Freewill Pt. 02

An unimaginable crime.

An unexpected hero.

An unbelievable reward.

Simon lived a comfortable life: a steady job; a wife that shared his interests; an active social life. Yet he knew deep down that something had gone awry; that perhaps the contentment he felt with his life was an illusion. That gnawing discomfort falls to the wayside, however, when his world is shattered after he crosses paths with a monster hell bent on committing a heinous crime; and his act of heroism attracts the attention of a divine presence who grants him literally unfathomable powers in recognition of his sacrifice.

This sets Simon on an epic adventure of discovery as he tries to evade those furious at his heroic intervention, and shadowy government figures intent on discovering the 'secret' behind his new-found abilities. His quest will lead him to parts of the world he never knew existed as he experiences passion, joy, betrayal and heartache unlike anything he could have imagined. In the end, he will grapple with the question of if his 'gift' was in fact a curse, and if a man with his abilities can ever truly deserve happiness.

Freewill is the tale of a simple man given abilities which make him a god among men, and his journey to find the one thing his powers cannot grant... but which all men desire.

Author's note:

This novel is a work of contemporary fantasy adventure. I've split it into five sections for publication here.

For fans of the Dean, this novel began as a thought experiment along the lines of, 'what if Stranger was about a regular guy being granted that powerset, instead of a man born on another planet and raised by aliens (not to mention swapping out a frankly unforgiveable amount of bigotry found in that seminal work with a whole heap of on-page sensuality and a sprinkling of ideas inspired by other works of popular fantasy)?' and grew from there.

Make no mistake, this novel delves into some weighty subject matter. Trigger warnings for significant on-page violence (including a mass shooting and multiple hate crimes), depression and suicidal ideation.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

Thirteen

Simon's slumbering consciousness gradually became aware of a commotion in the vicinity of his corporeal form. His sense of unease quickly rose to alarming levels, so he allowed his consciousness to repopulate his body. This done, his senses began making hasty reports as to what had taken place while he had been away. He did a brief check to ensure nothing had been damaged in his absence. Satisfied nothing was amiss, he sped his heart rate up and allowed his lungs to fill with air. He opened his eyes to find a sobbing Karen leaning over him, her tear-filled eyes shut tight.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly.

Her eyes flew open in horror, which quickly turned to shock before finally settling on gratitude. She gushed, "Oh, Jesus. Baby. I thought you were dead. I called an ambulance and everything."

"What do you mean?" Simon said with genuine confusion. "I was fine. I was just resting my mind, so I allowed my body to rest as well."

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" she practically shouted. "You weren't breathing, and your heart was stopped."

Simon was about to retort how ridiculous he considered her statement to be, but he managed to stop himself. Karen had never done anything to lead him to believe she was a particularly hysterical person, or even one prone to exaggeration. Something had truly scared her. He mentally reviewed everything which had transpired since he laid down next to her forty-three minutes earlier. The scene replayed in his head like something from a sports' broadcast. He saw himself letting the air out of his lungs and slowing his heartbeat before his consciousness went... somewhere. Where it went, he could not be sure. He only had a sensation of it being mysteriously untethered from his body. Thinking back, and truly concentrating on what had happened, he realized he had done all this as though out of habit. It seemed ridiculous in hindsight, but he had behaved as though he always mimicked death and left his body to sleep. And this was on top of the fact that he could now apparently get a half hour of sleep and have it feel like he had slept for ten hours.

All of this flashed through his head in eighty-six microseconds. He met Karen's eyes and pulled her into his arms. He said, "I'm so sorry honey. I never meant to scare you, but I promise everything is one hundred percent fine. Even better because the most beautiful woman in the multiverse is in my arms."

She sobbed quietly in his arms for a moment longer before saying, "I was so scared."

"I know, baby. I swear, I'll explain everything. But, right now, we may have more pressing concerns. How long until they said the ambulance will arrive?"

"I don't know. A couple minutes?"

Simon cringed and said, "Did you give them my name?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

"First off, honey. I want to assure you that you did absolutely nothing wrong. I'm touched by your concern."

"You're welcome, babe. What's the second part?"

"We need to leave this place immediately. Before the ambulance arrives."

An exciting seventy-nine seconds followed where Karen threw on her clothing and packed up Simon's laptop while he dressed himself and collected all of his various affects which he had carelessly strewn around the condo. They heard the wail of the siren as they reached the front door and heard the sound of the elevator doors opening as they fled into the stairwell.

Once they were safely in Simon's truck and headed away from the scene, he reached over to take Karen's hand. "Thank you, my dear. Rare is the friend who will unquestioningly do something preposterous to help a friend in need. I owe you, big time."

She squeezed his hand and said, "I wasn't drunk last night Simon. Unless you can get drunk off the world's best orgasm. But I'm certain I was in full possession of my faculties."

"I had no reason to think otherwise," Simon replied. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I meant what I said about falling for you. I know it's bonkers to tell someone that after one evening together. We haven't even been on a proper date, for fuck's sake, and you're already the best boyfriend I've ever had."

Simon pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. He murmured, "You make me happy, Karen," even though he would have much rather told her that, while the fact that she was falling for him made him happy, the fact that he was certain he had fallen for her made him even happier. But he could not fail to notice that she had almost deliberately avoided telling him she loved him, and he had no wish to scare her off by being too eager.

She gave him a ten-thousand-watt smile and leaned back into her seat. At length, she asked, "So, what now? And how come you were so freaked out about the ambulance people knowing your name? And why in the fuck weren't you breathing when I woke up? You scared the shit out of me, Simon."

"Again, I'm so sorry about that, honey. I genuinely didn't know that was happening. I guess all of those questions have the same answer. It's wrapped up in something that happened to me when I got shot. But, if I may be so bold, I suspect you are hungry, and we can't just drive around aimlessly forever. Do you have any thoughts of where we might go?"

***

An hour later, Simon and Karen were relaxing in her bed. She had taken in Simon's story with surprising calm. Simon reasoned that this was due to her firsthand experience with his abilities or perhaps even a byproduct of how they felt about each other. For his part, he felt very grateful to have someone with whom he could share his experiences.

As part of his story, Simon had shared the crossroads at which he had arrived with respect to how to generate revenue. At first, Karen was quite confused by his desire to leave behind a decent paying job which was relatively undemanding. But, as he elaborated on the soullessness of a job which required him to spend his days speaking with people who were spewing venom, she came to understand his perspective.

She said she wanted to do some digging on possible options for him and excused herself to work on her laptop. He let her go with a kiss, and took the opportunity to continue his market research in the hopes that this entire exercise would become academic. After roughly thirty minutes of quiet typing, she exclaimed, "Oh!"

Simon crooked an eyebrow at her and said, "Everything ok, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I just thought of the perfect idea. I've got a friend, an acquaintance really. Matter of fact, it's a guy who comes into the restaurant pretty frequently. Anyway, he's got a travel trailer that he wants to sell. He found a buyer, but it's a ways away. He was going to drive it up there, but I already heard him say he'd pay someone four figures to drive it for him. Not to mention whoever did it would get to use the trailer during the trip. What do you say, babe? You up for a few days of freaky RV sex?"

"What about your job?"

"Fuck my job," Karen said with a smile. "I'd much rather stay with you. Besides, I can't imagine letting all those savages stare at my tits and ass all day when I'd much rather you be fucking them."

"Well, that sounds like a pretty attractive proposition. How do I get in touch with him?"

Karen smiled and said, "I'll handle it."

"Thanks, honey," Simon said before kissing her thoroughly.

She smiled in return as their lips parted and said, "Anything for you, babe. Why don't I make some calls and see what I can set up?"

"Sounds good. I should probably make some calls as well."

Simon gave Hank a call to catch him up on the last day's events. Hank was thrilled about Simon's description of Karen. This was unsurprising to Simon. After all, his friend had been encouraging him to seek comfort in the arms of a woman other than Casey for years. What did surprise Simon was how much more interested Hank was in how Karen made him feel, almost as if Simon's description of her beauty was completely irrelevant. This struck Simon as strange, especially coming from his friend who was always quick to point out things like cup size or measurements in his own romantic conquests.

After finishing with Hank, Simon decided he should go ahead and touch base with the FBI as he had promised. He checked in with Karen to see if she wanted to tag along, but she said she had some things to take care of if they were planning on a road trip. Simon gave her a searing goodbye kiss and headed out to his truck with an irrepressible grin on his lips.

***

Upon arrival at the FBI's field office, he was escorted into the office of Agent Johnson. The diminutive man stood to greet him and indicated that Simon should sit.

"Coffee?"

"No, thanks. So, what's the program? Do I just sign you into my email and then I can go?"

"It's not quite that simple. Besides, I'd like to have you talk to one of my agents who has been working the group your shooter came from. She'll have you go through some pictures of known associates and give you a set of emergency contact numbers in case something happens. But before we get into that, I wanted to talk to you about some strange phone conversations I've had in the last day." Simon's only response was a blank expression, so the agent went on. "Yesterday, I got a call from the doc who was supervising your care at the hospital. I then spoke to her boss, and then about three more bosses until finally I was speaking to the chief operating officer for one of the biggest medical conglomerates in the country. They're quite anxious to find you, you know."

Simon considered his situation before replying, "Have I broken any laws?"

"Not that I'm aware of," the agent responded. "Although they tried to make some silly claim of theft because an ambulance was called on your behalf this morning to a location that was uninhabited. Although they did point out that the sheets were still warm."

"I have no wish to spend the next decade as a lab rat. As far as I'm concerned, they had exclusive access to me for over three months. That should be sufficient."

"Fair enough. Tell you what, if they do happen to catch up with you and you find their hospitality to be not to your liking, give me a call. I'll remind them of just how enthusiastically the FBI is opposed to kidnapping."

"I appreciate that," Simon replied sincerely.

Simon spent the next few minutes filling out a frankly shocking amount of paperwork, which all seemed like it could have been boiled down to something the side of a post card where Simon would provide his email credentials. He had already handled setting up a new email address and updating his few friends of the new way to contact him, so he unhesitatingly bid good riddance to the only email address he had had since college.

Agent Johnson pushed a button on his phone and said, "Send in Agent Rozzer."

Shortly the door opened to admit one of the tallest women Simon had ever seen in person. She was easily over one-hundred eighty centimeters. She also had light brown hair, which she had pulled up into a ponytail, and soulful hazel eyes. It also did not escape Simon's notice, even though Karen was all the woman he would ever need, that Agent Rozzer's attempts to use conservative clothing to hide her quite impressive breasts had failed rather completely. She took the seat next to Simon and stared wordlessly at Agent Johnson.

The latter frowned and said, "Well, out with it." Simon and Agent Rozzer looked at each other in confusion, prompting Agent Johnson to say, "I asked you to be prepared to brief Mr. York this morning."

"Yes, you did. And I am prepared to deliver the brief," Agent Rozzer replied in a throaty voice which reminded Simon of a redheaded knockout from an animated movie he had enjoyed in his childhood.

"So," Agent Johnson replied, clearly nearing the end of his patience. "What are you waiting for?"

"Even though this gentleman appears to resemble the photographs I have seen of Simon York, I have no way of knowing for certain that it is him. You also did not introduce him. It would be improper of me to make assumptions, considering the sensitivity of this matter."

Simon gained a newfound respect for Agent Johnson as he watched him go through what appeared to be multiple different mental exercises aimed at calming himself. At length he said, "Agent Rozzer, this is Simon York. Would you please brief him?"

"Of course, Agent Johnson," she said pleasantly. "Mr. York, would you accompany me to my office?"

After following the towering Amazon to her office, Simon was made to look through reams of mug shots. Agent Rozzer told him she had no expectation that he would recognize any of them, she merely hoped he would remember if he saw any of these faces in the future. Her expression indicated that she felt this to be an exercise in futility, but Simon found that it only took a moment of concentrating on each page before its contents were irrevocably committed to memory.

Once they finished with the mugshots, Agent Rozzer led him through a series of emergency procedures. These included phone numbers, email addresses and even a few physical addresses of safehouses Simon could seek out if necessary.

This complete, she led him back to the lobby of the building. In parting, she said, "Be careful around these creeps, Mr. York. They may seem like a bunch of dumb hicks. But the internet has given them an easy way to organize. And, as you have seen, they are plenty committed to their abhorrent cause. If you see any of them, don't be a hero. Just call in the calvary and keep your head down."

"I promise, Agent Rozzer," he said as he shook her hand. "I've had enough of the hero business to last a lifetime."

Fourteen

"Hey, babe?" Karen said plaintively from the passenger seat. "Why don't we pull into that campground at the next exit? I'm pretty bushed."

Simon shrugged and said, "We can if you want, baby. But I'm good to go to keep driving until we get there."

She leaned over and ran her index finger along the inside of his thigh. She reached up to nip his earlobe before whispering, "But if we drive straight through, how are we going to have freaky RV sex?"

"As always, my dear, you make an unimpeachable case. Ok, we'll stop. Do you want to get anything to eat before we park for the night? I don't think there's much in the way of provisions back there."

"Yeah, I am kinda hungry. How about you?"

"I could eat," Simon replied. He hoped she did not notice that he had technically evaded her question. Something he had noticed since the coma was that, in addition to needing much less sleep, he also needed to eat much less frequently. That being said, when he did eat, he usually found himself famished.

They pulled into an establishment with a name that made Simon smile from ear to ear. He said, "Bob's Country Bunker?"

"I guess," Karen replied. "Not much choice when we're pulling a trailer this long."

"Ok," Simon agreed, his smile still plastered to his face. "But if there's chicken wire in front of the stage, we're leaving."

Karen merely shrugged while Simon made a mental note to put a certain movie high into their queue of things to watch together. He handed her down from the truck and made sure everything was secure before leading her inside.

Despite the rough sounding name, the restaurant was perfectly nice on the inside. They were shown to a booth and in no time, the table between them was filled with food and drink. Their meal passed in companionable silence until a band set up on the stage and began playing.

"Oh," Karen exclaimed. "I love this song. Come dance with me."

"I'm not really much of a dancer," Simon protested.

"Come on, you big baby. I promise I won't let you look foolish."

She took his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. The song which Karen loved was a country standard which had been released around the same time as Simon's birth. He was normally not a big fan of country music, but he quickly forgot his prejudices as Karen ground her perfect ass into his groin. Simon sensed what felt like every eyeball in the restaurant zero in on Karen's beauty, and he could hardly blame them. Even dressed comfortably for a road trip, she was stunning.

The band transitioned into a slow song and Karen melted into his arms. Her body fit with his perfectly. He felt her hand slowly slide from his hip to the back of his neck and felt her head shift. He turned to face her, and their lips met. Her tongue eagerly invaded his mouth, heedless of the many onlookers. His hand slid down to her ass, squeezing it lovingly. Her mouth opened even wider for him, and he turned his head to deepen their kiss. He felt time slow down as it seemed their souls merged in the midst of the dance floor.

She broke the kiss breathlessly, and Simon reluctantly allowed his perception of the world around them to resume. He became aware of a mixture of wolf whistles and disparaging comments, the loudest of the former coming from a nearby woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. She leaned over to Simon and snippily told them to get a room.

"Don't mind if we do," he snarked.

He dropped a few twenties on their table and led Karen toward their RV. The sexual tension was thick as they drove to the campground. Karen's hand languidly stroked Simon's groin through his pants as he tried valiantly to back the trailer into their assigned space. It took far longer than Simon had hoped to make all the appropriate connections and he had nearly succeeded in calming down by the time he entered the luxury RV.

His lust surged, however, when his eyes landed on Karen. She was wearing a sheer black negligee which was, as near as makes no difference, completely see-through across her ass. But his breath was truly taken away when she turned to face him, and he saw that the garment had cut outs for her nipples. His eyes dropped down and saw that it was also crotchless. He dropped the shirt he had been in the midst of taking off without a thought.

She sauntered in his direction, quirking a playful eyebrow and saying, "You like?"

"Holy fuck, do I like it!" Simon gasped. "You're stunning."

He pulled her into an embrace and claimed her lips, moaning deeply at the sensation of her tongue sliding along his. He felt her hands eagerly working to finish undressing him as his hands roamed her body. The juxtaposition between her flawless skin and the negligee felt somehow even more alluring than had she been completely naked.

She growled in frustration at her inability to open his pants, finally breaking their kiss to see what she was doing. Once his pants were around his ankles, she dropped to her knees and kissed the end of his throbbing erection.

He said, "Huh unh. I believe I was promised an opportunity to taste your sweet pussy."

She grinned and said, "You're turning down a blowjob?"

He pulled her to her feet and said, "Never. But there is a natural order to these things, and if I don't taste you soon, I'm going to die of anticipation."

She held her chin and tried to look thoughtful for a second before grinning and saying, "Well... ok. But just this once."

"Then I'm going to make it count," he said before claiming her lips once more. She leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He walked back to the bedroom, no easy feat in cramped quarters. Once they arrived, he laid her on the edge of the bed and sank to his knees. He lifted her legs up and kissed lightly along the inside of her thighs until he reached her core. The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. He was acutely aware of the way her pheromones flooded his senses: quickening his heartbeat; staggering his breathing; swelling his manhood.

He delved his tongue into her opening, drinking deep of her essence as he thrust into her repeatedly. He was hardly aware of the way her moans increased in volume. He was connected to her on a deeper level. He reached out with his consciousness and consumed her tiniest desire as though drinking from a fire hose. He drifted from her clit, to her soaked opening, and back like a leaf on the wind. Karen's first orgasm arrived swiftly, her legs pinning Simon's tongue against her like a vice. But, as her pleasure receded, he settled in to bring her second orgasm to fruition with tantalizing patience. He sensed conflict within Karen, part of her anxious for release while a warring faction argued for the slow climb to heretofore unimagined heights. The latter contingent won out in the end and Simon spent the better part of an hour teasing her clit with feather light flicks of his tongue until she reached an orgasm so cataclysmic that she passed out for nearly twenty minutes after her peak passed.

She woke with a smile on her face to find that Simon had gathered her lovingly into his arms. She said, "I think being with you is bad for my health. You might quite literally fuck me to death." A worried expression fell over Simon's features, prompting Karen to pull him down to her lips for a scorching kiss. She broke the kiss with a contented sigh and said, "But it would be worth it. Now, I believe something was said about a rain check on a blow job?"

