Blunt Force Drama Ch. 12-13

Chapter 12

It's finally time to get in the car and drive to the hospital for my appointment. It's the moment I've been dreading. The success of the interview had momentarily crushed my anxiety, but it all comes pouring back in.

About halfway to the hospital, I say to Angie, "I would like you to come in with me to my appointment this evening. I had promised you a few weeks ago that I would explain more of my condition to you when we understood it better. I don't think we understand it any better; if anything we are more confused than we were. But you deserve to know."

"You're dying. I knew it. You are dying, aren't you."

She's starting to cry.

"I promise I'm not dying. I think you may be angry with me, but I'm not dying."

"Then why won't you tell me!"

"If I told you now, you wouldn't believe me. You won't believe Anna when she first tells you. She didn't believe it at first when my ER doctor told her."

"What the hell are you talking about Matt? This makes no sense."

"You're right. It makes no sense. It's not possible, but it's true."

We are parking at the hospital now. I'm holding her hand, but she's terrified of what she's about to be told. I do pry to hear what she's guessing. I hear the possibility that I'm insane, that I have a second person growing in my head, even that I have become a werewolf -- she does dismiss that idea as absurd. The insanity or that I have some weird type of brain tumor that means I will have to lay down for the rest of my life are her current favorites.

Anna's waiting for us at the unit's reception desk. She looks at me and I nod. She says, "If you both want to come this way, please."

We head into Anna's office. By this point, this has almost become my second home, but Angie has never seen it. Anna sits at her desk and we sit in the two chairs. I hold onto Angie's hand.

"Matt said you were going to explain what's going on with his head. Is he dying?"

She goes right after that one. She really can't shake it.

"As far as I know, he has as long of a life expectancy as you or me. No, his condition is far stranger. I know of no other comparable patient anywhere in the literature. Of course, I do not believe I will write up Matthew either, so I really have no idea how truly unique this is. Matthew's a psychic. He can read minds."

She looks at Anna and then at me. "You two know that April Fool's day is still almost two weeks away, right?"

Anna says, "I know this sounds incredulous, I didn't believe it. When he helped with my unit director a while back, it was because he didn't believe it. But it's undeniably true."

She pulls her hand back from me and kind of shrivels up. "Is he making me do things?"

"We don't think so. Matthew's better at explaining what he can and can't do. I know this is going to be hard on you. Our plan is to give you the basic information and let you ask Matthew whatever questions you have. Then he's going to leave us alone. I have some things I've learned trying to work with Matthew since his fall. Things he would like me to explain to you. He has instructed me to answer any question I can. Everything I know about him is an open book to you."

"Yes, I can read minds. Mostly, I can hear people's internal dialog. Some people have very organized ones. Janet's is amazing. Others, like my ex-roommate Todd, has nothing coherent going on in there at all. I've learned to mostly shut it out, but if I'm around too many people, they overwhelm me and it's kind of like they're all yelling in my head at once. That's where the headaches come from. That's why I need distance. Just like normal voices are softer further away. I've gotten better at ignoring people when I'm with them. I try not to listen to you or Anna anymore.

"I breakdown and listen when I'm really scared or worried about what you're thinking. I did listen to some of your options for what Anna was going to tell me. I was surprised you considered werewolf."

She snaps her head to look at me. "How did you know that?"

"Anna and I have been telling you that I can read minds."

"Do you spy on me all the time?"

"More than I should have, especially early on. But I'm trying to be careful to give you privacy. I'm dying to know what you're doing on your computer every morning that you don't want to tell me about. And I've never listened in on your sessions. Well just for a moment when you screamed my name in your mind, I think when you realized the award would allow us to be back together again."

"You can read my mind from across campus?"

"Yours is the only one I can do that with. I'm just much more attuned to you than anyone else I think."

"How far away can you be and still spy on me?"

"Please don't say spy. I'm trying really hard to not do that. I heard your thoughts for a moment when you were working at the store one day, when I was thinking intently about you. But that only lasted a moment. The surprise of it broke the linkage.

"But when I texted you about studying in my room together and you didn't respond right away, I listened to your decision making, just to see if I could."

"So you spied on me."

"Guilty. I feel really bad about doing it too much early on. I knew you thought I was cute before we ever exchanged phone numbers. I probably would've been too much of a coward otherwise. I listened to your thoughts to see if I had a chance with you. And then I listened to your thoughts because you were so obviously torn about your father's beliefs. By the time we were back to being a couple again almost two weeks ago, I had realized that it was wrong for me to be doing that."

"I've been trying to be careful about what I hear from Anna's mind. I know things that I should not about her relationship with Ethan. My ability's why I knew that they had known each other and would be a good couple. It's also why my shin hurts."

Angie looks at me.

Anna speaks up, "Matthew tried to tease me about something he knew about Ethan and me while we were doing the meet and greet thing a week ago. It was a very inappropriate thing for him to have said and would've caused me significant problems if Ethan had heard it. I gave him the medicine I thought he needed to understand the situation. I kicked him in the shin."

"She kicked me really hard. It still hurts a week later."

"I was wondering where that bruise came from. I figured Matthew was just a klutz and walked into something."

She's uncurling a little bit, but I still don't get a hand.

As she thinks back, she adds, "I think I heard the comment, but it made no sense to me."

Angie blushes and laughs.

"You said something like 'it must be hard on your feet to keep it up.' I figured it must've been something about you walking in those heels. But Ethan likes you to get him off with your feet. He has a foot fetish."

Anna says, "Now you have to be careful, too. Think about what Ethan would think if he thought I was telling you two about that. It would probably be the end of our relationship. And he would probably not be as open with anyone ever again. So please be careful what you say."

"God, Matthew, you must know everything about everyone."

"I do. It's very weird. But everyone has secrets they are ashamed of. I have not run into anyone whose secret is that they killed someone. I don't know what I would do then. But most of the secrets, whether it's a foot fetish or wondering if your boyfriend's a lycanthrope, are who cares. I suppose I could make a fortune blackmailing half the population.

"I think I've managed to do some good with it, like getting Anna and Ethan together. Or warning Becky, one of my nurses, that the guy she was interested in and who was flirting with her, was married. Anna wants me to stop doing that sort of thing, so I haven't done anything similar recently. But it's how I knew for sure your father was planning on hitting you and I had to do something. I knew you had won the award, but I didn't know what the award was. Sometimes your active thoughts will assume things. I've learned to ask leading questions, just to get you to think about something."

"How often do you listen to me?"

"I mostly try not to. Usually when I'm worried about you. But sometimes I can't. If I'm too excited, I can't concentrate enough. When I kissed you in your doorway that first time, I was way too excited to know how you were reacting. The most personal listening I do now is during sex. It helps me know what you like and don't like. And I really, really like feeling you orgasm. It's the strangest feeling, because I'm feeling parts of you that I don't even have. But they feel like they are inside me. When we come at the same time, I can feel both of our orgasms, just as if I was experiencing them both. I think it's the most wonderful, amazing sensation and I may be the only person who has ever felt it.

"Oh and I did listen in on what my parents were grilling you on, so I could protect you, as if you actually needed protection."

"That's why you just happened to arrive when your dad was asking me about kids."

"I heard your inner voice scream when you saw that threat. It's how I knew to come. I wasn't listening to you at all; I can't really carry on a conversation and listen to someone else. But that scream was so loud in my head, I knew you were in trouble."

"But you really don't know what I've been doing on the computer in the mornings?"

"Please don't think about it. You're almost shouting and I'm trying not to hear, but you're making it hard."

Anna says, "I want to help you learn how to control what you project to him a little bit. That first appointment when I gave you my card, I did want to have you let me know if anything was really odd. But that was also a test to see if I could hide something from him. And it worked for me. He was not nearly as good at not prying as he is now."

"A lot of stuff actually makes sense now. Thank you for telling me, although I'm not sure why you chose now."

"Something new happened this week, Angie," Anna says.

"You know your dream Sunday night. I think I implanted that in your head. I had no idea I could and I was not trying to. I was just fantasizing that scene. It was much more real to me somehow when I imagined it. The next morning, when you so badly wanted to tell me something, I did pry. And I heard you describing my fantasy. I almost fainted. It was too exact to not be from me. That scared me. I don't want to do anything like that to you."

"So can you make people do things?"

"We don't know," Anna says, "It may be that he can only give suggestions like hypnotic suggestions. You will only do things you actually want to do."

"That feels right to me. I do feel comfortable with what the dream said. But I did feel compelled to do it, which is a bit scary."

"I'm very scared by it. I don't completely know if I'm doing it other times or not. I need you to tell me if you feel compelled to do something. I want you, Angie, not some robot I'm controlling."

"Have you done something like that with anyone else?"

"At least once, with Steve Timmons. It's how we know for sure that I implanted them. I knew as soon as I met him that he had no intention of actually interviewing me. He was pissed at his boss that he had to jump through hoops to placate Graham. On my way out, I visualized him in one of my paintings of Hell, seeing him condemned for being unfair to me.

"When he called me, he told me he had a dream with me in it, where he was condemned to Hell in that exact same painting. He said it was a weird dream, that if he was religious he would've believed it was a message from God. And he said he felt compelled to do something about it. Any of that sound familiar to you?"

