A Reluctant Voyeur
Chapter 3

Caution: This ESP Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Consensual, Extra Sensory Perception, Incest,

Desc: ESP Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Chuck learns that he is in possession of an incredible new mental ability. It's scary and exciting at the same time. Over time, he hones it and improves it, availing himself to several unexpected experiences, sometimes a little frightening, sometimes very sexy.

October 29, 2014:

I'm not just chronicling the mind probes, now. I'm trying to keep a running account of everything that has to do with my apparently unique ability, and that includes today's meeting with doctors Christy and Austin. It came off rather strangely, beginning with a phone call from Janet asking if I could meet her and Dr. Austin for lunch at a restaurant on South Havana, not too far from the labs near the Denver Tech Center.

I told her on the phone that I had rather a full day ahead of me and wondered if we could put it off until the next day, but she was insistent, saying they had something important to discuss with me regarding the testing we'd been carrying out. It was all somewhat mysterious. I told her I'd try to shift a couple of appointments around and meet them at two o'clock for a late lunch. She agreed. She also asked if Carol might be able to join us.

I was ten minutes late and found them settled into a booth on the far side of the room. Since the lunch hour had passed, the room was mostly empty. Carol was there, and they'd already decided what they wanted for lunch, so I just went with a chef's salad and tea to speed things up.

"OK, now what's all the mystery?" I asked Janet as the waiter walked away.

"Yeah," Carol chimed in, "I was wondering the same thing."

Dr. Austin took a sip of his iced tea and began, "Chuck, exactly how many people know anything at all about your abilities?"

"Only the ones you already know about. Carol, of course, yourselves and Jeff Romero."

Janet leaned forward, "And your positive there's nobody else."

"I'm pretty sure. Not unless Jeff or one of you blabbed it to somebody. Why?"

She leaned back, looking a little more at ease. "I met with Jeff in my office this morning. I feel confident he hasn't betrayed your secret, not even to his wife. And I made it clear to him that there could be dire consequences if he ever did."

That got Carol's attention. "Wait a minute! Are you saying you threatened him?"

Janet shook her head and answered, "No, Carol, I didn't threaten him, but now he understands how important it is that nobody ever hears of this. That's why we asked for this meeting; to make sure you understand that as well."

Carol looked a little perplexed and said, "Well, I can understand why Chuck doesn't want this floating around, even as a rumor, but you guys are acting like it's a matter of national security or something. What gives?"

Dr. Austin answered her question. "You're right on the mark, Carol." He took a deep breath, looked around the room to ensure no one was near, and lowered his voice and spoke to Carol, "Look, this is something you both need to understand. All our tests, so far, have indicated that Chuck's abilities are the best we've ever seen."

Turning to me, he went on, "Now, we still don't know the full extent of your talents, but as far as we know, you may be unique in all the world. I don't mean to sound paranoid, but I wonder if you've given any thought to what that might mean to certain, um, government agencies. You must appreciate how incredibly valuable you are to the scientific community. Well, you'd be just as valuable to other disciplines like intelligence agencies, domestic and foreign. There are no known interrogation techniques that are capable of actually getting inside a suspect's mind. How far do you suppose some of those agencies might go to make you one of their own, with or without your consent? And consider this: If any agency were to employ your services and word ever leaked about what you can do, by default, you'd be considered a high-value target by their opponents." He sighed and added, "I don't think I can make it any clearer."

This line of thought wasn't entirely new to me. Over the past few weeks, the more I considered what was happening in my brain, the more I knew the way I'd been playing around with it was a bit naive. In my mind, I breathed a small sigh of relief that I hadn't actually communicated with anyone but Carol. Yeah, I'd teased Kevin and Dannie a little bit, but not to the extent that they could seriously believe the messages were coming from outside their own brains.

The conversation died as the waiter arrived with our orders and topped off coffee cups and tea glasses. When he left us, I said, "Actually, I've been thinking along these lines since we began the tests. In fact, I was thinking we should institute some security measures around our communications with each other. Is that why you wanted to do lunch? To take it out of your offices?"

