Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Chapter 16

  JONAS DOESN’T CALL the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that. Or even the next. Am I surprised? No. It would have been more of a surprise if he did call. And I refuse to call him. Still, I hold out hope that he might have been as turned on by that kiss as I was.

  Tonight I service the Twins, Devon, Captain Jack—ew, ew and double ew—and I’m wiped. After that I decide to take the rest of the night off.

  I’m about to step out of the house when the pulse-com goes off, indicating a client call. I’m going to have to have a talk with that damn HoloMess 500. They keep making mistakes in the schedule. I sigh, drop my purse, and wander to the doorway to don my high-tech suit. When I enter, the Himeros avatar is already naked inside my Headspace.

  “Damn. How’d you get in here?”

  “Isn’t this where you do your thing?”

  “Yeah, but you’re not allowed to enter until I invite you in.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me in here?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, you have to play by the rules.” I’m confused. Aroused. This guy does not play by the rules and I don’t know whether to be excited or alarmed.

  “Show me Desire. Where is she?”

  “Patience, Himeros. I need time to prepare.”

  “Hurry. I’m hungry for you.”

  “I can see that.” I glance over at his stiff rod. This guy disturbs me. This guy excites me. This guy needs to play by my rules. He’s in my house. “You’ll have to wait in the antechamber until I’m prepared. And you weren’t on tonight’s schedule. I may decide to reschedule.”

  “As you wish.” His avatar disappears.

  As I wish? I stand in the middle of the room, pondering. Who the hell is this guy? He gets in without invitation, he bosses, he controls, he does what I ask, just like that? I decide to make him wait. Leisurely, I call forth the avatar of Desire. I watch her emerge into the room, one shimmer of flesh and form at a time. Once she’s fully fleshed out, I watch her run her hands across her face, her lips, her neck. She’s fully aroused…I’m fully aroused. “You can enter now, big dog.”

  “I told you not to call me that,” Himeros snarls, his avatar appearing with a sudden snap.

  “And I told you—we play by my rules or we don’t play at all. You can take your money and your avatar elsewhere. Go play with one of your dollies.”

  “My dollies?” he sputters, grinning.

  “Your wives.”

  “I’d much rather play with you.” His eyelids lower and he licks his lips.

  The way he says this, the way he looks at me…my avatar, I mean…makes me melt. It’s like he’s snaked into my heart somehow. Slithered into my soul. Completely intoxicated me, this strange, strange guy with loads of secrets. I’ve given up trying to tell if this is all fantasy or if it’s really happening. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the Devil’s Juice. I don’t care. The mind is a powerful entity. And imagination is the core of all manifestation. And frankly, I want this guy with all my heart and soul. “Come inside me,” I moan. I’m on all fours now with my ass arched high in the sky, inviting entrance.

  “Slow down, sweetheart, this is going to take some time.”

  I don’t want it slow. I want it hard, fast, and deep. And right now. I let out a long groan. “Himeros. I’m about to lose my mind here.”

  “I can see that. Good. You’re ready, then.” He stalks towards Desire and kneels at her back. He parts her cheeks and presses his face between her legs, letting his long tongue lick the length of her parted flesh.

  “Ohhhhhh, God, Himeros,” I moan. I start to shake. I start to tremble. I start to feel pleasure like I’ve never experienced. Am I about to orgasm? My mind automatically seeks a connection with the man behind the avatar. All I get is static. He’s blocking me. This causes me to kind of short out. It messes with my head. I will myself back into the game.

  Himeros keeps stimulating Desire. He’s relentless. He’s gentle. He’s hot. My body is shuddering violently with arousal, with desire to connect. Thoughts of Liam start slamming through me like a tsunami. Oh, shit. Is that who this guy is?

  I cry out. “Oh, I’m sorry. A thousand times sorry. I never should have cast you out of my life.” Curled in a ball, I’m sobbing, while Himeros is snaking his tongue up and down the inside of Desire’s silken pink folds. The room goes dark. Completely dark. “Himeros!” I call out.

