A Wicked Beginning

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A Wicked Beginning Page 36

by Calinda B


  We were amidst the brilliant colors of the Cat’s Eye Nebula in the constellation of Draco, Kayden’s much-loved play area. The nebula contracted and expanded in deep harmonic waves. I experienced each pulse of color as a distinct sensation, throbbing through my veins.

  Kayden and I were a blur. We had each slipped inside the other, leaving only a hint of recognition of our individual selves. We radiated similar colors as the nebula in which we floated. I have no idea if my eyes were opened or closed. I did not know if I even had eyes, had a body, or had a shape at all. All I could sense were orgasmic impulses moving in a continuous torrent between Kayden and myself or, rather, as Kayden and I had become. We had not attained ecstatic orgasmic bliss; we were ecstatic orgasmic bliss. This was our essential core. And from this mind blowing place, I kept my awareness on Cam, bringing him along for the ride. Use this, baby. Take this energy and use it as you will. And then Kayden and I exploded, like a supernova bursting into gasses and cosmic dust in explosive convulsions of delight.

  Chapter 43 – Cam

  Cam and Lightning Rod continued to wait throughout the day in the tiny lookout room. They’d played cards, eaten the meager remains of stored food, talked, and rested. Whenever Cam started to go outside to look around, Lightning Rod had stopped him.

  “No, Cam, you can’t leave the room. Mano said we have to stay put.”

  “What are we, captives?”

  “No, it’s not like that. This place is protected. Angela shouldn’t be able to find you here, but Mano should. He knows the signature of this place. We’ll know when the time is right, Cam, just be patient.”

  “So ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ are the best we can do, huh?” Cam was getting bored and restless. “Maybes and mights…that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence here.” He got up from the floor and paced around the room. His head became filled with thoughts of Chérie. He just wanted to get back home, let her know he was okay, and renew with the ka. What a funny phrase. He chuckled at the thought.

  “What’s so funny?” Lightning Rod asked. He was sitting on the floor cross-legged with the playing cards spread out before him in a game of Solitaire. He pushed a long lock of hair away from his face and scratched his cheek with the edge of a playing card.

  “Private joke,” Cam answered. He continued to pace, thoughts of Chérie playing in his head like a movie. “Oh, wow…” he blurted.

  “What?” Lightning Rod moved the last card into position at the top, King of Hearts atop the Queen of Hearts. “Game!” he declared. He gathered up the cards and tapped them into a neat stack.

  “Shit…nothing,” Cam replied. He was starting to get hard…way hard…rock solid hard. A rush of sexual energy overloaded his pelvis, spread up into his heart, and out his head. “Shit…” How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this? He didn’t exactly want to announce this state to Lightning Rod, but his shaft was stiff and uncomfortable, pushing against his jeans. He tried to keep his back to the kid.

  “What are you doing?” Lightning Rod asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing… Don’t worry about it.” Shit. “I need some air.” He wanted to jack off and release some of the juice pouring through him. What he really wanted was to be filling Chérie’s sweet nest, that dark, secret place of mysteries. He started to walk outside, but Lightning Rod stopped him…again. “Holy fuck,” he growled as the intensity built. “I’ve gotta lie down.” Maybe he could just calm his body into submission.

  When he collapsed onto the floor face up, Lightning Rod glanced over at him. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Dude, I hope that’s not for me. I hope I didn’t cause that.”

  “Shit. No. Just shut up, will you? I think this is the ka. It just came over me when I thought of Chérie.”

  “You seem to be in a state of misery. Don’t get all blue balled on me, Cam. I am not going to service you.”

  “Christ, kid, will you just let it rest? Just let me calm myself a minute.” He slowed his breathing and tried to think of something other than Chérie. She kept filling his head, though, pushing up into his brain in the same way he wanted to push up into her. He squeezed his eyes shut as the passion increased. She was right here in the room, he just knew it. He was inside her, she was inside him, and they were riding the river of sexual ecstasy again. “Oh, God,” he moaned, oblivious to the kid next to him.

  “I just realized something. That’s it, Cam!”