Janet answered, "Exactly! Frank suggested and I agree that we shouldn't do any more testing at the school for a lot of other reasons I won't go into right now. Frank has access to a private lab we can use." She looked at Carol and asked, "When you're doing mental communication with Chuck, are you sure you pick up only his words and nothing else?"

"That's right," Carol agreed. "All I can do is think of a response to the words I'm hearing in my mind. I'm not aware of anything else that might be going on in his. In other words, I'm talking to him in my mind, not his."

Janet turned to me and asked, "Would you do a little experiment with me right now?"

"What kind of experiment?"

"I'd like you to connect to me mentally, and see if we can communicate like you and Carol do."

"Sounds easy enough." I recalled the 'sound' and focused on her aura.

"Janet?"

A few seconds delay. "Chuck? Are you hearing me?"

"Very clearly. Is this enough?"

"Yes."

I broke contact and asked, "What do you have in mind, pun intended?"

That broke the tension and we all laughed.

Except Austin. He looked uncomfortable, preoccupied.

I asked, "Is there something on your mind, Dr. Austin?"

"Huh? Uh, no. I just hadn't fully appreciated the facility with which you could communicate mentally. Look, here's what I think we should be doing from now on. I don't think there should be any phone calls or e-mails between us that discuss this matter. We don't want any paper or electronic trails, at all. Any documentation of our tests and our results are, and must remain highly encrypted. That includes your journal, Chuck. Do you have encryption software on your computer?"

"Yes, because I access files from my office and e-mail back and forth with my boss from time to time. Everything is encrypted at both ends."

"And there are no accounts of your abilities anywhere other than your computer?"

"Of course not!"

"Good, good!" he went on. "This is what I recommend. There's no way any mental communication can be detected or tracked. Now, we need to do much more extensive testing on that aspect of your abilities, but for the time being, it should be restricted to Carol and Janet. Will you agree to that, Chuck?"

"Of course. I promise, no more teasing the kids."

Austin looked confused. "What do you mean by that? What kids?"

I felt a little embarrassed explaining it, but I did. Everybody but Dr. Austin smiled through the story.

When I was done, he reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. Hard. "And you're absolutely certain neither of those kids have any idea that it might have been you in their minds?"

I pulled away from his grasp, a little irritated. "Yes, I'm sure! How could they?"

He backed off, "Oh, uh, forgive me, Chuck. It's just that this thing is much bigger than you might realize. Keeping it under wraps is extremely important."

I looked at Carol and saw that she was with me. "Sure, we get it. I'm guessing you want me to set up any future testing sessions with you through Janet, using mental contact, whenever possible. You understand that I really don't know what my physical range is, so that may require some trial and error."

Janet laid her hand on mine. "All we're saying is that, in order to avoid any unwanted interest in your abilities, we all need to be extremely cautious about how, when and where we communicate. A lot of people know that Frank and I are neuroscientists and a lot of people know he's done extensive studies of ESP claimants. If you're seen in our company too often, it wouldn't be too great a leap for someone to wonder what our association was all about. We have to employ all the safeguards we can think of and then some."

There was something about Austin that was bugging me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I was half way tempted to try to probe into his mind, but opted against it because there needed to be a certain level of trust in our relationship. I could appreciate his concerns, but I felt they bordered on paranoid.


On my way home that evening, I got a call from Carol, asking if I'd stop by her apartment. When I stepped in her door, Jeff was sitting on the couch sipping a cup of coffee.

"Hi, Jeff. What's up?"

He stood up to shake hands. "Hi, Chuck. I just wanted to talk to you and Carol about this, uh, thing we talked about earlier. She said you know about the meeting I had with Dr. Christy this morning."

I was already beginning to feel bad about Jeff being involved with this in any way. "Yeah, well I'm really sorry about that, Jeff. You and your wife sure don't need something like this complicating your lives, do you?"

