“Oh, merciful Gods,” the matron whispered, gawping at the pale corpse and bloody water. “What sacrilege. What woe! Oh, Kleio, child, what a curse to call upon yourself.”
Chapter One
The Elysian Fields
Sometimes the Gods, and there are many of them, make decisions about our lives long before the people we become…well, become.
For instance, sometimes they designate “soul mates.” Soul mates are a spiritual expression of Love in its deepest, purest form, and as such they are fated for replication and reconnection over and over, again and again, throughout all time.
The energy instilled by this devotion is vital to the Gods. It is their manna. Imagine divine battery power pulsing love and harmony out into the universe and contributing to the balance of all things good. Above all, it provides hope for those still looking for that elusive connection, that one true love, that “other half” who completes the shape of the heart. And why not? After all, hope is the only magic, the one true faith.
It’s a simple existence for a soul mate, you might think. Not that difficult. Their future has been preordained. All they have to do is sit tight and the love of their life will fall into their lap. Of course, there has to be a right time and place for that perfect moment, the force majeure, the beautiful fall, and bam! It’s love and the happy ever after has come home to roost. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Well, believe me it isn’t.
I am the Soul Selector and it is I who am responsible for those magical little moments. Those oases of romance; the twinkle in an eye, the perfume that enchanted, the pounding heart, dilated pupils, all of that is my work. Mine and mine alone. And I am sick of it.
As the Soul Selector, I have a subtle and complex role in the making of love. I have to identify these soul mates as they come into being, and they can arrive at any point in time across your puny world. Some are returning souls that have been ebbing in and out of existence for millennia. Others are all shiny and new. I tag them at birth and let them run wild, under my watchful eye of course. Over their teeny-weeny lifespans, I nudge them gently toward each other and kindle the romance that pours all that wonderful soul love out into the universe.
Herding horny cats is easier. This is because soul mates are notoriously stupid entities, and that is because their overriding spiritual condition is one of searching. They’ll search high and low to be whole. They search for unity. They search for love. They search relentlessly. Remember, they are preconditioned to do this, and this makes them remarkably vague regarding the real world surrounding them.
Other souls, the normal kind, just get on with living. They express their singular free will through an open association with love, passion, heartbreak, and all the rest of the emotional spectrum. They are cyclical. They can fall in and out of love at will. Nothing universal or epic depends on normal souls being happy or sad, unlike soul mates. Soul mates have to be blissed out for anything to get done on the celestial plane. So my job is to glue soul mates together as fast as possible. I have a few tricks up my sleeve like déjà vu, sexual chemistry, and even dreams. I use all of these to subconsciously align my souls. They really are clueless otherwise.
So, to recap: soul mates can get a little distracted, and if you get landed with a couple of shiny new ones, then soul selecting can become a chore. I had the misfortune of getting a pair just like that not long ago. They were brand new unproven souls, and in my defense, lots of things I had no control over went wrong. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses, but believe me, these two were either very charmed or very cursed. Sometimes the line between the two is wafer thin.
Chapter Two
The United States of America
“Jes-see! Jes-see! Jes-see!”
The chanting bounced off the sports auditorium walls and echoed back so that the crowd sounded ten times bigger than it actually was. About a hundred stalwarts had turned up to support the Gregory High School women’s volleyball team in the state semi finals.
Jesse Colvin prepared to serve what would hopefully be a head-spinning winner. She popped her dimpled trademark grin, threw the ball into the air, and stretched with fluid confidence into full contact. Wham! Her opponents didn’t stand a chance.
“Yes!” Her crow of delight was lost in the howls and foot stomps reverberating around the hall. Jesse and the rest of the Gregory team whooped and hugged and traded high fives. They were through to the next round, and it was all due to their lanky, lucky, charismatic captain.
*
“You were shit fucking hot out there,” Val, the middle blocker, called over.
They were in the locker room and still loudly exuberant.
“Yeah. And I pee lava.” Jesse was droll. She was pleased with the win, but already her mind was on the next game.
