tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Girl Who Wasn't There Ch. 01

The Girl Who Wasn't There Ch. 01


This is Part 1 of a five part story and follows the adventures of Ginny, a girl with an unusual psychic ability.

This is a much longer and more complex story than anything I've attempted before and a huge thank you must go to ArilynWriter for her feedback, encouragement and editing: she is a star!

The other parts will follow in due course and any and all feedback and comments are very much appreciated.



She is asleep. She lies tangled in the sheet, her arm above her head and her beautiful breasts exposed. The glow of the laptop screen reveals a slight sheen of sweat on her skin; it is a hot, humid night, which is why I am sitting here unable to sleep. In the corner the radio softly plays old hits.

We're still on the move; never feeling safe and moving on every few weeks, taking whatever casual work we can get. Still, my knowledge of British geography has improved immensely; I remember a test in Year 9 where we had to say in what counties various landmarks were located: the Hogs Back, Durdle Door, the Needles, the Devil's Punchbowl. I was rubbish and couldn't answer any of them, but after 18 months travelling I've seen them all.

The laptop is on the dressing table and I look at myself in the mirror. The laptop's glow illuminates me softly. My hair, for so many years a procession of startling and unnatural colours: blue, red, magenta, even green once, is now blonde. Admittedly still from a bottle of dye, but my natural colour (too dark to be blonde, too pale to call brown) is growing through. I stare at my face. Grey eyes that look tired, my nose with its round end, high cheeks with more freckles than I've had in years from the time spent outdoors recently, soft, full lips above my small chin. Sitting topless in the hot room I can see my boobs, nothing exceptional, but I note with a little pride that they're still firm even at nearly 28, aureoles only slightly darker than the surrounding flesh, the nipples that she so likes to suck and nibble are large.

Thinking of her, my eyes are draw to the reflection of the bed behind me. As I watch her sleeping, the radio DJ announces the next track: "The Eurythmics with When Tomorrow Comes". As the song begins, I am taken back to my teenage years and Dad's never ending selection of 80's hits. Now, however, I actually listen to the lyrics Annie Lennox is singing:

Underneath your dream-lit eyes
Shades of sleep have driven you away.
The moon is pale outside
And you are far from here.
Breathing shifts your careless head,
Untroubled by the chaos of our lives.
Another day, another night,
Has taken you again my dear.
And you know that I'm gonna be the one
Who'll be there
When you need someone to depend upon,
When tomorrow comes...

Silent tears stream down my face at how the words fit our situation and, above all, my love and protectiveness for her, laying just there yet far from me in her sleeping. I will be there for her tomorrow and every day.

I wipe my eyes with my hand, take a deep breath and turn back to the laptop. I have decided to tell my, or rather, our story. But where do I start? Where does the "Once upon a time" belong? The laptop has many of the files from the Department we fled at Wessex University and one catches my eye: 'Ginny_Anderson_Interview_1.doc'; my first interview for Doc Tanya's research programme. Yes, that seems right.


CHAPTER 1 -- "Have you ever had a paranormal or inexplicable experience?"

I enter the interview room and am greeted by Jacob 'call me Jake' Green. He's a good looking guy in his late 20s who proceeds to thank me for volunteering to tell my story, explains that this project is led by Doctor Tanya Neal and is investigating people's experiences of the paranormal. Finally, he asks me to confirm that I'm happy for my interview to be recorded as part of the project. I agree without thinking;

Although I'm worried about how I'm going to explain my ability, my 'witchy power', to him, I know that, just for once, I want somebody to believe me, to accept that what I can do is real and maybe, just maybe, even understand it. The little notices put up by the Parapsychology Department inviting people to come and share their paranormal or inexplicable experiences seem the ideal opportunity.

"Let me just check your details. Name, "Virginia Anderson..."

"Ginny," I interrupt him, "Just Ginny, please."

"Okay, Ginny Anderson, age 22, and you're a final year psychology student here at Wessex Uni?" I nod. "So, Ginny, what is your experience that you want to share?" he asks.

I hesitate. I really have no idea how to explain this simply or clearly. "It's not an experience as such; it's something I can do."

"Okay," he sit up and looks more interested. "What is it that you can do?"

"I can... affect people. I can change how they feel, deliberately. Well, most of the time, it doesn't always work," I admit.

