Second Chance
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Chapter 25
DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 25 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.
Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Consensual Science Fiction DoOver Incest Mother Son First Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Petting
Abigail called her lawyer about suppertime, and he reported that the police knew who had abducted her, but hadn't found them yet. She took the news stoically and asked me if I minded keeping her with me for a little longer.
"You can stay as long as you wish. I would guess the men who hurt you are long gone, and will never return to this part of the world again. There is an underground network that protects violent homosexuals, and pedophiles. They would be able to get those two morons out of the country in a matter of hours." She took it all in stride but I could see marked improvement in her state of mind, and behavior.
About an hour later, her lawyer called her back on the burner phone. Abigail went back to the guest room and was gone a very long time.
When she returned, I knew she was leaving.
After beating around the bush for a while, Abigail said, "My lawyer says I inherit a lot of money that I didn't know we had. My husband has been accepting large amounts of foreign deposits into a joint account that I forgot we had. No telling where he got the money, but it is apparently mine now. I need to go home and deal with burying him." She looked sad and anxious, but not displeased. I guess my job was done. The universe used me, once again, to get a woman through a crisis, and sent them on their way, at least partially healed.
Abigail was able to catch a flight out of Charleston, South Carolina, and I continued up the Intercostal, alone – again.
Being alone gave me time to think about Abigail's news. If her husband was some kind of conduit for Muslim terror, could he have been involved with the death of Abigail's father on behalf of them? And wouldn't it be a wicked bit of good fortune if Abigail came into a large sum of money, paid to her husband for participating in killing Abigail's father?
I needed to give the information to the Judge.
Fortunately I had his number.
When I shared all that I knew, and extrapolated into what may have generated the foreign deposits, I could hear The Judge take a deep breath. He mulled over my information and promised to follow up and let me know, but didn't elaborate. I don't think he wanted me involved, so I dropped the news and rang off.
The evening dragged as I contemplated life, loneliness, and the boat trip. Abigail was a wayside stop for me. She was memorable, but short lived, and I couldn't make too much of her stop over into my life, because that's how the universe plays the game. My mind kept rolling around the inequity of my life, when I thought of what I gave, and hat I gave up. I thought about it so long that I fell asleep contemplating my role in how the universe shaped things. Sometime later I entered a half awake / half asleep state and dreamed in vivid Technicolor.
I was outside my body, but the body I was outside of, was my real one – Carl's. The place where I existed was bright white, blue, and red. There was no discerning sky from ground, up from down, or left from right. The place I found myself inhabiting – just was...
In my new form, outside Carl's body - I could see quite long distances, and came to understand that the distance was really time. The farther away I looked, the farther into the future I was seeing.
Behind me I knew was the past, and it was dull, gray, and lifeless. I couldn't change the past, or maybe I was learning that the universe couldn't change the past.
The universe turned around me, so that I was facing the past. It was a place of sorrows, hurt, victories, and celebrations, but they were all colorless places without substantial meaning for me. Looking back was a waste of energy, because back there were things that couldn't be made better. Back in the past were the things that made us sorrowful, grief stricken, heart broken, and powerless.
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