 
MAYA'S AURA   
The Awakening   
(Book One in the Series)   
By Skye Smith

Copyright (C) 2012 Skye Smith  
All rights reserved including all rights of authorship.

Cover Illustration is a part of "The Moon" by Alphonse Mucha (1902)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Revision 0 . . . . ISBN: 978-0-9881314-0-8

# Cover Flap

This is the first book in the Maya's Aura Series.

Young Maya hated the name that her aging hippie mother had saddled her with. She hated her dead-end job in a San Francisco coffee shop that didn't pay enough to allow her to rent her own apartment. She hated trying to make do with clothes from the thrift shops that never quite fit her, and always smelled musty. She hated that she was allowed only one week's vacation, and she could only save enough money to couch surf with friends.

During her one week vacation couch surfing in Vancouver and spending days on the university's beach, something happened that she could not explain. She felt someone's aura, or at least that is what she thought had happened. Curiosity made her try to feel it again and again. Slowly she began to realize that this aura thing was more than just a good feeling.

Much more, powerfully more, dangerously more, and she ceased to be the mousy young girl that cleaned tables in a coffee shop.

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# About The Author

Skye Smith is my pen name. My family convinced me not to use my real name because my stories are so critical of predator males. You'll understand and forgive me this as you fall in love with sweet Maya, my main character.

For those of you who like stories about vampires, witches, and magic, you won't be disappointed by my very different, more realistic take on it all. My vampires are parasites wearing business suits. My witches are healers ignored by the modern world. My magic is based on aura's, and everyone has felt or seen an aura at least once in their lives.

The novels so far in the "Maya's Aura" series are:

1. "The Awakening"...... - published - She discovers her strange aura.  
2. "The Refining".......... - published - She learns how to use her aura.  
3. "The Ashram"........... - published - She searches for answers in India  
4. "Goa to Nepal".......... - published - She follows a quest into the Himalayas  
5. "The Charred Coven" ... - published - She fights black craft in England.  
6. "The Crystal Witch".... - published - She learns psychic craft in England  
7. "The Redemptioner"... - published - Psychic dreams of her ancestor Britta.  
8. "Destroy the Tea Party" - published - Britta's adventures in Boston in 1773.

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Cover Flap

About the Author

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - In present day Hollywood

Chapter 2 - In present day Hollywood

Chapter 3 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 4 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 5 - In present day Laurel Canyon, Hollywood

Chapter 6 - Three years earlier at U.B.C., Vancouver

Chapter 7 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 8 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 9 - In present day Laurel Canyon, Hollywood

Chapter 10 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 11 - Three years earlier in downtown Vancouver

Chapter 12 - In present day Hollywood

Chapter 13 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 14 - In present day on highway 101 South of San Francisco

Chapter 15 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 16 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Chapter 17 - In present day San Francisco

Chapter 18 - Three years earlier at U.B.C. Vancouver

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 1 - In present day Hollywood

"This is nothing but a political media event. Why are we here?" Maya asked her director, Mike. Mike was a full director now, and making the sequel to the sequel of the vampire movie that had made Maya into an up-and-coming starlet.

"Because the studio told us to come," was Mike's glib answer. He had even less interest than Maya in American politics. He was Canadian. He couldn't even vote. "They told me that Representative Glover Walland is on the committee that oversees movie censorship. Our general rating is a bit stretched in this sequel. The studio wants to be seen supporting him."

"Who is he again?"

Mike looked around searching for the scrum that would mean the representative was approaching. "I don't see him yet."

"I don't mean point him out," she said, "I meant, what is he?"

"Oh, so why are you asking me? I've never understood American politics."

The man standing next to Maya along the edge of the red carpet aisle started listening to her words rather than watching her cleavage. She was a knockout yellow blonde wearing a turquoise strapless mini dress that was as short below her shoulders as is it was high above her knees. "He's the front runner in the race to be the Republican candidate for the presidency. He's got a real good chance of moving into the White House."

Maya thanked him and then moved away from him, to return to Mike. She hated being crowded by men, especially men she didn't know. She looked around, wondering if there was another woman around to stand beside. Yeah, like much chance of that in this crowd. They were all suits, the corporate moneymen. If this Glover guy was a frontrunner, then they would be here to throw money at him. What was the word for that? There was a word.

"Opportunists," Mike told her, and she suddenly realized that she had been mumbling under her breath again. Mike nudged her. "Here he comes along the red carpet, shaking hands." She craned her neck and stood on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse on the man in question, but couldn't. She only came up to the shoulders of all the men around her. She peeked between two sets of elbows instead.

"Shaking hands," she confirmed. Maya always wore gloves in public because her fans would often try to shake her hand. The girl in gloves, yeah, right, her and the Queen of England. Oh well, it saved on hand sanitizer.

The crowd was getting noisier now that the guy of the hour was approaching. The collected odors of men, breath, tobacco, and booze was starting to get to her. Like most women, her nose was at pit level to men. Every woman she knew rubbed perfumed hand sanitizer on their pits to kill the bacteria that caused the odor. What was wrong with these guys? Were they just stupid?

She tugged off her gloves and stuffed them into Mike's jacket pocket, and then clasped her hands as if she were praying. She closed her eyes and began to center herself. She had a special place in her mind that she found whenever she needed to escape the grubby confines of reality.

It was a sunny beach, with long stretches of sand and no footprints, and she was nude and could feel the goodness of the warm sunlight kissing her skin all over, and hear the soothing sounds of the gentle waves all around her.

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(Author's note - here starts the first flashback. This novel intertwines two story timelines. One present day, and one three years earlier. From chapter 2 ownwards, each chapter is completely part of one, or the other timeline, as indicated after the chapter number. Flash back now to three years earlier, on Wreck Beach, in Vancouver, Canada)

* * *

"Go on, I dare you," cajoled Alicia. Maya was such a prude, such a mousy little prude, she thought . So much less worldly than she, who had grown up a lot in her year at the University of British Columbia. Maya was still so, so, so small town high school.

"I don't want all those men staring at me," said Maya. "It's creepy." She had been shamed into baring all on this beach. 'The' U.B.C. beach. Wreck beach. THE nudie beach. It was one thing to lay on a towel naked behind one of these giant logs, but it was quite another thing to stand up and walk around for everyone to see. She could feel her heart pumping and her face flushing at the very thought of it.

"These men," Alicia sat up and waved her hand around at the naked people around them. She laughed. "Maya, we're at the gay end of the beach. None of these men are going to look at you." She always sunbathed at the gay end for that exact reason. That, and because it was the end of the beach furthest from the steep staircase down from the road, where any possible future first-year boyfriends may be hanging out.

The U.B.C. jocks with their six-packs of beer and slouching around in the cutoffs that they seldom removed, never came this far up the beach. They were too insecure with their masculinity to risk the gay end. "You just watched me walk around. Did anyone stare? Well, of course they stared, but it wasn't that kind of stare. They were friendly stares. Stares appreciating my youth and my healthiness."

"I don't want to," Maya pouted while she looked over at Alicia sitting on her towel in the sunshine. Alicia's dyed blonde hair was overdue another root job. The young California Latina had smooth hairless legs and a bikini wax job, and there was a striking contrast in skin color where her bikini usually covered her generous breasts. She was as physically different from Maya as could be.

It was a difference that had made their high school experiences worlds apart. Alicia had developed early and had attracted boys like abejas to miel. Maya had been treated like her kid sister, always tagging along and looking like Goofy, too tall for her width.

Maya looked down along her own skin. Her skin was not white and blotchy like most fair-eyed people, but honey-colored. In too much sun it would burn red, but if she were careful it would turn a pleasing amber color. Right now she had a farmer's tan with darker arms and legs than the rest of her.

Her skin was covered in almost invisible blonde fuzz. She never bothered to shave her legs. Why bother when the hairs weren't obvious? She had never, ever dyed her hair. The winter's mousy color turned blonde with enough summer sea and sun. She was always so short of cash that her girlfriends trimmed her long hair.

Alicia pressed a finger to Maya's back to see if she was getting sunburned yet. She was OK so far. "It's easy. You just stand up, straight and tall, and put your shoulders back and walk slowly. See, over there behind us? See those women selling stuff under those big umbrella tents? Walk just that far and look at the sarongs they are selling. They are beautiful and so cheap."

"You know I don't have any money," Maya complained. "That is why I am couch surfing at your place. I barely had the money for the gas in the ride share I caught from Frisco. My boss is such a bitch. She warned me to be back in a week. As if I had the money to stay away longer on what she pays me."

"I didn't say buy the sarongs. I said go and look. Oh wait. There's the beer guy." Alicia waved to a lithe bronzed young man wearing only a back pack. She pulled the bundle that was Maya's clothes closer to her so that Maya couldn't grab her sundress and cover up while the man sold them some beer.

"You ladies interested in a party?" he asked as he handed them two bottles, popped them open, and then counted out their change. "See over there where that log has been raised like a flag pole? We've got four guitars and some BC bud, and the best spot on the beach for watching people. Sunset isn't until almost nine tonight, so it will really be humming by then. Come over and check it out."

"That sounds like fun," said Alicia, "maybe later. Thanks."

They both watched as the bronzed beefcake walked away calling out "Bud light, pale ale, cider."

After drinking most of her beer, strong Canadian beer, Maya came to a decision. "Ok, tell the mother ship that I am going to explore the moons." She stood up and straightened her back and pulled back her shoulders so her small breasts bobbed high. For a little more courage and the feeling of a barrier, she settled her sunglasses more firmly onto her small, straight nose. A deep breath, and then she strutted over towards where the sarongs were stirring lazily in a gentle breeze.

She got lost amongst the pathways that wound between the beach logs and the sunbather's blankets, so it took her much longer than she thought to get there. She kept watching to see who was watching her. Everyone gave her a glance out of interest, and sometimes a smile, but mostly it was just glances. She felt braver seeing that almost everyone was in couples, whether gay or straight.

She smelled some dope smoke drifting in the breeze, so she knelt beside the woman with the joint and asked if she could have one toke. It was a mistake. The dope in Canada was way strong. One toke was a half a toke too much. She thanked the couple and continued on her way, now feeling even more disoriented.

There was a middle-aged man walking towards her. He was tanned and fit and Nordic-looking and he was smiling at her. She put her shoulders back again and walked purposefully, like all the models did on TV, but was careful not to encourage him by returning his smile. She turned away and pretended to look at a seagull as he passed by her less than a foot away, and then she felt it.

It was like the breeze had passed through her skin and then through her insides and then through her skin on the other side, but it was warm, and tingly and delicious. She slowed her pace and tried to recapture the feeling, but it was gone. It was like something invisible had passed through her and had kissed her with sunshine while doing so.

She stopped, just for an instant, to savor the feeling, and then started walking again until she reached the wafting lengths of colored fabric. Everything suddenly seemed very surreal. The sunlight, the sand, the beach logs, the blue sky, the gently shimmering lengths of colored rayon.

"Did you feel that too?" asked a deep voice from behind her. She looked around. It was the middle-aged man. He moved up to stand beside her facing the sarongs, but with his body turned away from her. "It was like something passed through me. Something that was warm and caressing, but not there, but there, you know? And gone so quickly, but I didn't want it to be gone."

She was going to deny it, but then she decided not to say anything to a strange man on a beach where both of them were standing around in the nude.

At her silence he said, "Well, I felt it, whatever it was. And it felt good. I was just wondering if you felt it too. I wonder what it was?" Maya was still silent. She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head, revealing lovely sea-green eyes and reached out, pretending to feel the heft of the fabric of the sarong in front of her. He spoke again. "Well, I was just wondering, you know, what if we did it again? Walked towards each other, I mean, and passed each other like we did before. Do you think it would happen again?"

His voice was deep and calming. He spoke quietly and softly. What he had said made sense. What harm could it do? "Ok," she said, "let's try. We'll follow our very same foot steps and pass at the same place."

"So you did feel it too," he confirmed.

"Yes, you described it well." She turned to retrace her steps.

"Uh, I can't, not yet," he said. He was blushing. "I'm kind of in an embarrassing way right now. Don't look." Of course that just make her look down at him, and he knew that her looking would just make it worse. "The feeling. What we felt. It did it. It was instantaneous."

She stared, wondering if this was a pickup line. Maybe not, he seemed nice. She decided to give him a break. "Think of football. That's what the guys do where I come from, like, to slow themselves down. They think of football." Thinking of the guys from high school made her suspicious again, and she had to ask. "Is this just a come-on? Are you just trying to pick me up?"

"No, honestly. This is very embarrassing for me. For one thing, you are the wrong sex, and besides, I hate football. I'll try thinking of hockey."

"You mean you are..."

"Gay, yes, and I am in a committed relationship."

"But you don't look..."

"What, because I have a deep voice and don't shave my legs? I'm an engineer. So is my mate. Neither of us know anything about interior decorating or hair-do's." He could feel her eyes still staring down there so he turned away again. "No, don't look. Here," he handed her some strangely colorful Canadian money, "please choose a sarong for me, so I can cover up."

She took the money from him and snickered.

"Don't be so critical of me. Have you noticed how swollen your nipples are? I'll bet the same thing that did this to me, did that to you."

She looked down, and then immediately covered her chest with her arm, suddenly feeling very exposed. He attempted to help her regain her composure by distracting her with a little retail therapy. He gestured at the sarongs with some colorful Canadian money. "They are ten dollars each or two for fifteen. Buy one for yourself, too."

By the time she had chosen two from the thirty on sale, he had himself under control. He took his, and she hers and they both back tracked and repeated their walk towards each other. Just as they passed each other, it happened again.

This time she was expecting it, wanting it, and it seemed stronger and more sensuous. They immediately turned and walked towards each other again. He was frantically trying to wrap his sarong around himself. When they were face to face and a foot apart, they felt it again.

"Do you think this is what they call love at first sight?" she asked.

"I used to think so," he replied.

"You mean you have felt it before?"

"Yes, with my mate. That's why we live together. Neither of us were gay when we first met." He looked around. "You know, this is not the place to talk about this. Come over to my blanket. We have much to discuss."

"Uh, no." She was still feeling exposed, and was clumsily attempting to tie her new sarong around her. "If you want to talk, you must come to my blanket. I have a friend there."

"Will he beat me up?"

" Well, she's tough, but no, I don't think so," she chuckled.

"Okay then. Wait here for me while I get my stuff. There are sneak thieves on this beach, you know. When they see you walk away nude, they close in hoping that no one is watching your stuff."

She played with her sarong while she waited for him to return. She just couldn't get it wrapped to look like the other women on the beach. Eventually the nearest woman, a heavy woman, stood up and wobbled up to her and showed her how to tie it.

"It's not fair to dress and undress in front of the men," the older woman said as she smoothed the fabric. "Not fair to the rest of us women. There's probably even an unwritten rule against it." She giggled a dope giggle. "Tweet! Two minutes' penalty for teasing."

When the guy returned, he put out his hand. "We should exchange names if we're going to exchange 'feelings'." He smiled. "That sounds corny. Anyhow, I'm Erik."

"Good to meet you, I'm Maya." They shook hands. "Now, Erik, I have a little problem. Looking around, I don't remember where Alicia is lying down." What with all the oversized drift logs, and without anyone wearing memorable clothing, she had no landmarks. Alicia could be hidden behind any of these logs. Then she remembered the green umbrella that the people next to them had. She spotted it and then danced her way between the blankets and logs. Danced, because the sand was getting too hot to stand still on.

They arrived minutes before the green umbrella was taken down. The couples around them seemed to all be packing up to go, and they were being replaced by shirtless young men wearing baseball caps and cutoff shorts and holding open beer bottles.

"Alicia," she said, "this is Erik. He came to share our space and talk."

Alicia squinted into the sun at the old man. He was even older than thirty. "If you say so." She wriggled her towel to the edge of the blanket to make room, and even though she covered her breasts with one arm while she did it, she still showed too much jiggle. She heard a man moan and looked over to the next log where a Joe six-pack had just arrived.

"If I may suggest," said Erik, "all the rest of the women are leaving the beach. The boys from Burnaby are here early today. Why don't we talk over lunch? Sushi. My treat."

"Sushi, you mean raw fish?" Alicia made a face.

"Yes please," said Maya. She also had been noticing how quickly all the women and couples had been packing up. In her home town, it was a good rule of thumb that you left the Saturday night dance when the rest of the women left. "Fresh tuna. Please. I haven't had fresh tuna since I was in high school and helped the fishermen with their catches. Sushi is so expensive in Frisco."

"Well, welcome to Vancouver," he said, "land of the six-dollar lunch tray."

* * *

The cliff trail to the street was a wondrous forest walk going down, but grinding and breathless going back up. They puffed up the rough steps in a straggled line of groups of women and their escorts. Meanwhile, groups of loud men carrying cooler chests were rocketing down towards the beach.

"He's a lurker, a perv," Alicia warned her, yet again, when they stopped, yet again, to catch their breath.

"He's gay and very polite."

"Yeah, I saw his politeness when he took off his sarong to put his shorts on. He's on the make."

"What are you complaining about? He gave the sarong to you, didn't he? Now we both have sarongs."

"Sarongs are cheap. So is sushi. I'm not," Alicia said between gasps of sucking wind. Three women pushed passed her chatting as they walked up the rough steps. She hated Canadian women. They were all twenty pounds lighter than their American equivalents, and fitter. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. and glared at Maya. "Fine for you miss, like, size four. Go ahead, dance up these next steps and make me hate you forever."

She looked at Erik waiting patiently behind them. With his clothes on he looked very GQ. He probably was gay, like Maya had told her. Repeatedly told her. Maya was so naive. Gay in Vancouver just meant bi-sexual, meaning that they would hump anything.

At the top of the trail they crossed the cliff-top road and followed Erik to his car. It was an almost new Mercedes two-door in a reserved parking space. "Don't you get a ticket for, like, parking in the staff spaces?" asked Alicia.

"I am staff. This is my space," replied Erik. He opened the passenger door and flipped the seat to give access to what passed for a back seat. Alicia tumbled into the back. He had not even driven out of the parking lot when he stopped the car. "Maya, please trade seats with Alicia. You are too, umm, distracting."

As they got out of the car to switch seats, Alicia whispered, "If he wants you, ask for a thousand."

"What," Maya replied, "a thousand what?" She saw Alicia give her that stare, like she was being naive again.

"Dollars," Alicia whispered as Maya ducked her head into the car and crawled into the back.

While they were playing musical chairs, Erik had phoned in an order for sushi. They drove directly to the Japanese takeaway, and while he was inside Maya asked, "A thousand dollars for what?"

"He's an old perv. Who cares for what, but whatever he wants, it will cost him a thousand."

"He's not a perv. He is very polite."

"If he won't go the full thousand," Alicia said thoughtfully, carrying on as if Maya hadn't spoken, "tell him he can have us both for the same price."

"You're disgusting."

"You're stupid," Alicia replied. "You're going to end up giving it away. He is drooling over you. You need money. Look at this car. He has money."

"This isn't about sex," shrugged Maya.

"Yeah, right. Maybe it's not about sex to you, but I saw his boner. It is totally about sex to him."

Erik came out of the shop carrying a large plastic tray, which he put down on the seat behind the driver. Alicia looked at the order. It looked expensive. "You're spending a lot of money on us. What do you expect for it?"

Erik smiled at her. "I just want to talk to Maya in private. I have no problem with you coming along like her security blanket, just like women in a pub go to the powder room in pairs. No problem, there's lots of food."

He drove calmly while they all enjoyed the breathtaking views that Vancouver threw at you around every corner. He followed the coast route towards town alongside miles and miles of beaches, now busy with ethnic family picnics, and beach volleyball tournaments. No one spoke until he turned into his driveway.

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 2 - In present day Hollywood

She allowed the beach scene in her mind to be hazed over by a milk white light. It was her aura. Whenever she was busy with big city things, and especially when she was in close quarters with stressed-out men, her aura seemed to go into hiding deep inside of her. She felt a nudge on her elbow and so she dropped her hands and opened her eyes.

Damn, the man of the moment was almost up to them. She looked at her gloves in Mike's pocket but she didn't have time to put them on. She looked at the man walking slowly along the red carpet occasionally pressing hands, and sometimes saying something to people he recognized, or pretended to recognize.

He was a tall man, a handsome man, with coiffed hair from the latest cover of GQ, and wearing a dark suit that was obviously especially tailored for him. His smile was gentle and pleasing and his teeth shone pearl white. She heard Mike whisper, "Pay attention. He'll stop at you for a photo op. You are the only woman."

Mike was right. The man grabbed her hand and lightly pulled her towards him and then twisted them both to face the cameras. At first touch, his hand felt warm and dry but then she sensed a darkness, a darkness that was creeping into her. The calm from her aura deserted her and then all the man smells were overcome by another smell, a stronger smell, an acrid smell.

Every woman would know the smell. Everyone at one time or another had set off the smoke alarm because a poorly-sliced bagel jammed in the toaster. While the charred toast smell fills the room they flap the tea towel frantically under the smoke alarm, or use the broom to reach up to the smoke alarm's reset button.

An inner coldness chilled her, and she gasped for breath, and took a half-step to regain her balance. She had to do something quickly to break his touch, otherwise she might have swooned with the darkness and the smell. She yanked her hand out of his grip and then moved ahead of him as if she had pulled her hand away only to pose for the photographers.

Behind her she could hear Mike telling him three times the name of the studio and then twice the title of the film, and then finally her name and that she was the starlet of the film. The man nodded his head as if he were listening. He wasn't. She knew actors, professional actors, and this man had the same awareness of the camera as an actor. It was the camera above anyone else. He was posing without being seen to pose.

She closed her eyes to try to fight off the sudden dizziness she was feeling, and there was white light, which made her feel better, until she realized that it was the camera flashes and not her aura. A photographer asked her to open her eyes and smile, which she did. After all, she was actress. She could smile on command, even make love to the camera on command.

Finally, when she thought that she couldn't hold the false smile any longer, the dashingly handsome man kissed her on the forehead and then started moving along the red carpet again, working the crowd.

She took three steps, luckily without falling to the dizziness she felt, and grabbed hold of Mike's arm.

"That went well, don't you think?" asked Mike looking away, following the procession with his eyes. "Nothing works better than a pretty girl to stop an important man in his tracks. I hope he remembers the studio name and the film name if we ever should need his support with the censors."

"Yeah, I guess," she said weakly. "Can we go now? I'm not feeling well."

"It's those damn jet planes and their air conditioning systems," he said, forgetting the politician for a moment and looking down at the young actress. They still had some scenes to shoot at the studio. They had flown in only yesterday from the movie location in Vermont to use the special effects set in the company's main studio. "Don't you be getting sick on me, love."

"You can stay if you want. I need a bath and a bed and quickly. I feel, like, the heebie jeebies, you know?"

"Why would I want to stay? I can't even vote. Let's get out of here. We can pick up some sushi on the way back to the house. We should probably do an eggs, milk, bread run at the same time. The refrigerator looked pretty bare."

"Just remember that you won't find Vancouver prices for sushi. This is Hollywood."

"What do I care? It's an allowable expense. I'll stick the company for it," he snickered.

They made their way through the crowds, who were now all pushing forward while the couple were trying to reach the doors. Mike started pleading her sex to get through the crush of men. "Make way, let her get through. Hey fella, you're a big guy. Could you clear a space so she can walk through?"

Eventually they made it to the coat check. They both had long trench coats; hers concealed her body from neck to mid-calf. It was a good thing. Dressed as she was, they would never have gotten through the paparazzi that were always blocking the access to the limos. He gave the parking ticket to the valet and they waited as he rushed off to find their car.

As they stood waiting for the car, the paparazzi started to take an interest in them. Hiding Maya's dress and body and pulling her collar high would not fool them for much longer. She was too pretty of face, and her hair was obviously professionally done up.

A Town and Country minivan pulled up and the valet exchanged car keys for cash, and the paparazzi drifted away from them. VIP's never rode in minivans. "Don't tell the studio that I rushed you past some photographers," he warned, "or else the PR office will have my balls."

She settled back into the leather passenger seat and did up her seat belt. In the minivan they would disappear behind the incognito mirage of a young and boring married couple with kids. She relaxed and smiled, thinking of the tricks VIP's used in order to evade all the cameras these days. In a world where everyone had a camera on their phone, privacy was rare and cherished.

She sat in the car the whole time Mike was in the sushi joint waiting for the order. With the doors locked she was safe. She could allow herself to find her special place again and find the comfort of her aura. She spaced out while Mike drove to the supermarket and while he was buying groceries. She did open her eyes as she was pressed back in her seat when the car began the ascent up into the Hollywood hills above Sunset Strip.

She was feeling better, and finally spoke. "So that guy said that what's his name, Glover, was..."

"Was the front runner to lead the Republican Party into the next Presidential election. He seemed like a good choice. Very polished, very personable. He even controlled himself and didn't play grab ass with you. That puts him high in my books."

"Yeah," she said scornfully, "well, I'll reserve judgment on that, like, until the day he gets me alone all to himself without twenty camera flashes going off." She looked down the steep slope of the hillside and watched the streetlights slowly become fuzzy in the thickening smog. "I really miss Vancouver."

"So do I, but it can't be helped. The company is getting heat about not making enough of its films in the USA. How long has it been since you were there?"

"Way too long."

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 3 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Erik slowed the Mercedes to a crawl as he rolled into the driveway. He had already clicked the remote and was timing the garage doors to open.

"You live here?" said Alicia, "really, no fooling?" The house was newly renovated and was on the waterfront side of the beach front road that wound along the coast towards the trendy neighborhood of Kitsilano.

"Karl and I are both engineers. We both earn well." He pointed to the other car in the garage, a roughly-used Dodge mini van. "That is our real car. The Merc is just a toy."

"A soccer mom van," Alicia giggled.

"Not any more. Soccer moms all drive chick SUV's these days. Mini vans have become the car of choice for tradesmen and university students."

"Y'now, life just isn't fair," complained Alicia, "two women working can barely pay the rent on a basement suite, but two men working can live in a place like this."

"Shoes off. This is a no shoes house," he said. "We like to sit on the floor."

He convinced Alicia to give herself a tour of the house, so that he could snatch some moments alone with Maya. They sat on the two high stool-chairs at the island in the kitchen, him picking politely at the tuna sashimi with his chop sticks, and her wolfing it down with her fingers.

"That feeling we felt on the beach, let's call it the aura. I was feeling yours and you were feeling mine," he began.

"It was delicious," she said as she slurped another square of Ahi down, "and so is this tuna, and so is this house, and so is that view." She waved her hands at the view of Vancouver's outer harbor and the North Shore mountains stretching high behind it.

"I have been feeling auras since I was twenty-one, so that's, umm, fourteen years now. That is why I live with Karl. We both feel them. We both have them. We liked the feeling too much not to live together."

"I've never felt it before. So was it, like, because I smoked some dope, or, like, because we were both naked, or just because I was feeling, you know, excited, by walking around in the nude while men watched me."

"Umm, all of the above I suppose. Karl and I explored it and researched it and practiced it a lot when we were younger and first together. We had lots of questions and found few answers. We still don't know what it really is or what causes it."

"So why haven't I felt it before?"

"I don't know. How do you know you haven't?" he asked.

"Oh, believe me, I would have known. It felt like - I mean it was, like, well, I liked the feeling a lot." Maya grinned impishly at him. "Why do you think I am sitting in a strange man's kitchen eating raw fish? I want to feel it again."

"No." Alicia had walked into the kitchen at that moment and reached between them to grab a California roll. She popped the whole piece into her mouth and smushed it between her teeth and tongue. "Mmmm, good." She had the American habit of talking with her mouth full and the slurred words came out between noisy chews. "She is not doing anything for you unless you pay her a thousand dollars."

"What?" He gave her a hard stare, annoyed, but he couldn't keep it up without having to watch her tongue mushing rice and seaweed, so he looked back towards Maya. Maya was also looking annoyed at her friend. "I don't want to have sex with her. I just wanted to talk."

"Yeah, like I believe you." Alicia said reaching passed him for more rolls, and purposefully brushing her large, braless breasts across his arm as she did so. "Been there, done that. First you only want to talk, but hey, why don't we share some wine, and then presto, you accidentally end up doing her, and then never pay up."

"Are you her pimp?" he asked Alicia with a hint of anger, then he looked at Maya and softened his voice. "Are you a prostitute?" He really hoped the answer was no.

"No," Maya said quickly, "neither of us are. She is a student at U.B.C., and I am up here visiting her from Frisco. Alicia, take a plate of sushi and go and watch the view or something. Like, you're being a turd."

"How much time do you have left in Vancouver?" he asked.

"Three days, then I have to help deliver a rental car back to Frisco airport."

He was silent while he tried not to watch Alicia mush two rolls at once in her open mouth. He pulled at her sleeve. "Okay, a thousand dollars, but for three days and she has to stay in this house." He noticed that Maya was now looking at him in shock and her face was turning red.

Alicia stopped chewing for a second, then spat sticky rice with her words. "For three days, fifteen hundred."

"A thousand," he repeated.

"Fifteen hundred but we'll both do you," Alicia spat out, then when she saw the look on his face she added, "don't worry, you'll get your money's worth."

He wracked his brain for what to say, until he remembered an episode of Two and a Half Men. "A thousand, but I want the girlfriend experience, so you can't be here."

Maya slid off the stool and grabbed her beach bag. "I'm out of here. Alicia," she fumed, angry with them both, " peddle your own ass. You are welcome to him." Her arm was grabbed by Erik who swung her around to face him.

"I don't want to have sex with you. I just want..." he began softly.

"No weird shit," interrupted Alicia, "none of that pervert homo stuff. Straight up safe sex and nothing else, or I'll, like, sic the cops on you."

"Maya, please," he whispered to Maya as she shook her arm free, " I was just pissed with your friend. I really just want to explore your aura."

She looked back at him. They were both trying to ignore Alicia who was saying something about cash up front. She looked around at the lovely house, and the fantastic view. It was so different from her dark, damp, shared basement suite in Frisco, and from Alicia's stark, tiny room at the university residence.

"All right. I'll stay here with you." As she said it she closed her eyes to think. My god what was she doing? She would be at his mercy. What if he was a pervert, like Alicia said. She opened her eyes and looked into his. They were dark blue, calm, friendly. "I'll have to fetch my bag from Alicia's. We have to drop her off anyway. She has a term paper due."

"Yeah, and where is your bank?" Alicia piped in. She reached for another handful of rolls thinking that the plastic sushi tray was about to disappear into the fridge.

"Take your time. Eat slowly and enjoy each taste," he said as Alicia stuffed two into her mouth. "Let's take the tray onto the deck to finish it. Do you want beer or wine with it?"

"Wine," they both replied immediately. California girls. "White with fish," they said looking at each other and giggling. Each looked at the other's flushed face. They had grown up together. They knew the flush. It was the flush of being naughty. What could be naughtier than the bargaining that they had just done?

While Erik went to get wine and glasses, they carried the tray and the plates through the sliding doors at the other end of the dining area and out onto the deck. "Can you believe this house?" Alicia whispered. "Ohmigod, there's a hot tub." She put the plates down on the glass patio table and hauled the foam cover off the tub.

Erik arrived with drinks just in time to see Alicia strip off her cutoffs and T-shirt and ease herself into the tub. She was what, barely twenty, and she already had a spreading ass and the start of saddlebags. She was a fake blonde, and her bikini tan lines showed that she did not suntan at Wreck Beach often enough.

He put the wine down on the table and spun on his heel to fetch towels. Maya was standing by the table pouring the wine. She was in a light yellow halter sun dress. A style he had not seen since he had been her age. He hoped it was making a comeback. It was a good look. Much preferable to grunge jeans, short T-shirt, and bare midriff.

She took a sip of the wine. It was bubbly, but just a bit. It was tart, but just a bit. It was very nice. She spun the bottle to read the label. Italian.

"It's Prosecco," he said, putting the towels down on a bench beside the tub. "If we were sitting beside a canal in Venice, that's what we would be drinking."

She beamed at him. "Take me to Venice."

"Maya, I am a married man, and I am faithful."

"I thought you were gay."

"I am married to Karl. I don't cruise."

"Then what were you doing in the gay section at the nude beach? Isn't that a prime cruising place?" She knew she had caught him out. He was blushing.

"Same as you. Teasing men," he whispered. He heard Alicia splashing in the tub and calling for wine so he took her some. When he turned back to Maya she was nude and standing still, gazing out to sea. He took a moment to savour the view, as it framed her so artistically. She was middle height, about 5'6" he estimated, with tiny pert breasts, and long legs. He thought she looked almost anorexic, she was so slight. She looked as if she had yet more growing to do, unlike a lot of almost 20-yr olds who should already be paying attention to diet and fitness. She was a real blonde.

"Take your clothes off and walk past me," she ordered. He did as she said. She felt it again. Oh, how delicious.

"Did you notice that you felt it sooner, when we were further apart than on the beach?" he asked softly.

"I, uh, why, uh, yes. I did. And it was stronger this time. And, like, it had the same instant effect on you."

He looked down. He was swollen hard. He blushed and hid himself by scuttling over to the hottub and lowering himself in. Maya was smiling as she handed him his wine. Alicia, on the other hand, scowled down into the water and told him to keep it away from her unless he coughed up more money.

"Does it work in the water?" Maya asked.

"Get in and we'll find out," he replied.

"Well, don't you know? In fifteen years you didn't try?" Maya asked skeptically.

"Neither Karl nor I have an aura as strong as yours, or at least not recently. We have to be within inches to feel it. On the beach I felt you at about a foot. Just now, at almost two feet. Get in on the other side and then move towards me."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Alicia, suspiciously. "I don't get it. Are you guys talking kinky after all?"

He put a finger to his lips to warn Maya not to explain it. "Almost nobody gets it. It's an in joke."

Alicia complained that they had left the food and wine on the table, but they didn't seem to hear her. With an injured sigh she climbed out of the tub to drip across the deck and set herself up to lay out in the sunniest corner with the sushi tray and the bottle.

"There," they both said at the same time. They were almost touching, but not quite. "Did it get you up again?" she asked.

His hand disappeared under the water. "Yes. Hmm, that's a problem. I want to explore your aura, to feel it, its purity, but my sexual sensitivity keeps getting in the way."

"Is that a line? The line?" Maya asked and sloshed away from him. He looked at her quizzically, then got it and turned beet red and laughed. She tilted her head toward Alicia who had just rolled over to dry her back in the summer sun. "Let's take her home so we can have some privacy."

* * *

Alicia's head was swimming. She had finished the bottle of Prosecco. They had left her in the car to bark at strangers while they went into the bank.

In the bank, Maya stood with him in line or, what was the word in Canadian? Queue. When it was their turn, she stood back while he did his withdrawal. She was feeling mellow, and just enjoyed day-dreaming and looking at people. She had never heard so many "sorrys" and "excuse me's" as she had in Canada. He pulled her by the arm up to the teller's stall and told her to sign something. She looked down. There was a small stack of traveler's cheques. Hundred dollar US American Express traveler's cheques.

She felt like running away. This was suddenly way too real. A thousand dollars. Sign them and she was beholden to this man. He owned her for three days. She was so nervous that she dropped the pen. He picked it up and put a hand on her back and stroked it to calm her. She signed and signed. She kept looking up at the teller. The teller knew, she was sure she knew. She could feel her face growing red in embarrassment.

