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Archive-name: Fantasy/karene3.txt

Archive-author: Jim and Meg Norris

Archive-title: Karen Eliot's Excellent Adventures # 3





                         January 7, 1991



The autumn rainstorm in Arkham was the chill drizzle in Boston 

that delayed Karen's connection to Atlanta for hours.

     In her faded Levis and a light blue tee, Karen Eliot was 

hardly outstanding among the business women rushing to and fro in 

the passenger concourse; at least in terms of wardrobe.  Her 

bright green eyes and flaming locks were enchanting.  With no 

makeup but lip gloss, her gentle beauty radiated warmth.

     Within moments of finishing the action/adventure novel Karen 

felt the creep of incipient boredom.  Tired also of endlessly 

listening to the ten cassettes that she carried, she clicked the 

walkman off.

     Karen slipped her paperback and walkman into her backpack.  

Noting that the departure board still announced delay, she set out 

for the lounge.

     Not particularly interested in rebuffing pickups, Karen 

steered for a table where several women drank boisterously.  She 

fit right in with the Marines who were swapping stories.  Karen 

loved their "There I was..." yarns.  She drank several rounds with 

the service bitches before her turn to regale them with wicked 

tales of bobbing and weaving as a consultant.  Karen sported a 

nice glow when her flight was announced.  She quickly swapped 

sounds with the corporals before heading for her plane.

     The boarding crew apologized for the lousy weather that 

prevailed along the eastern seaboard.  They didn't apologize for 

the sardine-can conditions in the little airliner.  Apparently 

most of Karen's ninety-some fellow passengers suffered from 

advanced B.O.  Disembarking in Atlanta occurred not a moment too 

soon.

     Although she'd missed the flight to Los Angeles, her mixed 

luck held.  She was accommodated on another L.A. flight that had 

been delayed by a squall line.

     Karen sat at a midships port-side window in the TriStar.  The 

air conditioning, which was effective for nearly four hundred 

sweating bodies, overwhelmed the mere handful of travelers seated 

within Karen's sight.

     Karen set her chess computer aside, marveling that the 

manufacturer had the guts to rate it at 2100.  Diversions finally 

exhausted, she prepared to consider her pressing problems.

Pretending to sleep would keep her meditation undisturbed while 

the music on the tape rolled.

     She fumed at the gall of the advisory committee.  She would 

not be allowed to complete her grad work at Miskatonic University 

if she elected to take leave and study under a shaman.  The head 

battle-axe raised the specter of full employment for ghostbusters. 

To add insult to injury, they pointedly suggested that she work 

out her conflicted loyalties during Halloween break.

     Her coven, which had arranged her acceptance at Miskatonic U, 

expected her to complete her studies there.  Even so, she wondered 

if the High Priestess would support her thesis on eigenstate 

measurement/selection.  Karen didn't want to kindle the arguments 

between the old wicca and the young reality hackers.

     Drew Blood, her working partner, and she were to take on 

another layer of interface metaphor.  The first layer, which 

supported her status as an adept, had been installed under 

hypnosis years earlier.  The manual documented the keyphrase 

'will, skill, tools' which defined and invoked the effect. Karen's 

only upgrade, 'improvise, adapt, overcome', was barely a year old.  

>From her reading of the manual on the new upgrade, 'simplicity, 

sincerity, serenity', Karen wondered if a serious mistake had been 

made.  The documentation had no information relating to how the 

upgrade would be personally useful.  Although the coven approved 

the change of emphasis from individual goals to universal goals, 

Karen bristled.  Her upcoming Samhain initiation, dependent on the 

new upgrade, seemed to emphasize commitment and service.

     Karen had met Mark Featherstone while doing field work in 

southern New Mexico.  They were both collecting mescal, but for 

different reasons.  Featherstone proved expert at locating and 

identifying many specimens of the spineless globe-shaped cactus 

for her.  Karen found that his suggestions about which buttonlike 

tubercles to collect were based on extensive pharmacologic 

scholarship.  Although the white woman and Amerind shaman were 

worlds apart, a mutual respect developed and matured over the 

years.  As the only person that she knew outside the Miskatonic 

clique with parallel knowledge, his perspective was important to 

Karen.  His offer to clarify some baffling aspects of her studies 

was uncharacteristily forthcoming and invaluable.

     Karen slept through dinner service.  She felt the landing 

gear drop and was fully awakened by the flap extention during the 

final approach over Inglewood.



Drew Blood listened to the interminable recording about the white 

zone as he waited curb-side at the terminal.  The sidelong glances 

from the parking patrol didn't bother Drew; he knew Karen as a 

prudent air traveler.  He counted on her practice of toting only 

carry-on luggage.

     Karen brightened when she saw Drew waiting for her in the 

ugly beige heartbeat of America.  Although she ascribed his 

phenomenol ability to meet her to his precise divination, a simple 

telephone call to the airline sufficed on this occassion.

     Following a warm hug and a quick kiss, Drew swung into 

traffic.  He had avoided eating to have dinner with Karen.  When 

the subject came up, he was prepared, "Beef fajitas with jalapeno 

cornbread or Tom Yum Goong?"   Without hesitation, Karen proposed 

the hot and sour shrimp soup.  The marvelous combination of tender 

shrimp floating in a rich broth, liberally spiced with chillies 

and tangy with lemon grass, lime juice and citrus leaves was 

Karen's favorite, as Drew well knew.

     Drew showed Karen around the walkup above the misnamed five-

and-dime which was only minutes from the airport.  "It's mostly an 

excuse for the BBS", he admitted.  Sitting on the top shelf in a 

closet was a computer, a hard disk, and two modems.  Karen noted 

the lack of a monitor and keyboard, assuming that Drew used a 

laptop on one of the serial ports to do his sysop thing.  The 

remainder of the closet was stuffed with earthquake supplies.

     The motion sensors and the demon dialer enhanced the 

functional, yet unlived-in quality common to safe houses.

     Karen relaxed in the small living room following Drew's tour 

of the flat.  The expectant look on her face prompted Drew to 

proffer the package that he'd picked up on his way to the airport.  

Karen opened the pharmacy sack and extracted the bronchial 

inhaler.  The asthma prescription appeared genuine, but she knew 

better.  The mouthpiece in place, Karen pressed the canister into 

the base.  She inhaled deeply as the fine spray was discharged.  

