Rewriting Singularity

I toweled dry, wiping water and the Mr. Bubble residue from my skin. I closed my eyes. What

was

the problem? Despite my best efforts to ignore my little voice of reason, it whispered in my ear all the clichéd warnings my heart didn't want to hear...

Don't mix business with pleasure.

Don't put the cart before the horse.

Don't be led down the garden path.

Don't, don't, don't.

Putting head over heart was a damned problem. I'd mixed business with pleasure in my last partnership. And I'd hitched that cart up without knowing Austin. I knew even less about Hec and his garden path.

I threw the towel in the hamper, took the bathrobe off the hook on the door and stuffed myself inside.

I opened the door to the magic of a hot roast beef sandwich next to my computer. Still, I was disappointed-- no Mr. Grumbles in sight. The aroma of mash potato and gravy ambrosia lured me over; I was surprised at how hungry I was. God, Hec was right-- I did need comfort food. He was right about his sister's cooking too-- this was the best roast beef I ever tasted: Every bite melted in my mouth. As I chewed, I thought about Hec-- his tentative touch and how crazy-confused Hec made me. I gazed out the window to falling snow, mesmerized. This bed and breakfast was a world apart from my old life until Austin stepped in and invaded it.

At least this room was untouched by his bad karma.

I considered that part of the magic I felt when I stepped back inside this room was the idea that this room was my haven. I'd had this weird feeling about Hector all along-- like he wasn't real, like this wasn't real. Being with Austin in the lobby with Hec felt real. I kinda preferred this feeling of unreality, this personal Shangri-La.

Still, I was worried I was making Hec out to be some otherworldly creature-- unattainable, unreachable. And, I couldn't shake the way I felt about this place and him-- that something extraordinary was happening here, and I was part of it. The sitcom, the touch. This meal.

This meal.

How in the world could Kate make it so damn fast and so damn good? Did she conjure this up like the bagels? Or did Hec do this?

I liked to imagine Hec as my personal genie, extraterrestrial love interest or 1-800 psychic friend. He'd look great in a skimpy harem outfit. That whole genie in a bottle was just a metaphor for sex anyway-- lay me down on the magic carpet and do me now! And aliens?

Please!

Don't they kidnap people and do perverted sex acts on them? Tie me up in plasma coils and proceed with the power coupling.

I savored the last bite of mashed potatoes while our new X-Filesque sitcom slowly manifested itself into my depraved imagination.

I wiped my mouth off with the napkin and stood up. As I stretched I saw it next to Pete's cage: a box of canary food, vitamins and grit, all in a neat little row.

I was seriously spooked. How did Hector do that? No way he could get to town that fast to buy Pete's supplies. No way.

All my crazy ideas about

3rd Rock from the Sun

and

I Dream of Jeanie

converged into one bizarre bed and breakfast fantasy island.

I got dressed and headed downstairs, aiming to find out who this enigma was called Hec, and what was happening in this house.

I spent a few minutes looking for him and gave up. I learned it was easier just to do what I gotta do and let him find me. He always managed to be drawn to me like some bug to a light. He found me-- in the kitchen rinsing my dishes off in the sink.

"There you are," he said with that crooked grin. It was so hard to be pissed off at that face.

"Ok, how'd you do it?" I said, packing away what was in the sink into the dishwasher.

"Do what?"

"Get Pete's seed and supplies so fast."

"Oh, that." He leaned against the counter, sizing me up. "Neighbor breeds canaries. They gave the stuff to me. I offered to pay him, but he wouldn't take anything for it. One of those you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours kind of deals."

My ass,

I thought.

"A half an hour ago you didn't even know what a canary was and now you're telling me you knew your neighbor bred them?" I asked.

"I knew he had a bunch of little yellow birds that looked like Pete. What's the matter?" He leaned back more, hips thrust forward and crossed his arms against his chest. "Kate and I are going into town later. Anything you want?"

"I'll make a list." I added the Cascade dishwashing detergent, then set the box on the counter. "But I don't need much." I shut the dishwasher door, flipped the handle and turned it on.

The dishwasher hummed.

It happened that fast: One, two, three strides and he was there, eyes burning into me. Water started humming, beginning to spray the dishes as his eyes got darker. Then, bam! He crushed me into the dishwasher, his mouth greedy on mine. I dug my nails into his scalp to keep from reeling off balance and his long fingers pulled the hairs on the back of my neck while his tongue took ten fast laps around the inside of my mouth. I felt like one of those spinning plates on top of a pole at the circus. The dishwasher whoosh, whoosh, whooshed, as that spray tower inside the washer spun jets of hot water over the pots and pans.