The first thing that Alicia said when she got back in the car was, "Give me the money. I'll keep it safe in case he tries something." Alicia actually got angry when she saw the traveler's cheques, and wouldn't speak to Maya, as if Maya had cheated her.

They drove to Alicia's residence at U.B.C. and the two young women dashed away and into the front door. It occurred to him that they could have just done a dine and dash on him. The longer he waited, the more sure he was that he had just been screwed out of a thousand dollars. He had no recourse. He couldn't even claim that the cheques were stolen, because they were in her name.

Damn, he had thought the traveler's cheques a perfect solution. Safe from theft for her trip back to Frisco, and safe from Alicia, who seemed to have the morals and the manners of an alley cat. He waved at some tech workers he knew, and slumped down into his seat, hoping the girls wouldn't appear at just that moment. How long should he wait? He looked at the Merc's clock. How long had it been? It seemed a long time. He would give her another fifteen minutes. And then what?

A tap at the window woke him into the present with a start. "Open the trunk," Maya was saying and pointing to a cheap flight bag with two wheels, or at least one and a half. He pushed the trunk release and she went around back, and then he heard the thump of the lid closing. She opened the passenger door and peered in at him.

"I am wearing my coat. Maybe with my coat on I won't be so distracting in the front seat." She slid across the leather seat showing a lot of leg. He was happy that she was still wearing her yellow sun dress. It was a happy garment. Oh Hell, he was just happy that he was going to have her company for three days.

"She's pissed at me, so I brought everything," she said. "I think she got all horny at your house, and now feels rejected because you didn't do her. No, not that. I know. Rejected because, like, you didn't want to do her." She paused while putting on her seat belt. She touched his hand and looked him in the eyes. "If you want, I'll go back and get her. She is more experienced than me. A lot more."

"Maya, love, you still don't get it. This isn't about sex. It has never been about sex," he said as he started the car.

"So, like, if you don't do me, do I have to give the money back?" She felt a pang in her chest. She knew the feeling from her woeful time at high school trying to hang out with those bitchy cheerleaders. She was sharing a bit of Alicia's rejection. Rejection hurt. It made you want things that you didn't really want. Want things that you were better off without. Like the company of cheerleaders.

"The money is yours, love. No one can take it away from you. If you feel guilty taking it, you can always give it back. Just sign the cheques over to me," he smiled at her, "but not today."

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 4 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Back at his house, he gave her the full tour. It was a narrow house on a skinny lot. Waterfront lots were expensive, so therefore not a great deal of square footage to play with. By the number of rooms it was not a big house but each of the rooms was spacious. The downstairs had the garage, the laundry, and then one big space of kitchen area that became dining area that then flowed into the living room, so that you could see the view from everywhere.

Upstairs there were two bedroom suites, each with their own bathroom, and separated by a large common area, like an upstairs living room. "Noisy guests are no problem, because their suite is the other side of the common," he said as he put her gimped bag down on the floor of the guest room.

"So, we aren't going to share a bed?" she asked.

"Not without my mate Karl's permission," he replied. "He will be back tomorrow. You still don't get it do you? My interest in you is your aura. Not counting children, I have touched the auras of maybe ten other people in my entire life, and most of them because I was living in an ashram that specialized in auras.

Umm, an ashram is kind of like bible camp but without the bible. None of those auras were as strong as yours. Not even close. Even after months of practice, not even close."

"Oh," she said, feeling a little off-balance. As if she had been a bad girl and had been scolded, and then praised. "Where is Karl now?"

"He's visiting his folks. I'm not welcome. They like me and everything. Really like me. But that was when they thought I was Karl's best friend, not his lover and mate. They blame me, completely blame me for not having grandchildren."

"That's harsh."

"Tit for tat. My folks feel the same about Karl. We are even talking about adopting or hiring a surrogate mother. I mean, now that it's legal for gays. Neither of our mothers particularly wants a daughter-in-law. They just want grandchildren."

He walked over to the closet and pulled out a bath robe of lavender silk and handed it to her. "Here's your outfit for the next three days. Well, actually, just take your choice of robes. There are a few others, but that one is about your size and it is real silk."

She dumped her cheap plastic rain coat on the bed and her carry bag on the floor beside it, and then reached for the robe. She pulled it up to her face and rubbed it on her cheek. "No, this will do. Oh, it is so, so, like, silky." It was not only of lavender silk, but it smelled slightly of lavender.

"Make yourself at home. I'll be in the common room waiting for sunset. Did you want more wine?"

"Red this time. Just a little," she said as he closed the door behind him. She walked to the window and looked out at the view over the beach, and then held the robe up to her cheeks again and twirled about in a mock waltz. Her holiday in Vancouver was just getting better and better.

* * *

He was waiting for her on the balcony in front of the common room. Just sitting there on a rattan two-seater, sipping a very red wine and watching the sun inch north over the distant mountains of Vancouver Island. He was wearing a light blue silk robe. She idly wondered what his smelled of, and then giggled at the thought of bubble gum scent.

She sat next to him and reached for the other glass. He told her it was their house wine. An Australian Shiraz that had been mispriced in the liquor store. Seven dollars a bottle for something that tasted rounder than a fifty dollar Napa Cabernet, and didn't leave that bitter after taste on the back of your tongue.

As soon as she sat beside him they felt it. "Clothes weaken it," he said. "It may be that they shield it, and it may be that the clothes rubbing on your skin desensitize you to feeling it. I don't know which. It's one of the things I would like to find out." He looked down. "Damn, it's jumped to attention again. Do you have this effect on all men, or is it just me?"

"Well, like, I haven't met all men yet, so I don't know. Besides, I thought older men enjoyed walking around with a stiffy. Like, uh, overcompensation, or like, uh fear of losing it." She smiled at him. "Well, you can understand where Alicia was coming from. Every time she saw you near me, you were ,like, excited to be near me."

"Here," he passed her two manuscripts, "some light reading while I excuse myself to get him out of our way. I wrote them both for a liberal arts option course I was forced to take in order to get my Engineering degree." He stood and headed indoors to his bathroom.

She looked down at the two plastic-coated manuscripts, and then the dramatic views from the deck. She realized it was too distracting outside to give the papers her full attention, so she went in and sat at a small table in the common. The first was entitled, 'Measuring the Existence of Animal Magnetism' and had a big red 'D' in crayon under the title. The second was 'Sensing Auras : A Short History' and was marked with a C minus.

There was a bookmark halfway through the first report so she opened to that page. It was a list of observations about measuring the strength of animal magnetism.

\- there was no measurable magnetism, so it would be called aura in this document

\- it diminished in power in each square meter according to formulas for calculating surface area, and not volume.

\- there are those who sensed auras and those that generate auras.

\- all generators are sensors but not all sensors are generators

\- different generators generate with different strengths (ranges)

\- different sensors sense with different sensitivity (ranges)

\- clothing blocks or partially blocks both sensing and generating

\- fabrics that insulate such as wool and fur, block more fully than thinly-woven fabrics.

\- it is extremely uncommon to sense an aura further than two centimeters from your skin.

\- the sensing at closer range is too difficult to distinguish from feelings of touch of hair or heat, so further study is reliant on stronger sensings, preferably beyond five centimeters.

\- all pre-school children tested had the ability to sense.

\- less than two percent of young adults tested had retained the ability to sense.

\- repeating the sensitivity test increased the range from the previous test, sometimes doubling.

She put that manuscript to one side and opened the other to its bookmark. It was a list of Sanskrit terms, and Vedic references to auras. She looked down the vocabulary. She knew most of them from attending the yoga classes her mother taught. The complex paragraph at the end seemed to say that in the Indian and Sanskrit cultures, there seemed to be complete acceptance that auras existed, and so they focused on methods of strengthening generation and sensation, and of focusing the generation.

She heard a sexual moan from the master suite, followed by the flush of a toilet, and then Erik joined her. She looked at him and smiled. "All taken care of then?" She was pleased to see that he blushed. He had the Nordic look of her cousins back in Boston, from where her mother had fled to settle near Mendocino, CA. All of their family blushed easily.

"Yes, all taken care of. How far did you get in my papers?"

"I read the two meat pages that were bookmarked. So where do you want to start testing me?"

"How did you know I wanted to test you?" he asked.

"Because you probably got arrested for testing pre-schoolers. I can just see you asking the moms, 'Hi, I'm gay and I would like to stand around in the nude with your five-year-old'."

"That's why the low marks. I didn't have a wide enough sampling to claim anything, or at least to prove what I was already sure of."

"Did you flunk the course?" she asked.

"It was Anthropology 201. I was an honors engineering student. They weren't allowed to flunk me."

"How do you want to start?"

"Doing the simple walk past." He stretched a tape measure across the floor and then stood at one end and directed her to the other. "I'll stand still. You walk in baby steps toward me. When you feel me, or I feel you, we will yell out, uh, what about the word 'mark'? At that point you stop, look down and tell me the number on the tape. Then start again and stop when the other person says 'mark' and tell me that number. Do you mind if we are both nude?"

"It's not being nude that worries me," she said, and then to herself, "it's being alone with you."

Over the next two hours they did sets of ten tries. First nude, then only him nude, then only her nude, then both robed, then one nude and one with a ski jacket, then vice versa, then both in ski jackets.

Afterwards, she sat outside drinking Shiraz and watching the endless vistas while he created endless spreadsheets so he could graph the results. She must have fallen asleep because she woke up chilled to the bone. It was really late. She went looking for him. He showed her the two most significant graphs he had created so far.

"Your power to both generate and to sense is more than ten times mine, and mine was already more than ten times my normal test subject from my paper. That is why we are getting ranges measured in feet rather than inches. And this one shows how yours is strong enough to go even through the ski jacket, whereas mine becomes so blocked that it isn't significant to measure it because of the margin of error.

This graph shows how your power increased with practice. Each time we retested, your power almost doubled. Look, by the tenth test it was almost four hundred times stronger than the first."

"Oh bullshit," she objected, "the tape wasn't that long."

"Umm, oh, I get it. You are thinking linear. The power moves out by three dimensional surface area, understand? To double the distance on the tape you have to have six times the power. To show four hundred times the power would be like going from one foot away to eight feet away. That last time when we were both nude you were almost twelve feet away."

"You've been in here for hours, and this is all you have?" she snarked, not really understanding the significance, though she could see that he was very excited about it.

"Oh, well," he said, stuttering a bit at the criticism, "it's this one graph that has been taking all my time. I had to import engineering algorithms into the spreadsheet in order to interpret it." He saw her face cloud over, so he decided not to go in to which derivatives he had used. "The variance in your power, and my sensing of your power is explained by resonance." Again her face clouded over. He tried again.

"Resonance is, well, how good are you at math?"

"I was so happy when I didn't have to take math in grade twelve, like, to get my diploma," she mumbled.

"Okay. Remember back when you got really good at swinging on a playground swing when you were a kid? It was when you realized that you only had to do small pumps at the top of each swing to go even higher the next time. That is resonance, sort of. You get in harmony with the back and forth, so that any new energy you put into it makes everything much stronger."

"Oh, you mean like when you blow your boyfriend's speakers out with your electric guitar? Or, or, that bridge near Seattle that they are always showing on PBS. The one that, like, waved itself to pieces during an earthquake."

"Exactly," he said, pleased with her understanding, "well, that is what this last graph shows me about your aura. It seems to know how to add a bit of power just at the right time to take the sensitivity out further and further. No, don't interrupt because here is the real news. Your aura seems to know how to do the same thing to my aura. My aura and my sensitivity were achieving more and more range not because of me, but because your aura was pushing on them."

"What? Just what does that mean," she said, "that my aura is like, messing around with yours?"

"Yes, you are messing with mine. It's like you are impatient to feel and be felt so you are goosing mine to get it going. You are resonating my aura."

"You make it sound like I'm shaking your world." We're starting to sound like fridge magnets, she thought to herself.

"You have no idea, Maya, how much you just shook my world. Everything I thought I knew about auras, all my understanding of fourteen years, has to be rethought." He looked over at the clock. "It's pretty late. Are you tired? Do you want to stop?"

"It's your tab," she said looking over his shoulder at the computer screen and trying to understand his graph, "you may as well run it. Just don't ignore me for that damn computer any more. This aura thing is brand new to me. I want to feel them, I like feeling them. Do your typing when we aren't together."

"Okay, point taken. Sorry." He looked around the room. "Umm, not more testing. Why not just have fun with them. Instead of walking past each other, why not dance around each other. Do you like to dance?" She nodded at him and gave him a happy smile. "Okay, I'll put on some music and we'll dance."

"The moon is bright," she said, "we could go onto the balcony and dance in the moonlight."

"This is Vancouver, not California. It chills off quickly once the sun is down. Too chilly for dancing in the nude. Even this room has cooled off. I'll turn the heat up." He walked around the room, and started some music, and then turned to her. She took off her robe and laid it across a chair. He did the same and then walked towards her bouncing gently to the music.

She stared at his crotch and began to giggle. "He's back."

"Don't laugh. We should probably do some tests on him. As a man is aroused it's normal for them to swell gradually. Around your aura he jumps to attention immediately, soft to hard in seconds."

"Not tonight okay?" she said, "I'd rather just dance with our auras." She watched him blush and then walk to the bathroom to get rid of it. She danced alone to the music, but it wasn't the same. You needed someone else's aura to bump into to get the delicious feelings. He had been gone at least ten minutes when she went to look for him.

He was standing in front of the toilet in his bathroom, pulling on it. "Can I help?" she whispered. "Like, it bounced up because of me, so, like, maybe my aura can hurry it up." She realized from his embarrassed look that it had been a big mistake coming into the bathroom and catching him in such a private moment.

He straightened up and turned around to face her. He was searching for words when she shrugged her shoulders and made to grab it with her right hand. She hadn't even touched it when he howled and made a mess on the wall and slumped to the floor, panting.

"Omigod, omigod!" she almost screamed, "what did I do?"

"Ahhh!!" he moaned. "It's my thigh muscles. They've spasmed - they're cramping up. Ow, ow, ow!"

She reached down with her hands and tried to massage his thighs. He stopped spasming. "That's it. That's working. Oh, thank you!" He sat up on the floor to straighten his legs and lean forward. He reached for his toes with both hands and pulled them towards him. "Oh, heaven. The muscles have relaxed." He looked at the stains on the wall and then down at his crotch. "You didn't even touch it. You were just cupping your hand ready to touch it."

"Yeah, like, tell me about it. Every date I ever had in high school ended the same way. Men and their premature whatsit."

He felt waves of aura from her. She was less than a foot away. He felt himself entering a rapturous state, the kind that he so rarely had achieved when he practiced meditation. He could see that she was entering one, too. Her eyes were closing, her body was becoming limp.

He tried to shake it off, but it was so strong. He crawled over to the shower and turned it on and sat in the stream of water until the feeling passed, then he dripped his way over to her and guided her to the shower. He merely pulled her to him, and they stood there, warm water sluicing gently over them

When reality returned, he had the sense to pull the shower curtain. Too little, too late, of course. The bathroom was a disaster. The wallpaper stained. The floor swimming. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked her. She nodded back at him. "Water dampens the auras."

"Like when you've had too many mushrooms?" she asked.

He looked at her until the penny dropped. She was talking magic, not shitake. "Uh, yes. Why don't you go and uncover the hot tub and I will meet you there once I have cleaned up this mess?"

She had only just uncovered it and slipped into the warm human soup pot, when he eased in beside her. "At least in the tub we can be close without going into a rapture state," he said.

"Tell me about it," she said. She looked up at the moon so bright that was drowning out the stars. "It's getting really late. Do you want to go to bed? With me, I mean."

"I don't think that is a good idea," he said.

"Is it still called adultery between gay mates?"

"I didn't mean the sex. I meant that Karl could very well fly in tomorrow and find us lying beside each other, comatose on the bed."

"Well, I feel like having sex. Typical man. Do you think you are the only one who has been aroused during all these experiments of yours? I'm so horny I think my breasts have grown a cup size since we met."

"I'm not exaggerating the danger. I don't understand what has happened to us today. My graphs show me what has happened but not why. We are dealing with forces that seem to be getting more and more out of control. We were both passing out in the bathroom. It will be much safer once Karl arrives, so there can always be one of us acting like a designated driver."

"But I want to kiss you. I want to rub my chest against yours. I want to..."

"No, believe me, please believe me, what you are feeling is not love. Karl and I are proof of that. When we first discovered our auras we thought for sure it was true love. When our skins touched it was, was, well, so right, so complete. It wasn't love. That took us five more years to figure out."

"Love? I don't want love," she replied, her voice a little strained and whispery. "I guess I don't even want sex. I have just had a very upsetting day." She was starting to sob. "Wondrous, yes, but upsetting. This has been the most bizarre and perhaps the most important day of my life. I need a hug. Like, don't you get it? I need a hug."

"I'm," he stalled, "I'm afraid to touch you. We are dealing with things here that I have never ever imagined possible. What we discovered tonight both shock and scare me. Look what happened with your hand, and you didn't even touch me."

"Don't be silly. That's just men. My stupid mother made me promise that, like, no matter what, I would always put a condom on the boy. She made me promise that, like, when I was still playing house with my stuffed animals. On my first date I opened my purse and found a strip of three condoms that she had put in there. I would try to put them on my dates, and they would always spurt before they were all the way on."

He looked at her in shock. "Maya, I'm not a high school teen. I'm thirty-five. I don't come easily. I have total control. What happened was beyond bizarre. The speed of it hurt me, and caused my legs to cramp."

She floated closer to him, and he moved away as she got close. "You mean it wasn't the boys losing control too soon. You mean, like, it was me. All this time it was me."

"I think so, but I don't know for sure. We just met. We've done some simple experiments. Now, frankly, I don't want to do any more until there is someone else present. Karl is back tomorrow. He will understand. He will help."

"So, I don't get a hug, and I have to spend the night alone in a strange bed. I think I should go and sleep at Alicia's." She looked at him waiting, for a reaction.

"Also not a good idea. The only things we know for sure after today, is that today you found out that you could generate and sense an aura, and that in the process of practicing with it, it has become scary strong. I have some inkling about what that strength did to me, me who has been working with auras for half a lifetime. I have no idea what it is capable of doing to Alicia."

"We were fine yesterday."

"Yesterday is over," he said a bit too loudly, "don't you get it? You are not the same person anymore." She looked crushed by his words, and he felt like he had just kicked a kitten.

"How long do we have to stay in this stupid hot tub?" she hissed. "I'm feeling pruney."

"As long as you want to talk. The tub is a neutral place, so long as our skins don't touch."

"What happens if our skins touch?"

"I have no idea, and I want to find out," he said softly, "but not without a designated driver present."

"I don't get it. You're right, I don't get it. Explain it to me."

"On that final test. The tenth trial with both of us nude. I was feeling you at about a dozen feet. You started by not feeling me until a foot, and that stretched a bit, but then you started feeling me at the same time I felt you. It was like your aura was going out, finding mine and then doing something so that you felt it even at your range, not mine. Weird, wonderful.

Eventually what I was feeling from you at ten feet was making me feel very strange, dizzy, flushed, horny. That is why I had you stop. What do you think I would have felt like at five feet, or five inches, or zero inches?"

"And zero inches is ..."

"Touching," he finished her sentence.

"How do I turn it off?" she said quickly.

"What?"

"You turned it on in me. It's getting stronger and wilder. How do I make it get weaker and meeker. How do I turn it off?"

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know? You're the expert."

"I, I, I've only ever tried to make it stronger. Being near you has made mine stronger than I ever dreamed possible. Before, mine was blocked by clothing. I don't know if it ever went 'off'. How would I know? Maybe it is like hearing or smell. Do they ever turn off? You can block them, but are they off or just blocked?"

"The tub," she said sounding a bit frantic, "you said the tub is, like, neutral. If I, like, sit in it long enough, will it turn the volume down to where it was when we met. Like, you know, hold it in neutral."

I don't know, he said to himself, but he didn't want to say it out loud. She had to have some confidence in him. "Tell you what, get out of the tub and dry yourself on that sheet towel, and then wrap yourself in it. Then I will get out and do the same. You on that side, me on this. Then we will drop the towels. If it gets weird then we get back in the tub."

After drying they stood a while wrapped in the towels looking at each other across the tub. "Where is all this leading to, Erik?"

"I thought I knew, but we passed that point hours ago." He dropped his towel. She dropped hers. "It's back to feeling pleasant," he said. "Does it feel good to you?"

"Yes. It's the feeling I like, you know, all warm and cozy inside."

"Good, I'll put the cover back on the tub. You go to bed."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

The note on the kitchen island said he would be back from the airport by noon with Karl. She looked at the wall clock. Forty minutes. She munched away at her granola and yoghurt. These guys would get along great with her mom. They had the same things in their refrigerators, except that her mom always had a baggie of grapefruit sativa buds in the freezer.

The house was so clean that it gave her the creeps. Bloody homos, they probably argued about whose turn it was to vacuum because they liked to bloody vacuum. She took a bit of a snoop around the living room in the daylight. It was tasteful, but in a comfortable, lived-in way. There were family photos on a shelf on one wall. She could see where Erik got his good looks from. In a prominent position on a side table, there was one of him with another man. That must be Karl. He seemed shorter, with just the suggestion of a paunch, and light brown hair just starting to thin a little. They were on what seemed to be a beautiful tropical beach, with turquiose water and palm trees in the background. They were tanned and laughing, and looked very much a couple.

She shivered a little, as she walked around. The house had still not warmed up from the night. Vancouver sun was not California sun. She pulled the robe closer around her. The silk felt luxurious against her skin.

She washed and dried her dishes and put them away. She had never lived with a dishwasher and was afraid of messing theirs up. Upstairs, she looked into their suite and saw that the bed was made and the bathroom was clean. She went and made hers, and then reluctantly took off the silk robe and put her yellow sundress back on. She wasn't imagining it. Her breasts had grown.

She was on vacation. Except for her travel jeans and a sweatshirt, all her clothes were summer dresses or skirts. Most of them from mom's big trunk of clothes that no longer fit her. She smiled. This sundress would not have fit her mom since before she was born. She had never quite gained her figure back. Close, but not quite, despite trying everything from yoga to macrobiotic diets.

She heard the garage door open, and went back downstairs, feeling a little unsure. What if the phantom roomie took an instant dislike to her? A man came through the connecting door to the garage and he said a formal' hello', but kept his distance. She had been expecting another tall Nordic type like Erik, but he was nothing like that. He was fair, yes, but shorter and wore glasses. In any high school in California he would be shunned as a nerd.

"You must be Maya," he said with a slight European accent. "Erik has just talked my ear off about you all the way from the airport. Well, you are most welcome to stay here. If you need anything, anything at all, please just ask." With that he carried his bag upstairs. Erik went straight to the kitchen and started making tea and food.

She walked slowly towards Erik. He had his back turned. When she was about a foot away he straightened and held that pose, and then turned around. "About a foot, with both of us clothed. How did you sleep?"

"Not at all, like, until the sun rose. It was as if the sunrise made me feel secure, ya know, and I finally fell asleep. How about you?"

"I set the alarm for seven in the morning and looked in on you. I was worried about you. I pulled the sheet over you."

"You weren't worried about me," she said slowly. "You wanted to feel my aura while I was sleeping. Admit it. What was it like?"

"It felt all soft and warm. It made me want to crawl into bed beside you."

"Who wouldn't want to?" said Karl coming in on the last of the conversation. He cast his eyes over the the breakfast preparations while checking out the girl in the lavender silk robe. "Just tea for me. I ate on the plane."

She looked at him and smiled nervously. He was standing closer to her than Erik was. "Do you feel it too?"

"No," Karl said, slipping onto one of the high stools, "but that is to be expected. I've just come from the world of heavy traffic and airports and airplane food. I am totally desensitized to anything natural."

He said thanks as Erik put a cup of tea in front of him. "I had a peek at your graphs while I was unpacking. They are, umm, unexpected, extraordinary. I think I will take this tea upstairs and look at them some more."

Erik motioned to Maya, and she said to Karl, "May I come with you?" and then followed him upstairs. Erik stayed downstairs and ate his eggs and let the two be together without him. Karl was also an engineer, and like most engineers, never believed anything unless he discovered it himself. He would wait until they came to search him out.

They never did. He heard a groan from upstairs and ran up. Maya was standing on the tape measure, nude, and trying to stop herself from laughing. "He's in your bathroom," she coughed trying to hold back her laugher, "the same thing happened to him as to you. This time I was ready for it." She held up an empty condom package. "See?" she waved her arms around the floor, "no mess."

"Oh dear," he said looking towards his suite, "he is actually a very shy person, especially around women. I'll go and get him."

Karl was in his robe sitting on the bed with his laptop. "You've incorporated resonance algorithms. That would have taken you awhile."

"Go back out there and test your aura with hers."

"You've missed something."

"You're stalling," said Erik.

"Only about a quarter of your increase in range is from your added strength. The rest is from her aura amplifying yours. Still a theory. You will have to create a test to prove it. Obviously it will take all three of us. Here, sit and look at my new version of this graph with the new variable added."

"So you aren't stalling."

"Actually, I can't wait to get back to her. She is delightful. Uh, by the way, I need an early night tonight. I have a meeting first thing Monday."

"You're going in to work, despite Maya? Work, always work. When do I ever see you any more?"

"I have to."

"But it's her last day," Erik said, "she has to leave for California on Tuesday."

"Then convince her to stay on."

"How?" Erik asked. "She has a job to get back for."

"So she told me. A job at a coffee shop that she hates. Hire her. Room and board and wages as a ...," he was going to say maid, or cook, but that was such a cliché, "research assistance. Oh come on. If you can get her to agree to stay for, say, three months, then you can put in for a sabbatical for this term at U.B.C." Karl gave Eric a solemn look. "Look Eric, I've watched you haunt Wreck Beach on every sunny day for ten years hoping to find an aura generator. Well you've found one. Make the best of her."

* * *

Maya said 'yes' immediately to the guys' offer. Neither of them were pervs. They were gentlemen. The choice between living in a squalid basement suite in Frisco while working her ass off for few tips at the coffee shop, versus living in a waterfront house in Vancouver and spending most of her time lounging around in a silk robe, was a non-decision.

The arrangements were not difficult for Maya to make. Just a few phone calls and a lot of explaining. She told her bitch of a boss at the coffee shop that she had met the man of her dreams and wasn't coming back from Vancouver, and that her roommate would pick up her last cheque. She was surprised, indeed shocked, that her boss did not complain and actually seemed genuinely pleased for her.

She told her roommate much the same story, and told her to pick up her paycheque and deposit it, and that she would mail her a cheque for the next month's rent, and that her mother would be driving down from Albion to pick up her things.

She told her mother much the same story, and asked her to pick up her things from San Francisco. Her mother harangued her, because that meant she had to borrow a car as her own ancient pickup truck was no longer safe for freeway driving. She then wanted to know everything about this special man.

Eventually she admitted to her mom that she was actually living with two gay men. She waited for the explosion that she figured the truth would cause. Instead her mom lightened up and actually sounded pleased. She even stopped complaining about having to drive to San Francisco.

When she phoned Alicia to tell her the news, Alicia sounded glad for her, but you could never tell with her. She was pleased that this meant that they could sunbathe together at Wreck beach some more, and so they swore they would do that at least twice a week.

Erik was not as successful. It was too late to get permission for a sabbatical from the university, so he would have to start work again in the September term as normal. That gave him less than a month of dedicated free time to figure out what caused Maya to tick.

Karl was involved, but mostly with the monitoring and recording, and the designated driving. The engineering company he was working for was bidding on building a new high span bridge, so he did not have much free time and when he did, he was all stressed out.

It was Karl's suggestion after analyzing the data, that Maya's aura was not constant, but pulsing. He suggested redoing the range tests while monitoring her pulse and blood pressure. Using a cheap instrument that they rented at the drug store, they did find out that the range seemed to follow the same trends as her blood system, but the equipment was too crude to identify a pattern.

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 5 - In present day Laurel Canyon, Hollywood

Mike slowed around the last hairpin before the road reached the ridge high above Hollywood. There was a brand new 'for sale' sign above the intercom at the driveway gate. The house had been for sale since the housing market started to crash years ago. A new sign meant a new agent. Nothing was selling these days. Not even the wealthy were buying.

Mike punched in the codes at the high steel driveway gate, and it rolled out of their way. He chirped the tires starting up the steep driveway because it was lightly coated in a greasy slick from the smog. Most of the time this house, on top the first ridge of the hills facing the sea, was smog free, but sometimes the smog would be forced up the slope and would billow over the ridge and leave a sticky residue on everything. Over the ridge, down in the canyons that led to Laurel Canyon, those that left their cars on the street often covered them in a light tarp every night, or at least every night during smog season.

Maya was so glad she was allowed to borrow her friend's house whenever she had to be in LA. Once you sat up on the hill and looked over and down on the smog, you couldn't imagine living in it, breathing it, contributing to it.

She went straight upstairs and showered. The Jacuzzi tub was tempting, but it took too long to fill, and besides, LA was in a drought. People had even given up on lawns and were putting in astro turf. She came out of her bathroom drying her hair on a towel. After figuring out how to un-snick the pin locks, she opened the sliding door to the balcony, but then immediately closed it again.

LA was a noisy city. Twenty-four hours a day you could hear the hum of the freeway. The sirens never stopped their sporadic bursts, from all directions. Drivers honked their horns a lot. Planes and helicopters were always circling. Something else to miss about Vancouver. It was a quiet city at night.

She draped a bathrobe around her, turbaned a towel around her hair, and went downstairs to get something to eat. Mike had beaten her to the sushi and was already warming the sake that he had bought. He had the tiny TV in the kitchen tuned to the local news, but muted. He kept looking over to see if Maya had made it into any of the Glover Walland coverage.

She grabbed some chopsticks and snapped them apart and then claimed a slice of raw tuna, her favorite. "You can have the fish eggs," she said. "I've never cared for them."

"Shhh, we're on." He flapped his hand at her, and un-muted the TV.

It was all political blah blah blah to her. The newsman was asking questions of boring men, about other boring men. The people around the cameras and in the background must have been staged, because the people she had seen at the hotel had not jumping around excitedly with placards.

"Did you ever notice that politicians are a lot like actors?" Mike said. "Like, what is that guy doing right there but putting on an act for an audience?"

"Hopefully they are smarter than actors," she chuckled. "Be careful with that wasabi. I just blew out my nostrils."

"Don't hold your breath." She looked at him quizzically, thinking wasabi? nostrils? She clued in as Mike started again. "Don't hold your breath about politicians being smarter than actors. I mean, think about it," he said, "if you were some powerful billionaire, would you go into politics and put in the hours, and live in a fishbowl, and take all the abuse? Not likely. You would hire some actor to do all that for you. Some actor on the make, and eager to please you, while you sit back, take it easy and tell him what to do."

"So you think the president is an actor, a puppet. I don't know. He has an awful lot of power."

"He has the power," Mike added, "but he is not the boss. When he has an important decision to make, he goes to the real bosses and asks them what they want. Then he does it. Yeah, he has a lot of power but only while he is president. The guys he works for always have a lot of power no matter who is president, and we don't even know who they are."

"You sound like one of those conspiracy guys on the web."

"Hey, there you are. Aw, they zoomed in so you can't see me. Why do you have your eyes closed?"

"I told you I wasn't feeling good. Hey, turn the sound on and see if they got my name right."

He put the sound on and then sighed in relief. "Oh good, they skipped to where you have your eyes open again. Is that a smile or are you gritting your teeth? Oh good, you moved in front of him and put one of his arms around you."

"I didn't do that, he did. Gosh I look busty in that dress. Hey, hear that? They plugged me and the movie. Mission successful, Captain." She poked at another piece of tuna, but decided to have some sake first. " I felt better as soon as he let go of my hand. I don't trust him. I hope someone else wins the GOP nomination."

"What does GOP stand for?"

"I really have no idea. That's what the news reporters sometimes call the Republican Party. In school, I slept through history. About the only thing that I remember is that the Democrats and the Republicans used to be two sides of the same party. All my friends in San Francisco think they still are the same party. The war party. Come to think of it, I really, really hope he doesn't win."

"How come?"

"Well, I have this theory that my hand can sense evil people. That's why I wear gloves around strangers, otherwise if I accidentally shake hands with an evil person, I kind of wilt."

"So you're saying that Glover there, is evil just because you didn't like his handshake?"

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Promise," he said.

"Then, yes. That's exactly what I am saying. I learned all about creeps and psychos when I lived in Vancouver. And I don't mean those ghouls that you get to play vampires in your movies."

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 6 - Three years earlier at U.B.C., Vancouver

Erik, being staff, asked around U.B.C. and got permission to use one of the Psychology department's laboratories which were designed to monitor nervous system reactions to stimulus and stress. Unfortunately, the department demanded that for liability reasons, one of the departments staff must be present during all testing.

Fortunately the only person free was Dr. Schonfeld, MD, PhD and one of U.B.C.'s leading lights in the study of psychopaths. This was not fortunate because of the qualifications, but because Dr. Schonfeld was Dr. Emma Schonfeld, a woman. Maya was a little intimidated at first by all the letters behind her name, but Dr. Schonfeld's appearance belied her impressive resume.

She was in her late thirties, and not at all professorial. Middle height with sandy hair falling out of a slightly dishevelled chignon, and hazel eyes that were frank and appraising, but quite warm. She reminded Maya of some of the professional and career women customers from her old coffee-shop job. The ones that always asked her how her day was going, and were pleased whenever she made the effort to remember their orders without prompting. She felt herself relaxing in the other woman's presence.

Once Erik had explained that Maya seemed to have paranormal powers in animal magnetism, Emma was eager to help design a test. The equipment she chose was the latest version of the polygraph lie detector. Emma did not bat an eyelid when both Maya and Erik undressed, but she did pull some standard release agreements from a drawer and had them each sign one.

"Even with the signed release, I would be thankful if you did not mention that these tests included the use of a nude young woman," Emma said. She had to remind herself not to stare at Erik, who was in an embarrassing way. When Maya pulled a condom out of her tiny purse and asked her to turn her back for a moment she complied, despite being wildly curious. She allowed herself a quick peek to make sure that the young woman was not being violated.

After an hour and a half of constant testing, Erik ejected the memory stick containing the polygraph data, and the comments that he had been keying in to explain the timing points. It was Emma who suggested that they go to the faculty lounge for a drink and discuss the test.

"What I saw on the polygraph was not unusual. You tell me that there are these auras, and since there are two of you that sense them, I will not doubt you. I am sure you had a good reason to monitor the body's reactions with the instruments, but I think you are missing something. Something critical.

Think about what happened with the condom. Hey, I peeked, so sue me. Obviously these auras stimulate the sex organs, and obviously Maya is able to channel part of her aura through her hand."

Erik was silent, blushing and thinking. "Yes, I agree with you. We have so many basic tests to do and so much data to interpret that we have been purposefully ignoring the sexual effects. With sex there are just too many other variables and heightened senses that would confuse the data."

"So you don't think that these auras are a manifestation of the healing powers of the laying on of hands that have been documented for centuries, but as yet are scientifically unproven."

