A Reluctant Voyeur
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2014 by Levi Charon

ESP Sex Story: Chapter 2 - 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.

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

August 2, 2014, 6:50 PM:

My 'talent' seems to be evolving. I'm able now to hold back something when I'm in someone's mind. By that, I mean I'm not entirely absorbed into whatever they're doing, like before. I can still experience what they're experiencing, but at the same time, I feel like a part of me is watching from outside. Believe me, it's a very strange feeling, being split like that. This evening's experience is a good example.

Before I went hunting, I ate a handful of nuts to take the edge off my hunger, showered and dressed in my 'soft' clothes. I poured a snifter of Hennessy XO and took a couple of sips. I had nothing or no one in particular in mind when I pushed the start button on the remote. I hoped to just drift around and see what or who was available.

Almost immediately, I perceived some very intense emotion announced by a brilliant, cobalt blue aura, but it didn't feel like anger or sex; it was more like a rapturous feeling. The moment I identified and then slipped into the mind, I was immersed in the most incredible music! I was sitting at a baby grand piano and I was in the middle of the third movement of Rachmaninoff's cello sonata. I could actually feel the impact of the piano keys on my fingertips as they flew over the keyboard, and the pressure of the pedals on my right foot. Unlike my own personal experiences with pianos, there was no wondering which note to hit next; only how the combinations of all the notes was sounding, how it all flowed, how it complemented the cello playing six feet away.

The cellist was my fiancé. We'd been working on the piece for weeks along with a Beethoven cello sonata, and I felt we were ready to perform them in public. We were going to do a recital at D.U. in a week and we hoped it would be the jumping off point for several more appearances. Sam (Samantha) already had an on-call position with the Denver Symphony Orchestra, but I was still competing for a slot on the concert tour. I had a competition coming up in two months and I thought I had an excellent chance of winning it. That win would come with a recording contract so I was working my ass off every single day, seven or eight hours a day.

The cello sonata we were working on, especially the third movement is mournful and plaintive in a way only Rachmaninoff can do mournful and plaintive. My part, the piano, has to be powerful and commanding in places, but with an exquisitely sensitive touch to allow the cello a full, unencumbered voice. My beautiful future wife was carrying her part off to perfection.

When the movement came to an end, I put my hands in my lap and asked, "What do you think, Sam? I thought that sounded pretty damn good, didn't you?"

She grinned, laid her cello on it's side and came to sit in my lap, putting her arms around my neck and kissing me on the nose. "I think we're about ready, Will. Maybe we could draw it out just a bit so I can show off a little more. You've got the piano nailed, though! How's the Saint-Saëns coming along?"

"Good, Babe, really good! You inspire me. I'm gonna blow 'em away at the competition." I tilted my head up and kissed her lips.

She wiggled her butt on the boner she was causing and giggled, "I can feel your inspiration growing in your pants. Is that gonna be for me if I'm a good girl today?"

I slid my hand under her sweater and up her belly to gave her tit a quick squeeze and promised, "It's never for anyone but you. But maybe we should go over this movement once more to get it just the way you want it. My boner will keep."

She laughed and said, "You know, I'm pretty sure there'll come a time in your life when wasting a good erection will be an unpardonable sin. Rachmaninoff is long dead, so we know he'll keep. I vote for using that erection!"

"Then get yourself out of those jeans and let's put it to work, you horny little vixen!"

She stood up to drop her jeans and panties, smiling wickedly over her shoulder as she turned her butt toward me and pushed them slowly down her long legs. I wasted no time shedding my own jeans and boxers and sitting back down on the piano bench. She got the idea right away. She got down on her knees in front of me and grabbed my hard dick to give it a few tugs before sliding he warm mouth over the head and taking about half of me to the back of her throat. At the same time, she slid two fingers behind my balls and rubbed gently. Sam knew every single one of my buttons as well as how and when to push them.

About the time I felt my excitement rising toward a gusher, she sensed it and pulled her mouth off. She stood, put her hands on my shoulders and straddled my hip, easing her wet pussy down over my cock and sinking all the way down until her ass rested in my lap and my cock pressed against her womb. We loved making love like this because, with just a little twitch of her butt now and then, she could keep us going forever.

I pulled her sweater over her head and began sucking on one nipple, then the other while she squeezed my dick rhythmically with her vaginal muscles. She could play me every bit as well as she played the cello. Still sucking on her boob, I scooted the piano bench forward, reached past her to the keyboard and started playing an impromptu version of "Bolero".

She laughed and began to slide up and down my stiff cock in rhythm with the pulsing, driving, sensual beat of the music. In short order, I felt myself getting close, so I picked up the tempo and began clinching my butt muscles to push my dick up into her just a little deeper. I guess she was ready, too, because, as the music was reaching it's climax, so was she. With the last few chords, she hugged my head to her chest and trembled as an orgasm overtook her. We were both lucky in that she could reach orgasm easily and quickly. I took the opportunity to fire a load into her belly and bring my improvisation to a close.

"Woman," I panted, "you do know how to bring out the music in me!"

Gradually, I wilted and slipped out of her. She kissed me hard and stood to go to bathroom for a warm, damp washcloth to clean us up. It was time to get back to rehearsal.

That's when I tugged the thread and returned to my own world. I needed to do a little cleaning up on my own. I don't know if it's just coincidence or if I have an unnatural talent for finding people in the act of doing it or getting ready to do it. Not that I'm complaining!

Comments:

I like the idea of a little separation between me and the subject's mind, giving me the sense that's I'm the voyeur I intend to be rather than a reluctant captive. It's definitely a good thing that each visit is self-limiting; like fifteen minutes, max.

I visited four more minds during the month of August, some of them people I recognized from the apartment building, some total strangers. Nobody was doing anything worth describing in detail, just normal people going about their normal daily activities.

I still struggle with ethical concerns, questioning my own sense of morality but unable to resist the temptation to poke around. So far, it's all been harmless, but there's no guarantee it will stay that way. I can't imagine that what I'm doing is damaging in any way, but how can I be sure? Maybe there's some tiny bit of residual 'me' left behind that causes them some tiny level of discomfort.

I don't know. I feel like I need to resolve these issues soon.


September 5, 2014, 8:40 PM:

It's late evening on a Friday. I haven't peeped into anybody's mind for several days, now. I'm just as curious as ever, but it's all weighing heavily on my conscience, and that puts me on the horns of a dilemma. The mere fact that I possess such a unique ability pretty much demands that it be explored and tested to see how far it can be carried. On the other hand, so far, my subjects haven't had any choice in the matter and that's flat unethical. There's no way to avoid that conclusion.

So I've decided to do two things tonight, if I can. I'm going to make contact with Carol Alton, if she's home, and I'm going to try to make her aware of my presence in her mind. If I can do that, then I'm going to knock on her door and ask her to help me prove to myself that I'm not nuts.

I plugged in the iPod, got comfortable and went exploring.

She was home. It wasn't hard to spot her lavender aura in the swirls running through my brain. When I slid into her mind, she was sitting on the couch, legs folded up under her. She was wearing a blue terrycloth robe and and sipping on a glass of wine. Something not especially interesting was on the tube; a sit-com with an entirely predictable plot.

I'm using the she and I persons here because it's my intention to maintain as much separation as I can between her mind and mine, like I did with the pianist, but more so, if I can manage it. Nevertheless, I feel her mood (bored), and I can taste the wine (chablis).

I have no idea how I'm going to carry this off, so I just try to focus on her color and say in my mind, Hello!

Nothing

Hello Carol, with more concentration.

I sensed a little stirring, so I repeated, Carol Alton?

She turned off the TV with the remote and looked around, like she'd heard something. Maybe this wasn't going to be so tough, after all.

I tried a question. Carol, do you hear me?

She set her wine glass on the coffee table and stood up, looking around in confusion. It was time to make myself known. I focused my mind very hard on the message. Carol, in a couple of minutes, I'm going to knock on your door. Please don't be afraid. You're in no danger.

She looked at the door. She was definitely receiving the message. It was now or never.

I tugged on the thread and slipped from her mind, then I left my apartment and walked down the hallway to her door. I'd be extremely lucky if she didn't call the cops, or worse, meet me with a carving knife in her hand.

