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eBook Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Dark Fantasy
eBook Description: [Adult Content] Timothy McHenry, a married pred-med student at Cal, becomes obsessed--infatuated with a street artist. He develops a sexual relationship with her, only to learn she is an ancient Ainu shaman, and there will be a terrible price paid for the liason...

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: 2001
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2002

53 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [30 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [35 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [16 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [71 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [16 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [68 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [88 KB] , hiebook (KML) [69 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [44 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [14 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [18 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [45 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [27 KB]
Words: 4788
Reading time: 13-19 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Funkytown is the bizarre bazaar,
with weird things to see and buy;
but it's the people make Funkytown
weirder than a deep emerald sky..."
--anonymous street musician

The woman had disappeared.

Tim McHenry had cut afternoon classes for a week to roam Telegraph Avenue south of the campus in hopes of catching another glimpse of the street artist he had first seen after lunch on Monday. But, she was gone, her image dim and vague, like the morning after memory of a dream. Tim wasn't even sure why he found her so fascinating. He wasn't interested in art; and he'd paid little attention to other women since he and Carolyn had been married two years ago. Nevertheless, he was unable to resist the compulsion to see the woman again; and, after failing to spot her all week, he'd been sure she'd show up Friday afternoon as the weekend tourist trade began to pick up.

But no luck.

Jesus Christ, he swore to himself, you are coming unglued, man--obsessed by a faceless street person you've never even spoken to. C'mon, Timmy boy, lighten up.

He took a deep breath, shifting his perspective. Maybe it wasn't the woman at all, maybe it was really the whole pre-med grind. They'd sacrificed, scrimped, put family on indefinite hold. Carolyn had even dropped out of school to work full time; and he'd done his part, maintaining a 4.0. They were close--a high score on the MCAT and applications for med school out. So that was it, the obsession probably a quirk, a kind of tic.

Time to relax, boy, he told himself.

The tantalizing smell of pizza drifting across Telegraph from Blondies reminded Tim he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He worked his way across the busy street to the pizza parlour.

In a few minutes he stepped back outside with a hot slice of pepperoni on a napkin, and he took a bite, savoring the spicy mouthful, as he watched a nearby street vendor displaying tee shirts on a rack at the curb. A dark blue one with a gold star over the heart read: The man wearing this shirt is an undercover police officer. Lie down and do exactly what he tells you.

Tim laughed, almost choking on the bite of pizza--

Clanging, thumping, chanting, coming up through the crowd from back toward the University. Tim backed up to let the small band of Hari Krishnas work their way past along the sidewalk. They were all dressed in gauzy white, most with shaved heads or scalplocks, a few clanging finger cymbals or pounding small drums, each chanting loudly, and all smiling as if they truly understood the secret of the universe. As they passed Tim, a girl, almost pixie-like in stature, spun a tight pirouette in front of him and gave him a lewd wink; then, laughing, she hurried to catch up with the barefoot group of happy faces.

Tim shook his head in mock disbelief and watched until the band finally disappeared in the crowd up Telegraph. Man, you never know what to expect here in Funkytown--the name just popped into his head. After a moments thought he remembered listening to a street musician who'd coined the name.

And indeed, Tim thought, taking a good look around, this section of Berkeley, three blocks along Telegraph that dead-ended into the UC Student Union Building, was more than the common mini-community found near most universities. Oh there were the usual fast food spots, espresso coffee shops, economy travel agencies, book stores, and other businesses catering to the needs of students. But here everything had an extra spin: Rasputins with its unmatched collection of new and used records and tapes; Top Dog, its grill covered with every conceivable type of frank and wurst; Comix and Comix, with the best of the underground; and The Other Change of Hobbit, the friendly specialty science fiction and fantasy bookstore. In addition to the stores, the curbs were lined with stands, stalls, and tables of street vendors, who hawked all kinds of custom-made stuff: tie-dyed garments, silver jewelry, pottery, belts, and buckles. Here, on the street, you might hear a man strum a guitar, make up some blues, and sing like Tom Waits; or a lady tell your fortune with Tarot cards; or a preacher shout a religious, political, or ecological tract; or you might even take a lesson from The Juggling Fool. But it was the people who made the area really distinctive: the students from around the world, many in colorful ethnic garb; hard rockers in shiny leather and metal, their hair spiked in rainbow colors; tourists who came to gawk or haggle with vendors; and, of course, the street people, who came to hustle, beg, or just walk their pit bulls. Funkytown was loud, smelly, filthy, and Tim loved it. He'd been coming here to relax at lunch time as often as possible during his four years of pre-med at Cal.

By now it was 5:00 o'clock, and Tim knew he should be headed home.

At Channing he waited for the light to turn green, glancing up the street at a cluster of people--

It was her!