The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nyquist Folding

I surprised myself—when I woke up and looked at the clock, it was five minutes to nine in the morning. I’d half expected to wake up at a nominal (East-Coast) time. I got up and puttered for a bit, taking care of clothes, and putting together my hit list for the day. Food, look at computers, furniture, drop by the dojo. I grabbed the DVD cases and dumped them in my bag. I strung my keys back together, adding office, dojo, and car keys again. The mail could wait.

I paused as I took my phone out of the charger. Flipping it open, I pushed the button for Barbara’s place. I felt my chest tightening as I listened to the ring. What would I say? Shit, I knew what I need to say—I love her. But when her answering machine kicked on, I hung up.

I tried her cell number. Interesting—not available at this time. I disconnected that call as well. Either her phone was off, or she was out of the area. I’d keep trying.

I had fast food for breakfast—Egg McMuffin with catsup. Disgusting and delicious. I laughed as I licked my fingers—what would my students think if they saw Sensei doing such a thing? They’d think he was human, I hoped.

I wandered up to the new Apple store in Bellevue Square, arriving as they opened. The Mac on my desk at school was a few years old. The portables I looked at were all faster. Did I want to replace the office machine? I could rotate them down—from office to dojo, from dojo to home. Wireless at each location? I’d need help for that, but it felt like the way to go.

I was amazed at DVD playback, especially on the big Cinema display. I was also amazed at the quality of the video Paul and Gail had put together—it was superb. They’d added the sounds of surf as a background to me doing kata. I could see some small flaws in what the character on the screen was doing, but in general, he moved pretty well, and was having fun. I figured out how to play back one sword sequence at a slower rate so I could pay attention to wrist position. It was good, but could improve.

I’d drawn a crowd—I gave out a few cards from the dojo, and got some pricing information on the machines I’d been drooling over. I thanked the sales guy for his help, but told him I worked for the University, so I’d be checking to see what I could do through them on the machines. He gave me a knowing smile. But he cheered up when I told him I’d come back for accessories. I liked the idea of an Apple store in the shadow of the Evil Empire...

Furniture was a different deal. I tried Nordstrom in the mall just down from the Apple store, but their furniture section was small, and they didn’t have anything in Cal King. I’d half expected that. I drove to a stand-alone place, one of the nationwide chains. As I entered, I was greeted by an attractive young woman. Yes, they had bedroom sets in California King, and she led me to them.

I was chuckling to myself as I looked them over. No, I needed a bed that was higher, I told her. We looked at two sets. What particularly was I interested in, she asked.

I looked into her eyes. How do I explain it? Especially in a way that won’t get me thrown out or arrested? One set was clearly too high. The other looked to be about the correct height. I made some excuse and went down on my knees next to it, looking underneath, checking the top of mattress height. Should I just ask her to recline on the bed for me, so I can check? I needed to be sure I’d be comfortable eating Barbara, with her delicious bottom hanging slightly off the edge, and her legs over my shoulders. And when standing up, I wanted the bed to be at the proper height so I could take her standing, with her legs up on my shoulders.

The height looked about correct. They had three different sets in stock at that height, five piece and six piece sets. Wow—and four to five thousand dollars... The bedding alone was twenty three hundred; but I wasn’t paying sales tax on that. Yes, all three sets were in stock and could be delivered in three days. Which one did I prefer?

We were sitting at a small desk. I looked into her sparkling green eyes and told her that I needed to bring someone else in to make that decision—I knew better than to do it myself. She smiled and nodded, providing me with her card and copies of brochures.

It was a little after twelve. I rolled my shoulders again. Maybe I should give Elsie, Patti’s sister, a call and set something up—I’d gotten quite used to a massage every day.

I headed over to the dojo; might as well catch up on mail there.

Sunday is usually a down day for the dojo, unless something special is going on. As I got close, I saw a sign, “Intro to Pilates” pointing my way. I didn’t remember any events for today. But then again, I hadn’t really paid attention to my calendar in a while.

There were a bunch of cars in the parking lot—pretty damn good for a bit after noon on a Sunday. Not good—someone had taken the spot with the “Reserved for Sensei” sign in front of it. Oh well, haven’t been here for a couple of weeks.

There was a small crowd of people in the little waiting area, some leaving, some arriving from the looks of it. I identified one young woman, tall, thin, short blonde hair, as a probable ringleader.

As I approached, she held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Vicki—are you here for our introduction to Pilates?”

I smiled. I looked around. I’d expected Abiko, or the yoga folks to be here supervising. I wasn’t upset quite yet, but I was a little concerned.

“Yes—I just dropped by the dojo to see what was going on,” I told her.

“Oh, you practice here?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“Well, this weekend we’ve been putting on introductory sessions on Pilates. Our last one is from one to four, and we still have room if you’re interested. The cost is ten dollars, and we have a form...”

She turned and picked up a form on a clipboard, complete with pen. “If you’d like to attend. Have you done Pilates before?”

“No, mainly Aikido and yoga,” I said, taking the clipboard from her. What the hell—let’s do it.

I filled out the form, using my home address. Good work—it had my standard release language at the bottom. “I don’t recall hearing about this,” I told her as I handed her the form and my cash.

She smiled as she took it. “We were really lucky—we’ve been planning this for about two months, but the location we were going to use flaked out on us at the last minute. We were really lucky to be able to use this space. It could use more windows, but it’s well located. Do you practice here often, Roger?”

I smiled. I liked not having big windows. “Yes, a few times a week. I haven’t been in much for the last three weeks or so—I’ve been traveling.”

She smiled and nodded—didn’t have a clue as to who I was. “You have practice clothes?”

“In the car.”

“Then you know where to change. We start at one.”

I nodded and headed back out the door. I chuckled as I got a set of workout clothes out of the car, the set I use at school when I did treadmill and such. I went into the men’s changing area. It looked pretty good. I made a mental note of a rip on the corner of a cushion on a bench—that needs to be fixed.

I stepped out wearing one of my Cannondale tank tops and shorts. Not just any tank top—this was the one I’d worn back from Japan, and on my first trip to D.C. Bowing before I stepped on to the tatami, I took my towel and yoga mat and found a spot off to the side.

The place looked good, and clean. The flowers at the front of the dojo were fresh.

It felt good to be a student again. I started some yoga sequences, warming up.

“Have you done Pilates before?” a man’s voice asked.

I moved from downward dog to swan, more or less sitting, and looked at my questioner. Medium build, short curly brown hair. “Nope,” I answered. I extended a hand. “I’m Roger.”

He knelt down and shook my hand. “I’m Tom—one of the instructors. You’re very flexible.”

I nodded. “I work at it.”

“Any areas you’re particularly interested in?” he asked.

I shook my head, smiling. “Every instructor I know says core strength—so that on the strength side, and on the flexibility side, psoas, piriformis, hip rotators.”

