Paresthesia Pt. 11

The smoke isn't getting to me as bad as usual. I'm probably just getting used to it, which is kind of worrying. That means I am getting cancer or something, losing my sense of smell and taste. It can't be good for me. And the cigar right next to me is only making it worse. Riot Girl isn't really much of a filter. For anything.. I'll have to air it out for a week so my room doesn't reek like tobacco. It already smells like river and industrial progress on some days.

We're waiting for the rest of our cabal of terrible miscreants to show. Doppel's checking his phone, trying to keep on top of the business of taking people's money legally like all businesses do. Sunday's on his best behavior with his own cigar. The spindly fingers turn and stoke the embers, sloughing off the length of ash to land on the mountain in the tray. A ring comes from his mouth and joins the sea of swirling clouds dancing in the hazy light. I cough and adjust myself in the worn chair. The sound echoes and settles with no one commenting on. There's a window. There's a window right there and they can just open it and end all the torment in the world.

"If they don't show," Doppel says, "I gotta bounce. There's an issue with the grocery supplier and they want a face to yell at."

"So, send one of the Doppels that's in time out," Sunday says, "Or in the corner. Or however you punish rouge Doppels."

"We go for pure rehabilitation and understanding when a Doppel breaks the agreement. Also, Doppels don't break the agreement when manifested fully. So, yeah. That last little raid has stretched me pretty thin."

"So, make more Doppels. Nonstop infinite Doppels. Doppels from sea to shining sea," says Riot.

"Lot of work goes into a fully-fledged manifestation. Not a snap my fingers thing. Takes time, room, the right headspace. I also like to put on a fun ceremony when I do it. Nothing fancy, but everyone needs cake on their birthday."

Riot and I do not disagree, even as the uncomfortable silence drifts back in through the air. Getting close the Sunday's now that I think about. Pay people to get in cages with little clothing and dance around, somehow find more whiskey and beer for everyone to drink, things to smoke, good times to be had by all. But all the thoughts in the world can't really help the moments tick by faster. I drum my fingers on the table. They need to be here, and I don't know what they want to say.

There's a knock on the door and we are saved from the terrible purgatory of small talk. Sunday yells to let whoever the hell it is in. And the goons on the other side do so beautifully.

"Sorry, sorry," says Alizarin as she crashes into a chair and kicks her feet up, "the trains got backed up. And the buses from upstate always take forever."

I shrug and I don't have anything to say. No one does. We're still waiting for Violence to waltz in. We got nothing. A knock comes again and Bloody Sunday doesn't even give out words anymore. He just has harsh grunts and vague gestures. And it brings in the Violence who slowly slips through the room. Her motions are back to graceful and serene, but they are careful. They don't show the bandages and the pain and the remnants of last night. She has nothing on her face, not even the blush or smug smile or anything really. She is calm and still and probably a little tired.

"Do you have a fun excuse for the class," says Riot.

"Overslept and part of me didn't want to come," Violence sighs.

"This was like half your idea though," Alizarin says.

"Yeah, but it's one of those things where you say you want to go out, but then the time comes and you just want to go back to bed and slip under the blankets and watch a movie or something."

Riot nods sagely and slips into her quiet patience. Still, she is still save for the smoldering embers in her hands slowly growing a length of ash. Sunday clears his throat and stands.

"So," he says with a suppressed cough, "Here we are again a with the world under our heels and a loaded- "

"Not today old man," says Violence, "sorry, but I'm not in the mood. Ruby thing happened last night and I'm still feeling Deadman slamming me into the dirt."

"And us rocking her world," Riot whispers to me. I barely stifle a classroom snicker.

"So, I was going to call one for tomorrow, but since little red riding hood over there called one for tonight, figured might as well hop on this bandwagon. Floor's yours, kid. But please, make it short."

Alizarin takes her boots off the table and adjusts her mask. The demon snarls and glares at all of us, but the mouth underneath is nervous, all things considered. Odd contrast, even odder still considering how steady her hands are.

"I'm in," she says, "the Hall thing, I'm in."

Sunday smiles and starts the gleam in his eyes shining and twinkling with the most innocent urge to destroy. I'm surprised he doesn't start stamping his feet and running laps, just to burn off the excess energy.

