The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part 5

I woke in the morning before the alarm went off. I moved over and snuggled close to Christie. With a sigh she moved into my embrace, holding my hand between her breasts.

When the alarm sounded, I rolled over and silenced it. When I turned back to her, she was propped up on an elbow, and giving me the most curious look. I put my hand to my forehead.

She wrinkled her brow, smiling. “What is it?”

“Just checking to see if I’d grown a third eye during the night, the way you were looking at me.”

She shook her head. “I’ll go first...” She rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

I used the half bath. My ribs were better this morning, and my face didn’t hurt as much. Of course the day was quite young—let’s see how I was doing come nightfall. I thought I heard her brushing her teeth. I checked under the sink—still had half a bottle of mouthwash there. I rinsed my mouth with a slug of the stuff, then with a few handfuls of water.

I crawled back in bed with her and started to speak, but she pulled me into a kiss. This morning she felt energetic, confidant, and delicious. She pressed my head down, and I moved to enjoy her gifts. “Oh you...” she cooed as she held me to a nipple.

She squeezed me and I let go to her, dropping into softness and passion. She held me, eventually moving me to my back and straddling me. I held her waist as she rode us.

My breathing shifted as I got to the edge, focusing and relaxing at the same time. I moaned as one of her hands moved behind my head. She shifted her weight on top of me, leaning forward.

She pulled me to a breast and held me there. She squeezed my head to her, leaning into me, filling me as she rocked. The strength, the ferocity with which she held me surprised me. I held her as she took me over the edge, squeezing, rocking.

When I opened my eyes after she’d released me, milking me with her hips, I looked into her eyes looking down on me with an intent look and smile.

“Good morning!” I told her.

She ground her hips on me, starting to push me out. “That’s for last night...”

She got up with a slurp and skittered to the bathroom. “Let’s get going! You’ve got an exciting day ahead of you!”

I made it to the doctor’s office a few minutes early. Doctor Richards was there already, so we got started.

We spent over an hour talking, going through things that had happened. I learned what “clinical detachment” means. Working with Christie, I had the feeling, the sense she was there with me, beside me. Richards and I may have been in the same room, sitting only a few feet apart, but we might as well have been on different planets. But even with that detachment, we went through a lot. Then it was, “Take a break—use the restroom and we’ll continue.”

Standing at the urinal, sighing—jackhammer, that was it. Richards was a jackhammer. No emotion, no attachment, digging in, digging, digging, digging. Such a change from Christie!

When I returned to our little room a nurse was there. A cart with a cloth cover obscuring the contents was also there. Richards had me take off my dress shirt, leaving me in my tank top. On my back on the exam table, the nurse put a tourniquet around my upper arm and started prepping me for an injection or an I.V. I gave them both a concerned and questioning look.

Before I could ask though, Richards said, “It’s been cleared by all the medical personnel involved. This is the easy way.”

I shook my head a little, but closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to let go once again. Soon I felt the bite of a needle in my arm. After that things got fuzzy.

Did I relive old events, or was I there again? At times I was reliving things, and other times I was there as an observer. For a while we watched movies of Denise and me, and talked about them. Some of those were difficult. Then I got to rest, following Doctor Richards’ voice down to a place that was safe, secure, and comfortable.

Things changed. I was standing in front of a man holding a sword—I could see the glint of its metal edge. He held it at the ready. As I observed him, looking for weaknesses, I knew he was doing the same with me. He looked hard and cold, ready to strike, ready to kill. I knew there was someone behind me, someone I needed to protect.

I was at a safe distance. As I moved to the side, he moved to the side as well, moving smoothly. How do I defeat such an enemy? I remembered what O Sensei had said: “Because I am one with the universe, when someone attacks me, he goes against the entire universe.”

But my faith had been shattered in an elevator in Chicago. No, not shattered—I was back to relying upon myself. Zanshin, calm. I studied him.