Maya listened to the two eggheads spew out their complex words and sipped her red wine. It was all so much blah- blah- blah to her. Besides, here she was sitting next to a very educated and successful woman, who was probably less than ten years older than her, and so she didn't want to listen to Erik. She could listen to him anytime.

She felt the urge to engage Emma in conversation. For some reason she didn't want the older woman to have the impression that she was just the bimbo assistant on this research profect. She screwed up her courage and took a breath.

"So, what do you do?" she asked Emma, interrupting Erik's jibber jabber. Always a gentleman, he politely stopped talking.

"I do research into sick minds," Emma said. "Right now, because of the serial killer that is loose in the Vancouver area, I am on loan from U.B.C. to the police as an advisor to the special task force that is working the case."

"Oh! Oh, I heard about that even in California," Maya said. "Lots of low income young women have disappeared."

"That is the case. The shame of it is that because they were all troubled women, until recently they were treated as individual missing person cases. As if they were runaways."

"And now they think it's, like, a mass murderer?" Maya asked.

"A serial killer. If a psychopath is of low birth, or low education, then at their worst they become serial killers. Usually after four or five murders they are caught, and that's the end of them. The other kind is far worse."

"The other kind?"

"Much the same mental disorder but born into privilege, so they are educated and pursue vocations of power such as officers, lawyers, bankers, politicians. At their worst you get mass murderers. Thousands, perhaps millions of murders. Their individual evil is multiplied and expanded in relation to how powerful they become in society."

"There are lots of movies about serial killers. How come there are no movies about these other kind if they are so dangerous?"

"Well, that would be telling. That is one of the chapters of the book I am writing," said Emma. "Let's just say that there are a lot of powerful people who don't want the ordinary man thinking that a lot of the powerful people that they work for may actually be psychos."

"Do you enjoy working with the police?" Maya asked. Not only was this interesting, but she didn't get left behind like she was with all of Erik's babble.

"Absolutely not. The police are frustrated because they need a breakthrough and they aren't getting one. I am frustrated because I can't convince them that there must be more than one killer. At least three. One kidnapping women of the night. One kidnapping children from playgrounds. One attacking women along empty beach trails."

"I use the trails around U.B.C.. So does my friend. Is there anything we should know?"

"Only that psychos are not uncommon. One in a hundred, mostly male. That means that everyone knows one, whether they recognize it or not. They are usually pretty smart and excellent actors. They role play, and they are good at it. That's why they get away with so much. People believe their lies. You can look up the symptoms on the web. A number of sites show lists of questions to ask yourself about your boss or your boyfriend to measure the likelihood that he is a psycho."

"That doesn't help me recognize one on the trail," Maya observed. She looked around for the waitress. After all, she wasn't paying and she wasn't driving.

"Well," said Emma, "they are truly scary. They feel little empathy or sympathy. They don't feel guilt. They don't fight fair. For instance, they tend to strike first and hard without warning. Normal people don't do that. It means that normal people usually lose against them."

"Oh great. They sound like the vampires on TV shows. Do you guys want any more wine?"

"Yes, one more for me," Emma said. She gestured to the waitstaff for another round. "The man I studied under was an expert who worked for the prison system. After thirty years of working with psychos, his summary was that human kind needs to develop a foolproof test to spot all psychos, and then execute them before they can do any harm. He saw them as the source of most of the evil on the planet,.... yesterday, today, and tomorrow."

"Gee, they sound like, totally opposite to me," Maya observed. "Through my auras I feel other people's feelings. It's like the ultimate empathy, cause, like, I actually feel with them," said Maya, "I only wish that ..."

"Say that again," said Emma. She listened more carefully this time to what Maya was saying. "You may be on to something. I will have to see if anyone else has written anything about empaths being the opposite of psychos." She thought back on the tests she had observed today. "Can you use your aura with your clothes on?"

"No," replied Erik.

"He can't, I can," Maya said.

"And that hand thing, you know with the condom," said Emma. "Was that part of the test?" She watched Erik blush again, and she had to giggle.

"No, and you weren't supposed to peek," Erik spoke first. "The auras stimulate the senses, especially the sense of touch in the skin, thus the sexuality. The sexuality quickly overwhelms all the other feelings, so we sort of have no choice but to neutralize it."

"Then why her hand and not yours?"

"Because," Erik started, and then stopped in thought. "Because she can focus her aura with her hand. Maya, how can we test the strength of the aura coming from your hand?"

"You two can figure that out later. While we are all together, let me explain a problem that I have," said Emma. "The serial killer task force has me interview, or sit in on interviews, of suspects. They hope that I can pick up something from the suspects that will turn into a hard lead. I've given them nothing so far. The problem is that if the suspect is truly a psycho, then he is too smart to be caught out in word games.

I am desperate. It just came to me that maybe Maya should sit in with me on some of the interviews, but instead of joining the word games, just sit there and feel her aura. Obviously she has to be decently clothed, and there can be no hocus pocus. What do you think. Any chance of it working?"

"I'd like to help, really I would," replied Maya, "but I have only been practicing and exercising my aura for two weeks. I have only just learned how to adjust the power and a tiny bit of focus. It's not a crowd thing. It is very personal, person to person. I mean, like, how many people are in these interviews?"

"Will you try?"

Maya looked at Erik. He shrugged. "Will she be in any danger?"

"Much less for her than for me, because there will be no need to introduce my assistant. The suspects are all told my name. It always worries me that possible psychos know my name, but that is a cost of being in the business."

* * *

Maya hated the task force's rented building as soon as she entered. It was a place filled with sorrow. Families and friends describing their lost ones. Women sobbing. Men looking angry. The interview room wasn't anything like on the TV cop shows. It was just a sparsely furnished office. No one way mirrors. No bright lights.

Maya knew it was impossible right from the start, but she stayed by Emma's side just so she could spend more time with her. Every moment she was here she felt as if she were withdrawing into herself. Once in the interview room she gave up. Besides the suspect there was also his lawyer and two detectives. Her aura could not distinguish between them. It was something she would have to practice. She shrugged and sat there patiently until the end, pretending to make notes, like a good assistant should.

There were short breaks between interviews. She pulled at the dowdy dark brown wool skirt that had cost her five dollars at a Kitsilano thrift store. She wore a black cotton blouse from the same shop, which had the advantage of a wide lapel, and therefore she could show a lot of her chest. The skirt itched and she tried to stop scratching at it. It was the best of a poor selection only because it had a tailored pleat at the back that swished as she walked.

She became sleepy in the close, airless room and she kept throwing her head to move her long blonde hair, and each time she would yet again realize that she had it braided and pulled up in a bun, to make her look more studious.

After the final interview, Emma looked at her hopefully, and Maya shrugged and repeat yet again, "It's all a jumble because there are so many men in the room."

"That's okay. I got nowhere with my questions, either. You can see how frustrating it is."

"Can we get out of here now?" Maya asked. "This is a place of so much sadness that I am really bummed out."

"Of course. Just wait for me outside. I have to file my report. It won't take long. I mean, I have nothing to say. Then what? Can I treat you to a late lunch, or do you want to go home. Did you park at the University?"

"I think I want to go straight home. I don't need to sit in any more crowded rooms. I bussed to U.B.C.. I live in Kits, if that is okay."

They were still talking as they hit the hallway, Emma to go one way, Maya the other. Maya was putting on her jacket and walking backwards still listening to Emma. She really liked Emma. She backed onto a foot and stumbled and would have gone down with a thump if a big hand hadn't grabbed hers to steady her.

"Sorry, I was just leaving," she said to a man large enough to be one of the detectives, and she used his hand to pull herself back up. She suddenly felt strange, very strange, like a black shadow had moved over her eyes, and there was a smell of black. She let go of the man's hand with another mumbled thanks and stood back while the big man's group went by and into the interview room. The big man did not go in.

She leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught her breath and got her eyes back working again. It had all been quite surreal and upsetting. She made a decision and turned a one-eighty and hurried after Emma. She found her typing into a computer terminal behind the reception desk. She shook her shoulder.

"See behind me? Don't look," she murmured, "see the big man outside the interview room? Is he a detective?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Cause if he isn't a detective, you need to interview him."

Emma stopped typing and jumped up to go talk to the uniformed officer at reception. They looked through the sign-in sheet, and at the interview room schedule. The officer used the phone and a detective came out of one of the back rooms and spoke to Emma.

Maya was bored. She minimized the window showing Emma's report and looked on the computer for a game of FreeCell. Playing FreeCell always calmed her nerves. Sometimes she even won. That is how Emma found her ten minutes later. Maya was feeling much better, and sat and waited in silence while Emma finished her report.

They didn't speak of the big man again until they were sitting in Emma's black Jetta. "He is a person of no interest to the task force, or at least he was of no interest until I asked the detective to check him out. He had given a ride to one of the women supplying information about some street walkers who had disappeared. She was probably also a street walker. They have his name, so they are starting a background check."

"He smelled funny," Maya said.

"Well, that makes sense. The first run on the name showed him as a farmer. He owns a farm south of here."

"When I touched him everything went black. Even his smell was black."

Emma laughed lightly. "And what does black smell like?"

"Like, um, like, like burnt toast. You know, like really black charred toast."

"Toast, not farm animals, or dung?"

"It was charred toast, and it wasn't my nose that was smelling it, it was my brain. I grabbed his hand when I tripped. Afterwards I couldn't warm up. I felt, like, really weird."

"Well I'm glad I didn't let the detective speak to you. He would have laughed me off the task force. I just told him that he fit the profile I was working on, and someone should speak with him. They will. They are grasping at any straw."

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 7 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Emma swung her Jetta into the short driveway. From the road, the narrow lot was all driveway and garage. She was impressed, and intrigued, wondering how the slender, just-past-teenaged blonde and the thirtysomething Viking were connected. She hated to sound as if she were fishing for facts from the younger woman, but was dying to know "Do you live here, um, with your parents?"

"It's Erik's house," Maya replied, not quite innocently.

"You mean besides being yummy and smart, Erik comes with a house like this? If I didn't like you so much I'd have to call you 'Bitch'."

"We are just friends," Maya mumbled, flushing a little. "We met earlier this summer on Wreck Beach."

"Wreck Beach? That's the nude beach that U.B.C. is always trying to shut down."

"You've never been?"

"Umm, med school and the rubber chicken circuit sort of knocked the stuffing out of my figure. I don't tend to take my clothes off around other people," Emma said.

"It's clothing optional. Ask any of the Middle Eastern men that sit on logs ogling tits."

"Umm, is anyone home?"

"Shouldn't be. Do you want to see inside? It's not very big but it feels big because every room has a view that goes on forever."

"I'd love to, but if I come in, could you show me something else? Could you show me what an aura feels like?"

"No problem. I guess I should have expected that. Of course you would want to know what you were marketing to the police. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

* * *

Emma was quietly pleased at the upstairs when she saw that Maya had her own room. "This is a wonderful layout. This open room between the two bedrooms gives privacy to both."

"Well, Erik had it filled with guy gym stuff and computers, but I pushed it all out of the way so we could use it more like a yoga studio. Auras are more like Yoga than pumping iron."

"I used to do Yoga," said Emma. "I suppose every woman my age says that. It's one of those things that go with a certain age and stage. Y'know, like claiming to be a vegetarian, but still indulging occasionally in that great root-crop, chicken." She was babbling, feeling somewhat uncomfortable as she tried not to stare at Maya, who was nonchalantly shucking her clothes. This young girl sure had the clothing optional thing down pat. She suddenly thought, 'Oh, what the hell,' and started slowly unbuttoning her own blouse.

"You don't need to be nude if you are embarrassed,' said Maya. "Panties and bra is good."

"I am a doctor, you know. I am not embarrassed by nudity." In fact, she was getting a bit of a thrill removing the formal, office-style shirt she had put on only this morning. She'd had no idea, getting dressed, that later in the day she would be stripping down with an audience. And in such a decadent-feeling house. She enjoyed the business of each button, and then sliding the shirt from her shoulders. What a difference a day could make in your life.

"So, like, you are one of those new age nude doctors," Maya mocked. "Your male patients must come to you with every sore throat." The woman was too serious to enjoy the mocking, although she did seem to be taking a sensuous pleasure in sliding down the back zipper of her skirt, and wriggling out of it. "If you want to be nude, it's okay. Just sit in a Yoga pose and meditate for a while. Once your mind is quiet, I will walk around you and try to touch you with my aura."

Emma decided to be courageous, and went for the nude option. There was a bit of a mental struggle with the bra and panties, but once they had joined her other clothes on a chair, she suddenly felt free, and couldn't wait to get started.

For a while nothing happened. Then Emma felt it. It was like the lightest of warm breezes against her skin, but it went deeper than the skin. "Oh my. That is quite delicious. So subtle. No wonder you asked me to meditate first." She fell silent so she could concentrate on the feeling again. Speaking had made her lose it. It became an internal struggle. She wanted to talk about it so much, but she did not want to lose the feeling.

"You are feeling mine. That is a good thing," said Maya, "Erik's theory is that every child is born with the ability to feel auras, but loses it by the time they start school. He says that mine is the strongest aura he has ever felt. If that is true then you may be able to feel mine, but you may not be able to feel Erik's."

"Feel his what?" Emma said, coming into the present again. "Umm, never mind. Do I have an aura?"

"I don't feel one, but I may have to get very close. Perhaps even skin close. Do you mind?" Maya knelt behind her and pushed her belly and breasts against Emma's back. She reached around with her arms and smoothed her hands up between Emma's breasts. Emma started to moan. It was very much a sexual moan.

"It's very weak," Maya whispered into her ear. "Think more horny thoughts. Maybe that will give me more to work with. Playing with yourself may help." She closed her eyes and tried not to concentrate, but just let her mind flow. Emma was rocking gently back against her. There it was. She withdrew her arms slowly, and then gently backed away until their skins weren't touching.

She stilled her mind and let her core reach out for her. Her heart was thumping, her blood pressure rising, her temperature rising. All she could see was white and then yellow and then a brassy gold. She lost time, but with each pulse of her heart, she sensed more of Emma's aura.

She came back into reality because of a thump and a moan. She opened her eyes, which stopped the gold light, and then she focused them. Emma was no longer sitting high, but was slumped forward with her big behind stuck up in the air. Quite rude-looking, actually. Maya made the mental observation that Emma wasn't a real blonde.

She stood and went to get the woman a bottle of water. Emma didn't move. She could see a slow pulse in her neck, so she just covered her nakedness with a light blanket, put a pillow and the water bottle beside her head and then tiptoed downstairs.

Twenty minutes later, she tiptoed back upstairs to check on Emma. She hadn't moved.

"Don't bother tiptoeing," came a muffled voice. "I can feel you."

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not bloody okay," Emma said pushing herself up off the yoga mat. "I just came face to face with the fact that I have just spent ten years of my life going deeper and deeper into debt, so I can have a career that I already detest."

"Well, at least you have a career. Every other girl I worked with in the coffee shop, had, like, a bachelor's degree and were going nowhere fast, and could barely keep up their rent, never mind, like, their student loans."

"Erik generates auras like you do, right? Can he make me feel this good?"

"You'll have to ask him, or try him. I can't say. He always complains that my power swamps his. I felt yours, but I am not sure it was not created by me. It was brassy gold and smelled of warm honey."

Emma glanced out the windows at the sparkles on the sea and sighed. "Take me to Wreck Beach. Look outside. Hot sun and no wind. Take me to Wreck Beach now. Fuck work. I have to think."

"It's a quick walk from your office at U.B.C.. Why don't you have a shower while I pack us some food and beer. Any preferences?"

"Surprise me," Emma said, prancing towards Maya's bathroom while looking down at how swollen her nipples were, and thinking of how horny she felt.

* * *

It was a typical mid-week sunny day at Wreck Beach. The area where the trail came down to the beach was filled with people who had never been there before, or who were too timid to walk further. They were mostly clothed or in bathing suits. Then came the area where logs had been dragged into squares to serve as wind and privacy breaks. That was where the rounders hung out. The dope and beer sales people and the aging hippies with immaculate tans on wrinkled skin.

Maya put her blanket down on the slope facing west to the sea and the afternoon sun. She pulled it up against a drift log that was halfway between the doper and gay colonies. She always chose a place with many couples for security reasons. She often speculated that some of these men paid the women to come here with them so that they can sit surrounded by other nude women. She didn't care. She sort of liked being stared at now that she knew the scene.

Emma settled beside her. She was feeling the walk down the steep trail and did not want to think about the return trip up. She kneeled up and looked carefully at all the faces around them. There was no one that she knew from her professional life, so she lay down and wriggled out of her clothes. With one final move, she pulled off her panties. There, done.

"Hey sweet cheeks, ya want a beer today," said a voice from a body that was blocking the sun. Emma tried to cover up, but it was hopeless and she didn't want to look foolish. She settled for closing her eyes and appearing nonchalant. Like she came here all the time. Like she could get away with that, with her untanned skin and all. For the second time that day she decided, 'Oh, what the hell.' Besides, the man was looking at and talking to Maya.

"Not today, Randy," said Maya, " but set for a spell and tell us the news of the beach."

Emma squinted her eyes against the sun and then remembered her sunglasses and pulled them down from where they were serving as a hair band. The man was young and handsome and well built. Surfer type. Tanned. Tanned all over. She forced herself to look away. Yeah, sure. Nonchalant. The man had seen her staring and pulled his fanny pack strategically around to the front.

"Bunch of us made some good music last night for sunset. Didn't see you there," said Randy standing again. No sales here. Damn, that was fine womanhood. He would have to go away and calm down again before he could continue his rounds.

Emma watched him saunter away, then she turned to Maya. "His boner. You did that to him on purpose, didn't you?"

"Big, eh? Biggest I've ever seen," Maya giggled. "Listen to me. I'm starting to sound Canajun, eh?" She touched Emma. "I got you both. Deny it."

"Oh, you rotter. That was the closest I've been to sex with a man for a year."

"Well, be careful choosing one off this beach. There's a lot of casual sex going on amongst the regulars, so make sure whoever you choose wears a full body condom." They both started giggling, then chuckling, then laughing, and then rolling in laughter that would not stop, especially when they looked at each other.

"What did you bring for a picnic?" asked Emma when she could finally speak again. She waved to a now flaccid Randy as he circled back with his knapsack of beer and cider.

"Picnic of champions. Leftover sushi, leftover spinach pizza, and a bottle of Prosecco. I put the Prosecco into some designer water bottles so we don't get, like, a stern talking to by the cops."

"There's cops, I mean police, down here?" asked Emma.

"Duh, illegal beer sales, any drug you want, and someone attacking women on the trails. The constables probably bribe the sergeant for the duty. All they do is walk around all day looking at the titties and pussies of university girls." Maya motioned to some empty beer cans leaning against the next log. "Some old Asian guys walk along and pick the empties up, but if the cans and bottles are still there when the cops walk by, they will use them as an excuse to come over and ask us if we have any alcohol."

"But I may know them. I have to leave," said Emma suddenly looking all around and feeling panicky.

"Calm down. Relax and enjoy this sun. You'll get plenty of warning. They walk around in uniform, hoping that will make people think there aren't any undercover cops on the beach."

"There are undercover police too?"

"Naturally. Two that take turns. I'll point them out to you if I see one. Now eat. Here, have some designer water," she said, passing the camouflaged Prosecco.

The picnic and the designer water had made them sleepy so they lay out and snoozed and let the northern sun kiss their skins. Eventually Maya rolled onto her side to face Emma's pudgy body. "Do you mind if I caress you with my aura? I've wanted to try this on someone for a week, but I don't dare try it on men."

"Mmmm, actually I have been feeling you since I took my clothes off. The sun has been kissing and warming my skin from the outside, and you have been kissing and warming my skin from the inside. I'm in heaven."

Maya raised her hand and let it hover an inch above Emma's arm. Then she unfocused her eyes and released her concentration and moved her hand slowly down the outline of Emma's arm. "How did that feel?"

"Very warm on the skin. No, not just the skin. Warm to the bone. Very different from the warm breeze I usually feel flowing through me."

"Do you think my hand concentrates it?"

"Yes, now stop talking and do it some more," whispered Emma. "Ohh, what did you just do? Oh!"

"I matched my aura's color to yours. Brassy gold, with honey overtones." Maya giggled at being reminded of the wine tour she had been taken on through the Castle of Love near Calistoga. "With hints of cassis and strawberry and a chocolate vanilla finish."

"Well, my mind just filled with a brassy light and yes, a smell of honey, but not from my eyes or nose."

"Then shush and enjoy," said Maya and started moving her hand over the rest of Emma's body south of the head. When she came to the pubic mound she hovered a while.

"Don't be naughty," whispered Emma between gasps. God, she hadn't had this exciting a day in longer than she could remember.

"Do you have a growth in your womb?" Maya asked out of the blue, knowing that if this woman had been celibate she could not be pregnant.

"Ovarian cists," replied Emma, and came crashing back to Earth. She felt as if she were in mourning for the sensations of the past few hours - there was nothing like a gynecological question for a buzz kill. She pushed herself onto one elbow, opened her eyes and stared at Maya. "Was that just a fortune teller's guess? How did you know?"

"The color turned to gray, and the smell of, of, I guess fish." Emma wrinkled her nose , and tried not to feel embarassed at the description. But then she realized that had not been Maya's intent. She was just trying to be factual.

"You do realize that I can't allow myself to believe you. I would be a traitor to my profession." Emma looked southwest out toward Vancouver Island in silence. When she spoke again, she changed subjects to the typical thing Canadians talk about, the weather. "That is a big cloud moving over the sun. Let's go before I get chilly."

"Not just yet," complained Maya, "this is the time I come here for. Everyone stands up to dress. I like to walk between them and see if I can sense any auras. Sit a while and think. I won't be long."

"Why not my head?" Emma asked, "With your hand, you never go near to my head."

Maya was standing up and anxious to be walking around. "Like, because this is all experimental with Erik and I. I have no idea what my hand would have done to your head. I didn't want to have to carry you up the trail." She waved and then went to walk by a lovely young couple who were just standing up. She went as close as she could without being obvious. Neither had auras but the man felt hers, with splendidly swollen results. It would give them something to rush home for. If he could get his cargo shorts done up, that is.

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 8 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Erik turned off the recorder. He was now in the habit of recording all their experiences and typing them up when an impatient Maya wasn't standing around. It worked well because his immediate questions and her answers were included in full for future reference.

"I want to try it out on Alicia," Maya said. She knew that Erik had a dislike for her friend, otherwise she would not have mentioned it.

"I'm not your keeper. I can't stop you," he said irritably. He decided it would be stupid to deny Alicia the use of his house.

"Her aura is nearly dead, like Emma's was. I want to see if I can restore it. It may straighten her out," she explained.

"If Alicia starts hanging around this house, it's going to get sexual. By which I mean a sexual accident may happen."

"I understand." She had already had some close calls with both Erik and Karl, literally. "So what? It could be fun."

"So I want her checked out by an STD clinic. I trust you are both on the pill."

Maya did not lose her temper often, but this slur against her friend had it boiling over immediately. "You, an effing fag say that to me. Where is your STD clearance?"

Erik was shocked by such words coming from her angelic mouth. "Point taken. We will all go to the clinic."

"How can I tell her that? She'll never speak to me again."

"So it's a win, win then." He quickly raised his arm to block her slap. "You'll think of something." She walked away into her room to use the phone. He smirked to himself, pleased that he might never have to put up with Alicia again.

His smirk faded when she came back and told her that Alicia had agreed. "So, who in Kits does makeovers?"

"What, I know a, uh, woman, that specializes in it. Why?"

"Because you are paying for a makeover for me and Alicia. That is how I talked her into getting checked. She couldn't resist. She is on her way to the clinic as we speak."

"But..."

"But what?"

"Okay, I'll call Gerry and set it up."

"Wait, one more call," she said and ran back to her phone.

"The little minx. It was a bluff and I fell for it," he thought and then chuckled.

She came back. "Make the appointment for any evening this week or next except for this Friday, and make it for three. Emma's coming." She looked at his expression. "Don't worry, she's paying for her own."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later almost to the minute, Erik shut the recorder off after hearing about Maya's first day of experiments with Alicia.

"So your hand does focus your aura, and your aura does amplify other auras. You were right. I was wrong. We should be using Alicia. She can be our neutral control."

"Don't forget the chocolate. I had her eat some of her ethnic chocolate to make her aura stand out enough so that I could reach it. That's a first. Usually I reach it through initially raising the sexual sensuality. That must mean something for your research, like, that it has something to do with chemicals in the brain, and not just the throbbing in your boner."

He turned the recorder on again and told her to repeat it. Then he asked her what ethnic chocolate was.

"Alicia is AmeriMex. Her family came from the Yucatan. That is how we first met and became friends in high school. Get it? Yucatan, Maya. One of the food treats in the Yucatan is, like, this raw dark chocolate mixed with cayenne pepper. Anyway, I've always been told that dark chocolate, like, effects a woman's brain like sex, and that cayenne opens all the little blood vessels in your body. It worked. I didn't need to get her sexually stimulated to find enough of her aura to build on."

"I'm sorry. You seem to have leaped beyond my understanding," said Erik. "Are you saying that if a person has any slight aura, even one created by a sex urge, then you can... what... nurture it."

"Your word was amplify," she said, enjoying rolling it off her tongue syllable by syllable. "It's a good word. Why don't we stick to, like, broadcasting words, because that is what I am doing. Don't you get it? I am broadcasting. Like a radio station. When I find another signal I lock in and try to improve reception."

"I, I, I...."

"You've been too busy recording and making graphs. I think you are missing the point." She held up her hand. " Not only can I amplify another aura, but, like, I can focus my own. I mean ,like, so far it's just through my hand. Maybe my chest is, like, just pushing it out through my hand. I don't know. My chest is a lot bigger than my hand."

She felt the urge to tease him by holding her breasts, but he had his eyes closed thinking. "Maybe if you took all the aura from a big area like my chest, and squished it into a small area like my hand, the aura would get stronger. Like, isn't there some engineering formula for that."

"Yes a simple one, but... "

"Do the auras you feel have odors? I mean not through your nose."

"Not that I have noticed, but..."

"You need to stop practicing with me and playing on your computer, and start practicing with Alicia."

"I don't care for her company," he said and crossed his arms.

"Why not? She's a nice person."

"Really....?"

Maya could feel a good, satisfying mad coming on. "Look Erik, I think you're getting pissy with me because I'm taking off on this aura thing and leaving you behind with your stupid computer, and now you're just taking it out on Alicia."

"Well, she has no manners. It's gross just watching her eat. She's a lowlife slut."

"Oh, blow it out your ear," seethed Maya. "She grew up in a family of illiterate migrant agricultural workers. She is the first one in their entire family that has made it to university. You tell me how she was supposed to learn manners."

"I thought you Americans put illiterate migrant agricultural workers on a pedestal like they were the coming of Jesus," he spat back.

"Huh, talk sense."

"Isn't the American folk hero the cowboy, you know, the illiterate migrant ..."

Maya had to hold her temper back. This was getting destructive. "Oh stop. If you don't like her manners, then learn her more better."

He started to correct her English, but then realized she was toying with him. "Okay, but you must help. She won't take instruction from me. I will teach you manners when she's around, and hopefully she'll take it in." He smiled at her, hoping her anger was over. A change in subject seemed in order. "By the way, what degree is she going after at U.B.C.?"

"Her MRS." Maya replied.

"Huh"

"Never mind."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

Emma parked the Jetta on Fourth street, and the three of them walked past a deli-bakery that was overly popular with high-maintenance, middle-aged women whose only purpose in life seemed to be shopping. Gerry's Makeoverium was behind it.

Gerry turned out to be a woman who was six two or three in her stocking feet, which were shoved into size twelve heels, and she wore scarlet lipstick and a high collar to keep you from wondering about her Adam's apple. She greeted them all at the door, and ushered them through in a gust of Giorgio of Beverly Hills.

"Oh darlings! How sweet, you're fashionably early. Come in, come in. Erik has told me all about you, that dog! Prosecco?" He waved to another woman in gold stretch tights and a tunic. "Prosecco all around, and get Deirdre on the phone."

He had them all sit on the couch and then he asked each what they were trying to achieve with their makeover.

"I want to look more desirable to men, but less slutty," said Alicia.

"I want to look more feminine. I need a man," said Emma.

"I am tired of looking fifteen," said Maya.

The Prosecco arrived with the phone. Gerry grabbed the phone. "Deirdre, is that you?

Where are you dear, you promised.

Yes, they are here early.

Well. A hippie fairy - no dear, Tinkerbelle not Peter - who doesn't shave her legs.

A Latina. Selma Hyak has a lot to answer for. A Jap princess.

No, the other kind of Jap. She'll take the most work.

Five minutes. Make it so, Number One."

Gerry waitied with the women, and sat demurely despite the short skirt. Of course, any skirt would look short on those long legs. She sipped at her Prosecco. "I trust that you, Maya, wish to remain a blonde. What about you two? You are both ruining the health your hair keeping your roots colored. May I suggest giving your hair a respite and turn it back to dark? I have some leave-in conditioner that will restore its silkiness, so long as you don't dye it again for say, three months."

"I have no objections," said Emma, "I have been worried about how dry and brittle it is getting. Every cut I have is shorter."

"Well, these days with the leave-ons," said Gerry silkily, "it is just as easy to keep long hair as short, easier in fact." She fluffed at her hair. " I never used to be able to grow it long, but now look how lustrous it is. I tried out for a TV commercial but they had no imagination. I told them that my clients weren't impressed by seeing how good fifteen-year-old models look. They wanted to see how it worked for real people. I was too real, I suppose."

Alicia had been listening and watching, trying to see an Adam's apple jump. "Okay, dark for me too. I don't have the money for professional streaking any more, anyway. I need to be able to look good without going to the beauty parlor."

"Amen to that," encouraged Maya.

"Ah, here is Deirdre. She will be waxing you. Come, I will show you into your room. I trust you want to share a room. There are robes and magazines. Take your wine. Deirdre will start on your nether bits so that you can be decently covered when we start on your hair."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

"So, how did it go?" asked Erik as they walked through his front door. Then he realized that was a really stupid thing to say to women just in from the beauty parlor, and decided to rephrase it to, "You look fabulous. Oh my, and you are done earlier than I expected."

Emma was smiling ear to ear. "Look at these," she said. "Gerry has gone high tech." She pulled a folder of photo prints from under her arm and spread them across the dining room. "He feeds digital pictures of you into a computer and then has a software package that corrects the image for dress size and then pastes various fashions into place. See, if I had seven hundred dollars for that formal gown, that is what I would look like."

"Ooh, take me to the opera," oozed Erik. He gave an appraising look to her makeover photo. Emma's real hair colour was a lovely chocolate brown, and it naturally suited her hazel eyes and warmed her skin colour.

"The photos are to give me an idea of the cut and color of clothes I should be looking for. Look at this one. Green. I own nothing green. I hadn't realized how much my fake blonde hair was limiting me."

"Well, talk Maya into taking you on a round of the local thrift and consignment stores. She has a good eye for cut, color and bargains."

"I can afford new," Emma said, in a bit of a huff.

"But you may not find those styles new," Erik defended himself. "Frankly I think the current styles are crap. They are lacking in femininity, no not femininity, romance. You can either look like a fifteen-year-old tramp, or a seventy-year-old grandmother, but there is not much out there for the rest of you."

"You sound like Gerry," said Alicia, spreading her photos out. Not one of the photos had her dressed in her usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt. She looked appealingly pretty with her shiny black hair, and just a touch of makeup to play up her dark eyes. She had on a tunic top in a warm coral colour, over some dark capris. "I for sure have to go shopping with Maya." She looked at her photos again. "You know, that Gerry is a master. His whole thing is to make you look good with the minimum amount of daily prepping. That means a minimum amount of time, and makeup, and money.

That tip of his about putting white toothpaste on my zits and letting it dry to suck out the infection, is going to save me a fortune in zit medicine."

"You look stunning," Erik cooed looking at Alicia. Time for the olive branch. "I wouldn't have recognized you."

"I look just the same," complained Maya. "He, I mean she, gave me a trim, and some streaks, and wax, but the rest was training in various ways to wear my hair, and some five minute makeup techniques to make me look, like, more polished. Oh, and he sold me an 'as seen on TV ' strapless bra with a set of different sized pushup pads."

"Well I think you look fabulous," Erik coo'd "without your mousy hair and with your eyes high lighted."

"Yeh, yeh," Maya replied. "This is what may hair looked like after a summer of surfing in Mendocino when I was in high school. He just hurried the natural sun and sea process is all." She spread her photos out.

Erik looked at them carefully. With her blonde hair styled, and a minimum of makeup, she still looked younger than twenty, but ever so sophisticated. However, there was just enough of a glimpse of seduction in her eyes as she gazed into the camera to make Erik suddenly feel like a father with a nubile teenager in the house.

Maya pulled forward two of the photos. "Gerry took extra copies of these two to see if some talent agency or other is interested, you know, like for modeling or for being an extra in a movie. Why didn't you tell me that so many movies and, like, TV shows were made in Vancouver?"

Emma worked her way very close to Erik. She was trying to feel his aura. Whether she kept this look or not, she already felt more confident in her appearance. What Gerry had told her was mostly common sense, and she, a doctor, should have figured it out for herself. Using the leave-in conditioner, and not dyeing her hair was certainly going to save her time and money, never mind her hair.

Spending time with the two younger women and their younger bodies had also made her realize that she was going to have to get into a fitness regime that she enjoyed enough to stick with. Maybe Jazzercise, since she loved to dance. That and making smarter choices in her diet, like cutting out all the soft drinks. The last thing she needed at her age was get beyond the point of no return.

Erik was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so Emma leaned into him and pressed her arm full length against his and closed her eyes. Hard to say if it was an aura. She could feel the warmth of his skin and the brush of his arm hair. Damn he was good-looking. Her age, too.

Maya was watching Emma. She put a hand over her eyes and sighed. Oh my, Emma didn't know. She had to do something. She pulled at Emma's other arm and signaled her to come. They walked out onto the deck, where the hum of the hot-tub motor would keep their words private. She gazed out over the lights of the city and took a deep breath. Not wanting to hurt her friend, she turned to her and said gently, "Emma, Erik is happily married."

Emma looked at her and her eyes widened. "Oh no, I didn't know. So where is his wife?"

"Well, the truth is, he IS the wife," Maya whispered and gave her a small smile.

"You, ... you don't mean."

"Flaming."

"Well, that explains how he had such pull to get us in to see Gerry on such short notice." Emma was flustered, and retreated behind the officious professora/bustling mode. She took a moment to regain her composure with the busyness of finding her phone in her totebag, and pulling it out to check the time. "I should get home to bed anyway. I have some interviews at the federal prison tomorrow. Parole applicants. Oh, umm, will you come? Please?"

"Why?"

"Just curiosity, I suppose. One of them is a known psychopath. I want to know if he gives you the same charred toast smell as that farmer the other day."

"I would have to touch him. Like shake his hand. Too dangerous," mumbled Maya, trying to find an excuse.

"I assure you that all these men will be on their best behavior. They are trying for parole."

* * * * *  
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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 9 - In present day Laurel Canyon, Hollywood

They decided to finish the second bottle of sake on the deck looking out over the endless grid of the lights of LA. While Mike busied himself with warming and pouring it, Maya collected all the fishy garbage from the orders of sushi and took them directly outside to the garbage bin. They were allowed to use the house, but with the promise that they would keep it neat and presentable to be shown to possible buyers.

