Sins Of The Mind

Sins of the Mind by Emy Naso

SINS OF THE MIND A Chippewa Publishing Publication, JUNE 2005

Chippewa Publishing, LLC. 678 Dutchman Drive, Suite 3 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

Adobe Acrobat Reader (PDF) ISBN # 1-933400-29-3 Other available formats: Palm Doc (PDB), Rocket/REB1100 (RB), Pocket PC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB), hiebook (KML), iSilo (PDB), Mobipocket (PRC), OEBFF Format (IMP), Microsoft Reader (LIT) SINS OF THE MIND Copyright © 2005 Emy Naso Edited by Ricki Marking-Camuto and Kimberly Burton Cover Art by Jayde Hilliard Proofed by Kristine Esterly ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. WARNING: The contents of this book are intended for mature audiences only. Language, violence, and sexual situations may apply.

This is a short story of corporate treachery and burning ambition fueled by sexual tension and erotic deviations. In a world of high-powered business, Merton Walbeck and his manipulative wife will not stop at corruption, murder, or seduction to make a strange prophecy come true…but in the end, power corrupts and absolute power is even more devastating. There is more than a touch of Macbeth in this modern tale of sexual politics.

Act One

“Let me take you in full flow,” Hishetta wailed. “Possess your body, head to toe,” Fennella howled. “Come to me and be depraved, erotic games unto the grave,” Shaggeana cried in the self-induced ecstasy. In the cyberspace of their world, the Three Memories of Lust mixed the electrons, stirred in the juices of power, and creamed away at every erotic thought someone typed into the billions of keyboards across an interconnected world. They fermented their existence in the weird space where quantum waves and minute particles oscillated in a miasma of partial reality. “I hear the dark, beating heart of Merton Walbeck. He is burning with secret ambition and tries to hide his lust for power,” Hishetta grinned. “He has been sent on a mission to stop the plans of Conrad McGregor, that devil incarnate who is called Senior Vice-President of Marketing,” Fennella laughed back at her sister. “Listen,” Shaggeana stilled them. “He approaches with another. I believe it is Gavin Scott. Let us materialize from the ether of the cyber-world and have our sport with these men.” From the unreal atmosphere came the Three Memories of Lust. They were wild, beautiful women. Hishetta had dark, velvet-like ochre skin with eyes that could raise the desire and appetite of any man. Fennella hailed from some exotic land, her tongue, both in speech and in its caressing of male skin, brought men to a frenzy of lust. Finally, there was Shaggeana, who knew all the arts of seduction, and when her fingers touched a body, brought an electrified hardness to any shaft. **** Merton Walbeck braked, bringing his sleek executive automobile to a halt. “What’s wrong?” Gavin Scott asked, concerned at his colleague’s action. “I’m sure something moved on the edge of those woods, Gavin.” “You’re tired, Merton. This takeover battle has exhausted you, but at least we were successful.” “No, look over there. I told you I saw something.” Merton pointed. Slowly, they both got out the car and walked toward the stand of conifer trees. It was late. They were on their way back from the city where the action had been

hard and fast. Fighting the takeover battle was exciting…but extremely exhausting. The biggest surprise had been that one of their executives defected to the other side and was giving the opposition insider information. However, Walbeck and Scott had won the day, and Walbeck became a company hero due to the triumphant results. “What is it?” Gavin asked nervously. “I’m sure I saw figures in the mist. Looked like three women,” Walbeck replied with a tense laugh. “Oh, yes. Three gorgeous ladies out in the woods, just waiting for us—in your dreams, Merton,” Scott mocked. They entered the woods, treading down the bracken as they cautiously went forward. From a hollow, a twinkling of lights flickered up through the undergrowth and a strange noise reached the men’s ears. “Could be kids?” Scott suggested. “Kids don’t have shapes like that!” Walbeck derisively directed Scott’s eyes to a group of three women dancing around the source of the light. Warily, but with growing sensual interest, the men went down the slope and approached the women. “Any problems?” Merton asked as they got nearer, trying not to frighten them. “Looks like a witches’ meeting,” Gavin joked softly to Merton so the women would not hear him. The women stopped dancing and turned to face the men. “If they’re witches, I’d like to be a part of that coven,” Walbeck muttered back at Scott as he noticed how attractive the women were. The dark skinned Hishetta circled around to the back of the men and ran her hand along the top layer of Scott’s hair, grinning as she did so. “We have a pretty one here, my sisters.” “His progeny shall one day be the mighty leader of their corporate giant and after, so shall the children of his loins,” Fennella said and touched Scott’s cheek lightly but with a sensuous invigoration. “Have you two been drinking?” Walbeck protested. “We only stopped because I thought you were in trouble.” The feral looking Shaggeana went up to Merton. She wore a silky one-piece suit with the front zipper pulled down far enough to reveal the swell of her full breasts. She jigged in a circle around Merton, provocatively wriggling her hips and letting her body delicately touch him. He watched her. The sight of her making those stimulating movements made him perspire. “The trouble is not ours, Merton. The unrest in your mind brought you to this place. We know what he thinks in the depth of his evil corruption, don’t we, sisters?” Shaggeana teased.

