Have We Met? Pt. 02

The dream was different tonight. An ever-growing whistling sound filled the air above me, and when I looked up, I saw the bomb plummeting earthward directly at my location.

"Fuck me."

The plume of fire engulfed the area, and I woke up in a nearby field. I skittered through the grass as my rodent body carried me to a nearby farm. Instinct-driven, I sought out the aging sheepdog to move along the cycle. I was too familiar with the process, and the dream had burned its way into my subconscious. The weary canine never stood a chance, and it took longer to find a mountain lion for the third stage, and finally, a young girl fell beneath the claws and fangs of the rampaging feline. I stood looking out over the French countryside as the war raged below. German tanks formed up and prepared for a push against allied forces. It wasn't until a flare, fired from one of the Germans, lit up the sky that I noticed my dream self was no longer male. I was locked in a woman's body this time. Tits, I had some prodigious breasts that felt amazing to the touch.

I woke with Wanda snuggling against me, our naked bodies pressed close and comforting. What the hell was with my dreams? Transitioning from a rat to a dog, to a big cat, and finally being restored to a human semblance. Tack on the talking star and planet-sized dragons; what was deep inside of me to create such vivid imagery? Wanda's proximity reminded of why I was here. My thoughts returned to Dex and his brutal murder. The latest news update had been playing just before I fell asleep. I chastised myself for being insensitive; sure, Dex had been cold and antisocial, but that didn't earn him a vicious death. I remembered how hot my apartment had been when I got home. The strange thing was that the weather had been pleasant that night. Sure I had worn a jacket, but it wouldn't have triggered my thermostat. Something had happened in Dex's place to cause it to warm my apartment that much. It must have been bitter cold down there. What could have caused the temperature to plummet that far? Even if the killer cranked the AC to its max, I couldn't see it cold enough to affect my place. Besides, cold air tends to settle downward, making the basement feel arctic. What could do that? I didn't know, and I bet the cops didn't know, either.

The morning sunlight glittered off my father's ring, specifically the large dark blue gem set into it. With slow, careful gestures, I raised my left arm and brought it close, so I could use my right hand, remove the ring, and examine it more closely. The brilliant cobalt diamond was the first thing I studied. I had theorized that it was merely a dark sapphire, but Wanda had assured me it was indeed a diamond. She seemed to know the history of the gem and had mentioned the French Blue diamond. I Googled that term and found that it referred to that stone owned by King Louis of France and would later become the Hope Diamond. A skilled jeweler had cut the French Blue down to its current dimensions that visitors to the Smithsonian see today. The eight-carat emerald-cut diamond possessed no flaws, and its depth was enthralling. Wanda hinted that the gem in my ring could be from the French Blue or even the Tavernier stone, which was over a hundred carats when it arrived in Europe.

Had the gem been in the family all this time? Perhaps the jeweler who resized the Tavernier had shaped one of the most significant fragments and given it as a gift to one of my ancestors? How long has it been in our possession? Dad must have known, but how did he get ahold of it? Wanda didn't say or didn't know. Dad's ring was an engineering marvel and his version of a puzzle ring. The machined pieces and lines meant something was hidden or a test of my deductive skills. At my earliest chance, I would get my tool pouch and see if I could disassemble it and unlock the mystery. I accepted the challenge, slipped the ring back on my finger, held Wanda close, and heard her soft purr of satisfaction. She turned to face me and opened her eyes.

The kiss was as hungry as ever, and I rolled her on top of me. One of my hands cupped her naked ass as Wanda's tongue invaded my mouth. Despite three orgasms the night before, my cock rose to the occasion.

"Unbelievable," Wanda giggled. "You are a sex machine. Be gentle; you pummeled my insides quite rigorously last night."

"I believe you said, and I quote, break me if you can. Sound familiar?"

"M... maybe," she purred. "Unn, how did you, oh never mind. Perfect, I never get tired of how you feel inside me."

Wanda sat up and leisurely rocked her hips, doing all the work. She took my hands and placed them on her breasts. The flash of memory as the dream resurfaced caused a momentary lapse of concentration; when I returned to reality, Wanda was climaxing and looking at me with renewed wonder.

"When did you learn how to do that?" Wanda asked. "Was that a pressure point?"

