Chapter 1

The memories started when puberty struck, and for a while I believed I was surely going bonkers. I mean, jeez, it’s bad enough to be forced to deal with periods, tender titties, and body hair and odors, not to mention some pretty powerful sexual urges I wasn’t ready to handle. Add a lot of strange memories that made no sense but were vivid enough they had to be real, and I was ready for the funny farm.

Mom had been helpful with the standard puberty stuff, even the sexual urges, although I honestly didn’t see abstinence as the way to go, but she wasn’t equipped to help me with the memories. You see, she’s very religious, a Mormon, and reincarnation and Mormonism just don’t go together. For that matter, reincarnation and Christianity clashed - period. I figured if I couldn’t talk to my mom about what was happening to me, I couldn’t talk with anyone, so I zipped my lips about the memories and tried to act like a normal teenager.

The memories invading my mind were from past lives - my past lives, I finally figured out - and they weren’t fleeting, a vignette here or a passing thought there. The detail from my past lives was huge in scope, including the various languages, professions, religions, and the general cultures I experienced with each life. I also remembered the men and women I knew, and the children - especially my children. To confuse me further, I wasn’t always a female. I was a male in about half my incarnations.

What perplexed me more than anything at first was the order in which the memories arrived. I didn’t remember my immediate past life first. Uh-uh, that would’ve been way too easy - less confusing, too. Instead, the memories started way back when, and the first to arrive was my death - my first death I figured out later. Now that scared the bejesus outta me.

I died. I don’t know how or when, but I died, and nine months later, I was reborn as Al-Biruni in 973 AD. I died in that incarnation in 1048. Al-Biruni wasn’t subjected to a whole bunch of memories like I was in this life, except he remembered that death I mentioned, and like me, he experienced his demise during his previous incarnation at the onset of puberty. He shook it off and went about his business.

I decided his approach was the best way to handle the memories, but I’ve often wondered if he would’ve reacted so nonchalantly if his memories included twenty-two complete lives over one thousand plus years.

Al-Biruni was an Arab scholar, quite an accomplished man for his time. That incarnation gave me fluency in the Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Hebrew, Sanskrit, and Syriac languages - a pretty good start in life, huh? I won’t bore you with the details of that life, but if you’re interested, look him up. He’s in the history books.

My next life was a short one. I was born in 1049 and was killed in the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Yes, I was a man in that life, too. You can’t look me up in the history books because I wasn’t very important in that incarnation, but check out the Battle of Hastings. The Normans kicked butt, and the battle changed the course of European history.

I lived my next life as an Icelandic female from 1067 to 1118. Again, I’m not included in the history books for that era, but check out Ari, the Icelandic historian. He was my brother-in-law.

As a female and a Jew under Muslim rule, I lived in Córdoba, Spain from 1119 to 1178. I named my first son Moses. My last name for that incarnation was Maimonides. My boy made me proud. Look him up if you want. He was a pretty good philosopher.

Are you starting to get the picture? I’ve been a man and a woman, rich and poor, lived long lives and short ones in many places on our glorious planet. And I remembered ... everything! I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl; I was a thousand or so years old. Wild, huh?

The memories could be troublesome, though. For instance, I could speak about twenty languages, write some of them, too, but like English, the languages had evolved over time since I learned them as a child. One day I sat next to a Frenchman at a restaurant. I could make out what he was saying, but when I spoke with him in his language, he asked what part of France I came from because my French wasn’t his French. I couldn’t tell him I learned his language from 1589 to 1611 when I was a girl living in Paris, France.

I also learned the hard way not to correct my history teachers about some of the wrong facts they presented, and because I’d been many races over the years, I was way too quick to denounce prejudice of any sort, which frequently put me at odds with teenagers and adults alike.

But the biggest problem for me at my current age in this life was sex. I was a virgin, but I wasn’t, if you get my drift. I knew a lot about the subject, not only from the female but also the male perspective. And surprise, surprise! I was bisexual. Hah! Experiencing life as both a male and a female over the last thousand years made bisexuality a given. I lusted for pretty girls and women as much as sexy boys and men. Yeah, both genders, young and old, well, not too old or too young. The age of the recipients of my lust didn’t matter all that much as long as I was attracted to them. The lust I felt wasn’t new, either. I’d been just as randy during each of my previous lives, but satisfying my current urges was a huge problem. Remember, I told you my mother was a religious woman, a Mormon, and Mormons, like most Christian religions, espouse a pretty rigid code of sexual conduct. I loved my mom and didn’t want to hurt her, and my dad was an even bigger problem. He was the Bishop of our ward.

Still, taking any religion seriously was difficult for me. In past lives, besides being a Christian, I’d been a Buddhist, Taoist, and followed the teachings of Confucius. Toss in Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, several pagan religions, and a few other well-known or obscure faiths, and you can understand my reluctance to give myself over to one religion. In some past lives, I didn’t have a choice. I toed the line or else, but I figured I had a choice in this one. The question in my mind was whether to give lip service to my loving parents’ religion, or openly defy them. Right or wrong, I elected the former course.

I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl, that I was a thousand years old. That’s true, but the real truth reflected the reality that I lived in the here and now, not the nebulous past. I had the experience of a courtesan, but at the same time I was an innocent girl, a frustrating dichotomy, I’m here to tell you.

If you’re wondering, yes, during past lives, I’d been both a thinly disguised gigolo and a renowned courtesan. Also from 1880 to 1916, I lived for thirty-six years in Brazil where I plied my trade as a common prostitute for four of those years. The beaches of Epanema and Copacabana were my corners. That I became a prostitute was not entirely by choice, more by the accident of my birth - la Vida, the life, or a daughter following her mother into the oldest profession. I used the stake I saved by selling my body for four years and combined the money with the knowledge I gleaned from my memories to improve my social and economic status.

Regarding my social and economic status for this life, I was okay. My family wasn’t rich, but certainly not poor; I wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but nowhere near ugly; intellectually, I wasn’t a rocket scientist, but I wasn’t dimwitted, either. The memories helped make me a straight A student without much effort.

I lived in Scottsdale, Arizona, with my parents and my brothers and sisters - two sisters, both older, and two brothers, both younger. Dad owned and operated a large heating and air-conditioning business, mostly air-conditioning. The summers in Arizona can be brutal - profitable for my dad, though. Fortunately, he was a good business manager and knew how to delegate because he spent most of his time tending to the members of the Mormon ward he led. He did an awful lot of praying, too. Mom was a homemaker, and a good one from all accounts. My oldest sister, Carol, was away at college - Brigham Young University, of course. She was also engaged to a returned missionary of the church. Whether she was a virgin was open to question. Jennifer, my other sister, was without doubt a virgin. She was the most infuriatingly righteous person I’ve ever known, both in this and past lives. Boring. Cal, short for Calvin, was a year younger than I. Cal was a jock and much too full of himself. Josh, my other brother and the baby of the family, was fifteen going on forty, which is better than being seventeen going on one thousand, like me. I adored Josh. He could’ve been labeled a nerd because he was smart as a whip and serious about school and learning, but he was too good-looking to be a nerd, and he certainly wasn’t shy around girls.

Witness.

“Sandy,” Josh said after knocking on my bedroom door. “May I come in?

“Not unless you want to see me naked,” I said teasingly through the door. I wasn’t naked. I wore panties and a bra, but...

The door opened, and bold as brass, he stepped into my room. “Liar,” he said with a boyish grin.

Did I shriek with indignation or embarrassment? Nope. I struck an alluring pose. “Close enough to get your motor runnin’, young fella.”

He laughed. “That’s for sure. Got a question for ya.”

“Close the door and have a seat. I’ll throw on a robe.”

“Shucks,” he said as he plopped onto my computer chair at my desk.

I belted the robe loosely and sat on my bed. “Ask away.”

“Can you sense what other people are feeling?”

“Sometimes. Facial expressions and body language help. And eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“That’s not what I mean. Can you sense what someone is feeling even if you can’t see them?”

I frowned. “No. Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I’m an empath.”

Did I laugh? Uh-uh. I believed I could remember my twenty-two immediate past lives, so I wasn’t about to scoff at Josh’s incredible claim that he was an empath. I could empathize, no pun intended, with my brother’s plight, but the boy had always been imaginative. He’d had an imaginary friend when he was a child. So, I did have a few questions.

“Have you spoken with anyone about this ... ah, ability of yours?”

“Sort of, but ... ah, heck! I brought it up with Bill as something that could be possible, but he laughed at the concept.” Bill Robb was Josh’s ex-best friend. He and his family had moved away recently, leaving Josh as a loose end.

“You said you could sense what someone is feeling even if you couldn’t see that person. Give me an example. No, wait. Let’s talk about feeling first. Are you referring to emotions?”

“Yeah, but I feel sensations, too.”

“Aren’t sensations and emotions the same?”

“Uh-uh. I looked them up on the Internet. Emotions involve the whole body, but sensations are related to a specific part of a body. Happiness, for example, is an emotion. If you cut your finger, you feel pain. That’s a sensation.”

“Gotcha. So, your empathic ability includes both emotions and sensations?”

“Yep. Cool, huh?”

“Way cool. How long have you had this ability?”

He shrugged. “It started about three years ago, but it was intermittent and not very strong for a while. Now it’s all the time and ... Well, it’s so strong now that it’s becoming a problem.”

“How so?”

He blushed. “I walked by your bedroom about an hour ago. Jeez, Sandy! When you climaxed, I did, too. In my pants!”

Talk about blush! I must’ve been a bright red. An hour earlier, I’d been joyfully playing with my pussy. My door was shut and locked. Except for subdued gasps, I was quiet about it, too. There was no way Josh could’ve known what I was doing unless...

I gulped and took a couple of deep breaths. His statement required a response, and I figured I could react in a number of ways. I could act indignant or furious because my privacy had been invaded. In truth, his astonishing assertion had produced both emotions, although they were fleeting. Did he feel them? On the other hand, I could stonewall him, deny giving myself a couple of comes earlier, and call him a liar. Or...

I chose honest acceptance, the response I would’ve liked from Mom when I tried to tell her about my memories. I chuckled and said, “In your pants, huh? Good. That’s what you deserved for invading my privacy.”

He hung his head. “I didn’t...”

