The New Old Curiosity Shop

All characters are over the age of 18.

The two women were laughing as they stepped out of the sports bar into the Carolina sunshine of August. Both were tall and fit, not surprising given that they had been doubles teammates on the UNC women's tennis team. When they were competing for the conference championship, an unimaginative national sportswriter had dubbed them "Ebony and Ivory." Hannah Compton was African-American, while her partner, Beegee Beale, was a platinum blonde. Still best friends eight years later, they'd just finished lunch.

As Hannah started toward her car, Beegee grabbed her friend's arm. "Do you have to go right away? Let's go take a look in that shop." She pointed toward the end of the strip mall, where a store had recently replaced a failed dental office.

"I guess I've got a little time before I have to be back at the office," Hannah replied. Laughing and chatting, the two women strolled over to the store and went inside.

From behind a counter, a pretty young woman dressed head to toe in Victorian garb greeted them. The nametag she wore identified her as Rhonda Brooks. "Welcome to The New Old Curiosity Shop," she said cheerfully. "We've got all kinds of unique gifts to spur your curiosity, so please have a look around and let me know if you have any questions."

As Hannah slowly cast her eyes over the cluttered shelves and counters, she saw a profusion of oddities unlike anything she'd seen before. To her left was a horned toad mounted on a marble column. As she stared at it, she thought she saw it wink at her. She quickly turned to her right to see a painting that appeared to change subjects as she shifted her position. On the same wall she spotted a fantastic carved figure that looked half-human, half reptile. She shuddered.

"Look at this," Beegee called. She held up a flower encased in clear plastic. When Hannah looked closer, she realized it was a rose that was dark blue in color. "That can't be real, can it?"

Hannah turned to the girl behind the counter. "What is this place?"

The girl smiled. "I'll let the owner of the store answer that." She gestured behind them, and they turned to find a middle-aged man clad in a cutaway Victorian suit complete with a vest and top hat.

"Desmond Mountebank, at your service," the man spoke, doffing his hat and bowing at the waist. "What you see here are mere gewgaws and oddities designed to stir your curiosity, nothing more. What we really offer at The New Old Curiosity Shop is a chance to explore the greatest curiosity of all: yourselves."

He leaned on a counter and gave them his most charming smile. "Haven't you ever wondered who you really are, what aspects of your personality you've never explored? Most of us go through life tightly constrained by our environment, our education, by the demands of society. If there are hidden facets to ourselves, we may go our entire lives never knowing, never experiencing what lies behind those doors within us."

Now he paused and drew himself upright. "Of course there are many who are wholly content to remain in ignorance. They are unwilling or perhaps afraid to ask 'Who am I, what do I really want?' If you feel that way, I thank you for visiting and invite you to peruse our collection of oddities here in the front of our shop. But if I have piqued your curiosity, if you are adventurous enough to explore yourselves more deeply, let me show you the rest of the shop."

The two friends stared at each other, their expressions a mix of amusement, skepticism and curiosity. Hannah leaned near her friend's ear. "Is this some kind of scam?" she asked.

"I don't know," Beegee replied. "It's sure not what I was expecting." Her brow creased. "But what if it was real? What if he really does have a way to help you explore yourself? I don't know about you, but I've always wondered about myself."

"I know what you mean," Hannah replied after a moment. "Still, he could be a recruiter for some kind of cult, or trying to enlist us in some sort of pyramid scheme."

"Yeah, no thank you," Beegee whispered emphatically. "But I guess I'd like at least to hear a little more about what he's offering." She grabbed Hannah's arm. "Come on, let's at least find out a little more. I don't think he's going to try to overpower us or something, but if you come with me, I know he can't. What do we have to lose?"

Hannah gave her friend a wry smile. "I have my doubts, Beegee, but I know where you're coming from. What woman doesn't want to know more about herself? Okay, I'll be your bodyguard."

They turned to Mountebank, who had stepped back discreetly to give the two women a chance to chat in private. "Alright, Mr. Mountebank, we'd like to hear a little more. But if this is some kind of con or scam, we're out of here, got it?"

Mountebank smiled benignly. "Ladies, I am absolutely positive you will not be disappointed. Now, if you'll follow me..." With that he turned and led them between two counters to a large, ornate door secured by digital keypad. He quickly punched in a combination and then courteously pulled it open for them.

When the two women entered, they each thought they had stepped into a drawing room straight out of Downton Abbey. The far wall, which was 2 stories high, was filled with bookshelves containing numerous leather-bound tomes. High up in the center was a large antique mirror framed in gilt. The other three walls were paneled in dark wood. Two elegant crystal chandeliers provided illumination. Against one of the side walls was an oversized leather Chesterfield sofa. Over it hung a large oil painting of a moody landscape. In the center of the room was a tall wingback chair with an oriental rug in front of it.

Beegee glanced at Hannah, then gave Mountebank a doubtful look. "Um, this is not what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?" he responded with a trace of a smile.

"Well, something more modern, maybe medical, you know: chrome and computers."

Their host broke into a broad grin. "I get that almost every time." Then his expression sobered. "Rest assured: there's an impressive array of computing power here, but most of it is behind the bookshelves on the far wall."

He waved them over to the sofa and invited them to be seated. Then he proceeded to walk back and forth as though delivering a college lecture. "My background is in the world of advanced computing; I specialize in virtual reality. There have been tremendous strides made in that area, but I am proud to say that I have taken those concepts far beyond what the rest of Silicon Valley is doing.

"You see, their focus is on creating new worlds where people can explore and play games. That's all well and good, but I believe the real frontier is the human mind. Who knows what we might discover if we could only explore our own mentality? But no one has truly been able to do that -- until now.

"My breakthrough was to realize that there is one type of thought that is unique in the human mind: curiosity. I don't mean day-to-day questions like 'What was that guy's name?' or 'What do I want for lunch?' No, the unique human characteristic is to ask 'Who am I? What kind of person am I? What are my talents, my tastes, my desires?' Only humans ask those questions. Moreover, those thoughts stand out in the brain because they are open-ended -- there is no fixed connection from one neuron to another. And once we can identify them, we can offer possibilities and see how the mind responds."

"You can really do that?" Hannah asked.

"I can and I have, many times," he replied confidently.

"But how? I mean, there's nothing here, no equipment. What do you use: mind-reading or ESP?" she asked snidely.

He laughed and stepped over to open a drawer on the small table next to the wingback chair. When he returned, he was carrying a small oblong case. At their puzzled looks, he opened the case to reveal two unusual ear buds. "This is all the equipment I need," he told them.

"But those are just ear buds like for an IPhone," Beegee protested.

"Oh, my dear, they are so much more, I assure you," Mountebank chuckled. "All you need to do is to sit in that chair and slip those into your ears. There's nothing more to it. But once you do, my equipment will home in on the areas of your mind where your curiosity resides, interpret the neurological activity there and bring the questions you have to your consciousness to see and consider."

He smiled. "All that may sound a bit dull and dry, but I assure you that everyone who tries it says it is a most enlightening and enjoyable experience."

Seeing the skepticism on their faces, he closed the case and stood up. "I've given you a great deal of information. If I've intrigued you, I have time available this afternoon for one of you. But it's not unusual for customers to want to digest everything they've learned before making a decision. If that's the case, that's perfectly fine. Before you leave, however, let me assure you of one thing." His expression grew solemn. "If you choose to explore yourself in this way, I promise you that it will change your life."The two women looked at each other. It was Beegee who asked the unanswered question. "So if I wanted to try this out, how much would it cost?"

He looked at her blandly. "$500 per session." Then, hearing her sharp intake of breath, he went on, "I know that is not an insignificant amount, especially since you have nothing but my word that it will be worth it. For that reason, I always offer the initial session for only $100. And afterwards, if you don't think it was worth it, we'll cancel that charge." He looked at them shrewdly. "I know what you're thinking, but you'd be surprised at the number of customers who return for additional sessions. And no one has ever asked for their money back."

He stepped to one side. "I've taken a lot of your time and, hopefully, given you a lot to think about. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." With that he slipped through a side door and disappeared.

"I don't know what to make of all that," Hannah said as they returned to the front of the shop.

"I know," Beegee replied, "it sounds pretty wild." Suddenly she stopped and turned to the shop girl behind the counter. "Have you ever done that -- you know -- done Mountebank's whatever it is?"

The girl's face brightened immediately. "Oh, yes, several times. It's amazing!"

The two women thanked her and went back out into the early afternoon sunshine. "So what do you think?" Beegee asked.

"I don't know," Hannah answered. "I mean, I guess I'm curious to know more about myself -- who wouldn't be? But it's a lot to believe."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But did you see that girl back there when I asked her about it? You'd think she got religion!"

"I know, but she could have been making that up just to sell us."

"Maybe, but I don't think so," Beegee said. "Did you notice the way her eyes lit up? It didn't seem like she was faking it." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to do it. He said he had time this afternoon -- I'm going to try it."

Hannah smiled at her friend. "You always were the adventurous one. Well, you have to promise to call me and let me know it goes."

"I promise, girlfriend. If I don't call tonight, I'll call you tomorrow for sure. And if it's all a big scam, you can say 'I told you so.'" She started to go back inside the shop, then turned back. "But I hope it's for real."

"Good luck," Hannah wished her, and went to her car.

Rhonda had been watching from the shop, and when Beegee returned, she quickly collected Beegee's credit card. The transaction completed, Rhonda led the young woman back to the parlor. "You're going to be so glad you did this," she enthused as Beegee stepped through the door.

Apparently, Rhonda had already signaled her boss, because Mountebank was waiting for them beside the wingback chair. Once Beegee was seated, she asked him "What do I do?" He handed her the special ear buds and instructed, "Just slip these in and relax. You don't need to do anything else. I'll be just outside if you need me for anything." With that he turned and exited through the side door.

I hope I'm not going to hate myself, Beegee thought as she pressed the earbuds home. At first nothing happened. Then, as though from a distance, she heard a piano playing Beethoven's Fur Elise. The melody, played at a slow tempo, had an almost hypnotic effect. Beegee closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she found herself staring down at an earthen floor, and when she tried to rise to look around, she discovered that her head was secured between two wooden boards. Her hands were also captured; she was immobilized.

A memory of a vacation to old Salem and being placed in the stocks for a photoshoot flashed through her mind. She began to struggle until a harsh laugh stopped her. "Give it up, wench," the man's voice rasped. "You won't be getting out of pillory until I'm done with you. And I won't be finished until you see how we punish sluts like yourself."

At the first sound of his voice, Beegee tried to look at her captor, but all she could see was his well-muscled legs and torso, clad only in a leather loincloth. She couldn't help but gasp when she noticed the cat-o-nine tails dangling from his hip.

"That's right, missy, you know what's coming to you now, don't you?" he laughed harshly as he walked around behind her. Because she could no longer see him, she wasn't prepared for the slap that stung her hips. Her yip of pain and protest was stopped short by a horrifying realization. My clothes are gone -- I'm naked!

The brute's response was to chortle. "There's more than that coming your way, lass, a lot more." And before she could ponder what might be in store for her, he flicked the whip across her backside, drawing a howl of pain.