When I knocked, she sounded a little frightened when she asked, "Who is it?"

I leaned my head against her door and tried to modulate my voice so that I wouldn't be shouting, causing any neighbors to take notice. "Mrs. Alton, my name is Chuck Duncan. I live three doors down the hall. I wonder if I could talk to you about something."

She didn't open the door, but then, I didn't really expect her to. After a few seconds, "About what?"

"OK, this is gonna sound a little crazy, but it's about something you might have heard a couple of minutes ago; a voice that said he was going to knock on your door."

I heard her moving on the other side of the door, presumably peeking through the eye-hole. "Stand back from the door, Mr. Duncan, so I can see you."

I did as she asked.

"I recognize you, Mr. Duncan, but you're right; this is sounding a little crazy. I, uh, don't feel comfortable opening the door. What, specifically do you want to talk to me about?"

Shit! I thought, How do I say this and still sound like a sane man?

"I completely understand your concerns, Mrs. Alton. It's going to take some time to explain it all. If you don't want to talk now, maybe we could meet some place public where you'd feel safe. Um, would you be willing to meet me for breakfast at White's over on Colfax, say about nine in the morning? My treat."

To my surprise, I heard her laughing on the other side of the door. Then she said, "I have to say, Chuck, if I may call you that, if this is how you go about asking a girl for a date, it's the strangest pickup line I've ever run across. Tell me how you know anything about what I may or may not have heard a couple of minutes ago."

There was no way to go but forward. "It was me speaking to you, Carol. Or rather, it was my mind speaking to your mind. OK, I'm sure you're thinking I've completely lost it, but I swear it's true. If you want, I can describe exactly how you're dressed and what you were watching on your TV. I can tell you about the day you split up with Ron. I can recite your argument with him word for word. I know that's a painful memory and I don't want to make you relive it, but I want you to know that I'm telling you the truth about this, as crazy as it sounds."

Silence for several seconds. Then, "Give me a couple of minutes."

I waited three or four minutes until I heard the chain and the deadbolt unlatch.

"OK, Chuck, you can come in now."

I opened the door slowly and poked my head through. She'd put on some jeans and a light sweater and was sitting in the wingback chair. There was a small pistol lying on the table next to her hand. That was no surprise, it was smart.

She saw me looking at the pistol and said, "You have to admit your story's a little strange, Chuck. I'm sure you can understand my taking some precautions."

I stepped in the door and closed it behind me. "Of course. You'd be foolish not to. I apologize for springing this on you out of the blue but I couldn't think of any way to do it but to just do it."

"You've certainly got my interest. Have a seat on the couch there, Chuck, and explain this mind to mind communication you say you're able to carry off. Feel free to pour yourself a glass of wine, if you want."

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. It's gonna be hard enough to explain this without doping my brain with alcohol."

"Yeah, I should think!"

"This, um, ability is still pretty new to me, Carol. Can you tell me what it was like when I spoke in your mind? I mean, did you actually hear a voice or was it something different?"

Her brow wrinkled as she thought about it. "I guess I didn't really hear a voice. It was more like I thought it or read it, like reading dialogue in a book." Then she pointed her finger at me and added, "This doesn't mean I'm buying your story, Chuck. For all I know, you might have employed some kind of electronic device to cause that. You say this is new to you. Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what you think is going on."

I looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and began. "Do you know what a singing bowl is?"

She sat patiently listening to me for the half hour it took to get my story out. She never interrupted or said anything except for when I described her getting punched by Ron. Her hand reflexively went to her face as she said, "Jesus!"

She giggled and blushed when I told her about Dannie and Kevin.

When I finished, she sat silently sipping on her wine for at least a full minute before asking. "So, you're sure it's the singing bowls that's initiating this thing.?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. I've tried it with other kinds of music but it doesn't work. I've tried it with no sounds at all and it doesn't work."

"Have you tried it with a different singing bowls album?"

"Um, no, that never occurred to me, but it's a good idea. I suppose it could be something specific to this particular recording. I'll download a different one when I go back to my apartment and give it a shot."

She took another sip of wine. "And you've never communicated directly with any of the other people you've, uh, visited."

"No. Well, the creep who does the kiddie porn. But that wasn't like what I did with you earlier. It was more like his mind and mine were struggling for control. I honestly can't say whether or not he actually sensed me as a separate entity at all."

She got up and walked around the room, thinking about my story and wound up standing behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders and asked, "Tell me what you want from me, Chuck."

I had to organize my response to her question for a few seconds. "Well, I guess I need someone to verify that I'm not a nut case, to show me that I'm not hallucinating this whole crazy story. After that, I don't know. Maybe help me experiment with it to see what it can do; you know, like define it's limits, hone my skills. I guess I'd feel better if somebody else could learn to do it. You interested in trying?"

She laughed and went back to her chair. "I can't deny it'd be kind of a kick to be able to do that, but it's a scary thought."

"Tell me about it!"

She took a deep breath and came to a decision. "Tell you what, Chuck, I'll give it some thought and let you know tomorrow what I think about all this. In the mean time, if you feel compelled to peek in on my personal life, I'd prefer it if you announced yourself first. I can't get over the feeling of being violated. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

I stood to go. "I can appreciated that, Carol, and I apologize for the intrusions. I can control it well enough now that it's unlikely that I'll arrive in your mind accidentally like I did the first time."

I opened the door to leave but stopped to ask, "Would you do me the favor of not talking to anybody else about this?"

She nodded, "For the time being, it's just between the two of us. By the way, is that invitation to breakfast still open?"

————————

The first thing I did when I got home was to go online to the Apple Store and download a different singing bowl album. Then I plugged my iPod into the dock and got comfortable, thinking about who I wanted to visit before I started. Certainly not Carol. I decided on Kevin, going back on the promise I'd made to myself after our last encounter.

I leaned back, closed my eyes and pushed the start on the remote. Familiar sounds but different. They were just as pleasant, just as relaxing, just as peace-inducing. But they didn't do it. I drifted through the entire album just above the level of sleep but never detected a single mind. I could visualize the swirling colors but I couldn't tie them to any consciousness.

So, Carol's suggestion taught me something else. Everything was coming from the first album. That made my two copies, the one on the iPod and the one on my MacBook all that much more precious. As an afterthought, I went back online to Amazon and ordered a CD of the first album. I had to know if anything would be different if it were played on a different device or if there might have been something strange in the download.

Something else occurred to me. I got my Bose headset with noise attenuation out of its case and plugged my iPod into it. I lay back in the recliner and started the original album. The Bose headset blocks out almost all outside noises, so the sounds on the album were particularly clean and pure. Almost immediately, I was seeing colors and touching several minds. I let myself into Kevin's world just long enough to see that he was reading, then left.

So it was something about this album and only this album. I had to wonder if it was at a particular point on the album when my brain was stimulated to do its thing. I'd need someone's help to figure that out.

My next experiment would be to get Carol to listen to it and see if it affected her brain the same way it affected mine. Intuition told me it wouldn't.


September 6, 2014:

At 9AM sharp, I knocked on Carol's door. She answered almost immediately, wearing designer jeans and a nice, summery, pale yellow sleeveless top that displayed just a hint of cleavage.

I didn't have any idea what her maiden name was, but her beautiful olive skin and her facial features suggested she was Hispanic. I asked, "Estás lista para el desayuno?"

"Sí, tengo hambre. Tu español es muy bueno."

We both laughed and I took that as a good beginning. "Is White's OK with you?"

"Yes, they make great omelets."

As we waited for the elevator, I asked, "Shall we walk? It's only a few blocks and it looks like a nice day."

"Yes, let's."

The temperature was already in the low 70's as we walked north on Franklin toward Colfax. Denver being a mile high, the thin air allows for rapid warming in the mornings and rapid cooling when the sun sets behind the Rockies.

Carol was wearing low heels that clicked sharply on the sidewalk. She's tall, around five-ten, and she has a long stride for a woman, purposeful. I felt a powerful attraction to her and I found myself hoping the mind-meld thing wasn't going to be too weird for her to think of me as anything but an oddity. Of course, we needed to talk about it, but I didn't want to approach the subject too quickly, so I tried to keep the conversation aimed in her direction.

