Mastermind, page 3
part #1 of Mastermind's Mutants Series
And he decided he was going to have her. Tonight.
“Excuse me,” he said, standing up and gently grabbing her arm as they passed by. Both the husband and wife stopped. “I need to tell you something.”
This, of course, caused them to make eye contact.
He grinned and looked directly into her eyes. “You’re going to sleep with me tonight. And it will be the best sex of your life.”
The husband was flabbergasted and outraged. But he tried to be polite. “Excuse me, sir. This is my wife.”
He looked directly into the husband’s eyes next. “And you’re going to pay for the room, and wait here in the lobby the entire time. You can have her back after I’m done with her.”
Both the husband and wife stood there speechless, dumbfounded, and… strangely, willing to comply.
The woman let go of her husband’s hand. She immediately, and very sensuously, placed both her hands on the mysterious man’s chest. The husband dropped his luggage, without another thought, and went straight to the check-in counter.
It was so nice of the husband to pay for the honeymoon suite. The woman laid on the bed, summoning the mysterious man with a turn of her finger and a sensual bite of her lower lip.
The man opened a bottle of Champagne. He was a man of class, after all. He poured them a couple glasses. They drank. Then he leaned in. And they kissed.
He took off her dress slowly. She quickly removed his pants. They kissed some more. She loved every moment of it. In the back of her mind, an inaudible voice questioned what she was doing. She was just married to the man of her dreams. Or so she thought. But for some inexplicable reason, she really wanted this new man. She had to have him. She wanted only him – and her desire for him only grew irresistibly stronger.
Of course, it didn’t help that he kept looking her deep into her eyes and frequently telling her, quite specifically, just how desperately she wanted him. And that’s exactly how she felt. It was like he was controlling her mind, controlling her thoughts and desires, controlling her very body. She was a slave to passion – a passion that only intensified every time he told her it would.
Whatever he wanted, he spoke, and she willingly, gladly, enthusiastically gave it to him.
After she gladly pleasured him in a variety of ways, he told her to stop and lay on her back. She did. Immediately. He told her to spread her legs. And she did. And he told her that she wanted nothing more in the world than to have him inside her – right now. And she bit her lower lip, yearning, waiting, squirming, longing for him.
He loved being in control of others. It was a rush. And it was a mind-fuck, too. Because right now, down in the lobby, her newlywed husband was waiting quietly, knowing full well what they were doing.
Maybe he should’ve told the husband to read a magazine or something. Nah. It was better this way.
The mysterious man fucked her. Normally, honestly, he wouldn’t have been that good. But because he told her it was the best sex of her life, she screamed out with escalating orgasmic passion and her body trembled with it.
He finished inside her. He wasn’t wearing any form of protection.
He didn’t care.
And when she went to kiss him, he pushed her aside. He was done with her.
He got up to put his clothes back on.
“Wait,” she said, pulling the sheets over her naked chest. “Where are you going?”
He pulled up his pants. Put on his shirt.
She crawled to the edge of the bed. “But… but…” She wanted more. That was amazing.
He put on his suit jacket and tightened his tie. Then he looked himself in the mirror, inspected everything, and felt he was flawless.
He went for the door.
“Wait…” she begged.
Their eyes suddenly locked. “Listen to me. You will not follow me. You will not speak to me ever again.”
She opened her mouth to say something – but couldn’t.
He began to turn the door handle, but stopped, and turned to face her and said, “And every time you fuck your husband, you’ll always think of me.”
Her mouth hung open. She stared blankly.
And he walked out of the room.
Chapter Four
Visitors
By now you should know who the villain of this story is. Hopefully that’s pretty obvious. But if you really don’t know, put this book down immediately and seek professional help. Otherwise, continue reading.
So anyway, earlier that same day, back in his apartment, Luke was happily watching one of his favorite movies. Back to the Future. And then there was a knock on the door.
Who could that be?
Luke looked at the door. His boring, plain, white apartment door. Much like the rest of his apartment – boring, plain, and white. That is, except for a few movie posters and comic book pin-ups. Had a woman lived here, of course, the apartment would’ve been decorated with pretty things. Maybe a few house plants. Some nice art on the walls that didn’t feature spandex-wearing fictional characters. And decent furniture too. But since two single guys lived here, and one of them was back in school and the other worked at a minimum wage part-time job, the apartment only had the bare essentials…
A used couch and old recliner chair they had bought from Good Will. A movie projector from Best Buy that Luke was still paying for on his credit card. The latest video game systems including the Nintendo Wii, which of course, had all the characters and bonus tracks unlocked in Mario Kart. A bean bag chair in the corner. And a small home-style movie popcorn maker machine in the living room. You know, the bare essentials.
Unfortunately, Luke had lost the remotes for both the projector and the DVD player, so to pause the movie, he had to actually get up from the couch, walk half way across the room, and physically manually push a button on the DVD player.
Both remotes disappeared several months ago. He searched everywhere – under the couch, between the cushions, even in the kitchen cabinets (which were mostly empty to begin with) – and they were nowhere to be found.
