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Karen Eliot's Excellent Adventures #3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Third Adventure
By Jim and Meg Norris
January 7, 1991
The autumn rainstorm in Arkham was the chill drizzle in Boston
that delayed Karen's connection to Atlanta for hours.
In her faded Levis and a light blue tee, Karen Eliot was
hardly outstanding among the business women rushing to and fro in
the passenger concourse; at least in terms of wardrobe. Her
bright green eyes and flaming locks were enchanting. With no
makeup but lip gloss, her gentle beauty radiated warmth.
Within moments of finishing the action/adventure novel Karen
felt the creep of incipient boredom. Tired also of endlessly
listening to the ten cassettes that she carried, she clicked the
walkman off.
Karen slipped her paperback and walkman into her backpack.
Noting that the departure board still announced delay, she set out
for the lounge.
Not particularly interested in rebuffing pickups, Karen
steered for a table where several women drank boisterously. She
fit right in with the Marines who were swapping stories. Karen
loved their "There I was..." yarns. She drank several rounds with
the service bitches before her turn to regale them with wicked
tales of bobbing and weaving as a consultant. Karen sported a
nice glow when her flight was announced. She quickly swapped
sounds with the corporals before heading for her plane.
The boarding crew apologized for the lousy weather that
prevailed along the eastern seaboard. They didn't apologize for
the sardine-can conditions in the little airliner. Apparently
most of Karen's ninety-some fellow passengers suffered from
advanced B.O. Disembarking in Atlanta occurred not a moment too
soon.
Although she'd missed the flight to Los Angeles, her mixed
luck held. She was accommodated on another L.A. flight that had
been delayed by a squall line.
Karen sat at a midships port-side window in the TriStar. The
air conditioning, which was effective for nearly four hundred
sweating bodies, overwhelmed the mere handful of travelers seated
within Karen's sight.
Karen set her chess computer aside, marveling that the
manufacturer had the guts to rate it at 2100. Diversions finally
exhausted, she prepared to consider her pressing problems.
Pretending to sleep would keep her meditation undisturbed while
the music on the tape rolled.
She fumed at the gall of the advisory committee. She would
not be allowed to complete her grad work at Miskatonic University
if she elected to take leave and study under a shaman. The head
battle-axe raised the specter of full employment for ghostbusters.
To add insult to injury, they pointedly suggested that she work
out her conflicted loyalties during Halloween break.
Her coven, which had arranged her acceptance at Miskatonic U,
expected her to complete her studies there. Even so, she wondered
if the High Priestess would support her thesis on eigenstate
measurement/selection. Karen didn't want to kindle the arguments
between the old wicca and the young reality hackers.
Drew Blood, her working partner, and she were to take on
another layer of interface metaphor. The first layer, which
supported her status as an adept, had been installed under
hypnosis years earlier. The manual documented the keyphrase
'will, skill, tools' which defined and invoked the effect. Karen's
only upgrade, 'improvise, adapt, overcome', was barely a year old.
>From her reading of the manual on the new upgrade, 'simplicity,
sincerity, serenity', Karen wondered if a serious mistake had been
made. The documentation had no information relating to how the
upgrade would be personally useful. Although the coven approved
the change of emphasis from individual goals to universal goals,
Karen bristled. Her upcoming Samhain initiation, dependent on the
new upgrade, seemed to emphasize commitment and service.
Karen had met Mark Featherstone while doing field work in
southern New Mexico. They were both collecting mescal, but for
different reasons. Featherstone proved expert at locating and
identifying many specimens of the spineless globe-shaped cactus
for her. Karen found that his suggestions about which buttonlike
tubercles to collect were based on extensive pharmacologic
scholarship. Although the white woman and Amerind shaman were
worlds apart, a mutual respect developed and matured over the
years. As the only person that she knew outside the Miskatonic
clique with parallel knowledge, his perspective was important to
Karen. His offer to clarify some baffling aspects of her studies
was uncharacteristily forthcoming and invaluable.
Karen slept through dinner service. She felt the landing
gear drop and was fully awakened by the flap extention during the
final approach over Inglewood.
Drew Blood listened to the interminable recording about the white
zone as he waited curb-side at the terminal. The sidelong glances
from the parking patrol didn't bother Drew; he knew Karen as a
prudent air traveler. He counted on her practice of toting only
carry-on luggage.
Karen brightened when she saw Drew waiting for her in the
ugly beige heartbeat of America. Although she ascribed his
phenomenol ability to meet her to his precise divination, a simple
telephone call to the airline sufficed on this occassion.
Following a warm hug and a quick kiss, Drew swung into
traffic. He had avoided eating to have dinner with Karen. When
the subject came up, he was prepared, "Beef fajitas with jalapeno
cornbread or Tom Yum Goong?" Without hesitation, Karen proposed
the hot and sour shrimp soup. The marvelous combination of tender
shrimp floating in a rich broth, liberally spiced with chillies
and tangy with lemon grass, lime juice and citrus leaves was
Karen's favorite, as Drew well knew.
Drew showed Karen around the walkup above the misnamed five-
and-dime which was only minutes from the airport. "It's mostly an
excuse for the BBS", he admitted. Sitting on the top shelf in a
closet was a computer, a hard disk, and two modems. Karen noted
the lack of a monitor and keyboard, assuming that Drew used a
laptop on one of the serial ports to do his sysop thing. The
remainder of the closet was stuffed with earthquake supplies.
The motion sensors and the demon dialer enhanced the
functional, yet unlived-in quality common to safe houses.
Karen relaxed in the small living room following Drew's tour
of the flat. The expectant look on her face prompted Drew to
proffer the package that he'd picked up on his way to the airport.
Karen opened the pharmacy sack and extracted the bronchial
inhaler. The asthma prescription appeared genuine, but she knew
better. The mouthpiece in place, Karen pressed the canister into
the base. She inhaled deeply as the fine spray was discharged.
