Chapter 13

Jason caught up with me as the elevator doors were closing. We weren't alone. An older couple rode the elevator with us. The old codger liked my legs and imagined them wrapped around his neck while he lapped my pussy. The gray-haired lady wanted to fondle Jason's crotch until she gave him a hard-on, something she could no longer achieve fondling the old man's nearly useless (her word) cock. She needed to suck on it to get it half-hard, and it usually lost its stiffness before he could climax. The old codger didn't get aroused. His lady did. Typical.

Jason warred with himself. He loved me. He couldn't stop loving me, not all at once, but he wondered if he could handle being with me, handle his loss of privacy.

"When you decide, let me know," I muttered again. The old codger wondered if I were speaking to him. His lady's fantasy was starting to get downright nasty. She'd included me in her naughty scenario. I was happy when we arrived on our floor and could leave the old couple alone with their fantasies.

Inside the hotel room, I said, "If you want some mental privacy, go in the bathroom and close the door. I can't hear thoughts through walls and closed doors."

I pulled out a piece of luggage and started to pack. He stood looking confused because that's how he felt. Conflicted. Approach/avoidance. I was the reward at the end of the maze, but I was also the electrical shock on the grid he had to run over to claim the reward. Poor baby.

"If you don't know what to do with yourself, please call the airlines and find out what flights are available for Phoenix this afternoon."

"Ah... Katy, don't..."

"Hah, you can't say it, can you? You can't ask me not to leave." Tears filmed over my eyes again. He wanted me to stay, but he wanted me to leave, too. I couldn't believe I ever considered my college boy decisive. Hah! I wasn't packing my clothes; I was throwing them into the suitcase. "Make the call, dammit, because I sure do know what I want. I want out of hearing and feeling distance from you as soon as possible." A lie. I slammed the suitcase shut and started to fill the next one. "And call Sara, too. I want to see her before I leave."

"I don't think that would be wise, Katy."

"You're right. You don't think. You let others do your thinking for you. Rourke thinks my seeing Sara wouldn't be wise, and coward that you are, you let her do your thinking for you." I reached for my purse and glanced at the notepad on the nightstand where I'd written Sara's number. I dialed my cell phone.

"Sara, it's Katy."

Jason stood glaring at me as if I were committing a deadly sin.

"Katy, I'm glad you called. I just received a phone call from Dr. Rourke, a strange phone call. She doesn't want me to see you anymore."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why?"

"What reason did she give you?"

"She told me you couldn't sense my emotions, that you were a... what was the word she used? Yes, a charlatan. I told her you were my friend, and if I wanted to see you I would." She huffed a laugh. "I didn't need to be a psychic like you to sense my response upset her."

I laughed gaily. "Good for you. Listen, I'm flying back to Phoenix this afternoon, and I want to stop by your place and say goodbye on the way to the airport."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. I..."

"Because of me?"

"No, because your doctor thinks I could get in the way of your progress, and she's correct. I'm not a mental-health professional. My connection with you is strong, Sara, so strong, I think Dr. Rourke's point that I could do or say something that could trigger a setback in your progress is not only possible but also likely. That might sound like hogwash to you, because it sounds that way to me, but still, the last thing I want to do is hinder your recovery, so I'm leaving. Will you be around your house for the next hour or so?"

"Yes. My appointment with Dr. Rourke isn't until late afternoon."

"Good. See you soon."

I hung up and glanced at Jason. "She's not like you. She's not happy I'm leaving, and she told Dr. Rourke to take a flying leap when the good doctor called and told her she didn't want her to see me anymore." I shook my head with disgust. My college boy couldn't get his thoughts together. "I'll call the airlines, and whether you want mental privacy or not, please go into the bathroom and close the door until we're ready to leave because I don't want to listen to your cowardly, disjointed thoughts anymore."

He didn't move, so I flipped my thought switch off, leaving the emotions on in case he changed his attitude, and called the hotel concierge. He told me he'd check on the next available flight to Phoenix and call me back. A glance at my wristwatch told me I could probably reach my father. I left the room phone free for the concierge's return call and used my cell phone.