"Jesus, Matt. That is scary."

"I am scared. I know Anna is. I got angry at her on Wednesday because she was worried I could become dangerous. You wondered if Anna was going to tell you I was insane. Given everything, I think I'm holding together pretty well. But I'm not stupid and you're not either. Our psyches did not develop with us being gods. I especially need you to tell me if I'm losing it."

"Are you safe for me to be around?"

"I don't think I would ever hurt you. You mean too much to me. I think the biggest danger is things like the dream, trying to get you to do something I really want. If you ever feel compelled to do something with me you don't want to, don't and tell me about your feeling. If you suddenly decide you want to do something that you didn't used to, Anna and I should both know. You can text Anna before telling me if that makes you feel better. Anna and I had been worried at the end of the session on Wednesday when you were so open about our sex. That was a big change in your demeanor. Could I have reprogrammed you somehow? I really don't want to think so, although I'm ecstatic with the change, as I think you know. You made me feel much better when you said Jennie had an explanation for your change."

"Do I love you because you made me do it?"

"I've worried about that. I felt better that first day we walked to the parking lot and saw the blood stain. You were thinking about watching me fall. I could see your memory. You had been watching me because you thought I was cute. That was before I had any abilities. And before I knew you existed. So you were at least interested in me before. That was a huge relief to me."

"You're right. I did think you were cute. That is why I was watching you and saw you fall."

"I don't think I can implant memories. Or at least I hope not. That would really drive me insane. I would have no idea what was real anymore. But I'm going to leave you two now and wander off. And not listen in. I want you to be able to hide things from me."

I start to walk out the door and turn to Anna. "Remember Spanish as well. Text me when I should come back."

I sit out in the waiting area. I pull out my phone and play a stupid little game, just to keep myself from potentially listening in. They seem to be taking forever.

Finally, they text me and Anna comes out to escort me in. She opens the door and I walk in; I'm shocked to see Angie behind the desk.

"I'm pretty sure that was honest surprise. He has tried to fake being surprised a couple times and those were obvious. I believe he wasn't listening to us. Now I want to see if I can keep a secret. What number am I thinking of?"

"70, the number of novels George Sands wrote."

She doesn't seem to have much of a secret chamber yet.

"Good, you were supposed to know that one. What's Anna about to tell you?"

"Well, I know it's making you horny as hell. I can feel you getting wet. And I can feel the denim against your lips. You don't have your panties on!"

"Well, I guess that kind of worked, but kind of didn't," Anna says, handing me Angie's underpants.

"You kept the secret from me. But you were thinking about the ramifications of it so much that I got the rough idea. When I felt around you, I could feel that you no longer had a panty on any more."

"Oh, it's the old 'don't think about elephants' joke. I get it. I guess I will need to practice this one. And you need to promise not to try to read my mind all the time, right?"

"Unless I'm really worried about you. I can't promise that right now. That night you cried all night was so hard. When you were really upset, it was really hard to understand you. And when I did listen in, it was too hard on me. That's why I texted you when I did, because you had just swapped to worrying that you had chased me away. But the demons wanted me away and convinced you that you would destroy me if we were together, so you threw your phone into the corner. I lied to Aya a little bit, giving her more info than I should've known. But I needed someone to help you and you were not going to let me do it."

"Pay attention to my thoughts again."

She thinks a message to me. Just what did you think about Anna when you saw her in that gown?

I blush and say, "That wasn't fair. Are you going to explain this one to Anna or do we leave her in blissful ignorance."

Angie's grinning merrily.

"I think bliss sounds pretty good to me," Anna says, "Time to give me my desk back now, young woman."

"So you were sending him messages like that while you were talking with me, Anna," Angie asks. "And getting him in trouble for laughing? That hardly seems fair."

Anna thinksAnd I thought she had an attitude then

I laugh and then glare at Anna.

Angie yells, "Stop that! No private jokes between you two!"

"Angie, chill, she was just yanking your chain. Anna, do that again and my mouth may become loosened in front of Ethan. I mean it. No more. I won't even leave a bruise on you as a reminder."

Anna says, "Sorry, that was unprofessional of me. I get your message and no more message passing in front of Angie."

"I guess I'm not going to object to something like telling me to sit down at dinner Friday night."

"She messaged you to sit down during the incident?"

"Only after your father had left," Anna says, "To try to deescalate the room a bit."

"I can see how useful the message passing would be in a social setting. I guess you can monitor me in social situations. I can tell you when I need to get rescued, socially, I mean. I just can't notice any hot guys in the room anymore."

"I will only get jealous when it's called for. I'm not going to get bent out of shape about you noticing another guy. Everyone notices possible sex partners. I just may tease you about any that you particularly notice."

"Ooh, I can tease you at a party if I think you're spending too much attention on a doctor in a fancy gown. And no one else will know."

"And I think my bliss just went out the window," Anna says.

She continues, "Being more serious, we are way over our scheduled time and Ethan's probably getting irritable waiting for me. I want to try dropping our meetings to once a week. I will keep this slot open and either of you can text me to let me know you need to talk. Do you prefer Monday or Wednesday?"

"I think Monday," I say, "Lots seem to happen over the weekends. And I really don't want to interrupt your weekends. I know how much you both enjoyed that happening last weekend."

"Enjoy this weekend. Say hello to Ethan for us," Angie says, "Matt and I still have lots to talk about."

We walk back to the car in silence. She's still not holding my hand. When we are on the road, I say, "Can you talk to me? I'm holding back from listening in on you, but I'm also petrified right now. I don't care about the interview, I don't care about anything. I just don't want to lose you. Tonight was the scariest thing I have ever done. Nothing else is close. It didn't go as badly as it could have, but I still don't know how bad it is. Please talk to me."

"I'm still trying to decide what to say, what to think. I think I'm trying to reevaluate everything I know about you, about us. Do I still believe it all? I just don't know right now."

"Are we still a couple?"

"I'm pretty sure I still love the you I loved a few hours ago. But that wasn't completely the real you and what you told me is kind of a big deal. You know I was horny as hell in there and I mostly still am. But I do not think I'm comfortable enough right now to have sex with you. I'm still a little weirded out."

"But I still love you. That was always the real me that was in love with you."

"You are right. But not all love is reciprocated. That's just life. I'm still in love with 80% of you, but I need to fall in love with that last 20%. I hope I will. But that's not a conscious decision I can make. It just happens. Or it doesn't. Hey, maybe we didn't need quite so many condoms after all.

"And Jesus, I just realized something. You listened in on me masturbating that first night you moved in, didn't you. That's a fucking perv move and it pisses me off. I was horrified that you might've guessed I had masturbated thinking about you. But you spied on me. didn't you. Did you get off on me masturbating thinking about you, you creep."

I try to put a hand on her arm.

"Don't you touch me, you pervert! You're worse than a peeping tom!"

"Please try to be fair to me Angie. I was obsessed with you already that night. I needed to know if you were thinking about me. I did not expect you to be masturbating. And maybe I should've stopped listening when I realized what you were doing. But be honest with yourself. If the shoes were reversed, would you have listened in?

"I know, only because I was some kind of mind reading tom, because I was a perv, that you were pretty obsessed with me. Did you want to know if I was thinking about you? If you listened in on me and I was starting to masturbate thinking about you, would you have turned away? Or would you want to know what it felt like for a guy to masturbate, what our balls feel like when we ejaculate. You might've been more ashamed than I was, but I know you inside pretty well. I think your curiosity would've kept you listening. And you would've enjoyed every moment of it. And then felt terribly guilty afterwards."

She's quiet now, seemingly deep in thought.

Finally, she says, "I guess you're right. I probably would've done pretty much the same thing in your shoes. People have told you not to peek in someone's window, but no one ever told you to not peek in someone's head. It seems obvious, but the temptation has to have been enormous. My problem is I need to think through every time you listened to me when I thought I was having private thoughts, private moments. Even now, when I understand why you listened in on me masturbating, I'm still pissed at you about it. I still feel violated.

"That's why we are on our own overnight tonight. Until then, I want to sit with you in my room. Sometimes we will talk, sometimes you just have to wait for me to process. I'm sorry if that's not fair to you, but it's part of the cost of trying to win me back. I will almost certainly get pissed at you several more times. You might tell me something that makes me laugh. I need to get used to this idea and understand all of its implications. When we get tired, whenever that is. You go up to your room. And you promise not to listen in on me until I say otherwise. Can you live with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not one you're going to like."

"Then I guess I live with it."

We walk to the dorm and up to her room in silence, not holding hands for the first time in almost two weeks,

She sits on the bed and she points at her desk chair, where I sit. I did not have to be a mind reader to realize I wasn't going to be allowed to sit on the bed with her. I know it's her show. I sit quietly waiting for her to say something.

"Tell me the most surprising things you've heard in my head."

"I can think of two off the cuff. Very different from each other. Both I have already told you about. When I caught up to you my first day back on campus after the fall. I realized you thought I was cute. That was a very happy surprise. I had no idea any women found me cute, but I now know some others do too. Don't worry, you know I don't care about them.

