Paranormal Lovers Box Set

by Wayne Mansfield

  He hung up and called Calvin, and again he went to voicemail.

  “Hi, Calvin. Just called to ask how your day’s going. Bye.”

  He put his phone in his pocket and stared at the monitor in front of him, at the glass of green gunk for which his company had been paid a large amount of money to create a campaign. He screwed up his nose and went to make a cup of coffee.

  * * * *

  That evening, Calvin called. “Hey, sexy. Would you like to come over for dinner? I know it’s last minute, but…”

  “I’d love to,” said Paul.

  “Nothing fancy. I just want to see you again. And I got some nose strips just on the off-chance.”

  Paul laughed. “Well, in that case…”

  “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  Paul glanced at his wristwatch. “Half an hour.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  * * * *

  He made it in thirty-five minutes, turning up with a bottle of wine, although he had no intention of drinking very much. There was no way he could take another day off that week, especially with the “green gunk campaign” to wrap up.

  Dinner was a variation on chicken Caesar salad, plus some shoestring fries and wine. After dinner, Calvin led Paul into the bedroom, which he’d decorated with red rose petals. They were everywhere. All over the carpet, the bed, the pillows. And there was a single red rose on one of the pillows. Paul had never had anything as romantic done for him and it brought a tear to his eye that Calvin should think so much of him to go to such effort.

  “You like?” asked Calvin.

  Paul nodded. “I do.”

  Calvin kissed him on the lips.

  He felt a small ripple of electricity wash through his body.

  “Hang on,” said Calvin. He took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the candles he’d placed on each of the bedside tables. “There you go. Now it’s perfect.”

  “It really is,” said Paul. “It really is.”

  They embraced, their lips coming together in a tender kiss. Slowly Calvin began to undress Paul and, taking Calvin’s lead, Paul did likewise. They took it in turns to pull down each other’s pants and underpants, and when it was Paul’s turn, he noticed great strings of fine gossamer leaking from Calvin’s cock. He ran the tip of his tongue along the eye, collecting some of the lubrication, then stood and kissed Calvin, passing to him his own fluid.

  The heads of their cocks touched, and Paul was surprised he could feel his own erection, rigid and eager for attention. He pulled Calvin closer and felt their cocks pressing against each other. He gently ground his hips against Calvin, enjoying the sensation of their taut erections rubbing together.

  They moved to the bed. Paul lay on his back and Calvin lowered himself on top of him. Almost immediately, Paul knew he was no longer Paul, but the woman. And when he looked at Calvin, his features had changed. He was more rugged with a pencil-thin grey moustache, the same man Paul had seen during their previous lovemaking session, but now there was the smell of oil or fuel about him, and a streak of black grease down one cheek.

  They were somewhere dark, but not in the same room as the previous vision, and Paul was no longer on a bed, but on something hard. He turned his head and saw they were in a garage, and he was lying against the bonnet of a vintage car. It was uncomfortable, but he had a suspicion there was a reason for them to be making love in the privacy of a garage.

  Nevertheless, he could feel the love this man had for the woman he’d become. This muscular, more rugged Calvin and the woman were soul mates, with hearts that burned bright with love. It was as if his heart—her heart—swelled with love as they kissed. But he sensed she was hiding something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. She was elated about her news, but also nervous, hesitant, and even a little afraid. Paul couldn’t understand why. He knew she loved him, worshipped him, as he knew that overwhelming love was returned. But what was the secret and why should she be afraid?

  Calvin’s cock slid into her. He leaned down and they kissed. She raised her hips a little so the action of his thrusting stimulated her clitoris. It was wonderful. Her nipples had become rigid, and whenever the hairs of Calvin’s chest brushed against them, ripples of electricity pulsed through her body.

