Flawed Membranes and Lots of Sex

Greg answered just before she left the office.

"2^nd divorce. Three kids, first one lives with mother; next two shared custody. BTW, I used to work with your ex a few years ago. Secrets, secrets. I'm looking for someone and so are you. I can cook, high salary, and enjoy playing games in the evening. I understand from your former mate that you're talented at games. G."

Cynthia shot back: "My ex has a big mouth. What color was I when you saw me in the lobby? C."

"Golden. Very flattering. Did I have some color? G."

"Pinkish. A ring around your head. Can't explain this. C."

"Feel like dinner and maybe parlor games tonight? We can talk about colors. G."

"I'm dining with my best guy. He's incredible at games. A lot better than my ex. Thanks for the info. C."

Cynthia began to doubt any "compatibility" between Greg and her. She could sense a vague commonality among the corona-colored future partners that might appear. Possibly Brad could fill in the missing links tonight.

She knew very little about the occult. She had been raised in a very conservative home. Any reference to occultism or satanic rites was forbidden. Her mother was a very devout Catholic.

It almost destroyed Cynthia when she passed away from cancer three years ago. Maybe her wild behavior and her mother's passing were connected. What did she really know about Keith? They needed to sit down and have a long heart-to-heart discussion about their past and who they really were. Were they predestined to be together? If so, why?

Another thing bothered her. Her former husband had taken a series of photographs of her in the nude and in various compromising poses. She had done as much with him. They were into narcotics at the time; cannabis and cocaine were used during these episodes.

She had foolishly made a "sex tape" just after their marriage, copying the contortions and sexual innovations of a professional pornographic tape. Richard (her ex) had probably made copies and passed them around to his friends after their divorce.

He had been very bitter; her father had hired a lawyer to defend her interests. No matter, sex tapes and an embittered ex-husband couldn't be at the heart of these paranormal "sightings" in color. Richard could "blackmail" her with these salacious photos and sex tapes, but what would he get in return? If she sued, it would go public and her law firm would jettison her in the blink of an eye. It wouldn't do him any good professionally either.

She brought all these issues up with Keith when she got home with the fried chicken. He was taken aback with her wild sexuality and marital problems. He had to admit that he hadn't been a poster child for morality during his married days or even afterward. If this coloration effect were punishment for illicit or imprudent behavior, half the nation would be subject to this dilemma. It had to be something else.

"Brad texted and said he had found something interesting. I'm supposed to get in touch tonight," Cynthia said. Keith moved closer to her and replied, "Maybe he has new info and maybe not. If he has a lead or something we can follow up on, amen. Right now I'll try anything." He put his arms around her and she held onto him with an element of desperation.

Before Cynthia could call, Brad telephoned and Keith answered the phone. "Hello, I hope this is a good moment..." They assured him it was. "I just talked to a shaman, an Indian 'healer' or someone we might call a 'witch doctor.'"

"Don't say it--this is more than weird; it's akin to medieval sorcery. Believe it or not, he's an American-trained physician with a degree in psychiatry from the Yale School of Medicine. I was pretty skeptical, but some friends highly recommended him. It seems he conducts séances and has patients who can communicate with our "parallel world." He hires out as a consultant to people like you who are dealing with the paranormal and looking for answers that science can't provide.

"This sounds crazy but he holds his séances and consultations on "Zoom." You don't have to worry about getting to an office or being seen consulting with him. He charges $150.00 an hour; even more if he needs to see you in person. What's great is that he works after hours. Are you interested?"

Keith had to keep from laughing. Had they come to this point of trusting the prognosis of a "faith healer?" He looked at Cynthia who was equally amazed; however, she had every confidence in Brad's judgment, primarily because of Marcia's approval. She nodded, almost in despair.

"Okay. Cynthia is on board. How do we get in touch? Does he take evening calls?" Keith had sat down to gnaw on a chicken leg and sip his warming beer.

Brad answered that he would take care of appointments. He needed one bit of information that hadn't been discussed: in addition to having been divorced at a young age, had Keith also lost a close relative when he was young? Cynthia, he knew, had lost her mother just a few years ago.