“But because you invaded my privacy without a conscious effort on your part, I forgive you.”

His boyish grin melted my heart.

I asked, “Is a climax an emotion or a sensation?”

He frowned. “I think it starts out as a sensation, turns into an emotion, and becomes a sensation again.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Starts in the genitals and spreads through the whole body. What about sexual arousal?” I asked because that’s what I was feeling at the moment.

The little shit grinned at me. Little? Hardly. An inch over six feet, he towered over my five eight. He wore his dark, curly hair long, and his large, dark eyes glinted with passion. I glanced at his crotch. Yep, he was feeling what I was feeling, and the bulge in his pants didn’t do anything to dampen my libido. Just the opposite. It dampened my panties.

Incest. In all my past lives, save one, incest was verboten, a crime against nature and God, whatever God was worshiped at the time. That didn’t mean incest didn’t happen, and I’d committed the crime quite a few times in my past lives. The exception I mentioned happened from 1550 to 1588 when I was a female member of an indigenous tribe living in the Amazon rainforest. According to custom, I married my brother during that incarnation - happily married him, I might add. I shivered when some sexy images from that life flashed through my mind, and my panties became wetter.

From my admittedly shallow investigation on the Internet, the primitive tribe no longer exists. Whether inbreeding or logging or other reasons caused its extinction is open to question.

So, from my perspective, inbreeding was a problem, but sex with a close relative wasn’t that big of a deal for me as long as a child didn’t result from the sex and no force or coercion was involved. Knowing how I was, I’d talked Mom into putting me on the pill about a year ago - to regulate my periods, was my excuse. So, I wouldn’t have a baby if I let Josh fuck me. Force or coercion wasn’t in the picture, but...

How did Josh feel about incest? And did I want to complicate my close relationship, my friendship, with him by adding sex to the mix? Not to mention what would happen if Mom or Dad found out two of their children were fucking each other like minks.

“Sexual arousal is a sensation,” he said.

“Really? It’s quite diffuse, at least it is in me.”

His grin widened. I wanted to hug him, fuck him, too. “Yeah, I know, but it’s centered in ... ah, in your...”

“Pussy?” I said when he hesitated.

The bold lad said, “I was thinking cunt, but pussy works for me, too.”

I looked him in the eye. “You’re pushing this, aren’t you?”

He nodded and had the humility to blush. “Sort of.”

“Why?” I wanted a glimmer of his expectations. His answer should give me a clue about how he felt about incest. Like me, he’d been conditioned to the teachings of the LDS Church. Unlike me, he didn’t have the memories of twenty-two past lives to counter that conditioning.

“Hey, I didn’t start this. I came in to tell you about the weird feelings I’ve been having and ask for...”

“Hogwash. You started it when you boldly announced that you came in your pants while walking by my room and connecting with my emotions and sensations when I was masturbating.” I eyed his crotch again. A wet spot had developed at the apex of the bulge. “Okay, here’s the deal.” Was I out of my mind? “I’m going to test you, Josh. If you’re telling me the truth, you know I’m hot, very aroused, so I’m going to get under the sheet on my bed and masturbate again, but you’re not going to be walking by out in the hall. You’re going to sit right where you are.

“The way I see it, you have two ways to go. You can either come in your pants again, or you can drop your pants to avoid the mess. Your choice, but either way you go, you can’t touch yourself. If you come when I come without touching yourself, I’ll believe you, and I’ll help you figure out how to handle and control this amazing paranormal ability you say you have. Do we have a deal?”

He swallowed nervously. “Yeah, we do, and I’m dropping my pants, so if you don’t want to look, turn your head.”

“Lock the door first.”

He locked the door and pushed his trousers and briefs down to his ankles before settling back onto the computer chair.

Did I look? You bet I did. I looked, and what I saw made my mouth water. “Beautiful,” I gushed as I dropped my panties, flashing my naked backside before I slipped under the top sheet on my bed. My knees made a tent out of the sheet, but I let the linen droop far enough between my legs that Josh could see the busyness of my fingers from the movement of the sheet.

I eyed his wonderful cock. “Jeez, little brother, you sure aren’t little in the dick department.”

He groaned but grinned. “From what I saw before you hurried under that sheet, your booty is a beauty, Sandy. I sure would like to see your cunt.”

“Uh-uh.” I chuckled. “That might nullify the test, make you come without touching yourself.”

With another groan, he said, “Could be. Okay, we’ll do it your way.”

“What are you feeling?”

“You! Your sensations! Your emotions!”

“Tell me about ‘em.” I’d had a lot of sex over the last thousand years or so, but this situation was unique. I loved it.

“Your sensations are centered ... ah, in your clitoris, I assume, but you’re feeling mighty good pretty much all around your cunt. Emotionally, you’re pleased ... happy, which seems strange to me, so I could be wrong.”

I didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was feeling. His eyes, the windows to his soul, were full of lust.

“You’re not wrong, Josh,” I said and moved a hand from my breast to my pussy to join the other hand already busy playing with my clitoris. I pushed a finger inside my cunt until it bumped up against my hymen. I also continued to strum my hard, little nubbin with other fingers.

Yes, I was pleased, pleased that my first sexual experience with another person in this life was so unique, and I was happy, happy to have Josh involved in what until now had been a lonely but otherwise rewarding habit.

He moaned. “You are so hot!”

“Uh-huh. Should I come or stretch it out a while?”

“Stretch it. I want this to go on and on. I suspect this’ll never happen again, and I don’t want it to ever end.”

“What do you mean? I give myself a come almost every day, Josh, some days more than one. Are you saying you think that now I know you’re feeling what I’m feeling that I’ll stop the happy habit? If so, you’ve got another thought coming. This is the only sexual outlet I’ve got, and whether you connect and share my sensations and emotions or not, I’m not stopping. So there!”

He snickered. “Fine by me. I was referring to being in the same room with you while you’re doing it.”

“Oh.”

His cock was as hard as any cock I’d ever seen in a previous life, and the first I’d seen in this one. I wanted it in my mouth, in my cunt. I wanted to fuck it.

His hips started to wave, matching the movement of my hips.

“If this isn’t grossing you out, we’ll do it again, Josh. I’m enjoying myself. Having you sit over there takes the loneliness out of an essentially lonely act.”

He grinned and then grimaced. “So hot! How can you stand it?”

“Humph. I like staying on the edge. Staying on the edge for a long time makes the sensations much stronger when I fall off the edge into an orgasm. Have you connected with Mom and Dad while they’re fuckin’?”

I’d used the “F” word for two reasons. One, I like talking dirty when I’m hot. Two, I wanted to see how Josh would react? I satisfied reason number one. Number two remained elusive because he sort of ignored it.

“Yeah. Mom comes like a house afire.”

“Ooh, that’s hot! What about Jenny?”

“As far as I know, Jenny doesn’t play with herself.” He snickered. “She gets aroused, though, and then feels guilty about it.”

Pious bitch, I thought unkindly.

“If you’re wondering about Cal, he jacks off a lot, not as often as you, but almost.”

“Do you come when he comes?”

He looked embarrassed. “Yeah. I can’t help it, Sandy. That’s one of the problems I want to solve. Coming with him makes me feel like a homo, and I’m not. I like girls - period.”

“Women, too, I’d wager. Women, like Mom.”

“Yeah, but I’d like to stop that connection, too. Coming with Mom or Dad makes me feel guilty.”

“What about coming with me?”

He grinned. “No way. I love coming with you. When you start in, I usually head for the bathroom or my room, drop my pants, and join you.”

My fingers squished in my cunt, and my eyes rolled back in my head. I couldn’t remember being so hot without coming.

“Go ahead,” Josh said. “I know you can’t hold back anymore.”

To prove him wrong, I lasted another four or five seconds before the wondrous sensations gathered and exploded as a massive, rapturous orgasm. I don’t know how, but I kept my eyes open and fixed on Josh’s cock. At the onset of my climax, I watched a long stream of semen jet from the end of his shaft. Both of his hands gripped his thighs tightly, and his cock jerked and gushed another stream of come that fell back around his throbbing shaft, his balls, and the chair. He came again, and then once more, the last one was mostly a dribble, though. That’s when I closed my eyes and shuddered through the rest of my climax, by far the best I’d experienced in this life.

When I opened my eyes a minute later and looked at Josh, he was slumped in the chair, his beautiful cock still standing tall and hard - messy, though. Semen oozed from the eye at the end. I wanted to jump from the bed and lick him clean.

“There’s a box of tissues behind you on the desk,” I said.

His eyes snapped open, and he blushed, which made me giggle.

“I won’t apologize,” he said gruffly, twisted in the chair, and grabbed the box of Kleenex. He jerked three or four from the box and wiped the end of his cock.

“Why do you think you need to apologize?” I asked and rubbed my sticky fingers across the bottom sheet. My butt moved through a little puddle of my juices. “Toss me the tissues. I made a mess, too.”

He took a few more tissues and lobbed the box to me. Still covered by a sheet, I wiped my pussy and dabbed at the puddle.

“Because I invaded your privacy,” he said and dropped the tissues he’d used to clean up the mess he’d made in the wastepaper basket.

“Oh.”

“Coming with you, it’s ... well, it’s indescribable, Sandy. Your climax overwhelms mine. I hardly feel mine because yours is so intense.”

“Oh.”

He pulled up his trousers and buckled his belt. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“About doing this together again.”

“Did you feel gross doing it?”

He flashed a wide grin. “Nope, not a bit.”

I think I did a little grinning, too. “Let’s see how you feel about everything tomorrow.” To test him further, I pushed the sheet off me and hopped off the bed. The panties on the floor were wet, so I walked bared-assed to my dresser and pulled out another pair. He watched as I faced him and pulled them up my legs and settled them around my hips. Surprisingly, my brazen act tented his pants a little. That’s when I remembered how quickly a youthful male could recover.

“Hoo boy! I’ve finally seen a real, live pussy,” he exclaimed, thoroughly pleased with himself.

I laughed heartily. “And I got to see a real, live, beautiful cock.” I pulled on the robe and tied it tightly around my waist. He’d knocked on my door because he needed to talk with someone about what was happening to him, that and to ask me for help. “Sit, Josh. Let’s talk about your ability and the problems it’s creating.”