"The second was the Monday morning at my parents when I listened to what you had dreamed. I knew what I had done and I was terrified by it. That was one of the two scariest things I've heard."

"What's the other?"

"The night you cried all night. I was terrified that you were not going to survive the night."

After a short break, I say, "I thought of a third surprise I had forgotten about. This might be more what you were expecting. I was surprised at how little of the mechanics of sex you had thought about, were aware of. That you had never thought about things like positions."

She laughs a little about that one.

I add, "It made me really happy when we looked at those positions Tuesday afternoon. It meant that you were changing that mindset, which I think is important for us. But I only realized that because of what you did, not what you thought; I was already trying really hard not to listen."

Something I said made her very happy, but not about what I said.

"In all fairness, I could feel you react positively to something I said, but I was intentionally paying little enough attention to not know what it was. And it wasn't exactly what I said that made you happy, but something you thought about because of what I said."

"That's actually a pretty accurate description of what happened, but I'm not going to tell you what it was and I'm relieved you do not know. Have you ever regretted listening to me? I mean not counting when I'm scolding you about it."

"Only once I can remember, Monday evening. I would've loved to have not known that you were going to perform my fantasy for me. I was trying to get myself ready to act surprised. I assume that's what you were referring to earlier tonight when you said I can't fake surprise to you."

"You say you've been trying to not listen to me. Have you ever regretted not listening to me?"

"A big one was the Saturday night before our first date. It was the first time I consciously decided to give you privacy and not listen in. You had been so torn before bed and seemed so in control that morning. I was ecstatic, so ecstatic that I missed warning signs I should've seen. I was kicking myself that morning for not listening to you overnight. I wanted to understand how you had defeated your demons. I was too emotional most of the day to listen to you. And on that walk, the wonderful walk by the lake, I chose not to, just to live in the normal world, enjoy our love for each other. But after you suddenly crashed after your orgasm, I really wished I had understood how fragile you were. I hated myself that night. I thought I had pushed you too far, maybe broken you. I still don't know which was worse that night, not listening in and just hearing you sob like that or listening in and hearing the torment you were putting yourself through. I could not handle either for very long."

She sits quietly for a few more minutes.

"Have you been tempted to implant any other dreams in me?"

"Not seriously. But it was what started me laughing last night about the pineapple on the pizza. I had thought about testing whether I could implant a dream that you would be opposed to: Making you like pineapple on your pizza."

"So now, if I ever decide I like pineapple on my pizza, I know to kick you out of the house."

We both laugh a bit.

"How about reading other people's minds. What's the sexiest thing you've heard?"

"God, people have so many sexy thoughts, it's hard to pick them. And it's funny how differently they think about it. Anna has very explicit thoughts about Ethan, but he has very general thoughts about her, at least when he's around me. I have to admit I enjoy listening to Anna's descriptions of their weekends much more than Ethan's.

"But if I was going to pick a memorable sexy thought I've heard from someone else, it would have to be Becky. She was the cute nurse when I was first admitted to the hospital, the one who was flirting with the married guy. Anna actually warned her for me and she was so pissed I could hear her thoughts scream about him from down the hall. But she was horny after she got over it, when I was getting back from surgery. She thought about giving me a blow job while I was lying there. I had no idea at that point that women had real sexual fantasies like that."

Angie is glaring at me.

"Hey, she thought about me. It's not my fault. And, no, she didn't do anything. She knew the head nurse on the ward would've reprimanded her. And that was before we knew each other. Although I think I was already in love with you, even if I didn't understand it at the time. I'm pretty sure I fell head over heels when you talked to me right after I fell. You had the face of an angel hovering over me, talking sweetly to me."

"And everyone else wouldn't shut up because you could hear their inner voices," Angie says. "Was that the first time you had heard people's inner voices?"

"Yeah and I had no idea what I was hearing. And they all seemed to be shouting, which they were probably upset enough to be doing, by my current understanding. I didn't understand that I was hearing people's thoughts until I was in the ambulance. The paramedic was running through some medical checklist. I did not understand most of what he was doing. But the other one was driving the ambulance. And I heard him looking for openings in traffic and things like that and I realized everything he was thinking matched up to what the ambulance was doing. The first person I was actually able to focus on and listen to was my ER nurse, Sara. I had forgotten about her. She was really nice. And she had the hots for my paramedic."

"He was cute. More than cute. He was a hunk."

Now I get to glare at her.

"Hey, if he had given me his phone number, maybe we wouldn't be here right now," she says, teasing me.

"Sara was pretty hot herself and I told her she should tell him she had the hots for him. She thanked me later that night, because they had a date. I wonder if that worked out for them."

"You really are quite a little matchmaker, aren't you."

"I like a happily ever after. You're the one who likes the romance writers."

"I like the romantic writers. They did not promise a happily ever after ending like the modern romance authors do. Do not compare the novels of Jane Austen or George Sands to one of those bodice rippers that they sell a ton of these days."

She sits quietly again for a while. The longest quiet period of the evening. I'm starting to think about asking her to say something when she does so on her own.

"I really like the answers you gave me tonight. And that you do not know what I'm doing on my computer in the mornings makes me very happy. Just so you don't worry, it is not some dark secret that is going to horrify you. But it is something that is mine; it is important for me to feel like I have something that is all me, that I'm just not some extension of your mind now.

"But I'm not ready to touch you yet, even holding hands. Or have you touch me. I still have a bit of a feeling that you're a monster. I suspect that I will be mostly over this in the morning, once my mind has had a chance to integrate things. I may have momentary shudders from time to time and there may be times when I will be a bit standoff-ish, I don't know. No promises. But it's progress. I still do love you, I think all of you. But that was a lot to take in. This was not on my bingo card for today.

"But I'm still horny as hell and I still have no panty on. I would like that one back, by the way. The one Anna handed you and is in your pocket."

She laughs. "God, I wish I could read your mind right now. Your reaction to me saying that to you is priceless."

I blush.

"So I'm going to masturbate in front of you. I enjoy you watching me and I probably need to do it whether you're here or upstairs. And if you're upstairs, I will just worry that you're creeping on me anyway. I would rather have you watching me for real. You say you're very visual, use that. Watch me. I suspect you will also end up in my head, too, but try to avoid it. I kind of like the idea that you can mind meld while we are having sex. It is very intimate when we should be intimate. And if that is why you've been such a good lover, I can't complain about it. But for now, I want to be watched. You can jerk off now if you want to. Or don't. This is about me."

She pushes her jeans down and then all the way off. She lies back, across the bed, her heels up on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide. I see that beautiful pussy that I first saw four days ago in this room. For the second time, I watch her spread her lips and put her fingers on her clit. On Monday, I was in too much of a daze to truly appreciate the view.

I've listened to her do this a few other times, but this time I'm trying to just watch. She is very wet, very ready for this. I'm leaning forward in my chair, staring intently at the beautiful flower opened up in front of me. Even from a foot or two away, her aroma is reaching me. I remember her sweet taste. I would so love to taste her juices right now.

I sit mesmerized watching her finger play with her folds, just teasing her clit. But each motion is becoming less play, more attack. Soon, she is racing headlong down the rapids, about to crash over the falls. I've always looked away at this point, to focus on her face. I love to watch her face while she climaxes. The pleasure of the agony. The agony of the pleasure.

Tonight I stay focused on the flower in front of me. I watch her passage trembling, grasping for something that is not there, seeking its new best friend. But that friend is still tucked in my pants, just starting to awaken after the torture my libido has been under for the last few hours. She may have gotten horny, I've just been in terror of losing her, losing us.

"Thank you, Angie, I really enjoyed that. And I did not listen in at all. I just watched with my own eyes. And it was beautiful. You're beautiful. I love you so much."

She looks at me. "It looks like you didn't enjoy it as much as I thought you would."

"I was not ready for anything more right now. This whole evening has been way too stressful for me to be able to do anything. But you just gave me hope. I'm sure I will replay that vision later on in my own mind. I do wish you could listen in on me. I know how much you would enjoy experiencing what I feel. And you would know just how much I love you. This is not the first time I've had to wait for your mind to accept us. I waited before. I will wait again. I have no choice. I love you too much to do anything else."

"I love you too, Matt. It is probably time for you to go to your room. But I would like a kiss before you go."

I put my hands on the bed to either side of her and lean down and give her a kiss. She puts her arms around me and pulls me down against her, the first time she has touched me since she let go of my hand when Anna told her.

"Now off to your bed, before I freak myself out."

++++++++++

Chapter 13

I have a restless night of sleep. I'm still too worried about us to completely relax. In the morning, I shower and get dressed, then text her.

r u okay this morning

can i come c u

❤️ the door is unlocked

I hurry down the steps. Maybe everything is better and she is waiting in bed for me. I burst through the door and ... she is sitting at her desk, fully dressed.

"I'm sorry Matt. I had not thought about how you would interpret that. But I don't have to be a mind reader to see what that face was hoping for. I don't think I'm quite ready for sex yet. But I'm more comfortable with you, all of you, even the parts I didn't know about."

I sit on the bed trying to not be too disappointed.

