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Message-ID: <54920asstr$1164575404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Reply-to: rivyavtry@myway.com
From: "Riv"<rivyavtry@myway.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Grant's Story Continuation 3 {RivYavtry} (bg rom nosex magic?) 
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Date: Sun, 26 Nov 2006 16:10:04 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Thanks to ZenMaster for pointing out several problems with the first draft
of this instalment.  Please e-mail me if you spot any more.  The series as
a whole badly needs revising but I intend to keep issuing episodes when
they're in a reasonable state then revise everything at the end.  A sex
story with nosex?  Isn't that a self-contradiction?  I hope you enjoy it
anyway.  Riv Yavtry

   _______________________________________________ No banners.  No pop-ups.
No kidding.  Make My Way your home on the Web - http://www.myway.com

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<1st attachment, "grant5.txt" begin>

Despite having seven kids my family wasn't especially poor, but our
parents made sure we understood the value of money. Being the
youngest by some considerable way, a lot of family behavioral
conventions had been established before I was even born. One such
convention was the bartering of "favors". You could swap chores with
a sibling or even a parent by exchanging favors, or postpone them
temporarily by owing a favour if you could find a taker.

One day I was reading in my room when my brother Ernie came in.
Ernie is 20 but still lives at home. He didn't make it to college but
he's a decent enough guy and not the sort to fleece you. He works
hard as an unskilled laborer and doesn't get paid much.

"Hi Grant, can I interest you in an exchange of favors?"

"Try me," I replied.

"Well, you know I've been saving for a car. I've nearly got enough
but not quite. I need a car this Saturday to go to Bracton," he said,
naming a city about fifteen miles away from our town as the crow
flies, "but there's no chance of dad lending me his car because I
don't want to explain why I need it. But, if I tell him that it's to
give you a lift to Bracton, there won't be a problem."

"What's in it for me? What do I do in Bracton while you're doing
your thing?"

"This." Ernie produced a neatly folded flyer, which I proceeded to
read.

'Bracton New Age Convention, Bracton Conference Center, Bracton.
Everything you need to explore the paranormal world including guest
speakers, specialist booksellers, tarot cards, crystals, crystal
balls, ouija boards, astrological charts, I-Ching sets and more. Food
stall. Entry $10 adults, $5 children. Entry entitles you to a free
palm reading.'

Of course I wanted to go. My siblings knew I was interested in
witchcraft and the like, but they didn't take my interest seriously.
For Ernie to think of me and come up with this idea, he must be
really desperate. I decided to chance my luck.

"It might be interesting but it might be dumb and I'd be stuck there
all day. How about you owe me an extra favour?"

"Done, if you break it to dad."

I was surprised at how easily he had capitulated. He must want the
car really badly.

I brought up the subject at dinnertime. Dad was in a good mood and
he readily agreed to the loan of the car. I think it was a symptom of
how desperate my folks were for me to take an interest in something
and get out of the house.

Saturday came and nobody had had any second thoughts, so dad handed
over the keys to the car and we set off. I noticed that Ernie had
dressed nicely and doused himself liberally with deodorant. The sun
was shining and everything was looking good.

The road to Bracton was full of twists and turns for most of the
way, but Ernie was a proficient driver and I felt safe. However about
5 miles from Bracton there was a loud bang and the car slewed wildly
to the right. Fortunately we were on a straight at the time and Ernie
was able to wrestle with the steering wheel and maneuver us gently to
a halt at the side of the road.

"Damn, I think the tire's blown. I hope there's a spare."

We were in luck, and Ernie was able to change the wheel. It took him
quite a while though, and he ended up getting grease on his clothes.

Eventually we reached Bracton to discover that the Conference Center
was on the other side of the city. By the time we reached it, we were
an hour behind schedule and Ernie's good mood was rapidly
evaporating. There was a sizeable crowd outside the Conference Center
itself and Ernie wasn't able to park, so he turned down a side street
and stopped.