He jumped in to reassure me, "No no, Chuck, that's not a problem. In fact, Karen doesn't know anything about it. I just wanted to get with you two to make sure of our strategy. You know, make sure we're on the same page. Personally, I think it's exciting as all hell!"

I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. "Jeff, if I could figure a way to do it, I'd erase any knowledge of this from your brain in an instant. I know it's interesting and exotic, but it may well turn out to be dangerous knowledge. And here's the simple truth of it: The more people that know about it, the more danger we're in."

He looked a little irritated. "I get the picture, Chuck. I'm not an idiot."

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "I know that, Jeff. I didn't mean to imply anything like that, but we all have to consider the consequences of even the smallest slip of the tongue. Now, I don't know if Dr. Austin's concerns are over the top or not, but it's probably not a bad idea to assume he knows what he's talking about."

"Sure, I know what you're saying. I guess I was envious, at first, but not any more. Just tell me what can I do to help?"

"For the time being, just keep it to yourself. If I think of anything else, I'll sure let you know."


That night, I begged off a tumble in the sheets with Carol because my mind was overflowing with the events of the day. She understood I needed some time to myself to just sit and think. No doubt she had a little reflecting to do, herself. Besides, one thing I learned from my ex: Don't make love to a woman when you're preoccupied with other things. Anything less than your full attention is an insult and will lead to days and days of those looks.

I brought up an album of romantic adagios on the iPod and dropped it into the dock. I hadn't played the 'singing bowls' album since I learned to initiate the effects without it. Somehow, it didn't relax me like it used to; it made me feel anxious.

I lay back in my recliner, sipping on a cognac and trying to put everything into perspective. One thing I'd already decided since our meeting with Janet and Dr. Austin; I had no intention of spending the rest my life looking over my shoulder. I made up my mind that there would be no more testing, no more imaging of my brain, no more documentation of my condition. I wasn't sorry I'd submitted to what tests we'd already done because, at least, I knew it was all for real. But now that it had been confirmed, I didn't see any need to pursue any further proof. The more testing we did, the more of a trail we would leave. I'd contact Janet in the morning and let her know. She wasn't going to like it.

So the real question is, What now? I was reminded of a character in Steven King's novel, 'The Shining'. Danny Torrance, a kid born with the ability to see ghosts and feel evil all around him. I didn't have Danny's particular 'gift', but I was wishing I could have coffee with Mr. King some day and ask him just how much he really knew about paranormal abilities.

The simple fact that I could do these things demanded that I use my gift, but how? In what capacity? To whose benefit? And finally, how do I keep anybody else from finding out about it? The simple truth is that I'm at the mercy of the other four people who already know. I have no choice but to trust them. The good news is that they seem trustworthy; maybe Frank Austin a little less than the others. I don't much care for him as a man, but Janet holds him in high regard and I have to trust her judgment.

I still don't know how I do this thing, and it's unlikely that further testing will answer that big question? What is it that's unique about my brain that gives me the ability to pick up otherwise undetectable signals from someone else's brain? How does my brain suddenly become a hypersensitive antenna when I stimulate it? How can the mere memory of a sound kick off such an incredible response? The MRI showed no abnormalities in my brain tissues, no tumor, nothing to indicate any pathology. I can just do it! Why?

As I lay there sipping my cognac and pondering my fate, the thought occurred to me that there was one avenue we hadn't explored yet, and that was genetics. I wasn't aware that anyone in my family had any special talents of this sort, but for the sake of exploring all the possibilities, it wouldn't hurt to make a few discrete inquiries in the right place, i.e., my mother. She's the de facto family historian, and if anyone knows anything strange about anything, it'll be her.

On impulse, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and called her.

She answered. "Hello, Duncan residence."

"Hi, Mom, it's Chuck."

"Well, what a nice surprise! What's happening in the big city?"

"Nothing worth reporting, Mom. I'm calling to make sure you and Dad are planning to be home this weekend. I thought I'd come up for a short visit, maybe bring a friend along, if you don't mind."