"I do want to kind of tell you what I've been doing on my computer in the mornings. At least one thing I'm doing. I've been investigating other things we can do. In bed, I mean. And I have something I want to try. I think you will like it. I'm hoping I will. But I want it to be a surprise. That is why I was so particularly happy that you were not spying on me. I want to be able to surprise you sometimes."

For all I'm still feeling the disappointment, there were a lot of good things in that comment. She's seriously thinking about sex. Enough to be planning new things for us to do. And she's thinking about what it will be like living with a telepath. And she has something special she is planning. My guess is anal, but I don't want to dwell on what it is, in case I'm wrong. Which I probably am. But this all started shortly after her comment that my dick pressing against her ass felt interesting and she was no longer ruling that out.

She leans over to give me a good morning kiss. I appreciate that. We start to chat, but that quickly becomes Angie asking me more questions.

"What's the thing you heard you wished you hadn't?"

"That one is easy. The night I was in the hospital, my dad was all excited because he thinks my mother gets frisky when they stay in a hotel."

"I think it is nice they still have an active sex life. They're not that old. I hope we're still having lots of sex when we're their age."

"That's not the part I really wished I hadn't heard. Or rather seen. The next morning I could hear them coming down the hallway. They were both thinking about the sex they had had at the hotel. My father is apparently right about my mother and hotels. I'm never going to be able to enjoy vacations with them the same way."

Angie laughs.

"But it was the first time I saw the images people were thinking about. I saw POV intimate moments between them. Things I can never unsee."

"Okay, I do not want to see my parents like that either."

She shakes her head thinking about it.

"And now that I've visualized it, it is stuck in my head forever, too. Thanks."

"You're the one who asked me."

We eventually go out for a fast food meal. We get drive through and eat in the far edge of the parking lot. At the end of the meal, I remind Angie to take her pill. Angie suggests that it is a nice day for a walk and we drive over to the lake side, for the same walk we took several weeks ago. The day of our first date. I like the idea.

She lets me hold her hand as we walk along the lake side. She asks me what each person we walk by is thinking about. I tell her what I hear. One man is about to propose; she has no idea, it was not clear to me she was going to say yes. Another couple seemed in trouble, although they were walking hand in hand. She was thinking about doing the laundry tonight. He was deciding what he was going to tell her so he could visit his mistress.

One single woman is thinking about a problem in some sort of theoretical math. I think it is for her doctoral dissertation. But I could only understand a little of what she was thinking.

A pair of high schoolers just had their first kiss. He is hoping she will go all the way tonight. She wants him to push her, but she is not sure how far she wants to go. I'm pretty sure he is getting lucky.

I stop before the next guy reaches us. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you just look like you need a friend today. Do you want to talk?"

"No, thank you for asking though. I really appreciate it. I'm going to be okay. Yeah, I am going to be okay. Thank you."

I stand still and watch him walk quite a ways past us before I turn back the way we were going.

"What was that about?" Angie asks.

"He was deciding whether he was going to kill himself or not. He got laid off and his girl dumped him. But I think he is going to be okay. Someone told me once in some sort of training, if you think someone is suicidal, ask them if they are okay, if they need someone to talk to. It really did make a big difference to him. I think I may just have saved his life. But I think that is the end of this game for me today. I feel good about what I did, but I'm more than a little shaken."

Angie gives me a hug and says, "I'm proud of you. I need to stop thinking of you as a monster. Or maybe just a cute and cuddly monster. You do like cookies ..."

We walk back to the car and drive back to campus. I think the walk actually ended up depressing me a bit. I want the unbridled love we felt for each other that first day. So much has happened with us since then, Some of it good, some of it bad. But we lost the naïveté of that day. I remember feeling we would never have another day like that; I just wish it wasn't as true as it is.

We decide to hang out in Angie's room until Aya feeds us dinner, which will be at 5:30. We've talked ourselves out about my ability. Angie has gained a much more nuanced view of it than her simplistic view last night. But she has not yet reconciled her understanding with her emotions about it. Or about me.

We both seem somber. I am pledged to not listen to what is going on inside her and I maintain my pledge. Finally, I say, "I'm so used to checking on what is going on inside you when you're like this, I'm struggling. Can you talk to me? If I am going to never listen in on you, I will need you to be a little more open with me, tell me what's going on."

"You got very sad on that walk," she says, "Are you doing okay? Did saving that man's life bother you that much?"

"That certainly put an end to the fun of listening to people. And it left me a bit empty. But comparing this afternoon with the walk the afternoon of our first date made me somewhat melancholy. Nostalgic for the purity of our love that day. So much has happened since then and we can never go back to that. I realized at the time that that afternoon was the happiest moment in my life and could never be repeated. But I was hoping today was going to make me feel it all over again. Instead I ended up feeling like we've aged years since then. Our youth stolen from us, battered into submission by everything we've endured in the last weeks. I guess I'm a little bitter about that."

Angie comes over to me and gives me a hug. "I'm sorry for what I'm putting you through. What I've put you through."

"I don't blame you. I blame Steve Timmons. I blame your father and what his damned beliefs did to you. I blame that ice storm. I blame the asshole who sent you that threat. I love you too much to blame you."

"I love you too, Matt. I'm not ready for sex yet. But I need you in my bed tonight."

"Don't you have work at like 8AM tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"If we share a bed tonight, let's make it my bed, so I get to sleep in while you torture yourself."

"I thought I would leave the torture to you. Maybe a whip next time you tie me up?"

"Just what have you been doing on that computer in the mornings? I haven't read any of her books, but I didn't think Jane Austen was into BDSM."

"What does the M stand for?"

"I think masochism, right?"

"And what are the first two letters of it?

"M and A."

"How would you spell that?"

"Um, I guess e-m-a."

"Does that almost spell a name?"

I chuckle, saying, "Emma was one of her novels, isn't it?"

"See what you're missing by not reading her. There is a reason why many of the women are referred to as Mistress, you know."

I'm pretty sure she is yanking my chain here.

"And I suppose they all eat salted cod for dinner," I say sarcastically.

"They sure as hell weren't eating tacos and burritos."

"She had four great novels, right? Are you going to explain how the others represent BDS?"

"That's easy. Pride and Prejudice is B, Sense and Sensibility is D."

"Not following this one."

"Turn the second P upside down and over lay it and you get a B. In case anyone missed it, her main characters are the Bennetts, you know, starting with B. The main characters in Sense and Sensibility are the Dashwoods."

"And the S?"

I'm curious how far she can take this. I'm pretty sure she is making this up as she goes.

"She originally planned on three books, so Mansfield Park had to represent the S and the M. But she couldn't make it too obvious, women weren't allowed to think about such things. So she swapped the S and the M and dropped the D. You know, S-and-M field becomes Mansfield. It is all so obvious to anyone who has a brain and reads them."

She pulled this off pretty quickly, I have to give her credit for that.

"Like all writers, she is basically a masochist. So she reinforced the M with her fourth book, Emma."

She maintains a straight face for about thirty seconds and then bursts out laughing, saying, "I'm going to have so much fun teaching you the real story behind all the women authors. You promised to give me one evening a week this summer to learn all of this."

"Speaking of summer, we probably want to start looking for an apartment. I would love to not spend the summer sleeping in a bed that is intentionally uncomfortable for two."

"Yeah, I glanced earlier and it looks like leases are mostly signed in early April for June-May rentals. What do you think? Minimum one bedroom plus combined kitchen/dining room/living room?"

"If we can afford it, a two bedroom where we can have desks in the second bedroom would be perfect."

"I thought we already decided that studying in the same room is counter productive."

I say, "So, we either need a two bedroom with enough space to set up a second desk somewhere else or a one bedroom with enough space to put one desk in our bedroom and one in the main room."

"I'm sure we can wedge the second one in somewhere."

"But where will we PUTT it."

Angie groans, before retaliating, "We will need to find the PAR-fect place for it."

"It can go further if it is a wood desk."

"We can just chip it in."

"We will have to get book size mouse traps for your desk."

Angie looks at me strangely.

"So your french romantic novels don't get away."

Angie takes a minute more to digest that one. "I get it. Sands traps. That was lame, Matt."

"A little birdie suggested it. Would you rather play with my stick and balls?"

"Enough."

"I sense a golf between us."

"Matt!"

"There is at least one hole on the front nine I would like to play."

"Stop these bad puns now or you're never playing any of my holes."

I open my mouth, look at her, and decide to close it again. But this did work to break my mood.

"Okay, if you want to play with words, we will do it my way, story telling. We alternate telling paragraphs of the same story. I will start.

"Up on the hill was an old mansion. The driveway, which was the only way in or out, was overgrown with bushes for all the years I can remember. But every night, a light comes on in one of the downstairs windows, then moves to a room upstairs before extinguishing."

She looks at me expectantly.

I add my first paragraph. "This was too much of a mystery for Angie and Matt to resist. Late one afternoon, they climbed a big oak tree with a branch that went across the tall brick wall surrounding the mansion's grounds. The tree was easy to climb and the branch was comfortably thick to support both their weights. The afternoon sun did not penetrate the thick growth of foliage beneath them, but they were determined to push on. They lowered themselves to the ground, immediately realizing their mistake as their feet touched down."

I look at her.

"You realize you swapped perspective between the two paragraphs, don't you? Okay, I'll stick with your third person.