"So, is Carol your given name or is it short for something else?"

"Good guess on your part. Carol is what I always go by because I'm not all that fond of my given name. It's Carlita."

"You don't like it? I think it's kind of charming."

"Yeah, well, in Spanish, it means manly, but you probably already knew that. I don't find it the least bit flattering. I'll stick with Carol, if you don't mind."

"I didn't know that because my Spanish isn't really all that good. I was just trying to impress you."

She glanced over and caught my eye. "So you think I'm worth impressing?"

"I do."

At the restaurant, we were shown to a booth with a view of the traffic on Colfax, one of Denver's main drags. The waitress poured coffee for both of us and took our orders.

As soon as she walked away, Carol jumped right into the main topic. "So, did you learn any more about your 'gift' last night?"

"I did. It seems that, whatever sounds are affecting my brain, they're only on that one album. I don't know if it's the entire album or just a piece of it. I also learned I can enhance it a little by using my Bose headset with noise attenuation. It seems to make the sounds cleaner. Since you brought up the subject, I wonder if you've given any more thought to trying it. I could bring over the head set and my iPod."

She put her elbows on the table, folded her hands together and rested her chin on her knuckles. "Hmm, like I said last night, it's an interesting idea. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to experiment though, especially if you think it's doing something to your brain."

"Yeah, I see your point. But I haven't suffered any negative results that I'm aware of. I don't believe I've lost any IQ points or anything. The only carry-over from my visits seems to be that I feel the subject's emotions for a while."

"Subjects? Is that how you think of us?"

I had to chuckle. "Sorry, Carol, I guess that was an unfortunate choice of words. I'm just trying to look at it analytically."

"I'm not insulted." She reached across the table and patted my hand. "OK, I'll give it a try when we get back home. But I don't know whether I want it to work or not. The idea of being privy to another persons thoughts is a little scary."

"Exactly! My first experience was incredibly hot, as you might imagine, but the second one, your split with Ron, left me kind of stunned. By the way, I'm sorry for what happened to him. That must have been very painful for you."

She looked a little perplexed. "You know about that? It wasn't even on the news, as far as I know."

I was caught out. I hadn't told her about all my visits, and that was one I'd left out intentionally because grief is so personal. "Um, yeah, I was there in your mind when the police officers brought you the bad news. Sorry."

She sighed, "I wish you'd been there in person. I could have used some company that night. I wound up drinking half a bottle of scotch and felt like I was going to die all the next day."

I laughed. "Yeah, Glenlivet. At least you chose to do it with excellent hooch." Then, more seriously, "Fact is, Carol, I wanted to rush right down the hall to offer whatever comfort I could, but there was just no way I'd have been able to explain how I knew what I knew."

"Yes, I see your point." She reached over and patted my hand again. "Thanks for thinking of me."

Breakfast arrived and the conversation shifted to other things as we ate. I told her a little about my job as a CFO. And since I was privy to her dramatic marital breakup, I felt sort of obligated to give her a brief picture of mine. She said she'd seen me in the lobby with my kids way back in June and thought they were cute.

Her late husband, Ron, was a personal injury attorney before suffering his own personal injury. He may have been a crappy husband, but he had a very large life insurance polity, and he hadn't gotten around to removing her as beneficiary before he was killed. She didn't reveal how large the check was, but I had the impression it was seven digits.

In spite of her windfall, Carol didn't lead a life of idle luxury. She was a certified DBM (data base manager) and did a lot of her work from her home computer.

She hadn't dated anyone since her husband's death. I wondered if I might change that.


Back at my apartment, I made us some herbal tea while she used my bathroom to unload some of coffee we drank at the restaurant. She walked back into the living room and asked, "OK, so how do I do this thing?"

"Simple enough, I guess. Just get comfortable in the recliner, there. I've already brought up the right album on the iPod, so all you have to do is put on the head set, plug in and push the start button. The thing is, it didn't happen to me the first time I listened to the album. In fact, it doesn't happen every time I listen to it. I guess the more it happens, the more often it happens; like my mind is becoming increasingly sensitive to the stimulus, whatever it is. You may need to listen to it several times over a period of a few days to determine if it has any effect on you."

"I see. Well, let's give it a shot and see what happens."

She got comfortable and listened to the entire album with her eyes closed. I waited outside on the balcony so my moving around wouldn't be a distraction. When she took off the head set and handed it back to me an hour later, she said, "Nothing odd happened. You're right, though, about the sounds being incredibly relaxing and peaceful. I'm definitely going to download it onto my own iPod."

I'd been thinking of something as she was listening to the album. "Uh, Carol, do you have time to do one more experiment?"

"Sure. What are you thinking."

"I'm not sure it'll work. I'd like you to mark the time it takes me to get into your mind after I start the album. What I want to do is try to pinpoint where on the album I'm most receptive to mental signals. I'm wondering if there's a particular sound that does it or if it's the sound of the crystal bowls in general."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So you're gonna start listening and then jump into my mind as soon as you can. How will I know you're there?"

"I'll mentally call out your name, like I did last night. Unless that was just some anomaly, you should pick it up right away."

"OK. Do you have a stopwatch or something?"

"I do. I used to time my daughter in the pool when she was on a swim team."

I found the stopwatch in a desk drawer and explained the set, reset and start/stop buttons. Then I pushed back in the recliner, put on the head set and got ready. The moment I pushed the start button on the iPod, she did the same on the stopwatch. I closed my eye and let the colors flow.

I don't know how long it actually took, but it seemed like no time before her particular shade of lavender swam into my mental view. I easily slid into her mind and announced myself. Carol?

Very much to my surprise, I got back an answer. I'm here, Chuck. Are you hearing me?

Loud and clear, Carol! I wasn't expecting this.

Me neither.

Did you push the button on the stop watch?

Yes, I did.

OK, I'm leaving now.

I slid out of her mind, opened my eyes and turned off the iPod. She was standing in front of me with wide eyes. I must have looked just as surprised.

She laughed and said, "Well, that was just pretty damned amazing, Chuck! Why haven't I been aware of you in my mind before last night?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. I suppose it's because I wasn't focused on saying or thinking anything. I was just along for the ride. So I guess once I've made contact, it's a two-way thing, if I want it to be."

Then I wondered, "Um, when we were, uh, exchanging thoughts, could you get any sense of me beyond the words? Maybe see the room through my eyes? I ask because I felt like I was inside you and I could see through your eyes; I could see myself sitting here in the recliner."

"No, nothing. I just sensed your words and thought my responses. If I hadn't known it was you, I wouldn't have had a clue."

"OK, so we can communicate once I initiate contact, but you can't occupy my mind like I do yours. Interesting."

"Yeah, and unfair!" She blushed and added, "I liked that part about you feeling like you were inside me."

Then I blushed. "You know what I mean. What was the time on the stopwatch?"

"Looks like two minutes and four seconds."

I took off the head set, slipped the iPod into the dock and turned on my sound system. I turned to Carol and said, "Let me know when it's close to two minutes."

I started the album and we listened standing next to each other as the time approached one minute and fifty seconds. I hadn't heard anything strange. At one minute and fifty-nine seconds, there was a point where three singing bowls were struck in rapid succession, producing an interesting effect. The reverberation or vibrato from the three bowls kind of clashed together, causing about five seconds of a pulsing dissonance. At the same time, I felt a moment or two or disorientation and some slight dizziness.

That had to be it! I turned to Carol and asked, "Did you hear that strong pulsing?"

"Well, I heard what sounded like three or four different sounds kind of bumping into each other, if that's what you mean?"

"Yeah, that was it! Did it make you feel anything?"

"Mmm, no, not really. It wasn't as peaceful or pleasant, but it didn't make me feel anything other than that they could have left that out of the album because it's a momentary distraction from the mood. I guess if you're not listening too closely, it passes by unnoticed."

I nodded my agreement and said, "Let me try something." I turned the volume all the way down on the sound system and restarted the album. When it got to one minute and fifty seconds on the stopwatch, I pressed 'pause'. Then I turned up the volume and sat in my recliner.

"OK, Carol, I want you to listen to that part with me and see if that's when I make contact."

She nodded her head.

