Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Subject: The Third Adventure (MF, cons)[1/2]
Date: 1996/07/20

			 The Third Adventure
				  by
			  Jim and Meg Norris
			       Part One

	In her faded Levis and a light blue tee, Linda Anderson was
hardly outstanding among the business women rushing to and fro in the
passenger concourse; at least in terms of wardrobe. Her bright green
eyes and flaming locks were enchanting. With no makeup but lip gloss,
her gentle beauty radiated warmth.

	Within moments of finishing the action/adventure novel Linda
felt the creep of incipient boredom. Tired also of endlessly listening
to the ten cassettes that she carried, she clicked the walkman off.

	Linda slipped her paperback and walkman into her backpack.
Noting that the departure board still announced delay, she set out for
the lounge.

	Not particularly interested in rebuffing pickups, Linda
steered for a table where several women drank boisterously. She fit
right in with the Marines who were swapping stories. Linda loved their
"There I was... " yarns. She drank several rounds with the service
bitches before her turn to regale them with wicked tales of bobbing
and weaving as a consultant. Linda sported a nice glow when her flight
was announced. She quickly swapped sounds with the corporals before
heading for her plane.

	The boarding crew apologized for the lousy weather that
prevailed along the eastern seaboard. They didn't apologize for the
sardine-can conditions in the little airliner. Apparently most of
Linda's ninety-some fellow passengers suffered from advanced B.O.
Disembarking in Atlanta occurred not a moment too soon.

	Although she'd missed the flight to Los Angeles, her mixed
luck held. She was accommodated on another L.A. flight that had been
delayed by a squall line.

	Linda sat at a midships port-side window in the TriStar. The
air conditioning, which was effective for nearly four hundred sweating
bodies, overwhelmed the mere handful of travelers seated within
Linda's sight.

	Linda set her chess computer aside, marveling that the
manufacturer had the guts to rate it at 2100. Diversions finally
exhausted, she prepared to consider her pressing problems.

	Pretending to sleep would keep her meditation undisturbed
while the music on the tape rolled.

	She fumed at the gall of the advisory committee. She would not
be allowed to complete her grad work at Miskatonic University if she
elected to take leave and study under a shaman. The head battle-axe
raised the specter of full employment for ghostbusters.

	To add insult to injury, they pointedly suggested that she
work out her conflicted loyalties during Halloween break.

	Her coven, which had arranged her acceptance at Miskatonic U,
expected her to complete her studies there. Even so, she wondered if
the High Priestess would support her thesis on eigenstate
measurement/selection. Linda didn't want to kindle the arguments
between the old Wiccan and the young reality hackers.

	Richard Alison, her working partner, and she were to take on
another layer of interface metaphor. The first layer, which supported
her status as an adept, had been installed under hypnosis years
earlier. The manual documented the key phrase `will, skill, tools'
which defined and invoked the effect. Linda's only upgrade,
`improvise, adapt, overcome', was barely a year old.

	From her reading of the manual on the new upgrade,
`simplicity, sincerity, serenity', Linda wondered if a serious mistake
had been made. The documentation had no information relating to how
the upgrade would be personally useful. Although the coven approved
the change of emphasis from individual goals to universal goals, Linda
bristled. Her upcoming Samhain initiation, dependent on the new
upgrade, seemed to emphasize commitment and service.

	Linda had met Mark Featherstone while doing field work in
southern New Mexico. They were both collecting mescal, but for
different reasons. Featherstone proved expert at locating and
identifying many specimens of the spineless globe-shaped cactus for
her. Linda found that his suggestions about which button-like
tubercles to collect were based on extensive pharmacologic
scholarship. Although the white woman and Amerind shaman were worlds
apart, a mutual respect developed and matured over the years. As the
only person that she knew outside the Miskatonic clique with parallel
knowledge, his perspective was important to Linda. His offer to
clarify some baffling aspects of her studies was uncharacteristically
forthcoming and invaluable.

	Linda slept through dinner service. She felt the landing gear
drop and was fully awakened by the flap extension during the final
approach over Inglewood.

	Richard Alison listened to the interminable recording about
the white zone as he waited curb-side at the terminal. The sidelong
glances from the parking patrol didn't bother Richard; he knew Linda
as a prudent air traveler. He counted on her practice of toting only
carry-on luggage.

	Linda brightened when she saw Richard waiting for her in the
ugly beige heartbeat of America. Although she ascribed his phenomenal
ability to meet her to his precise divination, a simple telephone call
to the airline sufficed on this occasion.

	Following a warm hug and a quick kiss, Richard swung into
traffic. He had avoided eating to have dinner with Linda. When the
subject came up, he was prepared, "Beef fajitas with jalapeno
cornbread or Tom Yum Goong?" Without hesitation, Linda proposed the
hot and sour shrimp soup. The marvelous combination of tender shrimp
floating in a rich broth, liberally spiced with chillies and tangy
with lemon grass, lime juice and citrus leaves was Linda's favorite,
as Richard well knew.

	Richard showed Linda around the walkup above the misnamed
five- and-dime which was only minutes from the airport. "It's mostly
an excuse for the BBS," he admitted. Sitting on the top shelf in a
closet was a computer, a hard disk, and two modems. Linda noted the
lack of a monitor and keyboard, assuming that Richard used a laptop on
one of the serial ports to do his sysop thing. The remainder of the
closet was stuffed with earthquake supplies.

	The motion sensors and the demon dialer enhanced the
functional, yet unlived-in quality common to safe houses.

	Linda relaxed in the small living room following Richard's
tour of the flat. The expectant look on her face prompted Richard to
proffer the package that he'd picked up on his way to the airport.

	Linda opened the pharmacy sack and extracted the bronchial
inhaler. The asthma prescription appeared genuine, but she knew
better. The mouthpiece in place, Linda pressed the canister into the
base. She inhaled deeply as the fine spray was discharged.