Her distress seemed merely to encourage him, and more lashes came quickly. Beegee began to beg for mercy, sobbing in between cries of pain. But as the tears poured down her face, a strange sensation grew within her. When one of the lashes hit her exposed pussy, the pain was mixed with a surge of pleasure. Another strike raked across her asshole, and she felt a similar tingle through the pain.

Within seconds she found herself anticipating the next lash, actually standing on tiptoe as if to welcome the blows. What is happening to me? she thought wildly, even as she heard herself moaning in pleasure.

Abruptly, the whipping halted as the man behind her began to laugh. "So that's the kind of whore you are," he chuckled gleefully. Beegee heard him take a step closer. Then she cried out "No, stop!" as she felt a hard shaft prodding her tender lower lips. "Don't rape me, please!"

The man's only response was another slap to her ass, which made her bite her lip to try not to moan. Without warning, he forced his cock into her, not stopping until he was fully impaled. This time she could not stifle her gasps as he filled her.

Like an animal, the man began to pump into her, battering her shoulders against the pillory with every stroke, occasionally slapping her backside harshly. And with every stroke, Beegee's arousal grew until it overshadowed her fear, her shame and every other emotion except raw lust.

Just as she felt herself building to a tremendous climax, the man abruptly withdrew. "No, no," she moaned involuntarily.

"'No' what?" he growled in her ear.

"No, don't stop," she moaned, unable to resist her body's demands.

"Don't worry, little slut," he replied with amusement, "I promise you I won't." With that he repositioned his cock at her asshole and began pushing.

"No, not there!" she screamed in fear. "I've never done that; you'll hurt me!"

"I thought you like to be hurt," he laughed, and shoved himself deep inside her.

She screamed at the pain of his invasion, but he paid no attention. Instead, he began to stroke steadily into her depths, taking his pleasure without any regard for his victim.

At first Beegee thought she couldn't stand this new assault, but once again the pain soon began to subside, leaving her only with the pressure of his mighty intruder. Before she could give thanks for the relief, another sensation began building within her. Suddenly, the climax that she'd almost achieved minutes ago reappeared, prompting her to wiggle her ass and then to thrust back at him. He felt her response and quickened his pace, not only satisfying his own need but hers as well.

To her astonishment, she completely lost control of herself. "Yes, yes, yes!" she shouted. "Faster, harder, fuck my ass. Oh, please, don't stop, don't ever stop, don't... aauugh!"

Her assailant roared with his own climax from behind, but she could barely hear his triumph. Her own screams of pleasure filled her ears, and pleasure like she'd never felt before caused every muscle in her body to contract to savor it. Then, as the sensation slowly ebbed, she closed her eyes and let her head slump down, exhausted and bewildered yet deeply satisfied by the experience.

As she rested, nearly dozing, she heard a piano playing in the distance, and after a minute or two she recognized Fur Elise. Then, gentle hands were removing the ear buds, and she opened her eyes to see Mountebank leaning over her. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked solicitously.

It took her a moment to regain her bearings. She looked around frantically, only to realize that yes, she was still fully dressed and sitting comfortably in the wingback chair in the Victorian parlor. She blinked and took a deep breath, then looked up at Mountebank with a smile. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Thank you."

He reached into the pocket of his vest and extracted her credit card slip. "And what about the experience? Did you satisfy your curiosity? Do we owe you your money back?"

The memory of what she'd just undergone flashed through her mind, and she felt a twinge shoot through her private parts. "No, no, you gave me exactly what I was looking for..." she smiled, "even though I didn't know what it was before I came here."

"Excellent," he smiled, and helped her to her feet. Rhonda was waiting for at the door and led her through the shop. "Was it what you'd hoped for?" she asked.

"Yes, but I don't really want to talk about it."

Rhonda smiled knowingly. "They never do. But I can tell you one thing: you'll be back."

Beegee nodded politely and made her way to her car. Once inside, she let her head flop back against the headrest. She was exhausted, and she could still feel tingles in her pussy and her bottom. "Unbelievable!"

That evening, Hannah waited impatiently for Beegee's call, but it never came. Likewise, there was no call the next day, and by dinner time Hannah was worried enough that she decided not to wait. To her relief, Beegee answered right away.

"Oh, Hannah, I'm so sorry. I know I should have called you, but I've been processing the experience over and over."

"Well, how was it?"

"It was intense, girlfriend, totally intense."

"So it's not a scam?"

"Absolutely not. I don't really know what it was or how he did it, but it was absolutely real as far as I could tell."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense: what did you see, what did you learn?"

There was a pause so long that Hannah actually checked her phone to be sure they hadn't been disconnected. Finally she heard Beegee take a deep breath. "I really... Hannah, it was very personal, and I just can't talk about it with you, at least not for a while."

Hannah was surprised and a little hurt. Ever since they'd bonded at college, the two of them had shared every secret. But, she told herself, her friend obviously needed more time to process. "Okay, I guess I understand, Beegee. But at least tell me, was it a positive experience?"

"Omigod yes, Hannah, it was life-changing. It revealed some things about myself that I'd suspected but never really known."

"Wow! You've really got me intrigued. So do you think I ought to try it?"

"Well, let me answer you this way: I've already decided to do it again."

Hannah normally only worked half days on Friday, but she hardly worked at all that particular Friday because she couldn't get her conversation with Beegee out of her mind. Over and over she stressed herself out wondering what was so private that Beegee wouldn't even tell her. And when she wasn't imagining possible answers, Hannah was debating whether to try the experience herself.

Beegee didn't say it was bad, just that it was really intense. Yet it must have been pretty good or she wouldn't be planning to go back.

Finally she gave up any pretense of working and left early. Minutes later she found herself at the strip mall where The New Old Curiosity Shop was located. Shaking her head at herself, she parked her car and headed toward the entrance. If I don't do this, I'll never get any work done at the office, she rationalized.

Rhonda recognized her immediately, and greeted her with a big smile. "I knew you'd come," she said, "especially after the experience your friend had."

"She told you about it?" Hannah asked in surprise.

Rhonda waved her hand. "No. Actually, none of our customers do. But I don't think I'm revealing any secrets when I tell you that she's already called to make an appointment next week."

At that moment, Mountebank appeared and also seemed to recognize Hannah. "Hello, my dear, are you back to give us a try? If so, we have an opening right now."

Somewhat sheepishly, Hannah nodded her head, and after Rhonda had charged her credit card, Mountebank courteously escorted her to the parlor in back. He then went through the same spiel he'd given Beegee, and Hannah took her seat in the wingback. When he handed her the ear buds and she'd slipped them in, he exited through the side door, leaving her in the peaceful room.

She'd just decided that nothing was going to happen when Fur Elise began to play in her ears. A smile crossed her lips as she recognized the melody.

The ringing of the phone on her desk startled her. It was after 5:00, and she'd assumed all the other employees had left for the day. When she answered, she heard her boss, John Radcliff, asking her to come to his office.

"That's odd," she thought. "What could he want at this hour?" Nevertheless, she hurriedly checked her make-up in her compact mirror before scurrying down the hall. She had liked her boss from the first day she started working at the real estate office, and now found she wanted to make a good impression every time she saw him.

When she entered his office, he stood up wordlessly, walked over to the door, then closed and locked it. Then he stepped up to her, staring intensely. "Hannah, ever since we started working together, I've... I mean I haven't... I mean..."

As she stared at him uncertainly, he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. Before she could react, he pulled her to him and kissed her. Instinctively she started to resist, but almost immediately her defenses crumbled. She threw her arms around his back and pulled him even tighter to her, eager to feel his chest against her breasts. Panting, she returned his kisses, thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a desperate effort to get even closer to him.

Soon his hands slid down her back, grabbing her hips and pulling them into him. She felt his swollen cock bulging against her abdomen, and realized he needed her as badly as she needed him. That only drove her passion higher.

Then, to her dismay, he suddenly stopped and drew back. "I'm sorry, Hannah, I shouldn't have done that. It's just that from the minute I met you I've wanted..."

"Oh, God, John, I've wanted you too. I was just so afraid you didn't feel the same way."

She felt as though his eyes were boring holes into her as he heard what she'd said. Then, without a word, he bent down, lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the sofa. Laying her down gently, he fell to his knees beside her, then began to tear at her clothes. When she realized his intention, she began unbuttoning his dress shirt. After she'd succeeded, she began desperately yanking at his belt.

In no time their clothes had been stripped away and tossed haphazardly onto the floor. He pulled back enough to survey her body, and she was glad that she'd kept herself in good shape after college. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, and then returned to her mouth for more kisses.

Soon, however, he wanted more, and began trailing kisses down her neck until he came to her breasts. They weren't the largest, Hannah knew, but they were shapely and stood upright without support. They were also extremely sensitive, and when he began to kiss, lick and suck on her nipples, she thought she might pass out.

Then he was moving again, over her ribs, past her navel, and down inexorably to the junction of her thighs. Feeling his lips and tongue exploring her pelvis, she felt herself begin to flex her hips up and down in anticipation of what was to come. She had a moment of panic when she remembered she hadn't shaved, but at least her bush was neatly trimmed. It didn't seem to bother him: he spent long seconds nuzzling her there, driving her mad with anticipation.

Then he was spreading her legs wide, wide enough to open the dark delta of her pussy, revealing her pink inner core. In an instant his mouth was on it, lavishing her with every oral caress imaginable, driving her absolutely insane with the sensations he produced. She thrust her hips as high off the sofa as she could, desperate to get even more of his worship.

Then, just when she was sure she'd explode, he scrambled up on the couch and began to rubbing his engorged cock between her pussy lips and over her clitoris. "Wait," she cried out, "don't you want me to..."

"I can't wait," he interrupted. "I've wanted you for so long; I need you right now." With that he adjusted his cock to find her opening and gently inserted himself deep inside her. She sucked in her breath at the sensation, feeling him filling her own need that had been there longer than she'd realized. She raised her legs and bent her knees to allow him full access, then began making crooning noises as he began repeatedly to penetrate and withdraw, penetrate and withdraw.

In the part of her brain that could still think, she marveled at how perfectly he fit inside her, how completely his cock found every sensitive spot and stimulated it in just the right way to drive her crazy. In no time at all she found herself soaring toward a climax that she knew would overwhelm her.

John must have been feeling it too because he began to accelerate his rhythm, pumping ever faster in his quest for their mutual fulfillment. She begged and pleaded for more, and he found himself growling like some feral animal.

"Oh, God, oh God, oh God," Hannah cried out, her voice rising in pitch to match her passion. "Oh, yes, oh yes, now, John, now, now, NOW!" And with a scream, she hit a higher peak than she'd ever experienced in her life. Her entire body arched off the couch, just as John exploded deep inside her.

They froze that way for one impossible, ecstatic moment, then collapsed together, panting heavily, holding each other tightly. There were challenges to face, questions to answer, and difficulties ahead, but, for that one moment, Hannah lay back, totally exhausted and completely satisfied.

She wasn't sure how long she'd lain there with her eyes closed, but her rest was broken by a piano playing in the distance. I know that tune, she thought, and opened her eyes to see Desmond Mountebank standing before her. When he saw she was awake, he gently removed the air buds and stood back up.

"Well, was it what you were hoping for?" he asked.

She stared at him for a moment, then hastily got to her feet. "I need to go," she said and started for the door.

"But was it good?" he asked anxiously.

