Chapter #80Checkmating the Mermaid by: Seuzz   You suck in a sharp breath. Lisa? Your old girlfriend? As a partner?
Except she said you weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, when she threw you over for Geoff Mansfield.
"I don't want to do that to her," you say, and feel yourself turning very red. "It would be like doing it to Caleb or Keith."
"Yeah, it was a real nasty thing you did to us," Frank says acidly.
"You guys were--! And Lisa was--!" You wheel furiously, putting your back to the others. "It's one thing doing it to people who weren't my friends before--"
"Are we your friends now?"
"We are you, dude," Joe says. "Lisa would be too."
"That's what would make it weird!"
"Are you thinking of winning her back?" Joe asks. "Or of taking over Mansfield's place?"
"I don't know! I'm trying to think of the future--"
"Which is how come we're screwing around in your old high school," Frank says. "If we're going to screw around here, we might as well screw around totally."
"So maybe we should turn Caleb and Keith into golems too?" you hotly demand. Frank just shrugs.
"They're not your friends anymore," Chelsea quietly points out.
"Are you voting for Lisa?" you ask her.
She shrugs. The other two perk up. "Are we taking a vote?" Joe asks. "If we are, I vote for Andrea. I see her in the hallways every day, and--"
"Then let's put it to a vote," you say, seeing this as a way to avoid picking Lisa. "Joe picks Andrea. You two?"
"Andrea's acceptable," says Chelsea. Simultaneously: "I don't especially care," says Frank.
"Then it's one to zero for Andrea," you say. "I don't want a stalemate or an argument, so--"
"I could vote for Lisa," Frank says with a smirk. "Force you to break a tie."
"Don't be a jerk, Jordan," Chelsea says. "Andrea it is. You two should split. Will and I should talk."
"We're just as much Will Prescott as he is," Frank says. But Chelsea insists, and a few minutes later it's just the two of you. She stretches out on the floor and takes Aparijita's mask off. You pick it up and regard it thoughtfully while your partner lays sleeping on the floor. You're feeling a little abashed as the implied rebukes that got said to you: Children. Immature. Are you wasting your time at Westside?
That's the question you put to Chelsea when she revives. "Oh, don't ask me a question like that while I'm so muffin-headed," she replies. "You've got your head inside the others, and inside me. Don't let them get inside your head."
"We should have talked about 'synching up' while we were all here," you say. You're actually a little less enthusiastic about that idea now, after hearing Frank talk. You wonder if you'd be much rougher--much more willing to screw with your old friends--if you were inside his brain.
"One important talk at a time," she says. "Right now we need to figure out how to get to Andrea. Or I do. After you and I talk about--"
"About what?" You stiffen, and not in an excited way as Chelsea edges closer to you and puts her arm around you.
"About making you feel better. I shouldn't have mentioned Lisa."
"I need to know what all the possibilities were," you mutter.
"I guess. But we won't talk about that anymore. We'll talk about-- You had fun being me today, didn't you?" You grunt. "What did you like the most?"
"Having boobs and a pussy to play with?" One of her breasts is squeezed up against you.
"But you didn't. Except with Gordon. And that was-- I felt the same way, of course."
"Naturally."
"So what was it you liked the most?"
"I don't know," you sigh. "Feeling connected to people and things? Feeling in charge? That talk with Kendra--"
"That was fun, wasn't it?" She giggles, and squeezes you. "We could find you a face, make you a mask, so you could--"
"I'm supposed to be coming back as Rosalie, remember?"
"Until then, I mean."
"Or I could ride around inside you some more," you say. "We have to get Andrea."
"And I know how to do that," she says. "But tomorrow. I'll set it up, then give you a call. You can do it using my body. But I think Kim has to get home. Where's-- Oh, there it is." She scrambles over to pick up Kim's mask. There's no implied invitation to ride around with her, and after she revives she takes you back to Straussler's.
