This choice: Possess Ian, head out of town • Go Back...Chapter #12A Key Change by: Seuzz   You're not sure how much of a direct line there is connecting Ian Patton to the rich and famous celebrities you suddenly find yourself coveting. But with your skill at hijacking bodies and impersonating possessees, it doesn't have to be a line connecting point A to point B. In fact, the more winding the route, the better it might be, as it will give you time to hone your powers and discover new ones.
So while Ian chats with his friends back in the kitchen of the Sunshine Diner, you send Marc's body into the men's restroom and Jessica's body into the ladies' restroom; through Eva's eyes you watch Ian, tensing to intercept him if he tries leaving before you're ready. Over one sink you hack and gag and throw up a fat blue slug; in the other you tease your hair and rub your cheeks until they blush. Both bodies exit their restrooms at the same time, and with a casual fumble pass the slug from one to the other, who quickly slurps it down.
As Ian saunters back out of the kitchen, you summon him over with a wave of Marc-you's hand. "Where you off to now?" you ask with Marc-you's mouth.
He shrugs. "Home. Study. Goof off. Text." He sways from side to side, as though dancing to some beat only he can hear.
"Well, you mind dropping Jessica off on your way? She has to get home, but me and Eva—"
"Oh hey, sure. That's fine." Ian bobs his head. His eyes glint and dart as he sucks on his lower lip. He puts out a hand to help Jessica-you up, but that body is too busy packing stuff away, and he drops it after an awkward pause.
"Thanks," Jessica-you tells him as she stands. To your other bodies: "See you back home what time?"
"Oh, ten, eleven. Three," Marc-you says.
"When we're done here," Eva-you says. "It won't be that long."
"We won't wait up for you!" Marc-you shouts as Jessica-you follows Ian to the door. Eva-you kicks him under the table. "We should'a sent you with him," Marc-you murmurs. "Jessica could help me with this fucking German and I could help her with her calculus."
"You could still do her math for her."
"I could, probably. Couldn't I?" Marc-you murmurs after a moment's thought. With his strong hand you pull Jessica's homework over, and start doing the problems in her girlish curls and loops.
* * * * *
While two of your bodies quietly busy themselves with homework—something you can do in the back of your head, almost—the third settles into passenger seat of Ian Patton's Jeep. It's an open-aired thing, with a short windshield, no doors, and a heavy roll-bar, and you can barely hear him shouting at you over the whistling wind as he races up Twentieth Street. "Where do you live?" he shouts a third time before you can make him out.
"Out by the river!"
"Cool, that must be nice!"
"What?"
"I said, where by the river? What street?"
"Off Farm Road! By Potsdam Park!"
"Where?" He leans over.
"I'll tell you when to turn!"
It's all the way across town, practically, and not far from Westside High. You chat a little when stopped at a streetlight—you congratulating him on his upcoming gig, and he asking about the cheerleading squad's chances at the state competition—and when the Jeep is in motion you let Jessica's skirt ride up high over her thighs. The effect isn't as strong as it could be, for Jessica-you is wearing stretchy gray tights underneath, but it does signal a willingness to display Jessica's gymnastics-honed body to Ian, and he clearly responds, even if his response consists of keeping his gaze mostly forward, and when directed toward you at a spot stubbornly above your collarbone.
Your directions take him past the Garners' house and into the parking lot of Potsdam Park, a narrow strip of grass and trees between Farm Road and the Mohegan River. Ian's brow crinkles as he lets the engine idle. "You gonna walk home from here?" he asks.
"I could," you tell him. "But I wanted to talk to you first." You reach over to turn off the engine. "You're really good at the guitar."
Ian's eyes widen, and he shrugs. He is being modest, which is cute because Ian Patton is rarely modest about his guitar playing.
"I was never good at music," you continue. "I mean, Eva and I both learned to play the viola. I was in the orchestra with her until our sophomore year." Back in the diner, Marc-you and Eva-you studiously avoid looking at each other. "She still plays, but I gave it up. I didn't have the patience."
"It's hard," Ian says. "You gotta practice."
"You make it look so easy. Um, could I see your hands?"
Ian hesitates, then holds out his right hand. It's leathery, with callouses, a bit like a paw. You hold it and caress the palm with your fingertips. "Anyone ever tell your fortune?"
"Oh, sure," Ian squeals. Then, in a lower register: "I mean, back in elementary school. We had a, uh, fair thing—"
"I know how to read palms a little bit." You grit your teeth before continuing; none of your hosts is particularly good at flirting, and you're afraid of coming on too strong. "Would it surprise you if I told you that girls liked you?"
"Um ..." Ian says.
"Um, yeah?" you prompt. You look up at him from under Jessica's brows. "You saying there's lots of girls who like you?"
He shifts in his seat. "Well, uh—"
"Would I have to make an appointment?"
Ian does a little double-take at you, and his eyes widen until you can see the whites all around them. He stares. Then his head almost imperceptibly jerks from one side to the other.
You let a long, slow smile widen across your mouth. "Do you have to get home soon?"
He draws a deep breath. "No."
You raise his stiff hand to your lips. "Do you mind hanging out here? We don't have to ... talk."
Ian groans and slides down in his seat.
* * * * *
You watch from a distance inside the Sunshine Diner, staring through notebook paper covered in equations and summaries of the wars of Alexander; staring through the Formica tabletop; staring through the darkening night and listening with a cheerful lack of interest as Sean Wilcox comes by to bitch about wait staff who think nothing of cancelling at the last minute, leaving him and a few guys who have other places they need to be to cover the shortfall; staring and listening as the body of Jessica Garner clambers onto Ian Patton, straddling his lap and leaning against his shoulders and putting her mouth to his. You watch and listen as lips find lips and tongues find tongues and the breath of one mingles with the breath of the other.
It took very little to reach that point, once you had flatly declared Jessica-you's interest in him. You only had to say, "You come out here, or go down to the river, with other girls, don't you?" and he had only to say, "Well, yeah," and then you had only to say, "Could we do that sort of thing here?" and he had only to half-levitate out of his seat with some obvious mix of terror and anticipation before you turned Jessica's body toward him and brushed the front of his t-shirt, then clambered over the gear-shift of the Jeep to stand on her knees over the gear-shift knob that Ian was installing inside the front of his trousers. Ian gripped Jessica-you's body behind her shoulders, and from the way his fingers ran up and down her body, and the way his tongue and teeth played with hers, you have to assume that he is running a familiar series of moves.
But after breaking through his crust this way, you don't delay on ramming your way through the opening. You break off with a murmured apology, and somewhere in the deeps of your throat you hack and rumble and cough until you feel something rising and filling your mouth. "Are you okay?" Ian asks.
You nod and grunt and press your lips to his. He opens his mouth, and you squirt something soft and viscous over his tongue.
He doesn't react until it goes down his throat and anchors there. Then he stiffens all over and sucks in a deep breath down his nose. You grab his wrists and hold him as you pump more of yourself into him. He shakes beneath you, and his mouth works, and a part of the world that had been as cold and dead as rock begins to soften and warm to your touch.
His teeth snap shut, and you pull back, staring down into his saucer-like eyes. He grins glassily at you, and froth appears on his lips.
Then his mind plops into yours; a dark door opens; and you are staring up into Jessica-you's face with a new set of eyes.  You have the following choice:  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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