  Her climax built. She raised her hips even higher so his pubic mound pressed against her clitoris. She began to grind her hips against him as he thrust into her. Paul could see what she was thinking, about how good the weight of this man on her was. The smell of him, a heady mix of sweat and grease, turned her on. The thought of his thick cock inside her turned her on. His rugged, handsome face, a manly face, turned her on. The small drops of his sweat that exploded on her face and chest turned her on. She felt a sudden eruption in her groin, in her abdomen. She screamed, wildly. Calvin put a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Paul sensed their need for secrecy. But even his grease-stained hand on her mouth turned her on, and when he removed his hand, his aroma remained in her nostrils.

  When Calvin reared up, bracing himself on his knuckles, the woman, still in a state of extreme arousal, pressed her fingers against her clitoris, rubbing it in small circles while Calvin pounded into her. By the time Calvin was ready to climax, she, too, was ready once more, and when Calvin sucked in a great lungful of air and sent it bursting out in an animalistic grunt, a second torrent of happiness erupted between her legs.

  Once Calvin rolled off, they were once again in his bedroom.

  “You were fantastic,” said Calvin. He craned his neck to plant a kiss on Paul’s cheek. “I love making love to you.”

  Paul was glad Calvin had enjoyed himself, but he couldn’t truthfully comment since he wasn’t certain which parts had happened here, in Calvin’s bedroom, and which parts had taken place in the garage.

  “Are we making love?” asked Paul.

  Calvin rolled onto his side. He was grinning. “I think so.”

  Paul smiled. He stared into Calvin’s eyes. “I think so, too.”

  Again, he wanted to bring up the visions. Again, he decided not to. He didn’t know how Calvin would react, and Paul didn’t want to take the chance of ruining a wonderful evening.

  Calvin sidled up and draped his arm over Paul’s stomach. “So, are you brave enough to stay the night?”

  Paul smiled. “Of course I am. I’d love to.” Then he remembered the “green gunk campaign” and his deadline. “But I have to get to work early tomorrow, so I should leave here early, you know, so I can go home and get changed, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “Wear something of mine,” said Calvin. “I’m only a little bigger than you.”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  Calvin kissed him. “Sure I’m sure. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He kissed Paul again. “Wear whatever you want. Shirts, pants, underpants. Hey, that’s a bit kinky, isn’t it?”

  “Wearing your underpants?”

  “Yeah.”

  Paul laughed. “I suppose it is.”

  “We’d better get into bed then. And I’d better get those nasal strips. You have to promise not to laugh. I’m doing this for you, remember?”

  Paul was already smirking. “I hate it when people tell me not to laugh. It makes me want to laugh.”

  Calvin padded into the en-suite bathroom and came back looking like an Apache Indian, with a white stripe across his nose.

  “You’d better not laugh,” said Calvin as he climbed into bed.

  “I won’t,” said Paul, blowing out the candle on the table beside him.

  Calvin blew out his candle.

  “A giggle’s not a laugh, is it?” asked Paul.

  Calvin hit him playfully on the back.

  * * * *

  In the morning, Calvin caught the bus into town with Paul.

  “Your office won’t even be open yet, will it?” asked Paul.

  Calvin squeezed Paul’s leg. “I’ll go and get a coffee, read the paper, and see what’s going on in the world.”

&
nbsp; Paul became aroused. When he saw Calvin’s hand resting on his knee, it was even less likely he’d be able to stem the swelling of his cock. Such a public display of affection made him feel special. It was certainly true that actions spoke louder than words. Neither of them had said they loved the other, although Calvin had referred to the sex they had as “making love.” For Paul, it was too early for declarations of love. They hadn’t known each other two weeks ago. But there was no mistaking what they felt for each other, whether vocalised or not.

  “Look what you’ve done,” said Paul, nodding at his crotch.

  Calvin smiled. He scanned the people around them, then gave Paul’s cock a little squeeze.

  “I’d like to feel this inside me some time,” he whispered.

  Paul’s cock pulsed. He was almost exclusively a bottom, but now that Calvin had mentioned it, Paul thought it might be interesting to see what happened in relation to the transformation that took place each they made love.

  When they arrived in the city, they got off the bus and walked down the mall.

