This story contains sexually explicit material.
Please e-mail comments to twalden4 at juno dot com with ASSTR in the subject line.
Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.
Untitled photo by Holger Wirth. Some rights reserved.
Comic book covers copyright DC Comics except Arana copyright Marvel Comics.

Technical note: A gasp is a rapid intake of breath. In this story, it also means a rapid expelling of breath, since it is close to the sound I mean. Sigh, grunt, groan, pant, and scream don't work.

Unbreakable Jinx

Uh, hurm, huh? Oh. Big sister, coming in late again. I heard her close the front door and set the locks. It would be quiet again if I waited a few minutes. I heard her going into the bathroom and washing up. She seemed to be peeing even louder than usual tonight. She finally finished, and I heard the bedroom door open and close. She padded in a few steps and started getting undressed. She was whispering to herself. This was new. All I usually heard was an occasional oh shit. There was one. I couldn't understand anything else. Maybe she was drunk, or high. Her bed creaked. Now she would turn over a few times and I could get back to sleep. But the creaking didn't stop. What was her problem? I squinted over and saw her back and big black ass staring at me from across the not very big room. She rolled onto her back and. Oh my God! She had her boyfriend over there in bed with her! Father would kill her. They kept kissing as they rolled, and he loomed up over her. Her breasts jutted up into the air, and his hand was buried between her legs. I huddled down beneath my sheet and stared. I could see them clearly in the light from the street below that came in through the blind. He was behind her and I couldn't see his penis. Her hips thrust upward, then slowly back and forward. I clamped my legs together as mine moved in sympathy with hers and prayed they wouldn't notice. They didn't seem likely to, at least not yet. I saw his wrist moving as he worked on her crotch. I ached with sudden desire. He moved down and his head bobbed as he sucked at her breast. I felt my fingers squeezing and pulling on my own nipple inside my nightshirt and under the sheet.

He stopped and did something I couldn't see, then lifted himself up on his hands and toes. I saw his penis hanging down, huge and condom covered, before he lowered himself and it disappeared between big sister's thighs. He moved his hand back down, and I heard him squishing into her. I felt my own fingers inside my underwear working at my soaked clitoris. They pressed into me as he thrust forward and we rose to meet him. I was actually lying on my side and just tightened my muscles without moving much, but the effect was similar. She kept on squishing as we all moved together, and then gasped quietly when her orgasm hit. I felt mine building, and kept my breathing quiet and even until it exploded through my whole body without a murmur, just a slight shudder I couldn't suppress. He kept going, and so did we. A few minutes later I heard his breathing get deep and rasping, like Doctor Who's time machine, and then he spasmed into big sister. Now I prayed he would notice and come over and do the same thing to me. Except I must have gone back to sleep, because the next thing I knew daylight was coming in through the window and he wasn't there.

Big sister is not completely stupid. She didn't try that again, very often. And she knew that I was watching. Before the next time she asked if she should let her boyfriend have sex with me too. I was old enough, and it didn't seem right to bring him into the room and not share. He was a nice guy and would understand that it was only okay because I happened to be there. He wouldn't try to take advantage later. I said no, not even if she could see I'd changed my mind in the heat of the moment. I'm not completely stupid either.

Time is strange. I used to think clocks were strange. They didn't agree with the sun. They didn't agree with each other. Most of them didn't agree with themselves. They were either fast or slow, usually slow. Then I found out nobody else could tell time. They used clocks as an approximation. I didn't use to be able to tell time. I needed to know what clock someone were talking about. When I found out about time signals and found they all pretty much agreed, I started using those as a reference. That made things easier. I knew what time it was to within a few fractions of a second, which was how much the time signals disagreed with each other. So I can't say I've always known what time it was, since I had to learn about clocks first. Just like I had to learn about scales before I knew how much things weighed, and about distance measurement before I knew how far away things were. Except stars. I had to learn about the speed of light before I knew how far away they were. After that relativity was obvious. I'd been watching time and distance change most of my life. I would have liked to talk to Einstein and find out if he had the same problem I did.

Another thing I had trouble with was forgetting. I didn't understand why people forgot things. I had to be careful to get enough answers wrong on tests so that I wouldn't get an F for cheating. I liked picture books and comic books. Pictures are like pieces of music. Even if I know what they look like or sound like I still like to see or play them. After I knew everything in a book that had just words or notes I didn't see any reason to look at it again, but we had to keep using the same books in school day after day. I liked the library until I'd read all the books, even though I only ever took out picture books. Pickup basketball was fun, but still I had to be careful not to make too many shots or move too fast. I played mostly with kids that weren't very good. They didn't mind if I sometimes got too lucky. The only real limit on how fast I could go seemed to be getting traction for stops and turns and how much abuse my body could take, even though I heal really fast and things seem to move out of my way. When I was in middle school I started studying ba gua, or circle walking, to learn how to move efficiently. It teaches flow and turns and strikes and the use of various weapons, such as staff, knives and sword. I thought it was the martial art that would help most with my running. In high school, math and science were fun for a while. It was figuring things out, not just remembering what was in the book. Then I ran out of new problems to do.

Aside from school, there were a lot of good things about the city where I grew up. Cincinnati had a free art museum, a big river, good chili, and the largest Oktoberfest in America. I couldn't drink the beer, but I could eat the food. That was more important to me. I have a high metabolism. My first year of high school, while scrounging for noodles and strudel among the booths lined up along Fifth Street in the bright september sunlight, I spotted a cute guy. Big sister had said if I wasn't going to take her up on her offer I should use this opportunity to pick up someone myself. This one was by himself, fairly clean, and didn't look like he was from around here. One of the advantages of being too young to drink was that appropriately aged guys weren't all half drunk. I tried to think of a way to meet cute but gave up after two seconds. I went over and said hi, I'm Jinx, what did he think of the festival? He said hello, he was Alex, and he thought it was a bit crowded. Were all the lines this long? I said I didn't know. We could check a couple blocks farther along. We did, and they all looked about the same, so I picked one at random and said it looked a little shorter. We stood and waited and talked. He said he was from western North Carolina and had gotten his license a few months ago. He'd worked all summer and hadn't gone anywhere, so he drove up here yesterday after school and camped out. When we got to the front of the line I got what I'd wanted and he got a brat. We found some shade to sit in, and I told him about growing up here. When we finished I asked if he wanted to polka. He said he didn't know how. I said that was okay, I didn't either. It didn't look too hard and was better than the chicken dance. He agreed.

Afterward we walked down toward the riverfront. I held his hand. We'd danced together for over an hour so it seemed like it would be okay. He didn't object. The park was large and brightly lit. We walked along by the amphitheaters and Pigasus and the timeline. There were other people around. We stopped at one of the river overlooks as it was getting dark, and he kissed me. I kissed him back, gently at first, then more firmly. I brushed the edge of his lip with my tongue, and his came out to meet it. The tips spiraled around each other. I felt one of his hands move down to the top of my buttock. I held him closer and felt his erection pressed against my belly. My hands moved over his back. It got darker. I stopped and asked him where he was staying. He said at a state park west of the city. I asked if he could see that tree leaning out toward the river a little farther along and part way down the bank? He said yes. I said if he didn't ask me to spend the night with him I wanted to take him down there. The lower part was hidden by brush this time of year, and I had heard stories about other couples using it. I didn't know if they were true. There didn't seem to be much of a path. He said we could try it if I liked but he thought his tent would be better, and he asked about the age of consent in this state. I said thirteen if he wasn't eighteen or older. I had turned fourteen last month.

His tent was big enough for two people, and I could even sit up. The site was sloped slightly down hill. He said I could use the air mattress. It was thin but adequate. He opened the sleeping bag out flat and put extra blankets under and over it. I asked if he was expecting a blizzard. He said he didn't like to be cold and had wanted to make sure he wasn't. I said I could help with that. We got undressed and ate some peanut butter cookies. I said I wanted to use a condom. He got one out and showed me how to pull back his foreskin, pinch the air bubble out of the tip, and unroll it down his penis. He said it was supposed to be lubricated but didn't have much. I lay back and placed his fingers below my pubic hair to show him that wouldn't be a problem. He traded hands, lay down next to me, slid his fingers inside, and kissed me. I liked having fingers inside me, especially someone else's. They can do things other objects can't. I felt them moving around looking for my G spot. I didn't know if I had one, but rubbing the back side of my clitoris from in there felt really good. Uh, uh, oh! Oh!! Yeah, right there. Umm. There weren't many campers and none close to us, so we would be all right if I didn't get too loud. I kissed him harder and rocked my hips. He pressed in with his thumb from outside. I could feel myself responding to his touch and a few minutes later was gasping out my orgasm. I wanted him inside me, but he moved down and took my breast in his mouth. Oh! Yes, that was good. I humped against his chest as he squeezed my wet nipple and moved his head to suck the other one. He crawled back up, and I felt him positioning himself and then sliding into me.

It was the first time I'd had a boy's penis inside my vagina on purpose. I had let one mess around outside, and a couple times the head had slipped in a little by accident. I knew he could get carried away and try to rape me, but I was stronger than I looked, faster than anyone I knew, and didn't let him get anywhere near me without a condom. This wasn't rape. I'd been prepared to be a little assertive to get things started but hadn't needed to, not really. At least I wasn't any more bossy than I usually am. I held on to him and responded to each of his thrusts with a gentle back pressure. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him coming inside of me. The thought got me more excited, and I felt another orgasm building up. It mounted me like this young stud and oh! oh! I grunted. I stayed up there for a long time. At least it felt like a long time. When I concentrate, I can stop time. I did that now, almost by instinct. At the peak of my orgasm I entered frozen time. I slowly circled around the two of us and looked down at ourselves caught in that suspended instant in the darkness of the tent, feeling the intensity of my pleasure and the tension of my spasm not as something locked and rigid but as a point within an infinite flow, a point that had no duration and that lasted forever. Time gradually started up again. It hadn't stopped completely. I felt us slowly sliding apart, coming to a stop, reversing direction, sliding together, pressing into each other, and easing off. Delicious. I heard the wet sound of our bodies joining. It didn't sound deep and booming, and it didn't sound slow and drawn out. It sounded normal, at least to me, it just took longer. It was how I often heard things. Like I said, time is strange. At some point far in the future I heard his breathing get deeper and louder, and felt his rhythmic movements on top of me and inside me get more forceful, and then he gasped and grunted and sprayed my insides with great white gobs of cum. All neatly packaged in a convenient container.

Mike

I was the only girl in my advanced savate class. This had its advantages, mostly because I had all these boys more or less to myself. Savate is French kickboxing, developed by sailors and dockworkers here in Marseilles. The class had adopted me as a sort of mascot, so I didn't have to hold back too much. They thought it didn't really count when I won, as long as I didn't do it too often and didn't come in first in any of the matches. I was okay with that. Males have fragile egos, I knew how good I was, and it was the price of being accepted. I had started when I was ten. I was big for my age and needed an outlet, even though my mother worked and by that time I was doing most of the cooking, cleaning and shopping. Some other clubs didn't like fighting girls at this level, but I was a member of the team and there was no rule against it. I was strong and had short wavy black hair I kept long enough in front to fall into my eyes without really getting in the way. It helped the boys think I was cute and not take me seriously. My mother explained that my Mediterranean complexion came from my father, who was a Greek off one of the freighters that came through the port. He was from the Peloponnese, which would theoretically make me a descendant of Herakles. The other reason I would let a boy win was so I could take him to bed.

The first time was with Nicolas. I was fifteen and he'd won his match, so I asked him out to dinner. For class I wrapped my breasts and moved like a boy so they mostly treated me like one, except I used the other shower. For our date I used my secret identity. Not makeup and a dress, but a regular bra and a tight enough shirt and jeans that it was obvious I was a girl. I chose a little local place, but the boys didn't go there very often. He didn't know what to make of me at first over the wine and fettuccine and salad, but we knew each other and I acted friendly. He couldn't swagger like I was a girl, or compete with me like I was a boy, or protect me like I was a sister, so he finally accepted me as some sort of strange brother. I took him back to my apartment afterward and sat him on the sofa. My mother drank enough wine in the evening that she always slept soundly, so I didn't have to worry about her. I thought transitioning to a sexual mood would be be delicate, but either he liked boys well enough without realizing it, or pseudo incest excited him, or I'd gotten him to dissociate, or his hormones took over, because as soon as I put my hand on his knee while we were talking he got an erection. The problem was getting him to go slow enough to feel it was romantic rather than exclusively sexual. First he grabbed me and tried to force himself on me. Someone smaller might have had a problem, but I pushed him away and told him to slow down, we had time. He tried. He would start out gently then go into a clinch, like we were wrestlers instead of boxers. After a few times I asked him to let me try, and for now, just follow my lead so he could see what I meant. So I kissed him, slowly, with just my lips. After a moment he kissed me back, being careful not to press any harder than I was. I sucked the side of his lower lip between my teeth and nibbled lightly. I brushed it with my tongue. His tongue traced a little of the edge of my upper lip. The tips of our tongues met and touched. Mine stroked the bottom edge of his. I put my arms around him. He held me loosely in his embrace. I traced the muscles of his back and side. When his hand got to my ribs, I turned so that it held the side of my breast with breaking our kiss. He held it there, then moved it inward and cupped my breast. He moved his fingers and kneaded its softness. The tips of two traced the outline of my nipple. My arm held him tighter, and he squeezed it gently. I purred as a tingle ran through my body.

The second teammate I took to bed was Sebastien. We didn't win that match, but he made it to the semi finals. He was taller than me and anxious rather than over eager. I could feel him trembling slightly as we held each other. I broke from his lips and hands and leaned back with my arms along the top of the sofa. I smiled and looked at him and held his eyes, then glanced down at the front of my blouse. He reached up and slowly undid the third pearl button, then looked down at my breasts while his fingers continued with the others. He reached inside and held my breast. He leaned down and nuzzled along the top of my bra. I lowered my blouse and strap off my shoulder and exposed the rest my breast. He stared. My skin was an even olive tone with no bathing suit mark. His tongue touched the swollen nipple and sucked it into his mouth. I leaned my head back against the wall and felt him work and the beat of my pulse.

The next was Julien. I didn't want to wait for another match. He beat me while we were sparring in class. I felt his hands working at my belt while we kissed. He got it undone, then the button of my jeans, and I felt my zipper ratcheting open. I broke our kiss and turned sideways on the sofa so he could reach inside, into the dark hidden quarters and tight confines of my underwear. I felt him nuzzle the side of my neck and corner of my jaw and saw the cloth over his fingers writhing as they worked their way into my crotch and folds and wetness. They stroked into me and curled upward while the heel of his palm careressed my pubic hair. They came out and slopped up to my clitoris and stroked it. Umm, that felt good. I closed my eyes and snuggled into him. The pressure of his strokes got firmer, and I felt my hips start to move of their own volition inside my jeans. Oh. Oh yeah. I could feel it. If he kept this up, all I had to do was wait. I felt it get closer. I pretended not to notice. Another step. Pause. Was this it? Not yet. There! Yes! Uh, uh, uh! Ah, ah.

I kept these three busy enough. If any of them had girlfriends, it was their own problem. Then David won a match for us, and I asked him out too. He was shorter than me, like a lot of boys my age. I'd turned sixteen by this time. I kissed down the side of his neck, then broke away, turned off the light, and led him into my bedroom. I pulled back the covers, and we finished undressing. We lay down and kissed some more while I played with his erection. It was moist and solid. I felt his hands on my back. When I kissed down his chest and belly, they moved to my rear. He glistened in the light from the lamp. I wrapped my fingers around him, careful not to get any pubic hair, then put my tongue out and tasted the fresh drop beaded on the tip. Umm. Stringy and slightly bitter. Not as sweet as some, but still good. I took him into my mouth and slowly stroked the shaft. I massaged him with my tongue. I heard a moan from farther up the bed, and his hips started churning into me. Before long I felt him getting close. I hadn't meant to let him come yet, but he was in such pleasure that I couldn't bear to stop. I stroked and sucked in anticipation, then heard him gasp as he came and tasted my mouth fill with his cum and felt it slide down as I swallowed it all.