She turned and stared at him. "It was entirely satisfactory." Then she hurried out, walking a bit unsteadily.

Mountebank followed, and when he saw Rhonda, he asked, "Do you think she's alright?"

The girl took another look at Hannah, then turned back to Mountebank. "I don't know what she saw, but I can promise you it blew her mind." She gave him a sly grin. "You just wait: she'll be back."

* * * * * *

Mountebank was enjoying a beer at the sports bar where Hannah and Beegee had had lunch when he spotted a familiar face. "Talbot, Talbot Finn," he called out.

The man looked over when he heard his name, and then did a double-take. "Dez Mountebank -- is that you?" He hurried over and the two shook hands heartily. "I haven't seen you since you left NameBook. When was that -- three years ago?"

Dez nodded and smiled. "That's about right, Tal. What about you -- are you still there?"

"Nah, I left a year after you did. The bureaucracy got to be too much for me, so I quit to join a small market research firm."

"I know what you mean, man. Quitting that job was the best decision I ever made."

Finn gave him a sly smile. "Of course there was that whole sexual harassment thing."

"That was all trumped up -- it was entirely politics. That bitch wanted to take credit for my work, and when I wouldn't play ball, she played the harassment card."

Finn nodded but remained silent.

Mountebank lowered his voice and leaned closer to his friend. "But I won in the end. When I left... " But before he could elaborate, Mountebank spotted the cocktail waitress. "Milli! Hey, Milli, my friend just got here. Could you take his order and bring me a refill while you're at it?"

"Of course, Mr. Mountebank," the pretty young woman said, and hurried over. When she had their orders, she strode away, and Mountebank watched her hungrily. Turning back to Finn, he rolled his eyes. "Damn, she's fine! I'd sure tap that ass if I had half a chance."

Finn raised his eyebrows. "A little young for you, isn't she?"

Mountebank snorted. "If I can get them into my shop, it doesn't matter what age they are."

"Your shop?"

"Yeah, The New Old Curiosity Shop. It's down at the end of the mall. The ladies love it!"

Finn looked at him curiously, and encouraged him to elaborate, but Mountebank was on to another subject. After listening a while longer, Finn stood up. "Listen, Dez, it's been great to catch up with you, but I've got to get back to my hotel and do a little prep work. Got an early session with a prospective client tomorrow morning."

"Sure, sure, business calls," Mountebank replied. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card. "If you get a chance before you leave town, come by my shop. I'll show you some stuff that will blow your mind."

After Finn had departed, Mountebank looked around and caught sight of Milli. She was bending over the bar, and as he watched lustfully, the stretchy fabric of her short skirt molded itself to her shapely flank. At that moment Mountebank made up his mind. When the young woman turned back around, he waved his glass to her for another refill.

"You always take such good care of me, Milli," he said warmly, when the waitress brought over a fresh glass.

"Absolutely," she responded with her professional smile. "I always take care of my regular customers."

Before she could get away, he hurried on. "Do you like working here, Milli?"

The smile faded as she thought about his question. "It's alright. Most of the customers are gentlemen, like you, but occasionally I get a few creeps who can't keep their hands to themselves."

"How would you like to work in a place where you had regular hours and could make a lot more money?"

She hesitated. "I don't know, Mr. Mountebank. With overtime and tips I do okay here."

He felt certain he had her. "Listen, I've seen how well you deal with people. Come work for me in The New Old Curiosity Shop and you could make double what you're making here."

"Double?" She peered at him carefully to see if he was trying to con her. "For real?"

"I know you can't talk now." He handed her a business card. "Call me tomorrow and I'll tell you all about the job."

She took the card, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Thanks, Mr. Mountebank. I'll definitely call in the morning."

By 11:00 a. m. the next morning, Mountebank had convinced Milli to come to work for him. He hadn't been happy about her insistence on giving the restaurant a week's notice, but Milli was adamant. "My boss has been fair to me; I want to be fair to him."

Another week won't matter, he told himself. Besides, that gives me more time before I have to get rid of Rhonda.

* * * * * *

Harmon Compton was a man who paid attention to detail. When he'd played safety for UNC, his coaches were impressed with the way he studied the receivers from the opposing team before every game. After Harm, as he was known, tore up his knee the summer before his junior season, he switched his attention to the business school curriculum, where the faculty was impressed by the intensity of his focus on his studies. After graduation, he started his own residential construction company, and his careful attention to quality and costs enabled him to succeed where others failed.

Harm also applied the same careful attention in his courtship of the beautiful tennis player he'd met on campus. Instead of talking about himself like so many other jocks, Harm focused on the young woman. He learned everything he could about her, watched as many of her matches as his studies would permit, and paid close attention to her likes and dislikes. Faced with his careful preparations and obvious devotion, Hannah never stood a chance. The popular couple were married on their graduation weekend.

Although it had been a dozen years since he'd won his prize, Harm continued to pay attention to his wife. So when their relationship changed late that summer, he noticed it almost immediately. At times Hannah was withdrawn, her attention obviously elsewhere. Other times, she clung to him almost desperately, and their love-making was intense. But when he gently tried to ask about her bi-polar behavior, she refused to engage, brushing his concerns off as nothing. The one time he really pressed her, she grew angry and refused to engage with him until he apologized. But nothing really changed.

His greatest fear, of course, was that his wife was having an affair. The thought was excruciatingly painful, but he was not the type to back away from bad news. His problem was how to find out the truth. Hiring a detective agency was an option, but he regarded that as a last resort. If she were to become aware of his efforts, it could open an irreparable rift between them, especially if she was innocent. So Harm set out to learn what he could on his own before seeking external help.

He started by checking the odometer on her car. In his systematic way, he made a chart and recorded her mileage daily. He found nothing suspicious. Guiltily, he took an opportunity to check her cellphone. He found no unknown contacts, damning texts or frequent calls to unrecognized numbers. If she had a secret love-life, Harm decided, it was well hidden.

The next time they'd gone out socializing with Beegee and her husband John, Harm tried to elicit any hints from Hannah's best friend. Not only did he get nothing from Beegee, but John had confided that his wife too had seemed a bit distracted of late. What does all that mean? Harm wondered.

Next Harm decided to check Hannah's finances. They kept separate credit cards, but each had access to the other's account for safety reasons. When he went online to look at her activity, the only expenditure out of the ordinary was a $100 charge from some place called The New Old Curiosity Shop.

What the hell is The New Old Curiosity Shop? he wondered. He did a quick search online, only to find the place didn't have a web page. Who doesn't have a web presence in this day and age? he marveled.

Given the way Hannah had reacted before, he decided not to bring it up with her, at least for now. Instead, the next day he skipped lunch and drove over to the strip mall where the shop was located. As he stared at the storefront, he could see nothing that suggested anything but a novelty shop.

His bemusement grew even greater when he entered and began browsing. The jumble of oddities and curios was not what he'd expected, and he was morally certain that Hannah hadn't brought home anything like what he was seeing.

He turned to the pretty young woman behind the counter and noted her name tag. Putting a pleasant smile on his face, he approached her. "Rhonda Brooks? I'm Harm Compton. A friend told me I ought to check this place out, but what is it exactly?"

Rhonda was bored; she hadn't seen a single customer all morning. So when an attractive man with a pleasant expression started asking questions, she was happy to engage him. Coming out from behind the counter, she began leading him from display to display, talking about some of the shop's "treasures." He listened patiently, asking the occasional question, but when she had showed him almost everything, he turned toward her with a puzzled look on his face. "I don't mean to be rude, Rhonda, but do you really sell a lot of this stuff?"

She laughed merrily. "Honestly? We almost never sell any of this junk. It's really just to get the ladies in so Mr. Mountebank can give them his sales pitch."

Harm cocked his head to one side curiously. "I hadn't realized this was a ladies' shop."

Rhonda shook her head. "Technically it's not, but we almost never get any male customers, and Mr. Mountebank never takes them back to the parlor."

Harm made a mental note of that, but decided to follow up later. "So who is this Mr. Mountebank?"

"Oh, he's the owner," she answered blithely. "He's the one who developed the curiosity parlor."

"The curiosity parlor? What's that?"

As he watched, her face took on an almost evangelistic glow. "It's absolutely amazing! I don't know how it works, but it lets you look inside yourself, explore who you are and find out what you really desire out of life."

"Wow," Harm exclaimed, "that's impressive. And what does Mr. Mountebank do to make that happen?"

She shook her head dismissively. "Not much, really. He just puts these special buds in your ears and then leaves you alone to explore."

Harm looked at her shrewdly. "Sounds like you've tried it yourself."

"Oh, yes, a number of times. It's sort of like an employee benefit, I guess."

"Did you learn anything interesting about yourself?"

She blushed furiously. "Well, yes, but I don't want to talk about that. It's pretty personal, you know?" Then she frowned. "I really shouldn't be talking with you about this. Mr. Mountebank would be upset with me. And you can't tell anyone else, either."

He smiled reassuringly. "Of course not. Listen, I've taken up too much of your time anyway. I'll just buy something in case Mr. Mountebank asks, and then get out of here." He grabbed a curio from a display table, paid for it, and then headed out the door.

"Thanks, Rhonda. Maybe I'll see you again."

When Harm left, he was more confused than ever. It seemed likely that whatever was going on with Hannah somehow involved the shop. It was the only place out of her normal routine, a place that catered to women where she'd bought something he didn't know about, and, according Rhonda, a place that offered women a very special experience. But what is it? Could it be drugs or an acid trip? he wondered. Some sort of eastern meditation thing? But nothing that Rhonda had said sounded like that. And she wouldn't tell me what her own experience was like. Is that significant? I just don't know.

Frustrated, he decided to wait and see if Hannah gave him any clues.

* * * * * *

That evening, Talbot Finn made a call to his boss. "I've found him," he reported.

"That was quick work," the woman responded appreciatively. Then her tone hardened. "So, did he steal virtual reality research from us?"

"He said some things that make me think it's possible, but I don't know for sure."

Now her voice was impatient. "Well, find out quickly. That guy is a loose cannon, and if he's using our property without authorization, he's got the power to cause a lot of trouble. We really can't afford any bad publicity, especially before the congressional hearings. If he represents a threat, you'll have to figure out a way to neutralize it, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am, understood."

* * * * * *

It had rained heavily all the next day, and there had been no foot traffic at the Shop at all. One appointment had made it in during the morning, but the afternoon appointment had called to cancel. Mountebank had been working in the back, but late in the afternoon he suddenly appeared at the front desk.

"We're not likely to see anyone else today, Rhonda. You might as well go ahead and close up." Then he paused and looked at her as though he'd just had a thought. "Hey, would you like to have another session in the parlor? On the house, of course."

She fought to control her excitement. "That would be awesome, Mr. Mountebank. I'd love to." She quickly put the Closed sign up and locked the front door.

He smiled and gestured for her to proceed him. Once she was seated in the wingback chair, he went to the desk and brought out the ear buds. "You remember how this works, right?"

She nodded eagerly, then quickly plucked the two buds out of the box. When she'd inserted them in her ears, he bent over to make sure they were in properly, then stood up. "Alright, then, enjoy. I'll be back when you're done."

But Rhonda had already closed her eyes and was eagerly listening for the first notes of the piano. When she heard them, her body quivered slightly.