  “Here’s where I leave you,” said Calvin. “Have a great day and good luck with the campaign.” He kissed Paul on the cheek.

  A spark of electricity. “You have a good day, too.”

  He watched Calvin disappear down an arcade, then as he turned, two teenagers walked past with disgusted looks on their faces.

  “Faggot,” one of them mumbled.

  Paul didn’t care. Two ignorant teens weren’t going to spoil his day.

  He walked to his office, noticing a spring in his step. He swiped his card at the door and turned on the lights. It was too early for anyone else to be there, and that was precisely why he’d come in early. He thought better without distractions. Had better ideas. He switched on his computer and smiled when he thought about Calvin, and the fact he was wearing Calvin’s clothes, and that the underpants now cradling his cock and balls had recently cradled his lover’s.

  The screen came on, and immediately there it was—the “green gunk campaign.”

  Thank goodness, after today’s presentation to the client, he’d probably never have to look at it again.

  Chapter 5

  On Friday evening, Paul picked Calvin up and drove to the beach, still reasonably crowded at six o’clock. Teens in black rubber sat straddling their surfboards, waiting for the waves to improve. Middle-aged women walked in twos and threes along the water’s edge, while a handful of tanned and toned men and women jogged up and down the beach, all wearing matching expressions of concentration. Seagulls wheeled overhead, landing all around Paul and Calvin as they waded through the shallows. It wasn’t the wine Calvin was carrying they were after. It was the warm, mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips that had drawn them from the sky.

  “I wasn’t thinking when I bought these,” said Paul. “Those gulls aren’t going to leave us alone.”

  Calvin laughed. “Ah, they’ll be alright if we don’t feed them.”

  He was right. They managed to have a lovely dinner, watching the sun slip closer to the distant, watery horizon. By the time they were wrapping up the greasy fish-and-chip paper and pouring their second glass of wine, the beach was empty of all but a dozen or so people.

  “Couldn’t you imagine living on a deserted island?” asked Calvin.

  Paul nodded. “I definitely could. I’d be naked all day.”

  Calvin kissed him on the cheek. “Then I’d be walking around with a hard-on all day.”

  “Wouldn’t it be great, though? All we’d have to do is catch our food.”

  “Be healthy, too. Fresh fish, not fish and chips.” Calvin laughed. “Fruit, maybe vegetables.”

  “The only problem would be how would we get a pizza delivered?”

  Calvin wrapped an arm around Paul and nuzzled his ear. “I could always deliver something else.”

  Paul laughed. “Ideally, I’d like that in addition to the pizza!”

  “Greedy.” Calvin kissed him on the neck.

  A pulse of electricity. “That reminds me…”

  “What reminds you? Reminds you of what?” asked Calvin.

  Paul took a deep breath. “This is probably going to sound completely off the planet, but hear me out.” He looked at Calvin, who removed his arm from around him. “When we make love…this is really difficult to put into words.”

  “Is it me?” asked Calvin, suddenly looking anxious. “Am I doing something…?”

  Paul placed a hand on Calvin’s thigh. “Oh, god, no. You’re amazing in bed. I love the way you touch me. The way you kiss me. It’s all beyond good. Don’t worry. This is something else, but, like I said, it’s difficult because it’s going to sound so crazy.”

  “Just tell me,” said Calvin, placing his hand on Paul’s.

  “Let me put it this way…when you kiss me, I feel…”

  “Electricity?” said Calvin with a smirk.

  Paul’s eyes widened. “Yes! That’s it! Do you feel it, too?”

  “I mean it feels electric, as in fantastic, wonderful, out of this world.”

  Paul pulled a face. “Oh. For a minute…anyway…I was trying to say that when we kiss, I actually do feel something like an electric shock. It’s not very strong and it doesn’t bother me at all, but when we make love, something even weirder happens. When we make love and you are on top of me, I suddenly become…” He looked at Calvin intently, “…a woman.”

