Prologue

The memories were fresh, not quite a year old, but still the urge was upon him. Colors were brighter. Sounds more distinct. His skin crawled with need. The cravings were coming closer together. Two years had passed between the last urge and the one before. This one assaulted him after only a year.

Go out among the revelers, the urge exhorted. Hang back and watch. An opportunity will arise.

Hunt! Stalk!

With a groan, he grabbed a jacket and left his hotel room. In the elevator as it descended to the street below, he adjusted the feathered mask to his wide face. The urge had become a compulsion, an overwhelming need directing his mind and driving his actions more and more each day. It now had complete control.

“Time to hunt,” he muttered malevolently as he moved into the costumed crowd, a mass of bodies moving like a wave crashing on the shoreline called Bourbon Street. The masses grabbed him and carried him away without his volition. He didn’t mind. The hunt was on, and he’d become an anonymous masked face in a sea of uninhibited revelers.

Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. New Orleans.

“Show us your tits!” Someone screamed. Others echoed the sentiment. “Show us your tits!”

Standing on a second-story balcony, an overweight girl in her late teens jerked up her t-shirt. Pendulous breasts flopped out and jiggled, and their large dark nipples hardened and lengthened. Excited by the crowd? No, more likely the chilly air.

Ugly, heavy breasts. Like his mother’s. He grimaced.

The frenzied crowd thickened and undulated like a school of anchovies in sunlit waters of a sea. Not attuned to the group, they crushed him with their bodies, pushing at him from all sides. He wanted to scream, but knew his cries wouldn’t be heard over the roar of the crowd. Hundreds of eyes focused simultaneously as if they were one eye, like an eye of a fly, all fixed on pendulous, jiggling breasts.

“Show us your tits!”

Another girl on the same balcony turned her back to the crowd, dropped her pants and panties, if indeed she wore any, and bent over, exposing her ass to the hungry eyes looking up from the street. From his vantage point, he could see her cunt between her legs and the massive globes of her ass, an ass unattractive to most males at any other time. The crowd cheered raucously as she waved her fat ass, a dimpled ass, wide and gross, nearly as wide as his mother’s. The large globes jiggled no less than the gargantuan breasts of her girlfriend.

Tits and ass! That’s why the crowd had assembled on Bourbon Street, but not him. He had another purpose, one more sinister, more compelling. He watched two police officers move into the building with the balcony. Soon, the crowd would disperse and would carry him down the street until it thinned enough to let him escape its grasp.

Then he saw her. Another girl, but younger than big tits and fat ass exposing their ugly body parts to the crowd. The young girl’s long, shiny black hair hung straight and was parted in the middle of her head. A flat chest, tiny waist, girlish, narrow hips. Gangly legs, like a colt. Dark eyes wide with wonder behind a painted face.

The one.

She was alone. Where were her parents? He swung his head searching the crowd, looking for a frantic mother, a distraught father. No one resembled either parent. All eyes were fixed on the lascivious sights on display from the balcony. Had the crowd jerked her away from the clutched hand of a parent? Had the masses moved her with them as they’d moved him?

The hunt was done; the stalk began.

He fought the crush of bodies and moved slowly, inexorably toward the girl. She didn’t appear afraid or lost. Instead, her painted face turned here and there, taking in the sights around her. A small, sly smile lifted the corners of her thin, narrow lips.

She’s excited, he thought. She’s pleased to be among the revelers, to be one of them, pleased she’d escaped the shackles of her parents’ confining presence, to pretend she was an adult if only for a short time. That night, she’d probably lie in bed and relive the sights and sounds she’d experienced that day while she played with her little-girl pussy. That is, if she were still alive.

I’ll be the one reliving the sights and sounds, he thought. I’ll revisit the feel of her youthful, smooth skin, her tidy aromas, her luscious flavors. He felt his penis start to grow as he finally stood directly behind the girl. Fondling the switchblade deep in his right pocket, he moved with the masses toward the gay end of Bourbon Street where men dressed as women, some of them more beautiful than Las Vegas strippers. He knew about such men, knew more than he wished to know.

He’d need to get ahead of the girl, but first he had to position her at the edge of the moving crowd. He bumped her, pushing her toward the desired location, aided in his attempt by a fat woman dressed as a pumpkin. She’d probably used the same uninspired costume for Halloween. Expecting the girl to turn toward him, he sighed with relief when another woman on another balcony exposed her tits and the crowd surged toward the sight, aiding his attempt to position the girl so he could grab and pull her from the street.

He pushed and shoved and moved forward, leaving the girl behind. He wanted to look over his shoulder to make certain she’d remained at the edge of the crowd, but he stifled the urge until he arrived at a large door facing the sidewalk, a door to a courtyard hidden from the street, from the crowd, the door to the building he’d occupied as a child with his mother. She’d passed away ten years before, and for eight years he’d rented the apartments in the building to others. Today, as they were last year during Mardi Gras, the courtyard, the apartments, the rooms inside were all vacant.

Not for long, he thought, as he grasped a key and unlocked the door. He stepped through the opening and closed it behind him, leaving it cracked wide enough to observe the crowd on the street. Was the girl in the right place? Could he pull her through the door without anyone noticing?

The stalk had ended. Next, he’d take his prey. Then...

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so exhilarated.

He held his breath as the girl moved with the revelers until she loomed next to the door. He reached out and jerked her inside; slamming the door closed behind them. She looked frightened now and opened her mouth to scream, so he slapped over it a length of adhesive tape he had ready and stuck to the hinge on the door. He yanked her away from the sounds of the revelers, dragged her kicking and screaming through the gag to another door, one that opened to the courtyard from a ground-floor bedroom. He threw her on a plastic-covered mattress on his mother’s antique bed, and quickly immobilized her with bindings already fastened to each of the four posts.

He watched the girl squirm in terror as she tried to escape her bindings. When she didn’t succeed, he returned to the door leading to the street. Had anyone seen the girl suddenly disappear? Had anyone alerted the police standing on every corner of the street? He had an escape plan in such an event, but all appeared calm, if a reveling, unruly crowd could be termed calm.

“Show us your tits!”

Yeah, little girl, show me your tits, he mused as he locked the door and moved back to the bedroom off the courtyard, a shabby courtyard, certainly not up to the high standards the lush courtyards New Orleans usually offered.

Wide, light-blue eyes - terrified eyes - gazed at him as he entered the darkened room. He smiled as he lit the candles on the nightstands on both sides of the bed before he closed the heavy drapery over the courtyard windows.

Then he stripped. He had his mouse. Now he’d play with it before he killed it, finally leaving its carcass somewhere as an offering to the city of his anguished youth. Using the switchblade, he cut away the girl’s clothing until she was naked.

The one.

She pleased him. Except for a smattering of pubic hair, she looked prepubescent. He could fix that problem. Fifteen minutes later, he’d shaved her vulva with a straight razor, the razor his mother had used to shave her legs. Not a hair remained, but still the girl wasn’t quite perfect. He scrubbed the paint from her face until her youthful skin glowed pink.

Now she was perfect.

Settling between her gangly legs, he licked her, licked her everywhere, experienced all her different flavors, little-girl flavors: nervous sweat, a touch of perfume behind her ears and inner thighs, the taste of urine at her urethra, the pungent flavor of feces at her pucker. He nibbled on her youthful, silky skin, rasped his tongue over her itty-bitty nipples on a flat chest, sucked a hickey on both sides of her long, girlish neck, bit her lip, her earlobe.

He toyed with her.

Then he fucked her.

Her muffled screams of pain thrilled him as he shoved his small cock into her tiny cunt, ripping through her hymen. The small, tight cunt gripped him like a vise, and he climaxed quickly.

So unlike his mother’s gaping cunt with its forest of black hair, a cunt so large he could barely feel her interior membranes grasp his little erection. She preferred his fist, he knew, adored the feel of his fist and arm ratcheting in and out of her massive cunt. Fucking whore! And she’d made a whore out of him too, made him a whore for the gay men farther up Bourbon Street who wanted a boy. They paid well, more than the men who wanted a woman, men who wanted his mother.

Could the girl take his fist? Apparently not, but her muffled screams, her squirming while he tried, excited him, so he fucked her again. Later, he fucked her ass, and she passed out from the pain he inflicted.

“Fuckin’ pussy,” he muttered. She didn’t know what pain was. He had a small cock, not like some of the monsters some gay men brandished before they shoved them into his prepubescent ass.

Pain. Pain excited him. Inflicting pain, receiving pain, but he preferred the dominant role, a role he hadn’t been allowed to play in his youth. When the girl’s consciousness returned, he chewed off one of her tiny nipples. Blood spurted across his face, exciting him again. He spat out the nipple and fucked her. He wasn’t a cannibal, not like Jeffrey Dahmer or the fictional Hannibal Lecter. The thought of devouring human flesh revolted him. Sick fuckers. No class at all.

Using the switchblade, he cut open her cunt so his fist would fit. She didn’t cry out with pleasure, not like his mother when he jammed his arm into her up to his elbow. The girl didn’t move either.

She was dead.

While her body was still warm, he fucked her one last time, fucked her bloody gash, pounding it as his hips flashed. “Just like Mom’s gaping cunt,” he muttered, and increased his pace, trying to achieve one last orgasm. His puny cock defied him, though, and wilted to a slimy worm before he could climax, which pissed him off. He vented his rage through the knife, slashing, cutting, stabbing, until the small form on his mother’s bed looked more like road kill on a highway than a human stretched out on a bed.

He spent the rest of the day and most of the night cleaning up the mess. He’d engage a realtor to lease the apartments the following day. He couldn’t risk using the building to satisfy his urge again. Two murders during Mardi Gras one year apart were one more than should have happened. He wasn’t stupid and planned to arrange another location to satisfy his urges, and he’d need to act soon. Another year wouldn’t pass before the urge struck again. In six months, maybe less, it would take control, and he had to be prepared.

He dumped the plastic-encased body on the levy road and rolled it down into the Mississippi River. He’d have preferred to leave it at some monument or park to make a statement, but the risk was too great. He fondled the sandwich bag containing the nipple he’d ripped from her flat chest with his teeth. In a few days, it would join three other nipples he kept in a jar of formaldehyde in his home in Glendale, a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona.