Guillaume was next. He crawled back up between my legs, and I tasted myself on his lips. He didn't want to use a condom at first, but when he realized he didn't have a choice he gave in gracefully enough and let me put it on him. He guided himself in and started moving slowly. Umm, I liked this. I thrust back against him, and he held me tighter. I had to be careful how tightly I held him. I was big without a lot of bulk and never let anyone see how strong I really was. I used to work out at a gym but found all the routines too easy. One time, when no one was around, I set the shoulder press machine to 250 pounds, its maximum. It was a strain at first, but I was able to do twelve reps. Except it didn't get harder, it got easier. So I did another set. It was still getting easier, but more gradually. I ended up doing eight sets and just getting scared. I had known I was strong, but it was more than that. There was something weird about me. I was glad I had always been careful around people. When I found I needed concentration and intention to use my extraordinary strength, I stopped being so afraid of hurting someone by accident. I held onto Guillaume and kissed him deeply as we worked together. I felt our pubic hair mesh together each time we met. We went a little faster, and my excitement started to build. I held out for a bit, then gasped and squeezed him and kept going. When I felt him getting close I thrust harder until he grunted and came on top of me.

Mathias had wavy hair like me. I half woke to feel him pressing against me from behind and his hand moving over my buttocks and side and shoulders and arm. He could only reach one of my breasts. My arm was curled against the other. He kissed my neck and my shoulder, and I felt his erection. When he saw I was more fully awake, his fingers worked their way down between my buttocks and entered my wetness. I didn't know if I was still ready or ready again. He came out and stroked my clitoris the way I liked it. I felt him moving around, but he seemed to be having trouble. You were supposed to use a fresh condom each time, but I didn't care. I arched my back and moved my knees higher to help him. He slid down and around and in. I didn't get as much sensation this way, but usually it was enough. He pulled us together with the hand on my hip and moved inside me. I pressed backward. He moved his arm around to my front and held me that way. We moved slowly. Umm. I could keep this up forever if he could. The sensation grew and held steady. It was enough. Later I started having mild orgasms. I'd grunt out oh, oh with each one. I didn't know if he was going to come again, but then finally he did and stayed erect inside me as he gradually slowed to a stop. We went back to sleep like that.

The last teammate I took to bed was Mohamed. Late that night, as we nestled together in the dark, he told me I was Black. He said he had known a lot of mixed race people in Algeria and I definitely had the look, although I was lighter skinned than most. I asked what about me looked Black? He said my eyes were slightly darker than those of most Frenchmen. That could be a number things, including normal variation, but combined with the shape of my nose and mouth and profile, and the size of my breasts, it suggested African ancestry to him. He said it was like with Mathias. He didn't look Jewish, but he looked less non Jewish than most people. I said Mathias is Jewish? Mohamed said he went to temple on Yom Kippur, and that he'd been to his house for Passover. But I'd seen him eat cheeseburgers. Mohamed said he avoided shrimp. Different people honored their heritage in different ways. I was, of course, shocked to find out I might be Black and asked why he'd never told me before. He said lots of Blacks passed for white and it was none of his business, but he had finally realized I didn't know.

I asked my mother about it the next day. She said it was true. She had met my father while working in the Algerian office of a French company. He was from Senegal, and she managed to transfer there when he went back. She found him a job in a tourist hotel because he spoke French, and I was born there. Everything went well at first, then he started staying out late and coming home drunk. After two years he confessed he didn't drink as much as he pretended to. He was seeing his first wife and supporting his other family. That was where the money went. He said he loved my mother and didn't want to lose either family, but had also needed my mother's connections to find work in his home country. My mother's world fell apart. She said she understood but couldn't live with the situation, so she moved back to France and to Marseilles, where no one knew her. Because of the prejudice against Africans and Muslims, she had said I was half Greek and darkened her skin slightly so the contrast with me wouldn't be as great. The French saw Greeks as darker than they actually were, like Americans saw Japanese as yellow with slanted eyes. Although he had skin the color of dark chocolate, my father had some white ancestry and I was light enough to pass. I asked why she didn't tell me. She said she meant to but never got around to it. It didn't seem that important. Race had no precise definition. It was a social construct, like royalty, and could be deconstructed. Still, she was sorry she hadn't told me.

I thought about it over the next couple weeks. If I and everyone else thought I was White, then in some sense I was. But I no longer thought I was, not completely. I wanted to know about my heritage. I asked Mohamed to teach me about Islam. He did, but told me he was a Berber, a native North African, and the Islam he practiced it was different from that of the Arabs and from the form of Sufism practiced in Sengal. I said that was okay, I just wanted to learn the basics from an insider. I decided to go to a Black college in America, and found one that wasn't in the South. I wasn't sure why that made sense to me, but it seemed to. Maybe I thought they would have a good Black Studies program. But first I went to visit my father. He and his family welcomed me, and I was happy to meet them and spend time there, but if I was looking for a sense of connection, I didn't find it.

Jinx

After high school I went to college at Central State, not too far away from where I grew up. It's the one of the few Historically Black Colleges and Universities in the Midwest. I liked White people well enough, some of my best lovers were White, but even the best intentioned of them didn't understand. They carried too much privilege around with them, even the poor. I got along with my roommate but knew we wouldn't be friends. However, when I met Mike something clicked. I noticed her in class the first day. She was five ten and 180 pounds with low body fat, sleek and powerful. If I'd seen her somewhere else I would have assumed she was White. Since she was here I looked more closely and couldn't tell, so I asked her outside. She said she was Black. As we walked back toward the dorms, she said she was from France but was three eighths African. Her father was from Senegal and had two White great grandparents, one on each side. His White genes were recessive, but had come out when mixed with her mother's. I said except for her eyes. She said yes, although some Frenchmen did have very dark eyes. After we talked a bit more she asked me out to dinner.

Mike wanted fettuccine, so we went to the Italian place. She said in France she didn't have to drink lemonade. She was a year ahead of me and wanted to study anthropology. I asked if she wanted to teach. She said no, it was just something she was interested in. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she wanted to somehow help people. She took me back to her dorm room afterward and sat me on her bed. When she started playing with my knee, I kissed her, slowly and thoroughly. French tongues seemed pretty much like American tongues, although they're all somewhat different. My hand moved up and sought her breast. Nice. Ample but not too full. We all grew up sucking on breasts, or some unreasonable facsimile. She stood up, which was an impressive sight in the reflected glow from the desk lamp behind her. I wasn't small, five six and 150 pounds, but she was taller than a lot of men. She slid off her jeans, unbuttoned her shirt, unhooked her bra, and stepped out of her panties. From down here she looked like a giantess. I stood up and got out of my clothes while she pulled back the covers, then joined her on the narrow bed.

I kissed her and felt her tongue as my hand traveled down her belly and hip to the moisture between her legs. The even color of her skin and her dark nipples made her look more Black, although the curls of her pubic hair weren't as tight as mine. My fingers went inside and made her moan as they found the right spot. My thumb worked her. When I had her frustrated enough I climbed between her legs and started, slowly and firmly, thrusting at her like a boy. A penis feels good inside, but most of the sensation comes from direct pressure on the clitoris, and I could give her that. She responded and thrust back from underneath me. Our tongues intertwined again. I kissed along the edge of her jaw and pushed my tongue into the hollow below her ear. I heard her breathing start to deepen. I had my legs spread between her thighs to combine our wetnesses. A boy could satisfy me in a way girls didn't, it was a biological thing, but girls were more fun. I didn't know which was nourishment and which was dessert, but I wanted both. Her breathing got louder and our breasts pressed together as I pumped. Her body heaved and she gasped out Ah! Ah!! Ah!! Uh. Uh. I slowed down a little and felt the slickness of the sweat between us. We gripped each other and kept going. Before long she got close again and this time I came with her. Ah! Ah!! Ah!!! Ah!!! Uh!!! Uh!! Uh! Uh. We lay there and panted as we continued to move together slowly. I tasted salt sweat on her skin as I kissed it, and pulled one hand out from behind her to cradle her breast as I moved a leg out from between hers and slid off to her side.

A couple weeks later we were outside on a deserted court playing some one on one basketball. She asked me how fast could I really run. I hesitated. No one had ever asked me before. I could have pretended I didn't know what she was talking about but didn't see the point. I said I didn't know. Why did she ask? She said she could see how much I was holding back, and that I wasn't nearly as winded as I pretended to be. I said I was surprised she noticed. No one else ever had. She said she had the same problem. Then she picked up the ball, looked around, and threw it through the basket at the far end of the court. I caught it before it hit the ground and threw it back. It dropped through the chain on ours. She said huh. I said yeah. There didn't seem to be any point to playing basketball with each other after that.

We both had good perception and control and could do some of the same things, but it turned out that while I was fast, she was strong. We picked a dark deserted fairly straight piece of road at night. We didn't need to mark off one mile or use a stop watch. I could just tell the distance and time. Without abusing my body too much I could make the distance repeatedly in about 40 seconds. Ninety miles per hour. I didn't get tired once I hit my stride but could go faster in short spurts, which for me was five or ten seconds. How fast varied a lot but depended on awareness, clarity and motivation. I could get up to 125 miles per hour without damage. At the speeds I was going, wind resistance should have been a significant factor, but it wasn't. Small objects had always seemed to move out of my way before I got to them, which was good, because even though my skin was tough and healed quickly, hitting something at that speed would hurt. Now I realized that air did the same thing. I had some sort of telekinesis that moved it out of the way and put it back in place behind me when I ran, so I didn't knock things over with my slipstream. I didn't know if a parachute would work for me and didn't intend to find out.

Finding out how strong Mike was turned out to be harder. When we finally got the weight room in the gym to ourselves we found out that the barbell didn't hold enough weight. She could do an overhead press with it fully loaded easily. There were higher capacity barbells, but not around here. While we were there we found out how much I could lift, 320 pounds, about twice what an normal person could but not extraordinary. Except I didn't have the build for it and could press it repeatedly without getting tired. We left and thought about it. Mike could try lifting fallen tree trunks in the forest, but we were in the middle of the plains. She could try lifting sandbags, but it would take too many to hold just get up to the weight she had already lifted.

So finally we snuck into a scrap yard one night. Some junk yards were guarded, but not this one. We looked around. I didn't see how this would work. Even if she was strong enough, how could she get underneath a car to lift it? She picked out a subcompact. Her skin was even tougher than mine, though still soft and smooth, but she had brought heavy work gloves. She put her hands under one side and lifted it off its springs. Then the other side started to lift too, and my mouth dropped open. It wasn't lifting by itself. She was doing it, but was somehow able to lift from one side as if she were under the center of gravity. It was a form of telekinesis, but different from mine and on an altogether different scale. She couldn't lift the car, but I knew how much of its weight she had lifted and started looking around. I found an old Chevy Sprint that was what I wanted and added a few items on the side she would lift from. She squatted down and heaved. The near side came off its springs. The far side started rising. The near side wheels cleared the ground. Then the far side started to rise up into the air. Finally she had it perfectly balanced over her chest. She drew a deep breath and slowly let it out as she extended her arms over her head. She was holding up 1600 pounds under the stars in the shadowy illumination with junk cars all around her. It was a sight I will never forget.

The next night as we were lying in my bed, Mike trusted me with her secret identity. My roommate often spent time with her boyfriend, which was convenient, and when she was there didn't mind Mike sleeping over but liked us to be finished before she came in. We worked things out. Lots of women in France studied savate, it might have been something about spreading their legs during the kicks, but Mike had been the only girl in her advanced class. She had hidden her breasts in class and confused the boys when she wore a bra on dates. In class they had sometimes called her supergirl, but any woman with sufficient lubrication and a firm enough mattress had the strength of ten ordinary men. Since myths were social constructs, she had constructed her own. She had received the strength of a buffalo from Isa, the earth goddess, and the agility of a sparrow from Rao, the sun god. But what did it really matter how strong someone was? Even if he had superhuman strength, he couldn't do anything a forklift, overhead crane, or earth moving machinery couldn't. If coal could be squeezed into a diamond there would be a machine that could do it. For her date identity she used a pseudonym she hadn't told anyone else. She had always liked Columbo and old American detective novels, they were how she learned English, and since her name was Michelle and she was already called Mike, she combined Mike Hammer, Sam Spade and Phillip Marlowe into Mike Sparrow. She was not some sort of strange being with special powers and abilities. She was just a man, though not in the sense of being male, and had to face things when she wasn't prepared for them. Both identities were androgynous, but they mixed different aspects of female and male.

I had learned meditation in my ba gua martial arts class. It helped me control my speed, and controlling my awareness was essential. My mind worked a lot faster than everyone else's. If I spaced out, sometimes time seemed to stop and there was nothing to bring me back. I could get lost inside my own body. Most people are hollow surfaces except when they have a belly or muscle ache, or sex. I was aware of all my internal organs and always knew my electrolyte, BUN, creat, glucose and other levels. I watched the blood cells drift slowly through my arteries and the muscles cells slide over each other. I watched the hair cells of my inner ear vibrate and the nerve cells fire. I watched the food in my stomach and intestines in the process of breaking down and being absorbed. I could control my heart rate and hormone levels and healing process. I could watch the part of my thinking that took place in my physical brain and nerves. Most of my awareness came from somewhere else. When Mike and I shared our abilities, sound waves and vocal chords moved much too slowly for us to communicate, even in our speeded up state, so we watched each others thoughts.

I had a work study job in an office. I liked typing, filing and answering the phone because they didn't require any thought. After I had finished the high school library I had started on the public library and gotten most of the way through it. A lot of the knowledge was redundant and a lot of the fiction was repetitive, but I read it anyway. I developed an interest in typography. I would study the shape of the letters while I waited for my hand to finish turning the page. I noted the differences between typefaces, between the same typeface in different books, and between occurrences of the same letter in individual books. The college library had different and more specialized books and periodicals. I started making my way through them and often stayed until it closed. I didn't need to sleep. Sleep is when the brain processes the information it has collected. My brain worked fast enough to process it in real time. I studied stage magic, especially sleight of hand. The hand was not quicker than my eye. You weren't suppose to understand the tricks or see how they were done, so I didn't need to slow down as much as I usually did. People wanted to be fooled and amazed. Most of the tricks used misdirection, which was already part of my ability. Other people saw only the normal world. If I moved too fast they thought they saw two or three different people, sometimes up to five.

I had always been able to play any piece of music I heard, but after some piano lessons it got easier. I used the piano at church and learned to tune it myself. I didn't need much practice, so I mostly played what I liked. Which was rhythm and blues and jazz, along with Bach and Mozart and Debussy. The old music had a lot of substance, and I could hear its influence in all types of popular music. Like with everything else, I had been afraid to let my instructor hear what I could do. Even when I practiced I hit wrong notes on purpose. Some of them sounded good, and I improvised a bit. I wasn't really that good, I could just remember all the notes and move my fingers really fast. Mike and I shared a dorm room my second and third years. When I asked if she played anything, she said she used to play guitar a little, like a lot of kids. Mostly to humor me, she picked it up again. It came back, and she improved as we played together. She was better when she played with me, which both encouraged and frustrated her. After a while she started playing bass guitar on some of the jazz pieces. She liked it, and at her suggestion we recruited a drummer and formed a trio, mostly for our own amusement. We played Ellington, MJQ, some Monk, and whatever else we felt like.

