The Entity Pt. 04byJPMMURPHY©
This is the story of love lost, love explored, and love found in a place least expected. It is also a mystery that involves power, money, greed, and lust. While not as graphic as most here at Literotica I hope you find it an entertaining read. I apologize for the state of the work. It still needs proofing. Please vote and comment.
Michael was propped up in bed, a nurse sitting beside him, spooning a very weak broth into his mouth.
The sensation was heaven. The warmth of the broth as it slid down his throat, the occasional metallic click of the spoon on his teeth, the smell of the nurse sitting next to him. He reveled in such small things, taken for granted, looked at, and discarded by most.
His sight had improved greatly but was faded, not quite the vivid colors he recalled. All limbs were responding, if not exactly as directed. The background noise had faded a little and the sun was low enough to be a faded, light yellow ball, thirty minutes away from the ocean.
Bits and pieces of thoughts and ideas came to him like a collage of photographs flashed on a screen too quickly, only long enough to know they were familiar. The doctor had come and gone and promised a lengthy talk tomorrow, when he was stronger. The only thing Michael knew right now was that he'd been in a coma for a year, almost to the day.
No television was provided, explanation being sensory overload so soon after such a traumatic experience. That was fine with him. He thought the sunset was more than enough entertainment for the moment.
At some point he wondered about the lack of a mirror in the bathroom but new sensations overcame him and the thought was lost.
The nurse left with his meal tray and Michael sat watching the white hot ball get closer to the green, cool pool below. Something seemed so important about the sun and the ocean but he just couldn't put his finger on it.
"Hello, I'm, Theodora Miller."
Michael reluctantly turned away from the window to discover a wrinkled old woman in a wheelchair at his bedside.
"Hi, I'm, Michael, or so they tell me," he responded as he studied the stooped bag of bones clutching a joystick on the arm of the wheelchair.
"Very nice to meet you, Michael," she said as she jerked the joystick and rolled a little closer. Michael watched her lean up, her head shaking a little as a bright green eye seemed to study him closely.
"You are a handsome one," she cooed from her perch.
Michael laughed a little and smiled down at the grandmotherly woman paying complements to him.
"What happened to you, Michael?"
"They say I've been in a coma for a long time. They haven't told me much else yet," he responded, pausing before continuing, "And what are you here for?"
"Oh, Michael, don't worry about me. My days are few, but I've been blessed with more life than you can imagine." She sat a few minutes inspecting Michael as he returned the favor, taking note of the contrasting beauty of the one green eye to the rest of the old woman's body.
"But one thing, Michael," the old woman finally ventured.
"What would that be ma'am?"
"My great great granddaughter will be here in a few days," she started weaving her tale, "and she's a beauty, Michael. I want you to take care of her for me, well, in case I don't make it."
Michael regarded the old woman with warmth and sadness. He saw no harm in placating what might be one of her last wishes. "You can count on it ma'am, especially if she's as beautiful as you are."
"I mean it Michael," she insisted, "I'm someone that's seen more of life than you can imagine and I have a feeling about you two. She'll fall in love with you as soon as she sees you. You listen to an old woman, Michael; I know what I'm talking about."
Michael laughed and it felt good. Just to be happy and talking to someone felt wonderful. "I promise ma'am," Michael answered.
With that, the old woman pulled and pushed on her joystick, slowly maneuvering out the door to Michael's room.
"Why doesn't he remember," she asked interrogating the doctor.
"Remember, Theodora, this is our first full transfer," he explained patiently, "The memories are all there, the brain just has to connect all the dots. That may take some time."
"Will that happen to me?"
"Honestly, I don't know for sure. Maybe the same at first but we're putting the same information back into the same brain," he explained, "Your mind should connect the dots very quickly. Maybe immediately."
"For Michael it's like putting someone else's shoes on," the doctor continued, "They don't seem to fit just yet. We need to give him time to break them in."
Theda sat rocking slightly in her wheelchair.
"Let's hope so my good doctor," she said ominously, "Rudolph has his instructions."
The doctor smiled broadly as she maneuvered her electric chariot out the door. He wasn't worried in the least. Success was only a day away, he was sure of it.
