply sit on the nearest revetment at
the zoo.

  "Are you okay?" Shawn asked.

  I nodded and gave her a pleasant smile. My lovely Anglo angel had lost much
of her baby fat as her body began maturing; however, this did little to change
her kind, thoughtful nature.

  "I'll get you some water," Shawn looked around and spotted a water fountain.
"I'll be right back."

  The psychic disturbance was so startling, I could only nod in silent
agreement. Melanie watched the older girl leave before she knelt before me.

  "Take my drink Stanley," my littlest darling offered up her cup, still
half-full of cherry slushee.

  "I'll do that," I said, "If you cut that out right now."

  Melanie quickly stood back up, still holding her drink before me. Yu-Ching
had gotten into her pretty head that I would be more pleased with her if she
adopted some more submissive positions she'd seen (or gotten hints of) on
Chinese television. Those soap operas set in period China really made an
impression on her. I'd often find Melanie kneeling, sitting, or positioning
herself in a way where she'd have to look up towards me.

  At first, I had gotten a mild kick out of it, as most of the other girls were
nearly at my height (or taller) but soon, I realized she was using that to
actively monopolize my attention (especially when the others were around). I
decided to firmly (but gently) put my foot down, otherwise Melanie's
inhibitions would run out of control.

  Control and discipline. Those words made me gnash my teeth. Tseng's words.
The only other who would be able to think-speak that clearly to me was
Viktoriya, and she knew that I would not be seeing her today. I had told her I
was to be indisposed.

  'Indisposed my ass!' Viktoriya sniffed as she thought-spoke to me on Friday:
'You're planning to take that Exhibitionist-Slut and the Fat-Freckle-Face to
the zoo!'

  My ex-Commie cutie had some rather unkind nicknames for each of my other
darlings. Janet, my devoted First she called Tom-Boy. Doubtless it was derived
from not just her latest hair style (which made her appear like Joan Chen) but
also from her forward nature. After all, Janet was the one who seduced me
years ago.

  Rachelle, the mulatto girl whom everyone else thought I was dating, Viktoriya
had coined Two-Face. This was for her seeing another man when she was away at
college and for her mixed blood. She didn't use that moniker much in my
presence, for I knew she had wanted to make sapphic overtures towards
Rachelle.

  Shawn received the dubious moniker of Fat-Freckle-Face because, according to
Viktoriya, it was my angelic baby girl's plump body that drove me crazy. My
Russian beauty's most vicious barbs though, was retained for a fellow empire
citizen: the latent empath Melanie. She heaped on a different derogatory
epithet each time she'd bring up little Chen.

  While I never thought Viktoriya would never be jealous of my dalliances as I
could be more of hers, my dance-loving darling's comments did give me pause as
I pondered who would've pinged me so strongly. It didn't feel like Viktoriya,
although we could both send something fairly strong and brief without
identifying ourselves in the process. That meant it had to be him.

  Tseng. What the hell did he want? As I sat wondering about the message, Shawn
had come back with a cup of tap water. She saw me me holding Melanie's cup of
crushed ice, my eyes staring at nothing in particular. She sat down beside me
and proceeded to bump me out of my reverie.

  "Hello? Earth to Stanley?" Shawn put her hand gently on my shoulder. "Are you
okay?"

  I nodded as I swapped drinks. "Thank you."

  "Geez," Shawn looked at me with worry, "If you're that tired, you should stay
home and get some rest."

  Melanie puffed up her tiny chest and was about to say something, but I
stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm.

  "I'm all right," I said. "Being cooped up in my room half the time is enough.
C'mon, let's go to the monkey house --" I eyed Melanie "-- or whatever else
you two want."

  "Pandas!" Melanie smiled brightly.

  Shawn grinned, as did I. She was a little more understanding with my
different liaisons than Janet and Rachelle. Perhaps it was because she already
knew I was slamming Rachelle and Janet before we got more intimate. The "other
woman" already knew all the players but she (thankfully) wasn't jealous. I
suppose that was what made our relationship work.

  It was near evening when I headed back home. I wanted to accompany Shawn back
to her place, but she told me it wasn't necessary.

  "I'm a big girl now Stanley," she poked me in the ribs, just as she did when
we were younger.

  I gave her a tender kiss on the forehead before I hopped off the bus with
Melanie. I had to escort her home (likely on pain of death) as I had promised
her folks I'd get her home safe and sound before dinner. Now that her family
knew she was seeing a boy nearly seven years her senior, they wanted to take
no chances; Melanie often had to be home before dark.

  For Yu-Ching, it was a mix of the good and bad. It was good that our
relationship finally saw the light of day, although Melanie tread a very thin
line when her mother and father pressed her for what intimate acts we may have
done together. She held on fast and stuck to the story she and I concocted. It
was a mix of fact and fiction: she had met me as a classmate of Andrew's, and
started hanging around me to learn how to cook.

  After a few impromptu interviews, I got Andrew to cover our story. My
innocent mother (who knew almost all of Andrew's friends) thought something
fishy, but she eventually trusted my brother when he vouched for Melanie's
story. Since my father was generally not home (or asleep) he came to know the
situation only through my mother. He and I had "the talk" and realizing I had
been dating Rachelle until recently, he asked what the hell was wrong with me.


  Luckily, O.J. Simpson provided a good fictitious reason. Rachelle and I both
were in agreement in suspecting the fellow had a guilty conscience (or at
least a lot of knowledge about what happened). However, the case was dividing
L.A. (and the rest of the country) along racial lines. To those who bugged me
about details of why we broke up, I simply hinted O.J.'s trial as a possible
reason. After this, questions about Rachelle were confined to gutter talk and
idle gossip.

  It worked out in the end. This shaky interim arrangement was the reason which
allowed me to take both Melanie and Shawn out for some quiet time.
Unfortunately, it was interrupted quite suddenly and rudely by that damned
Tseng. When I got home, I finally deciphered the mind-message I was sent: I
was to meet someone downtown, next week, sometime around morning (I cannot
give the exact time and place for reasons soon to be evident).

  I silently cursed, because it was during one of my heaviest scheduled school
days. I lay back in my tiny bed and wondered if I should go. What power did
Tseng have anyway to interfere with my life? I decided to ignore it and
concentrate on my studies. No sooner than I settled on that decision when a
powerful thought-symbol came to me: 'No joke.' 'Be there.'

  I cringed and acquiesced to an unwanted invitation. I packed my usual,
thinking it might be a brief meeting, before I went back to class. I hopped
off the bus somewhere in downtown and began walking towards the building I was
supposed to be at. Thankfully, I had not met Viktoriya that day. I found out
later that I had just missed her by a few minutes.

  I soon found the place. It was a huge Federal building, full of clerks,
administrators, and other bureaucratic types. I wondered what to do as I
wandered into the lobby. Tseng came up silently behind me. I didn't know he
was there until I heard him greet me. As I turned, I sensed more instructions
tingling in my mind.

  'Do as I tell you Stanley Chen. We go into the lion's mouth now.'

  We shook hands and he chatted amicably about the weather, the traffic, and
the lousy bus lines as he continued his thought-speak. I came to realize this
was a ruse of some kind. Tseng wanted to show me something. Something that the
'normals' in the building (especially the ones armed with lethal weapons) had
no knowledge of. He continued the tour in thought-speak.

  'I am going to introduce you to a NSA field director.'

  'The NSA?' I wondered as we swept past the security checkpoint to the
elevators. 'Isn't that like the CIA or something?'

  'Something yes. But different.' Tseng pushed the elevator button, and asked
aloud if I like coffee. I demurred with an audible reply.

  'NSA (National Security Agency) does not exist, much like we do not exist.'
He continued showing me around with 'words' only I could hear. 'They conduct
espionage on everyone. Spying. Listening. Eavesdropping.'

  Tseng looked at me. 'Make love to Chen Yu-Ching and they can hear it all.'

  A shock hit my body. What was going on? What was this all about?

  'It is not the girl you should worry about.' He thought-spoke. 'This easily
transcends your indiscretions.'

  I felt my cheeks flush then realized it was foolish. Tseng and I were the
only ones in the elevator. I had not hid my thoughts well.

  'Someone at the agency thinks you may be a handy asset.'

  "What?" I blurted aloud, breaking the physical silence between us.

  Tseng smiled but his attitude was cool. 'Stay silent. I told them you may be
a -- as they term it -- talent.'

  'I thought we weren't supposed to say what we were!' I began casting about
looking for a way out.

  'The empire is safe.' Tseng became thoughtful. 'But that fight you had back
in school didn't escape notice.'

  'You lied.' I stared coldly at him. 'You told me you took care of that. The
records I mean.'

  The elevator's doors opened and we stepped out. I didn't have much choice.

  'The official records yes.' Tseng seemed to utter a sigh. 'But you were
reckless. Do you remember the girl in Utah?'

  It was my turn to be thoughtful. Finally, I replied. 'I think so.'

  'She was cattle of another citizen.' The old man stopped to drink at a water
fountain.

  'Oops.' I didn't realize I had trespassed into another telepath's domain.

  'You were reckless.' Tseng repeated and resumed walking. 'But Lillian was
both reckless and careless. From the faint telepathic imprint you left, she
began looking through government databases for someone like you instead of
going through more subtle channels.'

  'Government databases?' I asked as we shuffled down the hall at a slow pace.
'I don't get it. Who's Lillian?'

  'Someone you do not need to worry about.' His empty and hollow tone hinted at
her fate.

  'So what now? You're going to shove me off the building?' I peered around and
asked aloud, "How high are we?"

  "Seventy eight stories," Tseng answered in his tinny voice to my audible
question. He fell back to thought-speech immediately.

  'If I wanted to kill you, I would have not approached you before witnesses.
Now listen carefully.' We stopped at the end of the hall and Tseng knocked
lightly on the door. 'Certain elements of the agency believe there are
telepaths in the world. This, for all intents and purposes, will be true.'

  I eyed him warily as I examined the room we entered. Two men were immediately
visible in the middle of the room. A suited man with short black, curly hair
sat at one end of a plain metal prison table. The fellow's huge face and bulk
were evident despite his sitting position. Tseng in the meantime, seemed to
hurry along his briefing.

  'What they do not know, and SHOULD NOT KNOW,' he emphasized quickly with his
thought-speech, 'Is how many of us there are; that we are organized; that we
know probably more than they know.'

  Jesus Christ, I thought. This was turning out to be quite a day. 

  The big fellow looked like he could've stood twice as tall as I when
standing. The second man was not nattily dressed. I suppressed a smile. That
was the word Janet had used when she wanted to remake my wardrobe after things
had come to a head. Nattily. Ha-hah. But enough of that; I pushed that memory
away and focused on the second man. The first man, I knew, was with NSA.

  'Should even a hint of the empire escape your lips,' Tseng motioned to the
big agency man. 'He, you, and everyone else on this floor will be killed by
me. No one will escape alive. Think of your darling women, before you say
anything foolish.'

  'If I am not sure?' I wondered.

  'Then ask.' Tseng's mind-tone was annoyed but firm. 'I am right here,
Stanley. Keep your questions to me on our level and only write your answers
out to them; don't speak unless you need to. They can collect your DNA from
your spit. Think before you ask.' 

  I chilled inwardly but did not express it. It was the same life lesson my
mother had imparted to me daily until I reached middle school. Tseng must've
dug that out from my memories of old.

  I examined the second man. He was wearing a sloppy shirt, ripped jeans, and
if he hadn't stank terribly, I would've been at least more amicable. I
couldn't see much of his face, since he wore a black blindfold. Duct tape was
wound tightly around his blindfold and his hands were cuffed behind the back
of the chair. His mouth was gagged as well.

  The room looked empty and dark, but I immediately sensed that there were more
people apart from the two men, Tseng, and myself in the room. Armed men. I
could sense their thoughts: danger, weapons at the ready, a danger in the
room. But what was the danger? Was it the restrained man or me? I could not
tell.

  The burly agent stood and extended a hand toward Tseng. It was then I noticed
Tseng wore black leather gloves on both hands. He had not bothered in our
meetings before, but neither did he shake my hand. It must be the physical
contact, I realized.

  Tseng and the NSA man shook once. The agent towered over Tseng, but size
meant little. I knew Tseng would keep his word with his threat. I extended my
hand towards the big man, but he sat down without taking it; Tseng gently
slapped my arm down.

  Fuck, I blinked. These guys knew! Or Tseng must've told them. I broke into a
sweat, trying to figure what lame brained excuses I need to come up with. My
abilities, my applications of them, and the girls I had been mixing company
with. I soured as I noticed that the big man passed a slip of paper towards
Tseng and me.

  The note read: SORRY ABOUT THE HANDSHAKE, BUT YOUR FRIEND HAD WARNED US IT
COULD BE DANGEROUS. MY NAME IS BRIAN COX.

  Brian Cox. No identifying agency, no title. All hush-hush. A pencil came
across with a blank notepad. I flicked my eyes at the imprisoned man then at
Cox. He put a finger to his lips. I glanced at Tseng and heard his
instructions.

  'Go introduce yourself, Stanley. The man needs at least a first name to call
you by.'

  I began writing on the pad and Tseng continued: 'Remember they can run your
fingerprints through CODIS or any of the local hospitals and find out who you
are. If you weren't in a database, they will have your prints if you don't
take what you touch.'

  I wrote in block-print: MY NAME IS STANLEY.

  Then as if to keep my identity a secret, I kept my pencil and held the pad up
so Cox could read it, but not keep the paper pad. Another suited man stepped
out of the shaows and placed a second notepad and pencil in front of Cox. He
scribbled for a little while and held up his pad.

  He had written: TSK-TSK. TSENG JUST TOLD YOU ABOUT THE FINGERPRINTS NO?
HA-HA. WE NEED YOU TO READ THIS GUY'S MIND. CAN YOU DO THAT?

  I squinted at the pad, my eyes working over time. Cox had lousy hand-writing.
I repressed a natural desire to take Cox's pad and hold it close to my face.
That meant leaving DNA everywhere.

  I pointed to the blind-folded hick and Cox nodded. I stood, careful that I
didn't touch the table, and using a handkerchief Janet had gifted me one year
to wipe down the spots I placed my hand on my chair. Cox knitted his brow as
he watched me try to frustrate him and the agency.

  Not that it would matter, I thought glumly. He could just tail me and get my
address. Heck, I couldn't even stop a fifteen year-old high school girl (Shawn
Ellen!) from from digging up my locator card, or her friend (Ashley, that
bitch!) from spying on me, what chance did I have against a government agency
that focused on spying?

  I walked next to the restrained man and he seemed to sense I was there. He
craned his head around, trying to find out what was going on. He tried to
struggle but I could see how his arms and legs were retrained to the chair,
and the chair was chained tightly to hooks embedded in the carpeted floor.

  Up 'til now I had only read the mind of close friends, family and girls who
interested me. I hadn't read the mind of a stranger yet, so I was anxious.
Tseng seemed to have sensed it too because he thought-spoke one final bit of
advice.

  'Just grab his surface thoughts Stanley. Don't dig deep. You won't expose
your identity if you keep it brief. We don't want to tip our hand.'

  Actually, I didn't even need to touch the man to read him, but I sensed that
Cox was wondering how I would handle things. So, why not put on a show? I had
read most of the man's identity, his address, his current thoughts already, so
I didn't need to do more. However, I brushed my fingertip against the man's
grimy forehead as if I needed to do that for my gifts to work. He quickly
snapped his head around, straining violently against his restraints. I jumped
back with a shout and in an instant, I saw four more suited men, each armed
with mean looking machinepistols level their weapons at us.

  "Don't move," one of them said.

  I wasn't sure if he meant me or the prisoner until the bound man sagged and
remained still. I breathed a little easier then. All this time, Tseng didn't
move an inch but Cox had raised his hands, keeping order. He glanced at me and
held up his pad.

  ARE YOU OKAY?

  I quickly (but neatly) wrote on my pad: HIS NAME IS JACKSON DAVIES ...

  I wrote out almost every facet of the man's life from the mind scan I
performed, right down to the guy's social security number, date of birth, and
the last four addresses he lived at. Cox read my pad, glanced at the prisoner,
and brought out his mobile phone. He speed-dialed a number, the tones beeped
too fast for me to tell what for, and the next thing I knew, a thin, sandy
haired fellow stepped out from the shadows.

  Strange, I thought. I hadn't sensed him in the room before. The newcomer
shifted his gaze from Cox then to me and lastly settled on Tseng. Instantly, I
felt the anger and loathing.

  "What's he doing here?" he asked. I noticed how relatively young he was. He
appeared to be a few years older than Janet.

  "How's the foot?" Tseng spoke aloud. He sounded smug. Hell, he looked smug. I
flicked my eyes from him to the newcomer. I kept silent, unsure of what I had
walked into.

  "How's the pet?" the newcomer sneered.

  Tseng's face twitched but he didn't move. I knew if he wanted to, he could've
killed anyone else who was that insolent. Cox motioned towards Tseng and he
stood to leave. Tseng bade me to follow and I did. We both headed outside and
shut the door behind us.

  "Tell me what the hell just happened," I asked once we were in the elevator.

  "Later." Tseng kept silent through the lift ride down to the building parking
lot. He showed me to his car, a Volvo sedan painted in a glossy jet black.

  "You need a ride back to school, yes?" he asked.

  I nodded and got in.

  "That was Brian Cox," Tseng spoke once we were both in his car. He removed
his gloves and started the car, "And it's generally a safe thing to keep quiet
in the presence of the agency."

  "What the hell was all that?" I asked. "That last guy didn't seem to happy to
see you."

  "That was David Reese," Tseng said simply. "If you see him again, pay
attention to his right foot."

  "His foot?" I wrestled my oversized backpack onto my lap. "How come?"

  "Because it's a prosthetic."

  "Oh." If my curiosity was evident, Tseng took no notice. He did explain that
Brian Cox had contacted him about me. Cox had asked Tseng if I, Stanley Chen,
was a telepath, and seeing no real out, decided to sic the agency on me.

  "It is a calculated risk you understand," Tseng explained, "To reveal just
enough to shake them from the rest of the empire."

  "Won't we get into trouble for this?" I asked. "What about other telepaths?"

  "They should be so content," Tseng snapped unkindly. "They will not have to
deal with issues you will eventually face."

  "Why me?" I whined, "What'd I do that anyone else wouldn't have?"

  "You're disruptive to be sure," Tseng kept talking but his attention was
focused solely on the road, "But you also have integrity."

  "What?"

  "Integrity," Tseng went on. "Do you know what generally happens when a boy
your age gets his gifts?"

  I stalled for an answer. "Uh ... no?"

  "He proceeds to mind-wipe every female he sees to satisfy his immediate
lusts. Teachers, students, girls ---" Tseng gave me a sharp mental "prick" as
if to say: Pay attention!

  "In some cases," he continued, "They start incestuous relationships with
their mothers and sisters then cascade it to their daughters and
granddaughters."

  I stayed silent but my mind kept churning. I wanted to ask Tseng more, like
what he meant by keeping his presence unknown to Melanie and Viktoriya.

  "It simply is unsustainable," Tseng said coldly. "Imagine a man with no
training apart from using his mind to sate his basest desires. All of his
women -- or in some cases -- other men, enslaving themselves to his whim. The
Russian --" Tseng had mentioned his mysterious adversary when we first met,
"-- promoted this idea. It lead to pogroms and many deaths."

  "So why me?" I asked.

  "You Stanley," Tseng answered simply, "Don't press your gifts."

  "How do you mean?"

  "You do not wholly impose your will on them," he explained. "You do your best
to persuade them but ultimately, you give them a choice to stay or go, as they
want."

  "Tell that to Melanie." I said it aloud before I knew it.

  "She is loyal to you," he said, "So long as you give her joy."

  "Speaking of Melanie," I pressed for an answer, "Why don't you want her or
Viktoriya to know about you?"

  The man's response was sly. "It would be best not to; you might find things
difficult."

  "What can be more difficult than working with the NSA?"

  Tseng didn't answer, and his mind was blank to me. I had to remain satisfied
with an answer I may never know. We arrived at City College and he stopped the
car at the bus station at the corner.

  "I will speak to Cox about you," Tseng said. "The fool has it in his mind to
create some talent-laden team of operatives like a goddamned Saturday morning
cartoon or comic strip."

  "You mean like the X-men?" I asked, "Or the Justice League?"

  "Yes, if you think of it like that," Tseng registered disgust. "But don't get
too ahead of yourself. This isn't fiction."

  "Is it safe?" I wondered aloud.

  "Is it safe to subject your will to the whims and desires of another with no
interest in your welfare?"

  I sat, lost in thought long enough for Tseng to answer rhetorically.

  "You and I have vested interest in our empire, because we are part of it," he
said slowly. "Why should we enthrall ourselves to others when we have the
power?"

  "How'd you know Cox?" I asked.

  "It was not mutual," Tseng said simply. "And it was before your time."

  I was ready to exit the car when he interrupted me.

  "Wait," he said. "Open the glove compartment."

  I did and found a small red tin with its top etched with the design of a
traditional Chinese red envelope. Red envelopes or red packets were used to
contain paper money, which were then given to honored guests and close family
and friends during festivals, important dates, and Lunar New Years.

  "What's this?" I asked. The tin felt very heavy.

  "This is only fair," Tseng said. "I asked you to reveal yourself to the
agency. You should be recompensed for your trouble. Take it."

  I pulled off the tin's lid and my eyes bugged out. "Holy shit."

  "It's bad form to do that," Tseng sounded annoyed but he was practical about
it. Like me, he knew of tradition, but didn't hold it as dogma. "Fifteen
thousand U.S. One hundred-fifty $100 bills. Clean, sequential, and, for you,
legitimate."

  "Uh, thanks?"

  I was astounded. $15,000 for a quick meeting and me doing something I didn't
need school for? Quick! Where do I sign up? If I was making dough from just
mind-scanning, why was I in school? I closed the lid, got out of the car, and
Tseng drove off without a word.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- A NEW UNIVERSITY
===============================================================================

  After two years of community college, I was ready to transfer to a new
university to finish my undergraduate degrees. Transferring college credits
from one to another was a bureaucratic nightmare then as it is today. A school
would require classes to fulfill its own program requirements that would not
be transferrable to a different school (which imposed its own class regimen). 

  It didn't help as I attempted this business around the time Affirmative
Action in the state of California was being slowly withdrawn. All this because
Affirmative Action had led to "reverse discrimination" where students of Asian
descent began overtaking students of other ethnicities in CTBS and SAT test
scores and taking up valuable openings in prestigious schools, especially in
the University of California.

  I had completed nearly 160 units of college work in order to transfer 120 of
them to my new digs: Viktoriya's school. The Berkeley campus at the University
of California was indeed the home of a lot of kooks, radicals, and crackpots,
but it was also a campus that was close to home. Attending school out of state
was out of the question for the Brothers Chen; it was either a school in the
state or awards or scholarships, but neither Andrew or I earned high enough
points for either privilege.

  Janet's family was rich so she was able to go to Chicago for school. When she
opted to continue her education, she was smart enough to win scholarships for
the college of her choice (Stanford or UCLA). I wasn't sure how Rachelle's
family could send her to live and study down in Los Angeles, but I suppose
she, Ghandia, and Heidi had worked something out. They were, after all, the
best of friends.

  Ghandia was at UCLA keeping Rachelle company whereas Heidi was in San Diego
(or Irvine, I forget which). Faraz stuck to State University and got a
fruitful internship at a trading firm working the Pacific Stock Exchange. This
he was able to parlay to a position working with another company at the New
York Stock Exchange.

  But back to lil' old me. Well, me and Viktoriya. 

  It was happy coincidence that she and I now often commuted together on the
same train after my transfer. I never realized it 'til recently, but she had a
deep seated fear we'd never see one another again. Since we started classes
around the same time, we generally caught the same train to campus. Sometimes
we'd miss one another (but not often) since there was some leeway in our
schedules.

  Half the time we'd be on the same bus as well. We didn't need to share seats
on a bus to enjoy our company, not with our constant mind-chatter, but during
the longer train ride, we'd slump against each other and catch a few more
minutes of sleep. Viktoriya would bid me goodbye at the south entrance of
campus and go off on her own.

  Unfortunately, I generally could not ride back with Viktoriya, as I was
pursuing some extra course work. This extended my schedule late into the night
and left me with little choice but to pack a whole day's worth of food along
with clothing, books, and supplies. I was simply a pack mule. Every day, I
marched uphill across the campus. I was tuckered out physically and mentally,
so much so that I often became curt and terse in my communication. Not even
Melanie could abide my presence after a while; she learned to tip-toe around
me when I could tolerate her visits.

  Here at Berkeley, the workload intensified to a level I wasn't accustomed to.
Viktoriya's pragmatism and single-minded dedication saved me. When I was
horny, I'd contact her by thought-speak or mind-sight. She'd knew to meet me
for lunch and jerk me off; on her days off, she would stretch and dance nude
in her room (or clothed in the studio) and let me watch her with mind-sight. I
got the distinct feeling she liked being watched.

  As for herself, Viktoriya simply used a technique I recognized: masturbation.
Unlike a 'normal' woman though, she was able to "roll" her gift inside her
vaginal cavity. While fingering her clit, she was able to stroke her
Grafenberg spot with telekinesis. She was able to cum in nearly any position,
though she confided she favored sitting down.

  So whenever she'd get that glassy-eyed look while sitting on the train or
bus, it was basically Viktoriya jerking off in public. I doubted any 'normal'
could beat that.

  I wasn't so daring; I just wanted more sleep. I slept when I could, but the
amount of work from my design studios was compounded when I took extra
computer and electrical and mechanical engineering courses to achieve my
choice of a major and minor. I was operating on nearly 17+ units of work each
semester and completely wiped out.

  The summer months no longer meant I had time for my darlings. While I had
been taking summer classes before, I did not take the maximum allowed until
after my transfer. In my rampant pursuit of two majors, I was working myself
dead tired. While I was physically exhausted, I was still mentally alert so I
eschewed vacation. Summer courses were great for knocking out my general
education requirements.

  Everyone's reaction was mixed: my parents were delighted, although it was an
extra expense for them. Faraz was too busy working at his father's service
station to do much else but spend what little time he could with Ghandia. He
did sound impressed enough to encourage me. Rachelle reluctantly understood
and began seeing more of Craig.

  Viktoriya knew what I was up to without me physically telling her. Our
mind-sight and thought-speak were more useful when communicating and our
understanding went beyond spoken words. In fact, she wanted to finish school
as fast as I so she could graduate to advance studies in dance. 

  Janet was as busy as the other two girls; her acceptance into law school and
a part-time position at the San Francisco City and County civil court kept her
busy. Nonetheless, she was proud of me, and let me know of it despite her
frantic schedule. 

  Shawn and Melanie were two different types of disappointment: Shawn grew
miffed at my absences and went out with Scott from the paper a few times; it
was to rile jealousy in me that I didn't foster. We did make up eventually; I
saw her when I could, and attended to her at her Winter Ball and several other
dances (including both her junior and senior proms). Scott eventually dated
(of all people) Ashley.

  Then one weekend, Shawn Ellen helped me with a project on-campus when I
needed an extra pair of hands in a studio; it was pretty eye-opening for her.
So much so, she decided on pursuing systems engineering at San Jose State. As
for her friend Ashley, they pretty much grew apart. I heard nothing of Ashley
from Shawn once I left for college; I could only assume Shawn and she kept in
touch intermittently afterwards.

  Melanie was a little more troublesome, and she doted on me. She was eager to
spend her summer with me, until I begged off, feigning illness. However, my
mental defences proved fairly ineffective against my little darling. All I did
was piss her off. Little Chen did not appreciate it that I was lying to her
face. She made me her pet project, and began showing up with little dishes of
dumplings or soup or other food she cooked. To placate her, I ate what I could
and packed the leftovers for lunch.

  My little darling picked up what I was doing and began adapting to my
schedule. Since I ate my food cold or at room temperature, Melanie would make
two different meals. I finally devoted a few hours each weekend to do grocery
shopping with her. We'd come back to my place and we'd learn to cook; what I
didn't take along or kept, Melanie took home. 

  Her parents got curious about her activities, and I was eventually forced to
tell them what we were doing -- well, I told them a sanitized version of what
we were doing. Thankfully, they were accepting of me and my interest in their
only daughter. The Chens were traditionalists (which could have explained
their emigration from China) and were copacetic in betrothing her to a
determined, and up and coming, fellow like myself. 

  Mrs. Chen (Melanie's mother not mine) also didn't look too bad herself. Oh
she had a few dings here and there, but she wasn't ugly. I silently thanked
the powers that be; Melanie would probably look like her in 30-some years.

  Despite the combined affection of my darlings, by the time of my graduation
in 1997, I was a gaunt, hollowed fellow with two degrees: environmental design
(useless without the Master's degree in design) and computer science as a
minor. I hadn't achieved my lofty goal of making killer robot houses yet, and
I felt I had yet a long way to go.

  Still, drafting and modeling on a computer the rest of my life wasn't
something I envisioned doing, even if it paid a ton of money. I was at a loss
of what to do next when my parents decided to send me on a little trip abroad.

===============================================================================
  HONG KONG HONEY
===============================================================================

  I had literally sequestered myself for four straight years in a routine that
even precluded me from every activity save practicing my gifts on a reduced
basis, I was "awarded" with a much deserved trip to Hong Kong to celebrate my
graduation. I would've very much liked to have celebrated by proposing to
Janet instead. But with my choice of graduate schools in limbo and my
deteriorated health, I understood the need for a vacation.

  As it turned out, it wasn't all free. There was a price to pay: my family was
coming along. It was akin to the family trips we had taken years before,
except now I was going to be as harried and stressed out in a different
country. That year was a little different as well, as it was 1997. Hong Kong
was preparing for its celebration for transferring itself from the British
Empire back to the government in Peking.

  My father had managed to mix business with pleasure by taking my grandmother
along. He wanted to witness the hand-over ceremony personally but chaperoned
his mother to make sure she was okay. My grandmother was a vindictive woman.
She was apparently one of the causes for my parents' estrangement when I was
younger. However, her time was nearing its end. She wanted to visit family
before she kicked the bucket.

  My mother of course, had other plans. Her family was better off than my
father's, and she intended to stay with her family in Kowloon. This of course,
left Andrew and me to decide whom to stay with. It was very much like the
separation before Andrew was born, and I did not like it one bit. Andrew was
closer to mother, so he opted to stay with her.

  I was plain disgusted with how the trip was turning out; I had thought my
vacation would be off to a good start. Apart from being able to attend
Viktoriya's graduation as a "close friend" (her parents were thankfully
ignorant to what we had been doing, once even on their bed), Faraz had told me
he made plans to propose to Ghandia once I got back from Hong Kong.

  It was good news. Good enough that Rachelle called me once the rumor started
going around. That night, Faraz and I had plenty of drink and smoked our last
cigarettes.

  "I tell Ghandia I quit," he said in his clipped English. "I make good on my
promise now."

  I crushed my pack in support and we caroused like brothers. I barely managed
to make it home in time to catch the shuttle to the airport. Both of my
parents were not too happy about my condition, but understood my intent. So,
why didn't my parents understand one another?

  Aunt Hortense came to the rescue. Hortense was my mother's half-sister. My
grandfather was what one would call a bigamist, although it was not outlawed
in the British colonies. Aunt Hortense was a spinster and lived alone in a
high-rise condo (the standard residence in Hong Kong). Since she lived alone,
other relatives often dropped by to visit and to use her condo instead of
staying at a hotel. That was exactly what I would be doing, except Aunt
Hortense was freely offering to lodge me.

  So it was decided: my father stayed with his mother in Hong Kong, my mother
and Andrew with other family in Kowloon, and I with Aunt Hortense. Normally,
everyone would be able to stay in one place or another,  but there was another
reason why my aunt couldn't take in more guests, and her name was Aurora Kwong.

  In the West, she was what you'd call a "first cousin" (more specifically
half-first-cousin since she was descended from my other maternal grandmother,
but we discount that in our genealogy). However, in China, where the surname
is the only thing that mattered (not necessarily genealogical lineage), Aurora
was my bieu-mui (or bieu-jie, if she was older, but she wasn't) and not my
tong-mui (or tong-jie, again if she had been older than me).

  Being my "bieu-sibling" meant essentially that she did not share my family
name of Chen.** That also meant if we were so inclined, we could've married
(legally) in Hong Kong and marked her off as my spouse on my income tax form.

