Author's note…If you read Chapter One and wondered at the strange formatting and punctuation, please re-read it. I accidentally uploaded it as a Word document, rather than as html, and I lost the formatting. It reads much better now.
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For a moment, I freeze. Then, with my heart pounding and my palms sweating, I slowly turn in the direction of the voice. It's impossible…it can't be…but it is. Standing there before me, looking almost impossibly beautiful, is Frank. He is wearing the clothing he died in, but his hair and makeup are pristine, unsullied by the water.
I look at him, then at the still figure floating in the water. His eyes follow mine, and he smiles. However, he says nothing. Finally, I choke out, "You're not really here. You can't be here. I'm imagining this."
He raises an eyebrow and shrugs. "If that is what you wish to believe, feel free. However, there seems to be considerable evidence to the contrary."
By now I'm shaking so violently I can hardly stand. In a voice barely above a whisper, I reply, "But you're dead. You're there in the pool."
He shrugs again. "Indeed." He sighs. "I never imagined I would die looking like a two-bit whore turning tricks in Times Square in the pouring rain. Fortunately, I am not required to spend eternity looking that way." He smiles again. "I was quite surprised to discover there is such a thing as life after death. As a scientist, I never believed in such things."
Despite his apparent civility, I am not feeling one bit calmer about what is transpiring. Almost against my will, I ask the question that is preying on my fevered mind: "What do you want from me?"
The smile fades from his face, and for a moment he is silent. Finally, he looks me in the eye and echoes the question first posed to me in Columbia's voice. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill me? How could you do such a thing?"
If there's a proper response to such a question, I certainly haven't discovered it. I stare helplessly at him, completely at a loss for words. Ultimately, I decide to give him the same reason I gave Magenta, when I proposed that she and I take control of the mission and overthrow him. "Like I said, your lifestyle was too extreme. You were compromising the mission. It had to stop." The words sound lame, even to my own ears.
Not surprisingly, he looks unimpressed with my reasoning. "And murder was the best solution you could come up with?"
I stare at the floor, no longer able to even look him in the face. I give him the only response that comes to mind…"I'm sorry, Master."
He smiles grimly. "You're sorry. How very commendable of you."
He stops, and I wait for him to lash out, to scream at me, to heap me with abuse. Much to my amazement, it doesn't happen. Even more amazing, however, is what he does say to me.
Speaking quietly, he says, "I suppose it doesn't really matter." He pauses, and it appears he is in a very uncharacteristic struggle for words. Finally, he says, "I must admit that despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but be impressed by how…dominant you were. I never thought you were capable of being so virile and commanding. It was almost…erotic." He lifts his eyes to meet mine, and a seductive smile creeps across his face. It is an expression I know well, but one that has never before been directed at me. When he speaks again, his voice carries the promise of sensual delights the likes of which I've never experienced. "I want you, Riff Raff. Do you want me?"
Is he kidding? Do I want him? He cannot possibly know the number of nights I spent tossing and turning, burning with desire for him. He cannot imagine the jealousy coursing through my veins as I watched him take on lover after lover, while never giving me so much as a speculative glance. He cannot begin to understand the excruciating pain I experienced when I saw he would rather build a man from scratch than take to bed the one who'd been worshipping the very ground on which he walked for all the years we'd known each other.
Now, when faced with the question I'd been aching to hear from him far longer than I cared to contemplate, I find myself completely unable to respond. Fortunately – although embarrassingly – my body responds on my behalf, and I see his eyes take in the very obvious evidence of my arousal. He smiles and slowly licks his lips in a way that leaves me weak in the knees.
"If you want me…take me."
At first, I find myself rooted to the spot. Then, as if in a dream, I untie my bathrobe and allow it to fall to the floor. I slowly walk over to where he stands waiting. I reach out to take him in my arms…only to encounter nothing but air. In shock, I look at his face. He is still smiling, but the smile is no longer seductive. It is now a smile of victory.
"Oh, dear, I forgot…I no longer have a physical body. So sorry to have raised your…er, hopes that way." He stares again at my crotch, and it is clear he is trying not to laugh.
However, the amusement slowly fades from his face, only to be replaced by anger. "It seems I hit on the real reason you killed me. It had nothing to do with my 'lifestyle' – other than the fact that it did not include you as one of my lovers. You killed me because you wanted me, but knew you'd never have me. Admit it!"
I can feel my face glowing red in a hellish combination of panic and mortification. "No, Master, that isn't true at all!"
His expression is now one of utter disdain. "Don't lie to me! You may have been able to deceive me while I was alive, but I assure you it will not work now that I am dead. I can see into your mind. I can see into your heart. I can see into your very soul! You robbed me of my life – of my future – of my chance to someday take the throne of Transsexual – out of jealousy, rejection and sexual frustration." His voice sinks to a contemptuous whisper that is somehow more devastating than a scream. "How completely pathetic."
The triumph I felt immediately after my killing spree is now nothing but a painful memory. His words are a lethal weapon, literally bringing me to my knees under the weight of my shame and grief. Hot tears flow from my eyes, which are now glued to the marble floor in my disgrace. Although I am not looking at him, I can feel his eyes, flashing with fury, staring at my huddled form. He is waiting for me to say something.
Unfortunately – and not for the first time – words fail me. All I can do is repeat the phrase I'd used earlier. In a voice so weak and trembling I can barely recognize it as my own, I say, "Master, I know this doesn't make up for what I did, but I am truly sorry."
He makes it clear my response is every bit as inadequate as I knew it would be. "You may be sorry now, but not nearly as sorry as you soon will be. You may concoct a story that will allow you to escape punishment on Transsexual, but I promise you this…I will personally see to it you pay dearly for your actions. Your days will be your own…but your nights will belong to me. Every time you close your eyes, I will be there…and at my disposal will be my knowledge of your every thought, your every fantasy, your every weakness, your every fear. Rest assured I will use that knowledge to my full advantage. Enjoy whatever sanity you may possess now, as I will take it from you just as surely as you took my life from me."
For a moment I am rendered both motionless and speechless, lost in terror at what I have just heard. I have no doubt he can do as he says; he had the power to drive me to the insane act of murder while he was still alive. I cannot begin to imagine the horrors he will be capable of with his new insight into every secret of my already tortured psyche.
When I do manage a response, it is nothing more than a primal outburst.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Suddenly, I feel someone shaking my shoulder. Vaguely, I hear someone calling my name.
"Riff Raff! Riff Raff!!! Wake up!"
I open my eyes with a start, and am greeted by the sight of my beautiful sister's face, hovering over my own with an expression of concern. She sees my trembling frame, my sweat-soaked skin, and the sheer panic on my face, and takes me in her arms.
"Riff, calm down. You just had a nightmare."
For seemingly endless moments I cling to her, desperate for the comfort and care only she can give me. Finally, I manage to give her a wan smile.
"Yes, a nightmare."
A nightmare that, I cannot help but suspect, is just beginning.