	Linda's initial suspicion that she hadn't gotten a hit was
dispelled by a coughing fit. Richard declined her motioned offer.
Thoroughly stoned, Linda rested the inhaler on the empty coffee table.

	Unwilling to succumb to lethargy, Linda arose and made for the
kitchen. Richard had all the materials on hand for either meal, even
the seemingly hard-to-find fresh lemon grass. The sixers of Singha and
Dosxx in the fridge brightened Linda further. They quickly agreed on
the division of labor and began preparing dinner.

	Richard juiced two small limes as Linda laid out vegetables
from the crisper. She cut zest from the rind when he was through.

	Waiting for her to open up about their predicament, he heated
a small amount of oil in a saucepan.

	"It's an issue of choice to me," Linda began. Richard accepted
the emphasis she applied, chopping lemon grass to one inch lengths.
"How somebody else could know what's best for me boggles my mind. To
coerce me into obedience is one thing, but the most unkind cut of all
is to be expected to agree and like it."

	Richard dropped shrimp shells into the hot oil, watching for
them to turn pink, listening to Linda continue. "Who should determine
what I learn?" she asked while vigorously chopping several green
onions. "Me!" she concluded, looking to Richard who was slivering
green and red chillies.

	"You accepted their role in your development," Richard
reminded her as he stirred the mixture of chicken stock, salt, lemon
grass, citrus leaves, lime rind, and green chillies in the saucepan.
"Their guidance has been good. Perhaps the older, wiser heads do have
a good reason," he suggested.

	Linda watched Richard cover and set the saucepan to simmer
after bringing it to a boil. "If they do have a good reason, and it's
wrong for me, it's no skin off their asses," she observed.

	"Where else are you going to study the _Necronomicon_?"

	"I don't know Richard, but I draw the line at dogmatic
conformity. `What is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good - need we
ask anyone to tell us these things,'" Linda quoted. "Excuse me. I'm
going to get a shower."

	After luxuriating under the hot fingers of the shower massage,
Linda rejoined Richard, who was busy straining the soup through a
sieve. "What about you Richard," she asked, approaching him. "What do
you want to do?"

	Richard returned the mix to the saucepan and brought it to a
boil. "My path is not dictated by another, nor is it dependent," he
said as he added the shrimp and cooked them for several minutes in the
stock. "The university administration suffers from an inherent flaw of
Authority: `The company takes what the company wants and nothing's as
precious as a hole in the ground'. This isn't even personal. It's just
rules."

	After reducing the heat, Richard added fish sauce and lime
juice to the simmering soup. He stirred it and immediately removed it
from the heat. "Our thesis is a collaboration," Linda reminded him.
"What'll you do?" she asked as Richard retrieved their beers from the
fridge.

	Linda poured the soup in a tureen. Richard sprinkled it with
red chillies, coriander leaves, and green onions as he replied. "I've
held back some work on multidimensionality. Maybe that and some fresh
ideas on chaos. Perhaps the attenuation of magic. I'm not sure, but
it's not a problem. I wonder if the University of California has room
for a magician in its Interrelation of Conceptual Structures program?"

	Linda carried the tureen to the table, serving the soup piping
hot. Richard lit the candle and they seated themselves. By long
convention the two observed a companionable silence as they dined.

	After dinner Richard revealed the dessert that he'd gotten
while at the Thai market. Sticky rice, coconut milk, and banana strips
were wrapped within banana leaves. Instead of steaming the delights,
Richard `waved them while he and Linda carried the dishes from the
small dining area to the sink.

	Richard considered how to breach the subject of the impending
upgrade to their interface metaphors as the fragrant Khaw Tom Pud
cooled. Linda had benefited greatly from personal control of her
cognitive faculties as if they were software. She was naturally
reluctant to share that control; even with the people who had made it
possible.

	"Are you ready for the shrink shop?" asked Richard jocularly.
He wasn't fond of the unbecoming appellation for the wet-ware techs,
but aimed to draw Linda out.

	"No. I'm really uncertain about it. It doesn't sound like such
a good idea to me."

	"What's the hangup?"

	"Their hands on my reins."

	"Does loyalty influence you? Have they given you reason for
mistrust?"

	Linda quoted Thomas Paine. "Let them call me rebel and
welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the misery of
devils, were I to make a whore of my soul... "

	"It's not like you haven't been through this before."

	"Can we be sure that after this upgrade we'll be inclined
toward the same selfish perspective in considering future upgrades?"

	"Have you considered favorable aspects?" Richard asked.

	"Frankly, no. Maybe Cindy and Cia can fill that area in."

	Richard dropped the subject and concentrated on washing the
dishes and tidying the kitchen while Linda got stoned and watched
headline news.

	Linda and Richard, according to a fond habit, read in bed
until sleepy. Richard set his engineering manual aside in mere
minutes. He rested undisturbed as Linda turned and twisted her way
through the thriller that gripped her attention.

	Linda dropped the novel to the floor and extinguished the dim
headboard lamp. She spooned in behind Richard, pressing herself into
him and resting her head on the pillow beside his. She shared his
warmth, feeling his slow and even breathing beside her.

	Unable to find sleep through ordinary methods, Linda let
herself drift, recalling among other things her association with
Richard.

	She and Richard had first crossed paths in their final year of
high school. In a case that had elicited support from the ACLU, the
school administration had suppressed a news story in the school
newspaper. Linda's investigation of corruption in an alderman's office
was explosive. Her story was backed up by Richard's second-story work
which gained solid evidence. The cabal didn't care that the school
won; it exploited the opportunity by awarding Linda and Richard
college scholarships.

	The cabal extended a Segretti Fellowship to Richard for
altering the circuitry of E-Meters at the Church of Scientology during
black-bag snoops. His discoveries in the Guardian's Office had been
the springboard to Linda's research into the methods utilized to
penetrate and manipulate the FBI. Linda found the large cash payment
for that particular report to be very useful.