All the air whooshed from his lungs, and he fell back onto the chair. I sat on the bed facing him. “You mentioned a couple of problems - coming with Cal and the parents. Tell me about the other negatives your unusual empathy generates.”

“I have to avoid crowds, Sandy. Feeling all the conflicting emotions of everyone around me drives me batty. I was in the mall a week ago, and a little boy lost his mother. He was crying his eyes out, and tears streamed down my face, and I was just as frightened as the boy.

“And the hate! The anger! I didn’t realize how much hatred and rage so many men and women feel. I enjoy the happy emotions others share with me, but the negative ones take me down. Before I started to feel the emotions of those around me, I didn’t have a lot of hate and anger in me, Sandy, but that’s changing. I’m starting to hate the haters, and I get very angry with those who share their rage with me. This ability - I’ve been calling it a curse, lately - is changing me, and not for the better.”

“Hmm. ‘Around you,’ you said. From that comment, I take it that your empathic ability - I won’t call it a curse - has a range. Correct?”

He looked contemplative, and then grinned. “I guess it does.”

“What’s the range?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“How?”

“Use the scientific method. Test it. Walk away from a strong emotion you’re feeling coming from someone. Does it diminish as you move away, and at what point do you stop feeling it?”

“Makes sense.”

“What about obstructions, like walls? Do they affect your connections?”

He scrunched up his expressive face. “I don’t think so. I felt your climax earlier, and you were in your bedroom behind a closed door.”

“Test various obstructions like brick or concrete block walls.”

“Okay. What else, and more to the point, why do these tests?”

“Logic. It’s logical to assume that in order to control your ability, Josh, you’ll need to understand it thoroughly, and it seems to me that control is what you need, an on/off switch for lack of a better way to say it.”

“That’s exactly what I need!”

“Either that, or a way to turn it off once and for all.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’ll learn to live with the problems first.”

“Good for you, little brother. I appreciate your spirit of adventure.” I walked to my dresser and picked a safety pin out of a box where I kept various odds and ends like fingernail paraphernalia and lotions and potions. With my back to him, I stabbed my finger with the pin.

He grunted. “Hey, that hurt! What did you do?”

I turned to him and held out my bloody finger. “What happens if you’re connected with someone and they have a heart attack, Josh?”

His eyes widened with fear when he looked at his finger and saw blood oozing from its tip. “Fuck! That’s scary!” he breathed.

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.” Would he die if he were connected with someone experiencing the pain of death?

Chapter 2

I’d greased my body with sunscreen and was lying out by the pool, improving my tan when the patio door opened. Jenny and a friend of hers named Peggy Black walked out and sat at the patio table. An umbrella offered them some shade.

“That swimming suit is obscene, Sandy,” Jenny commented, looking as if she’d just chomped down on spoiled food.

I was wearing a new bikini. It was sexy but certainly not obscene. With a grin, I rose to my feet and struck a pose; you know the kind, with one hand resting on a cocked hip and one leg slightly in front of the other. “What do you think, Peg? Do I look obscene?”

Peg chuckled. “Yep, but obscene becomes you.”

“Peggy! Don’t encourage her,” Jenny said. “She doesn’t have a modest bone in her body.”

“What can I say, Jenny?” I said. “When you’re right, you’re right.” I dove into the pool. The suit wasn’t obscene when dry, but when wet, obscene wasn’t far from the truth. Opaque became translucent. I wanted to give Jenny a bad time by flaunting my near nakedness, and I wanted to test Peg Black. In the past, I’d noticed Peg looking at me with some lust in her pretty eyes, not a lot, but some, and with her fantastic figure and big, dark eyes, she jump-started my libido whenever I saw her. That Jenny and Peg were friends defied all logic. Jenny was as uptight as an old spinster, and Peg had some bawdy in her.

Was Peg interested in girls? Maybe, but she was a member of my dad’s flock, so she’d probably ignore any urges she felt. Still, a little test wouldn’t hurt. I walked up the stairs out of the pool.

“Sandy!” Jenny exclaimed. “Your suit! It’s...”

I looked down and feigned shock. “Oh, my!” My stiff nipples and darker areola were clearly visible through the wet fabric of the suit.

Peg laughed. “Don’t wear that swimming suit to a pool party, or someone will jump your bones.”

Someone, huh? Like you, Peg? I noticed movement in the house behind the sliding glass door to the patio. Josh was home. He’d know what Peg was feeling. After quickly drying myself with a towel, I stepped inside.

“Love the suit,” Josh said with a leer.

“Thanks. Are you close enough to Jenny and Peg to connect with their feelings?”

“Sure. As you suggested, I experimented and determined that I can feel emotions and sensations if the sender is within approximately fifty feet of me. The feelings diminish rapidly beyond that distance, and obstructions of any kind block all emotions and sensations if they’re between a sender and me and farther away than about thirty feet. Within thirty feet, they have no effect at all. Let’s see, Jenny’s feeling guilty because she’s turned on, and Peg ... my, my, Peg’s not just aroused. She’s hot!” He looked at me and then back outside. “What’s going on?”

I grinned. “I think Peg likes what’s in my swimming suit as much as you. Wanna share a coke?” I snagged a can from the refrigerator and poured cola into two glasses full of ice.

“You mean...? Are you saying Peg’s a lesbian?”

“Don’t know about that, but she might be bisexual.” I handed Josh one of the glasses and gulped at mine. Working on a tan in the Phoenix heat builds up a big thirst.

He grinned. “Like you?”

Did my jaw drop? Yeah, it did.

“I’ve been trying to figure out which turns you on the most - good-looking guys or gorgeous gals,” he said.

“Let me know when you come up with an answer,” I said dryly. “Why is Jenny turned on?”

“Hah! She liked what was in your suit, too. I figured Jenny out a while back. Girls turn her on, not guys.”

“My, oh my,” I quipped and giggled. “Is she aware of her preference?”

He scrunched up his face. “I don’t think so. I think she’s in denial. What’s more, I think she’ll stay that way. When the time comes, she’ll follow in Carol’s footsteps and lasso a returned missionary, get married in the temple, and the two of them will give lip service to a basically sexless marriage and devote their lives to the church. Oh, she’ll do the deed to have children, but...” He shrugged.

“In addition to being a sensation voyeur, are you also a soothsayer?”

He blushed. “No, just using a little logic.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about Jenny. What about me? What do you see in my future?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh, I wouldn’t venture a guess. I’ve tried, but I can’t figure you out. You’re an enigma, Sandy. Connecting with you is always a treat for me. Most teenage girls’ emotions are all over the place, rarely static, sailing high and plunging low, easily affected by momentary circumstances. Connecting with girls other than you is like hopping on a roller coaster. You’re ... no, you might take what I was about to say wrong.”

“Say it anyway, buster.”

He groaned but said, “I mean this in a positive way, Sandy. Your emotions aren’t ... darn, I don’t know how to get my point across, so I’ll just say it. Your emotions aren’t young; they’re sort of old.”

“Are you saying emotions have age?” I asked, perplexed. Aging emotions wasn’t a concept I’d ever considered.

“No! I’m saying that each person’s emotions seem to be a function of that person’s age. Your emotions aren’t girlish, like Jenny’s or Peggy’s. They’re not even womanly, like Mom’s. If I didn’t know you, couldn’t see you, and connected with you for the first time, I’d think you were a hundred years old, not seventeen. Your emotional reactions seem to imply that you’ve already experienced whatever caused the reaction, and then you proceed to handle the emotional situation with ease. Not that you don’t feel passionately about everything. You do, but ... ah, I know the word I want to use. You’re serene, Sandy, and because I can experience your remarkable serenity, I’m a better person for it. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve used your calm acceptance of our hurly-burly world to calm the turmoil in my soul after connecting with so many men and women full of hate and anger.”

“Ah, that’s nice, Josh. Thank you.” I gave him a heartfelt hug, which gave him a partial hard-on. I didn’t back away, but rather rubbed against the exciting lump some more. I gave him a big grin. “I think you like my swimming suit, too.”

“Uh-uh. I like what’s in it. My thoughts keep returning to the other day when you shared your orgasm with me. When...? Darn it, Mom just pulled into the garage, and Jenny and Peggy are coming toward us.”

Trying not to be too obvious, I backed away from him just as I heard the sliding glass door open. Jenny and Peg stepped inside. At the same time, the door from the garage opened, and Mom walked into the kitchen, her arms laden with grocery bags.

“Josh,” Mom said, “the trunk’s still full of groceries. Please lug them in for me. Jenny, Sandy, you can help me put everything away. Hi, Peggy? How are you?”

“Hot! We’ve been sitting out on the patio. May I have a glass of ice water?”

“Sure, if you’ll fix it for yourself. You know where everything is.”

Later that day, Josh cornered me again. I’d showered and changed into a light sundress and was curled up on the sofa in the living room reading a novel. With all the history I’d lived, I preferred fiction to nonfiction. I read for entertainment and would rather read a good novel than watch television.

“As I was saying when we were interrupted earlier,” he said, “when are we going to get together for another sexy session?”

Yup, bold as brass! I chuckled. “If I’m not mistaken, I’ve already shared one climax with you today. Don’t be a greedy-gut.” After the arousing incident on the patio, I’d masturbated in the shower fantasizing about Peg’s mouth on my pussy.

“Yep, it was a good one, too, but not in the class with the one you shared while I was in your room with you.”

“Josh, if we continue to mess around with each other, we’ll end up fucking. I don’t believe that would be wise. Do you?”

He slumped onto the large chair across from the sofa. “Probably not.” His expression drooped like the tail of a whipped puppy.

“Earlier today, you sensed Mom’s arrival, and at the same time you knew Jenny and Peggy would soon walk into the house. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you know Mom had arrived? Cal was out. It could’ve been Cal, not Mom, in the garage.”

He frowned. “Uh-uh. They have different ... ah, emotional signatures.”

Amazing. “All right. What made you think Jenny and Peg were about to step inside from the patio?”

He grinned. “I started to sense the location of each sender while experimenting with distance. Cool, huh?”

“Very cool. I also noticed that you didn’t concentrate on Jenny and Peg’s sensations and emotions until I asked you what they were feeling. I thought you couldn’t tune out a sender.”

