My grandparents built the house on Front Ave. just a block from the pier where tourists from the surrounding areas disembarked from the ferry in droves to enjoy the salty breeze, the vintage carnival rides, and the elephant ears. My grandmother held readings on the screened in porch, aptly named the Reading Room, until she died a few years ago, my mother reluctantly took up her mantle afterwards, and I agreed to spend a few hours as the resident psychic some evenings and weekends so my mother could have a life outside of lying to young couples about their ill-fated relationships. If the future held heartbreak, it was best to lie, we'd learned. In the age of Google, a few bad reviews meant the end of us and this was my mother's only source of income. Sometimes I didn't think that would it would be so bad for her to be forced to find an alternative career path, but my grandmother had always insisted it was our duty to share our gifts. I don't suppose this was what she'd had in mind.

And anyway, if I hadn't agreed to carry on reading, I wouldn't have met Connor.

One day in late May, I went straight to my ancestral home, though I now lived a couple streets away in a cozy little one bedroom flat of my own, straight after my shift at the library where I'd spent the previous 6 hours stocking shelves and leaning over my desk to provide recommendations to young readers. My grandmother had decided midway through her career to lean in to the mainstream reputation of psychics and decorated the Reading Room, once a screened in porch, with gauzy purple drapes over the windows so the space was very dark, fabrics over the lamp shades, etc. Crystals glittered in the candlelight from every tabletop and shelf. Animal bones strewn about. For some reason she even collected crystal balls though they were purely ornamental. I wasn't even sure crystal gazing was a thing, but customers seemed to enjoy it. I knocked lightly on the front door. My mother hadn't placed the "Come back later" sign in the window, but she forgot sometimes.

The door flew open, my mother looked...frazzled. The smell of incense wafted out in stark contrast to the light, clean sea breeze.

"Thank god, I thought you were a customer." She held the door with one outstretched arm and stood aside so I could shimmy into the studio. "It's been non-stop. They started running the ferry today on the summer schedule and it's just been couple after couple. I'm over it." Her hair was shoulder length and wheat colored, tightly curled. Her face was pretty, but lined with age. Her kind eyes a pale blue and flanked by crows feet.

"Well, I'm here now so you can go do...whatever it is you do." I sat down on the burgundy velvet pouf and stashed my messenger bag behind it. I turned and reached through the curtains to crack open a storm window, installed in the late 70s.

"Thanks, love. I'm going to see Anita; I'll be back late. Lock up when you leave." Mom planted a kiss on my forehead and went inside the house to gather her belongings; she'd exit out the back to avoid running in to any potential customers. She hadn't changed a thing about it since grandmother had died some ten years prior except the replacement of televisions from massive tube sets to a sleek flat screen mounted over the fireplace.

I pulled my phone from my bag and checked various social media apps before eventually settling on swiping through Tinder. I'd had a few short lived "relationships" through Tinder, but nothing of any substance in a year or so and it was more of a way to kill time than anything. With the constant tourist traffic from the mainland, the number of undateable men to scroll through was seemingly limitless.

I was immersed in the sea of men posing with dead fish and baby tigers for five minutes before I heard a male voice, a female giggle, and a quick rap on the door. I got up and prepared my customer service face. Being a "psychic," it was a unique mix of friendly yet serene. I saw mother's Corolla reversing down the driveway, she waved as she went.

Standing on the flagstone walkway was a pixie-like woman in her early twenties with ginger colored hair cut into a slightly grown out a-line bob. Her skin was pale, but radiated with the glow of new love. She grinned from ear to ear and clutched the hand of a handsome man who did not seem to share her exuberance.

"We wanted to have our fortunes told," the woman said, the words tumbling out of her mouth as though it embarrassed her to desire such a thing. The handsome man's strong, square jaw formed a small, almost imperceptible smile. I pushed the door open further and stood aside for them to enter.

"You've come to the right place," I told them as they moved past me. I couldn't help, but notice the man smelled vaguely of expensive cologne. He was 6'2" and his thin mint green t-shirt hugged his well-but not over- developed musculature. "Have a seat in those chairs." I nodded towards the two wingback chairs side by side opposite my burgundy pouf. I navigated the cramped space and perched in my regular place. It was obvious why they were here even without Perception, but it wasn't polite to assume.

"What brings you here today?"

The ginger haired woman glanced at her male companion who's facial expression remained neutral before turning to me.

"Ummm, we just met a couple weeks ago. We want to know about the future and, like, you know...us," Ginger, as I had mentally nicknamed her, explained as though this wasn't clear to me.

I always behaved like I hadn't been asked ten times that week if any random couple would live happily ever after. As if I could even answer that question with the limited time allotted with each customer and the lack of specificity of my visions, but no one knew that but mama and I and she sure wasn't going to tell.

"Yes, let's see what the spirits say about that." I didn't commune with spirits, but customers love that shit. Ginger gave an excited squeak. I pulled a box of matches from the drawer of the short oak table before us and lit each of three white candles. "Let's join hands. Close your eyes." I noticed Handsome (as I was now secretly referring to him as) shake his head and roll his eyes, but he complied. Closed eyes wasn't exactly a necessity of the reading, but it was better than staring at strangers while I cobbled together a partially true, partially false narrative from my visions, my imaginations, and what I could gather about their relationship from our brief time together.

