Soul Mates 4: This Is Mr. Right? free porn video

Soul Mates 4: This Is Mr. Right? By Ron Dow75 Out in the second story roofed porch that ran around the riverside Duchamps' house: The ghost of Taylor Estes (wearing just a bathrobe) cried in frustration at the girl sitting in front of him, "How can I have empathy for a vampire!" "Vampire?" Nicole Getty asked. She was pretty brunette in an oxford shirt, and a short denim skirt with quilt details of butterflies made from heart-shapes. Her bare legs were crossed, now. 'You feed on peoples' emotions!!' he'd raised his voice and arms to the point that even he was beginning to see how much he was overdoing it. Nicole saw that he saw, "You seem to have enough to spare, right now." 'Oh, that's so-o funny! You'd be killing me, if I weren't already dead!' She uncrossed her legs, "Taylor, I am not an "emotional vampire". I'm more of an, uh, emotional werewolf. You know: The moon turned him into something he didn't want to be? But thanks to you, there's now an eclipse!" 'I'm a dark shadow!' Taylor had brought his levels down, but had started pacing again. "And that's just what the cursed man wanted. A shadow meant that the sun wasn't hidden." 'Do you get all poetry often?' "Often enough. I do like the traditional girl-things." His back to her, he stopped to overreact, 'Well, I don't! I'm a guy! Guys don't like pretty words, and talking too much when it's not about sports, or games, or comics, or, or...' He remembered those "talks": '-I don't want to become a girl!' "You're not going to be 'a' girl: You're going to be me, you know!" Nicole said, her romantic notions about boys threatened, already shaken by her parent's divorce. 'I don't want to be you! I want to be me!!' "I said this wasn't going to be easy." She'd gone from reacting to his reactions to getting up out of the chair. "I will help you be yourself. I want you to be as much of a guy as you can be. I mean, I just have to look at you, and think of you in a dress, acting like me..." 'That's what's already happened!' "None of that's happened, yet!" she raised her voice to match his. '"Yet"!' "That didn't come out right!" she tried to assure him. "Look! I think I can understand. I am an empath, after all. If this was all reversed, and I had to be you..." 'It's different with a girl! Girls are allowed to feel butch!' "I refuse to feel 'butch' again." 'And I refuse to feel fey!!' "Girls do not feel fey!" 'If they don't feel like guys, they feel fey!' "What does that mean!? Anything that's not labeled 'guy' has got to be anti-guy?!" 'Something like that!' Taylor hated that she was being more logical. It was so... anti-guy. "Think about your idea of fey." 'I don't want to!' he said, as if doing it would make him it. Nicole bent up her wrist, hung her hand limply, as she swiveled out the hip she put her other hand on, and started mincing in front of his stricken eyes. "Oo, how many of us girls act like this? Oodles? You see us doing this just e-verywhere!" 'That's not funny! And really rotten acting!' "I know." Nicole dropped the act, "I haven't keeping up with my girl rehearsals." 'You have rehearsals!?' "The point is," Nicole rolled her eyes, "You're thinking of a stereotype. The reason, I guess, some people act like that is cause they like to exaggerate, and add onto what they think females should be like, to make themselves, uh, super 'feminine'. Maybe it helps overcome their guy-ness. But we want you to keep your guy-ness. So, just don't do any of those kinds of things!" 'I'll still be inside a girl, doing girl stuff!' "That's right. But that's only when you're in my body. When you're not, you won't be. As your wife, I'll be there to help you anyway I can to help you remember who," and she gave him a smile that was at once both sly and bashful, "and what you are." 'You don't turn to girls to remind you that you're a guy!' "You don't?" she said, turning from him. 'It's like I was telling you: A guy needs other guys to talk to about guy stuff! To just hang with! Just chilling out, saying, doing nothing, and he's feeling...' Nicole had been moving to the back door with smoothly rolling hips; Taylor could see the difference between fey, and this. It wasn't until she was going inside that he finally found his power of speech again, 'You're not listening to me!' === She went inside. He followed, 'There's more to a guy than that, you know!' The girl with just about the nicest butt he'd ever seen up close and live sauntered into the kitchen quarter of the open part of the second floor. 'Just because that's the first thing you think of when you think of... What was I thinking again?' The butt pushed the short skirt away from those nude legs, and swung the denim back and forth... 'I think of other stuff, too! Guy-stuff! Stuff that doesn't have to do with bells- I mean-' She'd reached the fridge, and opened it with enough of her in profile for him to have his eyes raised from one set of swells to higher ones. 