He nodded. “We can help with core strength, but you’ve got more hip flexibility now than I have. Enjoy the class.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I told him.

He got up to talk to another student. I completed my sequence, then moved to sitting. Watch and wait—it’s not my show.

I spotted some familiar faces coming in the door, and they spotted me—two aikido/yoga students. They smiled and started hurrying over to me—stopping suddenly to bow before they stepped on to the mat. That brought a smile from me. As they approached, I put a finger to my lips—silence.

They came closer, excited to see me. “I’m a student today—nothing more,” I told them.

They nodded and bowed, and went off to another spot on the tatami.

We started pretty much on time. I counted eighteen—damn good for a Sunday afternoon. Wonder what kind of deal Abiko cut them? Tom and Vicki were the instructors, hubby and wife. They thanked everyone for showing up. They were very happy with the turnout, and were hoping they’d be able to do more classes in this location. They gave us a brief introduction, and we started in.

A number of the exercises felt yoga-derived to me, good practice for core strength and balance—two things we all harp about to our students. Vicki and Tom were good instructors, moving through the room, helping, positioning. I could feel where Jeshan’s work had helped me.

After about an hour and twenty minutes, we stopped for a break. I rolled to my stomach, into bow, to stretch out my abdominals and psoas.

I stood up after a bit more loosening up. Uh oh, Vicki was walking over to me. Had I been discovered?

She asked, “Roger, when we resume, would you mind moving up front where others can see you better? We’d really appreciate it.”

“If you’d like, certainly. How has attendance been this weekend?”

She smiled. “We were worried yesterday afternoon and this morning, but this group is great—and we were full yesterday morning. What do you think of this location? Would it be convenient for you, if we had morning classes?”

We didn’t have anything going on in the morning. We’d tried yoga, but the early morning classes hadn’t developed a following. “Probably. I like the location, but I’m biased.”

She started to say something, but looked to someone behind me. “Thanks—I need to go. Up front—you’d be a big help.”

I needed a pit stop. I automatically made a turn for my office. Luckily, the door was closed. I smiled and went to use the Men’s bathroom. As I did, I looked around. I cleaned it myself at least once a week, in addition to what the cleaning service did. It looked good. Good lighting, plenty of airflow, mirrors and sinks clean.

“Did Vicki talk to you about moving up front?” Tom asked as I headed back to the mats.

“Yes, if you think it would help.”

He nodded. “It would, a lot. We’ve asked two of the women to move up as well.”

I moved my stuff. As I set up again where he indicated, I recognized one of the gals—a yoga regular. I gave her a stern look, then a smile. She smiled and gave me a slight nod. Good, I was still safe.

We started in again. They reviewed some of what we’d done already, using the three of us as models. Then we moved into different areas.

“Sensei!” I heard Abiko call out.

I opened my eyes and looked to the doorway. She was standing there, quite surprised. I smiled and nodded, putting a finger to my lips. She gave me a funny look, knitting her eyebrows, then covered her mouth, giggling a little. She bowed and stepped away. I glanced around. Tom and Vicki must not have noticed.

We concluded the class with a relaxation exercise. These folks were good. If they wanted to use the place, they could. Everything I’d seen impressed me.

They closed with more talk about setting up classes, answered questions, and thanked us all for coming. I applauded them along with most of the class.

As people started milling out, Tom called, “I’d appreciate if a few of you could help clean up.”

I grabbed two of the big brooms at the back of the hall.

Tom approached, meeting me midway. “Thanks—I appreciate it,” he said as he took a broom.

We started sweeping. The place was actually pretty clean already. I was coming back along the side when Abiko motioned to me. She and Vicki were standing by the doorway. I walked over, bowing as I stepped off the mat.

Abiko’s smile was bigger and brighter than I’d seen on her in quite a while. She turned to Vicki and said, “Vicki, this is Roger, our Sensei and owner of the dojo.”

Vicki looked at me in shock. I saw her eyes roll up as the color drained from her face. I dropped the broom and caught her as she went down, laying her out on the mat.

Tom rushed over. “What happened?”

Her pulse was strong and steady, her breathing nominal. “She fainted,” I told him. “Abiko, get the med bag please?”

She bowed and took off.

Vicki opened her eyes again before Abiko returned. She looked to me in surprise and started to sit up. I put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. “Not yet, please—just rest.”

Tom held her hand. “She hasn’t eaten much in the last couple of days,” he told me. I liked the way he smiled as he held her hand.

I sat on the floor next to her. “Four strenuous classes on not much food isn’t a good idea,” I told her in serious Sensei voice and gaze.

Vicki was glancing back and forth between Tom and me. Her color was returning.

As Abiko opened the medical bag, I told her, “I don’t think we’ll need it.”

“Yes, Sensei,” she said.

Tom gave me a funny look, glancing around the dojo then back to me. I think he made the connection.

I smiled. “I’m sorry for the surprise.”

Tom exhaled loudly and sat on his rump. He shook his head.

I looked back to Vicki. “Do you feel like sitting up?” She nodded. “Okay, let’s move you so you can lean against the wall.”

Tom and I moved her to the wall. Her color was much better. “Water or juice?” I offered.

“Some juice, if you have it,” she said, at about half strength.

“I’ll have some as well,” I told Abiko. “Tom?” I asked him.

He nodded. Abiko bowed again and went to my office.

I heard the front door open, and a squeaking sound. I looked up to see Donna, one of our yoga instructors, frozen in the doorway looking at me.

“Come in, please!” I laughed.

She rushed in, dropping to her knees and giving me a hug. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Abiko returned with bottles of juice for us.

“Sensei, I’m surprised to see you here—we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow at the earliest!” Donna told me.

“I’m full of surprises,” I said with a smile. I looked at Vicki, who shook her head.

“So, what’s been happening?” I asked them.

Donna told the tale. She’d known Tom and Vicki for a while. She’d been mentioning their Pilates thing in yoga for a month or so. Yeah, I guess I did remember something about it. It was going to be in a hall on the other side of town, but at the last minute the place cancelled out from under them. Donna and Abiko conferred, and agreed to let them use the dojo.

Tom was apologetic. “I’m sorry if we’ve overstepped our welcome. We were in a real bind, until Donna and Abiko rescued us.”

I nodded. “No problem. How many do you expect would show up on a regular basis for classes, particularly morning ones? Afternoons and evenings here are pretty full.”

Vicki gasped—I thought she was going to go down again. But she recovered quickly. She and Tom were ready to move from renting time in a small studio and doing a lot of private classes to something bigger. They thought they had enough of a following to make a go of it. They started going into details.

I interrupted. “Why don’t we discuss it over dinner. My stomach is still on East Coast time, and I didn’t have lunch, either. Chinese?”