Mike did her junior year community service tutoring in a reading program. I thought that sounded good so I did the same thing. I liked working with the kids. They needed to go at their own pace and figure things out for themselves. The main thing you needed was patience. I had that, I always had to go slow. Sometimes I went too slow. When Mike graduated with a degree in anthropology and economics at the end of my third year, we found a room together off campus in an apartment with two other girls. When I graduated with a degree in math and statistics, we moved east together. I found another job in an office. Mike still didn't know what she wanted to do, so she found a job in a warehouse.

Two years later I was working in a different office and Mike had trained as a forklift operator. She wanted to find a way use her ability and this was the best she could do so far. She used her sense of inertia and stability to dance around with heavy objects and stack them on racks and in trucks. We had reformed our jazz trio and gone through a couple different drummers. In late winter I put an ad in the local street paper looking for another. Lisa answered it. She said her friend Eliot, whom I had met briefly when he worked in Cincinnati, had suggested she should. She was five two and 125 pounds with a gymnast's body and Korean. She played tabla and congas instead of drums, but it seemed to work out. We didn't want to sound like lounge music. After a few rehearsals Mike and I invited her over for dinner. I made fettuccine.

Mike made garlic bread and picked out a good Merlot. As we sat around the table near the kitchen eating, Lisa said she used to play tabla with fiddle and guitar for belly dancing and Indian dance at a place called Fred's Falafel when she was in college. She talked about teaching high school math, and Mike and I talked about tutoring reading after work. Teaching pre and grade school kids was most effective, but lots of middle and high school kids needed help too. I sat on the sofa with Lisa afterward, and when Mike took our wine glasses over to the kitchen, I kissed her. I felt her arms around me and her tongue reaching for mine. We ignored Mike when she came back a few minutes later and sat in her chair. When Lisa started working at my pants, I got up and led her into the bedroom. We watched each other get undressed, and I reached between her legs when we got in bed. She was hot and wet and wriggly. I stopped and sucked on her cute little breasts on my way down. A large naked Mike got in bed with us. I kissed and sucked by way down Lisa's belly and along her groin until I opened her up and tasted the sweetness inside. I slurped up to her clitoris and was rewarded with something like a squeal and more wriggling. I sucked on it like a pacifier and felt the muscles of her buttocks bunching under my fingers. I set up a slow rhythm that put her into a trance. I heard Mike put an African chant and drum CD into the player and lower the lights a little. I varied my rhythm with the music to keep her interest without waking her. When she began to tire I sucked a little harder. I lagged behind as her excitement built and held her teetering on the edge until I shoved her over and felt her explode under me. Ah! Ah!! Ah!!! Aii!! Uh! Uh, uh.

As Lisa lay there recovering I felt Mike expertly flip me over like a pancake at the perfect moment. I was more than ready. I felt her head between my legs and her tongue and lips on my erect clitoris. Her nose nuzzled my pubic hair. Her finger slid inside to just the right spot. Oh! Oh, that felt good. The drums and the rhythms spirited me away, and I had a continual series of small orgasms. No one knows much about Skene's gland. They don't know who has them, what it does, when it should be treated, where it goes, or how many there are. So researchers call it highly variable, and also lesser vestibular gland, periurethral gland, and female prostate. It is ridiculous. Some or possibly all women have them. They can get infected or develop cysts. Sometimes they become sore and are treated with antibiotics. It is not known if this helps. There are sometimes openings on either side of and below the urethra. It has some substances in common with the male prostrate. Some people think it provides fluid for female ejaculation, and some think it is related to or part of the G spot. I could feel mine now. Then there is the greater vestibular gland, also called Bartholin's gland, which may or may not provide lubrication for the vaginal opening. Females could orgasm without ejaculating and often did. Males could too but usually didn't. We had mostly the same genes and shared some of each others supposedly unique abilities. I could sense another person's state when we were physically intimate. I could feel Mike's health and excitement. When she slowly tapered off what she was doing, Lisa nudged her into a convenient position and went down on her. I watched their gyrations from where I was. It seemed strange, like deja vu. Eventually Mike's movements got more violent, and I heard her breathing deepen and her familiar Huh!! Huh!! Huh!! Ah! Ah, ah. I loved that sound.

After I turned off the light I asked Lisa if she knew why we were glowing. She said oh, it was supposed to be just her, wait a minute. She walked over to the dresser and took off her earrings. When she got back to the bed the glow disappeared. She asked if that was better. I said I didn't mind being green, I just wondered what was going on. She said it was the earrings. I said I understood that. When she didn't say anything else I walked over and picked up the earrings. Nothing happened. I carried them back over to the bed. When I got there the three of us started glowing again. Lisa said drat. I said sorry, I'd put them back if she liked. She said no, we might as well leave them here. I handed them to her and she put them on the night table. We all sat up on the bed, more or less in a circle. They had the covers pulled up, and I had a blanket over my shoulders. I watched their respective breasts dangle. Mine were somewhat covered, but they had a good view of my crotch. Not that it mattered. I said I thought I knew why Mike and I glowed. We both had certain unusual abilities that we could share, to a certain extent. Presumably she did too, and we picked them up. We could leave it at that if she liked. She said no, she should tell us, she just didn't know how. No one else had ever noticed the glow. I said if it was easier, maybe she could show us. She said that might work better.

She looked at me, over at Mike, and back at me. After a moment I rose straight up into the air, as if large hands were gently lifting me, and floated a foot above the bed. Mike looked at me and raised her eyebrows. Lisa hadn't moved except to sink slightly lower into the bed. I said okay, she could fly. That must be nice. She said no, she couldn't, not really. She could lift herself up a little but couldn't go very far without coming down again. Mostly she could see and touch things at a distance and move them. Mike asked how much could she lift? Lisa said 240 pounds if it was right next to her, it didn't matter if she was touching it or not, but less farther away. She could lift 120 pounds at forty feet, and only a few ounces at eighty feet. The weight was inversely proportional to the distance. I asked about the earrings. She said she needed an emerald to focus her ability. Aquamarine worked too since they were both forms of beryl, but it felt slightly out of phase. Mike asked if she could shoot a basket from the opposite end of the court. Lisa said she had never tried but yes, she was pretty sure she could. Why? Mike said both she and I could, and she had wondered if it was something we all had in common. Lisa looked puzzled. We told her that Mike could lift things and I could run fast, then we all squirmed back under the covers. We could sort it out later. I was tired and less concerned about what we could do than about whether Lisa liked me. I liked how calm she was. Relationships without drama or contrived misunderstandings were a good thing. There was enough pain in the world without creating more for the sake of excitement. As I drifted off I thought maybe I should talk to Eliot.

That night I dreamed about Eliot. It was nothing like that other strange dream I had about him. He said he didn't want to tell me too much, but it seemed likely that things would work out well for everyone, partly as a result of what I had helped him with last time. If I wanted to visit the bookstore, I should let him know when I was coming and he would bake some cream puffs for me. I remembered the dream when I woke up next to Lisa, and got Eliot's phone number from her.

The next week Lisa asked Mike and me if we had ever thought about starting a school. I looked at Mike. She looked puzzled. I said no, why? She said many of the students in her school were unprepared. They couldn't read very well or do basic math. Most stopped after biology or chemistry even though physics was more fundamental than either. Early intervention was more effective and was where the resources were directed, but she thought older kids deserved another chance. She wanted to start an after school program for middle and high school students that taught just reading and math. They were the foundations of everything else. Did we want to help? The tutoring I did was more important and rewarding than anything I did at work. Mike must have felt the same way, because we both said yes at the same time. Lisa said good. She had talked to some people who were interested in financing the project, and she and Eliot had picked out a storefront that seemed promising. We could look at it saturday.

So saturday we met Max and Jose, more friends of hers, and all went with the agent to look at the site. Some people would have called it a bad neighborhood, but it looked like home to me. It was a tall narrow building that had been many things over the years. The top three floors had originally been apartments. Most recently it had been an unpainted furniture store and warehouse. It was a relic of a different age with high ceilings throughout. Jose said the structure was sound but the interior would have to be completely redone. It faced east and so would not have the sun streaming in during the afternoon. Lisa wanted the whole building. I hoped her backers had deep pockets.

It turned out they did. They were a group of people who shared one apartment, young urban professionals with five incomes and no kids and no expensive tastes or habits. Jose was one of them, a construction worker turned contractor. Mark was a financial software engineer who handled their investments. Linda was a technical editor and grant writer who had already found some outside funding. Max was in a different group. He had grown up in the area and been in prison. Lisa said he wasn't part of any of the gangs, but had contacts and was respected by all of them. He had helped a lot of people while in prison. He pointed out that the school was something the whole neighborhood would benefit from and got them to declare it a neutral zone. Such a thing would not have been possible until recently. The supplies of drugs and guns had dried up and the war on drugs had ended. No one knew why and no one in other parts of the city had noticed. There were still users and suppliers and drug raids, but nothing like there used to be. I had seen it in Cincinnati, and it was true here also. There were stories of a Dark Lady. If people couldn't find a reason for something, they would invent one.

Mark set up a non profit and bought the property. Jose started on the renovations and hoped to be done by august. Lisa had some ideas she wanted to use from her experience in theater design and lighting. She also talked to school counselors and families of students who needed help about our plans. I talked to the church ladies. They knew what was going on in the neighborhood, and we would need their support. I hadn't been to church recently, but they listened and agreed to help if what we were doing looked worthwhile. Other groups had come in with big ideas that hadn't worked out. I said I would keep them informed of our progress. Mike's boyfriend was interested in what we were doing. Brian was a truck driver who worked for the same supermarket chain that owned the warehouse where she worked. He also played drums, which might be useful for another idea I had. We invited him over for fettuccine. Mike had already used that trick on him once, but he fell for it again.

I sat on the sofa next to Brian after dinner. Mike said gee, she had to be somewhere, and disappeared. Brian looked at me and realized something was going on but wasn't stupid enough to say anything. He was tall, six two, which made him look thin, although he wasn't really. I asked him what he thought about Animal Man? He said he was a good character but was way too powerful. Writers kept thinking up different ways he could imitate animal abilities. Like the time he was trapped away from all animals. He made copies of himself like the single celled organisms found in the human body could. It was cool once, but the stories depended on him being unique so he seemed to forget he could do that. He ended up like Superman and most other powered characters. He was strong, fast, tough, and could fly. Think about it. Even Spider-Man and Batman are the same, they just use webs or ropes to fly. So they made Animal Man's powers randomly stop working. Nobody wants to read about a superhero who wins because his powers suddenly start working again. When Superman's powers stop working there is always a reason and they are always fixed in the end. Animal Man just bumbled along without a clue, sometimes finding a temporary fix, sometimes not. I said it sounded like the early Martian Manhunter stories where the writers kept thinking up new powers for him. Eventually he could do almost anything. Brian said yes, and even Superman had the same problem with super breath and super ventriloquism and time travel. Flying and lifting buildings was one thing, but creating a hurricane in one breath from something the size of a human lung was just stupid.

He asked me what I thought about Plastic Man? I said the original Jack Cole stories from the forties were great. They had an edge to them. There was a serious story even though the villains were weird, so when the off the wall stuff happened it had something to play off of and didn't seem just stupid. The way Bud Abbot made Lou Costello look good, or the way the Superman's frustration made the first Ambush Bug stories so funny. A guy who could stretch into all sorts of things and shapes was appropriate for his strange antagonists, unlike Dick Tracy and Batman. And the way pin up girls were interested in him made boys feel there was some hope for them, which was good even though all girls could hope for were big tits. Later writers considered him not human and treated him as a joke.

I asked him what kind of music his band had played? He said mostly New Wave. Eurhythmics, Thomson Twins, Blondie, Talking Heads, Till Tuesday. He said he could change the beat and add rhythms and come up with something new even to a song that had been done with a drum machine. People would accept it if it was good. With earlier rock they wanted to hear what they heard before. Hazy Shade of Winter worked because it was obscure and the Bangles hadn't changed it much and no one cared about Simon and Garfunkle. There were no obscure Beatles songs. Dylan was an exception, people liked different versions of his songs. I said I played keyboards. What was it like to play drums? He said he didn't know, he didn't have anything to compare it to. He had five different size drums with different tunings and pitches so he could play some sort of melody, but it didn't have much to do with the melody played by instruments with standard tunings. He wove patterns with timbre and rhythm, the root elements of music. He played with people's perception of time.

I leaned forward slowly and kissed him. After a while we went into the bedroom and took off our clothes. When he took off his boxers I saw his penis was nearly eight inches. Not huge, but I lay back and it felt really good going in. I liked his long smooth strokes. His hands on my back, my thighs, my hips, my shoulders held me like a cocoon. His eyes were dark, his hair black, and his skin fairly pale but not pasty. I don't want to call his lips tasty because that's not what I mean, but I don't know what other word to use. I liked the way they moved and sucked and nibbled and slid around. It was like eating something that ate me back. With food the problem is you eat it and then it's gone. With Brian I could take as long as I wanted to satisfy myself without over indulging. Eating was something we had in common. I had a high metabolism, and he had an appetite, especially for desserts, but didn't gain weight. The two of us had eaten the entire banana cream pie, except for Mike's small piece. Maybe bananas were an aphrodisiac. It sort of made sense. This banana was doing something to me. I felt my excitement building and screamed like the mythical virgin on her weddding night when my orgasm hit. Oh! Oh!! Aah!!! Aah!!! Aah!!! Ah!! Uh! Uh! My enthusiasm inspired him to renew his efforts, and he kept me up near that peak for God knows how long. I wanted to stay there forever, but I gripped him tighter when his breathing deepened into grunts and I felt him pumping his load into me as he came.

I did visit Eliot and he did bake me cream puffs. We sat at the table of his tiny bakery out in the woods while I ate one of them. It tasted as good as I remembered, or had imagined, or something. My last visit had been while I was dreaming. I told him I didn't understand time. I could change my perception of it, how fast it seemed to be moving. I could see some things that would happened, and that others that looked like they would weren't going to. It felt like I could sometimes back up slightly and change things I had just seen. He said he didn't understand it either, but he tried to explain as best he could. You know how a light switch works. If it's down and the light is off, then if you turn it up and it works properly the light goes on. If there are two switches, then if you turn either one up it goes on. If you turn the other one up or that one down, it goes off. Obvious, but like with reading or math or anything else, if you don't have the patience to listen to and think about the obvious stuff first, you're not going to learn much. Suppose there are six switches and six people and the power is off and none of them know what the others are doing. Maybe they're silent switches. Will the light be on when the power comes back? If one or any odd number are up, it's on. If none or an even number are up, it's off. It's easier to see if you think about it yourself than if I try to explain it too much.

The classic example from chaos theory says a hurricane might or might not form depending on whether a butterfly flapped its wings in some other place. It's not just poetic, it is literally true. Large events depend on small events. Whether someone dies in a car crash depends on the exact timing of an infinite number of things all throughout history. Now, suppose there were six billion people with six billion light switches and one light. What happens depends on all of them. The hurricane doesn't depend on just one butterfly, it depends on all butterflies and everything else. Everything we do affects everything else. The effects are too complicated to figure out and too small to measure, and also depend on unknowable random quantum events. But Eliot could see them. He could see backwards and forwards on the pathways through time. If he wanted to, and sometimes when he didn't, he could see who lived and who died as a result of every one of his actions. It might have driven anyone insane. He asked me to flip a coin and said it would come up tails. I pulled out a quarter and it did. He was right sixteen times in a row. He said he wasn't always right and did better if he called it in the air. There was more than one pathway, and sometimes they shifted or things changed unexpectedly. It worked better than most weather forecasts.