One of the nipples had once belonged to his mother. It was his most cherished possession.

Chapter 1

David Stanley reclined naked and relaxed on a banquette and gazed up at the stars. He’d spent the day on Lake Powell playing with his newest toy, a brand-new 34-foot Searay Sports Cruiser.

While still in his teens, David decided it was better to be rich than merely okay money-wise, so he’d used his flights of consciousness to gather insider information about public companies and had parlayed his meager college fund into millions. Two years ago at David’s request, his mother sold her business and, under his supervision, now handled the day-to-day chores his investments required. While in his third year in college, he purchased acreage in North Scottsdale, engaged an architect and builder to construct his home, and helped his mother build a new house within the walls surrounding his land. He also reserved an acre lot within the compound for his sister, Darla, if she ever wanted it, which appeared unlikely. She was happily married to a doctor, a surgeon, no less, and in a few months, David would become an uncle. He could hardly wait.

Although primarily self-educated, David still considered a college education important if only as a subterfuge to hide his unique abilities or to open some doors that would otherwise remain closed to him while he occupied his body. After graduating from Arizona State University, he enrolled in the University of Phoenix Online, receiving his M.B.A. a year later.

He also learned to fly and owned a Cessna Turbo Stationair, another toy, according to Darla. He supposed she was correct but rationalized the purchase when he acquired a summer home in Sedona overlooking Oak Creek, offering astonishing views of craggy red-rock landscapes famous in the area. Driving to Sedona whenever he wanted to get out of the city didn’t appeal to him, although some of his automobiles would be considered toys, too, like his 1967 Chevy Corvette Roadster, purchased at the Barrett-Jackson Classic Car Auction.

With a few exceptions, his paranormal abilities hadn’t evolved much over the last few years. He could now connect with anyone he’d ever seen, either in person or while on one of his trips, which had helped him gather insider information on public companies. He’d also repaired his problem with psychic arousal and its accompanying, unrelenting, and ultimately excruciatingly painful results. Because he’d created the sensations with the psychic energy loops of his chakras, not through the physical manifestations he’d fashioned to ape a physical orgasm, he’d failed to add a method to interrupt the looping. By building the sensations to an intense level, then abruptly disrupting the psychic loop, he could feel orgasmic-like sensations with a release, especially if he synchronized the release to the physical contractions of his out-of-body orgasms. Once the sensations dissipated, he could reenter his body without pain or any other difficulty. For his first test with psychic sex after a one-year hiatus, his mother volunteered as a participant in the experimental psychic fuck. They’d both enjoyed the experience and had repeated it since, although not often. At the time, Darla saw no reason to try fake sex, as she called it, and promptly jumped David’s bones. Later, she eagerly accepted David’s ghost into her body. Exhilarated by the results, she encouraged him to repeat the event whenever they were separated, that is, up to the day she accepted Steve White’s marriage proposal. She’d been true-blue to the good doctor ever since.

David missed her lovely body next to his, sometimes desperately, but he understood and kept his promise not to entice her to have sex with him again.

He’d also perfected his tone of voice, but anticipating a need for various voices while on his journeys, he learned to speak with a captivating, sultry feminine voice, a combination of the melodious, sensuously teasing sounds uttered by his mother and sister. Darla cracked up the first time he visited her using his female voice and insisted they gossip like a couple of giggly, teenaged girls. He deepened the feminine voice slightly when dealing with his mother. Both stated they preferred his real voice, but David believed his mother secretly preferred the deep, masculine voice he perfected that offered a stentorian quality designed to lead and command. David suspected his mother, besides being an exhibitionist, harbored a small streak of submissiveness in her sexual nature.

One afternoon while still in high school, he couldn’t resist and spoke to Barbara as if he were a girl ghost. His feminine voice asked if she’d enjoyed the finger fuck in the showers. She’d gasped in shock but, after she recovered, eagerly requested a repeat performance. Giggling ghost-like, he’d clammed up and watched briefly while Barbara shucked her panties and started to play with herself, beseeching him to join her. He ignored her request and didn’t touch her. A promise was a promise. Still, Darla had not appreciated his humor - sick humor, she’d called it. His mother considered the event hilarious and told his sister to lighten up.

The stars are so brilliant, he mused still captivated by the night sky. Not like the dim lights barely seen in a city. Time. Time and space. The starlight I’m seeing now gave birth before I was born. Time, space and consciousness. Do the stars exist only because I’m observing them? Do they exist in a state of superposition until they’re observed by a conscious being, as some scientists avow? Conundrums - mysteries physicists, mathematicians, philosophers, and religious leaders all try to reconcile with individual, disparate approaches tied to their biased belief systems.

He turned his head toward a sound and watched as Denise stepped up from the cabin below. Her long legs flexed and glistened in the moonlight. Like David, she was nude, and he appreciated her tawny grace. A lesbian, Denise unaccountably thoroughly enjoyed an infrequent visit from her masculine ghost with a feminine voice, but refused to let him enter her while he occupied his flesh-and-blood body. If involved in a threesome with him and his mother, she occasionally tolerated his real mouth on her, once even experiencing a crashing orgasm from his lips and tongue.

“There you are,” she said and smiled as she settled gracefully in the captain’s chair and spun the rotating seat toward him.

With her legs slightly spread, the matted blonde curls between her legs appeared as if parted by a hairbrush and framed the reddish, swollen labia of her vulva. He noted her clitoris had retracted under its hood.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked. “Or, at least, letting your consciousness wander while your body rests?”

While his dark eyes enjoyed her soft, feminine curves, David huffed a small laugh. “I’ve been contemplating the universe and trying to figure out how I fit.”

“Heavy.” She stretched, lifting her clasped hands toward the stars and pushing her feet straight out in front of her. Her perky breasts rose alluringly on her chest, and her nipples hardened, an effect of the cool breezes meandering over the currently calm waters of Lake Powell, David assumed. Not for the first time, he considered it a shame she didn’t enjoy sex with a man.

“Is Mother asleep?”

“Yes.” She expelled a soft snort and added, “We wore her out.”

“You more than me.”

“Probably,” she acknowledged unabashedly. “Well, did you figure out how you fit in the total scheme of things?”

“Hah! Never happen, but lately I’ve been wondering if my consciousness could take a trip through time, a journey our three-dimensional bodies couldn’t survive.”

Her gray eyes widened. “Surely, you jest.”

Her obvious surprise surprised David. Dr. Denise Montgomery was a psychologist, a professor at New Mexico State in Las Cruces, and when not teaching, she did research in consciousness. She’d tumbled upon his secret when he helped her out of a jam years ago, and she’d agreed not to make him a lab rat or divulge his unique abilities to anyone. The agreement reflected her gratitude for his help, and she’d honored the agreement since.

Years, he thought. Seven years have passed since I first saw Denise sitting next to my mother in a bar in Albuquerque. Time flies when you’re having fun. Yeah, no doubt about it; time is relative.

“Think about it, Denise. Chaos theory along with quantum mechanics stipulate time is a continuum, meaning now flows both into the past and into the future. Now is where the future intersects the past. According to virtual chaos, its ten-dimensional model has a three-dimensional past and a three-dimensional future that crosses over the four dimensions we refer to as the here and now. When my consciousness takes flight, it moves from one here and now to another space in almost the same here and now, and the journeys are timeless, regardless of distance. Why shouldn’t my consciousness be able to slide along the continuum during a trip to visit a past or future here and now?”

She raised a stern eyebrow, but her eyes twinkled. “Are you saying you’ve accomplished such a feat?”

David looked sheepish. “I’m not sure. I think I connected with Mother when she was about ... oh, I don’t know, ten or twelve years old, and the scene was ... old-fashioned, old-fashioned fabrics, carpet, hairstyles, those sorts of things.”

Her eyes glinted, enlarging the gold flecks in the gray. “Amazing!”

“The episode took place last week. I’ve tried to repeat the process, but without success. I’m almost convinced I experienced a dream or vision, not a trip.”

“Have you discussed the event with Carol? Tried to verify its authenticity?”

“No. I wanted to repeat a similar trip first.”

“What did you see?”

David blushed. “Ah, I’d need Mother’s permission before describing the scene to anyone.”

“I’ll wake her.”

“No, let her sleep.”

“In the morning, then.”

“Okay. Are you curious due to my reluctance to discuss what I saw, or is your curiosity based on the potential scientific breakthrough?”

She grinned, exposing the endearing, tiny gap in her two front teeth. “Both. I assumed the scene you observed was naughty, which piqued my sexual curiosity, but the possibility that your consciousness has actually slipped the bounds of time intrigues and excites my scientific mind.”

Once again, David looked up at the stars, and his thoughts drifted back to his mother at the age of ten, feverishly rubbing her puffy, hairless pussy, grunting nasty words, and using saliva for lubrication instead of her natural juices. He’d watched her until she climaxed before the connection was severed. Purposefully taking the trip to check on her - something he did out of habit every day - he somehow slipped deep into her past, not her here and now. Almost as amazing, he’d lost his connection with her without his volition, an event he’d willfully controlled since age sixteen. Was his unique consciousness evolving again? He hoped so. Time tripping and its potential ramifications appealed to him.

“David,” Denise said, her voice so soft he barely heard her.

Responding to the sound of his name, he turned his eyes from the heavens. Denise looked unsure of herself, almost vulnerable, which bemused David. The lovely, intelligent woman was the most self-assured person he knew.

“I came to you tonight hoping you’d be in your body, and we could talk like this. I have a request.”

Why did her voice quiver? She’s nervous as well as vulnerable. Curiouser and Curiouser.

“I’ll grant your request if I can.”

“Don’t be too hasty. It’s a large favor. Huge!” She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. “I want a baby. Your baby.” Please, please, she beseeched fate. Don’t let him turn me down without a discussion.

Flabbergasted, David sat up but didn’t speak. Her request shocked him but, at the same time, reminded him of one of life’s realities he’d frequently tried to reject but failed with every attempt. Primal issues defied denial.