'Guys think of war, and, and crime, and standings, RBI's, interceptions... You're doing that on purpose!' he yelled, rushing. He slammed into her with enough force that her hand leaned against the fridge for support. "What'd you go!?!" the Taylor in Nicole's body cried. Ghost Nicole (now wearing a blouse) poked her upper body out of the closed fridge. 'The light really does go out, she repeated the clich? shamelessly,' she said. "This was all a trick!!" Taylor-Nicole yelled. 'That worked too well: Boy! How often are you going to tackle me?' "Nicole!" her mother reminded 'her' from the other end of the room ran to the front of the house, where Nicole's two youngest cousins and her were watching cartoons. Nicole (in a different ghost skirt, too) came out of the fridge, 'Well? Do you feel fey?' Taylor-Nicole grumbled, "What I feel is..." He glanced over he-r shoulder, and lowered he-r voice even more. "Did you feel this way before I came in?!" 'If I did, it would prove it wasn't a trick.' "It would prove you're a..." the word was lowered into a sharp whisper, "tease!" using the politest word he could. 'I was just enjoying my body as much as you wanted to enjoy it.' "Oh, I can 'enjoy' it!? How can I do that with your..." "You're Buddy, now, aren't you?" Nicole's mother said, almost certain. Taylor almost died again that day. "Little ears hear better," her mom told he-r, darting a glance over towards the TV. "I think I'll go, go into, 'my' room, now," Taylor said. Margot Getty got an escort-grip on he-r upper arm. "Why don't you spend some "quality time" with 'your' family." As s-he was directed away, Taylor sourly kept he-r eyes on Nicole as long as he could. 'I'll go get you something to wear besides a bathrobe!' she told him. "Nicole!" her mom called. 'Talk about a ghost being spooky,' Nicole said. 'Tell her I didn't hear-' "Nicole! I told you that you couldn't go out of this house like that!" Taylor turned his face to the woman, "She heard you." "But she's doing it anyway?" She sounded very much how Taylor remembered his own mom sounding. Nicole explained, 'I'll be right back!' "She says she wants to haunt somebody else, now." Her mom shook her head in exasperation, saying, "How do you ground a ghost?" "Bury him?" Aunt Irene said, coming up the stairs from the first floor. +++ Ghost Nicole took the long way, around the house by the veranda- porch. She kept back away from the railing. She'd always been a little afraid of heights; that is, when she was herself. (She blamed it on her Psi power, thinking of her own personality falling like in Hitchcock's "Vertigo". It was more of a feeling brought on by symbolism, than reality. But, then, she'd heard people who fear death had similar falling fantasies, like in "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure".) 'I'm a ghost. If I can go through walls, I can go through rails.' She ran a hand through the side of the house. 'Yes; I can go through walls.' It wasn't until she got to the section in front of the house, and could feel that, having made it this far she could relax a little. 'I wish I could lean against something. Well...' she took a deep breath, 'now, I just have to walk down the stairs, and...' She stopped, as she thought: 'Why is it I don't fall through the floor?' Then she yelled at herself, 'I had to ask!!!' It took a moment for her to open her eyes. She was down only as far as high tops. 'That was some elevator drop,' thinking of the sensation that came closest to what she'd felt. The elevator jolted her on its way up. 'Stop!! I don't want to fall up, either!!' Nicole lifted her skimmers the inch to the top of the veranda. 'I guess I do have control!' she said in a shaky voice. 'Not very good control. But control. I can decide what I can touch and not touch. And as long as I feel like I can fall, and don't want to, then I guess I won't fall through the Center of the Earth. I guess.' She was hurrying to the stairs to the street level, now. Along the way, she kept her eyes on the railing, as usual. On impulse, she reached out. 'Handrails are for grabbing onto!' And she did! And she kept on ungrabbing and grabbing all the way to the stairs, and down them. That is, until she came to the last three steps: She jumped. And would've fallen on her face if she'd wanted to "eat dirt". She lifted her face (and boobs) out of the damp ground: 'It's dark down there!' Lifting herself off the ground, she added, 'No fridge light there.' She sat there on her knees, her butt on the ground, trying to think of what had just not happened. 'I guess I don't have the concept of flying as clear in my head as walking and grabbing. Walking through walls like a ghost, yes. But not flying. I must not have seen enough shows with flying ghosts. I never did like them.' +++ Everything was still wet from the storm: 'Now, whose house am I going to go to?' she asked herself, looking around. 