Karen's initial suspicion that she hadn't gotten a hit was
dispelled by a coughing fit. Drew declined her motioned offer.
Thoroughly stoned, Karen rested the inhaler on the empty coffee
table.
Unwilling to succumb to lethargy, Karen arose and made for
the kitchen. Drew had all the materials on hand for either meal,
even the seemingly hard-to-find fresh lemon grass. The sixers of
Singha and Dosxx in the fridge brightened Karen further. They
quickly agreed on the division of labor and began preparing
dinner.
Drew juiced two small limes as Karen laid out vegetables from
the crisper. She cut zest from the rind when he was through.
Waiting for her to open up about their predicament, he heated a
small amount of oil in a saucepan.
"It's an issue of choice to me", Karen began. Drew accepted
the emphasis she applied, chopping lemon grass to one inch
lengths. "How somebody else could know what's best for me boggles
my mind. To coerce me into obedience is one thing, but the most
unkind cut of all is to be expected to agree and like it."
Drew dropped shrimp shells into the hot oil, watching for
them to turn pink, listening to Karen continue. "Who should
determine what I learn?", she asked while vigorously chopping
several green onions. "Me!", she concluded, looking to Drew who
was slivering green and red chillies.
"You accepted their role in your development", Drew reminded
her as he stirred the mixture of chicken stock, salt, lemon grass,
citrus leaves, lime rind, and green chillies in the saucepan.
"Their guidance has been good. Perhaps the older, wiser heads do
have a good reason", he suggested.
Karen watched Drew cover and set the saucepan to simmer after
bringing it to a boil. "If they do have a good reason, and it's
wrong for me, it's no skin off their asses", she observed.
"Where else are you going to study the _Necronomicon_?".
"I don't know Drew, but I draw the line at dogmatic
conformity. 'What is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good - need
we ask anyone to tell us these things", Karen quoted. "Excuse me.
I'm going to get a shower".
After luxuriating under the hot fingers of the shower
massage, Karen rejoined Drew, who was busy straining the soup
through a sieve. "What about you Drew", she asked, approaching
him. "What do you want to do?"
Drew returned the mix to the saucepan and brought it to a
boil. "My path is not dictated by another, nor is it dependent",
he said as he added the shrimp and cooked them for several minutes
in the stock. "The university administration suffers from an
inherent flaw of Authority: 'The company takes what the company
wants and nothing's as precious as a hole in the ground'. This
isn't even personal. It's just rules."
After reducing the heat, Drew added fish sauce and lime juice
to the simmering soup. He stirred it and immediately removed it
from the heat. "Our thesis is a collaboration", Karen reminded
him. "What'll you do?", she asked as Drew retrieved their beers
from the fridge.
Karen poured the soup in a tureen. Drew sprinkled it with
red chillies, coriander leaves, and green onions as he replied.
"I've held back some work on multidimensionality. Maybe that and
some fresh ideas on chaos. Perhaps the attenuation of magic. I'm
not sure, but it's not a problem. I wonder if the University of
California has room for a magician in its Interrelation of
Conceptual Structures program?"
Karen carried the tureen to the table, serving the soup
piping hot. Drew lit the candle and they seated themselves. By
long convention the two observed a companionable silence as they
dined.
After dinner Drew revealed the dessert that he'd gotten while
at the Thai market. Sticky rice, coconut milk, and banana strips
were wrapped within banana leaves. Instead of steaming the
delights, Drew 'waved them while he and Karen carried the dishes
from the small dining area to the sink.
Drew considered how to breach the subject of the impending
upgrade to their interface metaphors as the fragrant Khaw Tom Pud
cooled. Karen had benefited greatly from personal control of her
cognitive faculties as if they were software. She was naturally
reluctant to share that control; even with the people who had made
it possible.
"Are you ready for the shrink shop?" asked Drew jocularly.
He wasn't fond of the unbecoming appelation for the wetware techs,
but aimed to draw Karen out.
"No. I'm really uncertain about it. It doesn't sound like
such a good idea to me."
"What's the hangup?"
"Their hands on my reins."
"Does loyalty influence you? Have they given you reason for
mistrust?"
Karen quoted Thomas Paine. "Let them call me rebel and
welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the
misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul..."
"It's not like you haven't been through this before."
"Can we be sure that after this upgrade we'll be inclined
toward the same selfish perspective in considering future
upgrades?"
"Have you considered favorable aspects?" Drew asked.
"Frankly, no. Maybe Madge and Tar can fill that area in."
Drew dropped the subject and concentrated on washing the
dishes and tidying the kitchen while Karen got stoned and watched
headline news.
Karen and Drew, according to a fond habit, read in bed until
sleepy. Drew set his engineering manual aside in mere minutes.
He rested undisturbed as Karen turned and twisted her way through
the thriller that gripped her attention.
Karen dropped the novel to the floor and extinguished the dim
headboard lamp. She spooned in behind Drew, pressing herself into
him and resting her head on the pillow beside his. She shared his
warmth, feeling his slow and even breathing beside her.
Unable to find sleep through ordinary methods, Karen let
herself drift, recalling among other things her association with
Drew.
She and Drew had first crossed paths in their final year of
high school. In a case that had elicited support from the ACLU,
the school administration had suppressed a news story in the
school newspaper. Karen's investigation of corruption in an
alderman's office was explosive. Her story was backed up by
Drew's second-story work which gained solid evidence. The cabal
didn't care that the school won; it exploited the opportunity by
awarding Karen and Drew college scholarships.
The cabal extended a Segretti Fellowship to Drew for altering
the circuitry of E-Meters at the Church of Scientology during
black-bag snoops. His discoveries in the Guardian's Office had
been the springboard to Karen's research into the methods utilized
to penetrate and manipulate the FBI. Karen found the large cash
payment for that particular report to be very useful.