Karen's initial suspicion that she hadn't gotten a hit was 

dispelled by a coughing fit.  Drew declined her motioned offer.  

Thoroughly stoned, Karen rested the inhaler on the empty coffee 

table.

     Unwilling to succumb to lethargy, Karen arose and made for 

the kitchen.  Drew had all the materials on hand for either meal, 

even the seemingly hard-to-find fresh lemon grass.  The sixers of 

Singha and Dosxx in the fridge brightened Karen further.  They 

quickly agreed on the division of labor and began preparing 

dinner.

     Drew juiced two small limes as Karen laid out vegetables from 

the crisper.  She cut zest from the rind when he was through.  

Waiting for her to open up about their predicament, he heated a 

small amount of oil in a saucepan.

     "It's an issue of choice to me", Karen began.  Drew accepted 

the emphasis she applied, chopping lemon grass to one inch 

lengths.  "How somebody else could know what's best for me boggles 

my mind.  To coerce me into obedience is one thing, but the most 

unkind cut of all is to be expected to agree and like it."

     Drew dropped shrimp shells into the hot oil, watching for 

them to turn pink, listening to Karen continue.  "Who should 

determine what I learn?", she asked while vigorously chopping 

several green onions.  "Me!", she concluded, looking to Drew who 

was slivering green and red chillies.

     "You accepted their role in your development", Drew reminded 

her as he stirred the mixture of chicken stock, salt, lemon grass, 

citrus leaves, lime rind, and green chillies in the saucepan.  

"Their guidance has been good.  Perhaps the older, wiser heads do 

have a good reason", he suggested.

     Karen watched Drew cover and set the saucepan to simmer after 

bringing it to a boil.  "If they do have a good reason, and it's 

wrong for me, it's no skin off their asses", she observed.

     "Where else are you going to study the _Necronomicon_?".

     "I don't know Drew, but I draw the line at dogmatic 

conformity.  'What is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good - need 

we ask anyone to tell us these things", Karen quoted.  "Excuse me. 

I'm going to get a shower".

     After luxuriating under the hot fingers of the shower 

massage, Karen rejoined Drew, who was busy straining the soup 

through a sieve.  "What about you Drew", she asked, approaching 

him.  "What do you want to do?"

     Drew returned the mix to the saucepan and brought it to a 

boil.  "My path is not dictated by another, nor is it dependent", 

he said as he added the shrimp and cooked them for several minutes 

in the stock.  "The university administration suffers from an 

inherent flaw of Authority: 'The company takes what the company 

wants and nothing's as precious as a hole in the ground'.  This 

isn't even personal.  It's just rules."

     After reducing the heat, Drew added fish sauce and lime juice 

to the simmering soup.  He stirred it and immediately removed it 

from the heat.  "Our thesis is a collaboration", Karen reminded 

him.  "What'll you do?", she asked as Drew retrieved their beers 

from the fridge.

     Karen poured the soup in a tureen.  Drew sprinkled it with 

red chillies, coriander leaves, and green onions as he replied.  

"I've held back some work on multidimensionality.  Maybe that and 

some fresh ideas on chaos.  Perhaps the attenuation of magic.  I'm 

not sure, but it's not a problem.  I wonder if the University of 

California has room for a magician in its Interrelation of 

Conceptual Structures program?"

     Karen carried the tureen to the table, serving the soup 

piping hot.  Drew lit the candle and they seated themselves.  By 

long convention the two observed a companionable silence as they 

dined.

     After dinner Drew revealed the dessert that he'd gotten while 

at the Thai market.  Sticky rice, coconut milk, and banana strips 

were wrapped within banana leaves.  Instead of steaming the 

delights, Drew 'waved them while he and Karen carried the dishes 

from the small dining area to the sink.

     Drew considered how to breach the subject of the impending 

upgrade to their interface metaphors as the fragrant Khaw Tom Pud 

cooled.  Karen had benefited greatly from personal control of her 

cognitive faculties as if they were software.  She was naturally 

reluctant to share that control; even with the people who had made 

it possible.

     "Are you ready for the shrink shop?" asked Drew jocularly.  

He wasn't fond of the unbecoming appelation for the wetware techs, 

but aimed to draw Karen out.

     "No.  I'm really uncertain about it.  It doesn't sound like 

such a good idea to me."

     "What's the hangup?"

     "Their hands on my reins."

     "Does loyalty influence you?  Have they given you reason for 

mistrust?"   

     Karen quoted Thomas Paine.  "Let them call me rebel and 

welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the 

misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul..." 

     "It's not like you haven't been through this before."

     "Can we be sure that after this upgrade we'll be inclined 

toward the same selfish perspective in considering future 

upgrades?"

     "Have you considered favorable aspects?"  Drew asked.

     "Frankly, no.  Maybe Madge and Tar can fill that area in."

     Drew dropped the subject and concentrated on washing the 

dishes and tidying the kitchen while Karen got stoned and watched 

headline news.

     Karen and Drew, according to a fond habit, read in bed until 

sleepy.  Drew set his engineering manual aside in mere minutes.  

He rested undisturbed as Karen turned and twisted her way through 

the thriller that gripped her attention.

     Karen dropped the novel to the floor and extinguished the dim 

headboard lamp.  She spooned in behind Drew, pressing herself into 

him and resting her head on the pillow beside his.  She shared his 

warmth, feeling his slow and even breathing beside her.

     Unable to find sleep through ordinary methods, Karen let 

herself drift, recalling among other things her association with 

Drew.

     She and Drew had first crossed paths in their final year of 

high school.  In a case that had elicited support from the ACLU, 

the school administration had suppressed a news story in the 

school newspaper.  Karen's investigation of corruption in an 

alderman's office was explosive.  Her story was backed up by 

Drew's second-story work which gained solid evidence.  The cabal 

didn't care that the school won; it exploited the opportunity by 

awarding Karen and Drew college scholarships.

     The cabal extended a Segretti Fellowship to Drew for altering 

the circuitry of E-Meters at the Church of Scientology during 

black-bag snoops.  His discoveries in the Guardian's Office had 

been the springboard to Karen's research into the methods utilized 

to penetrate and manipulate the FBI.  Karen found the large cash 

payment for that particular report to be very useful.