It was the waves rocking the ship that woke her. She looked around in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings, then gasped when she saw the stranger standing at the foot of her bed. He was tall and handsome, clean-shaven except for a jaunty mustache. His head was wrapped in a gaudy bandanna, and he wore a white blouse unbuttoned to the waist. Her eyes flicked over his brawny chest before returning to stare at his grinning face.

She sat up in bed, holding the sheet to cover her ample bosom. "You! You're the pirate who boarded us yesterday."

"Oui, madame, Jean LeMonde at your service," he said, bowing at the waist.

"What have you done to my husband?" she demanded. "If you've harmed him..."

"Pas de tout, madame. Except for a knot on his head where I knocked him unconscious during our arrival, he's good as new. In fact, he and the rest of his crew are rowing back to Martinique even as we speak."

She spluttered indignantly. "And why am I not with him?"

"C'est tres simple, madame, I intend to have you for myself."

At his words she clutched the bedclothes even more tightly. "Never!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I am a married woman -- I will never surrender to a pirate like yourself."

He smiled genially. "I would never dream of forcing myself upon you. If you do not want me, then I will reluctantly turn you over to my crew." He gestured toward the door behind him. "They're eagerly awaiting your decision outside."

She stared at him balefully for a moment, then let the sheet fall. "You leave me no choice, monsieur. I will not fight you, but I will not enjoy your assault, I promise you."

"We will see," he laughed, and began stripping off his blouse, breeches and boots. When he stood up again, she gaped at him.

"What... what is that thing between your legs? It's enormous!"

He chuckled and came around to sit on the bed beside her. "I am by no means the largest man on my ship. Your husband must be, shall we say, short of stature indeed."

Her eyes were glued to his rampant member, and she hardly noticed as he pulled the sheets away from her and then proceeded to explore her shapely thighs. Indeed it was not until his fingers had begun to stroke the petals of her flower of Venus that she realized what he was doing.

"If you intend to force yourself upon me, why don't you get on with it?" she demanded. "My husband would have almost finished by now."

LeMonde laughed aloud. "Your husband is an ass who clearly knows nothing about women, much less about l'amour. I will show you how Jean LeMonde treats a woman."

As he was speaking, his fingers returned to their work, and he was pleased to note the involuntary rocking of her hips, followed by her growing lubrication. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she felt unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensations growing in her nether regions.

After several minutes, he judged his formerly unwilling consort was ready, and he deftly moved between madame's quivering thighs aiming his weapon at his target. When he began to insert himself, however, he was startled by her cries.

"Stop, stop!" she begged. "It's too large -- you'll split me in two!"

"Fear not, madame. Nature has designed you for childbirth. You will adapt -- you'll see." All the while he was pushing in and out of her, slowly increasing the depth of penetration until finally his sword was buried to the hilt.

She lay there in wonder, her little pussy completely filled with his massive member. Never had she been so full; never had she felt such sensations. Without realizing what she was doing, she rocked her hips vigorously, causing him to move within her. The feeling was so pleasant that she repeated it, groaning quietly.

LeMonde recognized what was happening and began a slow pulsing rhythm of his own. The delightful sensations grew within her and, after a few false starts, she synchronized her own motion with his. When he began to accelerate, she did the same, and her pleasure grew even higher.

"What is happening?" she cried out in fear as an orgasm began to grow within her. "Dear Lord, I've never felt like this!" Then she began to wail as her body climbed a staircase she hadn't known existed to a height she'd never imagined. And when she reached the top, she felt as though a cannon had gone off within her, overwhelming her with physical pleasure she'd never known she was capable of.

When she'd regained her senses, she was stunned to realize that LeMonde had not ceased his predations. He was continuing to stroke into her with a force and frequency that reminded her of a plunge rod churning milk into butter. Although she was enervated by her orgasm, her body began to respond again, eagerly responding to his thrusts, shifting to ensure that he was hitting in just the right places to take her back up that long staircase. This time, she knew what was coming; this time she embraced the sensations she knew would soon overwhelm her.

She clasped him with all her might, begging and pleading for him to drive harder, to go deeper, to take her up and up until she screamed out loud. LeMonde met her outburst with his own savage growl as he pumped his elixir deep into her body.

The two of them collapsed, momentarily losing consciousness as ecstasy and fatigue washed over them. When she regained awareness, she heard the sound of a piano playing softly in the distance. As the music grew louder, she blinked her eyes and looked about her at the Victorian drawing room.

She heard a door open, and then Mountebank was standing by her side. "Are you alright, Rhonda?" he asked. She nodded and pulled the buds out of her ear. "Did you enjoy your experience?" he pressed.

She looked up at him. "Oh, yes, very much so."

* * * * * *

Two days later, Finn was back at the sports bar, and when he saw Mountebank walk in, he hurried over to intercept him. "Hey, Dez, I was hoping to see you again before I left town. I owe you a drink."

The two men found a small table, and one drink turned into several, at least for Mountebank. "I'm surprised that a code head like you wound up in retail," Finn ventured. "I guess that shop of yours must be doing pretty well."

"Well, I'm not gonna get rich off of it, but it has other benefits."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well..." Then he stopped when he realized his glass was empty. He looked around for a waitress and, not seeing one, shook his head in disgust. "Service in this place has gone to hell."

Finn scanned the room. "Yeah, and that one waitress you liked so much the last time must be off."

A crafty smile spread over Mountebank's face. "She's not here because she's working for me now. I hired her."

"Aren't you the lucky one," Finn replied in appreciation.

"You don't know the half of it," Mountebank came back with a smirk. "In fact, if you'll come to my shop tomorrow afternoon at 4:00, I'll show you just how lucky I am."

Finn was careful not to let his excitement show. "I guess I could do that."

Now Mountebank seemed to sober. He grabbed Finn's arm to emphasize his words. "Come around back to the service entrance, and be there at 4:00 sharp. Got it?"

"Sure, Dez, 4:00 p. m. I'll be there."

True to his word, Finn was waiting behind the strip mall when Mountebank emerged through a metal door and motioned him in. As Finn entered, he noticed an elaborate numerical keypad beside the doorframe. That's the same security system used back at NameBook. "Damn, Dez, what's with all the security? Do you keep gold bullion in here?"

Mountebank laughed. "Better than that. You'll see." He motioned. "Come on." The door clunked into place behind him, and Finn could hear the locking bolts slide into place.

When his eyes adjusted to the low light level, Finn saw the room was filled with floor-to-ceiling scaffolding divided into two sections. On the section closest to him were shelves filled with computer processors. A fan on each unit hummed away, creating quite a volume of noise dissipating the heat. Flynn looked upwards to see a number of vents exhausting through the roof of the building.

"What the hell, Dez, are you running some sort of cloud service here?" he asked in surprise.

Mountebank laughed. "Oh, no, all of these units are dedicated to the Curiosity Project." He pointed his friend to a series of five processors on the lower level. "Here's where we read and interpret the signals coming from the user's mind. Each of these babies is devoted to one of the five senses," he explained, "and each unit has the largest CPU you can buy commercially."

He pointed to an identical set of processors one level higher. "These units take that input and create any scenario the user can imagine. Taste, touch, smell, sight, sound: I can generate any experience I want in the user's mind," he bragged.

Next he led Finn over to the tier closest to the far wall. Once he'd ascended a metal ladder to the second level, Finn saw a series of processors and displays mounted in a line. On the end were several processors labeled Environment. "Those create the environment the user sees," Mountebank explained.

Next he directed Finn to the two displays in the center of the array. The larger of the two was labeled "User View," the smaller was marked "Real World." Before Finn could ask, Mountebank hurried on. "It'll be easier to show you than try to explain them."

Between the two big displays, Finn saw what appeared to be a window in the wall. "It's a two-way mirror," Dez explained. "You can check what's going on down below, but you get a better view from these displays."

Finn leaned over to get a look, and for the first time saw the "parlor." "Looks like something straight out of Dickens," he remarked, and Mountebank grinned at him. "Exactly."

'But if the customer is down there, how does she access the virtual world the system creates? For that matter, how does the system know what the user is thinking?" Finn objected.

"Ear buds," replied with a big grin on his face. "But not ear buds like you'd use with an IPod. These are my own design, and they're both transmitters and receivers. They can scan the user's brain -- primarily the amygdala, hypothalamus, insula and prefrontal cortex."

"Uh, why those areas?"

"Those are the areas of the brain that are primarily responsible for sexual arousal," Mountebank explained, "First the buds stimulate sexual arousal in those regions, then pick up on the responding impulses and transmit them to the system. From there the system creates a virtual world tailored to the user's desires, and the buds transmits the scenario directly into the appropriate region of the forebrain."

Finn was having a hard time comprehending what he was hearing. "But you're talking about the human brain, one of the most complex systems we've ever encountered. To do what you're describing -- it would take a supercomputer just to handle all that processing."

Mountebank merely smiled and waved his hand at the assembled rows of processors behind him.

Abruptly he checked his watch. "It's almost time." He grabbed a swivel chair and rolled it in front of the two monitors. "No more explanations. You just sit here, keep quiet and enjoy the show." Then he scrambled down the scaffolding to the lower level and exited into the Victorian parlor through a door hidden in the first level of the bookshelves. Hurrying across the room, the man disappeared through door into the front of the shop.

Finn sat there for several minutes watching the smaller "Real World" monitor, which showed him the view of the parlor. The User View screen was blank. Despite the ventilation system, the processor room was warm, and Finn began to sweat.

Just when Finn was tempted to climb down and stick his head out the back door to cool down, Mountebank re-entered the parlor, accompanied by a young woman. Finn was startled: it was none other than Milli Silver, the former barmaid.

A speaker behind Finn suddenly came to life, and now Finn could hear Mountebank giving the girl instructions on how to use the ear buds. Then, to Finn's surprise, he turned and exited the room through the door on the side wall.

Milli sat there for several minutes with her eyes closed as though in a trance. Then, as Finn watched in amazement, she rose and began stripping off her clothing. When she was nude, she carefully lay down on her back on the thick wool carpeting in front of the Victorian wing chair.

Finn was so engrossed by the vision of this young beauty in all her glory that he was startled to hear the sounds of a forest, complete with birds singing and insects chirping, come over the speakers. He glanced over at the monitor labeled "User World." There was Milli, but instead of the carpet she was lying on a bed of moss. In her mind's eye, she was no longer nude; instead she wore a shear gown that covered but barely concealed her entrancing figure.

After a moment, a man entered the scene and stood over Milli, staring in wonder at her beauty. Finn switched his gaze to the Real World monitor to see Mountebank standing beside the beauty. The man was no longer wearing his Victorian garb; now, he too was totally nude. But when Finn turned to look at the larger monitor, he saw instead a handsome prince wearing royal robes and a crown.

It's Sleeping Beauty! Finn gasped in recognition. That's Milli's fantasy! Now it all began to make sense: Finn had somehow managed to extract Milli's dream scenario and make it real to her.

On the User View monitor, the prince knelt down to kiss the sleeping princess. When she opened her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and began to kiss him back with a lustful passion totally inappropriate for a children's story. In no time the prince's robes had magically disappeared and his athletic body with its prominent penis was lying between Milli's legs. When he slid himself into her, she cried out in wonder and then began to hump back madly, desperate to have him as deep and as hard as possible to fill the incredible need she felt.