Karen's reminiscences turned to the Pirate Fucking Radio
project. The cabal had needed volume cost reductions on zeppelin
production. Drew presented the proposal and Karen presented the
plan. Fidel Castro jumped at the chance to broadcast The Voice of
Jose Marti into the American west coast radio/television market.
The cost of replacing the unmanned broadcast zeppelins which were
destroyed by federal forces was well below revenues. Lack of
regulation and taxes did the rest. Drew and Karen had received
credit for recouping in spades the autonomous aircraft's
development cost.
Karen slipped lightly from bed and shouldered her backpack which
she always kept bedside. She adjourned to living room where she
could consult her cards.
Karen spread a large silk scarf on the floor and sat cross-
legged before it. She first selected the Major Arcana from her
Wonderland tarot deck. She set the remaining cards aside on the
scarf.
Images and bits of her concern floated and whirled without
direction as she shuffled the twenty-two trumps.
She laid out ten cards in a standard cross pattern and sat
for several minutes considering the meanings conveyed by the
reading.
The Fool, in the position to indicate forthcoming influences,
was the image of a spirit totally free, courageously leaping into
some new phase of life. Death, placed to indicate her present
situation, signified a time of change. The Sun, as a final
outcome, described happiness and a great sense of the beauty of
life. Karen took these cards to mean that the successful
transition, far from being in question, was in progress.
The Hermit, positioned to indicate her previous influences,
bespoke her recent withdrawal for intense study. The High
Priestess, in a position to reveal how other people viewed Karen,
showed that they accepted her inner wisdom and strong intuition.
The Hanged Man, as a measure of her hopes and fears, addressed
Karen's antipathy to loosing her educational investment. Karen
accepted these cards as confirming the context of her inquiry.
The Magician, describing what Karen was experiencing,
illustrated the creator in the act of creation, and additionally
a shaman or shamanism. The Devil, positioned to indicate the
obstacles that crossed the Magician, adequately described Karen's
feeling of being chained to controlling obsessions. Together,
these cards defined the conflict for Karen.
The Hierophant, in position to indicate what was really
behind the surface situation, represented education in general,
and her own inner sense of direction.
The Empress, positioned to express what was in plain sight,
puzzled Karen. The usual meaning of a mother figure didn't seem
to fit. The card depicted the knitting Sheep gliding along in a
little boat. Karen recalled the episode from _Through The Looking
Glass_. The Sheep was the proprietress of an odd shop with all
manner of curious things. When Alice became confused by the vast
array of wares, the Sheep's shop transformed. Alice found herself
in the boat with the Sheep, rowing with knitting needles on the
queer water. The Sheep finally urged Alice to make up her mind
after indulging Alice's curiosity at length. The egg that Alice
eventually bought from the Sheep became Humpty Dumpty. It was
Humpty Dumpty who was poised atop the wall in The Sun, a card of
satisfaction, accomplishment, and success - the card which in this
case indicated the culmination and results of all the influences
revealed by the other cards.
Karen wrapped her cards within the scarf and stowed them
within the little pouch in her backpack. With her mind at ease,
she slipped back to bed. Drew absentmindedly put an arm around
her, drawing her close. Karen subvocalized a post-hypnotic
suggestion to arise relaxed and refreshed, before drifting off to
a sound and restful sleep.
Karen was still sleeping when Drew awoke to the early morning
light with a woody. The exquisite shape of her tits was neither
diminished by reclining, nor obscured by her T-shirt. Drew
considered her flat belly and shapely legs concealed by the sheet.
Inspired, and knowing how Karen appreciated a wake-up fuck, he
proceeded to slowly arose her.
Drew tenderly cupped a pert breast and kissed Karen's neck.
The low moan was encouraging. He gently manipulated the firm
flesh. Once the nip came up he rolled it between thumb and
forefinger. With a final squeeze, Drew released Karen's breast
and rested his hand on her pubic mound.
He softly rubbed her downy pubes through the bikini. Karen
rolled her hips slightly and murmured approval. Slipping beneath
the elastic band, Drew rubbed her thickening pad with his
fingernails. At the merest touch to her sparsely furred puffy
lips, Karen eased her legs apart. Drew's hardon throbbed as he
massaged Karen's pussy through the dampening fabric. When he
pushed the crotch aside and lay his fingers along her slit, he was
met with a little shudder and a more insistent moan.
With a finger along either side of the long hood, Drew felt
the hard clit within. His gentle manipulations were met by the
little smacking sounds of a well-lubed cunt.
Repositioning himself, Drew tugged at Karen's panties as she
daintily raised her hips to help him remove them. Karen held the
sheet up with one hand so that Drew could breath and with the
other she pushed his face into her crotch. Drew's beard stubble
chaffed her thighs as she gently crossed her ankles, completing
the loose scissor lock on his willing head.
Supported by his elbows, Drew massaged Karen's engorged outer
lips with his forefingers. He nibbled and tugged her fleshy inner
lips before getting down to serious licking.
Drew ran his tongue the length of Karen's slit, occasionally
pushing deep into her hole or tickling her extended clitty.
Karen's rhythmically gyrating hips and inarticulate moans coaxed
him onward.
He probed her drenched vagina with one thumb and rubbed her
asshole with the other as his tongue variously flicked or rubbed
her turgid clitoris.
Karen approached orgasm several times, but Drew would change
his stimulation to deny her. When she could stand it no more, she
squeezed his head playfully between her thighs. Drew increased
the tempo of his licking, concentrating on her clit. With pushing
and screwing motions, he massaged the roughly textured walls of
her cunt with an index finger.
Drew synchronized his efforts as Karen's breathing became
rapid and shallow. Karen arched her back and came with a tremble,
clenching Drew's finger repeatedly with diminishing force.