	Linda's reminiscences turned to the Pirate Fucking Radio
project. The cabal had needed volume cost reductions on zeppelin
production. Richard presented the proposal and Linda presented the
plan. Fidel Castro jumped at the chance to broadcast The Voice of Jose
Marti into the American west coast radio/television market.

	The cost of replacing the unmanned broadcast zeppelins which
were destroyed by federal forces was well below revenues. Lack of
regulation and taxes did the rest. Richard and Linda had received
credit for recouping in spades the autonomous aircraft's development
cost.

	Linda slipped lightly from bed and shouldered her backpack
which she always kept bedside. She adjourned to living room where she
could consult her cards.

	Linda spread a large silk scarf on the floor and sat cross-
legged before it. She first selected the Major Arcana from her
Wonderland Tarot deck. She set the remaining cards aside on the scarf.

	Images and bits of her concern floated and whirled without
direction as she shuffled the twenty-two trumps. She laid out ten
cards in a standard cross pattern and sat for several minutes
considering the meanings conveyed by the reading.

	The Fool, in the position to indicate forthcoming influences,
was the image of a spirit totally free, courageously leaping into some
new phase of life. Death, placed to indicate her present situation,
signified a time of change. The Sun, as a final outcome, described
happiness and a great sense of the beauty of life. Linda took these
cards to mean that the successful transition, far from being in
question, was in progress.

	The Hermit, positioned to indicate her previous influences,
bespoke her recent withdrawal for intense study. The High Priestess,
in a position to reveal how other people viewed Linda, showed that
they accepted her inner wisdom and strong intuition.

	The Hanged Man, as a measure of her hopes and fears, addressed
Linda's antipathy to loosing her educational investment. Linda
accepted these cards as confirming the context of her inquiry.

	The Magician, describing what Linda was experiencing,
illustrated the creator in the act of creation, and additionally a
shaman or shamanism. The Devil, positioned to indicate the obstacles
that crossed the Magician, adequately described Linda's feeling of
being chained to controlling obsessions. Together, these cards defined
the conflict for Linda.

	The Hierophant, in position to indicate what was really behind
the surface situation, represented education in general, and her own
inner sense of direction.

	The Empress, positioned to express what was in plain sight,
puzzled Linda. The usual meaning of a mother figure didn't seem to
fit. The card depicted the knitting Sheep gliding along in a little
boat. Linda recalled the episode from _Through The Looking Glass_. The
Sheep was the proprietress of an odd shop with all manner of curious
things. When Alice became confused by the vast array of wares, the
Sheep's shop transformed. Alice found herself in the boat with the
Sheep, rowing with knitting needles on the queer water. The Sheep
finally urged Alice to make up her mind after indulging Alice's
curiosity at length. The egg that Alice eventually bought from the
Sheep became Humpty Dumpty. It was Humpty Dumpty who was poised atop
the wall in The Sun, a card of satisfaction, accomplishment, and
success - the card which in this case indicated the culmination and
results of all the influences revealed by the other cards.

	Linda wrapped her cards within the scarf and stowed them
within the little pouch in her backpack. With her mind at ease, she
slipped back to bed. Richard absentmindedly put an arm around her,
drawing her close. Linda sub-vocalized a post-hypnotic suggestion to
arise relaxed and refreshed, before drifting off to a sound and
restful sleep.

	Linda was still sleeping when Richard awoke to the early
morning light with a woody. The exquisite shape of her tits was
neither diminished by reclining, nor obscured by her T-shirt. Richard
considered her flat belly and shapely legs concealed by the sheet.

	Inspired, and knowing how Linda appreciated a wake-up fuck, he
proceeded to slowly arose her.

	Richard tenderly cupped a pert breast and kissed Linda's neck.

	The low moan was encouraging. He gently manipulated the firm
flesh. Once the nip came up he rolled it between thumb and forefinger.
With a final squeeze, Richard released Linda's breast and rested his
hand on her pubic mound.

	He softly rubbed her downy pubes through the bikini. Linda
rolled her hips slightly and murmured approval. Slipping beneath the
elastic band, Richard rubbed her thickening pad with his fingernails.
At the merest touch to her sparsely furred puffy lips, Linda eased her
legs apart. Richard's hardon throbbed as he massaged Linda's pussy
through the dampening fabric. When he pushed the crotch aside and laid
his fingers along her slit, he was met with a little shudder and a
more insistent moan.

	With a finger along either side of the long hood, Richard felt
the hard clit within. His gentle manipulations were met by the little
smacking sounds of a well-lubed cunt.

	Repositioning himself, Richard tugged at Linda's panties as
she daintily raised her hips to help him remove them. Linda held the
sheet up with one hand so that Richard could breath and with the other
she pushed his face into her crotch. Richard's beard stubble chafed
her thighs as she gently crossed her ankles, completing the loose
scissor lock on his willing head.

	Supported by his elbows, Richard massaged Linda's engorged
outer lips with his forefingers. He nibbled and tugged her fleshy
inner lips before getting down to serious licking.

	Richard ran his tongue the length of Linda's slit,
occasionally pushing deep into her hole or tickling her extended
clitty. Linda's rhythmically gyrating hips and inarticulate moans
coaxed him onward.

	He probed her drenched vagina with one thumb and rubbed her
asshole with the other as his tongue variously flicked or rubbed her
turgid clitoris.

	Linda approached orgasm several times, but Richard would
change his stimulation to deny her. When she could stand it no more,
she squeezed his head playfully between her thighs. Richard increased
the tempo of his licking, concentrating on her clit. With pushing and
screwing motions, he massaged the roughly textured walls of her cunt
with an index finger.

	Richard synchronized his efforts as Linda's breathing became
rapid and shallow. Linda arched her back and came with a tremble,
clenching Richard's finger repeatedly with diminishing force.