“I can’t, not completely, but lately I can sort of tone down what I feel from some senders by concentrating on another. You were aroused when you walked inside from the patio, so I focused on you.” He chuckled. “Besides, that swimming suit you were wearing grabbed my entire attention. Wet like it was, it bordered on being obscene. I loved it.”

“Hmm, you’re already moving toward controlling your paranormal abilities, Josh, which doesn’t surprise me. Humans are adaptable creatures. Practice turning off one sender by amplifying another, and then switch. Back and forth, moving quickly from one sender to another. Your ultimate goal should be to completely eliminate all emotions and sensations but your own when you’re in a crowded room.”

“All right, I’ll practice, but why turn everyone off?”

“What would happen if you broke your arm, and Mom took you to the emergency room?”

“Ah! Gotcha.”

“Besides, it seems to me that being able to turn everyone off reflects ultimate control. I’m not saying you need to turn everyone off forever, but if possible, you should learn absolute control.”

While talking with him, I’d allowed the hem of my sundress to creep up my legs, and Josh noticed. I enjoyed his eyes on me. We made a good pair. He was a voyeur. I was an exhibitionist.

“Who’s in the house?” I asked.

“Besides us, Mom, Cal, and Jenny.”

“Where are they?”

“Mom’s in the master bath, in the shower, I think. Cal and Jenny are in their rooms.” He frowned. “Cal’s not a happy camper. He’s talking with someone on the phone. Jenny’s taking a nap ... dreaming.” He chuckled. “It must be a sexy dream.”

Amazing. “And you say you’ll know if one of them moves from where they are?”

He nodded.

I pulled my feet up to the edge of the couch and let the sundress slip down around my waist. I spread my knees wide and pushed the leg band of my panties to one side, exposing my pussy. “This is what you wanted to see again. Right?”

He gulped. “Yeah.”

I rubbed two fingers between the outer lips and dipped them into the entrance of my vagina for moisture before pulling them up to waggle back and forth over my clitoral shaft.

“Where is everyone now?” I asked.

“Mom’s out of the shower toweling herself dry. Jenny’s still sleeping. Cal’s... shit, Cal’s coming this way!”

Leaving my panties jammed to one side, I rose to my feet, and the sundress fell down around my legs. I was nearly out of the room when Cal stepped into it.

“What’s your problem, Cal?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“You don’t look like a happy camper.”

“Cathy broke our date for this Friday.”

“Why?”

“She says we’re getting too serious, too involved.”

I chuckled. “In other words, she wants to be a good, little Mormon girl.”

“Humph.”

“If you want to get laid, date a girl who doesn’t belong to the church.”

“Shows how much you know,” Cal muttered and stomped off.

After Josh and I were alone again, I said, “Tell me about Cal’s future.”

“I told you, Sandy, I’m not a fortune teller.”

“I know. Use logic.”

“Okay. Right now, he’s conflicted. He’s horny all the time - like me. But unlike me, he feels guilty about being horny all the time, and I sense that deep down he admires Cathy for backing off.”

“Have they done the deed?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. If I were to guess, I’d say they’ve done everything but fuck, and not just once either, but a whole lot of times.” With a boyish grin, he added, “Cathy’s not uptight about sex like Jenny.” He blushed. “She shared a climax with me not long ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I came home and interrupted Cal and Cathy making out on the couch. She was hot; I was hanging around, so she went into the guest bath and masturbated for relief.”

“Hmm, sexy.”

“Yeah. About Cal’s future. He’ll drift away from the church but come back to it. You and I are the only heathens in the family.”

“What? You’re not a believer?”

“I didn’t say that. Let’s just say I’m not a big fan of organized religion.”

“Do Mom and Dad know how you feel?”

“Of course not. I’d rather go to a rock fight than have an honest discussion with them about religion.”

“I hear ya. You flunked the test, you know.”

“What test?”

“I showed you my pussy to test your ability to keep us out of trouble by constantly monitoring everyone’s whereabouts. You concentrated too hard on my pussy and almost allowed Cal to walk in on us.”

He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’ll practice.”

“Do that.”

Two days later, Josh knocked on my bedroom door. After he walked in, he closed the door and locked it. “Test me again,” he said.

I laughed. “You just want another gander at my pussy.”

“True, but I think I’ve got the monitoring bit down pat. Test me.”

“Okay. Who’s home? Where are they, and what are they doing?”

“Mom and Dad are in his home office. They’re on their knees praying. Cal’s in his room. I think he’s jerking off. Jenny’s not in the house. I don’t know where she is.”

“Cal’s jerking off, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come when he comes?”

“Nope. I’ve got that problem licked, too. Come on, Sandy. Give me another chance.”

“All right, but I want a running dialogue regarding the whereabouts of everyone in the house.”

“Fair enough.”

He looked so eager I couldn’t resist giving him what he wanted, which was another look at a real, live pussy. Ten minutes later, his hungry eyes made me hunger for more than my fingers. I wanted that big cock of his. It was standing tall and hard, throbbing and jerking, pulsing like the membranes inside my cunt.

“Mom and Dad are on their knees. They moved to the sofa in the office, and they’re talking. Cal’s close to coming.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s your attitude about cunt licking?”

His eyes widened. “I’m for it.”

“Wanna lick me?”

As bold as he was, he hesitated, but a second later, he moved across the room with a flurry and knelt on the foot of my bed.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “Lick my cunt from the bottom to the top.” I spread the lips of my pussy with my fingers.

His large male tongue felt marvelous moving up through my crease. I shivered with passion. “Oh, fuck, Josh, that feels so good!”

He licked my vulva from the bottom to the top again, and again. “Where is everyone?”

“Same place,” he muttered and licked me, this time wriggling his tongue over my clitoris.

“So close!”

“Cal’s climaxing.”

Suddenly, I felt Josh shuddering. My eyes, which had been closed, flew open. “Fuck!” Josh growled and grabbed his hard cock. Come spewed from the end, splashing onto my thigh and the bed.

He’d tasted me. Fair’s fair, I thought as I quickly twisted on the bed. I caught his second ejaculation in my mouth. I didn’t swallow right away. I wanted to savor the first taste of semen during this incarnation, but I had to swallow after his next copious spurt.

“Lick me some more. I want to come, too,” I said and moved my mouth back around his wonderful, slimy cock.

I felt his face move between my legs again, and his tongue wriggled up through my crease. He nibbled my clit with his lips, and the flat of his fantastic tongue flashed back and forth over the throbbing nubbin.

Amazingly, Josh came again when my orgasm struck, which enhanced the orgasmic sensations coursing through my body. I sucked and licked and swallowed more semen as rapturous orgasmic contractions pulsed one after the other.

I was still coming when Josh lifted his face from my cunt. “Mom’s headed this way!” He jumped from the bed, pulled on his briefs and the shorts he’d been wearing.

He looked frantic. Were we busted?

Then he relaxed. All the air whooshed from his lungs, and he slumped onto my computer chair. “She turned around. She’s returning to Dad’s office. No, the kitchen.”

“Where’s Cal?” I asked. I hadn’t moved. Being dressed wouldn’t have fooled Mom for a second. My room had to smell like a jack-off booth in a triple-X video store.

“Lying on his bed enjoying the afterglow of his climax.”

I giggled. “Me, too.”

“I know. How do you do it? Remain so calm?”

“A good come does that for me. I thought you said you didn’t climax with Cal anymore.” I rolled from the bed and used tissues to wipe his semen from my thigh and the globs scattered across the sheet on my bed. After putting on a fresh pair of panties, I donned the shorts I’d been wearing.

“I don’t normally, but ... ah, heck, I was so danged hot from licking your cunt that the sensations of his climax took me over the top. I had him tuned way down, too, but...”

“I understand. Let’s go for a drive. We need to talk.”

“How do you feel about what just happened between us?” I asked when I stopped Mom’s car at a red light. I had a destination in mind, but we’d never arrive there unless Josh gave me the correct answers to a few questions.

He grinned. “I loved it! Your mouth around me was amazing. And your cunt! Your juices! They were delicious, Sandy. I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Why?” My question obviously confused him, so I continued, “I’m your sister, Josh. You and I shouldn’t be sucking each other off.”

“Ah, you want to talk about incest.”

“Yeah. What’s your take on the subject?”

“It’s wrong for everyone but you and me.”

I laughed. “That’s mighty convenient. Explain.”

“My belief stems from guilt. If I fucked Mom or Jenny or Carol or any of the many aunts or female first cousins we have, that would be incest, and I’d feel guilty because I’d be guilty. The same would be true for you, not only with the males in the family but also the females. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt about what happened earlier between us, and neither do you.”

“Why don’t we feel guilty?”

“I don’t know your reasons. My reason is simple. All other females who’ve shared their emotions with me pale in comparison to you. I’m in love with you, Sandy, have been since the first time I connected with you emotionally about three years ago. I...”

“Not good,” I muttered.

“Sandy, please let me finish. Don’t get all up tight about how I feel about you. I’m cool with it. How I feel about you isn’t a new thing. Like I said, I’ve been living with how I feel for three years. I’ve been through the this-is-wrong phase, the this-is-incest phase, the this-is-just-puppy-love phase, the she-thinks-of-you-as-a-kid phase, and any other phase you can think of. I love you. I’ll always love you. That’s just the way it is. What’s more, I don’t expect you to love me, not the way I love you, so I won’t cause you any grief in that regard. I’ve also learned to deal with jealousy. I neither expect nor want to be your only lover, and I’m not just talking about men. I know how you are about females, too.”

“What about you? Will there be other lovers for you?”

“Yes.”

“A wife? Children?”

“No.”

“Ah.”

“With the way I feel about you, it wouldn’t be fair of me to marry another woman.”

“Fair to you, me, or the other woman?”

“The other woman.”

“Love isn’t limited, Josh. It’s possible to love me and still love someone else just as deeply.”

“Maybe.” He grinned and melted my heart. “If the improbable happens, I’ll jump at the opportunity. In the meantime, I won’t hold my breath.”

One subject down, and he passed with flying colors. “Okay, let’s talk about your astonishing paranormal talents. What do you plan to do with them?”