I realized who he was, and smiled. I knew this enemy. I was looking at myself, my Shadow, my darker parts. Such enemies are not defeated—they must be forgiven. I opened my hands in welcome, raising them slowly.

My hands raised until they were holding the sword above my head; I had merged into him, the two of us becoming one again. I saw a young boy standing a few feet away, behind where I had been moments before. His face was battered and bruised. I sheathed my sword and moved to his side quickly, going down on one knee. “I’ll protect you,” I told him, looking into his tear-filled eyes.

Another sound and I turned as I stood, one hand going to the hilt of the sword.

There he stood in front of us, my step-father. I could smell the foul combination of sweat, cigarette smoke, and booze on him. His leather belt hung from his right hand, the heavy buckle dragging on the ground. I remembered and felt the scar on my right side, and the pain where the hook on that buckle had caught me so many, many years ago.

I had been defenseless against him then... I pulled my sword out a little more. One stroke would end this.

But as I stood there, I remembered the man I’d first seen holding the sword. Striking down my step-father was that man’s path, not mine.

Still, I couldn’t forgive him—not yet, maybe not ever. But I didn’t need to strike him, either—he was dead; he’d been dead for a long, long time. I remembered my mother sobbing as the policeman told us he’d been killed in a bar fight, and the mixture of feelings I’d had.

I wouldn’t fight him, and I couldn’t forgive him. I looked at him. “Go away. You don’t exist. You can’t hurt us anymore,” I told him. I stood and watched as he slowly turned and walked away, dragging the belt with him. Part of me knew denying him wasn’t a final answer either, but it would have to do for now.

I turned to the little boy once again, kneeling. I held him. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt us. I’ll protect you—I promise.” We both cried. After a while the boy held me fiercely, and I held him just as tight.

I rested again. Part of me was resting, rocking slowly. Part of me was exercising, practicing, covered in sweat, repeating the katas over and over. Pieces of conversations flitted through my mind. Some were troubling. Denise had done a lot of nasty things to me. One thing flitted by and I grabbed for it, holding on to it. My ribs, my entire right side hurt as I reached up to grab for those words, but I got them and held them.

I knew I’d been attracted to Christie from the moment we first met. Now I knew that Denise had only built on that. She hadn’t turned me, or forced anything—if anything she’d developed what had been there. Where she had tried to force things, it hadn’t worked—we were alive to prove it. That felt so much better.

When I opened my eyes, I was soaked with sweat. A sheet was covering me, my right arm on top of the sheet, the nurse putting a bandage on the inside of my elbow. I looked to Richards, questioning. My right side hurt—yet it had been my left side that had been injured in Chicago. I felt the frown at my forehead dissolve as I let my breath out. My step-father had always hit me on the right side, especially that once.

As the nurse pushed the cart out the door, Richards stood and smoothed her skirt. “We did very well this morning. You should clean up a bit before lunch.”

Always businesslike. “Yes, thank you,” I said.

“Take your time getting up,” she said as she left the room.

I sat up slowly and wiped myself off with the sheet. What a trip! Then I smiled. I’d been so worried that the feelings I had toward Christie were artificial, forced. I knew they’d been amplified, but at the core, they were my feelings. That was something I could hold on to.

Lunch was weird. I sat with Richards and two other doctors. I got more of the run-down on the stuff I’d been given in Chicago. I was lucky to be here. We spent most of the time talking about that, and my recovery. Richards had some very interesting observations of me at the dojo; she had a keen eye. The other docs actually asked me how I was feeling! All this time we might as well have been talking about someone else. I told them how I was doing, what I noticed, particularly on my right side. The other docs wanted to do some physical therapy later in the afternoon. Richards nodded and told them that would fit in well.

I was sent away to rest for a half hour while they plotted. I visited the loo, then headed back to the little exam room and flaked out on the exam table. The linens had been changed. What a trip.

