"This reminds me of the
gang attack in Miami. If we had driven away from here without checking,
we would almost certainly have had an accident on one of the hills. It
would have slowed us down, might even have caused some injury, but the
odds are we would have survived. I believe that was the intention with
the fight. We were supposed to be sidetracked and injured, perhaps
severely enough to be hospitalized, but that chauffeur didn't kill us
when he had a clear shot. The only thing I can figure
is Underwood hopes to discourage us without having to do anything as messy as murder."
"I am not so sure, Steve. I picked up a conflicting message from the Oriental. He would have been satisfied to cause my death."
"Well,
either way they can't know we have some very unusual talent on our
side." Steve winked at him. "At any rate, the only way I'd drive this
car is after I bled the brake lines and replaced the fluid, and there
isn't time for all that. We'd better call a cab."
Falcon followed her back into the house. "You would be able to effect those repairs yourself?"
"Oh,
sure. Daddy made sure I could do anything he could do, including auto
mechanics. Actually that's one reason I've never traded in this old
classic. I know where every single part is located and how it works.
It's easier to stick with things I'm familiar with."
Now it was
Falcon's turn to frown. She had clearly made an exception to that rule
in his case. He turned her to him, and his fingers traced the line of
her jaw. "Regrets, Steve?"
His question could have pertained to a
thousand different things, but she knew what he was asking. She took
his fingers in her hand and brought them to her lips for a soft kiss,
then placed them over her heart. Raising her hands, she removed his
glasses and wrapped her arms around his neck. She could see herself
reflected in his devastating eyes.
"Not one, Falcon." She stood on
tiptoe to deliver a soul-wrenching kiss. His hands slid down her back
and applied enough pressure to bring her flush against him. Using more
will power than she thought she possessed, she broke the kiss. "And if
you start that again, it will be too late to get into Underwood's
building, and you know it."
Falcon had trouble surfacing from the
sensual haze that had enveloped him the moment she looked into his
eyes. "This emotion, desire, is most interesting. I would not have
believed it possible, but now that I have ... given in to it, it comes
more easily, and more potently. A moment ago I was ready to forget my
entire mission for one more hour in your arms. I suppose, in time, I
will improve my control over it."
Steve laughed at his analytical
manner. "Well, let's hope you don't start improving until you go home."
The words hung in the air between them. It was Steve's turn to grow
serious. Falcon opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him with her
fingertips. Steve forced the smile back on her face. "No. It's okay. I
really don't want to talk about it."
By the time the cab arrived and
took them into San Francisco, the marginal hour they had allowed
themselves had been burned up. They got out a block away from the
building and Falcon went first, as planned. The less time he spent out
in the open, the better. Ten minutes later, Steve followed.
As Steve
entered the building, two people exited the elevator. She walked to the
directory and studied it intently during the seconds it took them to
depart the building. From that location she scanned the lobby. The
monitor and keyboard at the desk reminded her to keep an eye out for
cameras. Where were the two doors Falcon had seen? At the far end of
the lobby was a hallway.
Steve took a moment to be sure no one was
about to exit the elevator. The motor was silent. Quickly, she
investigated the hallway, which turned out to be no more than an alcove
with two doors. Above one was the familiar red-lettered "Exit" sign.
She opened the door to verify that she had found the stairs. Her hand
touched the next doorknob. Instantly it opened, and she was yanked
inside. The one glimpse she had before the door closed again told her
Falcon, minus his disguise, had pulled her into the janitor's closet.
The
only illumination came from a minuscule strip at the bottom of the
door. It was enough to make her realize any light they turned on inside
might be detected outside as well. Falcon's eyes glowed down at her. Of
course, he could see fine. She could tell he was smiling, and
whispered, "You think you're pretty smart, huh?" He did not bother to
respond. "It's awfully cramped in here. Did you notice if the floor was
clean enough to sit on?"
"Clean enough."