I closed my eyes and pushed 'start'. In just a few seconds, her color flashed and I slid into her mind. Carol?

Here!

I think we've pinned it down.

I think you're right!

I tugged the thread and opened my eyes.

She was smiling as she praised, "Good work, Detective Duncan! Now that you know what's kicking it off, what do you plan to do about it?"

I shrugged and said, "I really don't have any idea."

She looked at her watch. "Well, this is all very fascinating and I hope you'll keep me updated on your progress, but I have data bases to manage today, so I'd better scoot down the hall and fire up the computer."

"On a Saturday?"

"Weekends mean nothing to me. The reason my boss lets me work from home is because I've never disappointed her. As far as your ESP thing is concerned, maybe this is the place where you should think about contacting a professional of some sort, although I wouldn't have any idea what kind."

"No, I'm not ready for that yet. Let's just keep it between us for the time being, OK?"

"If that's what you want. Um, would you like to come over for dinner tonight. Maybe we can talk about it and come up with some ideas."

"Sure! It's very kind of you to ask. What time?"

"Say around seven or so."

"See you then."


September 6, 2014, early afternoon:

I stood at my living room window looking out over Cheeseman Park and thinking about what we'd learned. Since Carol had experienced it too, neither of us could doubt that it was really happening. That made me feel some relief on a couple of levels; that I wasn't hallucinating any of it, and that she might be receptive to my getting much closer to her since she knew I wasn't a space case. She'd already dropped a couple of hints that she might be.

The more time I spent with her, the more I wondered what Ron could have been thinking of to abandon her. As far as I could see, she was a class act all the way. But then, I really hadn't spent much time with her at all, had I? You really don't know a person until you've lived with them, I suppose. Then again, having been inside her mind, maybe I already knew her better than Ron ever had.

Thinking about the morning's events had me feeling restless, so I decided to go for a run in the park. I put on my gear and grabbed my iPod and the ear buds. But then I thought I might do a little casual mind mining, so I took the Bose headset instead. Yes, I knew I shouldn't, and yes, I intended to do it anyway. I wondered if that's how it was with all addicts; you know all the reasons why you shouldn't do something, but you can't help yourself.

I ran four laps around the perimeter of the park which added up to a little under five miles, by my reckoning. During the run, I listened to some soft rock on the iPod, but when I parked my butt on the steps by the sundial to rest and cool down, I brought up the singing bowls. I leaned against the stone wall to soak up the warm sun, closed my eyes and pushed the start button. I listened to the beautiful sounds and saw the colors swirl in my mind. Very quickly, there were lots of accessible minds. I allowed myself to touch several without dropping in, just skimming the surface to feel the mood, then moving on.

Then I touched one that felt familiar and zeroed in on it. Dave, my gay neighbor. He was parked in his bright red, beautifully restored '76 T-top Stingray, parked on the road that circled the inside of the park. If you're looking to attract attention, that's the car to be seen in. He was alone and he was cruising. Nothing surprising there because Cheeseman Park is known for being a popular gay rendezvous area. He watched as cars drove slowly by, the drivers checking him out as he checked them out. So far, nobody really got him excited. There were plenty of guys looking for a quick blowjob but he had a whole afternoon to kill and thought he'd like something a little more involved.

After a few minutes of sensing Dave doing his thing, it dawned on me that I was definitely maintaining some separation from his mind like I had with Carol and the pianist earlier. I could see what was going on, but I didn't feel like I was a part of it like before. I was pretty sure I could communicate directly with him if I wanted to, but that didn't seem like a good idea, under the circumstances.

A guy rode by on his bike dressed in royal blue and bright yellow spandex. He looked pointedly at Dave and flashed a quick smile before riding on. Young, maybe eighteen or twenty. Definitely a possibility. Dave watched the kid ride about fifty yards and turn around to come back his way. You were't supposed to do that because the traffic inside the park is one-way. He rode by and smiled again. He was interested. Dave watched in his sideview mirror as the guy rode a few yards and turned again. As he headed back, Dave put out his arm to flag him down. He stopped right beside the car and said, "You live close by?"

I tugged the thread. I didn't need to know any more. It was interesting, though, how there seems to be instant recognition between interested parties, like they have some kind of covert signal (gaydar?) or something that facilitates mutual identification.

OK, so now I've moved my nosiness outside the apartment building. As I walked back home, I was seriously giving thought to not only contacting minds and spying on them, but interacting with them, now that I knew I could do that. Talk about your perilous paths! Somehow, I didn't think Carol would approve.

Something else I learned: On my way back to the apartment building, I walked by Dave's car and the guy on the bike, still talking to each other. I looked away and continued on. What was surprising to me was that Dave's car was probably a third of a mile from where I was sitting by the sundial. That was a helluva lot more range than I'd believed was possible.


September 6, 2014, 3:15 PM

Since Carol is now in on my little secret, I'll be including a lot more of my personal interaction with her in this journal. I'll begin with what happened after I got home from my run.

I jumped into the shower to steam the fatigue out of my legs. I have a routine I use because it seems to leave me relaxed and very refreshed after any vigorous exercise. I start with really hot water to relax my muscles for about five minutes, then tepid for a couple more, finishing up with cool water to get me stimulated again. I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, opened a beer, then grabbed my iPad to scan the day's headlines.

I plopped into the recliner and took a sip, leaned back and closed my eyes for a moment. I was going over what Carol and I had learned about my 'condition'. As I lay there thinking, I imagined that dissonant, pulsing sound of the clashing bells in that one particular segment of the album, replaying it over and over in my mind. Before I knew what was happening, colors were swirling and I was sensing minds! I tugged the thread and returned right away. Shit! I didn't have to actually hear the sound, I could just imagine it!

Or maybe that was just a quirk. I tried to imagine the sound again. It was hard to come down from my excitement, but a few deep breaths took the edge off. I closed my eyes again and heard it clearly in my memory ... And there I was, colors and all! I let myself drift and brush against several minds before identifying Carol's. I had to let her know.

Carol?

Several seconds later, Chuck? Are you messing around in my mind again?

New development!

What development?

I'll tell you at dinner. What kind of wine should I bring?

We're having broiled salmon. White and dry.

Seeya!

Seeya!

I'll be damned, I thought, I'm mobile, now!


Comments:

Well, this put a whole new shine on everything. Because of some peculiar arrangement of neurons in my brain, I was now able to read other people's minds at will. I'd read it in books of fiction and seen it in movies, but now it was a reality! And scary as all hell!

I laid my iPad on the table beside me and began pacing the room, trying to get a handle on the astounding implications of it all. When I awoke this morning, my access to minds was still limited to a confined area and a finite number of people. Now, it had expanded exponentially, not just in physical range, but in the fact that I no longer needed the actual recording to jump start it. Holy fuck!

One thing I realized right away; depending on how I used it, it could serve me well or it could ruin me! If word ever got out about what I could do, nobody would ever be comfortable around me again. And if anyone were injured in any way by my probing their brain, I'd be ostracized, a pariah.

And what about Carol? How did she feel about it? Did it frighten her? I'd just dropped in on her unannounced. How did she feel about that? She had to know that her most personal secrets were vulnerable. At any time! How the hell would she be able to bell that cat?

Realization hung over me like a sword of Damocles. Like it or not, I'd just assumed an enormous responsibility and I was going to need a lot of help to deal with it. I hoped to hell Carol would be willing to be by my side on this.


I rang her bell at seven sharp, carrying a chilled bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé; not terribly expensive, but plenty good enough to impress her. We had a lot to talk about and I definitely wanted us to get off on the right foot. She was wearing black slacks and a lavender top, almost the exact same color as her 'aura'. As I stepped in the door, I caught a whiff of a very pleasant perfume. She looked beautiful.

I handed her the bottle and said, "Hope you like it."

She looked at the label and raised her eyebrows. "Wow! Very nice, Chuck! I love this stuff."

She took the wine and kissed me on the cheek. Then she took my arm and said, "Come on into the kitchen. You can help with the salad while I get everything else ready."

I saw the thick salmon steaks on a wooden cutting board. "I love salmon. Is that tarragon you've sprinkled over it?"