That brought agreement. We cleaned up the dojo. I offered them the use of the shower attached to the office, and they accepted. That gave Abiko, Donna, and me a chance to catch up. Yes, I was feeling much better, and I was glad to be home. I could tell they were glad as well.

Abiko wanted to know when I’d be back teaching. I could feel the complexity in her voice—a lot in that question—hopes, fears, quite a range of feelings. I told her we needed to talk, but I expected that I would be back for two or three days a week. From the way she visibly relaxed, I think I said the right thing. Of course I followed up by asking if she and Patti were ready for advancement tests, putting her on edge again, but that’s the kind of thing Sensei is supposed to do. She recovered quickly, and gave me a grin that led me to believe my suspicions about the visitors Janice had told me about were correct.

The parking lot was mostly empty when we locked up. I was glad to see Tom and Vicki hadn’t parked in my spot. I put on the stern Sensei countenance for a moment and rumbled, “Sensei is not happy when someone takes his parking place.” They tensed up at that, and I couldn’t help laughing.

I let Abiko pick which of our usual haunts we’d visit. We followed her, with Donna’s hubby meeting us. Tom and Vicki had their act together. They showed me what they were doing now, and very conservative estimates of what they expected to do. I let them know I’d been impressed at how they’d run things. We sketched out a tentative deal, similar to what I was doing with the yoga folks, essentially a percentage of their take, with a monthly cap. They were surprised at that. I told them I wanted them to have the upside potential.

Abiko and the gang wanted to know how I was doing, what I’d been doing and where—they’d been concerned. I told them I was rested and relaxed, but still trying to figure out what I was going to do when I grew up. They laughed at that. When I mentioned I might even be buying a television set Donna reached over and put a hand on my forehead. “Sensei, you’re not well!” she exclaimed.

We talked for a bit longer. We’d formalize the business aspects, but as far as I was concerned, they could start doing morning classes whenever they wanted. They were excited, and agreed on Wednesday or Thursday, depending on how many people they could contact.

Everyone wanted to talk more, about this, that and the other thing.

“Sensei is tired,” I told them, “And he still has laundry to do.”

They were surprised I’d already taken care of the bill. Vicki thanked me again as we parted outside in the parking lot. I gave her a gentle hug. “See, I’m not so terrifying after all.” I got hugs from all, with quite a hug from Donna.

Back home—still no food for the house. “You can wait,” I told the answering machine, going to the bathroom first to return some of the tea I’d rented. Start the laundry, then back to the phone.

Nine in the evening—too late to try Barbara. I checked my messages. Only one—from the local docs. They’d been told I was back in the area, and they really wanted to see me first thing Monday morning to check me over. Doctor Carson left his home number and asked me to please call.

I gave him a ring. He was very apologetic at what had happened—his staff had been completely unaware of what went on. I gave him the run-down on what had transpired, and agreed to be in at eight, but I needed to be on my way to school by nine thirty. No problem.

By that time, my whites were ready for the drier, and I was ready for bed. “Hello, old friend, nemesis, and taskmaster,” I told the alarm clock. Back to the grind.

I rolled out of bed to the alarm. I showered, got my school shit together, and made it out the door in time to get to the doc’s by eight. I tried Barbara again on the way, leaving a message on her home machine for her to please call me. Her cell was still unavailable.

The docs apologized again for what had gone on under their noses. I told them we’d been deceived by experts. Then I apologized for forgetting the imaging data I’d been given. They told me they’d been contacted by people in Toronto on Saturday, and put in touch with the clinic. The clinic was sending copies of everything to them. Toronto? That should ring a bell, but for the moment all I got was a faint clang in the distance.

Then it was clothes off and run me through the ringer. They did the usual, then ultrasound scans, then came back for another blood sample, and swabs from my nose and throat.

Doctor Carson joined me as I was getting dressed. He had a tray full of goodies, including a loaded syringe.

“Doctor Hawthorne, how are you feeling?” he asked, with an edge to his voice.

“Suddenly I’m not sure. How am I feeling?”

He managed a smile. “You’re running a fever. Been around anyone with a cold or the flu recently?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Yup, all day Saturday in a plane sitting next to Janice and watching her come down with something—sneezing, runny nose, the works.”

He nodded. “And of course you rested yesterday, and were planning on taking it easy for the next few days...”

I laughed. “Yup—skipped meals, did an intense three hour class at the dojo, and have a range of classes to teach today, both at the U and the dojo.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Drop the pants and bend over. If you please, Doctor.”

I chuckled and did as he asked. He stabbed me in the ass.

He managed a wry smile as I finished dressing. “Start with the nasal spray immediately, and the tablets when you can. We’re catching things early enough to make a difference.”

I did the nose thing. “Anything we can do for Janice?”

He shook his head. “I’ll give her a call, but bed rest and chicken soup will probably help as much as anything else. Next week or so, we want to schedule an MRI for your right shoulder, and see if we can find a physical therapist for you.”

I was curious. “For what?” I thought I was in pretty good shape.

“The therapist who worked with you for the last two weeks is concerned about rotator cuff problems in your right shoulder, and says you can use work in some specific areas. She’s also concerned about adhesions from your recent unfortunate invasive procedure.”

I nodded. “Would Pilates work help?”

He scribbled a note. “I’ll check. Thanks for coming in, and again, I apologize for what happened.”

I loaded things into my coat pockets. “Not a problem, Doctor—as I said, we were screwed by the best.”

At school I got through mail, and sent out appeals for assistance from gurus of the Macintosh and video arts. I also chatted with the head of the department, and the Chancellor, both concerned about me. Yes, I’d had outpatient surgery, but my recovery had gone well. I was glad to be back.

My students were glad I was back as well. My two classes had gone well. I set up meetings with the Ph.D. candidates I was supervising. I couldn’t just bail on them.

That was the problem, I told myself as I headed to the cafeteria for an early lunch. I couldn’t just walk away. I could detach myself, though—I needed to work things out with Abiko at the dojo. With Aikido, yoga, and now Pilates going on, things were going to get busy. I knew the yoga folks had some special weekend events planned. Maybe we needed someone managing things.

Back home—some of the offerings in the cafeteria looked as grisly as they always had. I ate a quick lunch and headed back.

About halfway between buildings, my cell phone chirped. Barbara? My heart raced as I dug it out of my pocket and looked at the number. 617? What area code was that? I answered it. “Yellow?”

It was Doctor Richards. Did I have time to talk? Yes, give me a call at my office number in about five minutes. Okay.

I tried to keep an open mind as I waited for her to call. Oh good—e-mail said I had a Mac guru dropping by later.

The phone rang. Doctor Richards was most apologetic. I told her I understood—we’d been worked over by the best. She agreed, and wanted to know what she could do to help. She’d been called from Toronto, and told that I was still somewhat at sea. Toronto again? I told her I was still confused, not sure what had happened to me, what feelings were mine, and what was the result of manipulation. Had she talked with Doctor Flynn recently? How was Christie doing?

