Secret Nature

Jack Bessie is the creator of the website, Jack Bessie’s Duct Tape for the Soul @ http://jackbessie.com. It is filled with all sorts of insightful, funny, crazy and profoundly motivating stuff! Features such as Daily Duct for the Soul, Bessie-isms, and Daily Quotables are posted new each day in his Blog, Jack’s Daily Duct Tape Blog. (http://jackbessie.com/blog/) which you can also access through the website.

Each week he posts a new humor/satire piece called Bessie’s Bits. In addition, Jack’s Leftovers, and Jack’s Junk give you all sorts of strange, funny and quirky things, and are changed each weekend. There’s even a new short story each month, as well as a bunch of other pages filled with crazy and amusing features. And of course, there’s a whole section devoted to all his other books, with links to see samples and to buy them. (Authors are wicked opportunists!)

All of his contact info, e-mail addresses etc. are there too He even gives you material in the Archives, for all you over busy or tardy ones. Jack and his staff are a pretty zany bunch, and you should find something that makes you laugh, giggle, cry or want to hang him. Check it out! It’s free, and worthy of being under your favorites!

Come for a nice tour, and a chance to get to know him!

The staff @Transcendence Publishing

A Thought

Every human wishes to have a certain amount of stability in life. We’d at least like to know what we are, and are capable of! Imagine what a rude shock you’d feel, to discover that you were not what you thought? That in fact, you were not even precisely human, as most would define it? How would you greet that bit of news?

Oh, certainly, everyone has daydreamed about being a super hero, or of being able to transform into something else. Who can’t imagine how neat that might be, especially if you could fly! But would that feeling last? How estranged might you suddenly feel from family and friends, if you discovered you were different, and profoundly so?

Worse yet, imagine you were married to an ordinary human, who not only could not be like you, but would be terrified of what you were? Welcome to Secret Nature which explores that very subject. You’ve never wondered how badly you might want to be with someone like you, have you? You’re lucky, that the people around you are like you; normal humans. Or are they? How would you even know? Have fun reading, you’ll have some things to think about, once you’re done!

Jack

1

Lydia Lucero was having a normally hectic day, when she stopped at a small café, run by a Lebanese family, to grab something for lunch. She intended to take her food back to her office, where she worked as an administrative assistant. Gopher with tennis shoes, ready to run, she had many times described her position. She leaped from her car, slinging her purse over her shoulder and headed briskly toward the entry. This took her past an outside seating area, where a dozen small tables were enclosed by some shrubs and wooden railing.

Lydia was hurrying past, paying no attention, when a subtle odor caught her attention, and she stopped dead, turning into the slight breeze, which was wafting the odd fragrance toward her, from the patio area. Her nose, which in all respects appeared to be quite ordinary and unremarkable, was none the less, far more acute than the average person’s nose. She raked her eyes over the tables, looking for someone familiar, who might account for this specific smell, a complex pheromone that was common to only a special group of people. She recognized no one.

That’s odd, she thought, puzzled by this fact. Maybe one of the people is from out of town, belongs to another one of our clans. Several of the diners were women, whom she could dismiss on sight; the aroma she was captivated by was strictly a male one, strong and seductive.

Shifting slightly, back and forth, her eyes fixed on one man, sitting alone, reading a newspaper as he ate. He was dressed as though he might be a contractor or tradesman of some sort, and she could just spy a slight bit of a large tape measure on his belt, the rest hidden by the table top. Lydia was intrigued, and more than a slight bit aroused by the aroma. Smiling to herself, she quickly went inside, eager to order. She no longer had plans to grab her food and leave.

When her food was handed over, on a tray instead of in a bag, she pushed open the door to the patio area with her bottom, and began circling the tables, wanting to determine precisely which person she was interested in, her path, downwind, allowed her to snake her way around between the tables, and passing close to the man who was reading, she smiled. Her sensitive nose could easily detect the scent of his sweat, which his deodorant was battling, but not good enough to escape her detection, along with the animal scent that she was interested in.