Maya started to giggle. The new real estate agent had put an automatic deodorizer gismo in the kitchen that let off the scent of baking bread. She had the naughty urge to rub some mackerel skin on it. She felt guilty at the thought and wiped the counters for a second time.

It was gently warm on the deck. That's one thing the south coast had over the north coast of California. In the north you could never go out in the evening without a jacket. Down town in Hollywood it had been sticky hot. All the cement seemed to hold heat. Up here in the hills it was a perfect temperature.

"So, two days of filming left for you, and then you, not me, can disappear until the promo tours start. Will you visit your mom up in Mendocino?"

"Maybe for a day. I don't get along with her new man. Besides, there is a baby due in San Fran, and I want to be there for the birthing."

"Oh, right. How's that going?"

"Better now that she got out of here and went to stay with her mother. It's amazing how fast mothers forgive a daughter once she is carrying. I sure hope she sells this house soon. That would solve a lot of problems for her." She looked at the sake bottle and licked her lips in anticipation. "One more good slug to put me to sleep."

"You still not feeling good?"

"I'll meditate before I go to bed. That always works."

"Meditate. You actresses and your yoga. Are you going for a run in the morning?"

"Depends on the air quality. If I go, do you want to come?"

"No, let me sleep."

She finished her drink and then climbed the stairs to her suite. This house had five bedroom suites built above a giant main floor room designed for having big Hollywood parties. To her knowledge, there had never been such a party held here. For one thing, there was nowhere on the street to park. It was such a narrow ridge road that it was posted no parking for its whole length.

She undressed and hung up her clothes, and decided it was warm enough to meditate in the nude. She pulled a yoga mat out of the closet, and rolled it out where she could see the view, then she sat in a lotus position and put her hands together as if to pray.

Her aura started to strengthen. She let it. It filled her mind with pure milk whiteness and she felt suddenly disconnected from the physical world around her. Now she was being wrapped in its floral scent. In all her travels through strange foreign lands, no matter how weird the place or how uncomfortable, she had always been able to retreat into her aura.

Her last thought caused her to pull her hands apart and open her eyes. She took a deep breath and stood up and walked to the door and locked it. It would be terrible if Mike walked into the room while she was in a deep trance. What if he touched her. That could be a tragedy.

She went to the mat and sat in the lotus position again. She re-clasped her hands and started meditating again. Now she could relax and allow her aura to build to its full strength.

* * * * *  
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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 10 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Erik had the recorder going and was taking brief notes as she spoke. "So the psycho trying to make parole did smell of charred toast."

"Yes. Emma the canny fox, like, wouldn't tell me which of the three was the psycho. Although she doesn't usually shake the hands of the men, this time she did to give me an excuse to also shake their hands. There was no doubt at all. Black. I saw black, and that smell of charred toast."

"I think that is very significant. I'm going to have to make a transcript of all your adventures with Emma and send her a copy."

"She'll probably ask you for it in any case. She like, dropped me off and then screeched out of the driveway to go to the task force building. She wants to hurry the questioning of that farmer."

"So that is it. You're finished."

"Not quite. In the interview with the psycho, while Emma was asking him questions, I started showing a lot of leg, and dropping pens and things to give him a view of my cleavage." Erik could visualize the scene, and felt like the anxious father again.

"To get him horny so you could find his aura?"

"Yeah, but like, nothing."

"So your tease failed?"

"I'm pretty sure he had a boner, but like, there was nothing aura-wise to find."

"But that isn't unusual. Most people have lost whatever auras they had as children."

"Then why did it hit me so strongly when I touched him? I can't figure it out. Emma suggested that maybe it was because I was the opposite of a psycho, but to me that means there should have been like sparks flying. "

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah, like Emma wants to hire me as a research assistant."

"You already have a job."

"I know. I told her that. And I also told her that I don't have, like, a social security number for Canada, so she would have to pay me under the table."

"What did she say?"

"She's going to talk to you. I think she just wanted an excuse to talk to you anyway. I think she is, like, sweet on you."

He gave a long low moan. "Just what I need. Being around you so much keeps me so horny that my ass is at risk. It will be a relief when the fall term starts."

"What about that? What am I supposed to do if you are at work all day, and Alicia is in class or up to her eyeballs in, like, papers and assignments."

"Wreck Beach is wonderful in September, with all the U.B.C. students back on campus," he said. He reached over and gave her a hug. Since she had learned to dampen her aura with frequent showers and hot tubs, he could actually be close to her without being overwhelmed by it. They could even touch, but just for a few seconds. Any longer tended to put them both into a meditational trance.

"Oh yeah," she said thoughtfully, enjoying the hug. "I forgot about all the students being back. That could be big fun so long as the warm weather holds."

"Or find out what Emma was planning for you. If she can figure out how to pay you under the table, then you would have extra money in your pocket."

"I don't really need the money, I mean, I hardly spend anything, not that you give me much above room and board. You know, if I still had a coffee shop job then room and board would take all of my pay and I wouldn't be living this well." She thought about this and then gave him another big hug. Without thinking she kissed him on the cheek. She pulled back from him quickly, fearing what she had done.

"Nothing," he said. "I can't believe it. All this time we have been staying away from the head, and that kiss did nothing. Touch my cheek with your hand." He waited for her to touch his face.

"First another kiss," she said and kissed him gently and fully on the lips, then leaned in and deepened the kiss, long and hard, like teenagers in the back of a Chevy. She pulled away. "I've been waiting weeks to do that," she said breathlessly. "Did that have an effect?"

"Yes, the normal one," he smiled at her, "now the hand."

He regained consciousness after about five minutes. For five minutes all he saw was a milk white light. All he smelled was some flower scent he didn't recognize. All he heard seemed far, far away. He looked around, still a bit dazed. She was sitting in his chair reading his notes on his computer.

He shook his head and said, "Well, I feel refreshed. You are really going to have to figure out how to control the focus in your hands. Give it some priority. What if you accidentally touch my face while I am driving?"

"I'll work on it with Alicia tomorrow. We are going clothes-shopping with Emma, and hopefully to the beach afterwards. It's all so confusing. A month ago I had never felt an aura, then that first week with you it was like I was riding a rocket to, like, the moon." She spun the chair to face him. "Why is it that other people's auras grow so slowly, while with me it's, like, whiz-bang an atom bomb?"

"Maybe 'cause we are both generators. I don't know. During that week while yours was increasing so much, mine was too. I'm glad Alicia is going to help. I need to practice focusing my hand like you do."

"If she'll let you. You be polite to her."

"I will, I will. I got your point before."

"Oh, and she got her results from the clinic. She's clean," Maya stuck her tongue out at him. "We should have ours when? Tomorrow or the next day?" She smirked at him and winked.

"Not even in jest, Maya," he winced, "that would cause all sorts of problems between Karl and me. Besides, you would probably turn my mind into a splatter of marmalade."

"Mmm," she licked her lips saucily, "marmalade."

"Here, look." He got up and swung her chair back around to face the computer. He reached around her and took over the mouse. With a few clicks he was showing an engineering diagram of a woman's shape.

"Ya know, there is better porn than that on any web site," she giggled, "besides, you've made my breasts too large."

"Shhh, this took me hours and hours even though it runs for just a minute. Watch the changes." He clicked a 'play' button. "See the areas that grow red? Those are the zones where I estimate your aura is being generated. Most of it comes from your skin. It may be triggered inside you, but it is generated by and flows from your skin. That makes sense because your skin is by far your largest organ."

"So the reddest zone is the one around my chest, shoulders and upper arms. You're kidding. Tell me you made my breasts bright red for a joke. Oh and there is another red zone around my bum and thighs and ... and ... well that explains why sometimes it is so sexual."

"And my theory is that your skin organizes the aura to be focused outward from the closest point of the skin to whatever it is sensing. In many cases that would be along your arm and to your hand."

"And the feet?" She crossed one leg over the other knee and wiggled her toes. "They should be able to focus, too."

"I don't know. We've haven't finished experimenting with the hands yet, so let's leave the feet for now. Karl's theory has always been that your feet work the other way. That they pull at the earth's aura and channel it up into your body." He started clicking the mouse again. "I've never believed that about the feet. When I was in India, I used to feel auras while I swung in my hammock, without standing on the ground."

"Another graph?"

"The effect of cayenne chocolate," he said, "from that dinner a week ago." Last Friday they had forced Karl to take a night off from his endless work and enjoy himself. Desert that night was cayenne chocolate that Maya had made using Alicia's recipe. Actually Maya had come very close to being the desert herself, but then some friends dropped in unexpectedly.

"What am I looking at?" she said. His graphs only made sense to other engineers.

"Well, basically, after eating the chocolate your aura increases in range. My theory is that the dark chocolate makes you feel good and gets your blood flowing. The cayenne causes all the tiniest of arteries to expand, thereby carrying more blood near to the surface of your skin. More blood into the extremities of your brain too."

"It's a Mayan recipe," she said, "That's where the world got chocolate from. Those Mayans were pretty smart. I wonder if they knew about auras."

He coughed, swallowing his words. "Umm, you know of course that Karl started writing a book about how ancient and wild men used auras to help them survive, and that modern civilization made auras unnecessary so we lost the power."

"That's interesting." She was tired of the computer and reached forward and turned the screen off. "Alicia has a religious painting in her room. It's of the Virgin Mary, cause she is Catholic, and it's from the Yucatan. You know how the Virgin is, like, painted with a golden halo around her head? In Alicia's picture the halo is around her whole body, and the halo is green, not gold. I call her the great green goddess, which makes Alicia cross her heart."

"I have a book somewhere that shows Indian paintings of all sorts of auras," he said turning the screen back on so he could do a shutdown.

"I've seen that book already. It has pictures of carvings of men and women. Very lifelike. Sexy carvings. Like every sex position imaginable."

"Oh, that's a different book. The other one may be in the same pile, though." He spun her chair around and pulled her to her feet by her arm, not her hand.

She smiled at him and said, "Join me in the hot tub so I can touch you without you going into a trance."

On the way to the tub, he poured Prosecco into some tub-friendly plastic stemware. He always let her get in first before he disrobed. It was safer that way. They wanted to talk and watch the stars and enjoy the peace, so he didn't turn on the noisy bubbles. As soon as he settled into the still and hot waters she moved onto his lap and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Maya." How to start? "Maya, you think you are in love with me. I've told you before, it is the auras. Karl and I made the same assumption. We thought it must be love because we felt so physically one when we cuddled."

"You're still together, after what, like fourteen years."

"By the time we realized it was the auras, we were best friends, constant companions, sharing experiences. In other words, we were a couple. We were both taking long vacations before the home stretch to our degrees. We had tons in common. Even more now."

"That's what I want," she said softly.

"Oh Maya, I don't want to hurt your feelings. You have become very precious to me. To us. I meant to us. Karl feels the same way. How can I explain. Ummm. Okay. Because all of us have been bathed in your aura, we are all feeling lovey-dovey. Soft and open. You aren't the only new woman in my life who I fear may be falling in aura love with me. I think both Alicia and Emma are as well."

"Oh, I know that," she kissed him again. "But that is just the aura thing, this is differe...., Oh, Ohhh."

"Alicia wants to save me from homosexuality by bonking my brains out and making me love her, a woman." He had to shift her weight for an obvious reason. "Do you realize that there are men who fake homosexuality to prey on girls like her?

Emma wants to take Karl's place so she and I will become a professional couple, and then immediately start a family. We are both at the critical age for that, especially her. So far, she is focusing on me either because she met me first or because she thinks I am better-looking than Karl. Eventually she will refocus on Karl. He is better husband material.

And you, Maya, have woken up from your humdrum existence into a wonderland, and I am your Prince Charming who made it all possible."

"You are charming," she said trying not to think about the truths he was telling her.

"There are lots of charming men in Vancouver. Well groomed, well mannered, worldly, respectful of women, and ..."

"Gay," she said too loudly. "I talk to other women, you know. On the beach, at the supermarket. They all say the same thing. Vancouver is doubly cursed. The best men are all gone, and all gone to other best men. San Francisco shares the curse. The coffee shop I worked in catered to gays. That's why I worked there, so I wouldn't always be leered at by hard-hat types."

"So you know what I am talking about, then?"

"I suppose, but I hate it. I want the romance. I want the romance so badly that I've already decided to bed both of you, if that is what it takes to keep the romance going."

He whistled. "Not until you have more control, otherwise you could end up turning us into zombies."

"But it's okay, right?"

"Well, to be honest, the subject has come up between Karl and I, but there is more to it than that. Now is not the time." He handed her a glass and tinked his to hers. "Meanwhile, I am quickly running out of free time. I have to start getting ready to go back to work. Did you say the three of you are going clothes-shopping and then to the beach tomorrow? Good. Invite them back here for supper, and don't let them eat a lot of munchies at the beach. I am going to prepare one of my five-course gourmet dinners."

"What's the occasion?"

"The civilizing of Alicia," he replied.

"Manners and stuff."

"Right on. I will pretend to teach you deportment and formal table manners, and you must help me make sure she is my star pupil. I even have an excuse. Karl can't come with me to the faculty benefit dinner so I need an escort." He stopped talking because she was giggling. "Not that kind of an escort." He shifted her weight again. She was being naughty.

"Oh I get it, like that old movie my mum likes. Umm"

"Pygmalion," he said.

"No, it's not Miss Piggy. That's the Muppets. My Fair Lady, that's it. You know, where the professor makes a lady out of Miss Piggy." She settled her head against his chest, but was careful to keep her hands under water. She really had to find some way of turning them off. Maybe gloves. She started giggling as she pictured herself wearing welder's gloves. Didn't Miss Piggy always wear lavender elbow-length? It was a look. She wondered idly if that was why the English queen always wore gloves. Did she have aura problems, too?

"So, it's on," he said. "Dinner after the beach. Drop your new clothes off here on the way to the beach and we can have a fashion show afterwards."

"Do you want to come to the beach?"

"I'll be busy cooking."

"If there's going to be, like, a fashion show with our makeovers, d'ya think you should invite Gerry?"

"Good idea, he, she will balance the seating."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

The house smelled deliciously of cooking when they sauntered in after the beach. They bee-lined to the deck shower beside the hot tub to wash off the sand, and then went upstairs to Maya's room to change. There was a handsome man upstairs talking to Karl. Both were in dinner jackets. Karl looked very smart, but the other man looked like a tall version of Johnny Depp. Mr. Depp waved and it took them a moment to realize it was Gerry.

"Erik told me he ne..." he started in falsetto but then switched by octaves and continued in a deeply resonant voice, like a radio announcer, "needed another man at a gourmet table." The women all blew him kisses and then closed the guest suite door behind them.

"My ears are burning," he said to Karl.

"They should be in flames," Karl chuckled. Gerry had been his stockbroker before he decided to earn his living making women beautiful for the local movie industry. He loved the company of women, but as sisters. It could be very confusing and entertaining, which made Gerry a welcome guest in this house.

Maya poked her head out of the door and told the men to go below and wait for their entrance down the staircase. They laughed to each other, grabbed the bottle of sparkling Shiraz and their glasses and went down to help Erik.

The women played odds or evens to decide who would start the fashion show. Emma went first, on tiptoes because no shoes were allowed in the house, especially not the dark green stilettos that were still in the bag upstairs. She descended very slowly, kicking her knees gently out to make the skirt work. She wore a grey suit of a 1940's cut with straight shoulders and a pleated skirt that flicked with each step. Her blouse was of hunter green silk with an open neckline that was filled in with a faux emerald necklace. Her dark brown hair had been styled into a pageboy, parted on the side, and with the 40's spy movie she was channelling, she could have been Ingrid, or Veronica or Katherine.

The men clapped long and hard. "Don't you..." Gerry switched out of falsetto, "don't you dare take another step until I have a camera. Karl, never mind, I see yours." He whisked over to a book case and snatched up the SLR digital and after inspecting all the buttons and options, handed it to Karl. "Click, click for me, darling. I want a record of my makeover successes."

Alicia was next. Her strapless deep red poly-silk gown cinched her in a bodice from the waist to the lower ribs and pushed her breasts high, but it was smooth across her hips and then dropped straight down to below her knees. She had to pull the skirt up slightly with two hands in the front in order to go down the stairs. The effect was to allow the skirt to dance eloquently behind her knees. Her glossy black hair was swept up to the crown of her head, and cascaded in curls down her back, setting off the necklace of faux rubies nestled in her cleavage. She exuded a 1950's movie-star glamour worthy of a young Ava or Elizabeth.

Maya waited until the wolf whistles had stopped. She was wearing a backless turquoise dress from the heyday of the 60's jetset. Her breasts were hidden by two wide straps that hooked around her neck and made eyes watch for jiggle whenever she moved. The heavy jersey fabric draped close over her waist and hips and then flared out so that with every step it swirled around her knees. She wore a strand of white pearls high on her chest, and long white gloves. Her blonde hair had been styled into a modified bee-hive, and she had lined her sea-green eyes with kohl. With her lower lip pushed into a sexy pout, she was every inch the young Bardot attending a premiere at the Cannes Film Festival.

Gerry stepped forward and grabbed her hand, to worried gasps from Karl thinking he would be sent to the floor unconscious. He raise her hand high and then twirled her in a ballet pirouette, so that they could watch the dress do what it was designed to do. She stayed on tiptoe and twirled and twirled, until Erik made an announcement.

"I have five courses and five guests, so each of you must volunteer to serve one of the courses with me." He held up a very wide, frilly apron in one hand. "Alicia, do you want to go first?"

"Oh right!" snapped Alicia. "Let the Latina be the maid first. They're good at it." With her mouth tight, and a mutinous expression in her dark eyes, she seemed to have just stepped off the set of a TV novella.

"I'll go first," Emma called out hurriedly, so no one would volunteer before her. She grabbed the apron and Erik's arm and allowed herself to be led into the kitchen, her skirt swishing pertly around her knees.

Alicia watched Emma's eagerness and said, "Rats!" and then sat where Karl was holding a chair out for her. She looked down at the table setting. Three forks, two knives and two spoons, all different. "Uh oh," she said as she unfolded the large linen napkin and protected her new-to-her gown.

"Never mi..., I mean," Gerry switched to baritone, "Never mind, sweet cheeks. I've supped here before. I know the cutlery well." He swung a breathless Maya into her seat and pushed her closer to the table. "Professional courtesy, dear, but where did you find all the luscious gowns?"

"Almost everything we bought was from Jenny's Consignment, you know, on West Fourth. These were just the formal outfits. We put together some work-a-day outfits too, with the help of the thrift store two blocks from Jenny's." She looked across the table at Emma and beamed. "Thank Emma, it was her credit card."

"I was glad to pay," replied Emma. "I saved a fortune not buying from the boutiques, and besides, look at the styles we found. Not that frumpy stuff they sell in malls."

"Just a hint when you are looking in magazines for ideas, take them from the ads trying to sell you perfume, and not from the ads trying to sell you clothes." He gazed at each of the women ending with Maya. "Jenny's place is a cave. Half the stuff isn't even hung up. I can never find anything in there. There is no organization. It's just a jumble."

Maya sat back while Karl poured the wine. "I start by touch. No one wastes time tailoring cheap material. I can pick out quality material just by touch, and then I decide if the color is one of those I am looking for. Only then do I actually shake it out and see what it looks like, and find the labels. It goes pretty quick. For every outfit we bought we tried on maybe three."

"She has a knack," said Alicia. "I have four new go-to-class skirts that make me look classy."

"And she found me clothes, that I would never have even tried on if I were shopping alone," said Emma walking in from the kitchen with two steaming bowls. "But when I did, well, I looked feminine. Maybe that's why I wouldn't have tried them on without her urging me." She put the bowls down on the place mats. "I just realized, I don't have to look like I don't bother to take time for myself anymore. I am already a successful feminist. That is who I am. Why shouldn't I look feminine?"

Once the miso soup was served and they were all sat, Alicia bowed her head to say thanks. The others flicked glances at each other and then bowed their heads as well. Erik then had an announcement. "This Friday Karl and I are double-booked. I need to attend a faculty benefit, a formal dinner. He needs to attend a company social, also formal."

"It's slightly more complicated than that," revealed Karl. "My new employers have no inkling of the sex of my mate, and I don't think they are ready for that yet. They are very Korean. We were hoping for volunteers to escort each of us, but later, after dinner. This dinner is sort of a practice run for us all, since none of us go to formal do's very often."

"Yes," continued Erik, "and though there are five courses, each is light and small because I thought we should practice our ballroom dancing afterwards." He watched each of the women look at each other nervously. "Don't worry ladies. We men are all gay, which means we can all dance, and either in the Fred or the Ginger role."

"Umm," said Gerry, using his deep voice automatically now, "if I may also add that this Friday I must attend a cast party for the movie I have been working with. Sort of a formal and/or costume affair. They are all expecting me to arrive in flaming drag, so I thought I would go in this outfit and look more like James Bond. I would be forever grateful if one of you ladies could hold my hand through the ordeal."

"Stop slurping your soup, Maya," Erik called out sternly.

Maya shot him a look, and was about to tell him off. She hadn't been the one slurping, but then she remembered. "Sorry, Erik," she murmured sweetly. She took a demure taste. "Erik is teaching me deportment and table manners this week, you know, so I appear more grown-up."

Alicia put her spoon down and looked guilty, then picked it up again and used it without slurping.

"Actually," said Karl , "if we are served this soup by the Koreans, then the proper way to drink it is to," and he demonstrated, "first raise the bowl and turn it in your hand to savor its beauty, and then put it down, and then raise it again and take a sip directly from the bowl, always putting it down between sips.

And always leave some in the bowl when you are finished. Actually I don't like Korean food very much. All cabbage and noodles. It's sort of the German cooking of Asia." No one could resist trying the Korean way of drinking the soup.

The dinner continued slowly and elegantly, with many corrections and instructions to Maya, who was a good sport about it. With the desert of homemade raspberry mousse and homemade natural vanilla ice cream, just a tablespoon of each, they retired to the deck to watch the sunset make a painter's palette over the spectacular Tantalus Range of mountains.

Alicia licked her plate and gave Erik a challenging look. She had figured out what was going on. "Why don't we get on with the deportment part of the lesson," she said, "while our food goes down?" Erik was collecting plates and as he bent to pick up hers, she kissed him on the cheek. "Please sir, may I have more moose and squirrel?"

"Later," he said quickly straightening out of peck range. "After we dance, and before bed."

"Promises, promises," she cooed. Then she stood up, took the costly china plate from Erik's hand and put it on top of her head. Without holding on to it, she walked around the deck. Erik put his hands over his eyes, fearing he would never find a replacement for the plate. "Isn't this how a lady is supposed to learn how to walk?" asked Alicia.

She swirled effortlessly passed him, with the plate still perfectly balanced. He grabbed the plate. "Yes, but we will use the hot tub plates. Melmac doesn't smash." She curtsied to him. He was sure that if the plate were still balanced on her head that it would not have fallen despite the shallow dip.

"Ladies don't carry things on their heads," Alicia said matter-of-factly, "peasant women do."

Karl hurried into the house and came back holding a large laptop. He already had the lid up and was typing as he walked. "This was the most perfect posture I ever saw by the most graceful women on the planet," he said, swinging the screen around for all to see the photograph. "Women in Bali, carrying offerings to the temple."

The photo showed three women of three generations walking elegantly in white blouses and maroon sarongs down a mud foot path with a flat basket on their heads. Piled on each basket was a tall cone made from various fruits stacked in layers. "Uphill, downhill, through traffic, over sties, along rice paddies, the baskets never lost balance."

"Okay, smarty," said Alicia, "go to Google Images and search for Mayan women." It took less than a minute for fifty thumbnails of photos to be displayed. "That one," Alicia chose, and with two clicks it was full screen. The photo was of women who looked and dressed very similar to the Balinese women, and also had baskets on their heads. "That is my heritage," Alicia said proudly, "or at least half of it."

Slightly tipsy, full of good humor and good food, they all, both men and women, walked in a circle balancing Melmac plates on their heads until they were laughing so hard that no one, not even Alicia, could keep a plate balanced.

Karl disappeared into the house and put on an album of waltzes. Slowly at first, the men showed the women the steps, then as they got the hang of it they waltzed, but bumping each other and the deck railing while they tried to stay clear of the hot tub. Eventually they went inside and pushed all furniture up against the walls and rolled up the Persian rugs. Now they had room to twirl and swirl to the music.

A good time, a very good time, was had by all. At one point, Karl stopped twirling Emma and said with a formal voice, "Of course it is obvious that it is you that must escort me to meet my Korean bosses. If I am not too forward, could you pretend to be my fiancée?" He looked around at Erik. "You don't mind do you, Erik? Having a good-looking MD PhD on my arm may get me a promotion."

Erik was about to respond when Gerry spoke over him. "Maya must come with me. I gave the agents some of her photos after the makeover but they just yawned. I want her to stun them in person."

Karl groaned. That could happen, literally.

Erik looked at Alicia who had been dancing with Gerry. "Alicia, if you consent to accompany me to the Faculty Benefit, I promise to introduce you to all the eligible bachelors that are ready to, or have just graduated. They may be nerds, but they are mostly nice guys. A few of them are quite dishy." Her eyes lit up as she gave him a queenly nod of consent.

Gerry swung Alicia into Erik's arms as the song ended and then called out, "What about the rest of the fashion show? I want to see everything you bought. Professional interest, you might say."

Emma looked at the clock on the wall and stood back from Karl's arms to see his face. "Pretty late, and some of us work early tomorrow." She saw Karl nod. "Okay, if it's fast. The men will have to watch us change, so I guess it's a hen party in Maya's room." All six of them skipped up the stairs in time with the Viennese Waltz.

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 11 - Three years earlier in downtown Vancouver

Gerry had picked Maya up in a limo. In Vancouver, limos were only slightly more costly than taxis. The turbaned Sikh driver kept shaking his head every time Gerry spoke. He looked like James Bond and had picked up a woman who he was sure he had seen on TV, and yet his voice was effing queer.

"Karl says you know all the socialites in Vancouver," she said pushing herself back into the leather seat.

"Oh dearie," he said, and made the driver wince again, "I used to do the stock market report on local radio. Now I do the social report. You know, all the bitchy gossip about who's who, and who's trying too hard."

"So, do you go to all the event parties?"

"Heavens no," Gerry whined, "what a bore. But there is always a queen who was there, and now has an axe to grind. It makes for great press." He caught the driver's eye in the mirror. It had been way too long since he had seduced a Sikh.

"So tell me about the movie that this party is for."

"Oh, don't get me started. You know the type. They hire some has-beens for a bad script and then put Washington license plates on all the cars and red, white and blue mail boxes on the street corners and pretend they are shooting in the U.S. of A. I've never read the script, but I can recite it.

Let's see. There is a fifty-year-old actress pretending to be forty who is being wooed by some dishy male model type who is not quite thirty, who is supposed to be a successful lawyer or an architect. She is a decorator, or runs an art gallery and lives alone in a large designer house and drives a costly chick SUV. Need I go on? Just watch the women's channels on TV in the afternoon. I always have them going in the salon. I see them all."

His rant had her rolling in laughter. The driver was cursing the shawl she was wearing because he was sure she was braless under her dress and the shawl kept blocking his view.

Their arrival at the hotel where the party was being held caused a lot of media folk to scurry. He looked like someone famous, she looked like someone about to be famous. They both played the part well.

"Watch," he said, "I won't even show my invitation. They never check people who look fabulous." He was right. They just walked right by security, and the security guys just nodded at them. Just before the door, Maya got naughty, let one side of her shawl drop, and then did one last turn for the cameramen greeting the limos, so they could see the full effect of her jiggle in the classic halter dress. They were blinded by flashes.

"That was very Marilyn Monroe of you," he chuckled, "just don't upstage me when we get inside."

It took twenty minutes of playing Bond before one of the young extras that he had coiffed for weeks finally recognized him. The truth spread around the room quickly, because everyone had been wondering who the couple were, but did not want to show their ignorance. They were obviously Someone.

A dark, swarthy man in a costly suit rushed up to Gerry and said "No fair, Gerry, you promised you would give me first crack at any new talent."

"I sent you her photos, Aaron," Gerry replied. "No response. I phoned you, you yawned down the phone. How long is she supposed to wait for an agent to make up his mind? You had first crack and you blew it."

"But I have something for her," Aaron said, rapidly because Vince, one of the producers, was walking their way. "She's a natural. A mini kilt, long socks ..."

"She doesn't do porn, Aaron."

"Gerry, introduce me," said Vince.

"She doesn't do producers either," Gerry replied. "She is strictly high class. Just up from Frisco, don't ya know." He took her arm and steered her around them.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "Weren't they important guys in the film business?"

"Who, them?" he sneered. "Posers. Guys pretending to be on the inside, walking the walk and talking the talk, but in reality? Well, one is a starving agent who has descended to pimping for porn flicks, and the other loans his dad's money to films so that he can call himself a producer and bonk the starlet wannabes."

"I'll stick with you, Kemo Sabe," she giggled.

"There's the guy we need to talk to. The director, Mike. All the talent and all the smarts. If he likes you, you are in. Much chance. Look at the crowd around him. More posers looking for handouts. We'll never get close."

"That's okay, Gerry," she whispered. "I just came to support you. I didn't expect to get a new career out of it. Why don't we have some fun? This is a waltz, isn't it? So dance with me."

"Actually it's a tango. Here, let me show you." And he did. Not successfully at first, but slowly she caught on. The next song was also a tango so they tried again. There were only three other couples dancing. Then a waltz and a few more couples joined in. Gerry led her in a full classical waltz and they circled the dance floor looking almost professional.

"Where's the washroom?" she asked as the music stopped.

"Well, out in the lobby, but that means running the media gauntlet," he told her.

"That staircase, one floor up, first door on the right," said another dancer nearby as she pointed to a doorway. "It's the hospitality suite for the executives, but they never complain when well-dressed women wander through."

"Be back in a sec. Don't double oh seven anyone while I'm gone," she said and hurried for the door. The room was empty, as was the bathroom. She took her gloves off first. It was strange wearing the gloves, but it was an easy temporary solution.

Afterwards, she treated herself to some of the complementary cologne. It smelled very familiar, especially when she smelled it from her skin. It brought images of milk white to her senses. "Omigod," she whispered. "That's it. That is my aura's scent." She picked up the bottle and read the label. Yardley's Lily of the Valley. She would have to Google it. She thought of putting the bottle in her purse, but the bottle was very large and her purse was very small.

She felt elated. Just smelling her wrist made her feel delicious. She pulled the bathroom door open, went back to pick up her gloves, then she turned and walked... into the arms of Vince, the poser producer.

"I thought that was you heading up here," he cooed and took her by the arm and led her all the way across the suite and over to the window. She felt a bit woozy and things went a bit dark and she thought she could smell the kitchen.

He felt her relax and grinned to himself as he swung her around to look at the lights of the city through the picture window. He moved in behind her so that she was between him and the window. "Beautiful eh, nice view," he whispered into her ear.

She didn't move. She was feeling very peculiar. The strange kitchen smell was getting stronger. It seemed to be getting very chilly and she shivered, and fought off a wave of depression. She felt his hands roaming around her waist and then move higher. That smell ... charred toast.

"No," she whimpered and tried to get away by wriggling.

He pushed his crotch hard against her, "Yeah, wiggle that little moneymaker. Be nice to me and you'll get a part in this movie, no sweat. I'm the producer. What I say goes. All you have to do is be nice to me." He cupped her breasts in his hands and pulled her hard against him. "Feel it. That's how much I want you. With my help you could be a star."

"No!" she yelled, and somehow the cry broke her out of her stupor. She twisted around to face him.

"Good girl," he said and tried to kiss her.

She turned her head so he kissed her cheek, not her lips. She dropped her gloves and put both hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. She stopped struggling and felt his hold ease as one of his hands slipped down her bare back to cradle her bum. Now that she wasn't struggling her mind started to clear.

He was busy squeezing her bum cheek, so she moved her hands up his chest to his collar and then higher still to his fat neck. With both hands she pushed at the underside of his chin with all her might. As she pushed at his throat, the dark feeling started to ease and was replaced by something brighter, and then she felt as if she were bathing in milk. It was almost as if the milk was dissolving the charred toast.

And then she was standing alone and he had disappeared. She remembered having heard a thump, so she looked down. A body was lying at her feet. Panic gripped her and she stepped away while continuing to stare at Vince lying on the floor. She wanted to run. No, she couldn't run. She had done nothing wrong. She saw her white gloves trapped under his leg and she crouched low and snuck up on them to pull them free.

Pulling them free of his leg jarred him and she thought she heard a moan. The slightest of moans. Was that her or him? She needed to get out of here before he woke up. What had she done? Just pushed on his chin with her hands. That was all. She looked at the gloves she had just picked up. Her bare hands. Good. Then it was like that accident with Erik. He would wake up in five minutes. If he woke up sooner, she would do it to him again.

She calmed herself and went back into the bathroom to straighten herself and undo the damage he had done. Her gloves. She put her gloves on. On her way to the door of the hospitality suite she passed a small bar. She poured a small glass of scotch and carried it over to the window. He was still out. She spilled the drink over his crotch and then put the empty glass in his hand.

"I hope it's a rental suit," she hissed at him and walked back down to the party. Bond was dancing with one of his starlet wannabes, so she waved to him. Then she took a deep breath, put on a smile she did not feel, and walked over to a security guard just inside the door.

"Hey, listen," she said when she got close to him. He turned and smiled at her. She jiggled a little to get his full attention and continued, "Listen, I was just up using the ladies room up in the hospitality suite. There's a guy up there getting shit-faced, and he didn't sound well. Maybe someone should check him out, or throw him out."

"Maybe you should show me," said the guard with a hungry smile.

"No need. He's over by the window. It's a picture window that doesn't open, so I doubt he's a jumper. He just didn't sound right, the way he was breathing." She watched the guard hurry away, and felt pleased with herself. Hopefully, they would chuck the jerk out. She turned and went back to take more dance lessons from Gerry.

Minutes, literally minutes later, two devastatingly handsome firemen rushed through with an aluminum suit case. There was a hush in the room as someone turned off the music. There were whispers of 'heart attack' running through the crowd. Maya suddenly felt sick to her stomach, and asked Gerry to take her home. He put her off, telling her that this could be news and he was a reporter, even if only a weekly society reporter.

The director, Mike, had been dancing with one of the starlet wannabes and he shuffled closer to the man who came as Bond, thinking that going by height he must be in charge of something. "Thank God we are in Canada. You send out a 911 on a cell phone, with no info, and they immediately assume a heart attack. The closest resuscitator is dispatched immediately. Fire guys usually get there first. Every second counts, ya know. The system saves a lot of lives."

A few moments later, the paramedics arrived with a rolling stretcher, and were directed to the elevator, which another fireman had already commandeered and was controlling with his master key. Mike whistled. "Jesus, they're efficient. Again, thank God this happened in Canada. No question of who's going to pay, or whether the ambulance is from a hospital that is covered by your insurance. Just zip zap bang, done. Does anyone know who it is yet?"