"As they let go of the branch, it shifts up, out of their reach. They will need to find another way out. But they are in now; it's time to find the mysterious source of the light. They fight their way through the thick vegetation until they find themselves in a clearing."

My turn.

"Matt looks over at Angie. There were sharp thorns in the bushes and they have ripped slits in Angie's thin blouse. Since she had neglected to wear a bra today, the slits were exposing the bottom of one of her breasts and the other breast is threatening to swing out a long slit up her side."

Angie slaps my arm.

"Okay, okay, I will add another sentence to my paragraph. Matt, realizing her underlying shy nature, offers his jacket to her, restoring her modesty."

She's still shaking her head at me when she starts her paragraph.

"Looking around them, Angie realizes that they are on what must be the remnants of the old lawn. The grass and weeds come up over their knees, but there are no more barriers of bushes between them and the mansion. They begin to walk towards the house, hand in hand. Suddenly, they hear something in the grass."

"It rattles distinctively. Angie jumps up onto Matt, her legs wrapped around his waist. She's just wearing a short pair of shorts and sneakers, with no socks. Matt had wisely worn thick boots and a heavy pair of jeans, hopefully enough to protect him from a snake bite. He tries to skirt the sound while he moves slowly, making plenty of noise with his feet, hoping to shoo the snake away."

"Matt has one hand on Angie's buttocks, one behind her back, helping hold her up, while her arms are around his neck almost as tightly as her legs are wrapped around his waist. Her breasts, barely constrained by her torn blouse and Matt's ill-fitting jacket, bounce against his chest as they progress towards the mansion."

She smiles at me. "It's where you seem to want this story to go."

I feel I now have permission to divert the story.

"His hand explores around her bottom, fondling as much as carrying. She can feel his member, becoming hard, pushing against her crotch through his jeans. She kisses him as he trudges through the grass. He says, 'Let me get us to safety, then we can explore each other's bodies.'"

"She can tell he's tiring and will not be able to carry her much further. They're almost to the mansion, although not to a door. They had been hoping for refuge on the front steps, which rise out of the unkempt lawn like a desert island to a shipwrecked sailor as he clings to a piece of drift wood and the fins circle. She says, 'Go towards that window and brace yourself.' Once he's close, and braced, she clambers up onto the window sill."

"But the window is apparently not latched and Angie disappears from Matt's sight, the window swinging shut again behind her. It sounds like it might have latched on its own, locking him out. He hears Angie crying out momentarily, 'Matt, help!' and then silence. He tries to push on the window, but it won't budge and he cannot pull himself up onto the ledge."

"He sprints towards the front door, hoping he can open that. He can hear multiple snakes in the grass as he runs. He's just hoping he avoids them, or at least his boots and jeans really are sufficient armor. He reaches the door in safety and tries to open it. Locked. He pounds on the door to no avail."

She looks at me, waiting for my contribution.

"He sits down on the steps in despair. How is he going to rescue Angie? Suddenly the door behind him swings open. He peers in; no one is visible inside. He steps inside and immediately falls through a trap door, sliding down a chute to a basement level. Regaining his bearings, he's in a cell, surrounded by bars. Looking out, just out of reach, is Angie. She is blindfolded and naked, tied spread eagle to a table. He notices she has shaved her pubes. That's a new look."

I look at her, trying not to laugh. She glowers at me.

"'Who's there?' Angie asks. 'It's me, Matt. Are you okay?' 'Yeah, I'm okay, but I would like to get out of here.' Matt can just reach the ties on one side, but they won't break for him. 'I can't break them,' he says. She tells him, 'The man told me they are unbreakable, but dissolve in semen.'"

She looks at me. "Are you happier now?"

I'm trying to keep from laughing long enough to tell my part.

"Water is starting to pour into the room. Matt works quickly to get his cock out and is stroking feverishly. The water level is rising. He manages to come quickly into his hand and spreads some of it over the bond holding her near hand. And then puts the rest over the bond over her foot. He can hear the plastic sizzling and he finds he can tear it now. She has managed to tear her hand free as well and pulls off her blindfold. She sees the key to his cell hanging near the door. If she can get free, she can save them both."

I look at her.

"But the first two bonds used up his load. The remainder weakens her bond slightly, but not enough for her to break them. The water level continues to rise. 'You have to be able to come again, Matt, or we both die,' she begs. But he can't and they both drown. The end. I guess she should've gotten more of a stud boyfriend who can take care of her needs, as often as she wants."

We are both laughing.

"So Angie needs a better stud, huh?" I ask.

"A woman has her needs. And my needs are going to need to be filled often, pretty soon."

"Just tell me when I can start filling you up."

"Do you really think I should shave down there?"

God, I wish I would let myself pry to find out what I should answer here. This is a trap question if I've ever heard one.

"You're already really beautiful, there and everywhere, so it is okay to do whatever you want. But I would kind of like to see you shaved at least once. I'm not sure if I would like it more or not."

"So if you decide some part of me is not beautiful, you get to decide what is best for me? I lose all autonomy? Are you saying a woman is only a full-fledged independent being if she is beautiful? Did I just hear you say that?"

"I - um - that is not what I meant. Um - I just think you will be beautiful no matter what you do."

She is glaring at me, but I can tell she is about to start laughing. A moment later it bursts out.

"Come here, you goofball," she says, still giggling.

I come over and she gives me a hug.

After a few minutes, I say, "We should go down and see if Aya has food for us now."

On the way down the stairs, Angie says, "You can listen to me during dinner. I want to see how I like sending you secret messages."

Aya is already at the table in the lounge opening up several to go boxes.

"Oh, good, you two made it. I was worried that I was going to have to eat all this myself. Can one of you grab plates for us."

I grab some paper plates while Angie sits down. I sit next to her and ask, "Can you explain what all of this is?"

"This stew looking thing is lamb tagine. It is flavorful, but not spicy hot. This rice like dish is Tunisian couscous. I would consider it mild, but if you're not used to harissa spicing, you may think it's spicy. These are just plain breads, called tabouna bread for the kind of oven they are made in. And these things are called felfel mehchi. They're just stuffed peppers, filled with ground beef and potato and seasoning. The red sauce here is to put over them, but take a very little bit until you taste it. You might find the sauce uncomfortably spicy."

Angie is looking at me and looking at the stuffed peppers, which are long and cylindrical. I listen in to hear her, If I won't put your dick in my mouth, I'm sure not putting one of those things in there.

I unfortunately was taking a sip of my water when I heard that and almost choked. Aya looks at me with concern in her eyes. I say I just swallowed wrong. Angie is trying not to crack up.

Aya takes out a knife and slices into one of the two peppers. Angie sends meOuch. I can't watch that. I would think you would be cringing.

I look at Angie and roll my eyes. She's having way too much fun commenting tonight.

Despite Angie's commentary, all of the food's delicious. The red sauce isn't as bad as the death taco, but it's still way too hot for me. I pretend to take a big bite of it and say it's not that bad, trying to trap Angie into a real big bite. But she was on to me. I'm not that gullible!

Aya asks, "How did your interview go yesterday, Matthew?"

"I think I have a good shot at getting the job. And I liked my new boss if I do get the job."

"His new boss told me she was borrowing him for the summer, so I think it is better than a good shot."

"You talked to her, too?" Aya asks.

"She had asked me to introduce them. She is a big fan of Angie's."

"Are people realizing who you are?"

"It is a little annoying, to be honest," I say.

"I was reading while he was off looking at hellscapes or something. Three people came up and asked me if I was Angela Lopez."

"Now you know why celebrities wear those big sunglasses."

"I don't want to be a celebrity. I will be happy when this whole thing boils over. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I just want people to let me read in peace."

"And why did you look at hellscapes during your interview?" Aya asks me.

I answer, "We were talking about my research paper for Renaissance Art, which I'm tentatively doing on the development of the modern vision of Hell in early Renaissance paintings. It is the kind of stuff that you talk about when three art historians get together, especially all working in Renaissance art. Hell was a common subject matter. Phil, the genius there, off the cuff, knew of twelve better paintings of hellfire they could borrow if they wanted."

"Our art is all geometric rather than representational, so I guess Tunisians would have very different subjects for art historians."

Aya brings out a box of Tunisian pastries. She cuts each into three pieces so we have small tastes of each of them.

I say, "These feel like French pastries, but there are some different flavors in these than any pastry I've ever had. They are delicious though."

"We were a French colony for years, so they were a big influence on our cuisine. Other than the pastries, all the foods we had for dinner are pre-French. But of course the peppers are new world, so even that only goes back about five hundred years. And we've had a high culture since before the Romans or the Greeks knew how to write."

"I didn't know Tunisia was that old," Angie says.

"It was called Carthage back then. Hannibal, the one with the elephants -- he was Tunisian."

We chat some more. At one point, Aya asks, "You two are not nearly as clingy as usual. But you do keep looking at each other and laughing like there are a whole series of inside jokes going on. To be honest, the grunting and the squeaking bed was easier to deal with. At least I had a pretty good idea what was going on."

"I'm sorry, Aya. We will stop with the inside jokes," Angie says. Then thinksThat means stop listening in on me dimwit.