I touched Ginger's hand an instant before her lover's and immediately I saw flashes of the boat ride from the mainland. There had been dolphins visible from the ferry and they'd fucked in the tiny bathroom over the miniature sink. I often "see" from the perspective of the other person and for an instant I could feel his cock entering her aching pussy from behind, gasping as I took the length of him within me/her and watching in the dirty mirror as my red hair grazed the top of my bouncy tits, threatening to spill out of my low cut tank top as each thrust rocked my body. He looked at my reflection in the mirror and grinned, removing one hand from my hip to cover my mouth. He began to pound faster and I screamed into his hand in pleasure. The memory was suddenly gone before I/the redhead had reached climax and was replaced by images of the redhead wrapped in the arms of another man, a blonde man, clearly not this man. They both wore wedding rings and she was clearly pregnant. The picture was gone again, the handsome specimen from the present stood on the porch of a house somewhere in the country, behind him a female figure sat in a porch swing, but it was obscured by shadows. Even still, I knew it wasn't GInger. But this kind of thing happened all the time. They sat hands joined for a few minutes more while I decided what she was going to say and let my mind meander off. Finally I released their hands and smiled.

"You'll both be very happy. A beautiful wedding, a family, a gorgeous house in the country." The red head could hardly contain her glee. I winked at her conspiratorially. "And a gorgeous rock."

"How many kids did you see?"

"At least 2," I lied. The man's deep set molten chocolate brown eyes, ringed with long dark lashes, conveyed nothing but measured neutrality.

"A boy and a girl?!"

I shrugged and started to get up, the couple following my lead. "You know, I really couldn't tell." Ginger frowned. "But I could tell you were so happy." Technically it wasn't a lie, I didn't specifically say they would be happy...separately. We looked at one another awkwardly until Ginger nudged her boyfriend.

"Pay the woman." She looked at me for confirmation. "20, right?" I nodded. $20 for less than ten minutes of real "work" wasn't bad. I could resume boredom Tindering the sooner I got them out of here or perhaps let my imagination wander to the special memory I'd stumbled upon during the session.

Handsome removed a crisp 20 dollar bill from his billfold and extended his hand to offer it to me. I reached for it, intentionally brushing my fingers against his as I took it. Instantly I was transported to a dim, but not dark room, heavy with the sweet scent of lilacs. Sparse white walls, a shaggy green rug. The window was open, sheer curtains dancing in the light breeze and I could see two human forms on the four post bed, entangled in the white sheets and one another. The man's athletic form completely obscured that of the woman below him, but the full head of dark, wavy hair, indicated it was the man standing in the reading room in the present. A single lock of hair fell onto his sweaty forehead as he made love to the woman, his eyes closed, his lashes resting on his high cheekbones. His sculpted back and tight shapely ass tensed and relaxed as he fucked the woman slowly and sensually, kissing her neck and shoulders sweetly before biting her playfully. As suddenly as it had come, the moment was gone. It was impossible to know whether this was a past or future memory, but it didn't really matter. I was standing in the Reading Room with the couple, accepting a 20 dollar bill from a handsome stranger and trying to ignore the building tingle in my underwear.

"Thanks," he said, his voice a full rich baritone. They went down the path and I closed the door as Ginger stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Handsome's cheek. I caught a glimpse of Handsome's denim clad ass as he turned to go. The man knew how to dress for his body type, that was for damn sure. I closed the door and locked it, flipped the sign in the window to "Be back in 10" and went inside my mother's house, up the creaky painted stairs to my childhood bedroom. I closed the door behind me, though I knew mom wouldn't be home for hours, it just felt wrong not to. I kicked my shoes off, leopard print flats, and laid on the grey down comforter, staring up at the gauzy canopy hanging from the ceiling. I thought of the man, who's name I didn't even know yet. How could I be so obsessed with a man I'd just met, a man with a girlfriend (but maybe not for long), someone from out of town? And yet I couldn't ignore the thought of him. My hand made its way under the skirt of my summer work dress and into my panties. I hadn't dated anyone in awhile, but I still shaved pretty regularly. Shaved pussies just look better. Tentatively, I slid a finger between my lips, they were slippery with my arousal. I groaned involuntarily and delved further into my cleft. My clit was heavy with need, hot, painful, almost, swollen. I used the silky lubricant of my own creation to rub myself slowly at first, then faster, then alternating between the two. I rapidly flicked my clit with my thumb, occasionally sliding my fingers into my warm, wet pussy just to remind myself how very turned on I was.

I imagined myself back in the bathroom of the ferry, over the sink, this time looking at my own reflection instead of hers as the man took me from behind. My flouncy skirt hitched up around my waist, my bare ass visible. I arched my back for him, both to accommodate his length and to give him a better view of my pussy as he slid in and out of me. He fucked me slowly at first, pulling his cock nearly all the way out of me and then entering me repeatedly with just the head. I could tell it took him a great deal of self restraint to not plunge into me, but I was being driven mad, too. I needed all of him. I rammed my hips backwards as his tip pressed into me again and the full length of him was inside me and he lost control. I stood on my tip toes to angle his cock towards my g spot and within a few pumps we were both sent over the edge. In the mirror I could see him bite his lip as he came, filling me with cum. It ran down my leg in hot rivulets as he pulled out of me and covered my ass with my floral skirt again, patting it as if to say "Well done."

Back in my bedroom, I turned onto my stomach and simultaneously rubbed my clit with three fingers and humped my hand until I orgasmed, moaning into my pillow. Fuck, I needed to get laid.