He asked me how much I remembered of my dream. I said not much. It had something to do with saving the world or freeing a lot of people. He said that was right. An unauthorized quasi goverment project had been trying to use people with abilities like ours, except these abilites didn't work very well if they were abused. Thom had linked together the dissociated parts of their minds, and Eliot and I had bent time and reality so they could heal. Many people had helped, but Thom and I were the ones whose powers were most directly involved. We were the ones they might remember, except a side affect of Thom's power was that people didn't remember him. The people we had helped had taken control of the project with little trouble and stopped its trade in arms and drugs. The War on Drugs fizzled out. Most didn't know who had helped them or how. Ideas bled through from inexperienced telepaths to those affected by the guns and drugs. Stories arose of the Dark Lady and her minions of the night. He said I was the Dark Lady. I said the Dark Lady was a myth. She was based on Ancient Goddesses, the Virgin Mary, and Local Dieties. He said that was true, but I was now part of that myth. I said I wasn't a god. He said neither was he, but we had the powers of gods or superheroes and sometimes acted like them. The idea of one all powerful god hadn't sprung up overnight. At first they had been nature spirits, then a squabbling family, then the anthromorphic universe. I thought about it. We could fit into any of those categories, one way or another. We didn't fight much, but you didn't have a story without some disagreement. I wouldn't be a very good teacher if I didn't want to inspire people, and we were trying to change the world. All gods were fake anyway. No one knew who she was. And it wasn't like I had a choice.

I said there was one more thing. We had seen the end of the world the first time we touched hands, back in Cincinnati. We had saved it in a dream the second time we met. What was going to happend this time? He said he didn't know. He never knew what was going to happen when I was around. I was the most difficult person he had ever met. He stood up and came around the table, so I stood up too. And then he kissed me. The world exploded. Time stood still while we kissed in the eternal present. It's a phenomenon everyone has experienced. All the pathways of the past and the future where laid out like an exploded diagram. I saw contradictory pasts that I had forgotten and knew they were all true. I saw many different versions of the present that were not true, but they had been and would be again. I saw our future that could not be, our powers to control time combined into the godhood we denied, a dynasty destined not to be. There were tears in my eyes when we broke our kiss. When I saw there were none in his I knew he had forgotten and envied him. I held him to me and said hush, that this boon might not be taken from him, that the burden of the Dark Lady would be mine alone. But I did let myself set it aside for a while.

After I got back I told Mike and Lisa I wanted to transform our trio in a rock group. Kids might think it was cool to have teachers in a band. We could put on concerts and give music lessons as bait. We weren't that much older than the kids we would be teaching, but our music was different. We could play older music from the sixties and seventies. Some of it was still considered good. It was roots music, though not in the usual sense. We could get Brian to play drums, and I might be able to find another guitar player. Lisa agreed. It fit in with her ideas. Mike was skeptical but willing to try it. Brian was glad to be in a band again. Lisa brought over some clothes, and the three of us tried on different things to give us ideas for costumes. Nothing seemed to work. At last Lisa stood there in just brief white panties and long white fingerless lace gloves that hooked over her thumbs. Mike was topless in blue jeans. I was naked except for a men's white button down shirt that hung open. We looked at each other in the daylight coming in the window and decided it was time for lunch. I made some chicken salad sandwiches and got out the chips and beer. After a bit Mike started giggling, which was disconcerting in someone that large and reminded me of the Robin Hood Daffy cartoon. Lisa and I gave each other blank looks, which set Mike off even more. Then Lisa smiled. I said I still didn't get it. Lisa said maybe we should just use the clothes we had on now. They would certainly get the kids attention. I thought about that while we finished eating.

They looked good but wouldn't work as stage costumes. I tried changing to a baggy white tee shirt with black stretch bike shorts. Mike added a black tee shirt, which looked good, but she said the jeans were too restrictive to perform in. Lisa put on a green halter top leotard. She thought it moved the emphasis too far up her body from her hips, so she added black leggings. Mike changed from blue jeans to loose unbleached martial arts pants that tied with a string. I said I had liked the blue with the black, and if Mike wasn't going to use it, I would find an oversized blue tee shirt to go with my black pants. And my stretch pants needed to be shorter, so they looked more like actual shorts. Mike said if Lisa and I were going to use green and blue, she would use red. She'd have some sort of red design on her tee shirt. Lisa said we all needed to use the same design or logo. She suggested a circle. I thought it wasn't distinctive enough. Mike agreed, and after some thought said how about a band of hibiscus across the front, like in Hawaii? Lisa liked the idea. She thought white hibiscus across her green would work, and traded the lace sleeves for some white leg warmers gathered on her shins. I thought Mike needed a band of red hibiscus across both the front and back of her shirt. Mike said yes. I said white hibiscus on my own costume would look too much like Lisa's. She agreed, and said maybe I could do it in reverse, a band of white that outlined blue hibiscus. I said that was better, but the band should be gray because my costume was darker, and it should run down the front instead of across. And since there were no blue hibiscus, the shirt should be a sort of purplish blue.

I wound up using a pair of vollyball shorts. They were the length I wanted and weren't as tight as some but still didn't hide much. I could get away with it because they were black and because my tee shirt covered half my rear. Lisa's halter top leotard was too low in front to fit our design. She had trouble finding one that wasn't and didn't come up to her neck, but finally did. Mike added some red sequins to her hibiscus so they would sparkle. Lisa got a dark green hoodie to cover up with when she wasn't on stage, and I got one that was navy blue. Mike said she didn't need anything, but we convinced her to get a deep red one just in case. We couldn't find a shop able to print the hibiscus pattern we wanted, so we found an art student to make a silk screen and print the colors we had chosen. I thought we looked great.

Alex

When I was two or three I used to have two mouse hand puppets. My mother must have found them at the thrift store. I would make little squeaking sounds and have them nod their heads and wave their arms as if they were talking to each other. They would bounce along back and forth in front on me as if they were walking, and sometimes go exploring around the room looking for the plastic cheese I had hidden. I had never seen a real mouse, just cartoon mice on television and ones in picture books. I had seen moles. I used to watch them moving around in their burrows and tunnels underground and making mole hills under the grass as they searched for worms and beetles. Watch isn't the word because they couldn't see or hear very well. They found their way by touch and smell, which worked well enough underground. Earthworms had a very specific scent, or range of scents since they weren't all the same. So did the other things they hunted.

I had a twin bed which was a lot larger than I was. I would burrow all over under the covers with my nose stuck out and my hands turned backwards looking for worms that were fat and as long as I was. I never found any, which was just as well because I didn't think I would like the way they tasted when I wasn't mole. I asked my mother to make me a mole puppet with soft fur and a pointy nose and big backwards hands. She said she would help me but that I had to make it myself. So I learned to sew. At first she gave me little projects, and I learned how to burrow the needle through the cloth, then to draw patterns on paper and cut them out. She helped me draw mole like I wanted him and showed me how to design the pattern. She cut the cloth herself. I was pleased with the result and got plastic worms for it to hunt. It liked worms best.

My father was of old German stock, like a lot of people in the Southern mountains, and my mother was part Cherokee. My skin was darker than some people's but lighter than my brown hair. Maybe I looked a little like a surfer. My eyes were brown near the center, then olive green, then dark green near the edge. We lived in a small house out in the woods not too far from the reservation. It may seem surprising that my mother took me seriously when I talked about seeing moles, but she did. There were animal tales about the early times and stories of shamans becoming different animals in their dream journeys. I made other puppets too. Skunk, otter, weasel, fox, raccoon and deer. I could see them moving around in the woods. I would watch squirrels on the ground and running along branches and leaping from tree to tree. I could hear the leaves shake when they landed on a new branch but couldn't see them the same way I saw the others. I couldn't see rabbits either, or mice. Coyote sometimes watched from a distance, but he never came close enough. I liked bats but didn't make one. Hand puppets could only walk, and they didn't. I could see them flittering around through the air listening for moths and beetles that would go crunch when they caught them.

When I was in grade school I would wander around the woods by myself and watch the animals. I liked swimming through the cool creek water and hunting fish as mink. I'd clamber along the bottom or wriggle like a fish and grab fat stupid shiners with my teeth. The freedom of movement was delirious. I had been warned about black bears and one time I met one. It was early on a bright fall day with the sun slanting through the oaks and laurels and pines. She didn't know what to make of me. We stood and watched each other sideways in the dampness. I looked and smelled like a human, but she had never met one before that could talk. She thought I might be some strange sort of cub. But I wasn't hers, and after a while she continued on her way, foraging along the ground for acorns and hickory nuts.

When I was in middle school I started making cloth dolls in different Indian costumes for a gift and clothing store in town. The tourists bought enough of them that the store continued carrying them. Sometimes they asked for more and I made a little money. I studied guitar for a while, then changed to mandolin. It got more chances to solo, and I liked playing tunes. In high school I started working in the store selling cowboy hats and belt buckles and women's clothes and knick knacks. I was good at it and got along well enough with people even though I had to use words. They were just a different kind of animal and seemed to operate as much by instinct as any of the others. I could tell which ones were interested and usually got them to buy something. It was busy enough in the summer that I made some decent money. I could choose and fit clothes, and if I acted gay sometimes a woman would invite me into the dressing room to help her. We didn't sell bras, but there seemed to be an art to fitting them that many women didn't know. I learned by example and liked appropriate clothes and underwear on the girls I went out with.

After high school I went to UT Austin. I knew I wanted to do something with tech, so I took math and science courses. Calculus, linear algebra, diff, physics, chem, organic and biology in the first two years, the basics. It sounds like a lot but was only one math and mostly two science courses each semester. I had never lived in a city. I liked there being stuff. It was flat. I hadn't seen flat like this before, but the brush country had it's own beauty once you got used to it. The armadillo is the Texas state roadkill. When I drove around at night I would see live ones snuffling along the edge of the road. I stopped and tried to talk to them, but they ignored me. Maybe it was just as well. What do you say to an armadillo? Try to talk him out of taking over the world? During the day I saw black tailed jackrabbits and greater roadrunners out in the cedar and mesquite. A roadrunner could fly a little and really did run down roads for short distances. He could reach speeds of 20 to 25 mph, which made him the world's fastest chicken. But he couldn't really run as fast as the Flash or outrun a coyote. In the city there were Mexican free tailed bats. Many thousands roosted under the bridge. I would go a few blocks to the waterfront park and watch them emerge. I'd pick out one to follow. He would rise a mile or more with the spectacular swirling column and travel for dozens of miles before coming down to feed on moths and other insects at lower altitudes. In october and november they left for Mexico and didn't return until february. It didn't get cold in Texas. I think they migrated to avoid overgrazing the insect population.

I drove out to Santa Fe the first summer and found a job as a sales rep in a clothing and gift store. It was a relief being in an area with some contour again. On my first day off I headed north into the mountains that weren't what I was used to. The valleys didn't echo in the same way. I picked a site in the national forest where there were supposed to be mule deer and set up my tent. I wandered around the slopes and valleys most of the day. I played some mandolin. They played it a little differently in Texas. Toward evening I lay down in what I hoped was a likely spot and waited. I listened to the grasshoppers. I waited for the stars to come out. I wondered if I should have tried a different place. They appeared below me out of nowhere as the light was fading. An antlered buck with huge ears, and several does with young. Besides the big ears that gave them their name, they were larger than white tailed deer and had black tips on their tails. The buck was one of last year's young still traveling with them. They spread out and browsed on bluebell and clover. It was nice having someone besides raccoons, skunks, and the occasional badger to talk to. Bats are not great conversationalists. With schoolwork, I didn't get out into the wild as much as I liked. After it got too dark the deer headed off to bed down for the night. I continued to watch the bats. I couldn't see them very well with my eyes but could tell where they were. Being here was different from watching them only with their own minds.

Someone asked if I wanted to fly? I didn't pay any attention. He said I could if I wanted to. He'd seen men flying alone through the sky. They'd done it at air shows long ago, back when airplanes had two sets of wings. I said I had heard of that. Daredevils in bat suits. He said I could do it too. I looked around to see who it was. With my mind, not my eyes. I didn't see anyone and asked who was there? He said a friend. Then he was gone, but I had a clear image of what he was talking about. He was actually using images and emotions rather than words, but it was a strange thing for someone to say. The creatures I shared consciousness with were aware of my presence but mostly ignored me. They were busy with their own stuff and I was no physical threat, but I liked being acknowledged and accepted. Whoever this was had been talking directly to me. The flying suit wasn't any more complicated than things I had already made. I could get tent nylon and fiberglass poles at the sporting goods store. I knew how a bat's wing worked, but this was much simpler. It was a fascinating idea.

Three weeks later I was back with the suit and a bicycle helmet. The wings went from along my arms and out past my hands to down the outside of my legs. I had stiffened them with fiberglass rods to stick out when I had my arms extended. They didn't have as much surface area as I would have liked, but more than in the images I had seen. They had been difficult to make in my cramped room but seemed sturdy enough. I found a long deserted slope that wasn't too steep and hiked to the top of it. I didn't know what to do. A running start was out of the question. I looked for something to jump off of. A tree wouldn't work. I didn't see anything else. I went up a little farther up to where the slope got steeper. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but I was going to try it. I lifted my arms, leaned out, and jumped off as best I could. I glided down for twenty feet or so and landed in a heap. The helmet and gloves had been a good idea. I probably should have added kneepads somehow. I hiked back up and tried again. It was awkward walking in the suit but not too bad. This time I landed better. I brought my feet down first and caught myself on my hands. Effective if not graceful. I made about thirty feet. After a few more tries I had extended it to forty.

A voice asked me did I want to fly or did I want to just prance around? I got a better sense of direction this time, and when I looked I saw coyote sitting and watching from a distance, still too far away to see except with my eyes. I didn't know how we were able to talk. I said I thought I was doing okay. He said the wings worked. He'd seen men jump from airplanes dozens of times. I should try jumping from higher up. It was perfectly safe. I looked up at the forty foot cliff and had a sudden desire to soar like a hawk. It was what I had wanted all along, although I hadn't admitted it to myself. The suit did work, sort of. I thought why not? If I didn't do it now I never would.

I took the suit off to climb and put it back on after I got to the top. I stood on the edge and looked across at the far ridge. The land fell away below me. I put up my arms. It didn't seem like such a good idea from up here. Coyote was still watching. I felt a push and found myself gliding out over the valley. I was ecstatic at first. Then I realized how much speed I was picking up as I fell. It hadn't mattered much with the short flights before. From up here it did. I realized I was going to die as I heard coyote's laughter echoing through my mind. Bats fly by being small and light and by flapping their wings. They can glide for short distances but don't soar like birds. Now I understood why. Their wings weren't built for it. And nothing as large and heavy as me had the strength to flap its wings fast enough. Physics didn't work like that. The more muscle mass you added, the more you would need to lift it. It only worked in the other direction. Through his laughter coyote said it had always worked in the air shows, except for the time the man's parachute had tangled. That had been a mess. I didn't have time to think about that. I slowed my descent as much as possible and remembered what I could about being a bat. There was a certain point. They always knew when they reached it. I hadn't yet but would soon. The ground was coming up fast. Now! I dived and pulled up to put my momentum into forward motion. I was aiming for the one tree in front of me that was tall enough. I had to hit it at just the right height near the top. Now, stall! Whump!

If I had hit the tree any higher, it would have broken off and I'd have gone right over. If I had hit it any lower I'd have bashed my brains out, helmet or no helmet. I'd had to hit it just where it had enough give to stop me without killing me, and hope there was such a point. I was bruised and battered but alive, so far, and didn't even think anything important was broken. What was I thinking, letting a coyote teach me how to fly? He asked what I was complaining about. I survived didn't I? And besides, I wouldn't have gone to waste. The coyotes would have gotten to me before the crows and vultures had picked my bones clean.

I made it into work after I got back. When someone asked what happened, I said I had walked into a tree. She gave me a strange look and didn't ask for details. Later someone else came in. She called me brother Bear and said she'd heard about me and Coyote and had to see for herself. I was surprised and didn't know what to say. I could hear the capitalization in her voice. It explained a lot. She was an attractive Navaho girl in bizarre clothes. She asked me if I wanted to come over for breakfast. I still didn't know what to say so I said yes. She said good, I should meet her at The Sands of Mars at seven tomorrow morning.