	Linda took only an an instant to select a position. She wanted
to be ballsy in the upcoming discussions. Being on top would encourage
a more active role, a sense of superiority, a feeling of free
movement, and a sense of doing whatever she wished. Richard was a real
bonus for face-to-face fucking; he would read her face and express, he
had beautiful brown eyes, and he could kiss. Best of all, he had the
cock discipline for lap fucking. "May I sit in your lap, love?" she
asked.

	Richard sat facing Linda with his legs apart, enthusiasm
evident from his smile and throbbing penis. His answer was eagerly
outstretched arms.

	Linda snuggled in close to Richard, with her legs over his and
behind him. She insured that they were both comfortable, without undue
stress on their limbs. With her nose alongside Richard's, Linda looked
deeply into his eyes as they embraced. The warmth that she saw said
`friend' and more.

	She was excited by her musk on his mouth while their skillful
tongues wrestled playfully. The warm and creamy feeling intensified
with Richard's hot cock against her belly and his lightly haired chest
pressing her tits.

	Linda eased back and grasped the base of Richard's dick.
Moisture glistened on the head before she began rubbing her pussy with
it. She moved closer, angling her hips up. With each stroke of his
dick along her wet slit, Linda would tantalize Richard by squeezing
the head lightly with her snatch, then rub him up and around her
extended clit.

	Richard stifled his desire to push into Linda, awaiting the
delicious torture of her ultra-slow entry. Instead, he hugged her
warmly, one arm around her waist and lower back, the other just below
her shoulders.

	Linda tightly clenched her vagina as she rested more and more
of her weight on Richard's cock. With only the slightest relaxation
she gradually slid down Richard's meaty pole, accompanied by something
between a sigh and a moan.

	Once she was filled with Richard's hot hardness, Linda
hungrily joined with him in a deep and passionate kiss that was
destined to occupy them for the duration.

	Linda pulled herself taut to afford Richard maximum
stimulation with only slight movement. She used calculated pelvic
movements of yaw, pitch, and roll to accentuate her motion along the
length of his shaft.

	Linda built their excitement to all-encompassing and nearly
explosive before easing slightly, relaxing briefly with Richard's dick
buried in her to the hilt.

	Linda eased back a little, raising herself and locking his
bulbous dick head against her G-spot. She began a serpentine massage
of his penis with her vaginal muscles, deliciously stimulating their
most erogenous flesh.

	Linda felt Richard's impending orgasm as his balls Richard
tight in the palm of her hand and his breathing became insistent. She
brought herself to the edge and kicked off the simultaneous explosion.

	Richard forcefully pumped his load deep into Linda's quivering
cunt. Linda's orgasm expelled a copious fluid discharge which mixed
with Richard's semen and drained over his softening cock, drenching
the bed.

	Linda broke the deep kiss and snuggled against Richard,
pulling herself to him, nestling her head against his neck. Their
frantic heartbeats and ragged breathing normalized during their long
embrace. The cooling wet spot under them encouraged an effort to dry
off with a fluffy towel which Richard had thoughtfully provided.

	Following a brief shower, Linda and Richard breakfasted on
heuvos rancheros at a nearby taquiera. It was on the walk back that
Richard excused himself until late afternoon to pursue personal
business.

	Linda welcomed the opportunity to relax. Unused to the slack
time in her study schedule, she made the best of it; loafing about,
reading a novel that Richard had left on his nightstand.

	By mid-afternoon Linda was eager for something more active.
It struck her as an ideal time to practice her exercises. Linda's
pulse quickened as she considered the upcoming delight. She stepped
lightly, considering Fizzlebot's purple egg. As far as it was from
being a simple stone, it was no closer to being a jewel.

	Linda had worked briefly with the independent inventor to
develop an aerogel from sand which the coven provided. The wispy,
nearly transparent solid was extremely porous, with only three or four
times the density of dry air. Fizzlebot nicknamed the high- strength,
ultralight stuff `purple fuzzle'. His guess that the fuzzle was used
to stabilize fusion fuels under laser blast inspired his fruitless
experiments with the surplus aerogel. He presented Linda with a
brilliant violet ovoid as a souvenir.

	Linda undressed, tossing her clothes in a pile next to her
backpack on the bedroom floor. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs
apart, with her feet flat on the floor.

	Linda's fingertips barely touched the skin around her nipples
as she gently rotated them very slowly in outward circular motions.
Shortly, she responded to the invigorating stimulation, playing with
the firm fluid movement of her breasts.

	Warmth spread throughout her genitals, puffing her mound and
lightly-haired outer lips. Linda kneaded the softness of her pussy
while she maintained the gentle manipulation of her breasts,
occasionally twisting or tweaking a sensitive nip.

	Her wattled inner labia were dusky pink, striated with tan.
As her sexual energy built, they felt more flush and moist, and looked
redder. Linda smeared the abundant juices forming at her hole over the
fleshy lips.

	Linda began a rhythmic pressure against the hood of her clit
with a single fingertip. Fully engorged, it poked from beneath the
hood. She directed the concentration and flow of her developing sexual
energy, bringing it to a shuddering orgasm and an instant of
transcendence.

	Linda with Richard the egg from a pouch in her backpack.
Eugene Fizzlebot couldn't explain why it radiated warmth. As for the
pleasure of contact with it, Fizzlebot mumbled something about
piezoelectricity, but didn't even seem very convinced about it
himself.

	She stood and assumed the practice stance; her feet shoulders'
width apart and firmly grounded, ankles and knees bent, groin folded,
spine and neck in alignment.

	She splayed her succulent lips with the fingers of one hand
and eased the egg into her vagina, wider end first. By isolating and
contracting her external vaginal orifice tightly, she grasped the egg
and relished the pleasant feelings from the it before beginning to
move it with her internal musculature.

	The movement up and down her vagina was, as always, the
easiest. Linda clenched, raising the egg slightly, then holding it for
a moment, before relaxing enough to allow the egg to descend to the
original position. She completed half a dozen slow repetitions of the
exercise, regulating the squeezing to her inhalations.