"It is. That and a little butter and salt is all you need to bring out the perfect flavor. We're also having twice-baked potatoes. I hope you're hungry."

"No problem there. May I say you're looking lovely tonight? And that's a very nice perfume."

"You may, and thank you." She took the potatoes out of the oven, turned on the broiler and slid the salmon steaks in. Then she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "So, I seem to recall something popping into my head about a new development. What's that about?"

"Um, could we hold that thought for a while? It's getting to be pretty serious stuff and and I'd like to enjoy your nice dinner before jumping into such weighty matters."

"Ooo! Sounds interesting! Fine, we'll do it your way. Why don't you finish cutting up the salad stuff and crumble a little feta over the top."

"Got it."

She chatted away animatedly all through dinner. The first two encounters; when she was angry and then aggrieved, had masked her true self. Carol is a delightful woman with a sharp wit and a bright, insightful mind. I was feeling more and more enamored by the minute.

Dinner was terrific, the salmon done to perfection. I helped her clear the table and load the dishwasher, then we carried our wine glasses and the the remainder of the bottle into the living room. She sat on the couch and I started to sit in the wingback chair when she grabbed my arm and pulled me down beside her, saying, "If we're going to talk about scary stuff, I want you to be close. Besides, I'm starting to like you a lot."

I felt myself grinning from ear to ear. "You know what? That just makes my day because I like you a lot, too."

She turned to face me. "Why don't you kiss me and show me just how much?"

I didn't need a second invitation. I slid my hand around the back of her neck and leaned in to meet her lips. It wasn't at all sloppy or wet; just a very soft, sensual kiss with only a gentle meeting of the tips of our tongues. We held it for several seconds as I inhaled her sexy perfume. When we broke and leaned back, she opened her eyes and sighed, "That was lovely, Chuck. I could tell right away you were a gentle man."

"And you're a lovely, sexy woman. Do you know I've been wanting to kiss you for months now?"

She laughed, "But we only met yesterday."

"You met me yesterday. I met you months ago."

She nodded her understanding. "So you did. Do you really think I'm sexy?"

"Oh, yeah! You have a sexy face, a sexy mind and a sexy body. A very nice package all around."

She laughed again, "How do you know if I have a sexy body? This might be all padding and corsets, for all you know."

"Uh, nope! I've seen your body and I think it's gorgeous!"

She sat back and brought her hand up to her breast in surprise. "When did you see my body?"

I knew right away, I'd said too much. This wasn't a subject to be flippant about. I took her hand in mine and explained, "I'm sorry, Carol. I shouldn't have joked about something like that. It was after the police officers left and you went into the bathroom to take a shower. You were looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking about how one-sided your marriage had been. I could see your image through your eyes. But I wasn't spying on you like a peeping tom! I was in your mind feeling your anger and sorrow, but I certainly didn't expect it to be that visual."

She stood up and looked down at me. "You know, Chuck, if you don't mind, I think I need to give this more thought. Maybe it's best if we call it an evening."

I'd hurt her and I knew I deserved her anger. I stood and walked toward the door, saying over my shoulder, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Carol. Thank you for a very nice dinner."

As I unlocked the door to my apartment, she leaned out her door and said, "Chuck, come back here! Please?"

I locked my door again and hurried down the hall and into her arms. She kissed me on the neck and dragged me inside. She pulled me by the hand toward the hallway and her bedroom, saying, "You've seen my body and now I want to see yours. That's only fair, isn't it?"

The instant we stepped into her bedroom, we were pulling at each other's clothes. We couldn't get naked fast enough! I stopped for a moment to take in her exquisite form; slim, statuesque, lovely full breasts, flawless skin, neatly trimmed bush. I took her shoulders in my hands and guided her backward to her bed. As she sat on the edge, I dropped to my knees between her legs and took a breast into my mouth, sucking and licking her nipple while my hands slid up and down the silky skin of her back. She combed her fingers through my hair, groaning softly, "God, I've needed this for so long! Make love to me, Chuck. Make me feel like a woman again!"

She leaned back on her elbows to watch as I licked my way down to her navel, leaving a wet trail around it before descending further to nuzzle her bush with my nose and slide my tongue over her button. She jerked and clamped my head between her legs to hold me there.

I slid my hands under her butt and lifted to give myself easier access to her slippery, swollen labia. I licked and sucked on her nether lips, inhaling her heady aroma. I hadn't touched my dick but I could already feel ooze sliding down the underside of my shaft. But I wan't going to enter her until I'd given her an orgasm. I licked and sucked aggressively as I slid two fingers into her vagina to rub the front wall, seeking her G-spot.

I found it! She held onto my head as she humped my fingers, gasping every time I pressed my lips to her clit and flicked it with the tip of my tongue.

She panted, "My god, don't ever stop! I haven't felt anything this good in years!"

As she writhed on the bed, I had a wicked thought. I slowed down and began licking very gently up and down her labia, barely touching them with the tip of my tongue. In my mind, I imagined the 'sound' and slid into her mind. At first, I was almost overcome with the intensity of her passion, but then I could feel her needs. Whatever she wanted, I wanted too. My index finger was already slick with her juices, so when I gently pressed it to her anus, it began to slide in easily. Her sphincter clamped down hard on it for a moment, then relaxed to allow more penetration.

She nearly screamed, "Oh, yes, Chuck! Fuck me with your finger. Lick my pussy like you mean it!" She humped harder and harder onto my finger and into my face until, at last, a groan of pure ecstasy erupted from her throat and she trembled violently through the first man-induced orgasm she'd experienced in years. I felt her passion surge through my own body and couldn't stop my own ejaculation, shooting globs of semen all over her duvet and carpet.

I tugged the thread and slipped from her mind as the throes of passion slowly subsided. Carol flopped back onto the bed and I crawled up to lie beside her, gently rubbing her belly and her breasts.

She turned her head and locked onto my eyes. "I felt you in my mind, Chuck. I thought you had to be listening to the singing bowls to do that."

"That's what I was going to tell you. I can do it by just imagining the sound. I just discovered that this afternoon."

"Well, that was just absolutely wonderful, what your did. You could become the world's greatest lover if you could get inside a woman's mind and learn exactly what she wanted. Of course, I'd rather keep you for myself."

"I'm not planning to go anywhere."

"That's good news. Give me a couple of minutes to recover, then I want to feel you inside me."

I grinned and admitted, "Your orgasm made me shoot my load all over your carpet. I'll need a few minutes before I'm able to get inside you."

She laughed, "Maybe I can help." She sat up, leaned over and took my still semi-hard cock into her mouth. She licked and sucked with a singleminded intent to get me ready. I lay back and closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling of her tongue slipping and sliding around the head of my cock and her hand gently massaging my balls.

In a surprisingly short time, I was turgid and ready. She didn't waste a moment of it, throwing her leg across my belly and guiding me into her depths. It was a nice fit. Every time she slammed her ass down, I felt my dick push hard against her cervix. She rode me like there was no tomorrow; grinding her pussy around to mash her clit against the base of my cock, moving her ass in circles to make my dick do the same inside her.

We pushed hard against each other, our eyes locked, her hands grasping my shoulders, my hands rubbing and pinching her nipples. It couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes. In no time, we were in a mad rush to the end, grunting, gasping, calling out each other's name. She fell forward, circling her arms around my neck as I hugged her hard against my body and drove my dick into her even harder.

I came first and she was right behind! I don't believe I've ever experience such an intense orgasm in my life, not even with my ex. My cock just kept spasming long after every last drop had been expelled. Her vaginal muscles squeezed and squeezed, trying to suck out even more.

When we were recovered, lying side by side and holding hands, I heard a sob and turned my head to see a tear running down the side of her face. I felt a moment of concern. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

She smiled through her tears and answered, "No, no. Everything is just wonderful! What's that line Mioshi Umeki said in that old movie, "Sayonara"? "Cry for happy!" That's what I'm feeling right now, "Cry for happy".


September 18, 2014:

Until I can come up with some plan, some positive objective toward which I can apply this ability, recreational use needs to be kept to a minimum. Kind of like a little weed here and there is a pleasant diversion, but you have to be careful it doesn't turn into an ugly habit. I suppose if I were sixteen years old and as self-absorbed as most teenagers are, satisfying my runaway libido would take precedence over everything else, but at the ripe old age of thirty-six, the view is a little different.