Of course, he could’ve bought one of those universal remote controllers. But those things cost like $20, $40, or more – and do you know how many comic books he could buy with that kind of money?
Anyway, the movie paused right as Marty McFly was about to travel through time for the first time. Out of all three Back to the Future movies, Part 2 was his favorite. That’s when Doc and Marty travel to the future. If Luke ever had his own time-traveling DeLorean, he’d definitely want to go to the future first. Like the distant future. With starships and teleporters and stuff from Star Trek. The past was boring. Too “low tech” for his tastes.
He reached for the door handle and opened it.
Two young men, barely old enough to vote, greeted him with ridiculously large smiles. They wore matching monochromatic dress shirts, ties, slacks, and clean shoes. They had name tags on. One was named “Elder White.” The other, believe it or not, was “Elder Young.”
Really? Mormons?
“Hello!” said Elder Young. “We’re from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.”
“Have you heard about the complete gospel of Jesus Christ?” enthusiastically asked the other one.
Luke scratched the back of his head. He glanced back at his movie, frozen in time on his wall. “I’m really not looking for a new religion…” he said.
“Oh, we’re not trying to convert you,” said Elder White. “We’re just out spreading the Good News about the gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”
“May we come in?” asked the first one.
“Um, well…” Luke looked toward his movie again. Sure, he had seen it about a million times already. But today he’d like to watch it a million and one times. Even if he didn’t, even if he had, say, chores to do – he’d rather do that than listen to a couple of Mormons, well intentioned as they were, try to push their religion on him. But what could he say? What could he do? He was too nice to just slam the door on them. And he was too honest to make up some lie. He couldn’t pretend to be on his way out the door either, because obviously, he was at home watching the best movie of all time.
They just stood there, flashing those pearly whites at him, patiently and eagerly waiting for him to let them in.
He sighed.
“Sure, come on in…”
How long could this take, anyway? Five minutes? He’d just let them say their spiel, thank them for their time, and before he knew it he’d be on an adventure again – vicariously, of course.
Two hours later… and the Mormons were still talking. And by now, somehow, Luke had already accepted a free copy of the Book of Mormon, several pamphlets and flyers, and agreed to go to church with them Sunday morning.
The video projector started to overheat long ago, so that was turned off. At least Luke was a nice host. He brought both the missionaries some non-alcoholic, non-caffeinated, family-friendly drinks.
He smiled and nodded a lot, pretending to listen. Actually, he did like learning new things. And although he still had no interest in joining the Mormon church whatsoever, he did learn a few interesting things about their religion.
But whatever. Enough was enough. He was getting hungry. It was dinnertime. And he had to get up early for work tomorrow.
“Look, guys, can we continue this another time? It’s getting kinda late…”
They hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They were having so much fun. “Of course,” they said. “Definitely.” They got up, thanked him for his time, and reminded, “We’ll be by at 8 AM to pick you up Sunday morning.”
“Right…” He was going to have to remember to call to cancel later.
They headed for the door. But not before reminding him to say some prayer to confirm the validity of everything they had just taught him.
Luke nodded, smiled politely, and held the door for them. They finally left.
He closed the door and locked it.
At last. Time to eat. And then get back to his movie.
There was another knock at the door.
He stopped dead in his tracks. Now who could that be? Jehovah’s Witnesses? He was afraid to answer.
He looked through the peephole. And a big smile came to his face.
He quickly unlocked the door and opened it.
“Uncle!”
Standing there was a tall, skinny, charming older man. He was a little older than Luke’s father, so that put him in his early 60s. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. Luke’s uncle was a vibrant old man, full of youth and laughter. He had a twinkle in his eye and a big grin on his face. He wore a Hawaiian “aloha” shirt, pair of jeans, and New Balance sneakers. And he carried a small box labeled “fragile” under his arm.
“Hey!” said the man. “How’s my favorite nephew?”
Luke laughed and rolled his eyes. “Uncle, I’m your only nephew.”
The old man smiled. “It’s still true. May I come in?” He peaked his head in the door. “You have a cute girl over or something?”
“No, no, please, come in!”
“I see nothing’s changed since the last time I was here,” he said walking in. “What’d you do with all that money I gave you for Christmas last year?”
“Amanda.”
“Oh yes. I’m sorry. I forgot. Old age and all that. How’s she doing?”
“We – she decided it was best we saw other people…”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. She was pretty high maintenance anyway.”
His uncle relaxed onto the old recliner chair, making that loud “ahhhh” sound old men tend to make as they settle into a comfortable spot.
“Seeing anyone new?”
Luke shrugged. “Not really.”
“You’ll find someone,” he said. “A handsome young man such as yourself.”
“Thanks.” Luke sat down on the couch next to him. “Things just haven’t been the same since… you know.”
His uncle nodded silently. He quickly changed the subject. “So, you ever gonna decorate this place?”
“What are you talking about?” Luke remarked. He looked at his X-Men and Star Trek movie posters on the wall. “The place is totally decorated.”
“Uh huh. Here, I brought you something.”