“That’s chlamydia,” Val said.
“Hell, I’ll have some if it makes me jump that high.” Others joined in the joke.
“Yeah. Where can we catch it, Jess?”
“Who you been screwing around with?” The real joke being Jess didn’t screw around and everyone knew it.
“You guys have the minds of syphilitic sewer monkeys.” Jess threw her sneakers into the back of her locker.
“Better than having the bladder of one.”
“Tell us about this sewer monkey you’re dating. Is he hot?”
“Lava hot, apparently.”
Jesse laughed at the banter as she stripped down. She was a tall girl. Tall enough to make a difference on the volleyball court. Her body was lean and well toned, not only from the volleyball but also the swim team. She was also in the science and the media clubs. She might be a girl jock, but she was a smart girl jock who loved an academic challenge as much as a sporting one. Her friendship pool was large, mainly because she was happy to hang out with the geeks as well as the freaks. Jesse loved to talk to anyone about anything she found interesting.
“Here comes the Barbie battalion,” Val muttered as the cheerleading squad began to drift in for their afternoon practice. There was not much love lost between the teams. The high spirits in the locker room deflated a little.
“Oh my God, is that aftershave?” A blonde cheerleader flapped her well-manicured hand before her nose. “It stinks in here.”
“I think it’s Old Spice?” one of her friends suggested. “My granddaddy used to wear it.”
“Better than Eau de Ho,” Val snapped back. She never could resist a retort and was always supported by her team.
“Do anabolic steroids have an odor?” Bette Harrison drawled in her easy manner. She dumped her gym bag on the bench directly across from Jesse’s locker. Bette was the cheerleader captain. The general consensus among the cheerleaders was that the volleyball team were all hulking lesbians, while most of Jesse’s teammates thought that the cheerleaders were sluts. Jesse stayed non-committal. Tussles like this didn’t interest her.
“I smell sweaty jockstraps.” Lorrie Regallia, Bette’s best friend, strode in. “Oh, it’s you.” She tried to rile Val and took a locker a few doors down from Bette.
“Well, you oughtta know. You’ve sniffed enough of them.” Val rose like a fat trout.
Jesse dumped her gear into her bag and grabbed her swimwear. She was tired at the way the atmosphere tanked the minute Bette and her cronies appeared. Jesse wasn’t gay herself, and was unconcerned about the predilection of her teammates, though she had her suspicions. Nevertheless, she hated the way Bette wound everyone up, and Lorrie was a loudmouth who never backed down. But there was no point getting into an argument with either of them. It was what it was.
The conversation between the teams burned out as they all changed and went on their way. Jesse got ready for a quick swim, eager to leave the crap behind her and get in the pool. It was her habit to do a few laps after a game. It stretched out her long muscles and calmed her mind. Tonight she’d need a calm mind. The media club was having its AGM that evening. Jesse was outgoing president, and a small election war was being waged over the vacated
seat. The voting would be close with egos and tempers flying high. It was not going to be a fun evening.
She pulled on her swimsuit. Her mind was still on the media club when she happened to glance up; Bette Harrison was watching her slide her swimsuit straps over her shoulders with the oddest look on her face. Jesse quickly checked her front to see what had caught Bette’s eye. Nothing that she could see. When she looked up again, Bette was chatting with Lorrie and ignoring her. Shrugging it off, Jesse moved toward the pool corridor.
“Happy pearl diving out there.”
Jesse didn’t look back. She knew Lorrie’s voice anywhere.
Chapter Three
“Hey, Jesse, need a lift?” Marcie Tate called across the parking lot. They had just left the media club meeting, which had seriously overrun with the predicted tantrums Jesse had feared.
“Yeah, can you give me five minutes? I need to get something from my locker.” Jesse sprinted toward the auditorium. It opened late in the evenings, but it was nearly closing time and she had to hurry.
“Be quick. It’s nearly nine. My mom will flip.” Marcie ducked into her car and started the engine.
Jesse had forgotten her swim goggles. Normally, she wouldn’t have worried, but she might be lucky and they’d still be there. She’d hate to lose them.