My eyes opened. Christ, he was hot with his eyes all scrunched tight making those laugh lines spread. My arm flew out to the counter for balance-- I knocked over the Jet-Dry. Shit, I forgot to put some in the dishwasher-- no spot-free glasses today.

I groaned pitifully into his mouth. I never was much for kissing-- I'd rather skip it and get to the main event, but this was as good as a fuck. Better than a sloppy blow job even. I was hard as yesterday's donuts.

I think it was the combination of hot agitation of the dishwasher on my ass end and his tongue in my mouth, but holy hell, I was about to come in my jeans. Then he did the full body slam and--

We have ignition!

I came.

Just as fast as he pounced on me, he leaped off.

"Why'd you stop?" I asked, gasping.

"Kate-- she's coming."

Like that, she waltzed through the door. I grabbed a dishtowel to cover my lap too late; she'd already noticed the spot on my crotch. Sure could use some of that Jet-Dry myself.

She narrowed her eyes at me, then at Hec.

"I think we'd better get going," she said.

"Sure," Hec said.

She spun around and went out the door.

"We need to talk when I get back," Hec said, following her. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or her sister, but I answered, "Ah, sure" anyways.

Then I watched them from the kitchen window as they drove away.

I dropped the dishtowel on the counter and sighed as I looked around me.

This was the first time I had the freedom to explore in the old home. Hec or Kate was always hovering near before. I searched the downstairs, calling out their names. No sign of Hec or Kate or little sister. I had to make sure. I just didn't trust my eyes. Never know when one of them might just pop up. Not one answered. I crossed my fingers.

I was pretty certain there was no other living soul around except Pete and me. I slowed down and took this time to discover closets, investigate doors, rifle through drawers and do general busy-body snooping that all people who are naturally curious succumb to at least once or twice during their lives. This gave me a lot of leeway to become the Sherlock Holmes of bed and breakfast skullduggery and take my own magical mystery tour of the house.

In light of the fact that the few possessions I had that were fair game for them to rifle through, I felt no guilt whatsoever.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Ok... yeah... I did feel a

touch

of guilt. A touch.

There sure were a shitload of doors in this place. I almost got lost. I certainly got turned around on a couple of occasions. Before I always had Hec to follow.

Hec.

He'd

kissed

me.

Kissed me. Made me come in my jeans. My sticky, sticky jeans. I didn't want to change them--

yet

. I figured I'd let the memory of the whole experience age. Kind of like wine only protein-based.

It was difficult making my way through this maze of interconnected rooms with or without sticky underwear.

Kissed me. His whiskers weren't scratchy like Austin's.

And his tongue... Made me dizzy again just remembering.

I found myself back in the lobby after going through what Hec called the smoking room's side door. I made my way to the main desk and flipped through the guest book. I was the first and last entry they'd had in weeks. Kate's room was off the main lobby in the back of this main desk. I tried the door. Unlocked. What can I say? I couldn't help myself...

I stepped inside. Not a room, more like a small furnished apartment with a dinette, small fridge and oven. Three of the walls were painted eggshell, the fourth with the fireplace on it was painted a rich rose color. She had a cozy living area, plush high-back couch in a flowered pattern that complemented the walls and matching chairs. Most of the wood was cherry with a smattering of oak. I peeked into her bedroom cautiously. No one there either. Plenty of fluffy pastel pillows on a cherry bed. Nice handmade quilt.

She had a cherry desk in one corner of her bedroom that contained very little, like most of the drawers in this house. Pens, tablets, no notes to speak of other than shopping lists. The letters that were there amounted to only junk mail. Nothing telling, nothing of interest. A 14-inch TV sat on the dresser against the far wall near the only window in the room. There was dust on the knobs, and I didn't see any remote. The lace curtains looked old.

I knew even less than I did when I started.

Next was to find Hec's room.

I'd wondered for days where his room was located. I'd thought it was downstairs, in the back of the house. I'd searched high and low. There were smoking rooms, sitting rooms, large living room, kitchen, laundry, two dining areas but no other bedrooms downstairs but Kate's and a sparsely furnished guest bedroom that looked like it'd never been used.