"Of course we don't mind. Your friends are always welcome here. You know that."

"I know, but it's a lady friend, someone I'm starting to feel serious about. I didn't know how you'd feel about that."

"My land, Chuck, it's been over two years now! It's about time you crawled out of your cave and got serious about someone. You just bring her along and give us a chance to get to know each other."

"Thanks, Mom. I knew you'd understand. Is Dad there?"

"He's out in the barn working on that old Ford tractor. I swear he thinks more of that old pile of junk than he does of me."

"It's his hobby, Mom. Besides, do you really want him shuffling around the house getting underfoot all the time? Just tell him I said 'Hi', OK? I'll see you Saturday around noon."

"Wonderful! I'll cook a nice pot roast and we'll have an early dinner. What's your lady's name?"

"Carol."

"Carol. I like that name. Tell her we're anxious to meet her."

"I will, Mom. Bye."

As soon as I killed the connection, I recalled the 'sound', found her aura, and announced myself. "Carol?"

"Chuck?"

"Care to run up to Sterling to meet my folks on Saturday?"

"I'd love to! Thanks for asking."

"Seeya!"

"I love you."


October 30, 2014:

I called the office and told them I'd be about an hour late, then I drove to the UC Denver building and parked across the street in the lot. There were so many minds and colors floating around that it took a while to identify Janet and make contact.

"Janet?"

Nothing.

"Doctor Christy?"

"Is that you, Chuck?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm parked across the street from the main entrance. Can you come out and talk?"

I felt her organizing her thoughts for a few seconds, then, "Yes, give me a few minutes to close out this document. What are you driving?"

"Black Lexus SUV."

"See you in a few."

It was about ten minutes later when she stepped outside and looked around. When she looked toward my car, I raised my hand to catch he attention and waved her over.

As she closed the passenger-side door, she chuckled and said, "I can't tell you how strange this feels, Chuck. It's like I'm in a sci-fi story."

"Yeah, I've been feeling like that for a while, now."

"I'm sure you have. What did you want to talk about?"

There was no reason to beat around the bush. "I'm not going to do any more testing, Janet. If I let it, this thing will take over my life and I don't intend for that to happen. I know you and Dr. Austin still have a million questions, but I've decided if other interested parties are watching anybody, it's you and your program. If there are any breakthroughs coming down the pike in the form of paranormal communication, it'll be from research institutions like yours, not from a John Doe like me. I plan to get below everybody's radar and stay there."

As I expected, she was disappointed. "Are you sure, Chuck? From my point of view, and from Frank's, we've hardly begun. There are so many things we need to learn about your abilities and there's just no other resource. We've taken every precaution to see that your identity isn't compromised."

"I'm sure you have, but I wonder if that's good enough. Here's what I think: I'm guessing a lot of your research is funded by government grants, isn't it?"

"Yes. We wouldn't have much of a program without it. But that doesn't mean the feds are privy to every test we run."

"Maybe not, but when you request renewals of your grant funding, don't you have to submit at least a synopsis of what you've accomplished to date?"

"Yes, of course."

"And if the person reviewing your documents sees something like an investigation into ESP, aren't they going to want to know some details?"

"Yes, Chuck, they will, but you have to understand that's only one small part of our research. It's easy enough to say the research is still in its early stages and nothing concrete has come to light yet."

"What about what you've already documented about me? I'm pretty sure that's not on your personal computer."

She was looking a little distressed. "No, of course it's not on my personal computer, it's on the main frame! It's essentially Frank's research and he does all the documentation and data entry. But all that is encrypted, and everything pertaining to you is identified only by number. Your name appears nowhere."

"I'm sorry, but that's not good enough for me, Janet. I'm taking what Dr. Austin said to heart. If the right people want that data, they can get it. You won't be able to stop them. I want that file to end now. Make up a couple of tests to add to it that shows your original findings were in error, that the subject found some way to scam the system."