Yes, she’d been in contact with Doctor Flynn. She spent a while explaining to me that what had been done to me was superficial compared to what Christie had been through. The metaphor she used to describe me was a tree already leaning heavily—a little encouragement, and I went over. I could feel the anger in her voice as she talked about Christie. She’d been manipulated before the two of us met, and from the moment we met, she’d thrown herself at me. And “they” had done everything they could to increase her desire, pulling me in deeper, using each of us to reinforce what they were doing to the other. It was going to take a lot of hard work, and a long time to heal Christie’s wounds.

The big question I had for Richards—I understood that I’d been manipulated. I had very strong feelings for Christie still, and I understood that Christie most likely didn’t have similar feelings for me. Yes, that was true. Christie was still very concerned about causing me harm, but it was safe to assume she didn’t love me. Richards was going on about how I needed perspective at a time like this, but I was only partially hearing her. My feelings were mixed, but part of me felt free. But free to do what? The big question remained—given what I’d been through, did that leave me susceptible to the next person I ran into?

Richards drew me out. I told her I’d spent two weeks, day and night, with a wonderful woman, and I loved her so much I was scared to tell her. I was scared, because I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. I didn’t want to see more people hurt, and I didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Barbara. I don’t think I imagined it—I thought I could hear warmth in Richards’ voice as she told me I should trust my feelings. Yes, there was more work I could do, but the people who could handle such issues were few and far between. She could come out to work with me, or I could visit her in Boston. She owed it to me, and to Christie.

I thanked her for her help, and her concern.

My palms were wet when I hung up the phone. I felt spaced out. I grabbed the nasal spray again and used it. Nasty thoughts—I looked it up on the Web. It checked out as legitimate. Of course, that applied to the package. As to the contents, well, that was based on trust. And I knew where that path went. When you get to a certain level, you have to trust that if the label on the can says that it contains peas, then it’s going to contain peas. The alternative is madness.

Being in front of my afternoon class brought me back to earth. They were glad to have me back. Well, most of them were. After class some of them stuck around to chat. One asked in a roundabout way if I’d been off doing spy stuff. I frowned and told them I’d had outpatient surgery with a prolonged rehabilitation time.

Back in my office I had a brief meeting with a cheerful sprite of a gal who advised me to get the software I needed from the school store, but buy the hardware in Oregon where I wouldn’t pay sales tax. We discussed laptop configurations, and she urged me to go for as much RAM as the thing would hold. She took a quick peek at my desktop, and told me that if I spent around $300 on a new CPU, I’d be fine. I could get it mail order (tax free), and it would take her about five minutes to install. She recommended I go wireless at school and at home for my notebook, and she could set those up so they exceeded the school’s security guidelines. I mentioned the machine at the dojo—her recommendation was about the same—top it off with memory, put in faster brains, go wireless, but have her install it. I thanked her for her advice and asked if I could help with anything. She wanted advice on which instructors to avoid for thermodynamics. I laughed and gave her what help I could.

On the way to the dojo, I tried Barbara again. No answer at either number. Should I call Hammond? Nah—maybe call David tomorrow.

Damn, it felt good to be back on the mat again. The hakama pressing into my back was comforting. Moving with the staff, then the sword, I felt free again.

At the start of our first class, after I’d gotten hugs from Patti and some of the others, I bowed before the class, thanking Abiko and Patti for all their efforts while I’d been gone.

I managed to talk with to Abiko between classes. I thanked her again for holding things together. I was glad to be back and on the mat again. I told her that I’d like her to do more, so that I could do less. I wanted her to be my partner in the dojo. What did she want? She was uncertain—she wanted to do more, but she wasn’t ready to take it all, as she had the last few weeks. She agreed to take Tuesday and Thursday this week.

I could tell she was nervous, that oriental upbringing resulting in too much respect for me. So I cornered Patti, and asked her to work with Abiko, and help me understand what was right for Abiko, and for her. She smiled and told me she would.

We talked for a while. She had been concerned, and was glad I was back. She told me Janice was out with a cold, but had become a regular, and was progressing very, very fast. I gave Patti a stern look and asked her if she’d be ready for the black belt test shortly after Thanksgiving. She looked me in the eye and said with incredible confidence she was ready. I didn’t smile, I beamed—I opened my arms and we had a great hug.

I had fun in the evening class, throwing people around, and getting thrown. I threw some odd things at Patti (figuratively and literally), and she handled them all.

At the end of the evening, I felt tired but good. The real world intruded again—it was raining (no surprise), and I still didn’t have any food in the house. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, stocking up. I put a frozen meat pie in the oven to cook while I showered. After I dried off, I stood still for a moment, eyes closed. Tired, a little tingly, with the edge of something in my joints, the back of my throat, and in my sinuses... I dressed warm, turning up the thermostat a notch. I had my dinner, cleaned up, and crashed.

I woke Tuesday morning to gritty eyes, gritty throat, and gremlins doing something irritating inside my head—aspirin, vitamin C, the voodoo from the doc, and breakfast to keep the nasties at bay. I dressed warm, and took my “new” coat and a hat to protect me from the rain.

Barbara was still out of reach. I called David from school. He told me I’d spooked the hell out of the folks in Dallas. When I told him I’d slipped and fallen on my ass, he laughed. He told me he had to run, but if the rumors he was hearing were anywhere close to true, I’d pulled off a minor miracle. I told him I wasn’t sure what was going on, or who I was working for these days, and we should get together later in the week.

I had a “payback” class to teach, and it was fun. I like taking Herb’s classes for him, and he likes taking mine. When we switch, we always start the class with, “What did my colleague confuse you about last time?”

I had the chance to swing by my office before walking over for lunch. Surprise! I had a recommendation for a video geek in the afternoon. And it wasn’t raining! At least not now—in an hour, well, that might be different. I put on my coat and headed to lunch. I could feel something in the back of my nose, along the left side, extending to my throat. I paused for a moment, and sneezed three times in rapid succession. Oh well.

Hot soup, bread, lemon pudding—comfort foods for lunch. I usually took a seat near corner windows where I could look out on the central campus. Today I sat at a small table away from the windows, so I’d be warmer and out of the drafts.

“Roger—we heard you were injured!”

I looked up to see two lovely ladies approaching me bearing trays. I sighed and smiled. Annie and Samantha are both doctoral candidates in physical chemistry. Both of them were also quite well stacked, and had taken me for rides in the past, Samantha a number of times.

“Good afternoon, ladies—another CFD problem I can help you with?” I was one of the school’s resident experts in practical aspects of computational fluid dynamics.

Annie sat on my left, Samantha on my right.