I knew his room wasn't off the main stairs-- or I was pretty sure since the times we had sat and talked downstairs in the living room, he'd said goodnight, then walked toward the back of the house. His room had to be up and off one of the two servants' stairways back there.

So that's where I headed.

I had a lot of fantasies about Hec's room, including whips and chains. Not that I was into that kind of thing, but I was always open to try new things.

The servants' stairwell just off the dining room was a straight shot up. The stairs were steep and the railing old and worn. At the top was a bathroom with modern tub and fixtures. The medicine cabinet contained only aspirin, Tylenol and an old toothbrush.

I walked as softly as possible, but the old hardwood floor squeaked every so often under my stocking feet. I was trying my best to be covert, but I guess I just didn't have that in me.

I methodically walked through the rooms. The first room had loads of furniture in it, old lamps, sofas, chairs. Some looked to be antiques, but most were just junk. The adjacent door was locked. But logically it was connected to the second room, which I got to from the hallway. It held more of the same old furniture. Third room was a nursery. The walls had wallpaper with little puppies playing with balls and digging holes. Kinda cute. A baby bed and a small single bed were on the west wall. The only other furnishings were an old rocking chair that sat on top of a braided rug, a bassinette and a dresser. I checked the dresser. Nothing in it. The room was dusted and clean although it didn't look like it'd been used in a long while. I checked the closet. Nothing in it but an old lamp. I opened the door connected to another bedroom. The furnishings all from the 50s with double beds that looked like they came out of the

Dick Van Dyke Show

. The closet had a few outfits in it that were about as old as the furnishings.

I went out into the hall. I noticed then that hallway came back on to itself. There were two more doors. One led to an inside bedroom that was small. Nothing in it at all. No beds. At a 45 degree angle from that bedroom door was the last room. It was lived it, but I was disappointed since no way this room was his. A hint of perfume hung in the air. A bed, chair and dresser with a small TV on top. I tiptoed inside and began investigating, pulling out the dresser drawers. Clothes. Bright colors. Charlotte's room. I felt bad snooping.

But I didn't let that stop me. I was obsessed. I had to learn more about the place and Hec-- the man with the magic tongue.

I opened the closet. She had a few dresses hanging in there. Shoes on the floor. Boxes with more shoes on shelves along with knickknacks. I found a box with candles and matches for those evenings when electricity went out. A straw hat and winter gloves. A flashlight. And then I noticed something odd. I slid the clothes aside. It looked like a door. A hidden door.

Fuck.

There wasn't a handle, but I could see where it opened. The wood was polished at the top where fingers had pried it open. I dug my finger in and pulled.

It opened. I took the flashlight off the shelf and turned it on. And there was light.

This had to be how they got in my room.

I stepped inside. I could stand up straight. Leaving the door ajar, I shined the light around pointing it down the passageway. It was wide enough so that two could easily pass side by side and ran between the walls. I noticed it was virtually free of cobwebs.

Must be from frequent use.

I cautiously measured my way down the passageway, inspecting the walls with my hands carefully for other doorways. I soon realized that this was more of a maze than the downstairs rooms. The passageway ran within every wall! Christ! I was at another four-way stop where rooms met. If I got lost I'd be in trouble; they might not be gone for much longer.

I shined the flashlight down straight ahead. It was a long way down the passageway and looked well used. Then I illuminated the way to my right. There was a small stairway! Again no cobwebs to speak of. To my left it looked like the passageway either came to a sharp turn or it was a dead end-- and had more spiders than a late night horror movie.

I debated. What was the worst that could happen? They'd find out I knew their secret? I decided to take a chance and went the way of the stairs.

I checked the wall for more secret doorways and found only one, but I couldn't budge it. The first step creaked as I put my weight on it. Then I heard it. A bang and clang under my feet. The plumbing! I stepped again. A groan this time. I think I found my symphony. The plumbing was under the stairway

At the top of the steps I followed the most worn path left on the floor where bare boards were cleared of dust. It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs, turning, weaving, wandering until I found a place where the dust was pushed aside from a door opening. I shined the flashlight on the wall, and there it was, the door. I ran my hand around its perimeter and found that at the top edge I could just fit my fingers inside. I pulled and it opened...

Into a closet.

Hec's closet.

I knew it immediately.

I could smell him.

Opening the closet door into his bedroom I felt like Dorothy, opening the door to see Oz.