Chapter #9Pass it on. by: Seuzz   ... and pass it on to Tom Ertzberger, then dive back into the pizza. The rest of the guys carry on without you, and you retreat to Karl's room before you can get a contact buzz.
It's relatively early, but you drop into an unmade (and rather filthy) bed, where you amuse yourself with some erotic fantasies that don't involve Mary until sleep and dreams overtake your host's mind. You're alert throughout the night, though, vaguely plotting out ideas about what you might do with Karl's body.
You rise the next morning for an eight o'clock math class and head out, without showering, in dirty jeans and a sloppy pullover. Math is dull, and then you go looking for Allison and Mary. You're curious to see what has happened with your sister since yesterday.
You don't find Mary, but you do find Allison, and make plans to rendezvous later in the afternoon with her and some of your mutual acquaintances. Allison has been talking to her professors, and you phone up some contacts Karl has at the alternative weekly newspaper. You've soon got plans for a full-scale demonstration to be held early next week at the gates of Fort Suffolk.
The rest of the week passes in a (non-drug) haze of classes, cheap beer, and meetings with your friends to make placards. You're full of fire and energy, and have a grand time denouncing various "fascists" and thugs, and spinning elaborate theories about what could have happened to your old self. You've soon got yourself (both your old, vanished self and your possessed Karl body) as the center of attention in your little world. You even get laid: On Friday night, Lina Minkowski, a homely girl but an available one, who likes listening in a half-comprehending way to Karl and his stories, hangs on you all evening as you fiercely lecture all who will listen about Chile and Cuba and Nicaragua and Iraq and Kazakhstan. It's very easy to start stroking her back as you talk yourself into exhaustion; she writhes pleasurably as you do so. Then, even while everyone else is still buzzing and working and partying, you silently lead her into the bedroom, where you strip her of her clothes, disrobe yourself, and, with no more foreplay than you'd delivered in your oration, thrust your erect penis up her pussy and set about plunging in and out of her. She moans and weeps all through your performance; when you're done, you nestle your cock deeper inside her, wrap your arms around her shoulders, and chew delicately on her lips until you think you've been polite for long enough. Then you pull out, put on your clothes again, and go back out into the living room to munch on cold chicken with the others. No one says anything about what you've just done, but they don't have to. Twenty minutes later, Lina comes out of the bedroom and leaves, shooting you only an embarrassed smile as she ducks out.
* * * * *
Mary wasn't there for that particular get together, but you see her almost every day, where you inquire after her well-being and do your best to comfort her. It's not entirely a performance, either from you or from the person you're inhabiting. Karl, of course, cares for her; and you still have a sibling's affection.
But it's still a bit of a surprise when, on Saturday afternoon, she shows up at the house, where you're relaxing a bit from the week and scribbling out some of Karl's lame poetry for him. She's seems very awkward and tentative. "Hey," is all she says as she sits on the sofa beside you.
"Hey yourself," you reply. "Ready for the big day on Monday?"
"I guess." She doesn't look at you, and is quiet for a moment. "You don't mind if I skip it, do you?"
This is a bit like a slap—you'd been planning to organize the whole thing around her presence. It would give the protest focus.
"What? I thought you'd want to be there, to really scream at the bastards."
"Yeah, but ... Well, it all suddenly seems kind of ..." She rolls her eyes desperately as she tries to find somewhere to look—anyplace but your face, it seems. "It seems like I've caused everyone a lot of bother. I feel kind of sorry for that."
"The fuck are you talking about?" you say in bewilderment. "All this has been for you—I mean, it's all been for your brother."
Something in what you've just said catches her attention, and she swings around to look at you levelly. "I know," she says quietly. "You've been amazingly sweet. Unbelievably sweet. I don't know how I could have dealt with all this without you. Not just all this protest stuff, but just the way you've been there for me. I can't believe you'd do all this for someone you haven't met."
"It's the principle of the thing," you say uncomfortably. "I'd do it for anyone."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Sure."
She looks at you with the same level gaze. "You know," she says, finally looking away, "I can't even get Sam that interested in it."
"Sam's a jerk," you blurt out. The sight of Mary in his company has been one of the few sore spots during the week. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," you mumble as she turns to look at you again. But there's nothing like anger in her eyes.
You can't break the gaze that is locked between you. Mary seems to be looking through you, or into you, or past you; you can't decide which. She seems to be very interested in something to do with you, though, and seems to be trying to decide something. Oh my God, you find yourself thinking. It can't be that she's—
And then Mary is leaning forward and kissing you. Deeply. With an open mouth. And her hand is inside your shirt, stroking your chest.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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