"Oh, no you don't," Simon said with a grin. "I still haven't cleared out my ledger." Karen looked at him curiously, so he slid his hand over her hip to run a finger through her folds. He said, "I believe the lady requested that I perform another service for her incomparable pussy. Something about filling her up."

"Oh, yes," she replied with a wicked glint in her eye. "I believe you're correct."

He rose to his knees before her. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, bathing the head of his cock with her tongue before taking his entirety briefly, but unhurriedly, into her mouth. He groaned loudly as he felt the head of his cock enter her throat. She released him and laid back on the bed.

She smiled brightly and said, "I couldn't resist."

He positioned himself between her thighs, his eyes sweeping hungrily over her unrivaled body. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he whispered.

"I need you inside me, Simon."

He sank into her in one long unhurried thrust, groaning loudly as he bottomed out. He cherished the way her inner walls gripped him, welcoming his invasion and beginning their siren song calling for his seed. He took his time, slowly quickening his strokes as Karen built up to another orgasm. He leaned down to kiss her, and she held his face while their tongues slid together.

He pulled back and she gazed into his eyes lovingly. "Please," she whispered.

He leaned down to taste her nipples, switching his attention between them. Each time he released one, she gasped as the cool air of the trailer hit it, and then gasped again when she felt him draw her other nipple into his mouth.

"Please, baby," she panted.

He continued to steadily quicken his pace until the bed groaned in protest and their combined panting filled the trailer. He felt her inner walls rippling along his length as her orgasm neared. Her wetness surged around his manhood and the scent of her arousal filled his senses.

He gasped, "You feel so amazing, honey."

"Please, Simon. Please cum inside me."

He raised up to his knees so he could behold her beauty. Each time their bodies met a ripple sped along her taunt belly to her large, succulent breasts. She watched his eyes and smiled in delight at the awe she saw there. She raised her arms above her head, freeing her breasts to move with lascivious abandon. He lengthened his strokes until he feared the bed would collapse beneath them. Karen's moans of pleasure filled his ears.

"Holy fuck, I'm cumming," she gasped.

Simon felt her orgasm wash over her, but he did not still himself. Instead, he quickened his pace even further. Wetness surged against his groin as her pleasure reached a new level. He leaned down to claim her lips hungrily as his own pleasure swelled.

He broke their kiss, moving his lips to her ear. He whispered, "I love you, Karen."

He felt her joy surge as he reached his peek and erupted deep within her womb. His groan of pleasure was matched by her scream of ecstasy as another orgasm washed over her. Their shared orgasm stretched out for time uncounted as their souls became one. He reached out with his consciousness and could actually sense her independent of her body. He perceived her as a being of pure energy. He reached for her soul, to cherish and love her as he suspected that no two humans had ever experienced before. But something prevented him from making this higher connection. He could not define it, but it was as if there was a barrier which held him back.

He snapped back into his body as their mutual orgasm receded. He saw that Karen was in a post orgasmic stupor, but not quite unconscious. His failure to connect with her on a higher level was disappointing, but it did not concern him. It just made him all the more aware of how much he still had to learn about what had happened to him.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she said, "That was amazing, babe."

Her eyes then opened wider, and she said, "Sweet Jesus, Simon. Do you always cum this much?"

"Not in my experience," he answered jovially. "I think it's your doing, baby. You do amazing things to me."

Her hands slid down to her pussy. She dipped a finger inside her creamy opening before bringing it up to her lips while her other hand stayed in place. She moaned as she cleaned his seed from her finger before saying, "Goddamn, you're delicious. And ditto on the doing amazing things to me. Major fucking ditto. I'm gonna hit the little girls' room before a flood happens. But then I think we should hit the sack. We've got a long way to go tomorrow."

Fifteen

"Wake up baby."

Simon became gradually aware of Karen's repeated words, as though hearing them from a great distance. He carefully repopulated his body and allowed his critical functions to return to normal. He opened his eyes to find Karen regarding him intently.

"That's so incredible," she breathed. "I was actually feeling for a pulse that time. And I could feel it, about once every twenty seconds. But I swear to holy Muhammad that you weren't breathing. I held a mirror up and everything. How is that possible?"

Simon sat up before leaning back against his pillow. He said, "I can't explain it. It's strange. I'm aware of these things which I do in order to rest, but I can't explain how I know how to do them. Or how they're even possible. I only know it's all wrapped up in this gift I've been given. I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could explain it better. It's almost like your heart beating. You make it happen, even if you're not consciously aware of it and you couldn't possibly make it happen voluntarily to save your life."

"It's ok, babe. I'm just glad I knew what was happening this time."

"I'm sorry again for scaring you yesterday, honey."

She smiled before kissing him briefly and climbing from the bed. Simon enjoyed the view as she sauntered into the restroom, before he climbed from the bed and got started on breakfast for Karen. When she emerged from the shower, he exchanged a plate of food for a kiss before he took his turn in the tiny bathroom.

The process of departing was thankfully easier to manage than their arrival had been, and they were soon back on the road. The weather was pleasant as they headed north through the rugged plains, and they made excellent time. Karen's chattiness from the day before had faded, and the miles slid by to the soundtrack of a country station she had found on satellite radio. He reached over and took her hand. She smiled in return, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

"Won't be long now," she said.

"Everything ok, honey? You seem... preoccupied."

"I'm fine. Just ready to get there. I was never a big fan of road tripping."

Simon frowned and said, "I wish I had known. We didn't have to do this trip, baby. We could have found other ways to make some money."

"It's fine, really," she replied, giving him a weak smile. "I'm just ready to get there."

"Why don't we find a nice hotel tonight, rather than heading back right away. We're in no hurry."

"Sure, babe. That sounds fine."

The last hour of the trip passed in silence, and Simon felt a familiar tendril of dread begin to snake its way into his thoughts. 'Fine'. That single word had done more to doom his marriage than any other. It took Simon years to figure out that things were never fine. The word itself was oxymoronic. No one was ever fine when they said they were fine. He had only really known Karen for a couple of days, but they had already formed a deep bond. She made him happy, and he usually sensed happiness emanating from her. But today, he was getting a different vibe altogether. He reached out with his awareness, careful to leave enough of his consciousness in his body to drive safely. He probed her emotions. He sensed unease, and a discontent which had been wholly absent every other time he had touched her, metaphysically speaking.

"Karen, I know something's wrong," he said gently. "And I don't think it's being in the car. Talk to me, honey."

"Don't worry about it, Simon," she said snippily. "Let's just finish the job. We're almost there." She whispered the last words, but Simon heard them clear as a bell.

He released her hand, deciding to be patient and allow her to wait until she was comfortable sharing with him what was bothering her. A few minutes later, she pointed at the truck's navigation system which was indicating they take the next exit. Upon exiting, Simon was quite surprised to find that the road just... stopped. There was the vaguest suggestion of a dirt road leading into the forest but, so far as he could tell, there were no signs of civilization.

He said, "I think we took a wrong turn, honey."

"No, they told me this would happen. The road isn't finished, but it also isn't too rough. You should be able to make your way to the house without too much trouble."

"Ok..." Simon replied before setting off once more.

The way was extremely slow going. Simon decided it would have been much faster to walk. But the point of their journey was not to arrive, it was to deliver the massive travel trailer they were hauling. He was still wondering why someone living in the middle of nowhere would need an RV worth six figures when a figure stepped out of the brush on the road before them.

He gradually came to a stop before the figure, since that seemed a preferable alternative to the world's slowest vehicle homicide. The figure, who was dressed head-to-toe in camouflage and sported a long bushy beard and thick glasses, stepped around to the driver's side door and indicated that Simon should roll down his window.

Simon complied and said, "Good morning, we're delivering this..."

"This is private property," the man interrupted in a gravelly voice so thick with southern drawl that Simon could barely understand him.

"We were asked to deliver this trailer here," Karen spoke up. "Bobby sent us."

It seemed to Simon that she over-emphasized the name as she spoke it, but her words seemed to do the trick. The man curtly waved them onward before fading into the trees. Simon could not help but notice the assault rifle on the man's back as he turned to walk away.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Simon muttered, but Karen remained worryingly silent. The tension grew thicker between them until Simon finally stopped the truck and turned to face her. "What's going on, Karen?"

"I told you," Karen replied tersely. "We're delivering a trailer."

"You're lying to me, Karen. I just don't know why."

"You think I'm lying to you?" she yelled, her voice rising with every syllable. "Fine. You can deliver this fucking thing yourself."

She flung open her door and leapt to the ground. She furiously slammed her door before angrily stomping in the direction of the highway. Simon got out to follow her, but as he came around the trailer, he found that she was running and had a significant head start. He groaned in frustration and went back to the cab to shut off the engine and retrieve the keys before going after her. As he hurried past the rear of the trailer, the last thing he remembered was the vague sensation of movement to his right before something slammed into the back of his head.

***

It took a few seconds for Simon's consciousness to regain an awareness of his situation. His body had been mildly injured by the blunt force impact to the base of his skull, so he began to work at once to repair the damage. As he did this, he considered the possibility of doing something he had never before even considered, much less accomplished. So much of his new reality was unexplored. He never knew what was possible, what was forbidden, and what was patently ridiculous. He knew that his consciousness somehow separated itself from his body at times, but he did not know where it went. Or, for that matter, how it went. He only knew it was... elsewhere. In the past, during these times of disconnect, he had been completely cut off from the world around his body. He decided to try to focus on sensing the world around his body without rejoining his corporeal and ethereal forms.

He started slow, always making sure he stayed tethered to his body and that the work to repair his damaged neck muscles and nerves continued uninterrupted. But he found that no matter how hard he focused, he could not get a clear picture of his surroundings. He could only get the vaguest sensations of other people, but he could not place them or understand what they were saying. Eventually, he admitted defeat and focused all of his energy on healing himself.

Once complete, he slowly rejoined his body, but he left his heartbeat and breathing unaltered. Regaining his sense of hearing and smell gave him a much clearer understanding of his predicament. He was in the travel trailer with five other people, including Karen. The other inhabitants were silent as they lumbered along at a slow rate of speed. He tried to open his eyes only to find that he was blindfolded. He silently sighed in defeat and resolved to wait until some additional information became available. Some time later, the trailer ground to a halt and the other inhabitants began milling about. One of them approached Simon and his hands roughly felt along Simon's neck.

"Jesus, Merle. You fucking killed him."

"He's not dead," Karen's voice replied. "He can slow his heart and stop his breathing so that he appears dead."

"How in hell can he do that?"

"I don't fucking know. He said some bullshit about an angel visiting him. And, you know what, I don't give a shit. I did my job. He's here. Now when do I get to meet the big man?"

"All in good time, sweet tits," the voice replied cruelly. "Bobby will give you your money once we finish with..."

The voice came to an abrupt halt. All was quiet but Simon could sense bodies moving around Karen and the other speaker. When Karen spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I did my job. Now it's time for you to live up to your end of the agreement."

"Or what?" the voice replied with wavering confidence. "There's four of us. No matter how quick you are with that pretty knife, you can't get us all."

"I like my chances," Karen replied evenly. "Not that it'll much matter to you, you piece of shit. Know this, you die first. Your men may get me in a rush, but not before I slit your racist throat."

"Fine," he sneered. "Get this bitch her money. We'll see how far she gets with it."

One of the men departed, returning moments later. Simon heard a zipper open briefly before being closed again.

Karen said, "Where is Bobby?"

"He ain't even fucking here, you dumb cunt. Now, you want the money, or don't you?"

"You'll regret this," she seethed.

He heard a disturbance and felt the trailer sway as someone departed. Hands roughly lifted Simon from the floor and carried him from the trailer. He tried to find Karen, but she was gone from his perception. Thereafter passed a long stretch where Simon was roughly carried over uneven terrain. He allowed his heartbeat and breathing to increase slightly in the off chance he would have a chance to escape, but the preponderance of his attention was consumed with a single question which he repeated ceaselessly to himself: how could he have been so wrong about Karen?

He had felt her love. And he had reciprocated it. It had been more intense, and more real, than anything he had ever felt with Casey. And yet, she had betrayed him. Seemingly for money. Or perhaps she had played him from the start and every action she had taken since he reappeared at her restaurant had been part of an elaborate ruse. Loving her had felt so right. And he had been so sure of her love. He realized glumly that he was likely headed for an untimely demise, but all he could think about was whether Karen had ever loved him. Or if he was truly destined to end his days never having known love, or even having a passing understanding of the nature of love.

Sixteen

Simon's captors roughly deposited him in a small room without removing his restraints or his blindfold. He leaned despondently against the wall, reasonably certain that he did not care what fate awaited him. He was consumed by the sound of Karen's voice, devoid of its accustomed warmth, demanding her money before disappearing. He tried to tell himself that if he had been mistaken about her love for him, then that must also extend to how he felt about her. But no matter how many times he muttered it to himself, he could not bring himself to believe it.

He knew the situation with Karen was not analogous to Casey, with whom he had grown comfortable but who he now knew he had never truly loved. The high-water mark of his relationship with Casey was a high level of general compatibility combined with a moderate amount of sexual chemistry. And perhaps, he mused, that was the difference. Intimacy was a fundamental part of any romantic relationship. Once the intimacy had waned with Casey, their relationship had quickly trended toward roommate territory. This trip was made all the shorter by the fact that they had only really had great sex a handful of times in all their many years of being together.

But the sex with Karen had been unparalleled. Not only had Simon never had sex like that before, he had never even heard mention of such exploits in the occasional 'locker room talk' sessions at the frat house. And he was certain that if any of his fraternity brothers had given an orgasm powerful enough that their partner lost consciousness, they would have been all too anxious to brag about it. He sighed to himself at his foolishness. He must have been duped by a consummate con artist. She had told him she loved him first, and he must have convinced himself he loved her based on her admission.

"How could I have been so foolish?" he muttered to himself.

"Exactly the question I keep asking myself," a deep voice answered.

Simon started to look around before remembering that he was blindfolded. He hastily tried to calm himself before reaching his other senses out to his surroundings. He quickly realized there was another person in the smallish room with him. The person was against the far wall and was unmoving, but he otherwise seemed to be unharmed.

"And who might you be?" the voice asked.

"No one of consequence," Simon replied moodily.

"Come on fella. Ain't no one here but us. Gotta pass the time somehow before those assholes return and likely lead us to an untimely demise."

"How do you know it's just us?"

"Because I can see, unlike your honky ass. What'd you do to convince them you belonged in here with the sub human?"

"They haven't really said," Simon reflected. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if they were angry that I got in the way of their plans."

"What'd you do? Tear down a statue?"

"I stopped a mass shooting."

"Holy shit! You're him. Sid Yorkie, right?"

"Simon York. And... you are?"

"Othello Waters. But you can call me Otto."

"Othello, huh. Did you give yourself this name?" Simon asked jovially.

"Nope. That one's on my folks."

"Did they actually read the play? I don't mean to judge, but I don't seem to remember things turning out so hot for the fabled Moor."

"Hard to say. But I was lucky enough to dodge the curse of my namesake through a loophole."

"Oh really," Simon countered, finding himself genuinely liking his fellow prisoner. "And how exactly did you manage that?"

"Well, you see, I developed a breathtaking affinity for cock. So, no wife killing in a fit of jealous rage for me."

"Clever. So, Otto, what'd you do to invoke the ire of our captors?"

"Same reason as you, matter of fact. I was there that night as well. I just didn't recognize you on account of all the weight you lost. Not to mention that the last time I saw you, you had a hole in your face. Thank you, by the way. Not sure if anyone's actually gotten around to thanking you yet, considering how long you were out of commission. But you saved a lot of lives."

"You're welcome," Simon replied genuinely. "Although, I suspect our captors might have undoing that little act of heroism on their agenda."

"I figured as much. But I'm still grateful."

"I don't suppose you could loosen my restraints," Simon asked in a surge of inspiration. "I might be able to get us out of here if I weren't quite so, pardon the pun, tied up."

"Sorry, 'fraid not. They got me trussed up as well. They just didn't bother with blindfolding me."

"Shit," Simon muttered sincerely.

His fellow captor grew silent, likely consumed with thoughts of their fate. This left Simon to consider more fully his predicament. His willingness to morosely accept his fate had faded with the realization that more lives than just his were at stake. He sighed deeply and laid down on the floor so as to appear to be sleeping. He then slowed his heartrate and breathing before withdrawing to consider his options. He hoped that his suspicion that time passed more slowly for him in this state proved to be accurate.

He tried to dispassionately consider his predicament and what would be required to free both himself and the delightfully named Othello. But he quickly realized that there were just too many unknowns. His lethargy during his trip to the cell meant that he knew next to nothing about where the room in which they had been locked was located. He also knew nothing about his number of captors beyond that it was at least four. He realized he would have to work this problem one step at a time. This left him with figuring out how to free himself from his bonds.

The first place his head went was to his body. The bond seemed to be made of a small gauge plastic, which seemed like something a stronger man would be able to break. He knew he had, with some degree of volition, rebuilt his own body during his coma. Perhaps he could use the same methods to become stronger. He broke the problem down into smaller and smaller pieces until he was contemplating his arm muscles at a cellular level. He focused on the muscles in his forearms and triceps which were required to do what he decided to call a reverse Hulk clap. He started the painstaking process of building up those muscles and he was surprised to find the process going quickly. He realized the slowness of the rebuild he had undertaken while in the coma was a result of a total lack of nutrition as the mass to repair his body and build up his muscles had had to come from somewhere. This realization made his weight gain make much more sense. It also explained how quickly he could rebuild his muscles now as the dinner he had shared with Karen the previous evening had consisted of several thousand calories.

When he reached the point where he had achieved a fifty percent increase in the targeted muscle groups, not to mention exhausting his supply of available biomass, he emerged from his withdrawal. He quickly took stock of his surroundings and found his situation to be unchanged. A quick thought regarding the time informed him that slightly less than seventy minutes had transpired. He flexed his arms and was rewarded with a profoundly increased sense of strength. He felt like his could easily tear a cookie sheet in two, should such a preposterous feat ever be requested. But he found, much to his dismay, that he could do nothing with his bonds beyond slicing the skin of his wrists painfully. Clearly, he had underestimated the plastic which bound him. His recalcitrant mind chose this moment to remind him that the police frequently used zip ties to restraint violent criminals.