"Interesting, can you tell me when you discovered you could do this and give some examples?"

Oh boy, that's practically my life story he just asked for! "As a child I hated my parent's or little sister being sad, it always upset me and I'd want them to be happy. I found that if I could get a happy feeling inside me I could sort of give them that happy feeling and cheer them up."

"Okay," says Jake as he makes notes. "So is it just happiness?"

I take a deep breath. "No. When I was 12, just as I started secondary school, Mum and Vicky, my little sister, were killed in a car crash. I was so sad and angry and upset and I resented people being happy or laughing around me so I made them stop. Not surprisingly, no one at school wanted to be around me and Dad had it even worse from me."

Jake nods and writes. "What happened?"

"It was Gran, Mum's mother, who sorted me out. I don't know if she knew what I was doing, but she could see how depressed I was. She talked me through it, made me realize that I wasn't the only one; Dad had lost a wife and daughter and she had lost a daughter and granddaughter. She helped me to accept what had happened and that Mum wouldn't have wanted me to hurt those around me."

"Thank you, I know that can't have been easy for you to tell," says Jake in a kindly voice. "So is it just emotions that your, er, ability can project?"

Answering this hits another difficult time in my life, when I was 16, and although I'd not done anything sexual, not even kissing, I'd known for a while that I was bisexual or possibly gay. With losing Mum and Vicky, my ability, and now my sexuality, I was a bit of an outsider and I had only one close friend; Jackie. I decide to give Jake the heavily abridged version.

"When I was 16 I had only one real and close friend at school; Jackie. We were pretty well inseparable, sharing our secrets and hopes. She knew about my ability and used to tease me about my supposed 'witchy powers' that I 'claimed' to have. So I decided to prove I did have 'witchy powers'.

"It was a warm day and Jackie was complaining about being too hot, which may be where I got the idea to make her feel cold. I didn't know if it would work until suddenly, she began shivering uncontrollably, a look of fear on her face. I stopped immediately and she began to recover. Five minutes later however, she was saying I hadn't done anything and it must have been a cold breeze. Looking back, I think I'd terrified her and she was just trying to rationalize what had happened so she didn't have to fear me."

I cannot tell Jake what I did next to try and prove my ability to Jackie. I took the feeling I'd had of finding a girl attractive, of wanting to kiss her and projected that to Jackie. I don't think I was trying to seduce her or anything -- honestly! I just really wanted her to admit what I could do. She turned to me, eyes half closed and started to lean in to kiss. As our lips touched I let the feeling go. Instantly her eyes sprung wide open and she jerked back. She shot to her feet and slapped me hard in the face. "You dyke bitch!" was the last thing she said to me before she stormed off. The one kindness she did me was not mentioning what had happened to anyone.

There is silence as Jake finishes writing his notes. Looking at him I see again how attractive he is his dark hair and hazel eyes, his nose with a very slight crook. Even though he's sitting down I realize he is tall and well-muscled; he obviously keeps fit. He scratches his ear and I notice how thick his neck is and with the nose that might have been broken at some time, I think he probably plays rugby. The thought 'I wonder what he looks like naked' wanders across my mind and I stamp on it, hard. This is my final year and I don't need the distractions that sex and relationships have brought the last two years.

Finally, he looks up. "So, Ginny, can't you show me what you can do?"

Shit! I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Being under pressure makes it harder and someone expecting it makes it harder still! I take deep breaths and try to relax. I try for what should be the easiest; happiness. I feel a sick nervousness in my stomach as I realise Jake is the first person since Jackie that I have told about my ability. I struggle to feel happiness in the way I need to so I can project it. I try to recall happy events, but with remembering losing my Mum and sister and the stress right now it's hopeless. I start to panic inside as Jake begins tapping his pen, waiting for something to happen. It's not going to happen and I now have shame and an urge to cry added into the churning mix of emotions.

Jake is writing something and I can just about read it upside down:

Subject appears to sincerely believe in ability.
Poss. coincidence in past and self-delusion now?
Romantic fantasy of girl with few friends?

I feel a cold anger wash through me. He is dismissing me as some dreamy, delusional, romantic, air-headed girl! An idea simply pops into my head. It offers a way to prove my ability, embarrass him, and have a little fun with a cute-looking guy; perfect! The fact that I'm nothing if not impulsive means that the underlying stupidity of what I'm about to do doesn't register.