The afternoon session started with a mask held to my face until my body floated away. It was more of the weird many-places-at-once thing, part of me on the table on my back, part of me conversing, reliving and revisiting events, practicing with sword and staff. I realized how I’d thrown my self into the practice, and into schooling after my step-father was gone. Interesting.

I had a mask on my face at the start of the bodywork as well. Even with that, though, intense sensation crept through the fog. When my head cleared, I took a shower. Standing, moving in the shower, I felt different. I was looser, able to move with more freedom. It was interesting—some of the tightness and tension had been physical, and some emotional, mental. I felt a residual soreness and tiredness, but they were what I descried to students as “finish line” sensations—the things you feel when you’ve completed something major.

I sat down with Richards for a while afterwards. I had the feeling we were talking about someone else. We’d gotten through the problem areas, and she’d learned a lot more about Denise’s tricks. Those had been cleared out. If I continued to have problems or concerns, the people at the clinic would set me up with someone.

And that was that—I headed to the dojo. I was first to arrive. As I started to change, I thought about the FedEx envelope and opened it.

I guess I have some bladder control again—I was sitting in my chair in my underwear, and didn’t pee when I looked through the thing. They wanted to give me a pile of money, and provide health coverage for the rest of my life. There were weird phrases in it that I didn’t understand yet were repeated often enough that they obviously had significance, at least to someone. I dug out the attorney’s card I’d been given a few days ago and gave the guy a call. Yes, he could help, so I faxed him a copy as I asked him questions. It turned out some of the language was there to minimize tax consequences. We were still on the phone when Abiko stuck her head in the door. I nodded to her, finished up with the legal beagle, and got dressed.

It was so good to be on the mat again. I was tired, but it was a good tired, and I was flowing, more so than in quite a while. I flashed back momentarily to a long randori session in Japan—I was in that place within myself again, present, flowing, aware.

I was so happy to see Christie come in! I went right over to her.

“It’s so good to see you,” I told her as I gave her a hug. “What’s so funny?”

She was still chuckling as she pulled me to my office. “Do you realize that when you saw me you threw Daniel through the air?”

I tried to look around but she continued pulling me to my office.

“How did things go today?” she asked as she hugged me.

I held her, kissing her neck and inhaling her scent. “Jackhammer,” I said, kissing her.

“What?” she asked, leaning back.

I turned so I was leaning against the desk and she was leaning against me. “Richards is a jackhammer—penetrating, focused, impersonal.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Well, I’m not sure I’d...”

I pulled her to me and kissed her, pulling her shoulders to me.

“I take it things went well then...” she sighed, holding on to me.

I held her and rubbed her back. “Yes, from what little she told me, they went well. Actually I’m quite relieved with respect to a number of issues. And none of it would have been possible without you...” I held her and kissed her neck. I almost said those three magic words, but I held off for some reason.

“But right now we should either go back to the tatami, or leave,” I whispered.

She laughed and ran her hands over me. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re better.” Then she growled, “I hope you’re not too wiped out...”

I looked in her eyes. “I’m sure you can motivate me...”

She laughed and pulled me out of the office. She went to change and I bowed and went back to class. Abiko had the class lined up and sitting.

The difference between them—Christie and Richards—two different styles. That turned into my teaching for the evening, the different styles, soft and hard, recognizing not only our own humanity, but also that of everyone around us.

I have disagreements with the hard style, its confrontational nature. I called on Nathan, one of our bigger brown-belts to attack me. He outweighs me by thirty pounds or more. I used a ki throw, fast and hard.

After helping him up and dusting him off, I told the class, “That’s the hard style—confrontational. I put my strength and skill against my attacker. If my skill and strength are greater, I win.” I could tell a number of my students were still surprised at what I’d done to Nathan; I didn’t use those techniques very often.

“But in life,” I said, softening and smiling, indicating for Abiko to stand, “for so many things, confrontation is not the answer. For so many things, the answer is not confrontation, but forgiveness.” I whispered to Abiko the technique I wanted her to use. She smiled and nodded.

I turned and took a few steps away from her.

