CHAPTER SEVEN
The den was painted with a hint of rose, a cream rug on the floor. Off to one side was a small powder room and laundry. The washer and dryer looked new. The main floor had three bedrooms, bathroom, large country kitchen and living room. She already knew which bedroom would be her office and which one she would sleep in.
McKinnon followed her around, taking pleasure in her delight. He stood now, hands in pockets, watching her as she flitted from room to room.
"Would you consider selling this house, McKinnon? You could sever a lot for me, because I wouldn't want the land."
"Why don't you just live in it for a while and think about it, Charly? We can always set up a rent-to-purchase agreement, subject to severance, if that's what you'd like."
"Would you do that? I guess when I think about it, I'm not in any position to buy until I pay back a couple of loans. But that won't take long, and then I'll be asking you again." She still had trouble believing her good fortune.
McKinnon had perched himself on the edge of the bow window and his legs were extended in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His hands were again in his trouser pockets, and his suit jacket was open.
Coming over to stand beside him, she had her hands in her pockets as well. Pockets that she had hidden in the seams of her long dress. It was light emerald green velvet with leg-of-mutton sleeves, high lace-trimmed collar, and tight-fitting waist. The long skirt was A-line and the dress was one of her favourites. She'd had many compliments on it but few people were aware that she had made it herself. She had chosen to wear her hair loose, pulled up on the sides and secured with rhinestone combs. It fell in waves to her waist behind. She knew the dress gave her an old-fashioned air.
"How can I thank you, McKinnon? This is like a dream come true for me."
"You mean you haven't been writing down every night for thirty-three nights that you have a house just like this one?"
"No, I'm afraid not. So far, it was just a thought. But then, thoughts are things, so here's my house!" She twirled around in delight, taking in the kitchen cupboards, new stove and fridge, and the braided rug where her table and chairs would sit.
She stopped short when she felt McKinnon's hand on her shoulder.
"About the thanks you were going to give me. It's strange, but I feel like a frog. Do I look like a frog to you?"
He had turned her to face him, and she looked up at his warm smile.
"I'm catching the drift, McKinnon, and I'm thinking I should probably go home and pack now. Besides, you look a bit more like a wolf than a frog at the moment."
His hand was still on her shoulder, and he lifted her chin with his fingers. Tipping her face up, he bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Never a wolf with you, Little Witch. I just wanted to see if the reality came near to the dream. That little sample told me all I wanted to know." Stepping back, he said matter-of-factly, "Time to go, I guess."
Charly was still standing, rooted to the spot. The thought had crossed her mind in the past few days that if she and McKinnon continued to see each other, at some point he would probably try to kiss her. She just wasn't prepared for it yet.
Grinning at her, he said, "Coming, Charly?"
Moving towards the door, she blushed and answered, "Coming, McKinnon."
Saturday passed like a whirlwind as she packed all of her things, chattered endlessly to her mother about her new house, and watched boxes pile up near the door, ready for moving. Her mother had a hide-a-bed sofa and chair for her den, and furniture for her second bedroom. Charly had also arranged for a telephone to be hooked up on Friday. She would have to buy office and living room furniture, but it would give her a good excuse to go to auction sales on the weekend.
McKinnon showed up with his truck just after lunch on Sunday and they soon had it loaded. Her parents followed in their car and the afternoon sped by as they arranged furniture and unpacked boxes. Charly was aware that McKinnon had had someone come in and clean the house thoroughly yesterday. It had been musty the day before, but now it sparkled and smelled like it had been well aired.
It was late when they finished, and Charly was surprised when McKinnon accepted her mother's invitation to dine with them. The distance wasn't far and she knew this pleased her parents. They had missed her during her five years of school in Western Ontario and were happy that she was once more close to home.
She was curious to see if McKinnon would mention anything about metaphysics to her parents, but he kept the conversation firmly on farming and she guessed that he wasn't yet comfortable discussing it with anyone but herself.
"Well, Mom, I hate to break this up, but I've got work tomorrow, so I'd better get home." She laughed, and then added, "It seems funny to be saying that, but frankly, I can't wait to get back and see my house again."
Her dad came over and handed her an envelope. "You can open this when you get there, Charly. It's a little something in celebration of your new job." He put his arm around her and gave her a hug. "Don't forget to come and visit."
"Thanks, Dad. I won't."
McKinnon followed her home in his truck and went inside with her. "So you think you can live happily in your new surroundings?"
"Oh, McKinnon, do you even need to ask? How could anyone not be happy here?" As an afterthought, she asked, "Would you like a coffee? I think I have all the requirements."
"Okay. But I have to check on something downstairs. I'll do that now."
When the coffee was ready, McKinnon still hadn't come up. Setting up a tray, she decided to take it down, since that's where the sofa was.
As soon as she opened the door to the basement, she could hear the snapping of the logs in the fireplace and knew he had made her a fire.