“Great.” The goggles still hung from the locker door. She pushed them into her coat pocket and was about to leave when she heard a shower running. Someone was putting in serious overtime.
“Don’t bite.”
The words brought her up short. They were followed by a deep, throaty chuckle. Jesse strained to listen over the splash of water.
“Put your weight on your left leg. I’ll support you.” More giggles followed, and then a deep groan that singed Jesse’s body like a flame racing along her nerve endings. She knew she’d stumbled across something of a sexual nature. Curious, and urged on by the primitive tug in her belly, Jesse quietly moved toward the shower stalls.
The acoustics became louder with the sound of running water and giggling voices bouncing off every tiled surface. Steam hung from the ceiling in a warm, fuggy blanket, so the hot water must have been running for some time. The voices were coming from the cubicle farthest away from the door. Carefully choosing her line of approach, Jesse managed to peer into the stall while the oblique angle gave her maximum cover from its occupants.
Her breath caught. Bette Harrison and Lorrie Regallia were in there together. Both cheerleaders were successful students, both dated football players, both were very popular with the fast crowd. In fact, they were the fast crowd. They were both absolutely gorgeous, and right now, both were entwined in an extremely slippery caress.
Lorrie was on her knees, her face buried in Bette’s crotch. Bette’s right leg was hooked over Lorrie’s shoulder as she clung with one hand to the top of the shower stall for balance. Her other hand was meshed in Lorrie’s wet, dark hair, pulling her closer.
Jesse watched transfixed as Lorrie gorged herself, unsure if she was imagining or actually hearing the sound of her lapping tongue. She could clearly hear the soft moans of Bette swaying above her. Lorrie’s hand cradled Bette’s hip, aiding her balance, and then it slipped away to caress her thigh. Jesse’s eyes widened as Lorrie’s fingers began to delve into the crease already filled by her busy tongue.
A primitive groan escaped Bette, turning Jesse’s belly pangs into a full on sex ache. The blood fled Jesse’s knees and head to simultaneously implode in her groin. She leaned on the tiled wall to keep steady.
Lorrie’s fingers began a forceful pump, and Bette’s cries became more ragged, her hips jerking convulsively against Lorrie’s hand.
“More.” Her voice was breathless, rasping.
Lorrie twisted her hand slightly and resumed her plunging action, her mouth never leaving Bette’s sex.
She’s added another finger. Jesse’s mind was whirling. She was overheated and so turned on she had no other focus but the slithering, saturated bodies. The additional finger seemed to be the charm. Bette became frantic, her vocalization louder and more guttural. Jesse had never known such noises could come out of a woman. It was far from the pornographic mewling she’d seen in the movies.
That’s the sound of real sex. Fuck, it’s so hot. The heat between her legs became a pinching knot. She felt like she would pop. But Bette popped first.
“Gonna…come…” She grunted and ground down hard on Lorrie’s fingers. With a low, deep groan, she suddenly stilled. Lorrie changed from plunging to small, sharp twists, her tongue swirling along the length of Bette’s sex. She obviously knew how to push her over the edge. Bette gave a long wail, and her whole body spasmed with pleasure. Jesse’s skin goose-bumped, and she shivered with emphatic excitement.
“Oh God, that was so good. Come here, baby,” Bette panted. She stroked Lorrie’s face as she smiled up happily from her supine position. Jesse could see the shine of Bette’s sex juices on Lorrie’s cheek and chin, and another shiver ran through her.
Bette turned her head and gazed languidly to where Jesse stood. She was shocked by Bette’s cool stare and ashamed at being caught. Jesse was confused at her compulsion to spy on them in the first place. She stared guiltily at Bette who looked back slyly amused and knowing. Jesse’s face blazed as, shoulder scraping along the wall, she clumsily backed out. When she had retreated far enough, Jesse turned and ran. Lorrie’s laughter rang after her, along with Bette’s lazy adieu. “Have a lovely evening yourself, Jesse.”