	Linda Richard the egg up in front of her cervix and held it
there before beginning the more challenging lateral exercises.

	She moved the egg from side to side several times as well as
tilting it from top to bottom. After half a dozen full movement
repetitions of the exercise, she relaxed and allowed the egg to
descend.

	Satisfied with herself, Linda expelled the egg from her cunt
and wiped it clean before replacing it within its pouch. She rested
briefly with the palm of her hand on her warm snatch, drawing strength
from her workout.

From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Third Adventure (MF, cons)[2/2]
Date: 20 Jul 1996 17:54:49 GMT

			 The Third Adventure
				  by
			  Jim and Meg Norris
			       Part Two

	Linda was ready to leave when Richard arrived, which was
convenient because he had parked in metered street-side parking. She
was somewhat surprised about the little red Lotus which Richard was
using. His story was that he was evaluating the autos pre- production
systems.

	In about half an hour Richard was off the freeway and into the
winding canyon country. While the ride was much smoother than Linda
was used to in a sportster, the cornering roll was all but non-
existent. Four-wheel power and active suspension almost entirely
eliminated slip.

	Richard routinely entered the curves at around three times the
posted speed, practically standing on the four-wheel antilock brakes
in the final moments of the approach. The power-shift manual gear box
thumped heavily an instant before the brutal acceleration announced
the corner exit at multiples of the speed limit.

	Once established on the final straightaway, Richard opened the
throttle all the way. When the tach indicated red-line revs, he
shifted into neutral and idled the engine. They coasted the last mile
or so to the unpaved turnoff.

	Cindy Nation, and her husband Cia Nation lived in the ranch-
style house a couple miles down the well-maintained gravel road.
Cindy was in the driveway when Linda and Richard arrived at the head
of a rooster tail of rising dust.

	Cindy greeted her guests and led them around back and down the
path to the sweat lodge.

	The domed, one-room structure was crafted from a dozen
willows. Timbers demarked the cardinal and minor compass points. Half
a dozen paces from the lodge, Cia tended rock loaves on a metal grill.
With hands protected by heavy padded gloves he turned the hot rocks
above low blue flames. He waved as they approached.

	Cindy stopped at the gazebo which had been fashioned entirely
within the interlocking branches of five bushy trees. Benches, hooks,
and baskets were available for clothing and personal articles.

	Cindy removed her robe. Richard appreciated her small breasts
with pale and outstanding nips and her diminutively trimmed platinum
bush as she stowed the robe and pulled the bong from a clever niche.
She handed it to Linda, who was already down to her matching black
lace bra and panties. Linda took a couple of long hits as she
appreciated Richard disrobing.

	Goose flesh started to form about the time Cindy, Linda, and
Richard felt stoned and longed for the warmth of the lodge. Cia joined
them for a hit once he had finished transferring the hot rocks to a
ceramic pedestal in the sweat lodge. Cia secured the bong and led his
friends down the path.

	Cia held open the heavy flaps of thick hide which were draped
over the arched doorway of the hut.

	Cindy waited until everybody was comfortable and relaxed
before breaking the silence. She spoke in a formal tone. "Most people
demand behavioral controls imposed by an authority structure. Cia and
I empathize with your rejection of external direction." She paused for
a moment before continuing. "Helen Gone argued against the university
because their position stemmed from convenience of administration."

	Linda leaned forward and laid a sage sprig on the hot rocks.
She considered the implications that arose from the High Priestess
being personally involved. The cup of water that she poured over the
sage on the rocks disappeared in a quick bubbling and hissing.

	Cia continued as the aromatic vapor diffused. "We have good
news and bad news," he joked. "Which would you like first?"

	"Bad," Richard asked simply.

	"Linda, you won't be awarded your degree if you insist on
having your way. Same for you, Richard, if you stick with Linda."

	Richard added several cedar chips to the rocks and trickled
water over them. He pondered this, awaiting the good news as the
redolent vapor rose from the rocks.

	"You will, however, be allowed to stay on and continue your
studies to your satisfaction," Cia said and then waited.

	Linda exhaled slowly. "Well," she began and paused. "That's
awfully damn nice of them."

	"Would you like the good news?" Cia teased.

	"I could use some."

	"Here," Cia said, offering Linda and Richard their choice of
trippers.

	The glass tubes, each enclosing a vaporizing wire that was
coated with designer halucinogen, were the keys to Miskatonic U's ex
nihilo lab and its gates.

	Cia was the first to press the firing stud on the handle of
his tripper. With a pop and a bluish-white flash, a cloud formed
within the tube. "There's something I'd like to show you," he said,
and sucked the vapor through a semipermeable membrane in one end of
the tube.

	Linda, Richard, and Cindy emulated Cia's example. The massive
L+ doses hit some before others. They waited and the shared
environment formed; cold and dreary, and suggesting ancient enmity.

	Cindy promised a short walk and all set off. Concealed within
the thick fog which surrounded them, giant arthropod monsters waited.
Vaguely insectoid (or occasionally arachnid, crustacean, and
myriapod), they had eviscerating hooks, decapitating pincers, barbed
impaling stalks, bad breath, and bug eyes. And that was the males. The
females also had armor- piercing ovipositors not unlike scorpion
tails.

	Arriving at the gate area, Linda and Richard assumed a
defensive parameter while Cindy and Cia worked at dilating the gate.

	Originally armed with vorpal swords, Linda and Richard were
prepared to face the Jabberwock itself. However, when the rattling
chitin and pungent presence encircled them, they reconsidered. Linda
conjured a full-auto, belt-fed shotgun. She used plastic ball bugshot
for the spectacular effect it had against exoskeletons. (Losing much
of their energy penetrating the shell, the balls shredded internal
organs as they ricocheted around inside.) Richard muscled a small
rotor-barrel cannon which used conventional warloads.