The tall security guard came across the room and found Mike and whispered in his ear. Mike patted the bum of his starlet to make her run along, then he scurried across the dance floor towards the back stairs. The guard turned to Maya and said, "That guy. They couldn't revive him. Too far gone. You should probably stick around and make a statement to the cops."

"Are you kidding?" she answered. "I don't want anything to do with it. Besides, what do I know.? He was a shadow over by the window when I came out of the can. I wasn't going near no drunk. Not in this outfit. Couldn't you just say you found him on your rounds? Wouldn't that look good on your record? You know. Conscientiously doing your rounds."

"Yeah, okay. Bloody heart attack. If this cheap outfit I work for would pay to train me, I could have probably saved him." The guard heard his name being called and went to talk to his supervisor.

"Get me out of here, Gerry. I'm not kidding. Take me anywhere, but away from here, and now."

Gerry didn't argue. He walked her out of the hotel and around the corner to BigBucks coffee shop where they waited until his call to the limo service had results. At Erik's house she pulled him by the arm to follow her inside. "I don't want to be alone."

The limo driver looked at Gerry with envy and said, "Guess you don't want me to wait, eh, sir." He winked. Gerry paid him off and followed Maya into the house. He found her weeping just inside the front door. He put his arms around her and held her close. She was so cold that she was shaking.

"Let's find you a blanket, girl," he said. He led her upstairs and helped her undress, which took mere seconds since she was wearing next to nothing, and tucked her into bed. He waited until her breathing was soft and regular and then tip-toed out to wait downstairs for Karl or Erik.

Erik was first home. Alicia had gone off with three seniors to a student party. Gerry explained about the untimely end to the cast party, and that Maya had taken it hard, and was up in bed already. Erik handed him the minivan keys so he could get home, said good night and then went up to check on Maya.

Karl got home very late, and look well pleased with himself. Erik was waiting up for him. "We've got trouble. Big trouble," he told Karl.

"Whatsup?" asked Karl, annoyed to be given bad news when he was just in the door and feeling so good.

"We won't know the whole story until Maya wakes up in the morning. She's out for the count. She told me that she killed a man tonight."

"Bugger," replied Karl, "of course now she's told us, she can fall asleep. I doubt we'll sleep a wink."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

They sat in their robes upstairs in the common area drinking morning coffee. Erik turned on his recorder and asked her to tell her story. She reached over and turned the recorder off. "Not for this," she warned him. She told them the full story.

When she had finished, Karl summarized it. "A drunk tried to rape you, and you pushed him off, and he had a heart attack."

"Except that I, like, set it up to look like he was fall-down drunk," she moaned. "I didn't know he was going to die. I can't go to the cops and, like, say that. They will arrest me on suspicion of murder."

"But there was no murder," Karl insisted.

"I wasn't wearing my gloves. I pushed at his throat and jaw with my bare hands. The aura I was seeing went from murky black to milk white. The smell went from charred toast to lily of the valley. I don't know what he died of but it wasn't a heart attack. I've made Erik pass out by touching his face. That's what I had thought had happened with this Vince guy. But he, like, never came out of it."

"Could he have hit his head, or broken his neck when he fell?" Erik asked.

"I don't know. Maybe," she moaned.

"Well, don't turn yourself in because you didn't really do anything, and don't hop a bus to Frisco, because if the cops connect it to you, it will look very bad. I'd say you are in limbo waiting to see what comes up." Erik took hold of Karl's hand. "Whatever comes up, we are there for you."

Karl agreed. "It won't have made it to this morning's newspaper, but it should be in tomorrow's. Nothing we can do until we know more."

"But," she lost it and started to weep, "but I killed a man."

"Maya, you smelled the toast thing, so he was probably a psycho, and he was trying to rape you. He expected sex favors in return for helping your career. How many women do you think he has he done this to, successfully? All you did was push him away. It was an accident, although if you had been wearing your gloves, you might be crying for a totally different reason right now."

"I'm going to phone Emma," sniffed Maya. "She is well connected to the cops."

"No!" Karl yelled out, "Emma is an officer of the court. She would have a sworn duty to report it. Please don't make her choose between you and her career. Keep her out of it."

The phone rang and Erik went to answer it. Maya sat glumly sipping her coffee. Karl turned on his laptop to see if there was any news on the Internet yet.

"That was Gerry," said Erik. "He went to the morning police press scrum. He says that there is going to be a coroner's inquest into this Vince guy's death because they can find no obvious cause of death. He said that the press gossip was poison, and all bets are on some wronged woman getting even. Apparently he was a real slime bag with women."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

Today was the first day in four that she had left the house. A successful shopping trip to the thrift stores had not pulled her out of her depression. Had not eased her worry that the police would swoop down on her at any time. When she was out she couldn't wait to get back to the house, her sanctuary of sanity and peace.

She had the place to herself. Everyone she knew was totally busy now that the term had started at U.B.C.. Erik and Karl would both be late tonight. Alicia would beg off doing anything because the profs always hit the students with huge amounts of reading in the first week.

The only person who had called was Gerry. She was booked for a casting call for extras for some new haunted house teenage movie that was about to start filming. They were looking for Catholic school girls. Thus the thrift shop.

She looked at herself in the mirror while she finished braiding the second pigtail. Only one word came to mind. Jailbait. White knee socks, school girl kilt, white blouse, no makeup, pig tails.... jailbait. Damn, she was sure her breasts were growing. She would maybe have to find a bra that made her look flatter. Or maybe casting wanted some jiggle. Well, she could always take the bra off if necessary.

The doorbell rang. Her heart stopped. Police. She put an elastic around the end of the braid and tried to decide whether to look through the peep hole, or be absolutely silent. Curiosity won. She looked through the peep hole. Emma. Oh thank God. She swung the door open and gave her a hug, being careful not to use her hands.

"Hey sweetie, what the ..." Emma stood back and looked at Maya and then down at her own drab wool skirt and brown oxfords. "Bitch, anyone on the street will think you're my daughter. What's the porn outfit for?"

"Casting call for a movie. Don't give me that look. Gerry says it's a horror movie not a porn movie, though he is taking me there, just to make sure. Do you want a tea?"

"Oh, save my life. I would love one," Emma said walking towards the kitchen. "I suppose Karl's not home?"

"He and Erik will be late tonight," Maya replied, turning the electric kettle on and opening the fridge to get out the milk. "Damn, out of milk. Cream okay?"

"Lemon, if you have it. I'll leave him a note." She pulled the shopping list pad over and tore off a page and started writing.

Maya crept over and looked over her shoulder and read out loud. "Karl, Help, I need a date for a wedding next Saturday. Call me. Please. Emma. Hmmm. I don't know about Karl. He is so busy. Erik might."

"Uh, he looks a bit too Hitler youth for this wedding."

"But Erik is Dutch. It is Karl who is German."

"Ahh, but Karl doesn't look German, he looks..."

"Like an engineer, a nerd," Maya laughed. "They grew up twenty miles apart in different worlds. They make fun of each other all the time. Usually in German, or in some other weird language they both know that sounds like English, but when you listen to the words it is gibberish."

"Like Dutch, or double Dutch," Emma suggested.

"No, some really old language. The name of it sounds cold, like freeze. Frisian. I feel like such a dummy sometimes. English is Erik's third language. I think he knows five and Alicia is teaching him Mexican Spanish. Karl is the same, but he knows Danish, which Erik doesn't know, or something like that. As for me, the dummy, well I speak only English. Even then you Canajuns are, like, always correcting me. Do you have other languages?"

"Hebrew. I wanted to learn Aramaic but med school got in the way."

"I'm such a dummy. I barely made it though high school."

"Want to trade lives?" Emma cooed and swung around on the stool so she could look out at the marvelous view. "That party you went to with Gerry ... did you meet the producer that died? Or did you and Gerry end up going somewhere else? I didn't see his invitation in the pile from the door."

Maya went very quiet and busied herself making tea. "Why do you ask?" she said weakly.

"Oh, the task force has taken an interest in the case. Could I ask you to put a robe over that outfit? I find it a bit disturbing right now."

A wave of fear passed through Maya's chest as she went to find a robe. Next to her robe was a pair of school girl gloves from the thrift store. She put them on for safety. She had to remember to wear gloves when there were people around. She felt like weeping, but she sucked it back. These hands, her hands, had killed.

"Well?" Emma reminded her of the hanging question. "Did you meet the producer?"

Maya walked back into the kitchen and saw the raisin bread on the counter. "Toast?" she asked.

"I knew it." Emma smacked the counter with her hand. "A psycho."

Maya looked at her in confusion and then looked down at the raisin bread. Bingo. "No, I meant did you want some toast with your tea. What's this about psychos?"

"Have you been following the case on the news?"

Maya lied. "No, why, what's happening?"

"Okay, sit. The coroner ordered an autopsy because there was no obvious cause of death. The first level showed nothing, but they found a few loose pills in his pocket. Viagra and Rohypnol. You know what they are?"

"Boner pills for old men?"

"One is. The other is the date rape drug. Put it in a girls drink and she gets all woozy and forgetful so she can be walked out to a car and everyone thinks she is just a bit drunk."

"Oh, yeah. We were warned about them in school. All the guys immediately tried to buy them."

"Well, it's a red flag for the police, so they got a search warrant and went to the guy's house. He could have opened a drug store. He had every kind of boner pill on the market, and ludes, and other tranquilizers. The coroner brought down a judgment that he had mixed too many pills and then was drinking heavily. Death by misadventure. The big news, though, and the news that got the task force involved was .... Pass the sugar please."

Maya wanted to dance around the kitchen. Misadventure. Oh lordy lordy, she was free. Instead she passed the sugar. "Go on."

"He had a bedroom film studio in his house. Soundproof. All sorts of hidden cameras. And computers and hard drives just filled with movies. Home made porn movies. Girls like you. The task force dropped everything and swarmed all over the stuff."

"So he was the killer they've been looking for?"

"I doubt it, and I have told them and told them. Different type of girl. This guy didn't go in for troubled Native street walkers. He liked jail bait. Daughters from good homes. They don't know if he murdered any yet, and that is going to take months to prove, but I'll tell you, if he were still alive he would be up on a dozen counts of rape."

"So, he was a serial rapist?" Maya asked carefully.

"It would be hard to prove that the women in his films hadn't given their permission, even the underage ones, but the fact that they were underage makes it statutory rape. Too late for those charges anyway, but the task force has to identify and find every girl in his films and make sure they are still alive." Emma's voice became thin and shaky, and her eyes started to well up with tears. "That's what I have been doing all morning. Helping the women officers clip the best head portraits from all his porn films. That's why I asked you to cover up. Too close to home." Emma was sobbing by the end of her explanation.

"And so the toast thing?"

"Did you meet him? Did that charred toast thing happen?" Emma wiped her tears away with a tissue.

"Yes, that's why I had Gerry bring me home early. It shook me. I still feel ill."

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Oh, what cruel bad luck that he died before we caught him."

"What do you mean?" Maya said to quickly, too sharply. "Isn't it a good thing he is dead? One less predator to worry about."

"Exactly. He was a predator. What if he has young girls chained up somewhere? What if he has killed some and hidden the bodies? How can we find them if he is dead?"

"But he was so well-dressed," mumbled Maya. "Armani suit. Rolex watch. From a wealthy family."

"And a brand new Porsche outside. Have I taught you nothing Grasshopper?"

Emma stroked Maya's shoulder and wanted more than anything to feel the goodness of her aura pass through her and push away all that she had seen on those films, away and out of her mind, especially the anal scenes.

"The poor psychos, the demented-looking ones, are caught early in life. It's the rich ones, the handsome ones, the slick ones, that are rarely found out and yet they are the ones that do most of the evil in this world."

"But I looked psychopath up on the Internet. There are all sorts of lists of questions you can ask to identify who is likely to be a psycho. I mean, like, they were meant for women to figure out if their bosses or boyfriends were psychos. There were even a few sites that rated multinational corporations according to the questionnaire scorings. Like, they are all psychopaths, all of those big companies." Maya buttered the raisin toast slices slowly and then cut them into halves.

"There is no surefire way for my profession to identify, or at least, easily identify psychopaths. All those question and answer tests are useful for the victims, but useless when asked of a psycho. They tend to be smart people. Some of them scary smart. Some of them scary appealing.

They have all read those sites. They know all the questions and all the best 'non psycho' answers. Do you know who are usually the first guys to make parole out of prison? The psychopaths. They know exactly what to say and how to act to make parole." Emma reached over and stole a piece of raisin toast.

"So, how do you stop one from becoming, like, the president of the USA?"

"My profession has been pushing for decades to have mandatory psychological screening for all people in positions of great authority. A few corporations do it. The shareholders demand it. Who are we fooling? We can't pick out psychopaths except by what they have already done. That's too late. Well, except for you. You are my new secret weapon, you and your toast."

"I don't want to be your secret weapon. These guys scare me. I almost pass out when they touch me. What if one catches me?" She dropped her robe to the floor exposing her school girl outfit. "What do you think they would do to me?"

Emma looked at her, with her pigtails and her mini kilt. She knew exactly what one would do to her. She had been watching videos of it all morning. She felt like she needed to puke and she ran to the powder room. When she came back she found Maya looking into her tea cup. "Penny?" she said.

Maya wanted to tell her how the producer had died, but she daren't. Instead she said, "That I don't like tea without milk."

"Well, I have to go," said Emma, collecting her handbag and phone. "Thanks for the toast. I guess that means I have to go back to the task force for a while and rewrite my evaluation. When is the casting call?"

"Tonight after six. They hold them late for people that have school or jobs," Maya mumbled.

"Break a leg," Emma said and was gone.

Maya watched the door close. "Bugger this. I need milk." She grabbed her keys and followed Emma. Her Jetta was already halfway up the street. "Oh well. The walk will do me good. Oh darn, I have to walk along the sea front then cut through that divine park with the weeping willows to get to the Chinese corner store".

She was crossing the street to the willow park when she passed two school girls walking the other way with their arms in front of them, holding their binders. She heard them giggle, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. To a school girl she would look completely unbelievable and way too old for these clothes. She should have worn a coat.

It was a lovely day to walk through the majestic and graceful weeping willows. Kids were on the swings. There was an old Chinese man sunning himself on the bench. She wasn't sure, but she thought it was his family that ran the shop. There was another man walking the cutest little white dog. It was adorable.

"Hey, stop that dog," the man called to her. The little white puff ball was running towards her, dragging her leash. She twirled as the dog went by and bent down and grabbed the leash.

"Oh thanks, little girl. I thought I had lost them both. My other one ran over towards that van. Can you help me find ..." the man stopped talking when she turned around to face him holding the cute little thing and then stood to her full height.

"Oh, uh, thanks for catching her. Here, I'll take her, miss."

"She's adorable, what's her name?" asked Maya as she scratched it behind its dainty ears, and it turned and tugged at her gloved finger.

"Puffy," said the man, looking cross. "Can I have her back?"

He was looking at her chest. Damn, she should have worn a bra. She tried to hand him the dog but Puffy pulled her glove almost off. The man reached across and hit the dog's nose with a finger to make her let go and then tried to push her glove back on her hand.

"Sorry about that," he said.

She was feeling slightly nauseous as the thought crossed her mind that he wasn't sorry at all. It had given him the opportunity to brush his arm against her breasts. He held her wrist to keep her from backing away while he enjoyed it. The smell, the darkness, the charred smell. She wrenched her wrist free and backed away from him and started to feel better. "Stay away from me," she said and walked quickly away towards the shop. She stopped herself from running, and tried to calm her panic.

The young Asian school girl who was running the shop by herself was dressed just like Maya. She gave her a silly smirk as the other girl counted out her change for the milk and put the liter container into a plastic bag. "I am dressed like this to try out for a movie," Maya said, as if she needed an excuse.

"Yeah, whatever," said the girl in perfect English. "Just like on the web."

She walked across the park thinking about how easy it was for school girls these days to see all the nasty porn on the web. Actually, she had watched quite a bit herself just to see what the boys in high school were all talking about. It was pretty boring. Plastic lips, plastic tits, no smiles, no fun and absolutely no hair unless it was on the head of the woman. It was all just sordid cock worship, rather than a celebration of health and beauty.

She looked around for the psycho with the dog, hoping she wouldn't need to pass near to him. She saw the white of the dog first. A little girl had him on the leash. The man had her by the hand and was walking her to the van. It must be his kid or ... wait. What had he said to her when she was catching his dog?

She dragged it out of her memory. "Oh thanks. little girl. I thought I had lost them both. My other one ran over towards that van. Can you help me find.." what, it came to her in a flash ... the second dog. Oh no. She started to run. She ducked under a weeping willow that scratched her face as she ran on. She pushed herself harder. The van's sliding door was opening. She was feeling winded. Silly slippery girly shoes.

He was lifting the little girl into the van. She slammed into him without slowing down, and he tripped over the ledge of the floor of the open door and fell inside with her on top of him. The dog yapped in alarm and the little girl started to cry.

He was much stronger than she was. He pushed her off him as if she were a pillow, swearing all the time. Maya was pushing the little girl out of the van, while he was dragging her in. "Go and find your mother!" she urged breathlessly, "go quick! This is a very bad man!" She squirmed out of his arms and was trying to get her gloves off at the same time. She made it outside and got her feet on the ground and tried to follow the girl.

A huge pain in her scalp dragged her backwards. He had her by the pigtails. He was yelling something obscene at her, but she was blanking out. "If not her, bitch, then you'll do just fine!" She tried to twist away but he had her hair tight in his fist. He punched her in the stomach and suddenly she couldn't breathe and every thing started going dim.

Suddenly he seemed to fly through the air and he hit the open sliding door with such force that the whole van rattled. He bounced off it and into the little old Chinese man who had been sitting in the sun. He flew back against the sliding door again with tremendous force, while the old man seemed to barely move. He slid down the door and sat with a thump on the curb.

"You okay missy?" asked the old man, not taking his eyes off the man on the ground. He pulled a cell phone out of his old-fashioned Chinese jacket and punched in 911. "You need ambulance, missy?" He spoke into the phone. "Police here plenty fast." Then he looked at her and repeated, "You need ambulance?"

She shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man move to get up. "Watch out!" she cried. The old man did a standing hop and a tiny kick and the man slumped down again.

"Him not go anywhere. Me watch. Me see. Him bad man."

"Don't kill him," was all she could think of to say. "He may have children hidden somewhere. The police need to ask him."

"Killing wrong. We wait for police."

She looked around for the little girl. She was sitting on the grass crying and trying to hold onto the puppy. She walked over to her and picked them both up and hugged them to her. "It's okay. Your mummy will be here soon. You're safe now. And look, the puppy likes you."

"But the other one is still lost," the girl blubbed. "Oh, there's Mummy!" She waved. "Mummy, Mummy, look at the puppy!"

She walked with her arms full of child and puppy towards the old man. "I can't wait for the police."

"They want to talk to you, you stay."

"I, uh, I , I have no papers. You know. Work permit. Immigration will catch me."

"No papers. You no papers? Okay. Give girl to mummy and then you go. Plenty fast. I hear sirens. Don't forget your milk", he said pointing to the plastic bag on the grass. "You buy my store, you take."

She picked up her milk and hurried towards the approaching woman and when they were face to face she handed girl and puppy to her. She spoke loudly overtop of the questions the woman was already asking. "That old man over there just saved your girl from being kidnapped by that other man. He almost had her in the van. The puppy was his bait. You have to stay and help the old man explain it to the police, or else the old man may get charged with assault."

With that she walked away, just in time. Police cars, with sirens wailing and lights flashing, were blocking off both ends of the short side street, while another one was careening over the grass towards the van. She never looked back. She just kept walking. Her stomach hurt, her scalp hurt, her ears were ringing, and she couldn't get rid of the charred smell. She had to find a bathroom and soon.

* * * * *  
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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 12 - In present day Hollywood

She looked at herself in the mirror. The thing was hideous, like some body suit from outer space, especially with the weird swimming cap that her hair was bundled into. Ted, the technician was explaining it to her. Blah, blah, blah, like she needed to know how the circuitry was organized. At one time she had tried to save Ted from his habits of fast food and twenty hours a day looking into computer screens, but she had given up.

"So what you are saying," Maya interrupted, "is that these metallic circles all over this body suit are like reflectors that the sensors on your special digital camera can pick up and trace onto a computer screen."

"Not actually onto the screen, but into a vector database so that we can store how your body moves and then create the stunts using computer animation."

"Why not just use stunt women? You know that unemployment is a problem in Hollywood right now."

"Well, the stunts are actually impossible." Ted was eating at his computer. It seemed to be what computer geeks did best. "People can't fly, people can't run along the sides of walls."

"They could in adventure movies from the sixties," she argued.

"No, actually that was all special effects as well," Ted told her between munches. He was fatter every time she worked with him. "And the process was laborious and took forever. Once we have your body and how it moves stored in our database, we can do it all on the computer and get it perfect."

"So you are going to make me look like the chick on that TV cartoon, Reboot? I'm going to need a bigger bra." She sucked in her breath and pushed her breasts out. Eventually she caught his interest and he stopped watching the screen.

"Similar technique, but way beyond that," Ted said, finally looking up and at her face. "Honest, you will like the finished product."

Maya smirked to herself. What a difference in how the crew treated you when you were the starlet, and had points in the movie. Everyone was so polite, so helpful. Everyone trying not to get her pissed off. As for her own work in front of the camera, all this technology made no difference. Instead of being dressed like jailbait, she was dressed in this electronic body suit.

For hours they instructed her to move this way and that, while their special camera captured her form. Stand, raise a hand, now the other. Bend the elbow, now the other. Bend the knee, walk, walk backwards. Sit down, stand up, rah- rah- rah. They had a script they were working from and they kept telling her to move to it while the cameras did their magic.

When she took a break and looked at some of her video she had to laugh. The computer had made her look like a robot. Ted and the other technicians were quick to defend their work.

"We were just logging your movements," Ted explained. "We have other software that will build an animated three dimensional world around your model. We also have other software to flesh out your model with skin and hair and clothes. We have an editing module that allows us to link it seamlessly into the ordinary filming."

Mike walked by. "Show her the vampire. He's almost complete."

Ted clicked and clicked and clicked until he found what he were looking for and then he played the video. She recognized the actor that played the main vampire she was supposed to be killing in this movie. As she watched, he spread his cloak and then began to fly like a bat, and as he was flying he slowly morphed into a bat.

"Hey," she said, "that's pretty good. And that was all done by the computer?"

"Most of it is done by the computer, then we have to touch it up using some old-fashioned human skills so that it looks more realistic."

"Amazing," she said skeptically. She had made three films in three years and each one had used fewer human extras and more computer-generated extras. Eventually movies would be just another form of video game.

"Not so amazing," said Mike, "our audiences are already getting tired of it, just as they are now tired of plastic boobs and clown lips on actresses. It's one thing to computer animate some alien monster, but it is another to animate all the moving flesh of a sensuous woman."

Ted defended his stuff. "Our lab is already working on allowing for imperfections."

"Huh," she said. This was boring, and she had to go. No, really, she had to go, which meant she had to get to the washroom and out of this bloody body suit.

"Well, the reason all these animated figures look fake is because they are too perfect. Too geometrical. The skin, for instance, has no wrinkles and flaws. That kind of stuff is what we still put in manually."

"Three years, three movies, and so much change. I wonder if we'll need a director on my fourth movie?" She enjoyed playing with Mike's head. He was actually a very serious guy.

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 13 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

The south Asian male cab driver kept leering at her in the mirror. She pushed her knees tight together and pulled her plastic raincoat closed so he couldn't see her outfit. She had splashed out for the cab because she thought it would be safer at night than the bus. Yeah, right. She had forgotten that the transit buses in Vancouver would jump through hoops to keep the women riders safe. They would let women off mid-stop or even call ahead and have a transit supervisor or even a cop meet you at a stop.

Next time she would take the bus. The driver was leering again. At the next red light he turned around and said, "I know guys that would pay you big money for a date." She looked away. "No, I mean it, especially dressed like that. I'm talking a thousand a date. I would only charge a hundred to hook you up and another hundred if you wanted me to hang around and take you home safe."

"Not interested," she said in an imitation of the squeaky little-girl voices that all young Canadian women seemed to subject everyone to while they drank expensive frothy coffees at BigBucks coffee shops. She always wanted to yell at them to stop being so irritating and to use their big girl voices for a change.

"No really, at least a thousand," smirked the man. "I could get you two thousand, but that would be for the whole night, you know?"

"What about hidden cameras?" she said in her little-girl voice.

"Hey, these are classy guys. Rolex classy. Suits, not hard hats. No problems."

She started to cry and couldn't stop herself. She should have accepted Gerry's offer to stick around and give her a ride home from the casting audition. The audition had been obviously straight, with moms lining up with their daughters. She had sent him away. She blubbed and blew her nose.

The driver stopped at the next red light and turned back to her. "Hey, I didn't mean anything. I didn't know you were a real student. I thought you were a working girl. I was just trying to help out. Hey, stop crying. I was out of line. I apologize."

It seemed like a long ride, though it wasn't really. She had him pull over a block shy of her house.

"Sixteen bucks," he told her.

She got out and looked in at him. "Yeah, so you only owe me four. It's twenty for leering at me and insulting me. Keep the change."

"Hey lady, I'll call the cops!" he yelled angrily.

"Yeah, well I'm already dialing. They are combing the city for guys like you right now." She slammed the door and he peeled out, swerved around a parked car and careened off into the traffic. She waited until he was just specks of tail lights and then she ran the last block home. There was a black Jetta in the short driveway.

She opened the door and yelled out, "Hello, the house!" Three heads popped up over the back of the couch that faced the TV. Interestingly, Emma was sitting between Karl and Erik. That woman was working every angle to 'save' one of them right into a wedding. It was Emma that ran towards her.

"Where have you been? We've been so worried. Haven't you been watching the news?" Emma sounded exactly like her mom, and for a moment, Maya thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath.

"I told you earlier. I had a casting call. I got a part, thanks for asking." She took off her cheap plastic raincoat and hung it up.

"Oooh," oozed Erik after seeing her school-girl look. "Bend over little girl and I will show you my big dog."

"That's not funny, considering," Emma scolded him. "I'm so glad you are home and safe."

"What part did you get?" asked Karl, "What's the film?"

"I'm a school girl, but I actually have some lines. Of course, I had to copy the Social Insurance number of the girl next to me. We were about the same age. I'll be finished and paid off before they realize they have made a mistake on the number."

"The film, the film," Karl urged.

"It's called Raven's Roost. It's a teenage horror film about a girls' private school, with lots of big black birds that turn into vampires."

"I thought bats turned into vampires."

"Well maybe, but I saw the cages of ravens. They are really big."

"Come and sit," said Emma, "we are waiting for the news, I'll get you some tea." She walked into the kitchen. "I see you got some milk. You should have put it in the fridge. Oh, I see. The carton is leaking so you left it in the plastic bag."

"What's on the news?" She decided to leap over the back of the couch like a real school girl would. Her kilt ended up around her waist, and Erik helped to pull it back down. She slapped his helping hand, which was silent because of her gloves.

"We caught another predator," Emma announced. "I just spent an hour interviewing him. He is out in a paddy wagon as we speak, showing the police where he has two girls stashed. I hope they're okay."

"Don't count on it," Maya whispered to herself.

"What did you say?"

"Shhh, here's the news."

The reporter was out in a field. The willow park. "We are at the scene of an attempted childnapping earlier this afternoon, here in the exclusive Kitsilano district of Vancouver. The van the kidnapper was trying to escape in has been towed away now, but it was a van like this one. Our news-on-the-spot van. And here is the hero of the day, Mister Tim Li. Mister Li attacked the suspect before he could escape with his latest victim, and then held him for the police."

"That, that's just up the street!" yelled Erik. "That's Mister Li who owns the grocery on the school side of the park. You know. The old guy that teaches Tai Chi in the park on Sunday morning."

"Shhh."

"Mister Li, can you tell us what happened?"

"The bad man was pretending to have lost a little dog. He got little girl to help him look. When he get to van he throw her inside. I save her."

"And what were you doing in the park, Mister Li?"

"My shop is over there." He pointed and the camera swung around and focused on the shop front. There were mothers and children and police all talking. The camera swung back. "Every day at home time for school I sit in park and watch children in playground. You know, watch them until mums arrive. Make sure they are safe."

"And what was different today?"

"Man with little white dog. Big angry man, cute little dog. He not match dog. Something fishy, I think, so I watch him."

"And I am sure there are many mothers and teachers who want to shake your hand today, Mister Li."

"The children are my customers. They buy much candy in my store. I must keep them safe. It is duty to customer."

The talking heads came back on. "We interrupt this recording to bring you late-breaking news at the police station." The TV flicked and the new scene was a podium where three uniformed police officers stood. The woman officer spoke. "We are pleased to announce that this afternoon's kidnapping suspect has led police to a rescue of two other children. Those children are alive and are on their way to Children's Hospital."

A voice from the press called out , "Has he admitted to other kidnappings? Is he leading Police to gravesites?"

"I cannot comment on that as it is still under investigation. I can say that police are eager to talk to another school girl, a senior, who helped Mr. Li capture the suspect. She is believed to have been walking across the park with a liter of milk at the time. Of course we cannot describe her in public, so we are just asking for her to contact the closest police officer."

Karl clicked the TV off. Maya looked up from where she was warming herself in Erik's arms. Three sets of eyes stared at her. "What?" she said.

"You have to call the police," Emma said.

"Did he smell charred?" Erik asked.

"No, I don't. Yes, he did," she replied.

"Shit, shit, shit!" screamed Emma. Karl grabbed hold of her to calm her. "Don't you understand?" she continued, "it means there will be gravesites." The tension of the day broke and the men found themselves holding two sobbing women.

"Emma, why don't you spend the night?" Karl offered. "You shouldn't be alone tonight. Not tonight. You can bunk with Maya."

"I'd rather bunk with you," she sniffed. Karl and Erik shot each other glances.` They both blushed.

"Lucky you," Maya said with a shaky breath, and a wobbly smile. "They are blushing. That means they are thinking about it."

Erik looked at Karl and Emma and finally said. "Both of you must first promise me that there will be no sex. If you promise that, then I will sleep on the couch."

"Bitch," whispered Maya possessively under her breath.

Erik heard her. "Maya, I have a present for you." He stretched his long reach to the coffee table and handed her a small gift-wrapped box. Her face lit up and she tore at the wrapping.

"Oh Erik, you found it, thank you." It was her scent. Literally her scent. Lily of the Valley. She grabbed a tissue and sprinkled some on it and then passed it around. She grabbed another tissue, doused it and held it to her face. She felt suddenly calm. She could feel her mind clearing.

Erik, then Karl took turns sniffing. "That's you, all right. A milk white aura with a hint of Lily of the Valley."

Emma took a sniff. "Someday I will know your aura, Maya." She turned to Karl, "Mine is brassy gold with honey overtones."

"I can't wait for bed time," he replied and squeezed her hand.

* * *

Maya sat on Erik's lap in the hot tub, getting a full body hug and listening the creak of the bed in the master bedroom above them. "Yeah, like, no sex" she muttered possessively.

"We both knew she would. That's why we both blushed. As soon as the full length of her skin touched his, we both knew she would be drawn in like love at first sight. Please don't tell her it was a mercy fuck."

"I expected it with Alicia, not Emma," Maya whispered and then kissed his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He was almost inside her, but she knew from her one high school love affair in her mother's crude cedar hot tub, that tub sex hurt. It seemed like a romantic idea, but don't go there. Like doing it on a beach with fine sand. It was painful. She shifted her weight and cursed herself for not yet having figured out how to curb the power in her hands.

"Alicia is fully busy with the senior class of Engineers," Erik mentioned. "Oops, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that she is having lunch with a group of them every day, and I think one of them has actually become brave enough to ask her on a date. I'll give you five to one that she is engaged by Christmas."

"I hope so. Her family, like, don't have enough money to keep her at U.B.C., and I doubt she can compete with marks for scholarships against, like, all the Asian students."

The bed squeaks were now joined by two voices moaning. She kissed Erik again. That was as horny as she could be with him. Kisses in a hot tub. She wished she could sleep with him, make love to him, but it was too risky. Not without more experimentation. She had to spend more time with either Alicia or Emma and figure this all out. She was turning into a prune, so she stood up and sat on one side of the tub. He sat on the other side.

Waves of delicious nothingness and softly perfumed scents surrounded them. They let it happen until the barnyard noises from above became too disturbing. They stood and walked apart and yet together, inside, and to separate beds. "It's not fair," she told him. "The two men I most want to curl up with are, like, the only two men on the planet that I can't curl up with."

Later that night he crept into her room. She was snoring softly and half uncovered. He took off his robe and laid it over the end of the bed. He watched her for a long while in the half light of the moon. She was so sweet and girly, with all that silky blonde hair spread out on the pillow. She didn't stir. He came closer. She still didn't stir. He was in the bed and beside her before he felt her aura. While she was sleeping, it slept, or almost slept.

He fell asleep close to her but not touching. He woke hours later feeling completely bathed in white light and the scent of flowers. It was so wondrous that he felt like he was floating above the bed. He wondered how many years people had to practice transcendental meditation to achieve this level of nirvana and oneness. He stopped thinking about it, and tried to empty his mind so he could just accept it.

She dreamed long and peacefully that she was sleeping with Erik. She was caressing him with her aura and then both of their auras were rebounding and caressing her. She had never felt so at peace, and so healthy. She didn't want to wake from the dream so she fought the sound of fog horns in the harbor and pretended they were the lowing of cattle.

The fog horns woke him abruptly. It was Fogust, that month between mid-August and mid-September when the winds were very still and the fog could swirl around at any time. He lay there and listened to her breathing, ever so softly. It took gigantic effort for him to leave the cozy warmth of her white light and sidle over to the edge of the bed. He went back to his lonely lumpy couch.

She came back into the bedroom from washing her face and brushing her teeth and other morning habits and noticed Erik's robe draped over the end of the bed. She went downstairs to see if he was still on the couch. He was curled up in a blanket looking very uncomfortable. She put the kettle on and then went back to the couch and stood looking at him.

She smiled mischievously and went to the front hall closet and exchanged her silk robe for a ski jacket and put on the girly gloves she had worn yesterday to the audition. Back at the couch she softly and slowly uncovered him and became his blanket. Starting at his chest she kissed his skin, lower and lower until she found his morning wood, and then she kissed some more. He woke moaning in ecstasy.

That was how Emma found them. She was wearing Karl's robe and looking quite bedraggled, and in search of coffee. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll go back upstairs."

"No need, I'm finished, or rather, he's finished." She giggled when she saw Emma looking at her ski jacket, and hurried to the closet to swap back into her silk robe. Together they made tea and coffee and toast with blue cheese spread on the slices and dollops of guava jelly on top. Emma was so happy she was almost bubbling with joyfulness. This was a very different Emma from the deeply serious psychiatrist that was specializing in psychopaths. The one who had been so distressed last evening.

They left the men sleeping and went outside to warm up in the hot tub and have breakfast. The fog was thick and icy and it was as if they were no longer in the center of a huge city because they could see no further than the neighbor's house. "So how was the no-sex?" Maya asked.

"Omigod, do people have sex like that all the time?" Emma said trying to keep an errant slip of blue cheese from escaping her mouth. "Where have I been? What have I been doing?" She giggled and bumped shoulders with Maya, and they both started to giggle. "How was yours?"