  “I can hear you. You don’t need to shout.”

  “How can you hear me? My Headspace is broken.”

  “I just can. I’m different than your other clients.”

  “Who are you?” I manage through gusts of sorrow. My heart feels as if it’s going to shatter.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “I’ll have to give you your money back.”

  “Keep it. I have plenty.”

  “I’ll make it up to you next time around.” I wipe the tears and slimy snot from my face. I almost came. I almost orgasmed. Almost. And it’s not even November yet. Maybe there’s hope for me.

  “There won’t be a next time—not like this. I can’t keep doing this.”

  “Why?” I howl. “I think you’re the one.”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t come back like this.”

  “What are you saying? Himeros? Himeros?” Nothing but silence enfolds me. Through tremors of physical sensation, my heart continues to break to bits. I lie in the darkness and cry. I honestly have no idea how long I remain on the floor, cuddled on my sheepskin rug. At some point I manage to make it into my bedroom where I fall asleep for a long, long time.

  Chapter 17

  I SUCK. JONAS sucks harder. All the armor I developed over the years has vanished thanks to him. I refuse to take responsibility for any of it, preferring my new status as victim. And monstrous freak of nature. I wallow in it, pulling it around me like a blanket... Like a new shield, a new way to keep people out. Like newspaper, spread over my body, the way a homeless person uses the flimsy stuff as bedding.

  Something happened to me on that night—when was it? Three weeks ago? Four? I can’t do this fucking job anymore. I send out a global message to all my clients via HoloMess 500, saying I’m taking a medical leave. All I can manage is hiding in my home, feeding my cat, pulse-comming for take-out. There are empty tubs of ice cream everywhere. Cracker and cookie crumbs. A few cold, stiff French fries. A barely eaten pizza. My nutritional intake has consisted of sugar, salt, and fat.

  I’m weak. Exhausted. I keep wondering if the avatar Himeros is actually Liam. If so, I don’t know what he’s trying to prove but if he wanted to hurt me back, mission accomplished. And then my thoughts try to cram Jonas into the avatar Himeros. If it was him, what a cruel trick to play on me. Some friend. I’ve been shattered. Broken apart. Blown to bits.

  I’ve been pulse-commed plenty. Kaama has tried to reach me approximately seven times. Magicka has tried sixteen times. HoloMess 500 has contacted me with messages—pleas, more like it—to please, please, please get well soon. My clients miss me. The only client who hasn’t called is Himeros. It doesn’t matter. I’m fairly numb at this point. I wonder if this is what a zombie feels like—oh, wait, they can’t really feel, can they? Frankly, neither can I. The depression consuming me is thick, weighted, black and deep.

  I get a pulse-com indicating Grammy is calling. I sigh and run my hands across my lips. “Hey, Grammy,” I say wearily.

  “Vienna? What’s going on? You call me every week.”

  “I’ve been sort of ill. Exhausted. Working too much. I took a break and isolated.”

  “Oh, dear. The same way you did as a child?”

  “I don’t know. Did I sleep a lot and hide and mope around as a child?”

  “You sure did. When your sensitivities got the best of you, you did.”

  “Then the answer is yes.”

  “Oh, mercy me. When you had one of your episodes, they always left you haggard. Is that what happened?”

  “One of my episodes—h
a!” My retort leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. My mother and father thought my energy experiences were blights on their social standing. They thought I was a mutant. My mother probably thought her perfect child was swapped with an alien in the delivery room.

  Mom took me to specialists. Dad left me alone as much as he could. Mom and Dad both took turns trying to beat me into submission. I refused to comply. Instead, I walled them out and spent as much time as I could with Grammy. Life with them was hell. I always felt safe around Grammy even though she didn’t know what was going on for me at home. I grew up keeping secrets, even from her. Still, she was and is my oasis.

  When the illnesses that swept the world took over, I tried to care for my family as best I could. According to them, I couldn’t or wouldn’t do enough. They even berated me for the care I gave them. I finally gave up, hired a nurse on my meager income, and stopped seeing them. I know I should have felt at least a little sad when they died but I didn’t—not really. No more belittling and criticism. At least not on the outside. I’d learned too well to do it to myself.