	Cia and Cindy had succeeded in tagging the gate with a dayglo
border, but attempts to tease it open were in vain.

	When the fog shifted it revealed the massed and closing
terrors, most dripping slime or venom. Without hesitation, Linda and
Richard opened fire, weaving a curtain of murderous projectiles to the
staccato thunder of their automatic weapons. They adroitly avoided
each others crossfire and ammunition belts. When they ceased firing,
drifting cordite odor mixed with the humid charnel stench. Antennae
and legs attached to broken carapace jerked mindlessly. Ichor pooled
among the shattered bodies and spent cartridges all around them.
Meanwhile, the gate had opened under Cindy's gentle ministrations.

	Cindy and Cia first stepped into the uniform gray beyond the
gate and disappeared. Richard waited for Linda to file through. The
first step was easy, but a resistance pressed back against her.

	She had to redouble her efforts several times to penetrate the
surface tension. Once she began to clear the gate, Linda felt the numb
of nulled sensorium. She'd been warned about the shocking emptiness,
yet panic still nipped at her heels.

	Linda's second step brought her through the gate. The cold
flagstone floor surprised her as an unexpected stair might. Her ears
popped as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Regaining her
composure, Linda took stock of her surroundings. Fluorescent fixtures
hung at regular intervals from the high ceiling. Movable partitions
divided the immense room. Linda watched the dayglo border of the gate
fade, and with it the gray fog beyond.

	Cindy and Cia had already donned heavy terry robes and
slippers. The crisp chill imparted to the room by the thick stone
walls inspired Linda and Richard to follow suit.

	Cindy opened the heavy drapes before the tall doors, lighting
the large chamber with brilliant afternoon sunshine. Cia opened the
glass doors and stepped out on a small semicircular balcony.

	"Welcome to Amber," he announced with a low bow and a gesture
which took in the city below.

	Just outside, gardeners dressed in Renaissance-era clothing
tended an area with familiar flowers, trees, and shrubs. Looking
about, Linda observed that she was in a castle built on the shoulder
of a mountain. Above and behind her, Ponderosa and blue spruce made up
the most of the thick tree life. Below, the balcony overlooked the
picturesque city of Amber and the glittering harbor.

	Houses of stone, brick, or wood, an occasional whitewashed
plastered wall, the odd thatched roof, and the rare stone mansion
dominated the view of the eastern portion of the city. The
southernmost part of the city merged with the trees that led
eventually into the forest and out into the countryside.

	Cia handed a pair of binoculars to Linda and began to describe
the predominantly commercial western section of Amber.

	"See that wide cobblestone street that swings southeastwards
and then eastwards, marking the boundaries of the city?" Cia asked.
Without waiting, he carried on. "That's the Main Concourse. It's the
place of business for most Amber merchants." Linda looked at the busy
shops, cafes, and restaurants; deals being made, goods being
purchased, and merchants trying to shout their advertisements.

	Linda handed the binox to Richard as Cia described the
fascinating activity in the harbor. "The port area is unsafe,
unsavory, and dangerous. Harbor Road gives way to Death Alley over
there," he said, pointing.

	Richard scrutinized the industrious port. Barges full of wares
were bustling between warehouses both large and small, and between the
docks which dotted the harbor. Several barks were being unloaded.
Sailors on one large schooner were rigging staysails off the
mizzenmast.

	Cindy joined her friends on the balcony. She handed them white
metallic cards, upon which she had written their names in exquisite
calligraphy. The flip side of the cards was devoted to the standard
glyph for Information Hazards; the anterior view of the human eye,
with a seductive spiral fractal within the iris.

	"These security keys will unlock doors with adjacent card
slots," Cindy said. With emphasis, she continued. "Don't open doors
without card readers. Ever."

	"Just carry them with you," Cia suggested. "Since you can't go
anywhere without them." He dropped his in the pocket of his robe.
"Let's take a look around," he said, leading the expedition from the
balcony.

	"This is the hardware lab," Cia indicated with an encompassing
gesture. "In the northeast corner is the laminar-flow rooms. The IC
fab people have diffusion furnaces, chemical vapor deposition systems,
as well as lithography and etching equipment. They're kept pretty busy
making wafers of pirated circuitry.

	"The containment dome next to the lam-flow building houses the
power kernel, shielding, transformers, and the like.

	"The systems prototypers use most of the rest of the layout.
Currently, they're turning out 32-bit microprocessor-based computers.
They're rack-mounted and ugly as hell, but with the different
semiconductors, they run at ten times the clock frequencies you can do
back home."

	Arriving at the armored door, Cia pushed his card into the
reader. The powered door slid slowly into its pocket within the
reinforced wall, and closed heavily behind them.

	The group followed Cia down a thoroughly featureless hallway.
Just to the left of the grand staircase, they used the servants'
stairway in the northwest corner of the castle. Cia led his friends
down two flights of stairs. Many of the doors which were immediately
visible on the second floor had card locks.

	Cindy led the coterie down another long hall to a pair of
double doors. The doors swung inward after the presentation of her
card, and they entered the sparsely furnished library. Warm sunlight
suffused the library through the four inset, floor-to-ceiling windows
along the west side of the room.

	"Usually this is a place of relaxation and study for members
of the royal family," Cia stated. "Generally, however, they avoid us.
It is strongly suggested that we reciprocate." Linda recognized the
usual response to I-hazards.

	Cindy showed them the three tall stacks that extended from the
north wall and smaller shelves and smaller tables which lined the west
wall. A desk sat in the center of the north section, and a larger
double table sat under the southwest windows. A comfortable sofa and
chair sat in front of the banked fire.

	The ubiquitous card key slot was the only clue to the
decorative false panel in the southwest corner of the library. Cindy
motioned Linda to try her card on the lock. With a snick, the panel
eased open enough to pull. Linda followed Cindy up the dimly lit
stairway to the upper level where her card was again necessary.