  Calvin opened his mouth to say something, but Paul cut him short.

  “Let me try to explain. When our bodies are pressed together, it feels as though I’ve got breasts, and when your erection is pushing against my crotch, I can’t feel my own cock. It feels like there’s nothing there. Or, to put it another way, it feels like I’ve got a…a pussy.”

  Calvin went to speak again, and again Paul stopped him.

  “Wait. That was at the beginning. The times we’ve actually made love, I’ve also been transported to…somewhere else, and I’ve actually become a woman for the duration of our lovemaking.”

  “So is this your way of telling me you want a sex change or something?”

  Paul shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I’m telling you this is something bordering on paranormal. I mean it’s not just the fact I become a woman, but you change as well. I know you are still you, but you don’t look the same. And we’re somewhere else, in another place. I get the sense it’s somewhere in the past.”

  Calvin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and forcibly, then he shrugged.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Paul stared at the sinking sun. He wanted to reassure Calvin he wasn’t going crazy, but instead he remained silent. He wanted to see what Calvin would say without any further prompting from him.

  Calvin looked at him in a way he’d never looked at him before.

  “You’ve given me a lot to take in,” he said finally. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  Paul turned to face him. Still, he didn’t say anything.

  Calvin shrugged again. “I don’t. I don’t know what you want me to say. What are you waiting for me to say?”

  Paul’s stomach was churning. He felt as if he’d just broken something that was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to mend. “I don’t know what I want you to say. I just wanted to tell you what I was experiencing, mainly to see if you were experiencing it as well.”

  “Which I’m not.”

  “Yeah, I kind of gathered that,” replied Paul sarcastically.

  He became agitated. He felt like kicking himself. Why couldn’t he have gone to the psychic by himself and bypassed all this discomfort? And the pain that would surely follow when Calvin suggested they stopped seeing each other. He let out a long exhalation.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Calvin.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Can we just go home? I think I need to have an early night.”

  “But the sun’s only just beginning to set.”

&
nbsp; Paul stood. “We can watch it another day.” He stooped to pick up the ball of wadded fish-and-chip paper.

  He heard a “hmpf” from Calvin, but didn’t respond. He had a sinking feeling he’d already said too much. He was angry and disappointed, but only with himself. Without another word, he started walking towards the water, leaving Calvin to chase after him.

  “Paul,” called Calvin. “Why are you upset? What have I done? What did I say?” He caught up to Paul and grabbed his arm. “Paul, talk to me.”

  Paul stopped walking, though he couldn’t bring himself to look at Calvin.

  “What is it? What did I say? Or what didn’t I say?”

  “It’s not you,” said Paul, trying to reign in the storm of emotions. “It’s me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve known better. I can tell I’ve fucked things up.”

  “Okay,” said Calvin, gripping his shoulders. “Look at me.”

  Paul slowly raised his head.

  “There’s nothing you can’t talk to me about. Okay? That’s number one. Number two, I admit I might not have reacted in a very supportive way. I’m sorry. Remember, you’ve had longer than me to digest this thing that’s happening to you. I bet you didn’t understand it right from the beginning. It doesn’t seem like you understand it even now.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “Finally, I’ll let you know if you’re in danger of fucking things up. Okay?” He smiled. “It would take a lot for you to fuck things up. Believe me.”

  Paul nodded and forced a smile because even though he felt better, he still felt like a prized idiot for overreacting.

  “So are we good?”

  Paul nodded. “I hope we are.”

  Calvin wrapped an arm around Paul’s shoulders and they started the long trek to the carpark.

  “Do you have any theories?”

  “Theories?” asked Paul.

  “Yeah. Theories about what’s been going on when we make love?”

  “My friend Linda said something about ‘past lives.’” He glanced at Calvin, checking his reaction. Regardless of his lover’s assurances, Paul felt he was skating on extremely thin ice. “And trust me, this is all new to me, too. I mean, I’ve heard of it. Past lives and all that. But it’s all a mystery to me.”