"Oh, we really did have no-sex, well except for me like, milking him this morning. My mother always said that the key to a successful marriage was a morning milking every day. That's probably why hers only lasted like, two years. I mean, like, she never takes her own advice."

"Oh Maya, I am so in love."

"No, you're not. You are feeling his aura. It is never so strong as when you have full skin contact. Don't go getting your heart broken. He is gay and in a longtime and thoroughly loving relationship."

"But he, well he. It felt. And...."

"If their relationship wasn't bullet-proof," Maya pointed out, "Erik would have never agreed. Oh well, at the wedding next Saturday you can truthfully tell your mother that you are sleeping with him. That should get her off your case for awhile."

"How did you know my mother is on my case?" Emma asked.

"Because Karl's mother is on his case, and he and you are about the same age. Aging mothers are just grandmas in waiting."

"So you think there is no hope?" Emma felt her morning happiness slipping away into the fog.

"Of you carrying Karl's child? I can see that happening. Of you breaking up Karl and Erik, that will never happen."

"Carrying Karl's child." At first the idea shocked her. She brooded silently, slowly munching on toast and sipping coffee. It would get her mother off her back. His too. No, no, no. Absolutely no to single motherhood. That was too much work. "I suppose there is no chance of you coming with me to interview the child grabber today."

"Absolutely none. If my testimony was the difference between him hanging or him getting away, then I would; but they don't need me to hang that guy. He was caught red-handed. He has admitted it. Besides, I already told you. He smelled of charred toast." She picked up her next piece of toast. Smelled it, and then put it down again.

"There is no death penalty in Canada. And a good thing, too, with all these new DNA tests constantly proving men innocent that have been sitting in prison for decades for capital offences." Emma turned to Maya and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Okay, I'll keep quiet about you, but don't you dare hang me out to dry if the police find you."

"Deal."

"Maya," Emma said thoughtfully, "you weren't using yourself as bait to catch that guy, were you?"

"Absolutely not. If anything it's the other way around. If there are guys like that around, they zero in on me."

"Umm, before I have to go and interview more psychos, do you mind if we go upstairs and do Yoga again? This time I want to try to catch your Lily scent."

"Oh please, and can I try touching you with my skin this time?"

"Ooooh, can the boys watch?"

"Only if they wake themselves up," Maya giggled. "I don't think we will be that long."

* * * * *  
* * * * *

Mister Li's shop was very quiet. His fifteen minutes of fame were spent. Maya was wearing her plainest skirt and blouse, and had her hair up, and was wearing dark sunglasses. She was trying her best to look like a teacher, not a schoolgirl. It didn't fool Mister Li.

"I no tell the police," he said, "it was the little girl's mother."

"What happened to the puppy?"

"The bad man gave it to the little girl."

"Mister Li, yesterday when you hit that man the first time, I saw your hand barely touch him and yet he was thrown back two feet. Do you have special powers in your hands?"

"You never come Sunday to Tai Chi."

"No, but I have only been here a little while."

"Yeah, I know, you live with Mister Erik. He's a nice fellow. You do good."

"But your hands?"

He spoke some words in Cantonese to his granddaughter sitting at an old table in the rear of the store. She took her time erasing an answer in her homework. Then she gathered up the book, and moved over to the counter by the door where the money drawer was, and carried on with her homework. He then motioned Maya to follow him.

They went through the store and to the back where there was a steep staircase. He yelled upstairs and there was a faint answer, and then he took her out into the back garden. The single most unusual thing in the garden, in spite of all of the strange Chinese statues, was a hanging punching bag. The big heavy kind.

"You watch," he said as he stood to the side of the bag and then did a strange almost prayer-like thing with his hands and arms. "First, I center my energy." He did it again. "Then, I focus my energy." He slowly pushed his arms out until they almost touched the bag. "Then, you release energy." The hand moved ever so quickly and ever so slightly, and yet the heavy bag swung wildly.

A woman as great an age as he came towards them, taking small steps. "My wife show you." He spoke to her in Cantonese, and she nodded and came up to Maya and shook her hand.

"Good," she said, "you good. Get bad man. In China, execute him." She ran her finger across her throat. "Better Canada, let him suffer long time, like all the mothers must." She went and stood before the heavy bag and stopped it from swinging. Then she centered herself and posed herself and then seemingly barely touched the hanging bag with a one-two. The bag careened wildly and the elderly woman had to step back to save herself from being hit by its back swing.

Maya turned to the old man. "I have a dangerous power in my hands." She held up her gloves. "Not a muscle power, some other kind of power. When I touch a man lightly on the cheek," she touched her own cheek, "he goes to sleep. When I touch a man hard on his throat," she touched her own throat under her chin bone, "he dies. Can you explain this to me, or, or, can you tell me how to control it?"

"Power not from jab. Power from inside?" He asked, and she nodded. He explained it to his wife, and they jabbered away for some minutes.

"Take off glove. Please to touch my cheek." She did so and his eyes fluttered and he started to fall. His wife balanced him. They talked for a while longer.

"Wife say, your touch may be same on cheek and throat, but in throat is many spiritual centers. Takes only light blow to throat to do much damage."

"But where does the touch come from? Why are my hands not normal, and safe?"

He spoke to his wife and she walked away and came back carrying some rubber garden clogs. "You put on feet, then touch my cheek." She did so and again the wife had to step behind him and balance him. They talked some more.

"I turn my back, wife check you all over. Okay?" He turned his back while his wife ran her hands very lightly, sometimes touching, sometimes not touching, everywhere on her body. Everywhere. She spoke to her husband. Then she turned to Maya again and took one hand in each of hers and then pulled backwards and arched her arms sideways so that the four arms created a circle. She let go and spoke to her husband for a long time.

"You not suppose to have this power. You gwai lo, you woman. Should not have. This is monk power. Monk train long time for this power. Why you have this power? This is white power. Power for good against evil. Why you no kill bad man? Why you wait for me?"

"I was wearing gloves. I was afraid of hurting someone by accident."

"You no wear gloves. You learn control," Mister Li said emphatically. "This is gift from gods. No hide in gloves." His wife spoke to him. "She say not gift from gods, gift from goddess. Fertility goddess. Bah, I don't believe in all these gods. Only one god, one goddess. Sun and Moon."

"Can you teach me control?" she said. "Please."

He spoke to his wife. "You come back tomorrow. Same time. You promise you come?"

"I'll come." She followed the wife back through the shop. On the way, the old woman picked up a plastic bag and ripped it open. When they reached the front counter the old woman snapped open a golden yellow silk scarf, long and flowing.

"You bless my grand daughter," she said and then said something to the school girl.

"Aw, gran, I don't believe in that old stuff," the girl said but she shrugged her shoulders and dropping her pencil, slid out from behind the counter. She bowed her head and waited.

"You bless her," the grandmother said motioning her to take off her gloves.

With two bare hands she held the scarf forward and hung it over the child's neck. "May you always be safe from bad men," she said. At that moment, it was what she wanted most for all little girls.

"Good one, good one," said the grandmother and bowed her out of the shop.

The fog had completely lifted now and the blue sky was clear of clouds and the sun was warm and there was not a trace of wind. She was feeling better than she had felt in over a week. She walked back home, grabbed her beach bag, put on a sun dress and ran to catch the next bus to U.B.C..

She skipped down the long trail to Wreck Beach, but when she was down on the sand she stopped in her tracks. The beach was packed with clothed people. Students. She began the hike down to the far end, the gay end. On the way she stopped for a sandwich at one of the officially-winked-at food stalls.

"Hey Chiquita, haven't seen you around for a while," said the sandwich maker. He always called her Chiquita when she wore this yellow sundress. "Banana, get it?" he said to the woman helping him. She was the pie lady. Usually she would wander around with a basket on her head filled with slices of her homemade pies.

"Sorry, love," Amy the pie lady said, "sold out of pie. All those student types snaffled it all before noon. I have some special brownies, but they aren't for hungry people. Small and powerful and give you the munchies something fierce."

"What is happening? Orientation?"

"Sort of. It happens every year. About a week into the term suddenly all the first years learn about the nude beach. The guys all come down to see tits, and the girls all come down to meet the guys. The trail end of the beach will be like a normal city beach until the weather breaks. The regulars just move closer to the gays."

"But there are too many dorks around sitting on logs just waiting for some woman to take her top off. That's gross."

"Just go deep into the gays. When the dorks try to get close enough to ogle your tits, a couple of the fellas will go and sit beside them and wiggle their winkies at them. They turn around and leave, right quick."

She sat and chatted to Amy while she ate her sandwich. Amy had sold pies on this beach for ten years. She knew everybody and all the best gossip. "What do you do in the winter, Amy?"

"I find myself a hot tropical beach and lay there and wait for local women to bring me pie. That's what this beach is like, a third world beach. Lots of roving vendors. Anything you want brought to you. " She pointed to a line of men standing by a huge upturned log. "Marie and Theresa have set up their barber service again today. Look at the lineup. You think none of those guys had ever had their hair cut by a nude woman before."

Maya said "so long" and walked towards the gay end. Once she reached a point where most of the people were naked, she took off her clothes and walked in the nude. The late summer air and sun felt delicious on her skin. She could feel her aura growing in range with every step.

She was bumbling along saying hi to anyone she recognized and sensing for other auras, when she heard an angry shout. She turned around to see where the shout came from. It was from right behind her. Four fully clothed guys were following her holding their phones up to use the in-phone cameras.

The shout was because two nude guys, really big guys who she knew were bouncers at one of the pubs, had come up behind the four and blocked their retreat. Nude men all around the four were now yelling at them that cameras weren't allowed. Sure enough, they had turned around to retreat only to have their way blocked by walking mountains.

She had seen this before. Either the four would prove that they had erased the photos, or the other men would erase them by smashing the phones. She kept walking, feeling very secure. She was almost far enough away from clothed people to find a spot for her blanket. A few very obvious older heteros were trying to look nonchalant hoping she would settle near them. As if.

She finally chose a place beside two very white, and obviously first year women who were sunbathing in their bikinis. They shot her a shocked look that said, not only was she all the way naked, but that she had been walking around naked.

"Hi, I'm Maya," she said. "Stick close to me and I will keep you out of trouble." The women introduced themselves in those annoying little-girl voices. "One hint. If you want to sunbathe at this end to escape all the annoying creeps at the other end, then you should take your bikinis off. This far down the beach is considered nudist, not clothing optional."

The giggles dried up in their throats, and they started discussing what she had told them, and then started arguing. One wanted to leave, the other wanted to stay. Eventually one took off everything, and the other just her top.

Even though they were in the center of the gay area, the little enclosure they were in with logs on all sides, was almost all women. There were a lot of unwritten rules on this beach, mostly designed to protect privacy. The only men who settled in this enclosure were coupled. Either with a woman or with another man.

She saw Randy the beer guy and waved him over. She looked at the two women. They seemed to be mesmerized watching the handsome gay guys that were parading about. "Randy is coming to sell me beer," she said. "Speak up if you want some. He is a safe guy to buy from. He never sells open drinks to women, and doesn't sell open drinks to guys who are taking them to women. He opens them and hands them to you directly. Then it's up to you to guard it."

"Huh?" they said looking at each other.

"So no one, like, tampers with your drink. So no one, like, drugs you without you knowing it."

"Oh, right, yeah, we knew that." said one of the girls. She was feeling really dreamy nice and didn't know why.

Randy finally got there, after making two sales on the way. "Maya, good to see you. Where is Alicia today?"

"She has a boyfriend now, and classes. Do you have any IPA left?"

"Last one," he swung his pack down and looked at the two newcomers. "Anything for you ladies? lager, cider? That's about all I have left." He felt a warmth growing in his crotch. There was something about this Maya chick that really turned him on. "Ladies?"

Maya took her beer and handed him the money. He had to fumble with his fanny pack to get change. She looked over at the two newbies. They couldn't take their eyes off the size of him. "Give them a peach cider each. I'll pay." They didn't make a sound until he had walked away carrying his pack in front of him, then they broke out into gasps and chatter and giggles.

Eventually they thanked her for the ciders and fumbled around in their overly large purses and repaid her. All three of them kneeled up to sip their drinks and to be high enough to watch people over the top of the logs. They were kneeling like that chatting when Amy and another woman came to join them.

"Maya, this is Marique, Randy's friend from Belgium." The contrast between Amy and Marique was stark. Amy was pushing forty and had drooping breasts and a stomach that had pushed out children. Marique was early twenties, had high pert breasts and absolutely no midriff bulge. She had short, curly, light brown hair streaked with blonde, blue eyes, and a perfect light tan all over. Like all over. "Can she join you until I run out of ingredients for sandwiches?"

Maya agreed immediately. There was something openly friendly about the woman.

Amy said in a lower voice, "She likes to be nude, but it's like a zoo over at the sandwich shop right now. Too many boys from Burnaby." By which she meant men who would never take their pants off because of what the pants were hiding.

Maya began chatting with Marique, which was not easy because English was perhaps her fourth language after French, Flemish, and German. Still, she was a delight to listen to after the little-girl squeaks of the other two women.

They talked about Belgium and California and what they liked and didn't like about Vancouver, and all sorts of other little things. Maya learned that Belgium was a small country between Holland and France, and it was very flat and marshy. Marique even drew a map for her in the sand. Eventually Marique said in her delightful accent, "I hope I do not embarrass you, but I feel very, how you say, infatuated, no, more sexy, sexy infatuated with you."

"Horny," Maya filled in.

"Yes, horny, I feel horny for you." Marique said. The other two women were obviously listening because they broke out in silly giggles and made faces at each other. Marique tried to correct what she had said. "Not horny for you, horny around you, do you compris?"

That set the other women off again, but this time the one that was nude added, "I have to say, that since you sat down I have been feeling incredibly horny as well. I thought it was because I was being naughty in the nude." She looked at her friend, who was nodding in agreement.

"I have been told that I have that effect on people," Maya replied quietly. "It can be quite a lot of fun on a nude beach."

" Omigod, is that why Randy's jumped to attention? That was you," said the nude student.

Marique was trying to follow the conversation. "Wait, let me think. You are the woman that Randy has spoken of. The one that embarrasses him every time. That is why Amy brought me to you. She plays a funny on Randy."

"Do you want to see?"

"Yes, please," replied Marique.

"Then all you have to do is stroll with me through the logs. We'll go that way past the gay men. It'll be safer." She and Marique stood and strolled slowly together along the lines of nude men lying on towels or sitting up talking with each other.

"You see them," Maya whispered to her, "they are gay men, yes, but they are still men. When they see how lovely you are they will get stirrings. Once they begin to stir, then this effect I have will exaggerate- you know that word? - exaggerate the stirrings." She smiled at Marique and their eyes met and exchanged very naughty looks. "Okay, that guy is looking at us. Watch." As they watched, the man became suddenly stiff and he quickly rolled onto his tummy to hide it.

"No, is this true, you do this?"

"Well you start them, I finish them," Maya explained. This was good fun, and a delightful way to search for others with auras. As they sauntered passed the lines of men, the action was timed like an a chorus line from an old musical movie from the thirties, only instead of waves of kicking legs there was a wave of embarrassed men turning onto their bellies.

They returned to their towels by a different route. Of the fifty men they had affected, only a handful did not roll over to hide their excitement, and interestingly they were all the older, fatter, balder ones. She sensed no auras.

Back at the towels, the other women wanted a try, so each had a turn on a different route and Maya got to do an aura search through the entire crowd at the end of the beach. There were none. She was beginning to understand why Erik had been so excited when they had first met. He had been searching this beach for auras for ten years.

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 14 - In present day on highway 101 South of San Francisco

The shoot had finished. Maya wasn't needed in Hollywood anymore. She couldn't leave L.A. fast enough. As usua,l she booked one of the company's limos. She did not fly if there was any other viable alternative. Not because of the flying, or even the airplanes, but because of the airports. The beams of security x-rays, the hidden cameras, the anxious and stressed out crowds, the hurry up and wait atmosphere, all of it. The big city airports were the places least friendly to Maya's aura.

Since she was going only as far as San Francisco, the door-to-door limo service was probably faster than flying in any case. It was certainly faster than the train and more convenient than the bus, or a rental car.

As usual, when she was driven from L.A. to San Fran, she phoned up the local Buddhist Monk hotline and offered rides for up to four monks. When she did this, it meant that she had to ride shotgun with the driver, so her presence would not defile the monks in the back.

They picked them up at a big house just off the Sunset Strip in Beverly Hills. The rich family that owned the house allowed it to be used as a residence for visiting monks during the seasons when they did not use it themselves, which meant monks were always there.

The big house had the same "for sale" sign on the lawn as the last time. She thought the owners were hoping to sell it to Shanghai or Hong Kong money, which meant that having the monks in residence would help it to sell. The house would be free of evil spirits and carry very good joss.

The old caretaker monk, whose job it was to deal with the outside world on behalf of the others, came to the limo to chat to her while the driver loaded bags into the trunk and the front of the limo sections. The old monk was very polite. She always asked him about other monks they knew in common and he always had news.

"He is in Dharamsala again," he told her when she asked about the abbot. "The old woman who is the personal physician to the first lama is ill, and he has gone to visit with her."

Their short visits always ended in the same way. He would pass her some simple crystals strung on simple twine, including his own, and she would hang them over the rear view mirror and bless them, and then hand them back.

The old man bowed them out of the driveway, and they headed up Sunset and took the coastal highway. They stopped at Refugio Beach just before the number 1 dodged inland through a pass and connected to the 101.. She always had the driver stop at Refugio so that she and the monks could walk along the strand of sand under the palm trees and imagine they were back in Thailand or Burma or India or wherever else they came from.

This time her passengers were four young monks studying in the equivalent of monk's university. They were on a tour from Thailand, but only the ones dressed in saffron robes were from Thailand. The ones in ruddy robes were Burmese refugees living in Thailand.

The Burmese monks were chock-full of up-to-the-minute news about what was happening with the monk's rebellion in Rangoon. There was no good news, but they even made that sound like good news. The more that the vicious government trod heavily on the necks of monks, the more likely they were to be overthrown by the lay men or even by China and Thailand.

She had prepared a picnic for Refugio. It was in the cooler chest that Bruno, the driver she always asked for, was hauling to the picnic table under two tall palms. He would have Japanese barley tea with the monks as he was driving, whereas she would hit the small bottle of sake. The picnic was almost exclusively Japanese rice and sliced raw tuna.

The sushi restaurant had been about to charge her two hundred for that much tuna, but when they saw the monks in the limo they dropped the price to cost, and then the entire staff ran outside to the limo to personally drop tasty treats into the bowls of the monks.

Their next break wasn't until they were abreast of Monterey Bay at the old mission at San Juan Bautista. They all stretched their legs, and the monks stretched their minds around the life that the monks of this frontier mission must have lived.

They dropped the monks at an equivalent house in San Francisco, and they were replaced by three monks who were catching a ride south with Bruno on his return trip. Only then did he drop Maya at the house where she was staying. The monks were fidgeting by the time Bruno had paid his respects to his old employer inside the house.

Maya was shown to her usual room, but she knew she would rarely sleep there. The expectant mother would demand she share her king-size bed at night. During the day, she planned on spending her days re-exploring San Francisco.

* * *

She had lived in Frisco for almost a year when she was fresh out of high school and proving to her mother that she could make it on her own. At the time she and another girl from Mendocino had shared a grungy basement studio. Really grungy, but it was all they could afford on coffee shop wages.

At the time it didn't bother her. Well, not much. Well, not much during the summer. She was a young girl from a small town and living in the big city. It was by sheer chance that their grungy life centered around a neighborhood with a large gay community. It wasn't until much later that both of them realized that in any other affordable neighborhood they would have probably lived through some grisly experiences.

It was an interesting time to be visiting Frisco. Not since the days of the hippies had there been so many student demonstrations. Along with demonstrations there were also ad hoc concerts and parties and interesting conversations in student coffee shops. It seemed to be building into the kind of scene that her mother always pretended she had belonged to in the late sixties, but of course, she had been just an infant at the time.

During the day she would escape the 'House of Pregnant Woman and Mother' and dress in grunge and wander the streets where things were supposed to be happening on that day. Whatever she found was never as good as it could be. There was no romance any more, and she didn't mean romance as in love. She meant romantic flair. There were no feminine hippie chicks in flowing skirts and beads, and no hippie guys with long hair and wearing Mexican peasant whites.

A couple of days dressed in grunge were enough to bum her out. She decided to try dressing in colorful feminine clothes, not too revealing, in hopes of starting a trend. On the very first day she discovered that the feminine clothes were a big hit, but not with the student women. It was the gay men that approved of her look and sought out her company.

On the days when the students were sitting in the middle of streets with ant- corruption placards, and just generally being in the way, she would be sitting in the closest coffee shop being bought chai tea by two or three charming gay men who were watching it all through the shop windows.

"I sort of feel guilty not joining them," she said to one of the guys one afternoon.

"There are many sides to a demonstration such as this," Chuck, the man who brought her chai, told her. "We need actual demonstrators, and we need police, and we need observers, and we need the press. We are the observers."

"So, we just sit here doing nothing?"

"No," he said, "we sit here waiting for something to happen, preferably a reaction."

"Huh."

Chuck held up his digital camera and his powerful smart phone. So did the rest of the men at the table. Some had digital video cameras. "If something happens, it is our duty to run out with our cameras and make sure that the police realize that everything they do will be captured on film. It tends to slow down the building of violence and gives saner heads more time to defuse the situations."

"Are we talking about the same police?" she asked incredulously. "I used to pour coffee for a lot of them a few years ago. They seemed pretty rednecked."

"Oh they are, ducky," said the man across from her. "That's why we don't join the demonstrators. They would just love to bash us about for different reasons than being against corruption."

She looked over at the TV on the wall. It was always on in case there was news about the demonstrations. She recognized the politician that was shaking hands on the news. "What do you think of him, that Glover Walland?"

"He's very good-looking. I wouldn't kick him out of bed for small farts. Maybe for big ones," replied Chuck, just to make her laugh. She was so pretty when she laughed.

"No, seriously. Isn't he a contender?"

"He is bought and paid for by the military industrial complex and by big oil. He will be worse than Bush."

"Which Bush?" asked another man looking over his shoulder to see the TV.

"Does it matter, dear? Pick your Bush," Chuck murmured.

"Will he win, do you think?"

"If he wins the candidacy, then he will likely win the presidency. Only the Republicans can stop him now," said a man at the next table. "Once the media get behind him he will be unstoppable."

"Cynic," said his friend.

"Hey, we saw it in the Democratic convention when the obvious person to choose was Hilary. The Republicans had no real candidate. Their media moguls decide the only way to stop Hilary was at the convention. The right wing media pushed Obama and dissed Hilary all the way through the convention. They figured they could run a rabid dog and still win against a black man for president."

"But they didn't beat him. Obama won."

"Yeah, because the right wing media pushed him so hard to beat Hilary, that there wasn't time to turn around the momentum. The same media push that made him the candidate, made him the president. The GOP money and media is what put Obama into the White House."

Customers all over the shop began to argue with the man. Maya stood up and looked around at the angry faces. She was the only woman customer in the shop. "Hey guys, settle down. You're arguing about ancient history. It doesn't matter. What matters is that guy on TV."

"Well, that is a doom and gloom topic, isn't it? The future under Walland?" said Chuck. "I would rather argue ancient history."

She noticed that Chuck had trouble standing and walked with a limp. He left the cafe and started limping up the hill, carrying a large camera bag. She pushed her empty cup away from her, said farewell to the guys, and ran to catch up with him. She hooked into the arm on his bad leg side and walked with him slowly up the hill. She took the camera bag from him, and slung it over a shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, "I hate using my cane, but I really do need it to climb hills. By the way, you are the prettiest cane I have ever had."

She let go of his arm, skipped ahead a few steps and then did a twirl to let her full Indian cotton skirt swirl. "It's not me, it's the romantic look," she said and then ended her twirl by grabbing his arm again. "Do you live far?"

"Next corner and left. Not far. Do you live around here? I seem to remember your face from somewhere."

"I used to live about two blocks away, in a dungeon. You probably recognize me from the coffee shop a block over. I used to work there." She walked him home, and then helped him up the steps to the door of the small, rundown apartment building.

"I live on the ground floor, so you don't have to go any further if you don't want to." He opened the outside door with his key. "Want some miso soup?"

"I would love some," she said and followed him down a dark hallway that smelled of cabbage and spaniels. What am I doing, was the only thought in her mind.

She followed him into the apartment and took the tour with one glance. She was expecting gay colors and paintings, not walls covered in photos of tanks and companies of soldiers. She put the bag down.

He watched her look at them, and then said, "Someday I should redecorate." He took a big camera out of the bag and put it down on a shelf strewn with other camera equipment and a collection of folding knives. "That was my old life, before I got my balls shot off in Iraq. Literally."

She walked along the gallery until the end where there were a dozen portraits of soldiers. "This your company?"

"Just the ones that didn't make it. Improvised land mines got most of us. Hey, I shouldn't be standing around. I have soup to make."

"So you're not gay?"

"I'm not anything. I can either hang around and be depressed with other vets, or I can hang with my old high school crowd and absorb their sympathy. You know the word sympathy don't you? It's in the dictionary right between shit and syphilis." He caught her off guard with that, and she laughed. "Anyhow, I decided to fly with the gays in this neighborhood. At least they're colorful."

His only window faced a wall, so they sipped soup on the front steps where they could watch life's parade of people walk by on the street.

A pregnant woman walked by, and reminded her. "Thanks for the soup, Chuck. I should get home. I have a pregnant friend to take care of. See you tomorrow at the coffee shop."

"You live far?"

"She lives over in Sea Cliff, near China Beach."

"Oooh, nice." he said in a falsetto.

"Yeah, beats my old dungeon all to hell. See you."

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 15 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

Maya was right on time at Mister Li's shop. The bell above the door tinkled as she went in. It smelled heavily of incense and she saw some movement at the back, so she called out. Mister Li came out from behind some boxes and saw her. "Good time to come. Monk just cleansed shop of bad spirits. Please come to garden."

She stepped into the brightness of the odd garden and saw a monk dressed in red and gold robes sitting cross-legged on a straw mat. Mrs. Li was ladling food into his bowl. Mister Li hurried forward, bowing humbly and told the monk, "This the girl, eminence." The monk motioned her to come closer and to sit on another mat, and she did.

He spoke some Cantonese and Mister Li disappeared back into the shop, but Mrs. Li just shook her head and stayed still, watching them.

The monk spoke with a deep voice and a cultured English accent. "Grandmother will not leave us alone together, not with you wearing such a skimpy sun dress, but what we need to do requires privacy. Will you invite me into your home so I may cleanse it of evil spirits?"

"Yes, of course. It's just a short walk away."

Mrs. Li tutted at them as she followed them through the shop and out onto the street. When Maya looked back she was shaking her head and talking to her husband. "They do not trust you," she said, both as a statement and a question.

"They trust me, but not as much as their feeling of protection towards you. You have impressed them greatly. Beside, we monks are not supposed to seek the company of women."

They walked and talked all the way to the house. They mostly talked about the incident with the attempted kidnapping in the park. "Mister Li is still curious why you did not simply remove your gloves and zap the kidnapper. He is in awe of your powers."

"Do you believe I really have powers?" she asked.

"You are most careful to wear gloves even on a hot day. Let us say, I am openly curious."

Once they had arrived at the house and she had let them in, she took him directly upstairs to the common-cum-meditation room. He was more interested in the Bow flex muscle machine pushed back against the wall than the panoramic view. Eventually he sat on a yoga mat and assumed a meditational position facing the view, and invited her to sit facing him.

"Explain yourself," was all he said, and then he listened without moving or speaking for almost an hour while Maya told him of her discovery of her aura, and the experiments they had done with it.

"Do you mind giving me a demonstration?" he asked. "Would it be enough to be nude only from the waist up?" She nodded and loosened the straps of her sundress so that it fell away from her shoulders. The monk was amazed at the un-selfconcsious way she did this, and couldn't help but notice her fresh honey-coloured skin and pert breasts. He made a show of following suit , easing out of his own robes and making an effort not to stare. Maya in turn was impressed by his lean but muscular torso, and smooth tan skin. His close-cropped black hair accented fine Asian features and dark eyes. She made an effort not to stare.

They both began to prepare for meditation in their own ways. The room became very still as each cleared their minds.

She gasped. He had an aura. Not as strong as Erik's, but there. She felt her own aura immediately strengthen and whiteness filled her mind with floral scents. Then it started, what Erik called resonance. Her aura was building, stretching his. She could feel his getting stronger, drifting into her mind. A very light green and a smell, a smell of limes - no, apples - so faint - no, limes.

"Unripe mango," his deep voice came through to her. "Can you stop? That is enough for now."

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "That's the problem. I can't stop it, like, except for covering it, you know, blocking it."

"Then roll away from me, for I cannot move."

She did as she was asked and rolled all the way to the windows. She looked back at him. He was in a deep trance. She stood and keeping close to the walls, moved around to the stairs. She tiptoed down them to fetch a ski jacket.

He opened his eyes and they focused on the girl sitting in a meditational pose wearing a ski jacket and gloves. "That was most distracting, delightful but distracting. And disturbing. I begin to understand your problem." He took some small breaths and yawned to wake himself into consciousness. "Mister Li explained it well, although he was ignorant of the full extent." He shuffled and twisted back into his robes.

"Can you help me to, like, control it? It's making my life wonderful and horrible at the same time."

"You say that when you are asleep, it goes to sleep also?" the monk asked, deep in thought.

"And when it finds another aura it multiplies quickly, and when it finds no aura it tries to turn sexuality into an aura," she added. "And it seems to focus through my hands. Other parts too, weakly through my feet, noticeable through my breasts, elbows, knees, forehead. I haven't experimented with my sex. I've been afraid to."

"Take a glove off and touch me with your hand."

"Oh no, not now. Our auras have just stoked each other. You felt the strength. It may hurt you," she warned.

"Later, then. For now I must try to teach you a meditational technique to lull your aura to sleep. Is there another person close by that can be here with you?"

"Not right now, why?"

"What I propose is a form of hypnosis. It will put you into a state of heightened suggestibility. I am a man, and you are a desirable woman. It would be best if there were someone else present to protect you against any inappropriateness on my part."

"I trust you"

"You shouldn't," he said, "there is a reason I have my robes bundled covering my lap."

"Oh," she said wrinkling her nose. "that. I understand. Okay. Stand up and open your robes, I'll be right back." She took off one glove and went into her bathroom and returned with a condom, and then put the monk beyond his sexual distraction with one stroke. She immediately grabbed his elbow to balance him and help him to sit back down. "There, better?"

"Yes, thank you," he sighed in a faint voice. He felt decidedly mumsy. "Umm, are there blinds or drapes to those windows? We need a darker room."

"My bedroom. Come with me. Do you want me sitting or lying?"

"Sitting in your most comfortable seat, and warm. I suppose that is no problem with that ski jacket you are wearing."

"Insulated clothing blocks the aura. So does bathing, like, in the hot tub."

"Of course, you would have a hot tub in this house," he said softly, "this is Lotus Land, the West Coast. Now sit, take some deep breaths, and relax." He pulled a leather thong from around his neck and held up the crystal that was attached to it. "What I am going to do is get the conscious you to relax so that I can speak directly to your subconscious without being filtered out. Once I know I am speaking to your subconscious, I will leave it instructions on how to make your aura sleep. I will also leave it instructions on how to make it leap to life. Do you want me to continue?"

"That is all you are going to do?"

"That is more than enough for our first session. It may even take multiple sessions to get that far. Are you ready?" His voice got deeper and he was causing his crystal to twinkle just above her eye level.

* * *

She woke when the monk told her to, and she felt as wonderfully awake as he told her she would. "How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"About a half an hour all together. I used a technique called segmentation to almost bring you out, and then deeper, and out, and deeper. That took most of the time."

"So that segmentation is like resonance, but for hypnosis?"

"I suppose so, yes. Now pay attention. I chose two uncommon actions as triggers, and you have practiced them while you were hypnotized. When you want your aura to get stronger, you put the flats of your hands together as if you were praying." He demonstrated, but stopped her from doing it. "When you want your aura to get weaker, you fold your arms and hold your elbows, like this." He showed her.

"Now it is your turn," he said. "Let's go back to the yoga room and try it out." This time he stripped completely. After all, she had already handled him. She followed suit. After all, she had already been totally in his power for a half hour. They sat in lotus position facing each other.

"Now, let our auras build as before. That's it. Now hold your elbows. Ahhh. Now clasp your hands. Oh my, ohh, nyaaa, oh! Oh, elbows, elbows, elbows. Ahhh..!" He took a deep breath. "Well, that seems to work. Can we break for some tea before we practice some more?"

"But it worked," she said, "why do I need practice?"

"Each time you do it and it works, it strengthens the suggestion. If we practice for a few hours, then it will be still work tomorrow without me having to put you into another hypnotic trance."

"Okay, I'll run down and put the kettle on, but don't you move. I want one more practice, like, while we wait for tea."

* * *

They sipped tea, English style, with milk, while he told her some of his adventures studying religion at Cambridge. She was a bit too excited to listen. "So why did you choose those particular triggers?" she asked, interrupting his story about some strawberry and whipped cream fair along the canals in Cambridge.

He looked perturbed by her question, as if he was not used to being interrupted. "They seemed obvious. To bring on the aura, you assume a pose that is used as a meditational or prayer pose in many religions. To calm it down you assume a pose that is a woman's normal body language to keep to herself."

"So how long have you been practicing with your aura?" she asked.

"For most of my life. I was chosen to be a monk when I was seven because of it."

"So, like twenty years."

"Forty, but I thank you for the compliment."

She was stunned. This man was forty-seven. That was older even than her mum. She had been figuring, like, thirty. Especially since she had seen his firm brown chest. "So you are Chinese, like Mister Li."

"Mister Li is Chinese Burmese. I am Burmese Chinese, but I lived most of my life in England."

"Oh, right, sorry." She wondered where Burmese was. Karl had a world atlas somewhere. She would have to look it up. And Belgium. Both B's, that should be easy. She had to keep him here until the guys got home. The monk was an aura generator. The guys would want to meet him. Damn, they would be late today. Between tea and talk and practice she doubted she could hold him here. Books. Of course. Books.

She ran to the bookshelves in the other room and returned with books on Buddhism, Hinduism, Meditation, and the one with the dirty statues. She half-dropped them on the coffee table in front of the monk. "I have been searching and searching for information on auras. All these books and more. Nothing except some pictures that show them."

She had him. His eyes lit up at the sight of such quality books. They would keep him busy for awhile. University types were all the same... they loved books. She watched him choose the one with the explicit statues and open it, and flip through.

"If you wish to know where the aura comes from, it is natural to man. An extension of the sense of touch in the skin. If you wave a hand over the hair on your arm, the feeling is similar. Unfortunately with the adoption of clothing, we have lost much of that sense.

"And the colors and the scents?"

"Your subconscious, the part of your being I reached today, likes to organize experiences for future reference. Some of the references were probably mapped into the brains of our ancestors eons ago. The aura exists, the light and the scents do not exist. They are labels that your subconscious brings up from ancient memories. Ancient from before words."