"I got the feeling you were a fireplace person, too, Charly." McKinnon was kneeling on the rug by the fire, his jeans outlining his muscular body. The sleeves of his red wool sweater were pushed above the elbow and he looked quite at home.
Setting the tray down, she smiled at him. "You are right, McKinnon. I'm very much a fireplace person. In fact, I may set up my office down here, so I can work by the fire."
"Well, there's lots of wood piled by the fence out back. Help yourself."
"Oh, my God, McKinnon!" Clapping her hand over her mouth, Charly dropped on to the sofa.
"What's the matter?" He came over and sat beside her, alarmed at her pallor.
"I just realized I never asked you what the rent was going to be. How much, McKinnon? I've got to find out before I get any more comfortable. I can't believe I did this!"
"Don't scare me like that, Charly. I thought something was really wrong!" Relaxing, he stretched out his legs and put his arm along the back of the sofa behind her head.
"How much, McKinnon?" Of all the things she had done in her life, this was definitely the craziest.
The amount he named was so ridiculously low, she wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
"But I paid almost twice that much for a two-bedroom apartment in the city."
"Forget it, Charly - end of discussion. Where's that coffee?"
Passing him his cup, she settled down beside him, only to feel the letter her dad had given her crinkling in her pocket. She pulled it out and tore it open. After scanning it quickly, she turned in great excitement to McKinnon.
"Do you believe this, McKinnon? He's paid off all of my student loans and written off the loan he gave for my SUV. He says if I had been a spoiled brat, he wouldn't have done it. He also says he doesn't need the money, so I might as well have the use of some of it now, rather than waiting until he dies. What a guy!"
Sipping her coffee, she put the cup down and started talking again. "Do you know what this means, McKinnon? I can buy this place as soon as you sever..."
"Shut up, Charly. You talk too much." And suddenly she was in his arms, his coffee-scented lips firm and warm on hers.
Tucking her in close to his side, u
nder his arm, McKinnon pushed the hair back from her face.
"Now tell me how this thirty-three day thing works."
Charly had barely caught her breath from the kiss. It had been extremely pleasant and quite unexpected. He was an incredibly good kisser - sensitive, sensuous and gentle all at once. Jerking herself back to his question, she quickly assembled her thoughts.
"As I understand it, we are composed of three main parts - conscious, subconscious and superconscious." She looked up from the fire into his face, the brown eyes fixed steadily and attentively on her. She noted idly how long his lashes were, the slight curl to them.
"Carry on. You're doing fine. Sounds like basic psychology."
"When you first fall asleep, your conscious mind needs to rest, so it steps aside and your subconscious, which doesn't need rest or sleep, begins to take over. It reviews the past forty-eight hours and the coming forty-eight hours, decides if changes should be made, what errors were made that should be corrected, and what is required for the next day or two. If you remember, and analyze, your dreams, you will be given direction from your subconscious and superconscious, which will assist you in your daily living. The subconscious and superconscious are never wrong, but they have to send messages in symbols so that the conscious mind disregards it, because it doesn't understand it, and therefore can't interfere."
McKinnon had picked up her left hand and was idly playing with her Grandmother's ring. She found she enjoyed the warmth of his fingers touching her skin.
"Are you still with me?"
"Sure am. But where does the superconscious and the thirty-three days come in?"
"The superconscious is your highest self and retains the memory of what it was you wanted to work on for soul development in this lifetime. It reviews your actions and choices and sends messages through profound dreams that occur in the deep sleep phase. These dreams usually are so different from your average dreams that they make a definite impression on you. Often they instruct you to do something you normally wouldn't consider. But remember, it is never wrong. And it is in agreement with your subconscious when it gives you directions, so the choice was actually yours, though you were unaware of making it. You still following me?"
"What about the thirty-three days?"
"Thirty-three days is the normal human cycle. It takes thirty-three days from the inception of a thought to a completed decision - sort of like programming yourself. But in order to convert a thought into a reality, there must be agreement at all three levels. Since your conscious mind wants to retain control, you have to trick it. Thus, the thirty-three day cycle of writing down whatever it is you want. The act of writing it passes it directly to your subconscious and it can get on with figuring out how it is to be accomplished."
"Now for the most important part - the statement I told you to use earlier. If you don't write first that your conscious mind accepts the fact that you desire and deserve whatever it is you want, it will throw up all kinds of roadblocks and excuses why you shouldn't have it. It also sometimes feels that you aren't worthy, especially if you are asking for wealth and success. So you have to trick it. This is all related to the Universal Law of Attraction as well - what you focus on is what you get."
"And suppose I write down that I made love to you?"
"You can make affirmations involving other people if you like, but the important thing is your intent. You should also know that it isn't possible to make someone else do something they don't wish to do. If we were both in agreement at all three levels of our being, it would probably take place. But that involves another whole area of theory and it's getting late. I really do have to work tomorrow."
