Page 11 - The Case of the Wandering Husband FLIPBOOK

Fannie floated from San Pedro to Century City where Cherry kept her offices. She
floated through the walls into the mass of activity there. Men and women were
coming and going at an incredible pace. Phones were ringing and being answered.
Conversations were going on all around. Conversations which meant nothing to
Fannie. She floated towards an office in the back. A huge monstrosity with movie
posters everywhere and an Academy Award on a shelf above a simple desk.
The room was filled with the leftovers of other people’s auras. It was also filled with
the scent of a man whose aroma seemed familiar to Fannie. An animalistic scent.

Not that she could smell. Fannie had no nose, nor ears, nor any senses to speak of.
Her mind translated what it learned as an astral into the familiar senses Fannie was
accustomed to. In this case, an aroma. A heavy masculine aroma filled with the
delicious scents of sex.
Fannie concentrated on the scents. If she concentrated hard enough on something it
would replay for her. Like hitting the rewind button on a movie. Only this time it
produced a scene straight out of one of Fannie’s fantasies.
A man so beautiful it made her instantly wet appeared. He was a shadow only, no
facial features or identifying marks whatsoever except damn if he wasn’t the sexiest
thing Fannie had seen in quite some time.

A man with no body fat covered in great muscles and a bulge in his jeans which
made her mouth water.

This beautiful man moved to the desk where Cherry’s shadow appeared. Fannie
knew back in her office her own vagina was soaking wet. She didn’t care, this man was
incredible. Fannie would smack Cherry out of the way to be under him.
This walking, talking sex god shoved Cherry across her own desk. Pushed her dress
up and fucked her so hard the desk almost buckled. Fucked Cherry with an intensity
Fannie wished for. Fannie wished she could turn on any man so much he couldn’t
hold back. Had to have Fannie like this man had to have Cherry.

The scent of sex reeked. As did the man’s own scent. Why this man’s aura was a scent
and not a color intrigued Fannie. Normally auras took on the dominant sense of sight.
A color or shadow or symbol. Something she could look at. This one was a scent. An
aroma. A heady masculine aroma Fannie could follow.
A ghost walked by. Then more. Fannie concentrated. Focused only on the scent until
another creature walked by. A creature who stopped and looked hard at Fannie.
No one was supposed to be able to see Fannie when she went astral. At least, no one
who was normal. There were others who existed in hidden places. Beings of light and
dark who were the stuff of nightmares. Like the one who was staring at Fannie’s astral
projection.