"Hi, cupcake. Wow. Two calls in one morning." He laughed. "You must miss me."

"So much I'm flying home this afternoon. I don't know the airline or flight number yet. When I do, I'll call you again. Will you meet me at the airport?"

"Of course. Are you all right? I mean..."

"No. Sara's doctor is a paranormal skeptic and threatened to leave Sara stranded without a therapist unless I got out of Dodge, in this case, Denver. I also let it all hang out and told the college boy about my gifts. He's standing listening to me speak with you, too afraid to think because I'll hear his thoughts. I flipped my thought switch off a few minutes ago, so I can't hear his befuddled meanderings, but I didn't tell him because he wouldn't have believed me anyway. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Yeah. Are you being fair with the boy, Katy? Cutting him some slack? It isn't easy dealing with having someone in your head. At first, it feels like your id, ego and superego are under a massive attack."

"I'm trying, Dad, but he isn't making it easy for me."

The room phone rang. "Hang on. If that's the concierge, I can give you my flight details now."

Ten minutes later, after calling the airline to make my reservation, I gave my father the particulars about my flight, and he promised to meet me at the airport.

After I ended my call, Jason asked, "You can turn your... ah, gift off?"

"Yes, selectively. I can listen to your thoughts, but turn off others around me. If I couldn't, I'd go insane. Picture me in a crowded room with a hundred or more disjointed minds thinking their heads off." I waited a second. "You've got it. The noise is debilitating, and emotions can be worse." I told him what really happened in the restaurant, and why my father manhandled the deranged man intent on killing his cheating wife. His callous attitude toward me softened.

"How many individuals know about your gifts, Katy?" The word, gifts, came out barbed.

"Four or five. My dad, of course. You, and in a limited fashion, Barbie, and your sister. Five, if you want to count Dr. Rourke, which I don't. I told you about the extent of my gifts because I needed to know how you'd handle the loss of your mental privacy before we became even more involved than we are now."

A knock sounded at the door, and I opened it to the bellhop. "Will you drive me to see Sara, or do I need to call a cab?" I asked Jason.

He didn't like it, but acquiesced. "I'll drive you."

"Hah! Only because you don't want me to be alone with her."

"You've turned your thought switch back on haven't you?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes toward the bellhop.

"Sorry," he said, understanding both my body language and my need to keep my gifts confidential.

I took his hand in mine. "You're doing better than I believed you would, Jason. Dad told me to cut you some slack, and I am. I know you're ambivalent about whether we'll have a future together. If you felt otherwise, I'd be surprised." We followed the bellhop out of the room. I held back, letting him get far enough in front of us so he couldn't hear every word we said. "I also know you need some time - private time without feeling as if I'm trespassing on your mind - so you can deal with the unusual situation I just dropped in your lap. Dad says at first he felt as though his id, ego, and superego were under attack, and coping with the loss of privacy, the feeling that your sense of self is being molested, is difficult to deal with."

Jason huffed a laugh. "I couldn't have said it better myself. Would you please turn your thought switch back off?"

I flipped the switch. "Your thoughts are private now." I flipped the switch to on again when we entered the elevator.

Can I cope with her in my head all the time? he asked himself. I don't know. I want to. Look at her! She's amazing. Gorgeous, witty, sexy, smart, and a fucking psychic! Fuck! I want to ask her to stay, but I don't think I can deal with her in my head right now. The question I need to answer is if I'll ever be able to deal with what she does. She's right; I need some time to think about everything. Besides, Sara needs Dr. Rourke. Yes, it's best she leaves, but...

He took my hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "You're right. I need some time."

I nodded. The bellhop loaded my luggage into the trunk of the rental car, Jason tipped him, and we drove away.

"My gifts are limited, Jason. I can't hear thoughts beyond about ninety feet, and sensations and emotions dissipate at about thirty feet. Physical obstructions effectively wall off thought transfers but don't affect sensations and emotions. I can't hear your thoughts or feel what you're feeling while we're talking on the telephone, so will you at least discuss everything with me before you make your final decision about any future we might or might not have together?"