Karen took only an an instant to select a position. She
wanted to be ballsy in the upcoming discussions. Being on top
would encourage a more active role, a sense of superiority, a
feeling of free movement, and a sense of doing whatever she
wished. Drew was a real bonus for face-to-face fucking; he would
read her face and express, he had beautiful brown eyes, and he
could kiss. Best of all, he had the cock discipline for lap
fucking. "May I sit in your lap, love?" she asked.
Drew sat facing Karen with his legs apart, enthusiasm evident
from his smile and throbbing penis. His answer was eagerly
outstretched arms.
Karen snuggled in close to Drew, with her legs over his and
behind him. She insured that they were both comfortable, without
undue stress on their limbs. With her nose alongside Drew's,
Karen looked deeply into his eyes as they embraced. The warmth
that she saw said 'friend' and more.
She was excited by her musk on his mouth while their skillful
tongues wrestled playfully. The warm and creamy feeling
intensified with Drew's hot cock against her belly and his lightly
haired chest pressing her tits.
Karen eased back and grasped the base of Drew's dick.
Moisture glistened on the head before she began rubbing her pussy
with it. She moved closer, angling her hips up. With each stroke
of his dick along her wet slit, Karen would tantalize Drew by
squeezing the head lightly with her snatch, then rub him up and
around her extended clit.
Drew stifled his desire to push into Karen, awaiting the
delicious torture of her ultra-slow entry. Instead, he hugged her
warmly, one arm around her waist and lower back, the other just
below her shoulders.
Karen tightly clenched her vagina as she rested more and more
of her weight on Drew's cock. With only the slightest relaxation
she gradually slid down Drew's meaty pole, accompanied by
something between a sigh and a moan.
Once she was filled with Drew's hot hardness, Karen hungrily
joined with him in a deep and passionate kiss that was destined to
occupy them for the duration.
Karen pulled herself taut to afford Drew maximum stimulation
with only slight movement. She used calculated pelvic movements
of yaw, pitch, and roll to accentuate her motion along the length
of his shaft.
Karen built their excitement to all-encompassing and
nearly explosive before easing slightly, relaxing briefly with
Drew's dick buried in her to the hilt.
Karen eased back a little, raising herself and locking his
bulbous dick head against her G-spot. She began a serpentine
massage of his penis with her vaginal muscles, deliciously
stimulating their most erogenous flesh.
Karen felt Drew's impending orgasm as his balls drew tight in
the palm of her hand and his breathing became insistent. She
brought herself to the edge and kicked off the simultaneous
explosion.
Drew forcefully pumped his load deep into Karen's quivering
cunt. Karen's orgasm expelled a copious fluid discharge which
mixed with Drew's semen and drained over his softening cock,
drenching the bed.
Karen broke the deep kiss and snuggled against Drew, pulling
herself to him, nestling her head against his neck. Their frantic
heartbeats and ragged breathing normalized during their long
embrace. The cooling wet spot under them encouraged an effort to
dry off with a fluffy towel which Drew had thoughtfully provided.
Following a brief shower, Karen and Drew breakfasted on
heuvos rancheros at a nearby taquiera. It was on the walk back
that Drew excused himself until late afternoon to pursue personal
business.
Karen welcomed the opportunity to relax. Unused to the slack
time in her study schedule, she made the best of it; loafing
about, reading a novel that Drew had left on his nightstand.
By mid-afternoon Karen was eager for something more active.
It struck her as an ideal time to practice her exercises.
Karen's pulse quickened as she considered the upcoming delight.
She stepped lightly, considering Fizzlebot's purple egg. As far
as it was from being a simple stone, it was no closer to being a
jewel.
Karen had worked briefly with the independent inventor to
develop an aerogel from sand which the coven provided. The wispy,
nearly transparent solid was extremely porous, with only three or
four times the density of dry air. Fizzlebot nicknamed the high-
strength, ultralight stuff 'purple fuzzle'. His guess that the
fuzzle was used to stabilize fusion fuels under laser blast
inspired his fruitless experiments with the surplus aerogel. He
presented Karen with a brilliant violet ovoid as a souvenir.
Karen undressed, tossing her clothes in a pile next to her
backpack on the bedroom floor. She sat on the edge of the bed,
legs apart, with her feet flat on the floor.
Karen's fingertips barely touched the skin around her nipples
as she gently rotated them very slowly in outward circular
motions. Shortly, she responded to the invigorating stimulation,
playing with the firm fluid movement of her breasts.
Warmth spread throughout her genitals, puffing her mound and
lightly-haired outer lips. Karen kneaded the softness of her
pussy while she maintained the gentle manipulation of her breasts,
occasionally twisting or tweaking a sensitive nip.
Her wattled inner labia were dusky pink, striated with tan.
As her sexual energy built, they felt more flush and moist, and
looked redder. Karen smeared the abundant juices forming at her
hole over the fleshy lips.
Karen began a rhythmic pressure against the hood of her clit
with a single fingertip. Fully engorged, it poked from beneath
the hood. She directed the concentration and flow of her
developing sexual energy, bringing it to a shuddering orgasm and
an instant of transcendence.
Karen withdrew the egg from a pouch in her backpack. Eugene
Fizzlebot couldn't explain why it radiated warmth. As for the
pleasure of contact with it, Fizzlebot mumbled something about
piezoelectricity, but didn't even seem very convinced about it
himself.
She stood and assumed the practice stance; her feet
shoulders' width apart and firmly grounded, ankles and knees bent,
groin folded, spine and neck in alignment.
She splayed her succulent lips with the fingers of one hand
and eased the egg into her vagina, wider end first. By isolating
and contracting her external vaginal orifice tightly, she grasped
the egg and relished the pleasant feelings from the it before
beginning to move it with her internal musculature.