Finn found himself growing hard as he listened to her passionate entreaties to the prince to give her more and more. But a quick glance at the Real World monitor broke the spell. Watching the older body of Mountebank ravaging the youthful figure of the barmaid was a far cry from the fairytale world she thought she was experiencing.

But there was no doubt that Milli was completely caught up in her fantasy. The ecstasy she obviously was experiencing seemed other worldly. Her cries rose in pitch and volume as she was transported toward a sexual explosion that only her dreams could describe. When she reached her orgasm, she screamed at the top of her lungs and then collapsed into unconsciousness.

As Finn watched on the Real World monitor, Mountebank rolled off of the young woman, panting hard. Only then did Finn notice that he'd been wearing a condom. The man sat up and grabbed a washcloth that had been placed conveniently nearby. Once he had cleaned off the lubrication Milli had generated and wiped away her perspiration wherever he could find it, he began to dress her as quickly as he could. The young woman stood to help him, but it was obvious to Finn that she was not conscious of what she was doing.

After Mountebank had settled Milli back in the wingchair, he darted out the side door. Within minutes he was back in the parlor, fully dressed in his Victorian era costume. He pushed a button on a small remote he pulled from his vest pocket, and Milli began to awaken.

When she was fully conscious, he gently removed the ear buds. "How was it, my dear?" he inquired solicitously.

The young woman looked up at him with awe. "Oh, Mr. Mountebank, it was wonderful!" Then she blushed and lowered her eyes. "I'm going to have such incredible dreams tonight."

As the shopkeeper escorted her out the door, Finn sat back in the swivel chair and rubbed his eyes. It was hard to believe what he'd just witnessed. He was well aware of the advances in virtual reality and computer simulation, but this went far beyond even the most optimistic projections from NameBook's scientists. God, the man is a genius! I can't begin to comprehend how advanced his system is.

But his admiration for Mountebank's technical prowess was more than offset by the way in which the man was using it. The scene he'd just witnessed revolted Finn. This thing could be ground-breaking in so many fields -- psychiatry, mental illness, education, criminology, entertainment -- the list goes on and on. Yet all Mountebank is using it for is to seduce young women. Actually, it's worse than that. He's not seducing them, he's basically raping them! They haven't consented. Hell, they don't even know they've actually had sex with him. He's no better than some creep who slips a roofie into a woman's drink at a bar!

Just then, Mountebank entered the computer room and climbed the scaffold to reach Finn. "Well, what did you think?" he demanded smugly. "Wasn't it everything I told you and more?"

Finn swallowed his bile and began to praise his old colleague, laying the compliments on quick and heavy. But mentally he was already planning Mountebank's downfall.

* * * * * *

That night, Finn called his boss to give her an update.

"What have you found?" she asked. "Has he stolen our intellectual property?

"No doubt about it, ma'am," he replied. "And that's not all. That set-up he's put together must have cost a fortune. I wouldn't be surprised if he embezzled some serious cash before he left."

Her voice was icy now. "Very well. I'll get both Finance and Security on this first thing tomorrow. If you're right, we can get a warrant for his arrest by next week."

"No ma'am, you can't do that!" he shot back.

"Why not?" she demanded, surprised.

"Ma'am, this goes way beyond stolen property. Mountebank is not just a thief, he's a sociopath. He's been using our work on artificial reality to manipulate and seduce women. Actually, it's worse than that: he's been having sex with them without their knowledge or consent. Any prosecutor in the country would call that rape!"

"And he's using our research to do this?"

"Without a doubt. And if some investigator starts digging into this, the trail will lead straight back to us."

"Shit," the woman swore. "So if -- no -- when all this is comes out, it could be big enough to take down the entire company. The criminal charges, the lawsuits, the government investigations, the news headlines -- it could turn into a never-ending nightmare!"

She paused and thought for a moment. "Still, from what you say, Mountebank's made some breakthroughs that are way ahead of anything we're doing." Her voice grew contemplative. "Is there any way we could hack into his system and save some of his code? If it's as ground-breaking as you think, it could be worth a fortune."

He spoke quickly. "Ma'am, in the first place we definitely can't hack in. Mountebank told me his system is totally off the grid, not connected to the network in any way. Second, even if we could, the system is way too complex to try to figure out what it's doing. It would take months of reverse engineering to decide what we'd want to keep. Meanwhile, every day that he's in operation means a greater chance that this whole thing blows up in our face."

She cursed. "No, you're right, we dare not take that risk. Alright, so what do you recommend?"

"Ma'am, in my mind, our only option is to go Apocalyptic on him."

"Oh, shit!"

"I know, ma'am, but it can't be helped."

He heard her swallow. "Alright," she said reluctantly, "if that's what it takes, make it happen."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * * * * *

Hannah was having a dreadful August. Whenever she was around her husband, guilt made her withdrawn and distant. She could see the confusion and concern in his eyes, but she couldn't find a way to be her old, loving self with him. I haven't done anything wrong, she kept telling herself. It's just a harmless fantasy. Everybody has sex dreams at one time or another -- it's perfectly normal.

But she couldn't ignore her experiences in that Victorian parlor. Every time she drove by the Curiosity Shop on her way to work, she got a reminder. Every time on her way home she felt the urge to stop in for another session. This must be how a drug addict feels, she thought.

There was no relief when she got to the office. Every time she saw John Radcliff, her heart skipped a beat. He was always professional and courteous to her. But all she could think about was his passionate kisses and his near magical ability to send her into ecstasy in her fantasies. In desperation, she'd taken to avoiding him as much as possible to minimize the feelings he inspired.

The only person she felt she could talk to about what was happening was Beegee, but her girlfriend was acting strangely now as well. They still spoke on the phone occasionally and even met for lunch once. But any time the conversation drifted toward what they'd experienced at the Shop, Beegee would change the subject.

Hannah knew that Beegee was still making appointments at the Shop just like she was, but her girlfriend would not or could not talk about them with her. As a result, Hannah felt more isolated than she'd ever been in her life. I can't go on like this -- something has got to change.

* * * * * *

For his part, Harm was just as troubled as his wife. It was clear that Hannah was struggling, but with what he couldn't tell. He'd tried to talk to her about it, but she always dismissed his concerns. "Just some changes in the office routine," she'd explained once. "I may be coming down with a summer cold," she'd claimed another time.

Harm wasn't buying it, but he'd had no luck finding out what was really going on. If she was having an affair, he'd been completely unable to uncover any evidence. A tracker placed on her car revealed no furtive stops at sleezy motels or detours to a lover's home. Desperate, he snooped again on her phone; once again he found nothing suspicious.

He'd begun to wonder if she was conducting an affair at the office, but that seemed improbable. She was always on time leaving and returning, and the small real estate office offered no real possibility for a tryst. And now Hannah had even stopped getting together with Beegee. Is that a good sign or a bad one? he wondered.

He sat at his desk one day and systematically went over every avenue he'd explored, The only thing out of the ordinary he could see was Hannah's visit to that weird curio shop and her $100 purchase early in August. That troubled him. How she could have spent that much on the kind of junk the shop carried? But he'd found no more charges there, so he'd more or less forgotten about it.

But when he checked her bank account again, he noticed several large cash withdrawals. Could she have been paying cash for something she didn't want him to know about? He hadn't noticed any unusual purchases recently, though that didn't mean anything.

Still, he decided, maybe I should go back to that shop again. It's the only I've found even the slightest bit out of the ordinary.

The next day was the Friday before the Labor Day weekend, and there was little happening at Harm's construction business. So after driving by one of his construction sites that morning, at mid-day he drove over to visit the Curiosity Shop.

When he got to the shopping center, the parking lot was largely deserted; the only place doing any business was the sports bar. The New Old Curiosity Shop was open, so he went inside, hoping to talk some more to the friendly woman he'd met when he'd visited the last time.

To his disappointment, Rhonda wasn't behind the counter. In her place was a striking blonde girl who looked vaguely familiar. But when he spoke to her, the only thing new she told him was that the shop would be closing early that afternoon. Harm got the impression she was bored, but she clearly wasn't interested in chatting. I guess I can't blame her, he thought. Looking like she does, she probably gets hit on a lot.

Frustrated, he wandered down to the sports bar to get a little lunch before returning to the office. But when he walked in, he was surprised to spot a familiar face. It was Rhonda, the girl he'd met behind the counter the first time he'd gone into the weird little shop.

"Hey, Rhonda," he began, walking up to her table, "I don't know if you remember me, but I came into the Curiosity Shop a few weeks ago and you were super helpful."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you. You bought a two-headed lizard." She gave him a little smile. "You were nicer than some of the guys who wander in."

"Glad I was on my best behavior. I can imagine what it could be like for an attractive young woman like yourself." Harm laughed. "Besides, I love my weird little lizard."

She grinned at him.

Seeing she was receptive, he tried to keep the conversation going. "So why aren't you over there now? Are you on your lunch break?"

The smile instantly left her face. "I'm not there because Mr. Mountebank fired me, that's why. The only reason I came back was to pick up my last paycheck."

"That's too bad," he sympathized. "I can't understand why he'd let you go. You seemed to know everything about that place and were really helpful to me."

Now the bitterness was thick in her voice. "I don't know either. He just told me my services were no longer needed." She shook her head in disgust. "He replaced me with the dumb blonde who used to be a waitress here in the sports bar. I'm way more qualified than she is -- except her tits are bigger than mine."

"I'm sorry -- that really seems unfair," Harm said sympathetically, sitting down across from her. "But since you're not working there any longer, is there anything more you can tell me about that place? I can't figure out why my wife likes it so much."

"I'm not supposed to say anything, but after he fired me, I really don't give a shit." She leaned closer to him. "You already know that the stuff in the front of the shop is just crap. The real appeal is the dream machine in the back."

"Dream machine? What are you talking about?"

She kept her voice low. "I don't know how it works, but you go back to this old-fashioned parlor, sit in this big wingback chair and put in some weird ear buds. The next thing you know, you're having the most vivid dreams you've ever had in your life."

"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

She blushed furiously. "Dreams about yourself -- really sexy dreams. It's like your own private fantasy world, only it's more real than any dream I've ever had before. You can hear and see and feel -- everything."

Harm shook his head. "And all you do is put in some ear buds? I guess I don't understand." Impulsively, he made a decision. "Listen, is there any way I could get in there and see this set-up for myself?"

"It's not that simple," she confided. "Mountebank has digital locks on the all the doors into the parlor. He keeps that place protected like a bank vault. You'd never get in."

She sat back and seemed to think a minute. Then she glanced around the bar to see if anyone might be listening. Reassured, she leaned toward him again. "But I could get you in -- I know the access code. He needed some help one time schlepping some supplies into the back, so I went with him through the service entrance behind the shopping center." She gave Harm a vindictive smirk. "And while he was juggling a box trying to punch in the key code, I was watching."

She stopped and looked at him sharply. "If I help you, you're not going to steal anything -- or smash the place, are you?"

"No, no, of course not. I just want to understand what he's doing a little better."

She made up her mind. "Honestly, as long as you don't get me in trouble, I don't really care what you do. Listen, while I was getting my check, I heard him say the shop is closing a 2:00 p. m. today for the long weekend. So if you want to do this, meet me out in the parking lot at 3:00."

