Chapter 4

I drove to Sandy's in her Buick and honked. She appeared five minutes later and drove us downtown. It wasn't a long drive, so I told her in brief what had occurred at the beach house. I didn't get into detail about the sex, so she didn't perfume the car with her love juices. Grabbing the vial of deprivation tank liquid and the condom of cum, she told me to wait at the 24 hour coffee shop while she saw Nakamoto, asking me to order them a club sandwich to split.

Waiting 20 minutes, the sandwich waiting half that time, I sipped my coffee and nibbled at my chocolate cake. When the two finally arrived, I could see the post-orgasmic flush on both their faces and the relaxed comfort they seemed to share.

"I thought they call it a quickie for a reason," I taunted.

"Sshh," hissed Sandy while their necks twisted around searching the restaurant for possible spies. Both gave me serious looks lasting only seconds before we broke out in hearty laughter.

"It took a few minutes to get the samples shipped off for testing," explained Sandy after we calmed down. "But, yeah, we wanted a little time. Both of us miss snuggling."

"Anyway," said Nakamoto, after loudly clearing his throat demarcating a change in subject, "tell me what you can about the beach house."

"Well, the whole thief thing has been highly exaggerated. Maybe Kitty used it as a lure or something, or maybe Jackie is the one for that, and him not being around..." I shrugged.

"So who do you like?" asked Nakamoto.

"Again, Jackie being gone keeps me from getting the complete picture. But there sure is some suspicious behavior. Jason, the leader of the house I think, seems at times overly defensive, and at other times jittery and maybe a little scared. The way he reacted to Ben, the guy from Charlie's Northern California commune when the guy showed up that evening, it seemed like they shared a secret Jason wanted no part of. And Ben was a mess. It may be in part mourning, missing Rhonda, but I'd bet there's mostly guilt. And then there's the sensory deprivation tank..." I described my experience with it and my passing out while Margarita experienced it. "So, even though I still got my money on Jackie, there's definitely something fucked up going on with Charlie's invention. I'm thinking hypnosis and some sort of wacky new age plan to conquer the world."

The two lovers laughed. "I'm serious," I continued. "Charlie's the head of some sort of cult."

"Like Charlie Manson?" asked Nakamoto skeptically.

I nodded. "Except these people are smart. They're geniuses in fact. I'm going to visit their Redwood compound. Unfortunately, my cover is blown, so I'm either going to have to sneak in, difficult to say the least or me or Margarita have to go after Ben. I think he's the weak link. From what I've heard about the rest of them, they sound like a tough group to me."

"Margarita?" asked Nakamoto.

"I'm not sure of my status with her right now, but we got close. She seems to have taken a liking to Ben despite his being completely fucked up when they met. Anyway she helped me get the samples and plans to get a sample of Ben's, uh, ejaculate."

"Isn't it bad enough that you put yourself in harm's way?" said Nakamoto. "Putting a complete amateur, your lover at that, in such a dangerous place, doesn't that bother you? Do you think that's a good idea?"

"She's clever and smart and stubborn. Her best friend was murdered. I couldn't keep her away from this if I tried."

Nakamoto shook his head. "And I'm sure you tried real hard."

"I guess I could have been clearer about the dangers. She's as stubborn as Sandy." I didn't like this part of the conversation. It made me feel like I endangered Margarita whom I loved. I planned on talking to her before she got any deeper into it, maybe at least slow her down.

When Sandy dropped me off at Margarita's I debated whether to wake up Margarita and talk to her, joining her in the single bed in the guest room, or returning to Kitty in the main bedroom. When I snuck a peak at my beauty, she looked to be in a deep sleep, relaxed, at peace. It would have been mean to wake her. Besides, Kitty would have been upset not having me beside her when she woke up.

The hot, moist feeling on my cock as I awakened became my reward for choosing Kitty. She enthusiastically sucked me. Holding my cock hard at the base, she moved her mouth up and down on my pole with quick strokes. She suddenly stopped.

"Good. You're awake," she said with a horny smile. Then she straddled me, sinking her well lubricated pussy all the way down, my flesh filling her all the way up.

At first we went slowly. She savored every nuance my cock brought to her insides. When she began to speed up, the logistics didn't seem right. My body slowly returning to being functionally awake gave my hands control. I held her hips and guided the fucking.

I noticed the door moving out of the corner of my eye. In the brief moment I saw Margarita standing in the doorway watching us, I noticed the pretty smile on her face and the clothing on her body. She looked ready to leave. I probably should have stopped her to have my planned talk, but feeling Kitty's sexy squeeze of my penis by the inner muscles of her pussy and the soft texture of her breasts slapping against my chest brought attention to my little feline pleasure maker.

We fucked until I climaxed and she soon followed. She came and went.

After a brief moment to bathe in the warmth of our post sex nirvana, Kitty nudged me off her. "I'm late. I gotta go," she said. She threw on her clothes.

"Aren't you going to smell of ... sex?"

"I got uniforms at work and Paul's got a shower in back," she said as she slipped on her shoes and ran out the door.

I lay back in bed and thought. It was barely 9 am. Margarita headed to Kailua early to meet Ben. I wondered if they had set up a date and if Ben remembered it as fucked up as he was.

Deciding getting busy on the case would distract me from worrying, I called Dorothy my travel agent, actually my father's I had inherited, a tall handsome blonde haoli lady in late middle age. She was quite good at her job if a bit frosty. She said she'd call back, and I told her I'd call her later in the afternoon.

