Chapter 4: Bait and Switch
The observation deck was supposed to be empty this late, a quiet place to watch the moon carve a silver path across the black water. Instead, it hummed with the muffled, discordant orchestra of a family reunion spilling out from the closed doors of the Starlight Lounge. Laughter, a sudden burst of singing, the ragged edge of an old argument surfacing, then swallowed by forced joviality.
Zack felt it before he saw it. A cold prickle at the base of his skull, a static charge that had nothing to do with the sea air. He gestured, and Molly and Ginny froze beside him, their casual stroll for “fresh air” forgotten.
“There,” Ginny whispered, her sardonic voice thin.
It oozed along the glass wall, a stain of deeper darkness that drank the moonlight. It had no true shape, but within its form, impressions flickered: the round cheeks of a laughing child, the strained smile of a matriarch, the tear-streaked face of a man hearing his mother’s favorite song. The Entity was a living scrapbook of the Johnston family’s emotional peaks, gorging on their bittersweet nostalgia.
“It’s fucking feasting,” Molly breathed, her comedic timing rendering the obscenity oddly flat.
The thing paused. A tendril of shadow, glistening with psychic residue, lazily peeled away from the main mass and drifted toward the lounge doors, as if considering seconds.
“We need to move it,” Zack said, his mind, trained by Mara to think in terms of precedent and diversion, clicking into gear. “The plan is for the observatory, not here. If it gets too strong, or too scattered…”
Ginny’s eyes, sharp and calculating, darted from the Entity to Zack, then to Molly. A flash of the same inspiration that made her a killer scene partner lit her face. “It wants a meal. So we give it a different table.” Her hand snapped out, bunching the fabric of Zack’s polo shirt. She yanked him to her, her mouth finding his in a kiss that was all teeth and desperate purpose.
Zack grunted in surprise, then melted into it. Ginny tasted of lipstick and the ginger ale she’d been drinking. Her tongue invaded his mouth, urgent and demanding. At the same time, he felt Molly move behind him. Her hands slid around his waist, then down, cupping him through his chinos. She found the hard line of his erection and squeezed, her breath hot against his neck.
“Come on, big boy,” Molly murmured, her ‘dumb blonde’ voice gone, replaced by a throaty, knowing rasp. “Give it a show it can’t ignore.”
The Entity’s main mass rippled. It detached from the wall, the impressions of family faces dissolving into a smoother, more attentive darkness. It was turning. The complex, nuanced emotions from the lounge were a rich stew, but this… this was the sizzle of steak on a grill.
Ginny broke the kiss, her lips swollen. “The bench. Now.”
They stumbled the few feet to a wide, padded observation bench, partially sheltered by a decorative windscreen. Molly was already pulling her sundress over her head, her large breasts spilling free, nipples tight in the cool air. Ginny shoved Zack down onto the bench, her fingers fumbling with his belt.
“Hurry up,” Zack gasped, his own hands pulling at Ginny’s skirt, hiking it up around her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The sight of her pale skin, the neat triangle of strawberry-blonde hair, sent a jolt of pure lust through him that had nothing to do with performance.
The Entity drifted closer, a silent, hungry audience of one. It hovered at the edge of the windbreak, tasting the air.
Molly dropped to her knees between Zack’s legs as Ginny freed his cock. It sprang up, already leaking. Molly didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her mouth opening wide, and took him deep in one slick, engulfing motion. Zack cried out, his head slamming back against the bench. Her throat worked around him, her tongue tracing the throbbing vein underneath. She reached up, kneading his balls with one hand while the other worked in tandem with her mouth.
“Fuck, Molly,” he groaned, his hips bucking instinctively.
Ginny straddled his face, lowering herself onto his mouth. “Eat me, paralegal,” she ordered, her voice shaking. “Make me messy.”
Zack obeyed. He licked into her, his tongue circling her clit before plunging deep into her slit. She was already wet, her flavor musky and sweet. She ground herself against his mouth, a soft, continuous moan escaping her. Above him, Molly’s sucking grew sloppier, louder, the obscene, wet sounds echoing slightly in the contained space.
The Entity was right there. It had condensed, forming a vaguely humanoid shape that throbbed with avid interest. Zack could feel a cold, leaching sensation at the edges of his pleasure, like a psychic vacuum sucking at the heat they were generating.
“It’s taking it,” Ginny panted, riding his face harder. “More. Give it more.”