And I turned again, screaming and charging at her like a madman.

Bless her, she responded perfectly, slamming me to the mat. My ribs hurt, and I leaked into my gi, but it was a most satisfying pain.

She helped me up and we bowed. The class was in shock. I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud.

“See the difference? When Nathan attacked me, I confronted him—me against him, ego against ego. This time my strength and skill were superior. I defeated him. Again, ego over ego. A short while ago I was not so skilled.” I gave a nod to Christie as she sat down in the second row.

I turned to Abiko. “But with Abiko, when I attacked, did she confront me? Was that a clash of ego against ego? No! She remained at peace with the world around her, opened herself up, accepting, forgiving, welcoming. No ego there, we became one, in our motion, our energy, our spirit. And she guided, directed our energy, then separated from it.”

I could see the awareness in some of them. Patti was getting it. Janice was nodding, giving me the most intense, strange look. She was becoming a regular.

“What happened after I threw Nathan? Did you see how I stood, how I was at the end of the throw?” I took the stance again, hard, focused. “Ego! Confrontation! Raising my ki against someone, separating myself from the world! Such foolishness!”

I smiled to Abiko again. “But Abiko—what did she do?” I mimicked the technique she used, opening up, flowing smoothly, circularly. “I could be dancing in a park” I repeated the technique, humming, flowing, smiling. I heard some of them laugh; good! “Moving in harmony with everything, blending and flowing,” I said as I moved, continuing the sequence the technique was taken from. “No confrontation, no ego. We need to learn to wake from this illusion of ego, to act with compassion, from our center, from our heart.”

I gestured to the portrait of O Sensei at the head of the dojo. “O Sensei taught us—if I am one with the universe and you attack me, you are attacking the universe—so silly!”

I looked at my students again. I saw a tear roll down Janice’s face. I looked to her and smiled, then to Christie, and Patti, and to many others—some would not meet my gaze.

“Please forgive your Sensei, some times he is quite silly.” I told them, shaking my head. “Let us practice together.”

It took Abiko a while to regain her teaching balance. I made it clear to her that she was to use me as a tool. I gave myself to the class.

At the end of class, I thought I felt more than formality in the way some students bowed to Abiko and me. Abiko and I turned so we were facing the head of the dojo along with the rest of the class. I let the feeling of thanks, to O Sensei for his teachings, for Christie, for Patti, for all those who had helped bring me to this place—even my step-father, direct my bow as I called out, “Rei!”

Some students thanked me again as they left. I saw one teenager walking over to his mom, here to pick him up after class—he shook his head and sighed, then gave his mom a big hug.

I laughed and hugged Janice and Patti, who were standing near me.

Janice gave me another of those looks, bordering on adoration. I sighed and shook my head, keeping my arms around the two of them. “I’m only human,” I told them. Abiko and Christie were walking toward us. “When Abiko threw me, I peed in my gi.” Patti giggled. Good, that was enough to shake them up.

Abiko paused about five feet away. She gave me a slight bow.

Christie stepped up to me with a big smile, took my arm in hers, and led me to the door.

When we got home, I begged her to take me and use me. She did, oh how she did. Walking through Ashes

We made love again in the morning, showering together and managing to get out of the house more or less on time. I had time before my Thursday classes, so I called the attorney. The thing looked good to him. He wanted to know if I had a financial advisor. I did, and said I’d get him in the act. The agreement needed to be witnessed and notarized, their office could do that for me any time I dropped by.

It wasn’t until I was walking over for lunch that I thought of Christie. I saw a young woman with the same color hair and similar build bouncing along the path with a big smile on her face. I was so much more relaxed about my feelings toward Christie now. I shook my head—what was she going through? That jackhammer, pounding away, digging deeper and deeper.

A class after lunch and I was in the office before going to the dojo.

I was getting ready to leave when the phone rang. “Hawthorne,” I said, answering.

“Roger...”

It was Christie, and from the way she said my name I had a very bad feeling.