Her temper flared. "Chuck, you can't seriously be asking me to falsify data, can you? If that were discovered, we'd never see another dollar of grant funding!"

She was right, of course, and I felt duly chastened. "No, I don't want you to do that, but I do want out of this program, however you decide to do it."

Her shoulders slumped as she looked out her window. We sat quietly for a couple of minutes, then she turned and asked, "Would you agree to a six-month moratorium? We'll put everything on hold while you think about it. Frank and I can use the time to do more background preparation and come up with better security measures. Chuck, you're the only test subject we've ever found who is undeniably legitimate. You're too important to science to just drop out of sight. We need you!"

I sympathized with her completely, but I had no interest in being anyone's guinea pig. Still, so far as she and Austin knew, I was the only resource available if they were to pursue their research. Rock and a hard place; that's where I was. I thought about it for a few minutes. The silence was deafening.

Finally, "OK, Janet, six months. But when that time is up, I want to hear some pretty damn tight guarantees. I want to be buried so deeply in your files that a world-class hacker can't find me. That's my condition and I won't budge from it. Can you agree to that?"

"I'll agree to that and so will Frank. Thanks for not bailing on us, Chuck. We'll work something out, I promise. Stay in touch ... mentally, I mean."

She got out of the car and headed back across the street. I hoped she was as good as her word.


November 1, 2014:

Dad was walking across the yard from the barn when we pulled up in front of the house. He hurried over to open Carol's door and beat me to the introductions, "So, you must be Chuck's new lady." He stood back and looked her up and down as she exited the car. "The boy might have his faults, but he sure knows how to pick pretty women!"

I felt embarrassed for Carol, but she just laughed. "What makes you think it wasn't me that picked him?

I stepped in, "Dad, this is Carol. Carol, this is James (Tactless) Duncan, my father. At least, according to my mother."

He ignored the barb and took her arm, leading her up the steps to meet Mom who had just stepped out the door. "Hey, Muriel, look at the nice present Chuck brought us!"

Mom hugged her and said, "Just ignore him, Dear. He's harmless. Come on into the house and out of this cold wind."

The smell of Mom's cooking filled the house and brought back a lot of memories. I kissed her on the cheek and sniffed the air. "If you could bottle that smell, you could get rich and give up farming."

"Give up farming?!" Dad barked, "When I'm a cold, dead corpse in my grave, maybe!"

Carol was sympathetic. "Mr. Duncan, my folks were migrant farm workers and farms like yours provided a living for them for a long time. You just keep right on plowing those fields."

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "That's my plan, young lady."


All in all, it was a very pleasant afternoon. By the time dinner was put on the table at three, we were all famished and made short work of Mom's pot roast, buttered parsley potatoes, corn on the cob and peach cobbler. I ate like a pig, but then I always did when I visited Mom and Dad. Carol was her normal charming self and made a really good impression. Mom even had that look in her eye like she was already planning a wedding.

All afternoon, I was trying to think of a way to approach the subject occupying my mind: Was there anybody in our extended family who claimed or showed any inclination to any special abilities like mine? It's not the kind of thing you come right out and ask, if you're trying to avoid the wrong kind of curiosity about your motives. Carol and I talked about it on the way up I-76, but we hadn't come up with a way to broach the subject.

Apparently, she came up with a plan on her own. We were in the living room in front of a blazing fireplace, sipping coffee and catching up on all the latest news. Dad was complaining about water issues as always. Mom was telling us about her involvement in the charity work and youth programs in Sterling that took so much of her time. Neither of them were the kind of people who could sit idly by when there was anything that needed to be done.

Mom got around to asking how Carol and I met, as I knew she would. Carol took the lead and cleverly introduced our ulterior motive for coming.