“No, Roger—we were concerned. We haven’t seen you for a while. We were worried. How are you?” Annie asked.

I mopped up the last of my soup with the bread. “Out for a while, but I’m back.”

Samantha rubbed my back gently. “We’re glad you’re back too, Roger,” she practically growled. “We’ve been so lonely. We missed you. Would you have some time for us?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, ladies—I’ve got a cold.”

“Oh, then you need someone to nurse you back to health,” Samantha purred, moving a hand up my shoulder. I felt hands at my neck and the back of my head. I knew exactly what she meant. I sighed and gave in to it for a moment.

But just for a moment. I realized that sensation didn’t own me any more. The tingle still filled me, from my head to my nipples down through my groin. I looked to Annie, then to Samantha. Samantha met my gaze and moved her shoulders sensuously. Did she even know she was doing that? Was it instinct?

I sneezed twice. As I opened my eyes, I noticed the ladies had moved back, but not very far. “Ladies, between bugs and drugs, the only thing I’d be in bed is warm—feverish in fact. That’s not very fair to you, is it?”

Anne was backing off, but Samantha pouted, “I could still hold you. You snuggle so well.”

“And I love to be held—you know what you do to me.” I could see Samantha’s nipples tightening under her sweater. I looked to my pudding and picked up a spoon. Samantha sighed before she started on her salad. I glanced to Anne, who started to pick up her tray. I put a hand on her arm. “Please stay—I enjoy the company,” I said softly. She sat down with a smile.

In response to their questions, I told them I’d had outpatient surgery, and had been off recuperating, so I’d missed the last two weeks of glorious weather and sports victories. That brought out smiles. When they asked what I’d had done, was it serious, I told them I’d show them the scar—later. Then I sneezed again. We talked about progress on their research work; I knew their advisors. They were trying to get some of the engineering—computer science folks interested in an informal Beowulf cluster to help with their work. I told them I’d help however I could—I thought that would be a good resource to have.

Anne looked as if she’d bailed on me a few minutes ago. “I have to get to class,” she said.

I stood up. “Thank you for your concern. It’s good to see you again.”

She did give me a hug, and whispered hotly in my ear, “Get well soon.”

I started to sit down again, pausing. Samantha pushed me back into my seat. “Need something?” she asked.

I nodded. “A Dr. Pepper? Large, no ice? I need sugar and caffeine this afternoon.”

She stood, moving closer to me as she did, brushing against me, then kissing the top of my head. “I’ll be right back.”

She was gone longer than I expected. As I saw her walking back, I smiled. She’d brushed her hair, and I had suspicions as to what else she’d done.

Yes, as she sat down, putting a large cup in front of me, I could smell her perfume. I took a big gulp, then put a hand on the table next to her. She took my hand in hers. “More self-confidence in your immune system than your colleague?” I suggested.

Her face was filled with need. “More desperate. Just one night? Please?”

I shook my head, looking at her. “Is that fair to you, or to me? I don’t want you getting sick.”

She sat back, her lower lip starting to stick out in a pout.

“You’re beautiful, Sam,” I told her. “You can do better than a sick old goat.”

She gave me a strange smile. “It’s not the same Roger—holding you is different. What time do you get home tonight?”

“I’ve got tonight off. I’ll be leaving here around four.”

I watched her eyes flick up and to the side as she recalculated. Her smile broadened. “I’ll meet you at your office?”

I nodded. “I’m making a stop on the way home.”

She smiled. “Okay...”

“To look at TV sets.”

She looked shocked. “Now I know you’re sick!”

“Am I worth it?”

The way she held my hand answered my question before she spoke. “I’ll take the chance.”

“Has it started raining again?” I inquired.

“We might make it back dry if we leave now.”

We took care of our trays and headed back to the hard science part of campus. We parted to raindrops. “See you at four,” she told me.

I did my afternoon classes, feeling a little better. It was good to return to normalcy, or some semblance of it.

When I returned to my office I tried Barbara again, with no success. I was getting worried. I needed her, and I needed to tell her.

I looked up and saw Sam standing in my doorway. When I’d seen her at lunch, she looked like a typical grad student—casual, practical. Now, a different pair of slacks, a soft top, and she was a sex kitten. The way she looked at me, the way she smiled, I wanted to curl up in her arms. “Let’s go,” I told her as I stood up. “Want me to drive?”

“Are you really looking at TVs?”

I nodded. “Yup, time to join the modern world.”

She shook her head, frowning a little.

“What is it?”

“I’m worried, Roger,” she said, smiling again.

“About what?”

“About you—that you’ll buy a TV, cut your hair, get married...”

I picked up my coat. “In that order?”

She helped me put on my coat, then took my arm as we walked out, closing the door behind me.

“I parked across from you, so we can move my things.”

I know she’s ten years younger, but she’s so delicious, so warm and full. But she’s not Barbara.

“What’s the matter?” she asked as we got to the cars.

I turned to her and she put her arms around my waist, pulling our bodies together. “Don’t frown—it causes wrinkles,” she told me. I melted into her arms; she either helped or made things worse by putting a hand at the back of my head and holding my head to her shoulder. “That’s better,” she cooed.

We moved two bags from her car to mine and headed off to a video shop out past where I live.

Maybe I’m not ready to join that part of the world. The sales guy started out by asking what kind of TV I had currently. When I told him, “None,” he took half a step back in shock. Sam was by my side, and I could feel her jiggle a bit in amusement, or maybe I felt her bits jiggle in amusement.

“But I was born on this planet,” I reassured him. That amused Sam as well.

We looked around. The HDTV stuff looked very pretty, and very pricey. I liked the plasma displays—sleek and bright. But buying a plasma display was buying a plasma display—the tuner was extra. Sam started peppering him with questions. She backed him into a corner, convincing me that I had a lot of homework to do. I bailed the poor guy out. “Thanks—we’ll look around and holler if we need something.” He nodded, smiled, and ran.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her, an arm around her waist.

We were looking around when a man in a fairly well tailored suit asked, “What makes it do that?” He was pointing to a large screen TV showing a vary fast looking car with the wheels seemingly going backwards.

“Nyquist folding,” I told him. “It means things are happening too fast to make sense out of.”

He gave us a strange look.

Samantha told him, “It’s simple—even I understand it.”

I chuckled and gave her a hug as we walked off. “You could offer to take him aside and explain it to him,” I suggested.

She hugged me. “I go for the brainy types.”

Outside the store she hugged me again, whispering, “The warm, cuddly, brainy types.”

“You’re in luck—I need a snuggle, and the lasagna will take an hour to heat up.”

I opened the car door for her. Before she got in, she reached into her purse and took out what looked to be a perfume bottle.

I stepped closer, putting a hand over hers holding the bottle. “Please don’t do that until we get home.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Why?”