Lydia slipped around behind him, and stood quietly a few moments, to see if he would notice her matching scent. He had been completely oblivious to her passage and observation, yet it only took a moment for him to raise his head and glance first to the left, then right, puzzled, but totally mystified as to what had caught his attention. This pleased and excited her more, and she stepped past the table, into his view. She allowed him a small moment to observe her butt, displayed in her snug jeans, before she turned and, catching his eye, she smiled radiantly.

Oh…would you like some company? she asked him innocently.

Paul Talbot had no idea that he was in the same relative position as a sheep being led helplessly to slaughter. He had been relaxing from his morning of hard work, at a commercial building being renovated into new shops, had been happily minding his own business, enjoying his meal and absorbed by his newspaper. That something had disturbed his concentration, had made him look up, to find a pleasant, but not gorgeous looking young woman smiling at him, had seemed neither odd, nor especially prophetic.

Paul was happily married, at thirty four the father of two young children, and not in the least interested in the attention of any other woman, whether angelic or completely wanton. Yet he was an outgoing and friendly person, who enjoyed meeting and talking to as many people as might come his way. He moved his paper out of the way, gestured for Lydia to sit, smiling in kind. I’m Paul, he said simply, as Lydia slipped into the seat, setting her tray down, and hanging her purse under the table on a hook.

Lydia effortlessly introduced herself, and they began a rambling conversation, trading information about themselves, where they worked and about their family status. Paul, having no ulterior motives, declared his wife’s and children’s existence quickly. Lydia, being unmarried and in her mid twenties, had no relationship to declare. God…I wish you were single! she declared, grinning mischievously. Paul was a bit put off by this, and quickly asked, Why do you say that? sounding more nervous than he would have intended.

Lydia reached over and patted his hand. Cause at least you have a job! All I seem to meet are guy’s still living in their parent’s basements! She laughed at this, and Paul suddenly felt a thrill pass through his midsection, Lydia suddenly seeming far more sensual and sexy than he had considered her at first. He expected this to make himself feel more nervous, more worried that she was trolling for a man. Instead, he found her warmth and sexiness to be pleasant and not a threat. He had no desire to examine why he felt this way, instinctively shying away from a proper examination of his own motives.

Maybe you should look at older guys, he suggested.

She rolled her eyes. They’ve all apparently moved back home with mommy too, she said and giggled. How did your wife find you? she pointedly asked. Paul smiled at the memory.

It was a blind date. Some mutual friends got tired of listening to both of us complain about not meeting anyone decent and set us up. I was…barely eighteen, and she was fifteen. We had dinner, then went to a party together. The party sucked, so I took her over to my parent’s house to sit and watch a movie…my parents were out of town.

Sneaky. How’d the evening turn out? I assume it wasn’t too terrible if you two ended up married!

Paul shrugged and grinned. We talked for hours. Ended up getting drunk, went to bed, got naked and passed out…didn’t do a thing! We didn’t even kiss each other goodnight. When we woke up, we were so sick and hung over, we just hugged and moaned! We felt too bad to do anything naughty. We didn’t make that mistake again! It worked out…we still laugh about it! he smiled.

That’s cute! What did her parents say, about her not coming home? Lydia asked, squirming slightly, fighting her own urges. She was sitting down wind from Paul, and his fragrance was tormenting her with an intense, animal desire.

Paul grinned. She got her butt grounded for a month, but they relented and let me come over to see her. That worked fine…we had sex in her own room, when the parents went out for something! I wasn’t a saint, and she wasn’t either. We wanted to do wicked things that first date…just couldn’t. We were so wasted! he confessed and smiled. I’m pretty glad it worked out.

They talked about their jobs before Paul asked, How old are you? curious, since Lydia had neglected to mention it.

Guess!

Oh no! That’s the wickedest trap a woman can set for a guy! Just tell me…I’m awful at guessing, and I don’t want to offend you. he added, watching as Lydia munched on her meal.