"You know, Muriel, it's the strangest thing! Chuck and I live in the same apartment tower and we'd seen each other in the hallway and on the elevator from time to time, but we never said anything more that 'Hi'. Well, last spring, my ex-husband and I split up, rather messily, I'm afraid. It wasn't long after that, that he was shot and killed. I was devastated, of course, and there was no one around to help me through the crisis. Then, one evening, I just had this premonition that my neighbor from down the hall was going to knock on my door. I couldn't imagine why he would do such a thing, but my premonition was right, and that very evening, he did just that! He introduce himself and said he'd learned of my husband's death and offered to be of help in whatever way he could. Isn't that strange?"

The exact order and timing of events wasn't quite right, but her story served to move the conversation in the direction we needed.

Mom agreed, "My, yes, that is strange! Do you often have premonitions like that?"

"Um, not that I'm aware of. I mean, I suppose we all feel like we have a connection with someone from time to time, but that was a complete surprise. Do you know of people who can do that?"

Mom didn't answer the question, but turned to me and asked, "What about you, Chuck? You must have been feeling some sense that Carol needed some comforting."

I shrugged and said, "Mmm, not sure, Mom. I saw her in the elevator right after her husband left and I noticed the bruise on her face. I guessed he hit her. I suppose that's when I knew she was having some real problems and could probably do with a friend. I can't even guess how she knew I'd show up at her door."

That's when I took my shot. "As far as premonitions or ESP are concerned, I don't think that kind of thing runs in the family, although I was always convinced you had eyes in the back of your head every time I tried to get away with something."

Mom laughed and said, "That's because you were so transparent, Dear. Besides, your were always trying to get away with something. But you're wrong about that kind of thing not running in our family. Your Grandma Daisy always seemed to know what was going on anywhere in the family before anybody ever got around to telling her. I swear, there were times when she knew exactly what I and my brothers were thinking before we did. It was spooky, how she did that."

Carol and I looked at each other. I guess I'd heard tales of Grandma Daisy's uncannily keen perception as I was growing up, but I didn't remember any of it until Mom brought it up. I guess I'd just filed it away as one of those family myths.

We let the subject drop and talked about other things, but I couldn't help but wonder if we hadn't uncovered something important. Could there, in fact, be a genetic component to my peculiarity? Family gossip hardly qualified as evidence, but it was something to think about.


Mom had replaced my old single bed with a queen, and made my bedroom into a guest room after I got married. Carol and I lay in it side by side, listening to the ever-present wind whistling around the house.

I was in her mind and she was thinking, "Do you think it's possible that your grandma had this same thing?"

"I suppose it's possible, but it's probably more likely she was just one of those incredibly perceptive people. I don't know that she ever claimed to be psychic or anything."

"I guess there's no way we'll ever know for sure."

"No, but when the kids come out for Christmas, I intend to experiment a bit and try to discover if either of them have any special abilities worth investigating."

I felt a shift in her mood. She thought, "You know what I think you should investigate?"

I grinned as I turned on my side and slid my hand up her belly to cup her breast. "I seem to be getting a mental image of my dick investigating the inside of your pussy."

"Oh, you really are good at this, aren't you? There's just something extra sexy about fucking in the room where you grew up. It feels deliciously wicked!"

"Let's try not to wake up Mom and Dad. I'd be embarrassed."

"Then maybe you better stick a sock in my mouth, 'cause I'm feeling highly turned on. My emotions might get out of hand."


November 6, 2014:

I've pretty much gotten over the jitters, and I feel like I'm starting to come to grips with this thing. I guess I just needed some time to put it into perspective. I'm convinced that as long as I play it smart, as long as I don't abuse this special thing, there's no reason it can't be employed to some positive end. Unless I specifically announce myself, there's no reason anyone should ever suspect I'm in their personal space.

Sure, the safest way to go would be to never touch another mind, but that would be like trying to give up using one of my other five senses. It's there! It's part of me! I can't NOT use it!

For a while, I guess I'd been hoping that I'd wake up one morning and it would be gone, evaporated as quickly as it arrived, but now I know that's not going to happen because it just keeps getting stronger. It's a part of me and it's here to stay. The question is, what the hell do I do with it?