	As the panel closed behind the women, Cia led Richard to a
section devoted to Shadow Earth. A computer workstation had the Great
Books of the Western World on optical disk. "Merely a quick
reference," teased Cia. Nearby, stacks contained complete sets of St.
Augustine, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Montaigne, Machiavelli,
Castiglione, Sidney, Bacon, Ben Johnson, Samuel Johnson, Hegel,
Heidegger, Newton, Einstein, Pope, Boccaccio, Milton, Rabelais, and
Virgil. First editions of seminal works from ancient to post modern
took up proximate stacks.

	Cindy led Linda along the walkway which extended around the
perimeter of the upper level. Tracked ladders reached the highest
shelves near the ceiling.

	The entrance to the study room was cleverly concealed from
view below. As Cindy stepped across the threshold a gentle
bioluminescence lit the small room evenly. There was barely room
around the table and chairs to get to the books on the shelves along
all walls. The _Necronomicon_, companion volumes, and commentaries
absorbed Linda's attention. "I'd bet my postsynaptic membranes that
the complete Curwen collection of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and
theological works is here," Linda remarked, following Cindy from the
alcove.

	They passed empty shelves along the walkway before arriving at
another recess. In a glass case a single volume lay illuminated by a
lamp within. Linda immediately opened the unsecured case and removed
the _Handbook For The Recently Deceased_.

	She'd long wanted a glance at "The Handbook," or "The Manual"
as it was sometimes known. She quickly turned to the intermediate
interface chapter on haunting to see just how detailed an explanation
was in fact there. "It reads like stereo instructions," Linda
commented as she replaced the volume and followed Cindy.

	Cindy and Linda rejoined Cia and Richard by the large marble
fireplace on the west wall. Cia's continuing explanation of the
library request and procurement system answered Linda's questions
about the mint condition of the books. Beyond explanation was the
posthumous editions section. She'd seen still-boxed unknown works by
Brautigan, Hellman, Maugham, Abbey, Steinbeck, and P.K. Dick, among
others.

	Cindy directed the tour of the guest apartments at the north
end of the second floor. The hospitable domicile was complete with
sitting, sleeping, and dining areas as well as a small library which
seemed devoted to quantum mechanics and associated arcana.

	The bedroom reminded Linda of a first-rate residence hotel.
Richard bounced on the satin sheeted bed which was as comfortable as
it appeared. "So, what's the project here?"

	Cindy indulged in the luxury of the love seat. "Software
development for the Crown. All the hardware billets are filled."

	Linda sat at the small writing table across from the bed and
regarded the fresh cut flowers in the crystal vase. "Yeah?" Cia
lounged in the chair adjacent to the night stand. "We're building a
reality editor."

	"A what?" Linda asked.

	"You know. Cut, paste, add, delete, change. The usual," Cindy
answered.

	"Is this artificial intelligence?" Richard suspiciously
inquired.

	"Nah," replied Cia. He continued wryly. "That's specifically
prohibited by the contract. It seems that their first attempt resulted
in a rogue consciousness."

	"Then how?" Linda wanted to know.

	Cindy took up the explanation. "Limited domain, iterative
techniques. Purely procedural code. Brute fuckin' force. You can hack
your way up to speed on the metaprogramming language pretty quickly."

	Linda mulled that over. "What's functional?"

	Cindy smiled broadly before answering. "One module. Fun with
billboards, bumper-stickers, and graffiti. You should have been here
the night that I replaced the text `to protect and serve' with `tool
of the rich man' wherever it occurred on squad cars back home."

	With an even bigger grin, Cia mischievously interrupted.

	"Shit hit the fan. Even a new rule. No more RE tests on Shadow
Earth. Bellona only now, which almost takes the fun out of it," he
concluded with a wink.

	"What's the hitch?" Richard probed.

	"We want to ensure that expansion of the operating envelope
doesn't bite us in the ass," Cindy responded. "The next project
mandate is a `no tricks' safety module. Apparently they watch Twilight
Zone when in Shadow Earth."

	"Anyway," Cia said, "You should sleep on it. This little trick
of somatic projection is about to fail. When it does, you will regain
consciousness back home. It's best if you're asleep when it happens."

	"How much longer?" Linda inquired.

	"A couple of hours, tops."

	Cindy and Cia excused themselves, leaving Linda and Richard
alone for the first time since their arrival in Amber.

	Linda arose from the small table and joined Richard by the
bed. "What do you think?" she asked him, doffing her robe. Turning
the down comforter back, she couldn't discern what kept it from
sliding off the sheets.

	While fluffing the pillow, Linda noticed the hawk feather
bound to a chunk of turquoise with a hide band which was lying on the
sheet. She stared at the token, her attention captivated.

	"They're playing with a fusion torch," Richard answered as he
dropped his robe with hers. "Somebody's gonna get burned," he said,
following her gaze. "What do you think?"

	When their eyes met, Linda shook her head fractionally and
dropped the pillow, covering the token. "Who could be trusted with
this thing? I don't see resolving that issue within the context of a
safety module."

	Following Linda's apparent lead, Richard dropped the
conversation and snuggled next to her in the regal bed.

	They rolled to their backs from the warm spoon. Linda
initiated an old game for descent to sleep. She wrapped her slender
fingers around Richard's limp hose, which began hardening immediately.
Linda wanted to fall asleep with Richard still throbbing in her fist,
before he fell asleep and softened in her grasp. Richard wanted to
fall asleep rigid in Linda's hot palm, before she fell asleep and her
grip failed.

	While usually successful, the technique couldn't overcome deep
tension. Linda commenced a standard variation to get the game back on
track. She soothingly released Richard's penis and cupped his balls,
massaging and rolling them within their hairy sack. Tickling his
scrotum with her long fingernails brought Richard's member to
throbbing rigidity.

	Linda rubbed the shaft of Richard's veiny cock with fingertips
and nails, bringing his excitement to fever pitch. She teased a glob
of ooze from his purple helmet and spread it all over the bulbous
head, playing with its firmness.

