No sleep comes for me as I lie in bed, hating myself for what I've done to those two women. The worst part is that I actually feel good right now, which only makes me feel even worse.
I just wish I had some way of contacting Angela. Hadn't she told me that there was a way to give energy, rather than take it? How much longer is she going to be gone? If I had a key-card like hers, I'd be able to go to the Shadow World, and ask her. If, if, how, and if: my life has become nothing but questions.
When my alarm goes off in the morning for me to go to work, I'm at first tempted to call in sick, but then I realize that I might be able to get some thinking done while there, and I need to live life normally.
Yeah, right. . . .
Jumping in the shower, I feel a little refreshed, even though I've been up for well over twenty-four hours. The drive to work is surprisingly quick. The roads are packed, but somehow I keep finding a spot to slip in, and don't have to stop even once as I hit every green light. I closely monitor my energy levels, but I don't notice myself getting weaker at each chance of luck, and wonder if it's just something else that's new with my redesigned VW Beatle, the Orange Bubble. I'm not personally changing the lights, or moving people out of the way.
As I'm walking up to the security counter, I reach for my wallet, only to realize it's not there. Crap! Without my ID, I can't get in, but where did I. . . DOUBLE crap! I don't remember having it after last night. I'm tempted to see if it's still at the club, where it must have fallen out. That was the last place I'd used it. But if I do that, I'll be late for work, even though I'm early now. Mrs. Lance will have my head if I'm late. Again, I'm tempted to just blow this miserable job off. I really don't need it, since my rent's covered for the next year, and I'm even getting a refund as well. Why should I put up with the austere Sheila Lance? And since it's Friday, it feels odd to come in for one day and then take the weekend off.
Because I've been told to live my life as normally as I can, and her advice is the only thing I can rely on right now, I think answering my own question.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Snow?" I blink at the question, as it pulls me out of my thoughts. One of the security guards is looking at me waiting for an answer. I actually know her a little bit. When I'd worked in the mail-room, she used to chat with me from time to time, while we were making our rounds. I never learned her first name, and always just thought of her as Guard Lansbury.
"Guard Lansbury," I say cheerily, giving her my best smile, "How've you been?"
She returns the smile, and replies, "Down five pounds, but that's probably just from the shit I took, about half an hour ago. I haven't seen you in this early since you were working downstairs."
Did I mention she's kind of raunchy? And massively overweight? She almost makes up for it with her huge knockers, but if someone were trying to get away from her, all they'd have to do is walk fast. I feel bad for thinking so lowly of her though; she's always treated me well.
"Yeah, traffic just seemed to work out for me, but now it seems I went and left my ID at home." I try to put on my most downtrodden face, hoping that she might just let me through, even though that's against company policy.
"No ID?" she looks shocked, as if I'd just robbed a bank, instead of forgetting a little identification card. "Well, now, what are we going to do about that?" She pulls out her nightstick, and starts twirling it in her hand. "Sure you didn't just hide it somewhere? I'd be happy to do a cavity search on you." Now she's smiling at me hungrily.
"Thanks, but I'm fairly sure I left it at the club last night," I hedge, not sure how to respond to her.
"The club, huh? I'll bet you were dancing with some skinny sluts there too, when you could have had a real woman, like me." She steps closer to me, and I want to back away, especially as I can feel a slight drain in my energy, and I know that whatever been happening to me lately is in effect again. I hold my ground instead. I really don't want to be late.
"Awe, but you know I couldn't handle a woman of your caliber," I say, hoping that she takes it as a compliment.
She steps closer, smiling hungrily now. "But how do you know, if you never try?"
She's always flirted with me in the past, but never quite this forward. I need to figure out a way to turn my new abilities off, before something happens that I'll regret.
"Maybe next time. Looks like I need to go get my ID," I say, and take a step back, towards the door, only to have her hand on my arm stop me.
"I don't think so," she tells me, and sudden worry fills me by the tone of her voice. "Mrs. Lance will have your hairy left stone if you're late. You need to get up there, and I think I know of a way to get you there."
Part of me is afraid, and the other part hopeful. If she escorts me through, then all is well. If she wants to exact a price. . . .
I follow her to a security door, and she opens it for me with her badge. Just as I'm walking through, she shoves me hard, and I stumble the rest of the way in. The door closing and locking behind me sounds louder than it probably is.
"Of course, I don't do favors for free. . ." she trails off as I turn to face her. There is an almost carnivorous look in her wild eyes, and her short brown hair frames her lust filled face.
"I thought you didn't want me to be late," I say, thinking fast.
"Oh, your bitch of a boss can have your balls when I'm done with them." She lets that hang there for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. "You should see the look on your face, Lyden. Relax, I ain't gonna rape you. Just head up those stairs to the second floor, and then you can take the elevator the rest of the way to your floor."
I can't help but let out the sigh of relief that escapes me, and I also can't miss the pain that I see it causes in her eyes. This woman just helped me out, putting her own job in danger for breaking one of the buildings numerous rules, and I'd basically just insulted her. Okay, no 'basically' about it. I'd insulted a friend, and hurt her feelings. I may not see her as a sexual prospect, especially right now with me draining whomever I sleep with, but there are other ways to repay a favor.
She turns to walk away, but this time it's my hand on her arm, stopping her. "Not so fast, Lansbury," I say in as authoritative voice as I can muster. "You broke one of the security rules, and even though it was to do me a favor, I have to exact payment."
She turns to look at me, pained confusion in her eyes, and I realize that she really thinks I'm going to turn her in.
"The price for my silence, will be one kiss," I tell her, and while the pain disappears, the confusion remains in her eyes.
"Mr. Snow, there's no need. I know what I am, and I won't put you through that kind of torture," there is a deep sadness in her tone, and my heart breaks to hear it.
"I didn't say I was giving you an option," I say, and know that I'm acting very different from my normal self, but something inside me says this is right. I then shove her back against a wall, and actually have to bend over her massive chest, to plant my lips on hers. I thought I'd be turned off by the thought of kissing this large woman, but she actually smells rather nice, and it only takes me a couple seconds to realize she's one helluva kisser. I want to help this woman feel better, and this is the best thing I can come up with.
When the kiss ends, we're both breathless, and I just leave her there, as I ascend the stairs. I don't even notice until I'm halfway up, that I feel a little weaker than I did earlier. I remember getting pumped from kissing Becky last night, so why the difference with Lansbury? Is it because she doesn't have the energy to give? Or did I actually transfer energy to her? If so, how the heck had I done it? Was it because I wanted to help her? Once again, more questions!
Despite the delays in getting to my office, I find I'm the first one there, though Thomas Johnson arrives only a couple minutes after me.
Seeing the older gentleman, I remember how Angela had looked when she'd first come in, and her telling me that her appearance had been in line with his fantasy.
"Lyden!" he exclaims as soon as he sees me. "I see your back on your feet. How are you?"
"A lot better, thanks," I reply jovially. "I know I usually look for advice from you, but if I can offer some, never run into a light pole. They're not as soft as they look."
He laughs at my half-joke saying, "I guess that's why you got contacts?" He's referring to my naked face, of course.