Chicken! she teased, but then tossed her hair and said, Twenty five! Were you close?

Paul shrugged. I’d have been wrong…you seem like a teenager one moment, then like you’re as old as my wife the next…you know, mature and proper.

Lydia laughed. I’ve never been called proper before! Thank you…that’s sweet!

So…what are you usually called? he asked, and then suddenly realized he might have asked a most embarrassing question.

Naughty, she replied with no hesitation, or worse!

Paul found this declaration to be awkward. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…lead you…you know…

Into confessing my slutiness? Paul! I was raised to be very open about sex, about my sexuality. I’m comfortable about my naughtiness, my desires! I know…most people are pretty neurotic about it…can’t bear to be open or honest. Our whole society is plastered with sexual images, but everyone pretends that they’re all nuns! That’s what’s crazy…don’t you think?

Paul considered this and how in some ways his own wife could be inhibited about various things. He was never sure what she would find sexy or exciting. One moment she could be as sexy and abandoned as a hooker, the next time she acted as reserved as a nun…a virgin one. He sighed, realizing that he found Lydia’s openness to be very alluring and enticing. She’s not some stunning, hot babe, but I bet she’d be a really good lover, he thought, silently considering her manner.

They finally realized that it was almost two, and they were alone on the patio, not to mention late for work.

Afraid you’ll get fired? he asked as they gathered up to leave.

"God! I wish! Then I’d have to look for a better job!"

They said goodbye in the parking lot, warm and polite, buy in no way inappropriate. Lydia put her hand on Paul’s arm while saying goodbye, and they went off to their lives, with Paul oblivious to the fact that Lydia had committed to memory, not only who he worked for, but where he lived., and as much other information as she had been able to glean from him about him. Finding him again, watching him, discovering everything about his life would be easy.

As she drove back to work, she considered another fact, which her observation of Paul had determined. He had found her desirable at various moments in their conversation. She knew he could detect her aroma, the animal pheromones that made sex between her people so urgent and intense. I could have jumped on him right there…on the patio, Lydia considered, pleased by this, her own desire still with her. He won’t be able to say no when I’m ready to have him…and that won’t be long! She smiled wickedly at her image in the mirror.

She was completely distracted during the rest of her afternoon’s work, considering her urges, and eager to go see her family, especially her father, when she was done, to discuss the odd encounter with Paul. He had the clear, defining smell that marked him as one of their people, yet he had known none of the coded signs they used to declare themselves. Could he be one of the lost ones…a member who had been raised apart, unaware of his unique abilities and odd talents? How long has it been since such a lost one had been discovered? Lydia wondered, bursting with excitement, that she might have found one. The fact that Paul had a life, was enmeshed into his ordinary existence, gave her pause, but only a slight one. If he is one of us…he must be told…must learn what he might do. I wonder if he would thank us? Lydia thought, nervous that he might not be quite so grateful.

2

When Lydia was finished at work, having been utterly distracted about her tasks and criticized several times for being inattentive and lazy, she drove to her small apartment, eager to shower and change before going to eat and visiting her people. Her shower, which was normally business like and brief, took much longer, as Lydia could not keep from playing with her breasts and pussy, the sudsy body wash slick and erotic. She had a quick but intense orgasm as a result of her touching, then guiltily rinsed herself off, the naughtiness steamy and exhilarating.

After drying her body and her hair, she viewed herself in the large, full length wall mirror, which hung in her bedroom, finding the urge to imagine how Paul’s’ hands might feel, softly and intimately touching her sensitive body to be irresistible. Smiling at her own weakness and giving in to her continued aroused state, she slipped into her bed, eager to fantasize about Paul, and to masturbate with near delirious abandon. She worked diligently, and after having a long and strong orgasm, she had to resist the urge to go to sleep. She stretched, sat up, and began dressing herself.