"Fuck," he whispered quietly.

"Huh?" Otto responded sleepily.

"Oh, nothing. I tried to free myself and cut the shit out of my wrists."

"If it's any consolation, I don't think you'll have to suffer long. I think the sun's going down and you know how these sheet-heads love the dark. At least when we're not talking about skin color."

Simon considered withdrawing again, but he then vaguely heard footsteps headed in their direction. He felt his level of panic rising at the thought of being helpless to prevent whatever fate awaited them. He felt his heart rate begin to increase and, with it, he felt his focus and control slipping away. Upon arriving at this realization, Simon took a deep, centering breath. 'Focus', he told himself firmly in the First Language. Instantly, he felt his anxiety fade away and calmness flow around him like he had leapt into a cool mountain stream on a hot day.

When their captors opened the cell door, they yanked both prisoners to their feet and roughly led them from their cell. A din, which was barely perceptible to Simon's ears upon exiting their cell, grew in intensity as they were led through an elaborate maze of hallways. When what was clearly an exterior door was opened, the din grew to a roar. Simon realized grimly that their captors numbered, not in the tens, but in the hundreds. They were led across unpaved ground until they reached steps, which they were made to ascend. Upon reaching the summit, a cheer went up through the crowd.

A strange voice called out with the assistance of a microphone, "Brothers and sisters! Welcome to our moment of victory!"

A wild cheer went through the crowd, but Simon resolved to tune them out completely. He focused his consciousness on the ties that bound him. If he could not break them through convention means, then perhaps another avenue was available to him. After all, that quirky angel had implied Simon could do anything if only he had sufficient mental fortitude. His consciousness infused the few centimeters of his wrists where the plastic was cutting into him. He quickly learned everything about his bonds: their weak points; their thickness; even their molecular composition. He studied them until he understood his bonds as well as he understood himself.

He remembered a movie he had enjoyed in his youth wherein the plucky young space wizard was the prisoner of the corpulent space mobster, and the former used his burgeoning powers to free himself from his bonds. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Simon focused his considerable focus and will upon the clasp holding the zip-ties in place. He tried in vain to move it, but that effort gave him the distinct impression of what it must feel like to be an astronaut wrangling a piece of equipment in orbit without the aid Archimedes' famed fulcrum or lever. Simon had the sensation of pushing upon the clasp without anything with which to brace himself, and so all he accomplished was exhausted failure.

He heard a shout go up from the crowd and dimly realized a rope had been placed around his neck. He heard Otto say something, but he could not make it out. Knowing he had only moments left, he threw a Hail Mary and said to himself, 'I wish that fucking clasp would just disappear'. It was as though a faint click happened in the deep recesses of his brain and he knew instantly that his bonds had been loosened. It felt as though he had merely swiped away the offending bit of plastic as one would swat away an annoying insect. He knew not where it had gone, but he was quite certain it was no longer holding his zip-ties closed. Before he could reflect on exactly what he had done, his blindfold was yanked off and he beheld the masses which had assembled to witness his execution. For he could now see quite clearly that he stood with Otto on crudely constructed gallows in the company of two white-hooded men. The first had a hand on a lever which led into the floor while the second was holding a microphone up to Simon's face.

The man with the mike said, "Well, out with it sonny. You willing to renounce your wicked ways and join the path of righteousness?"

Simon gestured the man closer. The latter grinned triumphantly, looking to the crowd for inspiration, before wrapping an arm around Simon's shoulders and holding the mike up. Simon reached out with his senses and tried to do to the man what he had done to the piece of plastic, but nothing happened. The man grimaced at Simon, clearly out of patience. He shoved Simon back over the trapdoor and gestured to the hangman. Simon had failed at disappearing the man, but he had no intention of letting the opportunity of no longer being bound to go to waste. He pivoted his hips and delivered a side kick to the belly of the man with the microphone, knocking him down the stairs. He then turned to the hangman, making certain he was no longer on the trapdoor. But the hangman only grinned cruelly at Simon as he reached for another handle. Simon glanced over to see Otto's eyes wide with terror.

He looked back to the hangman in time for the latter to say, "You're not saving anyone this time, you traitorous fuck," as he began to pull the handle.

In a moment of panic, Simon reached out for the hangman and mentally shouted 'Disappear!'. The hangman winked out of existence with the handle just centimeters from tripping the trapdoor. Simon rushed over to Otto and removed the nooses encircling both their necks.

Otto said, "Nice trick. If we get out of here, maybe you can tell me what the hell you did to that guy."

He turned to Otto and said, "Let's go."

Otto's look left no doubt as to his appraisal that Simon was crazier than a shithouse rat. Simon grimaced as he spotted the sea of racists surging toward the gallows. He spun around but found no escape to their rear. They were, quite literally, surrounded. Otto followed Simon down the steps of the gallows. They encountered a few former guards on the way down the steps, who quickly shared the hangman's fate at Simon's hands. Upon reaching the bottom, they came face to face with the microphone wielding leader.

The latter worriedly said, "What'd you do to my men?"

"The same thing I'm going to do to you, and the rest of these people, if you don't let us go," Simon growled.

"Bullshit!" the man sneered.

Simon had a moment of inspiration and grabbed the man by his robe. He pulled him close. Before the man could think to struggle, Simon fiercely whispered, "Tell your people to let us go," in the First Language.

The man's eyes glazed over, and Simon was overcome with a wave of nausea which caused him to empty the contents of his stomach onto the robe of the man before him. Nonplussed, the man turned to address his followers. He delivered an impassioned speech, telling the crowd that they must let Simon and Otto go free. The crowd began to turn on him immediately. But this gave Simon and Otto a critical head start.

They dashed through the field in the direction of a brightly lit house surrounded by cars. Shortly, a man with fire in his eyes broke from the crowd holding an ax handle and dashed in their direction. Simon was still feeling the effects of whatever it was he did to the man with the microphone and began to lag behind. He stumbled to a stop just as the man with the ax handle reached him. He tried to give him the same treatment he had given the hangman and the guards but found that he could not focus. The man shoved him to the ground and raised the ax handle above his head. Despite his illness, Simon managed to gasp, "Stop!" before the ax handle fell. The momentum of the man's aborted swing sent him careening to the ground at Simon's feet.

Otto arrived back at Simon's side, hooking Simon's arm over his own shoulder. The ran together toward the car park. Simon knew he was hampering their progress as he was nearly delirious with nausea.

He said, "Just leave me, Otto. I'm slowing you down. We'll never escape together."

"Fuck that noise. We're getting the fuck out of here. Together."

Simon could only nod wearily as he focused all his concentration on running. They reached the car park, and Simon pointed them in the direction of his truck. He knew it was a miserable get away vehicle, but he somehow still had the spare keys in his pocket, so at least he knew they could make it move. As they reached the truck, the crowd was only a few meters behind them.

Simon pushed his keys into Otto's hands and said, "Can you get me out of here if I pass out?"

"Sure, man," Otto said unbelievingly. "No problem. You convince all these murderous assholes to let us go, and I'll handle the rest."

Simon murmured, "That's the idea. Get in and shut the doors. You might also want to cover your ears as tight as possible."

Otto numbly followed his directions as Simon climbed into the bed of the truck. The surge of the crowd was terrifying, as was the murderous intent he read in their eyes. Just before the first person managed to climb into the truck with him, he took a deep breath, and screamed, "STOP!"

Seventeen

'Now Entering California' the sign along the roadside proclaimed. It had been five weeks since Simon had escaped from the clutches of the murderous racists. True to his word, Otto had carried Simon from the scene. It had taken eleven days for Simon to regain consciousness. Otto had stayed by his side throughout his convalescence, too scared to do anything but wait, while constantly staying on the move. He had been confident Simon would wake eventually, telling him that after all he had seen, he was willing to believe anything.

The most upsetting thing Simon had discovered upon waking was that the entire event had been livestreamed on the internet. It came as no surprise to Simon that a far-right news outlet had picked it up right away, their staff no doubt having screened the event live as avid enthusiasts. The video clearly showed the disappearances Simon had caused, in addition to the heel turn the leader had taken after Simon spoke to him. The video had not included Simon's final screamed word, or the subsequent collapse of nearly one hundred people. But the media was wild with speculation on what had caused their deaths as Simon's subsequent lapse into a coma had prevented him from instructing anyone to resume breathing. The news media in general was split on the subject of Simon, half of them wanting him executed for the good of the country while the other half wanted him locked up and studied for science.

After giving Otto money for a plane ticket home, as well as making it crystal clear that they were blood brothers forever, Simon had headed north toward the badlands. He used what little cash he had left to stock up on all the supplies the RV would hold before leaving humanity behind for a few weeks. He spent the time in quiet contemplation, trying to come to grips with his part in the events that had transpired. He found that, without other humans around to attenuate his new normal, he tended to stay up for several days at a time before spending a day withdrawn to rebuild his energy.

He tried very hard, sometimes in vain, to hold at bay the melancholy which was always perched at the edge of his awareness, waiting to pounce. It was easy to tell himself that Karen's betrayal had meant nothing to him. That he had simply been mistaken about his feelings for her. But the truth was more complicated because he knew he had loved her, and perhaps loved her still. What troubled him more was that he could not tell if he had fallen in love with a figment of her imagination, a false persona she showed him in order to carry out her dastardly scheme. Or if he had truly known her and had somehow missed the critical detail that allowed her to lead him into danger despite how she felt about him. This lack of clarity more than anything led to Simon's periods of depression. He was convinced that he no longer had any true concept of what love was. Or, more worryingly, if love was just like Santa Claus or Jesus. A story parents told their children to make an inherently cruel world seem a little more bearable.

He was just coming out of one of his periods of withdrawal when he heard a chime from his computer. He ambled over to the trailer's eating area and sat down to see an email had arrived from Hank. He had kept touch with his friend intermittently during his sabbatical, always using encrypted messaging or email apps to communicate. The capacity of the satellite internet the trailer provided was not sufficient for voice, and certainly not for video, conversation. So, the friends contented themselves with sending messages or, occasionally, recorded audio.

Simon triggered the message and his friend's voice emerged from his laptop speakers, "Hey buddy. Hope you're staying safe. The news media is quieting down some about your antics in Oklahoma, but I think that's more due to your disappearance than a decrease in how much they care about you. Long story short, I recommend you laying low as long as you can stand it. You might even want to consider leaving the country altogether.

"In other news, those investments you made continue to appreciate nicely. You're up to about twenty thousand, so you shouldn't have too much issue with money. Just be careful how you withdraw it, because if the feds decide to join the hunt, they would have no trouble tracking you down based on your money. But, on the subject of money, if you are interested in continuing to play the market as a source of income, you should find someone to actually manage this stuff for you. I know someone really great. Let me know if you'd like me to make an introduction.

"Other than that, things are well here. I think I finally caught up with all the ladies who so sorely missed my presence in Southern California. One of them is even making a moderately persuasive case for taking me off the market. I'll let you know how that goes.

"Wish I could tell you to come visit, but the folks looking for you would no doubt anticipate that. So, I'll just tell you to stay safe. Be well, brother. I miss you."

Simon's breath caught at the emotion in his friend's voice, and at the thought that the longtime lothario might finally be ready to settle down. He wished very much he could go see Hank, but he refused to do anything which could place his friend in jeopardy. He made himself a cup of coffee and headed outside to a landscape which would have been at home in an epic western. He could almost hear the John Barry score rising in the background as the wind caused the grasslands to wave in a dizzying pattern.

He sat on the ground and sipped the last of his coffee before slowly letting a breath out and letting his surroundings fill his senses. He had been studiously practicing what he called enhanced meditation. It was similar to his periods of withdrawal in that he slowed his vitals and created some separation with his body, but he still maintained all of his faculties. He found it to be a great way to calm himself and attempt to test his limits without completely losing touch with the physical world.

He resumed an experiment he had been working on the previous day, an attempt to replicate what he had done previously to a zip-tie clasp. Not to mention a half dozen racists. He had tried disappearing all manner of objects, with limited success. He found that it took supreme focus to accomplish this feat. He also found that doing it to a living thing could cause him great distress, but the amount varied depending on the living thing in question. He had done it by reflex one evening when a wolf had surprised him. This had led to no ill effects. But when he did it to a turkey vulture he encountered feasting on the remains of a formerly cute fox, he found himself overcome with nausea. His previous experiments with his capacity to compel people to do things had given him more insight into why doing so made him feel so ill. His working theory was that it was inextricably linked to evil, or perhaps wrongness would be a better way to define it. His theory was that compelling people took away their freewill, which was inherently wrong on his part. The more power, for lack of a better term, it took from him to compel people, the more of an effect it had on him. He based this theory on the fact that telling the speaker to advocate for him had had more of an effect on Simon than telling the first pursuer to stop. He was nearing a unified theory on his powers, but in the meantime, he decided to make his strategy, 'don't be evil'.

Simon spent the better part of an hour disappearing various rocks, eventually working up to hurling rocks in the air and disappearing them before they landed. This left him tired but feeling a sense of accomplishment. He retired back to his trailer to get cleaned up. As he walked into the tiny bathroom, he was once again amazed at what he saw. He had been dedicating a portion of his daily meditation to the task of changing his appearance, and the results were staggering. He had gained about five kilograms in the last few weeks, which he had distributed amongst his muscles giving him a strength he had never known previously. This also had the effect of noticeably changing his silhouette. He no longer bore even a passing resemblance to either the mildly corpulent man who had charged the would-be mass-shooter or the gaunt man who so spectacularly caused several racists to wink out of existence. He had also attempted to change his facial structure: lowering his hair line to a level he had not known since high school while also aging his features to the point where he appeared to be in his late forties. He hoped this would be sufficient to fool any facial recognition software. There was still the matter of his ID, and the fact that unless he lived using nothing but cash, he left an electronic trail wherever he went. He realized he could not live like this forever. No matter how much his recent experiences had turned him off to the idea of being around others, humans were a social species, and he would undoubtedly go quite mad if his solitude continued.

He opened his laptop and began composing a message to Hank. While he was at it, he also composed a message to Agent Rozzer in an attempt to gauge the degree to which the government was involved in the effort to locate him. He knew this could wind up backfiring on him, but he had to know one way or the other. And, he reasoned, where better to try to determine their level of interest than via an encrypted message bounced off three VPNs sent from the middle of fucking nowhere. He sent a quick message to Hank regarding the person he had mentioned from the finance industry. He then spent the better part of an hour attempting to compose a message to Agent Rozzer before finally settling on a simple message saying, 'I think I found the racists you were looking for'.

He hit send saying, "Balls in your court now."

He opened his fridge to start making a plan for today's meal when the lights in the trailer suddenly went out. He cautiously stepped outside and scanned his surroundings but could not sense anyone in the vicinity. He made his way to the front of the trailer and checked the gauge on the propane tanks to find they were both quite empty.

"Rookie mistake, York," he muttered to himself. He quickly returned to the trailer and secured the contents before climbing into the cab of the truck for the three-hour round trip to the closest S-Mart.

***

Once he reached town, he prioritized refilling his propane tanks and getting the generator running again, lest his remaining food spoil. He then did a quick shopping trip to top off his supplies before taking advantage of his return to civilization, such as it was, to enjoy a hot meal which he had not prepared himself. The waitress at the diner was either impressed or horrified at the amount of food Simon ordered, but she dutifully continued to deliver it until Simon finally decided he was full.

Upon exiting the diner, he spotted an unmarked black sedan which practically screamed 'undercover police'. He tried to ignore it, but as he approached his truck, he saw the statuesque figure of Agent Rozzer step from the car. She approached him confidently, stopping a few meters away to regard him intently. Simon came to a stop as well, and the two stood locked in a contest of wills, waiting to see who would break the silence.

At length, Simon shrugged and said, "You got here quick."

"I've been here the whole time, Mr. York. We never lost track of you. How could we with you driving a five-tonne stolen trailer."

"Stolen, really? Somehow that hadn't occurred to me in all the excitement, what with the former owner being involved in a plot to kill me."

"I wouldn't sweat it," she replied casually. "The former owner is dead. Along with all his relatives. Thanks to you."

"You mean they were at the hanging? Or are you implying I've been involved with a dastardly reckoning to balance the scales of justice."

"The former."

"And can I assume by your non-malignant presence here, that the government has not yet joined the throng of people who wish to see me imprisoned or worse?"

"No," she said simply.

"Then, I'm afraid I don't understand. If the government is looking for me, and you're with the government, then... what am I missing?"

"They haven't yet decided what to do about you. Some say you should be removed completely. Others say you should be used as a weapon against our adversaries."

"That doesn't leave a lot of room for just leaving me the hell alone. So why haven't you tried to arrest me?"

She said, "I was not given instructions to that affect. They told me to find you. They did not tell me to arrest you. They also, strangely, did not tell me to tell them when I had found you. At some point, they will realize this oversight and, I suspect, your life will get quite a bit more interesting. But, at present, my instructions only require me to keep tabs on your whereabouts."

Simon grinned and said, "You're a fascinating person, Agent Rozzer. I don't suppose you have a first name?"

"Paige," she answered with a shy smile.

"Well, Paige, I find your approach to you job quite enlightening. And not just because it happens to benefit me at the moment. I was wondering if you would be willing to share any advice with me. I mean, you seem to be very adept at finding people. If you were me, and you wanted to give the slip to someone of your considerable talents, what would you do?"

"You've actually done quite well, Mr. York. Using cash is obviously critical. And while I suspect we could track your communications with enough time, I suspect your methods are sufficient for now. It really comes down to the monstrosity behind you. If you had the resources to walk away from that, you would be very hard to find. Especially considering the fact that you have somehow made considerable changes to your appearance."

"Do you find that fact alarming? Furthermore, you haven't really made mention of anything that happened at the attempted hanging."