The movement up and down her vagina was, as always, the
easiest. Karen clenched, raising the egg slightly, then holding
it for a moment, before relaxing enough to allow the egg to
descend to the original position. She completed half a dozen slow
repetitions of the exercise, regulating the squeezing to her
inhalations.
Karen drew the egg up in front of her cervix and held it
there before beginning the more challenging lateral exercises.
She moved the egg from side to side several times as well as
tilting it from top to bottom. After half a dozen full movement
repetitions of the exercise, she relaxed and allowed the egg to
descend.
Satisfied with herself, Karen expelled the egg from her cunt
and wiped it clean before replacing it within its pouch. She
rested briefly with the palm of her hand on her warm snatch,
drawing strength from her workout.
Karen was ready to leave when Drew arrived, which was convenient
because he had parked in metered street-side parking. She was
somewhat surprised about the little red Lotus which Drew was
using. His story was that he was evaluating the autos pre-
production systems.
In about half an hour Drew was off the freeway and into the
winding canyon country. While the ride was much smoother than
Karen was used to in a sportster, the cornering roll was all but
non-existent. Four-wheel power and active suspension almost
entirely eliminated slip.
Drew routinely entered the curves at around three times the
posted speed, practically standing on the four-wheel antilock
brakes in the final moments of the approach. The power-shift
manual gear box thumped heavily an instant before the brutal
acceleration announced the corner exit at multiples of the speed
limit.
Once established on the final straightaway, Drew opened the
throttle all the way. When the tach indicated red-line revs, he
shifted into neutral and idled the engine. They coasted the last
mile or so to the unpaved turnoff.
Madge Nation, and her husband Tar Nation lived in the ranch-
style house a couple miles down the well-maintained gravel road.
Madge was in the driveway when Karen and Drew arrived at the head
of a rooster tail of rising dust.
Madge greeted her guests and led them around back and down
the path to the sweat lodge.
The domed, one-room structure was crafted from a dozen
willows. Timbers demarked the cardinal and minor compass points.
Half a dozen paces from the lodge, Tar tended rock loaves on
a metal grill. With hands protected by heavy padded gloves he
turned the hot rocks above low blue flames. He waved as they
approached.
Madge stopped at the gazebo which had been fashioned entirely
within the interlocking branches of five bushy trees. Benches,
hooks, and baskets were available for clothing and personal
articles.
Madge removed her robe. Drew appreciated her small breasts
with pale and outstanding nips and her diminutively trimmed
platinum bush as she stowed the robe and pulled the bong from a
clever niche. She handed it to Karen, who was already down to her
matching black lace bra and panties. Karen took a couple of long
hits as she appreciated Drew disrobing.
Goose flesh started to form about the time Madge, Karen, and
Drew felt stoned and longed for the warmth of the lodge. Tar
joined them for a hit once he had finished transferring the hot
rocks to a ceramic pedestal in the sweat lodge. Tar secured the
bong and led his friends down the path.
Tar held open the heavy flaps of thick hide which were draped
over the arched doorway of the hut.
Madge waited until everybody was comfortable and relaxed
before breaking the silence. She spoke in a formal tone. "Most
people demand behavioral controls imposed by an authority
structure. Tar and I empathize with your rejection of external
direction." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Helen
Gone argued against the university because their position stemmed
from convenience of administration."
Karen leaned forward and lay a sage sprig on the hot rocks.
She considered the implications that arose from the High Priestess
being personally involved. The cup of water that she poured over
the sage on the rocks disappeared in a quick bubbling and hissing.
Tar continued as the aromatic vapor diffused. "We have good
news and bad news", he joked. "Which would you like first?"
"Bad", Drew asked simply.
"Karen, you won't be awarded your degree if you insist on
having your way. Same for you, Drew, if you stick with Karen."
Drew added several cedar chips to the rocks and trickled
water over them. He pondered this, awaiting the good news as the
redolent vapor rose from the rocks.
"You will, however, be allowed to stay on and continue your
studies to your satisfaction," Tar said and then waited.
Karen exhaled slowly. "Well", she began and paused. "That's
awfully damn nice of them."
"Would you like the good news?", Tar teased.
"I could use some."
"Here," Tar said, offering Karen and Drew their choice of
trippers.
The glass tubes, each enclosing a vaporizing wire that was
coated with designer halucinogen, were the keys to Miskatonic U's
ex nihilo lab and its gates.
Tar was the first to press the firing stud on the handle of
his tripper. With a pop and a bluish-white flash, a cloud formed
within the tube. "There's something I'd like to show you," he
said, and sucked the vapor through a semipermeable membrane in one
end of the tube.
Karen, Drew, and Madge emulated Tar's example. The massive
L+ doses hit some before others. They waited and the shared
environment formed; cold and dreary, and suggesting ancient
enmity.
Madge promised a short walk and all set off. Concealed
within the thick fog which surrounded them, giant arthropod
monsters waited. Vaguely insectiod (or occasionally aracnid,
crustacean, and myriapod), they had eviscerating hooks,
decapitating pincers, barbed impaling stalks, bad breath, and bug
eyes. And that was the males. The females also had armor-
piercing ovipositors not unlike scorpion tails.
Arriving at the gate area, Karen and Drew assumed a
defensive parameter while Madge and Tar worked at dilating the
gate.
Originally armed with vorpal swords, Karen and Drew were
prepared to face the Jabberwock itself. However, when the
rattling chitin and pungent presence encircled them, they
reconsidered. Karen conjured a full-auto, belt-fed shotgun. She
used plastic ball bugshot for the spectacular effect it had
against exoskeletons. (Losing much of their energy penetrating
the shell, the balls shredded internal organs as they ricochetted
around inside.) Drew muscled a small rotary-barrel cannon which
used conventional warloads.