Lydia drove over to the restaurant and bar that her uncle and grandfather owned. Her family was mostly Italian, with a bit of Greek and a stray Frenchman added. Luigi’s Kitchen had been a family enterprise since grandfather bought it decades before. They served a mostly Italian, partly Greek, Hungarian and American menu, which was always good and kept the place always packed. Many of her immediate family ate there every day, including her mother and father. When the last child had moved out, that being Lydia, her mother had declared an end to cooking, other than for holidays.

Her family always ate back close to the kitchen, where many of the others among their people chose to sit. They were a close group, tightly knit, bound by having all grown up close, as well as by dent of the fact that they all shared the same unique secret. Lydia was greeted and teased by a dozen people, as she made her way back to the kitchen.

She waved at her parents, but her first duty was to enter the kitchen and find her grandparents, to give them a quick hug and kiss; either I get a kiss, or you get leftovers! Grandpa had declared, a threat Lydia had no intent of chancing. She found the old man, directing and complaining, as usual, not doing any real work, but keeping everyone else on track.

Lydia! Where’s my kiss?! he demanded, as always. You want leftovers? Lydia gave him a hug and a kiss, then slide over to do the same with her grandmother, who was taking carryout orders on the phone, too busy to do more than give Lydia a quick peck. Returning to her grandfather, she whispered excitedly, I think I found a lost one!

Her grandfather peered over his glasses. Really? We’ll have to see about that! What do you want for dinner?

I have no idea! Let me go see what everyone else is eating! she suggested, and headed back out of the kitchen, eager to get out of the heat.

She found an empty seat next to her father, at a table that seated six. Besides her parents, Myra and Phil, her Uncle Bill, and two other close family friends, also people like themselves, a couple named Trudy and Jerry were present.

Hi! What’s everybody eating? Lydia asked. After surveying the other’s plates, Lydia glanced at the menu briefly, before laying it aside. One of the servers had come by to check on everyone, and seeing Lydia, asked what she wanted.

Give me the spaghetti and meatballs!

Her father looked worried. They still give you gas like they used to? he asked, brows furrowed in mock concern.

Dad! Lydia shrieked, laughing.

Let her eat them…she can fart all night…she doesn’t live with us now, her mother suggested, unable to resist adding to Lydia’s mortification, which she considered a fitting payback for putting up with all of Lydia’s meatball induced gas when she was a child.

Thanks mom…I’ll remember you when you’re old! she replied, frowning for forms sake.

While she waited for her food, she listened to the conversation, which was well established and ongoing; she managed to say little, and got partway into her own food, before her mother began asking her questions, mostly about her love life, or lack thereof.

Lydia glanced around the table, to gage everyone’s interest, and finding them all watching her, she smiled and said, Can we go back to talking about my farting? as innocently as possible. The table erupted in laughter.

The fellow named Jerry complimented her on her witty reply. Girl, that’s what I call telling everyone to mind their own business!

Lydia decided to use this moment to bring up her more urgent subject.

I think I met one of our lost ones today…had lunch with him, she casually stated, then returned to her spaghetti with no more concern than if she had just relayed the weather forecast. When she glanced back up from her plate, she was pleased to see everyone frozen, shocked into immobility. You’re surprised? she asked, somewhat disingenuously.

Everyone looked back and forth among themselves. Finally, her Uncle Bill, managed to quietly ask, You’re sure? How?

Between bites of her food, she repeated her experience, as the others nodded, taking it in.

Her mother turned to look at her, asked bluntly, Did you…want him?

Lydia held up her hand, displayed her thumb and forefinger a tiny bit apart.

You wanted him just a little? her mother asked, clearly relieved.

Lydia covered her face with her hands briefly, before sighing, No…that’s how close I came to going to jail for getting naked and raping him right on the patio! I made the mistake of sitting down wind from him…I thought I’d die! Lydia cried, as everyone else burst into laughter.

The other woman, Trudy, shook her head. I made the same mistake once…that’s why we have Tommy! she admitted, grinning at her husband Jerry.