Keith answered that he too had lost his mother recently and it had been an emotional shock, especially since his father had remarried so quickly after her death. Admittedly, there was a simmering resentment against his father's lack of an adequate mourning period. Nonetheless, how could that possibly be the root cause of a paranormal intervention?

Brad then inquired about Greg and his loss of a close relative. Cynthia said he was not being very cooperative and she hesitated to go there with him. She could text but he would probably refuse to answer.

Brad said that the shaman, Dr. Jazarity (born a gypsy in Hungary but educated in India and later in America), requested this sort of information to better analyze the overall forces at work among people who were experiencing similar symptoms.

Cynthia reluctantly agreed to contact Greg about the possible loss of a close relative. Brad said he would proceed with making the appointment via Zoom. He felt that this consultation might give them an insight that the rational, scientific world was incapable of providing.

Keith put down the receiver and shook his head. "I can't believe we agreed to this, but we're out of choices. We're now into the occult and voices from beyond the grave...or something as preposterous."

Cynthia suggested they finish their meal and then she could text Greg about any losses he had experienced. This, she sensed, would not go over very well.

After dinner, she was surprised that Greg has responded so quickly to her request. "Pretty strange request, beautiful lady. Tit for tat. I give you something you need, you do the same for me? Okay?"

"Depends on what you want?" Cynthia texted back.

"I would like for us to get together and talk about weird stuff that's happening. Maybe we can help each other. Your place or mine?"

"I don't play games, just listen. Maybe a public spot better?"

"Your place. I know where you live. I really like games. Your pictures tell me you've got a knack for what turns me on, big time. You won't be disappointed. You need information, I need relaxation after busy day. G."

"Need to talk this over with main game player. C."

Keith had followed their exchange and was angered by Greg's insistence. It was a form of blackmail, he stated. Cynthia agreed but he wouldn't tell her anything else unless she compromised. Would Keith trust her in dealing with this?

She discussed her overall plan that surprised him; he shook his head and answered: "Are you serious? You have no idea who this guy is and what he's capable of. You want me to just be close by...in case of a bad encounter? I'll have to watch this guy "play games" with you? Isn't there some other way?"

Cynthia sketched out her plan in more detail. Greg would meet with them during the first Zoom conference in the evening. He had to cooperate and provide information that Dr. Jazarity would ask for. Afterwards, they would smoke cannabis or some other hallucinogen that breaks down social barriers and acts as an aphrodisiac. Greg would agree to turn over the tapes and pictures he had from her ex- husband; in exchange she would sleep with him--paying attention to his whims and style in bed.

At the same time, Keith would be the watchdog to make sure he behaved. All of this would be filmed clandestinely for security reasons. Greg would not sleep over, and Keith would also have sex with her immediately after he finished and left.

Keith exploded with disbelief, "So you think this guy is going to let you live happily ever after? He'll be texting you every hour and showing up for seconds, thirds, fourths, and so forth. You will not get rid of him. You know he'll make copies of what he turns over to you."

Cynthia admitted that Keith's concerns were legitimate but she felt deep within her that their situation was somehow related to sexual relations and the compatibility of the colorized participant. Greg was a part of the answer to their enigma and he wouldn't go away to begin with. Why not use him to move forward with the investigation?

Keith looked in her eyes and said, "What you want to do is fuck this good-looking stranger with me close by for protection and assume he'll be a gentleman and follow your orders thereafter? This is crazy stuff. I know this type of predator. He'll never leave you alone, Cynthia.

"Where will I be in all this? Your man Friday--the guy who holds the condoms and changes the sheets? Who is going to be top dog? The guy with the biggest cock who can make you scream the most when you come?

"You know I love you. I don't have a good feeling about this 'solution.' You be the one who decides. If you feel it will get us closer to an answer, okay. Let's try. But it just isn't going to work."

Cynthia lowered her head in resignation. "I have to try, Keith. It sounds preposterous but I just feel this can get us closer to a real solution. I don't like this anymore than you do."