Steve did her best to
get into a comfortable position in spite of her costume. Removing her
jacket, shoes, and glasses helped. Falcon eased himself down, sitting
Indian fashion in front of her. She glanced at the luminous digits on
her watch. "We cut that awfully close. It's almost five now." She did
not realize her whisper had gotten louder until Falcon placed his palm
over her mouth.
I believe we should refrain from conversing, she heard him state in his normal, resonant voice.
"Shh-sh," Steve hissed back. "Your voice carries a lot further than my whisper!"
But I was not speaking.
Again his voice echoed through her, and she responded to his soundless order by placing her palm over his mouth.
Only you can hear me, Steve.
She kept her hand on his face. His lips had not moved. There had been no vibration against her palm as she heard his words.
Please,
relax. Remember, I feel everything you do. Your fear is quite
uncomfortable for both of us, and you know it is unnecessary. I
discovered another talent this morning. I have always been able to feed
my thoughts directly to a trained mind, such as most adult Noronians
possess, but I do not believe you have that training. Since you are the
first untrained person I have been able to do this with, I have no way
of knowing if it will be so with any individual or if our sexual
sharing has made a difference. That was a very nice emotion you just
had. I assume my making reference to our intimacy caused that. Yes, I
feel that, too.
Steve did not need to be hushed as she removed her
hand from over his mouth. She was totally speechless. The fact that he
had picked up on her emotional state so easily had been confusing at
first, but how did he get in her head? Could he read her mind now? She
was afraid to hear the answer, so she refrained from asking aloud.
Steve,
I would appreciate your assistance with an experiment. I wish to know
if you have any telepathic powers that would explain how you can hear
my thoughts so clearly. She nodded, knowing he could see the movement.
Thank you. I told you there were a few times I picked up a word or two
of your thoughts when you were excessively emotional. For the moment,
try to think of something passive, perhaps a mathematical table. Now,
in your mind, say it as if you were talking to me aloud.
She did. "Well?" she whispered close to his ear.
Nothing. It would have been quite nice if we could have conversed in that manner.
Again she leaned close. "You mean you can't read my thoughts unless I'm all worked up?"
Basically,
that seems to be the case. Unless I touch your mind, as you already
know. I suggest, for the remaining hours we are in here, if you need to
speak, place my fingers on your temple and think your words directly to
me. I assure you I would, not invade your privacy by probing further.
He placed his hand in hers.
Steve tried to adjust to the idea of
communicating without voices. She was relieved that he could not read
her every thought, and, when she was emotional, he usually knew what
she was thinking anyway. He would abide by his promise to allow her her
privacy. She pressed his fingers to her temple. It could be an
interesting way to pass the time.
Like this?
Yes. I hear you.
There is a lot going on in your mind, however. If you work at
concentrating on a specific word at a time, it would be easier for me
to disregard all others.
She removed his hand so she could plan what
she wanted to say, then tried again. We lucked out on the surveillance
system they're using.
That is somewhat better.
There's only one
monitor with keyboard control. The guard doesn't have to make rounds of
the floors. Instead, whenever he's due to patrol, he just runs through
his list of cameras. The odds are with us, but when we move, well have
to do it fast and be sure to keep your head down. I didn't see any
evidence of cameras when we were here before, but they're around. Also,
no elevator. He would be aware of it instantly. Since the stairs are
only two feet away, and out of the guard's line of vision, we should
manage fine, if the door doesn't creak. Hey, this is fun!
That is
because you are not the one trying to sort out all the words you are
thinking at lightning speed. Perhaps you would oblige me by limiting
yourself to one sentence at a time.
Steve started to reply and
realized he had withdrawn his hand. The sliver of light was not
sufficient to see where it was. But she could see his eyes, and from
them, she found his shoulder with her hand and followed his arm
downward. She felt the muscle in his upper arm tense as she made her
way to his elbow. That joint was bent at his hip, and her nails glided
along his strong forearm.
He was not very good at hide-and-seek. She
knew exactly where to find his hand and refused to play his game that
easily. A tug on his wrist made no difference. If she wanted his hand,
she had to get it his way. She felt her way along the back of his hand
and gingerly tried to grasp one of his fingers without brushing against
the part of his anatomy it was resting over.