  “I was hoping you could come over and help me go through my virtual storage zone.”

  “I guess. Why do you need to do that today?”

  “Oh, they keep sending messages telling me I’m over my limit in what I can store in the universe.”

  A small giggle erupts from my lips.

  “What?”

  “Over your limit as to what you can store in the universe. That sounds funny.”

  “Well, that’s what the messages say. Here’s the last one I got: “Evelyn Peabody. You are advised that your universe storage device has gone over the limit of allowed space. To avoid loss of service, please upgrade or remove storage matter from the system. This is your final warning.”

  “That sounds intimidating.”

  “Oh, you know, the robots just kick those things out. Anyway, would you please come over and help me? You know how much I despise technology.”

  “I don’t know, Grammy. I’m not feeling sociable.”

  “Neither am I. We’ll be perfect company.”

  I manage to shower, dress in the last clean pair of clothes I have, and head over to Grammy’s dwelling.

  She greets me at the door and gives me a long hug. “So, what got into you that you isolated like that? I was getting worried. I even called Jonas to find out if you were okay.”

  My heart lurches. “You did? What did he say?”

  “That he hoped so but didn’t know.”

  “He said he hoped I was okay?”

  “Yes, dear, he did.”

  “Did you tell him to go fuck himself?” The words explode from my mouth as if fired from a gun. “Sorry, Grammy,” I say, looking at her sheepishly.

  An unreadable expression crosses her elderly face. “I told him you were pretty devastated at being booted from his friendship.”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t, did you?” I groan.

  “I did indeed. He needed a talking-to, that boy.”

  “What did he say? Now he’ll never talk to me. Not that he would anyway. Not that I want him to.”

  “He said that he really blew it and needs to find a way to make it up to you.”

  “I’ll say.” My legs give out and I crumple onto the sofa. “Did he really say that? You wouldn’t be fooling me, would you?”

  “No, Vienna, when have I ever fooled you?”

  “You haven’t but…”

  “But nothing. He said he’s been miserable ever since he did that and he was going to find a way to make it up to you if it’s the last thing he ever does.”

  “It might just be that. I saw him a few weeks back and it’s been a whole lot of nothing ever since. I find it hard to believe he feels remorse. He’s never been shy about asking for what he wants. Except with Jenner, that is,” I add glumly.

  “We spoke about that, too.”

  I cast my eyes in her direction. “What did you talk about?”

  “About the problems he has had with her.”

  “Seriously? You and Jonas talked about his relationship problems?”

  Grammy scoffs. “What, you think I don’t know a thing or two about relationships? I dated before I met your grandfather.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that…well, what did he say to you?”

  “He needed to talk, I think. He seemed pretty down. He’s trying to do the right thing and give Jenner a chance to get herself together. And then he mentioned something about timing and assets.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I just listened. Sometimes that the best thing you can do for a person. Anyway, he says it’s important to him to do the honorable thing.”

  “With Jenner? That again. That’s bullshit. It’s like she owns him.” I shake my head. “Let’s change the subject. Where’s your Universe located?”

  Grammy picks up a control from the side table and points it at the holo-screen. It instantly comes to life. A series of images appear in the middle of the room. She highlights one, presses a button, and folders and folders of content appear in front of us. “Here—sort through these. They’re images of you and the family when you were young.”

  I extend my fingertips and start skimming through the photos. “How can I determine which of these images you want to keep or not? They’re your family photos, not mine.”

  “I just wondered if you want any of them. I could transfer them to your Universe and free up some of mine.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, rapidly flipping through the images. “I don’t have much need to reminisce about my past. I’ve spent a lot of time burying the past. What’s done is done.”

  “Take a look. I’ll go through these ads and virtual mags. I can delete most of those.” She points the controller at the ones she doesn’t want and they make a pop before blurring from existence. “It always feels satisfying to delete things, doesn’t it?”