* * * * *
But the invitation comes late on Sunday morning with a phone call. "I'm all set up with Andrea," Chelsea chirps. "You'll have to handle the business, since I don't really know how to do it."
"What's the plan? You gonna pick me up?"
"I don't have to, do I? Just move in. You'll see what I have in mind when you're here. I knew just the card to play with Andrea. She'll be here real soon, so you better hurry."
That gets you moving, though you have to roust a late-sleeping Jonathan-golem out of bed so you can get yourself comfortable. "I was gonna get together with Monique anyway," he grumbles. You're beginning to feel anxious about moving out of his place.
To your surprise, you find yourself in the changing rooms at the school when you materialize inside Chelsea. You're half-dressed, clutching your jeans with one hand. What the hell am I-- You search her memories for a clue.
Oh, that's work, you reflect when you find the answer. From Chelsea's bag you draw out the one-piece bathing suit--winter swim wear in place of the summer bikini--and pull it about yourself. It feels very good as it binds to your tight ass and strong tummy and firm bosom. There's a mirror in the corner of the room, and you turn around, checking yourself out happily and pulling and tugging at the hems until it's comfortable. You then stride out of the gym and over to the natatorium, leaving it unlocked for Andrea. That was Chelsea's "card": an invitation to join Chelsea at the school at the school's pool.
It's twenty minutes before the captain of the Westside swim team arrives, and you've tired yourself out with laps. You flash your biggest smile at Andrea as she drops a bag by the side of the pool, and returns your grin with a small one of her own. "So is this the first time you've been able to do a weekend swim up here?" you ask, and can't keep the smug out of your voice.
"I don't have a key to this place," she says simply. She peels off her jacket and jeans, exposing a one-piece swimsuit of her own. Her long, strong limbs are brown and beautifully shaped, and like your own swimsuit hers leaves nothing of her form to the imagination. She's taller than Chelsea, and tawnier in build, and her mask-like face is set in a hooded expression. Andrea is a real beauty, but she holds herself aloof from the rest of the school body; and she and Chelsea have little to say to each other. So she ignores you while executing a clean, knife-like dive into the water.
You swim more slowly while she makes brisk, business-like laps, and before long you're worn out enough that you pull yourself out of the water and let yourself dry out on a towel. Andrea rests a few times on the far end of the pool, clutching the side without coming out, but is otherwise completely absorbed in her exercises. But she knows she has to be polite, and when you gesture to her she swims over. "You said you don't have a key," you say. "I can't believe that. You should let me give you one."
"Are they yours to hand out?"
You roll your eyes. "They trust me with one, I'm sure they'd trust you."
"I thought they gave it to Gordon."
"Yeah, well, same thing. Come on, let's go up to the loft. We can dry off and, I don't know, talk."
She follows you slowly across the way to the gym, and you feel yourself prickle with excitement. She's so gorgeous, and soon she's going to be one of your teammates. You hope "Aparijita" will share Andrea's body as readily as Chelsea shares hers with you. To have those legs and those arms, to be able to peer at the world from over that tilted chin-- "I have a spare key around here," you mutter when you're in the loft. "Oh, I think I put it under--" You pick up the blank mask from the crate, and rapidly spin to slap it against Andrea's face. She falls back against the doorsill, and you grab her limp body and drag her over to the sigil that's laying on the gym mats.
You take a deep breath, and steel yourself for the labor to come.
* * * * *
You feel a deep thrumming inside you, and wake to consciousness with a gasp. Merging Andrea and Aparijita had been hard, harder even than the others, and as soon as you had the last connection in place you'd felt yourself falling into an abyss. And so this waking experience frightens you, briefly.
You struggle against what feel like bonds, but it's an embrace: Andrea, naked, is holding you tightly in her arms, her face against your neck. You squeal: "What are you doing?"
She raises her head, and her dark eyes glint. "Are you feeling better, Will?" she asks, emphasizing the name with a little lilt. "Or do you want me to--" She grips you more tightly, and puts her open mouth to the side of your neck.  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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