     Karen's reminiscences turned to the Pirate Fucking Radio 

project. The cabal had needed volume cost reductions on zeppelin 

production.  Drew presented the proposal and Karen presented the 

plan.  Fidel Castro jumped at the chance to broadcast The Voice of 

Jose Marti into the American west coast radio/television market.  

The cost of replacing the unmanned broadcast zeppelins which were 

destroyed by federal forces was well below revenues.  Lack of 

regulation and taxes did the rest.  Drew and Karen had received 

credit for recouping in spades the autonomous aircraft's 

development cost.



Karen slipped lightly from bed and shouldered her backpack which 

she always kept bedside.  She adjourned to living room where she 

could consult her cards.

     Karen spread a large silk scarf on the floor and sat cross-

legged before it.  She first selected the Major Arcana from her 

Wonderland tarot deck.  She set the remaining cards aside on the 

scarf.

     Images and bits of her concern floated and whirled without 

direction as she shuffled the twenty-two trumps.

     She laid out ten cards in a standard cross pattern and sat 

for several minutes considering the meanings conveyed by the 

reading.

     The Fool, in the position to indicate forthcoming influences, 

was the image of a spirit totally free, courageously leaping into 

some new phase of life.  Death, placed to indicate her present 

situation, signified a time of change.  The Sun, as a final 

outcome, described happiness and a great sense of the beauty of 

life.  Karen took these cards to mean that the successful 

transition, far from being in question, was in progress.

     The Hermit, positioned to indicate her previous influences, 

bespoke her recent withdrawal for intense study.  The High 

Priestess, in a position to reveal how other people viewed Karen, 

showed that they accepted her inner wisdom and strong intuition.  

The Hanged Man, as a measure of her hopes and fears, addressed 

Karen's antipathy to loosing her educational investment.  Karen 

accepted these cards as confirming the context of her inquiry.

     The Magician, describing what Karen was experiencing,  

illustrated the creator in the act of creation, and additionally 

a shaman or shamanism.  The Devil, positioned to indicate the 

obstacles that crossed the Magician, adequately described Karen's 

feeling of being chained to controlling obsessions.  Together, 

these cards defined the conflict for Karen.

     The Hierophant, in position to indicate what was really 

behind the surface situation, represented education in general, 

and her own inner sense of direction.

     The Empress, positioned to express what was in plain sight, 

puzzled Karen.  The usual meaning of a mother figure didn't seem 

to fit.  The card depicted the knitting Sheep gliding along in a 

little boat.  Karen recalled the episode from _Through The Looking 

Glass_.  The Sheep was the proprietress of an odd shop with all 

manner of curious things.  When Alice became confused by the vast 

array of wares, the Sheep's shop transformed.  Alice found herself 

in the boat with the Sheep, rowing with knitting needles on the 

queer water.  The Sheep finally urged Alice to make up her mind 

after indulging Alice's curiosity at length.  The egg that Alice 

eventually bought from the Sheep became Humpty Dumpty.  It was 

Humpty Dumpty who was poised atop the wall in The Sun, a card of 

satisfaction, accomplishment, and success - the card which in this 

case indicated the culmination and results of all the influences 

revealed by the other cards.

     Karen wrapped her cards within the scarf and stowed them 

within the little pouch in her backpack.  With her mind at ease, 

she slipped back to bed.  Drew absentmindedly put an arm around 

her, drawing her close.  Karen subvocalized a post-hypnotic 

suggestion to arise relaxed and refreshed, before drifting off to 

a sound and restful sleep.



Karen was still sleeping when Drew awoke to the early morning 

light with a woody.  The exquisite shape of her tits was neither 

diminished by reclining, nor obscured by her T-shirt.  Drew 

considered her flat belly and shapely legs concealed by the sheet.  

Inspired, and knowing how Karen appreciated a wake-up fuck, he 

proceeded to slowly arose her.

     Drew tenderly cupped a pert breast and kissed Karen's neck.  

The low moan was encouraging.  He gently manipulated the firm 

flesh.  Once the nip came up he rolled it between thumb and 

forefinger.  With a final squeeze, Drew released Karen's breast 

and rested his hand on her pubic mound.

     He softly rubbed her downy pubes through the bikini.  Karen 

rolled her hips slightly and murmured approval.  Slipping beneath 

the elastic band, Drew rubbed her thickening pad with his 

fingernails.  At the merest touch to her sparsely furred puffy 

lips, Karen eased her legs apart.  Drew's hardon throbbed as he 

massaged Karen's pussy through the dampening fabric.  When he 

pushed the crotch aside and lay his fingers along her slit, he was 

met with a little shudder and a more insistent moan.

     With a finger along either side of the long hood, Drew felt 

the hard clit within.  His gentle manipulations were met by the 

little smacking sounds of a well-lubed cunt.

     Repositioning himself, Drew tugged at Karen's panties as she 

daintily raised her hips to help him remove them.  Karen held the 

sheet up with one hand so that Drew could breath and with the 

other she pushed his face into her crotch.  Drew's beard stubble 

chaffed her thighs as she gently crossed her ankles, completing 

the loose scissor lock on his willing head.

     Supported by his elbows, Drew massaged Karen's engorged outer 

lips with his forefingers.  He nibbled and tugged her fleshy inner 

lips before getting down to serious licking.

     Drew ran his tongue the length of Karen's slit, occasionally 

pushing deep into her hole or tickling her extended clitty.  

Karen's rhythmically gyrating hips and inarticulate moans coaxed 

him onward.

     He probed her drenched vagina with one thumb and rubbed her 

asshole with the other as his tongue variously flicked or rubbed 

her turgid clitoris.

     Karen approached orgasm several times, but Drew would change 

his stimulation to deny her.  When she could stand it no more, she 

squeezed his head playfully between her thighs.  Drew increased 

the tempo of his licking, concentrating on her clit.  With pushing 

and screwing motions, he massaged the roughly textured walls of 

her cunt with an index finger.

     Drew synchronized his efforts as Karen's breathing became 

rapid and shallow.  Karen arched her back and came with a tremble, 

clenching Drew's finger repeatedly with diminishing force.