"That's great, Rhonda. Thank you so much. I'll see you at 3:00."

He started to stand, but she grabbed his arm. "Listen, don't be late or the deal is off, understand?"

"Sure, Rhonda, I'll be here in plenty of time.

* * * * * *

Back in the office, Harm sat at his desk eating the burger he'd ordered for take-out. He hardly tasted it --all he could think about was the puzzle that Rhonda had left him with. Sexy dreams, fantasies? What does that mean? How can Mountebank make that happen? Is it like watching a porno? But Rhonda said it was dreams about herself. I don't get it.

His mind jumped to a new thought. What kind of dreams does Hannah have? Maybe it's something kinky that she's embarrassed to talk to me about. That doesn't sound so bad. But somehow he doubted that was the whole story.

The next hour seemed to last forever, but finally it was time for Harm to go. He drove back to the shopping center and parked his car off to one side of the lot. When he scanned the area, there was no sign of Rhonda. Shit, I hope she hasn't bailed on me!

Suddenly he spotted an older model Honda Civic turn into the parking lot. It pulled up beside him, and the driver's window rolled down. "Come on, get in my car," Rhonda called to him, and Harm hurried over to join her.

"What happens now?" he asked, confused.

"Now we wait for the security service," she explained. "They make a circuit of the area every hour. As soon as we see them drive away, we've got 50 minutes to get in and get out." She gave him a stern look. "We do NOT want to get caught breaking and entering, understand?"

He nodded solemnly. "Listen, I'm a Black man. I definitely don't want to get busted by the cops."

Understanding blossomed in her face, and she nodded. "Okay, good. Now, scoot down in your seat so they don't see us when they drive around the front of the shopping center.

Only a few minutes later, the pair saw a private security car pull into the parking area and begin a slow sweep in front of all the storefronts. When it had finished its pass, it drove around the side of the shopping center to begin its sweep of the back.

After what seemed like forever, they saw the patrol car emerge from the rear and drive away, no doubt headed for its next patrol assignment. As soon as it drove out of sight, Rhonda started her car and quickly wheeled them around the back. Without hesitation, she pulled up to a metal door distinguishable from the others only by the elaborate keypad by the doorframe.

Harm followed the girl to the door and watched as she punched a code into the keypad. When the door clicked open, Harm let his breath out in a big sigh. The two entered and she pulled the door closed behind her.

After the bright afternoon sunshine, the subdued lighting inside made it difficult to see at first. But even when his eyes adjusted, Harm still had trouble comprehending what he was looking at. Before him were metal racks with rows of shelves reaching to the two-story ceiling. Each shelf contained a row of what looked to Harm like desktop computers, each humming and blinking away. And everything was connected with cables running like jungle vines.

"What is all this?" he asked incredulously.

"Beats me," Rhonda answered. "I was only in here a few minutes the last time, and Mountebank didn't explain anything. We just brought the boxes in and then left."

It was hard to hear in the darkened area. Every processing unit had a fan whirring away, and, looking up, he saw exhausts on the ceiling venting the heat out the roof. "It's so noisy in here. I'm surprised I didn't hear it when I was in the shop out front," Harm remarked.

"Nah, Mr. M told me he'd had this place completely sound-proofed. We can't hear what's going on in the parlor, and they can't hear all this racket in here."

He looked around uncertainly; then a memory came to him. "This looks like one of those AI processing farms," he told his companion.

"I don't know about that, but what we want to see is up here." She led him past the first aisle to a ladder that led to a landing one floor up. Immediately she began climbing. Halfway up she stopped to look down at him.

"Don't you be looking up my skirt," she remonstrated.

"Of course not," he quickly replied, the image of her thong-clad bottom still burned into his retinas.

Once she was up, he followed, and when he stepped on the metal landing, he was confronted by a series of monitors, each attached to its own processor. It's like a control room, he thought, as he stood there gaping.

Rhonda moved with purpose, however. She stepped in front of the larger of the two monitors at the center of the row. It was marked "User View," Harm saw. She touched the screen and it lit up, revealing a fairy-tale princess lying on a bed of moss in an enchanted forest. Before he could ask a question, Rhonda hit the "Play" icon on the screen, and the action began.

Now a handsome prince was standing beside her, and when he kissed her, the princess awoke and sat up. Harm gasped. "That's Milli, the barmaid."

"Yeah, my successor," Rhonda sneered.

Magically, Milli's diaphanous robe disappeared, and so did the royal garments the prince had on. Now he kneeled between her open legs and prepared to mount her.

"I've got to admit, she's got a bod that just won't quit," Rhonda muttered. "Damn, I wish I had her tits!"

Harm too was impressed by what he was seeing. Not only was it sexy as hell, but it seemed so real. As he stepped closer to get a better view, he happened to notice the smaller monitor, this one labeled "Real World." Curiously, he turned it on and hit the play icon.

What he saw now confused him. He saw Milli lying on her back, not on a bed of moss but stretched out on a rug in front of a wingback chair. Thrusting into her eager pussy was not a handsome prince but a rather ordinary-looking middle-aged man.

Rhonda glanced over at the second screen and did a double-take. "That's Mountebank!" she cried out. "He's fucking Milli!"

As Harm kept looking back and forth from one view to the other, it dawned on him that these were two views of the same scene. The User View must be Milli's fantasy; the Real World was the sordid reality.

Before he could say anything, Rhonda cursed and stabbed at the screen to stop the Real World view. Then she did the same to the User View. A moment later she was working the controls at the top of the screen. When her finger found the Directory, a long list of file names appeared on the screen. She hesitated uncertainly, but Harm realized what she was looking for. He touched a file labeled Users and a list of names appeared.

Rhonda batted his hand away and began to scroll down until she found her own name. Without hesitation she touched it, and a new image appeared on the screen: the cabin of an early 1800's pirate ship.

Harm felt awkward as he watched a nude Rhonda having sex with a pirate captain, but she was unconcerned. She reached across to the Real World view and went through the same sequence to bring up the corresponding file. Sure enough, there she was, lying on the Chesterfield sofa Harm had seen in the parlor, with Mountebank between her legs thrusting vigorously into her.

Rhonda cried out in rage. "That bastard! I can't believe it -- that motherfucker raped me!"

But as she was venting, Harm was already reaching for the first monitor. He'd spotted a name on the list of users that sent a bolt of lightning through his heart: Hannah Compton!

Before he could stop Rhonda's fantasy and call up Hannah's, an odd sound began to play over and over in the control center. Rhonda grabbed his arm and yanked hard. "Harm, stop. Our time is up. The rent-a-cops will be back here in minutes. We have to go now!"

He started to pull away from her grip; then common sense kicked in. Neither he nor she could afford to be arrested. Quickly the two of them turned off the monitors, then scrambled down the metal ladder. She closed the exterior door quietly, then unlocked the doors to the Civic. Once inside, the pair sped away. Just as they made the turn for the exit, Harm saw the lights from the security car turning to patrol the back of the shopping center. When no one came after them, he heaved a sigh of relief.

After waiting on a side street for fifteen minutes, Rhonda drove him back to his car. Before he got out, he turned to her. "Listen, Rhonda, we need to think carefully about what to do next."

"Think carefully? We need to go to the police and report that rapist!"

"I know, I know," Harm soothed her, "but you've got to see that it's a pretty unbelievable charge. The only way we could convince the cops would be to show them what we've found. But then we'd have to admit that we broke in and were trespassing. We could wind up in a whole lot of bad shit."

"But we can't just let him get away with that. He raped Milli -- he raped me!"

"I know, Rhonda, and we won't, I swear. But we have to go about this the right way. We need to talk to a lawyer, find out the right way to report this without getting ourselves in trouble. Look, it's Labor Day weekend. We're not likely to find anybody to help us before Tuesday anyway. Let's just think about it over the holiday, then get together on Tuesday and figure out what to do."

She looked for a moment as if she was going to explode, then heaved a deep sigh. "Alright, alright, I guess that makes sense. Let's swap numbers and get together first thing Tuesday." She shuddered. "It just makes me want to puke when I think of that fucker with his hands all over me."

"I understand, Rhonda. I promise you: he will NOT get away with this."

But as Rhonda drove away, Harm was already planning his next step. He'd watched Rhonda when she'd opened the door, and he too had memorized the digits. I'm going back in there, and if I find what I think I'll find, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!

* * * * * *

Two hours later, Harm was back at the shopping center. Once again he waited until the security patrol had disappeared before driving around to the back entrance of the shop. The code that he'd memorized worked, and Harm was back inside.

This time he knew exactly what he was looking for. Making his way up the ladder, he was soon back in front of the two monitors that seemed to control everything. He touched the User View screen to activate it, but before he went through the directory, he hesitated, fearful of what he might see. But his hesitation lasted only a moment. Whatever is hiding in this damned system, I'm going to face it and deal with it.

Recalling what Rhonda had done, he was able to get to the user directory quickly. As he started down the list, he paused when he saw Beegee's name. I wonder what her fantasy is. But he reminded himself that he didn't have unlimited time and he needed to focus on Hannah.

When he reached his wife's name, he nervously tapped to open it. Inside her directory were 4 files. I had no idea she came here that often. She must have been paying cash so I wouldn't know. He selected the first file.

He was confused when the screen opened to an office setting. That's looks like where Hannah works. What kind of fantasy is this, anyhow?

His question was answered moments later as John Radcliff began his seduction. Harm had only met Radcliff a few times, but the guy seemed alright. Hannah had only had good things to say about him; now Harm knew why. My God, she's in love with the guy! He watched in horrified fascination as the man lustily kissed and caressed his wife; he couldn't help cringing at her passionate response.

When Radcliff began to fuck her, she began to pant and cry out for more of his passionate thrusts. Harm's heart broke. She really does love the guy. Look at the way she responds to him. I thought I was the only one who could do that. Is she going to leave me for him?

As the pain grew, so did his anger. She's cheating on me. She swore in front of God and our families that she'd always be faithful to me, and here she is twerking on his cock like a two-bit whore. I won't stand for this -- she's gone as soon as I get home.

But the next instant Harm's rational brain grabbed the microphone. Wait, you idiot, this isn't really happening. This is make-believe, just a fantasy in Hannah's mind. You've had your own fantasies. Remember that time Beegee was over in that bikini? You had a hard-on all afternoon watching her. How is this any different?

Suddenly he remembered the Real World monitor. Nervously, he turned it on and found the matching file. When the two screens synced up, the office environment transformed into the Victorian parlor Harm had seen through the two-way mirror. Even worse, he saw John Radcliff transformed into the hated figure of Desmond Mountebank. Yet Hannah was still staring at him with the same loving eyes she focused on her boss, at least in her mind.

Now Harm knew how Rhonda felt. That predator was taking advantage of her fantasy to get himself off. Hannah might as well be hypnotized. She has no idea what -- or who -- she's doing!

He jumped to his feet, looking for something to smash, some way to get revenge. At that moment, both monitors winked out and the lights came on in the parlor. Startled, Harm leaned forward to look through the two-way mirror. He saw Mountebank walk into the room and sit down in the wingchair. Has he got a new victim to rape? Harm wondered.