He shrugged and sighed. “I haven’t a clue. I’m still learning about them, how to control them, and they’re still growing, becoming more powerful. Jeez, Sandy, I’m just a kid trying to cope with being a teenager, which isn’t easy for any teenager. Add my empathic abilities to the mix, and coping with my teenage years is much harder, not easier. I’m not anywhere close to charting a definitive plan for the rest of my life. The only thing I’m really good at is drawing, but being an artist is a hard way to go and doesn’t use my empathic abilities at all.”

Josh had carried a sketchbook around with him most of the time when he was younger, pestering one and all to pose for him, especially me. He was a gifted artist, for sure, but he was right. Sketching and drawing didn’t require any paranormal talent, and whatever he decided to do, I felt intuitively that his unusual empathy should take center stage.

“Fair enough, but don’t try to kid and old kidder. Besides experiencing orgasms from the females around you, you’ve thought about how to use your talents. For instance, you could be an entertainer, put together a stage act, and go on the road.”

“Tacky.”

I chuckled. “True. Come on, Josh. You dream about your future. Everyone does. Tell me about your dreams.”

“Uh-uh. You’ll laugh at me or think I’m too full of myself.”

“Nope. I know you’re not too full of yourself. If you were, I would’ve never shown you my pussy.”

A huge sigh pushed air from his lungs. “Okay. I’ve thought about using my talents as a psychiatrist, a cop, a prosecutor, a judge, and other professions where extraordinary empathy would come in handy. Since 9/11, I even considered becoming a government spy to ferret out terrorists, but to be honest, not all my dreams have been altruistic. For example, I’m ashamed to say that I considered starting my own church for the money I could make.”

He paused and looked at me. “While dreaming about my future, I figured out that what I do can be pretty powerful, which gives me power, and the old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely came to mind.”

He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “For three years, I told no one about what I can do. I told you for a number of reasons, but only one reason really mattered. I figured I could trust you, Sandy. The way you approach life emotionally led me to believe that you wouldn’t laugh at me, that you’d listen and eventually believe me, and I was right. But you did more, much more. You recognized the peril in my empathic abilities and helped me. You pointed me in the direction that would ultimately give me control over the abilities and eliminate the danger that came with them. If I hadn’t already loved you, I would’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head toward me. “I’m putty in your hands, Sandy. I figure you’ll help me mold my talents to do the most good.”

“Uh-uh, that gives me the power behind your talents, and I’m as corruptible as you, Josh, or anyone else.”

“Maybe, but between the two of us, we should be able to avoid using the power inappropriately.”

I pulled the car to a stop in front of a warehouse.

“Why are we stopping here?” Josh asked.

“You told me your secret. It’s time I told you mine.”

Chapter 3

I used a remote from my purse, and an overhead door opened. I pulled Mom’s car into a large garage. Two other vehicles were parked inside.

“Come with me, Josh,” I said and stepped from the car. After lowering the overhead door, I pressed my palm against a panel by a regular door, and it clicked open.

“What the hell?” Josh exclaimed.

“Patience. All will be revealed.” A switch inside turned on some lights, and we stepped into a waiting area. The next security device scanned my retinas, and another door opened. Josh followed me into a cavernous space, a warehouse setup like a museum, with temperature and humidity controls included. “What you’re seeing, Josh, are artifacts from my previous lives.”

“Jesus!”

I chuckled. “My memories don’t go back that far. They start in 973 AD, not BC. Have a seat,” I said and motioned to a pair of Louis XIV solid walnut chairs with les os de moutons, or sheep’s horn stretchers. I sat in one of the chairs when he took the other. “These chairs from the early 17th century reflect my life as a French woman from 1589 to 1611, a short life, but a good one.” I rattled off some French words and then translated. “I said, ‘Your jaw is gaping, Josh.’”

“You speak French?” He looked utterly astonished.

“After a fashion. I speak French as it was spoken in the 17th century. I know about twenty languages, most of which are completely outdated, and some are as dead as the bodies I occupied when I learned the languages on my mother’s knees.”

“Jesus!”

“Your record is stuck, little brother.”

“How...?”

“How did I come by all you see?”

“To start with, yes.”

“From 1917 to 1986, my immediate past life, I lived as a man in London, England, but traveled widely. I was an anthropologist and an archaeologist. I was also very wealthy, so I used that life to gather the antiques and artifacts you see around you, and made arrangements to pass the collection on to the person who would be me in my next incarnation. That person turned out to be Sandra Johnson, Sandy to her friends. Me, Josh.

“You had me pegged a while back. You said I had old memories, but you were way off the mark when you said they were one hundred years old. If you count all my lives, I’m approximately one thousand thirty-one years old.”

“Wow! Cool!”

I grinned, pleased he’d accepted my secret without proof beyond my word and the evidence my artifacts offered. “Way cool.”

“Speak to me in some more languages.”

I rattled off some Cantonese, Arabic, Greek, and Spanish.

“I knew you were different! I just knew it! Whew! I just didn’t know how different. So, reincarnation is real?”

“In my case. Whether anyone else’s life form passes on to another after death is open to question.”

“Mom and Dad will have a conniption fit. This goes against everything they believe.”

“So they must never know, Josh, or anyone else for that matter. Promise me. This is our secret, our secret alone, like your secret is our secret.”

“I promise. This is fantastic, Sandy! May I look around? I won’t touch anything.”

“Sure. I’ll point out some of my favorites if that’s okay with you.”

“Please.”

“These vases are from the Ming Dynasty. I was a man during that life, living forty-four years from 1454 to 1498 in China.”

“Beautiful. I bet they’re worth a pretty penny.”

“Yep. That’s a medieval bronze and enamel buckle from Spain, and it’s dated circa the 12th century when I lived as a woman in Córdoba from 1119 to 1178. At that time, Spain was under Muslim rule, and I was a Jew. Moses Maimonides was my son, and he became a renowned Jewish philosopher. He’s in the history books. Look him up.”

“I will. What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“An 18th-century Hawaiian single-board poi bowl.” I spoke a few words of Hawaiian. “Which means I was a Hawaiian male from 1718 to 1770.” I grinned. “Royalty in Hawaii practiced incest, Josh. I wasn’t royalty, but my sister and I had a lot of fun during that life.”

He smiled broadly. “Like us, I hope.”

I smiled knowingly. “We’ll see. The ancient pages from a manuscript in this glass case don’t look like much, but I cherish them. They’re artifacts from my first life. From 973 to 1048, I lived as al-Biruni, an Arab scholar. Those pages are from one of my manuscripts on the elements of astronomy. They’re almost a thousand years old, Josh.”

“Beautiful.”

We strolled and talked about my antiques and artifacts as I recounted my past lives, and then I opened another door and we walked into a small, one-bedroom apartment. The rooms were filled with antiques.

“And this is my home away from home.”

He gave me a curious look. “You’re rich, aren’t you?”

“Rich is relative. I can’t sell the antiques or artifacts or use them as collateral for a loan, so they have no value except to me. In addition to assembling this collection, when I was Sir Edward Smithe, I set up a trust fund for my next life that’s managed by an old British firm. I’m not Bill Gates, but I’m well off.”

I watched his eyes focus in the distance and tears welled in his eyelids. “I don’t have a chance with you, do I?”

“Do you want the unvarnished truth?”

“Yeah, give it to me.” Anticipating bad news, he bravely squared his shoulders.

“Without your secret, I’d have to say no, but you, Josh, are as unique as I, so jump off that self-pity wagon you just climbed on and give me a kiss, a real kiss.”

His eyes brightened with happiness, and his smile lit up the room. The kiss he gave me wasn’t anything to shout about but was enthusiastic and heartfelt. Before the kiss ended, I knew he was eminently teachable.

When I leaned back from the kiss, I said, “Wanna fuck?”

His exuberant, positive answer delighted me and echoed off the walls of the room.

“Well, strip then.”

He was so excited that I managed to get naked while he was still fumbling with his trousers. With a happy laugh, I raced into my bedroom, pulled down the covers, and clamored onto a canopied bed, an antique I actually slept on for a few years during my lifetime as an Italian Countess from 1790 to 1838. I’ve gotta admit I was a bit of a slut during that incarnation, and I had a hunch I’d do some fucking around during this life, too, starting with my little brother.

Josh bounded into the room and skidded to a stop, his rampant cock bouncing like a metronome. The look he gave me squeezed my heart.

“Sandy, you’re gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful!”

“Thank you, kind sir. And you, little brother, are a hunk.”

He moved onto the bed and took me in his arms. “Teach me. I haven’t ... you know what I mean. I wanna be perfect for you.”

“You’re excited, aren’t you?”

“Outta my mind.”

“Then first things first.” I slipped down on the bed and took his wonderful cock in my mouth, twirling my tongue around and around its head. He groaned with pleasure. I moved my mouth off his cock and said, “Come as soon as you can - in my mouth.” I stroked his shaft with my hands while I talked.

“I won’t last long.”

“That’s the plan. Like you, I’m a virgin; at least my hymen is still intact. I don’t want you to shove your beautiful cock inside me and come lickety-split, because I too want to come during my first fuck in this life. If you come in my mouth first, you’ll last longer the second time around.”

He chuckled. “Nothing like piling on the pressure ... ah.”

His long, drawn-out moan of pleasure tickled me. His long cock also tickled my throat. I bobbed and licked and sucked, and five minutes later, he rewarded my efforts by giving me a mouth full of come. I stayed with his cock, cleaning up the mess until it started to go soft. Then I moved up on the bed and kissed him. He was still out of it, but he kissed me back, sort of.

A little later, he huffed a laugh. “I finally figured it out. You’re a virgin, and discounting your mouth on me in your bedroom earlier, this was the first time you’ve taken a cock into your mouth, but in the total scheme of things, you’ve done it countless times. Correct?” His lips traveled down my neck and settled on one of my breasts. He nibbled and licked a nipple, pulling it up hard and sending sexy messages to my cunt.

I giggled. “You’ve got it.”

“Your tits are magnificent. I love how they make you feel when I lick and suck on your nipples.”

“Me, too.”

“Which do you prefer? Being a man or a woman?” His mouth moved to my other breast.

“When it comes to sex, a woman. Otherwise, a man. That’s changing, though. In another fifty years, a preference will be immaterial for any reason.”

“Except for the female orgasmic response.” He kissed me again. I adored his soft kisses.

“There’s that.” I kissed him back.