I noted where my fingers were positioned and tried to memorize it before she moved. "Yeah, I've been studying Kundalini, and I wanted to surprise you," I lied my ass off.

"Oh, before I forget, I made reservations for us at Rousseau's tonight at eight, and your suit should be back from the dry cleaners by noon."

"Didn't it just open? The waiting list must be months long," I said.

"At least, but I know the owner, and we are close. He is an Arsenault on his mother's side. She's a sweetie, but don't ever take her up on throwing darts or target practice. You'd lose your entire inheritance before sunset."

"What is your fascination with families and bloodlines? Is there some eugenics project going on around here?"

"I hate that word, but by definition, it is not altogether unsuited to certain practices surrounding a group of influential families."

"I'll take that as a yes. Aren't you concerned about genetic bottlenecking?"

"It is foremost on our minds, which is why the occasional mingling of robust and less sophisticated partners is encouraged."

"Not elitist at all," I said, and she gave me a savage glare. "I know I sound just like my dad, good."

I left the bed before I said anything else to upset her. She tried to lure me back so I could get off, but the mood was spoiled. Wanda and Octavia wanted me to impregnate Beverly and create the next superior generation. They had made it abundantly clear the last few days with most of my time spent with the sex-starved tween. While Beverly was eager and willing to learn what I liked, her shallow personality rubbed me the wrong way. How did dad put up with this bullshit? I remembered his philosophy; it is worse than useless to try and swim upstream as the salmon does; better to float and, when the shore is near, take yourself out of the river. Words to live by, so I took a long hot bath, showered off, and dressed for a walk in the park. The weather was perfect, and perhaps something would inspire me. I was about to head out when I remembered dad's ring and sought out Wanda.

"Wanda, where are you?"

"In my study."

She didn't call it an office. Nah, she preferred a more old-world word like study or perhaps even library. It had been my dad's, but she had taken it over after his death. Color me surprised when I found the room unchanged and unaltered. Perhaps this was Wanda's way of showing that she missed him. Wanda was seated behind my father's rosewood desk, focusing on a holographic display. Had dad invented his own or was that Numenor technology? It didn't matter in the end, and it was a fantastic setup nonetheless.

"Do you know where my tool kit is?"

She barely glanced to the side, opened the top right drawer, reached in, and tossed me a tool kit. It wasn't mine but my dad's. The worn case had frayed in a few spots from all the tinkering and precision work that gave his life meaning. I didn't correct Wanda. Instead, I slipped it into my back pocket and left her to her work.

The drive to the park was uneventful, and I wasn't alone in taking advantage of the nice weather. I reached for my earbuds to listen to music, but then I remembered Dex, and a chill ran through me. What if he wasn't the intended target? Where did that idea come from, and who would want to hurt me? Wanda? This whole Bene Gesserit voodoo bullshit crawled out of the dark recesses of my mind. I never saw her as a purist, but my return home and age seemed to trigger a change in her attitude and need to fulfill her mission statement. I let out a long string of vitriolic curses, entered one of the walk paths, and let go for now.

The child couldn't have been more than ten years old and flew past me, laughing and giggling. He called back to his parents, who hurried to keep up with him. Life is so simple at that age without a care in the world.

"You are overthinking everything."

I reached a bridge over a stream, and suddenly a thought popped into my head. I gathered up a small bundle of sticks, dropped one on the upstream side, and then moved to the other side to see how long it took to appear. I did this several times when the same kid walked over to me.

"Hey, mister, what are you doing?"

"I am playing an old game; it is called Pooh sticks. Wanna play?"

It didn't take long before half a dozen children counted to three, dropped their sticks into the water, and rushed over to see who won. After twenty minutes, I left the bridge, but the game was going strong, and I liked that. Something so simple could create such joy. One of the parents thanked me, and just like that, my attitude had gone from zero to hero. Sunlight filtered through the dwindling autumn leaves, and I entered the picnic area. I settled onto a bench, removed the tool kit, and went to work. I felt a renewed connection to my dad as I opened the flap and examined the contents. None of the tools carried a stamp or brand name, and I knew somehow that dad had created each one to his exacting standards. Even the leather case itself appeared to be custom-made.

"Typical dad, his way or not at all."