Chapter Four
“What’s up? You’re very quiet,” Marcie asked as they drove back to their neighborhood.
“Nothing. Guess I’m just tired.”
“Yeah. It was a bit wild in there.” Marcie was still huffing over the media election. Her candidate had lost.
“Very crazy night,” Jesse murmured. Her thoughts were in a whirl. Visions of soapy thighs and fingers swam uncontrolled through her mind. Her body was flushed and tense, the pulse between her legs throbbed relentlessly, and she was angry she had no control over it. A particularly lascivious flashback of a moaning Bette, head flung back, droplets of water streaming down the tanned column of her throat, drew a groan from Jesse before she realized she’d made a noise.
“You okay?” Marcie looked across at her.
“I’m hungry. Need my dinner,” she lied and was relieved when Marcie nodded in agreement.
*
“You’re very quiet,” her mother said at dinner.
“I’m just tired.”
Jesse rushed her dinner. The Colvin family habit on the weekend was to eat late when everyone was home. They’d sit at the dining table and swap news of everyone’s working week. Tonight Jesse was edgy. She was itching to leave the table and had barely bothered with the details of the volleyball game. What she really wanted to do was hit the shower and crash early. She was still affected by what she had seen and mortified that Bette and Lorrie had caught her spying on them.
Maybe they knew all along? The thought hit her like a brick. Her fork froze mid bite, her eyes bugged. I was set up. They wanted a voyeur.
“What’s wrong with your food?” her father asked.
“Nothing. Something went down…the wrong way, I mean.”
“Not surprised with the way you’re shoveling it in. You’re like a pelican. Take time and chew.”
After filling the dishwasher in double quick time, she bounded upstairs to her room two steps at a time. She pulled off her sweats and jumped straight in the shower. The tepid water felt good against her overheated skin. This was the coolest she’d felt since sprinting from the locker room to Marcie’s car.
She leaned her hands against the tiles and let the water cascade over her head. Finally, in her private little waterfall, she allowed herself the luxury of replaying it all frame by frame. Her nipples puckered under the flow of water as she remembered the sounds of Bette moaning and the rhythmic slap of Lorrie’s fingers. Jesse groaned. She grabbed a towel and dried off roughly the
n threw on an old T-shirt and fell into bed.
Lying on her back, she looked at the ceiling and allowed her feverish dirty thoughts to crowd in. Slowly, she slid her hand across her breast; her nipples hardened and strained through the thin fabric. She ran her fingers around the prominent point and its encircling little bumps. It hardened fractionally more, which surprised her. She brought her other hand to her other breast and caressed the nipple. It also hardened into a tight point. She thought they couldn’t become any harder or ache any more, but her slow stimulation increased both. Her clitoris started to throb in direct response to her nipple play. This was the most active and demanding it had ever been since she had discovered it at age ten. What was going on?
Jesse realized she didn’t know very much about her body, at least not sexually. Sport was another matter; she knew all about her body’s strength and speed and stamina. But she didn’t know what Bette and Lorrie knew about their bodies. Especially what Lorrie knew about Bette’s.
Her hand slipped under the covers and rested on her sex. She cupped herself, enjoying the moist heat building in her palm. She had masturbated plenty of times before, but never with such a prolonged buildup of sexual tension in her body. Normally, she was only interested in a short, sharp release that helped her sleep well afterward. This evening, she was actually curious about this area of her body. She was curious about sensation. She wanted to learn something new about herself. She wanted to understand what had drawn out those almost animal noises from Bette. She wanted to know what Lorrie knew.
It began softly. She stroked the folds of her labia, surprised at how much wetness her caress extracted. Soon the soft flesh became hot and engorged, the folds thickening under her slippery fingertips. She closed her eyes and thought of Lorrie’s fingers dipping into Bette. She would have been swollen like this before Lorrie pushed her fingers all the way in. And then she had pumped Bette like a piston, in and out, while Bette jerked and swayed over her moaning out instructions and calling Lorrie’s name.
Soul Selecta Page 2