"I studied the video of your escape quite carefully, Mr. York. While I am not prepared to offer a hypothesis for several of the things I witnessed, I am also not so foolish as to call anything impossible at this point. I have little doubt that you directly, or indirectly, caused the deaths of over one hundred people. However, in my opinion your actions were justified. There is little doubt those people intended to kill you and your companion. First by hanging, and then by whatever they had at hand as they chased after you. You acted in self-defense. It is only how you acted in self-defense that has people so scared, or fascinated, depending on their perspective.

"To answer your first question, I find your change of appearance to be neither surprising nor alarming. It is merely another fact which I will utilize in an attempt, however futile, to explain what I have witnessed. That being said, you were wise to make this change. It will ease your efforts to effectively disappear. Assuming, that is, you are willing to part with the truck and trailer which made you quite easy to find."

Simon nodded and said, "I hear you, Agent... I mean, Paige. I really appreciate your insight on the matter. Hopefully you don't get in trouble should I happen to heed your advice and disappear more properly this time."

"How could it?" she asked with a smile. "I followed my orders exactly. It is not my concern if the orders were shortsighted."

"See you around, Agent Rozzer," Simon replied before climbing into his truck.

The next day, Simon climbed onto a bus headed west using a ticket purchased with a small amount of the cash he had earned when selling the truck and trailer to the smiling owners of the local diner.

Eighteen

The crack of the bat drew Simon's focus back to the action on the field, and away from the beautiful woman in the sky-blue tank top and tiny white shorts who had just squeezed her way past Simon's seat on the way to her own. He had been in southern California for a few weeks, and he found himself falling head over heels in love with baseball. Something about the deliberate pace and the constant attempts to control what was inherently chaotic appealed to his new sensibilities. And he was honest enough with himself to admit that there were few places on earth better for people watching than Chavez ravine on a Saturday afternoon.

His presence at the game today, however, served a dual purpose. He was to meet with Max, the financial wizard Hank had recommended. Simon knew little about him except that he came highly recommended. Hank said he had beaten the market by over ten points, eight quarters running. Whatever that meant. Simon checked his watch and saw that he only had a few minutes until the meeting, which was to take place at an eatery within the stadium.

When Simon arrived at the restaurant, he was a few minutes late. Most of the tables were filled, but all but one was groups of people. The one solo table was populated by an attractive young woman who appeared to be keeping score. Simon's eyes lingered on her for a moment, but he averted his gaze uncomfortably when she stared in his direction. He took a seat at an empty table and awaited his guest.

A few moments later, he heard a warm contralto voice over his shoulder say, "Excuse me. Are you Mr. Underhill?"

Simon turned to see the woman who had caught his eye moments earlier. He overcame his surprise at hearing the pre-agreed upon code phrase from the opposite gender he had been expecting. He said, "I might be. Who's asking?"

"Maxine Harris, but please call me Max. May I sit?"

"Of course," Simon said quickly. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"A beer would be great. I'm... not what you were expecting, am I?"

"I'm sorry," Simon replied quickly. "I should know better than to make assumptions. So, tell me about yourself."

She appeared to regard Simon for a moment before answering. "I was expecting you to say that it is fine that I'm a woman."

"What place is it of mine to make that judgement?" Simon replied. "Should I expect you to say that its ok that I'm not a woman?"

"Well, no. But I already knew all about you."

Simon bit his lip before saying, "Not all bad, I trust. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come."

"Hank's a good guy, and he vouches for you. I admit, some of the stuff I've seen on the news about you is pretty bonkers."

"About that," Simon started before pausing to collect his thoughts.

"I know," Max cut in. "Everything they say on the news is bullshit. Everyone in this town knows it."

Simon frowned and said, "I have no wish to mislead you. You might as well have all the facts up front. Then, if you want to walk away, no harm done." She cocked an eyebrow waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath and said, "I haven't seen the news much in the last few weeks. But I suspect you can safely proceed on the assumption that everything you've seen about me is one-hundred percent accurate."

Her mouth dropped open. She looked around conspiratorially before stage-whispering, "No way! You're actually the spawn of the devil who has come to earth to prepare the way for your father? Thus, triggering the apocalypse?"

"Well," Simon replied with a smile. "Maybe not everything."

"Why would it bother me if you offed a bunch of racist pricks? Racist pricks who were pretty clearly intent on offing you if you hadn't done unto them first. Now, I admit, its pretty freaky that you're apparently some sort of wizard. But, in this town, it hardly moved the needle. I met with a movie star once, and I will not tell you who, who I had literally loathed since I was in middle school. I couldn't understand why so many people thought he was so hot. To me, he just seemed gross and veiny. And lemme tell you, if was like meeting Jesus and the president all rolled into one. I turned into a straight-up babbling moron and stopped just short of pulling my boobs out in hopes he'd like me more. So, I'm quite familiar with the fact that some humans are just... more. Not necessarily better. But some of you people are clearly operating at a level I'll never understand."

Simon chuckled and said, "You know what, Max? I think we might just get along fine."

"Great. Because, I'll be honest with you, I kind of need this gig. Now... I believe you made mention of a beer at some point?"

***

Simon sat in his kitchen, tapping his foot anxiously as he stared at the clock. Max was scheduled to arrive in sixteen minutes, and he could scarcely believe how nervous he felt. It was not as if he had felt an overwhelming attraction to her when they met, even though she was certainly very attractive. It was more than he had felt a quick kinship with her. They got along almost unnaturally well. Not since Hank had Simon developed such a quick friendship, and such an easy banter with a person.

They had concluded their meeting by Simon awkwardly asking if she would be willing to come to him for them to conduct business. He had explained that it was unwise for him to be seen regularly going to a place of business, or really regularly going anywhere. She also agreed that while encrypted messages were fine for infrequent contact, they would be cumbersome for constant communication. She had eagerly agreed to meet him.

Simon's nervous anticipation nearly sent him into another meditative state to attempt to calm himself before he heard the door chime. He leapt up and hurried through the condo. Upon reaching the front door, he stilled himself and reached out with his awareness to determine that there was one person on the other side of the door. The person had an elevated heart rate, and their emotions were heightened. But Simon sensed no rancor, only excitement. He spared a moment to check the peephole to ensure his senses weren't failing him. Upon spying Max, he quickly opened the door.

She stepped inside and allowed Simon to relock the door. They then found themselves awkwardly facing each other in his entryway. She was dressed simply in flip flops, jeans and a form fitting pink t-shirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Despite quite intentionally dressing down, she was quite beautiful in that way that only a confident woman can ever pull off. She smiled shyly at him, and he got his first good look at her brilliant blue eyes.

He said, "Um, I figured we could work in the dining room since I don't really have a dedicated office."

She followed him saying, "Sorry if I didn't dress professionally enough. I figured it would be less suspicious if a regularly dressed person was coming in and out a few days a week, as opposed to someone in a thousand-dollar business suit." Simon opened his mouth to say her apparel was fine, but she continued. "You know, like maybe I'm just your girlfriend coming to see you."

Simon coughed in surprise but quickly collected himself to say, "It's fine, Max. Really. Thank you so much for coming." As he turned to face her, he noticed her cheeks were pink and she was unable to meet his eyes. He said, "Coffee?"

She nodded as she haltingly pulled her laptop from her bag and dropped into one of the dining room chairs.

Simon watched her reposition her hands several times from the kitchen before saying, "Cream or sugar?"

She leapt as though scalded, her eyes frantically searching around for him until she spied him in the darkened kitchen.

"Um, no. I mean yes. Just cream, please. Thank you."

Simon brought her a cup and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. He tried not to smile at her discomfort, even though her behavior was objectively adorable. He merely said, "Is everything ok?"

"Yes," she replied exasperatedly. "I'm fine. Just give me a moment to drink fifteen or twenty cups of coffee and I'll be good to go."

"We don't have to do this today if you'd rather hold off."

"No. It's fine. Let's just get going, if you don't mind."

Her hands reached for her keyboard, but Simon could hear her nails chattering on the keys.

He sighed and said, "Ok. If you're sure." She set her face in a mask of determination and nodded firmly. "What do we do first?"

She said, "You told me that you, how did you put it, thought about the market for a few hours. And then you made a buy which increased in value two hundred-fold over the course of the last few months. Is that right?"

"Yeah. I mean, essentially."

"I'm not sure I can help you replicate that, Simon. That's a million to one moon shot of an investment."

Simon paused briefly, frowning, before speaking. "But that's just it. It wasn't luck. I did some research and learned about the company. And I just... knew it was a good investment. I was hoping you could help me figure out what I found that made me so sure. If you can, then maybe we can do it again."

"The company you invested in was on the verge of bankruptcy, and the product they released which caused their value to explode hadn't been announced anywhere yet when you invested."

"I can't explain it Max. I didn't even know what they were about to release. I still don't know what it was. I just knew they were on the verge of... something."

Max appeared ready to speak again, before her head dropped into her hands and she began breathing very quickly. As she neared the point of hyperventilating, Simon heard her whisper, "I can't do this."

He reached out to grip her shoulder and felt her unease surge through him. He slowed down his time sense to take sufficient time to understand her emotions. She was terrified of him; of the things she had seen him do. But she was also desperately trying to control her emotions. Part of this was in order to keep the gig she very much wanted. But he also sensed that she had enjoyed the time they shared at the ball game, and she wanted his friendship nearly as much as the employment he offered.

He took a deep breath before whispering, "Everything is going to be ok," in the First Language. He braced for the expected wave of nausea, but it never came. What did happen is that Max's breathing slowly returned to normal. At length, she lifted her head from her hands and regarded him wearily.

She said, "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Simon smiled and answered, in English, "I said everything is going to be ok. You don't have to be frightened, Max. I only did those terrible things to those people to protect a friend who they were intent on killing."

"You saved yourself as well, Simon."

"True," he agreed. "But it sounds better if I'm doing it for him."

She sighed heavily and said, "I need to know something. If you could do all these amazing things..."

"Why'd I get shot?" he finished. She nodded solemnly. He said, "I couldn't do them then. Please don't tell anyone, but I was given a gift as a result of the shooting. It's what allows me to hurt people in all these terrible ways. It's honestly a curse."

"But you just used it on me, didn't you? I felt your hand on my shoulder, and then all my anxiety just melted away when you said those strange words."

Simon shrugged and said, "I didn't want to manipulate you, and I sincerely hope I didn't. I was just trying to help you relax."

"You didn't. Manipulate me, that is. Like you said, I was just working my way up to a full-blown panic attack. And then you spoke, and I felt better. Thank you, Simon. Truly. My panic attacks are the fucking worst. And that one was going to be a doozy. I really need this job. And despite what's happened to you, I really like hanging out with you. I hope that doesn't happen again."

"If it does, and if you'd like me to, then I'll do what I can to help."

She smiled and said, "I'd really appreciate that. Now, you were trying to explain to me how you did the impossible with that stock buy."

Simon smiled and moved over to her side as she brought up her research tools.

Nineteen

Almost overnight, Max became a fixture in Simon's life. They spent their days pouring over stock prospectuses and watching mind numbing cable news business programs. Max soon started questioning Simon's gift, but at the end of the first week he saw something that interested him, and he started pressing Max for more info. By the beginning of the second week, he felt certain and made a buy using a significant percentage of his remaining capital. Max was almost violently opposed to this course of action, but when the company announced their earnings at the end of the second week her objections went away. Simon had increased his money by an order of magnitude. Max not only stopped questioning his methods, but she also started investing right along with him. By the end of the first month, she had gone from wondering where her next meal would come from, to well on her way to becoming a millionaire.

As their money grew, so did Simon's feel for the way the market moved. They greatly scaled back the amount they were working and limited their activities to a few transactions a week. This was partly due to a lack of desire to put in the hours it would take to become obscenely wealthy. The other part was the recognition that the government was starting to take notice of their activities, as were some of the larger brokerage houses. The situation came to a head one afternoon when they were sitting by the pool of Simon's new rental house as Max was trying to brainstorm ways to keep their activities secret.

"How about we set up some shell corporations in the Caribbean?" she suggested. "We'd set up more than one and we could mix in regular buys along with the big winners."

Simon replied, "I guess we could do that. Wouldn't we then have to definitely deal with the government to get the money out of, and then back into, the country?"

"In theory, sure. Or we could make some acquaintances who could help facilitate things."

"This is sounding shadier by the second. Isn't the whole point to throw the vultures off our scent? This sounds a lot like inviting a few more in through the front door."

"There's another option," she replied diffidently. "You could just... leave the money offshore."

"But then how do I use the money to, you know, live?"

"Come on, Simon. You complain about the government basically constantly. You got shot by a white supremacist, and then his buddies tried to hang you. And, to thank you, the government basically said they haven't yet figured out a way to prosecute you since performing a miracle isn't against the law. Yet. You could live like a king in Patagonia, to quote one of your favorite movies. Or lots of other places. You don't even have to worry about finding a non-extradition country as you haven't actually done anything illegal. Seriously, what's holding you here. God knows it's not your soon to be ex. And don't even get me started on why you won't just put that marriage officially out of its misery."

"Casey's dragging her feet. I suspect she's having second thoughts. As for what keeps me here... well, Hank, for one. And you, of course."

She bit her lip and looked away, apparently so as to fully examine a passing helicopter. She said, "I'm touched Simon. But you don't have to be here for us to work together. I'd hate to think I'm holding you back."

Simon smiled and said, "You're not. I promise. I may leave the states someday, but I'm not anxious. I rather like it here. You can't beat the scenery." He gestured at Max, who sat across the table from him. She was wearing a pale green bikini, which was conservative for southern California, but would have been scandalous in the bible belt. She was also wearing a sarong and a wide brimmed hat, all of which matched her bikini. She blushed at his compliment, and he chuckled at the way her blush spread across her chest.

He said, "I'll never figure out how a woman, who couldn't be more Irish if her name was McMurphy'O'Sullivan and she worked in the Guinness brewery, can sit out in the sun all day wearing, as near as makes no difference, nothing at all without turning into a cinder."

"It's called SPF ninety. Perhaps you've noticed that I have a fifty-five-gallon drum of it that I dip myself in every day before we head outside. And if you'd rather I dress differently, all you need to do is say so."

"I appreciate your candor. And your flexibility. But surely you'd sunburn, sunblock or no sunblock, if you were to wear nothing at all."

"Very funny, ass," she replied with a grin. "Someday, I just might shock you."

"You're all talk."

"Says the guy who thought himself a movie-star body, but refuses to so much as take his shirt off. I'm over here with my boobs practically hanging out, and you're wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Just like always."

"Hey, old habits die hard. I spend a lot of years with a body no one was interested in seeing, including me. I guess we'll just see if it'll take you actually going topless to get me to do the same."

She stood up, jerking her sarong from her hips and throwing it in Simon's face. She said, "You're such an asshole!" But her smile never left her face, and she gave her hips an alluring sway as she strutted over to the pool and dove in.

Simon watched her glide through the water with an irrepressible smile on his face. One of the great pleasures of his life recently was the constant banter he had with Max. He had approached this arena with great caution. Their easy rapport led him to frequently make comments early in their association which made him cringe in hindsight. But, after the fourth or fifth time he began one day's meeting apologizing for his behavior the previous day, Max put her foot down.

She had said, "I like working with you, Simon. We've only known each other a short time, but already I consider you a friend. Your witty repartee doesn't bother me. Much to the contrary, I really like talking to you. It reminds me of hanging out with my brother, with whom I suspect you'd get along brilliantly. Stop apologizing and just be yourself. I'll let you know if you cross a line, the same way I'd let my brother know. I'll punch the shit out of you. So, stop worrying I'm going to run to your non-existent HR department and let's get to work."

This had opened the flood gates and propelled their comfortable working relationship into what Simon unhesitatingly considered to be either tied with his friendship with Hank, or a very close second. This was reinforced when Hank came over to visit and the three of them, or four if Hank brought his lady friend with him, got along as though they had been friends for decades.

Max had her own condo closer to the beach, but she stayed in a guest house on the compound Simon had rented as often as not. They frequently spent the evening together. Either hanging out by the pool, as they were this evening, or catching a baseball game. Some nights they would take turns cooking while others were opportunities to take advantage of the fact that they could get nearly anything their hearts desired delivered. With the exception of the occasional baseball game, Simon rarely left the compound. He had no doubt the government knew where he was, the racists and media too for that matter, but the area of town he lived in was heavily populated with the rich and famous. This helped create a buffer around him as essentially everyone in his neighborhood was anxious to avoid the notice of media and government.

Max climbed from the pool and made her way back to his table. She toweled herself off briefly before dropping into her seat. She was quiet for a few moments, but Simon could tell she was mulling something over. When she spoke, it was with more hesitancy than he had ever heard out of her.

"Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something a little... weird?"

"Of course," he said sincerely, suddenly concerned that something was quite wrong.

"Why don't you like leaving here?"

"We leave here all the time," he replied quickly. "We went to a game a few nights ago, and we went to the beach the day before that."

"I know," she responded, a hint of frustration darkening her features. "But you don't ever want to just go... out. Like, we've never gone out to eat anywhere. Or to a movie."

Simon's first impulse was to tell her, truthfully, that he was uncomfortable in crowds, sporting events being a rare exception. This dichotomy had confused him until he realized that baseball games, or any sporting event, tended to focus the attention of the crowd. They were also, for the most part, places where people wanted to be and where they were having fun. This was not the case in most public spaces.

Simon had discovered, much to his chagrin, that the change he had undergone had made him profoundly empathetic. It took an act of will for him to filter out strong emotions from those around him. Being at home with just Max was no challenge. Since it was just her, Simon could filter out her emotions without effort. Sporting events tended to be events where everyone around him was attuned enough to the game that their emotions barely registered above the din of the crowd that any hearing person would notice, and immediately filter out. But going into restaurants or retail locations had nearly caused a disastrous scene for Simon on more than one occasion as he picked up profound sadness from those near him and nearly had to withdraw in order to recover.

But, while he had no qualms about being truthful with Max, he did not sense that this was the time for explanations on his part. He sighed and said, "That's true. Does that bother you?"

"I don't know. I like hanging out with you. But sometimes I feel like I'm going stir crazy here. And, while I like baseball, I don't like it that much."

"Fair enough. Where should we go tonight?"

"Really?"

"Really, really. Lady's choice. And the sky's the limit, although I reserve the right to file an objection, as a matter of parliamentary procedure. My reticence to go out is more a matter of habit than anything, but I am not overly comfortable in very crowded spaces."