“Yeah?” Luke got excited. Every time his uncle came to visit, he always brought a special gift. His uncle was a world traveler. Well, archeologist and anthropologist, really. He got paid to travel the world, learn about other cultures, study ancient history, and then lecture about it all at different universities.
He was more or less retired now. Just did an occasional project or lecture now and then for fun. He spent most of his time out traveling, exploring, and adventuring around the world on his own dime and on his own time now.
Last year he went to India and Peru. The year before that, he did a month-long “walkabout” in the Australian Outback. Earlier this year he participated in some big research project at Oxford – and did a little sight-seeing around Europe while he was there. And then he went to somewhere in India or the Middle East or somewhere. Some country Luke had never heard of. Geography wasn’t exactly Luke’s best subject.
“What is it?” Luke asked. Uncle – or Charlie, to most people – always found something unique from the culture he had visited. Whatever his uncle brought him this time, it was sure to be exotic and special. “Is it something from Saskatchewan?”
His uncle laughed. “Skardu. In Pakistan. Nowhere even close to Saskatchewan.”
“Right, that’s what I meant.”
“And yes, it’s something I picked up in Skardu.” He held the small plain box, a seemingly ordinary cardboard box marked “fragile”, in his hands. He wanted to give it to Luke. But he wasn’t sure he was ready.
“You know,” said his uncle, “there’s a lot of Tibetan Buddhist monks in Skardu. So many, in fact, that some people call it the ‘Little Tibet’ of Pakistan.”
“That’s… great.” Luke couldn’t wait to find out what it was. But his uncle was also a professor, and every time, Luke always had to hear the “story” behind it first. Uncle Charlie simply loved telling stories about the places he’d been, and how he came across this gift, and what made it so special and unique.
Luke learned to patiently wait. Let the old man tell his stories. And then finally he’d get the cool thing – whatever it was.
“Lots of mountains there,” his uncle continued. “Great for hiking, climbing, all sorts of things. On one of my hikes, I met and befriended a most interesting monk. He was convinced we were brothers in a past life or something – I don’t know about that – but we sure had a lot of great conversations. And then he mentioned something to me… Something interesting, something that when he told me about it, I thought right away about you, Luke.”
“Oh yeah?”
The old man smiled and winked. “This,” he said, holding the box. He paused to study Luke. Was he ready? Was it time? He took a slow breath and nodded.
He opened and reached inside the box. He pulled out a small pink crystal. A semi-transparent rock. The light entered it, and refracted somehow, creating a faint but beautiful iridescent glow.
“Wow,” said Luke. “It’s pretty.”
“Apparently a traveler donated it to his monastery, several years ago, as a token of thanks for their kind service and hospitality toward him. At first they thought it was some kind of precious stone, nothing more. But then one day, one of the monks did this…”
Uncle Charlie took the stone, pointed tip down, and dragged it along the arm of the chair. Where the tip traced, it left a magical sparkling trail of pink light.
Luke’s eyes widened with amazement.
“Whoa.”
Several seconds later, the trail of light faded away. No trace, no remains, no markings of any kind were left behind.
“The monks called it a magic writing stone. I think it’s got some kind of phosphorescent chemical in it, that probably temporarily activates whenever it’s rubbed against another surface. I’m guessing.”
Luke’s mouth hung open.
“And I thought you, being the artist of the family, might really enjoy this.” He smiled. “Want to try it?”
“Do I?” Luke grabbed it, held it up to his eyes, and then immediately began to “draw” with it. He pressed the tip of the crystal to every surface around him – the couch, his arm, the wall behind him. Wherever the tip of the rock touched, a momentary trail of pink light remained. Several seconds later, the glowing residue faded away, vanishing entirely. “This is so cool!”
As an aspiring artist, he had worked with a variety of tools and mediums – pencils, pens, markers, acrylics, oil paints, chalk, charcoal… But none of them behaved like this. It was almost a supernatural experience. Like writing with light.
“Buddhists aren’t big on worldly attachments, and I mentioned how much you love to draw.”
Luke kept “drawing” with the crystal. Lines, waves, spirals, his name…
“So I traded him for it. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
The crystal stone never seemed to run out of “light-ink” – or whatever it was that was creating this effect. Phosphorescence. Some kind of bioluminescence, perhaps. Or some other chemical reaction. The crystal must’ve had some mineral in it or something that reacted this way. Luke had no idea. True, he was a bit of a nerd and geek, and science was one of his favorite classes… But they never covered anything like this. Any guess was as good as any other.
Still, it was a cool toy. Too bad the light-ink always faded away after several seconds. He could draw some really amazing pictures otherwise.
“It’s awesome.” Luke stopped playing for a second to give his uncle a hug.
His uncle relaxed back into the comfortable old recliner chair, and smiled. “Just take good care of it. And don’t lose it.”
“Oh I will,” he said. “Take good care of it, I mean.” He paused for a second. “Hang on, I want to try something.” He got up and ran towards his room. He returned a moment later with a large artist sketch pad. He sat back down on the couch, drawing pad on his lap, and began to “doodle” with the magic writing stone.