Her father sat, toying with his drink. It’s been years…since one of them turned up…at least here. What’s it been, honey, fifteen years? It was a girl…Chrissy?

Christina Marie…I can’t remember her parents name. She mated with that McFarland boy…James. They live in Pittsburg…with that whole clan. She’s got four of them…kids.

Lydia’s father turned and frowned at his wife. Why didn’t you ever tell me that?

I did…you just never listen…like all men. God should have put your ears on your dick…you’d hear more, she suggested, as everyone again burst into laughter.

Lydia found the sexual references and innuendo to be completely normal, as simple and unremarkable as breathing. The sexual urges that afflicted her people made them quite easygoing and ribald about sex. Lydia had quietly been put on birth control, had become sexually active barely six months after she had turned fourteen, her drives in that respect not something she could simple choose to ignore.

So…what are we going to do? she at last asked, to get the group focused back on the issue at hand.

Good question. You’re positive he’s…one? her father asked. Lydia nodded, munching on a breadstick.

Her mother looked her over. I assume you plan on trying him out? To get intimate and see if his responses prove he is?

Lydia sat, nibbling on her lip, trying to look innocent. "I’d do him up front on the floor, in front of the cash register,

right now….is that plain enough?" she inquired.

You’ve got it bad…don’t you? Her mother asked, rhetorically, seeing the expression on Lydia’s face.

Her uncle nudged her father. You may be springing for a wedding before long!

Lydia sighed. He’s married…has two children. Her mother looked pained, knowing how badly this complicated her daughter’s life. Not good. Well, not good assuming he loves her and is deliriously happy with her. She looked inquiringly at Lydia, saw her daughter’s shoulders slump, and said, Oh, my…that’s not good at all.

Lydia sat for a moment, feeling sorry for herself, before rallying, and sitting up straight, she asked, How hard will it be to…teach him what he needs to learn? Who can do that?

Her father considered this, shrugged. We need to ask Papa…your Grandfather will know who did that for the last one…the girl.

When the old man came out to join them, they all shifted over to let him sit between Lydia and her father. They quietly filled him in on what had been said, and he took off his thick glasses, and laid them carefully on the table.

Father Mark, he calmly stated, nodding his head. Father Mark, who’s now Bishop Mark…he taught her, along with Jason Stewart.

Wasn’t he the clan proctor back then? Uncle Bill wondered aloud.

Aye…he certainly was. He knows all the arts…as do his sons. The old man looked at Lydia. If you can verify him…Paul? If you can verify him as one of us…you’ll need to get him to a place where they can work on him. He’ll be scared to death…and maybe angry to boot. I assume you intend to make him purr? he asked, looking at Lydia.

She grinned. I don’t think my pussy will give me any choice! Grandpa…I’ve never wanted any guy this bad! It’s scary!

The old man nodded. It gets no easier…God has made us the way we are. Should we criticize Him? I doubt that that would be a wise path! No, we have to accept what we are, what we have been for generations.

I always wondered why we are different…why be this way? Or, why be the way everyone else is? It would be nice if God could make up His mind! Uncle Bill suggested. He suddenly pursed his lips. Maybe the heretics are correct…maybe God is a woman…that would explain much, wouldn’t it? Uncle Bill suggested thoughtfully.

Grandpa stood up. I think I’ll go sit elsewhere…just in case She’s on the rag, and isn’t happy with your allusion…don’t want to get fried by God, whatever He or She might be! the elder suggested, winking slyly and wandered off.

The other couple took their leave, as did Lydia’s Uncle. She was left alone, talking with her parents.

I’ll get a hold of the right ones…you see what you can do about Paul. You’re going to ruin the poor guy…you do know that? At your age…and as intense as your urges are…he’s done! her father suggested.

Lydia’s mother glanced at him. You still remember those days…don’t you?

How could I forget...I’ve still got scorch marks on my you-know-what from some of your naughty urgency! he sighed.