That's not to say that I don't succumb to temptation from time to time and take some sinful, vicarious pleasure in other people's private sexual acts and fantasies; I do, because it beats the hell out of internet porn. It's just that I understand they have a right to their privacy, and if I were the unwitting subject of someone else's mind probe, I'd be highly pissed.

I've rationalized that it's acceptable to experiment with this thing, but not at someone else's expense. At least, not without good cause. Buried somewhere in that logic is a little bit of 'what-they-don't-know-won't-hurt-them'.

All that being said, today's event seems to open up a whole new arena. As CFO, it's part of my job to audit everyone's budget and interview all department heads on a regular basis to insure the company's financial stability.

I was interviewing the head of the purchasing department, trying to work out a couple of discrepancies in our account with a major supplier. Ten minutes into my interview, I had the distinct impression he was trying to dodge around a couple of issues. I sat back and looked at him, trying to guess what he was up to when it dawned on me that I could know exactly what he was thinking, if I wanted to.

I imagined the 'sound' and began to zero in on the disturbance surrounding the guy. Within moments of entering his mind, I knew what he was up to. He'd worked out a very profitable embezzlement scheme with a rep from one of our major suppliers. I could see how much money they'd shifted from both companies and I could even see in his mind how he tried to account for it on the books.

I tugged the thread and slipped out. Without saying another word, I called the security office and told them I wanted them to send a guard to this guy's office to collect his computer and bring it to my office.

The man turned pale and I thought he was going to pass out. Before I said anything else to him, I called the boss and asked him to come to my office. Then I looked at the purchasing head and asked, "Is there anything you want to tell me before I begin my audit of your computer files, Mark?"

He tried to defend himself, "Jeez, Chuck, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Are you sure you want to hold to that position? Because I know exactly what you've done and how you did it."

I could see the panic setting in. "Damn it, Chuck, I haven't done anything!"

We waited a few minutes in silence until Bill Waterman, the CEO walked in. Right behind him, the security guard arrived carrying Mark's computer.

Bill looked at both of us and asked, "What's going on here? Is there a problem?"

I looked at Mark and said, "Last chance to own up. You need to account for nearly ninety thousand bucks. If you can't, we'll have to prosecute."

He got angry. "You can't prove anything, Chuck!"

"Wrong! I'll have it by the end of the day."

I turned to the CEO and said, "Bill, Mark has set up a scheme with a rep from Union Chemicals. I'd like him to be suspended until I can get all the data together. It won't take long."

Bill looked at both of us and shook his head, "Are you sure about this, Chuck? Mark's been with us for quite a while, now."

"I'm sorry, Bill, but I'm sure. I can have my report on your desk by three this afternoon. I'm asking you to have Mark escorted from the building and not have access to anything in his office until I'm done. You might also call the bosses at Union Chemicals and give them a heads-up about the sales rep that handles our account."

The CEO looked at the purchasing head and shrugged, "Mark, I hope Chuck's wrong about this but he's never been wrong before when it comes to this kind of stuff. I think we'd better do as he recommends. You'll be suspended with pay until our investigation is complete."

Mark stood and walked out the door, the security guard right behind.

Bill looked at me and asked, "How did you discover this, Chuck?"

I had to be careful here. "Uh, well, it started as a hunch, then I picked up a couple of strange entries in his financial report. I'm pretty sure I know exactly where I'll find the false data. I guess it'll be up to our legal staff to recover the money."

He shook his head. "Well, if you're right about this, and I have no reason to believe you're not, you can expect quite a nice bonus next month."


Comments:

Once I knew where to look, I found what I was looking for pretty easily. Mark didn't really have much talent as a crook. He was terminated and charged and so was his partner in crime at Union Chemicals. I get no joy from sending an employee packing but it's something that has to be done.

I discussed it at length with Carol. She agreed it was a legitimate usage of my 'talents' but threw in a note of caution. "You know, you could gather all kinds of stuff on your employees and bosses alike. If you were a person of questionable character, you could blackmail your way all the way to the top. I really hope you're not that kind of a person, Chuck."

"I'm not, and I'll invite you to kick me squarely in the ass if you ever see or hear of me leaning in that direction."

"And I'll take you up on that invitation."


More comments:

In Carol, I feel like I've found my soulmate. I hope she feels the same. We've been together every night since our dinner on the 6th, sometimes in her bedroom, sometimes in mine.

Making love is always an adventure because I never know what kind of little kink I'm going to discover when I slide into her mind while I'm sliding in and out of her pussy. She loves the anal stimulation, but only with my finger. She has no interest in my sticking my dick up there.

Her favorite thing is to be on top and to just sit there on my dick doing nothing but squeezing it with her vaginal muscles while I play with her tits. Sometimes we'll do that for a good half hour while we talk about our day. There's just enough stimulation to keep me hard. By the time she's ready to get busy and fuck my socks off, I've been holding off for so long that I've built up a huge load. The climax is awesome! She's a very talented lover. I don't think her late ex ever had a clue what he was missing by being such a jerk.


September 27, 2014:

A couple of things happened today that are significant. I'm on my own because Carol is in Phoenix visiting her mother. I started my day with no other plans other than a run in the park and a trip to Costco to stock up on a few items. Maybe get into a good book.

The morning was cool and that cut down on the traffic inside the park, both pedestrian and wheeled. It was a good run; six laps plus running to and from the park, so I guess about seven miles, altogether. A hot shower refreshed me and I completed my shopping by noon. The rest of the day was open.

After a light lunch, I parked my butt on the chaise on the balcony and looked out over the trees just beginning to show some change of color. The sun is far enough south now, that my balcony catches it's radiant warmth for about four hours in the middle of the day. As I lay there soaking up the rays, I decided to go mind mining, just to check in on some of the people I'd visited over the past six months. As always, I felt a little guilt, but not enough to stop me.

Whether I was playing the prankster or just unable to squash my curiosity, I'm not sure, but I thought this time I'd tease their minds just a little bit by making my presence felt; not long enough to cause them to panic or anything, just a little tease to see if I could get their attention. Mental communication with Carol is commonplace now, but I've never tried it with anyone else. It was wicked of me, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation. I mean, what good is an ability like mine if it sits idle? It needs to be exercised.

I started with Kevin because he was easy. I found him in his kitchen making a sandwich for lunch. No, check that, it was two sandwiches. Two big sandwiches. Like Dagwoods! Plus a bag of chips and liter bottle of Coke. That's when I opted to announce my presence.

My god, Kevin! Can you really eat all that?

I felt the startle in his chest as he whirled around and looked behind him. I kept quite. I felt his brow wrinkle in question, then slowly relax as he stacked his sandwiches and chips on a plate and headed for the living room to watch TV. I let him get settled on the couch and take an enormous bite before I goosed him again.

Hey, Kevin, I watched you plugging Dannie. How's that going?

He almost choked on the mass of food he was chewing, just managing to wash it down with a few swallows of Coke. He let out an impressive belch, set his plate on the coffee table and got up to look around for whoever was screwing with him. He was pretty sure it was his sister, but she was no where to be found. She was suppose to be down at the pool with her friend, Leanne. After checking every single room in the apartment, he went back to the living room and sat on the couch, assuming ... no, hoping he'd imagined the whole thing.

I decided to let him off the hook, but I couldn't resist one final parting shot.

Don't get upset, Kevin. It's just your conscience checking in. Seeya, kid!

I jumped out before I could see how he reacted. I chuckled to myself, kind of enjoying the idea of being somebody's conscience. I wondered if I really could influence some one's behavior like that. Of course, it would be an outrageous imposition, but it could do some good if it were applied judiciously.

My next visit was to Dannie. I did indeed find her at the pool with her friend. They were both displaying themselves to some young guy swimming laps. Between the two of them, there couldn't have been more than twelve square inches of cloth covering their bare essentials.

I kept quiet, listening to them chatting about things that are supremely important to high school girls, i.e., boys. Dannie was saying, "I'll bet you ten bucks Howie asks me to the homecoming dance. He hasn't said anything yet, but he's been giving me that 'look', if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, right!" Leanne scoffed. "I swear, Dannie, according to you, every guy and his little brother are giving you that 'look'. You have an overactive imagination as well as an inflated ego, girl."

