OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO" OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO' OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO" OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO' OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO |---------------------------------------------------------------------------| | | | There Ain't No Justice | | | | #108 | | | |---------------------------------------------------------------------------| - Metamorph - Chapter 01 by Arifel The LAW OF SYNCHRONICITY: Two or more events happening at the same time are likely to have more in common than the merely temporal. Very few events ever happen in isolation from other events. There is no such thing as a mere coincidence. The Laws of Magic Excerpted from `Authentic Thaumaturgy' by P.E.I Bonewits I i knew, somehow, what was going to happen; the evening before i first met her, on a whim, i sorted my videotape collection. i put all of the silly titles (my twelve hours of Warner Brothers cartoons, Monty Python, Red Dwarf, and that Italian bestiality vid that i'd maliciously subtitled) up the back where they couldn't be seen, and i placed all of what i called my Dark Gothic titles at the front. i regarded the hastily-scrawled labels on the sides: Evil Dead II, The Hunger, all four of the Hellraiser films, Eraserhead... on a similar (or perhaps the same) whim, i sorted my CD collection. all of the industrial and Goth bands were prominently displayed, except for the re-release of `Rabies', by Skinny Puppy, which rarely, if ever, left the CD player. why had i done this? a few nights before that, i'd been experimenting with astral projection, aided by some stale ketamine that a friend had given me. i'd never had much success with lucid dreaming in the past; my visualisation skills were poor (remembering Jack Vance saying something about sorcerers needing to be able to visualise a tree, count the leaves twice and arrive at the same number each time); this instance was different. at first, i wasn't really sure if i was asleep; i was lying on my bed, and the pre-dawn glow was just beginning to filter in through the window. when it suddenly brightened into a silent atomic-explosion white glare, i knew `i wasn't in Kansas any more, Toto'. i reviewed the things i'd read on astral travel; i recalled my previous successes, and started looking for that library i'd heard so much about. it wasn't hard to find; physically, it was in the same place that the real-world library was, just down the road and off the main highway from where i lived. i started to float down the twilit street, hovering a few inches off the ground (i could rarely work up the enthusiasm for full-on flying) when suddenly, i was wrenched aside. i was snatched from the vaguely-defined bayside road into something that looked like a club; dark, low-ceilinged and foggy. i stood there for a few moments, wondering if this was some invention of my own mind, when i heard a voice. it whispered, i blinked, and replied (my mouth felt numb; i found out, later, that i'd turned over in my sleep and had my face pressed into my pillow) `well, sure... why not?' the whisper hissed back at me, i heard a sigh of relief. this was bewildering, to say the least; i shrugged and replied, `i'm glad i could help.' it replied hastily, it paused, as if in thought. i sensed around me, trying to see some detail in the fog. my eyes must have been glittering, because i heard it chuckle, a low, burbling sound, almost human. my recall of the dream faded around then, but every word was stuck in my consciousness. i could still hear the liquid quality of its laughter, hours later. that evening, i was driving home from Gary's house. we weren't getting on; his parents didn't like me at all, and their intrusions into what we thought of as a stable relationship were beginning to unbalance it (i can't imagine why i'd become involved with the son of fundamentalists in the first place). having been through this before, we had both agreed that it would be best to let it cool for a while. still, i had the nasty feeling that the decision had been more his than mine. i was driving down a long stretch of unlit country road, doing, as usual, about thirty kph over the speed limit, when i saw a single light in the distance by the side of the road. as i got closer, it appeared to be a bus stop, and i could see someone waiting for a bus. it was about two in the morning; whoever it was had to be optimistic. i had the windows wound down, and freezing air stung my cheek as i got