  Cam’s thoughts formed like molasses oozing into his mouth. “That’s what?” he said in a dreamlike stupor.

  “That’s the sign. Mano said we’d know when it was time.”

  “Okay…” Cam said from what felt like a distant realm. “Whatever you say, kid.” He rolled onto his stomach, and his hips moved up and down in a languorous rhythm like he was screwing the floorboards. “Oh, hell…” he managed to say. An odd thought formed in his mind that he was going to come right here on the floor in front of the kid, and there was nothing he could do about it. And really, he didn’t care a whit if anyone saw him right now.

  “Just stay with it, Cam. I’m going to lie down next to you. Don’t get all creeped out, but I have to touch you somewhere to gain access to your state of mind. I’ll just touch your leg with my foot.”

  “Knock yourself out, kid,” Cam managed from his trance. “Have a good time.” He vaguely felt the touch of Lightning Rod’s bare foot against his shin, burning like an ember. His response seemed slow and drawn out. “Shittttttt….” he uttered, in a low deep voice. “Shitttttt…” he repeated. “I’m going to have another burn mark to add to my collection of wounds.” He rolled onto his back, drew his hand up over his forehead, and caressed his face like he was high and had never experienced a face before. His lips were parted and he wanted to kiss Chérie with a craving that was enormous. “Babe…” he called softly. “I want you so bad.” He heard Lightning Rod chuckle from far, far away.

  He slipped into his mind and found himself in the landscape of his recurring nightmare. Dead trees with scissor-sharp, spikey branches dotted the land. Boulders and rocks with sharp, razor-like edges spread like a cancer in every direction. The place was as stark and miserable as they come; all toothed limestone formations, dull gray sky, and decaying wood. It was a ghastly, unwelcoming place. His dream body shivered.

  Everything looked blurry, however, like he was observing the scene through frosted glass. A familiar presence seemed to be present. Cam couldn’t quite place it at first. It was powerful and immense like a Grizzly bear. It was talking to him, but the words darted around his head like a hummingbird. Cam struggled to string the words together into phrases that made sense. His face was furrowed in concentration as he tried to discern what was being said. Then he got it. This one was Mano. In his mind, he pictured Mano like a giant, his long braid whipping in the wind. His head had horns, and his face was a writhing mask of terror. Shirtless, barefoot, dressed in tan leather leggings, Mano’s tattoos shifted and shimmered along the surface of his skin like they were alive. Snakes curled, symbols swirled, and long, wavy lines bulged and pulsed. Even the snake crawling up his belly flicked its tongue as it undulated up towards Mano’s navel.

  “Not afraid of you, big guy,” Cam heard himself say.

  “Good,” grunted Mano. “Not afraid of you, either, bro. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Cam replied without understanding the question. “What am I supposed to be ready for?” He was caught in a state between lying on the floor in the lookout on the mountain, riding a pleasure wave with the ka, and this wretched, desolate landscape before him where he did not want to be. He longed to linger in his dreamy torpor, flooded with pleasurable sensation. In a slurred, almost drunken voice, he heard himself say to Mano, “I just want to stay with Chér. You go ahead and deal with this place, Mano. Let me know what you discover.” He let himself sink back into the observation tower.

  A strong, rough grasp seized his arms, and a peculiar sensation like being sucked through a hole in his forehead savaged his se
nse of self. With a grunt, he shot into the dream with vivid lucidity. The scene was now crystal clear. His dream-self snarled, “What? Why?” His fingers coiled into fists, and he lunged at Mano’s beast-like body.

  Mano caught him in a bear hug. “Cool it, dude, I’m not the enemy here. Get yourself oriented. We’ve got work to do here.”

  Cam pushed away from Mano and shook his head like a wet dog, trying to clear his mind. “Shit, Mano, this is my dream. How the fuck can you be here?”

  “This is all part of the spirit tracking. Clear out your head.”

  “I’m trying, man, I’m trying.” Cam became aware of the particular energy of Lightning Rod. It was a happy presence, rooted in the earth like a tree…yeah, like a tree with squirrels scampering all up and down the trunk and branches. It was the kind of tree that children liked to gather around and play on, clambering up the sturdy branches and swinging on the limbs. “Hey, kid,” he called.