Over the last few days, I've found myself utilizing my edge more and more in my daily interaction with people. I'm not doing serious mind probes, but I can't resist popping in for a quick look-around when I'm speaking to anyone about anything serious. I suppose I do that to verify they're being honest with me. The way I figure it, since I can do it, it would be kind of stupid of me not to do it.

Interestingly, my natural cynicism seems to have softened since I've satisfied myself that people are usually up front with me. In those few instances when they're not, it's almost never anything worth making a fuss over. If it is, I just file that information away for future reference. Of course, a lot of what I pick up is absolutely none of my business, so I just ignore it.

Where I find my literal insight most helpful is understanding what people really think of me. Do they fear me? Do they respect me? Do they like me? Do they think I'm a moron? I don't have to guess now, I know.

I remember a social psychology class I took at CU. There was this professor teaching us that people unconsciously react to any social interaction on three levels; how they perceive themselves, how they think they're perceived by the person with whom they're interacting (the specific other), and how they think they're perceived by the generalized other, i.e., society in general. All those unconscious considerations influence our behavior. Well, knowing how you're perceived is a lot different than guessing how you're perceived. Believe me, it changes the way you communicate.


November 7, 2014:

Something new and a little scary happened and I need to get it recorded before details begin to fade. Maybe 'new and a little scary' is an understatement!

I'll start from the beginning. This evening, as I relaxed and sipped my cognac, I decided to go visiting again to check in with some of my first contacts. I'd intruded on their lives and learned some very intimate things about them. Now, I felt I had a personal interest in how they were doing, how they were handling those issues I'd been privy to during my visits.

The first one I found was the Pianist. Frederick is his name. Frederick Forman. This time he was alone, and he was just playing, not rehearsing. His eyes were closed and his mind was drifting along with the exquisite music his fingers created. I recognized the piece as one of Satie's Gymnopédies; very soft, very peaceful.

He wasn't consciously thinking about his career, but I knew he'd won his competition in October. His career was underway, and he'd begin recording his first album in January. In the mean time, he'd already been booked to appear with four different orchestras over the next season, including the Colorado Symphony. I'd definitely get tickets for Carol and me.

I hoped he'd continue to live in our apartment building. I doubted he would if he got famous, but he might hold on to it as a part-time residence. Denver isn't known for it's big recording studios. I suppose he'll wind up living in New York City or L.A., maybe London.

I listened in for as long as I could maintain contact, maybe fifteen minutes. I didn't try to slide in any words of wisdom or anything because there was nothing I could offer this man. I could only wish him well and feel incredibly lucky to have shared some very intimate moments in his life. I wondered how he'd feel if he knew about that.

After I left him, I gave myself a few minutes to recover, then searched randomly for anyone else familiar to me. I recognized the muddy orange color of the kiddie-porn guy and started to steer away from it, but then I changed my mind. I really wanted to know what had happened with our resident creep after I ratted him out. I kept a firm mental hold on my escape thread as I quietly slipped into his mind, ready to jump out immediately if I felt anything threatening.

Depression. That's what he was dealing with, now. The Denver PD and the FBI had indeed investigated him after my calls. Apparently, it took them a while to amass enough evidence to get a search warrant for his apartment. He was depressed because he was awaiting trial for possession and distribution of child pornography. In spite of his attorney's reassurances, he didn't feel his chances were good because there was an abundance of evidence on his laptop and in a locked safe. He refused to open either of them on the spot, so they took them away and had them opened by a professional.

I found him sitting on his couch, staring at the TV, totally unaware of what was on the screen. He was alone. His wife had left him. The rest of his family would have nothing to do with him. It was over. That's what he was thinking; that his life was over. He was seriously considering suicide.

Time to leave.