Sex. Death. Sex and death, he thought, life’s overriding primal concerns. Life itself was primal. Eat or be eaten. To survive, man must kill other life for food. So, death grants life. But everyone, everything dies. Dust to dust. Life maintains itself by creating more life before it’s eaten, so the ecstasy of sex must happen to maintain life. Sex and death.

Dammit, a concept of reality based solely on sex and death was ... well, uncivilized, not unlike Denise’s request. He studied her. Was she serious? Her eyes were still closed, but suddenly they snapped open and fixed on his.

“My sexual makeup precludes a loving, long-term relationship with a man, but a male is necessary if I want a child, and I do. Desperately. I want a baby. I want a child of my own, and I can think of no man but you that I’d ... dammit! This is difficult.”

“How do you see me in this ... ah, project of yours? I mean, do you see me involved in the child’s life, or...?”

Thank you! At least, he’s willing to talk about it. “I want a child, your child. I don’t expect you to marry me, live with me, or even love me. I love you, David, but I’m not in love with you. I love you like the brother I never had. The love of my life will be a woman, not a man.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t need an answer right now. Please think about my request. If your answer is no, I’ll never bring up the subject again, and I won’t be upset with you. Oh, I’ll be disappointed, very disappointed, but regardless, we can continue to be the dear, close friends we’ve become. Also, if you even considered my request, I knew you’d want to place some conditions on your involvement in ... ah, my project. If I can live with your conditions, we’ll proceed. If not...” She shrugged. “Let me just say I’ll understand and hope you’ll feel the same way.”

“Have you discussed this with Mother?”

“No. I’ve discussed it with no one.”

“When would you like my answer?”

“I could be fertile now. The midpoint in my cycle occurs the day after tomorrow.”

Sex and death. Maintaining life was a primal force in nearly every man, every woman, and the notion of a child, his child, excited him not only intellectually but also sexually. His flaccid penis unrolled and lengthened along his thigh, and its movement attracted Denise’s attention.

With a sly, small smile, she said, “I can see the concept isn’t completely distasteful to you.”

“No, not at all. You’re a beautiful woman, Denise. Still, won’t sex with me be distasteful to you?”

Her lids lowered and shoulders drooped, presenting an uncharacteristic shyness. “You know I enjoy sex with you when you’re a ghost, David, and you’ve given me great pleasure even while occupying your body. If you say no, I’ll probably remain childless, because thinking about sex with a man other than you makes me shudder.” As she gazed out over the dark, still waters of the lake, her shoulders shook, demonstrating her point. “I could adopt, but for me, raising a child I didn’t conceive and carry to term wouldn’t be the same.”

David shuddered, too, because he was about to make her unhappy. “You live and work in New Mexico. I’m settled permanently in Phoenix. The distance between us makes being a father for the child difficult, if not impossible, and I refuse to act only as a sperm donor for this project of yours. I’m sorry, Denise. I must reluctantly and sadly deny your request.”

Tears flushed her eyes and poised to overflow. She brushed them away with her fingers and said, “Would you reconsider if I moved to the Phoenix area?”

“Possibly.”

“I’ve been offered a position with A.S.U. If you grant me the favor, I’ll move to Phoenix. And I agree with you. A child needs a father.” She rose to her feet and stepped to him, finally kneeling at his feet. She took both his hands in hers, placing them each side of her face. “I won’t sugarcoat it, David. I want you to be the father of my child not only because sex with you isn’t completely repugnant to me but also because I hope our child will demonstrate some of your unusual paranormal abilities.”

“Thanks for being honest, Denise.” He’d wondered if the latter motive was involved in her request. Now he knew, and knowing didn’t surprise him.

She tentatively reached and took his half-hard shaft in her long, dainty fingers. With a shy smile, she glanced up at him. “I’ve never touched your cock on purpose before.”

“How does it feel?” Her talented fingers aroused him, creating a full erection.

“Hard and soft and warm and alive, not distasteful at all.” She leaned forward and rasped her tongue over the crown. “No, not distasteful at all.” Liar!

“Denise, I haven’t decided...”

“I know, but you’ve given me so much pleasure over the years, David. You’re hard, excited, and for the first time, I want to give you pleasure.” She lowered her mouth around him, swiped the underside with her lively tongue, and bobbed back up. “I’ve watched your mother and sister do this to you, so I’m not completely ignorant, but if I do something wrong, please tell me.”

Don’t gag, she ordered herself as she took his erection back inside her mouth. Whatever you do, don’t gag. You want his child, his unique DNA. Do whatever it takes. Even swallow his slimy semen if you have to.

She moaned purposefully when the bulbous head of his shaft struck the back of her mouth. Pulling back quickly to avoid her gag response, she tried to think of his erection as a large clitoris. Pretend he’s his mother. Pretend...

Sensing her revulsion, David put himself in her place and imagined how he’d feel if he were to go down on a man. With a shudder, he pulled away from her.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” Denise asked fearfully.

His lips curled into a compassionate smile. “No. You were merely being you. What you’re doing isn’t necessary and has absolutely no bearing on my decision, Denise.” He pulled her up next to him and hugged her tenderly.

Tears welled in her eyes again. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it, but I’ll tell you this. If your answer is yes, I’ll cry out with honest pleasure when you give me your seed.”

---

Darla groaned and rolled from the bed - literally. As large and round as she’d become, rolling while prone was the simplest means of locomotion. She grimaced when the little guy inside protested with a few swift kicks.

“I know. I’m sorry, little darlin’,” she said, cupping her pregnant belly as she waddled toward the bathroom. She sat and urine rushed into the bowl. “Ah, relief!” She smiled and caressed her stretched skin and the boy-child growing inside her. “You’re cramping my kidneys, darlin’. Like you, I’d have preferred to lie in bed with your daddy a little longer.”

In the kitchen, she started coffee perking and then returned to the bathroom for her morning shower. In her bloated condition, she didn’t believe she could be alluring, but she could certainly be sweet-smelling when Steve roused and joined her for coffee.

Dr. and Mrs. Stephen White. After two years, the titles still pleased her. David had been correct when he predicted some day she’d find the love of her life, marry the man, and have children with him. He’d also declared the same thing would happen to him, but so far, true love had eluded him.

Darla snorted with disdain. Of course, if so many women weren’t constantly spreading their lovely legs for him, maybe he’d become serious about finding his life’s mate. There was a time, quite a few times, when David’s propensity for attracting gorgeous, willing women disturbed her; although, disturbed was decidedly inadequate as a description of her emotions back then. Pissed, betrayed, and/or jealous came closer, but they’d moved through all the negative stuff and remained on-again/off-again lovers until she met Steve. Even then, if David flashed his boyish grin and touched her as only he knew how she enjoyed being touched, she couldn’t resist him.

After the romantic evening when Steve knelt before her and slipped an engagement ring on her finger, she told her brother she planned to remain faithful to her fiancé and future husband and asked David to promise not to tempt her. David reluctantly granted her request, and she’d maintained her vow of monogamy, remained faithful without a whimper or regret. She shivered as love for her husband overwhelmed her.

“Feeling chilled?” a female voice inquired - David’s feminine voice.

“No, feeling love,” she replied as she felt his invisible hand settle on her bloated tummy and move in tight little circles with just the right pressure. Yeah, he did know how she liked to be touched.

“I’m happy I caught you alone. I need your advice.”

Darla raised her eyebrows in an inquisitive gesture as her dark eyes widened with surprise. David had not solicited her opinion since her wedding day. The void of intimacy between them seemed to preclude a serious discussion, a loss she felt dearly.

“What kind of advice?” she asked as his ghostly hands continued to fondle his future nephew over her tight skin and slinky gown. Dammit! His hands on her still excited her. “Are you planning to buy another expensive toy?”

He laughed using his own natural guffaw. Learning to laugh while on a trip had been one of his most difficult accomplishments.

“Shush! You’ll wake up Steve.”

“He’s sleeping soundly,” David said, remaining in his normal, masculine voice. “If he starts to rouse, I’ll duff.”

Darla knew David’s consciousness ratcheted back and forth in a blink of an eye between her and her sleeping husband. She trusted her brother to warn her if Steve started to awaken and felt safe having a conversation with David’s ghost at any time, anywhere. David had more to lose from exposing his flights of consciousness than she did.

At David’s urging, Darla had not informed her husband about David’s unusual talents. Against his advice, she’d also not informed Steve about the incestuous relationships she’d enjoyed with David and her mother for years. She had told Steve she enjoyed sex with both men and women, which shocked him at the time, and they hadn’t discussed the subject since. Still, he’d chuckled without commenting a couple of times when they’d both gazed lustfully at a particularly attractive woman at the same time, so Darla knew he hadn’t forgotten her bisexuality, had merely placed it in the back of his mind.

“Advice?” she stated, bringing herself and David back to the reason for his visit.

“Yes. Last night, Denise informed me she wanted a baby, my baby.”

“Good golly, Miss Molly!” Darla exclaimed loudly as her body went rigid with shock. “What did you...? How did you...?”

“I told her I’d think about it.” David continued and related his conversation with Denise, including her aborted attempt to go down on him as an incentive.

“You’re kidding!” Darla exclaimed, nearly a shout.

David shook his invisible head and, realizing the futility of the gesture, said, “Well, what should I tell her? Yes or no?”

“No! A resounding no!”

“Oh, oh, hubby’s eyes are open,” David whispered, switching to his feminine voice. “I’ll check back with you later for your reasons.”

Darla felt his hand leave her swollen belly and shook her head, hating not only the possibility David might comply with Denise’s request, and wishing she didn’t miss his touch so much. She pushed herself awkwardly from the kitchen chair and waddled toward the bedroom. Before rolling back on the bed, she dropped her robe to the carpet.

“I’m horny,” she whispered as she cuddled next to her husband. She pulled his mouth to hers as her right leg moved over his hip, opening herself to him. “We’ll need to be careful,” she said. “You’ll need to limit the depth of your thrusts so our little darlin’ won’t be harmed or alarmed.”

---

David pressed both throttles forward, and the bow of the cabin cruiser lifted but soon planed out and skimmed across the calm water of Last Chance Bay. Gazing to the left, he couldn’t decide where the red-rock cliffs ended and the reflection of the rocks in the water began.