I looked at her pretty eyes, her upturned nose and smooth skin. Her right cheek was showing pink from the cold wind. “Because if you do that now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to drive.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

I really would have been a basket case if she’d put on fresh perfume. As I sat in the car, I realized I was beat. Damn—I needed to focus on pacing myself—pay attention!

We snuck up on my place from the other side, about the opposite of the route I usually took.

“Wow—they repainted, pulled out trees, or did something,” I said as we drove past one place. I should take different routes more often.

I made the last turn, turning left rather than right to get on to my street. Up a little to the top of a rise, then down...

“Oh shit!” The street curved to the left, my place was at the curve. And a few hundred yards away, the street was blocked off, the area filled with police cars, fire trucks—a fire truck was spraying water on the smoldering ruins of what had been my house.

“Roger! What happened?” Samantha cried out.

I pulled up to a policeman standing in front of tape blocking off the street. He stepped to the driver’s side as I rolled down the window.

As he approached I heard someone else call out, “That’s him! Let him through!”

“Roger Hawthorne?” the cop asked.

“That’s me,” I told him.

“Sir, if you’d pull up behind the patrol car...” He pointed, then stepped away to move the barrier tape. I rolled up the window and pulled ahead. A group of men started walking over to me. David? What the hell was he doing here? There was a weird vehicle in my driveway, and a swarm of cops and firefighters.

Sam was clutching my arm. I put a hand on hers. “Wait here for me, please,” I told her.

“All right,” she said in a small, frightened voice.

I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. I met the crowd halfway.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked.

A guy in a suit standing next to David asked, “You’re Roger Hawthorne?”

I held out a hand. “Yes, and you are?”

“Lieutenant Mannion.” He turned to a uniformed officer and said, “Let them know he’s here.”

He turned back to me. “We expected to find you at your dojo, sir, or at the University.”

I shook my head, looking at disaster. The house was completely gone! Parts of the bathroom walls were the only things standing! Luckily, the houses in the area are reasonably far apart. I didn’t notice any immediate damage to the neighbors—wait, looks like some broken windows. “What the hell happened? David, why the hell are you here?”

David looked at the lieutenant, who nodded and told him, “I’ll be back in a bit.” The lieutenant walked over to another group of cops.

David looked at me. “You need to sit down?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Tell me.”

He looked back at what had been my house, shaking his head. “Roger, I’m really sorry. But I’m glad we caught it. With the rumors I’ve been hearing, I thought you might attract attention. So we decided to play with a new toy. The blue Camry over there?” He pointed to a car parked across the street from my place.

“Yeah?”

“We parked it there yesterday. It has a miniature camera in it, connected to a laptop in the trunk, and a wireless internet thing. We get a picture every fifteen seconds. A little after lunch today, that van pulled into your driveway. Two guys got out, opened your garage door, and started doing things. Our man watching the deal didn’t think it smelled right. He called me, and I called the cops. When the first car arrived, one of the guys took a shot at the cops, hitting one of them. He’s okay, minor injury—he was wearing a vest. Backup arrived, and when one of the officers returned fire with a shotgun, well, he says he returned fire and the suspect exploded. The guy was standing in the back of your garage, next to the door, the furnace, and the water heater. Before you know it, the whole place is in flames. Fire crews arrive, but the other guy was still trading shots with the cops. They must have gotten him, because the shooting stopped, but the cops didn’t let fire at it for a while. I got here as soon as I could. We couldn’t reach you at the dojo or at school, and we don’t have your cell phone number.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I’ll give it to you. I could have picked up marshmallows on the way.”

The lieutenant was walking back to us, shaking his head, accompanied by a firefighter. He looked at David and said, “You were right—the canisters were carbon monoxide. Related to the other one? They’re in this together?”

Monoxide? They? “Has anyone checked on Janice?” I called out as I reached for my phone.

David put an arm on my shoulder. “She’s okay. I had her checked after things started popping here. She’s going to be fine.”

My head was spinning. The cop looked at me. “I’m told you may have an idea who might be behind this?” he asked.

I shook my head. “In general terms, yes. Specific names, I’m not sure. What did David tell you?”

He frowned a bit as he looked at David. “Security related stuff, and in helping out one group you pissed some people off. Unless this was a burglary gone way bad, I’d say you really pissed someone off.”

David spoke up. “I suggested he get the reports from Chicago. We’ve tried to contact Hammond, but he’s currently unavailable—he should return tomorrow.”

I wondered if Hammond was unavailable if I called? I looked at the remains of the house, water still being poured on parts of it, police and fire going through other parts. Everything gone—the only things left were at the dojo, my office, and in the car. Even the clothes drier, which still had my whites in it, was a pile of slag.

“Oh shit,” I said to nobody in particular.

I looked to the cop. “I’m afraid I’m out of answers or leads for now. I can make some calls tomorrow. You have my number at the University?”

He nodded.

From the site of what used to be my house, a man called out, “Lieutenant! We found the other one!”

He glanced around, then back to me.

“What’s the schedule here? Doesn’t look like much for me to go through.”

He nodded, grimly. “Our investigation will take quite a while. We’ll keep it cordoned off.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Well, I guess I’m not staying here tonight.”

David put a hand on my shoulder. “You can use one of our places. I’d like you to.”

I nodded. “Okay, sounds reasonable. Anything more for me to do? Anything else you need from me now?”

The lieutenant checked my driver’s license number. He double-checked the dojo and University phone numbers. He thanked me, and walked off to the remains of my house with the fireman.

David said, “Who’s the girl?”

I turned and saw Samantha walking toward us. “Grad student at the U. We were going to do some serious snuggling.”

“Roger, what happened?” she cried, putting an arm around me.

“I don’t have a house anymore,” I told her. “I should take you back to your place—this...”

She interrupted by throwing her arms around me. “No! Please, I don’t want to leave you, especially now!”

I held her—she was practically frantic. I held her and rocked her. David gave me a crooked smile and nodded.

“Okay, okay... It’s all right, Sam. This is why we have insurance. Go back to the car—I’ll be right there.”

“I don’t want to leave you! Not now!” she cried.

“It’s okay, Sam—I won’t leave you. Please, wait in the car. We’ll leave soon, I promise.”

With a few more hugs and some encouragement, she headed back to the car.

I looked at David. He tried to wipe the smirk off his face.

“I’m sorry, Roger. But I think you have pissed some people off.”

“Yeah, I guess. Okay, where are we going?”

“Follow me. It’s actually just on the other side of the University. We use it as a safehouse, and for visitors. It’s as secure as we can make it. One of our people will be next door at all times. You’ll have privacy, as well as security.”

“Thanks, David—I owe you a big one. The dojo is okay?”

He nodded. “I’ve got a man there, and everything is fine.”

“I want to swing by there.”