'I'm new in town, and I hardly know anybody.' She started walking while she tried to decide, 'I could get something from Mr. Belvin's. But he's fat; nothing would fit Buddy, I mean, Taylor. If they're only ghost clothes, though, maybe we can... uh, it's not magic. It's some Psi power, so it must be science fiction. What do...' 'Why am I talking to myself? Maybe I'm not talking, but thinking! Empathy is related to mind reading, isn't it? Maybe when I'm using Taylor's astral power, I only think I'm talking when I'm actually just thinking to myself!' 'Oh, as if! I can't even get myself to believe that. I just hope that when I'm out of this Twilight Zone, the only one I'm talking to when I think I'm alone is Buddy.' +++ On the other side of Mr. And Mrs. Belvin's, was a house very much like Aunt Irene's, only older. Of course, besides being more recent, hers had a blue slate roof, green half-attic, yellow second story with orange trim, unpainted and mostly weathered red brick first floor with violet trim, and a purple double-garage door with black trim (Aunt I called her place "Sunset Manor". But, then, she was an artist). This house was white all over, except for the dark green trim, and the black shutters. It looked very traditional to Nicole. 'I think this is the house Aunt I said had a boy about my age.' Now, at practically the threshold of actually doing it, Nicole started having second thoughts, 'Maybe Mom's right. If I go in, I'd be walking into strangers' house uninvited. It'd be like trespassing.' She turned away, 'I need more time to think about this.' And then she got an impish smile, 'Maybe when everybody's in bed.' She heard voices that cut through the quiet ones out in the early spring evening: A girl yelled, "Martin, wait up! It's unfair! What kind of date is this!" "This is not a date!" the boy laughed. "You'll know when it's a date!" Down the damp-darkened street came an auburn hair boy and a brunette girl around Nicole's age in the complete helmet-and-pads gear, riding their shoes. They were probably wearing roller shoes that had in-line skates that could be covered up. They each also had what looked like two ski poles. But the boy wearing a dark purple body glove (with black racing stripe) down to mid-thigh and mid-upper arm didn't stop like he was wearing rollers! He swung around, and stopped on the insides of his shoes as if they were snow skis. While the non-date girl yelled, waving the poles about, "How do you stop in these things!?!" "Fear not, fair damsel, I... Don't use the poles like that, Debbi!" Martin's attitude got serious as she sprinted towards her. Debbi had put out her own ski poles trying to stop herself. There were springs and thuds sounds as the rubber tips of the poles turned into powered pogo sticks, jarring her and sending her already shaky balance off kilter. Martin was there in the proverbial nick of time to catch Debbi. And lose his own balance: He fell on his butt, but managed to keep Debbi from landing hard on the ground. Her shoulders landed in his lap; her head against his well-defined chest. Nicole glanced away from Martin's magnificent body long enough to see that there were neoprene ball bearings poking out from holes in soles that also had four treaded areas that were probably for doing stops like she'd just seen him make. Debbi was wearing yellow nylon short shorts, an orange cotton sports bra-like top, and an open red windbreaker. She had a figure (size D -That fall still must've hurt) and wanted everybody to know it. "Are you alright?" Martin asked. "Yes. Thanks to you, Martin," Debbi was in no hurry to get off of him. 'I notice she didn't ask if he was alright,' Nicole said, frowning at the girl. "Well, you raced me as far as my house," he said. Nicole knew what house he was nodding at: 'He does live in that house!' "Can't you see me to my house?" Debbi asked like a waif with candy to offer. "It's evening, you know." "It's Daylight Savings Time," Martin smiled at her clumsy attempt as if he were flattered. "I think Riverview is still safe for ladies in the late daylight." "Same time, tomorrow?" asked Debbi as she reluctantly lifted herself off of handsome boy. "If you want to join me in my training," he said, getting the shoe's treads under him so he could stand. "Why do you need to train for Coogan's Hill? You can already skate down it!?!" Debbi asked, a bit exasperated, as she watched him get up. "I thought you learned sliding is not as easy as skating," he said, making sure he was stable enough to reach down to help her up. The look on her face told Nicole that Debbi was probably black and blue on at least one area of her womanly anatomy. 