Bob felt filthy as he stood in front of the pimply faced girl behind the check-in counter. His money disappeared and a small, plastic key was slid across the smooth top. She pulled her hand back before he had a chance to accidentally brush against her.
In the room he threw the small duffle bag on the bed and pulled out his cell phone.
"Did you do as I said?" was the first thing he heard.
"Yes, Mistress, I did," was his compliant response.
"Are you filthy, Robert," she inquired.
Bob walked to a mirror over a low dresser decorated with cigarette burns along the edge and ventured a look. His eyes were black holes and a thick growth of stubble covered his face. Something was crusted in his growth of beard and up in his hair. The same off-white stains could be seen on the lapels of his jacked and dark blue tie.
His mistress had commented, that first time, how fastidious he seemed to be about his appearance. His collar stiff and white, the crease in his slacks ran perfectly from the top of his highly polished shoes. 'I will set you free, Robert,' she'd promised.
"Yes I am, Mistress," was his quiet reply.
"Good. You've started paying for your sins."
Bob cleared his throat and almost gagged on the taste that came up.
"Where are you?" his mistress inquired over his cell phone.
"Somewhere in Nebraska," he responded, his voice a monotone.
"Good. Okay, you have some homework to do before you sleep."
Bob waited, obediently for his Mistresses instructions.
"You must go out and find a place, Robert," she instructed, "You'll know the place when you find it. You must take a cup and beg on the corner until someone asks for something in return," her sinister chuckle told him what was coming, "And you will give it to them, Robert, and you must not clean yourself."
The phone went dead in his ear and Bob looked around the room for a paper cup.
Glancing at the duffle bag he opened it and pulled his latest acquisition out, its weight in his hand a comfort as he thought how long and slender Tammy's fingers were. He grinned recalling the pruning shears had been on sale.
Michael shuffled down the hall propped on the arm of his nurse. His knees wobbled and his breath was slightly labored, but he felt like a new man.
Noticing the other patient rooms along the hall were closed he asked, "Am I the only one on this floor?"
"Actually, we only have two patients right now," the nurse replied smoothly, following the script she'd learned, "You and Mrs. Miller. I understand her great great grand granddaughter will be joining us, maybe tomorrow."
"How can that be," inquired Michael, incredulously. Another thought lurked but he was unable to pluck it from its hiding place.
Sticking to the script, the nurse continued, "Well, we're a very specialized hospital that only takes life and death cases, cases with no other hope. You are actually our first real case."
Turning back Michael was tired and somewhat disappointed when he noted it was only twenty feet back to his room.
With the help of his nurse, he swung his feet back into the bed. A mild sedative sent Michael on a dreamland journey that was filled with places and faces he seemed to recognize. A sunset that lingered, burning the back of his mind.
Theodora dreamed of her small flower garden in Mexico, of Jacarandas in bloom and shaved ice in the town square where they walked, arm in arm together, listening to boleros played by a trio that walked from eatery to eatery, a song for a small gratuity.
The call to evening mass at the town's main cathedral still rung clear as a small gathering of people made their way through the big wooden doors that were the entrance. Someplace they could visit but neither felt comfortable in.
Later that evening, a blanket of darkness hid their secret as they'd sipped margaritas and snuggled on a balcony above one of the town's many narrow streets.
Her gnarled frame was suddenly free of the crippling arthritis that kept her in her wheelchair as she flew in her father's arms, dancing a rumba.
In her dream she was suddenly beside a younger man, a younger version of her father. More importantly, she was younger; she was twenty again as they walked through the small town, arm in arm, a trio of musicians at hand playing a song for them and well wishers lining their path. They were headed for the church. They were finally welcomed, even celebrated as they stood before a priest and made their promises.
She watched as Michael turned, raised her veil, tilted her chin and leaned down to kiss her. A stolen moment from her past she had vowed to re-live. Something she now believed they could share together through a living eternity.
Yes, father, we have done it.
Sitting in the diner, Linda was trying to explain how a bear of a Russian, that spoke accented English, had ended up in California flipping burgers, completely ignoring what had taken place earlier.
Nataliya had been at the desk as they checked in. She'd been happy to see Linda had returned.
Tammy blushed when Nataliya commented on her lovely friend; a trace of insinuation lacing her words.