He frowned. “It’s my professional recommendation that you don’t do that. I don’t even like you standing here in the open, even with that coat on.”

I looked at him, then nodded. “I accept your professional recommendation.”

“Let’s get going,” he told me.

I followed David, driving with one hand, the other being held by Samantha. She seemed more shaken up than me. I guess I was numb. “It’s okay, Sam—we’re unhurt.”

“But you lost everything...”

“I lost the house and everything in it. But I’ve still got me, right?”

As we drove out, a TV news truck passed us going the other way, going to where my house had been.

We drove to a townhouse. David had been on his phone on the way over. A guy standing by the front door walked to the drive way as we approached and pointed me into the garage. I drove in.

The garage door closed as I got out of the car. The guy we’d seen came through the door at the end of the garage. “Doctor Hawthorne?” he asked.

“Call me Roger,” I told him, shaking his hand.

“Sir, I’m Tom. Larry and I will be looking after you. Here miss, let me help with those,” he added, stepping over to get Samantha’s bags.

He led us into a nicely furnished townhouse, putting Samantha’s bags on the couch.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked.

He pointed to the hallway. “First door on your left, miss.”

He turned to me after she walked away. “Sir, the boss doesn’t want you leaving tonight. One of us will pick up whatever you want for dinner. The red buttons in each room are panic buttons. Use the white phone in the kitchen to get us at any time. We will always call you on the white phone before we come to the door. Any questions, sir?”

I shook my head. “Can’t think of any right now. Is David still around?”

“I can check for you, sir, but I think he headed back to the office.”

“Okay. I want to meet Larry so I know what both of you look like. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

Tom nodded. “Are you armed, sir?”

I shook my head. “No. Did David tell you my background?”

He smiled. “A little, sir. Larry trained with you last year, and remembers the experience vividly.”

I had to smile a bit at that. Some people tend to go away with bruises...

Samantha returned.

“Stick around for a minute,” I told Tom, then walked over to her. I held her, comforting her. “How are you doing?”

She snuggled closer. “Better when you hold me. What do we do about dinner?”

I held her, rocking her a little. “How about Chinese? We can have it delivered.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right back. Sit down and rest, or see if there’s anything in the refrigerator for us to drink.”

With a hug, she went to the kitchen.

“Dinner order?” I told Tom. I suggested a Chinese take-out chain we’d passed on the way. He took notes, nodded, and headed out the door.

The white phone rang a minute or so later. Samantha jumped and shrieked. I answered it. “Jello?”

“Sir, this is Tom. I’d like to come by with Larry for a moment.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone, then waited by the door. I shook out my arms and stood ready. Anything short of guns I could handle. Where was that little sprayer? In my school bag, if I remembered correctly. Too late for that now, and I wasn’t well practiced with it.

A knock on the door—I checked the peephole. I recognized Tom from earlier, and yes, I vaguely recognized Larry. He’d been one of the cocky ones. One of them usually gets bruised early, a good teaching methodology as one of my colleagues put it.

Still, I was edgy as I opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” I said, extending a hand to Larry. He shook my hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“Samantha?” I called. She stood up and walked over, quite meekly.

“Tom and Larry,” I introduced. “Don’t open the door for anyone but them.” She nodded.

Tom said, “I’m off to pick up your dinner. Be back in half an hour or so. Did you want anything to drink that’s not in the fridge?”

I stepped back to the kitchen, instinctively not turning my back to them. I opened the fridge. It had milk, sodas, some beer, a bottle of white wine. “I think we’re fine.”

With a nod, they left.

“Sam, want something to drink?” I called out as I pulled a can of 7-Up from the fridge.

“Pepsi is okay,” she said. I heard more noise—she must have turned on the TV.

I got her a can of Pepsi, and on second thought got a glass as well, something Barbara chided me on. Where was she?

I sat on the couch next to Samantha. She’d turned on the evening news, but muted the sound. Seemed like a good compromise to me. She smiled as she thanked me for the Pepsi, pouring some into the glass. I suppressed a laugh and drank my 7-Up from the can.

After a few sips, I put it down and curled up at her side, resting my head on her shoulder. When I closed my eyes, my head buzzed. What the fuck were they doing to my place when the cops arrived? What do I do now? Call the insurance guy tomorrow morning, that’s for sure. Call Abiko? I wanted to talk to Barbara most of all. I needed her.

Still, what was the old Crosby, Stills, and Nash line? Love the one you’re with? Why had she freaked out, and why hadn’t I?

“Roger, look!” she said suddenly.

I looked up at the TV. There on screen was a woman reporter standing in front of what was left of my house. Samantha picked up the remote and stabbed a button, giving us sound.

“While police reports are still sketchy, what we know at this time is that officers earlier today interrupted a burglary in progress at this Palomar Drive home. Here’s Lieutenant Mannion.”

Cut to the lieutenant. “Officers earlier today interrupted a burglary in progress. Two suspects exchanged shots with our officers. One officer was wounded. Backup units exchanged fire with the suspects. Both suspects were hit and are presumed dead. During the exchange, the dwelling caught fire, and the fire department was unable to save the structure. That’s all we know at this time. The resident was away at the time and is unhurt. Our officer was transported to the hospital, and was released with minor injuries. Our investigation is continuing.”

Cut back to the dark-haired reporter. She looked thin on top to me. “We have been unable to contact the owner of the house, a Physics professor at the University. Police were unwilling to comment on whether this incident was related to an incident on the North side of town earlier today, where a townhouse complex was evacuated and one resident hospitalized with carbon monoxide poisoning. Our crews are continuing to investigate. Back to you, Jerry.”

I reached for the remote and pushed the Mute button. I liked that button. But my heart was racing and my hands were cold—that had to be Janice. What had David told me about her? I thought she was okay. “Be right back,” I told Samantha, kissing her on the shoulder.

I picked up the white phone in the kitchen. It didn’t have a dial.

“Yes, sir?” Larry answered.

“Do you know what happened to Janice this afternoon?” I asked him.

“Uh, no sir, I don’t. Would you like me to find out?”

“I would like David to call me. Can you arrange that?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll call the office. If he can’t get back to you right away, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

I stood in the kitchen, holding on to the edge of the sink, holding it tight. I forced myself to let go, then turned on the water, letting it get warm. I ran it over my wrists and hands, trying to warm up. Cold hands meant something had spooked me. It didn’t happen often.

The white phone rang.

“Yeah?” I said.

“How are you doing?” David asked.

“We’re as good as can be expected,” I told him, “What’s this shit I saw on TV about monoxide poisoning? Was that Janice?”