I removed my dad's ring and examined it closely. The perimeter of the signet's base had eight tiny holes drilled into it and, along with some of the nautical decorations on the face of the ring, made me think of compass points.

"Easy, does it," Dad said as I ran the sandpaper across the wood's surface. "You want a nice even appearance to the wood. Patience, we have all the time in the world."

It took three years for the two of us to cut down, shape, polish, paint, and craft the catamaran. Dad named it the Wavedancer, and it lived up to its name. Sure, work overtook him, but he never failed to be there for me when I needed him the most. I removed the one-millimeter thick probe and tested the holes, only to find that none were the same depth. I memorized the numbers starting with true north and continued. Along the underside of the signet, I found a trio of holes forming a triangle that matched one of dad's custom tools. No doubt he had built this for me to solve using his kit. I found by accident that the probe could depress something inside the openings if you pushed hard enough. Now it became working out the proper sequence.

"Nope... nope... nope...."

Click!

"Ha, success. Now what? Nothing is happening."

I turned the signet portion clockwise, and the ring reset to its original position. After a bit, I reached the point where I had made my first big success. This time I gripped the signet and, seeing the narrow line gave it a gentle twist widdershins, or counterclockwise. The ring vibrated as micro-pistons went to work, pushing the dark blue diamond from its seating. I caught the gem before it fell and placed it in my pocket. After that, I saw six more holes, and my excitement ramped up. More trial and error as I probed the openings and faced resets, but finally, I heard the loudest click ever. The ring shook as those same micro-pistons vibrated the puzzle apart and into its essential components. Using tweezers, I captured the pieces, placed them in a small ziplock baggie, and stared at what remained. How long did it take him to design this?

"It is just a simple dark silver band."

My vision dimmed, and I sat upright, closed my eyes, and rotated my head until something in my neck popped. I blinked, but it still looked like I was staring down a tunnel. The darkness closed in around me, and I could see nothing for a minute. I stifled a cry of panic and breathed until my eyesight returned. Now it felt like I had been to an ophthalmologist and had my eyes dilated. Tears flooded my cheeks, and I blinked until everything returned to a new normal. I say new normal; everything had better clarity, the colors were sharper, and I could see a bit further than usual. I wiped the tears away and noted specks on the handkerchief.

"What the hell is that, dirt? Is that what happened? Did I get schmutz in my eyes, which mucked up my vision?"

It didn't matter, whatever happened was over, and I went back to studying my discovery. I examined the ring and determined that the metal could only be platinum or iridium. The only blemish or marking was an elongated rectangle stamped into the inner portion of the band. Otherwise, it didn't stand out at all. I slipped the ring back on, returned to tools to the kit, sealed the baggie, and pocketed everything.

When I stood up, my back popped, and a chill wind blew through the trees. I checked my watch, and nearly six hours had passed from when I left home until now. I zipped up my jacket and was thankful for dry hair and a short walk back to the car. It wasn't until I secured my seatbelt that I thought that maybe dad had built the puzzle ring to hide the other from prying eyes. Had I undone his precautions, and should I put the ring somewhere safe? No, I would not live my life in fear. The murderer had been after Dex, not me, and to hell with jumping at shadows and being paranoid.

A Few Days Later:

I slept in late just so Octavia could sneak over, wake me with her lips around my cock, and ride me until I felt like taking over. While Octavia was adventurous, she never took my offer of the ultimate plunge a second time, and I respected that. Violation of that sort isn't for everyone. Though Octavia didn't seem to mind me tonguing or even fingering her asshole while my cock plundered her pussy or my fingers teased her clit. What did surprise me was how quickly and eagerly Octavia took to Wanda's renewed advances. There was a sly, subtle side to Octavia regarding a feminine touch. She looked so damn happy when she left each day, and we put that smile on those soft pouty lips. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Beverly had spent the night and left just before dawn. Plot or no plot, my sex life had never been better.

After a shower and breakfast, I lounged on the couch, flipping through the channels and settling on a news station. Over the last few days, the media revealed details about Dex's murder. They hinted at what the male detective had mentioned when I stood outside the apartment. A voice came over the security system's speakers.

"Front door is open," she said. "You have a guest." I turned away from the TV to see who had entered the house.

"I heard that an animal might be involved," Dasha said, her color fading. "Your mom has a nice house. Thanks for the invite."