"She didn't mean anything by it," Linda tried to reassure as they walked to the room. She added, "It just makes her happy to think I've found someone. Anyone."
Tammy stood in the doorway and stared. "But there's only one bed," she'd said, a small trace of trepidation laced with anger in her voice.
"This was our room," Linda explained, "Michael's, and mine. Nataliya, probably thought I'd be alone," she continued, stumbling a little on the words, "I doubt they have another room but we can try if you want."
Tammy threw her overnight bag on the bed; one Linda had found in the back of her closet and sat beside it.
"What now?" was all she'd asked.
"We try to find the Entity," Linda had responded as her own bag joined Tammy's and she started setting up the laptop and cam on a white Formica table placed beneath, in Tammy's opinion, the most hideous orange and amber swag lamp in the world.
Tammy had felt it was time to return Linda's clothing and grabbed her bag, heading for the bathroom. "I think I'm going to shower," Tammy explained, "Do you need me?" she asked pausing in the doorway.
Linda had still been busy with the laptop and didn't look up when she answered, "No. I think I've got it."
Tammy languished, exhausted from the last three days activities. She'd tried to make sense of the Entity, the ICB and Linda.
Surprised when she slid the shower door open to find Linda leaning against the sink, she'd glanced around a little nervously looking for a towel. It appeared in Linda's hand as it was draped across her bare shoulders and Linda started rubbing, chasing drops of moisture from her body.
Tammy couldn't stand it any more. "What?" she exploded, "What are you doing, Linda?"
Tammy stood naked, water dripping from her body, trembling slightly with rage and Linda froze, her hand pressing the towel into the small of Tammy's back, her face flushed with an odd mixture of expressions somewhere between anger and emotional strain forming.
It had poured forth in a small stream, phrases and words, from Linda's mouth, "It happened a long time ago, I got, well, I don't know how to tell you," gasping once for a breath, Linda continued, "I had a, well, a problem. And then, Michael, then he died," another gasp, "I've been alone. I haven't touched ...," her voice trailed off.
Tammy had left her in the bathroom, towel draping from her hand, and went into their room where she'd found her bag unpacked and her clothing folded neatly on the bed, a pair of jeans, something silky for underneath, and a blue, V-neck cotton top laid out beside it.
She'd put the clothes on without speaking as Linda had ventured into the room, picked up her purse and explained that the Entity wasn't responding, maybe it would be a good time to eat.
The Entity was busy with the historical photo's the California Historical Society had been scanning, labeling and putting in a database. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed Linda; it was that something seemed important about the person he'd seen on the security camera, struggling along the hall at Waverly Hill.
It was time consuming, even for him, to form each photo and study it. But it had been worth it.
"Look, Tammy, I'm sorry," Linda said as they walked back to the room together, "I really didn't mean anything by it. I guess I just wanted to," Linda hesitated before finally finishing, "feel the warmth of another person."
Tammy found center in the diner enjoying the food and constant attentions of Leo. She'd noticed Linda's tendency to flip the play cards on the jukebox remote and how she'd smiled openly over the meal and laughed at Leo's silly antics.
"Its okay, Linda, I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"It started with a case I headed up," Linda continued to explain in spite of Tammy's response, "You remind me of someone I met. Someone I actually became a little obsessed with."
Noticing an uncertain expression on Tammy's face, Linda went on, "No, nothing happened. We're actually very close friends now," pointing at the Jaguar parked by some evergreens in the parking lot, Linda explained the highlights of the case, how Jan had been involved and how the car was a gift.
"Let me see if I understand. You had a, well, a thing for another woman. Some time ago. Then you had a boyfriend and he died. Then I come along. No one special, and you just have this urge?"
Linda seemed uncomfortable hearing it stated so plainly. She blurted, "Wait! I didn't say you aren't special!" Realizing what she'd just said, she tried to backtrack, "I was just drying you off! That's all! You were looking for a towel."
"So it has nothing to do with me. You're just 'on the make' so to speak?"
Linda finally understood and protested, "No! I'm not just on the make! I don't do these things to any woman that comes along. I'm not trying to just cop a feel. A quick thrill ..." She became quiet when she noticed a couple walk by in the parking lot, both had stopped talking and were watching them.