"I'm late, Grant. Can I let you out here? I'll pick you up here
again about four this afternoon."

"Fine, Ernie. Have a good time, whatever you're up to."

I got out of the car and Ernie drove off.

The crowd wasn't waiting to get in, it was a group of religious
protestors. There were a couple of police keeping their eyes on them,
but the crowd was relatively peaceful, standing there waving placards
saying "Worship the Lord", "Beware of False Prophets", "Repent and Be
Saved".

I made my way to the entrance to the convention center. There was
only a short queue, and I soon reached the entrance clerk. I
proffered my $5.

"Are you under 16."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry, no children admitted without an adult."

I was struck dumb for an instant. I reached the flyer out of my
pocket.

"It doesn't say that here. I've just come all the way from
Crainsboro specially."

"I'm sorry, we had to do a deal with the pickets," the clerk said,
indicating the protestors, "and no unaccompanied children was the one
thing they insisted on in order not to disrupt the convention. Hold
on, I'll call the manager and see what he says."

The clerk called his manager, who was sympathetic but unwilling to
jeopardise the convention just for me.

"Why don't you stick around and perhaps an adult will come along
who'll be prepared to accompany you inside," he suggested.

I stuck around for a while, but there didn't seem to be any
potential candidates for me to ask as most visitors were probably
already inside. I had no idea where Ernie had gone so I couldn't
track him down to ask him to come in with me. I decided to take a
stroll round the perimeter of the center.

The building had an unusual footprint, apparently starting out as a
rectangle then being extended in various directions over the years.
In a side alley, some distance from the front, I turned a corner and
saw a guy smoking a cigarette outside an open fire door open. He
didn't look like a security guard because he wasn't wearing a
uniform. He gave me a warning scowl, then stubbed out his cigarette
and went into the center, closing the fire door behind him. The door
couldn't be opened from the outside, but was operated by a locking-
bar on the inside.

I waited for five minutes, then went to the door and listened
closely. I couldn't hear anything. I projected my hands inside the
building and felt around for the bar. When my searching fingers
located it, I grasped it and pressed down. It didn't move. I then
tried pressing up. It gave a loud clank and the door swung open. I
waited for a while to see if anyone would come to investigate the
noise, but it was clear. I entered the building and closed the door.
Another clank, but again nobody came to investigate.

I was in what appeared to be an administrative wing, a corridor with
offices on both sides. I didn't see anyone, but I walked down the
corridor as quietly as I could. At the end was a small foyer with a
water dispenser and snack machine and a set of double doors. I pushed
my way through the doors and found I was in the main hall. Looking
back, there was a sign above the doors saying 'staff only'.

Round the perimeter of the hall and in an island in the middle were
stalls occupied by various new age merchants and exhibitors, thirty
or forty in number. In one corner was a temporary fast food kiosk
with tables and chairs surrounding it. Despite the lack of a queue at
the front, the hall was quite busy. I was in and I had an extra $5 to
spend, although without a ticket I wasn't entitled to the free palm
reading.

I started wandering round the stalls. Most of them weren't actually
that interesting for me. New age crystals and potions were not what I
was looking for. One stall seemed extremely busy, but it was a
specialist bookseller and I judged it worth the wait to get to the
sales tables. There was a strangely dressed woman in the queue in
front of me - black hair, black jacket, black skirt, black tights and
black boots. All she needed was a black pointy hat and she would look
exactly like most people's image of a witch. Just as she reached the
front, she seemed to sense that I had been watching her and she
turned round to look at me. The 'woman' was actually a girl around my
own age, and her irises were so black it was almost impossible to see
the perimeters of her pupils. Our eyes caught for a split second. I
felt a shock as though electricity had jumped between us, with
undertones of déjà vu and familiarity, then she gave a shy half-smile
and turned her attention to the books she now had access to.