  [** AUTHOR'S NOTE: Careful readers will no doubt have noticed that Melanie
and I appear to share the same last name, 'Chen'. This is simple coincidence
in the Anglicized spelling. In Melanie's case, her last name is homonymous
with the word 'full on' or 'complete' but means something else (and drawn
differently, you'd have to ask her). Some families have opted to spell it as
"Jun" or "Chun". My family's last name is homonymous with 'dust'; in fact, it
is simply an anthropomorphized version of the same character. To Western ears,
it would be unseemly for a man and woman to marry with the same last names,
but in our system, our last names clearly mark us from different families, so
we wouldn't have babies with two heads.]

  Despite my weariness from my long flight and my parents' vacuous argument, I
admired her figure as I stumbled wearily into Aunt Hortense's condo. Aurora
had arrived a few days earlier, on a sight-seeing vacation of her own (she had
just graduated high school) but was coerced into staying with my Aunt Hortense
by her father (who was Hortense's older full brother) since she was not
chaperoned.

  That turned out to be a poor decision by Uncle William. Aurora was slim and
spry. Her skin was olive and glossy from sweat in the hot Hong Kong night.
Long jet-black hair came down to her ass, like a smooth satin scarf. Her years
spent living in New Jersey had made her into an "East Coast" American, but
nonetheless Cantonese when it came to family. I barely noticed her dark
sloe-eyes following me as I acknowledged her. 

  I dropped my luggage off in the second guest room but came back out to say
goodnight. It was 5 p.m. local time, but 3 a.m. my time. I was running on
fumes and nodding off. I exchanged simple pleasantries with Aurora and Aunt
Hortense then sought to retire. By sheer accident, I shook the girl's hand
first. I should've remained fully awake and in full control of my psychic
faculties until I was alone, but I was honestly half asleep.

  Before I knew it, I had let slip to Aurora's mind what I wanted to do with
her small mouth. My bieu-mui's eyes went wide and I quickly kicked my mental
discipline into high gear. Never had I snapped awake so suddenly to regain
control of my overflowing id. Aurora quickly excused herself to the washroom
after shaking my hand. Thankfully, I was in full control of my faculties when
I bade my Aunt Hortense a goodnight. Already worn from my studies, my trip,
and my accidental "slip-up", I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  If you've been to Florida or the Caribbean in the summer, when the days are
hot and the nights are muggy and hot, you've pretty much discovered Hong Kong
(except Florida has lots of old white people instead of old Chinese people).
Everyone wore short sleeves and shorts when possible, and since the climate
conditions are near constant (hot and humid or hot and dry) people have
learned to use air-conditioning or fans non-stop. If you went out into a
rainstorm during the day, you wouldn't feel a chill; the raindrops felt just a
shade cooler than your body temperature.

  The heat was the principal reason (aside from the overcrowding in the
residential buildings) that people in Hong Kong bring their daily lives into
the streets, recreation centers, or shopping malls. The presence of industrial
strength air-conditioning in those facilities were the bait to lure consumers.
All this of course, eats up a ton of dough, hence most inhabitants are
constantly on a go-go-go attitude with profit-making and making senseless
comparisons of material wealth: clothing, mobile phones, jewelry, servants,
and what-have-you, all for the sakes of profit and progress.

  Initially, I was led around by family to meet distant relatives: uncles,
aunts, cousins, grand-uncles and aunts, grandparents, old household servants
(who became friends), close co-workers, and friends of friends. Intermixed
between all these visits were short, impromptu tours of odds and ends:
Buddhist temples, art galleries, Taoist shrines, museums of science and
technology, Ocean Park, landmark buildings, Victoria Harbor, Admirality, and
Tsim Sha Tsui (this was before Sumjun became developed). 

  Aurora went along the first two days after my arrival (she hadn't gotten
around much) and it was convenient for her to ride along in the same cab or
car. By day three though, Aurora said she had made plans to tour a little on
the mainland, dai-luk* [* Cantonese: Big Green; a moniker for mainland
China.], which was cause for some concern.

  Uncle Bill definitely had not allowed for it, although he was simply passing
responsibility to his sister Hortense. Both Aunt Hortense and my mother didn't
think it was a good idea. Aurora was unhappy but refused to change her mind.

  "It's only sam-yut-liang-man*!" [* Cantonese: Three days, two nights.] 

  She was practically shouting. Aurora wasn't very demure in some instances.

  "No," Aunt Hortense was firm, her English having the clip of a British nanny.
"Your father said no and I promised him to keep you safe."

  "You can go with me," Aurora begged. "I'll even treat you!"

  "wo-yiu-fan-kung Kwong-xiao-jie*," [* Cantonese: I need to go to work Miss
Kwong-as-lady-of-the-house (sarcasm).] Hortense said acidly. "Plus, I already
took vacation to keep you company."

  "How about you auntie?" Aurora implored my mother.

  "I came to see grand-ma-ma and keep my family company. And it is storm
season," my mother was just as firm. "What if something should happen to you?
What do we say to your parents?"

  Aurora wasn't about to give up so easily.

  "Stanley bieu-guo*!" My cousin brightened. "He can chaperone me!" [*
Cantonese: Older male cousin who is not of the same surname.]

  "What?" I nearly walked into the door of my room. That was the first I heard
of it.

  Both mother and Aunt Hortense treated Aurora like a little kid, but she was
clearly not taking no for an answer. She had signed up the first chance she
got and joined a tour. After a few minutes of arguing, my mother took me aside
and asked me if I wanted to go. I wasn't adventuresome, but I was feeling
tired of having people push me around. I was also apprehensive. The handover
was to occur in the next few days. If there was violence, I didn't want to be
there. 

  But lastly, there was something about Aurora's suggestion struck me as an
opportunity. After a minute or so of hesitation, I accepted. I quickly packed
a few days' worth of clothing and as many changes of underwear I could carry.
I wish I could've brought more, but I couldn't fit it all in.

  The next day, Aurora and I found ourselves at a bus station in Hong Kong. The
tour was a trashy affair, but the bus was cushy and comfortable. It was
air-conditioned so well, I felt cold the first time since I arrived. Aurora
was so excited, she didn't feel it. She offered her coat and, having little
choice, I took it.

  "Thanks for coming, Stanley." She finally got settled in her seat long enough
to hold a conversation.

  "Yeah don't mention it." I felt my eyes droop. It wasn't that late, but I had
yet to acclimatize myself to the local time.

  "You haven't 'kowed-jung*' huh?" Aurora patted my hand. [* Cantonese:
Adjusted your internal body clock to the local time zone.]

  I chuckled and shook my head. I wanted to just lay back and take a nap.

  "Wake me when we get there okay?" I yawned. "We don't want to get separated."

  "We won't," she said. Then, "I'll wake you."

  I caught about a minute of sleep before someone was shaking me awake.

  "Stanley? Stanley! Stanley!!"

  I snapped awake, bleary-eyes and a little disoriented.

  "What? What is it?" Had we arrived already?

  "Look!" she pointed.

  I followed Aurora's finger and saw that our bus was chugging up a rough hill.
Past the window, the big green expanse of China's coastal fields were marred
by the new construction of urban dwellings on its shores. The grasses that
weren't cut were pressed flat to the ground by the wind.

  "Lovely," I settled back.

  I dared a glance at Aurora and saw her eyes shining with joy as she took in
the breadth and depth of our ancestral home. It was now I had a private moment
to inspect my cousin closely. She was a thin, delicate little thing; clearly
she took after her mother (who was also very petite) and not my Uncle Bill.
Her jet black hair was so long, she had swept it forward, over one of her bare
shoulders so it rested on her lap.

  My eyes followed her skinny arms and noticed that she was clutching her hands
together. I peeked into her mind quickly and sensed her body starting to feel
cold.

  Silly girl, I shrugged off the coat she had gallantly given me. I startled
Aurora a bit when I draped the coat back over her bare shoulders. She turned
her head and saw what I was doing.

  "Aren't you cold?" she asked me.

  "I'll manage," I said with bravado.

  "Don't be a dummy," Aurora batted her eyes at me. "I can warm up by resting
against the window."

  I reached over to feel the window and found it was sizzling. When I drew
back, my skin was red but there weren't blisters.

  "You didn't have to to that," my cousin winced. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah," I scratched my hand. "Just keep the coat. Shouldn't be too long
right?"

  "Well," she tugged the coat slighty. "Okay."

  The bus ride was just a little longer than I expected. Aurora and I chatted
in low voices. We talked about school, or her upcoming life in college. I
didn't think I had much to talk about, but my cousin was inquisitive and
bugged me as incessantly as Melanie would. I learned she was studying business
or law and had not nary a clue of what she might wind up doing. I didn't have
much faith in system-savvy architecture, but I told her about my area of
study.

  Before we knew it, it was almost dark. We didn't disembark until early
evening (late afternoon) and found that all the clocks in China shared the
same time as Peking. Hence, the first day of our tour was pretty much set.
We'd be able to spend a day in the city then be ready to go back to our folks
the day after. That was tour she had signed up for. I shook my head. Stupid
girl. What a waste of time.

  Aurora seemed to realize that and made an effort not to waste any of it. Once
we arrived at the hotel, she threw down her bag and almost dashed out the
door. I stopped her just before she cleared the threshold. I took as many
travel precautions (hiding money, securing our passports, etc.) as I could
before stepping out with her. The tour was going to take the group around the
city the next day, but there was (fortunately) a way to opt out; so long as we
were at the hotel lobby on the third day, we'd be picked up and accounted for.

  That suited my lovely cousin just fine. Aurora impatiently dragged me through
as many stalls and shops as she could find. There was a light drizzle and a
moderate wind, but it didn't faze either of us. She'd poke her pretty head
into street stalls and sidewalk vendors to check out their wares. We tried
different bites of food, about a hundred different pieces tacky jewelry (well,
Aurora did anyway), scores of hats and sunglasses, and eye-balled about a
hundred more knick-knacks and tourist trophies. My cousin also took plenty of
pictures with her digital camera.

  By midnight, we were spent. I never realized that vacations could tire me
out. I slumbered rather late and didn't get up until noon the next day. I
found Aurora up and moping by the window.

  "I'd thought you'd be out already." I stopped my kidding around when I heard
the deep rumbling of wind outside the room. I peered outside and there seemed
to be a sudden squall off the coast. 

  "I think it's a tropical storm," Aurora said glumly. "Both auntie Hortense
and Aileen (my mother) were right."

  "Ah don't worry," I stood beside her. "Hungry?"

  "Not really," she replied lazily.

  I rose and brushed my fingertips across her bare shoulder. I felt a slight
tingle and heard her expel breath. I felt her mind, sensed her frustration and
lack of a suitable outlet. Aurora had boundless energy, but had no method to
expend it. I peeked a little deeper into her. It was not so much that she'd
realize I was intruding but just enough to I could get a more in-depth look of
my cousin.

  Aurora was the oldest in a family of two children. Like me, she had a younger
brother (Daryl) who was a shade younger than Andrew. She had attended private
schools that my Uncle William and his wife (Regina) could afford. Growing up
in the upper-classed districts of New Jersey, Aurora was pampered but had a
taste for excitement. Bad boys, minor substance abuse, and breaking curfew
were as far as she'd dare go; risking any more would've meant ignoble
expulsion from the family, or even incarceration. My cousin wanted thrills but
she wasn't foolish.

  That last personal fact shed light on another part of Aurora. No risk meant
abstinence. Aurora was as smart as Janet, but hadn't gone the route of
masturbation. It surprised me a little, since it seemed the most natural
course to follow. A lithe, pretty, and petite Chinese virgin was in the room
with me and all I could do was stand stupidly behind her wondering about food.
It reminded me of the silly thoughts I had when entertaining Janet or Melanie.

  Unconsciously, I began to treat my lovely cousin like one of my cherished
darlings. Aurora's body shuddered as I traced my fingers from her shoulders to
the base of her delicate, swan-like neck.

  "Oh ... my ... gawd," Aurora turned to look up at me. "What the hell was
that?!"

  "Sorry," I drew back with an apologetic look. "You just remind me of a girl I
know."

  "Fer'Chrissakes," she scowled and hid her body under her hooded sweatshirt,
"I'm your cousin -- ugh!!"

  "Sorry," I sought to change the subject. "Let's go and grab some food okay?"

  Aurora didn't utter a word as she shuffled by me. At least she didn't get
physical, I thought. Hah! I probably would've clocked her, or worse.
Thankfully, neither of us did anything foolish during the entire ride. She
looked at the ground as we rode the elevator down in silence. I chanced a
glance at Aurora. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets and the
sweatshirt covered her body. Only her legs showed as she was wearing shorts.

  I wondered if she would confront my mother and tell? I sighed inwardly. I
needed to work on her; maybe brain-blast her while she slept. It would be good
practice. Otherwise, I might well catch hell from my family.

  We walked out of the hotel and wandered the streets. Aurora had said nothing
to me since the room and I was a little curious about what she was planning to
do. I skimmed her mind carefully as we stepped into a noodle and barbeque
shop. I found Aurora was a little turned off from my half-hearted attempt to
cop a feel, but at the same time, she kept dwelling on it. I knew it had felt
good; Janet had taught me how to tease a girl in just the right spots.

  "Two?" a waiter pointed haphazardly at a table.

  Despite her anger, I stood and seated her. Aurora ignored my invitation and
sat herself without another word. I grinned and sat as she glared back. I did
my best to ignore her, wiping the teacups and utensils on a napkin. She broke
her angry silence after I poured filled her teacup.

  "Thanks," she muttered.

  "Still angry?" I asked matter-of-factly.

  "You shouldn't have touched me like that," Aurora said flatly. "Even if I
look like a girl you dated."

  "Well, now that I can see you in better light," I guffawed gently and watched
her puff up her chest. "You're a helluva lot prettier."

  I didn't specify who -- my Lady Chen or Lady Wu -- but Aurora dipped her eyes
once those words passed my lips. I saw her cheeks blush and sensed her body
heat rise.

  "Well," she said with quiet reserve, "Don't do that again."

  "Fine and forgotten," I shrugged curtly. "Can we order now?"

  We ordered noodles, porridge, and a dish of roast duck. Anticipating the
incoming storm, I ordered an extra two pounds of barbequed lean pork (sliced).
I yanked Aurora along to a fruit stand and bought some barely ripe bananas and
some oranges. The hotel would have enough liquor and bottled water in case of
any emergency. The mini-fridge in the room was working, so I put the pork and
oranges inside then left the bananas on top for them to ripen. 

  By then, Aurora seemed to have escaped her gloom and we headed around the
rain slick city, taking in as many sights as we could before the weather
forced us indoors. She appeared to have forgotten my earlier trespass, but I
could sense she was still dwelling on it. Every time she would look at me, I
felt her doubt surface. To be truthful, Janet was on my mind when I was alone
with Aurora.

  My lovely Lady Wu was so influential in my life, I had always placed her on a
pedestal. The thought of a younger, hotter version of Janet just inches from
my body was driving me wild. Aurora was indeed more beautiful than Janet, but
there was something more regal and refined about my First. Aurora was like an
unpolished gem; nice to look at and something to wonder how'd it would turn out 
once a jeweler got through it.

  There was still light out when we headed back to the hotel on our second day
of the tour. The weather was getting chilly, and the rain pretty much soaked
everything. Aurora and I were soaked through, and to prevent catching
pneumonia, we had to get out of our wet clothes. I didn't want to spook her
again, so I urged her to change first. Aurora quickly leaped at the chance to
use the washroom.

  My cousin was thoughtfully quick; when she hopped out of the shower, she wore
only a towel to maintain the barest level of modesty. She found me organizing
my bags and other stuff. I was glad she left the bathroom free; I wanted to
take a nice long shower. As I cleaned my crotch and ground, my dick rose
slowly to attention. It had been a little while since I had gotten my sexual
fix and it was starting to become a bother. Unfortunately, there were
boundaries. If I crossed them, it would risk discovery of what I was. I feared
that more than getting into big trouble with my family.

  It turned out that we were going to be hit by a hefty storm. Hence, all the
effort I spent in the preparation of extra food proved prudent. The wind
slammed the hotel fiercely. Fearing the windows would shatter, I closed the
drapes and had Aurora sleep on the bed nearest the hotel interior. I slept on
the floor, using the outer bed to shield myself in case the window should
break. She didn't protest, and settled down to watch television. The storm was
pretty strong but despite the noise and rattling, I was exhausted. I soon
found my myself drifting off ....

  It was a painful feeling, like someone jabbing me in the cheek with a fork. I
scratched my cheek and tried to ignore it.

  "Wake up." The poke came again, this time accompanied by rough shaking on my
shoulders. "Wake the hell up Stanley bieu-guo!"

  I barely recognized Aurora through the fog of sleep. This had to be the
lousiest vacation I ever took. Wait. No, I took that back; the trips to middle
America with my father were just as bad. The difference was I had the option
of dying by contracting some sort of exotic venereal disease in China. I
groaned and tried hard not to snap to full consciousness.

  "What is it?" I mumbled.

  "I couldn't sleep." I heard her rustling her sheets. God, I thought, strike
this woman dead so I could sleep in peace and I'll kill all the unbelieving,
heretic sons-of-bitches you want with my talents. I didn't answer and the
racket soon died down. Suddenly, I felt someone nearby.

  "Th'hell?" My eyes creaked open. I could make out a dark shape lying down
next to me.

  "Aurora? What the hell are you doing?" I propped myself upright. It was my
turn to be in shock. 

  "You don't mind right?" She squirmed against me.

  "Fine, you want the floor?" I started to get up, "I'll take the bed."

  "No!"

  "What do you mean, 'No'?" I stopped and stared at her in the dark.

  "I can't sleep," my cousin repeated.

  "Yeah," I was now in a grouchy mood. "Me too."

  "Oh, you too huh?" Aurora misunderstood. "It's just the wind. All howling
like a ghost."

  It was a good thing the room was dark because I rolled my eyes. I wanted to
sigh but kept silent. I lived through this before. The girl wanted to talk.
Luckily, Janet had inured me to that. We'd talk about things while I explored
the limits of our bodies. Oh, we were so young and innocent then. 

  So why, I wondered, was I letting this go this far? Was I so far off base,
abusing my gifts as Tseng had predicted? Or was I merely acting on 'normal'
impulse; after all, why ignore a feast before you if you're hungry?

  "Stanley," Aurora's voice hung in my ears, "You didn't say."

  "Say what?" I asked. I had forgotten my cousin was pouring her heart out.

  "What is she like?" she whispered. "The girl I remind you of."

  I thought of the curves and shape of Janet's body. Having seen Joan Chen rip
her clothes off in "The Last Emperor" and "The Hunted", I was amazed how much
my First had grown to resemble the famous actress. The thing that separated
them was Janet's smaller eyes; the wide doe-like eyes Melanie had in spades,
but that wasn't a trait my lovely Lady Wu possessed. 

  Still, she was very attractive. A little skinny when she was a teenager,
Janet had filled out her curves. She kept fit by swimming and jogging (I later
took her advice and swam as well). Her body type was "average" but it was that
average-ness that made her so beautiful. Aurora was a stringy little thing;
her body resembled Melanie's (Yu-Ching was fifteen at the time) but at the
same time, it brought back the memories of Janet when I was younger. Nostalgia
played a neat trick on me. In Aurora, I had found a mysterious mixture of my
ladies Chen and Wu.

  "She --" I kept the two images of Janet and Melanie separate in my mind, "--
is very quiet."

  I could hear Aurora chortle softly.

  "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I just always hated hurricanes."

  "They're called typhoons here."

  "Whatever." I felt Aurora's fingers around my wrist. "We never have this crap
where I live."

  "You're on the East Coast," I said in disbelief, "And you don't have winter
storms?"

  "It's summer," she snapped. "Warm rain just freaks me out okay?"

  I sensed she was lying and I knew it, but I didn't say anything.

  "Just ...," she hesitated, "Just don't try anything funny, okay?"

  "It's kinda hard," I said truthfully. "I mean I haven't ..." I stopped and
realized how much damage I could do. Well, judging from Aurora's steady
breathing and sudden silence, the damage already was done.

  "Haven't what Stanley?" she asked.

  "Nevermind," I demurred and labored hard to make it soft. It was no use. I
sprung to attention and Aurora felt me poke her awkwardly.

  "Bieu-guo?" her voice became soft.

  I felt her hand tug on my t-shirt. I put my hand on hers and gripped her
gently. My cousin was drawing me down towards her. I sensed her mind wander
wildly: 'Oh god.' 'Oh god.' 'Oh god.' 'We're going to do this.' 'We're going
to fuck.' 'I'm going to hell for this.' sob 'I know it.'

  "Sssh," I kissed Aurora's quivering lips, "You're horny. I'm horny. Just
relax."

  I tasted her breath and she exhaled a warm breath filled with desire. Her
hands pulled my shirt off and I felt her kiss my bare chest. I groaned and
began tugging at her jammies. Aurora wore a short sleeved blouse and pajama
trousers to bed. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled off her clothing; she was
wearing nothing underneath.

  Aurora was tense in mind and body; I saw that her mind was abuzz with
excitement and she did what she did out of instinct. My lovely cousin was soon
groaning and grinding her hips against my hand. I tasted her skin, diving deep
into the nape of her neck and ignored all the danger signs that Tseng had
warned me about: uninhibited use of my gifts, and the rampant abuse of them.

  I was ready to mount my cousin Aurora like any other pretty woman. I soaked
up her scent as my fingers slipped in and out of her cunt. She was damp now,
her little pussy slick with joy juice. I couldn't wait, and I sensed neither
could she. The room was dark, so we did what we did furtively with the sounds
of a storm buffeting the building. Skinny Aurora was as light as Melanie but
old enough that I could fuck her without any repercussions (save from our
families). Her breasts were small A-cup buds, but I took them to my mouth
anyway.

  My cousin gasped and inexpertly held my head so I couldn't do much more. I
gently grabbed her hands and pulled them from their grip. Aurora tacitly
understood and she let me crawl over and under her. Her body was taut and
athletic thanks to her high metabolism and youth. I marveled how thin she
could be; I felt her pelvic bones poking through her skin. Aurora was pretty
much a skinny, sexy bundle of bones wrapped by a stretched layer of skin.

  I buried my head between Aurora's legs and dined on her sweet baby-bare bush.
I heard her soft cries as my tongue parted her cunt lips. Aurora might've been
a skinny little bitch, but her clit was pretty fat once she got aroused. It
was a good plump little blister, much like the tip of a pinky finger. I
encircled her engorged clit with my lips and sucked.

  Aurora cried out when I did. Thankfully, the only thing louder was the wind
howling outside. My cousin quickly got herself back under control. She panted
loudly as I gently clenched her fat clit between my teeth. Her body shuddered
when I ran my tongue over her pleasure point. A funky, musky odor bean oozing
from her cunt; Aurora was creaming. She was ready.

  I pulled myself up and found her frisky. Her hands clutched me, her hands
gathering what little flesh she could from my body. Aurora's lips sought mine,
and we lip-locked as I pushed into her. My lovely cousin let out a satisfied
groan as I rammed my rock hard prick into her willing body. I felt the head of
my cock bulldoze through her insides and sensed she was startled, in a little
pain, and unused to such a sudden intrusion. I slowed then stopped myself once
I hilted myself. Her body relaxed and her breathing slowed once more.

  Buried deep in Aurora's thin, doll-like body, I began to make in-roads into
her consciousness. I pricked her pleasure centers here and there. At first,
she didn't feel it. It was understandable since she and I just met. Aurora was
also not gifted like Melanie or Viktoriya. In the case of my 'normal' darlings
-- Janet, Rachelle, and Shawn -- I had prolonged contact with them for several
months or years. This meant I knew what buttons to push and what to say to
each of my girls when we got intimate.

  With Aurora, I felt no spirit-lifting, soulful connection. She was a piece of
meat, and I was slaking my lust at her spring out of sheer convenience. Once I
felt she was relaxed, I fucked her well and good. She soothed that burning
itch I had been carrying around since I arrived in Hong Kong.

  Still, there was that emptiness I felt. Our act was ultimately all mechanical
to me. I knew which physical buttons to push but I didn't twiddle with many of
her mental ones. As the familiar feeling approached, I pulled out and sprayed
her undulating, panting stomach with my sticky seed.

  Aurora panted for breath as her fingers worked my stuff over her skin. She
rubbed it over her stomach and tits, her breaths coming out in short bursts.
As my cute cousin drifted off in my arms, I felt an overwhelming sense of
guilt; I had wronged my five darlings. I had experienced nearly a decade of
love, ranging from the wifely Melanie to the exotic Rachelle. My friendships
with Shawn and Janet had become love, and tough personal bonds kept me busy,
happy, and entertained for all these years. 

  Heck, I was used to the company of women (clothed or not) since I was twelve.
So why was I screwing around on them? The storm was a mild one, but it still
managed to delay our return by a day. We had one more night in China, so
Aurora and I made the most of it. We couldn't take in more sights as the
weather was really beating us down, so we couldn't go out. 

  Thankfully, the barbeque pork was enough and we subsisted on that and what
bottled water we had. Between the fuck sessions, we'd eat and sleep. We lived
like animals until the winds died down (there was no room service during this
time) and then we gladly got the hell out of China.

===============================================================================
  HONG KONG HONEY CONTINUED
===============================================================================

  Our folks were more than happy to see us when we returned. They had feared
the worse when the storm hit. As luck would have it, things cleared up soon
after. This was a perfect excuse to let our family to start ushering us around
once more; I stopped it, I wanted a few days alone with Aurora, to let her
down easy.

  After our initial barebacked session, I wised up fast and put on a raincoat
each time after. Aurora didn't seem to be able to discern the difference. We
obviously could not shack up while at Aunt Hortense's place nor could Aurora
and I afford a room at a hotel or sex club without arousing suspicion. Hence,
there were really only a few places where juveniles could gather and make-out
without suspicion: the beach or a game center (in the United States, these are
called 'video arcades').

  Since we had enough of nature, Aurora and I decided to try a game center near
Ho-Man Tin. That turned out to be a big mistake in more ways than one. The
most obvious mistake was Aurora didn't like videogames, although she was good
at some of them. I hadn't played much as a kid, but I used to go to different
arcades when I went to Reno with my family. Hence I was distracted enough that
I didn't pay too much attention to Aurora. After an hour of messing around, I
thought I'd find her next to the Sailor Moon machine, but instead found her on
a dance machine, tearing it up.

  Now before I go on, game centers in Hong Kong are often the laundry
businesses of criminal enterprises, much like the pachinko parlors in Japan
(or casinos in the United States). While the handover of Hong Kong was
peaceful, a lot of the underworld was still active. Aurora and I must've
picked the wrong place to hang out since there were quite a few young
hooligans at the establishment. In fact, most of them were around the DDR
(Dance Dance Revolution) machine watching Aurora do her thing.

  I stepped closer, joining the bystanders around Aurora. I reached out and
sensed her anger, and knew I she was irked at me for ignoring her. It must've
been her way to getting back at me, parading herself in public in a nearly
lewd fashion. At least she wasn't like Melanie at home.

  Ah, Yu-Ching, I rued. How I missed her! I watched as Aurora topped her last
dance, and got the credits rolling. As my cousin punched in her initials into
the machine, she saw me and waved. The punks around the machine saw this and
began looking in the direction of her hail. Their eyes quickly settled on me.
When they saw me, they passed each other some side-glances. A few elbowed one
another and nodded my way.

  From my experience, a 'normal' in this situation could construed this as
"They saw the guy and wondered if he was her boyfriend or brother." However,
in as one of the gifted citizens of the empire, I detected an undercurrent of
anxiety. With the handover, some of the mainland gangs were muscling into Hong
Kong. While mainland groups had already some roots in Hong Kong, a handover of
territory meant a change in laws (this was before Hong Kong was maintained as
a separate Special Administrative Region). 

  I quickly picked up some rumblings over my presence; I dressed in similar
fashion, but my actions marked me as an outsider. They regarded me as a
potential someone in a rival gang. Aurora stepped off and gave me a peck on
the cheek.

  "Have fun?" she asked me in English.

  "Yeah," I replied smoothly. "You?"

  "wo-ho-yeet*." She fanned herself with a measure of futility. [* Cantonese: I
feel so hot / too warm.]

  "Let's go grab something cold." I didn't bother speaking native as I took my
cousin by the hand and lead her towards the exit.

  I didn't think those idiots would follow, but I was wrong. It was nice, to
hold hands with a girl again, even if she was related. I quickly back-tracked
mentally over the youths following us; about three or four, still in their
teens, and lead by a delinquent who had the hots for Aurora. I felt myself
build to a slow rage. I didn't love Aurora, but she was family.

  Besides, I had slammed the shit out of her six days from Sunday, so I owed
her the courtesy of looking out for her. Furthermore, the situation was
starting to goad me. She was my family through blood and marriage, and these
guys wouldn't have a chance with her anyway. I wondered what the hell they
were planning.

  Rape? Harassment? Robbery?

  "Hey! Slow down!"

  I felt Aurora tug me back. I slowed and let her catch up. I didn't know the
neighborhood, but it was dense enough that we found a fast food shop that sold
some cold treats. I couldn't take dairy, so I ordered an iced tea while my
cousin happily ordered iced coffee. I had thought the arcade goons would've
scraped together enough brainpower to abandon their hunt once we went into an
eatery, but apparently I was wrong. Two of them came inside, ordered some food
and drink then headed back outside where they loitered.

  Great. Now, I didn't know why I didn't just contact the police. I suppose I
could've lied and said I saw these assholes eyeing my cousin and had been
following us for about three city blocks, but I didn't. 

  I didn't because I regarded this as a personal matter. I didn't because I
knew I wanted to taste blood. I was careful not to show it outwardly, but I
wondered about Tseng's exercises. They had made me better at what I do, but at
the same time, I felt I was more and more single-minded in my execution of my
will.

  Perhaps he was slowly brain-washing me as only a telepath could; in any case,
I was torn between staying my hand and brandishing it. If these punks would
stay out of my way ...

  "Done?"

  I jerked from my thoughts and watched Aurora run her slender fingers through
her long hair.

  "God," she sighed with annoyance. "I should cut this short."

  "Don't." I gave her a grin. "You look pretty like that."

  "I do?" Her eyes softened. "Then I'll leave it long for you, bieu-guo."

  Hearing her address me so quashed any indecision I might've had. Our pursuers
were still loitering outside. We stepped out past them and climbed on board a
two-decker bus. Aurora dragged excitedly me up to the upper deck so we could
be alone.

  There're several reasons why the top deck in double decker buses are often
devoid of people; there are few security measures there and those who sit
upstairs frequently get robbed. However, there were advantages too. Lovers
sometimes went upstairs for a quickie or hand-job. Young Aurora was a girl in
heat. The top deck was thankfully (or un-thankfully) empty, and she whispered
that she was going to fist-fuck me once we were seated.

  I was thinking it would've been better to hail a cab when the youths made
their move. Three of them had made it aboard. I sensed from them that the
fourth one didn't want to go along, so they ditched him. The three moved
towards us, one of them nodded towards Aurora. She smiled thinly but edged
closer towards me. My cousin was not a happy woman when interrupted.

  I had always thought harassment in Hong Kong wouldn't be so bold, but perhaps
I misjudged the time and place. Maybe incidents of crime occur daily in this
particular area and I didn't know about it.

  It would be like me telling visitors to my city that you should never walk on
Mission Street when possible, or to avoid the glitzy area near Powell Street
(where the cable car runs) at night as that's when the transients, dealers,
and street walkers come out. Maybe my cousin and I stumbled onto the worst bus
line in the city. I gripped Aurora's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  "Hold on tight," I whispered to her in English, "You'll be safe."

  "I'm not afraid," she squeezed me back. "You know I'm a screamer."

  I almost smiled at that but I didn't. I needed to focus on the matter at
hand. I didn't have to look at these guys to know what they were planning to
do (a quick mugging and a gang-rape). Heck, I didn't even need eyes to sense
where they were and what they planned to do individually. All I knew was that
I didn't want to get involved, not overtly anyway. 

  I skipped over the minds of the three perpetrators on the level with us.
Having ditched their weak-minded fellow at the station, the most susceptible
fellow was pretty resistant to any persuasion. So I did the next best thing.
As two of them paced ahead (the third hung back to obscure the periscope the
driver used to check in on the top deck) I reached out with my mind and
flicked an image of a boy streaking into the street to the bus' driver. 

  Almost immediately, the bus screeched to a halt and we all pitched forward;
well, Aurora and I did anyway. The two punks who were making their way towards
us fell back. My mind quickly reached out and pressed down on both their
shoes; I heard dull series of splintering cracks and loud crashes. I looked up
and saw the top deck was clear. I knew what I did: I had separated the ankles
of the first two thugs. The punks screamed in blinding pain and clutched their
feet as I released my telekinetic grip. There was no sign of the third thug.