Tar and Madge had succeeded in tagging the gate with a dayglo
border, but attempts to tease it open were in vain.
When the fog shifted it revealed the massed and closing
terrors, most dripping slime or venom. Without hesitation, Karen
and Drew opened fire, weaving a curtain of murderous projectiles
to the staccato thunder of their automatic weapons. They adroitly
avoided each others crossfire and ammunition belts. When they
ceased firing, drifting cordite odor mixed with the humid charnel
stench. Antennae and legs attached to broken carapace jerked
mindlessly. Ichor pooled among the shattered bodies and spent
cartridges all around them. Meanwhile, the gate had opened under
Madge's gentle ministrations.
Madge and Tar first stepped into the uniform gray beyond the
gate and disappeared. Drew waited for Karen to file through. The
first step was easy, but a resistance pressed back against her.
She had to redouble her efforts several times to penetrate the
surface tension. Once she began to clear the gate, Karen felt the
numb of nulled sensorium. She'd been warned about the shocking
emptiness, yet panic still nipped at her heels.
Karen's second step brought her through the gate. The cold
flagstone floor surprised her as an unexpected stair might. Her
ears popped as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Regaining
her composure, Karen took stock of her surroundings.
Fluorescent fixtures hung at regular intervals from the high
ceiling. Movable partitions divided the immense room.
Karen watched the dayglo border of the gate fade, and with it
the gray fog beyond.
Madge and Tar had already donned heavy terry robes and
slippers. The crisp chill imparted to the room by the thick stone
walls inspired Karen and Drew to follow suit.
Madge opened the heavy drapes before the tall doors, lighting
the large chamber with brilliant afternoon sunshine. Tar opened
the glass doors and stepped out on a small semicircular balcony.
"Welcome to Amber," he announced with a low bow and a gesture
which took in the city below.
Just outside, gardeners dressed in Renaissance-era clothing
tended an area with familiar flowers, trees, and shrubs. Looking
about, Karen observed that she was in a castle built on the
shoulder of a mountain. Above and behind her, ponderosa and blue
spruce made up the most of the thick tree life. Below, the
balcony overlooked the picturesque city of Amber and the
glittering harbor.
Houses of stone, brick, or wood, an occasional whitewashed
plastered wall, the odd thatched roof, and the rare stone mansion
dominated the view of the eastern portion of the city. The
southernmost part of the city merged with the trees that led
eventually into the forest and out into the countryside.
Tar handed a pair of binoculars to Karen and began to
describe the predominantly commercial western section of Amber.
"See that wide cobblestone street that swings southeastwards and
then eastwards, marking the boundaries of the city?" Tar asked.
Without waiting, he carried on. "That's the Main Concourse. It's
the place of business for most Amber merchants". Karen looked at
the busy shops, cafes, and restaurants; deals being made, goods
being purchased, and merchants trying to shout their
advertisements.
Karen handed the binox to Drew as Tar described the
fascinating activity in the harbor. "The port area is unsafe,
unsavory, and dangerous. Harbor Road gives way to Death Alley
over there," he said, pointing.
Drew scrutinized the industrious port. Barges full of wares
were bustling between warehouses both large and small, and between
the docks which dotted the harbor. Several barks were being
unloaded. Sailors on one large schooner were rigging staysails
off the mizzenmast.
Madge joined her friends on the balcony. She handed them
white metallic cards, upon which she had written their names in
exquisite calligraphy. The flip side of the cards was devoted to
the standard glyph for Information Hazards; the anterior view of
the human eye, with a seductive spiral fractal within the iris.
"These security keys will unlock doors with adjacent card
slots," Madge said. With emphasis, she continued. "Don't open
doors without card readers. Ever."
"Just carry them with you," Tar suggested. "Since you can't
go anywhere without them." He dropped his in the pocket of his
robe. "Let's take a look around," he said, leading the expedition
from the balcony.
"This is the hardware lab," Tar indicated with an
encompassing gesture.
"In the northeast corner is the laminar-flow rooms. The IC
fab people have diffusion furnaces, chemical vapor deposition
systems, as well as lithography and etching equipment. They're
kept pretty busy making wafers of pirated circuitry.
"The containment dome next to the lam-flow building houses
the power kernel, shielding, transformers, and the like.
"The systems prototypers use most of the rest of the layout.
Currently, they're turning out 32-bit microprocessor-based
computers. They're rack-mounted and ugly as hell, but with the
different semiconductors, they run at ten times the clock
frequencies you can do back home."
Arriving at the armored door, Tar pushed his card into the
reader. The powered door slid slowly into its pocket within the
reinforced wall, and closed heavily behind them.
The group followed Tar down a thoroughly featureless hallway.
Just to the left of the grand staircase, they used the servants'
stairway in the northwest corner of the castle. Tar led his
friends down two flights of stairs. Many of the doors which were
immediately visible on the second floor had card locks.
Madge led the coterie down another long hall to a pair of
double doors. The doors swung inward after the presentation of
her card, and they entered the sparsely furnished library.
Warm sunlight suffused the library through the four inset,
floor-to-ceiling windows along the west side of the room.
"Usually this is a place of relaxation and study for members
of the royal family," Tar stated. "Generally, however, they avoid
us. It is strongly suggested that we reciprocate." Karen
recognized the usual response to I-hazards.
Madge showed them the three tall stacks that extended from
the north wall and smaller shelves and smaller tables which lined
the west wall. A desk sat in the center of the north section, and
a larger double table sat under the southwest windows. A
comfortable sofa and chair sat in front of the banked fire.
The ubiquitous card key slot was the only clue to the
decorative false panel in the southwest corner of the library.
Madge motioned Karen to try her card on the lock. With a snick,
the panel eased open enough to pull. Karen followed Madge up the
dimly lit stairway to the upper level where her card was again
necessary.