“Christie... What’s wrong? What can I do?”

She sighed. “Roger... This is difficult for me, for us both, but I’m headed back home; we shouldn’t see each other ... for a while.”

“Christie... Why? Please, tell me...”

“Oh Roger, we’ve both been used... I’ve used you, manipulated you...”

“I don’t have any complaints...”

“You couldn’t, Roger—not with what’s been done to you, what we did...”

“No Christie—please listen to me. One of the things I was most worried about, and one of the things I learned yesterday—you may have manipulated and used me, but you only succeeded in bringing out things that were already there. From the first moment we met in the airport, I was attracted to you. I remember sitting in the back seat of that car, holding your hands and trying to calm your fear... You’ve taken a seed that was there, and helped it grow and blossom.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Roger...”

“I’m not saying it is... What I’m saying is that I haven’t been forced or coerced into anything—remember, we’re still here because I rejected such an attempt, isn’t that true?”

She sighed. “Yes it is, Roger... Oh Roger, I don’t know all of a sudden... I don’t know how to tell whether something I did was because I wanted it, or because...”

“Christie, what difference does it make now? That’s the past. But I know how you feel about that—I went through that, and I’m still going through that. But I know that my feelings about you started the first moment I looked at you in the airport. You, the two of you, built on those, but I think you’d have to agree they grew the way I wanted them, right?”

“Oh Roger, how I want to believe that... I’m just not sure... I need time...”

“Then let’s go off somewhere for a week or two and figure it out, together, please.”

Another sigh. “Oh, that’s so tempting...”

“Then let’s do it—now. Where are you?”

“But I know I can’t do that, Roger—I need the time, alone.”

Three words were on my lips, and in my heart. But part of me thought saying them would not help matters at all. “Christie, it’s okay to learn from the past, but don’t dwell in it.”

“Yes, Sensei—some times I just want to be held, have you hold me so I can cry...”

“I’ll hold you and protect you. I’ll do anything I can, you know that—and I’ll do it because I want to.”

Silence on the other end of the line—wheels turning...

“Roger,”

I knew her answer from the tone of that first word.

“I need to work it out by myself,” she continued. “Roger, thank you so much for all you’ve taught me. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, I really am. Perhaps some day...”

“Christie, thank you—you’ve opened up so many things in me. I’m here when you need me. I’m anywhere you want me to be, all you have to do is call.”

“Thank you, Roger. I know. Good bye, Roger.”

Click.

I sighed and put the phone down. What to say? I had two choices.

“Oh fuck... I love you, Christie.” There, said both of them.

Now what?

I grabbed my coat, closed my office and walked down to the car. I had classes to teach.

“Fuck,” I said, repeating myself as I got out of the car at the dojo. I’d traveled on auto-pilot. I hope if I do that on the mat, someone whacks me but good...

The dojo was quiet and dark. I changed in my office. Walking out to the mats, I left the main lights off, just the one always-on fixture illuminating the place. I bowed and stepped on to the mat. I got my favorite wooden practice sword.

And went to the head of the dojo and sat in front of the portrait of O Sensei, Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of Aikido. I bowed to him, straightened my clothing, and closed my eyes.

Focus on the breath at the nostril—breath goes in, breath goes out. Nothing but breath. Life begins with the breath.

Thoughts, memories, sensations flitted through me. Return to the breath, the sensation of breath at the nostril. Tears flowed down my cheeks, memories of Christie. I know all is impermanence, all will pass, but it hurts! Acknowledge that, too—and return to the breath.

Memories, the past, the future—what next? What do I do next? What I do now is focus on the breath. Congratulations, you’re human.

I thought of one of Ryokan’s poems, writing of the anguish of not being able to sleep. Hell, he was enlightened, and he had problems. I’m supposed to be better? Back to the breath.

Eventually, sounds behind me—a car in the parking lot outside, the door opening. Shit—I’m sitting with my back to the damn door. When will I learn? Female voices—Abiko and Patti? A click and I sensed the main lights coming on.

