Show Me the Danger: The Past Life - Book 2

by Utt, Kelly

  We’re in a bedroom, high off the ground in some sort of really nice home. It might even be a palace. It’s daytime, and the sun is shining brightly outside. Ali is leaning up against a windowsill looking out to a view of the sparkling blue-green sea in the distance below. Her hair is darker than it is in this life. It’s the same rich brown color I remember from my first Greece memory, experienced in Dr. Epstein’s hypnotherapy room. I can again feel my more muscular Greek physique, my body rippling and tensing and I push myself into my love. Her gown is bunched up around her midsection, so I don’t get a view of her entire body. It’s familiar to me though. I know it like I know my own, on a visceral level. Her arms and neck are exposed, along with her round buttocks. Her insides are tighter, more youthful. She’s grabbing and pulling me from the inside as I heave. It feels amazing. I open my eyes in the present to make sure Ali is still enjoying herself in the present. She’s bouncing rhythmically and moaning softly with pleasure. I close my eyes to continue in Greece.

  I think this memory is before she was pregnant. It’s certainly before she and baby Ethan were sent outside of the city and banished. I get the feeling we’re sneaking around by being here together. I’m not sure who we’re sneaking around from, but I think they’re elders of some type. Parents, maybe. It feels like Ali and I don’t quite realize the stakes. We feel young and carefree. We don’t have any idea the fate that ultimately befalls us for conceiving a child together. We’re simply having fun and enjoying each other.

  Suddenly, I feel a delicate arm wrap around me from behind. I recognize it, but can’t place its owner yet. It’s another female. She slowly strokes my chest and lowers her hand down to the top of my groin as I continue to move in and out of Ali. It’s another lover. In a wave of knowing, I understand that Ali and I both know and occasionally choose to share our lovemaking with someone else. I feel confused as my present-day mind works to make sense of the situation. At the same time, in my memory, my Greek self is at ease and enjoying the moment. Our plus-one slides around the side of me seductively, dropping her white gown to the floor. It piles in a heap around her feet. She steps out of it slowly.

  She’s almost exactly the same height as Ali and has a similar build. She’s gorgeous. My manhood swells as I look at her and remember what she feels like. Her breasts are larger than Ali’s. They’re plump and voluptuous. Her nipples are larger than Ali’s, too. She looks somehow more exotic. Not better than Ali, that’s for sure. But just, different. Different is sexy. She maintains eye contact with me as she squats to the floor below Ali and takes one of my love’s nipples into her mouth. She’s asking my permission. I nod, giving it. In another smooth motion, she raises a hand to caress Ali’s throbbing rosebud to further stimulate her as I pump from behind. This young woman’s hair is long, dark brown. It’s almost black. It glistens against her olive skin in the sun. Her eyes are dark brown like her hair, and they’re mesmerizing. I look into them and… oh, my God… I recognize her. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it to myself. It’s… Isabel Madera.

  I try to tell myself to stop this memory. But it feels so good. I’m not sure I could stop it if I tried. My Greek body moves its hands around the top of Ali’s back so that Isabel can gain easy access from below, and my present-day hands move to exactly the same place. My memory seems in perfect sync with what my current body is doing. Isabel stands, weaving her nakedness under Ali’s so that her back is against the windowsill and her luscious, long, dark hair floats out and into the wind. She keeps one hand between Ali’s legs as the three of us feel the throbbing and slippery wetness together. Ali mews with pleasure. She kisses Isabel deeply on the mouth, then takes one of her own hands off the windowsill and rubs her fingers artfully inside Isabel’s folds. Isabel moans loudly, alternately tensing and stretching her athletic body as she submits herself to the experience. I continue to thrust, enjoying the view of these two lovely ladies making each other squirm and moan. I love Ali so very much. I want her to feel good. And Isabel is making her feel good. I let myself enjoy the experience. I try not to censor it.

  As Isabel’s level of arousal continues to increase, she scurries up and onto the windowsill where she spreads her legs open wide. She and Ali kiss once more, then Ali traces her lips slowly down Isabel’s body, stopping only to bury her mouth into Isabel’s wetness. I don’t see anyone walking around outside, but the thrill of the possibility adds to the heightened level of excitement we share. Isabel grabs at her own nipples, tugging and pulling them as she moves her head from side to side with her eyes closed. She’s too immersed in the sexual act to open them. Ali licks harder and buries her face deeper while I push more forcefully to keep up. We continue like this, rubbing and licking and thrusting, until, at once, we climax together in a synchronized chorus of guttural moans and grunts. I feel the power of the release from my Greek body. The virality of my youth and level of fitness make for an intense explosion. It sends echoes throughout my entire being. The memory and the present-day feeling of my beautiful wife in my hands and around my manhood make me climax in the here and now just as hard. I lean against her and deposit every drop left in my system as she responds with delight. I open my eyes in our Lake Tahoe bedroom as Ali turns to me and smiles lovingly. What a ride.

  Once I’m finished and have taken a minute to regain my composure, I slide out of my wife and sit down on the bed nearby. The memory leaves me. But it doesn’t feel far away. Ali stands, then walks over and sits down beside me. I put one arm around her as she leans into me.