As the panel closed behind the women, Tar led Drew to a
section devoted to Shadow Earth. A computer workstation had the
Great Books of the Western World on optical disk. "Merely a quick
reference," teased Tar. Nearby, stacks contained complete sets of
St. Augustine, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Montaigne,
Machiavelli, Castiglione, Sidney, Bacon, Ben Johnson, Samuel
Johnson, Hegel, Heidegger, Newton, Einstein, Pope, Boccaccio,
Milton, Rabelais, and Virgil. First editions of seminal works
from ancient to postmodern took up proximate stacks.
Madge led Karen along the walkway which extended around the
perimeter of the upper level. Tracked ladders reached the highest
shelves near the ceiling.
The entrance to the study room was cleverly concealed from
view below. As Madge stepped across the threshold a gentle
bioluminescence lit the small room evenly. There was barely room
around the table and chairs to get to the books on the shelves
along all walls. The _Necronomicon_, companion volumes, and
commentaries absorbed Karen's attention. "I'd bet my postsynaptic
membranes that the complete Curwen collection of thaumaturgical,
alchemical, and theological works is here," Karen remarked,
following Madge from the alcove.
They passed empty shelves along the walkway before arriving
at another recess. In a glass case a single volume lay
illuminated by a lamp within. Karen immediately opened the
unsecured case and removed the _Handbook For The Recently Deceased_.
She'd long wanted a glance at "The Handbook", or "The Manual" as
it was sometimes known. She quickly turned to the intermediate
interface chapter on haunting to see just how detailed an
explanation was in fact there. "It reads like stereo
instructions," Karen commented as she replaced the volume and
followed Madge.
Madge and Karen rejoined Tar and Drew by the large marble
fireplace on the west wall. Tar's continuing explanation of the
library request and procurement system answered Karen's questions
about the mint condition of the books. Beyond explanation was the
posthumous editions section. She'd seen still-boxed unknown works
by Brautigan, Hellman, Maugham, Abbey, Steinbeck, and P.K. Dick,
among others.
Madge directed the tour of the guest apartments at the north
end of the second floor. The hospitable domicile was complete
with sitting, sleeping, and dining areas as well as a small
library which seemed devoted to quantum mechanics and associated
arcana.
The bedroom reminded Karen of a first-rate residence hotel.
Drew bounced on the satin sheeted bed which was as
comfortable as it appeared. "So, what's the project here?"
Madge indulged in the luxury of the love seat. "Software
development for the Crown. All the hardware billets are filled."
Karen sat at the small writing table across from the bed and
regarded the fresh cut flowers in the crystal vase. "Yeah?"
Tar lounged in the chair adjacent to the night stand. "We're
building a reality editor."
"A what?" Karen asked.
"You know. Cut, paste, add, delete, change. The usual" Madge
answered.
"Is this artificial intelligence?" Drew suspiciously
inquired.
"Nah," replied Tar. He continued wryly. "That's
specifically prohibited by the contract. It seems that their
first attempt resulted in a rogue consciousness."
"Then how?" Karen wanted to know.
Madge took up the explanation. "Limited domain, iterative
techniques. Purely procedural code. Brute fuckin' force. You
can hack your way up to speed on the metaprogramming language
pretty quickly."
Karen mulled that over. "What's functional?"
Madge smiled broadly before answering. "One module. Fun
with billboards, bumper-stickers, and graffiti. You should have
been here the night that I replaced the text 'to protect and
serve' with 'tool of the rich man' wherever it occurred on squad
cars back home."
With an even bigger grin, Tar mischievously interrupted.
"Shit hit the fan. Even a new rule. No more RE tests on Shadow
Earth. Bellona only now, which almost takes the fun out of it,"
he concluded with a wink.
"What's the hitch?" Drew probed.
"We want to ensure that expansion of the operating envelope
doesn't bite us in the ass," Madge responded. "The next project
mandate is a 'no tricks' safety module. Apparently they watch
Twilight Zone when in Shadow Earth."
"Anyway," Tar said, "You should sleep on it. This little
trick of somatic projection is about to fail. When it does, you
will regain consciousness back home. It's best if you're asleep
when it happens."
"How much longer?" Karen inquired.
"A couple of hours, tops."
Madge and Tar excused themselves, leaving Karen and Drew
alone for the first time since their arrival in Amber.
Karen arose from the small table and joined Drew by the bed.
"What do you think?" she asked him, doffing her robe. Turning the
down comforter back, she couldn't discern what kept it from
sliding off the sheets.
While fluffing the pillow, Karen noticed the hawk feather
bound to a chunk of turquoise with a hide band which was lying on
the sheet. She stared at the token, her attention captivated.
"They're playing with a fusion torch," Drew answered as he
dropped his robe with hers. "Somebody's gonna get burned," he
said, following her gaze. "What do you think?"
When their eyes met, Karen shook her head fractionally and
dropped the pillow, covering the token. "Who could be trusted
with this thing? I don't see resolving that issue within the
context of a safety module."
Following Karen's apparent lead, Drew dropped the
conversation and snuggled next to her in the regal bed.
They rolled to their backs from the warm spoon. Karen
initiated an old game for descent to sleep. She wrapped her
slender fingers around Drew's limp hose, which began hardening
immediately. Karen wanted to fall asleep with Drew still
throbbing in her fist, before he fell asleep and softened in her
grasp. Drew wanted to fall asleep rigid in Karen's hot palm,
before she fell asleep and her grip failed.
While usually successful, the technique couldn't overcome
deep tension. Karen commenced a standard variation to get the
game back on track. She soothingly released Drew's penis and
cupped his balls, massaging and rolling them within their hairy
sack. Tickling his scrotum with her long fingernails brought
Drew's member to throbbing rigidity.
Karen rubbed the shaft of Drew's veiny cock with fingertips
and nails, bringing his excitement to fever pitch. She teased a
glob of ooze from his purple helmet and spread it all over the
bulbous head, playing with its firmness.