After another hour or two of chatting, Angie says, "We should get to bed, I have work at 8AM tomorrow."

As we clean up, I say, "This food really was delicious, Aya. Thank you. I had had some form of couscous before and some bread that was similar, but both the lamb and the stuffed peppers were really different tastes. What did you call the spicing?"

"Harissa. It comes as a paste, made from chilis and spices like cumin and garlic. It really is the national flavor of Tunisia. Although the lamb was mostly warm spices like cinnamon rather than something hot like harissa."

I say, "It would be cool if there was a course in international cuisine, learning the history and culture of the cuisine from a bunch of different cultures around the world and how they've changed as cultures interacted. Like an anthropology course or something."

"It would be popular, I bet," Aya replies.

On the way back to my room, Angie says, "It was fun sending you messages, but I guess I need to be more discrete about it. I never had any idea Anna was doing that."

"She has a really good poker face. I had noticed that."

"I think I already told you this, but this is still a no sex night. I would really like to spend the night in bed with you and I would prefer that we are both naked, but I can give up on one or both if you can't handle it without the sex."

"I will take what I can get. I do like the feel of your body against mine all night, even if I'm not getting off. I'm not going to be exceptionally comfortable, but I will live."

"You can get yourself off first if that would help. You watched me last night."

"Unless you really want to see me, I will wait."

She laughs and says, "I thought I was the prudish one, but I'll masturbate in front of you."

"Do you want me to?"

"I've never really watched you. I'm always distracted when you're orgasming. Yeah, I think I'd like to watch you."

I take off my clothes, sit on the bed, and stroke myself. It's both awkward and exciting to have her watching me. She's starting to absentmindedly rub her crotch through her pants as she watches. That is helping me get into the spirit.

A moment later I'm erupting, shooting out onto the floor. I grab a tissue and cleanup.

"I thought you might shoot straight into a tissue to make the clean up easier."

"I usually would, but I thought you would like the better view."

"I did. Thank you. I was torn between watching your face and your cock at the last moment. I guess I saw a lot of both. That was fun to watch."

She curls around me from behind on the bed as we go to sleep. I cheat and pop into her head for a moment to check on her state of mind. She really wants to make love with me and she's scolding herself for being queasy about it still. I fall asleep believing it won't be long until we're fully back together again.

I feel her slide out of bed and kiss me on the back as she leaves for work. I roll over and get a quick peek at her naked body as she pulls her bathrobe on. I wave goodbye to her and fall back asleep.

I wake up feeling refreshed and take a nice long shower. No one else on my floor to compete with. For the last time this semester. I think.

I check through my mail. Nothing of interest other than Sandy sending me the image of "my" painting. The unattributed 1428 picture of Hell. I stare at this picture. I'm not sure exactly what my paper will be about, but it will heavily involve this picture. I'm nearly obsessed with it.

I finally let that go and get back to my final stats assignment, which I get submitted. I take a break for a while, just relaxing for a good half-hour before thinking about my topic again.

I decide to walk around campus to see if I can resolve an idea. I listen to a couple of people's thoughts, but generally try to ignore them. There are two topics I would love to do, find a valid attribution for my painting or find a clear argument for its influence on later depictions of hell. But neither seems do-able, at least not by me. Then I have it.

I hurry back to the dorm and write a few paragraphs as a proposal for Professor Amberson. I'm actually very excited about writing this. I lay back on my bed and relish being fully caught up.

My phone buzzes and it's Angie.

back in my room

come down if you want

No home from work kiss. Not even a heart or love you in the text. I think about listening in on her, but I decide I should check in with her the old fashioned way by going down to her room.

I knock on her door, and she tells me, "It's open."

I walk in and she is lying on her bed looking distraught and depressed.

"What's up? Was work that bad?"

"Work was fine. Being Angela fucking Lopez sucks."

I've never heard her use the f word like that.

"Getting bothered by fans again?"

"Mostly fans, although a couple of people were nasty. I had five people recognize me in the library today. One of them told me, 'You must think you're so special. Well you're not.' Seven more people recognized me while I was walking over here from the library. I signed five autographs and had to pose for a picture with someone six times today."

"People will get used to it pretty soon," I say, trying to be sympathetic and supportive at the same time.

"And until then? And what if you're not right and I spend the next year plus here getting stopped and asked for an autograph or something. There was barely anyone on campus today. What is tomorrow going to be like?"

"For starters, let's try to get over to class early tomorrow, while fewer people are out and about. Then you just have to deal with the people in your class, who should get used to you very quickly. I will ask Ethan if you can eat meals on his charge card until this calms down a bit, so you don't have to go into the dining hall. You get five meals there on your plan before we need his help, so we can start that tonight. We will have to think about how to get to and from your eleven tomorrow. That seems the worst problem."

"Can you just hold me for a while? Shut the rest of the world out from me."

I sit on the bed and turn towards her. She sits up and leans into my chest, I wrap my arms around her and just hold her. She starts to sniffle, then the tears start to flow, finally she is sobbing against me. I just hold her while she lets it come out.

While she is crying, she talks about not wanting any of this, wishing she had not given that speech. No one would've listened to a speech about Jane Austen. I just listen to her talk and hold her. Finally, she seems to have let it all out.

She sits all the way up and wipes the tears from her eyes. "Thank you. I don't think I could make it without you. I love you so much. And I put you through so much."

"Well, I was going to complain about not getting a welcome home from work kiss like Thursday, but I guess I got the welcome home from work tears. I love you. I wish our lives were easier, but they aren't. With everything going down, I still consider us immensely lucky. We have each other. You have full support for next year and all the way through your doctorate. I think I have my dream job this summer and we get to spend it together. When you're ready to write your first great novel, you can ask for guidance from Bella. Yeah this week is going to suck some for you. And I feel bad for that. But look at everything going right for us moving forward."

"Well, I can still give you a welcome home kiss, but you're not getting one like Thursday. I'm not ready for that yet."

She leans over and gives me a kiss. More than a peck, but not the passionate kisses we sometimes exchange. Ones that want to lead to something more.

"It is time to take your pill if you haven't already. And I want to brag a little bit. I controlled myself and did not pry into your head even though I was worried about you. Neither when you sent that text nor when you were crying against me. But no more trick questions like should you shave or not if I'm not allowed to pry."

She giggles remembering getting me twisted around yesterday. It is good to hear her giggle.

"I also finished getting caught up, including submitting a proposal for my big paper. It is going to be about the painting Sandy and Phil showed me. Let me show it to you."

I get out my phone and bring up the image on my phone. I show it to her.

"That is a cool picture. Who painted it?"

"We don't know. Sandy and Phil realized it was misattributed and no one knows right now. And it is the earliest picture I know of showing this kind of Hell with all the flames around all the sinners. Everyone kind of assumes that Dante created this concept, but none of his levels of hell had fire like this. He really still had a fundamentally medieval concept of hell in many ways."

She laughs. "I've never heard of anyone being so interested in hell fire as you. Except maybe some hell and brimstone preacher."

We decide to look for an apartment this afternoon. While she is starting the search, I drop Ethan an e-mail asking about letting Angie eat at the FoodMart for the week so she isn't getting a clamoring of fans around her.

We look at lots of listings on-line and then look at a few places in person that afternoon. We put ourselves on two waiting lists with landlords for possible apartments. Maybe one more day like this and I will feel comfortable that we will find a place that we like and we can afford.

When we get back, we go to FoodMart together and get some food for dinner, which we take back to our usual table. Aya sticks her head in to say hi. And three returning students say hi to Angie, congratulating her on her speech and the award. People who already know her seem much easier for her to handle. It makes her feel a little better about classes tomorrow.

We decide to sleep in her room tonight. No release for either of us. But I still love sleeping with her curled around me. She doesn't set the alarm as early as she has. I guess she really doesn't have any homework to work on.

When I feel her climb out of bed in the morning, I roll over and sleepily watch her put her bathrobe on and leave the room. She is already partially dressed when I wake back up. I drift in and out of sleep as she writes in her journal and then I think she is reading ahead in one of her textbooks. She really does need a hobby; she does not know what to do with herself other than schoolwork.

"You probably want to get up now, Matt, if you're going to take a shower and get yourself some breakfast and get to the classroom early. Text me when you have your food and I will meet you downstairs."

Even before I've shut the door, she is doing something on her computer.

We are left mostly in peace downstairs as I eat, with a few more congratulations being said by our fellow dorm mates as they go by. We do get stopped four times walking to the classroom building, everyone assuming I'm her Matt as well. I even sign an autograph beside hers for one person. But the pathways are far more empty than they will be between class periods.

Her classroom is empty, so she sits in what I assume to be her normal chair, in the center of the first row. I sit next to her and we chat about her fame problem.

"There may be a damping effect that might keep it down," I say. "Several more people were going to stop you, but saw you already being stopped by someone else and felt sorry for you and didn't."

I don't mention that one of the people who did ask for an autograph had not recognized her until she saw us being asked by someone else. So it goes both ways.

"I think I'm going to try telling people I want to get to class so I don't have time to talk. I will call you a noon meeting I don't want to be late for on the way out. And almost everyone will be going the other way, towards the dining hall."