“I understand why you’re bisexual. Would you also be bisexual if you were a man in this life?”

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. You’re hot, huh?”

“You tell me.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “I’m hard. You’ve gotta be hot.”

I glanced at his cock - tall and proud like the Rock of Gibraltar.

“By the way, your reasoning was cocky about me being unable to wait for you unless I came in your mouth first,” he said as his fingers danced over my vulva.

“Oh, why?” I let him explore, and he learned what excited me as his fingers wandered around my cunt.

“Because my connection with you is very powerful. Your emotions and sensations become mine, so much so that my sensations take second place, become background noise for yours, so to speak. When I connect with you while we’re making love, I’ll come when you climax, regardless.”

“Oh.”

“I’d have corrected your faulty reasoning at the time, but the idea of your mouth around my cock again made me selfish. Will you forgive me?”

“Uh-huh. Dammit! Are you going to fuck me, or not?”

He laughed joyfully and rolled atop me between my legs. I wrapped them around his waist. Expressive, liquid eyes full of lust and love looked down at me, and he kissed me, another soft, romantic kiss, just what I needed.

I said, “If what you just told me is accurate, I anticipate a potentially disastrous problem.”

“Explain.”

“The pain I’ll feel when you tear through my hymen will probably make you go soft.”

“Good thinking. I’ll bring my sensations to the foreground and push yours way down deep in the background until the pain passes. Then I’ll switch.”

“Cool,” I said.

“Way cool,” he replied, using my expression.

I chortled and reached for his cock. The hard shaft throbbed in my hand. I kissed him and said, “I adore your cock.”

“I feel the same about your cunt.”

I waved his cock head through my crease, coating it with a liberal amount of my juices, and seated it firmly at the entrance to my vagina.

“Are you concentrating on you?” I asked.

“Yes. How should we do this? Slow or quick?”

“I’ve stretched my hymen to near breaking with my fingers. It’s thin. Give me one quick, deep jab and then stop.”

The pain was sharp, like a bee sting. Tears smarted my eyes, and I gasped slightly. I opened my eyes to see Josh looking down at me with a worried expression.

I smiled wanly. “It’s done. Give me a few seconds, and I’ll be fine.”

He pressed his lips to mine, a tender kiss full of feeling. I loved him for his tenderness.

“Go slow but push your cock into me until I’ve taken all you can give.”

“May I switch now?”

“Yes.”

Our eyes locked as we became one. He looked for pain in mine. I saw love in his.

“Ah!” I moaned with pleasure when he stopped moving into me. “So full! So good! Better than I remembered.”

“Oh! Oh, my! Sandy, what you’re feeling is exquisite!”

I chuckled, which caused a twinge of pain. “Yeah, it is. Thrust slowly now.”

“You’re still hurting,” he said after thrusting a few times.

“A little, but don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I understand. It hurts so good!”

I huffed a laugh, and my hips started to move to meet his slow thrusts. Will he know when I’ll want more?

“Yes,” I breathed when he picked up the pace. “Move up on me a little higher, Josh, so I can drag my clit over your cock ... yeah, like that.”

“I see what you mean! What a difference!”

I laughed. “Empaths make pretty good fucks.”

A minute later, I said, “I take that back. Empaths make phenomenal fucks.”

“You’re close.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Come. Come for me, Sandy.”

“Not yet. I love the edge. Exquisite!”

“Your climax is gathering. I can feel it!”

“Oh! Yes! Yes! Oh!”

Josh bellowed like a wild animal when my orgasm struck, and I could feel his long cock swell inside me just before he bathed the back of my cunt with his semen. Then I left this world, traveled to a place of pure pleasure with sensations so intense yet fragile I never wanted to leave that place. I returned to the here and now, though, like I always returned, and the pulses of pleasure continued to wrack my body.

Sensing I wanted more from him, Josh continued to move on me until the final orgasmic contraction shuddered through me. We collapsed to the bed at the same time, and he quickly rolled to my side and gathered me into his arms.

He must’ve kissed me a hundred times in the next minute, kissed me and told me how much he loved me, how beautiful I was, how wonderful, how unique.

When we recovered, I said, “This is our place, Josh. This is where we’ll make love, not where we live. Here we’ll be lovers. At home, we’ll be brother and sister.”

“I understand.”

“We were nearly caught earlier today.”

“I know. I understand.”

As we were leaving the museum, Josh pointed to the two vehicles in the garage, a new silver Mercedes S-Class Saloon and a black Cadillac Escalade. “Are they yours?”

“They belong to the trust, but they’re here for my use. Josh, in a few months, I’ll be eighteen, legally an adult, and the trust will revert to my management. I’ll need help managing my affairs. Will you help me?”

He laughed. “Of course. I’d climb tall mountains for you, and I’m afraid of heights. How can I help?”

“I’m not sure. Remember, considering your wonderful empathic talents, I asked what you wanted to do with your life?”

“Yes.”

“Like you, I haven’t figured out what I want to do with this life. I’m wealthy, so I don’t need to scurry around trying to make money. Sir Edward created the collection, a wonderful legacy for me, and others in the future, because I’ll make sure the collection is passed on to future recipients of our memories. Oh, I’ll add to the collection but only a few pieces.” I paused and sighed. “I want to leave this life feeling like I contributed in some worthwhile, unique way that’s tied to my memories. When I figure out what I want to do, then I’ll know how I’ll want you to help me. I’m in no hurry to make that decision. I have a year to think about the future while I finish high school.”

“What about college?”

“Yes, I’ll go to college if whatever I want to do requires credentials. If not, I’ll forego college.” I laughed. “I’ve been to college a number of times already, or what passed for college during my various lives.”

“Makes sense. Sandy, I have two years of high school left, and four or more years of college. Please, don’t leave me behind.”

“You know how important you are to me, don’t you?”

“I think so. I’m deeply touched that you shared your secret with me. I’m even more touched that you willingly share your mind and body with me. No matter what happens between us, Sandy, I’ll never betray your trust.”

“Josh, I believe fate played a part in bringing us together as brother and sister. We have unique secrets, you with your empathic talent and me with my memories of past lives. I believe we were destined to be together in this life. That’s why I shared my secret with you, why I took you to my bed. If I ever leave you, the parting will be temporary and for good reasons. I won’t leave you behind, Josh.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He stopped smiling and squared his wide shoulders. “I see a lot of problems ahead for us, a lot of hurdles to jump.”

“Yeah, like our loving but fanatically religious parents.”

“We’ll disappoint them, Sandy.”

“Yeah, we will - in the end.”

“When can we visit the apartment again?”

I laughed gaily. “Horny toad!”

“Yup.”

“I have a plan. I’m going to relieve Mom and Dad of the chore of teaching you how to drive.”

“I know how to drive a car. I took driver’s ed in school last semester.”

“Are you sure? I could give you a driving lesson two or three times a week.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “You’re right. No doubt about it. I need a lot of help over the next few months before I take the test for my driver’s license.”

Chapter 4

The stifling hot days of summer followed. Carol married her returned missionary in the Mesa Temple. Jenny remained Jenny. Cal patched up his relationship with Cathy, and according to Josh, they finally did the deed. I turned eighteen, and Josh celebrated his sixteenth birthday, and we visited my apartment frequently. My brother became a phenomenal kisser, an even better lover, and I fell in love with him. My love for him wasn’t gut-wrenching or tremulous, but it was deep and abiding. But as I’d told Josh, I believed it was possible to love more than one person at the same time, so I anticipated I’d fall in love with another man or a woman or both during this incarnation. I think if Josh hadn’t been my brother, if we could’ve been man and wife, created some children and a complete life together, that I’d have been satisfied loving only him. He adored me, and adoration is difficult to resist.

Toward the end of the summer, Josh proudly announced that he’d gained what he believed was absolute control over his empathic talents.

“I can be in a crowded room now, Sandy, and turn everyone off. For a test, I walked into a busy emergency room at a hospital. I felt no pain. No emotions, negative or positive, washed over me.”

I hugged and congratulated him.

“I’ve also become a walking lie detector. I studied polygraph equipment and testing methods, and then applied what I’d learned while connected empathically with a number of individuals, testing their heartbeat, blood pressure, and respiration to questions I, or others, asked them. If I can establish a baseline for truthfulness, I think I’m as accurate as a polygraph machine.”

“Couldn’t you sense if someone was lying before?”

“Yes and no. I knew when someone was nervous about a question, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the person’s response was a lie. The key, I discovered, is establishing a baseline for truthfulness. Deviation from the baseline indicates a lie, not normal nervousness.”

“Unfair!” I cried out. “First, you dig into my mind and heart, and now I can’t lie to you and get away with it. A girl needs some secrets, you cad!”

He knew I was kidding him, so instead of looking sheepish, he blew a raspberry on my belly. We were naked on my antique, canopied bed.

“Lower,” I quipped.

“I just came in you.”

“So? Don’t tell me you haven’t tasted your own come before. You’d have to be an uptight, squeamish, neat freak not to be curious enough to taste your own semen, and you’re open-minded, far from squeamish, and border on being a slob. Eat me, you cad.”

He flashed his boyish grin and proceeded to clean his come out of my cunt, lapping it up like he was a thirsty dog at a bowl of water. Such a male! Girls lick pussies like a kitten with milk. Hmm, maybe I needed a change of pace. Besides, I hadn’t tasted a pussy for a lot of years. Thinking back, I figured the last pussy I licked was about forty years before when I was Sir Edward. He wasn’t big on pussy licking. I think he preferred cocks. Like me, I thought with a silent giggle.

“School’s starting next week,” I said after I recovered from my climax.

“Yeah, which will reduce our opportunities for private times like this one.”

“True, which means you’ll need to acquire a girlfriend.”

“Argh! I wondered when that subject would raise its ugly head.”

“Josh, Mom’s been wondering why we spend so much time together.”

“I know.”

“We need to appear like normal teenagers, you know, date other teenagers, that sort of thing. Gary Kerr asked me if I’d go to the movies with him.”

“When?”

“Friday night?”

“What did you say?”

“Yes.”

“Will you fuck him?”

I laughed. “Not on the first date. What do you think of Pearl Daley?”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“She’s sexy as all get out, but I think she’s more interested in you.”

“Is she a lesbian or bisexual?”