"I know," she replied quietly. "I was just thinking we could go out and have a nice dinner somewhere. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Just... nice."

"That sounds delightful. Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"Not particularly."

"Ok. How about I give Hank a call and see if he can give me any ideas? And, I think I'll grab a shower as I've been sitting out here sweating all afternoon."

"Hey, you could have gotten into the pool. It's very refreshing."

"I don't have a suit," Simon protested weakly.

"Then swim in your boxers. Or, you know, maybe stop teasing me and just swim in your skin. God knows I've been parading around in front of you in barely more than that for weeks. And if you think mini bikinis are comfortable, I'd like to see you wear one for an afternoon."

"I bet you would," Simon replied with a laugh.

"I'm just saying, maybe both of us could be more comfortable. Food for thought, know what I mean? Gimme a half hour to get ready."

Simon grinned at her receding form. The grin turned into an 'oh my' when she pulled her sarong off, and a tiny piece of green fabric fluttered to the ground. She bent at the waist to retrieve it, peering back at Simon as she did so with a wicked grin on her face, before stepping into the guest house.

Twenty

"This place is amazing," Max whispered as they were shown to their table. "How did you find it?"

The restaurant held, at most, thirty patrons and was the type of place that would be impossible to find unless one knew where to look. It immediately put Simon in the mindset of a gangster film, with a design motif which would have been at home in Little Italy in the sixties. Yet, despite the antiquated décor, the place had an unmistakable air of utmost quality to it. From the impeccably dressed clientele, to the high staff to patron ratio, to the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

Simon replied, "Hank told me about it. Said he brings potential clients here when he wants to have a quiet meeting, but still wants to impress them."

"I figured you take me to a place where Hank takes girls he wants to impress, so he can fuck them."

Simon grinned and said, "He won't tell me about those places. Something about trade secrets, or some such."

"Well, in my opinion he could use this place for either purpose."

They were interrupted by a woman coming to their table to inform them of what they would be having that evening and taking their drink orders. Simon had been prepped by Hank for the lack of menus, but Max found it utterly charming. She took a sip of wine and nodded approvingly before relaxing into her seat and regarding Simon. Her eyes roamed unapologetically over his frame, which was almost completely covered by a grey suit and an opened collared light blue shirt.

Simon in turn allowed his eyes to drink in Max's body. She had chosen a form fitting black dress for the evening. It had a modest neckline which allowed him to glimpse only a hint of cleavage and ended mid-thigh. She was wearing her long auburn hair up and paired it with a strand of pearls Simon had given her in recognition of crossing the half-million-dollar threshold with her personal portfolio. The ensemble combined to give her an alluringly regal appearance.

"Like what you see?" she asked coquettishly.

"Of course. You look amazing. I'm not sure I've ever seen you dress up before. It suits you, not that I'm in any way complaining about the way you normally dress."

Max shook her head and said, "You bust your ass for a decade in school and head out to interview for jobs ready to take the world by storm. You get hired by some big firm and you're over the moon with excitement. Then, once you start, they start taking you to all the sales meetings and encouraging you to dress, how did they put it, more fashionably. Of course, what they mean is sluttier. I tried to play dumb, but they had no qualms about saying exactly what they meant. Tighter, lower cut, higher hemline, preferably see-through. They always pretend its optional, but they never fail to point out the girls with big fake boobs dressed like they're going clubbing who get promoted despite having a room temperature IQ."

"I'm sorry, Max."

"How come? You had nothing to do with it."

Simon sighed and said, "Indeed. But I am still sorry you had to go through that. You'd think it would be enough for these cretins to pay women less for the same job. But no, they have to go and heap sexual harassment and ritual demeaning on top of it. I detest them. I hope you don't mistake compliments I offer you as being in the same vein as those savages."

"Never. I appreciate your company. And your compliments. And, if I may be so bold, you don't look so bad yourself. I guess that whole diatribe is just my roundabout way of saying that I like dressing up sometimes, even though I used to have to dress like this every day. Until you rescued me from corporate bondage, it was the curse of being young, skinny and having boobs, well at least a little bit of boobs, in this industry."

"I happen to think you have perfect breasts," Simon interjected with a wink.

"Don't be patronizing, Simon. I have eyes. These B-cups of mine aren't making anyone look twice."

"Au contraire. I happened to notice the maîtres d'hôtel giving you a rather libidinous once over with his eyes as we passed his station. And our waitress certainly seemed more interested in trying to determine if you managed to hide any undergarments beneath that delectable outfit than she was in anything happening on this side of the table."

"Perhaps, but I doubt they gave two shits about my boobs."

Simon smiled and said, "Quit fishing for compliments. You do just fine. I'm sure everyone in this place thinks I must be holding your family hostage for you to be seen with me."

"Now who's fishing for compliments? I truly wonder with you, do you disparage your looks because you believe it, or is this some kind of vestige of your previous life. I mean, did you spend so long with a body you hated that you just cannot fathom that you're basically an Adonis now?"

"Hardly," Simon scoffed.

"Look around, Simon. Really look. The bartender's staring at you so hard I'm surprised you haven't caught fire."

"He's hardly my type."

"So," she answered with a glint in her eye, "what is your type?"

"Who says I have one?"

"Come on, everybody has a type."

"A good person," Simon replied triumphantly. "That's my type."

"That's such cop out bullshit. Everybody is attracted to good people, unless something terrible happened to them in childhood. But I'm talking about on top of that, the stuff that draws your eye from across the room." Simon could only shrug in response. Max sensed an opening and tried to push her advantage. "Let's say three women are at a bar, all equally good and decent ladies. One's got blonde hair, big boobs and a rounded ass. The next has black hair, tattoos and a thin, yet still moderately curvy body. The third has red hair and is petite. Which one do you prefer?"

"None of them," Simon replied quickly.

"Come on, Simon. That's no fun. If you put the same question to me, I promise I'll answer honestly."

"I know. And I'm sorry for being a killjoy. It's just, could we talk about something else?"

She reached across the table and took his hand before saying, "I'm sorry if this is a sore subject. I'll drop it. But... if you ever want to talk, I promise to be a good listener."

Simon smiled at her sincerely. Their entrees were delivered at this point, giving him a brief respite from their conversation. He had never discussed Karen with Max, and the grand total of what he had told her about Casey could fit onto the back of a playing card. He realized that he felt dishonest about his omission. Max had never been anything but open and honest with him, yet he had diligently avoided this topic of conversation even though it was quite recent for him. He had never told Max how he came to be the prisoner of the white supremacists. For all he knew, she assumed they had just found him on the streets of his hometown.

"How was it?" Simon asked as Max finished her entrée.

"Heavenly. Yours?"

"The same. Listen, I appreciate what you said before. And I feel like there's something I need to tell you."

Their waiter appeared to clear their plates and top off their wine. As she receded, Simon said, "I never told you how I found myself a guest of the... people... who were intent on hanging my friend and I."

"Your business," Max replied with a shrug. "And I think you can safely call them asshole racists. That's what they were, after all. Asshole racists who deserved to die."

"That's easier said than living with having done it," Simon said wistfully. Max reached out for his hand again and squeezed it reassuringly. He smiled at her before continuing, "But I was speaking of how I came to be in their company. I was... led to them. By a woman."

Max's face grew solemn. She said, "Was it Casey?"

"What?" Simon asked a little too loudly, a small smile spreading across his face. "No. Definitely not. I think maybe I would have been suspicious instantly had Casey tried to get me to drive out to the middle of nowhere. No, it wasn't Casey."

Max was silent for several moment before she spoke again. "So, who was she?"

"Her name was Karen, or Kayden. I met her at the restaurant adjacent to the club where the shooting took place. I was lamely flirting with her when I spotted the shooter pulling into the parking lot and loading up. I next saw her after I got out of the hospital. We sort of hit it off. Or at least I thought we did. Who the hell knows? In any case, we spent the night together. The next morning, we were talking about what we would do for money, and she proposed this scheme of driving this RV to Oklahoma."

"Are you upset with yourself that you weren't suspicious?"

"No. Maybe? I don't know. It never occurred to me to be suspicious. I thought I loved her."

"Oh, Simon. I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine that kind of heartbreak."

"That's just it, I'm not all that heartbroken. More confused than anything."

She frowned and said, "She betrayed you. She manipulated you into developing feelings for her, no doubt using some pretty impressive feats of sexual prowess along the way. What's there to be confused about?"

"That's just it, Max. It wasn't her doing that, it was me. I worry that I manipulated her into developing feelings for me. Maybe she led me into a trap because I somehow made her feel trapped and she thought she had no other options."

"What are you talking about, Simon? She led you to what should have been certain doom. She's definitely the villain here."

Simon sighed and said, "You can't know that. You didn't see what I did to her. Unwittingly did to her, although that hardly matters."

"Then explain it to me," she responded desperately.

"I will. I promise. But I'd prefer not to do it here."

"Of course. Why don't we just wait until we get home?"

Somehow, Max's identification of Simon's compound as 'home' filled him with nearly as much comfort as her hand in his own. He smiled gratefully and signaled their waiter for the check.

Upon arriving at the compound, Max begged a few moments to change into something more comfortable. Simon also took the opportunity to change into his normal uniform of slacks and a collared shirt. He assumed Max would want to sit outside, so he grabbed a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses before turning on the pool lights and heading outside.

Max arrived moments later wearing a tank top and shorts. She had removed her jewelry, but her hair was still up. She accepted her wine glass with a smile and selected a chair beside the pool. She remained quiet as Simon got situated, clearly willing to let the conversation resume at whatever pace he was comfortable with. Simon sensed excitement from her, but no trepidation.

He took a sip of his wine and said, "The continuation of our conversation from the restaurant will involve the discussion of things we've never talked about. I bring this up because I have no interest in ever doing anything which would make you uncomfortable."

The silence drew out between them for a few moments until Max said, "I assume you're talking about fucking?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Simon responded, entertained.

"I was coarse on purpose. I've had sex before Simon. Difficult as it might be to believe, I've done it more than once. Even, and I know this is shocking, with more than one person."

"At a time?" Simon asked with a smirk.

"No, smartass. I'm just saying that you're not going to offend me if you talk about sex stuff. But I appreciate your consideration. Now, let's hear all the sticky details."

"I assure you this isn't what you think."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me."

"We really hit it off that night at the bar. The second night I mean. After the shooting. I hung out there all evening. There was lots of flirting, but it was also just fun hanging out with her. Before her shift ended, she kissed me and asked me to take her home. I said yes, even then thinking that we'd just hang out."

"Silly boys," Max muttered.

"Anyway... when we got to my place, things escalated."

"Don't wuss out on me now, Simon. Did she at least go down on you?"

"Yes. She did. And it was wonderful."

"Can I assume that this isn't something Casey had done for you a lot in recent years?"

"Well... never in recent years. And almost never earlier in our relationship. But I'm getting off track here."

"Not really," Max replied. "A girl... wait, I assume she was pretty?"

"Very much so."

"A very pretty girl gives you the first blowjob you'd had in, would it be safe to say years?" Simon nodded. "And did she let you finish?"

"She was rather emphatic about me finishing."

"So, this very pretty girl sucks you off and takes a shot in the mouth, after years of neglect from your silly wife. And your confused about why you did whatever she asked? Come on Simon, you're smarter than that."

"You're making assumptions again."

"Sorry, I'll let you finish. I mean, not in my mouth, unless you want... Sorry, I'm rambling. Please continue."

Even in the dark Simon could see Max blushing. He grinned and topped off her glass before continuing. "After she went down on me, we made love."

"You didn't return the favor? Jerk!"

"I tried, she begged me to hold off until after. Anyway, we made love. And it was marvelous. As I've told you, whatever was done to me makes me extremely receptive to other's emotions. It also, apparently, allows me to form a symbiosis with someone when I am intimate with them."

"So you could hear her thoughts?"

"Not exactly. It's not like I could hear her voice in my head. But I knew what she wanted as soon as she did, and I could give it to her immediately."

"Oh Jesus."

"Indeed. When she climaxed, she nearly passed out. I joined her when she climaxed for a third time, and it took nearly ten minutes for her to regain consciousness."

"Um... wow," Max stammered. "That sounds... I mean... three? So... um... what happened next?"

"We slept. Or, I should say that she slept. I actually made my first investment that evening. The next morning, I had withdrawn, as I still didn't fully understand the changes my body had undergone. When she woke up, she thought I was dead and called emergency services."

"I bet that was awkward."

"It would have been, but I came out of it in time that we managed to escape out the side door. It was that morning that she told me she loved me, and that afternoon that she told me about the RV."

"You still haven't explained how this might not be her fault."

"The next time we made love, we did so without the use of protection. I mean she was on the pill, but I didn't use a condom."

"Might want to get tested."

"Perhaps, although I don't believe I am susceptible to illnesses in that way anymore. It's hard to describe, but my awareness of my body has increased significantly."

"So, you'd know if she had gotten you sick?"

"Precisely," Simon replied quickly. "In any case, the next time we made love there was nothing between us. And, when we climaxed together, I was able to see her soul. Not figuratively, mind you, I could actually perceive our souls merging in that moment. But, just as we approached oneness, for lack of a better term, I sensed something blocking our connection. I can't explain it, as it was only the one time. But I cannot help but wonder if the way our intimacy made her feel, the connection we formed, made her feel trapped. Like she was losing her personality as we grew closer. I could not blame her if she grew frightened and looked for any possible escape."

"I could," Max replied sullenly. "She has what might just be the best sex in the history of humanity, and she wants to run away. Girls go their whole lives wanting a tenth, a hundredth, of what you gave her. And you think that made her feel trapped? I don't think so, Simon. I think she had it planned all along and she was just playing you. Maybe the thing that kept you from connecting with her was that she was hiding something from you."

"Maybe. But, as I said, it only happened the one time. I have no basis of comparison."

"Is that also why you've eschewed companionship since your escape?"

Simon replied, "Yes, at least in part. I'm not sure I've ever been a person who could be happy with casual sex. The emotional component is fundamental to the experience, otherwise it's just two people masturbating against each other."

"Well, that could be fun too, with the right person."

"But that's just it. It has to be the right person."

"But how will you know if it's the right woman if you aren't even looking? She could be right under your nose, and you'd never know it because you've blinded yourself,"

She sighed mightily, looking into the heavens, before saying, "Listen, Simon. I'm bushed. Do you mind if I turn in?"

She got up without waiting for a response and headed quickly toward the guest house. She looked back at Simon forlornly as she reached the door, pausing for a moment before sighing and stepping inside. Simon, however, sat by the pool for several hours in quiet contemplation of the evening's events.

Twenty-One

Simon retired to his personal quarters just before dawn without having gained any significant insight. It was one of the very few favors Max had ever asked of him. In her mind, no amount of reassurance could overcome the fact that he appeared to be dead when he was withdrawn. And the conscious mind could never prevent the deeper seeded cavewoman part of her brain which sent her into a panic when she encountered his lifeless form.

He laid down on his bed and prepared his body for withdrawal. He was so used to it at this point that he did it with less trouble than it used to take to fall asleep. An outsider would have only seen him sigh significantly before he seemingly stopped breathing all together.

Upon leaving his corporeal body, he reached out to his surroundings. He found his abilities, especially his sense of his surroundings, were greatly heightened in this state. At first, he had felt blind when withdrawn. But, as he became more accustomed to the feeling, he became more attuned to his senses outside of his body. He could immediately sense Max in the guest house outside. She was sleeping, albeit fitfully. Simon could also sense her cat, prowling stealthily around the house in search of a mouse which was not there.

Comfortable that all was well, Simon took a moment to frankly consider his predicament. He was not so foolish that he could not figure out why Max was acting differently. Clearly, she was interested in escalating their relationship. But the questions he had been wrangling with all night was two variants of why. Why did she want them to become intimate? And why did he seem to not want that? He set the first question aside for the moment, leaving him with the much harder to answer option.

He knew it was not a question of physical attraction. Max was gorgeous. Her long auburn hair and faintly freckled skin never failed to turn heads when they went out. And while she frequently derided herself as too skinny, Simon knew she was much closer to the modern American ideal of beauty than she was willing to admit. Despite her slender frame, she was still quite curvy. Her hips flared out alluringly and her B-cup breasts suited her perfectly. Simon never failed to appreciate her beauty, whether she was slinking around his compound in a bikini or simply wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She was the type of woman who became more beautiful the less effort she put into her looks.

Neither, Simon knew, was the issue her personality. He got along fabulously with Max and, despite their relatively short time knowing each other, considered her one of his best friends. They spent far more time together than apart, and never quarreled. They certainly disagreed, but there was never rancor. And, as often as not, Simon agreed that she had been right all along in the end.

But, as Simon considered just how dear of a friend Max had become, he stumbled upon his hang-up. His friendship with Max had grown with an almost preternatural quickness. It had taken him years to develop the kind of rapport with Hank that he had found with Max in mere weeks. Just as it had taken him not only years, but several different variations of their relationship, before he had declared his love for Casey. But he had told Karen he loved her on their first night together, and he still could not reasonably parse out if that had been, or in fact still was, the truth. And if he still did not know his feelings for Karen, how could he trust his feelings toward anyone else? Especially when the person in question was another beautiful woman who wanted an intimate relationship with him.

As he began to consider this revelation, he became aware of Max awakening in the guest house. Her emotions were fraught, filled with dismay and a not insignificant amount of anger. Simon rejoined his body and brought himself back online. He moved to the kitchen and prepared Max's favorite morning beverage before crossing the pool deck to tap on her door. She took several moments to answer, and her eyes were puffy when she finally opened the door.

"What do you want, Simon?" she greeted him lethargically.

"To present a peace offering. And, to talk, if you're willing."

She wordlessly waved him inside and took a seat on her couch. He handed her beverage to her and sat on the opposite end of the couch. She took a sip and sighed contentedly.

"Thank you," she murmured before taking another sip.

"Anytime."

"So... what did you want to talk about? Have another premonition?"

"After a fashion," Simon allowed.

Her face fell briefly, before she recovered and presented him with a blank expression. She murmured, "Ok, lemme go grab my laptop."

