Sleeping Dogs Lie

Mike

Mike was finding it very difficult to concentrate in the small, stuffy room that was his office. The sexy, mischievous, female voice that had been phoning him all week had turned into a sexy, mischievous female, who now sat opposite him, perched up on his cluttered desk because he didn't have room for a another chair. While it had been easy to be confident, funny and even flirt with a disembodied voice on the telephone, the physical presence and attention of its curvaceous owner had turned Mike into a stuttering bag of nerves. At the same time, the detached psychological observer within him was fascinated at his stumbling reactions to the overload of sexual stimuli.

"So you don't actually investigate paranormal phenomena as such?" asked Alice Ashton, reporter for the local community paper, tapping her pen and looking at her note pad. Mike took a moment to remember where the conversation was going. He had been taking the opportunity to fully appreciate her breasts and the way they filled out her blouse. All perfectly normal male reactions, the inner voice reminded him. As long as you don't get caught looking.

"No, no. Here at the APRU --"

"Approo?" she interrupted, looking up. He'd caught the movement of her head and got his eyes focused on her face and off her enticing décolletage just in time. She had earnest blue eyes framed by a dark hair, a cute, upturned nose and a half smile playing across her lips. Mike was a sucker for an upturned nose.

"Abnormal Psychology Research Unit," Mike said. "We study the psychology of people who believe in the paranormal. It's about understanding how someone can develop radically different belief systems far outside what's considered normal."

"But you must also have to study something about the paranormal phenomena these people believe in?" Alice said.

"Well, some. Enough to know what it is they believe."

"And Mike, your expertise is specifically people who believe in ghosts?" Alice asked. She was nibbling on the end of her pen now and the action's symbolism was driving Mike to distraction. She knows exactly what she's doing, the inner observer told him.

"My area of research is in people who believe they can communicate with the dead. It's not always straightforward. First, you have to determine if someone truly believes they can talk to the dead or if they're some kind of con artist who's just trying to exploit other people's beliefs. Then there are those in the schizophrenic spectrum of mental illnesses who have auditory hallucinations. They genuinely believe these are the voices of ghosts or dead people. However, there are some people who honestly believe they can talk to the dead and who are not mentally ill. They're the subject of my research." Mike gave a little shrug, feeling a bit like he was lecturing.

"Interesting," Alice said and bent to scribble on her notepad again.

Mike took a deep breath to calm his nerves and caught her scent; a mixture of perfume, cigarettes and peppermint. Normally cigarettes where a big turnoff for him, but now it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"On the phone, you said this was background for a story," Mike said.

Alice finished writing and looked up. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to just above a husky whisper. "It's a piece I've had on the back burner for a while. I think it might have legs and I'd like to try and sell it to one of the nationals if it works out. It could be a stepping stone for me, so I want to make sure I've covered all the angles."

"I see," said Mike, trying very hard to keep his focus on her words and not think about how he'd only have to move his head a few inches forward to kiss her.

Alice leaned back again, breaking the spell.

"There's a medium who's been holding séances in the local area for a while now. He's got quite a dedicated following. At first, I thought he was just a con man but I've been to a few of his sessions now, incognito as it were, and he's very convincing. To be honest, I haven't been able to get any evidence one way or the other. My cover story is that I am trying to contact my dearly departed mother; she's not actually dear or departed. So far, he hasn't taken the bait."

"Well, that's certainly up my alley, very interesting in fact. I wouldn't mind seeing this guy's performance for myself," Mike said. If only to spend a little more time with a nicely proportioned female reporter, added the inner observer.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Alice said with a bright smile. "There's a séance tonight at six. I told them I might bring a friend, if you'd be interested."

"Tonight! Well, I think I can make it."

"It's twenty quid a head to get in."

"I might have to swing by a cash machine."

"No problem, I'll cover you if you like."

"I can pay you back later."

"Or you could buy me a drink afterwards and let me pick your brains a little more," Alice said with a half-smile playing across her lips again.

"Absolutely," agreed Mike.