"But they seem so real."

"And yet you instinctively know the scents do not come from your nose, nor the light from your eyes."

"Where were you a month ago? You should see all the graphs the guys have made trying to explain our auras."

"There are guys with auras who live here with you?"

"Oh yes, didn't I say?"

"No, and they have been using scientific methods to, what, measure your aura? I would like to speak to them. Will they be home soon?"

"Later," she said eagerly, "but I can make you something to eat if you want to wait."

"Let me think about it."

"So, you are saying that the odor of charred toast is one of my ancient memories from a time before civilization."

"You are having toaster problems?" he asked searching her face, hoping she would say yes.

"No, auras, silly." She saw his beaming face change immediately and become very severe. "Like the kidnapper. While I was struggling with him my head filled with the charred smell."

"You must tell the police that this man is very dangerous, insanely dangerous."

"Tick, done," she said. "I work with a psychiatrist attached to the serial killer task force. She knows all about my sensing of charred toast."

"So she will label him a sociopath or a psychopath. Good enough. You must be very careful around such people."

"Well everyone should be careful around them. They are bad men. Insane, like you said."

"No, you in particular. Anyone who can sense them, must be very careful. In past times when the psychopaths have taken control of kingdoms they have ruthlessly purged anyone who could sense them. Their success, their very survival, depended upon it."

"Huh, I believe it. They scare the hell out of me." She wondered if she should ask him about why her hands had killed one.

"Individually, they are scary, but when they join together and organize, they enable such evil as destroys entire cultures."

"But on the web, they list most Corporations as being psychotic."

"I rest my case." he said. "All organizations, with time, eventually enter a state that your psychiatrist would consider insane. Democracies, religions, political parties tend towards schizophrenia. Corporations, armies, and dictatorships tend towards the psychotic. Do you understand the difference?"

"One is two people in one head fighting for control, the other is someone who can justify immoral behavior." She was quoting Erik, from one of their discussions, and was pleased that she not only understood what she had just said, but sounded rather expert delivering it.

"More or less. I don't like the modern labels. I prefer the labels that are over two thousand years old. Organizations that have a split in power at their core tend to keep themselves more or less ethical, and more or less moral. They are self-critical, and stay more or less in balance. Those that are single-minded tend to become very unethical and very immoral and trend towards extremes."

"Aren't ethics and morals the same thing?" she asked.

"Ah, my child, holy men have been arguing that for thousands of years. The simple answer is that morals are based on the golden rule, whereas ethics is a list of generally agreed upon exceptions to the golden rule." He looked at her. She was smiling mischievously. "The religious golden rule, not the capitalist golden rule. Do unto others, not he who has the gold."

"So, what you are saying," she said, "is that if a psychopath, like, makes it to the top, other psychopaths jump in and help him out?"

"That is the end effect, but the mechanism is much more subtle. There are a lot more imitation psychopaths than real ones. I call them fauxpaths, but your psychiatrist friend would probably call them narcissistic personality disorder. Once a culture starts rewarding psychopathic behavior, the fauxpaths adjust their behavior to take advantage of it. Currently corporations are filling up with fauxpaths. Eventually their lack of morals and ethics will destroy the corporation that enabled them, and the shareholders will loose their shirts. It is a regular financial cycle."

"You use too many big words. You're saying that eventually the psychopaths destroy each other."

"No, the psychopaths get away with it and move on. The fauxpaths and the shareholders destroy each other and release a lot of evil into the community around them.

"So, like, am I sensing both the fauxpaths and the psychopaths?" She was getting a little weary trying to keep all this new terminology straight.

"No, just the psychopaths. They may both act in a bad way, but with the fauxpath it is just an act. With the psychopath, it is who they are. A fauxpath won't have an aura because they will have killed it with their actions."

"So why do the psychopaths still have an aura?"

"They don't. They have gone so far the other way that what you are sensing is like, like, umm, a black hole. Do you know what a black hole is?"

"Of course. I love Star Trek." She decided that she had to ask him about her having killed a man. "Umm, if I confess something bad to you, do you have to keep it like, quiet?"

"I am a Buddhist monk, not a Catholic priest."

"So that's a no?"

"That's a maybe," he said. "Probably, but it depends upon the confession."

He watched her quietly. He could tell she was having a mental struggle with something. There was a line between her brows, and her eyes had clouded a little. She appeared to come to a decision, and blurted it out.

"Murder."

"Don't tell me," he said.

"Murder of a psycho serial rapist?"

"Okay, let me have it," he sighed, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"That producer that died a few weeks ago? I killed him with my aura."

He took a few deep breaths. He had felt the strength of her aura. Was it possible to kill with one? He focused his mind. He must remember everything she said. "You just killed him because he smelled charred?"

"I wasn't wearing these." She held up her gloves. "He was trying to rape me. I was on the edge of passing out, something to do with the charred thing." She reached up and put her hands under his chin and against each side of his neck. "I tried to push him away like that. He collapsed. They tried to resuscitate him. Nothing. He died."

"Ahh, now I understand what Mister Li was trying to tell me. He assumed you had used a physical force like the Chi to physically collapse the organs in his throat or his medulla." He saw the blank look on her face. "The medulla is like the tail of your brain. It is controls many of your automatic bodily functions, and it is inseparable from your subconscious."

She pressed her gloves against his throat. "That is about as hard as I was pressing and it wasn't like a punch like Mister Li showed me. He collapsed to the floor. I heard him moan and I figured I had put him into a trance, but he never recovered."

"I would research it for you, but here in Vancouver I have no access to a Sanskrit library."

"Best guess." She watched him disappear into himself. He was gone for almost twenty minutes. She poured more tea.

"When you yawn," he finally spoke. "you come very close to a state of death for a split second. It is complicated, but roughly what is happening is your subconscious is telling the body through the medulla that the brain needs a recharge, and that everything else can go without until it gets it. I think that your aura confused the subconscious or the medulla or both and they stopped everything at the same time."

"Like a heart attack?" she asked wrinkling her nose. "Like his heart just stopped?"

"More than just the heart. They could have resuscitated him from just the heart. It may be that all of the automatic bodily functions stopped at the same time. You said he moaned afterwards. That tells me that you did not hold his throat for more than a split second."

"I don't remember. He collapsed immediately, so that broke my connection."

"If everything stopped for just a second, then his body would have tried to come back, like it would from a yawn. With everything stopped, it couldn't. A resuscitation would not work, because that would be just the heart. It would not keep beating by itself."

"So are you going to report me?" She held her breath waiting for his answer.

"It was not murder. It was a very peculiar accident. I will keep your secret."

"What if he hadn't been a psycho?" she said solemnly. "Would it have still have killed him?"

"Absolutely."

She looked at her hands and shuddered. Her voice was weak when she spoke. "Have you ever heard of anything like it before?"

"Similar techniques, but they rely on the use of a weapon," he reached around to the back of her neck and found the soft spot at the base of her skull. "There is a soft spot there that is used by assassins. They use something very thin and sharp, like a long hat pin, or those picks that you use to break up blocks of ice. They jab it through that soft spot and deep into the medulla, and then jag it back and forth. Death is immediate and almost bloodless."

"But I don't think that was what Mister Li was talking about. He said I had a monk's power. I'm sure he meant that no touching was needed. He introduced us. You are a monk. Why are you telling me about a method of stabbing, when I am asking about the power of auras?"

"He is an old man. He is describing things from old myths," he replied calmly.

"I didn't kill that producer in an old myth. Tell me."

"Why? You have an explanation of what happened. It will never happen again. If you aren't planning on killing someone else, then you have no need to know."

"I need to know so I don't accidentally hurt someone." She could hear the stress in her own voice, and could hear her own pulse in her ears.

"Come then, back to the yoga room. We will practice putting your aura to sleep so you will have no more accidents."

"Why won't you tell me, what are you afraid of?" She stopped arguing because he put up his hand for her to stop.

"When you can show me that you are in control of the powers you already have, then ask me again."

"Thank you," she said, trying to calm herself, "Shall we go and practice some more, then?"

* * *

There were no lights on downstairs so Erik climbed up to the second floor. He stopped in his tracks, feeling that since this fey girl had come into their lives, he never knew what he would be coming home to. It was great fun. This time there was a Buddhist monk in full regalia meditating in the common room. Maya in her silk robe, was in a lotus position facing him. She was grasping her elbows to hide her breasts from the monk. He walked quietly around them.

"Erik, this is Sarthani," she said softly, "He knows auras. He has been training me in how to control mine."

Erik bowed politely and asked if he could join them. Of course he could, but it was polite to ask before assuming the company of a monk. He went to his room, exchanged his office clothes for his silk robe, washed his hands and face and stood there looking out at the view for a moment to centre himself before joining them.

When Karl arrived an hour later he found Maya meditating, while a Buddhist monk sat in front of a computer screen with Erik. He was taken aback by the poncy Ox-Bridge accent of the monk, but was struck by the same sense of wondrous fun that Erik had experienced only a short time before. Seeing Erik in his silk robe, he hurried to the bedroom to get his. It had been many years since he had meditated with a monk. He wasn't going to miss this opportunity despite the work he had brought home.

Eventually it was Maya who had to answer the door and pay the delivery guy for all the sashimi. The guys were all sitting around the computer adding Sarthani's aura ranges into their spreadsheets and graphs. It was no use setting the table, because she knew they wouldn't leave the computer for a mere feast. She took a jug of sake from the microwave and carried it and the take-out trays upstairs.

"It's just temporary," Erik was explaining to the monk, "the increase in the range of your aura from meditating with Maya will decay over about two hours, but if you meditate with her again within those two hours, the range will spike again, and very quickly."

"And you explain it with formulas for resonance," confirmed the monk.

"Well, we don't actually know what the auras are, but it is a safe assumption that they are some kind of wave. That the resonance formula fits the observations supports our wave theory."

"Food," she called to them. She was upset with the guys. Sarthani was HER monk. She'd found him first. He had ignored her since they had come home. She poured herself a big shot of sake and would have knocked it back except it was too hot. As she had expected they all reached over and grabbed for the closest item, her California rolls, and then went back to the computer screen.

She looked at their backs and a naughty thought crossed her mind. Time for some big fun. She let her robe slip to the floor, and then she pressed her hands together as if she were praying. She closed her eyes and felt the surge through her body, through her senses. One of the benefits of being able to put the aura to sleep was the wondrous feeling when she woke it up again. It came on in a rush, as if she were having an orgasm.

She forced her eyes to open so she could watch the effect. One by one the men were straightening their backs, and then arching them as they were enveloped by milky whiteness and floral scents. One by one they turned and faced her, but said nothing. None of them wanted to interrupt the delicacy of the touch.

She folded her arms over her rock hard nipples and held her elbows. The range decreased rapidly at first and then more slowly. She pointed to the sushi. "Your supper is going cold," she scolded, and then realized how silly that was so she moved her hand to point to the hot sake.

The monk lowered his hands and bowed to her. "Thank you for the lesson in manners," he whispered, "and thank you for the caress. You have proven your mastery of your gift. I am now willing to teach you more, but first you must ask Mister Li to teach you some Tai Chi. If he agrees, then I will tell him what to teach you."

Both Erik and Karl had nothing to add at that point. They were both getting over the effects of Maya's version of the dinner gong.

* * *

The monk bade his farewells shortly after the last morsel of Ahi disappeared. He refused a ride home as he had a skytrain pass, but he did accept a ride from Erik as far as the nearest station. Erik was gone for almost an hour for a ten-minute drive.

"We sat in the car and chatted, mostly about you, Maya. He fears for your safety. He fears that you are not mentally or physically ready for the responsibilities of your gift." He held his hands up as she opened her mouth to object. " His words, not mine. I assured him that we would watch out for you."

Maya was curled into Karl's arms. The first time she had ever been able to do so outside of the hot tub. She had put her aura to sleep for the night. Erik's return was the trigger for Karl to look over the work he had brought home. Erik also had preparations to make for tomorrow's labs. They took their laptops downstairs so they wouldn't keep Maya awake. She was looking very sleepy.

Karl was the first to nod off while reading a summary and he kissed Erik's forehead and went up to bed. He returned a minute later. "We have a problem." He took Erik by the hand and they walked together up the stairs and across to their bedroom. Erik sighed when he saw Maya asleep on their bed. Karl pulled him back into the common room where they could whisper to each other.

"With her aura asleep she can finally get the hugs she has been missing," Erik whispered, "Poor kid. She has been through an awful lot in a very short time. Lets give her some hugs and send her back to her own bed."

"It's not going to be that easy. When I first came in, she was facing the door. She has a Christmas bow stuck to her pubes."

"Oops. We have a problem. I suppose we could go and sleep in her bed."

"That would be insulting. She deserves a lot of hugs."

"She wants more than hugs."

"Well, that's all she's going to get."

"Brave words. She can turn us on just by touching her palms together."

"Let me go in first. Give me a couple of minutes, then join us. I'll think of some excuse."

"Yeah, right. Go on, then."

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 16 - Three years earlier in Kitsilano, Vancouver

She stretched out full length under the blanket. She was feeling absolutely, luxuriously delicious. The guys' alarm had got them moving about an hour ago, and got her moving back to her own bed while they crashed around getting ready for work. Work. Bugger. She was being filmed today. In a panic she grabbed the schedule from the paper clip on the calendar and scanned down. Oh, thank goodness. Not until ten. Today at the school, tomorrow at the park.

She jumped through the shower, braided a pony tail, and grabbed the kilt and dressed herself once again as predator bait. Why did private schools still demand uniforms that made girls look like sexual targets?

She ran out of the house, and immediately ran back in. The morning fog had dropped the temperature big time. She grabbed the plastic rain coat for more warmth, a good idea in any case to shield her from lustful looks, and she ran to the bus stop.

The school was 'temporarily' closed. Another example of the government starving the kids so they could feed more caviar to the bankers. The school grounds were well-organized with signs and security, and the side street was clogged with big white trucks and motorhomes.

She soon found out that movie extras were at the bottom of the food chain. They were kept in 'hurry up and wait' mode while the main shots revolved around the stars. Wow, they were well-organized. It wasn't like watching a play that starts at the beginning and runs forward to the end. They had everything punched into a computer program that organized every shot accorded to similar needs of location, actors, props, and costumes, no matter what the sequence in the movie.

Today they would take all the school shots that needed most of the extras. Most of the extras were girls dressed as predator bait, and Maya was one of the oldest. The true actresses were all much older. One looked, like, thirty, and she was supposed to still be in high school. Yeah, right, like that was believable.

For the first two hours, all of the girls were filmed walking up hallways, walking down hallways, opening lockers, closing lockers, sitting in classes, standing in classes, sitting in the lunchroom, and leaning against outside walls and fences. After the assistant director, Mike, was satisfied that he had enough filler, he sent all the youngest girls home. They were done.

She and the other older girls were given lunch vouchers and shown to the catering van where they ate with the crew. The important people ate in the motorhomes. They were given a half hour, but then had to stand around for another half hour in 'hurry up and wait mode' until the important people were ready.

Her name was called. This was her big speaking part. It was part of a washroom scene and the 'chosen' extras got to say short phrases while they put on lipstick. Her line was, "I don't trust him."

The cameramen were pros and they organized themselves and their equipment in the washroom while waiting for the important people. Mike then arrived and took charge. The girl at the end of the line of sinks and mirrors had the biggest part, because the angle on her offered the least complications with the mirrors.

"Okay, gather round girls, and listen. I want you touching your hair and straightening your clothes and putting on makeup, especially lipstick. We'll do it a couple of times without cameras, just so you get the feel of it. When I wave my hand I want you to say your lines, in the right sequence, please."

He watched them and at the end grimaced. "We need more spice, okay. Pretend you are being watched by some cute guys, instead of by this motley crew." They started again, and he was still grimacing. He pointed to the girl on the end, and looked down at his script. "Uh, Liz, the camera will be mostly on you. Can you be a little less... stiff?"

"Maybe if she swept her hair up in the beginning?" Maya called out.

"Quiet," Wendy, who was Mike's right hand woman, told her.

Mike looked at her. "What's your name?"

Maya blushed. First day in a movie and she was going to be fired. "Maya."

"Maya, swap places with Liz and show us what you mean."

She took her tiny purse and walked passed Liz who gave her the evil eye. When they were in their new places, Mike told them to start again.

She opened her purse, pulled out some hair clips, and then swept her loosely braided pony tail up the camera side, over the crown of her head and clipped it in place, all the time making sure she arched her back and her arms so that her skirt would rise. She rolled her head, looking at herself in the mirror so that her neck extended.

Then she picked her lipstick out of her purse and leaned towards the mirror making sure that she leaned down and forward from the waist and arched her back even more. She screwed her lipstick much higher than was needed and then looked at it in the mirror and said Liz's line, "I think he is nice. Nice enough to give me a good mark," then she slowly pushed the extended red lipstick up to her top lip. The other girls said their lines, and then they all relaxed and waited for Mike to say something.

"We'll go with that. Wendy, swap Maya for Liz in the script. Get her a shorter skirt, and a longer lipstick. We'll go with cameras in ten."

Wendy grabbed her and Liz by the arm and asked for their schedule sheets and then swapped them. Liz looked down it and was obviously furious, but knew better than to argue. Maya looked down hers and realized that she was suddenly committed to the rest of today, tomorrow morning, and all of the day after that. It was a much bigger part with many more lines.

As Wendy hurried her along to the wardrobe truck, Liz called out "It's only because you have an American accent. This movie is for an American audience."

"Pay no attention to her," Wendy said, "she was stiff. You flowed. She played the innocent, you played the slut. That pose where you bent with the stiff legs and arched back was classic vamp."

After two takes, the crew started moving equipment. Mike told her that she looked good on camera.

"What did I mess up on the first take?" she asked him.

"Nothing, it was perfect. The first was for the full scene, the second for additional close ups. Wendy, give her a script for her next scene. It's a lot more complicated."

* * *

She had to wait around in hurry up mode for hours, so she sated her curiosity fix by looking over the technicians' shoulders, and having the programmer show her the software they used, and posing for the cameramen to mark their ranges for the starlet scenes.

Finally it was her turn again. She was quite nervous. She was the only girl in the scene and she was to be the first victim of the teacher-slash-vampire.

"Where's the star that plays the vampire?" she asked Wendy as they walked out of the school towards the playing field.

"The camera is the vampire in this shot." Wendy was walking her through the scene while the cameras were setting up. "So you are being chased by him. You run out of the gym's back door here, and then run across that lawn. The camera will be behind you, so be sure you wiggle as you run and keep looking over your shoulder. Then you reach through the links of that chain link gate and slide the bolt to open the gate, but your hand gets caught and you can't free it. Then you hear him and turn around with one hand stuck and lean with your back against the fence."

"Hold on. I'll remember it better if I actually do it."

"Go for it," Wendy said and watched the girl run, and get her hand caught. "No, wrong hand. Trap your other hand so that when you turn around you have the most breast time towards the camera. Never upstage yourself. That's a big no-no."

Wendy came closer, pretending she was the camera. "You see the vampire. You are terrified. Then you feel his animal magnetism, you know, the hypnosis thing vampires use. It seduces you and you go from being terrified to being scared and then aroused, and then you look like your are about to come and you offer your neck to him. Fade out. You're dead. In vampire movies the bad girls always die first. Them and any black guys."

"So do I come back to life? I'm booked for the next two days," she asked and then felt foolish. They didn't film in sequence. She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Brain fart." She looked at the camera crew. They still weren't ready. Mike was still not here. "I'm going to do it a couple of more times, okay?"

"Please do. Keep in mind you are playing a bad girl. A tease who led him on."

She felt almost ready but terribly nervous when Mike finally arrived. Wendy reminded him that her name was Maya while he refreshed the scene in his mind from his personal notes on his copy of the script. "Guys, I see doing this in four sections. Coming through the door. Running across the grass. The gate. The seduction. Are you okay with that, or would your rather break it up more?"

The lead cameraman poked his head up and said, "I've been watching her practice. I think we can do it in two sections. We only need to move the cameras once. She looks real cute running without a bra, so half the running scene should be from the front. We can shoot the door on close-up."

"Okay, move your camera to where you want it." Mike looked over at her. "I want you to run through it with me. Pretend I am both the camera and the vampire." Mike went over and stood where the camera was being moved to. "Okay, whenever you are ready."

She went inside the building, took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in a window. After all her practice she looked rumpled like she was being chased. She bolted through the door and swung it wide so she could look back down the hall before letting go of it. She turned into the camera and then ran across the grass keeping her arms tight to her sides so that her breasts would sway under her blouse.

As she passed Mike, she let her arms sway so they accentuated the sway of her bum. She hit the gate with both hands forward and shook it. Looked down to see the bolt. Did a stiff leg, back arch bend to reach through the links. Got stuck. Pulled and pulled each time raising her bum higher. Looked over at Mike. He was coming closer. She pulled at her hand frantically, looked again. Twisted around. Gave a look that she hoped was terror. Started sliding lower on the fence. Caught her breath and stopped fighting her trapped hand. Slid a little further. Smiled at Mike like a lover. Presented her neck. Took a long deep breath, opened her mouth sensuously and moaned.

Mike stood staring at her. "You've done this before." He turned around. "We'll go with that, anyone see a problem?"

Wendy walked into the scene. "The end, against the fence, has to be a separate section. I need to pin the back of her blouse so that the buttons strain on the front, and I need to pin her skirt to the fence so that it rides up as she slides down."

"You guys hear that?" he yelled to the camera men. "Anything else?"

"Nipples," called the light man.

"Shit," said Mike, "you're braless. Are you over eighteen? Thank the lord. Okay, we'll go with braless. Wendy, we need her nipples taped over. This is a family movie. We can slash her into pieces but we mustn't show nipples."

It took another hour to film her three minutes of fame. Afterwards, she went over to Mike to apologize for the amount of time to get the shot. "Are you kidding?" was his response. "Wendy, tell me she is kidding. Get the guys to copy the digital version onto a memory stick for her, and go and get a copyright agreement for her to sign."

A technician brought over a small computer card and handed it to Mike. He turned to Maya and said, "We had this scene penciled in for three hours. It's an important scene, or at least it is now. Hey everyone! Take a cake break, courtesy of Maya." He handed her the computer stick. "Next time you answer a casting call, show them this. You've just started a career in the movies."

"Is this where you tell me that you can make me into a star," she said taking the memory stick, "and you want to talk to me about my future tonight in your hotel suite?"

"Thanks but not tonight, love," he smiled warmly. "I've too much to do before tomorrow. Ask me again when we make the sequel."

Wendy barged in with a paper. "Signing this means you agree that you will never ever make a copy of the contents onto any form of media, and that it remains the property of the company, to be returned at their request."

As she signed, Mike walked over to talk to the crew that was packing up equipment. She looked up and watched him kid around with the crew. "He's very nice."

"Get in line, honey," whispered Wendy, "there are a lot of women who want that one. Me included."

"Do I have to pay anything for this memory stick?"

"Oh, give me a break! Your scene probably added a million bucks to the box office of this dog, never mind the TV rights. It will be the track of the rental shop DVD that wears out from all the rewinds and slowmos of the twelve-year-old boys. Even I wanted to rip your clothes off." Wendy reached into the pocket of her smock. "Do you have an agent yet? Here take this card. She's one of the honest ones. They are rare."

She read the name on the card. "But isn't this you?"

"You don't think I want to be the assistant to the assistant director all my life do you? Hey, we need to trust each other. Allow me to push your name for a couple of days. If I do good, then we can cut a deal."

"Sounds fair. Okay."

Wendy lowered her voice and gave an evil snicker. "I'll need you to sign in blood, little girl." Then she laughed. "How's about we shake on it instead?" and she offered her hand.

* * *

She was glad she had beaten everyone home. It gave her a chance to figure out how to load the computer stick into the computer and how to play the files, and to see herself on camera alone and before anyone else. It also gave her time enough to use the hot tub to soak the heavy tape off her nipples.

The video was raw footage, and not from the movie camera, but from the much smaller digital camera that was linked to the movie camera. There wasn't one file but twenty. She watched all of them and then chose the four that were the most complete and changed the numeric file name to begin with an 'a'. She was careful not to copy them onto the computer, and thus break the copyright.

The guys were late getting home, but for once she didn't care. She was mesmerized, watching herself play the tease and the victim, over and over. She now understood why Wendy had said that even she wanted to rip her clothes off. No wonder the taxi cab driver was such an ass the other night. She was every dirty old man's dream come true.

An hour later, Karl said almost exactly the same thing word for word. Erik was less kind. He told her again what the monk had said. "Don't you get it, Maya? This is exactly what Sarthani was warning us about. You seem to be hell-bent on bringing yourself to the attention of psycho predators." She felt crushed at the unexpected rebuke for something she was so proud of. She stomped into her room and slammed the door.

At about midnight, after Erik had finished seducing his man, and they had both fallen asleep entwined, they felt another weight on the end of the king mattress. Maya crawled in between them, and then told them to go back to sleep. They did so bathed in her almost sleeping aura.

The next morning she got up with them and the alarm clock, and made a real pest of herself trying to help them get ready for work. Now that she didn't need to cloak her aura, she was cycling through her wardrobe of thrift store treasures including some Victoria Secret shortie nighties that could have been used to seduce the Pope. Needless to say, between this morning's nightie and her soft aura, they were both so distracted that Erik had to return home for his forgotten lesson plans, and Karl for his Blackberry.

She was one of the first extras to arrive at the west parking lot of Jericho Park, where most of the huge white trucks were parked for the duration of the filming. She was early, despite having walked the whole way along the various roads and paths that kept her close to the waterfront, and then along the entire length of Jericho Beach to reach the movie camp.

She was ever so thankful to the plastic raincoat, because the early mornings were now chilly, and the school-girl kilt that the wardrobe department had issued to her was six inches shorter than her own, and of lighter material.

Mike was already drinking coffee when she arrived at the catering van. "Oh Maya, thank you for being here early." He pulled some pages out of an envelope and handed them to her. "I had the writers pen you into one of the main scenes with Karen Marshall, you know, the star. She has that TV show where she runs around killing vampires.

Anyway, she has all the lines, but we are going to use you to add some wiggle and jiggle." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Karen is way too old to play a school girl anymore, and she looks it." He motioned her to sit. "Anyway, it's the scene where some of the school girls are on a hike in the forest and they discover a cave, and in the cave is a musty old coffin. The cave is protected by Ravens, which chase them away, but the close proximity of the girls makes the vampire in the coffin wake up.

You don't have to do much except walk and crawl, run and duck, and of course scream. Unfortunately we can't have you in a close up with Karen," he dropped his voice again, "because the youth of your face and figure will give her age away." He went back to his normal voice, "but I will try to give you a few close ups. Stand up and turn around. Do you have another white blouse?"

"Is it dirty?" Her heart dropped, "Last night I washed out the mud from yesterday's take. Did I miss some?"

"No, it's just that it will be simpler if we don't have to pin it back to strain the buttons. Go and see what wardrobe has. If you have a choice, get one without breast pockets and of a thinner fabric."

"Okay, sounds good. Do I have any lines?"

"You mean other than screaming? We may be able to work something out. It would give us an excuse to include a close up of your face and mouth. "

His Blackberry barked at him, and he jumped up and disappeared into a motorhome. She took her coffee and wandered over to where the ravens were caged, and talked to the raven wrangler. She expected them be like crows, but the likeness stopped with the color. They were huge, and their beaks were huge, and when they looked at you, you felt like shivering.

"How will you get them back after they fly around chasing us?"

"Oh, these ones all have clipped wings. They can't fly more than, say, ten feet off the ground. They are for the close-ups. The ones that will fly and swoop at your are imaginary. They will be added to the film by special effects."

"Aren't vampires supposed to turn into bats?" she asked. "I don't get the ravens."

"I get them, I get them all the way to the bank."

She couldn't talk longer because they were gathering all the extras for the mass shots. School girls walking across a meadow, walking on paths though high bush, walking under the forest canopy. Being told to split up and collect specimens for biology class. Small groups of girls goofing off, and so on. Then all the young girls were sent home, and the more detailed shots began. Maya's, or rather Karen's was first.

Karen did not even acknowledge Maya's presence. They and two others were the bad girls, hiding from the teachers and smoking and talking about boys. There was an entrance to the cave, but of course no cave. The cave shots would be done in the studio. Maya did what was expected of her and skipped and wiggled, bounced and jiggled, but again with taped nipples.

The light man took ten minutes setting up exactly the right light to give the impression that her blouse was diaphanous when it was her turn to crawl into the mouth of the cave. She now understood the need for lightweight fabric and no pockets.

She was almost glad she didn't have a speaking part, because the dialogue was terrible, as in embarrassingly silly. The last thing they did was the panic of the raven attack. That was because their clothes were to be strategically ripped by thorn bushes as they ran.

The part of the huge park where this was being filmed was quite wild and overgrown. She was running behind Karen so that the camera could focus on her pert bum rather than Karen's spreading one. Karen misstepped or tripped over a vine, because the next thing she knew Karen went down hard, and then there was an ominous hum.

One of Maya's duties growing up in Albion was helping the migrant bee keeper who turned up every year during fruit blossom season. This was not the hum of bees. This was the more agitated hum of wasps. Karen must have crashed into a nest, and she was starting to swat at them, trying to get up to run away. Maya jumped on her back and held her down.

"Stay down, stay down. Stop swatting at them. If you panic and run they will attack as a swarm." She sounded brave, but all she could think of was how short her skirt was and how bare her legs were. If she couldn't calm Karen down they would both be repeatedly stung by the whole hive. She decided to try using her aura to calm Karen down. She put her hands together in prayer and calmed her own mind. Her aura leaped out of sleep mode.

She was touching Karen, skin to skin, in many places, so she concentrated on sending her aura through Karen's body. She felt the woman relax. It was working. The loud hum was calming too. Then she felt them. It was as if a thousand teeny tiny feet were crawling on her aura. She looked to the left of Karen's hand. There was a ragged hole in a mudded over decaying stump. Mud wasps were floating in and out of it.

"Karen, are you still with me or have you passed out?" she asked. She heard a muffled answer. "I am going to lift my weight off you and then we have to crawl backwards, very slowly, very calmly. The wasp nest is next to your left hand. When we get about ten feet away, we are going to very calmly stand and walk towards the cameras." There was a muffled "okay".

Maya lifted herself slowly and crawled backwards, and then Karen did the same. Three feet, six feet, ten feet. She started to stand. She helped Karen to stand. They turned their back on the swarm that was now circling the nest like a tornado, and walked towards the cameras. As soon as they reached them, blankets were thrown around them both.

The raven wrangler came running up to them with some roll-on underarm deodorant. "Here quick, put this on any stings right away." Maya had none. Karen had four, all on her left arm. The deodorant worked like a charm. The stings didn't even swell up, or turn red. Within a minute, all you could see of the stings was the tiny blemish where the stingers had gone in.

"What is that stuff?" asked Maya.

"Just roll-on," said the wrangler, shrugging his shoulders. "It's got a lot of Aluminum chlor-something-or -other in a vanishing cream. It's a strong base. Most natural poisons are proteins, you know, amino-acids. Bases neutralize acids. This stuff goes right under the skin and cancels out the wasp poison immediately." He saw the blank stares around him. "You know, like baking soda and vinegar." Finally, some of them nodded.

Karen was looking at her stings, waiting for them to hurt or swell. When they didn't, she turned to Mike and to the camera crew and started yelling at them. "You didn't even come and help! You effing well kept the cameras rolling the whole effing time!"

"We didn't know there was a problem. We though it was great stuff, like you were ducking the imaginary ravens. It was only when Maya jumped on your back to hold you down that we realized there was a problem. By then, what could we do that wouldn't get everyone stung?"

"Actually, it was pretty weird," said the wrangler. "Something I've never seen before. The wasps created like a dome around them, almost as if they were protecting them as part of their hive. Weird, I say, and I train ravens for a living."

"You'd better say that is a wrap, Mike," seethed Karen, "else I'm on the phone to L.A."

"That's a wrap for the girls!" yelled Mike. "Let's go back up to the cave and do the close-ups of the ravens. The girls can take an early lunch break."

"Come on, Maya," muttered Karen, still angry, "let's get out of here and have some decent food, on expenses." She waved to her personal assistant and then yelled for her get a limo.

"We don't need a limo. The Dinghy Club right there has one of the most scenic snack bars in the world. They make fabulous nachos."

"Do I look like I'm allowed to eat nachos?" snarled Karen. "Every nacho would go right onto my ass. I'm on a starvation diet."

"Uh, well, I'm finished for the day, and my place is pretty close to here. If you drop me at home, I can offer you sushi and sashimi and sake. It was all blessed by a Buddhist monk."

The limo bumped over the rough trail and stopped in a long puff of dust. Karen waited for the door to be opened for her, and got in, then slid over and patted the seat inviting Maya. The assistant got in beside the driver. "I'll see where you live before I commit. Give the address to the driver."

* * *

"Nice," Karen said as she walked from the front door right through to the deck. "So how come, you a nothing extra, gets billeted here, and I am in a downtown hotel suite?"

"I'm just couch-surfing with friends. Wealthy friends. Do you want to eat in the sun or the shade?"

"This is Vancouver. The sun is about as strong as the shade in L.A. Sun, for sure." She then stripped out of her torn and dirty costume and lay out in her bra and panties. When Maya came through with the cold sushi and the hot sake, she placed them down on the deck and then shucked her own clothes.

As soon as the sake and sushi were put down beside her, Karen started motoring through the choicest bits, never touching the rice. "Mmm," she spoke while she chewed and slurp with her mouth open, "this city has the best sushi outside of Japan."

Maya was taken aback. This was a wealthy and successful star, yet she had the same lack of common table manners that the guys had complained about with her and Alicia. She was now very, very glad the guys had given them lessons in manners.

What had Sarthani quoted after she had chastised them for eating at the computer. "I watched them eat and I knew who they were." Well if that was true then Karen was a pig. She looked away from Karen, and towards the view so she wouldn't say something rude. She watched the view until it seemed like Karen was slowing down.

"Sorry about that," Karen said. "I sort of porked it down, didn't I? Like I said, I'm on a starvation diet. That's the real reason I joined you for lunch. It meant I could shake loose from my driver and my assistant. They are my watchers, you know, and my conscience." She looked along the deck. "Hot tub work?"

"Yeah, but we rarely use the Jacuzzi. Too noisy. Do you want me to open it?"

"Sure, but no splashing. It took them an hour this morning to put this base coat on my face." She looked at the lithe young blonde as they both put up their hair. She looked like that, once, about ten years ago. She sighed and undid her push-up bra and felt her breasts drop, then she slipped out of her panties and let the passing sailing dinghies see that she was not a real blonde.

They sat in the tub, armpit deep, drinking sake. Karen asked her if she had ever played the truth game.

"You mean truth or consequences?"

"Not just the truth game. We take turns asking questions. The other person has to answer them completely truthfully or take a drink and miss a turn at questioning. You can be truthful or miss, but no lying."

"Sure, who goes first?" asked Maya.

"I do, I'm the guest. What did you do to me when you were on top of me? You said you were calming me, but it felt more like you were making love to me."

"I have a strong aura. I can project feelings into people. I was trying to calm you, but I was scared myself, so I probably got the feelings mixed up," Maya said crisply. "My turn. Why are you making this movie? Any episode of your series is better than this dog."