Max started to get up, but Simon stilled her with a raised hand. She quirked an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. "Not that kind of premonition. I was thinking, after you went to bed last night, about all you said. And about our friendship."

"Don't worry about all that, Simon. I was drunk and shooting off my face. Please, pay it no mind."

"As they say in Paris, in vino veritas."

Max guffawed, nearly spitting out some of her coffee. "That's Latin, dumbass. Not French."

"I never said it was French. I'm sure people in Paris speak Latin."

"No one speaks Latin. It's a dead language. Besides, I know very well you just said that to get a rise out of me. Mission accomplished, sir."

Simon grinned and said, "Perhaps. Normally I fall into the 'I see Johnny Ringo is an educated man... now I really hate him' camp. But I find that your brand of clever aligns with my own quite delightfully."

"Also, I'm not a man. Perhaps you've noticed."

"Oh, I noticed. Which brings us back to the subject at hand."

Max frowned and said, "I told you to drop it."

"Please, just let me say my piece. Then, if you wish to drop it, we shall never speak of it again." She nodded reluctantly, so he continued. "In considering our conversation last night, I realized something. I told you about Karen, and how even in the face of your insistence that I should loath her, I'm still not certain if I love her. Or, more to the point, if I ever loved her. Same with Casey. Perhaps I loved one, and not the other. Perhaps I loved neither, as it is illogical for me to have loved both."

Max sighed and said, "But why does that even matter anymore. You have to move on, Simon. Regardless of how you felt, or still feel. The one certainty is that whatever you had with either of them, it is in your past now."

"Very true. But I realized last night that my lack of clarity about those past relationships has created an uncertainty for me. Like a splinter in my mind, it's always there, sowing doubt. I realized when I really concentrated, that I had doubts about even our friendship. Now, before you throw something at me, please recognize that I truly consider you to be one of the best friends I have ever had. I would trust you with my life. And, having realized the origin of this doubt, I can now extinguish it. But that is why I was keeping you at arm's length, at least to a degree. I had no knowledge of my motivations, but that does not excuse my behavior."

She looked at him intently for a few moments before saying, "I understand everything you just said, but I'm not sure you actually cleared anything up."

"I know. That's the problem with epiphanies. You gain a whole new fount of knowledge, but you're not necessarily any closer to understanding."

"Someday, Simon. You're going to have a line of eastern philosophers lined up around the block to write down everything you say so they can spend a millennia trying to figure out what it all means."

"I strongly doubt that. I'd move if there was a line of anything wrapped around the block waiting for me."

"We're getting off topic again. What are you trying to tell me?"

He sighed and regarded her intently. Her emotions were a mixture of cautious optimism and anxiety. He wished more than anything to prevent her from being hurt. He found in that moment that he did desire physical intimacy with Max, craved it even. He decided to lay his cards on the table.

"Can I be blunt, in the interest of brevity?"

"Always," she replied with a shy smile.

"I know you're nervous, Max. And worried." He paused for a moment before continuing. "But you needn't worry. I want the same thing you want, honey."

Her breath caught and she was caught between smiling and grimacing as she tried to interpret his words. "And what do I want?"

He leaned across the couch. Her eyes widened as he entered her personal space, but she did not recoil. Her heart was racing, and her breath ragged, but a cautious smile touched the edges of her lips. He continued toward her. As he drew nearer to her lips, she leaned forward to meet him.

Their lips met hesitantly, barely touching. Her lips were warm and soft against his. He hummed softly in contentment, and she melted into him. Her lips opened and he felt her tongue flicker across his lips. He opened his mouth to her, and her tongue slid against his own. Her arms slid up his sides, pulling him down on top of her. She moaned loudly, turning her head to deepen their kiss while grinding her core against his hardening member.

She broke the kiss abruptly and said, "Wait."

"What's wrong, honey?" Simon asked, sliding off the couch to kneel by her side.

She stared at him keenly for a long beat before saying, "Are you doing this just because you think it's what I want?"

"I'm pretty certain it's what you want," Simon replied with a glance toward her midsection, where her robe, which had opened in the midst of their kiss, had fallen open leaving her, essentially, naked.

"Goddammit, Simon! I'm serious. Are you just placating me?"

"Of course not, honey. I know this may seem like a sudden reversal from me. But, as I said, I had something of an epiphany this morning that has reoriented my thinking."

"How can I be sure?"

Simon sighed and said, "Have I ever lied to you?"

"Well... no. But you've also never kissed me."

"The two are hardly analogous. One was long overdue. The other is something that will never happen."

"We'll see. I suggest that I take a moment to clean up a bit. It should not surprise you to learn that you woke me. Then, I'll meet you by the pool and we'll see the level of your commitment. Don't let me down." She led him to the door and kissed his cheek before closing the door behind him.

He stood at the door for a moment before muttering, "Huh..." and heading back toward the main house.

When she emerged twenty minutes later, she was wearing a filmy wrap which flowed around her but did nothing to obscure her nude body. She approached Simon and took a seat at the table beside him. Her eyes took in his naked body appreciatively before picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip.

"Mmm... that's heavenly. So, what's on the schedule for today? I believe we were discussing international space exploration when we adjourned yesterday."

"Seriously?"

"We don't have to continue that topic if you don't want to. You're the boss, after all. Very well, where should we start today?"

Simon groaned to himself but steeled his resolve to outwait her. He said, "No, I believe we should wrap up the prior topic before moving on. Where were we? India, I believe?"

She grinned slyly at him before opening her laptop. She shifted her chair to be closer to his side before rotating in her seat to face him. She crossed her legs and watched him attentively. He grimaced and tried to focus on the words scrolling across the screen. Simon reached out to navigate to the next page but found Max's hand had beaten him to the punch. When their hands touched, it was as though a shock surged through his body.

He heard a soft sigh escape from Max's lips. She leaned back in her chair and said, "Be my guest," motioning to the laptop.

Simon clicked to the next page, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over to find that Max was slowly uncrossing her legs, having already leaned back in her chair so as to accentuate her supple breasts. When her legs parted, Simon could see the evidence of her desire on her smooth outer lips.

"See anything you like?" Max asked coquettishly, gesturing vaguely at either the laptop or the evidence of Simon's own arousal.

"Absolutely. I think this one's perfect for me."

"Well... opportunities like this don't come along every day. If you really like what you see, you should go for it."

"My goodness, you're gorgeous," he breathed as he leapt from his chair and swept her up into his arms. Her lips found his hungrily, her tongue surging between his lips without hesitation. She took his face in both hands, kissing him as though the fate of the world was at stake. Her hunger for him washed over him like a tsunami but hidden beneath that was a desperate longing for a deeper connection.

Simon slowed their kiss, cherishing the way their tongues went from eagerly thrusting to languidly caressing each other. Max's urgent groans became soft sighs as her hands wrapped around the back of Simon's neck to pull him even closer. They broke the kiss slowly, as though neither wanted to admit that this moment must end before the next could arrive.

When their lips reluctantly parted, she leaned back and said, "Took you long enough," with a smirk.

Simon slowly made his way up the stairs with Max cradled in his arms, her head resting comfortably on his chest. Upon reaching his room, he placed her on the bed. She stretched alluringly before settling back and allowing her legs to part slightly. He leaned down and kissed her lips gently, cradling her face in his hands. She sighed into the kiss, reaching up to grip the back of his neck to pull him on top of her. Her hand snaked between them to grasp his throbbing shaft.

She broke the kiss and gasped, "I have been so goddamned patient. Please. I need you inside me."

"What about protection?" Simon whispered as he lowered down to take one of her nipples between his lips.

"No," she panted.

"I'm not sure what that means, honey."

"It means, 'No, I don't want you to wear a condom. And don't worry about anything. I'm clean. I haven't had sex since my last test. Also, I'm on the pill. So, everything will be fine.' Now, will you please, for the love of all that is sacred and holy, put your fucking cock in me?"

Simon smirked before claiming her lips again while positioning himself between her legs. He sheathed himself in her agonizingly tight warmth in a single unhurried thrust. They groaned loudly in unison as he held himself still within her while she adjusted to him.

"Holy shit, Simon. You feel so goddamned good."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he murmured as he began slowly thrusting into her heated core.

She threw her head back and moaned loudly. Her hands reached up to grip the headboard, allowing her supple breasts to ripple tantalizingly. Simon ducked down to suck one of her nipples between his lips, gently nibbling on her pebbled bud.

"Harder," Max whispered as she ground her hips into his thrusts.

He rose up onto his knees and gripped her thighs for leverage and did his best to grant her request. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of their flesh slapping together. It was a good thing the house and grounds Simon had rented were expansive, or it is likely Max's moans would have resulted in a visit from the authorities. Simon knew she was close to orgasm and reached between them to flick her clit as he sped up his thrusting.

She screamed Simon's name as she achieved release. Wetness surged around his cock as her legs snapped shut around him. Simon stilled his thrusting but continued to caress her clit. Her hands each grabbed a fistful of the sheets as though they were a lifeline. Her scream devolved into a hoarse whisper. As her orgasm receded, she released her hold on Simon's hips and collapsed onto the bed.

She reached up for Simon and pulled him down to deliver a scorching kiss. She broke the kiss saying, "Thanks. I needed that."

"You're most welcome, my dear," Simon replied with a grin.

"You didn't finish," she said breathlessly. "If you want, I can go down on you."

"That sounds wonderful. But that doesn't address the problem of you not finishing."

"Are you high? You just gave me the best orgasm ever."

"Do you trust me?" Simon asked with a glint in his eye.

"With my life," Max replied unhesitatingly.

Simon leapt off her. He reached for her wrist and pulled her up until she was on her knees. He then came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her to cradle her breast as he licked along her ear.

She stammered, "What are you..." but her words were cut off when Simon pushed her forward onto the bed and slid his throbbing member into her soaked core.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned as he began thrusting into her vigorously.

He kneaded her perfect ass as he fucked her. She turned her head to the side to peer back at him, a lascivious smile on her lips. He felt her fingers tickling his balls as she toyed with her clit. Within moments, she was approaching another orgasm. He reached forward to grip her elbows, pulling them towards him. She arched her back until he was hitting her g-spot each time he thrust into her.

"Holy fuck, baby," she panted. "That feels so fucking good."

"Tell me what you want," Simon groaned.

Her response was barely above a whisper, "I want you to cum inside me."

Simon released her elbows and wrapped both arms around her. One hand cradled one of her breasts while the other stroked her clit. His lips met her ear, sucking on it gently before whispering, "I want you to cum for me."

Wetness surged around Simon's thrusting member as her orgasm neared. Her inner walls desperately milked him, pleading for his seed. He thrust a final time before their orgasms arrived in unison. Her velvety heat clamped down on his cock as he erupted into her womb. His groan of pleasure joined her own as she spasmed in his arms. Simon's cock continued to fill her depths as he reached out for her on an ethereal level. But just as he began to contemplate the beauty of her soul, their pleasure crested and he felt Max's tenuous hold on consciousness break.

He leaned to the side, gently pulling her into an embrace on the bed. He was still nestled in her depths. He could feel the tiny tremors of her post orgasmic bliss. He gently kissed the back of her neck and luxuriated on the feeling of her sweat slicked body against his own.

Twenty-Two

Max awoke languidly, sighing in contentment as she alluringly squeezed Simon's cock with her inner muscles. He smiled in response and kissed the back of her neck.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he whispered into her ear. "You doin' alright?"

"I don't have the words," she murmured. "I mean... even after you told me what had happened with what's-her-name, I still didn't believe it. I mean, I didn't think you were lying. It just sounded so preposterous. Then, after that first orgasm, I figured that was what did her in. Because... wow. Like I said, it was the hardest I ever came. And that record lasted for all of about three hundred seconds. Fuck, Simon. Your cock is, like, a literal fucking magic wand. What else can it do? If I go down on you, will I achieve nirvana when you nut in my mouth? Sorry, I'm rambling. It was just so... wow."

"It's fine, honey. And, to answer your question, I don't think so. At least, all available evidence suggests otherwise."

"Well, I'm certainly hoping you'll let me find out."

Simon chuckled and said, "You act as though I would allow you to go down on me as a service to you. I don't think that's how it works."

"That's because you've never been fucked with a magic cock," she observed quickly.

"In that case, I guess I'll have to spend my lifetime wondering. Now, I assume you're interested in cleaning up. Would you like company?"

"Yes, and yes. And that's an excellent point, my astute friend. Not only did you fuck me into literal unconsciousness. You also came so goddamned much that I feel like if you pull out, we're going to have to replace not only the sheets, but also the bed. How is that possible? You know what, on second thought I might have to reconsider going down on you."

"I have no expectations that you would. Although, I would very much like to taste your stunningly beautiful pussy."

"You should definitely wait until I get cleaned up. But after that, game fucking on. You can do, and I don't say this lightly, anything you want to me. And I'm just fucking with you about being afraid of going down on you. I'm totally giving you a blow job later. We should probably just take the precaution of you dialing the nine and the one before you cum. Or perhaps even arrange for the paramedics to already be on scene. You can't be too safe with these things. Ok, I'm gonna get up now. Wish me luck."

She quickly climbed from the bed and scampered into the bathroom. Simon followed her chuckling, meeting her in the shower where she was shivering beneath the slowly warming water.

"You could have waited for the water to heat up."

"No time," she stammered. "It was like Niagara Falls down there."

Simon pulled her into an embrace, turning her so the icy water pelted against his back as he rubbed her back vigorously to warm her up. She leaned into him appreciatively and turned her face up. He met her lips, sighing as she melted into him.

"That feels good," she murmured. "You feel good."

"So do you, honey."

They slowly washed each other, further exploring each other's bodies as they soaked in the warmth of the water. Once they finished, they retired to the kitchen so Simon could prepare a late breakfast for Max. This too turned into a joint event, with plenty of caresses and kisses along the way. He joined her as she ate, sipping on a cup of coffee.

After she finished, she leaned back and sighed contentedly. "This is nice, isn't it? Just being together. No clothes. No weirdness."

"I couldn't agree more. Although I also very much enjoyed dinner last night, despite wearing those pesky clothes. Perhaps we should get out more."

"Don't do it on my account," Max replied with a wicked grin. "I've got a whole new area of things to do an experience now. And none of them require leaving the house."

Simon's reply was cut off by a chime from the front door. He fetched his phone from the kitchen and opened the security app to find that Agent Rozzer was standing on his front porch. As Simon watched, she checked her watch and glanced back at the street no fewer than three times. Anxiety was written all over her normally implacable face.

He said, "Well, this is a revolting development."

"Who is it?"

"The feds. Regrettably, I must advise that we clothe ourselves. Wiping the hard drives and throwing all the laptops in the pool might also not be a bad idea."

"Surely you must be joking. What could you have possibly done to get on their bad side? Besides, if I recall your tale correctly, isn't she with the domestic terrorism task force?"

"I guess we'll soon see."

***

"Welcome," Simon said a few minutes later when he opened his front door.

"What have I ever done to you which would cause you to lie to me, Mr. York?" the Amazonian agent replied as she stepped inside and removed her standard issue sunglasses.

"Fair point," Simon allowed. "But you've always been nothing but helpful to me. I could hardly open the door and tell you to fuck off."

Agent Rozzer shrugged before indicating that Simon should lead the way. He led her to the lanai and asked if she needed anything. Characteristically, she declined and sat motionless as she stared unabashedly at Simon.

"Well," Simon said taking the seat next to her. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"We?" she asked with the barest hint of a smile. "I only see you."

"Call it professional courtesy. If you're here, then certainly you've known I was here for a while. And you are no doubt aware of Ms. Harris's presence here. You likely also know what she ate for breakfast three days ago and what type of conditioner she uses. Whatever ill your presence here forebodes, there's no denying your effectiveness at your job."

"My employers have decided to redefine your level of personal freedom. In the interest of national security."

"Are you here to take me into custody?" Simon asked slowly. "Or merely to warn me?"

"I haven't decided yet," Agent Rozzer answered frankly. "If I choose the latter, I will almost certainly have to seek new employment. If I choose the former, I may share the fate of those misguided souls in Oklahoma."

"You have nothing to fear from me, Agent Rozzer."

She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could I ask you a favor?"

Simon was captivated by the woman before him. Despite her casual mention of his abilities, he sensed no fear in her. In fact, she was almost entirely a blank slate as far as emotions were considered. All he could sense was a vague sense of curiosity. He replied, "Of course. Anything."

"Do you think you could call me Paige, and I could call you Simon? The conversation is far too formal for the thoughts I'm having."

"That sounds just fine, Paige. You sure you wouldn't care for anything to eat or drink? I could have Max join us for lunch and cocktails."

"That sounds fine," she said wearily. "Especially the cocktail."

Simon picked up his phone and, after a brief pause, said, "Hey baby. I realize you're not the butler or a waitress, and if you don't wish to do this, please don't feel that you must, and it's certainly not part of your job..."

A faint, but clearly distinguishable 'Get on with it' blared from the speaker on Simon's phone.

He smiled and said, "Could you bring the fixin's for gin and tonics out to the pool, along with something to nibble on? I think Paige has some interesting observations to share with us."

Max appeared moments later, wearing conservative shorts and a t-shirt, and carrying a tray laden with plates, cups and bottles. Simon leapt up to help her set it down before ushering her into a chair and starting to make cocktails.

"Thank you so much, baby. Max, this is Paige. Paige, Max. Now, where were we?" he asked as he handed Paige a double.

"As I said, my employers have decided to bring you in."

"On what charge?" Max interrupted.

"A few dozen counts of manslaughter, I believe. It won't hold up in court as it was clearly self-defense, but I believe that is the intended strategy to bring you in."

Simon held up a hand to forestall additional questions from Max. He said, "But you're not so sure you support your employers wishes?"

"I joined the anti-terrorism task force to fight white nationalists. Not their enemy. The government has been terrified of you since what happened in Oklahoma. But they've only recently decided that they can safely confine you while they wrest the secret of your abilities from you."

"And what led them to this conclusion?"

Paige shrugged and said, "Nothing scientific, of course. Just pressure from the right-wing members of the committee that controls their budget. Not to mention that the press hasn't moved on from this like I suspect you had hoped. This still comprises at least twenty percent of the nightly news on fascist-leaning cable news networks."