“We see the new Vice-President of Marketing,” Hishetta and Fennella chanted. “Ambition will bring those he loves into this web so that even the current chief of your company will be blown away,” they continued. “You will become the new master of the corporation, Walbeck,” Shaggeana suddenly broke in then violently kissed Merton. “This is only the manifestation of your dark and secret aspirations,” she purred. “In your soul is the heart of this corruption. You seek power…but only for the sexual gratification it will bring.” She kissed him again while she let her hands run down to his manhood to feel the arousal that she knew was waiting to be satisfied. “Come with me and let that longed for vice find expression in your desire for my body, Merton. I am yours. Now that the fates have been revealed, you can indulge in that hidden longing.” Shaggeana moved away, simpering and tempting. She held her right hand out to him and used the other to slide the zipper on her shirt down, exposing her naked breasts. Walbeck’s lips moistened as he bit at them in desire. He allowed Shaggeana to take him into the gloom of the woods while he left his companion surrounded by Fennella and Hishetta. “Hey, Merton…,” Gavin called, but was diverted as the two women tormented him with their pouting and suggestive looks. He stood motionless, watching them as they came close and held him gently in the power of erotic yearning. Shaggeana went deeper into the forest; with each step, her zipper went lower. Merton followed in a trance of wanting while his loins hardened. When they were fifty feet away from Scott and the two other women, the passionate lady stopped, beckoned Merton near, and cupped his head in her hands. As she kissed his face and neck, his resistance vanished. Hands tugged at her garment, ripping it until she was naked to his groping hands and lust hungry eyes. She stretched out a hand, opening it to expose her palm and reveal a small tablet. “Take this potion, Merton, and then you can join me in exploring all that is within our dark souls.” He took it and his eyes began to glow, allowing him to see the woman in all her bare accessibility. “Does the new master wish to force me to accept his desires?” she asked in mock protest as he growled and roughly bit into her neck. He did not answer. He simply went on with his pursuit of her body, fingers pressing into the firmness of her breasts and the soft moisture beyond her curly mound. “Would you consecrate your triumph with the flesh of a woman? Is that your need of expression, Merton? Am I to lie under your thrusting hips or will you take me as I bend before this passion?” These words sent him into uncontrolled urges. He took hold of her shoulders and forced Shaggeana to her knees. Unzipping his pants, Walbeck let his shaft

find the light of sexual wanting, his engorged erection standing before the woman. He pressed her head forward so she had no doubt of what he demanded. She sighed, letting the untamed beast slip into her mouth. Her feast was quick, his breathing rapid. Only when the heat was almost totally upon him did Walbeck stop. He forced Shaggeana to the earth, and as she lay on her back, he held her hands tight to the ground, parted her legs with his body, and dove into her wet folds. Scott stood with Hishetta and Fennella still holding him. He was enthralled with their caresses and teasing words. From inside the woods came a double cry—the male and female mating scream. It was like the devil riding abroad. It was a sensual howl to bring the blood and senses to an eerie awakening. **** It was late when Scott and Merton arrived back at the Walbeck residence. The house was a measure of wealth from Lydia Walbeck’s inheritance. For the last three days, it had become an unofficial headquarters in the campaign by Tartan Incorporated to fight off the takeover battle for their corporate soul. There was not a car in the driveway more than two years old. Inside the house, the lights blazed in the library. The room did not contain books; Lydia just named it after a swanky word she found when reading about sophisticated Victorian society. She liked the idea of having a library; it sounded much grander than a lounge. Lydia smiled at the Life-President of Tartan, Inc., Duffryn Caber the Third, and handed him a glass of champagne. The silver-haired multi-millionaire raised it and called in a dignified but commandingly loud voice, “Quiet, everyone. I’ve just been told that our heroes are back.” At that very opportune moment, Merton and Gavin walked into the room. There was a spontaneous round of applause. “The conquering warriors have returned,” Caber said while waving for the two men to join him. Lydia almost burst with pride and hovered within earshot so she could lap up the praise she was sure her husband would receive. “So, the enemy is defeated?” Duffryn began. “Tell me, Gavin, how did you two do it?” “More Merton than me, Sir,” Scott answered. Lydia liked that. “Don’t be modest. What was the secret?” the Life-President asked. Walbeck smiled; content that Scott would tell the tale and thus make him appear modest in success. “You knew our Senior Vice-President of Marketing was betraying us and helping Norsk, Inc. to make the bid for us,” Gavin said.

“Traitor,” Duffryn said with a shake of the head. “They were offering a ten-percent premium in the market for our stock,” Gavin continued, “but Merton had already spoken to a group of influential brokers and put a few nasty facts out about Norsk.” “Good work, Merton.” Caber slapped Walbeck on the back. “Your loyalty will be rewarded.” Lydia really liked the sound of this. “As from right now, Merton, you are appointed our new Senior VicePresident of Marketing. You stand one heartbeat away from the very top,” Caber announced as he put his arm around Walbeck. As Lydia grinned with pride, Walbeck looked at his colleague, Scott, and wondered if he would say anything about the strange meeting with those women. He did not want the revelation known that he, Merton Walbeck, had taken one of the hippy women into the woods and shagged the life out of her. He also did not want the odd prediction they had drunkenly made about this appointment and other company matters made public. Was it drink, he thought. …or were those young women on drugs? Whatever it was, Shaggeana had gone like an express train—not only when he fucked her straight, but also when he got kinky and screwed her rosy ass. “Merton,” Lydia tugged at his coat sleeve, discreetly pulling him away from the crowd. “You are my love, sweet man. Our dreams are about to be fulfilled,” she whispered. He put his arm around his wife and they both glowed with pride, basking in the admiration. “I have another announcement,” Caber said, now intoxicated both by their success and by the wine. “The company must be made stronger. With my good friend Merton Walbeck now joining us as Senior Vice-President, I am going to secure the very head of Tartan, Inc.” The Walbecks stood and waited in rapture, believing their moment had arrived. Duffryn waved his arms expansively. “Here is my son, Mitchell.” A young man shyly came forward from the crowd and stood by the old king of the company. “My large stock holding has been promised to Mitchell in a trust so that should I succumb to health problems, he will take over at the very top of Tartan, Inc.” There was general applause…except for the Walbecks. Smiling outwardly, they moved away, leaving the throng, and went to their private rooms. **** Merton slumped in front of his computer, idly tapping at the keyboard. Lydia stood by her dressing table, redoing her makeup. Suddenly, she turned and went to her husband, standing behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Mitchell is so weak,” she at last said. “That job should have been yours.” “The old man did make me Senior Vice-President!” “You deserve it, darling. You saved him from losing everything in the takeover battle.” She kissed his head. “What is that peculiar perfume, Merton?” “What?” “It smells of musk. If you hadn’t been traveling with that prig, Scott, I’d have sworn you’d been with another woman.” Merton did not answer. His mind recalled Shaggeana and the torrid passion in the woods. He could still feel the firmness of her breasts, remember the taste of her sex, and salivated at the memory of the penetration of her body. “You okay, dear?” Lydia asked him. “Fine,” he snapped. “I don’t think we should leave the guests. I’m going downstairs.” He got up, caressed her forehead, and left the room. Lydia watched him go, delayed for a minute, and then had a thought. She sat at the computer, turned it on, and searched for what he had been typing. When she found it, her heart beat faster. He had typed the facts concerning the “prophecy” without including the untamed sexual encounter. “Senior Vice-President,” she muttered the words. “Then LifePresident…YES,” she said in triumph and punched the air. She read on. “This cannot be. Scott’s children will inherit the company—stupid fucking predictions. Where did this come from?” she swore angrily. Lydia Walbeck slammed down on the keys, closed the computer program, and then paced around the room. She picked up one of Merton’s neckties and slowly and methodically folded it up. Addressing this object as her husband, she squeezed it tight and gritted her teeth as she murmured, “Listen, Merton, if you do not have the balls to seize the moment…I do.” **** Two hours later, Merton came back to their bedroom. Lydia had prepared for his return. She lounged back on the big double bed, patting it to let him know she wanted him to sit by her. Merton, after ten years of marriage, still deeply adored Lydia. So many nights, so many ways he had possessed her rounded form, kissed and sucked at her breasts, and found relief in her tricks and art. His wife wore nothing but a black G-string…and an aura of promise. “Everybody gone to bed?” she asked as she helped him off with his shirt. “Yes, except for a few of the guys still finishing their drinks.” “What about Duffryn?” Merton stood up and started to take off his pants. Lydia gently pushed his hands away as her eyes indicated she wanted to undress him.

“Oh, the old randy boss has taken that young woman from the legal department, Griselda, up to bed with him. She’s been flirting all evening with him. Must be young enough to be his daughter.” “Let’s hope Duffryn has a weak heart and a night servicing this little tart gives him a happy ending,” Lydia huffed while pulling Merton’s boxer shorts down. “That’s cruel, Lydia,” he mildly protested at her sentiment, but already his mind was fixed on her attention to his cock. “Merton, don’t be so naive. Your star is never going to be as bright as it is now. After the way you handled that takeover attempt, if Duffryn were to die, the board would come to you to lead the company. Delay, and that sniveling son of his, Mitchell, will get his weak hands on Tartan, Inc.” Lydia urged him to lie with her, and as Merton stretched out on his back, she rolled over and caressed his chest. “Don’t you want to be the Life-President—the leader?” “How can it be, Lydia?” “Don’t play coy with me, Merton. I saw those notes on your computer.” He started to sit up. Lydia massaged his cock, leaned over, and sucked his hardening shaft. He sank back, breathing quickly. “See, my darling, I know what you want and desire, both in business and in sex. Tonight, I will satisfy whatever is your secret wish.” Her fingers manipulated his testicles as the blood of passion engorged the tight veins of his cock. Lydia’s tongue then licked around the bulbous end of his penis. “If anything happened to Duffryn, everyone would blame the woman,” she said in a whispered temptress voice. “What do you mean?” he replied, his voice strained and distracted by her plan. “One injection of that insulin you use for your diabetes and Duffryn would succumb in his sleep, dearest.” Merton wanted her to stop this talk, but not her wanton arousal of his loins. Suddenly, she got up, went to the dressing table, and returned holding the syringe. “See, my darling. Go and meet your fate. One poke into Duffryn’s old veins and it’s a done deed. Then when you return, I will take that prick of yours and let you seek full comfort in every orifice.” As she spoke, Lydia knelt on the bed and took his cock deep into her warm and willing mouth. His groans became louder. Lydia moved away and smiled. “You’ll wake the house with your cries for kinky sex, my love. Take this syringe and show me how much our love means to you.” Thrusting the implement of death into his hand, she took hold of his face and kissed Merton in a wild passion. Lydia got up and threw Merton’s dressing gown at him. “Go, my lover. The hour and my aching body await your return.”

Act Two

It was his house, yet to Merton, it had become another place. Suddenly, every dark corner reflected the fear in his mind. He crept along the corridor, every object being a surprise, making him startle and stop in dread. The table at the top of the stairs had been there for five years, but he felt it in the dark and wondered what it was. He clutched at the banister rail and all the quietness of the house rose up and assaulted his imagination. From behind every bedroom door, the noises of sleep now became a cacophony threatening his vile deed. Merton grabbed the sides of his head and pushed his body timidly back against the wall. “Who’s there?” he whispered to the black night. “Why do these ghosts of my mind torment me? Does the very fabric of space know the foul deed that’s in my heart?” Inching along, he felt the handle on the door to the room where Duffryn Caber slept. He turned it and tried to still his breathing, which to him, sounded like an express train thundering through a tunnel. The new moon came out from behind a moving cloud, shedding its silvery light like a shaft across the room. The beam caught the bed in its stream of revelation. Duffryn lay on his back, snoring, wrapped in the duvet, and looking exhausted. The reason for his deep sleep lay beside him. The slim naked body of Griselda was barely covered and sprawled out on her stomach, one arm flung across her elderly paramour, the other dangling lifelessly down the side of the bed. Merton closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off Griselda. Her pert, rounded ass transfixed him. Here he was to commit murder and all he could think of was this woman’s rear. In the moment of the heinous deed, it was the thought of the gorgeous shape, the vulnerability, the perfect display of the sight before him that invaded his mind. This is madness—death and sex—hold on to your sanity, man. He moved nearer, feeling the syringe in his sweaty hand. Slowly, the other hand moved to touch that alluring ass. Just for the feel of that skin, he would have let this evil plan fade into the night. To be able to grab this woman’s thighs, part her legs, and enter her petal—that would be worth any sacrifice. Keep control, Merton. Work up your courage. With demonic eyes, he leaned over the woman, sensing her body, feeling dizzy from her nearness, her availability.

The syringe pierced Duffryn’s arm. Merton closed his eyes…and pressed down. There was a slight moan. He thought Caber would awake. The old man’s body shivered and then was still—still as deep water, still as the molecules in ice, still for evermore. What have I done? Merton almost fell on the woman. Her nakedness offered comfort. He clasped the syringe and ran from the bedroom. Back in his own room, he fell into Lydia’s arms sobbing like a child, seeking her warmth, her motherly breasts. “Is it done?” she asked while cuddling her man-child. “Yes, I have committed murder, my darling.” “Where is the syringe?” He did not answer, but stayed in her arms. She shook him and stared into his glossed-over eyes. “The syringe, Merton, where is it?” “It is here, Lydia,” he eventually answered. “Fool, it must be found by the body,” she angry said. “But won’t they figure out it has my insulin in it?” “Merton, you are so weak. I filled it with a drug. The police will examine it and conclude Duffryn and the girl were using the substance in their lovemaking. You must go back and leave it by the bed.” “I cannot,” he trembled. She looked at him, seeing in him the frailty of all men. She grabbed the syringe from him and went back to Duffryn’s bedroom. The old man was now dead. The woman breathed slowly in her young slumber, unmindful in her dreams of the foulness of the night. Lydia quickly went back to her own bedroom, took the crying Merton by the hand, and led him to bed. “Now commit your sin to my body, and in your penetration, give me your guilt in the mighty shedding of your seed. What is your pleasure, my darling?” He held her close and whispered to her the erotic deviation he had in mind. **** Isn’t anybody around? The Financial Vice-President again knocked on the door. He had traveled overnight, but when he was only twenty miles away from Merton Walbeck’s house, the brake fluid started to leak out of the car. It took four hours for the tow truck to get to him, so by the time he got to Walbeck’s house, it was two o’clock in the morning. Eventually, he heard someone come to the door. It opened slightly. “Who the hell is it?”

Lionel Monkton was an aggressive financial vice-president. He pushed the door open. One of the staff from the marketing department stood bleary-eyed in front of him. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Monkton, I didn’t know it was you.” Monkton huffed when he saw a scantily clad young woman in the hall. Here to fight a takeover battle, and soon as it’s over, they are fornicating, he thought. “I have to see Mr. Caber,” Monkton announced without any explanation to this junior member of the Tartan team. “He went to bed almost two hours ago, Sir.” “Then just point me in the right direction.” “I think he…” “Think what? Speak up.” “He had a young woman with him, Sir.” Even the Life-President is at it. Still, this is important. “Which room?” “Up the stairs, third door on the right, Mr. Monkton.” Lionel marched past the man, stopping for a moment in front of the young woman. He made a mental note without showing a trace of his thoughts on his face; he could see why she could divert men from work, with her big alluring eyes and even bigger tempting breasts very visible through her silky nightdress. Then he went on with a concealed erotic thought in his head, and a mental reminder to check the lady out when they got back to the head office. He could see she might be useful and wondered how grateful the woman would be if he manipulated a promotion for her. He knocked on the bedroom door out of politeness; but also to give the inhabitants a chance to stop any activities they would rather keep private. No answer. He went in confidently. Monkton was an arrogant man in anyone’s presence. The naked woman did not surprise him. Giving her just a slight glance, he moved to the other side of the bed. His stomach retched. He was no doctor, but the fixed open-eyed stare of Duffryn Caber told him straight away the old man was dead. Deliberately, he backed out of the room and called out in a weak voice, “Get help,” then louder, “Someone get help!” Lydia Walbeck glided down the corridor pulling her bathrobe around her. “Lionel, what are you doing here now? We expected you hours ago. God, you look pale. What is it?” “Don’t go in, Lydia. Duffryn is dead. I don’t…” Lionel retched again. He staggered forward. “The bathroom is over there,” Lydia comforted him. ****

Within the hour, the police were swarming all over the house. Lydia sat by her dressing table, combing her long black hair. Merton came in the room. “What did the police ask?” she questioned, without looking around but closely following his image in the mirror. He sat heavily on the bed. “They say it might be murder.” “Who do they suspect?” “Griselda,” he croaked. “Seems they have this theory she might have killed the old man because of his sexually predatory actions against her, but that’s ridiculous. She went to his bed willingly.” Lydia’s hand stopped mid-stroke through her hair. “Did you tell them that, Merton?” “No.” “That’s good. Let suspicion fall on her,” she said and resumed brushing her hair. Merton rubbed his eyes. “Lydia?” “Yes, darling.” “Griselda is dead.” “Of course she is, Merton.” “But how…” Lydia got up and walked to him, opened her bathrobe, and placed his hands on her breasts. “When I went back to take the syringe, I killed her. Do not look at me like that, Merton. You just saw her as an available woman, enticing in her young nakedness. I saw her as our final solution.” He stared up. The subject was closed—he had to move on. “Lionel Monkton convened a quick meeting of senior executives, Lydia.” “And?” “The board has offered me the Life-Presidency.” “That is wonderful, my darling. The fates are with us. Now you wait here, and when your Lydia returns in about half-an-hour, I will let you bury your cock of frustration in my body.” She left the bedroom and Merton curled up in the fetal position. **** Mitchell Caber was sitting comatose in the kitchen when Lydia walked in. “You look dreadful, Mitchell. Can I get you some coffee?” “Thank you, Lydia. What the hell is happening?”

She poured him a cup of the brew and gave it to him; making sure that as she leaned forward, the swell of her breasts was visible to fever the brow of the young man. “You’ve heard what the police said, haven’t you, Mitchell?” “They think it was Griselda. Some rubbish about Dad and her in a sexual tryst.” The lady of the house put her hand on his knee. “Poor Mitchell, they’re obviously hiding the worst from you.” “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking completely lost. “There was a video. This is so difficult…it was of your father and that young woman.” “I don’t understand.” She took both his hands and rubbed his fingers. “I know this is going to hurt…but your father had set up a video camera and recorded what they had been doing…” “Making love,” Mitchell almost blubbered. “I think the sexual practices were a great deal kinkier than that.” “Oh my God,” the young man sobbed and Lydia encouraged him to bury his weeping head into her bosom. “What should I do, Lydia?” “There is going to be a media frenzy when it gets out. I think it might be better if you get out of the country.” She pulled him closer so that his mouth touched her right breast. Lydia pushed down her robe and allowed the young man to suck at her nipple.

Act Three

“I’m very appreciative of your support, Gavin,” Merton said as they walked in the gardens of his home. “Not at all, Merton, we need to come together at a time like this, and I can assure you that all of the senior staff is one-hundred percent behind you as our new Life-President,” Gavin Scott smiled sincerely. Then he added as they stood by an ornamental pond, “But I still can’t get over that strange apparition we saw in the woods and the way those women—or whatever they were—predicted your rise to fame.” Walbeck found a smile to offer to his colleague. In his heart was the darkest of the third part of the prophecy; that it would be Scott’s son who would one day be the Life-President. “How’s that lad of yours, Scott? Fenton, isn’t it?” Scott stared down into the pool to see the fish swimming just under the rippling water. “Not a lad any more, Fenton is twenty-five. In fact, I’m picking him up later and we’re motoring down south together for a short holiday. That reminds me, I must be off.” Scott walked from the gardens with the envious eyes of Walbeck upon him. The new Life-President squinted down into the pool to see what Scott had been staring at intently. Watching the fish, he lit a cigar and let the smoke drift into a cloud of thoughts. All this blood on my hands and that bastard’s son will inherit the position I have murdered to gain. While I must fight and claw my way to the top, this Fenton in his easy ways will wear the crown of Life-President with painless grace. He angrily threw his cigar into the pool, sending the fish flashing to the safety of the rocks. Where are you now, Memories of Lust? You three spirits of deceit come to my mind and let us commit the sin of delicious sex. Black Hishetta, I want you to ride upon my cock so I can feel that smooth satin skin. Proud Fennella, do you know the power in my loins and what heat I could put inside your willing vagina? Then come and come again, Wild Shaggeana. From the dark of the woods, I would take you to the light so that our screaming fornication could break into the day and all the creatures of the earth would witness our decadence. Walbeck let these thoughts lubricate the sensuality of his mind. He left the garden and saw Gavin Scott’s car.

So perhaps he hasn’t left, yet, Merton mused. **** Three days had passed since Walbeck’s elevation to Life-President of Tartan, Inc. Merton and Lydia decided to hold a party at their home to celebrate. Merton had still not left the house to go down to the corporate headquarters. Something in his mind troubled him; he wore the coronet of success uneasily. A phone call he had received that morning did not improve his mood. Walbeck pretended sorrow but his heart was full of fury; Gavin Scott had been killed in a motor accident. The reports said his brakes were faulty. Walbeck had faked shock, knowing in his mind that he was the one who had tampered with the brakes. However, the fates still toyed with him. Scott’s son, Fenton, had survived the crash. Walbeck let Lydia fuss with the arrangements for the party. He went out to the swimming pool and sat under a row of colored lights. A succession of gentle clip-clops patted across the tiled floor. Walbeck watched a pair of slim gorgeous legs. His glance went up to seductive hips and a round, flaunted rear. Sarah McDonald sashayed toward him like sensual enticement in motion; the gap between her short blue skirt and skimpy top left acres of naked midriff before Merton’s eyes. He let his gaze move upward to stop and admire the fullness of her breasts. Each time I see the marvel of young womanhood, I am amazed at nature’s magic in creating delight to make men hard and ready to surrender cool complacency and run full tilt into the sweaty, struggling few minutes of sexual abandonment. “Hi, Mr. Walbeck,” Sarah’s voice carried the spring of youth. “Please, Sarah, we are not at the office. Call me Merton.” “Geez, that’s so nice of you…Merton.” She sat beside him and they remained silent, watching the lights flicker and flash color across the surface of the swimming pool. He found her nearness intoxicating. Words seemed unnecessary. If she was going to let him seduce her, that was all that mattered. Touching and finding solace in her body would numb the ache within his head. Merton let his arm move so that his hand rested on her firm, inviting thighs. She made a little purring noise and shimmied closer to him, her magnificent ass sliding along the wooden seat. That was the positive sign he had looked for, prayed for, desired. Merton put his other arm around her shoulders, encouraging Sarah to lean against his chest. Delicate noises fluttered from her golden mouth, verbal indicators of acceptance,

green lights to proceed. One hand felt up her skirt and discovered the small silk covering of her tiny panties, while the other hand played on the naked skin of her stomach. “Oh, Merton.” Was that resistance or shyness? It was worth trying his luck. He wriggled a finger under the material of her panties. Sarah’s response was to part her legs slightly, letting his fingers have access to the wetness of her sex. So she wants to play, Merton heard his mind say. He gently slid her panties down and she assisted by wiggling her ass and putting one foot on the bench so her sex became open and available to his probing fingers. “Do you like my fingers to work the petals of your moist folds, young Sarah, or are they better inside you?” As Merton huskily whispered these words into her ear, his index finger slipped deep into the dampness of her vagina. The shudder of pleasure from her body gave him his answer. “Is that okay?” he tenderly asked, knowing what motivation was to follow her reply. Sarah nodded her approval of his actions. “Will you satisfy me?” She did not say anything but he sensed acquisition. Merton unzipped his pants, pushed them down along with his shorts to his lower thighs, and presented an erect and rampant cock for Sarah to hold. “Like this?” she giggled as her fingers massaged his shaft. “More like this,” he groaned, smoothly directing her head down to his hardness. “Oh, Merton,” were the last words Sarah said before her mouth became full with the lust of his cock. Lydia stood by the double glass doors in the lounge, partly hidden by the drapes, watching as her husband received oral sex from the little minx Sarah as he penetrated her young loins with three thrusting fingers. She knew he was a weak man. The need for sex was a compensation for this shallowness. Hiding in the heat of satisfaction was a coward’s way out. **** “Darling,” Lydia greeted Merton as he came into the dinning room. She looked the very model of an adoring wife—not a trace of resentment crossed her lovely face, no sign she had witnessed her husband receiving a blowjob from the company tart. “Everybody has been waiting for you. It’s rude to keep our guests waiting, my sweet.” She did not add it was even ruder to have your cock sucked in the garden by a brunette female worker who was half your age.

He tried to smile. Only two things occupied his mind. One had always been there—he was addicted to sex. The second image he could not dismiss was of murdered colleagues. They took their places at the table, Lydia dispensing bonhomie, Merton taciturn and grim. As the chatter rose, he saw something walking into the room. The specter stood at the end of the long table, pointing a figure at Merton. “Scott! What do you want?” he shouted and looked wildly at the figure before him. “Go away. You are dead.” The ghost circled the table with only Merton seeing its presence. The phantom of Gavin Scott was deathly white and his eyes accused Merton. “Sinner,” the ghost wailed. “Seducer,” it howled to the wind. “Perpetrator of vile sexual acts.” Then it hurled one last name at Walbeck, “Double murderer.” Everyone slowly stopped talking and with alarm, stared at the new LifePresident ranting at some unseen person. Lydia jumped up and went to her husband, soothing his brow. “Don’t heed him, folks. He is not well. It’s the diabetes. These images have haunted him since he was a child. Please, go on with your meal.” She led him from the room, escorted him to their bedroom, and sat with him until he went to sleep. Lydia tucked in beside Merton. The party was over, the guests departed. “Are you okay now?” she asked as her hand gently rubbed his chest. He nodded and curled up close to her. “What was said?” he softly asked. “I told them you were tired and your diabetes caused the problems.” He felt safe with Lydia. She would lead the sexual game tonight. His wife understood what he wanted. Neither of them mentioned the absence of Lionel Monkton from the party. They would not know that at that very moment, he and Fenton Scott were talking of their concerns in a hotel room two hundred miles away. The next day, they would talk with the head of a major corporation and the police about their anxieties and secret suspicions concerning Merton Walbeck.

Act Four

In the ethereal hyperspace where electrons discourse upon the order of nature, the Three Memories of Lust metamorphosed from their time to a place called reality. In a misty glade devoid of animals that hid from the apparitions, they danced around the world of the computer, flitting in and out of the rift in substance. Their deeds were to program the evil that is waiting to invade the minds of humanity. Witches of the cyber-sphere conjured into the cosmos, appearing then disappearing, real and unreal, people of particle and wave. They waited in the woods for the one who sought them. Merton drove his car to the spot in the woods where he and the late Gavin Scott had encountered the Three Memories of Lust. He had questions to ask. Merton wanted their knowledge of the future. He wanted knowledge of their bodies. Power and sex combined in him giving meaning and purpose to find those three wonderfully strange and seductive women. He brought the car to a halt and got out. Merton looked back along the straight road and saw that at the brow of the hill, it was sunny. Beams penetrated into the glades of the deciduous trees, but lower into the hollow where he now stood, the fog was swirling and ever thickening, and the broad leaves had changed to rows of dark and ominous conifers. A sound came to him, music of another place. It called and he answered. Walking into the dense part of the shallow basin, he sensed the humming of machinery, the spiraling ether of the undead. Figures formed and beckoned. He did not resist the sirens who wanted his soul. “Welcome, Merton.” He swung around. The brilliant black skin of Hishetta dazzled his eyes and cast a glow of lust deep into his inner mind. “Come to me and let your lips and mouth play upon my naked body,” she hissed in a stream of sensuality. As he walked blindly toward her, Hishetta held out her arms, enticing him to her glorious nudity. He kissed her passionately, letting his caresses fall to her neck then frantically to her magnificent breasts. “Down to the depth of desire, Merton,” Hishetta insisted in wanton baited seduction, watching him fall to his knees and bury his burning face into the open posture of her legs. “Take succor from my moisture, Merton. Rejoice in the flavor of my sex…but beware Lionel Monkton. He wishes to slay your wonderful evil.”

“Now for my delight.” In stupefied lust, Merton crawled over to the next figure who had called. The beautiful Fennella beckoned to him. As he, in a craving of agony, neared Fennella, she let her cloak slip to the cold earth, thick with the dying carpet of fallen leaves. Her breasts were superb for his longing. She smiled, lying on the ground, inviting him to kneel over her. Taking his erection in her hand, she slid it back and forth between the valleys of her powerful bosom, bringing him near his climax. “Take pleasure, Merton,” she groaned, “but fear only the man who is not born through the labor of woman.” “Yet more we have for you.” Shaggeana appeared and stood proudly in her naked display. “So, Merton, you’ve come back to me.” He breathed in her perfume, the musk of licentiousness. Crawling to his feet, Merton followed her to an old gnarled redwood tree. Shaggeana leaned back and called him without words to press her tightly to its rippled bark. Merton sucked on her white neck, loins urging against loins, his cock as true and straight as any conifer tree in the woods of shame. “Push your shaft into my fecund body and make my petal weep with each bountiful penetration,” she implored. Entering her was all he could think of. Pinning Shaggeana against the tree, hips pumping, working in a sexual rage of possessiveness, Merton screamed in his head to find gratification. “Now, Merton, cum now,” she whispered. “Be secure in my sweaty embrace. You will survive until the great Tartan Company is destroyed and re-built in but one single minute.” Merton let out a cry as his seeded juice flowed into the woman. One minute he was in high ecstasy, the next groveling on the earth. The Three Memories of Lust drifted away. As they disappeared, they called in unison, “Enjoy your time as Life-President, but remember it is Scott’s child who will be the master when your bones are bleached white in death.” **** He tapped the cigar on the window frame of his car. The ashes fell as one piece like an expensive Havana should. Merton had sat outside the country house of Lionel Monkton for almost an hour. He knew his colleague was not there. Only two hours ago, a financial broker at the stock exchange had telephoned Walbeck on his cell phone to tell him Monkton, Mitchell Caber, and a representative of his business archrival were cooking up some deal or other. Walbeck had certain simple characteristics. He was a sexual deviant, a consummate business operator, an unscrupulous opportunist…and a man full of

paranoiac feelings of revenge. The first and last attributes had brought him to Monkton’s palatial home. The time was right. Merton strolled up to the front door. He rang. Two minutes later, Felicia Monkton opened it. How did Lionel find such a woman? She was in her late thirties, a fusion of mixed blood, and every gene a beauty. Five foot, five inches of perfection; black hair down to her waist, brown eyes that smoldered, a mouth to drool over, and a figure to die for. “Merton, how nice to see you. Lionel isn’t here. He’s away for a few days.” Merton gave her a solicitous smile. She had always been an innocent and he could believe her naivety, having no understanding of the corporate shenanigans going on. “May I come in?” he tried with charm. “Hey, of course, after all, you are the boss now,” she giggled. He liked the start. Felicia led him through the hall and into a lounge. If he had cared to look, he probably would have found its furnishings immaculate. Merton could not take his eyes off her sway. If a bridge moved like that, it would cause a traffic jam. “So, how are you, Felicia?” “Just fine, Merton. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” He touched her arm in a considerate way. “It’s difficult, Felicia.” She brought her hand up to her mouth in a movement to show distress. “What’s happened?” Merton had sat outside in his car for ages, calculating his approach. Felicia was an insecure woman who came from the wrong side of the tracks. She did not have Lionel’s breeding, family background, or brains. In many ways, she was a pretty appendage whose older, considerate husband showed her the good life. “You haven’t heard, then?” “No. Heard what, Merton?” “Sit down, Felicia.” She sat on the edge of her white sofa. Merton moved next to her. “The auditors have just given me a report, Felicia. It shows…Lionel has been embezzling deeply from the company.” “Geez, I can’t believe it!” “I know. I found it hard as well, Felicia…but I’ve seen the evidence.” “What will happen?” He placed his hand on hers. “I’m sorry, Felicia, but this means prison.” “Oh God, I can’t go through this.” “You need someone to look after you, Felicia…” he now took both her hands in his, “…someone to shield you from the scandal. Someone to make sure your life remains comfortable.”

Felicia wept gently as Merton began stroking her hair. “Can I rely on you, Merton?” “You know I’ve always found you attractive, Felicia.” “You are so supportive. How can I thank you?” Merton leaned close to Felicia and caressed her beautiful face. After another ten minutes of deceit, he would tell her how she could thank him and show her appreciation. **** Walbeck left the Monkton household with an evil but satisfied grin on his face. Not only did Felicia show him the depth of her thanks, but also had willingly asked him to convey the news about her husband to her daughter, eighteen-year-old Sally Jo. Merton whistled as he drove the fifteen miles to the daughter’s apartment. If her mother, Felicia, was a beautiful woman, Sally Jo was stunning. She had her mother’s delectable exotic exquisiteness and the added height of her father, Lionel. What could make seduction more enjoyable than a long-legged, sexy, young woman? He waited at her door. Sally Jo was everything he had remembered from a brief meeting at a party. They went up to her apartment. The news was devastating. She would have to pay for her own way through college, plus, she loved clothes and clubs…oh, so much luxury for a young woman. Merton listened to her wailing. Yes, of course, he would help, but sugar daddies did not come without obligations. As he held Sally Jo in his arms, he contemplated her payment in kind. It would not be a simple screw like her gorgeous mother; the picture that came into his mind was lewd, kinky, and so very…different. **** They could see across the city from the top of the Retro Tower. The river snaked and curled in a sensuous shape. Mitchell Caber thought it was like the figure of a gorgeous woman—breasts swelling to smooth stomach curving down over voluptuous hips, then flowing into firm thighs. “When will Lionel Monkton be here?” The voice of the chief executive officer of Retro, Inc. brought Mitchell back to the business at hand. He did not have to answer. A secretary appeared and announced that Mr. Monkton had arrived. The tall Tartan, Inc. Vice-President entered. The secretary turned and left. For a fleeting moment, she captured the attention of all three men

in the sumptuous office. Her tight, red suit fitted well over her rear. Even in serious discussion on important matters, men were so easily distracted. “Hi, Lionel,” Mitchell greeted his friend as they shook hands. “I think you have met Brinley King of Retro, Inc.” “Yes once before. Hi, Brinley.” The three men sat around a polished table with efficiently arranged notepads and coffee waiting before them. They were plotting the downfall of Merton Walbeck. They would exchange many pious words to justify the action. They all had grave hearts. **** “How long will you be gone, my love?” Lydia asked as Merton put down the phone and closed his eyes in weariness. “Just today, Lydia. These bastards want a meeting, so I said I’d talk to them at Tartan headquarters.” “Why are they attacking you like this?” Merton put on his coat. “That wimp Mitchell Caber is no threat and is just joining in with the rest of them. Brinley King and his Retro, Inc. are just after taking over Tartan at a cheap price while the market is unsettled. As for who the ringleader is, I suspect Lionel Monkton. I think it’s jealousy, Lydia.” “But why now?” “Duffryn Caber was Life-President for thirty-eight years. Those guys in the market are nothing but a bunch of scribbling kids who panic when they see changes. Don’t worry, darling. You take care. The doctor will be in later to see you. Those recurring headaches are a worry.” He kissed her forehead and left. Lydia watched Merton walk to his car in the driveway and heard the throaty engine of the expensive red sports car accelerate and then fade into the distance. She wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her and went back upstairs to the bedroom. She knew it was more than just market jitters. Rumors abounded as the stock prices had tumbled. There was darkness in her soul. Foreboding filled her. The dreams of terror not only invaded her nights, but also now hunted through her mind when the light of day should have banished them. Lydia went into the dressing room attached to their bedroom. In the corner was a box. She had not noticed it before. Her curiosity made her peel back the tape and look inside. There were videos in envelopes. She picked one up and went back to the bedroom, put it in the VCR, and sat on the bed. The screen flickered—an amateur obviously filmed the movie. A young woman was smiling as she slowly undressed and paraded in front of the camera.

Then there was another woman, this one more provocative in her poses. Yet more naked, flaunting women appeared. Then another scene started. Merton was there, already undressed. The camera angle seemed static. Lydia guessed Merton had propped it on a table so he could video himself with these whores. They cavorted and indulged in sexual games. Lydia put her hands to her eyes, peering reluctantly through slightly parted fingers. She knew Merton wandered from the matrimonial bed, but she had not realized the extent of his fornicating and the depth of his sexual deviations. The final scene was a young woman. Lydia recognized her as Lionel Monkton’s daughter, Sally Jo. Tears of despair and anger came to her eyes as she watched Merton take the woman through such acts of lust and wanton depravity. She ripped the video from the machine and threw it against the mirror on her dressing table. Lydia went to the window. On the sidewall was a silver edged frame with a picture of her and Merton on their wedding day. She took it down and held it to her heart as she closed her eyes and let time wash over her. I have loved you all these years and been your partner in whatever you have asked, both in our life and in our bed. I have been your mentor— the strength and engine of your power. In the moments of your privacy, you had dallied with flesh and I have forgiven you, but why, Merton, do you parade your desires so openly? Do the sins of the mind have no resting place from others’ eyes? **** Merton waited in his large office. He waited for three men who were on their way up in the elevator: Mitchell Caber, Brinley King, and that traitor, Lionel Monkton. This was not yet his office; it still had the feel of the late Duffryn Caber about it. Merton despised the old Life-President’s taste in everything. The furnishings were ostentatious and just too much. He would change it into a temple of minimalism. It would be modern, yet, like his mind, hint at deeper subjects. Then there were the women he knew Duffryn had—all very middle-class mistresses, fancy little secretaries who slept in his bed. Merton scorned. That was not power. Where was the authority in that? Now that he was the Life-President, Merton would demand slaves, seek domination, and wallow on the dark side. Before, he had tasted the intoxication of lust, now his new supremacy would bring him women to indulge his predilections. Just like Sally Jo Monkton. His mouth watered thinking of her meek protests as he subjected her to his gross fantasies. The door opened, bringing him back to the here and now. The three men entered the office.

“Glad to meet you, Merton,” Brinley King’s greeting was urbane. Mitchell Caber offered a hand without emotion. Lionel Monkton remained sullen and brooding. “There is no need for this attitude, Lionel,” Merton joked. “We are still colleagues—even though you have gone over to the other side so quickly.” “Do not humor me, Merton. I know about your deception and the way you seduced my wife and daughter.” Monkton’s response was angry and King had to hold his hand up to restrain him from tipping over into violence. Merton tossed his head contemptuously. “This is business, Lionel, not a discussion on morality. If you want to live a pure life, go join a monastery.” “I think we’d better get down to business,” King intervened. “We are here to make you an offer, Merton; merge your company peacefully with Retro, Inc. and…” “And what, Brinley? You’ll give me some meaningless position without power or prestige?” Walbeck interrupted. “We have the plans here, Merton. Let me show you the corporate presentation.” Brinley King placed a briefcase on the table, opened the lid that had a monitor inside, and pressed a button. The pictures illuminated their faces as the four men watched. It began with the normal mission statements then pictures of the two headquarter buildings of Tartan, Inc. and Retro, Inc. To Merton’s horror, the graphics showed the Tartan building dissolving into nothing and then immediately rebuilt into a new shape. Dread seized Merton. He slammed his hand down on the switch to turn off the presentation. “What mockery is this?” he screamed, almost insane with rage. The words of the Three Memories of Lust flashed into his mind. You will survive until you see the great Tartan Company destroyed and rebuilt in but one single minute. That was the prophecy. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Walbeck, but two policemen have arrived and say it’s an urgent matter.” It was Walbeck’s secretary standing at the office door with an apprehensive expression as if she wanted to leave. “Show them in, Jenny,” Merton snapped. “Mr. Merton Walbeck?” one of the officers asked. “Yes.” “We have some news which I think is best conveyed privately, Sir.” “You may talk freely in front of these gentlemen, Officer. I am sure they have my best interests at heart,” Walbeck sarcastically directed. “It’s about your wife, Mr. Walbeck.” “What about her?”

The second officer coughed and beckoned to Merton to take a seat. Walbeck disdainfully waved him on. “We were called to your home this morning, Sir. Regrettably, we found Mrs. Lydia Walbeck dead.” Merton’s eyes glazed over as he staggered backwards then took hold of a chair. The officer looked apologetic. “Whilst we were at the premises, Mr. Walbeck, we found certain items, including recordings you had made…and substances in a jar similar to the drugs found in the bodies of Mr. Duffryn Caber and Miss Griselda Donaldson.” There was silence as this information played around the heads of the men in the room. “What has this to do with me?” Walbeck blustered. “We have reason to believe you were involved in these murders. By the nature of the recording, the crime was premeditated,” the police officer said. “I must ask you, Mr. Walbeck, to accompany us to the police station as I have a warrant for your arrest on these charges.” Mitchell Caber made the first move. He lunged wildly at Walbeck. In a split second, Merton produced a gun from his pocket, grabbed Mitchell, and held him firmly whilst holding the barrel to his temple. Walbeck laughed in a curious way. “You are not man enough to defeat me, Mitchell. I could blow you away as easily as I disposed of your father.” Merton dragged Mitchell backwards toward the door, all the time threatening to pull the trigger. He watched the two police officers and signaled for them to stand back. As he did so, Lionel moved silently to one side, and then quickly wrestled Merton for the gun. Mitchell fell to the floor, petrified and frozen. Crashing across the table and hitting the window, Merton and Lionel fought violently. Just as the officers tried to move in, a loud, lone shot immobilized their attempt. Monkton staggered backward, he had blood on his hands. Walbeck fell to the floor with red stains on his shirt and a demented grin on his face. His eyes took on a faraway look as only he saw the Three Memories of Lust floating before him in a sea of mist. “Why have you deceived me, my creatures of sin?” he muttered to them, everyone else was hardly aware of what he said. “We warned you to beware, Merton,” they chorused. “But you said fear only the man who is not born through the labor of woman.” The sisters cackled as he slumped to his knees.

“Lionel Monkton was taken straight from his mother’s womb through caesarian birth, and she who gave him life had no labor pains,” they again echoed. Walbeck held his hands up to the specters and whispered something. Lionel knelt down at his side, then took hold of his hand and felt the veins in his wrist for a pulse. He shook his head. Death had come to claim Merton Walbeck.

THE END

About the Author

Emy Naso Emy Naso was born in the mountains of Wales in the United Kingdom. He was a true Celt who lived in Norfolk, UK, writing novels, poems, and essays for magazines and newspapers, along with his popular erotica books. Emy has moved on to a higher place where his Celtic ancestors embrace him dearly. He will be greatly missed by those that loved his talent for poetry, his warm and caring ways, and his brilliance with words, but remembered by all of those whose lives he touched—not only by his work, but by the way he cared for those he loved.

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