The memories that unconscious, 37-year-old Camilla was reliving had returned to those of a more sexually restrained, monogamous period of her marriage with Cameron--the time between her forced sexual encounter with Paul Shaw and when she, Cameron, and Eros moved from Toronto to Montreal. Because of her contemplation of this tamer period of her life, the lust-energy levels in Camilla's Nigrovum were once again lower; so the come that her gaping pussy was spewing out into the water, over which her nude body was hovering, would not be as effective in making her lecherous, voyeuristic audience into obedient servants of the masked men. Dr. Singh and his Nigrovum-cured AIDS patients, as well as the spirits of Agape, Don Josiah, and Candice, could now monitor Camilla with some renewed hope, however temporary that hope would be.
Indeed, the masked men, also monitoring their incessantly gang-banged victim, simply waited for this lull in the lewdness to pick up speed, which it would do, soon enough.
*************
Camilla was reliving a memory from nine years before her predicament in the public aquarium in Montreal.
Back in Toronto, 28-year-old Camilla--who looked twenty-two, thanks to Nigrovum's slowing of her ageing--was tirelessly working to finish her doctoral thesis. Eager to have it ready for her thesis committee as soon as possible, she again abstained from decadent sex for almost a year. Only with her husband did she make love, with an emphasis on the love.
The psychic barrier she and Cameron had put around themselves, as soon as they'd got home from Paul Shaw's party, was holding up very well; and their sexual restraint was ensuring that the barrier would stay strong. Accordingly, she hadn't been troubled by the masked men in any way.
She'd resumed meditating, more bravely facing that mystical ocean, the pantheistic unity of atman and Brahman, of self and other that had frightened me--I mean, her--so much the last time she'd contemplated it. She even briefly resumed psychic contact with her father, Agape.
Oh, Daddy, I've missed you so much,
she mentally communicated to him.
I'm so sorry for having shot you.
No need to apologize,
he told her.
You tried to save me, remember? And I stopped you. Anyway, I've missed you, too. Give up your life in the physical world, and we can be together in the spiritual one. If you don't die, I can promise you, something terrible will happen to you, and to the world. The masked men have plans for you; you must know that by now.
Please don't ask me to die,
she begged him.
I'm not ready to; I'm too scared to face hell.
Sooner or later, you'll have to face it; and later will be much harder for you.
I can use Nigrovum to keep me alive forever.
Do you really want that for yourself, Camilla? You can't live forever, and who'd want to? If you keep thinking that way, you'll go mad for sure. Have faith in Don and me; we can help you get out of the hellish realms.
You can't , Daddy. There are too many of those masked bastards out there. Both the living and the dead ones are after me. Sorry, I can't do that. Bye.
Not able to endure even contemplating death, Camilla cut off her psychic connection with Agape, and blocked him, however reluctantly.
Though she wouldn't be persuaded to die, she did continue trying to face that pantheistic, infinite ocean that united her with all the souls of humanity. She felt in those soothing waves a paradoxical mixture of repose and fear. Though facing the pain and anger she'd caused in all her dead, former lovers was frightening for her, she also sensed the possibility of an ultimate purging of all her sins. In the ouroboros of the afterlife, with its heavenly extreme in the serpent's head, and the hellish extreme in its bitten tail, she sensed that she was destined to be close to where the teeth bit in; if she could bravely fight her way through the agonizing realms and go into the mouth, instead of going the other way to get to the head (which would take much longer to attain), maybe then she could escape from hell, and be reunited with her father and Don. Perhaps in her meditations she could achieve all that while still alive.
Still, she felt all that evil enveloping her, the psychic energy of the living and dead masked men. That evil was like stormy seas, surrounding her small area of calm waters on all sides. That psychic energy was so vague that she couldn't tell if it came from the living or the dead, but she could tell that much of it was coming from the masked men. Knowing this made the need to leave Toronto all the more urgent.
Her thesis was soon finished, and with a few minor revisions, she finally got her PhD. Frantic to get out of Toronto, she used Nigrovum to find a teaching position as quickly as possible: she found one in McGill University in Montreal, as well as a teaching job for Cameron. They began packing immediately upon finding their new jobs.
As much as she wanted to get out of Toronto quickly, she found it hard to leave her house, the house that used to be her beloved father's. This house was most of what little she still had of the man she so intensely loved. The memories of the place made him seem almost alive to her still, and leaving would make the reality of his death all the more cruelly plain. She took every photo of him, his old bourbon glass, and everything else that reminded her of him, however useless many of those things may have been to her, outside of sentimental value.
That summer, she, Cameron, and 9-year-old Eros found a house in Montreal and moved in. The fear of the masked men seemed gone from her heart for good, though she already missed Agape's house and everything in Toronto that reminded her of him and Candice.
One night in late August, feeling achy and stressed from both missing her Toronto home and the ongoing friction between Cameron and Eros, black-haired, pale 'Goth-looking' Camilla decided she needed a massage. She could have simply used Nigrovum to ease her nerves and sore muscles; but something inside her, a kind of thirst, it seemed, made her want someone else's hands on her body...a
man's
hands.
She walked into a massage parlour on the side of town opposite from where her new house was; the establishment was called, 'Sweet Caress'. She looked around the front reception area, went up to the front desk, and read a sign on the wall above where the owner was standing. The sign showed all the services offered.
"What would you like tonight?" the owner asked.
Camilla saw a handsome fifty-something man standing by, one who was wearing a shirt with the 'Sweet Caress' logo on it. Correctly assuming he was one of their masseurs, and feeling that 'thirst' increase somewhat in intensity, she said, "I'd like a full massage and bath--with him."
I'm getting only a massage,
she thought;
nothing too hot.
After paying the owner, Camilla was led into a room with the masseur. He turned on the bath water and turned toward the door, ready to walk out. "OK," he said, "get undressed and in the water, and I'll be back in a minute."
Feeling that thirst again, she asked, "What do you need to leave for? You have everything here: soap, towels, bath foam, and oil lubricants." She pointed to them on a nearby shelf. "I used to work in a massage parlour, so I know."
"Well, I was going to leave so you could disrobe in private," he said.
Her 'thirst' got stronger, and she tried unsuccessfully to fight it. "If I-I'm going to be n-naked for my bath, you watching me u-undress shouldn't be a problem."
"OK," he said, turning around to face her, and smiling ever so slightly.
She pulled off her T-shirt, revealing her pink lace brassiere.
What am I doing?
she thought.
I'm married. Sure, the guy's good-looking, but I'm trying to be good again
. She unzipped and pulled down her jeans, showing him her pink panties.
I'm just getting a massage. A legitimate massage. If he tries to take advantage of me, I'll use my psychic powers to immobilize him.
She then removed her sneakers, socks, and jeans.
He put the bath foam in the water and got the soap, towels, and lubricant ready.