  We work for over two hours, sorting, deleting, and organizing. I see pictures of my past, floating before me like distant nightmares. Then I spy an image of me and Liam. We look really happy. I study the image. It never would have worked between us, if I really stop and consider. He was too clean-cut. Too squeaky clean around the edges. Too…I don’t know, but not enough kink for the likes of me. But when I look at him without all the angst of the pain I caused him, I can see it was for the best that we broke up. And I think of the orgasm I nearly had with him. I wonder why I’ve clung so long to the heartbreak of that moment instead of letting go and moving on. I mean, I’ve let go of so much pain over the years. Why not this one? Why deprive myself of pleasure over and over and over? If Himeros ever returns…if I ever start my business up again, that is…and if Himeros ever returns, it’s going to be on my time, with my control in place.

  My pulse-com stirs my heart. I’ve ignored so many communications but this time I stroke my lips and answer.

  “Hey.”

  The male voice on the other end makes me jump. I swallow, blink, and hustle out of Grammy’s earshot. “Is that really you?”

  “Yeah.”

  We’re both filled with silence.

  “Can I come over?”

  “I’m at Grammy’s. We’re cleaning up her universe.”

  “We’re done, dear,” Grammy calls from the other room. “If you need to go, do it.”

  “I can be at your house in fifteen.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At Fourth and Pine.”

  “I don’t know. The house is a mess. I’ve been…” I glance down at my last set of clean clothes, picturing the pile of dirties in my bedroom. “I’ve been…” I tug at my unwashed hair, a rat’s nest of tangled dreadlocks at this point. “I need thirty. Come in thirty.”

  “Okay,” he breathes into the com. “Thank you.”

  “For…?”

  “For agreeing to see me. I’ve been an ass.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “Yeah. You have.”

  “I’m going t
o make it up to you. Or, at the very least, apologize to you for days.”

  I smile. “Okay. I might let you.” I twirl my hair around my finger. “Might is the operative word.”

  “You’re being generous. You should drop-kick me across the planet.”

  I sigh. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s been rough. But we have too much history. You at least deserve a chance.”

  He breathes a sigh in my ear. It sounds like a huge load of relief left his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll see you in thirty. Forty if there’s traffic.”

  “Okay.” We both linger before disconnecting. I step out into the living room, biting my lip.

  “Have plans?” Grammy has turned off the holo-screen and is sitting on her couch, staring out the window.

  “It was Jonas.”

  “I suspected.” She waves her hands in my direction. “Go! We’re done. You need to sort things with him and let go or let in. And don’t wait so long to call me.”

  I scramble over to give her a hug and hustle from her dwelling. I’m filled with so many conflicting emotions, I barely remember the ride to my house.

  When I arrive at home, I race into the house and start tossing soiled take-out containers, dirty clothes, and general mess into its appropriate place.

  Nigel studies me and shakes his head. What put a fire under your ass? I’ve been trying for days to get you on your feet.

  I glare at him. “You don’t understand human emotion.”

  He leaps onto the back of the couch. What’s to understand? You’re all insane. It’s so much simpler in the jungle.

  “Like you’d know.” I lean over and scratch his head.

  It’s in my genes. I know. You prowl. You stalk. You kill. You eat. Done and done. He lifts a tiny paw and proceeds to groom.

  “Whatever you say, kitty. Whereas, here it’s eat on demand.” I roll my eyes at him.

  I’m an excellent hunter. I would thrive in the jungle.

  “Whatever…” I leap into the shower, turn the spray on, and scrub. I slather my hair with conditioner and comb out my snarled locks. When I’m clean, I put on my now slightly soiled last set of clean clothes, shove some stray socks under the bed, and tense as the door-pulse chimes. He’s here. A million thoughts race through my head. I’m still pissed. And hurt. And excited. And apprehensive. I rub my hands to try to clear the conflicting emotions all battering my insides. I run them through my hair. I will calm into my system. And I reach for the doorknob with a shaky, shaky hand.