     Karen took only an an instant to select a position.  She 

wanted to be ballsy in the upcoming discussions.  Being on top 

would encourage a more active role, a sense of superiority, a  

feeling of free movement, and a sense of doing whatever she 

wished.  Drew was a real bonus for face-to-face fucking; he would 

read her face and express, he had beautiful brown eyes, and he 

could kiss.  Best of all, he had the cock discipline for lap 

fucking.  "May I sit in your lap, love?" she asked.

     Drew sat facing Karen with his legs apart, enthusiasm evident 

from his smile and throbbing penis.  His answer was eagerly 

outstretched arms.

     Karen snuggled in close to Drew, with her legs over his and 

behind him.  She insured that they were both comfortable, without 

undue stress on their limbs.  With her nose alongside Drew's, 

Karen looked deeply into his eyes as they embraced.  The warmth 

that she saw said 'friend' and more.

     She was excited by her musk on his mouth while their skillful 

tongues wrestled playfully.  The warm and creamy feeling 

intensified with Drew's hot cock against her belly and his lightly 

haired chest pressing her tits.

     Karen eased back and grasped the base of Drew's dick.   

Moisture glistened on the head before she began rubbing her pussy 

with it.  She moved closer, angling her hips up.  With each stroke 

of his dick along her wet slit, Karen would tantalize Drew by 

squeezing the head lightly with her snatch, then rub him up and 

around her extended clit.

     Drew stifled his desire to push into Karen, awaiting the 

delicious torture of her ultra-slow entry.  Instead, he hugged her 

warmly, one arm around her waist and lower back, the other just 

below her shoulders.

     Karen tightly clenched her vagina as she rested more and more 

of her weight on Drew's cock.  With only the slightest relaxation 

she gradually slid down Drew's meaty pole, accompanied by 

something between a sigh and a moan.

     Once she was filled with Drew's hot hardness, Karen hungrily 

joined with him in a deep and passionate kiss that was destined to 

occupy them for the duration.

     Karen pulled herself taut to afford Drew maximum stimulation 

with only slight movement.  She used calculated pelvic movements 

of yaw, pitch, and roll to accentuate her motion along the length 

of his shaft.

     Karen built their excitement to all-encompassing and 

nearly explosive before easing slightly, relaxing briefly with 

Drew's dick buried in her to the hilt.

     Karen eased back a little, raising herself and locking his 

bulbous dick head against her G-spot.  She began a serpentine 

massage of his penis with her vaginal muscles, deliciously 

stimulating their most erogenous flesh.

     Karen felt Drew's impending orgasm as his balls drew tight in 

the palm of her hand and his breathing became insistent.  She 

brought herself to the edge and kicked off the simultaneous 

explosion.

     Drew forcefully pumped his load deep into Karen's quivering 

cunt.  Karen's orgasm expelled a copious fluid discharge which 

mixed with Drew's semen and drained over his softening cock, 

drenching the bed.

     Karen broke the deep kiss and snuggled against Drew, pulling 

herself to him, nestling her head against his neck.  Their frantic 

heartbeats and ragged breathing normalized during their long 

embrace.  The cooling wet spot under them encouraged an effort to 

dry off with a fluffy towel which Drew had thoughtfully provided.

     Following a brief shower, Karen and Drew breakfasted on 

heuvos rancheros at a nearby taquiera.  It was on the walk back 

that Drew excused himself until late afternoon to pursue personal 

business.

     Karen welcomed the opportunity to relax.  Unused to the slack 

time in her study schedule, she made the best of it; loafing 

about, reading a novel that Drew had left on his nightstand.

     By mid-afternoon Karen was eager for something more active.  

It struck her as an ideal time to practice her exercises.



Karen's pulse quickened as she considered the upcoming delight.  

She stepped lightly, considering Fizzlebot's purple egg.  As far 

as it was from being a simple stone, it was no closer to being a 

jewel.

     Karen had worked briefly with the independent inventor to 

develop an aerogel from sand which the coven provided.  The wispy, 

nearly transparent solid was extremely porous, with only three or 

four times the density of dry air.  Fizzlebot nicknamed the high-

strength, ultralight stuff 'purple fuzzle'.  His guess that the 

fuzzle was used to stabilize fusion fuels under laser blast 

inspired his fruitless experiments with the surplus aerogel.  He 

presented Karen with a brilliant violet ovoid as a souvenir.  

     Karen undressed, tossing her clothes in a pile next to her 

backpack on the bedroom floor.  She sat on the edge of the bed, 

legs apart, with her feet flat on the floor.

     Karen's fingertips barely touched the skin around her nipples 

as she gently rotated them very slowly in outward circular 

motions.  Shortly, she responded to the invigorating stimulation, 

playing with the firm fluid movement of her breasts.

     Warmth spread throughout her genitals, puffing her mound and 

lightly-haired outer lips.  Karen kneaded the softness of her 

pussy while she maintained the gentle manipulation of her breasts, 

occasionally twisting or tweaking a sensitive nip.

     Her wattled inner labia were dusky pink, striated with tan.  

As her sexual energy built, they felt more flush and moist, and 

looked redder.  Karen smeared the abundant juices forming at her 

hole over the fleshy lips.

     Karen began a rhythmic pressure against the hood of her clit 

with a single fingertip.  Fully engorged, it poked from beneath 

the hood.  She directed the concentration and flow of her 

developing sexual energy, bringing it to a shuddering orgasm and 

an instant of transcendence.

     Karen withdrew the egg from a pouch in her backpack.  Eugene 

Fizzlebot couldn't explain why it radiated warmth.  As for the 

pleasure of contact with it, Fizzlebot mumbled something about 

piezoelectricity, but didn't even seem very convinced about it 

himself.

     She stood and assumed the practice stance; her feet 

shoulders' width apart and firmly grounded, ankles and knees bent, 

groin folded, spine and neck in alignment.

     She splayed her succulent lips with the fingers of one hand 

and eased the egg into her vagina, wider end first.  By isolating 

and contracting her external vaginal orifice tightly, she grasped 

the egg and relished the pleasant feelings from the it before 

beginning to move it with her internal musculature.