He gazed lovingly at me. "Of course."

We drove in silence, well, silent for him, not me.

Some of my thoughts are... sick, perverted. I've thought about fucking Sara. I never would, but she's a beautiful woman, and... Maxie, too, maybe more than Sara. Mom, when I was younger. Sick.

He glanced guiltily at me. His thoughts, although truthful, were also a test to determine if I'd turned off my thought switch. I gave him an innocent smile. Playing the same game with my father over the years gave me an edge.

She says she knows about my dark side, my mental secrets, but still she loves me. How can she? She knows about Jane, my first cousin, knows I fucked her, knows I actually committed incest instead of merely fantasizing about it. She knows I planned to spend the summer fucking Judy in Taos, Judy and her friend, Tracy. Possibly, Barbara, too. All three roommates. A goal, a silly, sophomoric goal, but until I met Katy, it was a serious goal.

I didn't know about Tracy or Barbara. My college boy had ambitious goals for the summer. Did he plan to do them at the same time, or separately?

If I stay with her, she'll know what I'm thinking at the moment thoughts enter my mind. I'll need to learn how to control my thoughts like I control what I say. Is such mental control even possible? Often, thoughts just happen. Things pop into my head. Like with Dr. Rourke's receptionist this morning. She had hairy arms for a woman, and I wondered if her pussy hair was so thick I wouldn't be able to see her cunt. I'd never express such a crude thought to anyone. It just happened. A private thought, and in the whole scheme of things, it was meaningless, a random pointless fantasy, but would the thought be meaningless to Katy? Wait! She must have heard the thought. Fuck.

And, last night! In my mind, I fucked half the women in the dancehall, especially... Fuck! I even pictured Katy with Sara! She's gotta think I'm a sick puppy 'cause I am. Sick! And that's just my thoughts about sex. My thoughts about the fat woman and her equally fat dancing partner weren't kind. They were not only unkind; they were crude.

I almost gave myself away with a chuckle when I remembered his thoughts about the fat couple. He'd been correct. The sight of them creating the double-backed beast would be hilarious. And the stern-looking brunette he watched dancing last night reminded him of Mrs. Jensen, his sexual mentor. His fantasies about the brunette creamed my panties a couple of times.

"Katy," he said, breaking the silence, "you told me you know about my dark side, but you still fell in love with me, which you said should tell me something. What? What should it tell me?"

"That as dark sides go, yours isn't very dark. You're not evil, Jason. You have so little evil in you, it's difficult to find, and be assured, I've searched. You wouldn't believe the anger, hatred, thoughts of violence, even murder, rape, pain, greed, jealousy, fear, all the negative emotions I've encountered in the minds of the good folks around us. I could go on and on. Your dark side is puny compared. You're essentially non-violent, even when angry and provoked, and you're compassionate and romantic by nature. Most of what you consider your dark side involves sex, and your darkest thoughts deal with incest. I hate to pop your bubble, bubba, but incestuous thoughts are so common I hardly pay any attention to them anymore. I have them. I've thought about having sex with my dad, and in my mind an uncle and a cousin ravished me with my complete mental cooperation. Would I allow my fantasies to become realities? No, and neither would you."

"I fucked Jane."

"Yes you did. Why?"

He decided to push the issue, to see how far he could go before I felt repulsed. Did he merely want to know his limits? Or was he trying to actually push me away from him? He honestly couldn't decide. Both reasons seemed possible and valid to him. It saddened me to think he wanted to push me away from him.

"Because she's sexy," he said. "Because she turns me on. Because she's my cousin and incest turns me on. It's forbidden, a taboo, which made fucking her that much more exciting." He glanced nervously toward me and decided to push a little harder, if only to determine his own true motive. Did he want to push me away from him? Or did he merely want to test my limits? "I set up my visit to Phoenix before my job started so I could fuck her again. The first night of my visit, Terry and I fucked her at the same time. We made a sandwich out of her. I took her cunt, Terry her ass. She loved it, enjoyed it so much she wanted to do it again. That's why I was late for dinner the night... but then you already know about that night, don't you?"