  "Oh shit," Aurora was in shock. "Did we hit something?"

  "I don't think so," I feigned surprise. "Let's go."

  I pulled Aurora up and ushered her over the two 'normal' thugs as they
writhed uselessly on the floor. When we got to the narrow steps, we saw the
third punk crumpled in a heap on the bottom of the stairs. He had pitched
backwards into the stairs when the bus stopped. From the way his body was
lying, he appeared to be out cold. Or dead.

  I pulled my cousin through the crowd and we got off with the other
passengers. The road was a mess. The double decker, stopping so suddenly, had
created a terrific jam as people began crowding around the accident.

  "Bie-ga-fou-you-yige-che-oy*!" Aurora exclaimed. [* Cantonese: Goddammit!
It's a vehicular accident!]

  Thankfully, there were no collisions (although I'm sure the driver wasn't too
happy afterwards). People were shouting and pointing at the road, the bus, and
each other. In the midst of the confusion, we slipped away to the other side
of the street and hailed a cab.

  She and I got back to Aunt Hortense's condo and had an hour or so alone.
Aurora's mind quickly settled on what we needed to do. We showered together
and she blew me as I toweled off on her bed. Thus enticed, I pulled her out
into the living room and fucked her on the sofa.

  The excitement of potentially being walked in on by my mother, Aunt Hortense,
or someone else in the family drove my cousin into a sexual frenzy as I
pounded her bare-back. I pulled out and jizzed on her stomach and tits. It was
good timing, because we both heard the key hit the lock at the same time. When
Aunt Hortense and my mother stepped in, they saw me step out from my room and
Aurora from hers, both of us respectably dressed.

  Since the game arcades were so fraught with problems and doing it in the
condo wasn't really an option, Aurora and I decided to spend the rest of our
time at the beach. Some towels, sunblock, lotion, shades, sandals, drinks and
an umbrella and we were set. We'd take a cab there and stay all day. When we
weren't playing in the surf, we were playing in the sand. 

  Ever fuck in the ocean? It's quite an experience, and a strenuous exercise
too, since the man does the heavy lifting. Thankfully, my cousin was a skinny
little thing and it gave me me a chance to practice my telekinetic gift.

  "So," Aurora sighed, "What time is your flight?"

  It was nearly sunset. She pushed a bead of sweat (or seawater) across my
chest with her stubby nails. I was spent, and barely had the strength to
struggle back into my swim shorts. Aurora threw her top loosely over her
breasts. If someone complained, she would have time to tie it back on.

  "Three I think," I said. "Yours?"

  "Two-thirty."

  I scratched her sides lightly. If Hong Kong hadn't addled my wits, I
remembered Shawn or Janet, one or the other, liked that, or loved doing that
to me. I looked down and saw Aurora studying my torso carefully. I knew she
was enamored with me, but regrettably, I didn't feel quite the same for her. 

  "You're going back to see her aren't you," she finally spoke. It wasn't a
question.

  "Yes," I replied.

  Aurora stopped her twiddling and pressed her face so tightly against me, I
felt her eye-lashes against my skin when she blinked.

  "I know this, all this, was wrong," her voice trembled, "So wrong."

  "I know," I made an attempt to sound rueful. "I'm sorry."

  Well, not really. The sex was pretty good, you cock-hungry slut.

  "Don't be sorry," she said. "I'm not."

  Aurora's hand slipped lower and toyed with my navel. I almost giggled from
the tickling, but I numbed my senses until it was just a dull itch. I felt her
body shake. From the balminess of the weather, it wasn't she was feeling
chill. She was crying.

  Aw fuck. I hugged her to put her mind at ease. 

  "Easy darling," I cradled her gently, all the while feeling wholly rotten.
"You'll be fine."

  She took a deep breath and kept silent. 

  "Aurora," I kissed the top of her head, "You're young. You'll do a lot better
than me."

  That's only a half-truth, I was sure. Unless she married a Kennedy who had
telepathy and wasn't a sex maniac.

  "Don't just settle for the first guy who does ya," I scolded.

  "Did you?" she asked.

  "Did I what?" I countered.

  "Fall in love with the first girl you fucked?"

  "Yes." I thought of Janet and found myself grinning. "But not at first. It
took a while, but I did. Still do."

  "Then it could also happen again," Aurora put her hand on her chest, "With
me!"

  "We've only known each other for eight days," I managed a small smile,
"That's hardly time enough for anything."

  "But --!"

  "Easy," I placed a hand on hers.

  Instantly, I sensed her calming down, her thoughts less intent and less
focused on me. I didn't want it any other way, but Aurora didn't feel like an
asset to me. Jeopardizing her academic career and her future wasn't my
intention either. She could have lived in New Jersey and I could have kept her
like a pet, but she was still my cousin. 

  Whether or not she and I could've eloped to China and gotten married was
another story. Besides, that would have drawn too much attention. Too much
attention, I thought, to risk it over a 'normal' woman.

  While Melanie was younger than Aurora, I had known Yu-Ching for six years.
Aurora was pretty much a stranger to me, despite her being my cousin. I had
kept Aurora in a calm state long enough. I had stifled enough of her emotions
that I could now try to talk to her without her breaking into hysterics,
panic, or depression. I did and neither she nor I moved for a time.

  "C'mon, let's watch the sunset." I tried pulling her close but she resisted.
Aurora stood up without a word and hustled to her bag. 

  Poor little bitch, I thought as I cast my gaze over the sun-drenched water.

  CLICK. I looked up and saw Aurora with her digital camera. She had snapped a
picture of me sitting in the sand.

  "Take a picture of me," she passed the camera to me.

  "What kind of picture?"

  Aurora batted her eyes and flashed a big wide grin. "A picture to make her
jealous."

  Great, I mused. That was just how Rachelle started questioning me about
Janet. Damn women and their goddamned shutter-buggery. Aurora sat, her legs
bent together at the knees in a classic beach bunny pose. She stared straight
at me and nodded. I brought up the camera and called out, "One -- two --
three!"

  "C'mon a second one," she begged, "Before there's no more light."

  I sighed and relented. This time, she folded her arms across her chest, her
fingers under the straps of her bikini top. 

  Again, I counted, "One -- two -- three!"

  At the count of three, Aurora slipped her top off. I stared in shock as the
camera clicked. She pulled her top back on and looked at me triumphantly.

  "What'd you do that for?" I asked.

  "It's something sexy for you to remember me by," she took the camera from me.
"Now here, I want a few of you then some with the two of us."

  CLICK. She snapped a photo of me, with me looking either very amused, or very
nonchalant. Aurora was content only after she kissed me (somewhat
passionately) on my cheek and snapped a picture. When she put away her camera,
I felt the need to speak.

  "I better not find those on the internet," I said quietly.

  She cracked a smile. "Better! I'll just mail it to you. Framed!"

  "Aurora," I brushed her cheek. "I have your email and number, we can talk.
But nothing foolish, understand?"

  Nothing foolish indeed, I thought darkly. Otherwise Viktoriya might find
herself a new and interesting pet.

  "Okay," she sighed. "If you're ever on the East Coast, though."

  "I'll visit," I relented. "I promise."

  My cousin said no more but she nodded. I sensed she understood and let the
matter drop. We packed as the sun settled on the water's surface and hurried
home by cab. I don't know about Aurora, but I had some things to pack. I
stuffed my luggage as best I could after our farewell dinner and smiled simply
when she cast me furtive glances through the rest of the night.

  I slept rather lightly afterwards. As I lay in bed, I wondered if Aurora was
likewise in her's, wishing we were together again. I am a little saddened by
this memory. It would be the last time I saw her alive.

===============================================================================
  SMALL RECOLLECTIONS
===============================================================================

  One thing I detest about trips was the sheer amount of unattended mail I have
to deal with once I got home. With the internet, it has only gotten worse. It
is a most unlikely deterrent to skip the return trip. Amongst the pile of mail
I found after coming back from Hong Kong was an acceptance letter. I could
continue my studies at Berkeley for my masters degree in environmental design.

  Should I earn that, all I needed afterwards was to pass a four day
examination (similar to MCAT but geared specifically towards facilities
design) to lawfully practice as a licensed architect. My parents were superbly
proud; few undergraduates could carry on their work at the same school. Most
students are shuffled out of state to other colleges. The reasoning behind
this was to force expose them to other parts of the world. 

  I forgot what my reasoning was. I remembered I simply wrote the truth: I
wanted to stay in California and design facilities, structures, and domiciles
specific to the state; seeing how things were built elsewhere in the world,
oil platforms in Texas, quaint homes in New England, agropom facilities in the
Midwest, and permafrost friendly buildings in Alaska were all well and good,
but all of it had little bearing on what I wanted to do with my life in
California.

  My short stay in Hong Kong was more educational in how people lived in other
parts of the world than all the years I would study elsewhere. Too bad I
wasn't able to include that anecdote into my application. I didn't ask why or
how, I just was in. Maybe I unconsciously imparted some sort of psychic
emanation on my application. Maybe I lucked out. Maybe someone in the family
paid the school off to accept me (that wouldn't be true I knew later, Berkeley
was a state school not a private institution).

  I didn't care. I was now a graduate student at Berkeley, and I suddenly
realized I needed a ton of money to pay for my tuition. Tseng's windfall
slowly dried up. There was some left, but not enough for tuition. I used it
mainly to supplement my meager living expenses.

  Since that money wasn't something I reported, I had started the financial aid
process. I was only allotted money, but only a small amount so I had to take
out student loans to cover my expenses. I knew I needed a job, but I didn't
find any firms able to hire a student with just academic experience.

  Before I left for Hong Kong, I had put in applications for various
internships at building and construction firms in the area. A few were
graduate student instructor positions with several instructors (I was not
close with any) ranging in courses from the academic (architectural history
and studies in humanitarian aesthetics) to practical (structural systems and
building materials). I figure it would be a good way to cover my ass in case I
was accepted into the graduate program. 

  Only one, an instructor for ARCH 170, had replied favorably and only that
class still retained an opening. It was a computer-aided drafting course. I
groaned as I read the letter of acceptance. Great. More goddamn work teaching
a bunch of junior fuck-tards how to operate a C.A.D. interface.

  'At least you'll be paid. Isn't that enough?'

  I didn't need to look to know who thought-spoke. Viktoriya sat crossed legged
in mid-air. She was visiting me prior to her move to New York City. Her
deparature wasn't helping my disposition. Of the few things I wanted at that
moment, I mostly wanted her to stay.

  It wasn't the sex; it was the kinship we shared through our gifts. Having
spent so much time practicing with one another, Viktoriya and I were quite
adept at masking our thoughts from one another. Hence, our business was
completely ours unless we volunteered it. I chose to share my Hong Kong
experiences with her, and she shared hers from her jaunt to New York. 

  I saw the institute she was going to go in the fall, along with some other
NYC landmarks like the World Trade Center, Battery Park, Brooklyn Bridge, and
the dance school she was going to study at. I saw the Brooklyn neighborhood
where she planned to be staying. It was a very rustic part of town and it was
newly inundated with emigres still fleeing from the Commonwealth of
Independent States.

  From me, she saw the seedy sides of Kowloon, Hong Kong, Tsim-sa-sui,
Homan-Tin, Star Ferry, Lion Mountain, and the lazy beaches where Aurora and I
hung out. She also learned of the bus incident. Viktoriya smiled with a
wolfish grin when she learned about my cousin.

  'Perhaps I should pay her a visit.'

  "I didn't know you liked skinny girls," I chided her. "Help yourself. If you
do, keep her away from the others for my sake."

  'Yes, dorogoi*.' [* Russian: Dear (archaic)] Viktoriya's thought-speak was
acidic, especially when she addressed me as "old dear" in her native tongue.

  She was a mixture of cultures: her father was Russian and her mother was a
Romanian living in Ukraine. Viktoriya spoke Russian better than Ukrainian, and
just a smattering of Romanian. With so much turmoil in the final years of the
Soviet Union, she found a universal language in dance. This was the reason she
was leaving.

  Viktoriya was serious about her love of dancing (more than her love of
abusing her gift, or eating pussy) and there was a dance school (labeling
itself as an institute of motion study) in Manhattan where she would develop
her skills. I anticipated missing my dusky Russkie very much once she was
gone.

  'Maybe you want a threesome with me, her and you when you visit me?'

  "Just say when," I laughed and she telekinetically soft-pushed me to the
floor.

  'Well?' Viktoriya was still waiting patiently for an answer to her question
about my choice of profession.

  "I don't think I could do much better," I said and sighed. "Graduate student
instructor (T.A.) I'll be."

  While I could thought-speak to her directly, I enjoyed talking aloud to
Viktoriya. It was my way to remind her of her connection to the normal world.

  'You should go to school in New York.' She included a glimmer of hope along
with her words.

  "And build more bridges?" I smiled and stopped short of laughing. "No thanks.
I like being a lazy Californian."

  "Come with me!" Viktoriya said aloud in her accented English, "And we can be
together."

  "My place is here, with Janet and Melanie," I watched her intently. She was
hovering a good two feet off the soft floor of my room.

  'How about the other girls?' Viktoriya cocked her head towards me.

  "I don't know," I shrugged. "Only if they want to."

  'You are very lenient.' Viktoriya flipped onto her back and unfolded her
legs. Unlike Melanie, who practiced in the nude, my Baltic beauty kept her kit
on. She only bared her hands and feet. 

  "I am the most lenient tyrant of all," I joked.

  I nearly said 'emperor' but I managed to stop myself. There was no clear
leader in the invisible empire. Just a bunch of gifted having a good time. If
Tseng was officially a ranking member of the empire, he wasn't too forthcoming
about it. In any case, Tseng had warned me about revealing him to anyone. I
wanted to tell both my lovelies about the invisible empire, but fear kept me
silent. Back then, I wondered about his reticence about the empire in relation
to Melanie and Viktoriya. Melanie's youth was an excuse I could understand,
but there was no good reason for keeping Viktoriya in the dark.

  I had but one fear, a most-secret but likely reason, about why Viktoriya was
not told about the empire: I suspected Tseng was her half-brother's killer.
Wouldn't that be pretty? It made a sort of sick logical sense. Tseng was
willing to meet me but not Viktoriya (Melanie, as mentioned earlier, was too
latent to pose a threat, so Tseng pretty much dismissed her by the time she
was fourteen). I couldn't fathom why he avoided Viktoriya, as I couldn't probe
his thoughts.

  I wondered if Tseng showed his face when he did the deed; would Viktoriya
recognize her brother's killer by sight? I knew it didn't make much sense. I
had seen Tseng's face, so she'd know if she touched upon those memories using
mind-sight. Then again, Tseng might've been so powerful, she never knew his
identity. Still, Viktoriya didn't seem to know, or make it known that she
knew. Maybe it was a good thing that we were able to hide so much from each
other.

  With Viktoriya and I relying more and more on mind-sight to stay in touch, I
thought it would've been a prudent thing to sever my relationship with Tseng,
just as a precaution. I didn't though. My reasons for keeping the status quo
weren't wholly altruistic. While I didn't care much for Tseng, the man was
also a veritable treasure trove of knowledge. He had answers I sought and what
he didn't answer clearly, I could sometimes guess at one from the scant words
he'd surrender.

  Besides, having seen what Tseng could do to processed steel, I wasn't about
to make any unsubstantiated accusations. I wasn't afraid for myself. I was
fearful what he would do to Viktoriya. His enmity may not have ended with the
simple extermination of the mysterious Russian.

  A second, lesser fear kept me brooding. The NSA had not followed up with me
for some time. I wondered about Davies' interrogation. What did I get mixed up
in? I was half-sure the agency would've sent someone to follow me, but so far,
I felt nothing. No living presence was following me, or no one who was in
range of my ability to detect them. 

  And as for Tseng's fleeting words, "I'll be watching", did it mean he was
shadowing me? I wasn't absolutely sure, so I sat tight, bode my time,
observed, and worried. 

  How could I talk to Viktoriya about the invisible empire without opening
myself to the inevitable questions that would follow? I didn't want to think
about it; thinking about it would've made me susceptible to her mind-reading.

  I focused on Viktoriya and levitated off the bed. After a little fumbling, I
was atop her, paying homage to Roger Moore's James Bond and the zero-G Bond
girl in Moonraker. She chuckled and flipped atop me. My dancing darling kissed
me then pushed gently away. I reached out and gripped her hand to stop; we
spun towards one another once more and embraced. 

  To an observer, it would have seemed like we were in weightless space, but
certain tells easily dispelled that. Our clothes, key chains, and hair were
still affected by earthly gravity. And most telling of all, Viktoriya's hair
wasn't a floating mass like it would in space. It took a proportionately
larger amount of concentration to levitate that much surface area. As I saw
it, psychokineticists pushed against surface areas, hence the massiveness of
an object was irrelevant.

  We have an easier time affecting a large mass that is simpler in nature
(i.e., a large cube that is typical of modern art) than a smaller mass with
more a complex structure (a star-shaped origami). In hasty panic, such
complicated objects could be affected, but only partially; this was
potentially injurious (or fatal) to living objects like people because parts
of the mass would be affected while other parts wouldn't be.

  I felt Viktoriya's hands slide under my clothing and over my skin. In a
flashy show of her gift, she unbuttoned my shirt and pants. I then heard her
sigh audibly.

  'Why do you wear underwear?' She deliberately snapped my waistband to provoke
me.

  I grinned and stroked her ears. "I won't if you won't."

  She gave me a toothsome grin as she pulled away from me and slipped off her
pants, revealing her sweet smooth bottom.

  Wow.

  A part of me went to attention while I pushed myself towards her. I clutched
her eagerly and found her only other underwear was a sports bra to keep her
B-cup puppies in place while she danced. Viktoriya bit my neck fiercely as she
began tearing off my clothes with her mind and body. She pushed me a little
higher until I was touching the ceiling. 

  Her dark eyes regarded me with unspeakable lust as her red lithesome tongue
tickled my already erect prick. Viktoriya bared her teeth like an animal and
bit the head gently. It wasn't enough to cause any damage, but it sure got my
attention. I groaned through clenched teeth as she began putting bite marks up
and down my stiff shaft. Viktoriya's hands weren't idle either: her nails
firmly clutched my balls and alternated between massaging them and crushing
them. When I thought I could barely hold back, she took me into her mouth and
ate up the whole length.

  "Uggawd," I nearly lost my concentration.

  It would've been dangerous since my dick was still in the mouth of a girl who
was floating over my floor. I could have knocked out some of her teeth or
worse. But the whole point of this was to keep ourselves in practice, and what
better distraction was there?

  As powerful as Viktoriya was in telekinesis, she was still a living breathing
being. I heard her panting and felt the hot breaths from her nostrils as she
gorged herself on my fat cock. Her nails dug deep into my buttocks, egging me
on. My dick spasmed with excitement but I did not ejaculate. I enjoyed holding
back, denying myself and Viktoriya of an explosive finish. She was gagging
now, on account of my fat cock choking her throat. I felt her cool spit
dripping down my balls like condensation of an air conditioner.

  I felt a slight shift of weight and felt Viktoriya slipping. She was slowly
sinking, my cock still in her mouth. I had outlasted her in this round and
felt a little more than proud. I gripped her head and gently bid her to let
go. She coughed  and gagged as I slid my wet willy from her mouth. Her eyes
were teary from the time she spent down there. She panted, mouth agape, as she
struggled to find breath. Viktoriya regained her height now and was floating
even with me.

  I guided her towards my dick. It was still slick with her spit and I felt a
chill come on. To stave off any softening, I got busy. Viktoriya sneezed as I
pushed myself deep into her body. 

  It was a curious thing she did: sneezing when I put myself into her. I
noticed it started after she transferred to Berkeley, and the stress started
to wear me thin. I noticed though, that Viktoriya was quite calm and accepting
when we were together. I eventually realized that her sneezing was her letting
down her guard; she was comfortable near me.

  Nevertheless, Viktoriya would always become coy for a moment after her
sneeze; it was like if she had farted in an elevator full of people. She'd
become very bashful, and that would elicit sympathy from me. All this though,
would only be a prelude to her natural state of aggression. Once the action
got started, she'd rouse herself into a proper wildcat.

  We were now fucking in mid-air, our bodies being pushed by our minds. I
slowly nudged us over my small bed. By the time I was pounding my Ukrainian
uber-cutie like a piledriver, Viktoriya's knees were pinned to the side of her
head and her lean, mean, fucking-machine pinned to the mattress.

  She wore an angry snarl and with each thrust, her fingernails bit deep into
my back. I smelled her musk, tasted her sweat, and heard her lusty cries as I
worked under her lash. I glanced at her and, seeing her face so contorted with
pleasure, I thought-spoke something downright filthy: 'I'm gonna scuzz in you
baby.'

  Viktoriya's eyes widened and her mouth opened but no sound came out as I
jerked and unloaded my spunk into her dancer's body. Her eyes glazed over as I
pumped in what I thought was gallons of baby batter into her waiting womb. I
knew that wasn't possible, my body couldn't produce that much sperm and semen,
but it certainly felt like I did. I collapsed over her briefly, then like a
trained seal, I rolled off to avoid crushing her. Janet had taught me well.

  The brunette sat up and squatted over me. I could see her limbs shaking and
trembling as she struggled to put her crotch over my head. I could see her
cunt and ass were a mess of dark hair and slick sweat. I heard her grunt and
saw a cloudy, creamy fluid drip from her gaping gash. She gasped as I leaned
up and sucked her two holes and felt the warmth of Viktoriya's pungent
placental piss mixed with my own ejaculate in my mouth. I gripped her body
tightly and tickled her warm shitpit with my tongue until she cried out.

  "Stop, kisa*! STOP!!" [* Russian: Pet (literally, kitty cat)]

  I drew her down and we coiled like sleeping serpents on my bed. Viktoriya was
flustered and looked as if she was ready to fall faint. The feral expression
on her face was replaced with one more serene; she had orgasmed and was
enjoying its calming aftermath. She lay on top of me, playing with my hair. My
wet flaccid cock between her legs as I slowly squeezed and massaged her bare
buttocks.

  'So you are taking Fat-Freckle-Face to Two-Face's engagement dinner?' 

  Viktoriya thought-spoke, using the epithets she cast on each of the other
girls I was close with. I had gotten used to her tasteless barbs. Thankfully,
she never used them in audible form, just thought-speech; it would've very
vindictive and impolite in public.

  "Yeah. We're meeting them for dinner tomorrow night," I stifled a yawn. "And
it is Faraz's and Ghandia's engagement; not Rachelle's."

  'It may as well if you are not taking Two-Face.'

  Her tone was less than respectful, but it was directed towards the mulatto,
not me. Rachelle and I had entered a freeze in our relationship at the time.
It started when my dark darling came back and discovered that Janet and I had
reconciled through Melanie's efforts. We broached the subject of seeing other
people, and she had confessed she had been seeing a fellow at her end. I
didn't think of it as cheating in either of our cases. Looking back, I wasn't
sure if I missed Rachelle as I lead everyone else to believe.

  "I have an extra day," Viktoriya spoke suddenly to break the silence.

  I arched a brow. "I thought you couldn't wait to be in the Big Apple."

  "I do not start immediately," she went on talking. "I just wanted to
'acclimatize' before I do. Missing one or two days is no trouble."

  She sounded sure of herself, but I was suspicious. "You want to come along?"

  Viktoriya's lips curled in a lascivious smile. "May I?"

  'You just want to see Rachelle.' I shot her a rueful grin as I thought-spoke.
The girl grinned back and laughed.

  Of course, I sighed. Viktoriya was bi-curious and she had always wanted to
meet Rachelle in person. I wondered and worried over what might happen if she
got close enough ...

  'We can make it an unforgettable night.' Her dark eyes glowed with unnatural
desire. 'Together, kisa, we can have so much fun!'

  "Tempting," I laughed so mask my nervousness, "But what would Shawn think?"

  Viktoriya wore a toothy grin. 'Why you make Fat-Freckle-Face join in!'

  "That's not how I want it," I said flatly.

  'Yes it is.' She countered mentally. 'You cannot hide all your thoughts you
vile beast!'

  "Well, okay," I admitted, "I do want that, but not if it means hurting
anyone."

  "You have already 'hurt' Rachelle," Viktoriya scoffed aloud. "When you
professed loving Tom-Boy to her."

  "Alright," I made a face. "That was a bad move, but it's considerably more
humane."

  'Humane.' She frowned as she cut me off. 'You mean to say normal?'

  Even though Tseng had not communicated with Viktoriya, at least, they both
shared a similar disdain and term for the ungifted.

  "Okay come along," I relented and started for the edge of the bed, "But let
me make some calls."

  The phone on the nightstand vibrated a little then its handset leaped into
the air and settled neatly into my hand. Viktoriya had anticipated my
intentions and made it a point to display her skill. The first call I made was
to Faraz; after all, he was my best friend and the one who invited me (and any
guests) to the dinner-party. 

  "Hey Stan!" Faraz's voice buzzed over the handset, "I already put you down
for 'plus two'." I could almost feel him wink. "Remember? You said you wanted
to bring Melanie to meet Rachelle."

  "Oh, yeah." I had forgotten about that. "Well, she couldn't make it; I got
someone else to take her seat though. Is that all right?"

  "Sure my friend," I thought I heard schlurping or gurgling sounds on Faraz's
end; maybe he was getting a quick blow from Ghandia.

  "It's all okay!" He hung up and I remembered what I had planned a little
while earlier. I wanted to bring Janet to the dinner, but she declined since
she started her job at civil court. 

  "It's on a Sunday, Stanley," she declined with a heavy sigh, "And I have to
work early Monday. Big asbestos case."

  Melanie wanted to go, but I decided not to bring her along; there would be
alcohol, and besides, her parents wouldn't like it if I dragged her alone. So
I explained it to her as best I could. Yu-Ching wasn't happy, but accepted my
judgement.

  "FINE," she crossed her arms in a huff, "But you have to take me to Janet's
workplace so we can do lunch."

  So, that left Shawn. She was free and college age, so I decided take her
along. She was a shade under the drinking age, but with a little mental
fiddling I could pass her off as 21. I dialed Shawn next, and wondered if I
was that distracted I'd forget my own plans.

  'You are distracted.'

  I shot Viktoriya a dirty look and she looked back defiantly.

  'Call Fat-Freckle-Face. I want to play with you.'

  "Oh really?" I said sarcastically, but moderated my temper when I heard the
ringer warble on Shawn's end.

  "Hello?" 

  "Shawn?" I asked. "Is that you? Did I call at a bad time?"

  'I bet no.' Viktoriya slithered around my body and began touching me.

  "No, I can talk a bit," Shawn replied. "Aren't we getting up early tomorrow?
You promised to have lunch with me before we get ready for Faraz's party!"

  'Nyet, lastochka*. [* Russian: A term of endearment. Literally, 'little
swallow'] Stanislav is fucking my mouth.' Viktoriya picked up Shawn's end of
the conversation by feeling the atmospheric vibrations from the telephone's
speaker. I wanted to swat the pesky brunette but I kept my cool. She began
sucking my cock to placate me.

  "Uh, yeah. About that. I just wanted to ask you something," I shivered as
Viktoriya gently chewed my junk like a teething puppy, "I have a friend from
Berkeley and she ..." I paused and was at a loss of what to say as an excuse.

  'I want to meet Two-Face. I want to fuck her. I want to you to watch me. Then
I want her to watch us.'

  Viktoriya's words hardly connected with what she was doing at the moment. My
cock had gone back into a full erection and my ex-Commie cutie was ribbing my
head and shaft between her teeth and her wicked tongue.

  "... wants to come along. Lunch and dinner," I somehow managed to remain
coherent. "Faraz didn't mind but I'd thought I'd ask you first."

  "Oh sure, Stanley," Shawn said brightly. Then she lowered her voice, as if
Viktoriya could hear, "Does she have a date?"

  "Er, ah." I grimaced. It was getting difficult to think. Viktoriya was
pumping her head up and down my cock. Despite her skill as a psychokineticist,
she enjoyed the raw taste of cock and didn't mind a little physical labor to
get what she wanted.

  'I need no chaperone.' Viktoriya thought to me. 'Now come in my mouth. I want
Fat-Freckle-Face to hear us.'

  I grunted and held back. The last thing I wanted was Shawn having a
breakdown, or going ballistic.

  "Are you okay, Stanley?" Shawn had worry in her voice.

  "I'm fine. I think she'll be fine," I checked my breathing and went on. "Pick
you up at ten?"

  "Okay. See you tomorrow then," my Anglo angel whispered, "Good night. I love
you!"

  "Love you t--" I barely finished before I heard the phone go dead.

  Viktoriya had hung up the thing with her telekinesis. I was a little sore as
I placed the handset back into the cradle. I seized her head and heard her gag
and sneeze. I pushed deep against her face, the tip of my cock touching the
back of her throat.

  "I don't want you ever to do that when I'm on the phone again," I said
through clenched teeth. "You need discipline and control."

  It was roughly the same words Tseng had used. Viktoriya was struggling to
breathe, her hands slapped helplessly against me. I was slightly surprised
myself. For a girl who could easily lift us both and juggle a half dozen cars
at the same time, she was behaving docilely as I did as I pleased.

  I finally yielded and pulled out. Viktoriya coughed, sputtered, and collapsed
on all fours, breathing raggedly. My dick was slimy, wet, and still hard from
raping her mouth, but I wasn't finished. I was more than a little put off by
how Viktoriya exhibited her jealousy of the others' Melanine moped and
seethed, but she would vent her energy into trying to out-do the others to
garner my attention.

  Viktoriya on the other hand, seemed to exhibit an edgier side and dared to
test my patience and acceptable social norms. Testing my patience was one
thing, but pushing social norms meant unwanted attention. Unwanted attention
would mean revealing the invisible empire. And revealing the empire meant
dealing with Tseng. 

  I reached down and grabbed a handful of Viktoriya's hair. She didn't resist
as I pulled her roughly to the bed. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she
wasn't crying. If anything, she seemed to be smiling, if only faintly. I
wasn't finished yet. Viktoriya had riled me up and she was going to get it. I
barely remembered it, but it was in this room that I had forced myself on
Rachelle the first time. I looked at Viktoriya and realized that she was
smiling. She probably planned this, filching my memories in my moments of
weakness.

  Good God, I thought. She wanted it to happen. She was probably getting off on
my memories of Rachelle's first time in the room when I zonked-out the mulatto
girl by accident then date-raped her.

  Sick bitch. I flipped her over to avoid looking at her face, but I heard her
laugh. Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? She didn't need to see me to enjoy
this. She could even use mind-sight to look at her own body while I fucked
her. 

  So you want to see how I raped Rachelle do you, I thought dourly.

  'I dare you, kisa. I dare you.'

  She taunted me with thought-speech. Viktoriya turned her head and ran her
tongue over her lips. Had anyone seen her do that in public, there would be no
doubt what was on her mind at that time.

  I stuffed a pillow under her belly to prop her butt up towards me. I rubbed
my shaft against her bushy cunt and pressed in slightly then pulled back out.
Viktoriya hissed with audible pleasure at the initial intrusion then her body
tensed as she realized what I intended to do.

  Almost immediately, I felt her ass cheeks clench tight as she struggled to
turn around. I pressed down on her with my weight and kept her prone. I felt
the bed vibrate as Viktoriya tried breaking free, but I jumped into her mind
and disrupted her concentration. The bed and the rest of the room continued to
vibrate, but it came to naught as I rammed my fat dick into her tightly
wrapped shitpit.

  "Nghk--aiy!" Viktoriya let out a short wail.

  I felt the tenseness of her whole being, not just her body, as I literally
reversed her ingrained feeling of what it was like to shit with one smooth
stroke. I lay atop her, pinning her with my body and my mind, and feeling the
tight, gritty warmth of her anal ring wrapped around my wonder wand.

  We were in a stalemate of sorts. Viktoriya could've thrown me off in a rage,
but I would've pulled at something (likely her) and would've injured her
severely. I could keep going as I did with Rachelle but I felt it would be
unfair to Viktoriya. It would mean she wouldn't be able to sit for a week. So,
I leaned over as if to whisper in her ear, but thought-spoke instead: 'Truce?'

  I felt Viktoriya panting and gasping, her ass clenched my tool, trying to
shit it out but without success.

  'Truce.' She surrendered herself.

  I slowly inched out of her ass, and a familiar stink permeated the room
briefly. I opened the windows then headed for the bathroom. Viktoriya followed
close on my heels. I showered while she sat on the toilet and let out an
audible fart.

  "I'm sorry," I said over the hiss of the shower spray.

  "I know," Viktoriya said sullenly. The fight was taken out of her. She wiped
herself then stepped into the shower to wash herself. It was an abnormally hot
night, so I stood in the tub and watched.

