Flawed Membranes and Lots of Sex

"I was lucky. It was my blue eyes?"

"Don't you wish! Promise me not to laugh or run for cover..."

"Oh God. You work for the KGB (FSB) or the CIA?"

"No. Even a little stranger than that." Cynthia had a somber look. She didn't seem to be kidding.

"You kidnap handsome brokers and sell them into slavery."

That warranted a sharp poke in the ribs. Keith leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, whispering. "You're from Mars or some distant planet?"

"Enough is enough. You were auburn-colored, somewhat like my hair."

Keith got up and stared at his reflection in a mirror. "Since when? I'm blond--dirty blond--and my complexion hasn't darkened or changed for years."

"It's a hazy-looking fog of sorts that surrounds you. I'd call it your essence and it's focused on your body. No one around you has this coloration."

"Do you see this in other guys?"

"Yes, from time to time. I'm tempted to act on impulse but normally I'm too busy or the time isn't right."

"So, when we met in the restaurant, you were ready and available?"

"No. I had a date, but, as you know, it didn't work out. I felt an enormous attraction when you walked by me at the bar."

Keith took her by the shoulders and spoke in a hushed voice. "How long have you been seeing these illusions?"

"Maybe three weeks or less."

"Am I still colored or is tonight an off-color evening?"

"Right now, you're completely normal. In the restaurant there was still an aura, but very mild by comparison." She reached out and caressed his face as though she were touching a new-found lover. "I can't explain this...in fact it makes me a little afraid."

"Don't run or hide under the couch. I had the same impression when I first saw you." He looked at her face as she lay against the back of the couch.

"Let me guess. I was purple!" This time he jabbed her lightly. "No. It was an incandescent blue. An angelic aura...almost biblical."

"Why blue do you think?"

"Why auburn? That's not my favorite color."

"And now that we've met and are together, the colors disappear. That's more than weird, it's surreal. I don't understand what's going on." Keith put both hands in the air and shrugged.

Cynthia draped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. "I don't get it either. What I know, is how good I feel. Since I really don't know you, this is a leap of faith, but I have a second sense that you're the one. You're my guy. I want to be with you, talk to you, and do other wonderful things with you. How do you feel?"

Keith wrapped his arms around her and answered, "Same here. Why were you coated in ethereal blue? You'd look good in any color. I would like to stay with you, sleep with you, do a lot of things by your side. I've never had this feeling with another woman."

"Lover boy, lovely guy, something has happened and I'm not going to overthink this experience."

She stood up beside him and led him into the bedroom. "First in sequence, let's take our showers, and then get serious about bodily exploration. I'm beyond being hot, I'm literally on fire. How about my money man?"

"Something is making my trousers protrude, really project."

"I see. Let's get you out of these garments so we can investigate pleasurable spots here and there on both of us."

In the shower, Cynthia washed his back, his pubic area and his stiffening penis that was fully erect. He massaged her breasts, sucked her nipples, and made circular motions around her pubis. She began to breathe deeply.

After drying off, she threw herself on the bed and pulled him down atop her. She lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders.

"Whoa, let me do something first," Keith cautioned. He got up, reached into his coat pocket and brought out a condom.

"Let me, sire stud. My hands aren't shaking." She expertly sheathed the condom over his penis and stroked it several times to secure its placement.

She then resumed her position and whispered: "I really need this. You don't know how much!" Their bodies moved in unison and she uttered low and powerful moans as they progressed. At the end, he cried out and drove his penis deeply into her for several strokes before falling to one side. She was equally panting, and kissing his chest as she lay against his body. They both felt as though something unusual had occurred. They were perfectly at ease with one another's rhythms and body motions. They were two parts of a puzzle that fit together.

The next morning, Cynthia shook him gently and said: "It's six o'clock, lover boy. Time to get dressed and off to work." Keith threw on his clothes, shaved (she kept a razor in the bathroom cabinet), and tried to smooth out his shirt and tie.

They kissed several times in the cab that took them toward Wall Street. "See you soon, I hope," Keith said as she got out of the taxi. His office wasn't that far away although located in a much smaller building.

"What say I drop by your place and help you clean up a bit tonight?"

"Pizza from the local deli?" Keith inquired.