"Same," says Violence. More energy, more stupid child sugar rushes slipping through the air, through the swirls of smoke.

"Incredible," he smiles, "Took a good long while. Make sure you get your shoes shined since you both were dragging your feet."

"Bite me old man," Violence says, "It was a stupid idea, but now it's a stupid idea that I happened to fall for. Like you and all those telemarketer things."

"Bastards almost got me. Not my fault I don't understand computers. But that doesn't matter because you all understand that I have good ideas and now we come to all those little bits of the technical. While you've been flimflamming around, we've been actually doing things."

"Hey," Alizarin says, "I got the Solar Cycle. And Taita's had a chance to guide me through some of the ID tagging things. We have access to the garage at least. And there we go. I'm helpful. More helpful than Violence."

"Oh, shut up. So that's what we do. Shell game. We slip someone in the back with the ID vehicle while the rest try and breach the front," Violence sighs, "Easy-peasy."

"We need to go one farther," I say, "One step isn't enough. We need more than one feint. Maybe even two. Feints on feints on feints. You said a shell game. We need more than two cups."

"The roof," Riot says, "That's one more. I can get one more up there and head down from there."

"And we keep switching the one we back," Sunday says, "Frontal assault, back door, and roof."

"I already gave you the interior and the security specs as current as can be. Doubt they changed much. There's no money for it."

"Well then the broad strokes are laid down with a bland palette," Sunday sighs. His cigar is down to the nub. I think there is a bit of respite on the horizon, but it's all dashed to pieces when he pulls a fresh one and lights it without a second thought.

"Now time to go over the nitty gritty with some rather fetching pastels."

---

Hannah's happy. Bubbly happy. Giggly happy. Touchy and gropey and strokey and happy. And I am the recipient of all the happiness in the world. Alessandra, for the most part, doesn't seem to mind. She still has on the jacket, but the rest is down to something comfy and loose. She keeps turning over the mask in her hands, over and over and over again.

She takes a sip from her bottle and I take one from mine. Just water tonight, in crinkly plastic. Probably should get some of those canned ones. I've heard their better for the world, but that phrase is its own weird marketing scam nowadays. Glass is its own hell, too. It's basically knives waiting to be broken free. Alessandra keeps looking at her mask as we sit and watch our river go by underneath the city lights.

"It smells weird here," she says, "Doesn't that bother you."

"I'm a smoker now with a pack a day habit now, according to him," Hannah says, "So I have no sense of smell anymore."

"They dredged the river last week," I say, "Do it every year so the boats can go through. It always gets like this. It'll settle in a bit. And I've gotten used to it."

"I have too and that's terrible."

"Meadow Lane smells nice," Alessandra says, "Don't know if I would live there. Too many old people. Saw an old guy walking his dog without a shirt on and I don't know if I'm ok with that. I mean, he was in good shape, but still. Kind of weird."

Hannah giggles some more and takes a stolen sip from my bottle. She wanted something with a bit more kick probably, but I have had my fun with that. I just need something to give me a clear head. My brain hurts with all the planning and deciding and argument. Need something to clean out the fuzz and all the cobwebs.

"How'd your visit go," Hannah asks. Alessandra sighs something heavy and metal. Her hand starts to glow and the glass melts to slag at her feet. Wish she wouldn't do that. I now have to scoop up globs of molten glass. It's fine. Better than the shards I sometimes leave behind when I'm in a bad mood.

"Oh, that sounds fun. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Just trying to make some small talk."

"No. No. It's fine. Heavy, it's all heavy, really. Taita's a good guy. Well, not a 'good' guy, but you know what I mean. It always gets so weird with him. Wants me to try and make a microwave death beam somehow. I just want a tank. Anyway, Mama was there too and I didn't know that, so it got super awkward and weird. She's still not ok with what I'm doing, but I'm not strictly forbidden from coming home. Still haven't, though. Got some clothes and what not, but that's it."

"Like I said, place to stay, right here. Whenever. For whatever," I say.

"Appreciate it, but I like my own place. And Mama and I are talking. Don't know if she'll let me work for her anymore, so I need money. Taita was for the chop shop angle, so Mama is now against it. Just a big tangled up mess."

"Only way forward is to start undoing the knots."