closer. it was damn cold outside at this time of night, and i began to feel sorry for whoever it was. sympathy had less to do with me stopping, however; i began to slow down when i saw it was a young girl, and she was hitching. i drew up next to the bus stop and got my first clear look at her through the open passenger-side window. she was about seventeen, i'd guess; shoulder-length black hair shrouding her pale, thin face. she was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with the words CTHULHU SAVES written on the front in large, white letters, the first word arranged so that it seemed to be cupping her breasts. tight black jeans tucked into worn, dusty black boots. a silver chain around her left ankle; a drab military-green bag at her feet. and, incongruously, an unstrung tennis racket in one hand. she peered in, trying to ascertain if i was dangerous. she caught my eye and inclined her head slightly towards the left, as if asking `are you headed that way?' i nodded, and she smiled. i reached over and opened the door; it swung back just in time for me to see her bending over, reaching for the bag's straps. wau, nice ass, i thought. she straightened up and gave me a sly smile, and for a moment i thought i'd spoken out loud. thankfully, the darkness hid my embarrassment. she got in, dumping the bag at her feet, and turned to regard me. her eyes were pale grey in the light that entered from above, shaded by rogue strands of hair which seemed to drift about as if in a light wind. we stared at each other for about twenty seconds before she broke, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a small smile. your name is Lydya, i was thinking; i'd been watching the cartoon show version of `Beetlejuice' recently; it was silly, but i'd developed a liking for the female lead character, no matter how cubistically she'd been rendered. her tongue briefly parted her lips; `Lydya.' she whispered, her mouth barely moving. i nodded once. `i know.' she reached around and closed the door. i put the car into gear and moved off. so that's why i'd sorted my videos and CDs. to impress her. `is that a radio?' she asked, pointing to a bunch of buttons set into the dashboard. a quiet voice, deep for a female of her age, and husky, as if she'd been smoking home-cured cigars since she was ten. i shook my head and touched the exposed end of the cassette; it slid in and started somewhere in the middle of the Pixies' `Surfer Rosa'. Out of the corner of my eye i saw her raise an eyebrow in approval. as i got closer to home, i felt moved to ask, `how far are you going?' and in my mind, i imagined her reply, the reply i wanted to hear, just as she said it: `as far as i can. you wouldn't know somewhere i could hide out for tonight, would you?' briefly, i entertained the idea of asking her something completely out of the ordinary, just to see if she'd give the response that i would imagine. instead, i replied, `there's plenty of room at my place. since the rest of my family moved to Queensland, i've had the house to myself.' i could hear amusement in her tone, `no other... attachments?' i thought of Gary, and his parents, and of the expression on his face when we'd last parted. `no.' she smiled openly at this, her arms crossed, her black-lacquered nails tapping in time to the music on the pale flesh of her arm. she's going to establish my name next, i thought. `how many... vowels, in your first name?' that's novel... i thought of the half-a-dozen or so bulletin board pseudonyms i had, and settled on one. `two. or three, if you count the letter `y'. but don't bother, you'll never guess -' `ah! i know you.' we were travelling down a fairly straight stretch of road, so i felt that i could safely afford to turn and stare at her, not daring to think anything. `i recognised your car. it's pretty distinctive.' yeah, right, i thought, turning my attention back to the road. goddamn telepaths! i turned into the street where i lived. the house was a few doors up; i pulled up before the driveway, bumping over the gutter in the darkness, and into the car-port in the back yard. i got out and led her into the house. it was reasonably tidy at the moment; most of the dirty clothes were in the washing machine, and the dishes had been washed some time in the past week. i wandered over to have a look at the screen of my computer, which had been trying to collect some electronic mail. it had been at it for eight hours, and still hadn't gotten through; a jab of the escape key told it to give up. when i turned back, she was asleep in the