I remember the message to Ethan and I check for a response. He sent back

Sorry. I should have anticipated this problem. Pay for them on her meal plan first. If she runs out, you can put a couple on your card, but I would like a better plan. I will get back to both of you as soon as I have that plan.

"Ethan says run out your meal plan at FoodMart first and then I can start buying you meals until he has a better plan."

As soon as other students start coming in, I head over to my classroom. I hear, with my ears only, a few congratulations from the other students and the professor as I'm leaving. No one in my class recognizes me as Angie's Matt. I'm feeling pretty good after stats, so I try going to my 11:00 class, but I sit next to the door. My professor is surprised (and pleased) to see me. I warn her that I may not be able to make the entire class. Half an hour in, I leave class with a headache just starting. Given I have an exam at 1:00, I don't want a bad headache. I walk away from the building and sit by myself on a bench. A little before noon, I go to FoodMart. Angie is already there, looking a little winded.

"I almost ran from class to here, trying to get away from everyone. I did get stopped several times between classes, but they were mostly nice about me saying I was in a hurry. The students in both classes were pretty cool, about like people in the dorm have been. My second professor was kind of fan girling me, which felt weird."

We enjoy a quiet meal, with only a few more congratulations. I think those will only last a day more, before anyone who saw it has already said something to her. I do have to hurry through eating a little more since I did not get my food early like I have been.

The Ecology exam is easy and I'm back to the dorm just as she is leaving, We give each other a quick kiss as we cross paths. I lay on my bed to relax for a little while. There wasn't too much extra murmuring in my head last night, which was nice. Out of the four spatially closest rooms to Angie's, one is empty (mine) and one is Aya, whose voice I'm used to now. And only one of the rooms next to Angie's was full last night. Some people seem to have chosen to come back this morning.

Even with a nice rest on the bed and limiting myself to a ten on, five off work pattern, I finish my new stats assignment, which is not due until Sunday, and get my reading done for Wednesday's eighteenth century thinkers class before I have to go down to the lounge to meet Angie for my appointment.

We do get stopped twice walking through the hospital, but most people who recognize her give her space. The receptionist at Neurology recognizes her, but says nothing. But she suddenly realizes that Anna is the infamous beautiful doctor in the speech and that makes her happy. She likes Anna.

I stand up when I see Anna coming, but she waves for Angie to come as well.

"I want to start each appointment now with both of you, then I will meet with each of you individually. It's good to see you two holding hands again. Are you coming to grips with it all, Angie?"

"It's better, but we are not quite back to normal yet," Angie says.

Anna looks at me. I know she understands what Angie meant without even listening to her.

"I have a much more nuanced understanding of what he does and what he has done and rationally I'm fine with almost all of it. But part of me still views him as some kind of monster."

Anna says, "You know, some women actually find monsters erotic. It's not my kink, but there is a whole genre of women's erotica generally referred to as monster fucking."

I knew I shouldn't, but I had to listen to her during that. And she did run through her personal kinks in her head. She reads a lot of erotica. That seems to be her go to for decompressing on weeknights. No wonder she has such graphic thoughts about Ethan.

Then I hear a message from her. You listened to that in my head, didn't you. That was very rude and I am angry at you for doing so. How's the shin feeling?

I suspect I don't have a good enough poker face to not get caught by her.

"So how was the rest of the weekend. Any new abilities appear?"

"No, it was good, other than the annoyance of Angie's fame. Oh, your receptionist recognized Angie when I checked in and just realized you're the infamous beautiful doctor."

"You could've left me in ignorance and then I would've been honestly surprised when she tells me after you leave."

"Sorry. It's a weird new thing to listen to in people's head."

"If there's nothing more from the two of you, can you go back out to the waiting area Angie, while I take my measurements on Matthew?"

Angie heads back to the waiting area. Anna turns to me, scowling. "I really am pissed at you Matthew. I'm trying to help Angie and you. You took advantage of my openness."

"I know I shouldn't have. I knew it at the moment, but the temptation of hearing your kinks was too much for me to resist. I swear I will never tell anyone about any of them. And If I ever tease you, I deserve another bruise on my shin. But I have to admit, I did enjoy hearing it. I think it explains why your thoughts about Ethan are so much more graphic than his are about you."

"Now I want to ask you more about that and what he does think, but I will resist the temptation. How are the headaches going?"

"I've only had one today, when I tried to go to back to back classes for the first time. I had to leave the second class early. But I've been able to be much more productive, so I'm happy. In everything that happened on Friday, I don't think I told you that I think I'm a slam dunk for my summer job. The woman who I believe has the ultimate say was trying to think about how to get funding to keep me part time during next school year as well. So that was way cool."

"Okay, let's do your measurements and then I want to talk to Angie alone."

After my measurements, she walks me out and asks Angie to come back with her. As they are walking away, Anna says, "No listening to us, no matter how tempting."

About fifteen minutes later, Anna and Angie come back out. She says goodbye to us. The receptionist, who has usually left by the time we are done, is pretending to do work just so she can talk to Anna about being the beautiful doctor after we leave.

Once we get to the car, Angie says to me, "You spied on Anna in there. She was pissed and so am I."

So this is her revenge. I prefer the bruise on my shin.

"I apologized to her. The temptation of hearing what all her kinks were was too much to resist. I knew when she said that monster fucking wasn't her kink she would be thinking about what hers were. And she was. In glorious detail. I have to admit it was probably the juiciest thought stream I've listened to. That or maybe my ER nurse Sara thinking about her upcoming date with the paramedic. That was pretty hot, too."

"So you're just going to sit there grinning and not tell me about any of them."

"Nope. When I apologized, I promised I would never tell anyone."

"So did you listen to all my kinks, too?"

"By the time you were realizing you had kinks, I had already mostly stopped listening to you. You're tempting me, because I suspect you're thinking about them right now. But I swore my soul to not pry any more and I'm doing so. If I could resist the desire to pry yesterday out of concern for you, I can withstand my carnal curiosity now."

I'm hoping that makes her feel better. This is one of the temptation moments to listen in.

"So you don't know what I'm imagining doing with you right now?"

"Swear to god, no."

She reaches over and grabs my dick through my pants.

"You would be rock hard right now if you had been listening. I guess you're telling the truth."

Now that she said that, I'm getting an erection. We eat drive through fast food and it's dusk by the time we are walking back to the dorm, so no one recognizes her, which is a relief.

We decide to spend the night in my room tonight. I think she likes being able to work on her computer all morning while I sleep in. Nothing has been said about sex tonight, so I'm assuming that's still off the menu. I lie on my side as usual, and she curls around my back, as we have taken to for most of the last week.

I'm trying to relax enough to go to sleep, but I keep wondering what she was fantasizing about in the car. She says to me, "Roll over, Matt."

I roll over and she kisses me. "I'm ready to make love to you again."

We are back to kissing, truly passionate kissing. She reaches for my cock, which had been semi-erect from my thinking about her fantasy a moment ago, is suddenly rock hard. I reach into her pussy, which is sopping wet. We both need this.

"Should I listen to your reactions, or do you want me to stay out of your head during this?"

"I want to be intimate with you. Having you in my head is as intimate as we can be. Make me come. Make it a good one. I've missed this."

"Just remember to be quiet. The dorm's full again and Aya's going to get seriously pissed if we are super noisy."

I listen to her thoughts. I had not realized how much effort I've been using to wall those thoughts away from me. Her thoughts are pretty straightforward. Make me come. I need you inside me. I need to come so badly. Fuck me. Just fuck me. Do it now.

I use her mind to help me find the perfect rhythm on her clit. She's getting close. I need to stop for a moment to push her hand away from stroking my cock. I don't want to waste myself in her hand tonight. She's very disappointed, especially that I pulled my hand away from her clit. But she's happy soon enough and I get her off almost immediately upon returning. She yelps once, too loud for dorm rules I'm sure, but I hope that one yelp's not enough to get us in trouble. I suspect my neighbors are very aware that I have a girl in my room right now.

Once her fireworks have subsided, she hugs me and kisses me before going over to my drawer and pulling out a condom. She opens the package and puts the condom on me. It takes her two tries to unroll it properly.

"I figure I should do this for you at least once."

I roll onto my back and she straddles me in her favorite position. God, it feels good to be inside her again. She thinks so, too. It does not take either of us long to reach our climaxes. Despite her wishes, I don't think this was an amazing orgasm for her. But she seems content with it. I stop listening to her.

But I check in on my immediate neighbors. Ted was masturbating listening to us. I don't think he's going to complain. And Ravi's listening to some sort of Indian music with headphones on and never even noticed us. All is good.

"Was I too noisy there?"

"I just checked in on the immediate neighbors. I don't think we have a problem."

"What? I see that grin."

"Ted was masturbating listening to us. He's really curious who I have in here and what you look like."

"That's kind of creepy and kind of erotic, thinking about him listening to us. I can understand the desire to show off for people, which I never did before."

She climbs off me and I pull off the condom and throw it away. Just one more step I will not miss. She snuggles onto my chest. It feels so good to be back fully together. I kiss the top of her head.