But Mountebank appeared to have a different plan. He pulled a device that looked like a TV remote out of his pocket and set it on the arm of the chair. Then he proceeded to strip himself naked before reaching for a box that contained what looked like an over-sized set of ear buds. After inserting them in his ears, he seated himself and clicked the remote.

Instantly the two monitors sprang to life, and, to Harmon's surprise, he saw Hannah's friend Beegee on the User View screen. She was bent over, immobilized in pillory in a scene that reminded Harm of Salem during the witch trials. He couldn't help admiring her body, displayed in all its naked glory. But he was sickened when some hulking brute proceeded to whip her. Then, to Harm's total astonishment, Beegee began to cry out, not in agony but in ecstasy as the whip reddened her impressive bottom. Those cries grew even louder when the brute dropped the whip and began to fuck her with all his might. And when he shifted to Beegee's asshole, the woman went absolutely berserk, thrashing, humping and screaming all the way to a tremendous orgasm.

It was one of the sickest things Harm had ever seen; it was also one of the hottest.

As the episode came to a close, Harm glanced at the Real World monitor and saw Mountebank wiping his cock on Beegee's flanks. But when Harm looked through the two-way mirror, he saw what had been happening in real time. Mountebank had been reliving the episode with Beegee and masturbating. As Harm watched in disgust, the pervert gave his cock a few final strokes with his hand and spewed the last of his jism. That bastard is beating off to his conquests! he thought angrily.

To his left, the User View monitor switched to a new scene, revealing a view of Beegee chained to the wall naked in some sort of dungeon. She appeared to be terrified of the brutal jailer walking back and forth outside her cell. Harm peeked out the mirror and saw Mountebank begin fondling himself, preparing for the next session.

Abruptly, the alarm on Harm's phone began to chime, warning him to make a quick escape. He cursed in frustration, desperately wanting some way to make Mountebank pay. But he knew he had neither the time nor the means to do so. Then, as he stood to make his escape, he spotted an option on the menu he hadn't noticed before. "Random Repeat," it said, and Harm pushed it savagely. "I hope you beat your fucking cock down to a stub, you bastard!" he snarled as he started scrambling down the ladder.

Seconds later he was in his car and pulling away before the security patrol turned the corner.

Once he was safe, he pulled over to the curb to think. All his life, Harm had been a logical thinker, a planner who believed in the importance of careful analysis. Those qualities had stood him in good stead in the past. But when it came to Hannah and what he'd just learned, he couldn't think logically, he couldn't even organize his thoughts. There was nothing but a storm of heartbreaking images and raging emotions.

There was no question that Mountebank had raped Hannah. He'd stolen her fantasies for his own pleasure and used them to take her repeatedly without either her knowledge or permission. Every time that image came to him, Harm was filled with rage and the desire for revenge.

Yet he'd learned that the focus of her fantasies was John Radcliff, her boss. She saw him every day at the office, and Harm now knew that she looked at him through lust-colored lenses. Based on the dream sequence he'd seen, Radcliff seemed to be Hannah's ideal lover, sending her into a level of ecstasy Harm had never seen before. How could he ever compete with that?

His thoughts returned to Mountebank. Yes, Mountebank was a loathsome rapist who'd preyed on Hannah and many other women. Likewise, Harm knew his wife had never knowingly cheated on him. But how could he get over the fact that Hannah had had sex with another man at least 4 times?

Lost in these intense and conflicting emotions, with no clear path to follow, Harm knew he couldn't face his wife right now. He pulled out his phone to let her know he would not be home.

She'd been trying to reach him. "Where have you been, when will you be home?" she asked. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

It was all he could do not to weep. "I'm not coming home this weekend, babe. Something has come up and I have to go out of town. I'll be back on Tuesday -- we can talk Tuesday evening. Listen, I'll tell you all about it when I'm back. Okay, sorry, but I've got to run. See you Tuesday night -- bye." And with that he hung up. Before she could ring him back, he shut off his phone. Then, slowly, sadly, he started driving east toward the mountains, feeling like a coward, looking for a way out of this nightmare.

* * * * * *

When Harm dashed out the back of the shop, Finn gasped with relief, finally able to stretch his legs. He'd been hiding in the server room the whole time, waiting for the opportunity to carry out his mission. He had no idea who the big man was or what he wanted; all Finn knew was he didn't want to tangle with him. So he'd crouched awkwardly behind one of the server banks the whole time Harm had been in the control center, hoping to remain undiscovered so he could finish the job and get away himself.

Now that his pulse had returned to normal, Finn resumed trying to install the Apocalypse software. Mountebank had set up protections to thwart any unauthorized changes to his system software, but Finn had anticipated that. It's what he would have done had the roles been reversed, and he knew how to bypass the safeguards.

Finally he had everything ready. But before he set everything in motion, he stepped over to the control panel and took a look at what Mountebank was up to in the parlor. Finn had previously witnessed what Mountebank had done to poor, innocent Milli. Now the scene of this monster masturbating while reliving his assaults to a long list of victims was hard for Finn to take. The knowledge that Apocalypse would soon bring the bastard's little orgy to an abrupt end was gratifying.

He glanced down and noticed that the Random Repeat function had been engaged. So that's what that guy was talking about. Too bad his revenge won't last very long. Once Apocalypse kicks in, everything stops. Then a new thought struck him. But what if I delay starting Apocalypse? I wonder how long Mountebank could go until he passes out? And then to wake up and discover his collection of porn and his whole system were gone! He deserves much worse, but that would be a good start.

Having made his decision, Finn went back to where he'd been setting up the Apocalypse load and reset the start time for early Tuesday morning. Then, after one last glance through the two-way mirror, Finn quietly let himself out and slipped away into the darkness.

* * * * * *

On Tuesday morning, Rhonda drove straight to the shopping center. She'd tried all weekend to contact Harmon, but apparently he'd shut off his phone. Alone with her anger, she'd finally decided she wasn't going to wait a minute longer to confront the man who had raped her. She'd figure out what to do about the police later.

When she pulled up to the curb in front of the shop, she was startled to see Milli walking back and forth outside the door. When the blonde spotted Rhonda, she rushed over to her side. "What are you doing here, Rhonda?" she asked uneasily.

Rhonda started to make a sharp reply, but then remembered that Milli was also one of Mountebank's victims. "I need to see Mountebank. Is he in there?"

Now Milli was on the verge of tears. "I don't know, Rhonda. The door's locked and nobody answered when I knocked. But the thing is, Mr. Mountebank's car is here in the parking lot. Besides, he told me Friday to be here first thing in the morning today. Rhonda, I think something bad has happened."

Rhonda's first impulse was to hope the blonde girl's fears were correct. But then she realized that this could be the opportunity she was looking for. If we can get the police in there, they'll find all that shit in the back and investigate. That'll expose all this sick stuff Mountebank's been doing, and we can make him pay.

"I think you're right, Milli. What we need to do is to call the cops and get them to do a welfare check. Mountebank could have had a heart attack in there and need medical help. It's our only option."

The response to their call came surprisingly quickly. A Raleigh PD squad car was patrolling in the area and quickly diverted to check out the situation. The two young men were initially skeptical, but the obvious distress of the two girls who'd phoned in the request -- not to mention the fact that both were quite attractive -- prompted the officers to investigate.

The lock on the front door was not a problem; a tire iron from the cruiser quickly pried it open after the officers had gotten no response from knocking. They made their way inside, with Milli and Rhonda along to show them where to look.

The bizarre merchandise in the front of the shop caused the officers to shake their heads, but the girls urged them to check in the back. When they came to the entrance to the parlor, the far more substantial lock on the door momentarily gave them pause. But Rhonda pushed in front. "I know the combination," she explained, and quickly unlocked the heavy door.

When one of the deputies cautiously pulled the door open, the four of them were immediately hit by a foul odor that seemed to grow worse with every passing second. The two cops looked at each other knowingly, and the deputy at the rear immediately began herding the girls out of the shop. "We'll take it from here," he told them, ignoring their protests.

After closing the front door and securing it, the cop returned to his partner. They exchanged glances -- both of them had smelled dead bodies before. Drawing their automatics, they carefully entered, scanning the room for threats. Seeing none, one of the cops looked at the room in wonder. "What is this place?"

But his partner had found the wingback chair. "Shit, here he is."

The first cop stepped over and looked, then looked away. The flies had somehow found their way in and were already buzzing around the body of the naked man. The figure was slumped in the seat in a puddle of urine, blood and a milky substance that looked suspiciously like semen.

"What killed him?" one officer asked. "I don't see any obvious signs of violence."

The other officer rolled his eyes. "Look at the poor guy's cock. I don't think there's an inch of skin left on it." He shook his head. "I doubt you could bleed to death from that, but just the thought of it makes me hurt." He stepped back. "Alright, let's call it in. We'll let the detectives and Pathology figure it out."

An hour later, Harmon Compton pulled into the shopping center. His weekend retreat hadn't solved all his issues, but he had come to two conclusions. The first was that he loved his wife, and unless Hannah was planning to leave him for Radcliff, he wanted to find a way to work things out. Harm's second decision was simpler and more immediate: he was going to beat the crap out of Mountebank, no matter what.

His plan for revenge hit a snag almost immediately. When he got to the shopping center, the parking lot was filled with police cruisers and an ambulance. Yellow police tape wrapped around the front of The New Old Curiosity Shop, and a gaggle of onlookers had gathered on the sidewalk, exchanging speculation on the strange events of the morning. The murmur paused momentarily when a gurney with a body bag was rolled out to the ambulance. After it drove away, the buzz started again, louder than before.

As Harm approached the sidewalk, he spotted two familiar faces. "Rhonda, Milli, what's going on?"

Spotting him, the two girls rushed over to him, crying and hugging him. He shepherded them away from nosy strangers and got them calmed down enough to tell him what had happened. The gist of their news was there would be no confrontation: Mountebank was dead.

As he talked to the girls, his thoughts ran wild. Did I kill him? He probably deserved it, but still... Anyway, I couldn't have done it. For God's sake, you can't masturbate yourself to death. Still, the sudden death of the man filled him with unease.

After promising to stay in touch with Rhonda and Milli, he hurried to his office to check in. Finding everything running smoothly, he decided it was time for the next big confrontation. I can't put it off any longer, he decided, I need to go see Hannah. But when he drove over to her office, he was nonplussed to find her car wasn't in the parking lot. He thought about going inside to ask about her, but the thought of running into John Radcliff was something he wasn't ready for. He turned to leave.

Before he pulled out onto the road home, he suddenly remembered that he'd never turned his phone back on. After parking in an empty slot, he switched it back on, only to discover dozens of missed messages. His text app was also overflowing. Many of the messages were from Rhonda; Harm figured he could ignore those since he'd just seen her.

But then there were all the calls from Hannah asking where he was and when he'd be home. The anxiety in her voice filled him with guilt. He stopped trying to listen to them all her messages and skipped to the last one she'd left. That's when he learned that she was at home waiting for him. Once again she reminded him that they needed to talk. That last message filled him with dread, but he decided that he had to face the music about his marriage, one way or the other.

Hannah had obviously heard the garage door open, and when he came into the kitchen, she hurled herself into his arms. Then she proceeded to tell him how glad she was to see him, how angry she was at his abrupt departure, how hurt she was that he'd turned off his phone, and how desperate she was to find out what was going on.