  "Is it always that painful?" she asked me aloud.

  "It needn't be," I caught her hand as she tried to push me away.

  Viktoriya froze and I felt her fear. I didn't want things to grow worse
between us; she was already leaving for another city. I hugged her and kissed
her neck and shoulders. I felt her relax as she returned my affection.

  'Maybe I should not go with you tomorrow.' Her thought-speech seemed flat and
emotionless. 'You have a date already.'

  "No I don't mind," I brushed back some of her deep brown hair. "But let's
ramp it down a little; don't give me a blowjob when I'm busy okay?"

  'Very well.' She sounded disappointed. 'But buy me a dress. You promised her,
you can promise me. Besides, I need to look nice for tomorrow night.'

  We separated and stepped out of the shower. I followed her back into the 
bedroom where we both took to bed, our minds buzzed with a shared sense of
renewed mischief. We played with our bodies using telekinesis, discovering the
odd delight of "touching" without actual physical contact. After we tired of
applying our minds, we applied pressure the old fasioned way. Despite all our
gifts, we still found great delight in just plain old 'normal' sex.

===============================================================================
  GONE CHOPIN. BACK IN A MINUET. TRY HANDEL.
===============================================================================

  When I awoke the next morning with my wet, wilted cock between Viktoriya's
legs, I realized that it was our first sleep-over. It had occurred so
naturally, it escaped my notice (and apparently hers). The first thing she did
after getting up (and grabbing a quick shower) was to give a call to her
parents.

  I cleaned up while she babbled on my line in Russian. Despite the increasing
volume of her voice throughout the call, Viktoriya seemed unruffled when she
pitched the handset back into the cradle with her telekinesis. She sat back
lazily on my bed and sighed.

  "How'd they take it?" I asked. It didn't take a mind-reader to know what I
was asking about.

  "Papa says to focus on the institute," she replied slowly. "Mama wonders what
you want with me."

  "Parents," I tousled her shoulder-length hair.

  'Parents.' Viktoriya's dark eyes twinkled with joy as she thought-spoke. I
leaned down and kissed her warmly, our rough spat the night before forgotten
and past.

  As we planned the night before, Viktoriya and I picked up Shawn around ten.
That gave us time enough for a quickie exercise in Golden Gate Park where we
practiced "shrouding" our telekinetic focus around our bodies as an unseen
"repelling force". We had so much fun sticking our fingers and feet into
Spreckles Lake and pushing aside the water that we almost stayed past our
self-allotted deadline. 

  By the time we pulled up to Shawn's house, she was already outside waiting
anxiously. To my surprise, Viktoriya apologized and offered to treat Shawn to
lunch. Shawn took to calling Viktoriya "Vicky" almost immediately. Another
quirk that won Viktoriya over was how my plump little angel almost always saw
the brighter side of things. Shawn asked "Vicky" how she knew me, and then
made healthy small talk after we ordered.

  Shawn had known about my relationship with my First (Janet), Rachelle, and
(about two years ago) Melanie. She didn't mind Viktoriya's presence; I knew
she knew I was probably seeing her six-ways from Sunday too. It didn't matter
though, I paid Shawn the attention she deserved when were together, and
neither of us let hang-ups interfere with the chief reason why we liked
hanging out: to have fun. That was exactly what we were having until the check
came. 

  That's when I realized exactly how far Viktoriya was willing to push her
gift. The recent bonding Viktoriya and I had done (mentally and otherwise)
meant she possessed some of the mental persuasion I had developed over the
years, chiefly the substitution of imagery a 'normal' could sense (sight,
sound, touch, and smell/taste). Viktoriya glanced at our check then slipped
what I thought was a fan of money onto the tray. I blinked and saw that the
dollar bills were in fact, napkins. My jaw nearly dropped.

  Holy. Shit.

  'That's taking things a bit far aren't we?' I gave her a mental
toungue-lashing.

  'I'm not paying for lousy food.' Viktoriya dismissed me with a smile.

  I held my breath until we walked out. No one came after us, but I never did
go back to that cafe again. Shawn wasn't aware anything was amiss, but I rued
that I had done something similar (out of necessity) when I took Shawn out on
our first date. Unlike Viktoriya though, I simply disguised a single dollar as
a ten, so that restaurant just got short-changed; I didn't pay them with paper
napkins.

  We headed for the shopping mall after. There was a boutique Viktoriya wanted
to go for a dress. She suggested Shawn get one as well.

  "For tonight," she said.

  "But I have a dress," Shawn said then turned to me and asked. "Is it really
that fancy?"

  "I don't know," I shrugged, "But Ghandia's and Faraz's family will be there."

  "Sounds quite the affair." Viktoriya nudged me aside, and grinning wolfishly,
she pulled Shawn alongside her. I put on my best face, but grimaced inwardly.
This was going to be a busy day. From the way Viktoriya was looking at Shawn,
I knew she was just biding her time. That nymphomaniac would pounce on my baby
angel's snatch once the situation was right.

  Now, going shopping was not something a man generally does (gifted or not).
Going shopping in the company of two pretty women was another thing entirely.
Shawn hadn't shot up much more since her days in school. But she did get a
little bigger (just her tits, which were now fatty D-cups) from her sedentry
lifestyle of drafting plans and schematics on a computer.

  She wasn't a size 3, but she didn't require a size 14 either. She just needed
a little more of a relaxed evening dress that accentuated her figure, but
allowed for some intake of food (or as I saw it from an engineer's standpoint:
'give and take').

  Viktoriya too, wasn't a size 2 (or 3) either due to her rather good height
(almost as tall as I was). However, her lean dancer's body showed through. I
heard eyes click as men (and women) around the store snapped towards her when
she stepped from the dressing room. Shawn was a-ga-ga at Viktoriya's graceful
form and movements. When the brunette stepped back in to change outfits, Shawn
gave me a dirty look.

  "Stanley?"

  "Yes muffin?" I droned.

  "How did you meet Vicky?"

  Shawn had picked out her dress, a deep olive green affair with few frills, a
demure cut, and a modest neckline. I was trying to picture what she would look
like with the dress on and off when she prodded me with her foot.

  "Well?" She was tapping her finger impatiently.

  "Like she said," I gave her a wry grin, "We met in school."

  "What class?" Her voice seemed to rise.

  "English," I said truthfully then added, "And dance."

  "You?" Shawn scoffed, "Dance?"

  I had to grin. I wasn't much of a dancer; Shawn had seen that when I took her
to her junior and senior proms. I didn't have any rhythm and I sure as heck
didn't possess any musical talent like my flute playing darling.

  "What can I say," I said meekly, "I needed exercise."

  "Yeah right," Shawn pursed her lips, "Does Rachelle know about this?!"

  "Well, she will," I gave her a disarming smile. "Tonight."

  To my surprise, Shawn laughed, "That's awful, Stanley. You should tell her
the truth."

  "I will," I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for Viktoriya to finish changing, "I
just have to let Rachelle down easy."

  "I meant Vicky," my plump dumpling swayed her hips to bump mine. "Does she
know how serious you and Rachelle were?"

  "She'll be fine," I replied dryly.

  She'll be more than fine, I wanted to add. Viktoriya wants to jump Rachelle's
bones. Right after she dyke-grinds with you, or maybe at the same time.
Picturing the three of them in a lesbian free-for-all gave me pause, and a
half-hard.

  "Are you sure?" Shawn's sigh jerked me from my day-dreaming, "I mean I got
pretty worked up myself."

  "That was some time ago," I pinched her cheeks, "And besides, you're
special."

  "Grow up," she slapped my hand away. "You keep this up Stanley, and no girl
will want you."

  I put on a sad face, "Not even you pumpkin?"

  "No," she stuck her tongue out at me, "'cause I can't share."

  "Hey I'm not a Ken doll at a play-date," I growled and took her hand.

  Shawn snorted and avoided my gaze. Normally, taking a girl by the hand meant
some sort of tenderness or act of reconciliation, but for me, it meant that I
wanted to persuade someone in a furtive manner. I coaxed Shawn as best I
could, and tried to recall the good times we've had.

  "C'mon Shawn," I squeezed her hand gently, "Let's not argue okay? It's too
nice of a day for that."

  She was about to say more when Viktoriya stepped out. Both of our jaws
must've dropped and neither of us said a damn thing because we were wow'ed
into speechlessness. The brunette wore a black backless dress that held itself
up with a string around her neck and a tight wrap around her sweet, shaking
tush. Her legs peeked out from the slit in the side as she stood tip-toed in
front of the mirror.

  "I have the shoes for this," she said pragmatically while preening herself in
the mirror, "What do you think, Stanislav?"

  "It's pretty good," I mumbled aloud then thought-spoke to her. 'Shoes hell
Vicky; you have the body for that.'

  Viktoriya eyed me slyly. 'Call me that aloud and I will ...' an image of her
aphixiating me between her thighs popped into my head.

  'Sounds fun, babushka.' I dared her mentally. 'I'm getting horny just
thinking about it.'

  Viktoriya became visibly grumpy from that moniker (akin to 'grandmother',
although it is street slang referring to unpleasant old hags). It was a sure
sign that she wasn't aware of how visible we were, doing what we did in
public. I glanced at Shawn to see if she noticed.

  "God, Vicky," Shawn practically oozed excitement, "You look GREAT!"

  Viktoriya blushed and I grinned. Shawn's optimistic honesty often disarmed
people. That was one of the reasons Melanie loved hanging out with her:
'Shawn's awful fun, Stanley!'

  Shawn let me hold her dress so she could fiddle with Viktoriya's. While the
girls were doing whatever the hell they did, I glanced at the price tag of the
dress and nearly jumped out from my skin. $200 a pop for a piece of sheer
fabric?

  'It is too much is it not?' Viktoriya chatted with Shawn as she thought-spoke
to me. 'Why don't you charge it to some 'normal's' account?'

  'You mean steal the dresses?' I reproached her.

  'You are better than I at trickery, kisa.' Viktoriya laughed at one of
Shawn's childish jokes, but her dark eyes betrayed the steel behind her
request. 'And I will not wear anything else for tonight.'

  'Fine.' I gave her a tired grin and cast about for a solution. Many times,
Viktoriya's selfish demands seemed nearly like exercises that Tseng concocted.
I entertained the notion they did know one another. Perhaps it was all a trick
to train me.

  'What are you worried about now, Stanislav? You'll definitely make me
babushka if you keep worrying all the time.'

  Dammit. I was so distracted I must've allowed Viktoriya to pick up what I was
mulling over.

  'Just wondering how I'm going to get $400 and spare change for sales tax.' I
looked towards her way and saw Shawn waiting by the dressing rooms for
Viktoriya.

  'You need $600. My dress is a little more.' Viktoriya connected with me
through mind-sight. I could see her topless in the dressing room, slowly
gathering her clothes. She looked straight into the mirror, pinched one of her
nipples, and gave me a saucy wink. 

  'I will dress slowly but you will need to hurry, kisa!'

  'Great.' I cast about looking for a sucker with money then caught sight of
the bargain rack. A brash, bold plan came to me as I thought-spoke to
Viktoriya. 'What is the UPC on your dress?' 

  So, there you have it. I, Stanley Chen, committed fraud at the point of sale
using sleight of mind. A little telekinesis frustrated the laser scanner so
the saleswoman had to punch in the UPC codes herself. The substitution of
different UPC codes meant that the girls' dresses went from $700 to less than
$100 (plus tax).

  Of us three, Shawn was most surprised. Viktoriya knew I was up to something
but not sure about the how. I gladly paid in cash to forestall anyone looking
for a paper trail. As we headed back to the car, Viktoriya found time to
admonish me.

  'You should try harder.' She scuffed the ground with her brogans, kicking
away some unseen annoyance. I knew it was for show. She could've flicked
whatever it was a half-mile with just a wayward thought.

  'I did the best I could.' I didn't feel like listening at the time. I reached
and took Shawn by the hand as we walked.

  My angelic darling gave me a little smile but her eyes flicked past me to
Viktoriya. I knew Shawn was nervous as usual. She felt threatened by the
presence of the other girls save Melanie. Viktoriya wore a broad grin, but it
masked brooding thoughts and even darker lusts.

  'We could have gotten away without paying at all.' The brunette walked closer
to me, her steps matching mine's and Shawn's.

  'That would be shoplifting.' I opened the car doors to let her and Shawn in
but kept my gaze on Viktoriya. 'And $40 a piece is affordable although I bet
that saleswoman will get fired.'

  "Thank you, Stanley," Shawn hopped in.

  "You're welcome pumpkin," I replied audibly.

  'She can find another job.' Viktoriya's mental-tone was chilly but her voice
was frightfully sweet as she said, "Thank you Stanislav."

  Her dark eyes regarded me darkly as she stepped into the car. I smiled back
and dipped my head in acknowledgement but I had a stronger message in mind.

  'That's an unnecessary risk.' I mentally lashed back more violently than I
had intended. At the corner of my eye, I saw Shawn rub her temples. Damn, I
thought. I turned down my anger and thought-spoke gently to Viktoriya.

  'It's attention we don't need. We can get away with this occasionally, but it
is like a fox who eats too many hens: sooner or later, the farmer will be
aroused and he will ambush the fox.'

  'I've heard of that tale as a child.' Viktoriya thought back. 'Don't lecture
me as if I am, Stanislav!'

  'It is simply good advice sweetheart.' I projected worry as I started the
car. 'I don't want anything to happen to us.'

  My Baltic beauty gave me a mental sigh as we drove off. She changed the
subject as she chatted with Shawn, comparing shoes, accessories, and other
hen-club shit. I dropped off Viktoriya first at La Playa then dropped Shawn
off at her place by the park. I would pick up the girls later. 

  I headed back to my room at my parents' house. My room had been built and
remodelled by my parents as a temporary residence for me. It was intended that
I move out once I attended college (or graduated) but my academic career had
given me a reason to stick around.

  For ten years, my room had seen a lot of traffic. Each of the five women had
their own individual quirks: Janet always tried to present a cool,
level-headed professional attitude, but she was often as mischievous and
immature as Melanie. Shawn had two sides of her character: shy and less shy.
She was reserved in public, but boisterous in private. Rachelle was perhaps
the most superficial; however, deep down, I sensed she felt the need to prove
herself.

  Viktoriya Lychenko, was my latest "house-guest" but I felt a greater degree
of closeness with her than the others. It was relieving to have someone share
similar powers and be an inquisitive and quirky lover at the same time.
Unfortunately, Viktoriya was moving clear across the country to pursue her
studies in dance.

  It depressed me inwardly, but I wondered if it was for the best: Viktoriya
was quite a handful, and New York City seemed to be the place to satisfy her
appetites. The only thing that kept her from doing anything brash was fear of
exposing herself because she was unable to hide her identity when
mind-reading; nor would she risk unprotected sex with anyone save other girls.

  As I preened myself and picked out my clothes, I began wondering how it would
all turn out, for each of the women had formed opinions about the others.
Janet knew Melanie, but didn't seem all too favorable towards Rachelle. That
feeling between Rachelle and Janet was mutual since the two hadn't met face to
face. They knew of each only through me (when I broke the news) and the subtle
remnants they each left behind in my room. 

  Shawn knew about the existence of the other four (Janet, Melanie, Rachelle,
and thanks to today, Viktoriya) although she had only met all but my First in
person. Nonetheless, Shawn was in awe of the others due to her meek nature.
Janet hadn't met Shawn, but Rachelle knew of her and didn't think too highly
of how I was carrying on with Shawn when we were dating.

  The most audacious of my lovelies was Viktoriya. She knew everyone by
mind-sight or through my memories. At first, I wanted to limit her physical
contact to Melanie. That was natural. The three of us were gifted, though in
different ways: Melanie was empathic but very latent, and she could do little
mischief apart from having her feelings hurt more than average then whining
about it until the cows came home.

  Viktoriya was the tigress in my brood of lovelies. She was able to pulp
coconuts by sheer willpower simply because she was irritated. And I was what
Tseng called a "catalyst". I learned the gifts of the other two and boosted
their potency, making Melanie hyper-sensitive and suggestive, and allowing
Viktoriya to bend steel re-bars and tear new assholes.

  I frowned as I looped a belt through my dress slacks. I had little idea if
Viktoriya was indeed as powerful as Tseng was; should things not go her way, I
could have a potentially hazardous lovers' spat. Today she met Shawn. Tonight
she will meet Rachelle. Things were progressing rather quickly and I wasn't
wholly sure what could happen next.

  I mulled over the situation some more as I reached for my tie on the table in
the kitchenette. That was when I felt something. It was a sudden presence, a
strange one. I turned around and saw him sitting casually on the sofa where I
had cradled Melanie when she was just a girl.

===============================================================================
  JUMPED BY A JUMPER
===============================================================================

  He was the thin-faced, sandy-haired fellow whom I saw when I was mind-reading
Davies some years ago. Only now, he was a little chunkier and was dressed like
a tourist: a plaid shirt, khaki cut-offs, and hiking boots. But what disturbed
me the most was how he get into my house.

  How did he get in? My senses leaped into overdrive. I focused on the
stranger's mind and began sifting and cataloging his thoughts before he even
knew it. He was an orphan -- wait -- no, he was abused. His mother was dead,
his father might as well be. A myriad of jobs he was good at came through: day
laborer, craftsman, amateur movie-maker, courier. I thought I stumbled on what
appeared to be a bank robbery. He was married to someone named Mildred or
Molly or Millicent.

  My mind zipped back to the encounter back at the Federal building in the
downtown / financial district. Tseng had mentioned something about this guy's
foot after we left, Tseng also mentioned a name.

  "David ... Reese?"

  The stranger in my room shifted uncomfortably. Only a second had passed from
the instant I turned around and saw him to when I uttered his full name.

  "Damn," the man named David muttered. "You guys are quick. I didn't even
introduce myself yet."

  Actually, his name didn't come to me when I sifted through his memories; I
had remembered the name because Tseng had mentioned it. The man known as
"David" had several aliases floating around (Reese, Rice, Richards, etc.) and
I wasn't sure which it was. Nevertheless, his mistake was his to make; I never
revealed my vulnerabilities.

  "How'd you get in?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

  Never show weakness, I recited from my exercises. Never show strength. Keep
'normals' mystified and unsure. That might be true about everyday people, but
I wondered if it applied to the man in front of me. Speaking of weakness
though, I glanced at his right foot. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but
his foot was fully covered by his hiking boot.

  "It seems unfair you know my name," David soured, "When I don't know yours."

  "Stanley," I said simply. "I hope you have a good reason for coming here. And
how did you come in --?"

  There was a dull POP and David simply vanished just like in one of those
cheaply produced science-fiction movies. You know the ones where the camera
would stop filming, the actor would go off camera, and filming is resumed to
give the audience the impression that the actor disappeared? Yeah, those kinda
films.

  The hairs on my neck stood up as I realized I could still sense David nearby.
I took four strides towards the small side window that peeked into the
backyard. I pulled aside the blinds and saw him standing just outside my
bedroom looking at his watch. He literally jumped when I tapped lightly on the
window.

  POP. David vanished as soon as he saw me and I immediately felt his
presence again, but in a different location. I whirled around and saw him
sitting on my dining table in the kitchenette, his boots dangling over the
polished vinyl floor.

  "Get the hell off the table," I snapped at him before he could say anything.
"And take off your damn shoes."

  Under normal circumstances, I suppose I would've thought I was crazy, deluded
or hallucinating. However, I wasn't normal. Nor were strange occurences all
that odd to me. After years of witnessing what Tseng, Viktoriya, Melanie, and
I could do, I was no longer under the impression everything could be taken at
face value.

  This guy's vanishing trick was something I hadn't seen before, but it didn't
take a mind-reader to know he was either displacing himself, or shooting out
illusions into my mind that hinted that he could. For all I knew, he was an
illusory image (although the dirt on the carpet later disproved this to me).
All I knew at the moment was that he trespassed into my house, he mucked up
the place with his dirty shoes.

  My voice held zero fear and when David saw I was fit to kick his ass, he
vanished again with a POP. I felt his presence diminish dramatically on my
mental radar. I knew he wasn't around, but at the same time, I knew he was
still alive. It was a very, very small blip though.

  Interesting, I thought. But there was no time for experimentation and study.
If this guy was actually displacing himself, he could come in behind me, and
do whatever he wanted to. It took me a blink of an eye to know someone was
nearby, but considering how fast he could displace, it could be all the time
he needed to land the first blow.

  I backed myself into the corner of the inner room so the door to my studio
and the kitchenette were in front of me. Now, if this guy showed up again,
he'd have to do so in front of me where he would be watched. David POPPED
back in after minute or two, his boots replaced by slippers. I could now see
that his right foot was indeed prosthetic from the ankle down. When he saw me
standing in the corner of the room, his brow arched.

  "Sorry about that," David pointed to a chair. "May I?"

  I gestured but stood in my spot. "What do you want?"

  "I just wanted to talk," David sat down cautiously.

  I noticed he hadn't changed his garb, only his shoes. I suppose if I could
displace myself, I would be dressed casually as well. It'd only take a
heartbeat to go home.

  "Then talk," I said. "I have dinner plans in two hours and I don't like being
late."

  "I'm sure you don't," David's mouth worked up a smile. "Look, I didn't mean
to trespass."

  "Yet you did," I said coldly. "Entering a private residence without
permission may be considered a prosecutable offence. I could've shot you."

  "Like you could," David narrowed his eyes, "A kid like you with a gun? Don't
make me laugh."

  "How wrong you are," I felt my anger but kept my cool. "I don't need a gun,
but you and your foot already know that, right?"

  At that, David stood up suddenly. I thought I felt he was going to do his
displacement trick again, but he surprised me by doing nothing save looking
angry and balling his hands into fists. I caught bits of his thoughts as he
stood glowering at me from my kitchen: 'Fucking son of a bitch.' 'Calm down.
Gotta calm down.' 'Can't wind up like that; either of them.'

  The last thought was interesting. David seemed to have two people in mind
when that thought crossed his mind. One man I instantly recognized as Tseng.
The second was an old white guy I hadn't seen before. David swallowed,
composed himself, and relaxed his posture before he spoke again.

  "Look. I'm sorry if I got off on the wrong foot." At that he gave a dry
laugh. I toned down my own stance and bade him to continue. "I didn't mean to
startle you, but these days the NSA does a lot of its spying from satellites."

  David jerked a finger up towards my ceiling. I kept my mental focus on him,
but flicked my eyes upwards in response. So, that could explain why the agency
wasn't following me. They used goddamned robots whirling around outer space.
No thoughts for me to track. Smart motherfuckers, these NSA bastards. When I
looked back at David, neither of us moved from our respective spots.

  Good, I thought. We have sort of truce then.

  "Because of that, I'd rather talk to you indoors if you don't mind," David
went on. "Unless the place is bugged."

  "Is it?" I asked.

  "Shit I dunno," he shrugged. "You're the mind-reader Stanley; you tell me."

  "Listening devices don't have thoughts," I replied.

  David threw up his hands, "Of course. How stupid of me."

  I was still wary, but his tone, body language, and thoughts didn't paint him
as dangerous. Still, I remained in my corner to reduce the number of angles of
attack. I realized I could affect any number of things in the immediate area
should this guy try something funny: a set of carving knives were on the
kitchenette counter, the chopping block was quite heavy, and small television
would make suitable weapons if push came to shove.

  Thankfully, it didn't come to that. Whoever this guy was, he was gifted, but
in a different way. I still heeded Tseng's warning though: 'Don't tip your
hand.' I decided to fake some motions and see what I could get away with.

  "Well since you're here anyway ..."

  I pretended to close one eye then shifted a bit of my attention away from
David. I made a mock gesture with my hand. The kitchen tap turned on and David
took a noticeable step back. I almost wanted to laugh. Viktoriya and I had
manuevered and manipulated so much kitchenware while doing other tasks it had
become second nature with us. In the weeks leading up to our graduation at
Berkeley, we had started messing around with manipulating fluid. In that, she
was more successful than me.

  I picked out the smoothest glass cup from my collection and let it fill with
cold water. I levitated the glass towards David and shut off the tap. He
glanced at me, then at the cup before he accepted.

  "Don't drop it," I said from across the room. "You break it, you get me a new
one."

  "Sure," David took a small swig, swished it in his mouth and swallowed.
"Thanks."

  "Now that we've demonstrated we're civilized men," I said, "Tell me why
you're here; did that Cox guy send you?"

  "Brian?" David set the glass down. "Hell no. He made me and wife's life
miserable before I cut a deal with him."

  "So you don't work for the NSA?"

  "Just part time," he replied, "And only transporting things. Like the
occasional person. I have to agree with the morality of it though. Part of my
deal with Cox."

  I knew he believed it was true, so I decided to trust him for now. "What deal
did you have with him?"

  "He was to leave me and Millie alone," David explained, "Otherwise, I send
more of their goons on unwanted trips to random Third World countries and have
the NSA fly them back at great expense."

  "Nice," I had to grin at that. This guy was certainly assertive with his
gifts. "So you can take other people along with you when you do that trick of
yours?"

  "Jumping," David nodded, "Yeah."

  I waited patiently for him to say more. When neither of us spoke, I broke the
silence.

  "That's it?" I blurted.

  "What do you mean that's it?" David was incredulous. "I teleport for
Chrissakes. That's not enough for you guys?"

  "Sounds like you're just a portable Star Trek transporter," I shrugged, "And
who the hell are you calling 'you guys'?"

  "You and Tseng of course," he said then stopped. "Who else would I be
referring to?"

  Try Viktoriya, Melanie, and a few more you haven't met yet, I nearly answered
him aloud, but I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and shrugged instead.

  "You make it sound like we're buddies," I said acidly. "He's not my friend.
In fact, I was quite happy before he found me."

  Although, I wondered, if I would've known as much as I did now.

  "Oh, I see."

  I sensed that David hadn't expected that, so I asked him another question.
"You think we're like-minded?"

  "You're reading my mind?" he asked me accusingly.

  I shrugged again, and presented myself modestly as I did a few years before.
"Just what you were about to say aloud, or what you were going to do."

  "I see," David looked a little disturbed. "I guess that's how you found me
outside in your backyard, right?"

  "I knew where you were," I said simply. I left out the part where he nearly
vanished once he was out of my immediate sight.

  "That figures," he scowled. "I have to think of where I'm going before I can,
well, you know."

  "Jump?" I said helpfully.

  "Right," David stood up. "I suppose you wouldn't want to come to my place
would you? Seems fair, since I dropped by yours."

  I risked a glance at the clock. We had been at this for nearly twenty
minutes. I was fine time-wise, but if I dwaddled, I'd be late. Late for an
important date.

  "I guess so," I said slowly, "Where's your place?"

  "New Mexico." David said it with a broad smile.

  Fuck you, you liar, I thought. He was lying right to my face, probably a
reflex, or out of habit. David lived in Texas, but still New Mexico was still
in the same damn area. Still, I sensed he didn't intend any harm; if he
changed his mind later, I suppose I could see what I could do. Maybe restrain
him by focusing on his skin or something. Was that how Tseng took out David's
foot? Shackle a part of him when the latter jumped?

  "I guess you're going to do your twinkling trick," I stepped cautiously away
from the corner, "What do I need to do?"

  David got up and pointed at the chair he was sitting on. "I don't want to
touch you; I was told it was dangerous."

  "It could be," I admitted that much. I wondered who told him, Tseng or Cox?

  "Sit in the chair and hang-on tight," David said, "Like it was a theme park
ride or something."

  I did so, but reluctantly. I sat nervously, but only because I wasn't sure
about what to expect. I could still sense David's mental presence, but if he
decided to attack me, I'd have very little time to ...

  POP

  I felt the chair wobble but that was it. I was staring at my room one
instant, and the next I was in a dim cavernous room made of reddish rock. I
inhaled and felt the hot dry air sting my lungs. I coughed and sneezed as my
body felt the heat throttle my senses. Holy fuck. I bent over with my head
between my knees. It was hot like Hong Kong. At least it was a dry heat. My
mind reflexively concocted its brew of dry, sarcastic wit. I didn't laugh.

  "I'll be right back," David said.

  Things were moving so quickly, I didn't have a clear idea of what to do next.
I suppose I could've mentally shouted at him, but I wasn't sure what would
happen. Would he faint? Have an epileptic seizure? Vanish forever? I couldn't
tell. As far as I know, he was going to leave me here. David disappeared with
a POP and I sat nervously for a moment before he appeared later in the same
spot with a woman in his arms.

  "Thanks Davy." I caught her whisper. "Is that him?"

  "Yep," came the reply. When David reappeared, I immediately sensed a new
"pulse". Like a new contact brimming in my consciousness. That could be bad.
Could I not forget everyone I met? Would I have four billion (and counting)
blips on my mental radar? I pushed that to the back of my mind.

  Nonsense. Must be Tseng's paranoia getting to me, I thought dourly.

  I instinctively "knew" that my parents, Andrew, Janet, Melanie, Viktoriya,
and the other girls were fine. They were alive and hence "broadcasting". If I
concentrated a little more, I could get a clearer picture of what the heck
they were doing (mind-sight). My friends, like Faraz, I had to focus just a
little more, but I knew I could do the same thing to them.

  So maybe it is merely a matter of paying attention, I realized. But back to
the setting at hand. The woman David displaced with was a short-haired, stocky
woman wearing spectacles. She looked to be about in her late 20s or early 30s
and was dressed casually in shorts, a t-shirt, and open-toed slippers. It was
then I noticed the cavernous room was really a cave. But what a cave!

  It was furnished better than my own room. Several bookcases were put against
a wall. The cave's natural opening was fenced by a man-made wall of brick and
mortar. The only light came from some portable lamps and a cooking stove. It
was all very homey. I must've whistled, because the woman laughed as she bent
over to grab a kettle.

  "You must be a cad," David said, "That's my wife."

  "No, it's not that," I stood and paced around. Hard wood flooring covered
most of the cave floor. "This place is pretty cool. I never saw anything like
this in design class. Not up close anyway."

  "Easy there Davy," the woman handed me a cup. "He likes what you've done to
the place."

  "Thanks." I took the cup but it was too dark to see what it was.

  "It's too hot for tea or coffee," she said, "And you'd dehydrate drinking
that stuff; that's just plain old water with a twist of lemon."

  "Oh," I sipped the lukewarm liquid and swallowed. "Thanks."

  "Millie," David introduced us. "This is Stanley, the guy I told you about."

  "Hi," Millie extended her hand. It was covered in a yarn mitten.

  "Pleased to meet you," I shook her hand then glanced at David, "I suppose you
could've worn gloves as well."

  David shrugged. "I wasn't sure how close you and Tseng were."

  "I see."

  "So," Millie gauged me carefully, "Davy says you can read minds. Is that
true?"

  "Yep," I said casually as I glanced around. I didn't need to have my gaze
wander far. I had the strangest feeling that I could "feel" the objects and
surfaces around me. Aside from David and Millie, I could sense how large the
space was, what was in it, and how many things I could yank with my gift and
throw with great force. I even manged to pick up on some of Millie's curiosity
about me.

  "Do you know what I'm thinking now?" she asked as she passed a second cup to
her husband.

  "Millie?" David sounded concerned.

  "I suppose I could." I managed a genial smile. "But I generally refrain from
doing that unless I feel threatened."

  Yep. Threatened was the key word here. Besides, it would've been impolite to
tear through the minds of one's hosts, especially if I needed one of them
conscious to transport me back 1000 miles away in the blink of an eye.

  "Oh," Millie became embarrassed. "Well I'm sorry about that. That was rude of
me."

  "It's all right," I shrugged. "I suppose anyone who'd know would ask me for
lottery numbers."

  "Do they?" David asked.

  "Like surveillance devices," I reminded him, "Lottery tickets aren't alive.
You're looking for someone who can predict the future. That's precognition. I
just know what's going on now."

  "Ah, makes sense." Millie poured herself a cup before she set the kettle back
down.

  "So much for striking it rich again, eh?" David rocked on his feet and my
eyes flicked down towards his fake foot. I picked up a stray thought as he did
so. Something about a million dollars and a bank. Hmm, I wondered inwardly.
That may prove interesting. I filed it away in the back of my mind.

  "Well, I don't need to be a mind-reader," I formed my words carefully, "To
know you and Tseng have bad blood between you two. Is there something I should
know?"

  Millie became very quiet and looked at the young man. I could sense her
apprehension climb. 'This guy is pretty direct.' 'I wonder if it's because
he's used to getting what he wants.' Then, 'Shit. I wonder if he's reading our
minds right now and not saying he can?'

  I didn't change my outward curiosity and pretended to remain focused on the
prosthetic. David glanced down at his plastic prop then looked at me.

  "He didn't tell you?" he finally asked.

  I shook my head.

  "And you can't read his mind?" David said in disbelief. "I don't believe
that."

  "It's not a big mystery unless you're not one of us," I lied, "I've never
been able to get close to Tseng --" Yes I have. I can lie right to your face
too, motherfucker, "-- and we're much more adept at hiding our thoughts from
one another."

  Another lie. I bet Tseng could crack me open like a raw egg if he wanted to.
I had nothing on Tseng; the man's mind was like a massively blank wall. I
could sense something buzzing past it, but I couldn't quite get around that
barrier. David and Millie both nodded, accepting my elementary explanation. 

  Great, I thought. I just made some new acquaintances by lying my ass off.
Wouldn't Janet be proud?

  "You're smiling," Millie looked at me wryly, "You sure you're telling the
truth?"

  "What?" I composed myself and cleared my throat. "Just thinking about some
friends."

  "Ah."

  "Their engagement party is tonight," I stuck with a simple explanation.
"Can't stay too long. Ten more minutes maybe. See, I actually have to drive."

  "Yeah, sorry," David glanced at his watch.

  "When's your dinner?" Millie asked.

  "Seven thirty. But I have to pick up my friends." I left it at that, but
David decided to throw in his barbs.

  "You mean the two girls you went to the mall with?"

  "Something like that," I answered coolly. I thought this was none of his
business.

  "Whoa," Millie made a face. "Two girls? That sounds kinda fishy to me."

  "What do you mean?" My eyes narrowed and I adopted a tone fit to be used for
nosy people.

  "No offence," David said, "But it sounds like mind control."

  "Absolutely not," I felt my anger rise then I controlled myself. There was no
reason to let myself get provoked into a useless argument. My two hosts waited
patiently for my explanation. I calmed down and explained, "One is a high
school classmate. The other is a college sweetheart. They're both good
friends, that's all."

  Well, good enough that I had sex with both. Heh-heh. Both of them stayed
silent and I decided to push some buttons.

  "And besides, if I was that powerful," I said, "You'd think I borrow ten
grand from FICO to go to college, graduate, and then work at an ass-end job?
I'd have it easy by being the slickest con-man Wall Street ever saw."

  "Point taken," Millie held up her hand. She had tossed the mitten on a nearby
dresser by now. "Speaking of jobs, I know. I counsel families and couples."

  "Oh, I see."

  Things were a bit more relaxed now, and I looked around their place. I
noticed a row of newspapers cut and hung on one wall. I stepped closer to read
them.

  "The Murrah Federal building?" I looked at them, "A rather macabre decoration
choice wouldn't you say?"

  "It's something personal," David said quickly.

  "It's okay, Davy." Millie smiled wanly and took his arm. "I was just two
blocks away when the bomb went off. If I was on-time for work, I'd be dead."

  "You worked nearby?" my brow picked up, "My belated condolences; it must've
been hard."

  "Well I don't work in Oklahoma City," Millie started to explain, "But I was
there for ..."

  "An appointment?" David and I both finished her sentence. He shot me a dirty
look.

  "Well yes. It was a special case that time," she said. "I wanted to have
lunch with a friend who transferred to the Oklahoma City office."

  "I get the feeling she didn't make it." I sensed the glumness in her voice.

  "No," Millie wore a reserved smile. "I guess you are a mind-reader after all,
Stanley."

  I feigned an apologetic shrug, "To be fair, your husband gave you away."

  "Oh really?" she looked at David, "How so?"

  "Nervous and distracted thoughts are more read-friendly," I gave the truth. I
should know. Aurora, Janet, and Rachelle all got zapped when I was distracted
from sleep, having sex with them or thinking about having sex with them.

  Thinking of my treasured darlings, I grew very afraid. Would mind-reading
have prevented a sudden attack? Even if I knew what was being planned, I
wondered, how would I stop it? My worries gave rise to alarm once I turned
back to the photo wall. A familiar face was in the corner of one of the
papers: Jackson Davies. 

  Although I had only seen him briefly when he was bound and gagged years ago,
I had gotten to know his face from Davies seeing his reflection in the mirror.
It was his mug in the police blotter on the frontpage. He was found beaten to
a pulp near the residence of one of the Oklahoma City incident's prime
suspects. Beaten dead.

  My eyes flicked between David's face and Davies' picture in the paper. I
reached out and gingerly peeked into his mind. He hid the truth from his wife,
but he couldn't from me. His eyes flickered with a sense of fear as he slowly
realized why I was glancing between him and the newspaper on the wall, and why
that particular portion of the frontpage wasn't cropped out when he mounted
it. I stepped away from the wall of trophies and feigned ignorance with my
trademark smile.

  To change the mood, I showed Millie what other tricks I could do. Earlier, I
had shown David the gift of telekinesis I learned from Viktoriya. I pretended
to close my eyes to concentrate and levitated my cup before his wife using the
same fake gestures from before. I asked her to take it so I could relinquish
my power. Millie maintained surprising control of her hands; she took the cup
firmly and I released it from my concentration.

  "Wow," Millie was impressed. "That's better than mind-reading!"

  "You think so?" I sat back in my chair, acting tired and worn when in fact I
was still quite alert and sharp.

  "If you two guys ever got together, you can do a real magic act," she
laughed. "Heck, I could prance around in lace lingerie all day while you guys
do all the work."

  David laughed but I was hardly in the mood to reveal myself so foolishly. I
just smiled then went back to diffing for the answer I wanted from the sandy
haired man.

  "Tseng seems to have a lot of time," I said. "Why don't you ask him?"

  Their jovial mood soured quickly as soon as Tseng's name came up. Millie
drifted off towards the bookcase, picked out a book and sat in a bean bag in
the corner. I ignored her and pointed at David's prosthetic.

  "You want to tell me about that, or leave it a mystery forever?"

  "You sure you don't want to just pick my mind clean while you're at it?" he
asked.

  "No thanks," I replied, "I'd prefer hearing it from you. It's what people
do."

  I felt my two hosts were more at ease once they heard my reply. I didn't need
to resort to any methods more than simple conversation. Not at the moment
anyway. David sat down on the floor, dislodged his fake foot, and held it up
at eye level.

  "You want to know what I think of Tseng?" David studied me carefully, as if
he could read me. He couldn't. I waved my hand for him to continue.

  "The first time I met him, he attacked me," David said curtly, "I guess it's
like what you did with that water glass, but he applied it to me. I jumped
away, but not all of me came along."

  I wondered about his statement for a little bit. Viktoriya and I had
experimented with restraining one another (and on one occasion, Melanie) using
telekinesis, but we had to apply it to the body's external skin. It was a
weird feeling when you could move but were kept in place because parts of your
skin didn't move.

  It was an eerie enough feeling that we only used it here and there for
practice, but never when we made love. It was a dangerous technique. I
employed a variation of it on the thugs in Hong Kong by holding down their
shoes instead of their feet. Looking at David's plastic foot, I suspected what
Tseng did. Nice, I thought. So you can be taken down if need be. I filed that
away for future use.

  "Gross," I made a face to express what I wanted them to see, but I hid my
inner thoughts well.

  David nodded in agreement. Millie hadn't looked up from the book she was
reading, but I knew she was eavesdropping, surreptitiously checking on her
husband. I sensed the great affection they shared. It was almost as great as
what I shared with my own darlings. David stuck his leg back into his foot's
socket and stood back up.

  The two of us talked a little more. I told him my area of study (but not the
school) and lied about nearly everything else by omitting them. Compared to
him, my own background came off surprisingly uneventful. David briefly touched
on how he and Millie met (in New York City) and about how they had shared
getting into trouble with Cox and the agency. However, I was most surprised
when he mentioned that his mother was killed by a terrorist's bomb back when I
was still a gangly teen in high school.

  "If you excuse me for being blunt," I asked, "Where and when was it?"

  "1992. Somewhere in Greece," he said glumly. "That's what got me started. I
took out some hijackers. The agency took notice. The rest is what you'd call
history."

  "So, now what?" I felt mildly uneasy. "You transport me or Tseng or a Special
Forces guy to an airport and take out everyone like in Operation Wolf?"

  "What's Operation Wolf?" David asked.

  "A videogame about a white dude and a black dude saving hostages in the
Middle East," I explained unhelpfully. Hey why not? The game came out around
the time when his mother blew up, and I was in high school playing stupid
videogames with Andrew between sessions of studying and fucking. Besides, it
was relevant to the conversation.

  "I don't think so," David shook his head, "I don't think the agency knows
what it needs. Tseng might, but I don't trust him. That's why I followed you;
I saw you at the shopping center with your, ahem --" despite being clear
across the room, Millie cleared her throat so we both could hear, "-- friends.
I took my wife home and then followed you. I wanted to talk to you and warn
you about Tseng and Cox."

  "But you said you've dealt with Cox," I said.

  "Yes and no," David scratched his chin. "He knows if he or his spook squad
screws with me, they will have their hands full. I don't know about you
though. You need to watch out."

  "You're telling me this, why?"

  "You can read my mind," David laughed nervously. I caught a brief flicker of
a thought: 'God I hope he doesn't say I beat up Davies when I heard about
Oklahoma City.' 'Millie'd go ballistic.' 'This guy sounds okay though.' 'I
just got to convince him he's better off without them.'

  "I just don't want the government screwing up someone else's life." He said
is so solemnly, I would've fell for it if I wasn't a mind-reader. David was
simply trolling for allies so he could quit the agency.

  "Well, cool. Thanks for your concern." I lied too. I didn't tell him that if
I wanted to, I'd compromise his ass to Tseng in a heartbeat to keep my girls
safe from any of his meddling. Tseng would likely take off more than just a
foot the second time. And if he didn't, I wager I probably could. In that
case, good riddance to you and your fat bitch wife.

  "What about Tseng?" I asked. "I'm guessing he's part of the package."

  "I don't know what kind of deal he has," David shrugged. "For a guy who
professes not liking someone, you sure look out for him."

  "You haven't seen what he can do," I blurted. I then kicked myself for being
so hasty with my words. I must be some kind of attention junkie.

  "Wait," Millie hopped up from her corner. "What can he do?"

  I took a slow drink from my water glass as she joined us again. I needed time
to phrase my words carefully. I needed discipline and control, I thought
wanly. Tseng's own words.

  "What can he do?" David repeated and I sensed his apprehension grow.

  Plenty, was what I wanted to say but I simply echoed what Viktoriya and I
could do, with a little ambiguity to leave 'em guessing. I instinctively knew
she and I were nowhere as well versed as Tseng was in our gifts, and likely
nowhere near as experienced applying them.

  "Think of what I did but far more menacing," I put it simply. "Probably find
and crush a missile sub with a thought."

  "That's about what I figured," David sounded glum. "Well, since we're likely
going to work together more down the road, it made sense to me that we at
least have some level of trust. I'd hate to lose any more body parts."

  "You won't," Millie put a hand on his shoulder. How cute. I winced inwardly
as I checked out Millie. Damn, she was fat, and not in a cute way. Unlike my
cuddly Shawn, I could see Millie's thighs wobble when she moved, along with a
slight paunch. If David's wife wore corduroy pants, she'd never be able to
sneak up on anyone, because her fucking groins would map a zip-zip-zip sound
as she walked.

  "Well, I've got nothing against anyone," I said then lowered my voice, "But
don't ever come into my house, uninvited, ever again. I'll do you a favor and
won't drop in uninvited either."

  "I understand Stanley," David nodded. "I'm sorry."

  "I guess this time will have to be an exception," I relented. "I don't have
my keys with me. Can you take me back now? I have some very beautiful ladies I
need to keep a date with."

  "Of course," Millie chuckled. "Girlfriends?"

  "Just friends," I gave her the obscure answer. "And friends of friends."

  "All right," Millie waved her hand slightly. "It was nice to meet you
Stanley."

  "Yeah," I said. "You too. Good night."

  "G'night!"

  "Just wait a bit can you?" David held his wife close. "I have to tuck her
in."

  Millie laughed and kissed him as they both vanished with a POP. As soon as
they vanished, I quickly leaped to my feet and ran to the edge of the cave.
Looking over the edge, I saw the wide expanse of desert being lit up just by
the light of the gibbous moon. I was in the middle of nowhere. I turned my
attention back towards the cave interior and walked slowly back to my chair.

  I needed to sort out what David had said versus what I had read to segregate
the fact from fiction. Sometimes, fiction was used as fact in our business. I
had to categorize and then be able to act with that information at a moment's
notice.

  The last few thoughts he had before he displaced with his wife were still in
my mind. I glimpsed a dimly lit apartment with a bed and furnishings like
normal people. Clearly, this place in the desert was a neutral meeting place
or some shit. If he could displace at will, he probably had his own nice safe
place or, as I fantasized, several places around the world where he could
travel to in a heartbeat.

  As I paced over the smooth hardwood floorboards and wondering how much such
flooring generally cost, something clicked in me. David's recollection about a
bank and his remark about "striking it rich (again)" suddenly became clear.

  "He robbed a bank!" I soured and looked the place in a new light.
"Motherfucker!"

  As I my words echoed lightly off the cave walls, I sensed someone in the room
with me. It was David.

  "Did you say something?" He wasn't surprised that I had turned completely
around to face him as he arrived.

  "Nothing," I said. "Just wondering aloud when you'd get back here. I thought
I had to fly back for a minute."

  "You can fly?" David asked.

  "No," I lied, "But I might take up that suggestion and try. Can't be that
hard with a little experimentation, right? Now, can you take me back please?"

  I sat back on my chair and I felt David take hold. POP. I was back in my
room in San Francisco, and felt the air temperature drop ten degrees
Fahrenheit. I rose and turned to face David. I sensed he was about ready to
leave and held up my hand.

  "Wait," I said, "You can go anywhere you can see right?"

  "Yeah," he replied.

  I drew back the blinds of the side window so David could see my backyard.

  "You can go there if you need to," I said, "Then give me a call or knock on
my side door and I'll let you in."

  "What if you're not here?" he asked, "What then?"

  "Then stick around or knock on my parents' door and ask where I went," I
said. I then wondered if it was a good idea to let him do that. Oh well, too
late to put the cat back into the bag.

  "And if you think you can come back with out me knowing," I hardened my
voice, "Think again."

  David displaced back a step with a POP.

  "I will know," I continued my lie, "And if you disturb anything, I'll know."

  "How?" he asked.

  "Psychic emanations," I said with a straight face, "And do you think you can
lie to a telepath?"

  "No. I believe you." David stepped towards me and looked through the window.
His blue eyes studied the place. He closed his eyes for moment. He was
memorizing it, I knew, and filing it for a future destination.

  "Okay Stanley. See you around."

  He vanished with a POP. I sensed David's presence fade from my awareness
and I knew he was far enough away that I couldn't sense him (unless he
suddenly learned how to hide himself from me). I closed my eyes, extending my
awareness over the city and waited. Nothing out of the ordinary near Shawn's,
Viktoriya's, Janet's, Rachelle's, Melanie's or my other friends' places.

  After a few minutes, I was sure the displacer was nowhere in the city nor
near any of the ones I held dear. I looked at the clock and realized I still
had a little time left. I saw where David had left his dirty shoe prints on my
carpet. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and ran it over the afflicted patch until
no more desert dirt could be seen. I packed away the vacuum, grabbed my keys
and jacket, and headed out the door.

===============================================================================
  UNHEALTHY DIETS
===============================================================================

  I was glad I picked up Viktoriya before Shawn for the dinner. I didn't want
to expose what I knew about Tseng, but the existence of a person who could
displace his own body was something I wanted to get off my chest. I parked
haphazardly in front of the Lychenko's apartment building and got out. As I
walked to her front door, I tried to phrase and re-phrase how I would tell
Viktoriya.

  I rang the doorbell, and a thickly accented voice called out, "Who is it?"

  "It's Stanley Chen." I intoned as clearly as possible. "I wish to speak with
Viktoriya Lychenko."

  There was a brief commotion then the speakerphone went dead. The apartment's
front door buzzed and I opened it. As I climbed the stairs slowly, I came to
the conclusion I couldn't break the news about this to Viktoriya without
creating more questions than I had answers for. Each one would lead to more
questions, until I couldn't fabricate any more answers to cover the truth.

  David sought me out because we were both (somehow) involved in the NSA. How'd
I get contacted by the NSA in the first place? Tseng requested that I show up.
It would've been fine if Tseng was a forthright and outstanding person, but I
had serious doubts. And if Tseng's tale about the rogue telepath, the
"Russian" as he called him, turned out to be a tale that hit too close to
Viktoriya then that would be tragic. I shuddered to think of the
possibilities.

  Ultimately, I decided to keep David's thing a secret. I suppose it would've
been the polite thing to do anyway, since he was gifted as I was. But so was
Viktoriya. I winced when I realized that. Why was I hiding that part of me
from Vika?

  "Are you all right, Stanislav?" Viktoriya peeked past the small crack of her
door. I was surprised to hear her speaking aloud. Then I realized her folks
were just behind the door.

  "I'm fine."

  I stepped in and found an old couple sitting in the room past her. Well they
were not THAT old. Her father looked a little like Joseph Stalin, or the
moustache did anyway. He was a portly fellow and looked rather like a Stalin
who had gotten hefty, and dressed like a college professor. Her mother was a
tall, skinny beauty. Her hair was held down with a yarn shawl or something,
and made her look very gypsy like. A small beauty mark was under her left eye,
next to a very hawkish but regal nose.

  "My papa and mama," my Baltic beauty whispered. Then she thought-spoke: 'If
you don't understand them, let me translate. God help you, kisa, if you anger
them. I will never hear the end of it and they will never let me see you
again.'

  'I'll be good.' I grinned and bid them both a solicitous hello. 'As long as
you don't tell them what you do in that room of yours.'

  'SHUT UP, rodnoi*! [* Russian: Kinsman] I am serious!' Viktoriya shuffled
nervously to sit by her mother. I noticed she had put on that scandalous black
dress from earlier in the day, but she had prudently zipped up with an old
drab jacket. With it, she appeared quite modest, despite those sharp black
heels on her feet.

  [** Author's Note: Rodnoi is often used in a fraternal manner, when two
individuals are close as siblings. Viktoriya's usage here hints she considers
Stanley more like a brother than her lover, or a very intimate lover who is
practically family (i.e., husband)]

  "So," the old man rumbled in his accented English, "Viktoriya says she meet
you in the Berkeley yes?"

  "Er, no," I wondered how much of the story my Slavic siren had told them. "I
knew Vika back in high school."

  Mrs. Lychenko murmured something to her daughter and Viktoriya mumbled an
answer while Mr. Lychenko furrowed his brow.

  "What I meant to say," I clarified myself, "Was that while I knew Vika was in
my school, I actually first spoke with her when we were in City College."

  I left it vague. Shit. Let them do some guesswork. Her father, Mr. Lychenko,
seemed a decent fellow. Viktoriya must've known I was surreptitiously reading
them because I caught a little warning from her.

  'Don't press too deeply. They knew my brother and I were a little special. I
don't want them to be afraid of you.'

  I eased off my focus and nearly had multiple heart attacks. The Lychenkos
knew about Viktoriya and her brother?

  Jeezus, I suddenly felt ill. I nearly fell but Viktoriya propped me up with
her telekinesis.

  'Sorry, kisa. I will explain later.' She shifted a little and smiled to hide
her effort. 'Please stand up Stanislav, I cannot hold you forever.'

  I put strength in my legs and chatted as amicably as I could with Viktoriya's
parents. Mr. Lychenko made it clear that I was free to see Viktoriya, but I
was not to interfere with her studies. Mrs. Lychenko was quiet throughout, but
I could sense she was gauging my character from my answers.

  Heck, for all I know, maybe these two were reading my thoughts. As if to test
them, I briefly pictured Viktoriya brand spanking nude, doing the most vulgar
leg split on my bed, her feral howling rattling the windows while I porked her
sloppily from behind.

  'STANISLAV!!' It was Viktoriya and her face was red with embarrassment. 'Pay
attention to papa please!'

  Neither her father or mother caught the imagery or thought-speak that rattled
in their midst. In fact, Mr. Lychenko was wrapping up his little spiel about
how important some institute in New York was to his daughter and her future. I
unfettered a little bit of my self-control and spoke simply, but eloquently
about my feelings for Viktoriya.

  As I spoke, I opened up to my darling dancer and let her know that I meant
every word I said. It was short, simple, and most of all, I spoke from the
heart. 

  "Viktoriya will start her studies on time," I promised, "Even if I have to
take her out to New York myself."

  Father Lychenko nodded and that was about it. We were a little late thanks to
Viktoriya's parents; we hurried to the car so we could pick up Shawn for
dinner.

  "You meant all that," Viktoriya said gloomily in the passenger seat, "About
taking me out to New York."

  "It's what you want to study," I replied with half an ear. I detested talking
either aloud or using though-speech while I was driving.

  "It is not what I want," she sighed, "Not everything."

  "Sometimes, one can't have it all," I replied, "You said you'd explain about
your parents, darling. How much do they know?"

  'Just that I can sometimes hear their thoughts, and they can hear mine.'
Viktoriya thought-spoke in a gloomy tone. 'But nothing like what you and I do
now. They say that we are --' she used Russian that meant "kindred on a
metaphysical plane".

  "Oh I see."

  I visibly relaxed. Maybe the Lychenkos were like Yu-Ching then. Latent
listeners or something. Viktoriya gave me an odd stare as I turned down the
street to Shawn's house.

  "You sound relieved," Viktoriya let her words hang as I pulled up to the
house.

  "I am."

  I didn't know what else to say as I stopped the car. I was about to open the
door when I stopped and turned towards her.

  "Viktoriya," I said quietly, "It's a dangerous world we live in. I just don't
want anything bad to happen to you."

  "Like it did to Pyotr." It was not a question.

  "Your half-brother?" I asked.

  'Yes.' Came her reply. As strong as she was, I felt she was still haunted by
her half-brother's disappearance. I reached over and kissed her deeply. My
feelings for her flowed as honey would into her mind. It said more than what
spoken words ever could.

  'Thank you, Stanislav.' Viktoriya thought-spoke as she gently touched my
cheek. 'You are so thoughtful and sweet.'

  'So are you, milenky*.' [* Russian: Dear/dearest] I kissed her lightly on the
nose and stepped out of the car. I jogged up to Shawn's house and rang the
doorbell. My auburn-haired angel popped out through the door.

  "I'm late already, Mom!" Shawn hollered. "See you later!"

  "Don't be too late!" I heard a voice call past the door. Mrs. Horten had met
me several times before when I took her daughter to school dances in years
past. She knew me enough that I wouldn't try anything foolish, or so she
thought. I held Shawn by the hand and escorted her to the car. We could both
see Viktoriya powdering her nose through the window.

  "What took you so long?" Shawn sounded annoyed, "You're usually on time."

  "Traffic," I opened the car door. "Watch your head, pumpkin."

  "Watch yours," she flicked a finger at my crotch. "I know why you're late."

  It was useless to argue, so I made sure Shawn was safely settled in her seat
before I shut the door behind her. Faraz told me the whole shin-dig was at a
pretty fancy Mediterranean place on California Street. We found it after
circling the block a few times looking for a place to park. Finally, a car
pulled out and I managed to squeeze my humble sedan into the space.

  "Parking sucks in San Fran," Shawn wriggled out of her wind breaker.
"Stanley, do you have a coat?"

  "Just my jacket, sorry." I had stepped out and opened the car doors for the
girls. "Are you cold?"

  "Not me, you dummy," she pointed. "Vicky's dress is backless. She'll be the
one who's cold!"

  "Oh."

  Indeed, Viktoriya had quite the dress. She got out of her funk and smiled
lecherously. I groaned because I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking
about snuggling against those cozy D-sized puffballs attached to Shawn's
chest.

  "I am fine," she took Shawn's hand. "You are too kind."

  My angelic darling trembled a bit from Viktoriya's touch. The dark-haired
siren let her hand slip away, but her gaze didn't waver until I interrupted
them by offering my arms.

  "Ladies?" 

  They looped their arms through mine and I lead us in. I came into the quiet
bustling restaurant, a beautiful girl on each arm. Shawn had a full,
curvaceous body wrapped in a dark green dress. Under the light, its fabric
shimmered when she walked. Her gold hoop earrings and reddish-auburn hair
contrasted well with her dress, and I noticed some of the women took time out
to admire her good sense of fashion. The men in the meantime, really dug the
cleavage she put out.

  Viktoriya though, clearly got most of the attention. She had done her raven
black hair into a modern beehive. It may have sounded out-of-date on paper,
but it clearly showed off her athletic body. The black backless dress easily
showed off her elegant neck, back, and shoulders. With each step she took, the
slit in her dress parted just briefly to show her dancer's legs. I almost
heard eyes click as she detached from my side and strode towards the dinner
party. All of the other guests were there already. After I congratulated Faraz
and Ghandia, he took me aside.

  "I'm sorry you didn't come with Rachelle," he said. "I didn't know. Ghandia
just let me know today."

  "That's okay Faraz," I shook my head. "I don't blame anyone. Not even
Rachelle."

  "That is very noble of you my friend," Faraz said in a hushed voice, "But
surely bringing two women tonight will make Rachelle even more jealous?"

  "I suppose that's the point. Here," I slipped him a red packet, "I ain't
married yet, but might as well start. I didn't know I was bringing Vika along;
she's pretty high maintenance."

  'I heard that.' Viktoriya pinged me though she was out of earshot. 'Don't
think I don't know what you men are saying about us women!'

  'It's just guy talk.' I replied in thought-speak. 'Why don't you go check out
Heidi?'

  Her mood changed immediately as she took up my suggestion. 'Why that's a
great idea, Stanislav!'

  "So what?" Faraz grinned and sneaked a glance a Viktoriya. "If she is as
tireless as you've been telling me, maybe I should pay you for the privilege."

  I feigned pocketing my gift, "If you say so."

  We laughed quietly. I did feel bad bringing two dates to an official
engagement dinner. But if I had a choice, I would've brought all my girls.

  "Hey Stanley," Faraz elbowed me, "This is too much my friend."

  I had slipped him $300, which was a little on the heavy side for a
Mediterranean meal.

  "Sam-baikmun," I said, "Sam-sam-mang-mang*. It's something to keep your
engagement lively pal. Don't jinx it." [* Cantonese: 300 dollars, rhymes with
'Lively' and 'joie de vivre'.]

  Faraz nodded and pocketed my gift without further complaint. We headed back
to our places at our tables. As I sat down, I looked over the guests for
familiar faces: Viktoriya, Shawn, Heidi, her brother Patrick, her fiance
Jon-Peter, Ghandia, Faraz's sister Ami, his parents, and ... 

  "Rachelle." I sat across from her, nestled between Viktoriya and Shawn.

  "Hello Stanley." I heard Rachelle's chilly reception before I even sensed
her. That was how far we drifted apart since graduation, what? Four years ago?
My black beauty had definitely grown furthest apart from me despite our times
together.

  She was wearing something similar in style to the one she wore when we hit
the town as an item (just a different color): a burgundy sleeveless dress that
bared her shoulders and showed off that luscious chocolate colored skin of
hers. The dress simply was an extension of her dark skin though. Rachelle had
on small gold earrings, but what arrested my attention most was a thin promise
band on her hand. 

  Was that an engagement ring? Rachelle must've caught me looking, because she
clacked her fingernails over the tabletop.

  "It's been a long time."

  "Yes it has," I nodded. 

  I noticed Ghandia had busied herself with a forced conversation with Shawn. I
shifted my gaze to Heidi and found her and Jon-Peter chatting with Viktoriya.
I dipped quickly into everyone's minds and got a broad picture of what they
were trying not to talk about. The pasty-faced fellow sitting next to Rachelle
was alternating between toying with his tie and sneaking glances at Shawn, me
and Viktoriya.

  That must be Craig, I realized.

  "I should've written you more, sugar." I forced myself to smile at Rachelle
and her pale date.

  "I wish you had."

  She smiled back but lowered her gaze. I read her thoughts easily: 'I didn't
want it to end like this.' 'How do I tell him I'm engaged?' 'I didn't even
have the guts to send him the invitation.' 'Well he deserved it anyway.'

  So she was engaged was she? That could explain the chilly reception I was
getting. I was Faraz's friend, but once I had betrayed the queen of the hive,
she had cast me out of her circle as ignominiously (and as quietly) as
possible. I didn't fritter time on such inconveniences. I extended my hand
towards "Craig" and greeted him.

  "You must be Craig," I introduced myself. "Rachelle told me about you last
time she visited."

  "Oh. Hi," he extended his hand. Despite being engrossed in a conversation,
Viktoriya nearly thought-screamed when she saw me stick my bare hand out.

  'Kisa! What are you doing?!' Her face was serene, but I sensed her heart
pounding with alarm.

  'It's all right. I'm just going to shake his hand.' I thought back. 'I
brought you along because you wanted to meet Rachelle, so talk to her
already.'

  Viktoriya smiled and held up a finger to Heidi's last question so she could
turn to Rachelle.

  "I am Viktoriya," she introduced herself. "Stanislav has told me much about
you."

  "Has he now?"

  Rachelle studied her then her eyes flicked over to Shawn. As I shook Craig's
hand, I could sense Rachelle's anger towards me and her dark thoughts: 'I'm
not good enough for him now?' 'He treated me well but he still saw other
women.' 'How can I forgive him?' 'He had the NERVE to bring that pudgy tramp
along!' (Shawn, I realized) 'And who the hell is this under-dressed slut?!'
(in Rachelle's defence, Viktoriya was only wearing the dress and a black
G-string) 'He didn't even bring that other girl along.' (Janet, my lovely
First) 'What a cad!!' (referring to me) 'But oh we had such good times
together.'

  Poor girl, I thought as I shifted my focus on Craig. From our brief
handshake, I picked up enough on him to form a stereotypical behavioral
profile. Craig Simmons was a typical Southern Californian. Although he was
white, he was a hip-hop star wannabe, a "whigger", or at least that was what
he told himself. He was certainly the whitest "black" man I ever met.

  As I carefully delved deeper, I saw how he had met Rachelle. He shared
classes with Ghandia because he was behind a year or two. When he showed up at
Ghandia's dorm, he saw Rachelle and switched targets, especially after he saw
how Faraz would've kicked his ass for trying something with Ghandia. However,
Rachelle was vulnerable. He worked his way in as her friend. Then, as my
correspondence with Rachelle began slackening in frequency and effort, he
started poisoning her mind by dropping hints that maybe I was screwing around
on her (which was true, Rachelle and I had an unofficial open relationship).

  After sharing a few drinks after her second set of finals, Craig slipped
half-a-rufie into her third or fourth drink. He didn't want her completely out
because he wanted her awake, but he wanted to be there in control. He
date-raped her. Scuzzed his filthy ooze right into her. Craig intentionally
did what I had done by accident. Unlike me though, he didn't apologize; he had
his way with her a second time. Rachelle had every intention to tell me but
changed her mind at the last moment.

  Why? I had told her about Janet. More specifically, it was my casual attitude
towards Rachelle that frustrated her. She couldn't read me correctly and
thought I wanted to remain just friends.

  So, after Heidi's and Jon-Peter's engagement, Rachelle returned to Los
Angeles and found Craig waiting for her. He begged her for forgiveness,
pleaded his case. In her moment of weakness, Rachelle succumbed. That was when
she wore his ring: a symbol of their perverted relationship. Craig wasn't one
of the gifted, but he was just as dangerous.

  Had I not been brought up under Tseng's tutelage the past few years, I wager
I would've blasted Craig's mind right there, and then found some way to keep
him alive until I had my fill of torturing him to death. To my credit, I
didn't do anything rash. The next smile I mustered was one of the hardest
things I did in my life; it was harder still to sit down, bottling up my
hatred. Viktoriya must've felt something amiss, because she offered to pour me
a drink, even when my glass was nearly full.

  "Thirsty, lyubimy*?" [* Russian: Beloved.] she asked aloud to draw my
attention then added in thought-speech: 'What's wrong, kisa? I was sure
everyone could've heard you just now.' 

  "I need a drink," I drained my glass and suppressed the urge to gag. The ouzo
was awful.

  "Stanley?" Shawn prodded me under the table, "You okay? I thought you didn't
want to drink because you don't want to, y'know: glug-glug, vroom-vroom,
thump-thump?"

  "I'm fine," I fussed with my napkin.

  Shawn's paraphrasing of an episode of the Simpsons reminded me how much
Rachelle and I had shared. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to take
Craig out behind the restaurant and beat him to death. I imagined stringing
him up, cutting off his cock so he could be gagged with it. I then fantasized
about spending the rest of the night shoving a whole set of kitchen knives
into his body until he'd kiss my ass to kill him. Too bad I never managed to
do that.

  I didn't remember much of the rest of the evening. I may have chosen not to,
but it was more than likely Viktoriya who did her best to blot out the memory.
I remembered cheers and toasts, the bland food, and smiling a lot, but I ate
mostly in silence. Faraz, Ghandia, Heidi, and Jon-Peter, the old gang, all
were aware of what was going on and chose to tip-toe around it. Rachelle and I
didn't talk much about that night afterwards, and it remained a sore spot in
our relationship for quite some time.

  I felt pretty rotten about throwing my responsibilities out the window and
sinking into some self-imposed miasma. I was lucky the girls didn't just ditch
me. Viktoriya must've wowed onlookers by helping me to the car. Little did
they know she was bearing most of the weight with her mind, not her body.
Shawn was the only one who had brought along her driver's license. As she
drove back to my place, I could hear the girls physically and mentally as they
chattered.

  'Shameful.' 'He's not a drinker.' 'What're we going to do with him?'

  The girls helped me into my room and I crashed on the sofa. I heard a series
of electronic beeps and dial-tones. Murmurs of voices came through then came
the inevitable click of the handset. I could only guess the girls were taking
turns calling their parents that old reliable Stanley Chen was too drunk to
take them home.

  Some gentleman I turned out to be. My sense of responsibility was thrown out
that night; the alcohol had really freed my mind from any restraints. I felt
angry, not at Rachelle but at myself. Craig was simply a convenient focus for
my anger, but I dreamed about something different.

  I consciously desired happiness and I suppose my unconsciousness provided it.
I dreamed about Janet and Shawn. They were sitting at a pavilion having tea.
They had donned the traditional cheong-po and were engaged in deep
conversation. I marveled how a foreign girl in such garb was oddly erotic. One
of the girls uncrossed and crossed her legs, briefly flashing pussy, and I
suddenly realized that they were not wearing undergarments!

  Whoa, I thought. Awesome!

  Presently, Shawn brought a flute or fife to her lips. Melanie was sitting
beside a zither, her delicate hands strumming a soothing tune. After the
initial beats, Rachelle and Viktoriya stepped in, their graceful movements
moving in tune with the soothing music. I noticed they were dressed in robes
with a shorter cut (so they can dance without tripping) and silk pants.

  I sat back, relaxed and at ease in this eerie dreamscape. I turned and saw
Janet put her hands atop mine. Her smile was the one I remembered best as a
young boy. Then she spoke in a most impassioned voice: Dai-yeh yousai wodei
chuen-ga. Li-yiga-hoysum-le*?" [* Cantonese: Are you happy now sire (or
'lordship' but used in a familial sense) now that you have taken us into your
household?]

  There was a strange buzzing sound coming from the lakeside. I turned to see
if I could localize it, and found I was in my room. My bed covers were on me
and the phone buzzing. I felt lazy, so I reached out with my telekinesis to
flick the ringer switch off. That was better. Next, I tried to move and found
I was crushed into immobility. I moved my arm and bumped someone's head.

  "Ow," I heard a complaint. My eyes fluttered as I struggled to wake up. What
the hell?

  I knew I was in the inner room: my bed had me facing away from the sun when
it rose. I slowly awoke to find that there was much mischief when I took drunk
last night. Shawn rubbed her head at the point of impact then turned away,
baring her entire bare backside towards me. She was nude, I realized. I looked
down and saw I was undressed as well.

  'Good morning, kisa.'

  'Vika?' I thought-spoke. 'What happened?'

  'We took you home then we had a little party.' She stretched and turned
slightly so she could drape her arm over me. 'Feeling better?'

  'A little. How bad was it?' I asked, fearing the answer.

  'Not all that bad.' Viktoriya squeezed my leg. 'I had to rummage a little
more than normal to get you excited.'

  'How much rummaging?' I felt the weight of both girls, but I couldn't feel my
arms at all.

  'You want to marry five of us?' Her thought-speech was plain and to the
point.

  Apparently the dream I had was something she had done. Viktoriya wasn't as
adept at manipulating thoughts and illusions. That time at the cafe, she was
able to pass off napkins as money because I was there to "boost" her gift's
potency. I suppose she was able to weave me a dreamscape so I'd get a hard-on
or something.

  But how deep did she go, I wondered. I feared she'd find out about Tseng, but
I sensed none of that from Viktoriya. Instead, I framed an answer to her
question.

  'Yes. I'd like that very much.' I thought-spoke.

  'You are greedy.' She chided me. 'You know the Quran only allows a man to
have four wives?'

  'Faraz told me the Prophet Mohammed had ten.' I scoffed mentally. 'I'm just
half way to beating his record.'

  'You are so bad, Stanislav!' Viktoriya's audible giggle roused Shawn.

  "Uffuck," my Anglo angel groaned. "What a night. Stanley? Are you okay?"

  "Yeah," I answered.

  "Good, because for a moment I thought that Vicky --" she turned around and
sat up eyes wide.

  "OH MY GOD!!"

  Her expression made me smile. Viktoriya had the temerity to laugh. Shawn
looked at her then glared at me.

  "Stanley!!" she hissed loudly. That was a good sign; Shawn was awake enough
to realize my parents would've heard any screaming.

  "What?" I finally felt blood pumping through my arms again. I painfully
propped myself up with a little telekinetic assistance from myself and
Viktoriya.

  'Spasee-ba*.' I thought to her. [* Russian: Thank you (generic)]

  'You're welcome Stanislav.'

  "What'd we do last night?!" Shawn gathered a fistful of bedsheet to cover
herself, not from me, but from Viktoriya's prowling eyes.

  "I don't know," I wore an innocent grin. "I was hoping you'd girls would fill
me in."

  "Oh, you were lovely, lastochka," Viktoriya laughed and brushed some hair
from the startled girl's eyes. "Simply amazing." 

  "I was?" Shawn squeaked.

  "I'm surprised you don't remember," Viktoriya broadcast a mental laugh, but
continued speaking normally.

  "I don't," my plump petunia's eyes grew wide, "Honest! I don't!"

  "You rode him to exhaustion," the brunette practically licked her lips. "You
only stopped when he swore you'd kill him if you kept going."

  "Oh, God!" Shawn covered her face in shame. Her cheeks, breasts, and
shoulders turned a rosy pink. She lay back down beside me her hands still
clutching the bed sheet. Viktoriya paid her no heed as she went on, her voice
filled with mischief.

  "You drained him so much I had to wait my turn. I played with you until
Stanislav got hard again. He was no good to us after."

  "Gee thanks," I muttered.

  "Don't be ashamed." She on a wicked little grin. "It was the alcohol. You
should not drink, kisa. It makes you soft."

  "Wait, Vicky." Shawn sat up surprised, "What do you mean, 'you played with
me'?"

  Viktoriya smiled lecherously and lay her head on my chest. Her eyes though,
never left my cuddly cutie. Damn, I thought. Vika just found herself a new
fuck toy. Shawn shied away like a nervous kitten.

  "I should have just played with you all night," my Slavic sexpot wore a
wanton grin, "But I still need cock."

  Shawn gasped as Viktoriya threw the sheets back to reveal my dick was hard as
a rock. My Baltic bimbo gripped me with one hand and began squeezing my fleshy
shaft.

  "Poor Stanislav," my dark haired beauty whispered fiercely, "He didn't feel
well; let's make him feel better."

  She bit one of my nipples lightly and her dark eyes rested on Shawn. My plump
dumpling turned away in shock and disgust, but I caught her peeking. I sensed
she was getting aroused. I pinched Shawn's bottom and felt her fidget. Soon,
my Anglo angel was a-ga-ga as the pleasure flowed from the combined
mind-spring between me and Viktoriya.

  Shawn could have gotten back under control by physically segregating herself
from me, but since she pressed herself so close (and so unclothed) to me, she
earnestly didn't have a chance. With one girl pressed against me and another
teasing my well rested body, I couldn't hold myself back. I shuddered with
pleasure.

  "I'm--I'm--c--c--cumming!"

  "Mnph?" Viktoriya uttered an audible noise but thought-spoke clearly. 'I
know. Do it, kisa. I want a cum bath.'

  The brunette gave me a few more tugs with her hand and I spewed my load all
over. Viktoriya caught most of the splatter in her hair but some of it touched
me and Shawn. The younger girl let out a squeal as she felt the warm splash of
cum against her cheeks.

  "Ew Stanley!" Shawn wiped her face on mine, "Yuck!"

  Viktoriya toyed with the sticky stuff with her fingers and looked towards the
girl. "You should taste it dear. It will remind you of him when you're apart."

  "You can't be serious!" Shawn exclaimed, "That's gross!!"

  The Baltic beauty wiped a little bit of cum onto her index finger and offered
it. Shawn shied away and curled against me.

  "Okay, that's enough," I said gently and quickly added a mental message:
'Stop it Vika. She doesn't want to.'

  "Very well." Viktoriya licked her fingers lewdly but her thought-speech was
less polite: 'Then she doesn't love you as much as I!'

  We both watched as the Ukrainian beauty bounced out of bed. Despite
Viktoriya's constant exercise and athleticism, her tits and ass still jiggled
nicely as she headed for the bathroom. I heard the hiss of the shower being
turned on and knew I would be alone with Shawn for a little while.

  "So," she asked slowly, "Like, what happens now?"

  "I don't know," I said, "But are you okay?"

  "I guess so," Shawn Ellen stretched lazily beside me. I heard her joints pop
and I held her close under the sheets. I enjoyed the feeling of having her
massive mammaries resting heavily on my chest. They felt like soft scented
pillows. Finally, she asked the one question burning in her mind.

  "Do you love me, Stanley?"

  "Of course I do," I replied without hesitation. "What kind of question is
that?"

  "Because," she murmured, "I just had a three-way with a girl I barely know. I
think she and I also dyked out too."

  "And your point being?" I patted her ample ass.

  "Normal people don't do this. I mean, do they?"

  "Define normal," I challenged. Shit, I thought. I bet I wasn't.

  "I don't know Stanley," Shawn murmured, "What would my mom and dad think?
Heck, what would YOUR mom and dad think?"

  "That I'm awesome," I joked, "And you'd be Mrs. Awesome."

  "You mean Mrs. Awesome number two," she sniffed, "Or number three."

  "Hey, you said it," I tapped the side of her boobs for emphasis, "Not me."

  "What about Vicky?" she asked pensively.

  "She can decide for herself. So can you." So could Rachelle, I thought
belatedly. Shawn kept silent but I sensed her envy starting to form. I had to
stop-punch it before it could grow out of control.

  "Shawn?" I asked, "Do you like me? I mean at all?"

  "Now what kind of question is that?" Shawn asked and gazed at me, "Of course
I like you. I love you."

  "Okay," I measured my words carefully, "Then let's leave it at that. It's too
nice of a morning to argue."

  I must've broadcast some of my displeasure, because Shawn suddenly got it
into her mind that I was unhappy about Rachelle. She adjusted herself so she
could toy with my hair. She'd scratch my scalp in a way that made me purr (and
Melanie insanely jealous). I muffled my frustrations about Rachelle and left
it at that. Happily, Shawn nodded off soon after. I heard her snoozing lightly
when Viktoriya stepped back in.

  'Still in bed, kisa? It's morning.'

  I got up slowly, careful not to rouse Shawn. 'Shall I take you back first?
Don't you have a flight tonight?'

  Viktoriya shook her head. 'Tomorrow night. I finished packing before leaving
for dinner last night. I can stay a little longer.'

  She cast her gaze at Shawn's sleeping form and I instantly knew what she had
in mind.

  'Be gentle now.' I warned.

  "Why, kisa!" Viktoriya smiled wolfishly and spoke aloud. "Of course I'll be
gentle."

  Shawn jerked awake when Viktoriya's hand brushed against her breasts. Her
baby blue eyes flew open wide as my Slavic sappho began kissing and caressing
her plump body and massive boobs. Shawn shot me an accusing stare, as in "how
could you let this happen!", but when she saw me sheepishly grinning (and
drooling) like an idiot, Shawn dimpled her cheeks and slowly spread her legs.

  Oh fuck yeah.

  Shawn lay back and surrendered to the situation. I watched as Viktoriya
playfully fingered the other girl's hole. Her thin dancer's body contrasted
against Shawn's wider hips and melon-sized titties. I stood at stiff attention
and enjoyed the show. Shawn's eyes went wide as the brunette encompassed her
whole snatch with her mouth. I smiled a fool's smile as Viktoriya succumbed to
her inner passion. 

  'Cum ... in ... me ... kisa.' Viktoriya's thought-speech was jittery as she
vested attention on Shawn's big soft body.

  My dick was swollen and I had no intention of beating off. I pulled
Viktoriya's cute butt towards me, knelt between her legs, and let her have it.
She let out a short yelp but continued to suck on Shawn's puss. Shawn in the
meantime, watched me, biting gently on one of her fingers and pinching her big
pink nipples. 

  I sensed my plump dumpling was getting a voyeuristic turn-on, watching me
fuck a woman who was eating her out. I knew Shawn hated herself for liking it,
but she was too far along to refuse the rest of the ride. Besides, it was too
good to get off now. Her mouth moved but she didn't say anything legible. The
wet sucking noises from Shawn's pussy were only matched by the dull thumping I
made when I slammed Viktoriya's slick sweet slice.

  I soon forgot about Rachelle, and the foolish promises I had made to her. I
hated myself, but what could I do? Rachelle had picked someone else of her own
choice and volition. I loved her enough to respect her decision. That morning
was one of the weirdest ones I had; a mix of good and bad. Still, I had my fun
and I didn't complain. In fact, I was too exhausted to do much of anything
afterwards.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- AN IDEA AND CHIT-CHAT OVER COFFEE
===============================================================================

  I shan't bore you more with details in my graduate studies except to say that
it was very exceptional for a young man at my age to have such a determined
project in mind. While I had greatly scaled back my dealings with Rachelle and
Aurora (my cousin and I kept our friendship to email and file sharing), I
still had good enough relationships with Janet, Melanie, Shawn, and Viktoriya.

  Of the four, Viktoriya's future was the most indeterminate. While we had
shared and done many things, and even studied our marvelous gifts, she had
moved to Brooklyn, New York to further pursue her study of dance. I wouldn't
see much of her unless I dedicated time to fly out there and see her. Oh, how
I envied that teleporting bastard then!

  Janet kept knocking heads together at the San Francisco County Court (Civil
Division) and her part-time internship paid off with a junior position at a
private firm in the city. She took her graduate work to Berkeley's law school
to save on travel time and was quite happy to be back.

  Melanie was still in high school, and she and I still went shopping every
weekend. Her skills in cooking improved and she tried her hand at other
recipes from other cultures. Yu-Ching became quite adept and turned out some
fine dishes from my tiny kitchenette. After my mother caught her in my room
cooking up a noisome little rack of lamb, Melanie expressed interest in a
culinary career so she could, "take care of me."

  Shawn kept plugging away at systems engineering then found her interest in it
flagging. Eventually, she settled into landscape architecture. Her background
in drainage systems let her approach the discipline in a more rational way and
she won a scholarship for it. 

  "Think of it Stanley!" my pudgy pumpkin beamed. "A serviceable garden you
don't want to turn into burning mulch!"

  "Great," I said. "You just want to work in my studio don't cha?"

  "Just so I can be Mrs. Awesome!" Shawn giggled and kissed me.

  So I had at least two girls who I was sure was going to stick around, and a
third who may need a place for us to be alone if she headed off to college. It
got me thinking that I needed a bigger place; heck, I wanted one anyway since
I didn't want to live under my parents' roof any more.

  I studied the living arrangements of Islamic families with multiple wives and
found most in the United States had simply married out of cultural
convenience, but kept separate homes. The finances would certainly be
interesting. Next, I studied schism Mormon compounds and felt a bad taste in
my mouth. The negative tone of the Branch Davidians certainly made the term
"compound" something I wanted to avoid.

  I wanted no harem: I treated my darlings respectably, and never forced them
to do anything they didn't want. While it was true, there was SOME mind
control, it was mostly by accident at first. I worked hard to keep my girls
happy and being with me, and I had pleaded my case (first to Janet; then
subsequently to each in turn) and my words were certainly more effective than
a 'normal' man, but had one of them not accepted my proposal, I wasn't going
to impose my will on them.

  What was the saying? Let them go. If they love you, they'll come back.

  For starters, I needed a place and the plans for building one. To do that, I
needed to study the lifestyle and living arrangements. I rarely had more than
two my lovelies at my place at once for two reasons: one reason was it was
small and three people would crowd the place. The other was that some of them
were still wary of one another or didn't know the other apart from what
second-hand clues they got from me or stuff they left behind in my room.

  Therefore, I went back to research my maternal grandfather's situation. He
had two wives. And his father had nine (!) wives. It turned out to be common
practice for well-to-do men in southern China before the Communists took
control (and instituted the one child, one family policy). I searched books
and more books during my time assisting the CAD class instructor. I finally
found it one day in two books: one entitled, "Kam Ping Mui", which was more
commonly known as "The Gold Lotus" in English; the other was "Tale of Genji"
(same title translated from Japanese).

  In both, rich men has multiple wives, each wife having her own manor or
quarters. Interesting. 

  There were no designs or plans in either book (only vague descriptions) so I
had very little to base my design theory on; however, I knew what the modern
equivalent was: a multi-storied "apartment" similar to the ones in Hong Kong.
The difference would be that each person would have their own floor, or a few
rooms on the same floor. Very interesting.

  I wrote a dissertation, using the future overcrowding in a dense city like
San Francisco as impetus to design a "multi-unit building for immediate and
extended family". The proposal was sensible, but I wanted to demonstrate I
could do it, not merely talk (or write) about it. I wanted it to be reality so
my darlings and I would finally be able to party in private.

  I found a building (actually two) that suited my proposal, but not only were
the owners difficult to deal with but I also needed money. Lots of money. It
was then I made my deal with Tseng.

  The problem of course, was contacting him. All I had was that he said he'd be
"around". So, I cast about for a solution. I had said before that I wasn't
able to find him. While I could sense him being alive, it was no use if I
could not contact him. It's hard to explain but think of it like this: once I
was made keenly aware of someone (and it was someone I wanted to keep in touch
with), their mental presence "pinged" in my mental awareness, kind of like a
hot-cold radar. 

  As I got nearer to that target, the mental "ping" would be more significant,
and I would be able to sense their exact location. That applied to 'normals'.
There were inevitable exceptions when it came to our kind. With Melanie, her
conscious thoughts (but not inner emotions) were heavily shrouded from me.
Since she lived so close to me though, I was able to sense her fairly well and
gauge what kind of mischief she would be planning.

  I had an open rapport with Viktoriya. She and I willingly communicated
through mind-sight, actively (and specifically) seeking one another out, so
distance wouldn't matter. I suppose one of us could be on the ISS Freedom and
the other deep in the earth's core and we'd still be able to mind-chat.

  Tseng was the last of those exceptions. He was guarded around me, and once he
distanced himself, I couldn't really get a bearing on where he was or if he
was even in the vicinity until he spoke, or used thought-speech. However, I
had an instinctive gut feeling he was in the city. I didn't want to get myself
noticed by 'normals' but I had to push the boundaries of the established rules
and did some rather brazen things to grab his attention. 

  I had a suspicion he always kept a tab on me and the people I dealt with on a
day to day basis. I needed to get him to come to me without pulling down the
whole might of the invisible empire on me.

  I didn't know how to begin, so I began using telekinesis secretly on
different objects. Dresses would catch and tear, bras would unsnap, buckles
would get undone, hats would fly away, that sort of thing. I practiced on
triggering ignition switches of cars, depressing gear shifters, and deflating
tires (but no property damage). For a time, I even tried manipulating liquids
to the level that Viktoriya could by playing around with gasoline. After a few
near disasters, I felt a sharp pain in my mind.

  'What in the name of the foreigners' Christ are you doing?'

  Tseng's thought-speak nearly bowled me over as I was busy telekinetically
flicking a visiting German girl's clitoris while she and I were on the same
bus going home. I had to admit: even I thought I was getting carried away.

  'I needed to find you.' I thought back, abandoning my mischief. 'I didn't
know how to call to you.'

  'Meet me at the Java Island.' Tseng's thoughts were cold and dry, like dead
leaves in autumn.

  I headed for the coffee place near my house. It was not crowded, but it was
not wholly deserted either. I found Tseng sitting patiently, a little out of
place, at a young persons' gathering spot.

  "Hello," Tseng greeted me jovially aloud. Then his harsher side prevailed on
a channel only we could use: 'Have you lost your mind?'

  "Hi," I kept up the charade and sat down without ordering. 'I need your
help.'

  "Sit." Tseng eyed me coldly. 'No, you need to stop before you do something
you regret.'

  "Thanks." I shrugged off his threats and took a seat. 'Sorry. I need help. I
need some money for school. You've been around. How can I make some money
using what I have? That David guy didn't trust you but I'm open to it.'

  Tseng's eyes narrowed. He was reading me. I let him get the part of my memory
I wanted to show. A quick flash of David's place and along with Millie's face
through mind-sight convinced him.

  "May I take your order?"

  We both looked up and saw a pretty waitress. Heavy on the bust, light on the
cheer. Then again, working at a nearly dead Bohemian coffee place certainly
was a downer. I knew I'd be looking to get out too.

  "Decaf mocha for me please," I said. The waitress scribbled on her pad and
looked at Tseng.

  "Coffee please miss. Black."

  Predictable, I thought. The brew would match his coroner's attire.

  "The same can be said about Reese," he said. "Predictability."

  Tseng switched to audible speech to dispel any mystery of our (what appeared
to be) silent meeting. I followed his eyes and found he was staring at the
waitress' ass as she headed back to the counter. The guy must be in his
forties or fifties. Fucking pervert.

  "Is that so?" I asked and focused back on the topic at hand.

  "He came to see you, didn't he?" Tseng turned to face me.

  "Yes," I grabbed a napkin for myself, and fiddled with it on my side of the
table.

  "He did the same thing with me," Tseng confessed. "What'd he tell you?"

  I knew I couldn't lie all that much to him, but I experimented with
withholding information. I told Tseng what David told me: about his wife, his
ability, how they had tangled with the NSA, and his mother being killed by a
Hezbollah extremist in Greece.

  "He didn't tell you about Davies did he?" Tseng asked when I finished. Either
he got that out of me, or he was well-informed.

  "No," I admitted, "But I read his mind."

  "Good Stanley." I thought I heard his voice betray his arrogance; he sounded
pleased.

  "His wife works there," I remarked casually, "In Oklahoma."

  "Not the capital. She works in Stillwater." Tseng smiled politely. The
waitress had come back. She set down our orders then left. As soon as she did,
so did his smile.

  "Have you met Millie?" I asked.

  "No," Tseng sipped his black brew then added, "But doubtless she's heard a
thing or two about me."

  No shit, I thought. You crippled her husband.

  If Tseng heard my thoughts, he didn't say. Instead he continued in
thought-speak: 'Davies, the man you scanned for Cox that day, wasn't one of
the bombers, but he helped McVeigh'sand Nichols' cell. I slipped Reese the
tip. Anonymously of course.'

  Of course, I thought. But why?

  "Why?" Tseng read me easily, "Because pre-crime isn't a crime, not in normal
courts. Reese took care of it. He had motive."

  And opportunity. And means to complement both, I thought darkly. Tseng said
nothing.

  "You could've stopped them," I accused, "Saved those people, but you didn't."

  "How many places could you be at once?" Tseng smiled thinly. "We cannot be
anywhere in an instant. Reese can, but that didn't concern him."

  "At the time," I pressed, "But you did know. That makes you complicit."

  "Bullshit," Tseng scoffed. "You read countless 'normals' on your commute to
Berkeley and back. How many of them regard the current government as
totalitarian? Are you complicit in not reporting them dutifully as a citizen?"

  I sat in deep thought. Janet worked close to a Federal building (one of more
than a dozen, some owned, some rented, in the city). If she were in danger ...
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it. I wouldn't know where to
begin.

  "If your 'friends' were in danger," Tseng said coldly, "You would act to help
them. But sometimes, just sometimes, you can't be everywhere at once. It
cannot be helped. It's a fact. Accept it."

  "Maybe," I said slowly, "Or I try and work to mitigate it. I wouldn't just
stand around and do nothing."

  "Believe me or not," Tseng shrugged, "I was out of the country at the time."

  I couldn't pierce his great barrier to decide if I could or not, but I gave
him the benefit of the doubt.

  "How about his foot?" I asked, "He says you attacked him."

  "Self-defence," Tseng replied, "You would do the same if you encountered the
little rat-bastard like that. No sense of privacy or respect for it. I'd blame
his father."

  "I got the feeling they didn't get along."

  "I'm surprised you didn't read it right away." Tseng brought the cup up to
his lips but did not take in drink. "He's an abusive drunk. Classic domestic
abuse case."

  "So, David jumped you didn't he?" I sipped a bit of my mocha.

  "He drew first blood," Tseng turned his head to the side. I could see a thin
scar on the back of his head. I hadn't noticed it before.

  "What'd he hit you with?"

  David seemed nice enough. But maybe that was just a show he put on for his
wife. I certainly didn't go deep enough to see what he really could do. He did
attack Davies after all.

  "Does it matter?" Tseng sat back and looked at his drink. "After he hit me, I
hit back. We're not on speaking terms unless an assignment calls for it. Let's
leave it at that."

  "So," I began to suspect the sudden interest in me, "You need a replacement.
Or a middle man."

  Tseng smiled wanly. "Actually, the agency doesn't care. It wants all of us.
But you may be partly right. I'm getting old and Reese is a loose cannon."

  "So why me?" I asked.

  "You, Stanley," Tseng looked at me with tired eyes, "Are very special." Then
he followed up with: 'I think you are quite suited for what the invisible
empire needs.'

  "Parents think their kids are special," I said, "But as far as I'm concerned,
you and I aren't much different."

  "You are," Tseng said.

  I wasn't inclined to believe it, but I nodded anyway.

  "Whether or not you believe me," he said, "Trust me, you are."

  I blinked. Damn. I lost control again. Tseng had read my intentions, or
wormed them out of me, or something. I needed to practice.

  'Yes.' Tseng thought-spoke. 'You need practice. And speaking along the lines
of that, let me warn you about David Reese. Be very careful what you do and
say around him.'

  My eyes lit up and I listened attentively.

  "First, how'd you persuade him not to go through your place?" Tseng asked.

  "I warned him," I lied. Remembering how quietly the jumper could displace
himself, I fell to thought-speech. 'I told him I could call up his psychic
emanations. Track his living mind echo. Of course I could just read his mind.'

  "You are learning," Tseng's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile then thought
to me. 'He cannot eavesdrop on what he cannot hear. Thought-speak when you do
not want him knowing what you know.'

  'Gotcha.' I sipped more mocha.

  'I am surprised you cannot feel "psychic echoes". What you said about
emanations is partly true. You can track him now you are aware of him.'

  "I think I felt that when he did his thing," I said. "I knew when he was
around, and if he was still alive."

  'That's a start.' Tseng nodded and continued his thoughts. 'Concentrate on
his presence when you return home. You can ransack his memories once he's
asleep. He won't know if it's a dream or if you're messing with him. You said
he lived in a desert cave?'

  "I think he said New Mexico," I said. "I think he was lying."

  "Of course he was," Tseng's eyes crinkled slightly then continued in
thought-speak: 'It's actually Culbertson county in Texas. Two hours ahead.
About the right window for REM sleep.'

  'So you did know where he was.' I winced then said aloud, "You could've
warned me."

  'You went willingly, so why bother? Besides he would have come to you anyway.
He wants allies. He wants out of the agency.' Tseng's mouth formed a cruel
smile. 'Even if he befriends you and sets you against me, Cox and his bosses
won't let that happen. They'll neutralize him first.'

  'Hence the primacy of keeping the invisible empire unseen.' I slumped into my
seat. 'You didn't give me much of a choice did you?'

  'Not this time.' Tseng touched the back of my hand with his gloved fingers.
'I wouldn't be so glum Stanley. You aren't cut out to go rogue. You have roots
in this country. You even love its women.'

  I glanced at him and he drew back with a smile. I knew he was right.

  'Think of it this way.' Tseng thoughts grew amused. 'You're an ambassador of
sorts, as am I. We keep two powerful groups from each other's throats through
delicate negotiation, and at the same time, live a good life. Isn't that all
any man can ask for?'

  He wiped the lip of his cup with a napkin and studied me carefully. "Now
about your money problem."

  I hid my embarrassment by emptying my mocha. Would I want seconds if asked?
Not unless Tseng was paying, I thought.

  "We'll have that settled soon enough." Tseng completed his reply in
thought-speech: 'Cox will call you in a few days. A new job. Pretend you
didn't hear it from me, but he's setting you up for training and
indoctrination. You'll even get to play toy soldier in the training classes.'

  'What should I do to prepare?' I thought back.

  'Wear gloves like those psi-cop goons on Babylon-5.' Tseng easily found my
choice of programming when I was back in City College. 'Keep up appearances.
They think we need to touch them for our powers to work.'

  We both knew that notion was false. For me, I favored line of sight, and once
I was aware of someone, they couldn't escape notice (like David). Physical
contact though, accelerated and magnified the whole experience to lethal
degrees if I didn't keep myself under control.

  For Tseng, I was beginning to think he could get to someone anywhere in the
world if he wanted to. We agreed to the task at hand and made our
preparations. When I left, I saw Tseng talking to the waitress. As I left the
coffee shop, I saw him gently graze her hand out of the corner of my eye.

===============================================================================
  DOING THE ODD JOB
===============================================================================

  This was crazy. The heat was sweltering as in Hong Kong. Had to be, since I
was in Baja California in summer. The place was miserable and miles into the
desert wasteland between Tecate and Mexicali. If only I could displace myself
I thought. Zip back to my comfortable pad in San Francisco and zip back once I
cooled off. Too bad I wasn't able to.

  Tseng and I flew to our destinations to avoid suspicion; we first chartered
either private jets or choppers to a local airstrip then used telekinesis to
fly to our final rendezvous in silence. The chilly air would mandate something
like a windbreaker; once down on the ground though, the heat from the earth
would radiate and boil you alive.

  'I can confirm there are five.' Tseng thought-speech jerked me from my
misery.

  I didn't need him to say more; I knew where he was (when Tseng allowed it),
just as he knew where I was (unlike Tseng, I didn't have a choice). The
precision, timing, and observations two experienced psychokineticists could
provided far outstripped the collective info-net of a modern army in the last
two years of the 20th Century.

  The only thing that limited us would be what we could experience with our own
eyes; our minds could detect living things we were aware of before at any
distance but unliving objects and masses were limited to what we could
immediately see. In our case, night scopes and telescopes were handier than a
GPS device.

  'Did not copy Talisman.' I thought back. 'Snake Charmer sees five.'

  It wasn't a G.I. Joe codename I made or even cared for. Cox handed them out
at my second meeting. It was my first "official" assignment with an unofficial
agency to interrogate some schmuck David had grabbed. The "kidnappee" was a
cartel underboss of some sort. Like Davies, I had bet the next time I saw him,
he'd be in worse shape. As it'd turned out, I would be wrong. I never saw him
ever again. The agency, Tseng or David literally made him vanish off the face
of the earth. I didn't follow up on who was complicit not because I didn't
know, I just didn't care.

  Tseng didn't care for code names, or for playing secret agent. However, I
played to his paranoia that we should keep using our code names: if Cox or
agency confronted us about it, we'd know there'd be a leak or someone tracking
us. Besides, I had argued, if there were others like us, they could identify
us if we didn't use code names.

  'Impossible,' was what Tseng said at first. But he followed my recommendation
anyway.

  'Talisman confirms five hostiles.' Tseng's disdain was evident. 

  He chafed whenever methods better than his were used, especially if someone
else had suggested them. Such was the attitude of the gifted and talented. I
had been at this kind of occasional "odd job" for the past couple of months
with Tseng. After my assignment interrogating the cartel mid-boss, I let slip
to Tseng about a smuggling ring. It was operating as an extension to a network
of Mexican cartels near Tecate.

  We headed to Mexico to do a little reconnaissance and picking up an odd job
here and there. The first few missions went better than expected. Through
Tseng's own interrogation of other "guests" of the agency, he knew one of the
Tecate cartels were interested in moving "merchandise" across the border.
Tseng took me along as both training and to inure me to the violence that
would come.

  Thankfully, the merchandise was limited to automatic weapons and ammunition.
I knew I could disable all the pieces in each shipment in an eyeblink. All I
needed to do was snap their firing pins or activate their safeties. I didn't
though. Each case we handled the same: levitate the cargo over the border,
high above the border's airspace (about a mile up). It's easy if you could
move things with your mind from the comfort of your hotel's rooftop.

  For those jobs, Tseng and I collected a measly $2500. To top it off, half of
it was counterfeit money. We thanked the smugglers' boss after the last
shipment, for we had other plans.

  Because the smugglers had invited us into their midst, Tseng and I were made
aware of their presences even after we left the area. From that, we knew the
same Tecate cartels were moving moderate shipments of cocaine past the border.
We easily intercepted one shipment of drugs and money. The guards and escorts
we simply eliminated. It was easy to incite them and their American
counterparts to kill one another. 

  I was hesitant at first but after a few grabs, my squeamishness for this
business quickly evaporated. I guess I could stand it since I wasn't directly
involved with the eradication process, I merely provoked it.

  It was fairly simply to trick a 'normal' into seeing something that wasn't
really quite there, especially if he was expecting it. Hence, conjuring the
illusion of a rattlesnake about to strike was pretty easy. Once the carnage
started, it left few survivors. I only had to step in and personally eradicate
a couple survivors once or twice. 

  I didn't feel great about it but I lost more sleep from teaching C.A.D.
courses at Berkeley and researching my dissertation than I did from killing
Mexican banditos and American thugs either through direct or indirect means.
Besides, if I didn't get them all, they'd find me and kill me.

  Tseng was more direct in his methods though. In one case, he used telekinesis
to fully control the body of the most heavily armed thug and proceeded to
shoot everyone in sight. Wounds (and ultimately death) didn't phase the
horror. When the terrified gang-banger's upper body and head were vaporized in
a shotgun blast, Tseng drove the gun onward. The dead man's fingers still
operated the breech and trigger until the last bandito was killed, a Catholic
prayer on his lips.

  After the carnage, we would help ourselves to the loot. We would leave some
weapons behind (as evidence for the slaughter) but I would take the rest. I
stored all the weapons I took in a Public Storage building on Masonic Street,
just across from a shopping center converted from an old cemetery.

  While I didn't have the need for weapons, I approached it as a logical
exercise: by learning the different shapes and mechanisms, I was able to
disarm them safely and silently. In any case, if the need arose that I needed
to neutralize someone with mundane means, I had more than enough firepower to
commit a half-dozen North Hollywood shoot outs. I focused chiefly on keeping
magazines, ammunition, and other non-serialized parts. I wouldn't keep
anything with a serial number until much later (when I learned how to erase
metal etchings).

  Tseng didn't bother with weapons; he was a weapon. Not even bullets fazed
him. Once, a gang-banger got lucky and dropped on Tseng, blazing away with two
micro UZIs, just like an action film. I thought my calculating mentor was dead
meat. Instead, I saw bullets splash against an invisible barrier, ricocheting
at such wild angles that I had to throw myself to the ground to avoid being
hit. When I looked up again, Tseng had shoved the banger's forearm through his
mouth, and the dead man's upper torso was a horrid, contorted mess.

  One thing we both agreed on was the drugs. We never touched the drugs: that
commodity was too hot and neither of us cared to embroil ourselves into a
substance that could be lethal not only to our bodies, but our all important
minds. We usually left the drugs alone, but we occasionally took the drug
packets in order to fool the authorities into thinking it was a rival gang's
raid.

  Tseng and I probably destroyed more than a quarter billion dollars of
processed drugs in just a few operations but that crap still poured in by the
ton. That's when I understood the Drug War was bullshit.

  The money though, was another story. After an even split, we were pretty
rich, although not fabulously so. For a graduate student, I accumulated a
small nest-egg of a $296,000 dollars in a mixture of bills, real and fake. I
knew to spend wisely and very little of it. With my money problems being
relatively solved, Tseng and I moved onto our next series of "odd jobs", and
the one we were currently trying to complete to "legitimize" our cash balances
(well, at least that's what I was shooting for).

  Every year, college students would head down to Tijuana for spring break to
see the donkey show (true, depending on the establishment), hook up and fuck
(depends on who you find), or simply get smashed because there's no 21 or
older drinking age in Mexico (very true, and if there was, it was on the
border, so fuck you!). Apparently, one of them, a rich girl named Katherine
Heeber was kidnapped off the street.

  Her parents sought out private investigators after the State Department
failed to make much head way. Tseng and I showed up to offer our unique
services. What clinched the deal was that we took no retainer, we operated on
good faith. Mrs. Heeber took it as a sign from God. Mr. Heeber was suspicious,
but it would cost him nothing for us to try. I knew better. Tseng fully
intended to collect once their daughter was found and delivered, alive or
dead.

  We traced the girl's trail from the hotel she was staying. It was difficult,
since she didn't have much personal affection for her temporary lodgings. Her
trail got stronger as we neared the spot where she was grabbed. A quick scan
of minds in the area and Tseng found an old woman who spoke ancient Spanish.
Tseng translated. She related how cartels from Tecate often robbed or raped
the tourists who came into Tijuana but stopped when it hurt the drug trade (no
tourists spending money).

  The Katherine gringa, the crone claimed, was taken by a bastard son of a
cartel tough who was able to speak to trees, and flowers, and animals, and
God.

  I arched a brow at Tseng after he translated: 'Could it be? Another of the
empire?'

  Tseng urged caution and promptly fell into use of our silly NSA code names,
just in case we could be mentally eavesdropped.

  We found the Heeber girl in the trackless desert in Baja California Norte,
somewhere between Tecate and Mexicali. I couldn't tell you if I saw it on a
map, but I can recall the location by memory. She was bound and gagged in a
small house for seven days. Her kidnappers had made demands to the wrong
people, the English demand for ransom didn't make it to anyone who could read
it. Tseng and I knew her days were numbered and that one or two of her
kidnappers had raped her already.

  I felt sorry enough that I wanted to move in immediately, but Tseng held me
back. Although I was against it, Tseng's logic prevailed: Heeber's rape had
occurred before we even found the kidnappers' hideout. Going in without a plan
was dangerous.

  I relented and waited. We planned to strike at night. There would be less of
a chance that a spy satellite or U.A.V. would spot us. In any case, Tseng
doubted the agency would use a spy satellite to track us, since we were specks
so small and moved so fast in the air. I doubted his doubts chiefly because
technology had advanced quite a bit since his time.

  I extended my focus out and picked through each of the five men. Here and
there I could get some meaning of the Spanish language, but I never lingered
long to understand it fully. Viktoriya's cautiousness and Tseng's paranoia had
tempered my mind-reading to brief glances here and there except when I was
earnestly calm and in control of the subject.

  All five kidnappers were understandably nervous and agitated. In this heat,
even a Zen Buddhist would be agitated. One of them though, was itching for
another go at the Heeber girl. I tracked him heading back towards the house,
leaving his perimeter open.

  Perfect, I thought.

  'What do you mean perfect?' Tseng's thought-speak chimed in immediately.
'Stay where you are.'

  Yeah right, I thought. 'Talisman. South perimeter open. Hostile heading back
towards package. We move. Now.'

  Tseng cursed. I knew that he knew that he could not stop me, not with so much
going on. He could berate or even kill me later, but in the past few months I
had learned to improvise and improve on our trade far more than he realized.
Had the student surpassed his master?

  'Get your mind out of Star Wars boy.' Tseng radiated a sneer. 'Since you are
in such a rush, go take out the two in the house. I will deal with the
remaining three.'

  I half-walked, half-skated in mid-air towards the house. Nothing moved faster
than a psychokinetic who was used to levitating his own body, barring any
method of physical displacement. I mulled over David's gift; it was a shame he
didn't take as much interest in using and abusing them. Each subsequent time
we met, I had picked apart his brain and knew more about him than what he
wanted me to know.

  I knew he had abused his powers: terrorizing his abusive father, taking short
trips to different parts of the world, smuggling plants and other foreign shit
across natural boundaries, and breaking and entering. It was the last one I
was sore about. I asked David at our second "official" assignment if he came
back to my place. I could tell if someone was lying when I asked a question.

  Shit. Never lie to a telepath. It's demeaning.

  The instant that memory of him standing (again!) in my kitchen with his
damned shoes on, I was pissed. Although Cox and his men didn't hear it, Tseng
definitely overheard what I said to David: 'I don't know why you displaced
into my place again, but it's obvious you have some trust issues. That's why
Millie is spending all her time at the office. Trolling for new meat.'

  David nearly blanched then realized I had been thought-speaking directly to
him. He jumped off with the prisoner after the interrogation and I didn't see
him again until the Sherwood assignment. I was smug and self-assured. That
should give the insensitive prick something to do. Tseng said nothing, but I
got the distinct feeling that he was somewhat proud of what I did.

  If Tseng was proud of me then, he certainly didn't exhibit it now. A crack of
gunfire erupted north of me. I wasn't sure what happened and I didn't bother
asking. If he was KIA then I had to deal with five thugs and a hostage. I felt
my ruthlessness take charge.

  The two thugs in the house were near the Heeber girl, probably arguing about
which hole to violate next, when the sounds of the gunshots reached them. They
turned away from me just as I reached the house doors. Normally, I simply
played off different sides in a stand-off against each other: make it appear
as if one person pointed his weapon at someone, or conjure illusory sounds and
images in their minds. At the small ramshackle house in the desert though, I
saw something that made me bury my idealism permanently.

  Katherine Heeber was lying on the floor, her clothes torn, feet bare, and
face battered and bruised. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her hair and
clothing disheveled. Her eyes were closed and she appeared dead; the only
things which gave it away were the steady breathing and the presences I felt
when I scanned the room. 

  What startled me though, was the thin trace of fluid that dripped from the
inside of her thighs. Rachelle's plight with her beau "Craig" came back,
unbidden. I felt an onrush of rage. I wanted to kill and I knew I needed to,
or my mind might lash out unconsciously when I was tired or distracted.

  Besides, there was nothing that could stop me, or was there? One of the thugs
went towards the sound, but the second thug stayed. He was slight of frame and
had curly dark hair. As I moved silently towards Heeber, intending to pick her
up and leave, the thin thug suddenly turned around as if I had called to him.

  Fuck.

  He was the gifted one. The thin man screamed for help as he brought up his
weapon to fire, but I had already toyed with his weapon. The safety was
flicked on. His finger squeezed the trigger, but it wouldn't give. As the
bandit fumbled with his weapon, I telekinetically flung a piece of mudwall
into his face.

  The thug threw up his hands as the second bandit came through the door. I was
armed with nothing save my own skill and talent. The thin thug had turned off
his safety and was firing wildly into the ceiling; I simply pushed him in a
few key spots: the back of his knee, his forearm, and a side of his body and
he was in the position I needed him to be.

  The bandit's gun riddled the second man and he died before he could show
surprise at the situation. I quickly shifted focus and mentally pulled the
dead man's weapon into my hands. As the thin thug stood back up with his
emptied weapon, he faced me with a white face and wide eyes. I leveled my
stolen weapon at his chest and fired.

  The rapid snap-snap-snap of the Kalashnikov made it sound like one of those
toy guns I used to play with as a child. The smoke and fire from the muzzle
though, was real enough. The skinny bandito fell back. I didn't go near him; I
didn't want to. I pulled his weapon towards me with my mind and thanked heaven
that neither douchebag had hand grenades or a holdout pistol on their person.

  Fucking amateurs, I thought. I cleared the weapon the gifted bandit had
dropped and pocketed the magazine. Unless someone else was able to
telekinetically disarm me, I would be fine with my newly acquired AK-74. I
stepped next to the Heeber girl so she was between me and the freshly killed
men. If by some miracle one of them survived and decided to do a last ditch
counterattack, I would've propped Heeber up to take the hit. Her parents
wouldn't be happy, but I would be alive. What's more, I would still collect.

  "I am American," I asked aloud. "What is your name?"

  Despite the appearance of the hostage and what my mental scans had told me, I
still marveled how well I took to agency training.

  'Rule one of hostage rescue: never give the victim a name to go by,
especially if it is a woman.' I recalled the lesson taught by the agency
instructor, a tough, leather-faced sergeant.

  'She could be a kidnapper planted to fuck with you,' the grizzled old man
leveled his gaze at me. 'Shit, she might even take your holdout and kill your
horny ass while you watch her put on her panties.'

  The battered girl opened her eyes slowly and whispered so softly I could
barely hear her. I leaned closer, careful to keep my eyes on the dead men and
be able to see her hands and knees. I was leaning to one side so if she
decided to grapple with me, I could've pushed her away then restrain her with
telekinesis.

  "Katie. Katie Heeber," she croaked. "Water please."

  That was what Heeber's parents had called her. I got up, satisfied with going
through the motions. No one in the "normal" world had ever heard of a
telepathic special-ops soldier, and if I don't fuck up further, no one ever
will. I only had salt tablets and I had drank most of my water. I needed it to
get us back to civilization. I slung my weapon and looked around the place.

  'Package secured Tseng.' I thought-spoke as I explored the dump for water. 'I
have two dead here, including the ...'

  'The telepath. I know.' Tseng thought back. 'The buzzards will eat well
tonight.'

  I winced, despite having just shot dead two men myself. Tseng seemed to enjoy
himself a little too much. I found some water in a rusty pan. At least it
looked like water. In the sweltering heat, it could've been the kidnappers'
piss for all I knew. I dropped a purifier tablet in and went back to the girl.

  "The water is dirty. I need to get something to filter it," I bent down and
took up a small corner of her torn attire. "Sorry honey, but your blouse is
the only thing we can use as a filter."

  She nodded weakly and I tore a small piece of what little clothing she had
left for a filter. It wouldn't be a good one, and if the water was water (not
piss), she'd likely have dysentery in a few hours. I hoped the purification
tablet would hold it in check until she got the help she needed. I guided
Katie's hands to hold the fabric over her mouth. I had her stretch it as taut
as possible then I dribbled the water as slowly as I could onto the
fabric-filter.

  The Heeber girl coughed and she heaved mightily, but she soon recovered and
licked up the few drops reaching her lips. After a few more minutes, Tseng
came in without a sound. He was levitating an inch off the ground. The balding
Chinaman set himself back on the ground and walked over to the dead men in the
house. I could smell the stink of urine and shit and death, and hear the flies
buzzing in to do their busy egg laying.

  "Poor fuck," Tseng said quietly, "He was probably all screwed up from hearing
things. His father probably thought he was crazy or possessed."

  "He's dead now, so that solves that," I reflected. "What now?"

  Tseng stood beside Katie and pointed at her. "Can she walk?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "I--can--walk," the battered girl croaked.

  "It's too far," I put the water bowl down and wiped her face as best I could.
"Any vehicles?"

  Tseng nodded. "I filched the key from one of them. We can drive back."

  "We'd be stopped," I said flatly. "Two Chinks and an injured white girl don't
make the typical Mexico tourist group."

  "We drop her off at the border," Tseng said, "We will likely have to file
something of an official report, direct to Champion."

  Champion was Cox's code name.

  "Wait!" I stood up, "You said this was going to be under the table; no agency
involvement!"

  "He will cooperate," Tseng said smoothly, "Besides, this was part of the
plan."

  "Your plan or the agency's?" I shouted. I felt betrayed. Tseng's immutable
mental defence guaranteed what he planned would be kept from me.

  "Easy there Snake Charmer." Tseng put a finger to his lips and motioned to
the girl. I backed down and heard him out. "The agency wants to know how
capable we are as a team. This little foray demonstrates not only are we
capable but that you're capable of independent action."

  "So what?" I asked.

  "Listen boy," he was getting annoyed, "You're not thinking ahead. They have
to trust Ghost Light --" David's call sign "-- because they're afraid of what
he can make off with. They trust me because I do my best to accommodate their
requests, far more often than he."

  "You Snake Charmer, are the fresh meat," Tseng adjusted his spectacles and
studied me, "You're the newest bitch on the block. You need to prove your
mettle before they're afraid of you, understand? This is for your own good."

  I was about to protest but decided we had other priorities.

  "Okay Talisman, I see your point. Now where're we going to drop her off
that's safe from the Tecate cartels? They'll probably recognize their own
cars."

  "We're not going through to Tecate," Tseng dismissed my suggestion with a
wave. "We head to Mexicali."

  We arrived in Mexicali an hour later in a beat-up red pick-up truck. Tseng
drove and I kept the girl cool using my mind to hold up a big flat piece of
metal over the truck. It was a good exercise, but I had to ditch the sheet
metal as we neared town. I shielded Katie by standing over her and casting my
shadow on her eyes. Tseng drove right past the town's busiest streets and
right up to the U.S. Border Patrol station. 

  I suppose he had much more experience dealing with the bureaucratic crap; he
certainly looked the part. Tseng took no guff from the station S.O.I.C.
(supervisory officer in charge). He flipped his credentials, demanded a phone,
and got Cox on the line in the span of five minutes. For anyone who doubted
the speed at which a bureaucracy moves, they obviously never pissed off the
NSA. 

  In fifteen minutes, I heard a chopper overhead. I had carried the Heeber girl
into the border patrol's office. There, a cute Latina border patrol officer
and me bandaged Katie's cuts and gave her ice chips to slake her thirst. I got
her first and last name: Sandra Gutierrez. She looked lot a plainer version of
the actress Paula Garces but sweeter, because she was all the more real (and
talking to me!). Officer Gutierrez and I chatted with each other as we did our
best for Katie.

  "You're an odd one," Sandra had said to me. "You're really nice you know
that?"

  "I am?" I grinned. If only you knew girl! I just killed two people in cold
blood.

  "Yeah," the pretty officer looked glum, "Most of the riff-raff who come
through here are real assholes."

  "Well I'm sorry to disappoint," I said.

  She asked me for a card, but I didn't have one. We were both disappointed. I
felt she was looking for a nice guy with some interesting background; I was
looking to abuse her Catholic background of eschewing birth control while I
was on top of her, pinning her ankles by her head. The SOIC called Sandra into
her office, and that was the last I ever saw of her.

  Oh well, I thought. Can't have everything.

  Tseng and I bundled Katie onto the chopper right as a man and woman got off.
Both were dressed in dark suits that didn't fit the weather, and both were
unremarkable and plain (in the case of the woman, butt ugly). Tseng and I were
herded with them into a small room for a conference call. Cox was on the other
line and clearly unhappy. 

  The two NSA agents looked similarly unamused. It didn't matter, I knew they
didn't like their assignment. They were picked because they were near
retirement and had nothing for us to read from. Cox asked us if we had lost
our minds to go roving around Mexico without provocation. Tseng simply
explained our private contract with the Heeber family.

  Tseng maintained that he and I can operate as mercenaries as we liked; we
technically broke no laws (well, killing five people in Mexico was, but we
said nothing of it) and the clients would likely be satisfied. All he asked
for was consideration about what "other" things we could do on a contractual
basis. If the agency wasn't keen on supporting our lifestyle then there were
"other clients".

  "Overseas clients," Tseng finished casually.

  I almost wanted to hit him. I wasn't going overseas to anywhere. Janet would
be crushed. Melanie was certainly too young to go anywhere. Shawn was still
busy with college and Viktoriya -- oh sweet, sweet Viktoriya -- she and her
family immigrated to the United States. I didn't think she'd want to go
anywhere else. I wasn't going to just leave them. I gnashed my teeth and
interrupted the conference with my demands.

  "Goddammit Champion," I slammed the table, making the two agents in the room
jump, "I'm up to my ass in student debt. And while I don't mind helping you
assholes out, I need money."

  I caught my breath and went on, "I'm not looking to do business with the
Commi-nazis or whatever the fuck you guys are pissed at right now, but if
someone is in trouble and can pay me to help them without starting a war then
I'm going to do it unless you give me a reason, a paid reason, not to, got
that?"

  I saw Tseng arch his brow, but he said nothing aloud or otherwise. Cox was
silent for a little while then he spoke.

  "All right. Fine," Cox was agitated but he held his voice even, "Talisman
already has an account we wire money to. I'll set up something for you too
Snake Charmer. In return, you stop this superhero bullshit. We don't want to
tip our hand and have someone kidnap you."

  "You forget," Tseng said, "That it is very hard to surprise us."

  "Well yes," Cox admitted, "But sooner or later someone might find a way. This
is 1998 Talisman, not 1988."

  I felt glib. Now I had a timeframe to research my mysterious mentor.

  "I'll be careful Champion," I said and decided to jerk around my handler. "At
least you can see us moving around. You should spend more time finding a way
to track Ghost Light. I heard nanotechnology's gone pretty far out these
days."

  Cox was silent for a while then got back on subject, "We'll take the hint.
Just don't expect to buy a Porsche every time you do a seance for us
understand?"

  "It's called mind-reading," I leaned back. "And what good is a damned Porsche
to me? I just need to make enough to cover my education. I'm trying to be an
architect, not goddamned Jay Leno."

  Incredibly, I heard a chuckle from Cox's end before he hung up. I wasn't near
him to sense if he thought I was funny or not, but the two agents in the room
seemed a bit more relaxed. One even fought to suppress a smile.

  'You have a way with your words Stanley.' That was Tseng.

  'Don't you mean Snake Charmer?' I thought back.

  'Does it matter?' Tseng thought wistfully. 'We get paid either way.'

  The Heebers were glad to have their daughter back. As part of the contract
Tseng negotiated though, no one in the press saw our faces, and our names were
"parties unknown".

  "Keep it under wraps Mr. Heeber," Tseng said genially the night we collected
our payment, "Otherwise you may compromise future operations."

  "I'll talk to my wife and to Katie," the father said gratefully. "I'm sure
they'll understand."

  "Your daughter was in pretty bad shape when we found her; she may not
remember." Thinking back to what started the bloodbath at the desert house, I
quickly added, "Perhaps it's for the best."

  Mr. Heeber nodded soberly. He and his wife were there when the doctors gave
them the news. Sexual trauma, lacerations, bruising. Katie was still being
tested for HIV and other STDs when Tseng contacted Mr. Heeber by phone to
arrange payment. All cash. No exceptions. We didn't want an easily traced
trail.

  "$2500," Mr. Heeber stacked twenty-five hundred dollar bills on the table,
"But you said you wanted a receipt for how much?"

  "$175,000," I tried to maintain a straight face.

  Tseng cast a sideways glance at me. 'You will still need to pay taxes on
that.'

  'I know.' I seemed resigned to the fact.

  'Increase the total to --' his cold eyes flicked towards Heeber quickly "--
four-sixty. I will show you some write-offs you can make and keep most of your
cash.'

  "Uh, would you care to write out $460,000?" I asked meekly as Heeber pulled
out some forms.

  "Four hundred sixty? Sure," Heeber wrote on a form with white, yellow, and
pink pages, "I guess I can't complain. You file one thing, I do another. Hah!
No one's the wiser. Besides, this is chump change to get our Katie back."

  Tseng stayed silent as I thanked him.

  "I'm amazed you worked so fast," he continued. "The police and FBI, they said
they had few leads."

  "One thing about agencies," Tseng broke the silence, "Is that they are
groups. Like minded individuals congregate in groups. Similarity in thought
sometimes closes one's mind to potential solutions."

  "That sounds almost mystical," Heeber said, handing us the receipt, "Is it a
quote? Sun Tsu's Art of War perhaps?"

  "Sun Liao-tsu is oft overrated by Westerners Mr. Heeber," Tseng rose, "That
was my observation. Although I am sure a scholar much older than I, and much
more read, has expounded the same theory before."

  "Oh," Heeber rose, wiping his hands on his slacks, "Uh, well thank you Mr.
Cheng, and uh, Mr. uh--?"

  "Goodbye sir." I smiled thinly and waved. "Best of luck to you."

  "You too," Heeber saw us out.

===============================================================================
  JUST AN AVERAGE WEEKEND
===============================================================================

  Cox was good on his word. Or at least his bosses in the agency were. I got a
letter in the mail a week after my latest jaunt from Mexico congratulating me
on opening a new account with United Bank. The funny thing was that I hadn't
done business with United Bank before. I knew the agency would be able to
track me using that account, and that was fine by me (up to a point). At least
now I had a quasi-legitimate source of income. I filed taxes that year,
ridiculously under-reporting my earnings (the agency doesn't pay its
contractors much) and writing off my student loan payments.

  Since the agency knew my social security number (which wasn't very secure; it
was cloned twice by identity thieves in the 2000s), I kept my small nest-egg
of cash. I laundered it very slowly (about $100 a month), which by my
calculations, would take me about 200 years to launder the whole total. I took
to spending the cash on daily necessities (like gasoline and food and mundane
clothing) and I didn't buy more than what I needed.

  All of the agency's disbursements I left in the bank; I only withdrew money
from it when I paid for something big (like my tuition fee). When my account
topped $100,000 after a few more agency tasks, I transferred the difference to
the bank account my parents' had opened for me when I was a baby. When that
topped $100,000 after having legitimized some of my Mexican cartel cash from
the Heeber job, I opened a new account at a third bank and so forth.

  I wasn't a spendthrift, but what I wanted for me and the girls down the road
would cost a pretty penny. Still, I had a good lump of cash on hand. And cash,
for short-term pleasures, was good.

  1999 was a busy year for me. Academically, my dissertation was being met by
harsh criticism by my peers and professors, who believed I was a
self-centered, chauvinist jerk; I suppose I could've plowed the pretty ones to
exert my dominance, but I simply wanted my masters degree so I could register
for the architects' license exam in time.
 
  I modified my paper to be an "extended family" residence and included more
transparent eco-friendly modifications that didn't turn my design into a
Greenpeace hippies' mud shack. My paper was eventually received with a little
more acceptance, and was eventually published as an article in the
Architectural Journal; high praise for a recent graduate.

  Professionally, I was called out by the agency to look into several shootings
that centered around the Millennial theme. The agency feared domestic
terrorism would be on the rise as the new century approached (technically, it
wouldn't be the new century until 2001, but something about those zeroes in
2000 made people bonkers). Cox wanted to see if there was some mass hysteria
and if Tseng or I could mitigate it. Tseng did his best to explain the
situation: sometimes people are prone to mob thought and persuasion.

  "Our own fears and sub-conscious are our worst enemies," he quipped.

  "Ride it out," I threw in my two cents. "And use four digits for yearly time
stamps to avoid Y2K. Call me when it's the year 9,999 (Y10K) and we'll get
back to you."

  Cox didn't seem all too happy about our answers, but conceded to our
expertise. In terms of the empire's goings-on, Tseng and I probably completed
our most brazen contract to date. The Mexican cartels in Baja California Norte
suspected we had been behind some of the incidents in the past year (they were
right), but we decided to shift the blame to them. We picked up a meeting the
cartels would be having in Tecate; with some clever mental cajoling,
telekinesis and persuasive words, we managed to set the cartels on each
other's throats.

  Tecate turned into a six day bloodbath. By the time the Mexican Army showed
up, elements of the agency were probably transmitting the events to Cox.
However, he had no viable proof since Tseng and I were pulling the strings of
our Mexican cartel contacts by sheer willpower alone. We were nowhere near
Tecate when the shooting started, so everything appeared as a normal
shoot-out.

  We did head out to Tecate, Tijuana, and Mexicali afterwards though. It was
clean-up. There was a power vacuum and until someone came in to take charge,
some of the facilities were left empty and guarded by a skeleton crew. Tseng
and I raided the cartel compounds and took just the money and other
exchangeable assets (like jewelry). The guards were often used to haul the
loot into the street where we'd drive by and pick it up. The guards didn't
know how what hit them; the bodies that were discovered later that year
might've been the guards for all I knew. 

  I didn't care. All I knew was my little cash nest-egg had ballooned so much,
I had to cut open the floorboards in a corner of my outer room to stash cash
between the floor joists. I certainly didn't want to leave any of it in the
gun-choked public storage locker on Masonic.

  Personally, I was doing pretty well. Aside from a day job I could handle, I
had access to a variety of pussy to satisfy any man. Janet was busy preparing
for a huge asbestos case. One would've thought Janet Wu was a woman who was
kind and gentle and all sugar and spice (and everything nice). That was
bullshit. Her training was chiefly in corporate law and business liability, so
she was a shark. She regarded morals and ethics separately in her daily life.

  Melanie, who was idealistic due to her empathic nature, would sometimes argue
(passionately) for hours with her "jie-jie" about politics. Little Chen loved
Janet like a big sister, but she would always find time to heckle her about
her chosen profession.

  By now, Janet was an associate at one of law firms defending one of the
companies based in the Bay Area. She was still pretty junior, but hardly wet
behind the ears. She had gotten her practice at the civil division court
circuit in the city, and it was her constantly shifting mind that would pick
out the strategy of greatest success which helped her earn her career.

  Melanie was about to start her last year in high school (she was seventeen,
going on eighteeen in January 2000). She was still the bright radiant girl
from my childhood. Although it was criminal of me, Melanie cornered me on the
weekend of my 23rd birthday (September '98) after we had finished grocery
shopping and fucked my brains out.

  I had been getting it semi-regularly from Viktoriya and Shawn, but the former
was now in New York City; the latter had to move back to her apartment in San
Jose to start the new school semester.

  Melanie was innocent about it, but as she matured, she found she could
sometimes monopolize my time because she lived so close to my house (by '98
she had a duplicate set of my house keys). One day, we got so caught up in our
passion, we nearly forgot about my mother. My mother knew about my little
darling and her proclivity for cooking, so she occasionally came to my room to
cook with the bright young woman.

  When I heard my mother's voice, I pulled out and jizzed messily over
Melanie's groin. Yu-Ching's eyes were wide as saucers as she wiped herself
hastily with some wet-naps in my bedroom. We dressed and hustled outside to my
kitchenette so fast we didn't have time to don our underwear.

  "Chen-tai*," Melanie greeted my mother sheepishly. [* Cantonese: Mrs. Chen]

  I made an excuse to finish a project so I could enter my room. I stuffed our
underwear into a dresser drawer, in case my mother decided to snoop around (as
befitted any nosy mom). I sensed Melanie's embarrassment, but she hid it as
best she could until my mother left us alone. As soon as we were, Melanie fell
into my arms in a swoon.

  "I was so scared nai-nai* would find out Stanley!" she confided. [*
Cantonese: Elder mother, generally reserved for the mother-in-law]

  Actually, I thought wryly, my mother did suspect something was up. After all,
she was young once. She also knew it was my birthday. And what better gift a
woman could give her betrothed but a tender act of love?

  In one of those rare weekends when we all could meet, I managed to persuade
Janet to come along to Shawn's graduation. Because of my plump pumpkin's new
choice of major, she had to take an extra semester of courses (delaying her
graduation to December). The good thing though, was that the University of
California let her continue her studies on the graduate level at Berkeley (the
same masters program I had been in).

  Melanie spent half her time at the Hotel and Restaurants program at City
College (she was an early self-starter). Much of her vocational training was
in restaurants, so she was able to spare some time to come along. This time, I
brought along a cool thousand dollars. I wasn't going to short-change anyone,
not at this point in my life.

  "Omigod!" Shawn cried, "You guys came!"

  My big dopey dumpling skipped down the stairs of her apartment and hugged
Melanie. The petite Chinese girl was crushed between Shawn's massive boobage
and let out a muffled squeal.

  "Air!" she cried, "I need air!!"

  The two laughed and hugged one another while Janet wore a wan smile. Sensing
her uncertainty, I patted her hand.

  "She's harmless," I reassured my lovely First.

  "And she wants to be an engineer?" she gave me a sly look. "You sure you
don't want me to introduce you to some insurance lawyers?"

  "Sure why not," I doted on my Lady Wu. "But I think she'll be fine. Shawn's
looking to do landscapes; the building's all me."

  "I feel so much safer," Janet's tone was sarcastic, "With you barely keeping
your pants up to draft the plans."

  "Hey now," I kidded her. "You promised you'd be nice. And besides, who said I
can't draw while nude?"

  Janet sniffed but didn't answer as we stepped up to greet Shawn. Her parents
had been there earlier for graduation, but the exercises were over and it was
getting into early evening. The air was starting to get chilly. Shawn's
parents were more than a little surprised that the man they thought their
daughter was dating showed up with two other floozies (well mostly Janet,
since we were holding hands, they probably mistook Melanie for my sister or
something).

  My First still wore her hair short, although it wasn't shaped into a
gelled-up sculpture any more. She wore it loose and much of her hair simply
came down to the base of her skull (she looked more like a European model than
anything). This, coupled with her plain Jane brown business attire, certainly
inspired some curious glances from the Hortens.

  "Hello," Janet extended her hand. "I'm Janet. A friend of Stanley's."