"No, really! I've caught him looking at me a bunch of times. I know he's interested."

That's when I put in my two cent's worth. Oh no, Dannie! Tell me you're not going to cheat on Kevin! I thought he was your true love!

She sat up and glared at Leanne. "What the hell are you talking about? He's my brother!"

Leanne looked up at her in complete bewilderment. "What the hell are you talking about? I didn't say anything!"

"The hell you didn't! I distinctly heard you say I was cheating on Kevin."

Leanne shook her head, stood up and grabbed her towel. "Kevin? Girl, you're hallucinating! I don't know what you're smoking but you'd better give it up 'cause it's screwing up your brain." She headed for the door.

I felt Dannie's confusion as she watched her friend leave. I left her with food for thought. It wasn't her, Dannie. It was me, your conscience. Seeya!

That felt good.

The only other familiar mind I found was the pianist. I popped in while he was slaving away on his competition piece, Saint-Saëns' piano concerto number 2. I felt his concentration and listened in awe to the astounding music for several minutes before I decided that his was a mind that didn't need anybody's interference. I slipped away unnoticed.

By that time, I'd satisfied my appetite for mischief. I didn't dare push it any further.

So that's the first significant thing I did. The second is far more serious and may have a big impact on my future. That remains to be seen. What kicked it off was a movie I decided to stream on my MacBook as I enjoyed the sun. It was one from the mid 90's that starred John Travolta. Phenomenon. It's about a guy who suddenly develops super powers and super intelligence. Near the end of the movie, it's discovered all his super abilities are being caused by a lethal tumor in his brain. The movie was no academy award contender, but it wasn't bad. Travolta did a pretty credible job in the lead role.

What's significant about it is that it got me thinking about my own super power. What could cause it to just suddenly appear like that? The crystal bowls, of course, but why am I even sensitive to the effects of the sound? What's really going on in my brain? I'm not putting myself in Travolta's role, fearing that I have a lethal tumor, but I can't seem to let it go. Something is different about my brain!

I've decided to follow the suggestion Carol made three weeks ago. I'm going to talk to some kind of professional about it. I'm thinking either a neurologist or a neurophysiologist. Probably the latter because he might be less inclined to refer me to a psychiatrist.

I'm going to wait until Carol gets home next week and discuss it with her before I do anything rash. She has a talent for weighing the pros and cons.


I brought up my idea to Carol today. She's all for it and says she knows a guy at the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center who might be able to aim me in the right direction. We're suppose to meet him for drinks Friday evening.


October 3, 2014:

We met at a popular watering hole near the medical center. Jeff Romero is an imaging tech at UCHSC. He's also Carol's cousin on her mother's side. I guessed him to be in his mid to late twenties, seemingly bright and pleasant. The three of us chatted about random stuff over the first round, just getting comfortable with each other. Carol didn't want to approach the reason I wanted to meet with him until I'd had a chance to get a sense of how he might handle my peculiarity.

It didn't take me long to decide Jeff was probably the best conduit for getting in touch with someone who could evaluate what was going on in my brain, but I knew we'd need to convince him I was for real before he agreed to anything.

By the time the second round was served, I felt I could trust him with my secret. I nodded at Carol and she took the lead. "Jeff, there's something specific we wanted to ask you about, if you don't mind a little shop-talk."

He lifted his eyebrows and said, "Sure, Carol, I don't mind. What's up?"

She laid her hand on my arm and just came right out with it. "Chuck reads minds. It's been going on for several months now and we both think it's time he was evaluated by a professional who can measure what's happening in his brain while this is going on. We thought you might be able to get us an introduction."

While Carol had his attention, I imagined the 'sound' and slipped into his mind. His first reaction to Carol's comments was that it was a joke of some kind.

I spoke up, "No, Jeff, it isn't."

He looked surprised at my comment. "What isn't what?"

"It isn't some kind of joke, like you're thinking. Now you're thinking, 'How did he know that?' And now you're thinking, 'What the fuck?'"

I almost laughed out loud at the way his jaw dropped open at my comments.

I went on, "I'm doing this, Jeff, to show you that we're very serious about this, and to shorten any debate over whether I can or can't read minds. What Carol said is true and I'm reading yours right now."

He looked back and forth between us. "How?"

I shrugged, "Don't have a clue, Jeff. That's why I need someone to help me figure it out."

"But, what do you think I can do? I can't measure your brain activity."

"I understand that, but I'd be willing to bet you know someone who can. And whoever you direct us to will need some serious convincing."

He chuckled, "You got that right! Are you still reading my thoughts?"

"No, not for a few seconds, now."

"So you can just turn it on and off at will?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Carol stepped in, "I know this sounds very, very weird, Jeff, but I can assure you it's absolutely true. Chuck and I trade thoughts all the time, now. I can't read his mind other than hearing what he directs my way and thinking of a response. He has to initiate it. He was in my mind when Ron hit me and he was in my mind when the police officers brought the news of his death."

Jeff rolled his eyes to the ceiling and mumbled, "Holy shit!"

"Yeah, that about covers it." I agreed. "But here's the thing. Only three people know anything about this and were all sitting right here at this table. I'm sure you can understand why I don't want you passing it around. You can't even tell the person you refer me to; I need to explain it all in person. Are you OK with that?"

"Um, sure. I can't imagine anybody believing a story like this, anyway. I'm just trying to recall who I might know that would be helpful. Obviously, you need someone who studies brains. I don't think a radiologist is the person you want to confide in. I'm thinking someone over in the research wing. Let me ask around the department, discreetly, of course, and if I come up with a good prospect, I'll give you a call, Carol."

She patted his hand and said, "That'd be great, Jeff. We really appreciate your help on this."

He looked back at me, leaned across the table and asked, sotto voce, "Chuck, could you, uh, do that one more time?"

"Still not convinced, huh? OK, think of something you're confident neither Carol nor I would have any knowledge of. Keep it clean, though, if you want me to recite it in front of the nice lady."

I slipped into his brain for about ten seconds and jumped back out. "You and your wife, Karen, just signed a contract on a three-bedroom house on south Downing, near Washington Park. Congratulations!"

"Jeez," he gasped, "You're for real!"


October 9, 2014:

Carol didn't hear from Jeff for nearly a week. His search led him to a neuroscience professor at UC Denver. He said he had to do some fast talking to get her to agree to a meeting with me, especially when he couldn't give her specifics on what it was about. We were due in her office at 4:30 the next afternoon. I took off work early and picked Carol up outside the apartment building.

When we arrived at the school, we were shown to a small office stacked floor to ceiling with books, papers, folders and boxes. No one was there so we sat in the only two available chairs and waited.

About five minutes later, this tall, willowy, fifty-ish woman in a lab coat poked her head through the door and asked, "Are you Charles Duncan?"

"Chuck. Yes Ma'am, that's me."

She stuck out her hand and said, "Janet Christy."

"This is my friend, Carol Alton."

They shook hands and Janet Christy said, "Follow me! There's an open room down the hall where we can talk. My office is actually more of a closet, as you can see."

We followed her to what looked like a board room with a large oval table and cushy chairs. She closed the door behind us and asked, "Care for some coffee? I'm pretty sure it was made sometime today."

We both passed. When we were settled, she asked, "Now, Mr. Duncan, how can I help you? Jeff Romero wasn't all that forthcoming when we spoke on the phone. It was all very mysterious."

I started. "Dr. Christy, is it?"

"Janet is fine. May I call you Chuck?"

"Please do. Janet, I'll start by asking you to not dismiss what I'm about to tell you out of hand. I hope you have enough time to hear the entire story because I can promise it'll be worth your while. Carol is here to corroborate what I'm about to tell you."

"My, my," she smiled, "Mysteriouser and mysteriouser all the time. You have my attention."

I started with my first event way back at the beginning of April and explained the progression of my abilities through to the present. It took about twenty minutes. She was silent through the whole narrative.

When I finished, she asked, "Are you prepared to demonstrate you talents, Chuck?"

"Any time."