"Okay for now," Keith replied, shaking his head. "I'll be your pimp and your bedside protector for this time only. This is a one-and-out deal. If this son-of-a-bitch tries anything, I'll kick his ass right here. Understood? And just to be clear, why do I need to fuck you right after Mr. Big has finished?"

"I'll need to feel you in me to forget his penetration and smell. This will do both of us some good. It will be a cleansing effect."

"This will be one hell of a threesome. Let's be careful." Keith cupped her face with his hands and kissed her tenderly.

Cynthia texted Brad and asked him to set up a Zoom meeting with Jazarity on Wednesday evening if possible. In the meantime, she would text Greg and lay out their conditions for his participation.

Cynthia sketched out her plan almost like a shopping list: getting cannabis or some hallucinogen was something Keith could handle; he had connections at work and that would be simple. They would need, of course, condoms (Keith's responsibility) that wouldn't break easily, Chinese takeout for the meal (everyone liked Chinese in New York) would be her contribution; clean towels and sheets would be her duty. She would also get more lubricant just in case they needed it. Keith would be there to make sure he behaved and left before midnight.

The recording device was no problem. She knew a techie who was a whiz at rigging bedrooms for clandestine photography. In truth, she felt dirty but was also intrigued about the outcome of the séance and the sexual "games." It could turn out as planned or be something unpleasant.

Cynthia texted Greg and laid out the terms for inviting him to her apartment. She indicated that Keith would be present and they would be in touch when Dr. Jazarity had confirmed the Zoom appointment. He had to cooperate fully or everything was off. Greg did not answer her text right away. At around eleven o'clock, just as Cynthia and Keith were getting ready for bed, her phone buzzed.

"Okay for most of your conditions. Pretty weird stuff. We do get to play games my way, understood. I'll have the material you asked for. Let me know if date and time are accurate. G."

"Okay. You cooperate with Jazarity and all the rest is guaranteed. C."

That night, Cynthia was very passionate and Keith felt that he was being ravished more than vice-versa. She let out a string of loud moans that surprised him. She dug her fingernails into his back and wrapped her legs tightly around his torso. Afterwards, they fell asleep like two animals that had just mated in heat.

Brad texted the next day that Jazarity couldn't make the Wednesday appointment but he could offer a Saturday meeting at 7 p.m. They needed to contact his office for confirmation and pre-payment. In addition, they would have to sign a waiver releasing him from all liability as a result of his advice. Keith answered that the change would possibly be okay but all parties would have to agree first.

At work, Cynthia texted Greg about the change. His answer was terse and obviously irritated. "Sorry about change. Not really convenient. Any alternatives? Kids weekend. G."

"Is babysitting possible? C."

"Not really. They need to go home by ten. I'm thinking very late before games are over. G."

"Will get back with an alternative plan. C."

Cynthia knew she would have to discuss alternatives with Brad and Keith. This presented a real scheduling problem. A late night sex-fest would be hard on everyone during the week. She and Keith were early risers and going to bed well into the night would be stressful. Weekends were by far preferable but hard to set up. She had a sinking feeling that her entrapment strategy was coming apart.

She and Keith commiserated over the obstacles they were facing. They contacted Brad and asked if the following weekend was possible and to let them know very soon.

Cynthia sat at his side on the couch and asked Keith to go over any events of their past that might have a bearing on who they were and the crisis they were currently dealing with. Keith looked a little puzzled since they had already been very open with each other concerning their private lives.

"I'm not digging for dirt or anything illegal you might have done. I don't think you're that kind of person. I'm pretty good about judging character. I'm trying to find the thread you talked about which could be hidden away in an incident that might be relevant." Cynthia's voice had taken an almost supplicant tone. "Can you think of anything that might have stirred up the natural order of things? Angered the gods?"

"Good God no! I've led a pretty average life with the exception of my divorce and expulsion from Princeton. These aren't crimes; they're based on naiveté and stubbornness. Political protest doesn't get you condemned by fate."

Cynthia took Keith's hands and looked directly at his eyes. "Well, it's a painful subject that normally I would never discuss with a lover or even a future husband. Only Mother knew about this and she's no longer here.

"As Richard and I were getting a divorce, I found out I was pregnant with his child. I knew that if he got wind of that, he would pull out all the stops to demand a reconciliation. He probably would have gotten a court injunction. At that time, I was completely turned off by his presence, by the thought of having to live with him as an obedient wife. Impulsively, I went ahead and got an abortion. I was almost twenty years old and knew what I was doing. It was going to be a little girl. I've often regretted my choice, but I didn't want Richard in my life.

"Even so, there are evenings when I wonder how she would have been, if she would have looked more like me than Richard...awful thoughts.

"Now that I think back, this could be punishment for my actions. As you know, in the eyes of the Church, abortion is a grievous sin, similar to murder. In the afterlife, I will have to pay for this transgression."

Keith looked more saddened than angered or accusatory.

"This is most likely not the reason. Millions of fetuses or children have been aborted in America. The women who agreed to this procedure would be subject to our dilemma and that just isn't the case. Besides, you're the only woman in our group. It has to be something else."

"As a Catholic how do you feel about me? Do you hate what I've done? Do you pity me?" Cynthia's voice took on a sharp edge.

Keith took her hand and said, "I don't pity you. I do feel sorry for your emotional crisis and sense of guilt. I haven't been a practicing Catholic for some time. I'm in no place to judge."

"I don't need forgiveness from you. Only a priest or God can render that judgment. I hope you still respect me." Cynthia tightened her grip on his hands.

"I still have very powerful feelings for you as a person. I treasure you as someone who came into my life when I was searching for a true partner...not just a sex object, but someone who could share my life. I got lucky in finding you through this bizarre process.

"It has served us well, so maybe something good is at work; but it seems to have a bad and sinister side in your subway creature and the contorted relationship we have with Greg who should be a perfect mate...someone you would immediately relate to, sexually and emotionally."

Keith hesitated and then said, "As a very wild and irresponsible teenager, I was sent off to a military academy by my father to 'discipline' me with a restrictive and very structured life. After a while, I got used to drilling, doing parades, shining shoes, giving and obeying orders of all sorts.

"One weekend, three of us cadets were driving through the mountains not far from the school. I was at the wheel; there were patches of snow on the road, and I lost control of the car. We slid down an embankment and the vehicle crashed into a tree. Luckily I was wearing my seat belt but the two other passengers weren't. One was seriously injured and the other one was killed on impact. I was a senior at the time. There was a very thorough inquest and I was found not guilty of vehicular homicide.

"The parents of the dead cadet tried to sue my parents but the suit was thrown out of court. For years, I've wondered about my responsibility in his death. What could I have done differently? It still haunts me at times even today. I was three months shy of eighteen when it happened."

Cynthia realized that you can never know someone completely--no longer how long you live together. This explained those moments when Keith would occasionally have a sad and far-away look on his face, even during good times. As young as they were, they carried burdens of sorrow that people were unaware of.

"Keith, darling (she almost gasped as she said that), you are a very good man; we all make mistakes in our lives, some very serious and others less so.

"After Mother's passing, I lashed out at society and God. I did some very inappropriate things with my body that I gave to men at bars, at parties, and even as a reward for taking me out to dinner. I'm of course ashamed of this conduct now.

"I assumed that if they found me sexually attractive, I would have a personal identity as someone desirable and unique. I can hardly remember the names of those men that I slept with. I guess most of my "dates" thought of me as a whore, as someone they could "score" with. Very few of them wanted to take me to a concert or just stroll in the park. It was dinner and to the nearest motel or hotel room. Many would even leave me money when they left. Do you think this behavior is part of our problem?"

Keith approached her and said, "No. You were just unhappy and you dealt with that feeling through sex as a form of acceptance. Men do this all the time. They even brag about how many women they've screwed or seduced. Notches on their gun handle, so to speak."

"I hope we can connect with Dr. Jazarity this week. We need a conclusion of some sort even if the message is negative. Knowing is better than guessing all the time."