Eye candy, he thought as he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He turned and his mother’s smile warmed him. His eyes roamed her form, a lush body at its womanly peak. At forty-four, she still excited him, and the look of her warmed him even more than her touch. The bikini she wore wasn’t brief, not like the itty-bitty scraps of cloth covering Denise’s privates yesterday. Still, the suit barely contained his mother’s heavy breasts, and he could see the prominent shape of her vulva. Voluptuous. Sexy. Nurturing. Would she still turn him on ten years from now? More importantly, would she turn away from him like Darla if she found the right man? Probably. The thought depressed him briefly until she leaned and kissed his cheek.

“Good morning,” she said, needing to speak loudly above the roar of the engines.

He pulled back on the throttles to quiet the engines and turned to her.

She settled on his lap and kissed him thoroughly. “Denise told me about her request. Do you have an answer for her yet?” she asked when she pulled back from the good morning kiss.

“No. I wanted to speak with you first. Darla, too. I visited Darla a few minutes ago. She’s opposed, but Steve woke up before she could give me her reasons. What’s your take on the issue?”

She moved off his lap and sat by his side. While kissing her, the wind had pushed the boat off course, so he righted their direction and reduced the speed again, quieting the engines further.

She took his hand in hers. “I don’t know. If you agree, I see serious problems and great joy ahead for both of you.” Her shoulders lifted, and then fell. “Ah, hell, son, my only advice is don’t be hasty with your decision. Denise’s biological clock won’t run down for years.”

“Great minds, etcetera. You just stated my current decision. Is Denise still asleep?”

“Yes. We woke up earlier and...” Carol chuckled. “Like you, she sure does know her way around a pussy.” Her grin widened. “I gave as good as I got, though, and I might have fallen asleep again, too, but ... well, I was concerned about you.” She squeezed his hand affectionately as she gazed out over the water. “I like your new toy, David.”

“Yeah, me, too. The lake makes me feel close to the land, the past. Sometimes I feel the presence of the Ancient Ones, their ghosts, if you will, but the feeling isn’t threatening. The opposite, in fact. It comforts me to sense them.”

Carol shivered.

“Speaking of the past,” David said, “about a week ago I think I visited you in your past. You looked like you were about ten years old; you were naked and masturbating, using your spittle for lubrication, not the natural lubricants you generate in such abundance now.”

Shocked, Carol asked, “Where was I? What was I wearing? Details, give me details, son.” Her grip on his hand tightened.

He huffed a laugh. “You weren’t wearing anything at the time. Let’s see, you were in a bedroom lying on a white bedspread, a crinkly fabric, sort of like corduroy.”

“Chenille,” Carol muttered. “When I was ten, I had a white, chenille bedspread. Tell me more about the room.”

David closed his eyes to help his concentration. “I see a stuffed animal next to you, a white bear with one eye missing and wearing a scruffy red ribbon around its neck. The curtains are white and frilly, and the sun is shining in the window, a small window, less than two feet wide. The carpet is ... looks like strings and varies in color.”

“Yes. Multi-colored shag carpeting, all the rage at the time. My mother let me pick it out for my room. Go on.”

“Your hair is short, what’s called a pageboy, I think. I’m not up on hair fashions.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Your pretty pussy was hairless, real cute and puffy - a little-girl pussy. You were giving it quite a workout and spitting naughty words out right and left as you spat on your fingers for moisture. The sights and sounds excited me. I wanted to touch you but worried my touch would frighten you.”

Carol felt a blush creep up her chest onto her neck. “Now, even my past is subject to your scrutiny. I’ve lost every shred of privacy I ever had!” She sighed and glanced at him with trepidation. “I’m not proud of everything I’ve done, David, especially when I was a teenager.”

“Perhaps you have no reason to worry, Mom. I’ve tried time trips since without success. Maybe it was a one-time event.”

She shook her head. “Not likely. If you can, try not to hold anything you see during my youth against me. Like everyone, including you, I learned from my mistakes, and I made some doozies.”

“To complicate things, Mom, if I can move into your past, I can also move into your future.”

“Lord love a duck! You’re right.” She closed her eyes and shook her head aggressively. “I don’t want to know about my future, son. If you get a peek, keep it to yourself. Okay?”

“Sure, unless it’s bad and I think I can alter the negative into a positive by telling you about it.”

She nodded and suddenly grinned. “Life with you certainly isn’t boring, David.”

“Never. Now, tell me about some jerk from your past named Bobby.”

She blushed again. “You called it right. Bobby was definitely a jerk.” Her eyes turned sultry. “So my puffy, little, hairless pussy excited you, huh?”

He laughed gaily. “Oh, yeah, that and watching you come like a house afire. Sexy, Mom, very sexy.”

She jokingly elbowed his ribs. “Pedophile.”

“Incestuous pedophile. Please, if you’re going to call me names, make them accurate. The only bald, little, ten-year-old pussy that could excite me would have to be yours.” Or Darla’s, he thought, but kept the thought to himself. “If you get the urge, I wouldn’t be opposed if you shaved your marvelous pussy bald.”

“Hah! Never happen. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same. I have a woman’s cunt now. My lips aren’t tight anymore. Now they gape, like a two-car garage compared, probably because you’ve spread them so many times with your monster.”

“Hah, yourself. Dad spread them more than me.”

Carol looked up at the bright blue, cloudless sky. “George, can you believe what we created? Our son is a wonder and a sexy galoot, to boot.” She turned and studied her son’s profile briefly. Rugged. Handsome. Sexy. Her love for him washed over her, settled between her legs and turned into liquid lust. She stood and pushed down her bikini bottoms.

“Can you fuck and drive this big boat at the same time?”

His boyish grin thrilled her. “Won’t know until I try, and I sure do want to try.”

“Drop the suit, son. Let’s try.”

He stood and his suit landed on the deck atop hers. After he returned to the captain’s chair, she settled on his thighs facing him with her legs dangling each side of his as she fisted his erection, stroking it sensuously, pulling it to a full erection.

“What about your bikini top?” he asked as she rose and waved the bulbous head of his shaft through her womanly crease.

“A boat might drive by.”

“Modest, aren’t you?”

“Uh-uh. Careful. Being careful is one of the lessons I learned the hard way in my youth. Fucking in public is fun as long as the wrong person doesn’t catch you.” Although getting caught by the right person can be exhilarating, she thought, but the thought was counter to her point, so she kept it to herself. “Getting caught while dressed from the waist up is less likely in a car, likewise a boat.” Her pussy settled down around his long shaft, and she sighed with pleasure. “Nice. I’m always amazed how thrilling it is when you first enter me.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I...”

She shut him up by pressing her mouth to his as her hips started to slide back and forth, taking his cock inside her and expelling it, short strokes at first, but they lengthened as her arousal increased.

“So, you’ve fucked in public, huh?” he said as he grabbed her right hip with his left hand. His right hand remained on the wheel.

“Uh-huh. Drive-ins mostly, an occasional park bench, a grassy meadow that made my skin itch, once under the stands during a football game.”

“Sexy. The bleachers sound interesting.”

“More than interesting, I assure you. I’m hot, son. Thinking about you watching me fuck when I was a teenager has me hotter than a pistol. Fuck me. Fuck me good. Yeah, just like that.” She pulled at the bikini top, exposing a breast, and jerked his face to the generous, but still perky, globe. His mouth sucked in a baby-chewed nipple and lashed it with his tongue. “Yeah, suck me, fuck me, baby. Ooh, you’re going to see some sexy sights for sure.”

Her hips slowly increased their pace until they flashed back and forth, sliding at an amazing speed, and suddenly she stiffened. Her moan of pleasure echoed off the red cliffs surrounding the boat and rolled back over them. David’s orgasmic shout joined hers as he released the wheel and grabbed her other hip to lift her, only to slam her wet heat down around his throbbing stalk as he ejaculated forcefully.

When she collapsed on his chest, she muttered, “I’d like to have your baby, too, David. Any woman aware of your unusual abilities will want your child. Be careful who takes your seed without protection.”

“I hear you, Mom. I hear you.”

Chapter 2

One day shortly before David turned seventeen, he concentrated and pictured his math teacher in his mind, and then wished he could connect with him. Suddenly, his consciousness looked down on the slovenly man. Eager to test the possibilities of his new approach, he pictured Denise, someone he’d never met while in his body, and in a flash, his consciousness hovered over her in Albuquerque as she moved her fingers over the keyboard of a computer. Excited, he tested his newfound ability with a dozen more individuals he’d met while in his body or while his consciousness had taken flight. He connected with all of them. Rejoicing, he realized his consciousness trips had just taken a quantum leap forward.

When he tried the same approach with a person he’d never met, either in his body or during a trip, nothing happened. In an attempt to expand his capabilities, he studied photographs and videos of the President of the United States, pictured the man in his mind, and then wished to visit him. Nothing. David reasoned his consciousness connected with brainwave patterns or some other aspect of a person because he still couldn’t send his consciousness to a geographical location either. However, he could hover over even relative strangers without difficulty as long as he’d seen them while in his body or when visiting someone else on a consciousness trip.

With his expanded ability to move in and out of so many lives, it was inevitable he would stumble over the many problems most everyone faced. Some problems were simple, and he ignored them. For instance, Lou Hunter’s mother was a barely functioning alcoholic. While preparing breakfast for the family, she tossed back a shot of vodka. Most days after the kids and hubby left the house, she had a few more drinks and nipped steadily through the morning, finally passing out in a drunken stupor sometime in the afternoon, only to awaken, take a shower, and prepare the evening meal.

David pieced the scenario together by inserting himself into the woman’s life for a split second ten or twenty times a day over a period of a week. He did the same with a number of other individuals. During a trip, he could check on upwards of a hundred individuals during a minute’s time, and his ride with Tim to and from school everyday gave him opportunities to not only check on those he knew but also to expand the number of individuals he could visit. Tim didn’t mind if he phased out for a few minutes. He also often took a trip between classes, and a lengthier journey during his lunch break. Some classes, like the computer lab, let him grab a minute or two, as well, and most evenings and weekends afforded his consciousness some quality time with selected individuals. The time difference between the east and west coasts helped him connect with active individuals in the early mornings. Visiting someone while they were asleep was boring and unproductive.