  “What was going on with you just then, Georgie?” she asks. “You seemed like you were in another world.”

  Since I haven’t told her about my Greece memories yet, I certainly can’t start with this one. I need time to make sense of it myself. I won’t lie to her. I’ll have to say what is true without going into the gritty details.

  “I was enjoying you,” I say. “You have always made me wild with desire. For as long as I can remember.”

  “I know,” she says. “But you were pumping even harder and faster than usual.”

  “Was I, really?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she replies. “It felt good though. I like seeing you enjoy yourself.”

  “Oh, I definitely enjoyed myself,” I say. “No doubt about that.”

  We sit together quietly for a few minutes, naked, exhilarated, and looking out at the blue lake.

  I’m taken aback by the way the Ancient Greece memories are making their way into my everyday life. It felt somewhat safer when I thought I had to go to Dr. Epstein’s office to experience them in hypnotherapy. Not that I feel unsafe now. The memories feel natural. Like they were always in there. But, I guess this way, I’ll be forced to deal with them whether I want to or not. I suspect the memories will complicate things. They already are complicating things, now that I remember Isabel that way.

  I was right about knowing her from somewhere. Ali and I have never felt a shared attraction to someone like we feel for Isabel. Now I understand why. I wonder if Isabel is attracted to us in the same way. She probably is. She probably feels it from us. I have no idea how the hell we’re supposed to sort all of that out. It’s not the type of thing that can simply be ignored.

  “I love you, Alessandra,” I whisper. “You know that, right?”

  “Of course, I do, Georgie,” she replies. “We have a grand love for the ages. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “Agreed,” I say. “This is the best of the best right here. Nothing and no one is more important to me than you.”

  She raises her head up and looks me straight in the eye, curiously. I look right back. I want to be an open book. I will be. I need to figure out how to tell her all of this though. And when. I vow to do it on this trip. It needs to happen soon. When she’s satisfied, she lowers her head back down and gives me a quick hug. I hug her back and say a silent prayer of thanks to whatever force brought us back together again. We belong together. For the ages.

  “Well then,” my wife says
with a chuckle, kissing my cheek and slapping one hand on my thigh. “We should really get out there to help our family unpack and get settled. We’ve been gone quite a while now, what with your insatiable sexual appetite.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say.

  “Come on,” she instructs. “Get dressed. And try to make it look like we weren’t up to anything.”

  “They’ll know,” I say. “You’ll have to deal with that, babe. We’re grown and in love. It would be strange if we didn’t have any sex.”

  Ali’s clothes go back on as quickly as they came off. Her bra and blouse slide on easily over her head. Her skirt takes a little more time to straighten, but she looks put together again in no time. I’m buckling my belt when we hear a tentative knock on the door.

  “George? Ali?” Liam says.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” I call out.

  “Your mom phoned,” he answers. “She’s been trying to reach you but thinks your ringers must still be on silent mode since the flight. Something has happened. When you’re ready, come on out and sit down so I can tell you about it.”

  7

  The Protectors

  The water looks just as blue in the living room as Ali and I sit on the leather sofa and wait to hear what news the others have to tell us. Somehow though, the sun doesn’t seem as bright. The fatigue from traveling and the time change are catching up to me. The stress of remembering Isabel that way is making me feel a little out of sorts as well. Most of all though, I’m anxious to hear what has happened. I quickly count our people. Liam, Roddy, and Marjorie are all here safe.

  “The boys?” I ask as I reposition myself to get comfortable.

  “They’re in the next room,” Marjorie says. “We got all of their things out of the van and have them set up in the bedroom with bunk beds. Little Will’s portable crib is up and he’s napping now. Ethan and Leo are playing with some little cars out of their toy bag, making believe the top of a wooden coffee table is a racetrack.”

  “No worries, George,” Roddy adds. “We’ve got them.”

  “Okay,” Ali says. “Then tell us what’s going on. You talked to Linette?”

  My mind turns, considering the likelihood of various possibilities as to what the news could be. It must be something about our house. Maybe we didn’t arm the security system correctly before we left.

  “I did, yes,” Liam says.

  “And?” I ask.

  My uncle takes a deep breath and crosses his hands tightly together before he begins.

  “Someone broke into your mom’s house this morning,” he says, reluctantly.

  “Oh, no,” Ali says, raising one hand to cover her mouth.

  “What?” I ask, trying to process the information.

  I’ve been so worried about keeping Ali and the boys safe. I didn’t even think about there being any danger to Mom.

  “She’s okay,” Roddy adds. “She wasn’t home when it happened.”

  “Right,” Liam says.

  “You could have led with that,” I say, a little annoyed.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Liam says.

  I quickly reconsider my words. I don’t want to talk to my uncle like that.

  “I’m sorry, Liam,” I say. “I didn’t mean…”

  “No need,” he replies.

  I don’t go further. I know he understands.

  “Where is she now?” Ali asks.

  “She’s back at her house,” Liam explains. “She called Duke right away, and he sent a team to sweep the place. Everything checked out okay. He has an officer stationed outside to keep watch.”