"I was thinking about Anna's monster fucking erotica. I can see elements of it in some mainstream literature. For Dracula and Phantom of the Opera, I knew it was there, but had not thought about it in quite those terms. But I bet it's there in Frankenstein. I need to reread that and see if Shelley eroticized the Monster at all. I bet she did. I had no idea I was missing so much of the literary subtext by being such a prude. No wonder they make us take a sexuality in literature course."

We fall asleep like this, but I roll over onto my side in a hour or two and she murmurs something and curls around me. I barely notice when she gets up, not even waking up enough to watch her put her robe on.

I wake up later than I had intended, taking a fast shower before texting her that I was going to get my breakfast. I grab my food and meet her at our table. It really is our table. Aya's the only other one I've seen eat here and that was only with us.

We head to our classrooms early again; this time we are actually in the same building. She takes a seat front and center again.

"If Professor Elliot gets here early, I want to ask her about a few things, so you don't have to wait with me then."

"I want to check in with Professor Amberson as well, so that sounds good."

Her professor shows up and I take off for my classroom. I hear her say, "So that's your Matt. He's cute. But I may be the only one who really wanted to hear your speech about Jane Austen."

I'm chuckling to myself as I get out of hearing range. Professor Amberson's already in the classroom getting himself organized, which seems to be a daily challenge for him. He smiles when he sees me come in.

"I had a nice chat with Steve Timmons about you, if any chat with him is nice," he says.

"Thanks for that. I haven't heard for sure yet, but I think I got the job. I'm really excited about it. I really liked Sandy Devers."

"I remember Sandy. Is she going to be your boss? I liked her. I forgot she was there. You two are actually a lot alike. You both seem nice and are good communicators but not the most artistic of the bunch. There was someone else I dealt with in the Renaissance exhibit. A little anti-social, but knows his stuff. I don't remember his name."

"Phil," I say, laughing. "Yeah, he seems to be an acquired taste, but we got along okay. And his mastery of Renaissance art is amazing. Sandy had asked me about what I was doing my paper on. I was talking to them about depictions of Hell and he knew not only all the details of the three paintings they own, but he thought of twelve more depictions of hell fire that they could borrow, just off the cuff."

"I don't think I could come up with twelve such paintings that museums would be willing to lend out. So did they show you your mystery painting? I liked your proposal by the way. I sent you some feedback just a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, Phil showed it to me in a catalogue and then Sandy had him find it in the storage area for me. I never knew museums had a bunch of art that's not on display."

"Most people don't. So what's this job?"

"They have a grant to redo the exhibit to make it more approachable for the average museum-goer. I'm going to help write the exhibit catalogue."

"That's a very good opportunity for you. Have you thought about what you want to do your honor's thesis on?"

He's just assuming I will do one.

"My concussion has me thinking about doing something on the relationship between art and pain or art and mental illness. I hadn't had an idea before that."

"Do you want to go to grad school for this?"

"I don't know yet. I was trying to think about that last week after Angie's speech. She is almost certainly staying for her doctorate, so maybe now. And my internship has me thinking much more seriously about something like that as a career. I know Sandy has her masters from here."

"Oh, you're Angie Lopez's Matt, aren't you." He chuckles to himself. "Is your doctor really that beautiful and why was she at the dinner?"

"Her name is Anna Chehkov and in that gown she was gorgeous. She and Dean Fernandez have become romantically involved, so she was there, sitting next to me, as his date. They had known each other years ago, but got reacquainted working together for my recovery."

"So Ethan found himself a beautiful girlfriend, did he? Good for him. I need to get back to getting ready for class today. Congratulations on the job."

"I don't have it officially yet, and things can happen, but thank you."

Other students are filing in. One of them asks me, "You're Angela Lopez's boyfriend right? I've seen you two together. She really does love you, doesn't she."

I nod and say, "And I love her very much, too."

Class goes smoothly. I head back to my room after class and relax for a while and then look at doing some work. I read Professor Amberson's feedback for my paper proposal. He has several small suggestions that all make sense to me. I watch the half of the eighteenth century thinkers course that I had bailed on and send her two more questions. I did ask three questions during the part I was there for. She was happy with me being there and asking the questions. And at least the girl sitting next to me was also relieved I asked one of the questions; she had no idea what the professor was talking about.

I head over to wait for Angie at the FoodMart. We each buy our own lunch today. I think she has two meals left on her meal plan after this and I still haven't heard any updates from Ethan. Angie's all excited after talking with her professor.

"I'm going to start meeting with Beth on Wednesdays at one, when you are in class," she says.

"Beth?"

"My professor's name is Elizabeth Elliot, she told me to call her Beth. We agreed that she will be my honor's advisor. And she said she's willing to be my doctoral advisor, too, if I'm interested in working with her."

"I had a nice chat with Professor Amberson, although he did not suggest I call him Fred. He really doesn't like Steve Timmons. But he wanted to know what I was going to do for an honor's thesis and whether I was going to grad school in art history. It was a nice talk. I heard Beth telling you that she would rather have heard your Jane Austen speech."

"I think she and I are the only two wishing I had given that one."

"I understand the desire, but I think you also proved to yourself what you were capable of when you gave the speech you did. I'm being completely serious when I say you have greatness in you, Angie. You're going to do amazing things in your career. And all this hassle now is just preparing you for that greatness."

"You have such unwavering faith in me, Matt. Thank you. And you're right, I did gain an immense amount of self confidence with that speech. I just hate the fallout from it."

"I had someone in my class this morning realize I was your Matt and tell me how lucky I was that you loved me so much. I just told her I loved you, too."

That afternoon goes by quietly. I relax until my Psych class at 2:30. When I get out of that, Angie's in work for another hour. I have a note from Ethan to come see him, so I go over to his office right after I see the note.

Janet sees me coming and says, "He's actually out, but I have something for you and Angie."

She hands me two envelopes, one with my name on it and one with hers. I open mine and there's a credit card gift card.

"They are seventy five dollars each. Your card's officially to cover the money you spent out of your pocket while the meal plan issue was being worked out. Hers is to cover dinners this week. Ethan says that any days you eat dinner off campus, you can buy her breakfast and lunch on the card at FoodMart. Dinners are assumed to be more expensive, I guess. He's hoping that will get her past the danger point in getting accosted by fans."

"Tell him thanks for me. And thanks to you. You're still the best, Janet."

She's beaming as I leave.

I go back to the dorm and rest while I wait for Angie to get off work. I'm mentally outlining my art paper, but I must've drifted off to sleep; I'm startled awake by knocking on my door.

"You in there, Matt? You didn't answer my text."

It's Angie's voice.

I groggily say, "It's unlocked. I guess I fell asleep."

I explain Ethan's idea for feeding her this week away from the dining hall. I'm thinking that we can eat from FoodMart tonight. Eat out at least the next three nights on the gift cards and then maybe go to Theresa's this weekend. And then we can see how we are feeling about things on Sunday. She will still have one meal left at FoodMart on her card. She seems satisfied with the plan. The fans have not been as bad as she had feared and they are already dropping off in frequency.

We have a nice dinner together in the lounge. I'm disappointed that she wants to study for a couple of hours this evening. But I realize she's working a campus job, taking an extra class, and has the need to exceed teacher's expectations consistently. I suspect she's disappointed when she only gets an A. And I bet she gets far more A+'s than A's. I know she has not gotten anything less than an A.

The sex is good, but not great. I get her off once eating her out and then we try a reverse cow girl for the first time. I really like the visual aspect of it for me and it feels good for her, but she likes me to be able to help finish her off; this is another position where she has to do that for herself.

I'm getting dressed after my shower Wednesday morning when my phone rings.

"Hello?"

Is this Matt?

"Yes."

Hi Matt. This is Sandy Devers. I just wanted to let you know that we are making you a formal offer for the summer internship. Does ten weeks starting June first sound good to you?

"It sounds wonderful. I'm really excited to be working with you. Professor Amberson was saying really nice things about you to me yesterday."

I'm flattered he remembers me. You will be getting a formal offer letter in the mail. The pay will be thirty five hours a week, sixteen an hour, no benefits. Is that okay?

"It's about what I would've been making at the hardware store, so it sounds great. Thank you so much."

Thank you. There will be more details in the offer letter, but I'm looking forward to working with you.

Yes! I text Angie: I got the internship officially!

I get back. Yippee!❤️❤️❤️❤️

Coming down for breakfast?

getting dressed when call came in. downstairs in 10

I quickly finish dressing and hurry to FoodMart to grab my breakfast sandwich. Hurrying back, Angie's already at our table, waiting for me.

"That's really great about the internship. Have you told your parents yet?"

"No, I just told you and then hurried to get my breakfast. I guess I should, shouldn't I."

I grab my phone and text my father, I got internship at the museum for the summer!

Yes it's paid. Same as hardware store.

I get back, Congratulations, son. Good work. I am very proud of you.

And then I text my mom, I got the internship at the museum for the summer!

I get back, That's wonderful darling. Is Angie working on campus this summer?

Yeah, she has a job at the library. We are looking for an apartment beginning the start of June.

Your first apartment's so exciting for the two of you. Tell her I said hello.

I show Angie that exchange. She smiles. "Your mom's such a sweet woman."