David remembered the day he approached his mother about Denise’s problem, the same day he told her about his desire to invest his college fund. She’d just pulled a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

“Mom, Denise is interested in hypnotherapy and hooked up with an unscrupulous woman with a hypnotherapy practice. The woman put her under and took advantage of her. She’s a frumpy broad, certainly not the type of woman Denise would select for some fun and games, but what really pissed me off was the fact that the doctor took the part of Darla when she molested Denise. Denise must have spilled the beans about her past sex life while in a trance, and the woman used that information to set Denise up.”

“Oh, no! Denise needs to know!”

“How? What would you tell her? My son wanders around and watches you at work and play whenever he gets the urge, and this afternoon he just happened to witness Dr. Stein raping you while you were in a trance. Come on, Mom. Get real.” With a loud sigh, he shook his head and said, “Denise isn’t the only one I visit with problems either. The world is full of sick people. Ellen’s uncle is a pedophile, and he’s sexually molesting his twelve-year-old daughter. The little girl isn’t happy about it either. Cheryl’s older sister, Jenny, is into drugs, and the guy she’s running with is worse than she’ll ever be. I watched him brandish a gun in a convenience store for drug money while Jenny was passed out in the car. And last but not least, Tim’s girlfriend, Tina Granger, is being physically abused. Her dad likes to use his family members as punching bags to prove he’s the man of the house.”

“Judas! How many persons can you visit now?”

“I don’t know, a thousand, maybe more. I haven’t counted. The number is beside the point. My visits dumped four serious problems in my lap. There’s more, but of a less drastic nature I plan to ignore. Mom, should I get involved? I mean, should I fix the serious problems if I can?”

“You seem hesitant. Why?” she asked.

“Considering human nature, the problems will be never-ending. Once I fix one problem, another will pop up. Besides, I’ll need to reveal my ghostly presence to fix some of them, and I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my ability a secret. I certainly don’t want to become a lab rat in some government secret project.”

“Oh,” Carol remarked, looking somewhat stunned. “Good points. You’ve thought this through further than I have. You mentioned four problems, and in one fashion or another, you have a personal connection with each of them. Denise you know through Darla and me, more specifically me. You connected with the pedophile through Ellen, Jenny through Cheryl, and Tina’s father through Tim. Are you feeling a sense of obligation because of the personal connection?”

“Yeah,” he said and popped a homemade cookie into his mouth.

“Can you solve any of these problems without exposing the presence of your consciousness while on a trip?”

He swallowed. “Probably, but scaring the bejesus out of some of the culprits offers the easiest solution. When I saw the pedophile in action last night, I grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked him off his little girl’s body. I then beat the living daylights out of him with imaginary fists.” A disgusted laugh gushed from his mouth. “That problem might be solved. I told the pervert if he ever touched his little girl again I’d kill him!” David shuddered. “What scared me, Mom, was the fact I was serious at the time.” He gazed beseechingly at the person he trusted above all others. He needed his mother’s guidance and wisdom.

“I’d have been sorely tempted to do the same in your place,” she said, “but violence isn’t the solution. You’re not the violent type, son. Promise me you won’t resort to physical violence while on a trip unless it’s a matter of life and death.”

He nodded. “I understand. I promise.”

“You’ll be tempted like you were with the pedophile, and your ability will let you get away with anything you do, so you must place a higher moral standard on your actions while out of your body than you would while in your body. If you don’t, the dark side inside you will slowly take over, and I assure you, David, we all have a dark side. You knew intuitively what you did with Barbara was wrong. What you did with the pedophile was wrong, too. Somehow, you could have found another way to stop him. Use right and wrong as your guide.”

When he nodded again, she opened the refrigerator and poured milk into a tall glass. “Here,” she said, handing him the glass. “Milk goes with cookies.”

He grinned. “Thanks. Besides possibly donning an outfit with a big _S_ on it, I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to use my ability to make money. Don’t take this wrong because you’re a good provider, but I checked out our financial situation a few nights ago while you were asleep. We’re living on the edge. As long as you can work, we’re all right, but if you had an extended illness, we’d be in deep shit, or am I wrong?”

With a grimace, she said, “No, you’re not wrong. The situation has been a worry to me, too. When your father was killed, I put some of the insurance money away for a college fund for you and Darla, but with increased tuition costs, combined with the overall drop in the stock market last year, which reduced the value of the funds, you’ll both need to take part-time jobs to help with the expenses.”

Her gaze became unfocused, and David assumed she was yet again cursing his father for getting himself killed and leaving her alone. During a number of visits, he’d listened to his mother have a one-sided conversation with her dead husband. She cursed him, but from the tone of her voice, David had no doubts that she’d loved him deeply when he was alive. Ah hell, he thought kindly, she still loves him.

She turned to her son. “Any ideas?”

“Perhaps. I’ll need to risk my college fund, though.”

“No way.”

“The day after I checked out our finances, I visited a stockbrokerage house. Using a school paper as a ploy, I spoke with a number of brokers, including the head honcho. That afternoon, he flew to New York City to meet with his bosses, so I met them, too, and I’ve expanded my circle of financial advisors considerably since then. I’ve also been studying stocks and bonds and related subjects like economics on the Internet. I’m not ready yet, but within a couple of weeks, I’d like to move some of my college fund and open an account with an online broker so I can do my own trading. I’ll start with $3,000, and when I’ve doubled that amount, I’ll want to invest the rest of the fund. If I lose the $3,000, I’ll back off and try some other way to make money.”

Dumbstruck, she stared at him as if he were mad.

When she didn’t say anything, he nervously added, “It isn’t foolproof, but it’s as close as I can make it.” He blushed. “I hesitate to tell you, but in all honesty, I’ll use insider information for most of my trades. I created a sort of folder of CFOs for public companies I can visit to obtain timely information that will give me reasons to buy or sell.”

“CFOs?”

“Chief Financial Officers.”

“Oh.”

“While accumulating my horde of financial advisors, I discovered the big shots in the stock market use insider information for their investments all the time. If caught, they could receive a fine and a slap on the wrist from the SEC, or in flagrant cases, be enjoined from trading. Obviously, no one can tumble onto how I acquire insider information.”

“SEC?”

“Security Exchange Commission. Actually, the Justice Department prosecutes the cases.”

“Sounds to me like you’d be breaking the law, David.”

“Technically, but for those seriously involved in stocks and bonds, it’s a fairly common practice. If life were just, the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted would all be working on Wall Street. You told me to use right and wrong as my guide, Mom. I don’t consider using my unique ability to make money in the stock market wrong. Let me give you an example. While researching the market, I came across an article that detailed how one man, a mathematician, made money in the market. He developed algorithms using chaos theory to perfect a system that gave him an edge. In other words, he used his unique ability much like I’d be using mine. For what it’s worth, the mathematician is one of my financial advisors.”

She shook her head. “Careful, Son. Once your moral dam has a crack in it, it won’t take much to widen the crack until you can rationalize any behavior just because you’re unique.”

David pondered her statement. “Uh-uh. Using my ability to make money just doesn’t feel wrong to me, Mom.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she asked, “What do you mean by a sort of folder?”

“As my ability improved, and I was able to connect with more and more individuals, I needed a way to categorize them so I could visit them without a lot of effort. I have a major folder I dubbed Financial Advisors and a subfolder within that one I named CFOs. While on a trip, I briefly attended a CFO convention in Atlanta, and can currently listen to and observe about two hundred CFOs. Of course, listening to all of them would take too much time, so I visit them in a burst, like a compressed electronic message. My consciousness can connect with all of them one at a time in about three minutes. I’ve given my consciousness some key words and phrases, and if a CFO says any of the words or phrases, it stops and allows me to listen until I tell it to move on. I haven’t perfected the system yet, but it’s improving daily.”

Completely amazed, she shook her head and said, “Give me an example of the type of information you need to make a good decision about a stock.”

He grinned, knowing she was warming to his idea. “Let’s say XYZ Company is coming out with an earnings report in a couple of days, and they’ve exceeded their earnings projections. I’d buy their stock in that instance because the stock price will go up as soon as the excessive earnings are announced. The same thing happens if the company doesn’t meet its projection, except the value of their stock will go down. In that case, I’d go short.”

“Short?”

“Playing the stock market is like gambling. When you go long or purchase stock, you’re betting its value will go up. When you go short, you’re betting it’s going to go down. As long as you guess correctly, you can make money either way. I’m just trying to take as much guess work out of the process as possible.”

Carol pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay, I’ll move $3,000 from your college fund into an account with the online broker you select. Let me know where and how the funds should be transferred. I’ll want to sit down and talk with you again before I move the rest of the funds.”

That was then. Now his financial advisors numbered in the tens of thousands and spanned the globe. He turned to Denise who was lying next to him on a lounge chair on the patio of his Scottsdale home.

“I’m going to take a trip, Denise. I’ll be gone for about two hours.”

“Okay. Have fun. I’ll have lunch ready when you return.”

---

When David didn’t answer after Claire Beck jabbed the doorbell twice, she tried the door. It wasn’t locked, so she walked boldly into his house.

Claire wasn’t happy. Instead of inviting her on the maiden voyage of his new cabin cruiser, David had taken his mother and her dyke girlfriend, Denise. He knew how much she’d wanted to go with him, too, how much she enjoyed boating, water skiing, and ... fucking. Yet again, she pictured herself lying on the deck of the sleek cruiser in her bikini, or rather, part of her bikini, teasing him by going topless, her full breasts glistening with oil under a clear-blue sky until he couldn’t stand it any longer and ravished her. Damn him!

Inviting Carol on the cruise was okay, I guess, Claire thought grudgingly. After all, she’s his mother. But Claire didn’t trust Denise. Lesbian or not, Claire didn’t appreciate the way Denise gazed at David all starry-eyed, or the way she touched him all the time, innocent touches, sort of, but dammit to hell, the bitch had the grace of a jungle cat and the body of a runway model. Besides, Claire could fathom no reason why she wasn’t invited on the trip anyway. Carol and Denise could’ve shared a bed, and she could’ve cuddled up with David in the master stateroom. David had informed her the cruiser slept up to six people.