     The movement up and down her vagina was, as always, the 

easiest.  Karen clenched, raising the egg slightly, then holding 

it for a moment, before relaxing enough to allow the egg to 

descend to the original position.  She completed half a dozen slow 

repetitions of the exercise, regulating the squeezing to her 

inhalations.

     Karen drew the egg up in front of her cervix and held it 

there before beginning the more challenging lateral exercises.  

She moved the egg from side to side several times as well as 

tilting it from top to bottom.  After half a dozen full movement 

repetitions of the exercise, she relaxed and allowed the egg to 

descend.

     Satisfied with herself, Karen expelled the egg from her cunt 

and wiped it clean before replacing it within its pouch.  She 

rested briefly with the palm of her hand on her warm snatch, 

drawing strength from her workout.



Karen was ready to leave when Drew arrived, which was convenient 

because he had parked in metered street-side parking.  She was 

somewhat surprised about the little red Lotus which Drew was 

using.  His story was that he was evaluating the autos pre-

production systems.

     In about half an hour Drew was off the freeway and into the 

winding canyon country.  While the ride was much smoother than 

Karen was used to in a sportster, the cornering roll was all but 

non-existent.  Four-wheel power and active suspension almost 

entirely eliminated slip.

     Drew routinely entered the curves at around three times the 

posted speed, practically standing on the four-wheel antilock 

brakes in the final moments of the approach.  The power-shift 

manual gear box thumped heavily an instant before the brutal 

acceleration announced the corner exit at multiples of the speed 

limit.

     Once established on the final straightaway, Drew opened the 

throttle all the way.  When the tach indicated red-line revs, he 

shifted into neutral and idled the engine.  They coasted the last 

mile or so to the unpaved turnoff.

     Madge Nation, and her husband Tar Nation lived in the ranch-

style house a couple miles down the well-maintained gravel road.  

Madge was in the driveway when Karen and Drew arrived at the head 

of a rooster tail of rising dust.

     Madge greeted her guests and led them around back and down 

the path to the sweat lodge.

     The domed, one-room structure was crafted from a dozen 

willows.  Timbers demarked the cardinal and minor compass points.

     Half a dozen paces from the lodge, Tar tended rock loaves on 

a metal grill.  With hands protected by heavy padded gloves he 

turned the hot rocks above low blue flames.  He waved as they 

approached.

     Madge stopped at the gazebo which had been fashioned entirely 

within the interlocking branches of five bushy trees.  Benches, 

hooks, and baskets were available for clothing and personal 

articles.

     Madge removed her robe.  Drew appreciated her small breasts 

with pale and outstanding nips and her diminutively trimmed 

platinum bush as she stowed the robe and pulled the bong from a 

clever niche.  She handed it to Karen, who was already down to her 

matching black lace bra and panties.  Karen took a couple of long 

hits as she appreciated Drew disrobing.  

     Goose flesh started to form about the time Madge, Karen, and 

Drew felt stoned and longed for the warmth of the lodge.  Tar 

joined them for a hit once he had finished transferring the hot 

rocks to a ceramic pedestal in the sweat lodge.  Tar secured the 

bong and led his friends down the path.

     Tar held open the heavy flaps of thick hide which were draped 

over the arched doorway of the hut.

     Madge waited until everybody was comfortable and relaxed 

before breaking the silence.  She spoke in a formal tone.  "Most 

people demand behavioral controls imposed by an authority 

structure.  Tar and I empathize with your rejection of external 

direction."  She paused for a moment before continuing.  "Helen 

Gone argued against the university because their position stemmed 

from convenience of administration."

     Karen leaned forward and lay a sage sprig on the hot rocks.  

She considered the implications that arose from the High Priestess 

being personally involved.  The cup of water that she poured over 

the sage on the rocks disappeared in a quick bubbling and hissing.

     Tar continued as the aromatic vapor diffused.  "We have good 

news and bad news", he joked.  "Which would you like first?"

     "Bad", Drew asked simply.

     "Karen, you won't be awarded your degree if you insist on 

having your way.  Same for you, Drew, if you stick with Karen."  

     Drew added several cedar chips to the rocks and trickled 

water over them.  He pondered this, awaiting the good news as the 

redolent vapor rose from the rocks.

     "You will, however, be allowed to stay on and continue your 

studies to your satisfaction," Tar said and then waited.

     Karen exhaled slowly.  "Well", she began and paused.  "That's 

awfully damn nice of them."

     "Would you like the good news?", Tar teased.

     "I could use some."

     "Here," Tar said, offering Karen and Drew their choice of 

trippers.

     The glass tubes, each enclosing a vaporizing wire that was 

coated with designer halucinogen, were the keys to Miskatonic U's 

ex nihilo lab and its gates.

     Tar was the first to press the firing stud on the handle of 

his tripper.  With a pop and a bluish-white flash, a cloud formed 

within the tube.  "There's something I'd like to show you," he 

said, and sucked the vapor through a semipermeable membrane in one 

end of the tube.

     Karen, Drew, and Madge emulated Tar's example.  The massive 

L+ doses hit some before others.  They waited and the shared 

environment formed; cold and dreary, and suggesting ancient 

enmity.

     Madge promised a short walk and all set off.  Concealed 

within the thick fog which surrounded them, giant arthropod 

monsters waited.  Vaguely insectiod (or occasionally aracnid, 

crustacean, and myriapod), they had eviscerating hooks, 

decapitating pincers, barbed impaling stalks, bad breath, and bug 

eyes.  And that was the males.  The females also had armor-

piercing ovipositors not unlike scorpion tails.

       Arriving at the gate area, Karen and Drew assumed a 

defensive parameter while Madge and Tar worked at dilating the 

gate.

     Originally armed with vorpal swords, Karen and Drew were 

prepared to face the Jabberwock itself.  However, when the 

rattling chitin and pungent presence encircled them, they 

reconsidered.  Karen conjured a full-auto, belt-fed shotgun.  She 

used plastic ball bugshot for the spectacular effect it had 

against exoskeletons.  (Losing much of their energy penetrating 

the shell, the balls shredded internal organs as they ricochetted 

around inside.)  Drew muscled a small rotary-barrel cannon which 

used conventional warloads.

     Tar and Madge had succeeded in tagging the gate with a dayglo 

border, but attempts to tease it open were in vain.