  “Hey, old man,” came the response.

  Cam saw Severe, crawling on the ground on her belly, slinking like a soldier coming over a sand dune. Severe’s brown eyes were immense, taking in everything in her midst. A colorful pink cotton handkerchief was wrapped around her neck, making her look like a cartoon. Cam let out a guffaw, and her tail twirled in slow, sweeping circles in acknowledgement. Then, he noticed a gate ahead of him, flanked by two people. One was a woman…it appeared to be Chérie’s friend, Zuri. The other was a man…was it Charley Wolf-Rider? Yeah, he thought it was. The pair stood unmoving like a couple of chess pieces.

  Mano pulled a strip of parchment out of his pocket. “We figure the best place to find the dreamling is here.” He pointed to a line on the paper.

  Cam grabbed the paper and studied it. There were images fluctuating over the surface, indicating places that he’d been. Stars were drawn next to places he wanted to go and things he wanted to do. A name was circled in the corner with exclamation marks and stars next to it, but he couldn’t read the name. Another name was written in tiny, barely legible writing as if it were someone he didn’t want to acknowledge. “What, is that a map of my mind?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “How did you get access to it?”

  “You gave it to me when you agreed to do the spirit tracking. A simple agreement was all it took.”

  “I’m going to have to be careful what I agree to in the future.”

  “Focus, Cam. Stop kidding around. Look here.” Mano pointed back to the map. “The dreamling is likely to be somewhere near this coordinate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You told me.”

  “When did I tell you that?”

  “When you gave me access.”

  “Shit, Mano, you’re not making sense.”

  “This is a dream, Cam. But it’s not. Just roll with it.”

  Cam blinked several times. Just roll with it, he silently repeated. Blink, blink, blink. “Okay…so this is where the dreamling is likely to be. How do we get there?”

  “You have to take this route…the one through all the chaos and drama.”

  “The one through all the chaos and drama,” Cam repeated. “Okay…and which way will you go?”

  “The shortest route here.” Mano’s finger tapped another spot on the map, causing several of the images to float away from his finger like water striders skittering along the surface of a pond.

  “Why can’t I take the shortest route with you? We can go together.”

  “You told me not to let you take the short path. When you…”

  “When I gave you access…right,” Cam finished. “Okay, I’m going to head down the drama path…”

  “It’s the Revelation Path…” Mano interrupted. “…also known as the Path of Mysteries and What the Fuck.”

  “Okay. I’m going to head down the path of drama, also known as the Mysterious Revelation What the Fuck Path, you’re going to take the short route and we’ll meet…where?”

  “We’ll meet were we meet.”

  “Will I know where that is?”

  “If I’m there, then that’s the right place.”

  “What if you’re not?”

  “Then something happened along the way, and we’ll tote your dead form out of the lookout tower and give you a good funeral.”

  Cam’s eyes popped wide. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope, not kidding. Ready?”

  “Not really…not really up for this today.”

  “Quit the joking, Cam. Let’s go. I hope I see you on the other side, bro.” Mano gave him a man hug, and he and Severe trotted down the trail, heading towards the gateway flanked by Charley and Z.

  Cam was filled with unease as he looked around the barren landscape. Mano had pointed out the route on the Mind Map, but as he looked about he couldn’t discern the way. He turned his head to look for Mano, but the guy had disappeared along with the gateway. “Well, shit…how do I find the way?” He considered what Mano had told him. If he was looking for the path of drama and chaos, he should head towards the place that felt like home – his childhood home that is. On second thought, didn’t he continue to live with chaos and drama? Maybe he should just start walking. That familiar sense of treading through landmines came over him, and he started off with tentative steps. As he cautiously stepped, the black limestone sliced through his shoes, and the dead branches of the trees clawed at his legs and arms. Just like home. Not even safe to move. The feeling of turmoil and anxiety grew stronger as he moved forward. This must be the way.