"Okay by me, but I'll need to go home first and get some things." She blew him a kiss and rushed through the main entrance of the skyscraper that housed her firm.

Keith spent a long time in his office trying to understand what had happened. He had just spent the night with a beautiful stranger who had experienced the same paranormal phenomenon--a lighted corona encompassing her body-- as she had toward him.

Maybe he could contact someone at Duke University's Rhine Research Center where there was an a school of parapsychology and experiments were being done to probe the neural synapses of the brain; without a referral, they would write him off as another paranoid or street crazy who was hallucinating.

He turned to the Internet but there he faced, among scholarly research articles, an enormous number of sites that went from witches' covens to aliens hiding under the sea. No secretive umbrae circling human beings were discussed or even mentioned.

As he walked down the hallway that the secretaries' cubicles faced, Keith noticed than none of the ladies were illuminated. Several of them were very attractive and not married. Maybe he was too familiar with them and that reduced any element of choice: so possibly the aura was relegated only to strangers? But why, especially if one could become linked to and very intimate with a long-term friend? These were colorized strangers who would prove to be compatible and potential mates.

The phone rang and a voice came through very clear and seductive:

"Hi there. I'm on a coffee break. How many millions have you made today?"

"If that were the case, I'd be in the West Tower with the bond traders."

"I really enjoyed last night. Did you?" She lowered her voice to a soft pitch.

"I was conquered by a sensual goddess bathed in blue. I'm interested in finding out if you've dyed your aura or whether it's still blue."

"Don't let me see you in red or green: those two colors are off limits. Auburn, for some reason, is the preferred hue." There was both teasing and amazement in the way she spoke.

"Blue girl, stay over tonight maybe?" Keith inquired.

"Maybe. I'll bring a change of clothes and some cleaning fluid and a bottle of soap. You do have clean sheets? Hair dryer?"

"Clean sheets I can guarantee. Hair dryer, best bring your own."

"Okay. First we scrub a lot, secondly we eat the pizza--thick crust, please--and after that we talk a little, and then we lock lips and all the rest. On very clean sheets, of course. Good sleep at the end."

"Damn, gotta run. My boss is waving at us for a meeting."

"We do great repartee. Ciao, amore."

Later that afternoon and early evening, Keith and Cynthia followed the plan: they scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen, settled around the dining room table and ate thick-crusted pizza, and then, prior to the bedroom countdown, talked a good bit about body coloration, parapsychology and why they were so happy, just two days after meeting.

Keith waxed hypothetical: suppose, for example, Cynthia came across a nice-looking guy who was fully surrounded by a colored aura that she approved of: would she give in and surrender her body to his sensuality, or would she feel an obligation to remain faithful to Keith whom she adored and would like to keep by her side?

"I hope I'd do the wise thing and not the instinctive, hormonal seduction bit," Cynthia surmised, hugging Keith's mid-drift and nuzzling his face. "Nonetheless, we would probably hit it off and have a good time. The aura-oracle has spoken."

She turned toward Keith: "And you, seducer par excellence: how would you handle a pretty woman colored in orange or something? I assume blue can only be used once?"

"With dignity and grace, maybe. But, in all reality, I would most likely struggle to escape the sticky web of her alluring presence. Like you, I would find her to be compatible and fun to be with. I'm not sure I would have the will power to resist, frankly.

"Does this mean I would cut all traces and start anew with my new girlfriend? I don't think so. There must be some remembrance of times past and the love we shared."

"So, fair Gawain, there's no memory hole or a place where you unload your conquests and start afresh with no remorse? " Cynthia insisted as she followed the trend of the conversation.

"I think we've philosophized enough for tonight," Keith interrupted and took Cynthia into his arms. "Many times 'ifs' lead to 'why nots.'

"O Socrates. Let me show you a new move that a wise friend demonstrated some time ago..."

"Only after our showers." Keith reminded her.

"Save your strength, Samson," Cynthia said jokingly. "This is challenging and takes imagination."

"At my age, I shouldn't need pills, but if I have to...."

"It's like riding a bike, it's natural and easy..."

As the water flowed over their bodies, she rubbed her hands over his abdomen and his arousal followed as Cynthia had promised, like riding a bike downhill.

