Body Rides (9 page)

All the while, Elise kept on thinking. Not as if talking to Neal, but going along on her own – talking to herself but also wondering and considering things on other levels, a level or two (maybe more) that seemed deep down and barely articulate.

A little like listening to a radio that was picking up a few different stations – some coming in more clearly than others, some nearly inaudible.

She lowered the glass.

Hope he’s not freaking out in there. ‘How’s it going, Neal?’ Let’s see what he thinks of this
.

She turned around and started walking across the den.

Neal felt every movement. Very much as if he were the person walking, but different because he had no control. He was merely a passenger along for the ride.

A passenger riding in Elise.

He felt her muscles work. He felt the carpet under her bare feet, and the satin of the pajamas sliding softly against her skin. He felt how her breasts, rather small and not very heavy, sprang up and down with each step. He felt the solid tightness of her flexing buttocks, and a curious absence of weight and movement at her groin.

This is what it’s like to be her, he thought.

Fabulous.

Except for the pain.

The bastard had done real numbers on her. Neal felt where she had been cut by the knife, pinched by fingers, teeth or pliers – hurt in other ways. Where she wore bandages, he detected a slight stiffness on her skin.

Her face seemed fine. But the guy must’ve really worked on her breasts. They hurt all over, and Elise seemed to be wearing about seven bandages on them. Her nipples were very sore, but not bandaged. She wore a few bandages on her belly, and a couple on her left buttock. The lips of her vagina burned as if they’d been pinched or gnawed. Neal didn’t feel bandages down there.

He found no pain deep inside her. She’d apparently told the truth about not being raped.

While Neal concentrated on the sensations of her body, Elise walked slowly about the room, holding her nearly empty glass. Though she was thinking non-stop, she didn’t seem to be addressing Neal, so he paid little attention.

He was fascinated.

Is this what the bracelet does? It gives you a ride like this?

Incredible!

It’s like I’m her!

‘
You all right?
’ Elise asked in her mind.

Fine, he thought.

‘
I’ve never done this before.’ It’s kind of spooky having him in me. Seems like a great guy, though. But God, it’s so intimate. Has he paid a visit to my pussy, yet? Oh shit, what if he heard that? Of course he heard it. Be grateful, at least you didn’t call it . . . No no no no. ‘Hello there, Neal. Hey, look, time to vacate the premises, okay? This was just to give you a little taste.’ Must’ve been out of my mind. Oh, great, now he’s probably heard that, too. Probably, my ass. Ass. Terrific. ‘Now that I don’t have any dignity left, Neal. Anyway, you saved my life, so now you haven’t got any illusions about who you saved.’ Hey, I’m not that bad. Could’ve been a lot worse. Get him out of here! ‘Neal? Hey! Time to go, okay? If you’re still here. Are you? Anyway, you have to wish yourself back into your own body.’ What if he won’t leave? What if he likes it in here so much
. . .

He was out.

No longer inside Elise, no longer feeling the weight and motion of her body, no longer seeing what she saw, feeling what she felt. No more eavesdropping on her mind.

At least the pain was gone. But it had been a small price to pay for the multitude of other sensations.

He felt sad and lost. He wanted to return to her.

Knew he shouldn’t, though.

So he settled down into the body that was stretched out on the sofa as if asleep.

Home.

Nothing exciting or strange about this body. It felt familiar all over. His weight, his size, his muscles. All the same as when he’d left. Though he could feel several sore areas, he seemed remarkably free from pain, compared to Elise.

He opened his eyes and turned his head.

Elise, standing at the other side of the table, grimaced at him and blushed fiercely. She shrugged. ‘So,’ she said. ‘That’s the magic bracelet.’

‘Wow,’ he said. He sat up and swung his legs off the sofa. Leaning forward, he picked up his glass. He took a few big swallows of his vodka and tonic.

Elise’s had tasted better.

‘Sorry I had to kick you out,’ she told him.

‘That’s all right.’

‘It was . . . it got embarrassing.’

‘Nothing to be embarrassed about.’

‘I should’ve known better. I mean, I’ve been in enough people to know you can’t hide anything from a hitcher. The mere act of
trying
to hide something reveals it. Almost always. You have to think it to avoid it. The whole situation is impossible. Not to mention, the hitcher gets to feel every part of the person’s body. Forget any kind of privacy.’

‘I thought it was great.’

She made a face and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Great if you’re the hitcher. But God, it’s such an
invasion
of the people you’re in.’

‘They don’t know it’s happening?’ Neal asked.

‘They haven’t got a clue. So, in a sense, there’s no damage done. They don’t
know
that every corner of their being is getting explored by . . . a secret intruder. Hell,
I
didn’t know for sure. I just assumed you were in me.’

‘I was.’

‘Well, that’s what I figured. I mean, that was the whole idea.’

‘I thought I was dreaming. At first, anyway.’

‘You weren’t dreaming.’

‘I was “hitching.”’

‘That’s it. Like hitching a ride. A
lot
like hitching a ride. This was a little different, tonight, because we know each other. Usually, you’ll be taking your rides in strangers. I mean, that’s where the real adventure comes in. You know little or nothing about them. You just jump aboard and ride them down the road for a while, see where they take you. When you’ve had enough – or if things get hairy – you bail out.’

‘Sounds simple enough,’ Neal said, then polished off his drink.

‘It
is
simple. It can get nasty, though. My God, I’ve gone through some incredible things.’

‘Incredibly good or incredibly bad?’

‘Both. You wouldn’t believe it. Just wait and see for yourself. I’m getting another drink. Want one?’

