Midge Osbourne didn't know a lot of things in life. He concluded that much after being around so many different people for more than three months. But he did form a few safe conclusions. Number one, Yules were boring. They were boring with a capital bore. He didn't see the big deal in being around the rich ones either. With how much his twin would voice his hate for them, he expected every day to be like something out of an action program.

Which only served to highlight number two, Yules were whiny, lazy bastards. Whining, for the love of the Colony, the whining and crying. Most did no work, and the ones who did only wanted to 'experience' what it was like to be common. So he toured with them, leaving the dangerous-yet-safe-while-I'm-around attractions for the latter days. Should he deviate, which he did often, those whiny, rich bastards would argue, which would eventually lead to a complaint to the Colony after he simply stopped talking and just stared at them: Joshua for example.

With this months' evaluations to a close, he'd been pleased to see that no one bothered disputing the results of the live tours. Only one brat gave him trouble; however, and he was by far the worst client. Joshua. So why the fuck was he in this situation?

Steam rolled from the shower room when the glass door slid back. He enjoyed showers, bathing, anything to do with hot water. His hands braced forward against the wall, he hung his head, allowing the warm water to rush over him.

There was a commotion. Head still hung, he turned, surprised, to see the slim body and the odd underclothes of the woman who hurried into the shower with him. The undergarment was odd in the sense that although it was one piece and it hugged the taut body tight. It was also sheer, making it transparent and leaving absolutely no mystery to the fact that its wearer kept herself in good shape. Closer inspection revealed that it was in fact two pieces, the snug shorts segmented from the sleeveless top half.

Midge kept focused on it, he had to focus on something. Reality was a bit too much right now.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" Lydia chanted. "I'm so sorry. Mr. Osbourne, I'm so, so, so, so sorry."

Black gloves still on her hands, Lydia maneuvered Midge into the path of the water. It took some time for the small woman to calm and she only did so when the blood dissolved under the shower, revealing the mended body once again.

Lydia fell silent for so long that Midge followed her gaze. He saw why. On his chest, leading all the way down past his navel, was a scar. Midge hadn't expected a scar.

Disbelief fueled his movements as he traced it. He'd scarred.

Lydia boxed his hand aside so gently that Midge didn't know what to make of it. Her body drenched, but seemingly unconcerned with the fact, Lydia traced the scar downward instead, then up again. When she finally reached Midge's chest once more, she let out another soft sob.

"I'm such an asshole. I'm such an asshole," she chanted.

Despite their height difference, Midge closed his eyes and rested his head against the petite woman's. It was not only a weak thing to do, it was quite dangerous. To his surprise, Lydia tried to embrace him despite his larger size.

"I bet you're scared. I swear. That'll never happen again. Shhh. You're safe. Don't worry," Lydia soothed.

Midge's body burned but he didn't care. He didn't care even slightly. As small as Lydia was, her hold was a comfort. It was a comfort because Midge tried to make sense of why he'd been cut, why he'd bled, and why he'd barely managed to stop it. At his power level, he shouldn't bleed. That ax was supposed to break off, not cleave him. It had been startling and unexpected.

Knees feeling weak, Midge dropped to the floor. Lydia didn't miss a beat. The tender woman gathered him close and hugged him. The strength of the embrace suggested Lydia probably needed the comfort just as much.

They stayed that way, Midge's face rubbing along the damp material of Lydia's undergarment. The fact that it hid nothing from the imagination should have meant it shouldn't be considered underwear at all. Midge focused on that as he picked at Lydia's shorts.

The fabric was so thin that he felt Lydia's warm skin against his own, and for Midge, that was a startling revelation because it meant one thing, Lydia came from power. In the past, strong E's were bred with others with power. It went on like that until they could go no further. As a consequence, modern day E's were so strong they could easily absorb a human being's life-force with a touch, killing that person as a result. Others weren't that caustic, instead, they would merge, literally consuming another person's body as their own.

To stop those unfortunate outcomes, an E would have to numb that touch, and keep numbing it at all costs. That was painful. E's could touch one another, but rarer still, E's could touch some of the Yules. Assists, Yules of an E parent or grandparent, sometimes had the ability to sync with an E and form a bond. That would allow touch, pain-free, non-cannibalizing, non-life-force sucking touch.

Pain-free touch, just as he was experiencing now. Midge lamented his folly, because he could only sync once in his lifetime, and his heart belonged to someone else.

"Shhh. Here. Let's get you cleaned off. I'll give you a shower and we'll calm down. Come on, stand up," Lydia cooed. "We'll be all right."

"Pan," Midge lamented.

"Nooo, my name's Lydia, remember? Pretty Yule? Please, tell me you remember that much...."