Eventually I too reached the front and started browsing the books.
There was a good selection and my attention was held captive for
quite a while, but all the time I had a nagging sense of loss. I wish
I had said something to the girl. I selected a couple of books that
looked interesting and paid for them. I left the stall, pushing my
way through the crush. I visited a few more stalls but nothing really
interested me, and all the time I had a growing sense of failure.
What if I never saw the girl again? Why hadn't I said something to
her?    

It had been a long morning and I felt hungry and thirsty. I reached
the refreshment area, roped off from the rest of the hall, and there
she was, sitting at a table. With fear of rejection numbing my
senses, I forced myself to go over to her table. She glanced up and
saw me and again I had that feeling of electricity flowing between us.

"Um, hi, can I get you a coffee?"

The girl looked at me, and broke into a mischievous grin.

"I think if you look closely, you'll find I already have one. But
you're welcome to join me. I'm just waiting for my food order."

As if on cue, a voice boomed out from the kiosk, "four hundred and
ninety six."

"That's mine," said the girl, "would you mind keeping an eye on my
things while I fetch it."

"I'd love to," I replied. That must rank as one of the dumbest
things I've ever said.

The girl returned from the kiosk with a cheeseburger, a side-salad
and fries. It looked better than I would have expected from such a
modest source.

"That looks good, I think I'll have the same."

I went and placed my order - number five hundred and two, so I
wouldn't have long to wait - then went back to the girl's table and
sat down. The all black attire she was wearing extended to a black
top underneath her black jacket.

"Hi, I'm Grant."

"I'm Caitlin."

Her voice was soft yet clear. I decided to risk a bit of humor.

"I bet I can guess your favourite color."

"Oh?" said Caitlin, with a wary look on her face.

"It's orange, isn't it!"

For an instant Caitlin looked at me as though I came from another
planet, then she broke into a broad grin.

"How did you guess!"

"Five hundred and two," came an announcement from the kiosk.

"That's me."

I went and collected my lunch.  The ice broken, we started talking
while we were eating.

"What do you think of the convention, Caitlin?

"Pretty much what I expected. I'm mainly here for the books, I'm not
really interested in the other paraphernalia. There are three or four
booksellers so it was worthwhile coming. How about you."

"The same. I'm mainly interested in the books too," I replied,
indicating the books I had bought.

I went on to describe the background to my interest, starting with
the film and my discovery that I was the seventh child of a seventh
child, although leaving out the bits involving my 'talent'.

"And I researched my family tree and found that several of my
ancestors had been tried as witches, both here and back in England,"
I concluded.

"Must be awfully crowded, living with six brothers and sisters,"
said Caitlin.

"Not too bad because I'm so much younger than the others. By the
time I was old enough to worry about privacy, some of them had left
home and I was able to have my own room. There's only two left now.
Have you any brothers or sisters?"

"I wish I knew. My real parents gave me up for adoption at birth. My
adoptive parents are great, and they've been completely up-front
about everything. They've said if I ever want to trace my biological
parents, they'll help me."

"How did you become interested in the subject?"

"Well, as long as I can remember I seem to have been getting
accurate hunches, but two or three years ago I started getting
premonitions. They always warn of bad things about to happen. It can
be as trivial as a pen falling on the floor, or as horrible as
someone dying. The strange thing is, I seem to be able to influence
the participants, but not the outcome. Say I have a premonition that
my pen is about to fall on the floor. I can reach out and stop it,
but then another object will fall on the floor in the same place, for
example the pen of the person sitting at the next desk. Last year an
uncle was visiting, not a real uncle of course but my adoptive dad's
brother, and I had a premonition that he would die in a crash on the
interstate on his way home that night. I snuck out of the house and
slashed two of his tires so he had to stay the night. There was an
crash on the interstate but someone else died."

Caitlin suddenly blushed and held the back of her hand up to her
mouth .

"Oh my God, I've never told anyone about this - even my adoptive
parents don't know. When I drop hints to people about my having
premonitions they act as though I'm either attention seeking or soft
in the head, and yet you seem to understand."

I still couldn't come clean to Caitlin about my own 'talent'. I
wanted to, but somehow it didn't seem the right time.