"I have points in the movie."

"What are points? Oops is that another question? Do I have to drink? I think I will anyway." They both drank and Maya poured more.

"Points are percentages of profit. Zero profit, zero dollars. For every million profit I get a hundred grand. My turn. Are you a lesbian? I mean there are a lot of them in this town, no offense."

"No."

"Bi?"

"I don't know yet," replied Maya. "My turn. Why kill vampires in your series and not, say psychopaths and serial rapists and murderers?"

"Vampires are an allegory for serial rapists and murderers. They can't be human or else the censors wouldn't allow us good guys to brutalize them without losing our family rating. Besides, there are a lot of powerful people who are psychopaths, and they would shut us down if we came too close to telling the truth about them." She started to snicker. "Executive producers come to mind, you know, our bankers, our money men."

"Alleghony, what's that?"

"Allegory, um alternative, in place of, sort of," Karen replied. "My turn. Will you do that aura thing with me again? This time with no wasps and no cameras and no thorns sticking into my belly."

"Sure. It would be good practice for me."

"I mean now, before my watchers come back."

"Come on then, let's go upstairs to the yoga room, or would you prefer a bed?"

* * *

She watched Karen lying peacefully on top of her bed. She was one tightly-wound lady. That explained why her efforts to calm her in the bushes had come across as sexual. It was the fastest way to cut through her defenses and start calming her. She'd had to do the same thing here on the bed. Well, that answered another question about her aura. It wasn't just men that she could sexually arouse.

She had sort of suspected that with Alicia and Emma, only they were too proud to admit it to her, or too ashamed. Not Karen. She begged for more and more, until she was writhing in sexual ecstasy. It was just like Erik and Karl. Once their sexual organs were satisfied, then you could reach the inner person and their inner feelings. This woman, however, felt as empty and as cold as a cave.

She took her elbows in her hands and started withdrawing the waves of sensuous non-touch from the woman. For the first time in any of the people she had swathed with her aura, she found no trace of one to strengthen. There was none. What had Sarthani told her? The fauxpaths have no aura left. What was the psychological name for fauxpath. The name of another white flower. Narcissus. Narcissistic personality disorder. Consummate actors. Well, she was a well-known actress.

She had felt so sorry for Karen that she had tried and tried to find and then build an aura in her. That was why she let the sexuality get so out of hand. In hopes that some aura would emerge from deep within her womb. That was the other thing. Her womb felt gray, sick, dead.

Karen opened her eyes and looked at her and moaned in pleasure. "My turn," Maya said. "Can you have children?"

Karen flopped back into her pillow and said, "You know, any other girl your age would ask me what Brad was like in the sack."

"Do you want me to get you some Sake?" Maya asked.

"No more, I have to go back to work. Okay, I'll answer. No, I can't. I grew up in a state that did not allow abortions. In high school I was butchered by a dentist who did abortions on the side." She rolled onto her side and then crawled off the bed. "I'd better call my ride. Hell, they are probably sitting in your driveway as we speak."

"Ooh, ooh, I'll go back with you. I'll get out at that last shopping precinct and catch a bus to U.B.C.."

"You a university student?"

"Nah, I just use their nude beach. You know, Wreck Beach."

"I envy you. I can't go anyplace where there may be cameras. All the new phones even have cameras built in. I have zero privacy any more. The other day I was recognized coming out of my hotel and twenty people formed a ring around me and held up twenty phones and started taking stills and videos. It was disgusting."

"Yeah, the nude beach is hanging by a thread for the same reason," replied Maya. "What U.B.C. debutante wants to take her clothes off for an allover tan, only to have her boyfriend find her on YouTube?"

"The way I hear it," said Karen, "it's the boyfriends that are taking the pictures and then selling them to porn sites. I hate them, I hate them all. If I had my way, taking photos without permission would be a hanging offense. What's that old saying? They are killing the golden egg."

"Something like that. I know what you mean." The door bell chimed. "Damn, that will be your watchers. Wait for me. I have to put some clothes on."

Karen stood and did a nude pirouette. "Yeah, like I am going anywhere dressed like this. Where did I leave my clothes?"

"On the deck, but they are ruined. Sorry, but I don't have anything that would fit you."

"Rub it in. I hate getting old. Thirty next birthday. Yuk. Ancient."

"Here, how about this?" Maya said coming out of the closet. "It's the spare silk robe in case we are entertaining in the hot tub."

"Good enough. I was worried you were going to offer me Wal-Mart sweats. God, wouldn't the gutter press love to get a picture of me in sweats." Instead of taking the robe she wrapped her arms around Maya and hugged her and hugged her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Karen whispered into her ear.

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 17 - In present day San Francisco

She stepped off the bus and began to walk down the hill. She loved the view from the next corner. You could just see the towers of Golden Gate bridge and a sparkle of Pacific water. Usually there was a ship to watch as well. No ship today. She lifted her long skirt so she could skip up the steps of the house. It was tall and skinny, but from the roof there were great views. Too bad you had to climb stairs no matter what you wanted to do in this house.

"Hello the house," Maya called out, up the first of many staircases.

"In here," came a familiar voice from the dining room. She followed the voice into the room. There was a very pregnant woman dressed in a loose muumuu sitting in a dining chair with arms, twisting at her hair and talking on the phone. She told the person on the line to hold on and then she covered the mike with her hand.

"It's my real estate agent from Hollywood. She has an offer on the house."

"Snap her hand off," replied Maya, throwing her cloth bag on one chair and sitting on another.

"It's a low bid."

"So you only make 200 percent profit instead of 300. Karen, get rid of it before it slides down the hill. You never stay there any more. It's a relic of your past. It's not kid friendly. In fact, that whole city isn't kid friendly."

Karen took her hand away from the mike and said, "Okay. I'll take it but with no conditions.

Yeah. Straight up. Fax me the initial agreement and I will fax it back signed. Give the originals to my lawyer and he can courier them.

Okay. Okay. So who is the buyer?

I don't mean the name, are they bankers or into oil? They are the only ones with money these days.

Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks. Bye." She pressed the 'off' button on the phone.

"Nasty divorce in Orange County. She got half. She wants to be one of the Ladies of the Canyon. Well, good luck to her. That crowd has moved on to where there is no smog." She looked at her friend. "Mom's gone for groceries. We had another fight."

"Well, selling that house solves your money troubles. It can only get better."

"Yeah. The baby will make it all better. What have you been up to?"

"Hanging out down near the protesters," replied Maya. "I discovered a coffee shop where a bunch of freelance photographers hang out waiting for the police to do something."

"You, you are hanging out with the paparazzi?" Karen said in amazement. "That's a first. I thought you hated those guys."

"They have their uses. Their presence is probably what is holding the police back from breaking heads."

"Well, you be careful. The bankers want them cleared out. On TV they say the police are threatening pepper spray if they don't clear the square. I'm glad to see you aren't in your usual sundress. If they start spraying pepper, the less bare skin the better."

"I would go down dressed like a Muslim woman," Maya laughed, "but they would probably shoot me as a terrorist." She shouldn't laugh. She was no stranger to completely covering herself from the view of men after traveling all over Asia.

"Well , at least wear a full body suit under that, and throw a shawl over your shoulders. You can use it to cover your head and face. I don't know why you go down there. Why go looking for trouble?"

"Karen, anti corporation demonstrations are going on all over the world. Governments are toppling. This is, like, worldwide big and I can touch it just by hanging at a cafe."

"Hey," said Karen, "I watch the news. Those toppled governments were bad guys. Dictators. That is why they were toppled."

Maya kept her mouth shut. She used to be just like Karen, believing everything she saw on the TV news. Not any more. Nothing like seeing the news in other countries to make you realize how corporations controlled the content of TV news. The dictators were toppled not because they were bad guys, but because they wouldn't let multinational oil companies run their oil industries. The topplings were just a continuation of the Bush oil wars.

Karen stood up and stretched her back. "I am so tired of being pregnant. Why did I do this to myself?"

"Not long now, sweetie," said Maya. "You're due next week. From the size of you, I would put money on your being early."

"Don't remind me of my size. That's not fair. I never thought I would every say this, but I actually miss making movies. Here, help me to the couch so I can watch TV."

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, but Maya grabbed the remote. She wanted to see the local news to see what was happening with the demonstration. It was just some local news announcers saying that the demonstration drew fewer people this weekend than last, and that city officials hoped it had run its course.

She switched channels. It was showing 'the Glover' walking through a crowd shaking hands. She turned up the announcer. "Well, the Glover is looking unbeatable. All the other candidates except for the senator have virtually pulled out of the race. It will be a landslide at the convention. Next weekend he will make the last stop of his tour here in our fair city and then it is on to the convention. Let's all turn out to greet him."

Maya threw the remote to Karen. "I suppose it will be impossible to get near him now."

"Unless you're rich. He will always have time for the rich and the corporate bosses. He needs money to run for President. A lot of money. You have to wonder why that senator guy doesn't quit, too. He doesn't have a chance."

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MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith

# Chapter 18 - Three years earlier at U.B.C., Vancouver

There was still a bit of fog in the Vancouver air even though it was after noon. Maya put her beach bag down on the bus shelter bench so she could hug her self for warmth. Maybe this wasn't a beach day after all. She should have brought her plastic raincoat to keep the licks of fog away from her skin. She hated the raincoat. It was a useful cover up, but it was ugly and tacky and plastic.

Two guys in a flash sports car slowed down and tried to talk to her. She tried to ignore them. Why was it that the advertising for flash sports cars always showed a hot blonde in the passenger seat, but in reality it was always another man. Guys don't get it. Hot cars attract other guys. To give a girl a ride you have to give her friends a ride, too. Two seats are not enough unless you are picking up street walkers.

The guys gave up and hooted as they roared away. Her flowered sun dress may not be as revealing as her yellow halter dress, but it still caused men to look. Sometimes, like at this lonely bus shelter on the back side of the park, she did not want men to look.

As she paced the shelter she decided to buy something like a trench coat. It was only a matter of time before the rainy season started. A stylish trench coat. Tough to find in a thrift store. It meant paying the higher prices of a consignment store. Or how about a cloak? She loved cloaks. She used to play in her mother's when she was little. They are so flowing and romantic, especially when compared to the military look of a trench coat.

She was speculating on why modern women were shunning the romantic clothes that she so admired when a rattletrap wreck of a pickup truck started honking. She turned her back and ignored it. Jerks.

"Cherie, cherie, Maya," called female voice with an accent, and Maya turned back to the road, trying to see her. A hand was waving from the driver's window of the wreck. The old truck bumped and ground and lurched into a clumsy U-turn and parked with one tire on the curb of the bus stop.

"Marique," she laughed aloud at seeing the Belgian woman. Now she even knew where Belgium was, and had memorized a bunch of facts from Wikipedia. "I didn't know you had a car."

"Dis, merde, dis is not a car, it is grotesque. You go to la plage, de beach. Get in. I go shopping and then go back there." Maya climbed in. Thank goodness the seat cover was new and clean, because she didn't want to touch the filth of the rest of the cab. Marique ground the gears of the old-fashioned column gear shift, found first and leaped and jerked to finish a three-sixty across four lanes of road. Luckily nothing was coming.

"Dis is Randy's truck. It is his funny on the flashy cars of Vancouver, but it is a beetch to park."

"What's funny about it? It's in better shape than my mom's. I learned to drive on one of these."

"I learned to drive in a Citroen," Marique said. "I 'ate this truck."

"Pull over. I'll drive," Maya said, pointing to all the empty parking spaces along the side of the park. "Pull over now before we hit traffic. Randy is insured isn't he?"

"Oui, the papers are good. It is the truck that is bad." She stalled against the curb, hit the steering wheel with both hands and then smiled and slid herself along the bench seat while Maya climbed over her.

While Maya refreshed her memory about such trucks, Marique babbled on about how she hated it. "Randy likes it because no one steals it, and because he can change lanes even in the 'eaviest traffic."

Maya signaled and pulled away from the curb, testing the clutch. There was no play, and she slipped it into second without a sound and rumbled down the street. "Where are we going?"

"The liquor store. I 'ave sold all my beer early, and there are still many men on the beach."

"I didn't know you sold beer. I thought that was Randy's gig."

"Oh, I try to make money from the beach, too. This year it is 'ard. Turn 'ere, and then you must get into the left hand lane." The traffic was heavy on the cross street. "Just put on your signal light, and watch all the Mercedes and Bay eM Vays get out of your way so you can change lanes. They don't want to risk their shiny cars against this beast's rusty bumper."

Maya was amazed. It was just as she said. The Mercedes and BMW drivers of Vancouver were notorious for not letting you in. All she did was put on her signal light and a space opened up for her to change lanes. A hot Bimmer was now overtaking her, using the space she had left open in the right lane. It made three lane changes to weave past slower traffic, and without a signal or anything.

"Those Bimmer's are mechanically the worst cars in the world," Maya observed.

"Non, all the men, they swear they are good," replied Marique.

"Well, did you see that one? It was brand new and already the signal lights don't work. And look, there must be something wrong with the steering already because it is weaving all over the road. There see, he almost hit that lady in the crosswalk because his brakes don't come on soon enough. Bad cars."

"Non, that is a bad driver."

"It must be a bad car. I can't believe that everyone who owns a Bimmer is a bad driver." She began to laugh.

"In my country we call them Porscheholes. They drive like they are too important to share the road. Oh, you make fun with me!" Marique laughed. "You know the hardest thing with learning a new language is the humor." She peered up the steet. "Turn left into that parking lot. There is a parking spot in front of the bank."

She waited for a break in the traffic and pulled across the road and towards the bank in the middle of the lot. "That's a handicapped spot. Oh, it's okay, the car next to it is pulling out."

"The liquor store is over there."

"Yes, but there's a clothing store right here. Oh good, it's a consignment store."

Marique snapped her hand up and down, the international sign for expensive, as Maya rolled into the parking space. A horn tooted. "That flashy Mercedes is mad at you for taking the last spot," she said.

The Mercedes parked in the handicapped spot and a balding, chubby man in an expensive suit grabbed his briefcase and walked into the bank. "Porschehole," spat Marique.

Marique looked out her window. "That shyt, there was an old lady waiting for the handicapped spot. When you get out, slam your door into the side of his car."

"No," muttered Maya looking down at the car. "That could cause problems for Randy. Don't get out yet, I'm not straight in this spot." She rolled the truck back and then forward. The truck was now parked so close to the shiny expensive toy that the mirrors almost touched. "I'll get out your side."

Marique was already out of the car talking to the little old lady. Luckily the car on the other side of the jerk was pulling out, and Marique helped the woman to park her old Nissan station wagon. "Yes, more over. You won't scratch it. Give yourself lots of room to get out."

Maya started to giggle. With Marique's guidance the old Nissan was parked so close to the Mercedes that it was sandwiched between it and the truck, and impossible to get in any of its doors. The old lady had lots of room to get out and Marique helped her further by getting her walker out of the back.

"Oh dear, I'm too close," the woman worried, "he won't be able to get in."

"Pah," laughed Marique, "he didn't care about you. Why should you care about him?" She walked over to Maya. "We should stay and watch the fun when the porschehole comes out of the bank."

"Good, that means I have time to check that consignment store." Maya looked at Marique's shirt, a man's checked shirt, tied above her waist, and then at her cutoff jeans. "Maybe we can find you a nice sun dress."

"I don't have money for clothes. Dis trip to Vancouver has been a disaster for my money. I don't even have enough to get back to Belgium. Last year was so good. I save five thousand dollars and spent the winter in Goa."

"Is Goa a city in Belgium?" Maya wracked her memory for what Wikipedia had said.

"Cha, Belgium is cold in the winter. Goa is a place in India with many warm beaches where you can hide from winter."

Maya made a mental note to look up Goa on computer maps, and then took Marique's arm.

"Come on, it will be fun to look. I need a new coat, or maybe a cloak, for the cold mornings." She walked into the shop and found a stylish trench coat almost immediately. She shuddered at the price ticket. The woman who owned the shop said she had no cloaks. They were rare these days.

"Oh, look Marique." Maya held up a smartly cut travel skirt in beige, with a belted waist and buttons down the front and kick pleats in the back. "Try it on. I bet it hugs your hips and swirls around your legs." She looked at the price tag. "Never mind."

Marique was motioning to her to come to the window. She looked out. The porschehole was stomping up and down looking from one side of his shiny car to the other.

"Come," said Marique, "we go to the liquor store so we walk by him."

"You!" yelled the porschehole, "that's your truck! I saw you arrive."

"You parked after I did," said Maya calmly, "so if your car is scratched, you did it. Whyever did you park so close to me?" She had to give Marique a hard stare to stop her from laughing out loud.

Bored old retired people were starting to come out of the coffee shop next to the bank to find out what was happening. "Serves him right," said a tall old man. "Where's your handicapped sticker, twit."

"Move your truck," he growled at Maya. His face was growing red and dangerous.

"Move your car," she answered back pleasantly.

"I can't get in my car."

"Oh," she said with mock innocence and squeezed between the car and the truck and went to open the truck door. She looked back at him, and she though he was going to have a heart attack.

"No!" he yelled. "You'll dent it with your door! Get in the other side."

"Well, make up your mind." She shimmied back to the sidewalk. A couple of guys in hardhats on the way to the liquor store stopped to watch her move. "If you are such an expert, then here's the keys. You move the truck. If you scratch it, then it's not on my insurance."

He snatched the keys, went around to the passenger side, opened the door and looked into the dusty cab. He grunted as he pulled himself in and then slid along the bench to the driver's side. He turned the key and the old beast whined, groaned, and lurched forward. He had forgotten the clutch. He looked at the column shifter, and looked down at the pedals, then exited the same way he had gotten in.

"Bitch," he snarled at Maya and she had to duck as he hurled the keys at her, narrowly missing her head. He was immediately slammed up against the bank's window by the two hardhats, one on each side of him.

"Hey numbnuts," said the one in the white hard hat, "apologize to the lady else you'll be buying this bank a new front window." They eased their hold on him when the bank manager came running out the door.

"Let him go, or else I'll call the police," said the manager, and then he looked around at the growing crowd, and at the sleek Mercedes in the handicapped spot. "He's a very good customer of this bank, and I will not allow this."

"So, your good customers," said Marique, putting on her most attractive accent, "they can park in this spot and little old ladies cannot. Perhaps you should call ze police, eh?" She looked around at the crowd. "Do you think he should call ze police?"

"Yeah," called out one of the retirees, "the cost of the ticket will teach him a lesson."

White hard hat spoke up. "You still owe the lady an apology." He let the man go, as did his workmate.

The porschehole took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry I was so rude. Could you please move your truck?"

"Hey," said Maya, "I'm not finished my shopping yet. I want to buy a coat in the consignment store, but I left my money at home. I have to wait for my boyfriend to bring me my money. He hates it when men are rude to me."

Marique caught on with a snicker. "Do you think he'll hit him? Zat last guy wound up in hospital." She had to turn away and put a fist in her mouth. The two hardhats looked at her and she winked at them.

The porschehole took a deep breath. The bank manager had left him to his fate. The crowd was against him. The police would certainly ticket him, and the fine was heavy. He wondered if he should hide in the bank until the boyfriend had come and gone. Dammit, the whole reason he had parked in this space was that he was running late. "How much do you need for the coat?"

"A hundred," she lied.

The man actually harrumphed scornfully. "My wife pays a hundred to have hers cleaned. Here." he counted out the hundred and handed it to Maya. "Now, please move your truck."

Once the porschehole had disappeared in a chirp of tires, Maya dragged Marique back to the shop. "Now, try on that skirt," she ordered, "while I try on the coat." They met again at the mirror, and gave each other big smiles. They grabbed their stuff from the change room and strutted to the cash desk in their new clothes. Maya had the hundred in her hand and was searching around in her bag for the rest.

"A hundred for both, including tax." said the owner. "I watched you two school that prime ass and I take great pleasure in taking his hundred. It is enough." She put the hundred in her cash drawer. "Trouble is, men like that take pride in being asses, as if privilege is their birthright. You watch, he'll park there again next time."

In the liquor store, Marique bought the canned beer that was on sale and a bag of ice. "I always buy cans. Bottles are too heavy to carry down the trail and I don't like broken glass on the beach. Last year I limp for a month because of glass."

The two hardhats hung out near the old truck while they were loading the beer into a packsack and a cooler chest. Marique waved to them and said, "Merci, you were sweet to help." She climbed nimbly into the truck, showing a lot of leg in the split of the skirt. "Men are so funny. They did not look at my legs in my cutoffs, but now in this skirt I show only a little leg and they can't move their eyes."

"In English it is called grace," Maya said as she backed smoothly and expertly out of the space. That set the hard hats laughing about the porschehole again. "Cutoffs are not graceful, but that skirt is. Presentation is everything."

"Grace. It is the same word en Francais. As for presentation, you look very smart in that coat. Very professional. No, not that profession. Like office worker. We must hurry now if I want to sell all of these beer before the beach is too cold. People do not drink beer when it is cold."

"I thought the beer was for Randy to sell."

"Randy has a sometimes job, so I take his place selling beer on those days. That way the other beer sellers don't get mad at me."

* * *

She helped carry the beer down to the beach and then went to visit with Amy. It must have been a slow day. She still had lots of food unsold. "Gee, I hope Marique sells all her beer. It was brutal carrying it down. I'd hate to have to carry it back up."

"Tell me about it," said Amy. " Don't worry about her. She'll be sold out within the hour. Are you with her today? She usually helps me carry my stuff back up the trail, but today there is too much. I could use your help."

"Sure, I'll be behind that log over there out of this chilly breeze."

"Oh, the bird dogs will love that," Amy said almost under her breath.

"What do you mean?"

"There are people who get their kicks by sitting in the bushes on the cliffside with big scopes and ogling girls like you. Especially when there is a cool breeze and everyone is on the land side of the logs to get out of it." The blank stare made her explain. "When you sun bathe on the land side of a log they can focus on you from the bushes. On the regular side, they can't."

"Ew, that's creepy."

"Well the U.B.C. cops are too busy trying to stop the beer sellers to take care of the creeps. They just raised the fine for selling beer down here. No fine for being creepy."

"But why don't the bird dogs just come down here and have a good look?"

"Because they are creepy. Because they can't do the trail. Maybe they don't want to be recognized, so they pretend to be bird watchers instead."

"Oh well. It's not like I would cover up if they were walking around your stall. Let them focus on me. I'm getting cold standing here," and with that she went over and set up on the land side of a big log out of the breeze. She was warmed by the sun immediately.

She must have dozed because the next thing she knew Marique was prodding her. "Hey ,you want to split my last beer?"

"You sold all of those, that fast?"

"Yeah, mostly to the new students over by the trail head. You know. They sit on the logs hoping to see nude women, but never take their pants off."

"Well, they do see nude women. They see you. All you ever wear down here is your backpack."

"It was good business. Randy asks four dollar per beer, but on bad days he sells two for five dollar so he does not need to carry them back up. I just sold all of mine for ten each."

"What? But there are other sellers with much better prices. Why would they buy at that price?"

"Silly, they make me stand in front of them while they slowly search for their money. If they want to pay extra to stare at my pussy close up, so what? On this beach I show it anyway. They pay hotel prices to be served by a nude waitress. That is fair. Besides I don't have papers to get other work." She was talking too much, trying to justify herself, trying to convince herself.

Marique lay down beside her out of the chill breeze and in the sun. "Oh, that feels good. I get so cold walking around and handling cold beer." She ran her icy hand up Maya's thigh and made her jump. "Did Amy talk to you about carrying for her?"

"Sure, no problem."

"She is packing up now. See that mist rolling in? That is cold fog. All fog is cold fog."

"Tell me about it," moaned Maya, "I grew up in the fog forests of Northern California. I hate fog. So, like you sold beer here last year, too?"

"Last year, yes, but just a little. There were a lot of Japanese business men last year. One of the tour companies promised them a walk in the forest and along a wild beach. They would bring them down here. It was a success. They loved it down here. They would walk down in suits and ties, all in a tight group, but some would split off and take off their clothes. They would pretend it was to swim, but they never got in further than their ankles."

"So, they bought beer at hotel prices."

"Not so much."

"So how did you save so much? How much did you say, five thousand?"

"I shined their shoes. I bought an old-fashioned shoeshine box and polished every shoe in the tour, at ten dollars a shine plus tips. No cameras allowed."

Maya started to giggle and then laugh aloud and they both started that gut wrenching laughter that hurts so much, feels so good, and is so hard to stop. Between sputters she said, "I can just" "imagine" "the jiggle" "as you worked the shoeshine brush" "omigod!" "that was genius" "oh stop!"

"Well," Marique caught her breath as she tried to stop laughing, "The haircut ladies let me set up beside them, and , and, oh it was too funny! They went with me to Goa on all the money we made." She broke out in wrenching laughter again and set Maya off. "Oh, good times. It was such easy money, and they were so polite." She started laughing again. "So polite. They would pay me a big tip if, oh my, if I would put my clothes on and pose with them in a photo."

Maya's tummy hurt from laughing. "Put your clothes on, they, they, they had you jiggling naked over their shoes, and so they paid you to put your clothes on."

"Hey," came a call, "I'm packed. Let's get going before this fog hits."

"Here Marique, you wear my coat. You are still like ice."

* * *

She was almost to the top of the trail. She rested again puffing hard. The cooler chest she was carrying seemed to weigh a ton. The fog was now thick in the trees. The beach had been empty by the time they shuttled all the stuff to the base of the trail, and then they had shuttled it up landing to landing. Marique had gone to bring the truck around, and Amy was at the top guarding her stuff and waiting for the truck.

Fair is fair. She didn't mind doing this lugging. Amy was older and heavier, though still fit from using this trail. She made it to the top with the cooler and piled it with the others. Amy thanked her again. "Only one left," she said between puffs, and then turned and set off back down the trail.

She felt light as a feather descending the trail without a burden. She reached the last cooler and sat on it to rest. She wouldn't rest long. The fog was getting denser and colder. Wearing just the sundress, it was only the exertion that was keeping her warm.

"Say," said a man's voice out of the fog behind her, "this fog has got me turned around." It was from one of the side trails that ran along the edge of the cliff. "Is this the main path up?"

"Duh," replied Maya, standing and trying to see the speaker.

"So if I go straight I keep on the side trail. That's the one that goes to my car. Thank you."

She could just see the bulk of a man now, and he was walking towards her. She decided to pick up the cooler and get to the top quick. She heard a crack and a low howl.

"Ow ow ow. I've slipped. Ow. Damn fog. I think I cracked my back. Please help me get to the main trail. Is there a bench there?"

She crept through the fog to the man. He was down and holding his back. Something shone. A huge pair of binoculars. He was reaching a hand out towards her, obviously in pain. She took his hand in both of hers to help him stand, but he was too heavy and her footing was bad, so he pulled her down instead of her pulling him up. Then the nausea started and she felt faint.

He crawled on top of her and held her down with his weight and put a hand hard against her mouth so she couldn't speak or scream. "You're the beer seller from the beach, aren't you? I watch you walk about down there. I was hoping to meet you some day."

His breath was in her face. Whiskey and cigars. It almost hid the seeping scent of charred toast. She knew it was silly to struggle. He could have a weapon, or that stuff they put on handkerchiefs to make you pass out. She calmed herself and forced herself to relax.

He felt her relax under him. "I'm going to loosen my hand slowly. If you yell you will regret it. A broken nose will ruin your looks forever."

"What do you want?" she said between gasps of breath. She had already been short of breath before his hand.

"I want to be alone with you in a private room with both of us naked."

She was trying to think. She needed to bluff him to let her stand up so she could run. "A thousand dollars," she said quickly, "anything you want for a thousand dollars." If he would let her up, she had a chance.

"That's a lot of money," he smirked. He was winning.

"A lot for me. You look rich enough to afford it."

"Okay then, a thousand, but I don't carry sums like that on me. It's in my car back along this side trail. You aren't going to try to run if I let you up, are you? That would be rude after we have made a bargain."

She wriggled her hands free and pressed them together as if she were praying to him. She looked up into his face. "Please don't make me ugly. Beauty is all I have. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me." She watched his grin twist and become evil.

She felt her aura building. It was pushing away the heavy blackness. It was pushing away the scorched flavors. It was filling her head with milk white. She dare not close her eyes. She must watch him. With her eyes closed, the aura built more slowly.

He was fishing in his pocket for something but he was careful to keep most of his weight sat on her. He pulled out something that looked like a belt. A dog collar. He put a dog collar around her throat. He clicked a leash to it. He had her on a dog leash. She forced herself to be calm.

"Now, you can't run. You can't break our bargain. I am going to let you up and we are going to my car for the thousand dollars, and then I am going to take you to a place I know where we can be alone." He felt her move and squirm. "No, no, no. You don't do anything without my permission, or else," he held up what looked like a car lock fob. He pressed it.

The shock of it snapped her neck back and forth. He put his hand hard on her mouth so she could not scream. The pain of it. The shock of it. Her aura had disappeared. She had to get it back.

"A little improvement to a dog collar that punishes dogs for barking. The electric shock won't damage you but it does hurt, doesn't it my sweet little beer-selling slut? I always knew you were a whore. Now you know what to expect if you try to renege on our bargain."

She stopped moving. She put her hands back in prayer mode. "Oh please, not again. It hurt so much. Anything, I'll do anything." She saw him raising the fob and his eyes glistened. "No, please no, not again." She heard his cruel laugh and it frightened her, so she gabbled desperately, "let's go to your car. Please. I'm so cold."

He wrenched her to her feet and pushed her along the side trail in front of him. Her sundress was soiled and wet and stuck to her bottom and legs. He could feel the excitement surging through him. This one would be better than the last one. The last one had fought him and he'd had to kill her. That was before he had created the dog collar. This one he would play with for weeks, maybe even months.

"You are a religious girl then, always praying. He won't save you. You are the devil's spawn, flaunting yourself for the price of a beer."

"May I speak?" she asked. She wanted to touch the collar, to explore it, but she was afraid that may cause him to press the button.

"I'll come closer. You may whisper."

She lifted herself up to his ear. "How can I make you trust me so that you can take this collar off? I want your thousand dollars. I need your thousand dollars. You can trust me to keep the bargain. What if I kiss you? Softly kiss your cheek to start. Caress you. Oh, please let me do something to make you trust me."

"Ah, then it begins. Good. Yes, caress me, kiss me softly." He bent his face lower towards her lips.

The light was bad, the fog thick. She lightly touched his jaw with her finger tips, lifted her lips to his cheek, and then caressed under his jaw on his neck. She gave her self to her aura, with all her soul. All darkness in her mind disappeared in a flare of white light that was dazzling. He slumped, but she slumped with him and kept her hands on his neck. He lay on the ground motionless and still she kept her hands on his neck. Everything turned dazzling white.

"Maya." Her name came through the whiteness. "Maya, where are you? Maya?" It was Marique's voice drifting through the whiteness. She let go of the man's throat and lay on the ground and grabbed her elbows. The brilliance withdrew and the milk whiteness became the whiteness of the fog in the late afternoon light.

"Maya?" came the call again.

"Over here." she answered back.

"Are you okay?"

"No. I need help."

"Keep talking so I can find you."

"I'm on the side trail." She heard footsteps on soft ground, and then a looming shape. "Closer, but be careful it's slippery." Finally Marique stood in front of her. "You look like a police woman in my new coat. I could use a friendly police woman right now."

"Who is he?" Marique asked, seeing the form of a man lying on the trail. "Is he okay?"

"No, I think he had a heart attack. I think he's dead."

"Merde!"

"He was stalking you. He wanted to get you alone in a private room so he could do things to you. He thought I was you."

"What is that on your neck?"

"Get it off, get it off me, but be careful. He has a button and when he presses it, you get a horrible electric shock."

"It looks like a dog collar. Aye, there is a metal box. The buckle is tricky. You need to undo it backwards than what you think. There, done. Are you okay? Why did you go with him? Why not run and scream?"

"He tricked me and got me down and sat on me with his fist in my mouth. I tried to trick him so that he would let me up and I could run. I told him he could have me for a thousand dollars. He agreed, but then he tricked me again and put that collar on me."

"A thousand dollars, and he agreed. Merde, what wouldn't I have done for a thousand? He should have just been nice and asked me. A thousand would get me back to Belgium. Let's check his pockets, eh?"

"No," Maya pulled her back. "Don't touch anything. We don't want to be blamed by the police."

"Aye, the police. If they come, they will fine me for the beer. I don't have the money for the fine. That would be a disaster."

"Besides," Maya said, finally feeling strong enough to stand up. Marique helped her. "Besides, he said it was in his car."

"So get his car keys. All we have to do is find the car. Easy money."

"I don't believe he had the money. I think he just wanted to get me away from the main trail to where he could take his time and drug me. Then what? I fear to think."

"And he was after me, not you." Marique pushed the man with her foot to roll him over. He was heavy so she kicked him in frustration. She finally got him to roll over so that she could see his face, but he kept rolling on the slope and rolled down into a ten foot gully. "Couchon, pig, enjoy yourself down there." She threw the dog collar and lead after him.

"Did you recognize him?"

"No, but I never remember the pigs, only the handsome ones. I block the pigs out of my mind while they stare at me. If they stare too much I pull my fanny pack around off my hip and cover my pussy. Did you see those binoculars. He will be one of the bird dogs that hang out on the cliff." She took another look over the edge and pulled herself back before she slipped. "So now what do we do?"

"Don't you watch TV in Belgium? Grab that fallen fir branch and gently sweep away our tracks back to the main trail. Then let's get the effing hell out of here."

"Should we tell Amy?"

Maya pulled her by the lapels so that they faced each other. "We tell no one. Not Amy, not Randy, no one. It would cost us all too much to get involved. If you are worried about the body, then I will phone 911 from the closest payphone and tell them that someone has fallen on the trail, and then hang up, but only when we are packed up and ready to burn out of here."

"You are really cold Maya, here put this on. It belongs to a good friend of mine." She took the coat off and wrapped it around Maya's shoulders. "Get going to the top. I will bring the last cooler." She pushed Maya ahead on the slippery trail and then she turned, picked up a fir branch and artistically pulled it along the trail behind them.

* * * * *  
* * * * *

**CONTINUED** in Book Two in the Series: "MAYA'S AURA - the Refining"

The Refining is now available from the same publisher.

It begins where The Awakening leaves off, in both story timelines.

Below is the cover promo from Maya's Aura - the Refining.

Young Maya is thoroughly enjoying her extended vacation in Vancouver. She is boarding for free with a gay couple in return for letting them document her aura. She is earning pocket money picking up bit parts from movie casting calls. She is meeting lots of interesting people on Wreck Beach, at U.B.C., in the local acting scene, and in the local gay scene. The bummer is, her aura is starting to seriously scare her, and her new friends.

Her aura is completely out of control. Dangerously out of control.

She has no choice. She has to find someone to teach her how to control it and refine it. With the help of an aging Tai Chi master, a monk, a psychiatrist, an actress, and a gay makeover wizard she learns a lot. Not only how to refine her aura, but also how to refine herself. From the country girl who worked in a coffee shop, emerges a sophisticated young woman.

And then her adventures really begin..

* * * * *  
* * * * *  
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith
