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  “Hi!” said Amber.

  “Good morning!” announced Daren in return.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Daren sighed, “Well, do you remember the last time I was here and I told you about my girlfriend, and I told you that I thought we'd be breaking up?”

  “Vaguely…” Amber lied. Unfortunately, Amber remembered all too well. She remembered everything in her daily life as she had a habit of intensely studying her surroundings and then drawing inferences with a mental note to check later. Those who habitually make inferences of other people without sound evidence are often considered crazy. But Amber wasn't crazy. In her world, Daren was that married guy who made up a sad story of being close to breaking up with his girlfriend. For some strange reason he thought it would entice Amber and open the door for some further, imagined seduction. She knew he would return for more. Why the hell else would Daren be standing at the counter without his purchased jewelry and receipt for a return?

  Daren attempted to refresh Amber's memory. “I got her that love pendant and hoped it would help things. She still has it, but I really don't think it means much to her.”

  Amber remained silent.

  Then Daren sighed. “Look, I know this sounds really weird. But you're the only person I told this to. It's just that you really remind me of my girlfriend, and I think I could use some of your advice. Maybe you would be willing to talk for a few minutes? Did they let you go on morning break yet? I'll treat you to a coffee and pastry over at the cafeteria.”

  Amber smiled and shook her head in disbelief. Then she momentarily glanced at Daren's wedding band while speaking. “I'm sorry, but I don't make it habit in having dates with married men.”

  “Date? I wasn't asking you out on a date. I just thought you could talk with me over a cup of coffee on your break.”

  Again, Amber glanced at Daren's wedding band. “You're married.”

  Daren took hold of his wedding band. “What? This? Does this bother you? Here, let me put this in my pocket for you. See, it doesn't mean anything.” Now, Daren was naked of his wedding band.

  It didn't change things for Amber. “You're still married, Sir. And I think I know the perfect person for you to talk about your girlfriend with. You should tell your wife all about her. See what advice your wife has for you.”

  And with that, Amber turned and walked away; not just to another area of the counter or the cash register, but to some door that led to an off-limits hallway—the back offices or stock room for all Daren knew. The conversation was over and there appeared to be no invitation for further pursuit.

  So beautiful and sexy, causing extreme frustration for a man who cannot have her; do women have any idea as to how cruel they can be?

  * * *

  Alone in all his frustrations, Daren paid a visit to his secret clubhouse; the family mausoleum where the late and murdered Mary Trivelli resided. She had beer for Daren in one of the crypts. And being that it was January, the beer was ice cold.

  Ah, that was better! Halfway through his first beer, Daren convinced himself that all the frustration felt from the woman at the jewelry store would be erased by the end of a second beer. With this thought in mind, he continued to take hearty guzzles.

  The mausoleum was so cold in this time of year. With the iron door closed, Daren hoped that the illuminated sconces affixed to the rear wall would provide some warmth. He had air conditioning installed for the summer months. Maybe heat wouldn't be so bad for winter.

  Really, Daren had no need to be frustrated with Amber. He had Mary Trivelli locked up in one of the crypts. She was all his and going nowhere. Speaking of which; when was the last time Daren had a personal visit with Mary?

  He carefully unlocked and opened the crypt. There rested the oversized Mason jar with Mary Trivelli's beautiful head that floated in the dark, oily liquid. But so sad; the January cold created a layer of ice above Mary. Perhaps her soft, beautiful face had become hardened by the frigid temperature as well. And maybe this is why she appeared so cold and bitter towards Daren as he held the jar so lovingly in his lap.

  Then again, maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe Mary was truly disappointed in Daren for his behavior in recent weeks. He mocked her murder on Christmas Eve while terrifying Mary's granddaughter. He created a nasty scene at the Trivelli Christmas party. And what was this recent interest Daren had in the woman who worked in the jewelry department? Daren had much explaining to do.

  Daren guzzled the remains of his second beer. A wave of sadness suddenly overcame him. “Don't be mad at me. You're the only person who seems to understand me.”