"I've had some pretty weird experiences myself, and I can quite
believe in things that scientists can't yet explain."

Since Caitlin had seemed uncomfortable, I thought it better to
change the subject.

"You seem to be on your own. How did you get in?" I asked her.

"Oh, my dad's a city health inspector. He got in for free on the
pretext of doing some business here then he disappeared, leaving me
to look round on my own. He's probably gone home by now. How about
you?"

I explained about Ernie dropping me off, being denied entry and
failing to find an adult willing to escort me in, then I made up a
story about finding a back door open and sneaking in.

"So I'm in here illegally and I haven't paid. Are you going to rat
on me?" I asked in a semi-jocular way, although if her father was a
council official she might feel it was her duty.

"I might do, if you're mean to me."

Caitlin was smiling broadly so I could tell she wasn't serious. I
felt a strong connection to this girl.

The mood was broken when a man standing behind Caitlin interrupted
our conversation.

"So you managed to get in then?"

It was the manager. I can only imagine how shocked I looked. Caitlin
saved me by winking and pointing discreetly at herself.

"Yes sir, I came in with Caitlin and her dad," I lied.

The manager suddenly realised who he was standing behind.

"Oh hello, Miss Murphy. I hope you're enjoying the convention."

"Yes thank you Mr Gibbs, I hope you hold it again next year," she
replied.

"We'll have to see. Those protestors are giving us a lot of bad
publicity. Enjoy the rest of the day."

"Thank you, Mr Gibbs."

The manager went away, leaving us alone again. Caitlin broke down in
a fit of giggles.

"The look on your face was priceless!"

"Thanks for saving my bacon, Caitlin. I owe you."

"In that case I claim my payment. How about coming round with me
this afternoon?" asked Caitlin.

"That's a prize, not a payment," I replied, blushing.

Caitlin produced a piece of garish purple card, folded to make four
pages, that I had seen people holding in the convention hall.

"Since you snuck in, you won't have a programme," she said, holding
it out to me.

The front cover was the same as the flyer that Ernie had given me.
In the middle was a layout of the hall and a list of stallholders. On
the back cover was a list of talks to be held in a side room. I had
missed the two in the morning, 'A Brief History of Astrology' and
'Homeopathy: Hype or Hope' but I wouldn't have gone to them anyway.
There were two afternoon talks scheduled, 'Wicca: Witchcraft Today'
and 'Healing with Crystals'. The talk on witchcraft had a circle
drawn round it.

"Are you going to the talk on witchcraft?" I asked. "It's the only
one I'm interested in".

"Me too," replied Caitlin.

After lunch, Caitlin and I wandered round the rest of the stalls. To
be honest, I was more interested in Caitlin than the exhibits,
although I got the impression that the very busy specialist
bookseller had been the highlight for both of us. Caitlin was looking
for a crystal ball that was within her budget, and she managed to
find one.

"At school I'm regarded as a bit of an oddball with my hunches, so I
intend to do some fortune telling at the school fundraiser. I'm just
getting all the props sorted out," she explained.

At half past two we made our way into the side room and sat through
the half-hour talk on modern witchcraft. It didn't cover anything
that I hadn't already read in books and seemed very light on
substance, covering the modern day Wiccan image as selfless doers of
good and not evil, though it seemed to be acceptable to cast love
spells to engineer a partner for yourself.

By half past three we had visited all the stalls, and none of the
other talks looked interesting. Caitlin said she had to go soon, and
I told her my brother was picking me up at four across the street. We
decided to squeeze in another coffee together.

"I'd very much like to see you again," I told her.

"Thank God for that, I was beginning to think I was the only one who
felt that way."

"I live in Crainsboro so it won't be easy unless you can fly a
broomstick. What's your telephone number?"

"Here, have one of my dad's business cards. It's got our home
address and telephone on the back."

Caitlin took out a business card, crossed out the name Donald and
replaced it with Caitlin.

"That's me," she said, holding it out to me.