	Linda encircled Richard's engorged manhood and began pumping.
Slowly at first, and then faster, she twisted and tugged his cock with
supple fingers. Richard signaled his oncoming orgasm with insistently
bucking hips as he fucked her hand ever faster. As Richard exploded
in orgasm, Linda contained his load by clamping her thumb and
forefinger just below the head of his cock. She held tightly through
the rhythmic pulsations of his ejaculation.

	As Richard lay back, Linda slipped under the covers. She
locked her mouth around his dick and released the clamp, draining his
hot thick seed and swallowing it. She milked the residual jizm and
licked it off, smacking her lips contentedly.

	Linda lay on her back next to Richard holding his hand,
fingers intertwined, until he reciprocated.

	Richard rested the palm of his hand on Linda's trimmed pubic
patch, rubbing her mound in a circular pattern. His fingers traced
from the mons along the length of her puffy outer lips. Her fleshy
inner lips were engorged, slick with plentiful juices. With his long
middle finger he distributed the creamy lubrication around her erect
clit which poked from beneath its hood.

	With an index finger, Richard slowly rubbed one side of the
hood, stimulating the clit indirectly, tracing small spirals on the
sensitive skin.

	When Linda's bucking hips and rapid breathing announced her
undeniable orgasm, Richard increased his pace slightly. Linda came
with a pleased moan and relaxed, Richard's warm hand resting on her
quivering pussy.

	Linda reached over and resumed the game by grasping Richard's
hardening penis. They both fell asleep nearly immediately, thoroughly
relaxed.

	"- long have we been away?" Linda heard Richard asking as the
primacy of her presence in the sweat lodge reasserted itself.

	"Only a moment," Cia answered. "The standard hit is two hours,
with a yield of six months on the other side of the gate. Time
dilation is the chief benefit of transfer contracts. A session each in
the morning and afternoon, five days a week, amounts to an effective
extension to your life of five years."

	"It's easy to loose your perspective," Cindy continued. "The
point of the upgrade is to provide an anchor or sorts; an orientation
to this plane. If you abandon your body it'll die, and with it the
projection through the gate. Believe me, that distinction will seem
unimportant after years in Amber, Gaea, or Snug Harbor."

	"Not to mention Wonderland, Toontown, Pell Station, or
Bellona," Cia added.

	Linda never found it necessary to be diplomatic when inquiring
about how someone else profited from her effort.

	"What's the coven get from this? It seems a lot like a
Manhattan Project at first glance. Are you sure that we're on the
right side of the balance of power?"

	Cindy deferred to Cia for the first question. "They
Shadowshift cargo for us," he said. "The personal performance bonus
specifies shipment equivalent to your body mass between terminuses of
your choice. The coven will get a dedicated voyage of a triple-masted
sailing vessel plus a generous letter of credit against the Crown's
treasury. Most valuable of all, however, is information. What we
experience and learn, individually and collectively, is ours."

	Cindy fielded the second question herself. "Helen Gone
negotiated the treaty with Random. She trusts him. His goodwill was
adequately demonstrated when he provided the Jewel of Judgment for the
development of the isomorphic aerogel that we use in the effector
arrays."

	Linda paused for a moment. "Is the upgrade absolutely
necessary? Can't I just go in for it later?"

	"It is important to your development and essential to gate
transfer contracts," Cindy answered, apparently somewhat pained to be
quoting the party line. She added gently, "I think I know how you
feel. I faced `simplicity, sincerity, serenity' with some apprehension
as well. Frankly, proceeding although I had reservations was a key to
growth. You are being asked to demonstrate your confidence in the
coven and your place in our work."

	As Linda considered, Richard pressed his concern forward. "How
does the Amber work-for-hire project fit in with the coven's work?"

	"Our work is with those that we were born among," Cia
answered. "The upgrade strengthens the bonds we have with this world,
but we have coffers to fill. The challenging work that affords
personal growth has to be sold. Amber's buying."

	Linda sat back for a moment with her eyes closed,
contemplating the decision, phrasing it tactfully. "In addition to
taking leave from the university, I'm declaring a retreat from my
coven office." So much for attending her Samhain initiation.

	Cindy and Cia either weren't surprised, or took it well.
Turning to Richard, Cia asked, "And you?"

	"She's my partner. I strongly prefer to maintain a lockstep
arrangement in our interfaces, so I'll pass on the upgrade for the
present." Richard paused for a moment, knowing that Linda wanted him
along with her. "I'm going to complete our work and see it through at
the university."

	They sat in silence for several minutes. The pregnant pause
allowed room to reflect and proceed without divisive words.

	It was Cindy who spoke first. "So be it. Your decisions will
be respected." Her voice was still tinged with antinomy, but it was
replaced by genuine warmth as she continued. "If there's anything that
we can do, please call upon us. We would be pleased to help in any way
possible."

	Linda and Richard lingered briefly on pleasantries, but the
divergent path that they'd cast upon obviated shop talk.

	Linda comfortably discussed administrative details related to
Arkham during the drive back to Los Angeles, but Richard concluded
that the slight tension in Linda's face suggested that she would make
a point of not asking him for an explanation of his decision.

	"Look Linda, I don't have the appreciation for Featherstone
that you evidently do. By a twist of fate I got off the reservation
before it sucked me under. I've lived with the medicine man mumbo
jumbo."

	Linda rested her hand gently on his thigh. "It's really okay,
Richard."

	Richard concentrated on a corner, perfectly cranking the
wheel, braking, and then accelerating. "Are you even considering the
upgrade?"

	"Do we need it?" she asked.

	"At this rate, `suffering, sacrifice, and self-abasement'
could be next," he said with a chuckle.

	"This is not a social crisis," Linda said with a radiant grin.

	"It's just another tricky day," concluded Richard, with a
wink.

			       The End