Wow…were you that horny too? Lydia asked. Her mother gave an awkward grin. You think your generation invented fucking? Lydia…I was every bit as much a slut as you are…and just as big a one as your father! she declared, eyeing him.

Maybe we should go home and see if there’s any more gas in the tank? her father suggested, looking thoughtfully at his wife.

Lydia leaned slightly to the side and grinned, letting a small fart. I’ll have plenty of gas…and I have to take it home and play with myself! she grumbled, as her mother tousled her hair affectionately. Wah! she declared, and taking her husband’s hand, she turned to leave. I’m sure you’ll entertain yourself quite fine. Good night, Lydia!

3

Lydia had gone home, her emotions a jumbled mess of conflicting feelings. She inventoried her chest of drawers, and looked at her basket of dirty clothes, heaping and spilling over. She decided to sort out some critical items, and wash a load, not quite lazy enough to want to recycle dirty clothing, especially her smelly undies. I’d hate to have to be that disreputable, she considered, thankful that her apartment came equipped with a washer and dryer, so she could at least lounge around half naked while doing laundry, wearing only a pair of panties and a camisole top.

She managed to call and talk to a couple of friends while waiting on the laundry equipment to do its work, finding this more interesting than anything on TV. She was dying to talk about Paul, but since her friends were merely human, she could not have the sort of discussion she desired.

Instead, she spoke of meeting a hot guy, and being thoroughly smitten with him, in spite of his being married. This amused her friends, who had all had to listen to her sermons about the evils of lusting for a married person on several occasions. Her old friend from high school, Cynthia, who had experienced Lydia’s tongue lashing for dating a married man herself, was quick to pounce on her.

Oh, so now it’s okay to screw around with a married man…if Lydia is the one with the hots? You’re such a hypocrite! You know that? she fired back.

Yes, beat me…I know I sound like a complete asshole…don’t I?

As God is my witness, yes you do! I can’t believe this! Why don’t you just come over and drop your panties so I can paddle your behind? Naughty girl! What are you thinking? You ripped my ass forever over me sleeping with a married man…now…have you done anything? she suddenly asked.

Nothing but pet my kitty and dream! But I know I’d do him in a second if I got the chance. Maybe I need you to kick my butt…tell me I’m being stupid!

Well, that’s what friends are for! You do understand, what you want is wickedly sinful…and probably morally questionable? Besides, it almost never ends well… Cynthia declared in a small voice.

Like you and…what was his name…Herb?

"Yeah…he was madly in love with me…until I demanded that he shit or get off the pot…you know…leave his wife and marry me. I found out just exactly how impossible to live without I really was. He’s been living fine without me for the last three years. I was a dumbass, and you’ll be one too!"

But…I know it would be different! Lydia insisted. She was greeted by Cynthia’s loud laughter. Oh dear God! You sound exactly like me…can’t you hear yourself? Lydia! Wake up! A married man makes a good subject to fantasize about while you pet your kitty, but they make lousy boyfriends! I can’t wait to tell Susan about this! she sighed, naming another girl that Lydia had moralized to excessively.

Oh God no! She’ll come over and slap my ass! Lydia nearly shrieked, bursting into laughter.

It would serve you right! This is so rich! Little Miss Snotty Princess Lydia has finally become mortal…and a naughty slut?

I’ve been a slut longer than you can imagine…I’m not ashamed to admit that…I just hate to have to be seen as a hypocrite!

You sleep with married Prince Charming, and you will be, big time! Name me one thing that would justify you doing him? Cynthia demanded. Lydia, unable to admit the truth about her attraction to Paul to an ordinary person, had to scrape for a reason. Finally, she sighed.

He has the most exciting smell…you know…he has this nice male scent…and the best smile! As she anticipated, Cynthia howled with laughter at this lame excuse.

You’re so screwed! Make sure you tell all of us when you do it with him…so we can all get together and tar and feather your sorry butt! she chuckled.