I got there before she did and looked around while I waited. A red sand desert was painted on one wall with hills in the distance and an ATV. She ordered pancakes and eggs when she came in, and I had the Roswell burger. Maybe I was spending too much time with carnivores. I said I liked her clothes. They were baggy and the colors didn't match, but I could tell she was going for a particular look. And first glance they appeared haphazard, but the garishness was balanced by the contrasting textures, and there was a suggestion of things hidden. Her movements were graceful and unrestricted without being obviously so. I hadn't seen anything like it before. She asked me what I was doing messing with Coyote? I said I'd thought he was just an animal. I hadn't realized I was dealing with a god. She said I was an idiot. I said I knew that now. You could argue over the term god, but she didn't. She said if Coyote had really wanted to hurt me he would have gotten closer and let me read his mind, but that wouldn't have been as good a joke. I asked how she knew about me. She said word got around. I wasn't the only one who talked to animals. I said oh. I probably should have known but had never met anyone else who did, that I knew of. It had seemed disconnected from anything to do with human people.

She asked what I knew about my ability. I said I could talk to some animals and not to others. She asked if I knew which ones. I asked what she meant. Said asked which kinds of animals could I talk to? I said not squirrels, rabbits, mice, birds or armadillos. She said it was more specific than that. I thought about it for a while. I said mammals except rodents and armadillos. She said what about possums? I said I hadn't tried. What about people? I said no, not in that sense. She said I had a gift. I should at least figure out what it was and how I wanted to use it. I thought about that. Then I said she was right. I had been using it like a toy. It was just something I could do. I hadn't thought about it much at all. Would she help me? She said yes. It was a fairly benign ability but still too dangerous to be used irresponsibly. I should think about it seriously, and she would take me back up into the mountains next week.

She picked me up in her four by four on my next day off. She said her name was Sureshot. It meant what it sounded like. Hence the clothes. She asked me what I had figured out. I said rabbits weren't rodents. She said that was a start. I said their order was in the same group as rodents and primates. I probably couldn't talk to any of them. Armadillo was in a South American order along with sloths and anteaters. I probably couldn't talk to them either. If I could talk to possums I should have noticed. They'd been around. I probably couldn't talk to marsupials. Skunk, weasel, badger, otter, mink, raccoon, bear, fox and coyote were all carnivores. That order was in the same group as those of deer, bats and mole. I could talk to all of them, plus probably horse and dolphins. That left a group of four small African orders, one of which included elephant, and a separate Australian order with platypus. I didn't think I could talk to any of those. She said good, she agreed with me.

She parked in a remote valley. We climbed up some rocks and looked back across. I asked what she wanted to show me. She said nothing, she just liked the view. I had figured out most of it on my own. What was I going to do? I said humans did a lot of damage to the natural world. It depressed and angered me. There ought to be some way I could repair or prevent some of it with my ability. I could understand what was going on better than most people. But I didn't know how yet. I would have to think about it some more and look at possibilities. She said I'd done pretty well for an idiot. It had just taken a bit of prodding and nearly getting killed. I should thank Coyote for his help. I said I wasn't ready to do that yet and didn't want to encourage him. I'd had all of his help I could take for now. We sat on a somewhat level spot and didn't say anything for a while. I watched the wind moving through the leaves. She said people with abilities tended to form groups. Her grandfather was a shaman and had been training her. Nobody knew about all the groups, but his group knew of some others and worked with them sometimes, when it seemed necessary or useful. She had found her own group. I may have already met people who could be part of mine, or would before long. I said I would try to pay more attention. Then she scooted over a little and leaned against me. I put my arm around her.

We had both brought lunch. We laid it out on my beach towel and shared our turkey sandwiches and pasta salad and brownies and cranberry cookies. We hiked over the ridge and looked in the other direction. She took me to an area with mountain lions and I showed her one that was sleeping. I found I could share my ability with her but couldn't see much of her higher level thought. I was starting to understand animal dreams, but they still didn't make much sense. When we came back we finished the rest of the food. Then she unrolled her sleeping bag, and we held hands and watched the stars come out. She said she would make love to me when a hundred stars came out. Planets didn't count. We lay there and searched. She got to a hundred before I did, but I think she cheated. I had only gotten to eighty two.

Her underwear fit perfectly. She looked pretty good naked too. Nicely contoured breasts hanging down in front, hips with a dark fuzzy patch between them, skin not much darker than mine. The light was dim and without colors but our eyes were used to it. I looked at the muscles in her legs and arms. Her hair was moderate length, and I could see her nose was a little broad if I looked for it, like mine. She looked down at my erection sticking out and smiled. After a few moments we lay back down. Her sleeping bag opened out flat so we weren't crowded yet. I put my hand on her hip and kissed her. She reached down a started stroking my penis very slowly while our tongues played together. I let this go on for quite some time before I reached between her legs. I stroked my fingers up the silky inside of her thigh, and she lifted one knee to part them. I stroked her hair and slid my fingertips along her glistening pathway. They circled her opening and were pulled down into it. They explored around, came back up, and stroked her clitoris very slowly. I heard her smile, umm mm, and felt her hips start moving. She paused for breath, and my tongue moved down her neck and breast to her sweet round nipple. I sucked it between my lips and nibbled it. Her grip on my penis got firmer. My own hips were moving now. I gave in to her moans and knelt between her legs. She looked up into my eyes. I moistened myself with her juices, rolled down a condom, guided the tip to her, and pushed my way inside. She surrounded me with her glorious self. I held her in my arms and moved deep within her. She rose to meet me and pressed her lips against my groin. Our strokes were slow and firm. My tongue moved over her lips and jaw and cheek and forced its way into the hollow below her ear. I felt the vibrations of her moan. After a while her powerful arms gripped me more tightly and she began to gasp and her body slammed against mine with the force of her orgasm. Oh! Oh! Oh! Ah! Uh! I couldn't tell if she kept going or came again or was just enthusiastic. Whatever it was, we didn't slow down much. I held out, but after another while let my excitement build and came inside her with several hard swift thrusts and a few grunts.

Brian

Max and Kamau joined the school as math and reading teachers, respectively. Kamau was from Kenya. Alex, a friend of Jinx, joined our group shortly after I did. He had taken a leave of absence after two years of college and driven to San Diego to talk to some dolphins. That's what he said. Pacific white sided dolphins. They have a white belly that is defined by a sharp boundary, but the white patches on their sides have fuzzy borders and are different on different individuals. He said a dolphin's sense organ for sound is like a big eyeball. It can see in all directions at once. It can also see in three dimensions and inside things. It is a sonogram or ultrasound like doctors use, except it doesn't have to be reduced to two dimensions, seen with the eyes, and imagined in 3D. Dolphins perceive the 3D structure directly, and with a series of clicks can see it moving. They don't think like we do. But apparently they liked his idea, because he didn't go back to school. He joined the Navy and trained as a sonar tech.

Ships often ran into whales, more often than they realized. A blue whale is 80 feet long, but Alex's destroyer was 500 feet long and the hull could take it. And the screws could slice through something even the size of a blue whale's skull. But at the speed they were going you didn't want to risk knocking them even a little out of true, so the captain or mate would avoid a whale collision if he could. Alex made sure he had enough notice, and the other sonar techs didn't want to let him outdo them. Of course they couldn't help it. He gave them what pointers he could and they did a lot better than before. Whatever ability he had seemed to be teachable to a limited extent if someone was open to it. They and those they escorted avoided more whales than others. Still, they reported more hits than other ships. Their knowledge spread through the community of sonar techs, which wasn't that large, and by the time the Navy investigated, their statistics were more in line with others. The Coast Guard was warned of increased whale activity. The number of reported hits dropped again as the abilities of the techs improved.

Alex played mandolin. One of the men on his ship who had a guitar liked bluegrass, so they formed a duo. Another would let him borrow his guitar in exchange for lessons, and sometimes the duo played rock from the sixties and seventies. The men on the ship were from different places and some were older, but everyone liked that. They would often get requests and always honored them as best they could. Their playing skills improved. When Alex got out after six years he didn't know what to do. He had reconnected with Jinx at some point, whom he had met at Oktoberfest in Cincinnati. When he heard we were starting a school he expressed an interest, and she invited him up.

Yoshi, a retired janitor from the high school Karen went to, was hired as head counselor and maintenance supervisor. Angela, a friend of Anya, was hired as administrator and receptionist. We decided the students should call her Ms Jones so she could be the authority figure. Karen was in a group with Max's sister Diane, and Anya was in Eliot's group. There were lots of people in different associated groups that were interested in us. Some of the groups had more than one living space, and where one group ended and the next began was not always obvious.

The building was ready by september and the first day went well. We called ourselves Ironweed Studio. There weren't as many students as we wanted at first, but we let more join classes as the weeks went on. We planned three 15 week sessions with one week breaks during and between them, two weeks at winter break. Classes were one or two hours, from 3 to 9 pm, for any middle or high school students who wanted help. We just needed to attract enough kids and help them enough to be worthwhile. All classes were free except in cases of financial privilege. The street level was one large narrow room with Angela's office in the back and the restrooms downstairs. It could be used for several classes at once with up to seven students in each. They weren't really classes, it was storefront tutoring after school in phonetics, vocabulary, basic math, and algebra. No spelling or grammar. We started out with two teachers per class. Lisa had installed theater lighting and a sound system. There was a balcony or mezzanine along one wall for the light and sound boards and for guests during shows. Yoshi's workshop and consulting room was in the basement. A separate outside entrance led to the second floor, which had been converted to a dance and martial arts studio in front and a music studio in back. These could also be used as classrooms. The third and fourth floors were our apartments. Angela was in the back and Yoshi in front on the second floor, and Alex and I in the back and Jinx and Mike in front on the fourth floor. Those were the formal arrangements, but we could mix and match as we wanted. Lisa had her own place with her friend Parveen.

We had our first concert at the school during fall break. Risers were set up against the middle of the side wall opposite the mezzanine for a small stage. Two diagonal aisles ran from the stage back to the door and the office hallway, leaving three wedge shaped groups of seats more or less in rows, with the seats on the sides turned inward to form a sort of amphitheater. We were only allowed to have crew on the mezzanine since in was accessed via ladders, so a number of the older kids were on the light, sound and stage crews. It did have a fire exit onto the stairway to the second floor. We had a good crowd of students, family, friends, and guests by the time the house lights went down. Kamau announced us from the sound board, and there was applause as we made our way to the brightly lit stage. We called our band Take Two. Jinx sat down at her keyboard in blue and gray with black sneakers. Lisa checked her congas in green and white and black with white leg warmers gathered above her canvas ballet shoes. Mike picked up her bass in black and red and unbleached cotton. Alex plugged in his guitar in a thick black silk Hawaiian shirt with green banana leaves and white plumeria flowers open over a yellow tee, with khaki pants and black sneakers. I sat down behind my drums in a red rayon Hawaiian shirt with pink hibiscus, with khaki pants and red sneakers. We all looked at Jinx. She nodded to Alex, and he crashed into the opening chord of A Hard Day's Night. We let it hang there a moment, then started off into our first set, which also included Can't Buy Me Love, Satisfaction, and All Along the Watchtower. It was hard to go wrong with those. Jinx took lead vocals, and the kids seemed to like it.

We had to clear the stage between sets. It didn't make sense to me, but that was the way Lisa wanted it. There was not enough room on stage to do the runs and combinations needed for advanced gymnastics floor moves, so while Lisa warmed up, we set up an eight foot long balance beam, half the usual length and only twelve inches high. I stood by the wall in back and Jinx crouched in front of the stage to spot her. Lisa couldn't fall when she was wearing her emerald studs, but the audience didn't know that. She didn't wear them during meets. Music was only supposed to be used during the women's floor exercise, but for this performance Lisa had chosen Chariots of Fire. Now she stood there waiting for it to start. As it does, she mounts the beam and throws a handful of glitter into the air. The flashing lights and sound effects make it sparkle and crackle like fireworks. She had put in a delay between the flash and the boom. We have a very good sound system. She does a back dive with a quarter twist to a handstand, followed by a half pirouette. She mixes holds and dance elements into her leaps, jumps and turns to make her routine longer than the standard 90 seconds. She ends with a round off back tuck dismount onto the floor and startles some audience members. Not Jinx, who had moved around to the seat she landed in front of.

The school had animal costumes for the younger kids to dress up and dance around in. Lisa and Alex had shown videos of the animals and taught the kids how to imitate their movements. Not with different body parts and appendages. We saw animals as human anyway. But with timing and rhythm and expression. It was paying attention to what the animals actually did and finding a way of representing it. Kids are great imitators until they get old enough to be self conscious. They are flexible, resilient, and have a high strength to weight ratio. Their senses are more acute. Maybe the idea of superpowers comes from childhood memories. Lisa had them practice in front of the mirrors. She told the girls it was a dance class and the boys it was a martial arts class. Jinx also helped. They changed in the restrooms and it wasn't always easy to tell who was who when they came upstairs. If the cat was Kate, and the giraffe was Joe, then the wildebeest will have been Willoughby. Kate was a skinny little ten year old. She looked so cute in her whiskers and fuzzy cashmere sweater and black tights and the way she wriggled her behind before she jumped. Alex had taught her how to prowl by crouching down, moving slowly, and staring intently ahead. Now Lisa used her and the others in the show. Raccoon, bear, skunk, two rabbits and fox came out after cat and mole. Bear in a furry costume and the rabbits with long floppy ears. Then the African animals. Giraffe looked tall just by her posture and the way she stepped, lion looked noble, and gazelle was graceful and wary. They were all amazing. Even if some of the costumes were not recognizable, each child was clearly an animal of some sort.

The next act started with a lighted stage. Jinx walks on juggling three rings to circus music. She tosses them into the air and runs to the other side and catches them. She throws them back and runs and catches them. The lights fade to one spot on either side of the stage. She tosses the rings across lower and runs faster, then back. She tosses the rings still lower, and when she steps out of the spotlight, Alex dressed as Jinx steps into the other one and catches them. They didn't exactly look alike, but they had a similar build and people got the idea. Back and forth, lower and lower, until Jinx and Alex are stepping into the spot before the other one steps out. They add a fourth ring, then a fifth, until there is barely enough time to step out of the spot before stepping back in. The music swells and there is a fanfare and applause. They drop back to three rings and slow down, until the lights fade up and Jinx can be seen running back and forth catching the rings. Jinx throws the rings high, moves to center stage, and catches them one, two, three. A fanfare and bow. Alex comes onstage from his seat in the audience. A final fanfare as they both bow. Much applause.

The last act had Alex and me onstage doing Abbot and Costello's Who's on First? Alex was a good straight man, and some of the kids apparently hadn't heard it before. There was a break while we set up again. Our last set included Marrakesh Express, The Lion Sleeps Tonight with Alex on lead vocal, Hold Me Now, and Uncle John's Band. The show seemed to go well. Maybe it would get more kids interested in the school. We would use free music lessons for bait, along with karate, dance, and theater tech classes.

When Lisa wasn't staying over Mike often came to my room or I slept with Jinx, but Jinx wanted to camp out with Alex after the concert, so that night I went to Mike's. It faced the street but was high enough up that there wasn't too much noise. We could see out across the rooftops of the city from where we lay. The red sequins on Mike's shirt reflected outside light from where it hung on a chair. Her skin tasted of salt, her nipples were hard and crinkled, and she felt really good inside. I could feel how much she stretched out every time I slid in. Most people don't feel tension. Some people keep their whole bodies clenched without being aware of it. Everyone in this culture who is not trained in relaxation techniques or especially gifted has some degree of unnecessary rigidity. Athletes and actors have some awareness of this. I can feel tension. Not just my own, but that of other people around me. Everyone has some awareness of other people's tension, more so than of their own, from unconscious visual and behavioral cues. Mine is more than that. I feel their tension directly, as if it were my own. Not just chronic muscle tension, but all the tension of their various muscles, tendons and ligaments caused by movement or effort. I feel the compression on their bones and organs too, but not as sharply. I felt the rhythmic bunching of the powerful muscles in Mike's buttocks as I pushed into her. I felt all the muscles of her shoulders and arms as she held me.