Molly popped off his cock with a gasp. “My turn,” she said, and before Zack could process it, she swung a leg over his hips, positioning herself above him. She reached down, guiding his slick tip to her entrance. Then she sank down, taking him inside her in one slow, devastating slide. She was so tight, so impossibly hot and wet. She sheathed him completely, her body trembling.
“Oh god,” Zack moaned against Ginny’s folds.
Molly began to move, rolling her hips in a deep, circular grind. Her breasts bounced with the motion. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, her glasses slightly askew. “Fuck me, Zack,” she commanded, all pretense gone. “Fuck this hungry cunt. Let that thing see what a real meal looks like.”
Zack’s world narrowed to sensation: the crushing heat of Molly around his cock, the taste of Ginny on his tongue, the cold, observing presence drinking it all in. He thrust upwards, meeting Molly’s downward plunges. The sound of their bodies slapping together was louder now, rhythmic and urgent.
Ginny’s orgasm hit first. She stiffened, a silent scream on her lips as she convulsed against Zack’s mouth, her juices flooding his chin. The emotional spike was a tangible thing. The Entity shuddered, swelling slightly, its form becoming more vivid, more solid
The emotional spike was a tangible thing. The Entity shuddered, swelling slightly, its form becoming more vivid, more solid. Zack felt Molly tighten around him, her inner muscles fluttering as her own climax approached, and he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I’m gonna come,” he grunted, the words muffled against Ginny’s skin.
“Do it,” Molly gasped, her rhythm breaking into frantic, shallow bounces. “Feed the fucking thing.”
Zack’s vision whited out. His hips pistoned upwards, slamming deep into her, and he erupted. Thick pulses of cum shot into her, each spasm wringing a sharp cry from Molly’s lips as she came simultaneously, her body clamping down on him like a vise. The release wasn’t just physical; it was a geyser of raw, uncomplicated feeling—triumph, pleasure, satiation. The Entity drank it all in hungrily.
It swelled to its limit, a dark, satisfied bubble hovering in the salt air. Then, with a soundless pop of dissipating pressure, it unspooled. The dense shadow fragmented, bleeding into the ordinary darkness of the deck, seeping into the vents and under doors, sated and sluggish, off to digest its meal.
Zack collapsed back, spent. Molly slid off him, a sheen of sweat on her chest. Ginny lifted herself from his face, wiping her thighs with a shaky hand.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the ship’s engines and their ragged breathing. Then Ginny started to laugh, a bright, incredulous sound.
“Holy shit,” Molly joined in, leaning over to slap Zack’s thigh playfully. “Look at him. Totally conquered.”
“He held his own,” Ginny said, grinning as she swiped a finger through the mess on Zack’s chin and licked it. “For a straight-laced paralegal, you’ve got some stamina, Kreuger.”
Zack could only manage a wheeze. “Don’t… tell Mara… I got out-performed.”
Footsteps clicked on the polished deck, sharp and official. They froze. The laughter died instantly.
“Shit, someone’s coming,” Molly hissed, scrambling for her clothes. In her haste, she grabbed Ginny’s sundress instead of her own, trying to yank it over her head. It got stuck around her shoulders, muffling her curses.
Ginny, quicker, snatched her own panties and Zack’s polo. Zack yanked his chinos up, not bothering with the belt. “This way,” he whispered, grabbing Molly’s arm and Ginny’s wrist.
He pulled them, half-dressed and clutching their bundled clothes, into a narrow service hallway shadowed by a bulkhead. They pressed against the cool metal, holding their breath. Staff Captain Hornpipe walked past the observation bench, his white uniform crisp, a ledger in his hand. His eyes scanned the empty bench, the night, but missed the smudge of moisture on the teak. He paused, sniffed the air once, a frown etching his features, then continued on his rounds.
In the sudden silence of the hallway, Zack finished buckling his belt. Molly finally wrestled Ginny’s dress off and found her own. Ginny pulled on Zack’s polo, which hung on her slender frame.
“Close one,” Ginny breathed.
Down in the stateroom Jan shared with Stacy, the mood was one of concentrated calm. Legal pads covered the glass-topped desk, diagrams drawn in Mara’s precise hand next to Fatima’s elegant, arcane symbols. Vivian traced a line with a red-tipped fingernail. “The containment field will be anchored here, here, and here,” she said softly. “It needs to hold through… extremes.”
Mara leaned back, rubbing her temples. The planning was necessary, but it felt like drafting a brief for a case where the laws of physics were the opposing counsel. “Right. We’ve got the blueprint. Now, I need to not think about psychic vampires for two hours.” She stood, stretching. “I’m hosting a second round of strip poker in my suite. No ulterior motives this time. No one trying to keep me in the dark. Just cards and… relaxation.”
