by Marie Harbon
“Max, I’m a virgin. I’ve never been with a man before.”
Jesus Christ, he thought. He hadn’t seen that one coming. In fact, it only served to arouse him further. All his women were well experienced…too experienced and the thought of taking Tahra’s virginity made him feel special.
“I promise to be gentle,” he reassured her.
She appeared to contemplate it then voiced her concerns.
“I don’t want to be a mere conquest.”
Max wondered what she knew of his past, but then acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t possible to hide things from psychic people. Maybe he had the aura of a womaniser.
“That won’t happen.”
Tahra looked apologetic. “I will only give my virginity to my future husband.”
He didn’t expect that, she had principles. It wasn’t the time to push for sex, so he asked for an alternative.
“Can I at least kiss you?”
Tahra smiled then nodded, allowing him to make the first move. Aware of how his actions could dictate the final outcome, he gave her a tentative kiss on her lips, awaiting her reaction. She reciprocated, therefore he pulled her close and kissed her more passionately, knowing it would be the climax of the evening.
Tahra appeared to submit and become aroused too, perhaps almost feeling as sorry as he did that there’d be no finale that night. For a moment, he thought she might change her mind, but she merely smiled, flicked on her bedroom light and closed the door. Max stood outside, not knowing what to think or do. No woman had ever turned him down, and being confronted with uncharted territory left him speechless. Had he said or done something wrong? He stood there for what seemed an eternity, while Tahra rested her head against the door in her room, conscious of his presence for a while until he left.
Part of her wanted him to make love to her, but she felt reticent too. He was the perfect gentleman now, but what of the future? Were her previous intuitions correct? Was he a saint or Satan? She ended the night in a state of inner turmoil.
***
Why did rejection just simply drive him crazy? Max arrived home an hour later, also in a state of inner turmoil. He’d courted fire, this young woman who was the most sexually alluring female he’d ever met, and she didn’t believe in sex before marriage. What kind of twist of fate was this? Could he get her to change her mind, or would he have to contemplate marrying her? That would be an extreme conclusion to the matter.
He paced the room several times, wondering how to deal with a refusal, a factor that only seemed to arouse him further. With the next party two weeks away, he picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice at the end of the line.
“I need a woman tonight,” he told the person on the other end.
In response to the query, he described his nightly requirements then showered, poured himself a scotch, and reclined in his favourite armchair. The bell rang and on answering the door, he found a dark haired woman standing there. While she wasn’t Tahra, she was acceptably close though.
Certain of his requirements for the night, he instructed his agent of relief to kneel down as he reclined in the armchair. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and substituted the woman for Tahra, a fantasy that fuelled his level of arousal. As he reached his peak, he dug his nails into her skin, oblivious to any discomfort she was experiencing. The enormous relief was tainted with a sense of shame, and it didn’t agree with him having to pay for it, but it was better than nothing.
After she rose to her feet, he got up from the armchair, avoided meeting her gaze and disappeared into the bathroom. The money already sat on a side table, so she took it and left swiftly, her taxi waiting outside. In the bathroom, Max gazed at his reflection and didn’t see a powerful, wealthy man staring back. He saw a man who was afraid. He didn’t like it, not one bit.
***
Max arrived early at The Institute the next day and sat in the dining area, with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He kept asking Miss Tynedale if Tahra had woken yet and been down for breakfast. She just assumed it was because he was concerned about the test running smoothly and to schedule.
Tahra came down for breakfast ten minutes later, surprised to see Max sitting there. He ushered her over and she sat at the table with him, making light conversation over toast and cereal.
“Is everything set up ready?” Max asked Miss Tynedale.
She smiled kindly at Max, noting the look he gave Tahra. “Yes, we’re using Room 7 as normal.”
After breakfast, Max insisted on escorting her upstairs. He opened the door to Room 7, and Tahra found it to be minimally furnished, with a cine camera set up to point directly at the table and chair in the centre of the room. A large white envelope sat on the table. Max asked her to sit down, and a faceless technician started the camera rolling.
“In a moment, Tahra,” Max instructed, “I want you to open the envelope. Inside, you’ll find a photograph of a warehouse and a map. I’d like to know what’s inside the warehouse.”
She nodded, unsure what to expect. Max took a seat near the cine camera, waiting to see what she’d reveal and hopeful of her excellence.
Aware of the eyes watching her intently, she pulled out the photograph and map. The warehouse appeared to be in the middle of a desert, and its location had been circled on the map. After studying them, she placed the resources back on the table and closed her eyes.
Going through the same process as visiting Annie in her childhood, she felt a rushing sensation in her head and her focus projected away from her body. In her mind’s eye, she saw the warehouse begin as a shimmering mirage in the distance, becoming lucid in a matter of seconds.
She moved towards the door and reached out, extruding through it with no effort at all, as if it wasn’t even there. Because of the darkness inside the warehouse, it took a while for everything to become clear. She didn’t see any crates stacked, or signs of equipment used to transport goods and if anything, the place seemed deserted. Why had Max asked her to look inside this warehouse?