  The fool Daren was; didn't he understand that a friendship required care and consideration from both sides? Did he really believe that his harmful actions could be ignored while continuing to receive love from the deceased Mary Trivelli? Daren hurt her, and gave no reason to believe that he cared of anything important to the late Mary Trivelli.

  Sadly, the world is full of people like Daren. Well, maybe not to his dramatic extent; but sadly, many people go about love and relationships with the mindset of what's-in-it-for-me. In Daren's world, Mary Trivelli was misbehaving, acting as though she forgot life before Daren came around. The magick between them had gone stale, almost like a favorite song that is played too many times. The oversized Mason jar was set back in the crypt. Mary was going nowhere. Daren was the master of this relationship. It would only be a matter of time before she changed her ways and showed more respect towards Daren.

  And then a sickening light bulb flashed in Daren's head. Such a thought required that he crack open a third beer and mull over the possibilities. There were several crypts in that mausoleum. And a simple search online would surely lead to a vendor that could provide oversized mason jars.

  It was a bad idea; a very, very bad idea! Daren quickly locked up Mary Trivelli's crypt and left the mausoleum for the day.

  Chapter 34

  Friendly conversation, good times, plenty of vodka and hypnotic sessions of scrying; there were many reasons why Jim enjoyed the company of Ekaterina Lutrova. And he was secretly growing fond of those mysterious sessions of scrying. With each one he realized himself to be opening up more and more to the woman. Ekaterina was Jim's psychotherapist and rapidly becoming someone to turn to for all sorts of advice. She was more than a psychotherapist. In Jim's understanding, Ekaterina was some sort of gypsy woman or perhaps a witch. She could read right through Jim; read every one of his thoughts from the deepest caverns of the subconscious. That might not have been a good thing, for at some point Ekaterina might not have liked Jim's thoughts at all!

  “You have the gift; I see it.” said Ekaterina one afternoon.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You whispered out to a woman once, and she heard it.”

  “Ekaterina, what are you talking about?”

  “Now there's no reason to lie and pretend around this place. I know you, and I know that you have the gift. You did it once, and this is what started everything.”

  Jim remained motionless and at a loss for words. What on Earth could Ekaterina have been referring to? And what was this mention of “having the gift”.

  “You hurt someone as a result.” continued Ekaterina. “You developed this gift and abused it. And someone ended up getting hurt.”

  Jim sat facing Ekaterina at the kitchen table and slowly shook his head out of confusion.

  “Maybe I should help you remember.” With that, Ekaterina stood up and went over to the cupboard for the recognizable glass bowl to be filled with water. It was time for another moment of scrying; triggered by a peculiar, old, Russian, witchy sort of woman who lived in the forest. Everyone should learn to trust this sort of person and be subjected to hypnotic trances, especially after being fed massive quantities of vodka. Was there ever a time that Jim considered what the old woman was doing to him?

  Stepping away into the bathroom for a moment, Ekaterina returned with the glass bowl filled with water and set it in such a way
that Jim could see the candle flame through the bowl. “Now, I want you to think long and hard. You have the gift. You discovered it many years ago and used it to your advantage.”

  * * *

  Starting off an unintended, lifelong career at the cable company; Jim was a very, young man in 1993—the same age as Amber. In those days, he was nothing more than a sloppy installer who received much harassment from older workers. Jim had the poor reputation of “messing up” installs, drilling unnecessary holes through customers' walls, or being unable to locate the tap to feed a customer's home.

  In those days, if Amber took the time to look out beyond Dickly Mountain one morning; she might have seen Jim drive by in his cable van, on his way to another disastrous install.

  But before Amber was even aware of the Dickly castle; there was a cold, midmorning in December of 1993 when Jim finished two Cable TV installs back in Mapleview. He drove the final stretch of Route 4, nearing the prestigious town of Sillmac. His next work order was to add a second cable outlet. If fortunate enough, the customer's residence would have been prewired for cable, making it possible to simply connect the right cable to the incoming line.