"I'm sorry," I say plaintively, a picture of sadness and disappointment, "I can't make it work!" My hand fumbles with my blouse below the chin in my distress and 'accidently' pops one then two buttons open before I clasp them together in my lap. This is some shameless old-school acting and seduction as I squeeze my arms together, raising my boobs and emphasizing my cleavage. I need him to see me as a poor, distressed girl; a poor, attractive, distressed girl who happens to be showing some interesting areas of skin.

"No, no," he replies, as his eyes struggle to look at my face and not further down, "don't be upset." He shifts uncomfortably and I can tell his cock must be swelling. That thought triggers my own arousal and I start to project this at him. His gasp tells me that it's working. I find lust is easy to project, but it'll be just as easy to explain away as an everyday thing.

I reach out my hand and slide it along his leg. "I'm sorry I wasted your time," I whisper, "Can I make it up to you?" My hand slides higher, across the considerable bulge in his trousers. "Can I help you with this?" I ask, as I squeeze gently. Phase 1 of my plan is complete and Phase 2 begins...

I help him unbutton his trousers and slide them down past his knees along with his underwear. As his shorts slide down his cock springs free, rearing up from the undergrowth of his thick, black pubic hair. It is quite thick but of average length. The foreskin had slid back, revealing the glans, a dark, vivid red that contrasts with the pink of the shaft and is shiny with his precum. I wrap my fingers around it and he gasps at their cool touch on his hot member. I stroke him backwards and forwards a few times and his breathing is heavy, he is not going to last long!

I lean forward and trace the tip of my tongue from just above his sack along the underside of the shaft, through the V notch on the glans and along the groove. I savour the taste of his precum as I swirl my tongue all over his glans, pressing hard and making him shudder. I kiss the tip then slowly lower my head, allowing him to penetrate my mouth. I suck gently and begin moving my head up and down as I start to mouth fuck him.

I start to think of the feeling of kissing and being kissed, the sensations and pleasure of it, as I increase the speed of my movements. I start to project them at Jake as he starts to pant. I look up him and hope that his the way his mouth moves is a sign that my kiss projection is working.

His muscles tense and he gasps, "Unnnn!" as he ejaculates, hard and long and fills my mouth. I need to resist the urge to swallow as I redouble my efforts to make him want to kiss me. His cum is so salty, more so than any I've tasted before. His now softening cock slips from my mouth and a little of his cum trickles past my lips. I hold my arms our and he leans towards, his head coming towards mine. My mind is filled with thoughts of kissing and he stares at my lips as I open my mouth. I can see confusion in his eyes as he sees what my mouth holds yet he cannot resist his urge, the urge I implanted, to kiss me. Our mouths meet and I keep my projection going, ensuring our kiss is deep, long, and lingering.

We separate. "I, I can't believe that I just kissed you then, with all that... ugh! I've never done that before. I mean, I saw my cum in your mouth, but I just couldn't resist kissing you. Even when we kissed and I could taste it I couldn't stop," His voice trails off and a look of horror and amazement fills his face. "That was you, wasn't it?" I nodded a slightly self-satisfied smile on my face. "Fuck! Have you ever done anything like that before?" he asks.

"Yes, I made my best friend kiss me. She never spoke to me again. Look, I'm sorry to have done this too you, but I just couldn't stand for you not to believe me!" I point to his notes that are now lying on the floor and he glances down as he pulls his trousers back up. "Anyway, cum is not poisonous -- trust me on that!" I smile at him, "and I promise that I'll never tell anyone what happened; I hope you won't either?"

He shook his head as the door lock to the interview room gave a little beep just before a woman strides in. Jake looks up and looks surprised, "Doctor Tanya, what..."

She cuts him off, "Mr Green, I will speak with you outside." She looks at me, "you, young lady, will stay here and I will be back shortly to discuss what you've just done." With that she turns on her heel and walks out, with Jake trailing sheepishly behind.

So that was Dr Neal. I sit alone, feeling like I'm in the head teacher's office and in some unspecified depth of shit. As a Psychology under graduate I'm not actually in her department, but it never pays to piss of senior academics; they all talk to each other and she could probably get me thrown out of the University if she put her mind to it.