Even with his mother and Denise aboard, he had room for me, the jerk!

Claire understood the problem. David didn’t love her, not like she loved him. The handsome rascal attracted gorgeous females like a landfill attracted flies, and he didn’t brush them all away, either. She knew he hadn’t been faithful, but then they hadn’t made any commitments to each other, so she had no right to complain. She hadn’t exactly been true-blue herself. Still, the sexy jerk was attentive to her, treated her with respect, at times even with adoration, and he was the best lover she’d ever had.

Fuck!

She wandered the house but didn’t find him until she stepped outside when she heard a splash in the pool. David wasn’t in the pool, though. The damned jungle cat slash runway model glided across the water in the skimpiest bikini Claire had ever seen. Christ on a stick! With the string of the thong the slut wore hidden out of sight between the cheeks of her butt, she might as well be naked.

Claire turned her attention to David. He was lying on a lounge chair. His skin glowed with oil like her breasts in her fantasy, and his tan had deepened to a golden ruddiness. The sight of his ripped body and rugged features quickened her heartbeat as she stepped toward him, but suddenly she pulled up short when she realized he was in one of his damned comas.

Fuck!

---

Tripping in his here and now, not somewhere along the continuum into his mother’s past or somewhere into her future, David had just completed his morning rounds of his financial advisors. During the flight of consciousness, he’d connected with over a thousand individuals. With the knowledge he’d gained during the trip, he could increase his holdings substantially.

He switched his consciousness connection to his mother, and using the stentorian voice he’d perfected, he outlined the trades he wanted her to make in the portfolios that day. She took notes while he spoke.

“No problem,” Carol said when he finished. “I’ll make the trades right after lunch. To change the subject, now it’s sunk in, how is Denise taking your decision to defer your decision to give her a child?”

“She’s not a happy camper, but strangely content. I think she expected a delay. It’s certainly not something anyone should jump into without serious thought.”

“Have you connected with Darla to discuss why she thinks you should refuse Denise’s request?”

“Not yet.”

“By the way, Claire drove up a while back. She’s probably inside your house as we speak. You should get into the habit of locking your doors, son. Also, tell Denise I’ll join you for lunch.” She snorted a laugh. “With Claire here, I wouldn’t miss the fireworks. Your girlfriend doesn’t like my girlfriend very much.”

David groaned and willed his consciousness to return to his body. When his eyes fluttered open, he gazed up into Claire’s blue eyes.

She didn’t look happy.

---

Try not to whine, Claire told herself. No man enjoys a whiny woman. When asked, she’d turned the threesome into a foursome for lunch, but exhibited little enthusiasm or appetite. The jungle cat had prepared the lunch while David rested in one of his comas. What’s with those two? David was 100% hetero. Of that, Claire had no doubts, and from Claire’s observation, Denise was 100% lesbo. Denise found men abhorrent as sexual partners, in most every other kind of interaction, too, from what Claire had observed. Still, Denise and David’s relationship seemed to resonate with a sexual component of some kind. Claire just didn’t get it, and being out of the loop irritated her.

And what’s with David’s comas? Why can’t he sleep like a normal person?

Although David had warned her not to be concerned if she ever found him asleep and couldn’t awaken him, the first time she’d stumbled upon him while he was in a coma, she’d been sorely tempted to call an ambulance. She’d waited impatiently and apprehensively until his eyes opened, and then cursed and castigated him for scaring her half to death.

He’d patiently told her the comas were his method of sleeping, that he’d purposefully learned the process using biofeedback. He said he rested in a deep Delta state, a state of complete unconsciousness, much like coma patients in a hospital. His statement that rest in a more conscious state wasn’t as complete or efficient failed to impress her. That dreaming caused a person to slip out of Delta into Beta didn’t matter to her at all.

Most nights, Claire enjoyed dreaming. The vast majority of her dreams were pleasant, much like her daydreams or fantasies. She enjoyed becoming conscious already fully aroused, especially if she didn’t wake up alone. Her dreams the night she’d first seen David in a coma weren’t agreeable though. They’d become gut-wrenching, hideous nightmares. In her nightmares, David didn’t come out of his coma, but lay like a vegetable until he wasted away to skin and bones and died years later, looking like a cadaver from a Nazi labor camp.

Finally alone with David - his mother and the cat had returned to Carol’s house - Claire wanted some loving. She hadn’t seen David for three days, and she’d missed him. She cuddled next to him and pulled his mouth to hers.

---

“Let’s sneak back and watch David do her,” Carol said, her expression full of mischief. “She’ll seduce him. She couldn’t wait to get him alone.”

Denise laughed gaily. “Carol, you’re incorrigible. What happens if they see us?”

Carol shrugged. “No problem. In fact, I want David to know I’m watching. With his newfound ability to dance through time, he’ll watch me get it on more times than I want to admit. I consider watching him now a partial get-even in advance.”

“Go ahead. I’m tired and my flight to Las Cruces leaves in three hours. You know how flying taxes me. I think I’ll nap for a while. Wake me in an hour.”

Carol nodded and turned back toward her son’s house.

---

“I thought they’d never leave,” Claire gushed as she fondled David’s partial erection over his trousers. “I missed you, honey.”

She fumbled with his zipper, then his briefs, finally grasping the object of her search, rejoicing inwardly when his dick lengthened in her hand. “Take off your pants so I can get at you properly. I want you in my mouth, honey. I can’t wait a minute longer. I just have to have you in my mouth.”

I’ll suck him so good he won’t even consider leaving me behind the next time he flies off to have some fun.

As David raised his hips and pushed his trousers and briefs down his thighs, Claire moved to her knees on the carpet in front of him and helped him remove his pants. “Pull off your shirt, too,” she said as she unbuttoned her blouse. When her breasts spilled out, she felt his dark eyes on them, which thrilled her. With her eyes fixed on his, she cupped the undersides of her tits with her hands and rolled her palms up over her nipples, finally tweaking them with her fingers. Yes! His eyes never left her breasts. He liked what he saw.

What’s not to like? Claire considered her breasts her best feature. They were large and firm and perfectly symmetrical. Her nipples were situated high and proud, pointed slightly upwards, and they’d lengthened and hardened to her touch. She loved touching them, having them touched, fondled, licked, sucked. David knew how to touch them, too. When he tried, he could almost take her to a peak just playing with them. He paid them homage, cherished them. She shivered with lust as she quickly removed the rest of her clothing and settled on her knees between his legs.

First things first. First, take him into your mouth. Give him the best blow job he’s ever had. He’ll be so grateful he’ll worship your breasts until you’re so hot you can’t stand it. Then move to his big bed where he’ll go down on you and quickly bring you to a crashing orgasm before he mounts you and makes you come yet again before he shudders with his own climax.

She eyed the bobbing cock in front of her. What a cock! His best feature. So long! So thick! And the slight upward curve stretches my pussy when he thrusts and pushes it inside me. Magnificent!

One of her hands gently grasped the base of the stalk while the other cupped his balls, large balls, the source of his copious ejaculations. The first time he’d climaxed in her mouth, she’d been amazed at the volume he expelled. She dipped her head and gently sucked in the crown, licking around the indentation just below the glans. His small moan of pleasure delighted her.

David’s small moan gushed forth when he noticed his mother peeking. She knew he’d seen her, too. She’d winked at him. Wicked, Mom, downright wicked. He loved her for her naughtiness, though, loved her for her open mind and her willingness to explore the edges. He returned his mother’s wink as he rotated his hips, pushing his erection deeper into Claire’s sucking mouth.

How would Claire react if she knew his mother was watching them? David guessed her reaction wouldn’t be positive, which reflected one of the reasons their relationship would never deepen. He didn’t trust Claire with knowledge of his flights of consciousness, let alone an awareness of his incestuous relationship with his mother. The woman who would ultimately capture his heart would accept both deviations from the norm without condemnation. Claire, he knew, would consider his long-term, casual affair with his mother sick and perverted, and as a paranormal skeptic, she wouldn’t believe his consciousness could leave his body and wander the earth, perhaps even stray into the past and the future.

Of course, he couldn’t hold her skepticism against her. Anyone in their right mind would require proof before believing he could separate his consciousness from his body. Even after proof, Claire wouldn’t consider his abilities wondrous. She’d look at them as a problem, a deviation from the norm, something he’d need to fix so he could be normal. Claire liked normal, needed normal, and shunned the abnormal. Would she shun him if he revealed all to her? Yeah, she would.

She sure could suck cock, though. This time, his moan came about from Claire’s efforts, not his mother’s watchful eyes. Looking down, he realized Claire had taken his entire length into her talented mouth. Her gentle sucks had become more forceful, her tongue more active, and her fingers more daring as they reached back to explore his prostate. Claire understood his prostate’s connection to his orgasmic response.

What the hell? Why not? David let himself go, let the orgasm Claire wanted, no, demanded, steal over him and gather into a tight knot in his balls before it exploded and gushed semen into her ravenous mouth. As he ejaculated, his small moans of pleasure became a long, drawn-out roar. Exquisite, rapturous waves washed over him until he collapsed, limp and relaxed. Yes, Claire surely did know how to suck cock.

He smiled when his mother raised her thumb and mouthed, “Right on!”

Claire smiled up at him as she daintily licked away any errant semen that had escaped her mouth. Look at his smile! Yes! I succeeded! I just gave him the best blow job he’s ever had.

---

Carol backed quietly away. She would have liked to stay and watch her son go down on Claire, watch him fuck her until Claire turned to mush, but if she didn’t leave, eventually Claire would sense her presence. And intuitively, Carol knew the beautiful woman would resent the intrusion, might even throw a hissy fit. Besides, watching had made her hot. Unlike Claire, Denise wouldn’t object to her presence, and Denise certainly knew how to scratch the wet itch between Carol’s legs.

Claire might be superior between the sheets, Carol mused as she hurried toward her house and Denise’s, but Claire won’t be around much longer. Carol knew the signs, and David was exhibiting most of them. Claire wasn’t the woman for him, and David knew it. Claire was too traditional, too controlled, never let her hair down or let herself just feel the moment without an ulterior motive. Too bad. Carol believed David needed to find his life’s mate - soon. While Claire had too much normalcy in her, David didn’t have enough. He needed to normalize his life a little, and nothing was more normalizing than a wife and children.