     When the fog shifted it revealed the massed and closing 

terrors, most dripping slime or venom.  Without hesitation, Karen 

and Drew opened fire, weaving a curtain of murderous projectiles 

to the staccato thunder of their automatic weapons.  They adroitly 

avoided each others crossfire and ammunition belts.  When they 

ceased firing, drifting cordite odor mixed with the humid charnel 

stench.  Antennae and legs attached to broken carapace jerked 

mindlessly.  Ichor pooled among the shattered bodies and spent 

cartridges all around them.  Meanwhile, the gate had opened under 

Madge's gentle ministrations.

     Madge and Tar first stepped into the uniform gray beyond the 

gate and disappeared.  Drew waited for Karen to file through.  The 

first step was easy, but a resistance pressed back against her.  

She had to redouble her efforts several times to penetrate the 

surface tension.  Once she began to clear the gate, Karen felt the 

numb of nulled sensorium.  She'd been warned about the shocking 

emptiness, yet panic still nipped at her heels.



Karen's second step brought her through the gate.  The cold 

flagstone floor surprised her as an unexpected stair might.  Her 

ears popped as she swallowed the lump in her throat.  Regaining 

her composure, Karen took stock of her surroundings.

     Fluorescent fixtures hung at regular intervals from the high 

ceiling.  Movable partitions divided the immense room. 

     Karen watched the dayglo border of the gate fade, and with it 

the gray fog beyond.

     Madge and Tar had already donned heavy terry robes and 

slippers.  The crisp chill imparted to the room by the thick stone 

walls inspired Karen and Drew to follow suit.

     Madge opened the heavy drapes before the tall doors, lighting 

the large chamber with brilliant afternoon sunshine.  Tar opened 

the glass doors and stepped out on a small semicircular balcony.  

"Welcome to Amber," he announced with a low bow and a gesture 

which took in the city below.    

     Just outside, gardeners dressed in Renaissance-era clothing 

tended an area with familiar flowers, trees, and shrubs.  Looking 

about, Karen observed that she was in a castle built on the 

shoulder of a mountain.  Above and behind her, ponderosa and blue 

spruce made up the most of the thick tree life.  Below, the 

balcony overlooked the picturesque city of Amber and the 

glittering harbor.

     Houses of stone, brick, or wood, an occasional whitewashed 

plastered  wall, the odd thatched roof, and the rare stone mansion 

dominated the view of the eastern portion of the city.  The 

southernmost part of the city merged with the trees that led 

eventually into the forest and out into the countryside.

     Tar handed a pair of binoculars to Karen and began to 

describe the predominantly commercial western section of Amber.  

"See that wide cobblestone street that swings southeastwards and 

then eastwards, marking the boundaries of the city?" Tar asked.

Without waiting, he carried on.  "That's the Main Concourse.  It's 

the place of business for most Amber merchants".  Karen looked at 

the busy shops, cafes, and restaurants; deals being made, goods 

being purchased, and merchants trying to shout their 

advertisements.

     Karen handed the binox to Drew as Tar described the 

fascinating activity in the harbor.  "The port area is unsafe, 

unsavory, and dangerous.  Harbor Road gives way to Death Alley 

over there," he said, pointing.

     Drew scrutinized the industrious port.  Barges full of wares 

were bustling between warehouses both large and small, and between 

the docks which dotted the harbor.  Several barks were being 

unloaded.  Sailors on one large schooner were rigging staysails 

off the mizzenmast.

     Madge joined her friends on the balcony.  She handed them 

white metallic cards, upon which she had written their names in 

exquisite calligraphy.  The flip side of the cards was devoted to 

the standard glyph for Information Hazards;  the anterior view of 

the human eye, with a seductive spiral fractal within the iris.

     "These security keys will unlock doors with adjacent card 

slots," Madge said.  With emphasis, she continued.  "Don't open 

doors without card readers.  Ever."

     "Just carry them with you," Tar suggested.  "Since you can't 

go anywhere without them."  He dropped his in the pocket of his 

robe.  "Let's take a look around," he said, leading the expedition 

from the balcony.

     "This is the hardware lab," Tar indicated with an 

encompassing gesture.

     "In the northeast corner is the laminar-flow rooms.  The IC 

fab people have diffusion furnaces, chemical vapor deposition 

systems, as well as lithography and etching equipment.  They're 

kept pretty busy making wafers of pirated circuitry.

     "The containment dome next to the lam-flow building houses 

the power kernel, shielding, transformers, and the like.

     "The systems prototypers use most of the rest of the layout.  

Currently, they're turning out 32-bit microprocessor-based 

computers.  They're rack-mounted and ugly as hell, but with the 

different semiconductors, they run at ten times the clock 

frequencies you can do back home."

     Arriving at the armored door, Tar pushed his card into the 

reader.  The powered door slid slowly into its pocket within the 

reinforced wall, and closed heavily behind them.

     The group followed Tar down a thoroughly featureless hallway.  

Just to the left of the grand staircase, they used the servants' 

stairway in the northwest corner of the castle.  Tar led his 

friends down two flights of stairs.  Many of the doors which were 

immediately visible on the second floor had card locks.

     Madge led the coterie down another long hall to a pair of 

double doors.  The doors swung inward after the presentation of 

her card, and they entered the sparsely furnished library.

     Warm sunlight suffused the library through the four inset, 

floor-to-ceiling windows along the west side of the room.

     "Usually this is a place of relaxation and study for members 

of the royal family," Tar stated.  "Generally, however, they avoid 

us.  It is strongly suggested that we reciprocate."  Karen 

recognized the usual response to I-hazards.

     Madge showed them the three tall stacks that extended from 

the north wall and smaller shelves and smaller tables which lined 

the west wall.  A desk sat in the center of the north section, and 

a larger double table sat under the southwest windows.  A 

comfortable sofa and chair sat in front of the banked fire.

     The ubiquitous card key slot was the only clue to the 

decorative false panel in the southwest corner of the library.  

Madge motioned Karen to try her card on the lock.  With a snick, 

the panel eased open enough to pull.  Karen followed Madge up the 

dimly lit stairway to the upper level where her card was again 

necessary.