As I took it, our hands brushed. I put the card in my wallet, then
looked up at Caitlin. She had gone deathly pale and her eyes were
focussed in the distance. The look scared me. After a few seconds she
seemed to 'return'. She reached out and took my hands in hers, her
eyes searching my face earnestly.

"Grant, listen to me. This is extremely serious. If your brother is
drunk, don't get in the car with him. He'll go off the road halfway
home and you'll crash into a tree and be badly hurt."

I believed every word.

"Thank you, Caitlin. I'll walk home if I have to," I replied in a
virtual whisper, "I'll telephone you when I get home to let you know
I'm safe."

At last it was time to go. We said our goodbyes at the entrance to
the conference center, but I wimped out of trying to kiss her.

When I got to the side street, Ernie was already there. The car was
parked at a funny angle. I felt a cold knot in my stomach. I opened
the passenger door but didn't get in.

"Whaddya waiting for?"

I smelt alcohol on Ernie's breathe and his speech was slurred.

"Ernie, you're drunk. I'm not getting in that car until you're sober."

"Whaddya mean I'm drunk. Gedin the car you liddle shit."

"I'd rather walk."

"Gedin the car. If I have to make you, I'll beat your fuckin' brains
out."

I shut the passenger door without getting in. Ernie got out and made
towards me menacingly. If we got into a fight Ernie would win easily,
despite my martial arts experience. I stood my ground and as Ernie
approached almost within reach, I projected a foot and tripped him
up. Ernie landed heavily, face down, banging his head hard on the
sidewalk. He lay there motionless long enough for me to be concerned.
At last he lifted his head. There was a nasty gash on his chin, and
blood dripped onto the sidewalk. The fall and the bang on his head
seemed to have brought him to his senses. He looked at the spot where
he had tripped up as though expecting to see a loose paving stone but
of course there wasn't one.

"Jeez, Grant, I'm sorry. I guess I did have one too many. Help me up
and we'll go for a coffee."

I helped Ernie wipe the blood of his chin then we explored the
neighborhood. There was a 24-hour diner just round the corner. Ernie
had some pastries and a milkshake to help absorb the alcohol, then
dozed off. I started reading one of my purchases and kept ordering
coffee refills, intercepting the waitresses to make sure they didn't
wake Ernie.

After a couple of hours, Ernie awoke with a start.

"Jeez, how long have I been asleep?"

His speech was no longer slurred and he no longer stank of alcohol.

"A couple of hours."

"Jeez, our folks are gonna kill me."

"Blame it on me, Ernie. Say you couldn't drag me away."

"I don't know if they'll buy that one. Say, do you mind if I have a
coffee before we go. My mouth feels like cardboard."

Actually he had two, and we left Bracton two and a half hours late,
after I made Ernie promise to drive steadily and to belt up.

Ernie kept his promise, and the journey home was uneventful until
halfway home when we got to a particularly nasty bend in the road. I
remembered what Caitlin had said and I thought I saw vehicle tracks
leading straight from the road into the scrub.

"ERNIE STOP!" I shouted.

"What the fuck?" exclaimed Ernie. He negotiated the bend safely then
pulled over a safe distance away.

"I thought I saw a car had gone off the road."

"I didn't see anything."

Nevertheless we got out of the car and walked back to the bend.
There were indentations where a vehicle had been, then down a slight
incline the scrub had been flattened. I could hear the faint sound of
an engine running. We followed the tracks and after about 75 yards we
saw a pickup, crashed into a tree. It must have been very recent for
the engine to be still running. We ran to the pickup. There was a man
inside, slumped unconscious over the steering wheel. He had a nasty
gash on his head where it had smashed into the windshield. He hadn't
been wearing a belt. 

Ernie tried to open the driver's door but the crash had stove in the
front of the pickup and buckled the doors, and it wouldn't budge.
Neither would the passenger door.

"We need to turn off that engine Grant," said Ernie, "I'll look for
a rock to break the window."