“Bi, I think.”

“Let’s both fuck her.”

I didn’t need to be an empath to see that my suggestion excited my brother.

“At the same time?” he asked as he rolled atop me and pushed his hard cock into my pussy.

“No, silly. Then she’d know about us. Look, I’ve been getting a yen for some lovin’ with a girl. Take Pearl out, turn her everywhere but loose, and fuck her silly. When she starts hangin’ around the house, I’ll seduce her.” I snickered and hunched my cunt up at his plunging cock. “Pearl and I will lick each other’s pussy, and I’ll time it so we climax together. You can be somewhere close enough so you can connect with both of us. Think of it! A double whammy! You can experience two female orgasms simultaneously. I bet you’ll shoot ten feet into the air. What do you say?”

He laughed. “I say let’s do it.”

“Fuck!” I exclaimed when I struck my shin on the coffee table. I briskly rubbed the point of the pain with my hand. Before the day ended, I’d have a large black-and-blue bruise. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Sandra Johnson, such language!” Mom said. “If you were younger, I’d wash your mouth out with soap.”

I grimaced, wishing I had Josh’s ability to monitor the whereabouts of my family members, especially my nosy mother.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“If only that were true.”

That evening after dinner, Dad called me into his home office. Mom was already there, sitting on the leather sofa in front of Dad’s desk. I sat next to Mom.

“We didn’t ask you to join us to criticize you, Sandy,” Dad said, “but we’ve both noted that recently you seem to be drifting away from the teachings of the church. You avoid family prayer, if possible, and you’ve...”

“Sounds like criticism to me, Dad,” I said and immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “You’re right. I was being critical, but your mother and I are worried about you, Sandy. We both know the only way to true happiness is to follow the path set down by our savior, Jesus Christ, as revealed to the Prophet, Joseph Smith.”

When I didn’t respond, he said, “Friday evening you have a date with a boy who doesn’t belong to the church. We think that’s unwise.”

“Criminy, Dad, it’s just a date. I’m not marrying him.”

“This is what I was talking about earlier, Stuart,” Mom said to Dad. “Her defiant attitude.”

“It’s rude to talk about me as if I’m not present,” I said to Mom.

Dad glared at me.

“I don’t like your attitude,” Mom said. “There! I included you in my comment. Are you happy now?”

I sighed loudly. “Are you forbidding me to date except with members of the church?” I asked Dad, ignoring my mother, like she’d ignored me.

“No, we’re saying it’s not wise.”

“Why?”

“The Kerr boy doesn’t have a very good reputation,” Dad said.

“You can do better,” Mom added.

“Who, for instance?”

“Aaron Kemp.”

“He’s fat.”

“Slightly overweight perhaps, but...”

“Who else?”

“Joseph Campbell.”

“Hmm, not bad. Should I ask him out? He hasn’t asked me.”

“No! I’ll talk to his mother.”

“If you do, you’ll be making a fool of yourself, Mom. I’m not Joe Campbell’s type. Now, Jenny...”

Mom threw her hands in the air. “See what I mean, Stuart.”

I moved to my feet. “I’ll cancel the date.”

“Sit,” Dad said. “We’re not finished with this discussion.”

“Yes, Dad, we are. Look, I don’t drink, smoke, or take drugs. I admit to stretching the truth once in a while, but I’m not a thief, a gossip, a bigot, a vandal, or a shrew. I’m a straight-A student, so I take my education seriously. Overall, I’m a pretty good daughter, but I’m not good enough for you or Mom. You don’t want a daughter. You want a saint. Well, I can’t be one, and for what it’s worth, you were wrong earlier. I’m not drifting away from the church. I’m running away as fast as I can.”

On the verge of tears, I spun on the balls of my feet and rushed from the room. I couldn’t remember being so angry with my parents.

It took me a while, but I found my purse and dug out my address book. When I found the number I wanted, I dialed my cell phone.

“Gary, this is Sandy.”

“Hi, Sandy. I recognized your voice.”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I must cancel our date.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not you, Gary. My parents are being unreasonable.”

He chuckled. “I know about unreasonable parents.”

“Thank you for being so understanding. If I clear up my problem with my parents, may I call you?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, gotta go.”

“Sure. Bye, Sandy.”

As I pressed the end button, a knock sounded at my door.

“Go away!”

“Are you all right?” Josh asked through the door.

“No!”

He opened the door and stepped into my room.

“What’s the problem?”

“Mom and Dad.”

“Oh.”

“They don’t want me to date a boy who’s not a member of the church.”

“Oh, oh, I’m scheduled to meet with them shortly. Pearl’s a heathen like Gary. I suspect I’ll have to listen to a similar sermon. Are you keeping your date with Gary?”

“No, I broke it, but they didn’t absolutely forbid me to date him. Like a thwarted, spoiled child, I cut off my nose to spite my face and told them that I’d cancel the date. If I had it to do over again, I’d tell them to take a flying leap.”

Josh laughed heartily. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Did they ask you to get on your knees and pray with them?”

“No, I left in a snit before they could make the suggestion.” I went on to tell Josh everything that was said in the meeting.

“Whew! That had to go over like a pregnant pole-vaulter,” he said, referring to my statement that I was running away from the church.

As angry as I was, I laughed. “Thanks, Josh.”

“No, thank you. Forewarned is forearmed.”

I was curled up with a trashy, historical romance novel when Josh knocked on my door after his meeting with our parents.

He grinned. “Did you just read a sexy part in that book?”

“Yeah. How’d your meeting go with the folks?”

“True to form. Your name came up a few times.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Especially when we knelt to pray for your soul.”

“I’m happy I missed that. Are you breaking or keeping your date with Pearl?”

“The date’s still on.”

“Good for you. For two cents, I’d call Gary back and tell him our date was still on.”

With a silly grin, Josh dug in his pockets. “Gotta quarter, but no pennies.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “You’re starting to distance yourself from them, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“They won’t bend. It’s their way or the highway.”

“I know. I won’t bend, either.”

“I figured. I bent.”

“I bent when I was your age, Josh.”

We didn’t speak for a few seconds.

“Good book?” Josh said.

“No. It’s a historical romance, but the author made mistake after mistake regarding the era she wrote about. I could’ve done a better job.”

“Do it then.”

“Uh-uh. If I were to write a historical novel, it would be a thriller, not a romance.”

“Then write a historical thriller. No, write twenty-two of them, one for each of your past lives.”

His suggestion stunned me. “Yes,” I whispered. Then I shouted, “Yes! Perfect!” I jumped to my feet and hugged him. “You’re a genius, Josh! That’s what I’ll do for this life. I can see ten thrillers about al-Biruni’s life alone. I’ll start tomorrow. No, I’ll start tonight!”

Writing is a bitch. Two days later, I finished the first chapter of my first novel, reread it, and, after seriously considering a book-burning party, deleted it from my hard drive and started over again. My second try was no better than my first. I went to a bookstore, purchased a half-dozen books on how to write novels, read the books, and tried again. Better, but not anywhere near good enough.

Then I gathered representative books from my favorite thriller writers - Patterson, Deavers, and Sanford, if you must know - read, or rather reread, the books, paying attention to each author’s approach to the genre, as well as their writing styles, and my next try resulted in an incomprehensible mishmash because I used bits of Patterson here, a little Deavers there, and parts of Sanford in between. Pure garbage. I needed to find my own style, my own voice, and I reasoned that would happen only if I continued to write, and I was becoming more and more determined to succeed with each passing day. I needed an excuse to leave my unhappy home, and I figured a published novel would do the trick.

Since my dispute with my parents, they’d been cool toward me, and I refused to add any heat to ease the conflict. Josh was right. It was their way or the highway. Oh, they wouldn’t kick me out of the house, but they could certainly make living with them uncomfortable.

Some of Mom’s critical comments elicited some nasty retorts from me. Dad refereed a couple of times. Of course, he took Mom’s side, so I tore into him with a few choice remarks, too. Cal and Josh wisely stayed out of the fray. Fortunately, Jenny had left for college - BYU, of course - or I would’ve had to listen to her pious condemnation, as well.

Their first punishment involved the sudden unavailability of any of the family cars for my use. I retaliated by refusing to go to church the following Sunday, and Dad promptly grounded me. They left for church, and just as promptly, I called a cab and spent the day in my apartment. Josh joined me after church, and I fucked him until his dick was raw. Another row ensued when a cab dropped me off back at the house later. I’d refused to get Josh in trouble by allowing him to drive me home.

School started, a welcome change, mostly because it afforded me an opportunity to get away from my mother during the day. I rode to school with Cal and Josh, but caught rides with friends after school, usually arriving just before the dinner meal, or if I could, I’d eat fast food and skip the family meal entirely.

The situation was deteriorating faster than I wanted, and I’d decided to try to ratchet down the animosity between my parents and me by bending a little, when the dispute came to a head.

Dad, in his infinite wisdom, decided that my sudden change in behavior came about because I was using drugs. When he insisted that I take a drug test, I think he expected me to hit the roof. Instead, I tamped down my anger and said calmly, “Fine, I’ll take the drug test, but afterwards I’m outta here.”

“What are you implying?” Dad asked.

“I’m eighteen, Dad. If I don’t want to live here anymore, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I won’t support you! I won’t give you a dime!”

“Fine by me. Will you drive me to take the drug test, or will I need to call a cab?”

He glared at me with abject fury in his eyes. “I’ll drive you.”

“Does not giving me a dime mean I need to pay for the test?”

His lips tightened. He was angry enough to hit me. Instead, he said, “I’ll pay for the test.”

“Let’s go.”

We rode in silence for about ten minutes. Dad broke the silence. “How will you live? You don’t have any money.”

“I’ll get a job.”

“What about your education?”

“I’ve decided to be a novelist. Writers learn to write by writing. I’ll manage.”

I’d like to think that if Dad had made an effort, if he had stopped the car and returned home without insisting on the drug test, that I’d have backed away from my decision. He didn’t make the effort.

At the drug testing facility, I peed in a cup, and we started back to the house.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Dad said.

“Why? You don’t trust me. You don’t like me.”

“I like you. No, I love you, Sandy.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “And I love you. Mom, too. But I can’t live with you anymore. I can’t be the daughter you want me to be, Dad. I’ll pack a few things when we get home. May I come back and pick up the rest of my stuff later?”