  Jim had broken up with his girlfriend in May, a not-so-wise decision as he now spent many months alone and single. But he didn't care. In the two years of dating Becky, she remained locked at the knees while quoting some unheard-of 1950s catch-phrase, “Necking is for the neck up.” Becky was beautiful and well endowed. Still a virgin, himself, Jim longed to finally touch anything that was naked and below Becky's neck. But she was a proper, old-fashioned girl who maintained strict celibacy before marriage. Aside from that, Becky was becoming increasingly critical of Jim's life. Along with the stressful, new job; his girlfriend was causing much frustration. There were plenty of other girls out there who appeared to flirt and call out for Jim's attention. There was no reason maintain his relationship with Becky.

  But as Jim would soon find out, life doesn't work that way. From the moment he broke up with Becky, Jim lost that magick, the “pixie dust” that is sprinkled over an “owned” man. For some reason, young ladies throw themselves at a guy who is seriously involved with his girlfriend. But once he is single, they scatter and run like mice; hide away in holes and under rocks. Every person must endure that period of time in life of being single and unlucky in love. But on this morning, Jim's luck would change—at least for a brief moment.

  Sillmac has a large collection of lonely, unhappy housewives who must endure an overworked husband that is often away on business. This was certainly the type of woman who brightly smiled and greeted Jim on his midmorning install. “Hi, I'm Julie! Come in!” Was her hair simply ultra-light blond, or had age transformed Julie's hair white? To this very day, Jim can't remember. But Julie was definitely an older woman, appearing to be in her early 50s; but still very, much attractive.

  Jim returned the greeting. “Good morning; Mapleview Cable. I've got a work order for an additional outlet.”

  Julie didn't care about the install at that moment. “Yes, and I didn't catch your name.”

  “Jim…”

  Julie took hold of Jim's hand and slowly shook while drawing her face near. “Very nice to meet you, Jim. Why don't you take your coat off and stay a while?” Her eyes burned into Jim's. There was something that radiated and beckoned from the woman, but Jim was too young to understand.

  He hesitated and removed his coat. Underneath, Jim's tool belt was strapped to his waist.

  “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

  “No thank you ma'am. Why don't we get started on that additional outlet?”

  “Oh please, call me Julie.” She led Jim up the stairs and into her master bedroom. “My husband's away on business, as usual. I figured maybe having cable fed into my outlet might keep me company.“

  Jim looked near the area of the TV and could see that a cable outlet was conveniently mounted to the wall. This meant that the house was prewired for cable. But was it of the right quality? Sometimes construction crews used cheap cable that only caused poor picture quality. It was part of Jim's job to inspect the pre-wiring if opting to use it.

  He informed the customer, “Well, I can see your house is prewired. Let me just double check if it's the right thickness.”

  Julie was excited, “The right thickness? Prewired? What do you mean?” She firmly took hold of Jim's arm. “Tell me, exactly, what you're about to do.“

  “Well, whoever built your house already ran cable through the walls. I know this because I can see an outlet near the TV. But I have to make sure it's the right type of cable.”

  Julie interrupted, “How are you going to do that?”

  “I'm going to take the cover off and look underneath.”

  Again, Julie became excited. “You're going to take it off?“

  “Yes, just to see if it's okay to use.”

  Soon, Jim knelt down near the wall and Julie was sure to join him. She watched carefully as Jim reached for his tool belt and pulled out a screwdriver. After both screws had been removed, Julie moved her face close to Jim's and seductively asked, “So you're going take it off and see what's underneath?”

  But Jim was too involved in his work to hear what Julie was saying. “Yeah…”

  Jim pulled the cover off, but discovered that there was no cable underneath! Such a disappointment. Now he would have to spend a good hour running cable through the house.

  But Julie had some additional news for Jim. “In the attic is some coiled up cable that I think the builder never dropped down the wall. Is that what you're looking for?”