Jan bounced on the balls of her feet, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Yes! I’ll get my lucky dice.”
“No,” Mara said, her voice firm but kind. She put a hand on Jan’s shoulder. “You need to rest. Conserve your energy, like Fatima will be. Tomorrow night, we need you at full ‘Red Tornado’ strength.”
Jan’s face fell into an exaggerated pout. “But the poker…”
“Is for relaxing,” Fatima said, not looking up from her notes. “You radiating libido in a closed room is many things, Jan. Relaxing is not one of them.”
“Stacy will be there!” Jan appealed to her oldest friend.
Stacy, who was doing slow squats in the corner, paused. “Sorry, Red. It actually sounds like fun. And I could use some fun that doesn’t involve potentially getting shot.”
Mara, Vivian, and Fatima headed for the door. Stacy followed, giving Jan a sympathetic shrug. As the door closed, the little golden retriever puppy slipped out after them, his nails clicking on the linoleum.
Godfrey trailed the group, a fluffy shadow, as they moved down the corridor to Mara’s larger suite. Inside, the atmosphere was already different. Laughter spilled out as Godfrey nudged the door open wider. Molly and Ginny, now fully dressed in their own clothes, were dealing cards. Zack sat between them on a sofa, looking pleasantly shell-shocked.
Mara took one look at his loose-limbed posture and the fresh love-bite on Ginny’s neck. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Counselor’s observation,” she said, hanging her jacket. “Your hair is a mess, Zachary, and you have that distinct ‘I’ve been thoroughly debauched’ glaze in your eyes. Let me guess. The Entity required a… hands-on diversion?”
Zack blushed. Ginny just dealt him another card. “He was very cooperative,” she said primly.
Godfrey sniffed at the floor, his tail giving a half-wag before he lost interest. The dense, post-coital human emotions were a bland background noise to him. He trotted back out into the hallway, a small mission in his canine mind.
He padded past other doors. In one stateroom, he heard Rebecca’s gentle laughter and saw, through a cracked door, Charley holding her, his hand resting softly on her still-flat stomach. Further down, Hank was trying to coax Fatima, now in a simple black dress, toward the sounds of a distorted guitar. “It’s Shiprock! They do a mean Zeppelin cover!” he pleaded.
“I would rather listen to a cat being strangled,” Fatima replied, but she was smiling as she let him lead her away.
Across the hall, Liam leaned against a doorframe, his arms crossed. “Bethany, mo chridhe, the equipment is fine. You’ve checked it three times. The traps are set. Come watch the band with me. You look beautiful in that dress, not the suit.”
Bethany, in a vintage polka-dot dress, her pink hair at odds with its retro sweetness, sighed and placed her Golden Wand sensor back into its case. “Fine. But if something goes wrong because a resonator was off by point-zero-zero-one…”
Mike and Casey’s door was open a sliver. Godfrey peeked in. Mike was on the floor making exaggerated faces. Casey held baby Rick, who was giggling, a gummy smile wide on his face. Polluck, the scarred tomcat, lay on the bed like a sphinx. He saw Godfrey, his one good eye narrowing. A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat, followed by a sharp hiss. Godfrey yipped softly and scrambled away, his mission of surveillance complete.
He returned to Jan’s door and scratched. It opened immediately. Jan, still in her thrift-store chic outfit, looked down, and her sulky expression melted. “Hey, little guy. Did they leave you behind too?” She scooped him up, burying her face in his soft fur. He wriggled, licking her chin.
She carried him inside, sitting on the edge of the unmade bed. “Stupid poker,” she muttered to the empty room. “I’m the one who makes things fun.” She sighed, feeling the familiar, low-grade ache of magical energy depletion. It was like a hollow behind her ribs.
Godfrey squirmed in her arms, then placed a paw on her cheek, his brown eyes earnest. Jan stared at him. The simple, unwavering affection in his gaze was a physical warmth against her loneliness. This was the being who had crossed death itself to return to her. Not for magic, or sex, or adventure, but for her.
A realization, soft and profound, clicked into place. The plan needed a spectrum of love—romantic, parental, platonic. It needed the primal, unconditional love that asked for nothing in return. The love that had literally defied the grave. She hugged Godfrey tighter, her earlier pout vanishing. “You’re right,” she whispered into his fur. “You’re the secret ingredient, aren’t you? Tomorrow, we’re gonna fill that room with so much love it’s gonna choke that emotion-sucking bastard. And you, my loyal little man, are going to lead the charge.”