This is just a test, or a trick, she thought.
Tahra moved her consciousness around and found a few offices at the back, so she decided to check them out. To her surprise, in one office she discovered two men chatting, smoking, and laughing…nothing to report. Before she focused elsewhere, she noticed they possessed rifles, which were propped up against the wall.
Why the hell did they need guns in the middle of nowhere?
It all began to feel quite sinister. Now she understood the necessity of exploring this warehouse.
What else would she find?
She tried to listen in on the conversation but found it difficult, most of the time it sounded garbled, as if the words were spoken underwater.
Giving up on listening, she shifted her consciousness to the other office, taken aback by what she saw.
“There’s a little girl in there!” she gasped.
A young girl lay on the floor, bound and gagged. Tahra realised with horror what had happened. These men had kidnapped her, a crime had been committed. Distressed, she withdrew her consciousness and opened her eyes.
Max raised an eyebrow.
“What does she look like?” he asked, keeping his cool.
Tahra composed herself and stated, “She has long, blonde hair.”
“What is she wearing?”
“Blue trousers, and a yellow blouse with flowers.”
Max sat back in his hair, a smile of satisfaction and relief spreading over his face. He turned to the head technician.
“Tell Miss Tynedale to ring Mr. Holmes immediately. We have confirmation of his daughter’s location.”
“There are two men, they have rifles,” Tahra said.
Max nodded his appreciation.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be safe now.”
He let Tahra return to her room and disappeared for a short while. In the meantime, the head technician removed the reel and took it to the viewing room, waiting for Max to reappear, which he did.
The two of them scrutinised the reel to evaluate her performance, surprised to see something quite unexpected.
They watched as Tahra closed her eyes, a flash of light popping into existence at the top right of her head. Max asked for it to be replayed, and they both viewed it again.
“What’s that?”
“I assume it’s a ray of light reflecting off a surface behind her,” the technician replied. “I’ve never seen this occur on previous tests with George and Oscar though.”
Max looked dubious.
“There’s nothing in there that would reflect light in that manner.”
The technician shrugged, unable to give any rational explanation other than what he’d already offered.
“Let’s see if it happens on the next test,” Max said.
He left the viewing room to visit Tahra. After knocking and entering, he found her lying on her bed. For a moment, he surveyed her slim and lithe body, laid out like a sacrificial child for the gods.
“Did my talent please you?” she asked him.
Max sat down on the bed next to her, and she looked up at him with the most outrageous bedroom eyes.
“You knocked me for six, Tahra.”
“Will anyone rescue that little girl?”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “the process is already underway. The perpetrators will be dealt with.” There was a hint of ruthlessness in his voice as he said that.
Max kissed her on the forehead and stood up.
“You really are special,” he said, with a lingering glance as he left the room.
She smiled as she’d performed something important that pleased her benefactor. The world was really her oyster.
Downstairs, Max spoke briefly to Miss Tynedale.
“In ten days, it’s Tahra’s eighteenth birthday. I’d like to make it a memorable one, so pull out all the stops.”
“Where will we hold the party?”
“Here,” Max replied, “I want to make sure she gets to know everyone. I’ll be away on business for six months shortly after, and I don’t wish her to be lonely.”
“It can be arranged,” she said, eyeing him with curiosity.
“And while I’m away, can you make sure that she doesn’t get…involved with any men?” Miss Tynedale gave him a quizzical look. “Well, we don’t want our new star to fall pregnant, or lose her to some handsome young man, do we?”
Miss Tynedale watched him leave the office, concerned the green monster of jealousy was raising its ugly head. She had the uncanny feeling that someone was going to get hurt, but for once, it wasn’t going to be the object of his affections. Max had found someone who willingly, or unwittingly, was able to push the right buttons.
Tahra’s eighteenth birthday fell on the 7th of November, overshadowed by The Cuban Missile Crisis. The disagreement had escalated to the point where nuclear war seemed inevitable, so the world had prayed for peace and marched in London. As a peaceful solution neared, Tahra felt a sense of serenity and belonging at The Institute.
Max had called off all afternoon testing for the preparations and festivities, and everyone looked forward to socialising together, as it rarely happened. Most hadn’t met Tahra either, due to the fact their tests didn’t coincide. Caterers came into The Institute for the first time, Miss Tynedale emerged in a chiffon dress, and the main room got decorated with balloons and assorted paraphernalia.
Tahra made her entrance, amazed to find a group of people waiting for her.
“Surprise!”
A few of the technicians presided over the music and kick started the party with a chorus of party blowers. Tahra stood in the centre of it all, delighted in the effort made to celebrate her coming of age. Immediately after the introductory trumpeting, rock and roll music began to fill the room, to the amusement of the party goers.
She surveyed the smiles, expressions of curiosity or caution, and wondered if she met their expectations. These strangers were part of her life now, yet she dared not communicate with them and struggled to find the words to greet them.