  It was promising news for Jim. Julie pulled down the attic ladder in the hallway so Jim could go up, check out the cable and hopefully drop it down the interior of the wall. And sure enough, it appeared that every room had coiled up cables that waited to be fed between the drywall. There was even a hole drilled through the top of the 2x4 frame obviously intended for the cable. Jim fed the cable through Julie's wall and then returned to the outlet. Now he could connect it to the plate and fasten it back to the wall.

  But what about the main, incoming cable? Surely all those upstairs lines led to a common place. “Okay; now I need to know where your cable comes in at.”

  Julie smirked, “Downstairs, of course. Isn't that were cable is fed, from downstairs?” She nearly winked.

  Suddenly, a light went on for Jim. Was Julie hitting on him? He wasn't sure how to react to her behavior or answer to the subliminal references to sex. Instead, he reached into the tool belt and pulled out two small, electronic devices. This is a toner. I'll put this on your outlet, and we'll sniff out the line downstairs.“

  Julie sighed, “Oh, it sounds exciting. Let's go into the basement and sniff out that line.”

  Walking from behind provided Jim a chance to check out Julie's body. There is something appealing of a woman Julie's age who has a thick, robust and curvy body. It maintains smooth and youthful skin along with attractive hips and luscious bottom. Julie wore a pair of light, denim jeans and a thick white t-shirt. It soon became apparent to Jim that there was no outline of a bra strap beneath the t-shirt. Nearing the basement, Jim couldn't wait to face Julie again and sneak a peak of her chest.

  Julie walked over to where the circuit breaker was mounted along with a collection of coiled cables that were draped down the wall. “Okay, here's where all the cables are.”

  Julie's white t-shirt was thick so that nothing could be seen underneath. But a closer look revealed that she had a mammoth pair of breasts withheld only by the shirt that was worn. Why did Jim miss this before? What was wrong with him? A gorgeous, curvy, older woman with large breasts was throwing herself at Jim. But still a virgin and lacking confidence, he was unsure of how to answer Julie's call.

  Instead, he reached for the receiver match of the toner, took hold of a cable and connected it. The receiver made a loud squeal, indicating that the right cable had been found.

  Julie was impressed. “Did that no
ise mean you found the right one?”

  “Yeah…”

  “You did it on the first try?”

  “Yeah…”

  Then Julie's face drew close to Jim's as she seductively whispered, “Maybe you just got lucky.”

  How Jim wished he knew how to get lucky with Julie! She seemed to find every opportunity to drop innuendo and suggest that if Jim took a chance, he could have her. But instead, he simply connected the bedroom cable to the TV, verified clear picture quality, and ended his midmorning job at Julie's house.

  * * *

  Still living at home with Mother and Father, Jim retired that night around 10:30. Although he had forgotten about Julie by lunch; a burning desire returned in those hours between dinner and bedtime. There was only one solution for the lonely, twenty-two-year-old virgin. With his bedroom door closed and the lights out, Jim crept into the closet and removed his dirty, secret toy from behind a collection of old books. It was purchased one weekend at the adult entertainment store, and was to be used to practice for that magickal first time.

  As was often the case, Jim secured the thing by wedging it between two pillows. It isn't necessary to describe how the session was started. All Jim knew was that the darkness enabled him to close his eyes and return to Julie's basement.

  “Maybe you just got lucky.”

  Jim immediately kissed Julie's warm and inviting lips; her silky tongue soon united with his. He lifted her t-shirt and finally exposed those gorgeous, mammoth breasts. Like a starved animal he frantically kissed them, not sure of which one to attack next.

  Back in his own bedroom, Jim lay straddled on top of the pillows with the thing being the only pleasurable connection to Julie. But with his eyes closed Jim lay in Julie's bed; kissing, caressing and deeply penetrating her. It wasn't enough to simply discharge those desires and feelings in a brief moment of privacy. No; Jim had become skilled at controlling himself so that he could nearly exist in some fantasy that was made possible by orgasmic-altered-consciousness.