I can't help feeling the muscles and bodies of those around me. They are just there. It is as much an invasion of my privacy as it is of theirs, if such a concept even makes sense in a case like this. Do you choose what you hear? All I could do was try to ignore it, and wish more women wore bras that fit right. I don't exactly feel their pain, but I sort of do. Sensations I feel from others taper off rapidly at about 12 feet. I don't have to be at the center. If I think about it I can move to somewhere else inside my sphere awareness, and if I am near the edge I can feel people or objects almost 24 feet away at the opposite edge. I don't have to remember where I put anything that I can recognize by touch, as long as it is close enough. I could feel Karen was downstairs in Yoshi's apartment. She had been gently trying to seduce him since recruiting him for the school and seemed to have finally succeeded. She was a little older than we were, but there was still a considerable difference in their ages. She put her hands into the sides of her underwear and bent over to finish undressing. I felt her breasts dangle for a moment before she stood up, stepped free, and joined him in bed. The forces in a compressed bedspring are complex, and part of it is tension. They kissed and caressed and got excited. Before too long he entered her and they were doing what Mike and I were doing. Yoshi was in amazing shape for a man his age.

There are six phases of sex, at least in males. They could all be, but usually weren't, experienced independently. Karen and Yoshi were past desire and arousal now and well into stimulation. They were fascinating to watch. Their excitement and Mike's was adding to my own. Mike was sharing my ability and was picking up on what was going on with them and with me, forming a positive feedback loop. We could control it to some extent. Love is an art that must be learned. Each act is a living thing that must be cared for and nurtured. Karen didn't have a specific ability of her own, but she had shared abilities with all of us at one time or another. Yoshi's martial arts and meditation practice made him more sensitive. Both of them were on some level aware of us. I felt Karen with Yoshi inside, Yoshi inside Karen, myself inside Mike, and Mike with me inside. So did everyone else. Yoshi may not have experienced this before, but all good sex is sharing. The increased feedback created an enormous amount of energy, but with four people working together who knew what they were doing we could, not exactly control it, but ride before storm. And we did for a while. Karen and Mike started having alternating orgasms. Eventually Yoshi and I somehow decided it was time and let our own excitement increase. We felt emission as our sperm moved from the testes, mixed with the seminal fluid, and flowed to the penis. Then came orgasm as our thrusts turned into gasps, and rhythmic pulses of cum shot into Karen and Mike during ejaculation, the sixth and last phase of sex.

We had mostly separate classes for middle and high school students, but we also had a few transitional classes to separate some of the junior high kids from each other and some of the freshmen from the seniors. I taught dance with Kamau. There were better tap teachers around, so I taught modern dance. My family had moved around a lot so I didn't really come from anywhere, but I had studied it when I could and enjoyed it. The kids thought the idea a White man teaching them to dance was funny, but I had picked up some useful stuff and we all taught each other. It worked out. Kamau taught African dance. He didn't have any special training but said that everyone he knew in Kenya could dance. My real job was teaching reading. We taught everybody the same thing, to recognize more words and to sound out words. Age didn't correlate with reading level for these kids, and having students of different levels in the same class didn't matter much. The classes were small, and we only needed to bring them up to fourth grade level. That was all they needed to read most books, magazines and newspapers. Nobody could understand Shakespeare without notes. We would help them reach seventh or tenth grade level if they wanted, or they could teach themselves. We had Hippos Go Berserk, McElligot's Pool and song lyrics for beginners, Harry Potter, Robert Heinlein and comics for intermediate students, and Game of Thrones and The Book of the New Sun for more advanced students. Higher level students could learn as much or more by helping teach lower level students. Part of my job was knowing when to get out of the way.

More students did sign up during the second half of the fall session. For our core curriculum, Jinx, Mike, Kamau and I taught reading and Lisa, Alex and Max taught math. Jinx's degree was in math, but we needed more reading teachers and that's what she had tutored other kids in. For music Mike and Alex taught guitar, and Kamau and Lisa taught hand drumming. In our arts department, Lisa and Max taught theater tech, Lisa and Jinx taught movement, Yoshi and Diane taught karate, and Kamau and I taught dance. And for those who wanted it, Yoshi, Jinx and Max did counseling. All the classes were partly group therapy. Angela and Yoshi were supposed to keep everything running smoothly, but we all helped out as needed. The community and friends also supported our efforts in various ways.

Kelly was in my high school math class for girls. Some girls were less afraid of being good in math without boys around. The girls were distracted by the mirrors in the dance studio, so the boys reading class met in there and we met in the music studio in back. Our math and reading classes met around six or eight foot folding tables, which worked well and made our space flexible. The classes felt more like seminars. There were seven girls in my math class. Lisa taught classes for girls who were more comfortable with a woman teacher, but some of them would pay more attention to a man, especially if there were no boys around to distract them. They all wanted to look nice, some of them with clothes that looked like they had been sprayed on. I didn't mind. I could feel the tight clothing around their breasts and hips and crotch. I could feel it rubbing against their skin when they walked or shifted in their seats or breathed. I could feel their nipples when they poked into their bra. They wanted my attention because I was the only male there and I wasn't all that ancient. I looked at them when they listened to me and tried to understand what I was saying. They didn't have to always get the right answer. People will respond to attention without realizing what they are doing.

Like people got used to seeing women's legs after hemlines moved above the knee, I'd gotten used to feeling people's bodies. I enjoyed it, doctors only pretend to be disinterested, but it wasn't as titillating as you might imagine. Touch is a basic need for social animals like humans. Most people are touch deprived and alienated. Shaking hands is the only form of touch not looked upon suspiciously, and even that was being replaced by the fist bump. Our school didn't have to follow all the rules regular schools did. We allowed touch that was not inappropriate. Kelly and Rhonda with their heads together giggling was a good thing if they didn't get too distracted. Darlene with her hand in her lap thought no one noticed what she was doing. Other girls pretended not to and boys never did, but I couldn't help it. She sat up straight and leaned forward slightly to force her wrist more tightly against her crotch, while the knuckle of her little finger wriggled madly against her clitoris. She sat rigid in her seat and controlled her breathing. She tensed up even more as her orgasm approached, but that just made it impossible to suppress the shudder that ran through her body when it hit. I felt every twitch. Afterward she moved her hand back up onto the table and looked interested in algebra. My ability works both ways, other people can feel me. But people who don't feel their own tension aren't going to notice mine. Besides, all bodies feel pretty much alike, and everybody feels a little weird sometimes or feels sympathetic pain. Don't you? I never used my ability to actually touch any of the students. I knew how far it was okay to go, and if I forgot I had four other people to remind me.

Kelly worked in the neighborhood donut shop even though she was only fifteen. We worked similar after school hours, but I would see her in back sometimes when I went in on sundays. I liked filled donuts, Boston cream, apple spice, strawberry. They reminded me of girls. I would turn them so the fill holes faced me when I ate them. I could eat without gaining weight if I didn't go overboard. Which was good, because I liked food. Nothing fancy, except for some pastries, mostly what they call comfort food. For me, the most important thing about food was that there be a lot of it. I had always liked wandering around supermarkets in the various places my family lived. Kroger, Wegmans, Safeway, anything. For most people during the Middle Ages heaven was thought of as a place with enough to eat, where you wouldn't be hungry. And there I was in what was essentially a warehouse full of food, all of it for sale at prices not beyond the reach of ordinary people. I couldn't wait to grow up and be able to buy anything I wanted. I ended up driving a truck for a supermarket chain. We did have snacks available at the school in case kids got hungry. Cookie packs, cheese crackers, pudding and fruit cups, nothing terribly healthy. And they didn't have to ask permission to go to the bathroom. They could just say excuse me and go.

Since Angela had a relationship with Anya and frequently drove out to stay with her, I had thought she was a lesbian and safe to talk to and joke with. She let me go on thinking so but eventually informed me she was bisexual, she just hadn't been with a man recently. I had been flirting with her without knowing it. Mike was amused. If Alex had known, he didn't let on. I hoped the students were oblivious but had some doubts. At least any perceptive enough to notice were discrete enough not to say anything. After that I am unclear who seduced whom. Two weeks later Angela invited me to her apartment for rotini lasagna.

All four apartments were one bedroom. Mike had her dresser in the living room. That way she didn't have to disturb Jinx when she got dressed if someone else was sleeping with her. I had the top two drawers of both the bedroom and living room dressers and kept some shirts in the coat closet. That way I didn't have to disturb Alex, and he didn't have to disturb me. Alex and I also shared a queensize bed. It was for when Mike or Jinx slept with one of us or Lisa slept with me. There wasn't room for a twin bed also. We were both secure enough that it didn't matter if we bumped into each other at night. If he forgot whom he was sleeping with I would just remind him, and vice versa. No cursing, sarcasm or other abuse was needed. However, while it is possible for a girl to masturbate with others present if she is careful, it is not okay for a boy. Unless those others are engaged in sex, in which case the illusion of privacy may or may not need to be preserved, depending on a number of factors outside the scope of this rant.

Two nights later I walked downstairs and knocked on Angela's door. Since school lasted until nine, we all ate dinner late. She served Bass ale, garlic bread, and a casserole with tomato, rotini, cheddar, mozzarella, parmesan, and a layer of ricotta in the middle. It was really good. I had mostly stopped eating meat when I'd joined the school and didn't miss it much. It made cooking easier. On the sofa afterward she asked me what my religion was? I said I didn't have one. My family had sometimes gone to various protestant churches. I had accepted some of the spirituality and rejected all of the dogma. There was something out there, or in here, but I didn't know what it was. All scripture sounded like dorm room speculation dressed up as revelation. No disrespect intended. Some ministers were good people and some of what they said made sense. She agreed and said she was a Pagan. She could make up whatever gods seemed useful to her. It was what people did anyway. It was what they meant when they talked about finding a personal saviour, whether they knew it or not. She said she needed something concrete to hang her beliefs on, even if it was arbitrary. Then I kissed her.

After a while she told me to take off my clothes, so I did. She took off her pants and sat on the rug in front of me. I don't know if an erection can rage, but if so, mine was. She took it in her hand and mouth and stroked and sucked. I thought maybe I would like to be reincarnated as an ice cream cone. A brief life but a happy one. I felt her tongue move in many different directions, all of them good. I leaned back on the sofa and watched her work. When I was in middle school I liked to look in windows. Most people do, it's why they like television. In a city there are lots of windows. You can see into them better from higher up, so I learned to climb trees. Then buildings. I read about ninjas and learned about not being seen. I pretended to be goth and started wearing black. I thought if someone left her blind open then she didn't mind being watched. I didn't know how else I could get away with as much as I did. I would see women and girls take off their pants and shirt and parade around in their bra and panties while they got ready for bed, although they were careful not to come too near the window. If I waited a bit more, most would unhook one and step out of the other, and I got nervous and excited seeing their nipples and crotch. A lot put on something else before getting into bed, but I was surprised how many slept naked. And how many didn't pull the covers up before making love to their husbands or boyfriends. More women than you might think looked better without their clothes.

But my career as a peeping tom only lasted a few months. Even if the woman didn't mind, the man certainly did. I had been watching and listening to them moan and thrust at each other for a while, and the woman seemed to be getting close, when he yelled and ran toward the open window. He couldn't have seen me very well, and I would have thought he'd be more interested in what he was doing. I panicked and without thinking reached out to pull myself up onto the roof. He must have thought he was mistaken, that no one could have gotten away that fast, because I didn't hear anything else. He was right. No one could have. I went back later and checked. I didn't have time to climb the fire escape, and the cornice was too far for me to have reached it. But I did. Angela was very skilled. I thought she wouldn't let me come until after I had satisfied her, but I was wrong. I watched my hips move as she ministered to me, heard my breath get ragged, and felt myself pumping cum into her mouth as her throat moved to receive it.

I stayed hard briefly but felt myself wilting in her mouth while she made sure she got everything. After she did, she stood up and got a towel. Then she finished undressing and we traded places. Angela was tall, light skinned but not pale, and had short dark hair. I looked up at her beautiful dark red nipples, down at her lush black pubic hair, and into her pink slit dripping onto the towel in the dim light. I tasted up to her clitoris, and it was good. I sucked it in and stroked it with my tongue. She sighed as she lay back and watched me work. I had always been able to feel things that were nearby. That was part of why I wasn't content to look in windows from a distance. Usually when you feel something it means you are touching it, although you can feel radiant heat from a distance. Touch means pressure, at least a small amount. I felt things under tension around me most easily but also felt compression, and everything is under one or the other. From air pressure or gravity if nothing else. I had felt the edge of the roof above me, and when I panicked I used that touch to pull myself over it. I hadn't known I could do that.

I experimented and found I could touch some of the things I could feel if I wanted to. I had two areas of touch each about twenty inches wide within which I could move things. I could use them like hands or feet, or I could move the things I touched as if they were part of my body. It was some sort of telekinesis. Since I could feel inside things, I could pull myself up walls and open locks easily. I could lift a total of 320 pounds with my ability, and by thinking about a direction could offset the sphere within which I felt things somewhat. I tried groping young women in the supermarket from the next aisle over but stopped after a couple weeks. The first one who felt my invisible hand slide over her buttock as if her clothing wasn't there was puzzled. Some who felt me squeezing their breasts and nipples under their bra got excited, others were annoyed. The first who felt me poking up between her legs inside her panties was nervous and shaken, and I decided I should stop doing this stuff. But I couldn't. Until a couple days later when I stuck my finger into the another vagina and realized how badly frightened the girl was. I was scared too and never tried it again. I saw how dangerous it would be if people knew what I could do, and became much more careful.

A month later I found that by directing my attention upward I could feel the girl in the apartment above humping her pillow in her nightshirt. I didn't need to touch her. She did it herself, frequently, and it was better than looking in windows. She would start out on her side with her pillow squeezed tightly between her legs, turn more face down as she got more excited, and finish by using her hand. It was beautiful, and I was in love with someone I had never seen. I would stay still at first, then hide behind her excitement while I jerked off. She could feel me if I came after she did without breaking contact, but since it felt good, she seemed to decide it was some sort of flashback and didn't mind. I had felt a lot of different female orgasms in the years since then. More specifically, I had felt Angela entertaining herself in the apartment below mine. I knew what she liked. I had my arms under her thighs, felt her hips move in my hands, heard her breath get ragged, and tasted her oozing into my mouth as she came. When she was done I stood up and reached for a condom. She rearranged the towel before I joined her on the sofa and slid into her. We left the bedroom for later.

Most places have their concerts or shows before Christmas, which means there aren't so many afterward. That's when we had ours, during winter break. Omicron was a group of eight young classical musicians. Their name was a Greek letter but mostly referred to the fact that they were a micro orchestra, four wind players and a string quartet, plus others as needed. Lisa said they were all in our poly network. We picked a tuesday because some of them were also members of the professional orchestra and had concerts other nights. There were more empty seats than at the previous concert, but many of our friends had shown up, including Eliot and Anya from the bookstore bakery. Instead of walking on in silence as in most classical music concerts, Kamau announced them and they all came out dressed in sequins and white or blue billowy shirts with black pants and sneakers. Not exactly Liberace, but not the usual black suits and dresses either. They bowed and Eliska, the cellist, talked a little about what they were going to play.