"I told you," Max murmured.

Simon sighed and said, "I know. You were right. The question now is, what can be done about it?"

"Well," Paige replied quietly. "They don't actually know where you are. Not exactly."

"Why would we believe that?" Max replied with rancor.

"You shouldn't. You have no reason to trust me. Neither does Simon. But the truth is they told me to find you. I knew you were in LA. It only took me a few days to find your exact whereabouts. I have not, however, shared my findings with my superiors. I also took the liberty of leaving my bureau issued mobile phone and car at the airport."

Simon again had to interrupt Max with a gesture. He quietly said, "I believe her. But what will you do if you don't bring me in? Surely your superiors will eventually discover your deception. And I don't think you can get out of this one by telling them their instructions were too vague."

"I have spent considerable time pondering that very question. If I do not turn you in. And if you decide to do what is wise and leave the country immediately. Perhaps I could accompany you."

"Not so fast missy," Max replied quickly. "I just got him right where I want him. I'm not sure I'm willing to share just yet."

"I was not proposing that Simon take me as a lover," Paige replied matter-of-factly. She smirked at Max and said, "Nor was I proposing that I take you as a lover, Ms. Harris. Merely that I accompany you both on the journey. Perhaps with my assistance it will be slightly more difficult for my replacement to track him down."

Paige's suggestion robbed Max of the power of speech. Simon leaned over to plant a kiss on her cheek and said, "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps you're considering the things Paige could do with her tongue?"

Max huffed and leaned back in her chair, taking a large gulp of her cocktail which did nothing to attenuate the blush which spread across her cheeks.

Simon turned back to Paige and asked, "How long do we have?"

"Until you get nabbed trying to board a private plane? Maybe a week? But my recommendation, assuming you would be willing to bring me on as a consultant, would be that you be airborne no later than this time tomorrow. This evening would be better. You rent, Simon. Same for you, Ms. Harris. There is nothing holding you here. Why wait? It would make far more sense to appear to be going for a short holiday and just never return."

"Won't your presence tip them off that something is up?"

"Perhaps. But by the time they realize I'm with you, we'll be in a non-extradition country."

Twenty-Three

Simon regarded Paige with an appreciative eye as she emerged from the private jet's restroom, having divested herself of her bureau issued black pantsuit in favor of jean shorts and an unadorned t-shirt. She took a seat across from Max and Simon and regarded them silently. The silence quickly grew thick, despite the repeated interruptions from the highly effective stewardess.

Max sighed and said, "How long before this stops being uncomfortable?"

"I am unsure what you mean," Paige responded. "I find this craft to be quite luxurious."

Max frowned and said, "You know that wasn't what I meant. You and Simon have been having a staring contest basically since you knocked on the door this morning."

"I assure you I harbor no ill intentions toward Mr. York. I was silent because I had nothing to say."

"Still. People don't just stare at each other when everything is hunky dory. It's just... weird."

"Very well," Paige replied with the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "What would you like me to say?"

"I fucking give up. You two maniacs just knock yourself out with the world's most awkward staring contest. I swear, Simon. It's like she's your twin, except she's got amazing boobs. You're sure she doesn't speak whatever you called that language you were taught?"

"I don't think so," Simon hedged. "But that's a hell of a thing to make an assumption about. I was never told I was the only one."

Max rolled her eyes and said, "Well, and this is just the guess of a run-of-the-mill doesn't-speak-magic suddenly-feeling-inadequate-about-my-boobs financial-analyst, but couldn't you fucking ask her?"

Simon turned to Paige, whose eyes widened slightly. He said, in the First Language, "You have nothing to fear from me."

Paige's worried expression melted away and a small smile crept across her lips. Max glanced between them several times before nearly shouting, "Well, did you understand him?"

"Not really," Paige allowed. "The words were unfamiliar, but I clearly felt their meaning."

"Which was?"

"He wanted me to be calm, and at peace."

Simon smiled and said, "Close enough."

"But you actually understood something?" Max asked excitedly. "Because all I heard was some gobbledygook which made my brain hurt."

Paige said, "As I said, I did not understand the words. But the intention was clear enough."

Max said, "Try something else, Simon. Better yet, try saying something to me and see if she can still interpret what you're saying."

Simon turned to Max and said, "You are very beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered and she took a deep breath. She said, "Did you just tell me to have an orgasm? If so, then it damn near worked."

"No," Simon said with a smile. "That would have caused a much different reaction on my part. I merely said that you are very beautiful."

"Well," Max said, shaking her head slightly and turning to Paige. "What do you think?"

"I agree," Paige said simply. "You are very beautiful."

"Thanks," Max said sincerely. "Coming from an Amazonian goddess, that means a lot. But I meant what did you think of what Simon said?"

"I said I agreed with him. But as to your implied, rather than explicit, question... I neither understood nor intuited his meaning until you grew flush with arousal."

Max grumbled, "Ok. That's it. No more turning on poor Max until we've landed, and someone can do something about it."

"Feel free to pleasure each other now, if that is your desire," Paige said straight-faced. "I would be keen to observe."

"I bet you would," Max snapped. "I already told you, no using those huge muscles, and even huger boobs, of yours to steal what I've spent weeks cultivating. Not unless you're willing to take over the honors of giving me the world's greatest orgasms."

Paige merely quirked an eyebrow before turning to Simon. "I'm curious about something you said a moment ago. You said telling her to have an orgasm would have caused a much different reaction on your part. What does that mean?"

Simon shrugged and said, "Hard to say. But my working theory is that compelling people to do things causes me intense discomfort. The more uncharacteristic the thing they're being compelled to do is for them, the more discomfort it causes me."

Max said, "Then I don't understand. I'd be stoked if you gave me an orgasm."

"Perhaps, but there's a world of difference between an orgasm I give you and an orgasm I impose upon you. Your will is tantamount. Even if you desire an orgasm, it still must be your will. By taking your will from you, I harm myself."

Max said, "I still don't understand why it's so much more impactful if you tell me I'm beautiful in one language versus another. I mean, I certainly really like it either way. But it gets inside my soul when you say it in that other language."

Simon shrugged again and said, "I do not know for certain, but I was told that the First Language is more pure, more elemental. Perhaps that explains why thoughts or words in that language seem to mean so much more."

"Does the fact that we've been together have something to do with it?"

"No way to tell."

"Of course, there's a way," Max said with a grin. "Tell Paige."

Paige said, "That's not necessary. In any case, it's not very scientific. I would imagine that honesty may also have its part to play in the impact of his words. There's no cause for forcing him to lie."

Max snorted and said, "You're out of your goddamned mind if you don't think you're beautiful. I mean, come on. You're stunning."

Paige flushed and looked away in embarrassment. Simon said, "Well there goes the scientific integrity of this experiment. You had nearly the same effect in English. But I have another idea. Repeat after me. Monza Hungaroring Spa Suzuka."

Max quirked an eyebrow before dutifully repeating Simon's words. She then said, "What did that mean? I didn't really feel anything."

Simon grinned and said, "It didn't mean anything. It was just a few racing circuits. I just wanted to see if you could repeat unfamiliar words."

Max slapped him and said, "Jerk."

"Ok, now the real test. You are very beautiful."

Max sighed deeply and a blush spread across her cheeks, but she spoke the unfamiliar words accurately, if haltingly, while gazing at Paige. The latter shifted uncomfortably in her seat, squeezing her thighs together as her eyelids fluttered.

"Fascinating," Simon murmured.

Paige took a deep breath and said, "Can I try?"

Simon said, "Of course."

Paige spoke the words with ease, her eyes locked on Max who moaned loudly and thrashed in her seat for several moments before slumping back into her seat with a crooked grin on her face.

Simon said, "Did you just..."

"Oh yeah," Max replied.

"Remarkable," Simon whispered to himself. He turned to Paige and said, "Did you feel anything as you spoke?"

"I felt... something. I am unsure what, although I imagine it is not dissimilar from what we are meant to think young Harry must have felt upon delivering his Saint Crispin's day speech. Like a surge of energy shot through me, but one which came from within rather than without."

"Sounds about right. Perhaps I could try to teach you, both of you."

Paige smiled shyly and said, "I would very much like that."

"How about you, hot stuff? You interested in trying to learn. Or do you need a few moments to collect yourself?"

"I think I need a change of clothing, but I'm willing to try to learn. If for no other reason than to be able to make someone soak their panties without laying a finger on them."

"Good luck with that," Paige said with a wicked grin. "I rarely wear panties and I doubt Simon ever wears them. Perhaps you could try the stewardess."

"Oh my," Max whispered to herself as she rose to visit the restroom. But both Simon and Paige heard her quite clearly.

***

Two days later found them lounging on the beach of a small resort community in Montenegro overlooking the Adriatic Sea. They had no specific schedule in mind, only a general agreement that they would move on once a place became too familiar or their faces became too well known. The reality was that Simon had grown to understand the global markets well enough that they could not possibly spend more money than he could earn. Their current resort was exclusive enough to guarantee them a degree of privacy. It was also the kind of place where a man in the company of two beautiful women was nothing out of the ordinary.

Paige had quickly transitioned from someone who they viewed with a level of skepticism to a close friend. The threesome spent most of their waking hours together, rather enjoying the beautiful locale or locked in strategy sessions about their next moves. However, despite Max's initial veiled hints, which quickly transitioned into explicit demands, that Paige join her and Simon in bed, the statuesque beauty continued to demur. She made it quite clear she was not bothered by the intimacy Simon and Max shared while making it equally clear she had no desire to participate. This frustrated Max, and entertained Simon.

"Come on, sissy," Max teased Paige. "Nearly everyone else here is topless. You said if I took my top off, you'd do the same. So why, in the name of all that is sacred and holy, are you chickening out on taking out your obviously hall of fame boobs if I'm willing to show the world mine, which not even a thirteen-year-old would be jealous of?"

"Somebody's fishing for compliments," Simon muttered under his breath.

"Shut it, Simon. You should be backing me up here. I'm sure you want to see her boobs as much as I do, if not more. I mean, look at 'em. They're massive."

Simon said, "You're making her uncomfortable."

"I am not," Max retorted. "She's blushing. Besides, all I'm doing is talking about how beautiful she is. Who wouldn't like that?"

"I can tell you if I'd had this conversation a year ago, except in reverse, it would have made me extremely uncomfortable. Especially since I would have known, without a doubt, that the person I was talking to was completely deranged."

"Exactly," Paige intoned.

Max leaned forward and poked a finger into Simon's chest. She said, "You're not helping, sir. Tell me I'm wrong."

"About what?"

"Tell me I'm wrong about Paige being gorgeous. Tell me she doesn't have the best tits on this whole fucking beach."

"You're not wrong. And hers are certainly tied for first."

"Bullshit," Max snorted, but a smile tickled the corners of her mouth.

"Fine," Paige interrupted. "But this is only to make you shut up." She untied her black bikini top and stuffed it into her bag before leaning back and nonchalantly taking a sip of her cocktail.

"Sweet Jesus," Max breathed. "They're spectacular. I mean... fuck. Simon, have you ever..."

Simon basked in the warmth radiating between the two beauties. It escaped his understanding as to how it came to pass, but it was quite obvious that no one had ever made Paige feel quite the way that Max was at this moment. The tall blonde was blushing so deeply that it reached from her forehead to her nipples, and her breath was obviously staggered. He took a sip of his own cocktail as he unabashedly took in the sight before him: two beautiful women, the former a petite redhead with a slender body and the latter a majestic, impossibly voluptuous blond.

"Well," Simon said, uncharacteristically breaking the tension. "Now that that's been resolved, hopefully to the satisfaction of all parties involved..." He paused until he received a wicked grin from Max and a nodding smile from Paige. "What else shall we do today?"

Twenty-Four

"Excuse me," a stoop-shouldered man in his early twenties said softly from his position next to their table. "Are you Simon York?"

Simon glanced at Paige, who looked around worriedly but said nothing. He shrugged and said, "Yeah. I guess I am."

"I swear I'm not here to make any trouble for you. I was just hoping it was you. You're kind of my hero."

Simon gestured to the open chair at their table and said, "What's your name?"

"Edgar."

"How did you find Mr. York?" Paige asked sternly.

"Um..."

"Perhaps we should go," Paige said turning to Simon and Max.

"Not yet," Simon said. "I'd like to hear him out."

Edgar said, "I've been trying to find you ever since I saw what you did in Oklahoma."

"Now that you've found him," Paige said guardedly. "What are your intentions?"

"Oh, it's not like that," Edgar said quickly. "I don't mean anyone any harm. I was just hoping you could teach me."

"Teach you what, exactly." Simon prompted.

Edgar took a deep breath before beginning. "I've spent my whole life being afraid. I'm from a small town in the north of England and I started getting picked on for being gay years before I even realized the truth of it. The first time I went on a date, it turned out it was a set up and I got thrown in a dumpster after they beat me up. Since then, I've lived in a constant state of fear that the bullies would find me and finish the job.

"Then, I saw the video of you in Oklahoma. Another skinny guy with bullies ganging up on him. And they were going to hang you. But somehow, you beat them. You beat them so completely that they would never dare to terrorize you ever again. In that moment, I saw my salvation. If I could learn from you then maybe I could stand up for myself. Maybe I wouldn't have to be afraid all the time."

Simon considered this for a moment before saying, "I'm not sure I have anything to teach you."

"That's impossible. You faced your fears and then performed a miracle in front of the whole world. I'm not asking you to teach me to make people disappear, although that would be fantastic. But I'm certain you can help me with the rest."

"Come on, Simon," Max interjected. "Cut the guy some slack."

"Very well," Simon agreed. "I will try. But I can make no promises."

"That's all I can ask. I apologize for interrupting your evening I won't take up any more of your time."

"It's fine," Simon replied. "Just meet me here tomorrow at ten."

"Thank you so much," Edgar replied before retiring from the dining room.

Max watched him go before saying to Paige, "I'm surprised it took so long for the first one."

Simon said, "What do you mean?"

Paige said, "We've suspected ever since we left California that you would eventually attract some followers. The only question was how long it was going to take."

"How many other theories have you two cooked up without discussing it with me?"

"We'll never tell," Max replied with a smirk.

Paige shared her smirk and said, "But that brings us to something we should discuss. That being additional security. I am perfectly competent to help you stay off the grid, but if we're actually going to be dealing with an increasing quantity of strangers showing up then I think we should get some actual security. Not everyone is going to be as friendly, or as seemingly harmless, as that young man was."

Simon shrugged and said, "Fine by me."

Paige said, "I will make the arrangements. And, on that note, I think I will take my leave. Have a pleasant evening."

It seemed to Simon that her eyes lingered on Max as she departed. This continued a trend of increasing tension between them. He opened his mouth to give voice to his thoughts, but Max beat him to the punch.

"What would you say to a moonlight stroll on the beach?"

"Suits me," Simon replied standing and holding his hand out to Max. She rose quickly and took his offered arm. Simon could not help but appreciate the way her little black dress clung to her petite form, highlighting her deliciously rounded ass while accentuating her modest breasts. "You really are quite spectacular, my dear."

"I'm so pleased you think so. You're not so bad yourself."

"True, but you came by it naturally. I just thought myself this way."

Max said, "That's not entirely fair. After all, you didn't do the self-absorbed asshole move of giving yourself a thirty-centimeter cock or washboard abs. Not that I am in any way complaining about your cock or your body. I think both are fantastic. I'm just saying that there wasn't any vanity in your remaking of your body. It was merely utilitarian."

"Perhaps," Simon allowed as they reached the beach. The moonlight reflected off the placid water and the sound of the waves was sufficient to provide ambiance without being oppressive. "Would you like to talk about Paige?"

"Not yet, baby," Max replied quietly. "I just want tonight to be for us."

Simon nodded in response. They walked hand in hand for several minutes in companionable silence before Max came to a stop. She released Simon's hand causing him to glance back at her in concern.

She said, "I think I want to go for a swim. Won't you join me?"

"But we have no swimsuits," Simon protested. "And this beach is hardly private."

She released the clasp behind her neck and pulled her dress down, revealing her braless breasts which seemed to shine in the pale moonlight. She reached over to grope Simon's groin, hastening the hardening of his cock. She said, "It's up to you babe. But I can't go down on you if you leave your pants on."

"My dear, your powers of persuasion are truly breathtaking," Simon stammered as he hastened to remove his clothing. Max beat him across the nudity finish line and dashed laughing toward the waterline. He chased after her and caught her in hip deep water. She whirled to face him, her lips finding his with an urgency which surprised him. Her tongue plundered his mouth as her hands sought out his manhood.

She broke the kiss laughing before saying, "I didn't think this out too well. If I give you a blow job here, I'll end up drowning."

"That's hardly necessary," Simon protested.

"Fuck that. I've been trying to give you a blow job for a week, but you keep saying I don't have to and then fucking me into unconsciousness. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm gonna find out if that magic cock of yours will let me see through time when I get you off with my mouth."

Simon grinned widely and followed her to the damp sand at the water's edge. He pulled her into his arms, embracing her closely as his lips found hers. Time seemed to slow as their lips met. Gone was the frantic urgency from moments before. It was replaced with a shared desire to grow closer. Simon's tongue slid along Max's, savoring its slick texture and the way her body relaxed in his arms. She broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. Her eyes boring into him with an inscrutable expression.

Max slid slowly down his body, her tongue blazing a trail that caused Simon to shiver in pleasure. When she reached her knees, she reached up to cradle his manhood. She stroked him slowly with one hand as her other dropped to fondle his balls. When moisture welled up at the tip of his cock, she leaned forward and lapped it up daintily.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "You're delicious."

Simon could only moan in response as Max took him deeper into her heavenly mouth. Her hands slid around his thighs until they gripped his ass. She pulled him forward until the head of his cock encountered the back of her throat. He reached down to gently gather her hair, holding it back so he could watch her beautiful face as she pleasured him. As if sensing his eyes upon her, her own eyes opened and stared up at him. Her gaze held nothing but affection for him, and her lips turned up in a smile as a moan escaped his lips. Her entire being radiated a desire for his release, an urgency to pleasure him.

She pulled off him but brought her hands up to stroke his throbbing shaft. "Please, baby. I want to taste you. Please cum for me."