This was basically the response she received from all of her human friends, as she expected; they all had heard her on way too many occasions pontificate on the subject of cheating with a married person, to have any sympathy for her desire to engage in such an act.

When she called her cousin Carmella, she could at last be honest about Paul’s nature; Carmella was one of their people, with the same characteristics and abilities as Lydia and all her relatives.

A lost one? You mean there are ones like that…that don’t know…I thought the old folks were pulling my leg! God…am I that oblivious to our affairs? Carmella wondered, sounding rather shocked.

Oh its not a fantasy or old wives tale…there have been several of them…my parents tell me the last one here was about fifteen years ago…a girl named Christina Marie…I think her family name was Enruchi.

Wow…I’ll have to ask my parents…they should remember that. So how does a lost one get found?

Smell…I could smell Paul’s male aroma…the subtle part that humans can’t detect…that’s how Christina was spotted…someone chanced to pass close to her and noticed her unique smell…and when she didn’t respond to any of the signs we use, they knew something was odd. She got lured in and taught how to be one of us.

Is that what you’re hoping to do with Paul? You think he’ll go for that…and not freak out? I pissed my pants the first time I saw my parents change form, and I was expecting it! God, I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a poor, uninformed human and have that happen. How do they teach them to do that, anyway? Carmella asked.

I have no idea…grandpa said Father Mark…Bishop Mark now…he and the clan proctor did what ever it took to do it for Christina…hopefully they can do the same for Paul.

He’s married to a human? Oh, God, Lydia…what about his poor wife? You’re going to destroy her life…you understand that? And what about kids?

Lydia felt a pang of guilt, as she considered this. I…I don’t know….he has two children, but I have no idea what they are…human or like us… she shifted uncomfortably, as she considered this. "I’m going to be the wicked, other woman, aren’t I" she managed to ask, her voice small.

Oh yes, you most certainly are! You’d be wise to start praying for forgiveness right now…see if you can get a head start and get out ahead of your guilt! Carmella suggested and giggled.

It’s not funny! God, I don’t want to be such a shit! What am I supposed to do? I know I can’t just forget about it…I’m dying to have him.

You’re screwed…you want to get naked and make babies with him…don’t you? He’s triggered your mating urge! Lydia, you are so much toast, girl, her cousin informed her softly. This elicited a wave of tears from Lydia, who felt suddenly trapped by her own nature, her powerful femaleness.

By the time she had finished her conversation with Carmella, she had to get up, blow her nose, and go change her laundry, tossing the load into the dryer. She wandered into the kitchen to get a drink, then rummaged in her small desk to get a city street map, and when she had it, she grabbed the yellow pages and some pens and markers, and went to the small dinning table to work.

Lydia located the street where Paul said he lived, and marked it with a bright marker. By using the phone directory, she found where his employer’s office was located, and marked that too. She next made a list of neighboring streets, in the vicinity of Paul’s house, and likewise, those near his work address. She could look these up on Google Earth, and save herself a lot of driving around.

She had gleaned from Paul that he usually went to the company office each morning, before heading to a jobsite; that meant that she could follow him to where ever he was working, by going to his office early whenever she chose.

With some care and attention, she could also follow him and his family from their house, and figure out where they shopped and what sort of places they went. Lydia smiled. Stalking, she decided, would be even easier than she had originally imagined. We all have habits…we shop at the same stores, go out to the same restaurants…how easy it is to learn what any of us do! I want to just bump into him, casually, naturally, so he doesn’t know what I’m up to…at least for a time! And I want to get upwind of him…so he’ll smell me! she thought, knowing that that would have an irresistible effect on his urges. I also need to know if his children are like him, she realized, without considering what that might imply. She tried to think about Paul’s wife as little as possible, as this topic was an instant ticket to inducing guilt, which she wanted desperately to avoid.