'Your butt's not that padded.' The boy helped the girl back up on her feet. "And I'm not training to go down the hill. I'm trying to get to the top in these things." The girl slipped before she remembered the treads: "...With your 'boomphers'," Debbi got the concept, just not the sense to it. "Until I can do use them without resorting to the battery-powered spring action," he let go, but with his hands ready, just in case. But Debbi had given up that ploy, "I wish you could do more normal exercises. Like, TV Football, even!" +++ Nicole followed Martin, 'I'm coming in with him. It's almost like I'm invited,' she told herself. She was slightly amazed that he was able to climb all of those stairs to the second story in those shoes. (He only had to hold onto the railing once.) When he opened the door, he called, "I'm home!" "Take those shoes off in the house!" came an old woman's response. "I don't want you tracking that lubricant all over the rugs!" "Gran, it's a gel!" But he still leaned against the empty wall- space behind the door, and started unbuckling them. "It's viscous enough that it won't extrude from the bearing holes, even as it absorbs the friction, and..." "Don't explain: Just take them off!" Nicole saw that the walls (antique cream) that formed the front hall had traditional paintings, traditionally framed. They were mostly landscapes, but also horses and dogs, and one owner. One large one looked like it could be a scene from Paris (without the Eiffel Tower). It, like the rest, looked expensive only for resale. Walls are what really made this house different from Aunt Irene's and louvers. Where hers had more of an open floor plan, this place had traditional rooms, done, she was sure, in a traditional style. Even the hall to the bedrooms had a door with slats on hinges. "Martin! Martin!" came the cry of a young red head who suddenly appeared at the end of the hall. "No running in the house!" the old woman called out again. "Whoa, Gretchen! Has Gran been giving you a hard time, again?" "Yes!" "I have been giving her the sage advice of someone who has had fifty years more experience at life!" '"Sage advice"? There are people who talk like that?' Nicole also noted that Gretchen (poor girl) was dressed in a yellow dress with lace around the widish, flat, white old-fashioned collar, and cuffs on the short sleeves; at least there were none on the slip. She was also Yvonne's age; no wonder she didn't want to listen to advice. "She's making me hear about how horrible it is to be a woman! She wants to keep me a kid, and not grow old like her!" Martin had unbuckled the last shoe, and was now working the shoes off while he used his hands to take off the elbow pads. "I'm sure you're misunderstanding Grandma," To which grandma replied, "No, she hasn't! It's horrible to be an old woman!" Martin smiled, "Then Gretchen should have as much fun as she can when she's young!" "Spoken like a man! Fun is for boys!" 'Talk about bitter,' Nicole said. "That's not true, is it, Martin?!" Gretchen asked. He'd finally gotten both shoes and pads, "You've had fun, haven't you?" "Kid's fun. -They don't allow any kind of fun at the school Gran sends me to!" Picking up the shoes, and pads, Martin put them in their place in the hall closet, and was taking off the helmet, when he said to his sister, "We mailed the registration forms to Mom and Dad. When we get them back, then you can go to public school." "Granny won't let me: She's a mean old woman!" "I am not a mean old woman!" the old woman scowled at them as she turned the corner. The bent-over white haired woman was dressed in black, except for her nylons, with a pearl necklace, but diamond-and-gold earrings that matched her wristwatch; her brooch was a mismatched emerald. Her makeup was perfect except that it was on a wrinkled face without lips. "When you reach my age, you get crabby and cantankerous." ('Uh, hunh. And rich people are "eccentric".') The teen stuck his upper body out of the closet: "There, see, Gretchen? Gran's going to let you go to school with your friends, even without Mom and Dad saying she has to." Martin said, lifting his leg up to take off a shin guard. Gran did not like being out-maneuvered. "Get out of that scandalous costume, and put on something proper!" 'At last!' Nicole smiled. +++ Brining up the boy's damp rear, and remembering his front, Nicole said, 'That body glove is sure revealing.' Martin was unzipping it after he'd opened the door to the hall to the bedrooms. 'But more is about to be revealed.' This part of the house was larger than Aunt Irene's. It had a second hall running across this one, giving it four bedrooms, and a bathroom. It was this bathroom that Martin entered. Nicole stopped. 'If he's going to go to the bathroom, I don't want to be in there. I'm not curious about that.' Then she heard the shower start. 'That's more like it! I'm a voyeur, not a pervert.' She stepped forward. Only to stop again. 