Not Denise’s child either. Carol hadn’t expressed her opinion beyond cautioning her son not to be hasty, but she was adamantly opposed to David impregnating Denise, not out of jealousy either, but out of concern for her offspring. Should David surrender to Denise’s request, the potential for emotional pain was just too great. She knew her son. David would feel intensely obligated to be the best father he could be, which wasn’t negative in and of itself, but the obligation, the entire situation, would detract from his efforts to find a mate, and without a mate, David would never be truly happy. Carol knew he grieved Darla’s loss, but Darla could be replaced.

And I can be replaced, too, Carol thought. I have the same problem David has. I haven’t been trying very hard to find a mate either.

Of course, David satisfied her sexually, which was the real problem. She didn’t want to give him up, and she suspected any potential mate would vehemently disapprove of her incestuous relationship with her son. She hadn’t pursued finding a mate for just that reason. Denise wouldn’t be a problem. She could give up Denise in a heartbeat. No, David was the problem, and only David could solve it. He had to make the first move. She couldn’t. She’d stay with him as long as he needed her.

---

Should she push him now, make some points that needed to be made? Claire cuddled closer to David, enjoyed his arms embracing her, luxuriated in the aftermath of the love-making session they’d just finished. She brushed her lips across the side of his neck, a soft, sweet kiss.

The session had turned out perfectly, just as she’d planned. Well, not quite. She’d climaxed twice when he went down on her, and completely satisfied, she’d had to fake her orgasm when he fucked her, which mattered not at all. He’d never know. She’d faked a lot of orgasms in her time, and no man had ever noticed. She was a pretty good actress, even if she had to say so herself.

Yeah, it’s time to push.

“That was nice, David. I really enjoyed it.”

“Uh-huh. Me, too.”

“See what you missed when you didn’t invite me on the trip to Lake Powell?” Oh, oh! Too much, too soon, she thought when she felt his body stiffen, reacting negatively to her statement. She kissed his cheek. “Sorry. Please ignore me. I’m being petulant, which isn’t nice or fair.”

No, you’re being you, David thought with a grimace. He knew Claire cared more about their relationship than he did. She wanted more, wanted a commitment, something he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her. She was gorgeous, looked great on his arm, and was an amazing hostess the one time they’d hosted a party together. She was intelligent, well-educated, always perfectly dressed, perfectly groomed, usually gracious and kind to everyone - Denise being the exception. Overall, a class act. And she was phenomenal in bed. Of course, he had not appreciated the faked orgasm. It hadn’t been necessary. He didn’t need it as salve for a bruised or weak male ego. He knew she was thoroughly wasted after the two orgasms she’d experienced under his mouth.

The faked orgasm said it all, though. She’d believed he expected her to have a climax, so she’d given him one. She wasn’t honest, not with him or herself. Worse, she had no sense of adventure, no personal quest for the unusual. Just the opposite. She wanted the perfect husband, a rich, socially adept, and acceptable husband, a large house, membership in a country club - David detested golf - and 2.8 children. Oh, she didn’t want average. She wanted way above average, but without any complications, without a hint of abnormality, even if she had to fake an orgasm to get it.

He wasn’t the man for her. She just didn’t know it, but it was time to start making her aware of the fact.

“Perhaps I should have taken you to Lake Powell, Claire. During the trip, something happened that shocked me, but upon reflection, it almost makes sense.”

Yes! I’m making headway, gaining some ground, Claire thought. He’ll come around. “I’d have loved to have gone with you, David. I adore boating, water skiing...”

“I need your advice, Claire,” he said, interrupting her. “While at Lake Powell, Denise approached me with a request, a favor - a huge favor, she called it. I’ve known Denise for years. She’s an old and dear friend. Her sexual preference aside, I like and respect her, so I’m inclined to grant her the favor.”

Fuck! Denise again. Careful, she told herself. Be nice. “What favor did she want, honey?”

“She wants a baby, my baby.”

Shocked beyond belief, Claire couldn’t speak. That bitch! I knew she wanted my man. Fuck! She pushed away from David and scrambled from the bed to her feet. Shock turned into anger. She paced, stomped back and forth beside the bed. Crazy! The bitch is insane, utterly mad! David, too.

Wait! David said he was shocked at first, but upon reflection, Denise’s request almost made sense. Surely he wasn’t...

She turned to David. He was lying on his side, his hand holding up his head, using his elbow as a fulcrum. And, the damned fool was grinning.

“You told her no, didn’t you?” Even to Claire, her voice sounded shrill.

“No. I told her I’d think about it. I know the idea sounds crazy. On the other hand, it makes sense. She tells me I’m the only man not completely repugnant to her sexually. She doesn’t expect anything from me but my DNA. She has no expectations regarding marriage, doesn’t even expect me to live with her, or love her. She was emphatic that the love of her life would be a woman, not me. She just wants a baby to love and cherish, a child that is a part of her - a part of me, too, I guess. Actually, it’s flattering. I think...”

“Flattering!” Claire couldn’t remember being so angry. She wanted to slap David silly. “Flattering! You’re insane! Both of you! Flattering!”

Her needle’s stuck, David thought, and his grin widened. “Don’t hold anything back, Claire. Tell me what you think. I can take it.” Angry as she is, she’s actually astonishingly beautiful. Prancing back and forth, glaring at me, at the world, spitting out exclamations right and left. She doesn’t even realize she’s naked. Can I rile her enough that she’ll start to leave before she realizes she’s not dressed?

“I think Denise and I could create a beautiful baby, Claire. A girl. I’m opting for a girl. I just love little girls.”

“You’ve made up your mind then?”

“No, but a baby would be nice. A daughter. Don’t you think I’d make a good father?”

“Ah...” she sputtered. “Ah ... fuck! I can’t think. I can’t do anything. I’m gettin’ outta here!” She turned and took two paces toward the door.

“Ah, Claire, before you leave, maybe you should put on some clothes. Good gracious! What would my neighbors think?”

---

“She’s an accomplished fellatrix,” Carol said as she lowered her excited pussy onto Denise’s mouth. “She swallowed the whole thing, his entire length, without breaking a sweat, and took him to a climax in ten minutes flat. I can understand why David appreciates her. Ooh, nice. Yes, right there, Denise. Perfect. Damn, I’m hot!”

Carol concentrated on Denise’s lips and tongue and the sensations they were creating. At the same time, her mind was going a mile a minute. She imagined David thrusting, pounding Claire as her long, slim legs wrapped his back. Too bad Claire was so prissy she’d object to being watched. Then again, maybe she’s a closet exhibitionist and just doesn’t know it yet. Naw! Claire’s world was too ordered, too normal.

Boring!

“I wish David were here right now. I’d suck him off while you’re licking me,” Carol said between pants as her hips waved slightly, helping Denise excite her; although, Denise didn’t need much help, if any at all. Another sexy image intruded and moved like a video clip. “If David decides to grant your request, Denise, I want to watch. No, I want to do more than watch. I want to put his marvelous cock into your magnificent cunt, so I can feel it move through my fingers as it slides into you.”

Carol’s thrashing hips became more active, making it difficult for Denise to maintain her mouth on Carol’s pussy. Denise knew Carol couldn’t help it, and finally, Denise just gave up, flattened her tongue, and let Carol fuck her face.

“Yes! So hot! I want to lick your clit while he fucks you, Denise. May I? If I lick your clit when he fucks you, you’ll come all over his cock! Oh, God, sweetie! That’s so hot! So hot! Oh, I’m ... I’m ... come...!”

Carol’s body stiffened, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Wondrous sensations assailed her as her mind continued her fractured fantasies. She wasn’t just fucking Denise’s face. She was also licking Denise’s clitoris while her son fucked Denise. Somehow, at the same time, she was sucking her son’s cock, swallowing it whole, like Claire. Abruptly, the kaleidoscopic images switched. David was fucking her, but he was also fucking Denise. Claire, too. How could that be? He was fucking all of them at the same time. A time trip?

White-hot light engulfed her as her orgasm peaked, and moments later she collapsed, rolling off Denise’s face, whimpering and shuddering with each extra contraction. With a sob, Carol pulled Denise to her and kissed her. “What a come! Thank you.”

No, thank you, Carol, Denise thought. You’re on my side, and that’s half the battle.

Chapter 3

The financial advisor pushed the end button on his cell phone and pulled a pillow under the crook of his arm. During his phone conversation, he must have stated one of David’s key words or phrases to arrest David’s consciousness as it moved through a burst of over a thousand visits in search of insider information. Timothy Bingham didn’t look like he’d be of any use to David, though. He wasn’t in his office or occupied with a business meeting. He was naked on a bed. As a financial advisor, Bingham was at the low end of the usefulness scale. The local stockbroker occasionally provided David with a confirming opinion but had never been the source of prime information.

Just as David’s consciousness prepared to take flight and move to the next advisor, a door opened and a woman stepped inside the room. Light streaming into the bedroom from behind her backlit her form. Normally, David would have ignored the upcoming event and moved on. He’d seen so many men and women get it on that watching the sex act had become passé to him. Not this time. The nude female grabbed his entire attention.

She walked toward the bed with a fluid glide, a tawny, graceful, and controlled spring to her step, a regal move that only women with superbly developed and coordinated muscles could achieve. Her body was unbelievably erotic and exciting, tight and hard, yet exquisitely feminine. The firm flesh of her torso counterbalanced her large, proud breasts - the first truly large breasts David had ever appreciated. They were round and perfectly shaped with pinkish areolas and hard, little rosy nipples that took his breath away; that is, if he’d been breathing.

She reached the side of the bed, and her luminously inquisitive green eyes gazed at Bingham with all the detachment of a Siamese cat. Gleaming golden hair fell down beyond her sensuously rounded shoulders.

“Nora, you’re exquisite,” Bingham said.