     As the panel closed behind the women, Tar led Drew to a 

section devoted to Shadow Earth.  A computer workstation had the 

Great Books of the Western World on optical disk.  "Merely a quick 

reference," teased Tar.  Nearby, stacks contained complete sets of 

St. Augustine, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Montaigne, 

Machiavelli, Castiglione, Sidney, Bacon, Ben Johnson, Samuel 

Johnson, Hegel, Heidegger, Newton, Einstein, Pope, Boccaccio, 

Milton, Rabelais, and Virgil.  First editions of seminal works 

from ancient to postmodern took up proximate stacks.

      Madge led Karen along the walkway which extended around the 

perimeter of the upper level.  Tracked ladders reached the highest 

shelves near the ceiling.

     The entrance to the study room was cleverly concealed from 

view below.  As Madge stepped across the threshold a gentle 

bioluminescence lit the small room evenly.  There was barely room 

around the table and chairs to get to the books on the shelves 

along all walls.  The _Necronomicon_, companion volumes, and 

commentaries absorbed Karen's attention.  "I'd bet my postsynaptic 

membranes that the complete Curwen collection of thaumaturgical, 

alchemical, and theological works is here," Karen remarked, 

following Madge from the alcove.

     They passed empty shelves along the walkway before arriving 

at another recess.  In a glass case a single volume lay 

illuminated by a lamp within.  Karen immediately opened the 

unsecured case and removed the _Handbook For The Recently Deceased_.  

She'd long wanted a glance at "The Handbook", or "The Manual" as 

it was sometimes known.  She quickly turned to the intermediate 

interface chapter on haunting to see just how detailed an 

explanation was in fact there.  "It reads like stereo 

instructions," Karen commented as she replaced the volume and 

followed Madge.

     Madge and Karen rejoined Tar and Drew by the large marble 

fireplace on the west wall.  Tar's continuing explanation of the 

library request and procurement system answered Karen's questions 

about the mint condition of the books.  Beyond explanation was the 

posthumous editions section.  She'd seen still-boxed unknown works 

by Brautigan, Hellman, Maugham, Abbey, Steinbeck, and P.K. Dick, 

among others.

     Madge directed the tour of the guest apartments at the north 

end of the second floor.  The hospitable domicile was complete 

with sitting, sleeping, and dining areas as well as a small 

library which seemed devoted to quantum mechanics and associated 

arcana.

     The bedroom reminded Karen of a first-rate residence hotel.

     Drew bounced on the satin sheeted bed which was as 

comfortable as it appeared.  "So, what's the project here?"

     Madge indulged in the luxury of the love seat.  "Software 

development for the Crown.  All the hardware billets are filled."

     Karen sat at the small writing table across from the bed and 

regarded the fresh cut flowers in the crystal vase.  "Yeah?"

     Tar lounged in the chair adjacent to the night stand.  "We're 

building a reality editor."

     "A what?" Karen asked.

     "You know. Cut, paste, add, delete, change. The usual" Madge 

answered.

     "Is this artificial intelligence?" Drew suspiciously 

inquired.

     "Nah," replied Tar.  He continued wryly.  "That's 

specifically prohibited by the contract.  It seems that their 

first attempt resulted in a rogue consciousness."

     "Then how?" Karen wanted to know.

     Madge took up the explanation.  "Limited domain, iterative 

techniques.  Purely procedural code.  Brute fuckin' force.  You 

can hack your way up to speed on the metaprogramming language 

pretty quickly."

     Karen mulled that over.  "What's functional?"

     Madge smiled broadly before answering.  "One module.  Fun 

with billboards, bumper-stickers, and graffiti.  You should have 

been here the night that I replaced the text 'to protect and 

serve' with 'tool of the rich man' wherever it occurred on squad 

cars back home."

     With an even bigger grin, Tar mischievously interrupted.  

"Shit hit the fan.  Even a new rule.  No more RE tests on Shadow 

Earth.  Bellona only now, which almost takes the fun out of it," 

he concluded with a wink.

     "What's the hitch?" Drew probed.

     "We want to ensure that expansion of the operating envelope 

doesn't bite us in the ass," Madge responded.  "The next project 

mandate is a 'no tricks' safety module.  Apparently they watch 

Twilight Zone when in Shadow Earth."

     "Anyway," Tar said, "You should sleep on it.  This little 

trick of somatic projection is about to fail.  When it does, you 

will regain consciousness back home.  It's best if you're asleep 

when it happens."

     "How much longer?" Karen inquired.

     "A couple of hours, tops."

     Madge and Tar excused themselves, leaving Karen and Drew 

alone for the first time since their arrival in Amber.

     Karen arose from the small table and joined Drew by the bed.   

"What do you think?" she asked him, doffing her robe. Turning the 

down comforter back, she couldn't discern what kept it from 

sliding off the sheets.

     While fluffing the pillow, Karen noticed the hawk feather 

bound to a chunk of turquoise with a hide band which was lying on 

the sheet.  She stared at the token, her attention captivated.

     "They're playing with a fusion torch," Drew answered as he 

dropped his robe with hers.  "Somebody's gonna get burned," he 

said, following her gaze.  "What do you think?"

     When their eyes met, Karen shook her head fractionally and 

dropped the pillow, covering the token.  "Who could be trusted 

with this thing?  I don't see resolving that issue within the 

context of a safety module."

     Following Karen's apparent lead, Drew dropped the 

conversation and snuggled next to her in the regal bed.

     They rolled to their backs from the warm spoon.  Karen 

initiated an old game for descent to sleep.  She wrapped her 

slender fingers around Drew's limp hose, which began hardening 

immediately.  Karen wanted to fall asleep with Drew still 

throbbing in her fist, before he fell asleep and softened in her 

grasp.  Drew wanted to fall asleep rigid in Karen's hot palm, 

before she fell asleep and her grip failed.

     While usually successful, the technique couldn't overcome 

deep tension.  Karen commenced a standard variation to get the 

game back on track.  She soothingly released Drew's penis and 

cupped his balls, massaging and rolling them within their hairy 

sack.  Tickling his scrotum with her long fingernails brought 

Drew's member to throbbing rigidity.

     Karen rubbed the shaft of Drew's veiny cock with fingertips 

and nails, bringing his excitement to fever pitch.  She teased a 

glob of ooze from his purple helmet and spread it all over the 

bulbous head, playing with its firmness.