'Ohw: Why'd I have to say that. I guess I'm not ready to be a voyeur, either. Rats!' Nicole, turned away, 'Now, which is Martin's room?' +++ With the second hall running to the a second back door cutting the size of the room next to the bathroom down, what was Aunt I's master bedroom was now Gretchen's room. That meant the master bedroom in this house was on the other side of the hall; their parents were still alive, so they probably had a room, too. Nicole guessed the room across from second hall from Gretchen's would be Martin's. 'Of course, I should let my feminine curiosity do a little looky-louing!' she almost giggled. 'Only being in strangers' homes, with them home, isn't as much fun as I thought it would be.' She sighed, and said, 'Maybe when I get used to the idea of being a ghost. I would have to be basically a good girl.' +++ Martin's room was neat, not the mess she expected from boys. The light yellow ochre wallpaper burgundy stripes and fleur de lis was matched by the large oval red and cream braid rug in giving the room, like the house, the stamp of the antique grandmother. The bed had a simple scroll-sawed black foot and headboard. It had a burgundy blanket and plain white sheets and pillowcases. On the other side of the bed was an oak desk with a laptop, with the windows behind it (with their blinds and yellow curtains). A two- sided bookcase was set at a right angle between them. The other side had comic books, graphic novels, and, Nicole supposed, other material not thought of when you think of libraries. There were what were (probably collector) cars, autographed baseballs, and a football. An umbrella stand held bats, and street hockey sticks, and other sports equipment that had handles; a wire basket held a dozen balls of all kinds. There was a fighting kite suspended from the ceiling. There was a 'treasure' chest along the wall that probably held other boy toys. On the other side of the bed, behind the rug, was what Nicole would've called an oak vanity if it wasn't obviously not meant for a girl (and it had no chair in front of it); on it were guy's things like combs, brushes, hair gel, sunscreen, hydrogen peroxide, bandages, a couple of earrings and a pin (the rest of that stuff was probably in one of the little drawers), etc. And next to that was a black chest of drawers with more odds and ends on top of it. Martin didn't have closets; he had dark oak shelves running the length of the wall of the door, with pegs underneath them. A school backpack was on the closest one. The system was that the 'pegs' had notches at different places along their lengths so that the clothes on one hanger would be behind or over the next, or it could be used just as a peg. Nicole had to admit Martin had good taste in clothes; there were current, but they weren't "in-style"; they were the fashion of catalog models. Nicole was a catalog model. 'Well, I can't stand here admiring his things. I don't want to be here to admire him, when he gets out of the shower. Now, what outfit do I want to see Taylor in?' She took down an astral hanger with black jeans and a tan polo shirt with brown trim and white outlines. 'I wonder if Taylor's mom picks out his own clothes? I know a wife traditionally buys her husband's things.' She liked the thought. 'Even a girlfriend has a right to see her guy in things she likes.' Just a "girlfriend", now? She held up the clothes hanger, and sighed. 'Taylor has a nice body; but compared to Martin's... No! I'm a wife, now! I shouldn't be thinking about other guys.' Martin's shoes were all in a row underneath the pegs. 'I don't want to have to carry shoes.' She tied the astral laces, and draped them over an arm. 'I've seen guys wear them around their necks; but I don't want heavy shoes bumping against my boobs.' They were still awkward. She didn't want to take the time to unpack the backpack, and didn't know where his suitcases were kept. When she was done she went the chest of drawers. She reached in, and felt around inside. She pulled out underwear, a pair of boxers. 'Nothing cute,' she said, disappointed. They were an olive green with little squares on them. 'Hmm! I wonder if I pulled out a pair of swim trunks? Maybe if I... Right: Go rummaging in a guy's underwear drawer. I definitely have good girl issues.' She found a gray T-shirt, and black socks in other drawers. 'One of these days, I should come back, and find out what he keeps in those other drawers.' She surveyed the room one last time. On the bed, pajamas with blue bottoms and (baseball-like) white-with-blue pinstripes top was laid out. 