  He came upon a towering rock wall that spread out in every direction. Pivoting in a circle, he realized that he was surrounded by the wall. It encased him like a prison, making him feel claustrophobic. His breath started to come in quick, shallow bursts. He had to escape, had to get out of here. Revolving around and around he searched for a break in the wall. Think, man, think. Small pool of safety…always with you…

  Cam spied a narrow opening halfway up the stone surface. Using his rock climbing abilities, he found a hand hold, reached for purchase, and began his scrabble up the limestone. The silica specked mineral bit his skin as he climbed, while the opening seemed further away the higher he climbed. He moved with desperation, trying to get away from this suffocating environment. It was useless. The more he struggled and strained, the further away the opening appeared.

  Midway up the wall, he paused and closed his eyes. Small pool of safety…small pool of safety…always with you… He allowed the joy he experienced in the physical world to overtake the panic. How many times had he hung from the side of a granite wall, at one with the elements, feeling completely safe and at home? He began to relax. It’s cool, no big deal here. Just hanging on the wall… There…that was better. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. The opening was now just a few feet away. He pulled himself up to the edge of the opening, squeezed through, dropped to the other side…and found he was in exactly the same environment he had just escaped. Again, looming limestone walls pressed in on him in 360 degrees. Shit. This was some fucking mind maze. This was exactly what he felt as a child - that there was no escape from the madness in his life. Every attempt he made to change, to get out of that chaotic madness, resulted in more of the same. He even experienced that in his current life, with the dreamling, with Angela, and the constant changes in his life with the ka. As the walls closed in on him, despair filled his head. He closed his eyes, let his head fall into his hands, and allowed the feeling of desolation to engulf him. It filled his lungs and nose like a fluid, causing him to gasp for air like he was being drowned from the inside out.

  Then he became aware that the tall channel in which he found himself was rapidly filling with water - real water. He sighed in relief. Water was good. He loved to be in water. He knew how to navigate through water, how to move through water with ease. Only thing was the rock walls were now pressed so tightly against him, he could not move his limbs.

  Stark panic overcame him as the cold water seeped up over his chin, his mou
th, his nose, and then his whole head. Holding his breath, he tried to position his feet against the limestone so that he could push his way free. He twisted and torqued against the wall, feeling his skin shred. Terror filled his brain as he realized this was it. This was how he was going to die – in the substance that had given him so much pleasure. May as well roll with it, he thought, remembering what Mano had said at the start of the dream.

  He gave in, stopped struggling, and let go, ready to die. Why bother struggling? Clearly he was trapped. Struggle was pointless; he may as well surrender. Death might not be so bad. As he acknowledged this, the walls eased up, freeing his arms and legs. Without thinking, his body moved of its own survival-seeking accord, propelling him to the top of the fluid-filled chamber. He erupted to the surface, gasping and coughing like he had just been born.

  Wriggling up over the edge, he gazed around at another familiar place. This one was a floor littered with drug paraphernalia and condoms…lots and lots of condoms. This place made his loins stir. And there, across the floor was a big bed. A woman was laying prone, completely nude, waiting for him, with her legs open wide. Filled with lust, he made his way across the room to the waiting arms of…Angela Myers.

  His body was jacked full of desire. “Angela,” he breathed in a voice so thick he barely recognized it.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, cowboy.”

  “Here I am, baby.” He was now naked and stiff with arousal. “I want to plunge into you, baby, and make you scream.”

  “I’m ready, cowboy. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Cam crawled up on top of the bed and jammed his lust inside of Angela. Man, this felt good…to be inside of her felt like home. He pumped and stroked and pumped and stroked and pumped some more, rejoicing in her slick heat against his hard cock. His hips seemed to be moving in a cadence all of their own. “Yeah, baby…oh, yeah, baby.” He didn’t bother looking at her, didn’t bother trying to make her feel good. She’d feel whatever she felt, right? She could take care of herself. All that mattered was that he felt good, that he got his rocks off; that he came inside of her, outside of her, didn’t matter, right? This was his dream, after all. And man, it felt good. Pure, unadulterated lust, baby. Fuck, yeah.

 

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