They opened with Bach's first Brandenburg Concerto, for two horns, three oboes, bassoon, solo violin and strings. The horn parts were transposed for two flutes, and they made do with one oboe. In the first movement a whole bunch of stuff happens, the strings, reeds, and flutes go back and forth at different times, and it ends with the flutes playing triplets. Lisa had given some solos and sections of music different lighting cues, like scenes in a play. Since there are no horns in the slow second movement, Mark switched from flute to second oboe. The first oboe has a solo passage, then the violin, then bassoon and strings, then oboe and violin. They go back and forth some more. The oboe has a short fast unaccompanied passage. The bassoon plays a bass note, answered by the oboes, then violins and viola. Again, with different notes, and again, building up, and one big chord to resolve. They toss the melody around in the third movement, slow down in the middle like they're going to stop, speed up and keep going, and all end together. The last movement is a stately minuet. The trio is for two oboes and bassoon. The viola takes the second oboe part and the bassoon supplies a walking bass line. The minuet returns. The polacca is for string quartet. The minuet returns. The second trio is for two horns and oboes in unison, which in this case is two flutes and one oboe. The minuet returns to end the movement and the piece. They closed the set with Handbags and Gladrags, with oboe, flute, string quartet, Jinx on digital piano, Mike on bass, and me on drums. Mike sang the vocal part. I thought it was effective.

After the break the group played Beethoven's ninth symphony on flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and string quartet. They left out the trumpets and horns and cut it down from 72 minutes to 24 minutes, one third its total length. Lisa played the timpani part on congas, and Mike played the double bass part on bass guitar at low volume. The dramatic first movement has three sections and a coda. They took the middle section and the start and end of the coda. The bouncy second movement in fast triplets used to be the closing theme for NBC news. It has four sections. They took the first quarter and last twelfth of each. The third movement is six slow variations with interruptions. They took the first, fourth and sixth variations and only the second interruption. For the long Ode to Joy last movement they only had Paul and Linda singing bass and alto, instead of four soloists and chorus. So Alex and Jinx had learned the tenor and soprano parts, in German. Just as a string quartet and bass could cover all the string parts, four soloists could cover all the choral parts, the sound just wasn't as big. The movement can be divided up different ways but has four main sections. They took part of the first section starting from the vocal bass solo, part of the the Turkish march section, and the fugal opening and prestissimo closing of the last section. I played triangle, cymbal and bass drum for the Turkish march. For their encore they played Gounod's Funeral March for a Marionette, Alfred Hitchcock's theme, arranged for bassoon and small orchestra. I don't know what the kids had been expecting, but they seemed to like the concert.

Kelly

The term Black Irish originated as a general term of abuse for all Irish immigrants. It came into such wide usage that people thought it actually meant something, and tried to figure out what it was. Some thought they were a race of Irish people with dark hair, blue or green eyes, and fair skin. Some thought they had dark hair, dark eyes, and relatively dark skin. Some thought they were descendants of survivors of the Spanish Armada. Some thought they were descendants of traders from Spain or Portugal or North Africa. There are genetic similarities among people living near the Atlantic coast in Britain, Europe and northern Africa, but they are not related to complexion. The term has united workers and school children who were looked down upon. It isn't used in Ireland. Some who self identify as Black Irish have become proud of their imagined heritage. More power to them. My family did. I have dark brown hair, sort of hazel eyes, and a medium skin tone. Medium for a person who is considered White.

My family lived in a mixed neighborhood, there were Blacks and Whites in my building. I babysat George, who was eight, for not much money. He'd be old enough to not need a sitter before too long. Both his parents were fooling around, and each thought the other didn't know, but they did. George didn't like to go to bed when he was supposed to. I eventually got him to stop fighting me by taking off my shoes and pants and crawling into bed with him. Maybe he just didn't like to be alone. I held him as he fell asleep. After a couple times he started holding me and moving his hands around. I didn't want to wake him up or start fighting again, so I just let him. Then he started feeling my breasts and nuzzling them. That was okay, he was just a little kid and it felt sort of good. After I'd gotten used to it, I decided I might as well just pull up my shirt and bra and give him a breast to suck on, so I did. We both liked that. His moving hands started stopping more often on my crotch. I didn't think too much of it at first, but when he put them inside my underwear I realized he had somehow been watching porn videos. Maybe his father had some he didn't hide well enough. I tried not to react, to just stop him from doing anything that hurt, but he figured out what I liked. I would open my legs a little, and he would find some moisture and rub it around. I started to get excited. And then one time he made me come.

After that I took off my underwear for him. When he climbed on top of me, I didn't stop him. He only came up to my breasts and had a hairless little penis, barely bigger than my finger even when it got hard. He tried to get it in me but couldn't. It didn't seem to matter that much to him. I was a video game and he was trying to get to the next level. As long as I didn't do it for him I could pretend it wasn't my fault. He got better at giving me orgasms with his fingers, but I didn't touch his penis. I did shift position and move around, and he did finally manage to get it in. Neither of us had ever had sex with someone else, so there was no danger of catching anything. I knew he couldn't get me pregnant. I was always dressed long before either of his parents got home. His mother had sometimes caught me in his bed but thought it was cute. The first time he was inside me we just sort of played around until he fell asleep. He didn't really wake up when I cleaned him off and put on his underwear. He liked making me come, and once he learned to stay inside me, he was as interested in that as anything else. I was so excited by the idea of having sex, even this pretend sex, that after a few tries I did. I knew it felt good for him and could tell he got excited thrusting into me, but I was very surprised when he had an orgasm. I'd had orgasms at his age, but I didn't know boys could without ejaculating. I wasn't going to stop having sex with him yet, but I finally realized this whole thing was probably a bad idea.

Some people can't get excited unless they believe sex is evil. So they use lace underwear, leather, group sex, alternate positions, and incest, which are not inherently evil. Or they use pain, humiliation, coercion and betrayal, which are if they are real. Often they are a game, and the pain only enough for stimulation. Pedophilia is a special case. There is nothing wrong with sexual play between children of the same age if it doesn't involve bullying or injury, or humiliation by adults. Preventing fourteen year olds from having sex is coercion and an abuse of authority. There would be nothing wrong with sex between an adult and a sufficiently mature and responsible adolescent, but in this culture there aren't any. Fifteen year olds are treated as children and given no authority. A person can't learn responsibility if their actions have no consequences. Rich people are another example of this. Sexual activity between adults and young children involves such unequal levels of power that it is always coercion. There are no exceptions. It's a good thing I wasn't an adult.

I worked at the donut shop after school and weekends sometimes, usually in back. I made some real money and liked the people and the work. Squirting cream into the Boston donuts felt like someone filling me with cum, or I pretended it did. The apple spice were like Jason coming inside Rhonda, not that I knew anything about that. I got a little excited, but the normal smells of the bakery masked my scent. The strawberry filled were like when I had my period. The lemon filled didn't do anything for me. Mr B bought filled donuts, and I sometimes caught him staring at me when he came in. It was a little weird, but I didn't mind too much. Rhonda and I were in his class at Ironweed Studio, a storefront that did after school tutoring for free. He made math almost interesting, and I learned enough to do better on tests at school. Rhonda sat with the other Dominicans at school, but there weren't many at the storefront so she sat with me. There weren't that many White kids either.

Parker was in the boys reading class. He was from Jamaica but could talk without much accent when he wanted to. He hung with the Black kids but seemed like enough of an outsider that I worked up the courage to go over and talk to him. He seemed relieved that someone did and a little embarrassed. I could tell he liked me. I thought he was cute. He smiled each time I came over to him before or after class and finally asked me out. Not exactly out. He bought me an ice cream, and we walked around the streets and sat in the park in the sun, even though it was cold. And he didn't exactly kiss me. We sort of kissed each other when it was time for me to go. Two weeks later it was getting dark when he put his hand on my breast while we were kissing on a bench in park. I wouldn't have been safe there by myself at night. I waited for it to get a little darker and reached under his coat to feel his penny erection. It was nice and hard. I pulled down his fly and reached into his boxers. I appreciated his warmth as I jerked him off slowly. When I had him sufficiently frustrated I asked him if he wanted to come yet. He said yes, please. I stroked a little faster and before too long had him gasping and squirting into his pants.

The next week he was waiting outside after I got George to sleep. I waved and let him think I had gotten undressed just for him when he came up. I didn't think it would be a big deal if George's parents walked in on Parker and me having sex on their sofa, but I didn't want to risk it. I had him undressed, protected, and inside in two minutes. I had brought my own towel. Soon I was whispering Oh! My!! God!!! Ah!! Ah! Ah, ah. Sex with George was great. You wouldn't believe it. But nothing like this. I let myself have one more orgasm before I told him to give it to me. He did. I allowed us a brief cuddle, then got him dressed and back out the door. He didn't complain. What it lacked in duration it made up in intensity.

Then there was Walter. He worked for Athens Pizza, the only place that would deliver to this neighborhood. Word on the street was that anyone who robbed him had to take over his job. Gang members liked pizza too. I can't afford take out pizza with a delivery charge and tip. Neither can George's parents, but if they haven't fed him and want to go out, what can they do? I was tempted to feed George upstairs and keep the money, especially since I would have to add to the too small tip from my own pocket. But that had its own problems, so I didn't. Walter was a student at the storefront. He looked like the sort of nebbish guy who would know everything, but he seemed to have trouble learning. His only friend there was Ms Jones, who didn't have a lot of extra time between classes. There were even fewer Jewish kids than White kids or Dominicans. I thought he was sweet but didn't really know him. I knew he didn't have time to talk while making deliveries, so I just asked asked him what time he got off and if he would like to come by after? He looked surprised and said yes. When he came back we talked about working and the food business for a while. Then I thanked him for visiting while I was stuck here and invited him back. I gave him a brief kiss before he left to let him know my intentions and figured I had scared him off. But I hadn't.

I never said anything to Parker about George and me, but I told him about my plans for Walter. I said I wasn't asking for his permission, and if he wanted to break up with me I would understand, but I hoped he wouldn't. It was something of a bluff, but he knew a good thing when he had it. After complaining a bit he said he was willing to see how it worked out. I tried to figure out how to handle this. I didn't have a lot of time when Walter came over. I didn't want to go too fast. And I didn't want to wait forever either. The first time we talked again then started kissing, and I felt him up a little. The second time, after sucking on his lip and playing with his tongue, I felt for his bulge. It was bent at an awkward angle, so I opened his pants and tasted it. Oh yes. Nice and gooey. I sucked on the head and licked it clean while I stroked the shaft. More came out, which I took care of. I felt it going down my throat and got more excited. I nibbled down the shaft and back up. I dug the side of my knuckle hard into the base of his penis with each leisurely stroke. I didn't want to use everything up during the preliminaries, so after a few minutes I quickened the pace. Not too much. He began to get close. Then I heard him gasp with each thrust and felt him spurt a large glob into my mouth. Maybe he didn't masturbate, or maybe he had been saving up. For a second I thought he wasn't going to stop. Then the spurts tapered off to a dribble and I was able to catch up. I was tempted to keep going but knew there was no time. And I didn't see how there could be anything left. I remembered that orgasm could be experienced independently of ejaculation but put the thought out of my mind. I licked off my lips and kissed him some more while stroking his still partly hard penis, just to be sure I had everything.

Walter was eager to please, and the third time he was going to get his chance. I had to make sure I kept my scheduling between Parker and Walter straight, and paid enough attention to George, whom I was supposed to be taking care of. I needed to tell Walter about Parker even though I thought he already knew, but not this time. You seldom met other people in apartment house hallways, but I listened anyway before opening the door stark naked. Walter just stood there staring at my nipples and hair, so I dragged him inside and bolted the door before kissing him. While doing so I led him over to the sofa and undressed him, walking backwards. The sofa had seen better days and previous sexual encounters, not just mine. Parker and I had discovered the floor worked just about as well, but I wanted to use the sofa for sentimental reasons. It wasn't where I'd first had sex, or first had adult sex, but it was where I'd first had post pubescent sex with someone else. I had my towel in place but didn't rush as much as that first time.

I pulled Walter down onto the sofa. I let him feel my breasts and finger me. They were fair sized with nice nipples. He was thin and not much taller than me, but strong enough from climbing all those stairs carrying pizzas. He didn't know much so I showed him what was what. He caught on. The basics aren't that complicated. I unrolled a condom over him leaving plenty of space at the tip, moved him into position, and helped him guide himself into me. I held him still at first, then had him start slowly pulling back and pushing in deeply, savoring every sensation and movement. He got caught up in it. People can get lost in any experience when they first start paying attention to it, but sex is especially powerful. A little later I had to tell him to go faster but kept the coaching to a minimum. I warned him when I was about to come. The intensity of it still scared him, but he watched my reactions and remembered what was what and got me off twice more before I told him to give it to me. He figured that part out for himself. I heard him gasping with each thrust and felt him coming inside me. I saw George watching me from his doorway. I didn't know if that was the first time he'd been there but it probably wouldn't be the last. We put on a good show.

Sometimes Parker and I could use his room, if we didn't mind a sibling or two in the apartment. They often argued but wouldn't rat on each other. This time only his sister was there, so we didn't have any brothers to chase out of the room. However, she did give me a look. It wasn't hostile, it looked more like a warning. I trusted Parker, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to pay attention. We got undressed. I liked the way he was always hard when he took off his pants. I was ready too. I'd been having a lot of sex lately, but that just seemed to make me more eager. As I was joining him in bed I noticed something. There was a normal amount of clothes scattered around the room, but when I reached across him, I found a pair of panties wedged between the mattress and the wall. There were too small to be his bikini briefs. How does a girl lose her underwear? Did she forget she wore some that day? He tried to tell me they were mine. Boys seemed to think all girls underwear looks alike. But I knew mine and had seen Rhonda's in gym class. I knew they were hers. Then he said I was fucking Walter. It was only fair he got some strange. I said that was true, but he was supposed to warn me about it. I yelled a bit to let him know I was serious, then told him not to worry, he didn't have to do anything. I would take care of it myself. He said he was sorry. I stayed angry enough to have some really hot sex. I had another orgasm just as he was pumping his load into me, one of my best ever.

In spite of my attitude, I was unsure about what I planned to do. I decided that since I had the opportunity, I should talk to someone about it. Yoshi was head counselor at the storefront and I respected him, but I felt uncomfortable talking to someone his age about this. The other counselors were both Black, which I was okay with and made sense for the school. Maybe I should have chosen Jinx, but I didn't. I chose Max. When I came in and sat down, he started out by saying this type of counseling wasn't privileged information but he didn't keep any records. And there were some things he was supposed to report. I could ask him about it if I wanted and should use my own judgment. I said I didn't think that would be a problem. I left out George and told him about Walter, Parker and Rhonda without using names. He asked me how I felt about it. I told him what I wanted to do. He said some people would have a problem with what I was doing. He was sure I already knew that and wasn't going to make any judgments. I was a reasonable and intelligent person and should do what I thought was right. I took that as meaning he liked my idea but wasn't allowed to say so directly. He asked me how I was doing in my classes, and we talked about general issues. He shook my hand as we stood up and wished me luck. I saw why people liked and trusted him.

I confronted Rhonda after school the next day. We found a place to sit outside with no other people close by. I gave her back her underwear. She said she was sorry. I pretended to be angry because it was expected. Then I told her she had to either stop fucking Parker, or have Jason tell me he was okay with it. If neither happened I would tell Jason myself. She didn't understand so I told her again. She was still puzzled but knew I meant it, and we both knew Parker could no longer keep what they were doing a secret. Things went on pretty much as before while I waited to see what would happen. I didn't know if I would really tell Jason. People said that cheating didn't work, that the other person usually found out or it created other problems. I wasn't so sure. It was too widespread to be a system that always failed. Songbirds pair bond and the male defends a territory, but not all the eggs in the nest are his. The alpha male and alpha female in a wolf pack try to keep everybody else from having sex but can't even control each other. Horses and sea lions have to keep defending their harems.