I got out of bed and finished the last of the pizza. Then I showered, threw on my day old clothes, and decided to head home to change into something fresh before heading to the library.

Beginning at the UH library, I researched Charlie's name in any mechanical engineering magazine. I found his dissertation published. It was a study of hermetically sealed chambers and the mechanics of providing air and other things inside of them. I read it with difficulty. I noted the people he acknowledged, including a doctor, probably his professor, Ben and Deidre Haas. Before looking into those two, I continued searching for any further references for Charlie.

I found pay dirt, a picture of the people of Charlie's commune, their names listed below, and a map of their location. The guy was advertising. The article, written by Chloe Burton, made Charlie sound like a new age god. I read the article carefully, wondering if this author had experienced what I had experienced, but she hadn't. Charlie had told her the tank remained experimental. I looked again at the date of publication: less than two months old. A rage boiled up inside of me, rumbled in my chest and caught in my throat. So we had been experimental rats, Margarita and I. Again a fear for her safety shook me. I felt impotent. If I raced over to save her, couldn't that put her in more danger?

I continued pursuing information. When I couldn't find any more references to Deidre in the mechanical engineering side, I thought about Jason's list of the commune group's various studies. I zoned in on the psychologist. That's how I found her published dissertation.

It concerned brainwashing. Disturbingly, she didn't call it that, but "mind transformation." She found and interviewed victims or "case studies" that had gone through these transformations via torture, chemical means, cult suggestibility and behavioral psychology á la Skinner. She theorized a three part event: breaking resistance; opening up the mind; and saturating the mind with an overload of information and repetition. I wondered what stage Margarita or Rhonda had attained.

When I searched for any further published dissertations from the rest of the commune, I came up blank. I knew I would have to go to the source, to Berkeley, to find those.

Then I went downtown to the main Honolulu library to look into any disappearances by young people, probably young women in the past year in San Francisco, Northern California or here in Hawaii that had been written about in the newspaper. Being all too commonplace and Charlie most likely not involved in the majority made me doubt success. None jumped out at me locally. In San Francisco three cases looked interesting.

I found no newspapers at the library local to any Northern California community. I wanted to go to Police Headquarters to use their resources to find out more details and possible cases in California. It would have to wait until later. I knew Uncle Sam would be around, and I didn't want him to know of my involvement in his case yet. I would have to wait until Nakamoto arrived on the night shift.

Approaching four o'clock, I knew I had better get back to Dorothy the travel agent before she left for the day. I headed home. Entering my humble Waikiki cement slab apartment after a short bus ride, I grabbed the phone to call her. My answering machine blinked with messages. Needing to hear, I needed to get a hold of Dorothy first. She confirmed a pricey round trip flight to San Francisco, actually less than I expected on short notice. I put it on my dad's account to secure the tickets.

"I'm fine," said Margarita on the answering machine. "And I have a surprise for you. I'm going to the Mainland. Tell me when you're going, what flight you're taking, and Ben and I will join you. I'm home. Give me a call the minute you hear this. I love you."

Obediently I dialed her number. As soon as she answered I said, "So I am being replaced."

"I don't know lover. Not replaced so much because we're really just friends who love each other's bodies. There's a connection with Ben. He makes my heart flutter. That hasn't happened since ... maybe never."

"Did you have another go at the tank?" I asked, trying to hide the anxiety I felt.

"That's why I'm going to the Mainland. Come over, Joe."

I had a million things to say to her all at once, but wouldn't it be best to show her the proof? "Do you want me to get tickets for the two of you?"

"Yeah. And one more."

"I'll need the other person's name."

"You have Ben's?"

"Yeah."

"It's that Russian girl Karen. Her last name is Ouspenskya."

"Like the old lady in the 'Wolf Man' movie?"

"Yep." She said with a giggle. Two things I would miss about Margarita: her love of horror movies and her giggle. Oh and of course her wonderful tight little body. At least I'd have a chance to say goodbye to the last of those.

I caught Dorothy just as she was about to leave and set up three more tickets, two of them roundtrip. I'd figure out the money later.

The second message came from Sandy. I gave her a quick call while I changed; giving her the info I had gained that day and the schedule of my flights.

"Be careful, Joe," she said.

As soon as I entered Margarita's apartment she jumped into my arms, her legs wrapped around my ass, and she gave me the hottest tongue thrashing kiss in history.

"Fuck me, Joe," she said breathily. Rubbing her crotch against mine, my hands holding her against me at her perfect ass, she tore off her blouse and unbuttoned my shirt. The stripping, rubbing and kissing made me ready to do as ordered.

I walked us to the couch where I first saw her beautiful nakedness. Once I set her down we couldn't get naked fast enough. In fact my pants and underwear were still around my feet, still shod in my tennis shoes when I lay between her thighs and sunk my cock into her tight hot wet sheathe. It was an ultra cozy home. We continued our passionate kisses. My fingers sought out her hard nipples. Lips separated to give us a chance to breath out our moans. Eventually we concentrated solely on our conjoined organs, the perfect friction to make us cum. My hands took hold of her luscious ass cheeks, pulling them open and closed. Her hands on my ass guided the speed and the power of my thrusts. The loud slapping of our pelvises became the percussion behind our duet of grunts. Pulling her as tight as possible against me, I exploded inside her, the explosion sending tingles throughout my body. We created a frieze, a frozen image of pure sexual bliss. She exploded too.