The last thing holding a bit of Jon inside of Bambi was the magic of the pendant -- Jon was at the base of the pendant's transformations, the building block on which it built its wish chain. With the skull no longer bound to her flesh, Bambi's grip on her memories of being Jon slipped.
She didn't care.
Bambi led Tom by the hand through the lobby to the elevator, almost forgetting to grab her room key from the scowling concierge. They barely made it to the elevator before they were all over each other.
Karyn was fading from her mind. Jon was barely a memory.
They made it into her room, barely pausing their groping as they stripped each other bare. Bambi was a giant nerve, and Tom was playing her perfectly. Her nipples were like perfect, pink diamonds, her lower regions were wet and pulsing, and she couldn't figure out where her tongue ended and Tom's began.
As Tom's strong hands lifted her up onto the bed, Karyn's name disappeared from her mind. Jon was an echo.
As Tom slid into her, the wave of pleasure and completeness overwhelmed her. As Tom began slowly thrusting, Bambi was lost in the waves of pleasure that rode through her.
All memories of Karyn were gone. Jon was no more. She was Bambi Jane Smythe, and she was happy in her lover's arms, with her perfect life lying before her.
Caroline stretched in the late morning sun, allowing it to caress her slender, attractive body. For some reason, putting on that odd necklace had given her an even-more upbeat outlook today. She was enjoying the second day of her vacation -- the first since she'd arrived that she'd actually started to relax -- and had very nearly succeeded in forgetting the dull job that waited for her back at home. When she'd gone to school, a graphic arts degree had seemed like a great idea -- she could work on designing software, or even advertising if she liked. Then the economy turned south, and suddenly there wasn't much call for people who knew how to make things look pretty; she'd graduated into a much grayer world than the one she'd entered. Two years later, she was stuck as a paralegal for a very nice, very kind, very boring probate lawyer, doing very regular, very straightforward, very boring work, in a very comfortable, very gray, very boring office.
On top of that, it had rained for three weeks straight before she flew out here.
So, sunny Hawai'i! A week with no calls, no probate judges, no boring attorneys wanting to talk about codicils and remainders and trusts, no gray walls and gray windows staring back at her. Just sun, kitschy drinks with kitschy umbrellas, and beaches. Maybe she'd go see a volcano. Maybe not. Either way, time to relax.
She sat back on a nearby chair, basking in the sunlight on her skin, when she heard two men in their swim trunks, walking by, deep in conversation. They were clearly related, and both good-looking enough that she risked the glare to peek over her sunglasses at them. The shorter, less-built one said to the other, "I just wish I was as big and strong as you."
The pendant suddenly grew warm...