While Ernie's attention was on the ground, I projected a hand inside
the pickup and tried the driver's window winder. It was stiff but it
still worked and I was able to wind down the window.

"Ernie, the window's loose."

"Hey, that was lucky."

Ernie reached in through the open window and turned off the engine.
He checked the guy's breathing and pulse.

"He's still alive but it's best not to try to move him in case he's
broken something. Dad's mobile is in the car. I'll go back and call
911. You wait here and shout if he wakes up."

Ernie disappeared back up the slope. Although I was less than 100
yards from the road, I couldn't see it - this was quite a remote spot.

The pickup was old and battered, but the occupant was very smartly
dressed. Somehow he looked out of place in such a vehicle.

As we were halfway between Bracton and Crainsboro, it took a while
for the emergency services to reach us. The cops took our statements
while men with cutting gear freed the driver from the pickup.

"You brother says you saw the vehicle from the road," said the
deputy. I could tell he didn't believe me but I could hardly tell him
about Caitlin and her premonitions

"I guess I must have been mistaken," I admitted, "but I could have
sworn I saw something."

"Lucky for the driver," said the deputy, "he could have been here
weeks without being found."

Fortunately the cops had realised we were the good guys, and didn't
question the nasty gash on Ernie's chin or the suspicious way he was
continually sucking mints.

When the driver was freed, the paramedics loaded him into the
ambulance.

"How is he?" I asked one of the paramedics.

"We won't know for sure until he's been examined and X-rayed. The
sooner we get him to hospital, the better."

The paramedics got into the ambulance and it sped off towards
Bracton with its sirens blaring.

"Well, I guess that wraps things up here," said the deputy to Ernie
and me, "the pickup will be recovered tomorrow. We may ask you to
come into Bracton to sign your statements. You did good today, you
saved that guy's life."

There was hell to pay from our folks when we got home over four
hours late, especially when they saw the gash on Ernie's chin. But
after we explained about the accident and the injured driver and
concocted a story about Ernie tripping over a branch, they lightened
up considerably, and even rustled up some food in place of the dinner
we'd missed. Fortunately they didn't question whether the accident
accounted for the whole of the lateness, but we got some stick for
not calling them to warn them.

While some food was being rustled up, I was able to use the phone. I
dialled Caitlin's number.

"Hello," a man's voice answered.

"Good evening, can I speak to Caitlin please?"

"I don't think she's feeling well, she seems to have been fretting
about something all evening. She's having a shower at the moment. Can
I take a message."

"Thank you. My name's Grant. Can you pass on my thanks and tell her
I got home ok and that she was absolutely correct."

"Strange message, but I'll make sure she gets it. Does she have your
number if she needs to call you?"

"It's Crainsboro 562-6643."

Just then I heard Caitlin's voice calling out faintly.

"Who is it, dad?"

"It's someone called Grant calling to say he got home ok," he
shouted back.

"I must speak to him."

"Hurry then, don't keep him waiting."

Then he spoke to me.

"Caitlin wants to talk to you. She's just coming."

There was the sound of footsteps racing down a staircase. Then
Caitlin came on the phone, slightly out-of-breath.

"Oh Grant, you're ok! I was worried when you didn't ring."

I got a pleasant tingle just from hearing her voice.

"Sorry, Caitlin. You were absolutely right. I made Ernie sober up
before we set off, then we came across a pickup that had driven off
the road and crashed into a tree, just as you said. They reckon we
saved the guy's life."

"Maybe, or did I cause his crash by warning you to avoid the one
that was going to happen to you? I don't know."

Caitlin sounded upset.

"Caitlin, because of you nobody died."

"I guess so," she replied uncertainly.

Just then my mother called out "Grant, it's ready. Or are you
planning to miss another meal?"

"Coming," I called back, then to Caitlin, "I'd better go. Can I call
you tomorrow?"

"Or I could call you. My dad wrote down your number. Good night,
Grant."

I could have sworn I heard a kiss as she hung up. 
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