'I'm not ready to see a guy in my room sleeping in the nude. Not before the honeymoon, at least.' As she was about to leave with arms full, she said, 'Next time I come here, I'll bring a suitcase.' Her impish smile returned as she left, 'If only for the souvenirs.' +++ Cartoons were on TV. And Taylor was very uncomfortable. Not only was he in a strange house with a strange family, he was in a strange body. That girl- body had been practically forced to sit on the end of the couch, while the mother of the body had sat next to he-r to keep an eye on that body. It was like making out in front of her whole family, while all but one tried to ignore him and her. Almost like that. The girl-body was 'snuggled' up so close to him that she was in him. S-he was as turned on as he was. (He had to admit, now, that what he'd felt when Nicole tricked him back into her body was a mild buzz.) His half-risen bone was poking up from between he-r legs and under his robe. Because s-he could see it, his mind kept telling him that the others -especially the mother!- could, too. Things were only made worse when he tried to take his mind off of his male problem: S-he was made even more aware of he-r female problem! He never had a female problem before! He-r boneless pussy was bothered all around the wet space. There was the place yearning for him-But his stupid bone was pointing the wrong way!! And he-r warmth vulva (That was the sex ed word, wasn't it?) was not making the back of his heat-sensitive balls any relief. Nicole's mother took a cushion and placed it on her daughter's fidgeting smooth bare legs, "reminding" he-r to sit still (and suffer, no doubt, like a proper girl was supposed to). Taylor's astral body was choosing not to feel the woman's presence- Thankfully. But her daughter's body could. Taylor's male mind was finding out that girls' senses were more sensitive- When s-he heard, 'Enjoy things while I was gone?' "I didn't enjoy anything!" the miserable Taylor said as he-r made to get up. Mrs. Getty's reaction caused her to eased up on the cushion, "I hope not!" "No!" Taylor told her while he-r made he-r escape. "I was talking to... Nicole's back!" ("Nicole's back!" Julienne announced to Bobby; Bobby didn't care.) "Nicole?" Margot Getty looked up at the ceiling. "Get back in your body at once!" "Yes, please!" Taylor begged. At the moment having a soft, warm body with curves everywhere was just too distracting. Coming around the stairs to the first floor: 'Look what I got you!' Ghost Nicole said, showing he-r the clothes in her hands and draped over her arms. "Nicole! I told you to get back in there! -And stay there!" "Where'd you get them?" Taylor asked. "Get what?" her mother asked. ("Yeah, get what?" Julienne asked.) 'I guess I'd better take them back,' Nicole acted disappointed. 'I might be late getting back.' "No!" Taylor went to stop her. 'You'll wear these?' she asked. "Yes! Yes! Just get me out of here!" (Margot and Julienne stared at empty air; then back at Taylor- Nicole.) Nicole put the astral clothes over the railing separating the living room from the down stairs (dropping the shoes and socks). She turned with the pajamas and said. 'Put these on.' I can't put those on until you put this on!" s-he said, motioning at he-r body. 'I wonder if I can dress you while you're still in my body?' She got that impish smile, 'Or undress you.' "Nicole!!" Her mother told her, "Nicole! Stop playing games!" Nicole gave in, and, putting the pajamas over one arm, she used the other to push. Taylor came out (and, illogically to him, became fully erect). "Oh! Oh-kay, Mom! I'mm, back," Nicole said, discovering the condition of her physical body. (which, because it was her mind, which had experience "pushing and unpushing its buttons", now, started cooling down. At least, it wasn't in any state she couldn't ignore. She didn't know if she should be glad ...or not.) ("Aw!" Julienne said. "I wanted a transformation you can see.") "Nicole?" her mom studied her. "Yes, that's you. We're going to have to have a serious talk!" "Wait a minute, please, Mom!?" she told her. She turned her attention to Taylor; holding up the pajamas still on her arm, "You didn't take the pajamas!" 'I don't wear pajamas!' Taylor told her as he headed for the bathroom. "I guess I'll put on my best, shortie little nightie, tonight," Nicole threatened with a smile. 'That's a threat?' Taylor, grumbling for more than one reason, turned. He looked at that smile. He thought of her body in it; right now erections were not something he welcomed. He thought of himself in her body; not only would he have an erection, it would be one that was conflicted by feelings of dilation. Until he got used to the two signals at the same time (if ever), neither of them would probably lead to the relief he craved at the moment. Then he thought of what was left of himself, his own mental image that probably kept his astral-Taylor alive if only as a ghost: The thought of that person he was trying to keep fixed in his mind in a negligee... Taylor went back and got the pajamas. +++ Taylor shyly peeked out of the bathroom wall into the long room. Nicole and her mother were gone; her aunt was now upstairs, turning off the TV