  “Okay,” Ali says. “That’s good. I need to call Jenny after we talk to Linette. Maybe she can fill me in on some details.”

  “How did Mom know someone had been there?” I ask.

  “The back door was left ajar,” Liam explains. “She can’t identify anything that was stolen, which is definitely odd. Her jewelry and safe were untouched.”

  “That’s strange,” Ali says. “Really strange.”

  “I know,” Marjorie says. “I’m sure there’s more to this.”

  “You think?” I ask.

  “Seems that way,” Marjorie says.

  I feel like a failure. I should have made sure that Mom’s house had the same security system and monitoring ours did. I knew she’d balk at the suggestion, but I feel like it’s my job to keep her safe, too. I should have made sure it was taken care of. The fact that she’s lived in Ithaca for so long in that same little stone house without incident gave me a false sense of security.

  “I should have set her up with security,” I say quietly. “I messed up.”

  “Don’t think like that, George,” Roddy asserts.

  “Yeah, buddy,” Liam adds. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m just as responsible for watching out for your mom as you are. I’m feeling bad right now myself. What would my brother think if he knew I left her vulnerable?”

  “Liam, man,” Roddy says. “You shouldn’t think like that either. You two are very good to her. You had no reason to think she’d be the target of a break-in.”

  “Wait,” I say. “How does Mom know someone was in the house? Maybe she left the door ajar by accident and the wind blew it open.”

  “I admit, the same thing crossed my mind,” Liam says. “I didn’t mention it to Linette though. I wouldn’t want her to think we don’t believe her. I’ll assume that if she thinks someone was in the house, they were.”

  “Her mind is good, as far as I know,” I add. “She hasn’t been herself since John Wendell died, but I don’t see any indication of her mental faculties being compromised. We just saw her yesterday. She seemed fine, right?”

  “I agree,” Liam answers. “She seemed fine. Her mind was as clear and sharp as ever. Besides, she’s not all that old.”

  “Did the police dust the place for prints?” Roddy asks.

  “That, I don’t know,” Liam answers. “I wondered about it as well.”

  “It sounds like we need to talk to Duke,” I say. “But let’s start with Mom.”

  I stand and get my smartphone out of my pocket to dial her number.

  “Good. She’ll be glad to hear from you,” Liam adds.

  Ali stands beside me and places one hand on my shoulder as I wait for the call to connect. Mom picks up on the first ring. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to hear her voice. Our conversation is brief, but we cover all the essentials. She assures me she’s okay, and that she feels safe in her home.

  She explains how she walked in the front door with bags of groceries and immediately felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She says she knew someone had been there before she saw the back door open. Mom isn’t exactly the most intuitive person. Certainly not like Marjorie. When she says she knew something like that instantly, I take it very seriously. I believe her. I run through a list of valuables the intruder might have taken, and one by one, Mom confirms that she’s checked on them and everything remains in place and intact. I ask why she thinks someone would break into her house and not take anything. She doesn’t have a good answer. Neither do I. I suggest that she consider staying overnight somewhere else out of an abundance of caution, but she won’t hear of it. She insists she won’t be run out of her own home because someone came inside then left the back door open when they exited. She says that for all we know it could have been a neighborhood kid with more guts than brains looking for cash or cigarettes. She says we can’t assume that the threat is serious. I beg to differ. I’d rather assume it’s very serious until we can confirm otherwise.

  We hang up after she promises to keep me closely posted. I sit back down on the leather couch and share with the others what Mom and I just talked about. I try to call Duke, but he doesn’t pick up. It’s still the middle of the workday on Eastern time. He may be tied up in something and not able to answer. I leave him a voicemail with a request to call me back as soon as possible.

  “What do you make of this, George?” Roddy asks.

>   I lean forward, placing one elbow on my knee and rubbing my temples with my thumb and forefinger as I answer.

  “I wish I knew what to make of it,” I reply. “I’m rattled, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah,” he confirms. “So, what?”

  I wonder why Roddy is prodding at me like this. It feels like this morning, when I told him about mine and Ethan’s shared dream. He’s not rude or unsupportive, but I get the idea he wants me to be more decisive. I used to be more decisive, back before January when my entire world changed. These days, I endeavor to be decisive. It’s important that I make decisions to keep my family safe. But it’s hard. I’m impressed by Mom’s strength and resolve to not let someone else’s actions plunge her into an existence defined by fear. It’s the same way Ali has told me repeatedly over the past six months that we can’t let fear rule our lives. I’m lucky to be surrounded by such strong women.

  When I was in high school, Mom and I had a black and white cocker spaniel named Biscuit. Grandma had given her to us not long after Dad died, when we had just moved from Brooklyn to Ithaca. Having a puppy to hold and nurture gave Mom and me an anchor. She was a furry bundle of life, which we sorely needed as we nursed ourselves back to some semblance of normal after the shock of Dad’s untimely death. Seeing her pretty, black and white little body curled up near us and her sweet, loving eyes looking back at us with unconditional love was enough to make Mom and I feel like we weren’t all alone in the world. I imagine that’s what Grandma had in mind when she picked her out as a pup. That dog is still one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.