She helped Midge to stand, but Midge's mind was elsewhere. The one he'd longed to have like that, they'd tried, month after month to sync, and it never took. Even a kiss was so excruciating that although Midge had endured it a time or two, he ultimately had to give up. Now, right now, with this stranger, someone who didn't mean anything to him, he was allowed physical touch.

What have I done so wrong in life to deserve this? Midge decided that was a stupid question. He'd done a lot of things wrong in his life, very wrong. For one thing, playing a simpleton for nothing but sheer amusement had gotten him what he'd deserved with that gaw-ro ax, and now this.

When Lydia reached up to stroke his face, Midge caught hold of her hands. They were smaller than his, and in hope of not startling her, he was careful when he took off the gloves and allowed them to fall. He pressed Lydia's bare hands to him. Nothing, not so much as a burn. The sensation that coursed through him was pleasant. She could touch him. Had they synced? At the theater it had hurt, but a sync wasn't painless. It would burn a bit at first, he'd heard. Midge cursed himself now for pulling away so fast. Lydia was clearly an Assist, a Yule with potential, but it seemed impossible that such a small body could synchronize with the amount of power Midge wielded.

Lydia slipped from his grip and traced that damn scar again.

"I'm so sorry," Lydia whispered.

Touch. They could touch. And this unfamiliar show of affection left Midge beside himself. He reached out to caress Lydia's furrowed brow, down her cheek until his hand came to rest against her small waist. The body was slim but well defined. That didn't concern Midge as much as the quick heartbeats pounding against his fingertips. Lydia's light brown nipple caught Midge's attention next. Even that didn't compare to feeling another's flesh against his own.

"Touch," he gasped.

Something else happened and Lydia flinched. Midge looked down at himself to see why. He'd become erect. That revelation sent Midge stumbling backwards. Lydia caught him.

"Hey, easy. Easy. It's okay. I'm sure it'll go down soon." But it didn't. Lydia was as kind as ever when their eyes met. "I'm very flattered but I need for you to calm down. To calm...that down. Please."

Midge stared into those tender brown eyes and was in awe. He couldn't calm down. This was touch, pain-free touch. He charged Lydia, causing the woman to scream as he picked her up around her waist.

Lydia looked worried at first, but in time she chuckled. The small woman sounded relieved when she patted Midge's shoulder and hugged him again.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Mr. Osbourne. I'd never have forgiven myself if something happened to you. I'm so sorry."

Her words put Midge at ease. Calming, Midge lowered the woman to the ground and smiled.

Midge's erection hadn't gone down, but something else caught his attention. Against the see-through fabric of Lydia's underclothes, plastered to her due to the shower, the petite woman's pulse raced—her face warmed with a deep blush. Midge moved his left hand from her waist and put his fingers on the nape of her neck, confirming the pounding heartbeat.

Lydia guided Midge's chin until their eyes met. Face beet red, Lydia cleared her throat.

"I know E's can feel emotions but.... It's not what you think. I don't know what's causing it, but—"

Midge reached out to tug at Lydia's shorts as he advanced. "Touch."

"Wait." Lydia put both hands on Midge's chest, keeping him back. "Stop it. I'm flattered, truly, I am, And...I'm not sure what's going on with me, either, but it's not that, I promise. Here...let's get you cleaned up and you can take the bed and calm down. I don't know how long we have before they kick us out."

Calm down? This was huge. Never mind the scar on Midge's chest telling him how close he'd come to death. He was staring down at a Yule, a Yule he could touch. He was floored. Lydia was an Assist. Only, Midge wasn't sure whose. E's could only sync once, but he'd heard of Assists being able to move around.

Wordlessly, Lydia turned to tap the wall. Panels slid forward with various bottles. Midge watched her, willing himself not to jump into the ceiling in his surprise, elation, excitement.

Lydia, stoic and expressionless, poured the soap into the fuzzy ball and brought it to Midge's body. Midge watched her, glancing now and again at Lydia's blushing face, curious as to what it all meant.

The erection faded in time and Midge looked down at himself. He just stood there, letting Lydia bathe him: his underarms, chest, neck.

Lydia passed behind him. "Pardon me."

Midge went onto his tip toes even though the ball of foam only grazed his backside.

"Here," Lydia said, reaching around to hand him the thing. "Get the rest of you, and we'll get out."

Rest of me? Midge looked down to the object but he didn't budge. What he wanted to do was find out how this touch was even possible, what it meant, and if it had a limit.

He must have stayed still for too long because Lydia appeared before him again, worry written across her face.

"Mr. Osbourne, are you all right?"

Midge wasn't. His body still trembled from the shock. He lumbered forward, body twitching in response. He put both hands on the wall, cornering Lydia in.