and telling the two two-year-old and eight- year-old it was time to go to bed. Taylor ducked back in; only to come out the door to the bedroom hall. He was wearing (and pulling at) the pajamas under the robe. They were a little big around the shoulders, and a little snug around the waist. Whoever the physical pajamas belonged to was about his height (or at least as he remembered himself to be), but had different proportions. Taylor didn't want to think about those "proportions" (especially since, it looked like, he wouldn't get the chance to change them-at least not in this direction of a more masculine body). That must be why he didn't like them. Illogically, he tiptoed down the hall. He didn't hear Nicole or Mrs. Getty's voice. They must've gone down stairs into the office, and chased the aunt upstairs to keep the kids (meaning the little girl, Julienne) away. For a moment, he was tempted to stick his head through the door and take a look at the one person in this family he hadn't seen, yet, Yvonne. Nicole's cousin was, what, twelve? Thirteen? He didn't know. She was definitely too young for him. And it was late; who knew how she was dressed (or not). But he'd seen his sister Kaylynne in nightwear and underwear -Not on purpose! Just because she was where he could see! He reminded himself. But Kaylynne was his sister. Yvonne wasn't. She wasn't even Nicole's. Taylor thought about going out onto the veranda, and hiding out there for a while. When he did have to see Nicole again, he knew she would know what he'd done. Hell! Her mother knew what he'd done! 'And the aunt thinks I've done worse! Or will... like with all the girls in this family.' And for one brief second... 'No! I need Nicole to keep on going. If she thought that I had done anything like that, she might, uh, "disown" me, at the least. And if that doesn't work, she might even make sure I get exorcised!' Taylor bent his head in shameful defeat, 'Am I whipped. And I'm going to have a pussy to prove it.' Still unused to wearing pajamas, Taylor went into Nicole's room. 'Now, what do I do? I could turn a book into something I could read.' He snorted. 'Me read? And the kind of books would a girl have?' He glanced at the bookcase. 'Most of them are paperbacks... with colors like you'd expect from girls' books. Or magazines! Worse! There doesn't look like there's anything there I can turn into something I could read!' He saw on the computer desk, an MP3 player. 'It's where she does her homework, of course she'd have something to keep her mind awake.' But when he tried to turn on it's astral form, 'Nothing! Doesn't she have anything loaded into it?' Grumbling, again, he put it back down, 'The stuff she likes are all probably sappy, happy love songs. (Groan!) Or songs about getting married!' Taylor didn't feeling like sitting in front of her computer, 'I feel lousy.' He went over to the bed; he fell on it. 'There's only this one bed,' Taylor smiled at the thought. 'I don't know if ghosts have to sleep, but I'm not telling her if we don't. When the thought of sex turns me off, I have to turn it back on to feel good, again!' he said with determination. So, he started practicing his line, '"Nicole, be reasonable! I have to sleep somewhere! Okay, I did it. But that's because you turn me on. You said you're my wife. If you kick me out of bed on our first..." That is really, really rotten. Maybe I should read some of her books, just so I can get an idea what works on her.' All this tine, he'd been fidgeting, and pulling at the stranger's pajamas. It'd creeped him out ever since he'd put it on-being in another guy's clothes. But now, in bed, the feel of being surrounded by... 'moist room-temperature hot dogs' had gotten worse! Suddenly he screamed, and yanked off the bottoms! +++ Martin Wright, meanwhile, was lying in his bed in his pajamas. He had been enjoying the feel they were giving him very much. The End of this chapter +++ Taylor Estes's attitude is basically that of a normal guy (teenage, or adult), despite his power. He thinks about sex a lot (but only with girls). Unlike most of my other characters, I am short-circuiting his adjustment time. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he thought that his power could land him in a girl. But the real reasons are (1) the comic strip character that inspired him. Besides doing "common" guy-things that leaves his wife wondering (usually, "what did he think he was doing?"), the guy thinks about sex a quite a bit, more when he was younger. He may look, and dream, but one thing keeps him monogamous: She's there for him (most of the time); he knows (basically) what works on her. Why knock himself out? Especially since, his wife is very jealous. But Taylor, like Nicole, will be tested. (If only to provide something to write about.) And (2) I already have enough characters going through painful adjustments.