Falcon smiled, knowing
she could not see him. He had never completely understood the playful
teasing his human friends enjoyed so much. In the last twenty-four
hours, he had not only learned how delightful being teased felt, he
discovered a whole new meaning for the word "play."
When he resisted
again, she decided to change tactics. Pressing her hand against his,
she molded his fingers over his rigid flesh. Once she ascertained his
condition, she scraped her fingernails down the swollen muscle, knowing
only the thin material of his slacks protected him. He flinched, and
she quickly grabbed his fingers and pulled them to her face.
Behave yourself!
Why?
I
said if someone caught us in a closet, we could let them think we were
having a rendezvous. I did not say we had to be doing anything to be
convincing. I have no intention of being caught with my pants down,
literally, just because you haven't yet learned to control your new
horns.
I am not familiar with that expression, but I think I
comprehend your meaning. May I continue my experiment? It will not
involve touching you physically.
Steve knew he would not say that if he did not mean it. Okay.
Remember, no talking, only thinking. He pushed himself a few inches further back.
She
sat a little impatiently, waiting to learn about this next experiment.
He kissed her softly on the nose. Her hand automatically went to the
spot, while her gaze darted to his eyes. He had not moved. His mouth
brushed hers, and still his eyes were several feet away from her. How
was he doing that? His lips touched hers again and stayed.
The
feeling was real and familiar, and yet her reasoning denied the
reality. When his tongue dipped into her mouth and softly scraped the
roof of her mouth, Steve had to stifle a squeal. She now understood his
"experiment" involved toying with her senses on a mental level of some
kind, and decided to keep her eyes locked on his to remind herself he
was not truly making any physical contact.
Then why could she feel
his hands cupping her breasts beneath her blouse? Repeatedly, he rolled
the pebbled tips until they were sensitized beyond belief.
Stop it! Please. You're driving me nuts.
Falcon
heard her clearly. He was right. When her emotions, particularly her
passions, were aroused, he could read her without touching her. He
could stop the experiment now, but he wanted to confirm another
suspicion while she was cooperating... more or less. Had he actually
invaded her dream the other night? Could he please her just because it
was what he desired to do?
Close your eyes, Steve. And let go. Trust me.
His
fingers were between her thighs, stroking and kneading her. Trust? With
her body or her mind? She gave up the brief struggle and closed her
eyes.
Falcon, beautiful Falcon. Standing proudly before her in all
his naked splendor. Briefly, she wondered how her own clothes had
mysteriously vanished and how she had come to be lying on silken
sheets. She lifted her hand to caress the loving shaft he offered and
continued to stroke him as he positioned himself over her.
Steve
gasped when he plunged completely into her with one powerful drive. He
was too excited to go slowly. But suddenly so was she. It was not
enough to simply arch into his every thrust, she felt compelled to ram
herself mercilessly against him. Her explosive climax hit without
warning. She felt as if her entire body had been inserted in an
electrical socket and jerked back out again,
Falcon kissed her lips
and she raised her lashes. This was real. He was holding her tightly,
with two fingers pressed to her temple, and... chuckling! Steve felt
the rumble in his chest and gave him a punch on his shoulder. That was
not funny! She could feel him working at suppressing his laughter.
The
experiment was a success, in case you are interested. I can indeed read
your thoughts when you are in a highly emotional state. Unfortunately,
you tend to become incoherent beyond a certain point. Have I ever told
you how much I like the way you smell? He inhaled deeply.
She
punched his shoulder again. You are developing a strange sense of
humor. Let's see how funny you think this is. She wriggled out of his
arms and ran a hand over the closure of his pants. A small tug at his
waist and the zipperless opening gave way.
When her fingers
encircled his aching manhood, Falcon discovered just how hard it could
be to form a coherent thought. You said... what if someone... found...
Her mouth came down on him and the thought was lost. Drek! What was she
doing with her teeth? He found her temple and pressed.