Stepping back, Lydia let out a held breath. "Mr. Osbourne?"

"You can touch me," Midge accused. "You can...you can touch me." A brush of his thumb along Lydia's cheek to find no opposition told him the woman wasn't afraid of him. The emotion made him curious. "And you enjoy—"

"Listen," Lydia said. "I'm very flattered. But you're... you're...special. And I'm sure one day you'll meet someone equally...special, who will appreciate your beautiful body. But as of this moment that is not going to happen. Not here. Not with me."

"Special?" Midge's eyes widened as he remembered the role he'd been playing. "Oh shit."

Hand to his face, Midge groaned.

"Shit." He pushed off the wall and began to pace.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd intended to find the target, tell Joshua to go to hell and turn himself in, but now he had this to consider. Worst yet, when he looked back at Lydia to find the woman rigid, he could clearly feel Lydia's interest. At least, her body seemed interested. The emotion and expression on her face revealed confusion and relief, but there was something else behind it. Okay, so maybe Midge had been playing the dumb, dumb for fun, and it was a pretty awful trick, but this was far more important. Lydia liked him, liked him enough to make an absolute fool of herself by running through that one-way force-field—a field that could easily kill a Yule or low-powered E should she step back into it.

That was Lydia. And Midge stared at Lydia—the small one-woman army that had barreled to his rescue.

"Fuck it," Midge muttered, and walked back to scoop Lydia up and press her against the wall. Their bodies rubbed and the heat Lydia gave off filled Midge with both calm and elation. "You like me..." he said.

Face crimson, Lydia seemed about ready to weep. "Mr. Osbourne, I'm...I'm flattered...like I said, but please, calm down. Don't get me wrong, I wish it wasn't like this. Hell, at this point, I'm...you've got me thinking about asking your brother for a date. But you need to stop. This is not going to happen."

As soon as Lydia had said those awful words of comparison, Midge's body shut down. He let the woman fall and Lydia landed without trouble.

Feeling about two inches tall, Midge walked from that shower, dripping wet, but he didn't care. Behind him, Lydia hurried to catch up.

***

Lydia was in no hurry to enter the bedroom again. A short hall divided the room and the shower. From there in the vanity area, she stood, bathrobe tied tight, listening to Osbourne lumber around, kicking things over. It was Lydia's fault. She'd made a mess of things, and poor Mr. Osbourne was now confused.

If he'd been the one locked away for ten years, then what they'd just done—that brief moment of affection they'd just shared was an act of cruelty on Lydia's part. To top it off, after nearly killing the man, she refused him any tenderness....

But Lydia had to refuse it. She liked Osbourne, but sadly, not this one. The more she thought about it, about the other Osbourne trying to take care of her at the party, and his attempts to make up for it when the High ELETE was there, and then the gentleness of this giant—well, he had been gentle. That had to mean Osbourne had taken proper care of him. And now, because they shared the same face, everything was getting muddled.

Osbourne's touch was terrifying on many levels. Lydia didn't like to think about the amount of so-called lovers who'd shared her bed. She'd lost count some time ago, but it was quite a number. She'd been selective though, because they were all essentially the same unimpressive idiot. Lydia wanted them for comfort, wanted them for the human contact they provided, but rarely could she say she shared any sort of desire for the ones she'd allowed to have her.

But Lydia had become aroused with Osbourne. Alone, it had happened. All forms of intimacy left Lydia feeling lonely, but having sex always made her feel a little empty inside. Pleasing others thrilled her, though, at least for a moment, anyway. And she'd never been aroused.

As she stood there looking at the doorway, she ran through face after face of those in her bed, desperate to find one who'd given her something even close to the reaction Osbourne had invoked.

It was a mess. She couldn't find even one.

No, Lydia lamented. I'm not sick like Abraham and them. It was just the adrenaline. It was...it was the worry. It was nothing.

Everything had happened too fast for her to notice the strange situation she'd found herself in. She was back to normal now, she was calm, and she was sorry for the trouble she'd caused the once gentle giant.

With the temper she imagined Mr. Osbourne in, she worried about entering that room. Those worries faded, however. Osbourne was nearly twice Lydia's size, if he'd wanted to do her harm, he would have done so already.

"Mr. Osbourne..." Lydia said.

The E calmed though he didn't look back at her. He was still naked and seated on the floor. Seeing Osbourne hunched over, staring at the red carpeting, Lydia sighed. She closed the space between them and sat down as well; careful to bring the robe closed.