"Don't tell me that. I just want it all to come undone. And I'm probably not going to stay in the safe house for much longer. Looking near Killian Square, actually."

"Yay," Hannah says, "You'll be close."

"I will. I know Violence is around that area and Refraction's on the same side of town. Doesn't feel like anyone's there, so there'll I go."

"And we can have more sleepovers. We can have sleepovers every night even."

Alessandra sighs and it turns into a low chuckle.

"You two are the horniest people I know. Like goddamn rabbits or something."

"I think she's the horny one," I say, "I just go along with it all."

"You're the one that brought me back to talk her into a 3 way. That takes balls, man."

"She's also the one that really bagged Ken and Sylvia."

"Don't sell yourself short," she says, "Ken was at least 50/50 and Sylvia had a lot of your groundwork in there."

"Sure, but I never pushed on any of that. I'm just the set up."

"And you're the best set up anyone could hope for. Try it on Alessandra."

I look over to the woman in question and she doesn't really seem to mind whatever kind of ploy I can pull. If anything, she seems to want me to try and seduce her. And I don't have any sort of grand plan for this one. Just like last time, although it was more like a random fluke that panned out something beautiful.

"This is me seducing you," I say, "You now want to have sex with me and Hannah. Lots of sex. All the sex. Right now, and forever."

She hates me and the words that come from my mouth. And she hates that it kind of works. Maybe not the smoothest thing I've ever pulled. Definitely not. Might even be the roughest now that it crosses my mind. Hannah is thumping my chest like she's not impressed. It would have totally worked on her. I can feel her grow more aroused by the moment, even second hand.

"I can't believe I had a crush on you," Alessandra sighs.

"Had or have," Hannah asks.

"Both. Although I don't think it's really a crush now. I've slept with the both of you, so that means the crush has been crushed and now we're on a weird friends with benefits path. Which works for me. Don't think I could do a full-fledged relationship right now. If I had something going on, maybe."

"So can you do casually 3 ways with said not crushes?"

"You are so lucky that this is making me kind of lusty. Usually, its only wine that does it."

"See," Hannah says, "You are good at set up. Now she's horny. The words were a little lack luster, but you managed. Good job. You get a treat."

Said treat is a heavy kiss that lasts a bit too long to be done in polite company. Alessandra watches and ogles and I don't think we're the only horny ones.

"Part of it is I think I get horny when I'm happy," Hannah says as she breaks from me, keeping her wonderfully blue, perfectly sapphire eyes looking into me, "And I've been happy a lot recently."

"Because of me?" I ask.

"No, because I live in a place that smells like river trash. Of course, it's you. And the new gimmick. And the heist plan. And the new friends. But mostly you, cause you set most of it up. You just wanted to hear me say that didn't you?"

I do not confirm or deny anything. There is a Hannah to kiss and I have to do as she wants, in some regard. Haven't done this trick in a while it seems.

I stop the world and melt into her. Gray and beautiful, perfection made everlasting with a smile that shifts between innocent and mischievous and tempting and warm at the slightest change in angle. Motion in stillness, action line preserved for her will against the world's. And she wins. The stopped time cannot hold her still. She does not move but she wants to. The gray cracks and folds around her, keeping the same hue, but it could shatter at any moment. She can slip through into world so far from her. All of it. All of it could be hers and mine shared into eternity.

I am on her lips with the full force of the endless moment. It is all hers. It is all for hers as I pour myself into the act of kissing her, holding her, touching her. Stone, she is just stone held in perfect frozen pose. I am trapped in her weight, the joints locked in me. I do not want to break free. Such a beautifully gilded cage she has made for me. Comforting and welcoming and so many little motions frozen into the moment. I am kissing her, locking her lips to mine. She tastes good. Not now, but I know she does. Scent and taste and some of the finer bits of touch are lost to the gray, but she is still so much more to break through the stone wall.

She does not kiss me back and that's a travesty I cannot bear for much longer. She needs to move and touch me and rumble and shake me down to ruins. But it doesn't. She is still and quiet and nothing can really change that. I pinch and twist some of her piercings, though. That's fun. That's really fun. Need to actually get out and do what I said I was going to do. Later though, not now. I have more bodies to kiss and touch and fondles and they take precedent.