“Where will you go?”

“I have a lot of friends. One of them will take me in tonight. I’ll make some calls when I get home.” Home. Hah! “May Josh drive me, or will I need to call a cab?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No, Josh or a cab, Dad. You decide, and I’d appreciate it if you’d make an attempt to stop Mom from creating a messy scene when I leave.”

He tried but failed. Mom and I said a few things we’d both want to take back later. In the end, I called a cab from the curb in front of the house.

I wandered through my museum. Each piece reminded me of one of my past lives. I’d planned to locate and acquire some artifacts or personal possessions for three or four of my incarnations to improve the collection. Now would be as good a time as any to make the acquisitions. Traveling, moving around this wonderful globe I called home was just what I needed while I honed my writing skills.

My cell phone rang. I checked caller ID. Josh was calling.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi. Are you all right?”

“No.”

“Are you at the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“I’m en route. ETA five minutes.”

“Don’t get into trouble with the parents on my account, Josh, not tonight. We can get together tomorrow. I’ll be all right.”

“I told Dad I wanted to check on you. He tossed me his car keys.”

Ah, Dad does care a little. “Does Mom know?”

“No way.”

“I figured. It was her way or the highway. I chose the road.”

“Mom’s an emotional wreck, Sandy.”

“I know.”

“She loves you.”

I swallowed a sob. “And I love her, but we don’t like each other, and we can’t live together. She’ll be all right in a few days. Her bad apple isn’t in her barrel anymore.”

“Hah! You couldn’t be more wrong. I never mentioned this because I thought you knew. Of all her children, you’re her favorite, Sandy.”

His words stunned me.

“She’s devastated, an emotional roller coaster, so angry with you one second that she wants to scream, and so sad the next she can’t stop a sob from hunching her back. After you walked out the front door, the approach/avoidance conflict paralyzed her. She wanted to run after you and take you in her arms. At the same time, she wanted you out of her sight.”

“Then she chose.”

“Yes, but when she ran after you, it was too late. You were riding away in a cab. She collapsed on the front lawn. Dad had to pick her up and carry her back into the house. She’s asleep now.”

“Fuck,” I breathed as the tears welled in my eyes overflowed.

“I see the warehouse. Buzz me in.”

When I opened the door for him, tears were streaming down my face. He took me in his arms and held me, and a little later, we made tender, sweet love. Afterwards, while he was holding me, Josh started to cry silent tears.

“Temporary, the parting will be temporary, Josh.” He’d been strong for me. It was my turn to do the same for him.

“Where will you go?”

“I’ve decided to acquire some pieces for my museum, so I’ll be doing some traveling.”

“What will you tell the parents?”

“That I found a job with a travel agency.”

“When will you leave?”

“I’m not leaving you behind, Josh.”

“I know. When?”

“Next week.”

“I wish I could go with you. I’d love to see the world through your timeless eyes, stand where you stood hundreds of years ago.”

“Oh, Josh, I love you so very much. Nothing could please me more than to have you by my side on the journey, but...”

“I know. In a couple of years, I’ll break away, too. Then we can travel together.”

“Yes!”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll fly to the Maltese Islands first. I had a short life there as a woman.”

“What were the years?”

“1771 to 1789.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A month, two perhaps.”

“I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“Place your hand on that panel, Josh.”

He did, and the door opened.

“Now gaze into the scanner by the next door.”

When that door opened, he turned and smiled at me.

“Surprise!” I gushed.

He took me into his arms and kissed me until my toes curled. My pussy started to cream, too.

“I figured you’d need a home away from home if only to maintain your sanity.”

“You couldn’t have given me a better going-away present,” he said.

“No one but you, Josh. You can’t bring your girlfriends here.”

He looked offended.

“Sorry,” I said and hung my head.

“You should be. You know I’ll never betray your trust. I’d die first.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Dying to protect my secret would be stupid. You know where I keep the keys to my vehicles. Drive them once in a while to keep the batteries charged.”

“All right.”

I pulled a cell phone out of my purse. “This is a satellite phone, and my satellite phone number is programmed in speed dial number one. If yours rings, and you can’t talk, turn it off and call me back when you can. I’ll do the same. Let’s talk daily, Josh.”

“Uh-uh, twice a day at least.”

I removed another packet from my purse. “Inside this envelope is some cash. Keep it here at the apartment. Also, in the envelope you’ll find a credit card in your name with a prepaid limit of $5,000. The cash you can spend on whatever you wish, but like me over the last few years, you’ll need to be careful so the parents don’t ask pointed questions about where the money came from. I set up the credit card so you could come to me anywhere in the world I might be at any given time. Please don’t use the card for any other purpose. I’m a young woman, Josh, and I could find myself in trouble and need your help.” When a worried expression crossed his face, I quickly said, “I don’t expect problems, Josh. I’m just being prudent.” I grinned. “Besides, perhaps we can arrange a weekend somewhere, just the two of us.”

His smile lit up the museum. “Malta?”

I shook my head. “Too far. Too much travel time. If we can meet, I’ll want to spend the time with you, not traveling. Los Angeles, probably. Maybe New York City. Now take me to our canopied bed and make love with me.”

Chapter 5

I stood bereft. My sister, my love, had just left me. Tears streamed down my face. I’d tried so hard. I wanted to be brave for her. I knew what she was feeling, and I wanted her to reach for and find the strength she needed in me, and I almost succeeded. I didn’t start weeping until she walked away to board her plane. When she turned to wave goodbye, she saw my tears and ran back to me, held me, kissed me passionately, twisted out of my arms, and with a strangled sob and stumbling gait, rushed away without looking back. I stayed connected with her until her emotional signature blinked out. I’d never felt so alone in my short life.

My satellite cell phone rang.

“Goodbye, Josh. I love you,” Sandy said when I answered. “A month or two, Josh. The days will fly by. You’ll see.”

“Maybe, but the minutes will drag. I won’t say goodbye. Call me tonight when you get settled. I’ll sleep with the phone under my pillow.” Sandy planned a day or two in New York and a couple of days in London with her financial advisors before flying on to Malta.

She sighed with exasperation. “Come on, Josh. Buck up. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“Yeah, it is, at least our recent world, but I hear you. That world had to end, but a new one is starting. Our life together will be a series of worlds, and the worlds we’ll occupy won’t be dull. They’ll be full of adventure.”

Her new sigh expressed pleasure. “That’s the Josh I know and love.”

“I love you, Sandy.”

“The flight attendant says I must turn off my cell phone.”

“Goodbye until we talk again.”

At the sound of the dial tone, I closed my cell phone and walked away. I’d be okay. For a month, I could stand on my head if I had to.

About twenty feet down the concourse, someone said my name. Upon arriving at the airport, I’d turned off all empathic connections except Sandy’s, so I had to flip the on switch to connect with the person saying my name, and I immediately recognized her emotional signature. I turned to the voice. Pearl Daley’s smiling face greeted me.

“I thought that was you, Josh,” she said as she stepped up to me.

Did she see my sister kiss me goodbye? Possibly, I decided as I scanned her emotions, but if she did, she wasn’t revolted by what she saw. In fact, she was slightly aroused.

“Hi, Pearl. What are you doing at the airport?”

“My parents were due in fifteen minutes ago, so I was here to pick them up, but their flight was cancelled. Engine trouble, the airline says. I could’ve saved a trip if I’d called first. What about you?”

I studied her eyes, the curves of her pretty lips, and focused on her emotions. “You know why,” I said.

She blushed, confirming my suspicions.

“That was not a sisterly kiss, Josh,” she said.

Contradicting her would be fruitless. “I’ll say!” I exclaimed. I fanned my face with my hand. “Whew!”

She chuckled, pleasing sounds. “I think you protest too much.”

“Did you notice me protesting?” I said, no doubt grinning like a damned fool because that was the look I wanted to present. “Anytime Sandy or any girl wants to kiss me like that, I’ll stand and take it.”

Pearl linked her arm in mine. “Come on. Buy me a cup of coffee. We need to talk.”

She’s confused, aroused, and ... yes, fearful. What’s she afraid of?

“Talk about what?” I asked.

“You and Sandy.”

I stopped walking and turned her to face me. That touch-both of my hands on each of her shoulders-amplified my connection, and for the first time, I felt more than a sender’s emotions and sensations. What I felt was a comprehensible attitude. Not words, per se, but I understood in a general way what Pearl was thinking. Somehow, I had to alter Pearl’s attitude about what she’d witnessed.

“Okay, now I’ll protest loudly,” I said forcefully. “I don’t appreciate your attitude, Pearl. You’ve blown what you saw all out of proportion. That kiss was part of a tear-ladened, heartfelt goodbye. That’s it, nothing more.”

“Sandy and I are not involved in a romantic relationship,” I shouted silently.

Hah! Mentally shouting a command won’t work. I’m not a telepath. I’m an empath. I receive emotions and sensations from others, not their thoughts.

During my study of empathic abilities in others, I’d read about some empaths who claimed to have the ability to project or send emotions as well as receive them.

Doubt was an emotion. Could I make Pearl doubt her current attitude about what she’d witnessed? Try! You must try, I told myself.

I gathered doubt inside myself and projected it outward, visualizing the emotion traveling down my arms to my hands and into Pearl.

“Sandy’s an emotional basket case,” I said. “As you know, my parents are deeply religious, good Mormons, and not long ago, Sandy defied them, told them she wasn’t drifting away from the church, but rather was running away from it as fast as she could. Last week, she packed up and left the house. Except for me, she’s completely estranged from everyone in her family. She quit school, found a job, and just flew away to take the job. If you’re implying there’s something more between Sandy and me than a lot of sibling love and affection, I resent the implication.”

She didn’t speak for a couple of seconds, just stared into my eyes. Did I blink? Yup, but blinking is normal. I also transferred another blast of doubt from my hands to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl said.

After empathically checking her attitude, I grinned. Doubt had replaced certainty.

“Apology accepted. Listen, from what you said, engine trouble scrubbed your plans for the evening, and I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone, either. I need company, but I don’t consider my stiff-necked family good company, not tonight. I’m so angry with them for the way they’ve treated my sister that I could spit nails. How about I pick up a pizza and meet you at your house?”