"Mr. Osbourne..." Lydia said again, reaching out to touch the man's knee. She'd always heard that E's hated touch, or couldn't, but Mr. Osbourne didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was enduring it. That knowledge filled Lydia with pride and then sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Osbourne. I wish things were different. I wish we'd met some other time. Maybe with you in your...your right mind, hell, with me in mine. With...with us being different. Your brother must be an amazing person, though, for you to be so kind as well. I need to find him and apologize, and though I will miss you ransacking my life, I do hope I can see you again. Even once."

Lydia received nothing for her heartfelt plea. They hadn't known each other that long, anyway. She could understand the E's bitterness.

"I'm sorry things have gotten so messed up. But you've taught me a very valuable lesson, and I will never forget it. Never again, never will I allow people to force me into anything this evil. I can't apologize enough."

Mr. Osbourne leaned closer, his face pressed against Lydia's neck. He dragged in a deep breath, inhaling Lydia with a satisfied moan. From anyone else, hell from the twin, Lydia might have been in heaven.

Lydia's body tensed, her throat, her chest, her stomach felt tight. That simple action had been done to Lydia countless times before, but now it wasn't strange or perverse. It seemed genuine, and tender.

Mr. Osbourne's rough fingertips glided along Lydia's collar, then up her cheek. Even the teeth that gently gnawed Lydia's throat, though lustful, were somber. When the E guided Lydia's hand, bringing it towards his inner thigh, Lydia thought to pull away. She opened her mouth to say as much.

Osbourne's dick was thick and full. Lydia cringed. She cringed all the more when she realized she longed to have this embrace. What would be left of her if she did? It was so sure and safe. She cursed it all; the gentle pecks along her chin, Osbourne's soft whispers of, "Forgive me, forgive me this. Forgive me this touch. Touch."

And finally, she cursed the world and everyone in it when she blacked out and her body betrayed her resolve. His touches were tentative but she allowed them. Though she did nothing to physically guide him, she realized a bit too late that she didn't need to because he made every move she thought. That was a fact she regretted when his right hand slipped between her legs. There were no thoughts after that, just an ache and a yearning that grew without end.

She orgasmed. Long and hard, and so strong that her body ached in protest.

She should have pushed Osbourne away, but when the man embraced her, groaning in unison, pleading, "Have I caused this? Have I caused this?"

Lydia's body lost all power. His mouth caught hers and she gave in.

Writhing, she squirmed in the strong hold, safe and beyond feeling or basic emotion. And then she gave up. Tears stung her eyes as she took Osbourne's cock in her fist and stroked him.

"Oh my gosh," Lydia panted. "Oh my gosh." Half disgusted with herself, half thankful to have this genuine contact, and entirely woeful of the whole situation—the first person that took care with her—she gave up.

A knock at the door drew her focus. Relief washed over Lydia like ice water. Osbourne finally stopped. They could stop. Another knock, but they didn't move. It came again, more persistent.

Distant memories of the guards banging down her door at four in the morning came back to her. Lydia twisted free and shimmied out of her robe.

Osbourne's hair hung before his eyes; somehow it had grown in the short time they'd been in that room. Using the fabric, Lydia covered the E's bare body—hiding the steady erection because the E thankfully hadn't climaxed.

"I'm sorry," Lydia whispered. "I've made a mess of things. I'm so sorry. Please. I'm so sorry."

They looked half decent, and that would have to be enough because the next bang sounded as if it might take the door off.

"Enter," Lydia said, her throat tight.

...Osbourne, the other Osbourne. "Oh my gosh!" Lydia gasped, nearly coming up off the floor.

The twin walked in and closed the door. "What the hell are you doing here, idiot?"

Lydia stared up at him, mouth agape. "What?"

With a flick of his wrist, the twin tossed down two diskettes which slid to a stop before them.

"Ruckus called me. Here's your gaw-ro seventy-five, and fifty more from me. I'm here to buy my brother back, you rich piece of imp-shit."

The room appeared to spin, but Lydia couldn't move. During their brief encounters, Osbourne's reactions were tepid yet edgy, this was downright mean.

They stared each other down, and then the aggressive E saw it, saw Lydia's hand in the crook of his addlepated brother's thigh and recoiled.

"What are you two doing?"

Lydia couldn't answer. She really didn't know what the hell they were doing.

"Leave it," Mr. Osbourne said, but his words held no slur or confusion as they usually did. "It was a misunderstanding."

Body frozen, out of the corner of her eye, Lydia looked at the man she'd come to know as a simpleton, who was suddenly incredibly articulate.

"Wait a second," the twin at the doorway said. "Are you two actually fooling around?"

Lydia made the mistake of focusing on that voice, shocked but not surprised by the look of disgust she found there.

"You're telling me you thought he was mentally impaired and you tried to seduce him?" the twin asked. "Are all you rich assholes freaks?"