After what seems like half of forever the door finally opens again and Dr Tanya Neal, lecturer and researcher in Parapsychology at the University, walks in. She is a slim, ascetic woman, a dark skirt suit and white blouse, brown hair in a short, easy to maintain bob cut. Everything about her projects a solid, non-nonsense persona that seems at odds with someone who studies the paranormal. Perhaps it's a deliberate overcompensation, given the regard in which her subject seems to be held by most of the University.

She quickly closes the door and moves to sit in the chair opposite. She is carrying an official-looking folder with the University logo and my name on the front. "So, Ms Anderson, would you care to explain what's just been going on?"

"Well, I was just trying to show Jake what I could do," I smile weakly.

"Ms Anderson, I saw what happened on the video!" She replies sharply, gesturing to the top-right corner behind her.

I look up and see for the first time the video camera fixed to the ceiling. "Oh shit!" I breathe.

"Indeed. Did Jacob not explain that the interview was recorded?"

"He asked me if I accepted it being recorded, but I thought he meant the notes he was taking and stuff."

"That was your misunderstanding then. So, an explanation, if you please, and your complete candour at this moment would be appreciated."

I take a deep breath. "Okay, well Jake asked me to demonstrate what I can do, but, well, it's hard when I feel nervous and it doesn't always work, especially if someone's expecting it. I was looking at him, trying to make him feel happy, but it didn't seem to work. He seemed to be getting impatient and wrote some comment about me being a delusional, loner girl. I don't think he meant me to read it, but I did and I got a bit desperate to prove myself. He's a quite a cute looking guy so I had an idea to get him to have sex with me."

"Ms Anderson, when an attractive 20-year-old girl looks at a young man in a certain way whilst fiddling with the buttons of her shirt and coyly biting her lip, I don't think we need to look to the paranormal for any activity in his, er, trouser department!" She had a point. "And why was it necessary to perform fellatio on him?" I must have looked a bit blank at 'fellatio' because she added, "You sucked his penis."

"The sucking wasn't the point! Shit! I know it was a pretty dumb thing to do, but I thought it was just him and me; I didn't know we were being filmed! Anyway, I fella... I did suck him, but you've seen the video, you saw what he did next?" I can feel my face burning red.

She thinks for a moment and then replies, "He kissed you, didn't he? Why does that matter?"

I look at her incredulously. "Lady, I don't what guys you've slept with, but I've never met or heard of a single one who will kiss a girl when she has a mouthful of his cum!" Now it's her turn to blush slightly. "Look, I agree, getting most guys to want sex is not difficult, witchy powers or not. I think getting him to kiss me, when he could see I hadn't swallowed, was pretty impressive!"

"I, well, that hardly constitutes scientific proof," she retorts.

"It didn't have to, I was just trying to prove my ability to him. He would know how he felt about kissing a girl after she's given him a blow; that's all that mattered! He told me afterwards that he couldn't believe he'd done it, that he hadn't wanted to but couldn't help himself." I look at Dr Neal; she's unsure. She's not convinced, not by a long way, and she's still pissed about what I did, but I can see she wonders if it might be true. I need to find a way to convince her or my arse is toast. Happy feelings are not going to cut it, so what can I do?

I notice the carafe of water and two glasses on the table and an idea crosses my mind. I've never tried this before, but if it works...

"Sorry, Doctor, could I borrow a piece of paper and your pen? I just need to write something down so I don't forget it." She gives me a suspicious look but passes me both and, taking care that she cannot see, I write 'YOU ARE GOING TO DRINK ALL THE WATER'. I fold the paper and put it on the table and hand her back her pen, thanking her. I am a little thirsty myself and I think back to earlier, my mouth full of Jake's salty cum. I recall it as fully as I can, the thick, warm fluid filling my mouth that I didn't want to swallow before we kissed. It really had been very salty, more than any I've tasted before. So thirsty; such a salty mouth. I reach out with my mind to Dr Neal, letting my feeling of thirst flow into her as I had with my memory of cold that had made Jackie shiver, or of kissing that had worked on Jake.

Report Story

byScattySue© 6 comments/ 23477 views/ 33 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

2 Pages:12

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: