Remote Viewing

by Wesa

Disclaimer: They're none of them mine, no matter how much I might wish they were.

Rating: R

Warning: Consensual bondage scene, with explicit m/f sex. If this offends you, go away.

Plot: Stavrakos learns to "view remotely" and spies on Kasey.

Note: Remote viewing as done by the Army and the CIA during the seventies and eighties was not known about or even suspected by the general populace, and would have been scoffed at if it had been made public. Stavrakos' fascination with the more outlandish theories of the day, however, makes him a perfect candidate for this sort of experimentation.

By Wesa.

"It's an interesting book, Sergeant," admitted Dr. Harrison Blackwood, handing over the book Stavrakos had lent him, "but is he serious, or is he making all this up? Frankly, I can't see the CIA, let alone the Army, investing this many resources in this sort of experiment."

Stavrakos nodded. "I know, Dr. Blackwood," he said. "I thought the same thing at first. But all the research I've been able to do indicates that this guy is on the up-and-up. He did work for the Army a few years ago, but on what, I haven't been able to determine."

"Have you made any attempt to duplicate the results?" he asked.

"Me?"

"Why not you?" asked Dr. Blackwood. "Dr. Brown says that pretty much anybody can do what he does. Sergeant, I don't have the time to devote to any new experiments. If it's to be done, you'll have to do it. Get Derriman and Coleman to help you. If you can prove that it works, maybe we can use it to find the aliens."

"That was my thought," admitted Stavrakos, "only I thought you'd want to-"

Blackwood laughed shortly. "Colonel Ironhorse and Dr. McCullough already think I'm crazy. Imagine what they'd make of me experimenting with psychic visions! No, I don't think so, Sergeant. You do it."

Stavrakos shrugged. "Well, I'll try..."

*****

Ironhorse gripped the showerhead to which he was handcuffed and wondered vaguely whether the blonde who knelt in front of him had a spatula in her little bag of tricks. Because if she kept doing what she was doing, she was going to need one to peel him off the ceiling. "Kasey," he moaned, tightening his grip on the slender pipe above and behind him.

She paused, looking up to see if he wanted her to stop, and he nearly screamed and ripped the showerhead out of the wall. "No!" he gasped. "Oh, god, don't stop!" He was teetering on the knife-edge, as turned-on as he could be without falling one way into excruciating pleasure or the other way into blissful disappointment. Kasey had already brought him to this narrow plateau three times tonight, each time letting him fall back the wrong way, and he didn't think he could take it a fourth time.

Kasey smiled and rose to her feet gracefully, reaching up through the water and steam to unlatch his handcuffs. "I think you've had about all you can take," she murmured. He wondered if she was psychic.

As soon as his hands were free, he pressed her against the far wall of the shower and roughly shoved his aching, throbbing flesh into her. She put her arms around his shoulders and wrapped her long, strong legs around his waist, allowing him easy access to the most intimate part of her body. She squeezed, not with her arms or legs.

"God!" Ironhorse heard his own voice gasp, though he was not aware of speaking. He teetered on the knife-edge for another long moment, slamming his flesh roughly through her grip on him and deep into her body.

"Yes!" she screamed, and thrashed wildly against him, somehow gripping him tighter still, and he went over the edge into pleasure so intense that he literally saw fireworks. His orgasm must have lasted nearly a full minute, and when it was over, his knees gave out and they both tumbled to the shower floor.

They lay there, tangled together, panting, until they both started to laugh in sheer delight. "Ow," Ironhorse said, rubbing the back of his head where it had bumped the wall on the way down.

"Ditto," Katrina said, gingerly rubbing her butt, the first part of her body that had come in contact with anything that wasn't him.

"Why isn't it like that without the handcuffs?" he wondered, reaching for the soap. Gently he ran the white motel bar over her belly and breasts. "And why only when I wear them, not when you do?"

She watched him tease her erect nipples. "You tend to want to take over," she told him softly. "You tend not to enjoy the journey in your rush toward the destination. I like to take all the side trips, see the sights. You speed; I mosey along."

"You're saying I lack self-control," he interpreted.

She smiled. "I'm saying you're male. That's all right ..." she assured him. "Women aren't my type. But if you ever get married, you can be sure all the kids are yours if you keep her satiated ... which means no 'wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am.' Wham-bam is wonderful, don't get me wrong, but you should leave her thanking you, and ... it just takes women longer."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he wondered, gliding the soap over her belly and between her legs.

"Oh!" she gasped. "No ... Paul ... unh ... damn it, why can't I ever have a normal conversation with you? Are you hard again? On your back, mister!" Straddling him, she pushed him down and mounted his flesh again.

"And you say I lack self-control?" he gasped.

"Second round," she retorted, blissfully impaling herself. "Self-control doesn't count. Oh, fuck me!"

*****

Stavrakos shook himself, wondering why it sometimes happened, when he concentrated on seeing - that is, remote viewing - either Kasey or the Colonel, that his admittedly filthy mind imagined them together, doing and saying things that neither of them would ever -

"So what did you see?" Derriman asked.

"Uhm," Stavrakos hedged, easing his jeans to a more comfortable fit. "Fog, maybe steam. I heard falling water."

"Like a waterfall?"

"Like rain, only it echoed. Uhm, there were bricks, or tiles."

"But not Kasey?" Derriman persisted.

Stavrakos hesitated. "I - I'd better not say," he replied at last.

"Steam, water, tiles," Derriman mused. "You don't think she goes into town to take a shower?" he laughed.

"No. Look, I've got a dirty mind, and Kasey's a beautiful woman," Stavrakos protested. "Let's not tell anyone about this particular experiment, okay? My imagination just ran away with me on this one, okay?" He was relieved when Derriman nodded.

Still ... Stavrakos made a mental note to check Kasey's belongings for padded handcuffs. Because he needed to know. Meantime, "Let's try something else," he suggested.

*****

Stavrakos stood in the living room of the guest house, watching Kasey at her usual morning stretches, warming up before their regular morning run with the Colonel. He'd waited up for her the night before, with no light on to betray his presence, and watched from his open bedroom window as the Colonel had briefly stopped his car to let her out at the front door of the guest house. Kasey had gotten out quickly, thanking Ironhorse for the ride, and come into the house carrying her bulky purse and wearing a self-satisfied smile. Odd that she felt the need for such a feminine accessory: she got along quite well without one when they were on a mission. If she really did have handcuffs he thought he'd seen, they were in there, and his best chance to search the bag was while she was stretching.

He watched her do a hand-stand, then a walkover into a back bend. Now.

Stavrakos crossed the living room quickly, heading for Kasey's bedroom. Later he'd pay with sore muscles for missing out on their morning stretches, but he had to know whether what he'd seen the previous evening had been true remote viewing or his own male fantasies running amuck. If the former, then remote viewing could be the advantage they needed to win this war and save the planet; if the latter, then it was completely unreliable and he might as well quit trying. Was Kasey playing bondage games with the Colonel whenever they went into town together? How long had this been going on?

He opened the closet and moved her clothes aside, looking for the bag. Not here. Where did she keep it? What else was in it? Bondage? The Colonel? Unbelievable. That he would go for Kasey was not so unbelievable, but he couldn't believe that the Colonel would have risked both their careers that way, not by instigating sex himself. So it had to have been Kasey's idea. So the handcuffs had to be hers. How could she have managed to convince Colonel Ironhorse to wear them without complaint and without bruises? He cast his mind back, looking for any incident when the Colonel had been unaccountably mellow - or more irritable than usual - and tried to think whether Kasey had also been mellow, or bruised by the Colonel's rejection. But he hadn't rejected her, if what Stavrakos had seen was true.

He looked under her bed and found something he hadn't expected: a vibrator. Good lord, if she still needed a vibrator after what he thought he'd seen last night ... "Can you say 'nymphomaniac?'" Stavrakos murmured to himself. But then why hadn't she come on to him? He had the same rank she had, now. He would be a far safer lay. But maybe safer wasn't what Kasey wanted; Ironhorse was easily the most dangerous man he knew.

He looked in her bath, under the sink in the vanity. Not there, either. Damn it, he knew the bag existed; he'd been looking through the window when he'd seen that, not through the ether! Where did she keep it?

He risked a peek out through her curtains. The others were assembling, and there was the Colonel, coming down from the main house. He was out of time; he had to go. If he was lucky, he not only wouldn't be discovered, but he might be able to get in a few stretches as well, so that he might not get too sore after their run. Hurrying out of Kasey's bedroom, he closed the door behind him.

The black bag danced on its hook as the door swung shut.