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The surgeon took one swift cut laterally across my abdomen and deftly worked his way to both my kidneys. I stepped closer to watch and focused so I could hear their conversations. In less than thirty seconds he had peeled back my belly and was as he called it, "Palpating both kidneys" to determine which was the best one.

I was surprised there was only minimal bleeding as they opened me up. It was easy to figure out the team was using some sort of Fusing Scalpel, one that sealed off capillaries as they worked. Even dead that I was, blood loss was problematical. To keep my organs viable there had to be a consistent blood supply.

As I began to wonder who was going to be the beneficiary of this latest transplant, I felt a presence. It was as if someone had moved next to me, put their arm over me to rest a hand on my shoulder. Softly I heard, "I hear you."

It was a gentle voice and quite female. As I wondered if I was only going to be benefiting women I heard a laugh.

"I hear you," I replied.

"Now, don't be sexist," the laughing voice added. "I'm Stacey Jones, by the way."

I moved back from the operating table and turned to look at her. Anything that I could have felt about only being connected directly to a bunch of women faded. She was BEAUTIFUL!

I gathered she was in her early twenties and looking at her, she appeared just a little shorter than me. She was the BOMB! As that idea crossed my mind, I heard an even louder laugh.

I quickly apologized. "Sorry. You're just so beautiful."

"Well, you're seeing the image I want you to see," she said. "Actually I'm a hundred and two, all wrinkled like a prune and wasted away to practically nothing."

I laughed right back to her, but I understood she had just told me another interesting thing about being a Spirit. The image I project is what the others see. Just like the image she had conjured up for me to see.

I put together an image of an eighty year old, fairly gnarly guy, and sent that off to her. She laughed and said, "Wrong!" Then she added, "Aside from the fact I can SEE you ... humm ... That's really you?"

Privacy was no longer an issue being dead and all. The dead have no right to privacy and have no way to protest any type of exposure, decent or indecent. I sensed what she was looking at by reading her mind. After stripping away everything covering me, she was scanning me naked. I got whole the picture of where her attention was concentrated.

She smiled, turned to me, then said, "That's a nice bit of equipment you've got there!"

As I started to blush, "Damn," I thought. "I'm a Spirit and someone can make be blush at the drop of a hat! What will they think of next?"

Well, the rolling on the floor image rattled through me again as she laughed very hard at me.

"OK," I told her. "Settle down before I run for the hills."

"Sorry," was her reply. "I'm quite a tease."

"Sure are," I answered. "My name's Will. You're?"

"Stacey ... Stacey Jones."

Man. I was out of it big time. She'd already said that. "Sorry," I told her. "I guess you know I'm new at all of this and well, you really distracted me."

"That's OK," she laughed. "As I said, I'm a tease but ... By The Way ... the image I projected to you was me, way before my kidneys shut down. Also I've weathered through almost two years of Dialysis. Plus the drugs I've had to take haven't helped my looks either. I'm very skinny now and not so pretty."

"Don't worry," I let her know. "I'm just happy I can help you get better."

"I understand your problem too, Will," she said.

"What problem?" I asked.

"You know, about wanting to find out who killed you."

"Oh," I replied.

"I don't know what I can do to help," Stacy said, "But I want to, in any way possible. I don't live near here though. Actually I live in Flint, Michigan.

"But for now, I'm in Chicago General Hospital. That's where I'm being prepped for the transplant. There's a helicopter on the roof, rotors spinning slowly, waiting for your kidney. It will be flown there immediately. The procedure is timed so just as your kidney arrives in Chicago, my old one will have just been removed so yours can be connected."

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Cheryl had driven home from school for the short vacation, and she and Cal drove both of their vehicles back. They had debated about whether that was necessary, but they decided to be on the safe side. They left themselves just one day after they arrived before registration. Since housing was all in order, that was one time-consuming item they did not have to deal with. On their free day, they connected with Maddy and her family, with Jesus Monteleone, with the volleyball coach, and of...

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I don’t have to stop smoking, you’re my stepdad. You can?t tell me what to do. What? You’re going to tell mom unless you can photograph my tits? Fuck you asshole. Fine. Now you want to see me totally nude? You are a disgusting old pervert stepdad. I hate that you keep taking photos of me. You probably jerk off to them. No! I’m not putting my mouth on your dick. You’re going to show mom pics of me smoking again? Fine. I hate being the outlet for your sick...

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Jeff looked at Mary's slippers and her maid Felicia's sexy panties. He had just had a memorable orgasm using both of them to heighten his sense of arousal. The memory of their debauched exercises only a few days ago made him lower his nostrils right next to their fragrant aroma. He dozed off with Felicia's pretty panties wrapped around his flaccid cock. The next thing he knew Linda was sitting on top of him with her heavily scented pussy right under his chin. Linda was his mother but he...

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I never cease to be amazed by what stories people will tell me in bars. Perhaps I should become a bartender. I've spent enough time in bars and heard enough stories. I have always wondered how much of what I hear is true. There's something about the anonymity of the setting, the booze, and the mood. I don't know. Maybe they're truer than those told in the bald light of day. But one night a number of years ago I met a woman who's story was hot enough to keep me warm on cold winter nights for...

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