Karen encircled Drew's engorged manhood and began pumping.
Slowly at first, and then faster, she twisted and tugged his cock
with supple fingers. Drew signaled his oncoming orgasm with
insistently bucking hips as he fucked her hand ever faster.
As Drew exploded in orgasm, Karen contained his load by
clamping her thumb and forefinger just below the head of his cock.
She held tightly through the rhythmic pulsations of his
ejaculation.
As Drew lay back, Karen slipped under the covers. She locked
her mouth around his dick and released the clamp, draining his hot
thick seed and swallowing it. She milked the residual jism and
licked it off, smacking her lips contentedly.
Karen lay on her back next to Drew holding his hand, fingers
intertwined, until he reciprocated.
Drew rested the palm of his hand on Karen's trimmed pubic
patch, rubbing her mound in a circular pattern. His fingers
traced from the mons along the length of her puffy outer lips.
Her fleshy inner lips were engorged, slick with plentiful juices.
With his long middle finger he distributed the creamy
lubrication around her erect clit which poked from beneath its
hood.
With an index finger, Drew slowly rubbed one side of the
hood, stimulating the clit indirectly, tracing small spirals on
the sensitive skin.
When Karen's bucking hips and rapid breathing announced her
undeniable orgasm, Drew increased his pace slightly. Karen came
with a pleased moan and relaxed, Drew's warm hand resting on her
quivering pussy.
Karen reached over and resumed the game by grasping Drew's
hardening penis. They both fell asleep nearly immediately,
thoroughly relaxed.
"- long have we been away?," Karen heard Drew asking as the
primacy of her presence in the sweat lodge reasserted itself.
"Only a moment," Tar answered. "The standard hit is two
hours, with a yield of six months on the other side of the gate.
Time dilation is the chief benefit of transfer contracts. A
session each in the morning and afternoon, five days a week,
amounts to an effective extention to your life of five years."
"It's easy to loose your perspective," Madge continued.
"The point of the upgrade is to provide an anchor or sorts; an
orientation to this plane. If you abandon your body it'll die,
and with it the projection through the gate. Believe me, that
distinction will seem unimportant after years in Amber, Gaea, or
Snug Harbor."
"Not to mention Wonderland, Toontown, Pell Station, or
Bellona," Tar added.
Karen never found it necessary to be diplomatic when
inquiring about how someone else profitted from her effort.
"What's the coven get from this? It seems a lot like a Manhattan
Project at first glance. Are you sure that we're on the right
side of the balance of power?"
Madge deferred to Tar for the first question. "They
Shadowshift cargo for us," he said. "The personal performance
bonus specifies shipment equivalent to your body mass between
terminuses of your choice. The coven will get a dedicated voyage
of a triple-masted sailing vessel plus a generous letter of credit
against the Crown's treasury. Most valuable of all, however, is
information. What we experience and learn, individually and
collectively, is ours."
Madge fielded the second question herself. "Helen Gone
negotiated the treaty with Random. She trusts him. His goodwill
was adequately demonstrated when he provided the Jewel of
Judgement for the development of the isomorphic aerogel that we
use in the effector arrays."
Karen paused for a moment. "Is the upgrade absolutely
necessary? Can't I just go in for it later?"
"It is important to your development and essential to gate
transfer contracts," Madge answered, apparently somewhat pained to
be quoting the party line. She added gently, "I think I know how
you feel. I faced 'simplicity, sincerity, serenity' with some
apprehension as well. Frankly, proceeding although I had
reservations was a key to growth. You are being asked to
demonstrate your confidence in the coven and your place in our
work."
As Karen considered, Drew pressed his concern forward. "How
does the Amber work-for-hire project fit in with the coven's
work?"
"Our work is with those that we were born among," Tar
answered. "The upgrade strengthens the bonds we have with this
world, but we have coffers to fill. The challenging work that
affords personal growth has to be sold. Amber's buying."
Karen sat back for a moment with her eyes closed,
contemplating the decision, phrasing it tactfully. "In addition
to taking leave from the university, I'm declaring a retreat from
my coven office." So much for attending her Samhain initiation.
Madge and Tar either weren't surprised, or took it well.
Turning to Drew, Tar asked, "And you?"
"She's my partner. I strongly prefer to maintain a lockstep
arrangement in our interfaces, so I'll pass on the upgrade for the
present." Drew paused for a moment, knowing that Karen wanted him
along with her. "I'm going to complete our work and see it
through at the university."
They sat in silence for several minutes. The pregnant pause
allowed room to reflect and proceed without divisive words.
It was Madge who spoke first. "So be it. Your decisions
will be respected." Her voice was still tinged with antinomy, but
it was replaced by genuine warmth as she continued. "If there's
anything that we can do, please call upon us. We would be pleased
to help in any way possible."
Karen and Drew lingered briefly on pleasantries, but the
divergent path that they'd cast upon obviated shop talk.
Karen comfortably discussed administrative details related to
Arkham during the drive back to Los Angeles, but Drew concluded
that the slight tension in Karen's face suggested that she would
make a point of not asking him for an explanation of his decision.
"Look Karen, I don't have the appreciation for Featherstone that
you evidently do. By a twist of fate I got off the reservation
before it sucked me under. I've lived with the medicine man mumbo
jumbo."
Karen rested her hand gently on his thigh. "It's really
okay, Drew."
Drew concentrated on a corner, perfectly cranking the wheel,
braking, and then accelerating. "Are you even considering the
upgrade?"
"Do we need it?" she asked.
"At this rate, 'suffering, sacrifice, and self-abasement'
could be next," he said with a chuckle.
"This is not a social crisis," Karen said with a radiant
grin.
"It's just another tricky day," concluded Drew, with a wink.
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