armchair, her legs curled up beneath her. carefully, i walked over to her and kneeled down next to the chair. in sleep, she looked younger than seventeen; her head resting on her forearm, gently rising and falling with her slowed breathing. she couldn't have been asleep for very long, so i jogged her arm and said softly, `there's a bed in the next room.' she opened her eyes sleepily; smiled seductively. she held her arms out; i leaned down and she clasped her hands around my neck. i put both hands behind her back and lifted; strange... she couldn't have weighed more than about thirty kilos! she jumped up and clasped her legs around my waist, her cool smile inches away from my face, pale grey-blue eyes glittering. rather awkwardly, i backed up a few feet and then carried her to the bedroom that my parents had once occupied, extremely conscious of her thighs gripping my waist, of her warmth. there was a double bed in there, neatly made up; occasionally, i had friends stay overnight. black undersheets, several pillows and a large black doona. i staggered over to the bedside (more from the uneven distribution of weight than from any effort required to support her), and we stood there, me waiting for her to let go and fall back onto the bed, she with a sweet smile on her face that told me she wasn't about to let go just yet. carefully, i leaned forward until she was lying flat on the bed, with me hovering above her. with her hands still clasped behind my neck, she gently tugged me down to where she could touch her lips to mine. we only brushed against each other briefly, but i was surprised at how cold her lips felt. i stayed poised over her like that for about thirty seconds, cautiously nibbling her lower lip, my head turning this way and that as we kissed. Lydya unclasped her hands and, placing them on my shoulders, pushed me down. at the same time, she dropped back onto the bed, throwing her head back, exposing her white throat. i leaned down further and touched my warm lips to the softly-pulsing surface. i could feel her sigh; i could almost taste it. abruptly, she grasped the shoulder-strap of her T-shirt, tugging it from her shoulder, exposing one small pale-nippled breast. my lips eagerly moved down from her throat to this new target, causing her to give voice to a series of more pronounced sighs. the nipple was small, hard; cold. i tried my best to warm it with my tongue, lips and teeth, and from the sounds Lydya was making, it was working - then, i paused. we had met for the first time only twenty minutes ago, and we were practically screwing! i drew back slightly; she made a tiny sound of concern. by way of answer, i murmured, `don't you think we're moving a little too fast here?' she smiled up at me and gave a brief shake of her head, no more than half a centimetre's movement in either direction. she tugged me closer, to the point where i had to stop leaning over her; i dropped onto the bed next to her. she turned to face me, her head resting on her arm, her elbow denting the pillow. her eyes glittered a deep, liquid green. green? when i picked her up at the bus-stop, they had been grey. or at least pale blue. i could have been mistaken... sodium lighting, possibly. remembering this brought back the suspicion of her telepathy. without actually thinking it, i decided to implement a test. if she /was/ reading my mind, she would have heard me thinking, `uh-huh.' i paused, smiled and ran my hand down her side, over her hip. without making it obvious, i visualised her naked, lying on her back with her legs spread and thought how much i'd like to have my tongue inside her. her eyes narrowed and the briefest of smiles played around her lips. she half-rolled over onto her back, her hands behind her head, one knee bent, tilting her pelvis towards me. i was getting a bit annoyed at this. i've never pretended to be a full-on snag, but she was wrong if she thought she could simply waltz in and screw her way into my confidence. having just been through all of that crap with Gary, i wasn't about to repeat it. not just yet, anyway. i reached over her, grabbed the doona cover and dragged it over, covering her legs. getting up, i smiled politely and said, `sleep well.' she smiled as if conceding defeat - for the moment - and murmured, `i'll be here if you need someone to talk to.' she rolled over to face away from me and tugged the covers up over her shoulder. she started moving around underneath the covers; she was taking off her clothes. i retreated while i still had willpower to do so. i was exhausted. i crawled