Cheating has a dynamic stability. People have one or more affairs, are discovered or not, switch partners or stay together, and do it over again. It is part of our system of serial monogamy. People said men were polygamous and women monogamous. It seemed to me that women only wanted their own man to be monogamous, not other men or themselves. Both sexes were really the same. Maybe I was unrealistic or stupid, but I wanted my partners to be honest about what they did. Except for George. I didn't think anyone was ready for him. The next week Jason came by my locker and told me he knew about Rhonda and Parker. He was okay with it if I was. I said yes, I was. Since I had already been betrayed I didn't see any reason for them to stop now. Then he asked if I wanted to hook up sometime? I said no, I didn't, things were already complicated enough. But I thanked him for asking. That apparently wasn't the answer he expected. He started to say something else and stopped. He looked just about as confused as Rhonda had.

Jinx

I woke up to Eliot standing in the bedroom in his dream form and saying there was need. It was like before, except this time he was dressed and the need was in the real world. Before he had finished speaking I picked the situation out of his mind, put on my jeans and hoodie, and was out the door. Thom, Owl and Max were traveling with us, and Mike and the others would join us as soon as they were awake. No bystanders had been shot since the War on Drugs had ended. For many young men, coming of age required an element of danger. White kids killed themselves in car crashes. Black kids shot at each other. But the violence had dropped and gang members were now a lot more careful. Most of them. A sudden unexpected change in events had placed two people in danger, Kelly and George. They would walk between a gunman who didn't care and his target. There was no time for indirect measures. I was their only hope.

Time slowed even more as I approached the scene. A boy walked down the dark sidewalk. Two people came out of a lighted doorway. A man stepped from between two cars and raised a gun. I saw the flash as he fired. The sound would reach the spot where I was sometime later. If I tried to grab Kelly and George at this speed I'd get only pieces, and if I slowed down enough I'd be too late. I did the only thing I could. I placed myself in the path of the bullet. I shouldn't have been able to, I didn't have that kind of speed, but there I was. The gun was an Uzi. I didn't know where he found that kind of armament. He couldn't get 9x19mm ammo. It must be chambered for .45 ACP, which meant it had a 16 round magazine and 500 rpm rate of fire. I could see the first round drifting toward at me at 1150 fps, so it was a 185 grain JHP. I remembered everything I read. My power could push things aside if they were coming toward me, but not something with this much energy. I could do it by adding Lisa's power and Mike's strength, but my power would pull it back into line behind me. If I could stay standing for two seconds, all 16 rounds would have to go through me. The problem was, a caliber that large would, at least some of them. Brian was also inside my head with me and was thinking as fast as I was. He had the answer. It ought to work.

I used our combined powers and a lot of steady pressure to push the bullet aside. I had never worked at this speed before. The dynamics were completely different. I calmed myself and cleared my mind. I remembered circle walking in ba gua and sharing weight in contra dance. As the bullet passed next to me I used Brian's power to grab it and pull it around in a half circle. Its force pulled me to the side and back and to the other side. I wasn't powerful enough to stop all the bullets, but I could turn them. When my power pulled it back into line, it was headed back in the direction it came from. I was unsteady but hadn't had time to go anywhere when 0.12 seconds later I grabbed the next round and swung it around the other way. It felt weird to move an invisible arm around behind myself without turning. It was not physical, and I could move it however I liked and as fast as I could think. An invisible leg stabilized me. Maybe two of them had helped get me here in time. The first round hit the shooter before he fired the third, but he managed to get off five more before he realized he was dead. I caught each one and sent it back. I heard Kelly gasp behind me in the sudden silence, as I stood there afterward for longer than I should have. And I distinctly heard George whisper the Dark Lady. The awe in his voice disturbed me. Then I was gone like a puff of smoke. The police would have to figure out how the man shot himself. I decided that the next time I saw Eliot I was going to fuck his brains out. I didn't care what happened.

Lisa

I use Lisa here, but my real name is Lee Sang Mi, Lee being my family name and Sang Mi being one name with two parts, like most given names in Korea. The students often called me Ms Lee. Sometimes Alex was Mr A or Brian was Mr B, but Angela was always Ms Jones. The rest of the staff used just their first name, although a few younger students said Ms Jinx. Most of the students used their first name or some alternative. More of them had signed up for the spring session, and we were down to one teacher per class.

We opened our spring break concert with Evil Ways, Superstition, Pink Moon, and Layla. Then we had a fight program. First up was Sparrow vs McPlink. Kamau announced Sparrow, and Mike came on in her red and black shirt and khaki colored drawstring pants. She turned from side to side with her hands up while people cheered. He announced McPlink, and an orange and blue hand puppet, worked by Alex covered in black, came bounding up the aisle to the stage. Kamau asks for a clean fight from the soundboard, and the fighters start circling with Sparrow in front. The song Smile a Little Smile for Me, Rosemarie, plays in the background. Sparrow throws a savate kick and McPlink dodges. She tries another and knocks McPlink to the mat. He gets up and backs to the edge of the stage. Alex stands up and with a loud kiai! throws a bean bag version of McPlink hard at Sparrow. He hits her in the chest. She stagers back. He reels the bean bag back as his maniacal giggle rings through the house. Again they circle around and back. Bean bag McPlink arcs up over the stage. Jinx catches him on the other side, and her own hand puppet bounces forward and back. Sparrow catches McPlink and throws him to the balcony. There is a loud tinkling crash and a spotlight goes out. Pause. There is a high pitched roar and McPlink is thrown back on stage. They continue to trade kicks and blows. In the second round McPlink knocks Sparrow to the mat. Kamau starts the count, but she is up before he finishes and rallies to win by a knockout, as McPlink makes a weird fading sound. The crowd had mixed feelings about this.

Next up was Spider vs Armadillo. A little twelve year old walked on dressed as Armadillo. He wore a gray half mask with a long thin nose and had a plastic armadillo shell strapped to his back. I don't know how Alex and Yoshi made it. The circle of a red spotlight appears on the back wall and floor of the stage, and a somewhat older Spider drops into view. It's not a surprise because everyone saw her get hoisted up earlier, but it's still cool. She is dressed in a white shirt with a red spider on the front and black pants, with an angular black domino mask. They fight using karate, and Spider does some jumps and rolls. The song Yoshi Battles the Pink Robots plays in the background. Armadillo catches Spider and ties her up, but a red spider hand puppet unties her while he is talking about taking over the world, and Armadillo ends up as roadkill. Last up was Brian vs Wild Man, with Alex as Wild Man in a red feather boa and deep yellow tee shirt, and Brian in his red hibiscus shirt and red sneakers. Alex skitters around the stage using his hands and feet, and Brian bounces. I had attached Brian to a counterweight system so Mike could pull him up when he jumped. The song Happy Together makes surprisingly good fight music. It starts out mysteriously with Imagine me and you, and later gets louder with I can't see me lovin nobody but you. Most people thought it was funny. We closed the concert with Sloop John B, Them Belly Full, Lime in the Coconut, and Witchi Tai To. I played tabla on the last, which worked quite well, while Jinx and Mike sang in harmony.

After the concert I gave up being jealous of Alex and had sex with him. It made things easier for everybody. I had thought of him as being arrogant but realized I was mistaken. It was me. He just had a lower tolerance for pushiness than I was used to, and wasn't going to talk to me if I didn't listen. Then I moved in with Jinx. Mike moved in with Alex. And Brian moved in with Angela. Diane seduced Yoshi. She taught karate with him, and she and Karen already shared three other men, so it was sort of logical. Diane also seduced Max. He was her brother, but there had been a sexual element to their relationship when they were younger. Now that she had made him an uncle, she wanted to express all her feelings for him again and had pushed him to deal with his issues. She knew he was strong enough.

People rationalize and don't notice our abilities, but they won't work if too many are watching. Cameras and recorders don't show them, only the normal world or an equivalent. I don't feel everything around me like Brain. I see things as if they were close. I can focus on any one area in front of me in addition to my normal field of vision. I can't see through things, but I can see around things. I can see and hear birds in the tops of trees if they aren't too much more than 80 feet away. In Korea I could watch a Siberian accentor, yellow rumped flycatcher, or red flanked bluetail when no one else could spot it. I can also touch and move things at a distance. I can bring back a pebble from the middle of a clear stream without displacing any water, or change a light bulb without standing on a chair. My field of touch of is about five feet wide. I usually visualize it as two hands in front of me because that's easiest, but whatever it is, I always see it as green and glowing. I can lift a small pebble at 80 feet or 240 lbs right next to me. I can lift my 125 lbs 38 feet into the air, but I am too unstable to move forward at more than a slow crawl. And I can only do it if I have an emerald to focus my ability, or something very similar. I didn't wear one at gymnastics meets. I did wear one at practice to help prevent injuries. If that was cheating I didn't care.

After the incident with Kelly and George, Jinx thought we should learn more about how abilities combined. We discovered that my ability and Brian's are so similar that they don't combine, they merge, into a 19 foot reach. But there are two of them, and each can lift 260 lbs. When we add Mike's ability, each can lift 2000 lbs. It seems to be a multiplier effect. When we add Alex's ability, we can become a green glowing animal up to 38 feet long. It didn't work very well unless the animal was at least as big as whomever we were using as host, which was me. Having a five inch mole burrowing around inside me wouldn't do anyone any good.

For our field trials, we picked a nice day and drove out and looked for a large empty field. We didn't find one. They all seemed to be full of houses, farms or trees. So we came home and called Eliot. He was good at finding things. He pointed us to a little used stretch of fairly straight and moderately level dirt road in the middle of a state forest, and a couple days later we tried again. We parked by a gate and and hiked in. First we ate our lunch, turkey and ham sandwiches, chips, and fig cookies. Then I changed into my green and white leotard and leather ballet shoes, and we tried a giant cheetah. Running on all fours was not a problem inside the construct, and I was used to walking on my hands. I could cover distance very quickly, but cheetahs are sprinters. Jinx and Mike didn't get tired but Alex's construct did even though it was an imaginary creature. I didn't understand it. So we tried a gazelle. That it worked much better. I could bound down the road and maneuver through the trees easily. The only limit to our speed seemed to be the fragility of the road surface and the inertia of my body on the stops and turns. The construct had no mass, and it protected my body from abuse. We didn't need an animal form for strength, but I tried walking around as a bear anyway. Interesting and about as clumsy as you would imagine. A construct didn't help with vision or other senses. Our abilities could already stop a knife but not a bullet. The only other power we could think of that might be useful was flight.

Alex had tried flying before and it hadn't worked very well. Based on hang gliders and sailplanes and pterodactyls, I thought a 30 foot wingspan would be best. The only weight was mine. Power should not be a problem. Alex wanted to wait until twilight. So I put on some pants and we looked around. I found birds, Alex found animals. Brian said Mike was strong, I was light, and he could catch me 19 feet above the ground. A fall shouldn't be a problem. He'd fallen from six stories without getting hurt. I said terminal velocity was 120 mph. Did he know how much 4000 lbs of force would slow down 125 lbs of mass in just 19 feet? He said no, he didn't. I said if Mike only had 1600 lbs of force I would hit the ground at 89 mph. Meat pancake thingy. With 4000 lbs she could stop me in 15.9 feet. He said ah, then it would work. I said yes, but only if I survived the 25 g's of deceleration, which I might, if I faced upward. He asked how I could figure all that out in my head? I said it was constant linear acceleration, it was simple if you knew the formulas. And if he had a 24 foot reach and could stick to buildings, how he had managed to fall? He said he was trying to leap across a street that was too wide. He couldn't do it from four stories and had tried six. He landed hard enough that he didn't want to try seven, but Mike was stronger than he was. I said ah, and how many buildings had he slammed into before he stopped trying to swing from them? He said he hadn't counted, and he still thought it ought to be possible somehow. Why? He looked at Alex, who shrugged and pretended he didn't know what was so funny either.

Jinx and Mike had brought their diaphragms. We had sufficient towels and had all been tested. Alex fucked Jinx. Brian fucked Mike. I fucked Jinx. You might not call it fucking, but I did. She lay down on my towel on the rough ground and I buried my head between her legs. First I sucked out all of Alex's cum that I could find. I didn't know how he felt about that, but I figured it might just as well be in one girl as another. We were all friends. Jinx was excited by all the work I was doing on the sides of her opening, and I moved up to suck and lap her clitoris. She was still high from Alex, so it didn't take long for me to have her gasping out another orgasm. I slowed down and kept her up there for a while before I felt her bucking in my hands again and stopped. Alex fucked Mike. Brian fucked Jinx. I fucked Mike. I began to understand why some of the other groups had regular orgies. Since we still had some time left, I asked Alex if he wanted to fuck me too? So he did. I had brought condoms. I couldn't tell if he came again, but I did several times while he was trying. Jinx, Mike and Brian had wandered off. I had been watching and giving orgasms for some time now and was more than ready for my own. I went off almost immediately after he entered me and didn't really come down. Eventually we both just sort of tapered off.

The others came back when it began to get dark, and I hiked out on giant legs to a rock at the edge of the marsh. Brian had shaken out the towels in case this didn't work. I took the shape of a giant Mexican free tailed bat. In order to reduce weight I had decided to go naked. It wouldn't really make much difference but was how I liked to swim when I could. I wore my emerald studs fastened securely. I moved my wings around, trying to get a feel for them. Then I was as ready as I was going to be, so I drew both wings back and bit into the air. With incredibly strong strokes, I rose straight up into the sky. My power was in the distal half of my wings, the outer part, away from the center of my body. That part moved a lot farther and was reinforced by my finger bones. I rolled my wings and reached upward with the edge, then powered them down to force myself higher. When I had enough height I started propelling myself forward. Instead of a constant fluttering of wings, I used one giant flap at a time. It was rocky but it worked.

Alex knew how to fly from his experience as a bat. I had calculated the compensations necessary due to scale. Mike supplied the power. Jinx watched from the ground. The wings didn't work when her ability negated wind resistance. So I soared through the gathering gloom, watching insects flying around and thinking they looked pretty good. It was too bad I didn't have echo location, but at my size, I wouldn't have enough maneuverability to catch them. Or maybe Alex thought they looked good. It was hard to tell with three other people in my head. I tried a turn. Graceful, but not nearly as acrobatic as a half ounce bat. He was small and light, I was heavy and strong. I watched the forest canopy flow by beneath me in the moonlight. Soon I was out over lighted houses, roads, and small towns. I saw my bat form as green and only slightly glowing. Anyone else who noticed would see me flying around flapping my arms. I moved them in sympathy with my wings, but could move them independently if I wanted to. I would look like a small bat winged demon to myself and the others.

I swooped down over a lake. I changed into a dolphin and dove in. I liked swimming as a dolphin, but I couldn't hold my breath for long and didn't have a hole in the middle of my back to breathe through. I tried holding a bubble of air within the construct and exchanging it through a blowhole. That worked. However, the lake wasn't very big and I couldn't see very well, so I leapt into the air and became a bat again. When we had had enough of the experience for now, I headed back to the others and landed easily on my rock. I got dressed, and we split the remaining sandwiches and gave Mike and Alex the cookies. Then we gathered up our stuff and headed back to the car. Jinx led with a small flashlight, and Brian brought up the rear with another. We could sometimes see part of a moon overhead through the branches. We heard the weird sound of a screech owl off in the trees somewhere. As we walked, I said Anya was good with birds. We should ask her to try this with us as a red tailed hawk. She might like it, and it would be less bumpy. Maybe there were other people who had tried it. Images of humans with wings had a long history, they dated back to Babylonian times. Mike liked the idea. The others thought it had possibilities.

So what do you think about Animal Man, Plastic Man, Green Lantern Arisia, Flash Excess, or Supergirl Cir‑El? My characters are parodies of them, and also of Hawkgirl, Mxyzptlk, Creeper, Dr Strange, Spider‑Man and Arana.

Please leave a comment. I will post some here. You would be first.

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