“Oh!” one of them said softly. Patti?

I bowed to the portrait of Ueshiba Sensei and turned to them, opening my eyes. Part of me found a smile. I stood and walked over to them.

Patti is wonderful. She and Abiko both looked at me, and had questioning looks on their faces, but it was Patti who spoke up. “Sensei, are you okay?” Such heart and courage! I felt that Abiko had the same question, but didn’t dare ask.

I nodded. “A difficult day—Christie left,” I told them. For how long?

I turned to Abiko. “What are you teaching tonight, Sensei?”

That did the trick; she recovered quite quickly. The secret to randori—keep everyone off balance...

“Sempai Patti, do you feel like working on suwariwaza for a while?”

I saw the surprise flick over her face.

“Ah, give me a few minutes, Sensei,” she said.

I gave her a stern look, shaking my head, but I couldn’t hold it—I broke into a smile. “Okay—five minutes, then we work together.”

She smiled, a bit sheepishly, and bowed.

I took up my practice sword again and let the katas do me. I started with one of my favorites, then moved to one of my least favorites, one I’d been drilled on in Japan. It had taken me a while to get over my ego, and realize that while there were differences of style involved, I also had new technique to learn. I focused on movement, refining the flow. The sword and I are one. The pain and I were still one as well, but that’s life.

Completing the kata once more, I turned and saw Patti on her knees, working with Abiko. Heart, and courage! I sat and observed.

On one technique, Patti wasn’t really following through. I moved closer, sitting a few feet away. “Patti, on that technique, what would happen if Abiko pulled up her right knee sharply as you threw her?”

Abiko grinned, and Patti frowned. Abiko would clobber her in the side of the head is what would happen, because she wasn’t following through.

“Do this please—gently at first, Abiko,” I suggested. “Gently” was mild-concussion strength, and Patti got the ideal really quick.

I had them pause, and demonstrated, slowly, showing the angle of the forearm and upper arm to distribute the impact. And as I turned my torso slowly, a twinge shot from my left hip, diagonally across my back to my right ribs and right shoulder. I completed the movement, but then rolled to my back, rolling to stretch out the muscles. Patti pounced on me, rolling me to my stomach and pressing on my mid and upper back.

“Thank you,” I told her when I could sit up. I bowed to her.

Patti really surprised me—she gave me the stern Sensei look, shaking her head slowly, lips pursed just so, and told me, “You need to take better care of yourself.”

I bowed to her, partly so she couldn’t see the smile on my face.

When I sat up, Abiko was giving me the look as well. She gave a glance to Patti. Women communicate on channels men can’t understand. They bowed to me, then got up. I watched as they bowed at the edge of the mat. They headed to my office to do their plotting.

I sighed and stood, wincing a little. I picked up my friend the sword, and practiced, slow and even, with breath and ki.

As we gathered for the first class of the evening, I started to sit up front, but Abiko pointed to the side, where a visiting instructor or dignitary would sit. Her manner and expression left little doubt about what she expected from me. So I made little bows to her and scrambled over to my new spot, bowing again a few times as some of the class chuckled. Janice was there, with an interesting look on her face. Did she know? Most likely.

Abiko and Patti led a very good class. They used me, somewhat sparingly. My shoulder was still tight, and I had a tight spot low in my back. During the break between classes, Patti rushed off with Abiko and Janice to huddle. Oh well—I worked with other students.

Patti came up to me before we started the second class. “You’re seeing my sister at eight thirty tomorrow morning—be there.”

I raised an eyebrow. Then I smiled and bowed. A massage would do me good. “Thank you.”

The second class was good as well; they kept me busy.

After the second class on Thursdays, there’s a longer break, about 45 minutes before the yoga people take over. I’d already decided to do the yoga class.

I went to my office, taking off my hakima and the top of my gi. Hmpf—yellow spot on my gi pants from where I’d peed myself last night. Couldn’t wear those for yoga. I got a spare pair from the drawer and put them on, along with one of my Canondale tank tops.