Tammy leaned in a little and whispered, "Then what were you trying to do, Linda?"
It was too much. Linda couldn't say it. She was sure Tammy would think she was nuts. Shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other, she replied defensively, "I said I was sorry. Can we drop it now?"
Tammy waved and smiled at Nataliya as they walked past the registration desk. She finally felt Linda's stare and felt uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Linda, I think I overreacted." Tammy watched as Linda opened the door to their room and followed her all the way into the bathroom and volunteered, "I kissed a woman once, back in college. Five minutes of drunken groping while a bunch of frat boys cheered," Tammy leaned on the counter close enough to feel Linda's body heat as she brushed her teeth and continued, "I've never known exactly what happened. I just remember waking up in a pair of boy's boxers, in a bed full of bodies."
Linda looked sideways as she continued brushing, to see if Tammy was upset by the memory. Noting a rather evil grin, Linda laughed around her toothbrush.
"The explorations of youth," Tammy added with a slightly nervous laugh.
A ping from the laptop got their attention and they settled in gaudy looking chairs around the laptop.
'Hi,' was the cryptic greeting.
Linda shifted slightly in front of the keyboard and typed, 'This is Linda I'm in the room.'
'Hi Woo. I've missed you.'
Tammy and Linda exchanged glances and Linda continued.
'Who are you?'
'Someone that wanted to watch a sunset with you. Could you connect the camera?'
Linda just sat there staring at the text box, an odd expression on her face. Finally, Tammy reached behind the laptop, found the cable for the camera and plugged it in.
'Hi Linda, it's me, Michael.'
Linda gasped while her fingers froze on the keyboard. Recovering, she pounded out her retort.
'That's not funny. Who the hell are you?'
'I see you're not alone. Hi Tammy.'
Tammy just waved slightly at the camera and continued to watch Linda.
'I didn't want to leave her alone. I was afraid you might attack her or something. Who are you?'
'I used to be a hairy old gaijin. One your grandmother warned you about.'
The meaning came to her at once and Linda hammered the keys, 'How do you know that?'
'You told me.'
This didn't stop Linda as she frantically typed, 'I only said that once. Who are you? The Russian's, the Chinese, some kind of spy?'
'We were watching the sunset, waiting for the hiss. It started raining and we headed for Leo's in the car. Do you remember?'
Linda seemed to deflate as she read the words again. A small whimper slipped between her lips. A deep red flush moved up her neck and masked her face. Tammy reached for the laptop, turning it slightly, and typed, 'Why are we here.'
Linda watched through moist eyes as the response came up on the screen, 'To complete the journey.'
Fox News – Arthur Wright expressed grave concern today for his esteemed opponent, Republican presidential hopeful, Kerry Richards, when he received word that Richards had fainted at a farmers market in Texas, apparently from heat exhaustion. Richard's campaign manager played down what happened pointing out the temperature was 102 in the shade at the time. Richards refused a hospital visit, being treated by paramedics and joking with reporters on his way back to the campaign bus. 'And I thought the hottest thing in Texas was the Chili.'
Scanner Bob could see the lights, literally millions of them, as he dropped down to the flat desert floor and headed into Las Vegas.
His body ached, his mind was numb and he was filthy. He didn't think his current state would get him into the Venetian so he continued to skirt the town until he found the seediest looking motel on the strip.
He noted the black, rancid water standing two feet below the edge of the pool, an abundance of trash and rotting garbage around a rusty green dumpster. Then dogs came out of the shadows chasing something that quickly materialized into a rat.
Adorned in aluminum siding, accented with dents, scratches and dirty streaks, Bob decided he would have no trouble at all getting a room here.
The front desk was manned by a sun dried old being that Bob had trouble defining as male or female. Hair in a long grey ponytail, no visible whiskers or stubble along the rut filled face, wearing old denim overalls, the kind Mr. Green Jeans was so fond of, he really couldn't decide. He did notice the horrendous smell of the office smothered his own unpleasant fragrance. A mixture of body sweat, food and a toilet that didn't seem to flush properly filling the small, confined space. Bob gagged a little while explaining his needs.