‘I’ll make them,’ he offered, and quickly got to his feet.

Elise smiled over her shoulder at him as she walked toward the bar. ‘It’s all right. I’m perfectly capable …’

‘Maybe you should sit down and take it easy. I mean, I know you’re in a lot of pain.’

Her face went crimson. ‘Guess you know everything. It isn’t that bad, though. Give me your glass. I’ll make these.’

He surrendered his glass.

Elise stepped behind the bar. ‘Pull yourself up a stool,’ she said.

He hopped aboard one of the stools. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on the counter. And winced.

‘I’d say we’re both in some pain.’

‘Mine is nothing compared to yours,’ Neal said.

‘I guess you’re in a position to know. Women are tougher than guys, though.’

‘Is that so?’

‘That’s so. When it comes to pain. Believe me, I know.’ She started to make the drinks, and kept on talking. ‘I know damn near everything there
is
to know about people. You hitch enough rides, you find out . . .’ She shook her head. ‘More than you want to know. But it’s always fascinating. You’re a writer, so this’ll be like a godsend. You’ll run into so many odd characters and weird stories you won’t know what to do with them all. Your main problem will be pulling yourself away from the hitching . . . finding time to write. Finding time for
anything
else, as a matter of fact. Which is Warning Number One: don’t let it run your life.
If you’re not really careful, you’ll get addicted.’

‘Yeah, I can see how that might happen.’

‘It
will
happen. Just fight it like any other addiction. Abstain. Or at least cut back. You want it to be like a hobby, not an obsession.’

‘I usually have fairly good self-control.’

‘I hope so.’ Glasses full, she squeezed a wedge of lemon into each. Then she stirred with a red plastic swizzle stick and slid one of the drinks toward Neal.

They raised their glasses.

‘Chug-a-lug,’ Elise said.

‘Cheers,’ Neal said.

They drank. This one tasted stronger than those that Neal had made. He liked it better.

‘Now,’ Elise said, ‘on to Warning Number Two: don’t ride in anyone you know. You can take my word on that. I learned the hard way. Even with people who love you, you’ll be shocked by what’s going on in their minds. You
don’t
want to know. Believe me.’

‘It’d be awfully tempting.’

‘It’s terribly tempting. And I’m sure you’ll end up doing it. But fight the temptation as hard as you can. Stick with strangers. They’ll be shocking, too, but at least you won’t have an emotional link with them. And you won’t often find yourself as the subject of their thoughts.’

‘Well . . .’

‘In other words, stay out of your family. And stay out of Marta.’

‘Boy, I don’t know. I’d sure like to hop in Marta for a few minutes.’

Elise smirked. ‘I warned you. But I’m not the bracelet police. Do whatever you want with it. If you go hitching in girlfriends or lovers, though, you might find yourself a very lonely boy.’

‘I’ll have to think about it.’

‘Think long and hard.’

‘Any other warnings?’

‘How long have you got?’

He laughed. ‘How long have I got? I thought you said it’s safe.’

‘The
trial run
was safe. There are all sorts of dangers when you start hitching in the real world. Mostly psychological. But some physical risks, too.’

‘Can I get hurt when I’m in someone?’

‘You feel their pain. Of course, you already know that.’

‘Yeah, sure do.’

‘The pain can’t actually harm you, though.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘Other than whatever psychological or emotional damage it may do – going through someone else’s suffering that way.’

‘What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.’

‘Well, we’re coming to that. Try not to be inside anyone at the time of his or her death.’

‘Wouldn’t
want
to be.’

‘It might happen, though, if you aren’t careful.’ She frowned, shook her head, and took a sip of her drink. ‘You hitch with a few thousand people, you’d be surprised what happens. A gunshot, a car crash, a heart attack. If anything like that starts going down, bail. Bail fast.’

‘Why? I mean, what happens if I don’t, and the person dies?’

She gave him a very solemn look and said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘That’s the point.’

‘It never happened to you?’

‘I made real sure it didn’t.’

‘What do you
think
would happen?’

‘I don’t know. But I had this fear about it. I was afraid I might end up trapped.’

‘Trapped?’

‘In the dead body.’ She shrugged. ‘I know it sounds crazy. But I had a few close calls, and it almost got to be a phobia with me. I reached the point where I was terrified, every time I hitched, that the person might keel over dead and there I’d be, stuck inside.’

‘Yuck.’

‘Yeah. Freaked me out. The fact is, I stopped using the bracelet
a few years ago. Because of that. I was hitching in this guy during the ’92 riot. He was a nut-case. Fascinating guy, but scary as hell. He was out to kill some cops. I stuck with him. Nothing I could do to stop him, anyway, so I figured to hang around for the action. About two seconds after he opens up on some L.A.P.D. guys with his AK-47, he catches a bullet in the brain.’ Elise suddenly flinched, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Arh! Hurt like you wouldn’t believe. And it scared the absolute shit out of me. I figured he’d had it, and I’d end up . . .’ She shook her head. She blew out a long breath that puffed her cheeks out, then took a couple of swallows from her glass, and sighed. ‘Anyway, the shot didn’t kill him right away, so I had time to get out. He actually lasted a couple of days on life-support before he kicked the bucket. But it was too close. I never had the guts to hitch again, after that.’

Neal stared at her. She looked frightened.

‘Now I’m not so sure
I
want to use the thing,’ he said.

‘It’s up to you. You shouldn’t put too much stock, though, in my obsession. I mean, maybe you
don’t
get trapped if somebody dies. For all I really know, you might zoom out and return to your own body as if nothing is wrong. The bracelet didn’t come with an instruction manual.’