"OK, how about now? Let's see, how shall we do this?" She looked around and selected a book from a shelf behind her, opened it to a random page and said, "I'm going to read the first paragraph on this page. Can you tell me what I'm reading about?"

"I think I can do better than that. Start reading slowly, one word at a time and I can probably recite it as you read it."

She did and I did.

She looked over the rim of her glasses and said, "Well I'll be damned! So, what am I thinking now?"

"You're hoping I'll consent to an fMRI. I'm not sure what that is, but I will, because that's why I'm here. I want to know if there's something unusual about my brain that allows me to do this thing."

She leaned back in her chair, put her hands behind her head and explained, "An fMRI is a functional magnetic resonance image. It measures brain activity in real time." She leaned forward and asked, "Chuck, would you have any objection to my bringing in a colleague to work with us on this? His name is Frank Austin and he's a leading researcher in the area of neuroscience. He's done imaging of hundreds of people who claim to have special abilities. I'm pretty sure he's never come across anyone like you who can actually demonstrate it on demand."

"I don't have any objection out of hand, but I'm not interested in becoming a circus side-show. I'd like as few people involved as possible. I prefer to lead a quiet life."

"Of course! In fact, any data collected will only be referenced by a case number. Your name won't be published under any circumstances. I can assure you, we'll want to keep you as anonymous as we can for as long as we can. You understand that we'll need to run a series of carefully controlled tests to absolutely confirm your abilities."

"Yeah, I assumed that would be the case. When do you want to start?"

She laughed, "I say right this minute, but I'm sure you two must have plans for the rest of the day."

Carol squeezed my hand and confirmed, "Yes, we do, as a matter of fact."

We stood, bringing the meeting to a close. "Janet, I don't want this to interrupt my work in any way. I have most evenings and weekends available so lets try to work within those parameters, OK?"

"Done! I'll call you as soon as I can schedule a meeting with Dr. Austin. Thank you for coming in, Chuck. I think we're about to embark on some pretty amazing stuff here."


October 14, 2014:

Carol didn't accompany me for the first round of testing. I wasn't sure how long it would last and I didn't see any reason for her to sit around waiting for me.

I Met Janet and Dr. Austin in her office before we dropped down one floor to their labs to begin the testing. Dr. Austin is peasant enough, if a little on the brusk side. He seems almost a stereotypical professor with his white hair, bushy eyebrows and goatee. On the way to the labs, he explained that the testing would be done on several levels to verify the extent of my abilities. I got the distinct impression he was highly skeptical but that was no surprise. I was pretty sure he'd never run across anyone like me before.

The testing took less than an hour. Every single exercise, from identifying numbers and shapes being viewed by either Austin or Janet, to actually reciting text being read from a book, ended with the same result. No errors.

After we'd completed the tests, the three of us retired to a room to outline what was going to happen next. Dr. Austin was shaking his head as he said, "Chuck, I have to tell you, I've never run across anything like this before. I've studied test subjects who had hard-to-explain abilities, but no one has ever come close to the test results we've seen this evening."

I shrugged, "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I guess I was kind of hoping there were others like me out there somewhere."

Janet said, "To the best of our knowledge, there are not. That's why we need to test every aspect of this and document it to within an inch of it's life. If you have time this evening, we'd like to go ahead with the first fMRI to give us some idea of what kind of brain activity initiates this ability of yours."

"I've got time. As I said earlier, the particular sound, or even the recollection of that sound causes a momentary disorientation and a slight dizziness. I assume that's because of some kind of aberrancy in my brain. The sooner you can show me it's not something damaging or dangerous, the happier I'll be."

Austin stood and said, "Then let's get to it, shall we?"

We took the elevator to the basement and the MRI. The tech asked me to take off my jacket and shirt and put on a standard hospital gown, then she got me positioned on the tray. I asked Janet if she was going to administer some kind of contrast medium and she said the fMRI detected changes in blood flow to active areas of the brain, and that radiation and contrast wasn't needed. I was relieved to hear that.

The procedure was worked out ahead of time. Janet and Dr. Austin would be in the observation booth. I'd be moved into position and the first images would be taken with my brain at rest (not reading anyone's mind). When the next images began, I was to initiate the activity and jump into Janet's mind as she read from a book. She didn't want me reading her mind as she was reading the images of my brain on the computer screen.

It took about thirty minutes to do everything they wanted. The tech gave me back my shirt and jacket and showed me to an office where Janet and Austin were waiting.

I entered and sat, asking, "Well, see anything interesting?"

They looked at each other, then at me. Janet started, "Chuck, first let me say that there is nothing that we can see that indicates any damaged areas in your brain. I want to start with that because what we saw when you initiated the mind-reading process is something that neither of us has ever seen before. I'm not surprised you feel some disorientation and dizziness because it first activates your limbic system, the most primitive part of your brain, then rapidly spreads out to involve the entire cerebrum. Even a seizure doesn't activate the entire brain like that! Apparently, for several minutes after the process starts, you're able to sense another person's thoughts globally, throughout your entire brain. That lasted for over twelve minutes before it began to fade, coinciding with your comments about being limited to just a few minutes before you lose contact with the mind you were sharing."

I considered what she said. "OK, let me see if I've got this right. You're saying that for a few minutes after I initiate this thing, my entire brain is active, acting like some kind of super antenna, picking up all their thoughts and images."

Austin agreed, "Yes, that's probably an accurate way of looking at it."

I continued, "And after it fades, my brain goes back to normal, showing no evidence of any changes or damage."

"That's right."

I took a deep breath and thought about it for a while. "OK, so what's next?"

Janet answered, "That's up to you, of course. But let me just say that what you have here is unique, Chuck. Frank and I would like to study and document this phenomenon for as long and to whatever extent you're willing to allow. I have to stress that this could be incredibly important to the field of neuroscience. Obviously, we'd like to learn if what's going on in your brain is reproducible in another brain. We need to study the sound that initiates this thing and we need to find out exactly what it does to your brain circuitry in the process. But it's your brain, Chuck. You need to tell us what you're willing to do."

"Janet, Dr. Austin," I said as I stood to leave, "Let me give this some thought for a few days. Meanwhile, maybe you can write up a schedule of things you'd like to do and send it to me. I can't promise one hundred percent cooperation, but I'll certainly do everything I feel comfortable with."

Dr. Austin stood and shook my hand. "That's all we can ask, Chuck. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you're coming in this evening."

"Well, it's some relief just getting some explanation of what's going on in my gourd. It's a relief but it's a little scary, too."

"Yes, I can imagine. I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

I moved toward the door. "I'm sure we will. And we are keeping this quiet, are we not?"

"Absolutely!"


The following week, I got a letter from Janet outlining a schedule of tests and imaging sessions. I called her the same day and scheduled my next session. She asked me to bring my iPod so they could begin studying the sound and how it affected other brains, if at all.


October 27, 2014:

Carol let herself in as I was taking the stuffed peppers out of the oven. It was my turn to cook. She hugged me from behind and kissed the back of my neck.

"Mmm, smells delish! What'd you use for stuffing?"

"Ground turkey, onions, brown rice and a whole lot of spices because turkey's pretty tasteless, otherwise. Tiene hambre?"

"Sí, para su cena y, a continuación, tu maravilloso cuerpo!"

I smiled and shook my head, "Sorry, I didn't get all of that. Translation, please."

She laughed, "I said I was hungry for your dinner and then for your wonderful body."

"In that order?"

She slid her hand into my pocket and rubbed my dick. "Not necessarily. Do stuffed peppers taste as good reheated?"

"They don't. Set the table and pour the wine, please."

During dinner, we went over the schedule Janet sent me. There were half a dozen sessions spread out over the next two months and I wondered if she wanted to be there for any of it.

"Well, I'm curious, of course, but I don't know that I'd serve any real function, do you?"

"You might. After all, we communicate pretty easily now, don't we? Janet already expressed an interest in what your brain might look like as it was receiving my intrusions."

Carol squeezed my hand and said, "Yeah, I suppose that might be worth exploring. Let me think about it."

After dinner and a movie on the tube, we showered and crawled into bed. She snuggled up against me and fondled my dick, asking, "Wanna know what's on my mind?"

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