He sat her down at the breakfast table and looked at her intently. "I promise we'll talk about all my stuff later. But your last voicemail said you had something you need to tell me. I really need to hear your news before anything else."

She gave him an odd look. "Okay, if that's what you want." She took a deep breath. "What I wanted to tell you was... I got a new job! I start tomorrow as the office manager at RTP Homes and Gardens Realty."

He sure hadn't expected that. "Really? But what about your old job? I thought you liked where you were working, and really liked the people there."

"I did and I do," she responded, "but I just felt it was time to make a move. And when RTPHG contacted me, it just felt like fate They're the number 1 realtor in the Triangle, you know."

When he didn't respond, she hurried on. "I already know some of the people there, and I think I'm really going to like it.. I'll be working for old man Jennings. He's been in the business for years, and everyone says he's a really great boss. Oh, and I get a nice raise, too."

Harm was having a hard time digesting the implications of her announcement. "Wow! Well, that's great, babe. If that's what you want, I'm really glad for you," he said, rising to give her a big hug. "Maybe a change of scenery is just what you need."

Before she could ask him about his weekend, he told her he really needed to change clothes. While he was doing so, Hannah got a phone call, so Harm wandered out on their deck to mull over what he'd just learned. Despite his apparent calm, his head was spinning at the turnabout in his life. He'd returned to Raleigh to confront his archenemy, only to find the man dead under mysterious circumstances. He'd come home to confront his wife about her emotional affair, only to learn she'd left her fantasy love behind. It was a lot to take in.

It still hurt when he remembered the passion she'd shown during the parlor session tape he'd seen. But, he reminded himself, it was all in her imagination, not reality. He thought about some vivid dreams he'd had. Was that the same thing? He didn't know.

It also hurt to think that Hannah really had had sex with Mountebank -- 4 times! Yet, he reminded himself, she hadn't wanted it, hadn't agreed to it, and in fact had known nothing about it. Fuck, the truth is, this was more like if Hannah had been raped while in a coma. And remember how outraged Rhonda was when she realized what Mountebank had done to her. If Hannah had been been raped in some alley, I wouldn't accuse her of cheating, he told himself sternly.

Yet he still felt torn between jealousy and sympathy, between anger and love. Suddenly the image of the little two-headed lizard trapped in Lucite came to mind. Shit, buddy, I know just how you feel -- I don't know which way to go either.

* * * * * *

The detective assigned to the Mountebank death strode into his captain's office. The case was an odd one, even more so because it had ground to a frustrating standstill. When his captain summoned him, he was hoping for some new avenue to pursue.

The captain quickly dispelled that hope. "We finally got the coroner's report back. At least now we know what killed the poor guy. It turns out the schmuck died of dehydration."

The detective was nonplussed. "Dehydration? You mean lack of water, like in the desert? How could that happen?"

The captain glanced at the file again. "It looks like the vic sat in that chair from Friday evening to Tuesday morning without leaving. Apparently he never ate or drank a thing that whole time. The doc says that's plenty long enough to be fatal."

Before the detective could question the finding, the captain went on. "It's not just that. Every time the guy beat off, the doc figures he was sweating. That's water loss. And, of course, since semen is over 95% water, cumming so often didn't help either. Add in blood and urine loss plus the open wounds on his cock, and that was enough to do the trick."

The detective gave his boss a funny look. "Cum is 95% water, hunh? How'd you know that?"

The captain grinned. "You got me --the doc told me."

The detective shook his head. "Okay, but what I can't figure out is what the vic was using to beat off to. We couldn't find any internet connections, films, magazines -- nothing. How does a guy masturbate for 3 straight days without something to read or watch?"

"It had to be all that computer gear hidden behind the bookshelves. Did our tech guys find anything interesting on any of those servers?"

The detective scowled. "Hell no -- our guys ran into a blank wall. Not only didn't they find any data files, they couldn't even access the damned machines or even get them to start. They might as well be scrap metal. Our lead guy was so frustrated he called a techie who works in the Triangle and got him to take a look. This guy is supposed to be one of the top computer scientists in the industry. Anyway, the expert came up completely empty-handed. Said he'd never seen anything like it-- like it was the end of the world."

The captain was disappointed but not particularly surprised. Shaking his head, he closed the file in front of him. "Ok, I guess we've wasted enough time on this. About the only thing we can do is to wrap it up and move on."

"Ok, Cap, but how do we call it? We can't really say 'masturbated to death.'"

The captain wasn't fazed. "No problem. Put it down as 'Death by Misadventure.'"

* * * * * *

Finn had waited a day to see if there were any repercussions from his efforts before he checked in with his boss. He'd made a few discreet inquiries about the case, and what he learned reassured him. That night he made the call.

"It's about time," the woman snapped. "I assume there've been complications; otherwise I'd have heard from you sooner."

"No problems, no complications, ma'am. In fact, I have good news and more good news. The good news is that Apocalypse worked perfectly. Every bit and byte on every one of Mountebank's devices have been wiped; the whole installation is little more than scrap iron now. Even the code in the ear buds is gone."

"What about the video of his exploits? What about any VR code that could be tied back to us?"

"All gone, like they never existed."

She sighed. "It's good all the evidence is gone. Unfortunately, that means it's unlikely we can make a case against Mountebank for theft of intellectual property."

"That's the other good news, ma'am: Mountebank is dead. We won't have to worry about him any more."

"Oh my God, you didn't... I mean did you...?"

"No ma'am," he said hastily. "I never touched him." With that he told her what he'd learned about Mountebank's 'misadventure.'

He could almost hear her relief. "That's good, Finn, really good. Actually, it's poetic justice. Anyway, I don't think we could have scripted a better conclusion to this whole mess -- for us, that is."

She paused, then her voice changed tone. "I do hope you don't feel guilty about your role in his death. There really was no way you could have predicted what happened. The truth is that Mountebank brought all this on himself and..."

He interrupted her in a tone so flat that she was shocked into silence. "If I'd known what would happen, I wouldn't have hesitated." He took a deep breath. "When I was 12 years old, a man broke into our home while I was at school. He raped and murdered my mother. When my father came home and found her body, he was so distraught that he killed himself. I wound up being raised by my uncle. They never caught the man who killed my mother."

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, Finn. I never knew..."

"I don't like to talk about it, ma'am. But I will say this. If Mountebank hadn't died over the long weekend, I would have gone back for him. I hate rapists."

There was a long silence. Finally, the woman said, "Well, um, good work on all this Finn. The company definitely appreciates it. Your payment will be deposited the day after tomorrow in the account you specified. And if we have another job that requires someone with your skills, we'll be sure to contact you."

After the call was disconnected, she thought about what Finn had told her and gave a little shudder.

* * * * * *

As difficult as August had been for the Compton's, September was an absolute delight. Harm's construction company landed a big new contract that looked to keep them busy for the next 9 months. Hannah was happy with her new job, and the extra cash she was now bringing home was a nice bonus. More importantly, their marriage felt stronger than ever. The cloud that had hovered over Hannah was clearly gone, and Harm felt confident that their relationship was back on track. He'd never said anything to his wife about what he'd learned or what had happened over the Labor Day weekend, and now he was certain that he'd made the right decision.

An incident one weekend in early October reinforced his thinking. Hannah and Beegee were out on the deck enjoying a warm afternoon. Harm had gone inside to get some steaks ready for grilling, and neither woman realized when he came back to the screen door. He paused when he overheard a snippet of conversation between the two women.

"That was so weird what happened at the Curiosity Shop," Beegee had remarked.

"Oh, I know," Hannah agreed. "I wonder if we'll ever find out what really happened?"

"Probably not," Beegee replied. "If anybody knows anything, they're probably not going to tell anyway." She casually glanced over at her friend. "Do you ever miss your sessions there, Hannah?"

Harm's wife shook her head emphatically. "Not at all, girlfriend. Those fantasies were like candy: very sweet, very attractive. But after a while they were too much, and they just made me sick. Not something I want to try again."

Harm hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, but now he exhaled a sigh of relief. Then he opened the screen door, deliberately making noise. "Who's ready for a nice juicy steak?" he asked.

After that, Harm felt pretty confident that their problems were over. But later in October there was one more revelation that changed everything for him. They had finished dinner and were putting the dishes in the dishwasher, when Hannah turned to her husband and said solemnly, "There's something we need to talk about, Harm."

Despite how confident he'd been feeling, Harm felt a chill run through him. Everything seemed to be going so smoothly. Surely we're not going to have to go through all that crap again. He cocked his head and looked at her apprehensively. "What is it, Hannah?"

"There's going to be a big change in your life, Harm." She paused, and he found himself holding his breath. "You're going to be a daddy!" she burst out. "I'm pregnant!"

When her words sank in, he grabbed his wife in an embrace filled with equal parts of love, happiness and relief.

* * * * * *

Walking into his office the following Monday morning, Harm spotted the two-headed lizard holding down a stack of papers. He grabbed it and held it in front of him. "No more indecision for me, lizard. I made my choice and it was the right one. I don't need your doubts anymore." With that he tossed the block of plastic in the trash, eliminating the last trace of The New Old Curiosity Shop from his life.

Epilogue

That week, John Beale, Beegee's husband, invited Harmon to have a beer at the sports bar after work to celebrate the news about Hannah's pregnancy. "I'm so glad for you guys," he effused. "I know you were going through a bit of a rough patch the end of the summer, but it sounds like it's all good now."

"Thanks, John," Harmon replied, lifting his mug to salute his friend. "It does seem like our luck has changed for the better." He put down his beer and gave John a careful look. The man had dropped several hints that he wanted to talk, and now Harm sensed that this was why. "I hope the same is true for you and Beegee," he said, trying to sound casual.

John hesitated, but it was clear that he'd made the decision to open up. "To be honest, Harm, things aren't going too well on the home front. Things were tense between Beegee and me back in August, but ever since that weird shop closed down, it's gotten worse. She's moody and distant, but every time I try to bring it up, she shuts me down." He shook his head in discouragement. "I've tried everything I can think of, but nothing works. Something's missing in our relationship, and for the life of me, I have no idea what it is."

Now it was Harm's turn to hesitate. On the one hand, he felt extremely uncomfortable giving marital advice to anyone. On the other, he had a pretty good idea what the problem was. As he wrestled with his dilemma, a thought came to him. If somebody had told me what was going on at the Curiosity Shop, it could have saved me and Hannah a lot of agony. He made up his mind.

"Here's what I'd do if I were you, John. You can take it or leave it, but the next time Beegee gets in one of her moods, I'd bend her over my knee and give her a good spanking on her bare bottom."

"You've got to be kidding!" John gasped. "Beegee would wallop me if I tried something like that."

Harm felt committed now. "I'm not so sure, John. A little bird told me Beegee might really like that kind of thing, you know what I mean?"

John started to argue, then paused and looked at his friend shrewdly. "'A little bird,' hunh? Did Hannah tell you about something Beegee said?"

Harm shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to divulge my sources, but I'm pretty confident I'm right."

John sat back in his seat and studied his friend carefully. "You know what, I might just try that. Hell, it can't make Beegee any more unhappy with me than she is already." Then he leaned forward and grinned. "But if I have a black eye the next time you see me, you better run."

"I'll take my chances," Harm replied. He took another swig from his mug. "So, how do you think the Tarheels are gonna do this year?"