     Karen encircled Drew's engorged manhood and began pumping.  

Slowly at first, and then faster, she twisted and tugged his cock 

with supple fingers.  Drew signaled his oncoming orgasm with 

insistently bucking hips as he fucked her hand ever faster.

     As Drew exploded in orgasm, Karen contained his load by 

clamping her thumb and forefinger just below the head of his cock.  

She held tightly through the rhythmic pulsations of his 

ejaculation.

     As Drew lay back, Karen slipped under the covers.  She locked 

her mouth around his dick and released the clamp, draining his hot 

thick seed and swallowing it.  She milked the residual jism and 

licked it off, smacking her lips contentedly.

     Karen lay on her back next to Drew holding his hand, fingers 

intertwined, until he reciprocated.

     Drew rested the palm of his hand on Karen's trimmed pubic 

patch, rubbing her mound in a circular pattern.  His fingers 

traced from the mons along the length of her puffy outer lips.  

Her fleshy inner lips were engorged, slick with plentiful juices.

With his long middle finger he distributed the creamy 

lubrication around her erect clit which poked from beneath its 

hood.

     With an index finger, Drew slowly rubbed one side of the 

hood, stimulating the clit indirectly, tracing small spirals on 

the sensitive skin.

     When Karen's bucking hips and rapid breathing announced her 

undeniable orgasm, Drew increased his pace slightly.  Karen came 

with a pleased moan and relaxed, Drew's warm hand resting on her 

quivering pussy.

     Karen reached over and resumed the game by grasping Drew's 

hardening penis.  They both fell asleep nearly immediately, 

thoroughly relaxed.



"- long have we been away?," Karen heard Drew asking as the 

primacy of her presence in the sweat lodge reasserted itself.

    "Only a moment," Tar answered.  "The standard hit is two 

hours, with a yield of six months on the other side of the gate.  

Time dilation is the chief benefit of transfer contracts.  A 

session each in the morning and afternoon, five days a week, 

amounts to an effective extention to your life of five years."

     "It's easy to loose your perspective," Madge continued.  

"The point of the upgrade is to provide an anchor or sorts; an 

orientation to this plane.  If you abandon your body it'll die, 

and with it the projection through the gate.  Believe me, that 

distinction will seem unimportant after years in Amber, Gaea, or 

Snug Harbor."

     "Not to mention Wonderland, Toontown, Pell Station, or 

Bellona," Tar added.

     Karen never found it necessary to be diplomatic when 

inquiring about how someone else profitted from her effort.  

"What's the coven get from this?  It seems a lot like a Manhattan 

Project at first glance.  Are you sure that we're on the right 

side of the balance of power?"

     Madge deferred to Tar for the first question.  "They 

Shadowshift cargo for us," he said.  "The personal performance 

bonus specifies shipment equivalent to your body mass between 

terminuses of your choice.  The coven will get a dedicated voyage 

of a triple-masted sailing vessel plus a generous letter of credit 

against the Crown's treasury.  Most valuable of all, however, is 

information.  What we experience and learn, individually and 

collectively, is ours."

     Madge fielded the second question herself.  "Helen Gone 

negotiated the treaty with Random.  She trusts him.  His goodwill 

was adequately demonstrated when he provided the Jewel of 

Judgement for the development of the isomorphic aerogel that we 

use in the effector arrays."

     Karen paused for a moment.  "Is the upgrade absolutely 

necessary?  Can't I just go in for it later?"

     "It is important to your development and essential to gate 

transfer contracts," Madge answered, apparently somewhat pained to 

be quoting the party line.  She added gently, "I think I know how 

you feel.  I faced 'simplicity, sincerity, serenity' with some 

apprehension as well.  Frankly, proceeding although I had 

reservations was a key to growth.  You are being asked to 

demonstrate your confidence in the coven and your place in our 

work."

     As Karen considered, Drew pressed his concern forward.  "How 

does the Amber work-for-hire project fit in with the coven's 

work?"

     "Our work is with those that we were born among," Tar 

answered.  "The upgrade strengthens the bonds we have with this 

world, but we have coffers to fill.  The challenging work that 

affords personal growth has to be sold.  Amber's buying."

     Karen sat back for a moment with her eyes closed, 

contemplating the decision, phrasing it tactfully.  "In addition 

to taking leave from the university, I'm declaring a retreat from 

my coven office."  So much for attending her Samhain initiation.

     Madge and Tar either weren't surprised, or took it well.  

Turning to Drew, Tar asked, "And you?"

     "She's my partner.  I strongly prefer to maintain a lockstep 

arrangement in our interfaces, so I'll pass on the upgrade for the 

present."  Drew paused for a moment, knowing that Karen wanted him 

along with her.  "I'm going to complete our work and see it 

through at the university."

     They sat in silence for several minutes.  The pregnant pause 

allowed room to reflect and proceed without divisive words.

     It was Madge who spoke first.  "So be it.  Your decisions 

will be respected."  Her voice was still tinged with antinomy, but 

it was replaced by genuine warmth as she continued.  "If there's 

anything that we can do, please call upon us.  We would be pleased 

to help in any way possible."

     Karen and Drew lingered briefly on pleasantries, but the 

divergent path that they'd cast upon obviated shop talk.



Karen comfortably discussed administrative details related to 

Arkham during the drive back to Los Angeles, but Drew concluded 

that the slight tension in Karen's face suggested that she would 

make a point of not asking him for an explanation of his decision.  

"Look Karen, I don't have the appreciation for Featherstone that 

you evidently do.  By a twist of fate I got off the reservation 

before it sucked me under.  I've lived with the medicine man mumbo 

jumbo."

     Karen rested her hand gently on his thigh.  "It's really 

okay, Drew."

     Drew concentrated on a corner, perfectly cranking the wheel, 

braking, and then accelerating.  "Are you even considering the 

upgrade?"

     "Do we need it?" she asked.

     "At this rate, 'suffering, sacrifice, and self-abasement' 

could be next," he said with a chuckle.

     "This is not a social crisis," Karen said with a radiant 

grin.

     "It's just another tricky day," concluded Drew, with a wink.



--



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