While she worked, she caught herself idly slipping her hand into her panties, the urge to play with herself tempting and strong. She was amused by this, knowing that it was just another sign of her own sluttiness, her intensely persistent sex drive. How many times did I get caught playing with myself while I did homework? she marveled, remembering her teenage years. She had never been punished for her lack of awareness, but had been lovingly teased and sent to her room to address her urges many times. Humans are so uptight about sex…how do they keep from going crazy? she wondered, shaking her head. She felt sorry for her human friends, who had been so inhibited, at least by her standards.

She was beginning to yawn, when her phone rang, and she found her father on the line.

Hey sweetie…I called Jason Stewart and mentioned what you think you’ve found. He’s pretty excited…I’m going to see him after work tomorrow, and we’ll try to go meet Bishop Mark. What have you been up to this evening?

Laundry…and talking to friends…remember all the times I bitched at them about the evils of dating a married man? Guess who’s getting it back in spades…just for sharing my lust for Paul!

God frowns upon hypocrisy, in case you missed that sermon! You didn’t suggest any thing about…you know…

Dad! I’m not that crazy! You think I’m thinking with my pussy?

Daughter…you wouldn’t be the first to do so! he said and laughed.

Well I’m not completely stupid, at least about that! I just said I was crazy for him…even though I haven’t done anything naughty…yet. I got my ass ripped! she admitted and laughed. I did talk to Carmella, and told her the truth. She understands what I feel, but she mostly kicked my butt too.

Really? Why? Phil asked.

She had to bring up Paul’s wife and kids!

Ohhhhh…guilt attack!

Worse…it made me feel like a heartless heel! she complained.

Toughen up, tootsie, your feelings will get slapped around a bunch more, before you see the end of this.

Is that your fatherly advice? she giggled.

Phil sighed. Something like it…I don’t have to be a psychic to know that you’ve grabbed a slick pig…you’ll be dragged through more than one mud puddle before you get to the end of this.

Gee dad, thanks for the words of encouragement! Lydia squawked.

Any time, kiddo. I’ll call you after I talk to the big wigs tomorrow. Now, go pet your kitty and get to sleep…you’ll need your rest, he suggested, and chuckled as Lydia shrieked, Dad! but at the same time snatched her hand out of her panties reflexively, having in fact been absentmindedly playing with herself. She managed to say, I love you…thanks! and hung up, shaking her head at how well her father knew her naughty tendencies.

4

Jason Stewart was a kind hearted man. The fact that he had a strong and burly appearance about him, and many times appeared to be scowling and mean, when he was in fact merely contemplating something, caused most people to give him wide berth…at least those unacquainted with his real nature. At nearly sixty, he had been a pipe fitter almost forty years, and had the strong hands and arms to prove it.

During his forties and early fifties, he had served as the clan proctor, a strong and forceful leader, who had kept their unique group properly focused, resolved petty aggravations and disagreements between families and even within them, when called upon. It was he who had led them in their rituals, who oversaw the instruction and training of the children in the way of their people, and who maintained the records of the clan.

Jason had been a popular leader, as well respected as any proctor in recent memory, and had his wife not become ill, with a degenerative disease, he likely would have remained proctor until his own death. Instead, he had relinquished the position to another, to free up his time for his wife. With her eventual passing the previous year, he had again become more available to help and instruct the younger ones, and he was always eager to be called upon to address any challenge or new thing. The call from Phil Lucero was certainly both new and exciting.

A lost one? he had marveled, the memory of Christina Marie still sharp and distinct in his memory. It’s been a long time! He had agreed to meet with Phil the next evening, and to go to meet with the Bishop, who had been Jason’s partner in instructing Christina in the ways of their people. Phil arrived at Jason’s house at precisely six thirty.

Come in a minute! he greeted Lydia’s father. They had been school chums, at the old Catholic grade school, and later for high school. They had jointly made many trips to the office during those years, a fact which they had both made an effort not to inform their respective children about.

They spent a few moments talking about their respective kids, Jason’s, like Phil’s, now all grown and living out on their own. It was