into bed fully dressed and fell, immediately, into dreamless sleep. the next morning, i had drifted into that state between sleep and consciousness. familiar territory; sometimes, i had been able to stay, balanced there, for up to an hour. it was nice. a cold morning, a warm bed, the faint light from outside just balanced with the blinking green of the VCR's clock, reading 12:00. nothing moving outside. it must be Sunday. mmm. this calm only lasted for... well, it was hard to tell, but it wasn't very long. soon, i noticed a strange kind of clicking coming from the telephone, as if it was trying to ring but couldn't quite make up its mind. my hand emerged from the warmth of the covers, groped out to the telephone and picked up the receiver. no dial-tone. i couldn't remember if i'd properly disconnected my computer from the line, and then i remembered the phone extension in the other bedroom... `good morning.' i murmured, as if still half-asleep. she replied with a sigh, `mmmmmmmmnh, hi.' `sleep well?' `mm-hmm. i think there's something you should know.' `yes?' `i'm not wearing very much.' `i'd guessed that. few people wear motorcycle boots to bed.' `yeah... mmmh,' (those sounds were beginning to get to me), `when i wake up, you know, it's nice... i mean, i like the way my skin feels...' i could just hear the hiss of her hands moving over her body. `mmm... you know, you may be a bit weird, but expect you're pretty much like most guys...' `pretty much.' `yeah, mmm, every guy i've ever woken up with on a cold morning has woken up with an erection.' i smiled. this was a new approach... phone sex, no more than three metres apart. i thought i'd give back some of what she was giving to me. `oh yeah... that feels good.' a sound from the phone, as if she was rolling over. `what are you doing?' she asked. `why don't you come in and see for yourself?' i taunted. she laughed, a low, throaty murmur that tickled my ear through the telephone's speaker. `mm, it's /very/ cold this morning... and this bed is much more, ah, accommodating, don't you think?' i chuckled, an echo of her laugh. `i'll be right over.' i hung up. she was right; it was freezing. the house did have a heater, but i rarely felt justified in using it just to heat the house for myself, and the cats rarely complained. hell, they usually chose to sleep outside, even if i did turn the heater on just for them. the room was shrouded in grey twilight; birds had just started chirping outside. i braced myself, threw the covers back and restrained a gasp as the shock of the cold wiped away the dozy Sunday-morning feeling. she was right; i wasn't very much different from most guys. i smiled as the evidence for my normality pointed at the ceiling until the cold prevailed. i groped about on the floor until i found my black jumper, slipped it over my head and revelled in the scratchy feeling of wool against bare skin. teeth chattering, my body temperature dropping with prolonged exposure to the air, i carefully stepped over the books, milk-crates full of CDs and comics that made up the war-torn landscape of my bedroom floor, down the short hallway to the spare bedroom. it was dark in there; the curtains had been carefully arranged so as to exclude every trace of outside. the digital clock had been unplugged. my partially dark-adjusted eyes made out a pale oval hovering just above the sea of black which was gathered around her body, sitting up against the wall, supported by a pile of pillows. i scented a faint aroma of, something; something feminine. i closed my eyes for a few seconds, opened them again and i could see more detail. unless i'd been mistaken last night, her hair was shorter. `are you just going to stand there?' i moved closer, not taking my eyes off hers, put one knee on the end of the bed. there was a moment of silence, when not even the birds outside made a sound. she slid down from her sitting position, under the covers with just her face peeping over the edge. she gave me that languorous sigh again, and stretched, her fingertips quivering, brushing the wall behind her. `come on, get in. you must be cold.' i moved over to the side of the bed, sat down and manoeuvred my way under the edge of the doona, to minimise the amount of cold air that entered with me. it was warm. Gary and i had been apart long enough for me to have forgotten how good it felt to get into a warm bed on a cold morning; my legs tingled with the feeling, and i shuddered involuntarily. `hedonite,' she accused playfully. alarm bells should have been ringing; that word - a combination of hedonist and cenobite - was one of my private inventions. i was too distracted, however. `hell, no; just cold.' i replied. she was sitting up, resting on one elbow, masses of black hair draped over one shoulder. she was still wearing the CTHULHU T-shirt, and with the doona cover coming up to a point just below her breasts, the edge of one breast lay in view through the loose arm-hole. she was staring at me blankly; almost as if she were looking straight through me. enough of my body-warmth had returned to begin to revive my erection, and even though i knew she couldn't see it, i turned to lie on my side, drawing my legs up underneath me; then i pulled the covers over my shoulder and shuddered again as i drank in the warmth. she seemed to come out of her trance, and slid down under the covers with me. i felt her hand brush my arm, travel up to my shoulder and behind my neck. she leaned over, pulling me towards her and we kissed. this time, she felt warm, inviting, safe, everything i'd been looking for since Gary, the one thing better than waking up in a warm bed early on a Sunday alone. i put my arms around her and suddenly we were together, touching from our mouths down to her legs, which were entwined around me. one of her hands grabbed mine and dragged it from around her waist, pressed my palm flat against her side and moved it down her hip, which was covered in something slick, lycra or silk, then around, over the soft curve of her behind. her knee pressed into my crotch momentarily, long enough to touch the hardness forming there, moved back and then pressed again more insistently. i shifted my right leg slightly until it was between hers; she obliged, spreading her legs, allowing me to gently press my thigh against her. she shuddered; i tensed slightly, wondering if i'd done something wrong, but she hugged me closer and murmured, `please, don't let me go. it's been so long since i've been this close to a - anyone. i don't want it to stop...' i wasn't about to. for a long time, we just lay pressed together, enjoying the feeling of having someone to hold. then, when i thought she wasn't expecting it - and with the feeling that i might be entering territory best left unexplored, but still - i asked, `how long have you been a telepath?' she laughed and pushed me back slightly. in the dimness, i saw her hair was now about shoulder length, and reddish-blond. surely, i hadn't become so blase that i could accept THAT without question. her eyes were still green, as far as i could tell. `almost eight years, although there's a lot more to it than just telepathy.' i began to miss the feeling of having her touching me, so i drew her closer again, closed my eyes and listened to her husky murmur. ú ùþ ú ú þù ú ÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜ ú ù ú ú ù ú ÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛ ±±±±ÛÛÛßÛ²ÝÛÝÛÛÝþ Üú úÜ þÝÛÛÝÛݲÛßÛÛÛ±±±± ±±±±²²²²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜþúÝ ù ù ÝúþÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²±±±± ±±²²²²ÛÛßßÛßÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÜúþ þúÜÝÛÛÛÛÛÝßÛßßÛÛ²²²²±± ²²²²²Ûß þúßÞþßþþÜùþ þùÜþþßþÞßúþ ßÛ²²²²² ²²²²Ûß ú ù ù ú ßÛ²²²² ²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²² ²²²ÛÜ ÜÛ²²² ±²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²²± ±±²²²ÛÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛ²²²±± ±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ Phoenix Modernz Systems: 908/830-TANJ ÜÛ²²²²²²±±± ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û VapourWare BBS: 61/3-429-8510 Û²²²±±±±±±ÛÛ ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û underworld_1995.com 514/683-1894 Û²²²±±±±±±ÛÛ ±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ RipCo ][: 312/528-5020 ÜÛ²²²²²²±±± ±±²²²ÛÜÜÜ etext.archive.etext.org ÜÜÜÛ²²²±± ±²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²²± ²²²ÛÜ ÜÛ²²² ²²²ÛÝ ÕÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ͸ ÝÛ²²² ²²²²Ûß ú ù ³ TANJ Mailing Address ³ ù ú ßÛ²²²² ²²²²²Ûß þúßÞþßþþÜùþ ³ PO Box 174 ³ þùÜþþßþÞßúþ ßÛ²²²²² ±±²²²²ÛÛßßÛßÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÜúþ ³ Seaside Hts, NJ ³ þúÜÝÛÛÛÛÛÝßÛßßÛÛ²²²²±± ±±±±²²²²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜþúÝ ù ³ 08751 ³ ù ÝúþÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²±±±± ±±±±ÛÛÛßÛ²ÝÛÝÛÛÝþ Üú ÔÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ; úÜ þÝÛÛÝÛݲÛßÛÛÛ±±±± ÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜ ú ù ú tanj@pms.metronj.org ú ù ú ÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