David agreed with him. Nora. He liked the sound of her name, a Latin name meaning ... He searched his memory, which was more acute during his trips, and recalled Nora meant honor or light. She’d certainly lit up his journey, and she did have an aura about her. The surface of her silky skin glowed. Honorable? He wouldn’t know, not until he knew her better, and at that moment, David vowed he would get to know her almost as well as she knew herself. The look of her attracted him more than any other woman he’d ever met during a flight or in person.

He’d become enamored with other women he’d met on trips, even followed up and met them while in his body, but as he continued to connect with them, they disappointed him for some reason or other, like Claire. Would Nora disappoint him, too?

“Tim, I need to go,” Nora said.

David fell in love with her voice, a low voice for a female, reminiscent of a young Kathryn Hepburn.

“I know. Me, too.”

When she dropped one knee to the bed and leaned forward onto her hands, David gasped. Nora spun her head around. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?” the stockbroker asked.

“Didn’t you hear that noise?”

Tim grimaced. “Oh, that. Yeah, I heard a noise. Probably just a cat or something outside.”

David gasped because her graceful move had exposed her beautiful muff. Nora had the largest clitoris David had ever seen, and he’d seen a lot of them during his flights of consciousness. His imaginary mouth drooled imaginary saliva. He wanted desperately to swoop down and give this elegant female a psychic suck, wanted to taste her fluids, wanted to check out the flavor of her velvety tanned skin, wanted to feel the texture of her areolas and nipples on his lips and tongue. Most of all, he wanted to kiss her, a gentle, tender kiss, a kiss that he’d deepen until it became romantic and finally turn into a mind-blowing kiss that expressed the intense passion he was feeling.

His imaginary cock was as hard as it had ever been.

As she knee-walked across the bed to the stockbroker, a normally awkward movement she somehow made graceful and regal, David noticed she was tan all over. She either sunbathed in the nude or frequented a tanning studio. He watched as she leaned and kissed the man, wishing she were kissing him instead.

Was Nora Tim’s wife? Fiancée? Committed lover?

As David watched, she backed away from the embrace and started to dress. Bingham watched her dress, too. After all, he wasn’t stupid. As they talked, David discovered they were old and dear friends, lovers from the past who occasionally used each other to quench sexual thirsts without commitment, although David sensed the stockbroker would be delighted with a more committed arrangement.

Nora Patterson was single, a lawyer, and a special agent for the FBI.

Interesting, David thought. Yes, Nora Patterson, I will definitely get to know you better, much better.

---

Dagnabit, Steve grumbled to himself. Another loss, the third in a row.

He belonged to an investment group consisting of hundreds of doctors. The group invested in startup companies, and when they hit, they hit big, but Steve hadn’t invested in a company that had survived yet. Six months back, along with twenty-four other doctors, he invested $10,000 in an Internet venture. Because he’d lost his money in two previous investments, Steve investigated the opportunity thoroughly, looking at it from every angle, and a few angles he dreamed up that didn’t even exist. He’d driven his colleagues up the wall with his questions and concerns, but in the end, he’d committed the funds. That morning, he’d been informed that the venture would declare bankruptcy within a few days.

The problem, he’d decided, boiled down to his limited funds. He couldn’t invest in $100,000 increments, not like some of the older, established doctors in the group. The larger ventures supposedly carried less risk than those that accepted smaller investment increments. He resolved to drop out of the investment club, at least until he could afford to buy into the larger, safer investments.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Darla asked. “Did you lose a patient?” Darla had noticed whenever one of her husband’s patients didn’t make it that he’d dig himself a deep hole and jump into it for a few days.

“No. I lost the $10,000 I invested in that dot com. It’s closing its doors this week.”

“Ah, honey, I’m sorry. The investment looked so promising, too.” She shrugged. “Win some, lose some.”

“I’d be happy with one meager win.” He told her what happened, why he believed it happened, and his decision to drop out of the investment club.

A shame, she thought. She knew Steve enjoyed the club meetings, really looked forward to them each month, but from what she’d observed, doctors were notoriously poor investors. They put too much trust in each other and believed the exaggerated returns some of them boasted about that gave the others grandiose expectations.

“May I make a suggestion, honey?” Dagnabit, as Steve always says, I should have told him about my money ages ago.

“Sure.”

“The next time you plan to invest, ask David to check out the company. Better yet, give David the money and have him invest it for you. You won’t have as much fun as you do meeting with your cronies once a month, but you won’t lose your money, either.”

“I didn’t know David acted as a financial advisor.”

“He doesn’t. He’s an investor. He...”

“I know. I know. He started with $3,000 when he was sixteen, and now he’s worth millions.”

Darla laughed. “All true, but what I planned to say was if we asked him nicely, he’d probably help us. Shame on you, Dr. Stephen White. You’re jealous. Does David wield a scalpel and repair body parts? No. He’s an investor. Besides being Super Surgeon, do you think you can also be Super Investor? Get a grip, bubba. You can’t be Super Everything. No one can. Be happy with Super Surgeon, Super Husband, and Super Daddy, and let David handle your money. That’s what David does best. He’s a full-time, professional investor. If he needed a body part repaired, he’d sure as dickens come to you.”

Steve looked sheepish. “You’ve got a point.” Point or not, Steve had always resented David’s success and David and Darla’s close relationship. Steve sensed his wife respected her brother more than she respected him, and Steve needed more than respect. He needed adoration. His mother adored him, and he expected the same adoration from his wife. To Steve’s mind, a wife should cater to her husband’s every want and need. That’s why he’d insisted Darla quit her job in public relations and become a housewife. She’d defied him, though, had continued to work until she became pregnant. The first few months of her pregnancy had been the happiest time of their marriage. Lately, he’d noticed she seemed to care more about the child growing in her womb than him, and the new wrinkle had become another source of irritation.

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to ask David, or would you like me to do the asking?”

She’s pushing me, he thought. He hated being pushed. “I’ll call him, but not right away. I don’t have any extra funds to invest right...”

“Sure you do. You’ve accumulated a few thousand since your last investment to put against your next, and what about the $5,000 you put in mutual funds as a college fund for our little darlin’?”

“But...”

“How much money did the mutual fund make for little darlin’ last month? No, don’t tell me. I already know. It lost money last month, like most every other mutual fund in the market. It’s a lousy market, and the fund managers work with the averages, so when the averages are down, so are the mutual funds. I’m no investor, sweet cheeks, but I can hear the television from the kitchen while I’m putting dinner together.”

She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “David didn’t lose any money last month, and if David didn’t lose any money, I didn’t lose any, either. According to my monthly report, I made a bunch.” She tried not to laugh, but his expression tickled her, and a chuckle pushed through her lips. “Shocked you, huh? You didn’t know I had money in the market. Well, I do. A lot of it. David handles my money, has since he was sixteen when he invested my college fund along with his. He’s kept my slice of the pie separate all these years, too, and Mom gives me a written report on my portfolio every month. Wanna see it?”

“Dagnabit, why have you kept this to yourself? Don’t you trust...?”

“I’d trust you with my life if I were sick. I have complete, unwavering trust in your love for me. I trust you to be a great daddy for our little darlin’. I trust you more than anyone I know, so don’t give me any bull crap about trust. When it comes to my money, I trust David. Live with it, bubba.” She laughed heartily. “You’ve gotta live with it. Technically, my money is our money. I didn’t ask you to sign a prenup, did I? Wanna see the report, or not?”

Steve pursed his lips, but finally nodded. Inwardly furious, he felt compelled to view the report. At last, he’d discovered a possible reason why Darla refused to acknowledge that she was dependent - another source of irritation.

“It’s in my desk in the kitchen in a file marked Monthly Report. I don’t wanna get up. Would you mind?” He’s pissed, but he’ll get over it. Super Investor indeed!

He returned moments later, reading the file while he walked. “Judas H. Priest! You’re a multi-millionaire!” He couldn’t decide whether to be angry or exulted.

“Nope. We’re multi-millionaires. Neat, huh? Wanna spend some of it on big-boy toys like David? Feel free? Like I said, it’s your money, too. I have only one request, sweet cheeks. No, it’s not a request; it’s a condition. You will not take money out of our portfolio and invest it otherwise on your own or with another financial advisor. Any money in our portfolio stays in the portfolio under David’s care unless we want to spend some of it. If you still want to invest with your cronies with money you earn, go ahead. I could care less. I know you enjoyed the monthly meetings. If they’re important to you and give you pleasure, go for it. What the hell? Like I said. Win some, lose some.”

“Multi-millionaire!” Bitch! Telling me what I can do and what I can’t.

“Your record’s stuck, bubba. I know you have something in mind. What big-boy toy have you always wanted? Come on. Fess up.”

He blushed. An unbidden memory from his childhood had surfaced.

“Spit it out, sweetheart.”

His eyes glazed over with pleasure as he stared off into the distance. “I’ve always wanted a horse.” He turned to her and blushed again.

His choice surprised her, but then filled her with joy. “Perfect! A big-boy toy that’s every young girl’s dream. I wanted a horse so badly when I was twelve that my teeth ached. I adore the magnificent beasts. Buy one for me, too, which means we’ll need to sell this house and find another one, a horse property. Do you want a horse farm, or just a horse? What kind of horse? A racehorse? A cow pony? An Arabian? I’ll need direction, honey. We have a lot of decisions to make. Big-boy toys almost always alter lifestyles.”

He fixed his gorgeous blue eyes on her, and she melted.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said.

“I’m serious about you, about us, about our little darlin’. If you want a horse, I want one, too. That’s two horses. We’ll need to plan ahead, though. Little darlin’ will want a horse, and so will his brothers and sisters, so we’ll need to start with a four-horse barn that’s expandable, or perhaps jump right to a ten-horse barn. What about...?”

He shut her up with a kiss. Perfect, she thought. Just what I wanted. This worked out better than I thought it would. Now he knows about my money. Will he handle my other secrets as well as he did this one? Not likely. She dreaded the day he’d find out about her incestuous past and hoped the day would never come.

Suddenly, a sharp pain gripped her. She gasped when it increased in intensity, taking her breath away. Her hands flew from her husband’s back to the bulge in her maternity dress. She felt her skin flush with a cold sweat, and then the pain softened and became bearable. With a shudder, she started to breathe normally again.