"Okay, good Little Witch. I'll let you get away with an evasive answer this time, but we'll discuss it further later. And that's a promise." He stood slowly, unwinding his length and stretching. She felt very small standing beside him.
With McKinnon's departure, the house seemed suddenly terribly empty. With no living room furniture to absorb the sound, her footsteps echoed as she walked down the hardwood hall floor to her bedroom.
Stripping down, she curled her toes in the deep pile of the carpet, enjoying the sensuous feeling of freedom that accompanied the knowledge that she was alone, totally, and could do as she pleased. Her accommodations during her student days had always been shared and there just wasn't the same sense of freedom in the city.
Smiling and humming softly, she went into the shower, still naked and feeling sinfully free. The water was warm, cascading down over her shoulders, breasts and hips. She relaxed under the soothing spray, giving herself up to the purely physical sensations. Dried and powdered, she again went naked out of the bathroom, across the kitchen and down to the fire to check on it before retiring. The logs were still smouldering and throwing heat out into the room, and she stood soaking it into her skin, the glow warm on her body.
Twirling around on her toes, she was again humming as she climbed upstairs and went to bed. She slid in under the covers, enjoying the feel of the sheets sliding over her skin, slightly cool, the weight of the blanket promising warmth within minutes.
As she nestled down and began slipping into sleep, her body again started to tingle with sexual arousal, and she knew immediately it was coming from McKinnon. Lying still, she tried to block it out, but the feelings were too strong. Her breasts were throbbing and aching, her legs were becoming weak. Her reactions were so strong that she knew she would be picking up specifics from him very soon if she didn't stop him. Short of phoning him, there was little she could do unless...
Sitting up, yoga-like, she did her deep breathing, cleared her mind and then conjured up his image. When it was clear, she mentally took his face between her hands and began kissing him - eyelids, eyebrows, forehead, cheeks, chin, earlobes, and finally his mouth. She concentrated all of her mental energy on the sensations he would experience as her lips touched his, just a feather caress first, while her fingers pushed into his hair and exerted just enough pressure on his head to hold it right where she wanted it.
She could feel the excitement build in his body as she imagined her tongue, warm and moist, running over his lips, gently prying them open, touching his teeth. She could almost hear him gasp, as she slipped her tongue into his mouth to find his, kissing him with a slowly building passion that quickly brought him from passivity to active participation. It was at that moment that she suddenly realized McKinnon had somehow joined her in her fantasy and instead of being acted upon, was acting. He was transmitting just as powerfully as she was and she could no longer tell which thoughts were hers and which his. Nor could she shut him out. She was caught and she had to participate until he willed otherwise.
Falling back onto her pillow, she found that her hands were clasping her breasts tightly as her mind played scene after scene of flesh against flesh, breasts against hair-roughened chest, soft white thighs against dark muscular ones, feet entwined, toes curling and caressing in tune with tongue and lips. She could feel him kissing her body, inch by trembling inch, the heat building, and blood racing, and realized there were tears in her eyes because it was just not real enough. But still he wouldn't let her go.
As she lay frustrated and exhausted, she had to acknowledge the fact that McKinnon had shown her very clearly that he was psychically her superior in every way. It frightened her because her own psychic energy had always been a fact shared only with her parents and totally under her own control. She had lost that control now and she didn't like the feeling.
The phone by the bed rang, startling her so much that she sat bolt upright, then grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Welcome home, Little Witch. Sleep well and sweet dreams." Click. The connection was broken. As she thoughtfully replaced the receiver, she could hear echoes of the humour in his voice. So, he found it amusing, did he? But in spite of it all, she slept soundly.
As the days, then the weeks, passed, she was busier than
she had ever been before in her life. She didn't see McKinnon, and her fantasy wasn't repeated, though it was never very far from her mind. Sometimes when she was settled in bed, she was tempted to send some energy to McKinnon, but the knowledge of his superior strength held her back.
She couldn't control her dreams when she was asleep, though, and many mornings she would awaken, aware of having had highly erotic dreams and that McKinnon was there with her. She had studied astral projection and knew it was possible to share dreams, but didn't want to explore it further just now.
As the time passed, the weather warmed up, leaves came out full, and flowers bloomed and died, to be replaced by other, later flowers. Charly was delighted to find a variety of blooms appearing and disappearing in her flowerbeds. She spent hours digging around them, pruning shrubs, and setting out some tomato plants amongst the flowers. Today was Friday, the end of June and she was going to inspect McKinnon's farm. Would he be there? Had he set out his file on purpose? Had someone else set it out? Maybe he didn't even know she was coming over.
She had taken special care with her appearance this morning. Her western boots were gleaming with polish, her jumpsuit was pressed with knife-blade sharpness, and her hair had been braided and coiled in a coronet. She had decided to leave McKinnon's farm until last, just in case he wanted to spend some time with her. It had puzzled her greatly that he had not attempted to see her since she had moved into his house. They had become so close in such a short time, like very old friends, and she just couldn't understand his continuing silence.