  She had measured her words carefully. After our blow-up over Rachelle, Janet
wasn't sure what she wanted to do with our relationship. We still dated, but
Janet seemed more reserved and apprehensive. Only through Melanie's
impassioned pleadings did she stick around. As luck would have it, Rachelle
pretty much mended the rift between Janet and me in one fell swoop. 

  When Janet heard about Rachelle's misbehavior, she came to see me if I was
okay. Since I had just had a menage-a-trois with Viktoriya and Shawn earlier,
I did feel much better but I played dumb and got some sympathy sex. It was
awesome. Still, there were others besides Rachelle and Melanie. Janet was
miffed that I was carrying on with Shawn (she knew nothing about Aurora and
only met Viktoriya later). The two of us had certainly come a long way. I made
a mental calculation: I met Janet in 1988. Now it was 1999.

  Wow. Eleven years. It was like we were married or something. Janet must've
caught me day-dreaming because she squeezed my hand.

  "Stanley sweetie," she still occasionally spoke down to me when she felt like
it, "Mrs. Horten asked you a question."

  "Sorry," I jerked from my reverie, "I was elsewhere. What is it?"

  We were in Shawn's apartment in San Jose. She shared it with another girl and
a boy-girl couple so the rent wasn't exorbitant. Shawn was the oldest (and was
moving out) so the three remaining tenants needed another housemate for next
semester.

  "It's so weird, graduating in December," the roommate commented to no one in
particular as mother Horten repeated her question.

  "Shawn's bringing her friends and house-mates along," Mrs. Horten said. "I
was wondering if you and Miss Wu would like to join us?"

  "Ah, yes," I said and thought back to the thousand bucks I had in my pocket,
"I think so, if you don't mind."

  "Oh, we don't mind the extra company," mother Horten said.

  Yes you do, you cranky old bitch. Of course, I knew she was lying. Any person
who appeared polite when their dinner plans get interrupted was lying. Shawn
must have inherited her pleasant side from someone else. I regarded one of my
potential mothers-in-law with a pleasant but vacuous look while heaping on her
a truckload of venomous thoughts.

  Lucky for her, she was okay on the eyes. Not super-model pretty but decent.
It was comforting to me that Shawn had a 50% chance of turning out physically
all right once she got old.

  We headed for the restaurant. It wasn't a fancy place, but it was family
friendly. We ordered, ate, and made light conversation. As I ate, I thought it
strange how well it was Shawn and Melanie got along. They had nearly nothing
in common and wouldn't have met one another if circumstances had been
different.

  "You're drooling." Janet had leaned over to steal some of my french fries and
used it as an excuse to whisper quietly into my ear.

  "Sorry." I covered up my faux pas with a napkin.

  Janet reached for the salt, using the chance to whisper to me again. "It's
not gonna happen."

  I gave her an 'Oh really?' look and swigged my soda bottle.

  Janet shot back a 'You wouldn't dare' glance. I also caught some of her
wayward thoughts: 'I bet stupid Stanley thinks he can get lucky a second
time.' (Janet had set-up my first three-way) 'Even if I did agree, there's no
way that Shawn girl will go for it.' (Well, she might - she didn't mind Vika
eating her out) 'He's probably thinking about it right now; and it's just from
those two talking.' (That's right) 'What a pervert!' (What she said; huhuhuhu)

  I almost wanted to laugh out loud. Instead I gave her a saucy smile and
winked. Janet's face flushed red immediately. She didn't know about my gifts,
but we had been together so long we could practically read each other's body
language. From the way she was acting, I knew she wouldn't be too thrilled
about it; however, she wasn't entirely against it either. After all, Janet was
the one who suggested the menage-a-trois with Melanie.

  'Who was the pervert now?' I thought-spoke like a smart-ass. Then I realized
no one could've heard me (save Viktoriya but she was tuned out from me at the
moment; even telepaths need quiet time).

  My body language suggested that I was probably going to go ahead with it if
the chance provided itself. What Janet did not know was Shawn had already some
three-way experience already with Viktoriya. Janet bit into her sandwich
quietly, chewed a bit, and then turned back to her conversation on the other
side of the table.

  Shawn's house-mates still needed a semester or two to go. While they were
friendly enough, they didn't make much of an impression with me. Melanie was
doing most of the chatting (and sister-worship) as she pestered Shawn about
her studies.

  "... Stanley would love to see that," Melanie prodded me, "Wouldn't you
guo-guo*?" [* Cantonese: Brother]

  "See what?" I only caught the tail end of the conversation.

  "Oh it's nothing," Shawn said airily, "Just something I did in my spare
time."

  "Now, now," I chided, "We all do esquisses from time to time. What'd you have
in mind?"

  "It's this roof garden thing," Melanie buzzed with excitement. "I think it's
cool. I can grow stuff for our kitchen."

  "What kitchen?" Shawn asked.

  "It's mostly for me and Stanley," Melanie said jealously, "It'll be just like
old times."

  "Well there's that thought," I said, "But I'm sure you can win some accolade
as a great chef."

  I didn't want Melanie to grow up without a means to make ends meet. That
would be destroying her life, even if she didn't know it yet. Melanie nodded
excitedly then turned back to talking. The chatter buzzed to some other
topics, from Ricky Martin to N-Sync to the Backstreet Boys. When they tired of
music, the Hortens steered the conversation to Janet's career. My good Lady Wu
answered as best she could without saying anything about the asbestos case; it
wouldn't have gone over well anyway. 

  Shawn, as discussed, had been accepted into the Masters program at
"Berzerkly" and since she was doing some off-site internship (instead of
assistant teaching), she was fine to live at her parents' place near Golden
Gate Park.

  "So, Stanley," Shawn's father asked, "What do you do now?"

  Mr. Horten was around Tseng's age (maybe a little less) and he regarded me
with suspicion.

  "Nothing special," I omitted my extra-curricular jaunts to Mexico, "Taking
the APLC (architectural practitioner's license California) in a month or two."

  "Have you started at a firm yet?" he asked, "I know some people."

  "Friends of friends?" I smiled pleasantly at my choice of words.

  "You could say that," Mr. Horten's eyes flitted between me, Janet, and his
daughter.

  I stayed pleasant and smiling. He couldn't read me, but he could certainly
call up his own doubts. If I were he, I would have doubts too when a man my
daughter was seeing suddenly showed up with a mysterious woman I knew nothing
about.

  "Well, that would very nice of you," I said. "Shall I thank you in advance?"

  "Don't mention it," he said.

  A-ha. There was a catch. I plucked it from his mind as easily as a raw peach
on a tree. If he arranged my interview, or gave me some recommendation, he was
going to ask me to stop seeing Shawn. I rummaged through his thoughts: 'Damn
Asians, taking our jobs and now my daughter.' 'Over my dead body.' 'He has
someone, an Asian someone.' 'Why doesn't Shawn see that?'

  I smiled acidly and excused myself to the restroom. After I washed my hands,
I shifted focus and clouded the mind of everyone in the restaurant with
mental-apathy; no one would notice me until I made the effort on my part to
show myself once more. I walked briskly out to the concierge and eyeballed the
table set-up.

  A light dinner for nine probably came to about $30 a head. Some of us had
appetizers and extra drinks. I counted out four crisp hundred dollar bills and
tapped the matre'd.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see you there. How many?"

  "I don't need a table," I said. "Table fifteen, party of nine. How much is
the bill?"

  "Um," the girl typed up something on the computer, "Table fifteen you say?"

  "Yeah," I pointed towards the table where I could see Janet tilting her head
this way and that, wondering where I'd gone.

  "That's uh," the matre'd tapped a few more keystrokes, "They didn't order
desert yet, but it's 220 now."

  "Here's $400," I placed the bills on the counter. "Should cover it. If not,
come to me for the rest."

  "Oh!" the girl exclaimed. "Of course. Getting a jump on the bill eh?"

  "Girlfriend's parents," I said curtly. "Anything I do will never be good
enough."

  "Oh yeah," she slipped the money into the register and updated our bill.
"I've been there; my parents are never happy with my boyfriend."

  Joy. I didn't ask you for your life story. Just handle the bill bitch, I
thought dourly as I headed back to my table.

  "Where were you?" Janet asked when I sat back down.

  "Business," I replied laconically.

  Shawn's parents were surprised when the bill came to me. So was Janet. She
peered over my shoulder and spied the amount.

  "Stanley?" she whispered, "I have plastic if you need it ..."

  I motioned I was all right. What I had left at the counter was more than
enough to cover the meal. And my gratuity was overly generous. I thought it'd
mattered little really. Almost all of the bills I handed out were either laced
with Mexican cocaine or were counterfeits from Colombia.

  The Hortens were somewhat surprised (and relieved) that they didn't have to
pay the bill. They had heard from Shawn that I had just got my masters just
this year but not much else. Apart from showing up at their house to pick up
Shawn for school dances, I hadn't talked with them much at all. I wonder if I
wanted to explain it all, but thought it more fun to have the Horten's think
Janet was my sugar mommy. I left it at that.

  By nightfall, the four of us (me, Shawn, Janet, and Melanie) were crowded
into her apartment. Shawn's parents had left earlier, taking most of Shawn's
things with them back to San Francisco. The other housemates had headed back
home for the coming holidays. We remained chiefly because Shawn would be
heading back with us in the morning.

  "So this," Shawn pulled a large drawing pad onto the desk, "Is what I wanted
to show you."

  I sat next to Shawn while Melanie and Janet crowded around or looked over our
shoulders. Shawn opened the cover of her portfolio and the sight was pretty
impressive, at least to me. It was a drainage plan for a roof garden. Well,
roof was a misnomer when I saw all the extra bracing Shawn included into her
design. It was more like a fortified jungle canopy.

  "Wow." My mouth hung open as I studied the plans. Noticing the others were
losing interest, I flipped the page and found Shawn's preliminary sketches so
I could explain what she envisioned.

  "This is very impressive," Janet squinted a little, "But what is it?"

  "This is a roof garden Janet jie-jie!" Melanie said authoritatively.

  "Like the hanging gardens of Babylon!" She, Shawn, and I all said it in
unison, which made us grin mischievously. Janet though, felt a little
excluded.

  "Don't feel bad honey," I patted my First's hand, "It's just one of the seven
wonders of the ancient world."

  "Boy I sure feel dumb," Janet sighed. "But what's all this about?"

  Melanie took my seat beside Shawn as I stood.

  "It's a plan I've been talking to Shawn and Melanie about for a bit," I
explained. "I wanted to build a little place."

  "Oh?" Janet raised a brow at me, "Build it for whom?"

  I looked at her evenly, "For us of course."

  Janet's eyes flicked to the other two girls. She realized who I was referring
to, and her eyes widened like saucers.

  "Stanley," she began, "What are you--?"

  "I love you Janet," I said and without hesitation added, "And I love Shawn
and Yu-Ching as well."

  Shawn murmured, "Oh my God," but no one else said anything until Melanie got
up and sat next to Janet.

  "You knew about this?" Janet wasn't talking to me, but to my youngest
darling.

  "Sorry Janet jie-jie," Melanie clasped one of Janet's hands between hers,
"But he wanted it to be a surprise."

  "Well I am surprised," Janet hugged her, just like in the old days.

  I sat with the three and explained my dissertation and my plans. There were
two possible sites. I hadn't been able to settle on which yet, so I sketched
them as best (and as fast) as I could. One was on 43rd Avenue and Geary
Boulevard, the second was on Second Avenue and Lake Street. Both were zoned in
a fashion that I could get away with as large a house as I could afford.

  The parking ranged from being a nuisance to "let's not think about it". I
wanted some indoor parking so we didn't need to worry about juggling cars
around for the city's street-cleaning. Traffic was manageable, and much of
that depended on where we'd eventually work. As for schools, there were
several. The second site had its own set of schools; the first relied on the
same three schools Melanie, Andrew and I grew up in.

  Janet looked at me with bright eyes, "Schools?"

  "Yes," I returned her gaze, "You know why."

  "Oh, right." My First's ears burned bright pink. For the last couple years, I
had been reading her mind and sensing her desire for children. We had skirted
the issue here and there, but never seriously discussed it. Since Janet was
older than I by nearly four years, it was only natural that she'd started
around now. It just didn't come up when we were together earlier, since one
thing or another got in the way, and we were both young as hell.

  "Janet jie-jie's blushing!" Melanie giggled.

  "Stop it, you!" Janet swatted her gently but she was grinning.

  "I'm serious," I said.

  "I know," my First turned to Shawn and asked, "What do you think? You going
along with this?"

  "I love Stanley," Shawn replied, "I don't mind; my parents would be nearby,
and I'm positive I could find work near or around the city. Actually, I'm more
concerned about you guys than he is!"

  "That's true," Melanie cut in. "Stanley guo-guo can be selfish sometimes."

  "And lazy," Janet nodded.

  "And cheap," Shawn added.

  "You left out the part where I eat girls with big mouths," I growled. Who
ever said keeping company with a gang of girls was the greatest thing ever
obviously never tried it for more than five minutes.

  "Digging at 'the Y' isn't punishment," Janet said. Melanie giggled and Shawn
blushed deep crimson.

  "Well, whatever," I sniffed. "I still want to make it official."

  "Official? You mean announce it?" Shawn spoke up, "My mom and dad will kill
you!"

  "So, you still want to live near them?" Janet laughed. My plump angel blushed
and kept silent.

  "No parents," I looked between them, "Not yet anyway. Not until we've proven
that we can do this."

  "Well, makes sense," Janet sighed."My mom and dad are wondering if I'll ever
get married."

  "C'mon," I tapped her knee to cheer her up. "Do you have any New Year's Eve
plans?"

  "Apart from what's expected?" Shawn piped up.

  "Of course," I turned to Melanie.

  "I want to party!" she startled everyone by hopping into my lap.

  "Yu-Ching," I grunted under her weight. "Settle down."

  Janet ignored our by-play and shrugged, "I'm thinking about going out to City
Hall for the fireworks, but with the case I'm on, I don't know."

  "Well," I gave her a wink, "If they settle out of court --" Janet scowled and
was about to lecture me on legal malfeasance but I went right on "-- then
you'll have time."

  I set Melanie down so she wouldn't hurt herself, then gave them the surprise.
"I want to take you girls to New York City. Celebrate the year 2000 that way."

  Stunned silence. Then came a barrage of questions: "New York City?" "I
haven't been there!" "Cool!!" "Wait! What? When!?"

  I answered them one by one, and maintained my trademark grin.

  "It's simple my lovely darlings." I addressed all as such for the first time.
"I want to propose to each of you there in three week's time."

  "Oh Stanley!!" Melanie nearly screamed my ear off, "You don't even have to
ask me! Yes! Yes!!"

  I picked her back up just so she'd get under control. Yu-Ching was bouncing
around like an excited pup.

  "Do you mean that?" Janet asked warily, "It's not some ploy so you're trying
to score some nooky right?"

  "Why would I go to all that planning?" I asked slyly, "Why not score some
now?"

  Janet's jaw dropped at my suggestion then she closed it with an audible snap.
Her cheeks dimpled as she glared at me. I picked up what she was thinking: 'I
created a pervert!!' good gawd 'Now I've got to marry him.' sigh 'I guess
he's not so bad.' 'I feel like such a -- what's it called? Cougar? Ugh. I feel
so dirty.'

  I laughed more from her expression than what I mind-read. I leaned over and
kissed Janet on her nose. My First blushed, embarrassed to be kissed that way.
However, she enjoyed being kissed (anywhere actually), unlike Melanie, who
settled for nothing but on her mouth.

  "Stanley?" Shawn squeaked and tugged my hand like a little girl.

  "What's up pumpkin?" I took her hand.

  "New York?" she asked pensively, and I knew what she was thinking: Viktoriya.

  "It'll be a surprise," I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  "Stanley!" Shawn tilted her head and gave me a disapproving glare, "You tell
them about Vicky!! Tell them right now!"

  "Who's Vicky?" Janet's serious tone nearly gave me a heart attack.

  "She means Viktoriya," Melanie spun around on my lap to face her. "Remember
that girl I told you Stanley would visit me with?"

  "You little snitch," I pinched my freshly blossomed beauty. Melanie stuck out
her tongue and made a cute noise as only a girl like her could.

  "Oh," Janet didn't seem flustered, "I remember Stanley mentioning her before.
You've met her, Shawn? This Viktoriya?"

  "Oh yeah," Shawn replied shyly, "She's um --" she struggled for an
explanation that didn't involve lesbian cunnilingus "-- very cool. She's a
dancer."

  "Exotic?" Janet looked at me and sighed, "Or ballet?"

  "Actually I don't know," Shawn frowned, "I never asked."

  "American smooth, I think. But she'll try anything. Rumba, mambo, cha-cha,
tango, you name it, she'll know it," I said and prodded Shawn with my foot,
"See? Told you I was taking dance classes."

  "You smart-ass," Shawn jabbed me back, "Why don't you show us?!"

  I rose and pulled my plump pumpkin along to show what dance steps I picked up
from Viktoriya (and a few others from her classmates). Melanie laughed as
Shawn struggled under my lead while Janet looked on with an air of detached
amusement. I was never musically inclined, but I found it simply easy to
remember each step by setting up an arbitrary metering system in my head.

  Besides, Shawn could barely keep up, so I was pretty much moving her around
like a toy doll the the entire time. Viktoriya was three hours ahead, but I
gave her the good news through a mental broadcast.

  'Hello, Stanislav!' Viktoriya wore a smile as she gazed into a full length
mirror to chat with me. 'So will I see you on New Year's?'

  'And the others too.' I didn't have to explain as I let Shawn tumble onto her
bed, then whirled around with Melanie in a mock waltz.

  'So you told them.' Viktoriya referred to the others by her derogatory
monikers less these days. Ever since she left for New York, she became a bit
more humble when our minds connected. Her appetites however, remained the
same. I could see Viktoriya reaching down to finger herself. 

  'Can you kiss Melanie for me, kisa? I forgot you told me she's nearly
eighteen. I want to -- ungh.'

  I sighed and relented. Viktoriya still wanted to experiment. She had pounced
Shawn, but only dealt with Melanie when she was a younger girl. Now that she
was older though, I wondered how long my vixen from the Volga could restrain
herself. I caressed Melanie's waist and pressed my lips tenderly against hers.
Yu-Ching quickly responded with a fierce lip-lock that tumbled me to the
ground. Almost immediately, I felt intoxicating carnal energy pulse through
the room.

  'Oh, Stanislav.' Viktoriya buckled and doubled over, her face contorted with
pleasure in the mirror. 'She is so BEAUTIFUL.'

  Where was that energy coming from? Was it from me? From Melanie? Or
Viktoriya? It didn't seem to matter much; the results were satisfying. Very
satisfying.

  "Oh my," Janet murmured and fidgeted slightly, "Feeling amorous aren't we?"

  I looked past the side of Melanie's head and saw Janet lying lazily on the
bed. She was looking down upon me like a bright radiant goddess. Melanie
kissed my neck and her hands dove under my shirt, her frisky nature no longer
fettered by any limits of age or decency. I chalked it up to her making up for
lost time.

  "You know," I mustered a shy grin as I eyed my First, "You can join in any
time."

  Janet laughed and reached down to tousle my youngest darling's hair. "Xieu
Ching*, remember what I told you."  [* Cantonese: Little Ching, using Chen
Yu-Ching's third character as its root; as a female originated diminutive, it
carries a sisterly tone.]

  "Yes --" smack "Janet --" kiss "jie-jie," she barely stayed coherent as
she tore off our clothing.

  "Tell her what?" I asked as I helped Melanie undress.

  "Use a condom," Janet looked at Shawn and asked her, "That couple who lives
with you? Think we can borrow one?"

  'Just one?' That was Viktoriya from her place in Brooklyn.

  'You nympho.' I thought accusingly then echoed her request audibly. "Just
one?"

  "Okay," Janet sighed. "If you think you can beat your personal best handsome,
make it three."

  "You heard the lady," I grimaced as Melanie bit me hard on the neck. "Three
it be."

  Shawn sheepishly slid out the door. When she came back, Melanie had peeled
off my pants and was sucking my fat dick with her small mouth. Janet was
watching us from the bed, her body idle, but her eyes bespoke of a quiet
burning lust. Shawn knelt quietly beside me, condoms in hand. 

  "Hey muffin," I drew Shawn close and kissed her.

  "Gawd Stanley," she said peevishly, "I guess this is like every guy's dream
huh?"

  "Not quite," Janet spoke for me, "Knowing Stanley, he probably wants
Viktoriya to watch."

  'She's right Stanislav. I do want that!' Viktoriya was swooning now. 'Janna*
is honestly a woman after your own heart!' [* Viktoriya's personal variation
of Janet's name. I am unsure of its origins.]

  Through mind-sight I saw the brunette straddling a giant plastic dildo
suctioned to a small plastic bath stool. Viktoriya had set herself up in front
of an old dressing mirror. I could see how the dildo was impaling her cunt by
the reflection in the mirror.

  Oh, for the love of god. I swallowed and kept my focus strong and my gift in
check lest I hurt anyone. Still, it was hard to do since I felt my nuts burn
and itch. I desperately wanted to spew my load right into Melanie's eager
mouth but I held out, gambling for a greater level of pleasure later.

  As I watched Melanie suck slavishly on my cock, Janet pretty much was
ignoring everything as she watched the young girl take me into her eager
mouth. Shawn teased me by putting her titties to good use. She nearly
smothered me in those huge mothers. I suddenly remembered something we did one
time when I visited Shawn.

  "Hey muffin," I suggested, "Why don't you show Jan that trick of ours with
brushes."

  "You mean an electric toothbrush?" my First laughed. "I showed you that years
ago!"

  "No, not that." A smile slowly crept across Shawn's face. "If you think it's
okay, Stanley."

  "It'll be all right pumpkin," I kissed her breasts. "We're not going to paint
with them ever again."

  "Oh my!" the plump girl laughed. "There goes another set!"

  "What are you planning, Stanley?" Janet eyed me and Shawn suspiciously.

  "Trust me baby doll," I rose and sat on the bedside, pulling Melanie along.

  Janet was hesitant, but she scooted over slightly. She then removed her
jacket and slid off her dress. Her body was all woman now. Her C-cup breasts
were perfect in many ways and her skin still soft and smooth. Janet lay down
beside me on the bed, watching Melanie wolfing down my cock and waited
patiently.

  Shawn in the meantime, came back with the "jerk off brush". It was a flat,
wide brush designed for water colors or water-based paints. The bristles were
pretty stiff but still pliant where it counted. Shawn and I were experimenting
with water colors that time and wound up experimenting on each other. It
proved to be fun and pleasurable, so why not share it?

  "Now spread your legs angel," I whispered to Janet, "Shawn's going to make
you see God."

  "Oh really?" Janet lay back cautiously, "I don't think s--s--sooohhh--!!"

  She cried out as soon as the brush' bristles tickled her clit. Janet's
sonorous one-woman scream was enough to scare Shawn into immobility. After a
moment of hesitation though, my First took over and showed Shawn a few tricks
of her own. There was just enough room on the full-sized bed for all four of
us. I slammed Melanie's face a few more times before I pulled out and stuck
her. Melanie literally wept with joy as I pounded her in the midst of the
orgy. Turning to the side, she could easily see her "sister" Janet get her
loving licks from Shawn's waterbrush and vice versa.

  Melanie was ecstatic. I realized that she was an emotional sponge, soaking up
the excitement of the other girls (especially Viktoriya, even though she was
only linked mentally) and then somehow broadcasting back out. It wasn't as
strong as what I could do (otherwise it would've conked the other girls out)
but it was strong enough to have an effect.

  This event coupled with the physical proximity of Janet and Shawn, two people
whom my little Chen were very close to, drove her into a sexual frenzy. When I
blew my load, Melanie uttered a long-strangled cry of pleasure that quickly
cascaded through to the others. And thanks to mind-sight, Viktoriya felt the
whole thing as well.

  I felt/sensed her thoughts raging through me in a mix of her native Russian,
Ukrainian, and Romanian. After a few more torrid minutes, she was tuckered
out. I couldn't blame her; afterall, the time difference between us was
substantial. Viktoriya drowsily bade me good night and fell asleep nude under
the covers of her. I could see that she didn't bother taking the dildo out; it
remained inside her wet, sopping cunt.

  Seeing my lecherous Russian tootsie black-out in satisfaction gave me a
second wind. I did Shawn next, as Melanie took over the brush and brought
Janet several satisfying orgasms. They switched while I was still in the midst
of pinning Shawn's knees to her shoulders. Her fat, floppy tits bounced and
jiggled nicely as I rode her, nuzzled her neck, and felt her warm breath in my
ear.

  Shawn scratched my scalp tenderly like a feline lover and panted breathlessly
as a quiet tempest gathered within her. Her sweet nutty musk filled my
nostrils as I plumbed her endlessly like an oil derrick. Our noses touched and
I could feel her love glove rippling in sheer anticipation. When Shawn came,
she uttered a soft cry. I arched my back and erupted a second time.

  "Nh--fuck--nnh--fuck," I wrung my juice box dry of juice as I streamed into
Shawn.

  I fell aside and lay on the bed, totally exhausted as Janet crawled slowly on
top of me. Seeing and hearing her, smelling and tasting her, feeling her with
my mind and body, I roused myself once more to her enticement. Janet though,
knew I was nearly spent, so she did the work. She spread her legs and
straddled me. We both groaned as she pushed me into herself.

  Janet kissed my face, my shoulders, my chest and I reciprocated when I could.
I knew what she was doing. We did it before when were were younger and I
thought I had spent my last after an entire night of love-making. Janet was
inexhaustible back then and we experimented a lot. Shawn and Melanie watched
in quiet amazement as Janet, my experienced First, bewitched me as only one
could after so many years of close association. Despite having shot my load
twice earlier in the evening, my third (and final) sperm blast of the night
was possibly the largest (and most painful) deposit I made.

  When I woke in a dazed stupor the next day, I could barely walk. I nearly
stumbled when I tried to get up. Janet quickly took charge and she and the
girls kindly bundled me in the car. She then took my keys and drove us all
back home. The unexpected orgy aside, I later learned that would actually be
my average weekend: just hanging out with my girls: my family.

===============================================================================
  INTERLUDE -- A NEW YEAR, A NEW AGE
===============================================================================

  As I had predicted, Janet's big asbestos case turned out to be a settlement
through arbitration. Arbitration wasn't in the realm of her firm of lawyers,
so she was able to get some much needed time off. Besides, few firms worked
near the holidays (the courts tended to close early).

  Melanie was doing well in her vocational program and needed no one's help
(she was a bright girl). Since she was eighteen and her parents had her
younger brother Chen Yu-Wah to look after, she was in the clear as well. She
had to do some convincing with her parents; they only consented after Shawn
appeared as "the friend" who Melanie's parents thought was the main reason for
the trip.

  Shawn, though, was the only one who had earnestly tough problems with her
parents. Since she was an only child (her brother having died years ago), they
were a little more protective. Her parents had met Janet, and they were
suspicious even of Melanie (whom they knew was in my confidence) when she came
to repeat the story used on the Chens. 

  Melanie must've picked up something off me, because she was able to convince
the Hortens that nothing unsavory would happen. I suppose that the Hortens
were won over when they accidentally shook Melanie's hand. Oops! My little
darling was latent, but I guess all those years hanging around me made her
somewhat persuasive too. The Hortens agreed to the trip, and (better) didn't
harass Shawn about it thereafter.

  Still, the logistics of it all were harsh. I barely managed to book four
flights during the busy holiday season. Since coach was booked full, I decided
to splurge a little and look into first-class (which was not as heavily
booked, out of sheer expense). Thus, I was able to grab flights for all four
of us. We landed at JFK airport a few days before the new year.

  Viktoriya offered to put us up for our stay in New York City, but I had also
booked two adjoining rooms in a hotel on Manhattan in anticipation of this
event a few weeks before (it was a gamble I was willing to take). The hotel
wasn't a five-star place but it wasn't a dive either; it was easily lost in
the maze of streets between Battery and Central Parks. I asked my Russian
beauty to pack up some things for a week's stay and she positively jumped at
the chance to stay in a room with three other girls.

  Oh yeah, I grinned. It was going to be one of those vacations.

  New York City was a helluva place. Surpassing San Francisco's history by 200
odd years made it that much more full of people and dense with infrastructure.
For the first two days, Shawn and I were actually working, taking digital
pictures of rooftops, apartment complexes, driveways (for me), gutter systems
(for Shawn), and other architectural and engineering minutiae that would
likely bore you to tears.

  Janet and Melanie hit the town with Viktoriya showing them around. They had a
ball. I had taken some of the money I earned (and stole) from my business in
Mexico and used biointroscopy (perception through skin) to weed out the
duplicate bills. I kept the ones that felt the most "clothy" and gave my girls
$2000 each before turning them loose. They certainly had their fun, although
all but Viktoriya were suspicious.

  "Where'd you get all this?" Janet glowered at me.

  "I have a side job."

  "What kind of side job?" Janet asked with alarm. "What are you mixed up in?!"

  "It's a contracting thing," I dismissed her concerns.

  She wasn't all too happy, so I did my best to allay her fears.

  "Look, it's nothing illegal," I managed a smile. "So don't worry about it."

  Actually, the legality of it all depended on who was asked. The agency
couldn't care less; the cartels used different terminology: muerto and "not
muerto" (dead or not dead).

  "This is a lot of dough," my First hung onto her natural suspicions.

  "Oh don't worry," Viktoriya winked at me. "I am sure Stanislav planned this."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," Janet said with resignation.

  "Two thousand to match the new year," I quipped, "Just don't let it go to
your head, cause it's once every thousand years."

  "So, like do we get three thousand for the year 3000?" Shawn chided me.

  "Start exercising," I poked her soft tummy gently, "Then we'll talk."

  "Meh!" Shawn made a face and stuck her tongue at me.

  That little disagreement, plus the fact that there was a lot of New York City
to take in over the course of a week, were the only blights on the whole trip.
Our body clocks hadn't adjusted from West Coast time so we couldn't do all the
things we wanted; nor was there any massive orgy. After a whirlwind tour
through the Big Apple, the last thing I wanted to do was spend all night
fucking. I just wanted to sleep (and so did most of the girls). By the time we
adjusted our inner clocks and had our fill of the city's sights, it was nearly
time for us to leave.

  Still, the most important thing got taken care of. The rooftop of our hotel
was a softly lit outdoor cafe on New Year's Eve. The nippy air was made more
palatable as primly dressed men and women danced, drank, and partied the night
away around big electric heaters. Servers in monkey-suits bustled to and fro
as I seated my girls in turn. My four great beauties each wore an elegant
evening gown that showed off both their inner and outer beauty.

  Janet wore a little black cocktail dress with few frills. With her hair
gelled up, she was able to bare her slim shoulders and neck to the world.
Melanie took after "Janet jie-jie" with a similar, if more conservatively
covered, black party dress.

  "It's cold!" Melanie confessed to me privately. I laughed at her sensible
practicality and kissed her.

  Shawn's breasts hadn't stopped growing, so the poor girl was one cup bigger
(DD-cup). Few men on the roof saw her violet dress she had worn. They were
probably aware that it did frame a great view of her cleavage though. Heck,
even I was distracted.

  "Eyes up here mister," Shawn had to prod me a few times during the night.

  "Sorry pumpkin," I'd grin and wink. "Boobies don't have eyes."

  She'd then try to shove something into my mouth to shut me up. Viktoriya
again made a very vivid impression. Her long red dress did her legs great
justice when she'd stride across the roof. It made more of an impression when
she and I took to the dance floor and spun a mambo into a quick waltz. It
wasn't that pretty, but it was just us having our fun.

  The five of us counted down the rest of the year then laughed and frolicked
ourselves silly. I even called Faraz and wished him a Happy New Year. He and
Ghandia were in San Francisco's Union Square waiting for the new year to come
to them. He heard New York's gleeful roaring over the phone and congratulated
me.

  "So my friend," he asked over the din. "Have they agreed yet?"

  "Yeah," I said with a smile, "About that ..."

  My grin was wide enough to reach both coasts. Technically, it wasn't yet the
end of the milennium. However, the end of 1999 was the start of a new era for
me: four glasses held by four beautiful ladies voluntarily touched mine at the
stroke of midnight January 1, 2000.

===============================================================================
  COPYRIGHT: 2009. THIS WORK IS CONSIDERED PRIVATE AND ITS DISTRIBUTION IS 
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             PLEASE CHECK WITH YOUR LOCAL LAWS BEFORE CREATING OR DISTRIBUTING 
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     AUTHOR: MAXIMILLIAN ZHANG

    EDITORS: FERMAT and VOYER

     E-MAIL: GREY228 [ON] HOTMAIL
===============================================================================