"I thought you'd like some time away from your sister's apartment. How goes the classes?"

"If things keep on track, I should graduate next fall. Are you still sculpting?"

"Eh, my inspiration has tanked since Dex died," I said. "I've been pondering a road trip."

"Listen, I have been putting this off," Dasha stammered, her fear finally manifesting. "Dex gave me something a few days before his murder. I don't want it anymore. Will you keep it? I doubt I will ask for it back. You know what, fuck it, take and keep it. Please."

There was something about the way she said please. The pleading tone felt like Dasha stood upon an emotional precipice.

"Do I have to beg?" Dasha said, and I tried and failed to keep from smiling. "I know your type." Dasha pushed me, and I stumbled back onto the couch and one of the cushions. Smiling, Dasha sat in my lap and ground against me. "Well?"

"What the hell did he give you? Did you tell the police?"

I asked, enjoying the attention she was giving me. Since we weren't at the club, I cupped her ass cheeks and watched her intently.

"No, I haven't even unwrapped it. Whatever it is might be stolen. The last thing I need is a charge for accepting stolen goods. Cops look at strippers as barely a step up from being a hooker."

She opened her purse and removed a piece of cloth. The thing weighed heavy in my hand and must be solid metal hidden beneath the folds of the material.

"Here. Maybe you can sell it."

I accepted the object, and when I began unwrapping it, Dasha leaped to her feet and raced out of the house.

"Damn, Colton, did you ask her for anal? I've never seen a woman move like that short of anything else," Wanda joked as she walked in carrying bags from various upscale stores.

"No," I said and gasped when I revealed the relic.

It could be a museum piece of great value--a gem-covered golden fan in the style of a peacock tail. I carefully tugged until all its panels were displayed. The blend of oddly cut gems flashed when I held it up, and the sunlight struck it. It must be the fan of a noblewoman or perhaps a revered priestess. Had Dex stolen it, or was he part of a smuggling crew? It might be the reason for his murder.

"Dex gave her this."

"I've never seen anything like it," Wanda said. "Look at how cleverly the stones are set into the metal so that it can move so effortlessly. I don't recognize these characters; they have a kind of aquatic motif. If legit, it could be worth millions, maybe more. It might be from India, and those rubies remind me of my time there in my youth. If your friend Dex had this, it is a motive for murder."

I was surprised at how quickly Wanda placed a dollar value on the fan. Did she lie when she said she had never seen anything like it before? Lovers or not, something as valuable as this tended to make a guy paranoid. On one thing, we agreed, the relic had to be from a museum or stolen from a private collection. I didn't dare Google or do any online searches since that kind of action draws unwanted attention.

"I should call Roxanne. I mean Detective Evenwood."

"You think Dasha fucked him for that fan? I would have, ooh, in a heartbeat." Wanda ran an index finger across the surface of the artifact. "I'm getting wet just touching it."

"Before you climax, I must place this in a secure location."

I had to decide what to do with the fan. It might be the thing that broke the murder case wide open, but my gut told me it might disappear from the police evidence room. I had heard rumors of drugs and cash vanishing from storage after cases were closed and sometimes even before. No, this was far too valuable to trust the cops. I'd hold onto it for now.

"After that, I have a few mundane things that need sorting," I said.

"Ooh, I do love a slow burn," Wanda said. "You get your ducks in a row and meet me at that Italian restaurant midtown. I made reservations for us. I'll see you there."

Wanda went upstairs while I entered the spare bedroom. The room reeked of sex. When was the last time I changed the linen? Two days, no three; no wonder the room stank. I opened the windows to let in fresh cold air to help push out the stale musky atmosphere. I made sure Wanda was still upstairs before I acted. I shut the pocket doors and quickly moved to the rear of the full-length mirror, pushed the hidden catch, and opened the secret compartment. I slid the fan into it and closed the cover. Unless you knew where to look, you'd never find it. I was a kid when I caught dad taking out a valentine's day gift for my birth mother from the back of the mirror. He showed me where and how to open the panel. I ensured the compartment was secure before I got fresh linen from the hallway closet. I tugged off the blankets and tossed them to the floor. I stopped and shivered. There was a profound sense of being watched as I stripped the bed.