Walking back on to the mats, Abiko and Janice were still there. Both of them gave me questioning looks.

“I’m staying for yoga,” I told them.

“Me too,” Janice said.

I plopped down on the mat. Janice stood next to me.

“Were you told to babysit me?” I asked her.

“No,” she replied as she sat down next to me.

I nodded, and she added, “I’m doing it on my own.”

I thought about the stern Sensei look, but instead said, “Thank you.”

I sat in meditation, focusing once more on breath. Thoughts, memories again—tears coming to my eyes at Patti giving me the stern look—she and Abiko were such treasures. Back to the breath. What am I avoiding? Back to breath. I’m trying to escape—sooner or later I’ll have to deal with it. Back to breath.

I heard Donna’s voice, she teaches yoga with her partner Bob. I looked around and saw them talking to Janice. Okay, it’s a plot. What else is new? Go with it.

I hadn’t done yoga in a while, two months or more. I paid attention to what my body told me; it told me I was still recovering.

After class I was talking to Bob when Janice walked up.

“Thanks,” I told her, “I’m sticking around to lock up.”

She looked me in the eye. “No you’re not. We’re going to get something to eat. My status has been changed.”

“You’re officially babysitting me?”

She nodded. “Call from the Director. He’s concerned, about both of you.”

“Okay—where to? Dick’s on 25th by school?” That’s one of my favorite fast food places near school.

She frowned. “I want to sit down—how about The Deluxe Tavern.”

“North end of Broadway?” I asked. Shows how little I knew about her.

She nodded. “You want to drive us, or should I?”

“I’ll go change,” I told her. “and you can drive.”

A few blocks from the dojo, she asked me, “So what are you going to do now?”

I shrugged. “Have something to eat, go home and go to bed.”

“Nonresponsive—you can do better than that.”

Ooh, not going to get out of this one easily. “I’m not sure.”

“What options do you have?”

I nodded. I had quite a few. Hmmm, wonder if Samantha, that chem grad student is busy?

“That’s better—who is she?” Janice asked.

I chuckled. “Short-term. I’ve got classes, at school and at the dojo, students, a pretty full plate.”

“And you can leave those in the blink of an eye. You’re overdue for a sabbatical, Abiko and Patti can handle the dojo, and you have plenty of people who can cover for you at the University.”

“Some conscience you are,” I muttered.

She answered with a glance and a raised eyebrow.

“I could go back to Japan for a while. Hideo-Sensei says I should sit Zen for a month or so. Do that, then study with him for a while.”

“And what else?”

Did she know about Barbara, the whole thing in D.C.?

“Janice, why do I feel that I’m playing a card game in which everyone knows the cards I’m holding except me?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. “Because you’re smart.”

“Nonresponsive,” I told her.

“How about Kidd Valley—quick and easy?”

“Now who’s being evasive? Sounds fine to me. I’m not up for The Broadway tonight. But I wouldn’t mind taking a rain check—I have the feeling doing a pub-crawl with you would be quite the experience.”

She smiled and chuckled. “I’ll remember that. You need to rest up before you could do the whole twelve blocks. Roger, you’ve got options and opportunities. Take a break. Have fun.”

“What do you think of Doctor Richards?

She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Hammond—she may be good, but she doesn’t have any soul—surgery without anesthesia.”

“Jackhammer—that’s my take—pounding, pounding, pounding away.”

“Yeah, that fits. Christie was so much better to work with. Oh Roger, some times I’m so sorry I got you involved in this.”

“Janice, thanks, but it’s not your fault. I’m not blaming anyone.”

I looked outside again. The usual high fog and clouds, gray, cold, crummy football team, more rain coming. It had been cold in the dojo this evening.

I smiled. “I need a change of scenery.” I’d decided. “And something to eat.”

Janice gave me a questioning look, and a slight smile.