I give the moment back and the color comes and makes the eyes even bluer.

She takes a long moment to sift through the sensations I gave her. They are soft. They are gentle. They are calm. A thread of wanton lust runs through them all, but the fabric is cotton woven and spun down to the faintest oft races. She tilts her head a bit and lays her cheek to my shoulder. Like an idling engine, like a symphony of violin strings, she hums and rattles into me.

"That was nice," she said, "Kind of forgot that you can control yourself while you do that."

"I normally don't. Why would I?"

Alessandra coughs and shifts in her seat. I think she feels left out now. Especially after all that effort I put into bringing her up to speed. Bit of misstep on my part, but I am a flawed little creature, easily distracted. Need a short leash and a strong hand. Granted, I would just snap the chain and bite the fingers. I kiss Hannah again, on her neck, in the hollow of her shoulder and the muscles twitch and clench under my lips. I kiss them again and they do the same.

"Do you need something Alessandra," Hannah says, "You'll have to get up and take it. I'm a little preoccupied."

"I'm going to do something really stupid to you one of these days," she sighs, "Because for some reason, you have to push me."

"We're on a roof," I say, "You push people when they're on roofs. Usually off said roof. And I would like to get off said roof. Or at least off on said roof."

I am an annoying bastard. Alessandra confirms as much as she huffs and stands and stretches and bends that beautiful, plump ass towards the both of us. There are hip movements suggested in there that I did not even know were possible. And then it's gone, replaced by her front, taut stomach and perky chest hidden but obvious. She is glowering at us both and I only respond with the most winning of smiles.

She lunges and to my surprise manages to knock her off of me. But she does not take the saddle, which leaves me confused. A brief bout of wonderful disorientation leaves me across her shoulder, staring down her spine to her beautiful, bitable, spankable ass, swelling her ripped denim and spilling down her thighs. I reach out and touch it and it is even better than I remember it being. Hannah growls and returns the lunge with a shattering boom, only to get her hand caught with burning red glass.

The limb leaves and crawls and grows until her wonderful ruby insect friend has her hoisted and caged.

"So, I guess I took both of you," she says, "Hope you're enough."

Hannah and I both smile and laugh and it is all going according to plan. Whose plan, I'm not so sure. But I am having a good time. That's all that matters.

---

I have an Alessandra riding my face and that's incredible. Heat and weight and double down noise through muffling thighs, tight with muscles trying to crush my head. It's wonderful. It's incredible. I drown myself in her scent and taste and crushing intent. Her hands are pressing on my stomach, feeling the muscled lines and trying to hold on to some amount of sense. She does not. She moans and sighs and whines to the endless night and Hannah's own opening. I can feel the earthquakes rock through her body, slowly pulverizing my skull into ecstasy powder.

"Don't do that Evan," Hannah sighs, "When you do that, Alessandra stops doing her part."

"Sorry," Alessandra moans, "He's just, mmh, he's not stopping. And it's just so good. Keep doing it."

Such a conundrum. Such a puzzle. Such a wonderful riddle to find myself in. And I do not see a reason to untangle it. If anything, it means I should five deeper into the question. And that means I keep doing it, whatever it was I was doing. Figure 8's with my tongue and a slow pulse in my fingers. That seemed to be what she liked.

"Evan," Hannah says with a hard edge, "If you don't stop making her feel good, I'm going to do something stupid."

I keep making her feel good. I keep making Alessandra lose control of her body with the fingers and the tongue and the stuttering moments of gray time slipped in to double up the sensations that don't let her breath. She is lost to the body electric shocks, the clench, the pull of something deep in her demanding more and more and more and more because nothing else matters other than the continued destruction of reason. I move my hand and grip into her thighs, pulling her tighter on to me, sealing us together. My vision is nothing but smooth dark olive skin. It's all I can taste. It's all I can feel. It's all I'll ever need. Heat and heartbeat and grinding muscle into me. I just need the noises pulled from her by me.

She's close. She's so close and I can bring her down into the endless static white release. And I can do it with just the slightest bit more. Hannah wants her own, but she will get hers in a moment. She will get all she needs and wants and claims from the world in a moment. One of the colored ones that slip through the tick tock noise. I have my own calling to answer right now.