I could hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “Yes, she’s at Memorial Hospital, and is expected to recover fully. As soon as things started popping at your place, I sent a team over to check on her. One man went in to talk to her, the other checking the premises. She reported not feeling well, and our man talking to her soon developed a headache. The man doing the outside check found a gas canister attached to the wall outside her bedroom. He evacuated them from the unit and called fire and paramedics. Fire went in with a monoxide detector, which went off immediately. The fire captain said he’d never seen CO readings as high as they got in her bedroom. She was lucky the door was closed; the concentration in there would have been fatal very quickly, and the concentration where she was would have been fatal in a matter of hours. We showed fire the canister, and they secured it. They evacuated the building, sending Janice and Hal off to the hospital. Hal’s been released, but they’re keeping Janice on oxygen. She should be released tomorrow.”

“Shit. Can you get word to her that I’m okay, and concerned about her?”

“Of course. One of our people is watching her. The police were by a while ago. I don’t know what she told them. You want to give me your cell phone number now?”

I took it out of my pocket and gave him the number. “Don’t spread it around, though—I didn’t give it to the cops.”

“I noticed. We told the people at the dojo you’re safe.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. How long do I need to stay cooped up?”

He chuckled. “How long would you like? Seriously, just overnight, although you’re more than welcome to use the place for the next week or so. We’ll know better in the morning. You could try reaching Hammond and company.”

“Yeah, I’ll try them. David, thanks again, especially for checking on Janice.”

“You’re quite welcome. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. Talk to you in the morning.”

I hung up and tried my cell phone. Funny—it couldn’t get a signal. I frowned, looking around. I picked up the white phone again.

“Yes sir? Your dinner should be here in a couple of minutes.”

“That’s great. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my cell phone doesn’t work in here.”

“The facility is shielded, sir. I think you understand.”

“Yes, I do. Is the other phone fairly safe?”

“As far as we know, sir.”

“And I suppose you’d be upset if I went outside to use mine?”

“I wish you wouldn’t, sir—I’d have to try to stop you.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be good and use the other phone.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Oh, your dinner is here.”

“Okay, send it on over.”

“Dinner,” I called to Samantha.

She stood up, stretching. God, what a gorgeous body... Young, but so voluptuous.

There was a knock on the door, and before I could get to it, she’d opened it. Luckily, it was just dinner.

We set things up on the kitchen table. I thought about it, but didn’t reprimand her for opening the door. She seemed oblivious to that aspect of our situation. Lucky girl.

Eating seemed to cheer both of us up. The hot and sour soup really helped.

“I’ll clean up,” she said when we’d finished.

“Thanks,” I said, hugging her. “I’ve some phone calls to make.”

I went to the phone by the couch and dialed my 888 support number. “This is Hawthorne. I need Hammond, now,” I told them. A flustered voice replied, “I’m sorry, Doctor Hawthorne, but the Director isn’t available. We expect him to be calling in tomorrow. Is there something we can do?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m out of cell phone coverage until some time tomorrow. I’ll try again.”

“Can he reach you at this number in Seattle if we speak with him?”

I blinked. She read me the number listed on the phone. “Yes, I’ll be here until tomorrow morning at least, then at my University office, and my cell should be up again.”

“We’ll give him that information as soon as we can, Doctor.”

“Thank you. Good night,” I told them.

I tried both of Barbara’s numbers, leaving a brief message on her home machine that I was out of cell reach until the morning. No answer on her cell.

I put down the phone and closed my eyes. I sat there on the couch, a strange couch. What should I do first? Thoughts gathered, and I tried to sweep them away. Focus on breath. Breath going in, breath going out. That’s all.

“Roger?”

I looked up to Samantha standing a few feet away.

I smiled; looking at her does that to me. “Yes?”

“Would you like me to clean up and put on some perfume?” she said, turning on the sex appeal.

I took a breath. “Yes, please,” I whispered.

She picked up her bags and carried them down the hall, her hips signaling her intent.

I went to the white phone again.

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop calling me sir. Can I get some things out of my car, or do you want to help?”

“Go right ahead sir, just make sure the door is secured when you’re done.”

“Thanks.”

The door from the townhouse to the garage was solid. Not as solid as the ones on the island, or at the clinic—probably just a standard fire door. I got my school gym bag from the car. It had toiletries, clean undies, and clean socks. It would have to do.

I set the deadbolt on the door once in the house again. Walking by a half bath, I stopped and used the can. I washed my face and hands, looking at the character in the mirror. Another roller coaster ride, eh?

“Oh Roger,” a sweet voice called out.

I closed my eyes again, taking a full breath, letting it out, letting go of this load of crap. I opened my eyes with a smile—I’m sure it will be right where I left it in the morning. And if some of it is gone by then, so much the better.

The bedroom light was off, but a dim light was still on in the bathroom. She was wearing that soft top, but nothing else as she stood in the bathroom doorway, silhouetted in the light. I undressed quickly but carefully—these clothes were going to have to last for a while.

We met by the side of the bed. We kissed, embracing. I breathed in her perfume. We ran our hands over each other. She was firm and delicious.

She moved me back to the bed and on to my back, moving on top of me.

“Hold me, please,” I whispered.

“Shhh... I know how to take care of you,” she whispered in reply. She pulled up her soft sweater top on one side, drawing me to a nipple.

My eyes closed and I trembled as she drew me closer. My arms wrapped around her, and her arms wrapped around me, enveloping me in soft warm flesh and the softness of her top. I breathed slow and deep, drowning myself in her perfume.

“I’ve got you, Roger,” she whispered. Her hand at the back of my head sent a shudder and a moan through me. “I’ve got you,” she whispered again.

I gave myself to her. She held me so well, comforting me, eventually moving me to my back and riding us both on a soft, dreamy cloud. I remember hearing her cry out, and how good that felt to me, holding her, squeezing her, finally coming deep inside her as she held me to a nipple once more.

And after we made love, moving under the sheets, she drew me to her again, skin against skin, going to sleep in her arms to the sound of her beating heart.

I woke in the dark to unfamiliar sounds—a siren somewhere. There was more traffic noise than I usually experienced. I turned in bed, listening to Samantha breathing; she sounded a little congested. I got up and visited the loo. Three in the morning—what a trip. I made sure the alarm clock by the side of the bed was set for seven.

I looked out the bedroom windows for a bit; not much of a view. I moved to the open area near the foot of the bed to stretch. I warmed up to splits, then settled into swan pose, closing my eyes and focusing on the breath, feeling what was happening.

“What are you doing?” a sleepy voice asked.

“Unwinding,” I said. “I’ll be back to bed in a few minutes.”

She rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

“I know how to help,” she whispered a bit later, touching my head.

I could feel the heat radiating from her, and smell fresh perfume. She led me back to bed, and back into her embrace. I lost myself in her as she held me. She cooed as I sucked, trying to devour her, trying to appease some inner need. She squeezed me and took me away from all those problems, taking me to comfort, then passion, and then to sleep once again in her embrace.