Keith knew--from the sensation of lust and possessiveness he experienced--that something unusual was taking place. Cynthia had melted into him in a sense: he belonged to her. He was in erotic captivity and had no intention of trying to escape.

The next few days were a repetition of the universal pattern of two young people in love: they talked incessantly, held hands when walking down the street, kissed at random, and spent their evenings immersed in musings about colored aurae, the mystery of their union, and better ways to extract pleasure from their supple bodies.

One day, as Cynthia was leaving work among the hordes of office workers that flowed into the giant hall of the finance building, she noticed an attractive male who was surrounded by a pinkish aura that she had not seen before. She looked at him and he stopped, looking at her.

He came closer, smiled and extended his business card. "Hi, I'm Greg. Third floor guy, legal eagle. Would like to know you better. Let's chat."

Cynthia found herself smiling and extending her card. "Gotta run. Tenth floor, corporate mergers, brokerage. Cynthia, okay."

On the sidewalk as she blended into the river of humanity exiting the skyscrapers, she paused and reflected on what had just happened.

The aura effect again; it had been a few weeks since that had occurred. She was intrigued and puzzled. How was this going to affect her relationship with Keith? Just keep it to herself or have an open discussion about the best thing to do?

She pulled out her smart phone and texted Keith: "Hey, we need to talk tonight. My place?" She walked a few steps, moved to one side and texted:

"Greg? Need to know more about you. I'm single, 26, intrigued by your interest. Married? Involved? Details. Bye. C."

She grabbed the subway, found a seat and pondered what she was now facing: two at the same time? Greg, if the aura was indicative of what should take place, would be a great guy, compatible, and a potential mate...according to her experience with Keith.

"Hey, beautiful babe, how's about you and me going some place nice and quiet..." She looked into the face of a Latino gang-like person who was trying to press against her. He was tattooed and smelled of cheap wine. She stood up to get off at the next exit and he ran his hands over her buttocks. Afraid, she pushed him away and darted for the exit, waiting until the doors were closing. She could see his face pressing against the subway door, sticking his tongue out as the train pulled away. He had cupped his "package" in an obscene gesture.

What Cynthia also noticed was his aura: this time, not a light pastel tincture, but a heavy red-and black-streaked color that inspired fear. She trembled for a few minutes on the train platform as she tried to collect her thoughts.

She hurried down the streets, not looking at men who walked past her, until she arrived at her apartment building entrance.

"Everything okay, Miss Jackson?" The doorman asked as she entered the building. "Yes, Maurice. Thank you. I had a bad encounter on the subway, that's all."

"Be careful. It's not what it used to be. New York has changed."

In her apartment, contrary to her normal drinking habits, she poured herself a bourbon and ginger ale, stronger than usual.

Cynthia's cat, Ministar, rubbed against her leg; she picked her up and held Ministar firmly against her face. Her tension began to diminish.

She checked her messages and read: "Just getting off work. Your place okay still? Keith."

"Give me an hour. Great little restaurant nearby. See ya. C."

She noted that Greg had not texted; he was probably trying to squeeze her in between a wife or mistress somewhere. She didn't have a great feeling with this good-looking lawyer. Or he could be in court protecting the innocent. Time would tell.

After they had dined at Sergio's Mattinata (where roving singers serenaded clients, old-fashion style), they came back to Cynthia's apartment and settled on the couch. Ministar, the cat, also jumped up and snuggled against Cynthia's leg, purring.

"You mentioned you needed to talk?" Keith inquired. "Something wrong?" He petted Ministar who continued to purr.

"Remember what we discussed a while back about the aura-effect and how capricious it seemed to be. Namely, how would we handle someone who was 'illuminated' and appealed to us? Of course, we have no idea who that person really is...for example, we've talked a lot about each other, but I get the impression you've get secrets and to be honest, I haven't revealed everything about me."

"Don't tell me...you're an escapee from federal prison or Rikers Island?"

"Joke all you will, Keith, this can be serious...scary at times."

Cynthia leaned toward him. "What happened with us has been nothing short of miraculous. I've kissed a lot of frogs but no prince yet...until you came along. Why?"

Keith put his hands over hers and said, "I really don't know. But we've talked this to death. Something else is on your mind. Let's hear it."

Cynthia hesitated then said, "Today, as I was leaving work, I met by chance a nice-looking lawyer who works in the same building. We exchanged cards because we were "aura-ized". I knew it as soon as he approached me--surrounded by a pinkish haze.

"Why did I give him my card? I felt compelled to do it. I'm not trying to sneak around or take advantage of the situation to have an affair. In the back of my mind, I was thinking that if we don't work out, then maybe, according to the grand scheme of things, he will be my next compatible lover, the potential mate I'm looking for. He hasn't texted me but he could at any minute. I can't decide what to do. How should I handle it?"

Keith faced her and said firmly, "How should you deal with it? It's really very simple: if you like him and feel he's worth the time, encourage him and get involved...

"The problem of course is that I'm still around. It's very similar to being married, unofficially. How do you communicate with your current partner and openly sleep with your newly acquired lover? In fact, can you sleep with two men at the same time? Lots of women do this in New York. It implies normally that you're unhappy or unsatisfied.

"I appreciate your honesty but we saw this coming a few weeks ago. I still love you...in a strange way that's true although love is usually based on a deep knowledge of someone and shared interests, not to mention a strong physical attraction.

"In our cases, we'll be facing a passionate, highly sexual attraction and very little knowledge of who the 'new' person is."

"If you had the choice, Keith, would you choose me or another woman you met via 'illuminations'? Do you think we can make it over the 'long term' as we are now?" Cynthia's eyes were staring at his in an almost submissive manner; she was on the verge of tears.

"This is weird," Keith responded. "My point of view is: this has to be Kismet or Karma or something irrational that's happening. Some force we can't control is reaching out and tempting us with the selection of perfect mates. Not just one but multiple examples.

"In the movies, we would live forever after, happy, with four children and a house in the suburbs. In truth, we are going to be saddled with multiple partners from now on--only not at a place or time of our choosing. All candidates will be perfectly suitable for our needs. We could easily live with them and prosper. It seems like a very cruel twist of fate.

"I think it's a test of some sort. This isn't Saudi Arabia and serial marriages are illegal in America. Maybe we need to see a specialist and get some advice..." Keith paced up and down in the apartment, waving his hands.

Cynthia spoke up emphatically, "In fact, I've talked to my sister...she's thinks I have a brain tumor...and she gave me a few names of specialists in parapsychology here in New York."

"Did you tell her everything?"

"For God's sake, Keith, sisters tell each other everything...almost. She was sleeping with a good friend a few years back and I never knew...Will you go with me to see a parapsychologist?"

"I think we don't have a choice. This weird stuff is out of control."

Cynthia turned slightly away and faced the river and its flecks of light from the buildings down town. "Something else happened today on the subway," she said in a low voice. "As I was getting off at my stop, a wretched creature who was drunk, grabbed my ass and tried to fondle me. I pushed him away and managed to escape, just in time.

"That wasn't the first time I've been accosted on the subway, but this monster had a strange illumination around him: a dark, reddish coloration with black streaks. It didn't attract me, it repelled me. I felt I was looking at the face of evil." She began to cry and he folded her into his arms.

"You're right. I'll make a few calls tomorrow and see what we can arrange."

Cynthia snuggled up to Keith in bed; slowly, almost impulsively, she seduced him and wrapped her legs around his own in a clinging embrace. He kissed her over and over, saying "It's all right. We're going to make it. We'll be okay."

Cynthia sighed with relief and fell asleep against his nude body.

Dr. Friedrich Heinz, a native of Mannheim, Germany, was highly recommended by one of Keith's friends on staff at N. Y. U. He was a world-renown specialist who had been educated in Europe and had received his doctorate at Duke University--specializing in parapsychology and neural malfunctions of the brain--at the Rhine Parapsychology Clinic. He had also obtained a medical degree in psychiatry from Columbia University. Very fortunately, Keith's friend was able to make an appointment with Dr. Heinz for a basic consulation at his office in downtown Manhattan.

Keith and Cynthia showed up at 9 a.m. on Monday, holding the forms they had filled out as a preliminary step to identify the source of the illumination effects she had been experiencing. Since they had already submitted them by e-mail attachment, the paper versions were only for personal reference during the consultation.