‘Great Balls of Fire’ rang out and Oscar, the Afro-Caribbean remote viewer, took the initiative and her hand, inviting her to dance. She accepted and allowed him to spin her around, fifties rock and roll style. He moved well and twirled her around the floor, an act that caused the usually serious Max to laugh.
Max stood back and allowed her to mingle, as she needed to socialise with the others. Neither did he want to draw too much attention to his feelings for her, although the trouble he’d taken to organise this party had already raised some eyebrows.
Beth, one of the mediums, stood by Emilie, the fresh faced telepath.
“Why so quiet?” Beth asked.
Emilie didn’t answer immediately, so Beth had to prompt her.
“I can see there’s something wrong.”
Emilie looked at her and asked her a question.
“Have you noticed….anything strange about our new recruit?”
They exchanged knowing glances.
“I know Grace is sometimes by her side,” Beth commented.
Emilie didn’t receive the answer she wanted, so decided to reveal all.
“I can’t sense anything from her,” she stated. “I’ve never known that to happen.”
“Do you know why?”
Emilie shrugged. “No, I do not.” Her French accent became thicker as she said that.
Beth decided to confide in her further.
“She has more spirits around her than is usual, I find that quite odd.”
“Do you know why?”
“No,” came the reply.
They both watched Max, whose eyes were solely upon Tahra.
“She seems blissfully unaware that Max actually has feelings for her,” Beth said, almost wistfully. “I hope Grace knew what she was doing.”
Emilie gave her a questioning look.
“Grace is the reason Tahra is here, and Max hung on her every word,” Beth explained.
She looked on with curiosity at this ingenuous and lithe figure, while Emilie viewed her with suspicion. How could any female be so oblivious to Max’s obvious intentions towards her? What a lucky girl. Did Tahra know, care, or even bother to care?
Meanwhile, as Oscar danced with Tahra, he took the opportunity to introduce himself properly.
“My name’s Oscar Duvalier, I’m one of the other remote viewers in this place.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Tahra Mamoun.”
“It’s good to see new blood,” he commented, “and I’ve heard you’re amazing.”
She laughed with confidence.
“I want to be the best I can be.” After a pause, she added, “Aren’t you worried by my presence here?”
“There’s enough work to keep us all busy,” he shrugged.
“That’s very gracious of you.”
“God brought you here for a reason, I’m sure it’s part of his greater plan.”
Tahra considered his words.
“I wish I understood the plan for me. Max came to find me in Tehran, you know. He believes in me.”
Oscar gave her an enigmatic smile.
“Yes…yes he does. I’ve never seen him take such a personal interest in any of his….subjects before.” Tahra met his gaze, knowing exactly what he meant. “Be careful,” he warned her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle Max.”
Oscar gave her a quizzical look at her rather blasé comment, shrugged, and put his arm around her waist as they danced away.
The remaining residents mingled, chattered, or tapped their feet in time to the music, even the normally staccato and reticent Sakie. No one really noted the conspicuous absence – Paul. Most assumed he’d been assigned elsewhere, but Miss Tynedale wondered if there were other, underlying motives for his nonattendance.
Another song graced the air, Chubby Checker singing ‘The Twist’, which motivated the majority of the partygoers. Max didn’t often dance but Oscar was stealing hi
s fire, so he cut in. Tahra expressed delight in seeing him loosen up and have fun. It seemed odd at first to feel his arm around her waist and to see his response to the music, but he had excellent coordination and whirled her around the floor in a style that rivalled Oscar’s moves. It pleased him to dance with her, and to see the enjoyment clearly written in her face.
Oscar danced with Beth, and they both exchanged knowing glances watching the two of them together.
Max considered this to be one of the happiest moments he’d experienced in a long while, and it seemed such a shame to tell her about the business trip tomorrow.
***
Her eighteenth birthday party had been a high point in her life, which until now had been staid and unexciting. However, an unexpected interruption followed the next day. Max told her he was going to be away on business for around six months, and Tahra didn’t receive the news well.
“But you can’t be away for such a long time,” she protested. “I’ll get lonely.”
Max seemed touched that she cared about his absence, and Tahra began to feel angry for having become so dependent on him. She fought the tears as best she could.
“I’m sure the others will look out for you while I’m away,” Max tried to reassure her.
“It’s not the same.”
He reached out to wipe her cheek.
“I promise I’ll write to you,” he stated, “but please realise, I have to go away on business to ensure all my people here have work.”
Work filled Max’s life, and she’d relied on him too much. Sensing her desolation, he placed his fingers under her chin, lifted it gently and kissed her. The love and attention of a handsome, wealthy man was intoxicating and she didn’t see how she’d manage without it. For the first time since she’d met him, she actually felt like she wanted him, and she put her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. This took him by surprise, and he hugged her in return.
They stood like that briefly, cherishing that sincere moment as it wouldn’t always be like this. He eventually stepped away from her and walked down the stairs, watching her fondly. When he disappeared out of sight, she looked over the stair rail and noticed him speak quietly to Miss Tynedale. After leaving instructions with her, he picked up a briefcase and walked out of the door.