She took him into her mouth once more, bathing the head of his cock with her tongue as she stroked his shaft and caressed his balls. Simon smiled gratefully down at her as he felt himself near the point of no return. A repeated litany of 'mmm hmm' resonated through his cock as Max pleaded for his seed. She released her grip on the base of his shaft, her hand dropping to the apex of her thighs to pleasure herself.

He could take no more. Groaning loudly, he slid over the edge and lost himself in his release. Max moaned loudly as the first surge of his seed bathed her tongue. Her eyes closed in pleasure, her hand a blur on her clit. He felt her orgasm take her, and the shared pleasure sent his orgasm to another level. Through it all, Max continued to pleasure the head of his cock with her talented tongue.

When at last their mutual pleasure receded, and she reluctantly released his cock from her lips with a soft pop, Simon sank into the sand beside her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. They sank down until they were laying side by side.

Max sighed mightily and whispered, "I'm pretty pissed at you, you know..."

Simon worriedly said, "I'm confused. I thought you wanted me to cum..."

"I'm fucking with you, dumbass. You know, for a super genius, you can be pretty thick sometimes. I'm not pissed that you came in my mouth. To the contrary. You were delicious, like a million times better than the second-best thing I've ever had in my mouth. And the sensation when you came, it was transcendent. Like I could feel every thought in your head as though it was my own. It was the closest thing this skeptic is ever going to have to a religious experience. I'm just pissed that you didn't cum in my mouth sooner. And more often."

"Well, that's easily rectified. So long as you agree to get as good as you give. I could spend a lifetime worshiping your body and still feel as though I had more left to learn."

"About that, Simon," Max whispered hesitantly.

Simon kissed her gently and said, "Paige."

"I'm so sorry, babe. I really like you, not to mention that I really like fucking you. You're the best friend I've ever had, and I hope what I'm about to say doesn't ruin that."

"But you feel drawn to Paige in a way you can't explain?" Simon interjected gently.

"Like a moth to a flame. She feels it too. But she's not the sharing type. Neither am I when it comes right down to it."

"Then go to her," Simon whispered. "Love is too precious, and too fleeting, to deny it when it stares you in the face. You are one of my greatest friends. Nothing will change that. But I could no sooner be party to you missing out on the chance of true happiness than I could cut off my own arm."

Max quirked an eyebrow and said, "I'm not sure that phrase works for you. You certainly have the discipline and mental fortitude to lop your own arm off, and no doubt the ability to just grow yourself a new one."

"You know what I mean, honey," Simon said patiently.

Max kissed him gently and said, "You're right, but don't expect me to stop fucking with you just because I'm going to stop fucking you. You sure you're ok with this?"

"Of course. I'm really happy for you, honey. I wish you and Paige nothing but the best."

"Are you going to be ok, Simon? I hate the thought of you being alone again."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. I will bask in the radiance of your burgeoning love affair with your beautiful Amazonian warrior. Besides, I won't be completely alone. I have Edgar."

"You're a good man, Simon. The best I've ever known. If there's ever anything you need, say the word and we'll be there for you."

"I know you will, my dear," Simon said before standing up and pulling Max up next to him to kiss her a final time. "Now go to her."

Twenty-Five

Simon awoke alone for the first time in nearly two weeks, and he was instantly reminded of just how much he abhorred the sensation. He quickly readied himself to face the day and made his way out onto his suite's terrace to try to enjoy his morning coffee. As he took in his surroundings, he noticed Max and Paige walking down the beach quite close together. He smiled at their happiness but could not help but feel a twinge of self-pity for his own return to loneliness.

He spent the next few hours in quiet meditation in an effort to better understand his predicament and the increasingly elusive mystery of love and happiness. He loved Max, of that there could be no possible doubt. But he was equally certain that his love for her was as a lifelong friend. The fact that they had been intimate, repeatedly and to the immense pleasure of both of them, had no impact on their friendship or the love they felt for each other. But, at the end of the day, his love for Max was indistinguishable from his love for Hank. It was the love one felt for a lifelong friend, not the bond one shared with a soul mate.

This, however, was not what was causing Simon so much consternation. The thing that confused him was that he had come to the end of yet another romantic liaison with a woman with whom he would have seriously considered spending the rest of his life. Casey had been a person with whom he was exceedingly compatible. They liked doing all of the same things, and they enjoyed doing those things together. When their relationship had expanded to include intimacy, that had felt at the time like the logical next step. But that intimacy had changed their friendship irrevocably. And when the intimacy between them flickered and died, like a candle having exhausted its supply of wax, they found themselves at an impasse. They had tried to transition back to being just friends who enjoyed doing the same things, but in the end the loss of the romantic spark was too great a burden to bear, and their entire relationship collapsed under the strain.

With Karen, Simon had felt a deeper and more profound connection than he had ever imagined possible. Their sexual chemistry had been scorching, and their rapport had been impeccable. But, in the end, she had betrayed him. He still refused to judge her for that betrayal without a chance to hear her side of the story, something which he knew was profoundly unlikely to ever happen. Simon also recognized that his relationship with Karen was even shorter than his relationship with Max, at least the intimate part of that relationship. He still believed in the truth of his feelings about Karen, but he could not fully discount the possibility Max had been prescient in her belief that the love he felt for Karen had been some sort of misplaced need for any kind of human connection.

He was roused from his reverie by an alarm on his phone reminding him of the scheduled meeting with Edgar. At Paige's insistence, he was scheduled to meet first with a new security contractor she had hired who would accompany Simon to the meeting. As if on cue, Simon heard a knock at his front door. He got up and crossed the suite before opening his door. Before him was a man who was the embodiment of imposing. Easily over two meters tall and massing at least one-hundred kilos of pure muscle, the man had a permanent snarl which was only accentuated by his hairless head and skin which seemed to suck all the light out of the room.

"Ibrahim, I presume?" Simon said pleasantly.

The man stepped into the room and quickly closed the door. He said, "That was stupid, Mr. York. You should never open a door unless you're certain of who, or what, is on the other side. Furthermore, you should never invite a stranger into to your domicile without verifying their bona fides."

"Do you always begin interviews by telling your potential boss that they're stupid?" Simon asked with only a hint of mirth.

"Only when they're being stupid. Listen, I saw the video from Oklahoma. I'm not sure what you did there, but you can't honestly expect a trick like that to work twice. If the people are looking for you, it isn't likely to be for an autograph. They'll want to take you out. And you're making it way too easy on them. Staying in a public resort? Answering your own door? Letting people walk up to your dinner table and sit down? Those are all perfectly straightforward strategies for only two groups of people: those who have no enemies and those who have a death wish. I know you're not in the first group. What I'm trying to do now is make sure you're not in the second group before I take the job."

Simon sat placidly, studying the hyper-intense man before him. He had no doubt as to the man's genuineness. Simon even sensed a not-insignificant amount of fear emanating from Ibrahim, as though the latter sincerely expected an attack to be imminent. He said, "What makes you so certain that I am in danger?"

"I have protected many types of people in my life, Mr. York. Far and away, the most difficult type of individual to protect against is a zealot, a radical, someone who would sacrifice their own life for their cause. And you have made an enemy of one such group of people."

"What makes you think those ignorant wretches are willing to die for their cause? They're just a bunch of dumb rednecks who watch too much cable news."

Ibrahim huffed and said, "And what of the man you attacked which started all of this? Was he not prepared to die for his cause? They are all the same, Mr. York. The motivation is irrelevant, only their dedication to their cause matters.'

"So how do you picture this working? You sound as if your advice would be for me to move to a fortress somewhere and never have any visitors."

"Obviously, that would be ideal. I am glad you're starting to see things my way."

Simon sighed and said, "I was being facetious. I have no intention of hiding away from the world. I'm lonely enough as it is."

"If you insist. But I cannot guarantee your safety otherwise. Or my own."

"Are you saying you won't take the job unless I promise to sequester myself like a hermit. Which would, I'll point out to you, kind of eliminate the need for security in the first place."

"I leave it up to you, Mr. York. You know how to reach me when you make your decision."

Simon shook his head at the departing figure. In a way, he envied the man. He had found the perfect hustle. Set yourself up as a security expert and insist that your clients remove themselves completely from society and live in a fortress which could be defended against most small countries. But Simon had meant what he said, he had no desire to separate himself from the world. He shot off a text to Paige telling her things would not work out with Ibrahim. He also asked her to try next time to find someone a bit more akin to a bodyguard, and less like a general from a banana republic.

He saw that he was late for his meeting with Edgar, so he collected his effects and departed his suite. He quickly found the anxious young man seated amongst those seeking a late breakfast in the dining room.

"Good morning," Simon said softly as he took his seat. Edgar's entire body jolted in response. His head whipped around. When he spotted Simon, it seemed like he grew more tense instead of relaxing. Simon continued, "Hey, it's ok. It's just me."

Edgar stammered, "Oh, hey. Sorry about that. I guess I was worried that you wouldn't come."

"No worries. Are you hungry?"

"No. I mean, yeah. I guess so. I haven't had much to eat recently."

Simon motioned for a waiter before saying, "Why not?"

"Well, I kind of put all my resources into finding you. And, even if I hadn't, I can't really afford to stay here."

"Well then allow me to buy you breakfast. Anything you like."

Edgar seemed to relax somewhat at this. When the waiter arrived, Edgar ordered enough food for five along with a decidedly non-breakfast cocktail. Simon said nothing, he merely studied the man before him as he consumed in excess of five thousand calories. Despite the food, the man was highly agitated. He was consumed by fear, although of what Simon could not be certain. Beneath the fear was a deep seeded loathing. Neither of these was necessarily incongruous with Edgar's story, but they filled Simon with a deep sense of unease.

When Edgar finally finished eating, Simon said, "Feel better?"

"Yes, much. Thank you, Mr. York."

"Please, call me Simon. Now that that's out of the way, perhaps you could tell me why you're really here."

Edgar's eyes grew wide and flickered toward the door. He said, "I... I don't know what you mean."

"You're afraid, Edgar. But not of me."

"I told you last night," Edgar replied cautiously. "I live in constant fear of my tormenters."

"Yes, you did tell me that. But it seems unreasonable that you would have any reason to fear anyone here. Unless, perhaps, you brought your tormenters with you."

Edgar's pulse spiked at this point, and the surge of fear emanating from him told Simon all he needed to know.

Simon sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Edgar. I don't think I can help you. And whether your cohorts succeed or not, I promise this will not help your situation in the least. You must break free from them, whatever it takes, or you will never be free."

"What are you going to do?" Edgar asked breathlessly. "Why aren't you running away?"

"Where would I run? I know nothing of the threat I face. I know only that you are terrified of them. Care to enlighten me?"

Edgar glanced around worryingly before whispering, "They mean to abduct you. I can't imagine their plans for you are something you'd enjoy."

"And how did they intend to abduct me?"

"They've got a people carrier outside. A van," Edgar elaborated in response to Simon's questioning glance. "They want me to lead you outside, where they promised they'd release my boyfriend once they've captured you."

Simon sighed and said, "Do you believe them? Do you really think they'll let your lover go? Or is it more likely they'll grab you as well?"

Edgar started to respond, but then his eyes grew extremely wide as he glanced over Simon's shoulder. Simon sensed several figures approaching from the rear, hate emanating off them in waves. He started to turn but then a hood was thrown over his head, quickly followed by the screams of several nearby patrons.

Simon felt himself being dragged from the restaurant and thrown into the aforementioned van. They were quickly underway. Simon could hear Edgar's pleading for the release of himself and his lover. Simon could only sigh in disappointment when a gruff voice informed Edgar that his lover was dead. Edgar's wailing was cut off by a thump. The gruff voice chuckled in response before turning his attention on Simon.

"Thought you could hide from us, didn't you boy? Well, we got you now. And we're gonna finish what we started."

Simon withdrew partially, something he had been practicing daily during the long hours when his companion had been sleeping peacefully but fatigue had yet to find him. Partial withdrawal allowed him to consider his surroundings outside of his own senses while still maintaining a link to his corporeal body. He saw the three attackers, two sitting in the front seat while a third continued to spew vile epitaphs at his, to all outward appearances, lifeless body. He also saw, much to his relief, two unconscious bodies beside him in the rear of the van. He could only hope that the unfamiliar body was Edgar's lover, and that neither had sustained significant damage.

Simon considered their situation. They were no doubt headed for a rendezvous with others who agreed with his abductor's political leanings. Whether this was just down the road, or back in the states, Simon had no way to tell. All he did know was that their end goal was his demise, likely quite publicly. Simon knew it would be simple enough to compel one of his abductors to kill the other two. But he was not certain what the strain of that type of compulsion would do to him personally. He was less worried about the prospect of killing these men in general. They were unquestionably evil, having already kidnapped Edgar's lover just in the hope of Edgar's story being believable enough to lure Simon in.

Simon's next thought was of trying to simply make the men disappear. He was confident he could handle one, perhaps even two, but despite the greater number he had managed in Oklahoma he had never since managed to do it more than twice before he was overcome by fatigue. He knew his situation would not improve if he got rid of two of the assailants only to pass out and leave himself at the mercy of the third.

He heard the man who had cuffed Edgar ask how long until they arrived. The answer from the front was four minutes. Simon knew his time was running out. He reached out and flipped the driver into the abyss. He hoped the chaos from the vehicle suddenly being driverless would help them escape. The chaos he hoped for arrived quickly. Both remaining assailants panicked. The man from the passenger seat struggled to slide into the driver's seat while the assailant in the rear of the van was shrieking to be told what had happened. The latter man pressed a pistol to the head of the driver, accusing the latter of killing the man. The driver loudly protested his innocence, but his message only got through when he suggested that Simon was at fault. This led the man to turn his pistol on Simon. Simon knew his strength was failing him, that his desperate hope that he could deal with all three had been in vain. With the last of his strength, he sent the attacker with a pistol to his head into the abyss and then slid into unconsciousness.

Twenty-Six

Simon jolted awake to find an unfamiliar face regarding him. He was a dark-skinned man, likely in his early fifties, with a shaved head and an indistinguishable tattoo on his neck. The man drew his hands back from where he had been shaking Simon. Simon also noted that Edgar was perched just behind the man's left shoulder with a worried expression on his face.

"Oy," the man said in the unmistakable accent of northern England. "Wake up."

Simon muttered, "I am awake. Are we safe?"

"No, we're not safe. Is this the face of a man who hasn't a care in the world?"

"I suppose not," Simon replied wearily. "What's our status?"

Edgar spoke for the first time to wail, "About to drown."

"Come again?"

"The people carrier we're in crashed when you did that thing you do to bad people to the driver. Then, it crashed again when the new driver abandoned his post to attack you. The first crash wasn't so bad, but the second one sent us off a bridge into water which is deep enough to ruin our day. Surely you've noticed the fact that this thing is already half filled with water."

"Well, sure. Now it seems pretty obvious. Can you two swim?"

They both nodded. Edgar's friend spoke up to say, "Sure. Not that it will do us any good. The doors are sealed, and we'll have long drowned by the time the pressure equalizes enough to open them."

"Let me take a look," Simon replied. He then dipped his head below the water and peered out the front of the overturned vehicle. He could see light from the surface, so he knew they were in reasonably shallow water. He popped back up into the dwindling air pocket and said, "We're not too deep. We just have to make sure we don't panic while we wait for the water to rise enough that the pressure equalizes so we can open the door."

"Easy for you to say," Edgar said with a noticeable amount of panic in his voice. "We're not fucking super men."

Simon could only sigh in response. After all, Edgar had something of a point. Simon could comfortably hold his breath for up to thirty minutes so long as he did not strain himself. He again peered around the vehicle. He noticed that the front doors had two windows, one larger pane which rolled down and a smaller one which did not. He popped back up out of the water and regarded the men before him. Edgar's friend seemed reasonably calm but Edgar himself was on the verge of panic.

"You're going to be ok," Simon said softly in the First Language. He felt a tinge of discomfort, which he attributed to this being about as close as he could come to compelling someone without actually doing it. Fortunately, Edgar seemed to relax a little. Simon continued, "I need you to both try to relax. I can break out a window. The good news is, we'll be able to open the door a few seconds after I do it. The bad news is, when I do our air will disappear basically instantly." Simon again looked at Edgar. "You'll have to keep it together when the water surges in. One ill-timed inhale and you're done for. Just take a deep breath when I say so, and don't panic. Once we get out of the van, slowly blow air out as you ascend and don't rise faster than your bubbles. I don't think we're deep enough to get bent, but there's no point in taking any chances. And don't worry about having enough air, the air in your lungs will expand as you rise. Any questions?"

Both men shook their heads grimly, so Simon said, "I'll count down from three. Deep breath on one. Got it?"

Ten seconds later, the van was full of water after Simon sent the small pane of glass to oblivion. He forced the passenger door open and then pulled the other men free. Once he was satisfied that they were on the way to the surface, he returned to the van's interior. He spotted the third assailant, now quite dead, wedged behind the back seats. He pulled the body free of the van and checked it for any form of identification. Finding none, he checked the van's interior. This also proved to be an exercise in futility, the van having clearly been rented just for this crime. He returned to the vehicle's exterior to be confronted by the grisly sight of the third assailant. The man was bound and appeared to have a wound on the back of his head, as though he had been attacked from behind and then bound before he came to. Simon decided it was likely that the man had been alive until he flooded the van. He briefly considered getting rid of the body, but he could not be certain he had the strength. And tens of meters below the surface was no place to pass out. Sensing there was nothing else to be done, he shrugged and kicked toward the surface.

Edgar and his friend were quite panicked when Simon joined them. Edgar shrieked, "Where were you? How'd you stay down so long?"

Simon merely quirked an eyebrow at him before turning to Edgar's companion and saying, "I'm Simon."

"I know who you are. I'm Rory."

"I'd say pleasure to meet you, but..."

"I get it," Rory replied. "Now, you two want to swim all day or should we make for that beach over there? The good news is, it's been so long since the van went in the water, and we're so far out, we might just be mistaken for bathers."

"I can't imagine we'll get that lucky," Simon muttered as they began to swim for the distant beach.

Copyright © 2022 Jake Lazarus

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