I jumped out and came home again. I'd been wondering what effect my calls had, and now I knew. I didn't feel any guilt, but I certainly felt bad that the guy's downfall was his sickness. Definitely a brain gone wrong, probably way back in his childhood, maybe even at birth. Who knew? He probably never had much control over his compulsions, but that didn't alter the fact that he couldn't be allowed to pursue them to the detriment of a lot of innocent children. Some times life sucks and you're just stuck with it. If you're going to live in a society, you have to play society's game.

I needed a rest after that one. Over time, I'd come to realize that exciting my whole brain like that used up a lot of energy. I learned online that the brain consumes about twenty percent of the body's total energy output, even at rest. A fifteen minute mind-reading session could suck up a lot of juice.

After a half hour recovery, I thought I'd try one more visit before heading down the hall to Carol's for dinner and sex. This time, I had a plan in mind. I was pretty sure Dannie was using her feminine wiles to keep her little brother under her thumb. I was going to try to nudge him into fighting back a little bit. It just seemed fair that they be on a more equal footing.

He was doing his homework, but I needed him to be thinking about Dannie, so I suggested very softly, so as not to startle him, I wonder if Dannie's ever gonna let me fuck her again.

He stopped writing, mid-sentence, and put his pen down. He was remembering the last time they had sex over a month ago. As usual, she visited him in the night, when their parents were sound asleep. Since then, he'd hinted several times that another visit would be more than welcome, but she kept putting him off, teasing him with comments like, "Maybe someday, if you're a good little boy and you keep being nice to your big sister."

I decided to plant some 'get even' thoughts in his mind. Again, very softly, I suggested the thought, I know she's just busting my balls. It wasn't the first time he thought that. He'd always known he was being manipulated and he was a willing participant. I wanted him to build a little character, get himself into a better bargaining position.

The next thought I planted was, I wonder what she'd do if I cut HER off? I know she likes doing it as much as I do.

I let that rest and ferment for a few minutes. When he picked up his pen to go back to writing his essay, I pushed one last thought his way. Well, to hell with her! No more sex 'til she comes to ME! Let's see how SHE likes begging for a change.

That was enough. I'd leave those thoughts to stew, and check back in a couple of weeks or so to see if they had taken root.

That's when it happened; the new and scary thing!

I'd just eased out of Kevin's mind when I felt something leap into my own!

"Who are you?" someone demanded! The words were as clear as a bell!

I was startled, paralyzed for a moment. Where the hell did THAT come from?

Mentally, I jerked hard on the thread as I sat up in the recliner and looked around for a source. No one was there. Could that have been Kevin? No, there was no indication that he had any sense of my presence. But, if not him, then who?

This was something new, and it could be a big problem! It was the first time anyone had initiated contact with my mind! I couldn't let this go by without an answer. I lay back, closed my eyes and imagined the sound, then I began searching for the source. Very quickly, I perceived some serious agitation in the bright green range and focused on it. It's like someone was there waiting for me!

Mentally, I had a firm hold on my thread, ready to escape if I were challenged. I began to sense it, touch it. Female. Angry? No ... frightened! I held back a few seconds, trying to get a better read on her, then I went for it. She resisted me, but I pushed through into her mind and asked the same question she'd just asked me. "Who are you?"

I felt her immediately! Whoever she was, she was in my mind at the same instant I was in hers. I jerked hard on the thread and broke contact.

Holy shit! I gasped, sitting straight up in my chair, There are others!

I got up and paced around the room, thinking of possible consequences. I even poured myself a second cognac, something I never do.

Could it be? Is there really someone else out there who does what I do? And what did she see during the couple of seconds she was in my mind? Did she know who I was? No, probably not. I was in her mind for the same amount of time and I didn't learn anything about her. Except, she could do what I do.

I was tempted to go right back in and try to contact her again, but I restrained myself. This needed some serious thought. Besides, I'd already done a lot of probing over the last hour, and I knew my brain was probably fatigued. That would make me more vulnerable. Best give it a day's rest.

There is more of this chapter...

For the rest of this story, you need to Log In or Register

Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / mt/ft / Consensual / Extra Sensory Perception / Incest /