obert was the strangest man Julie had ever known. Strangest person even, since the terms were not always mutually inclusive. 

He had the most little quirks of anyone she'd ever known. His coffee table was like the last surviving artifact of some ancient civilization, preserved for all time in the small, orange-carpeted living room. Robert loved, or at least required, puzzles of all kinds, although the complex three dimensional variety seemed to be his favorite. There were mountains of them on the table, and other, older ones lined the bookshelves that ran around the entire perimeter of his large living room. These shelves stretched floor to ceiling, with only the kitchen door and opening into the hallway free of shelf space.  Space that was totally filled with puzzles and other odd contraptions.

On command, Robert would demonstrate the solution to each and every puzzle, deftly placing pieces into other pieces, turning faces, painstakingly removing metal rods. He was amazingly good at them, and could solve any in minutes. It wasn't just memorizing the patterns that made him fast though, for Julie had in the past seen him open brand new ones, taking them out of the packaging, and then proceed to solve them in a matter of minutes.

Elaborate metal sculptures with seemingly hundreds of rods and rings and hooks all interwoven so the only way to do anything with it, besides screwing it up further, was to move one bar, then a connecting ring, then another bar, until one piece could be removed. Then it was necessary to put it in somewhere else, so another piece could be shifted, and so on in endless repetition until suddenly the entire contraption seemed to dissolve, the pieces all falling off at once, like snow from a shaken tree. Julie had never been able to see any way to shift anything, even with Robert's careful help, but once he turned his concentration on the enigmas, it took him just a few minutes to defeat them.

He had other, simpler puzzles, too. Rubik's cubes, which he solved in half a minute, effortlessly. He even had one with raised Braille-like dots as well as colors, and he'd sometimes solve it while talking to her, never taking his eyes off her, just his fingertips enough to solve the puzzle as fast as he could turn the pieces.

But his favorite puzzles were the things no one understood. He cruised swap meets and garage sales, buying little boxes full of plastic shapes, small metal contraptions with no obvious purpose, other little gizmos. Even the people selling them didn't know what they were, or at least the guesses they hazarded usually seemed far from reasonable.

Robert solved these too, discovering what they were, getting them into working order so as to try them out. They were quickly vanquished, lined up on the shelves with his other puzzles, the battles won, the trophies of war displayed.

These were just the surface of his personality, though. As Julie found herself spending more and more time with him, found herself thinking of him and his little habits when she was at work, or dating other men, she discovered more of him, and started to scratch beneath his surface a bit. Over three months, she gradually realized that he was the only man she wanted to be with, and since he was always slow to make a move, she took the initiative.

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When she finally decided to make love to him, realizing that she'd have to take the initiative, it was impossible.

He was careful, gentle to a fault, rushing nothing, apparently content to just kiss and hold her until she melted right through the couch and pooled on his apartment's ghastly orange carpet. She had to speed things up, opening his pants, after struggling with the zipper for a moment, opening his shirt, somehow tearing two buttons loose in the process. He never complained, or even seemed to notice, so intent on her was he. Julie had to take his hands and put them on her, but he was slow still, just pressing gently into her flesh, not removing any of her clothing or taking any initiative. She was so hot that just his hands on her breasts and between her thighs was torture, but he did nothing more, just touched her like a museum sculpture. The long thin digits, so nimble on the puzzles and devices, were clumsy on her, moving sluggishly and seemingly without interest.

Julie finally pulled her own shirt off, then struggled with her bra clasp for several seconds. He kept reverently back, his hands floating in the air before her chest, hanging there on strings, motionless. As she battled the formerly-simple hook clasp, Julie knew how the boys she'd been parking with in high school must have felt.  How they'd struggled with her bra, so desperately wanting it off, and so terrified that if they took too long the time of availability would somehow pass

When her bare skin was finally available Robert's hands took some initiative, and his touch was electric, driving her passion yet higher. But touch was all he did, and only where she put his hands in the first place.  She lay back, with his hands on her breasts, kissing him deeply, waiting for him to undress her, to carry her to the bedroom.

Finally she had to push him back, realizing they'd be on the couch all night if she didn't move things along. Her pants were black stretch leggings, but even they were difficult, somehow clinging to her hips so that she had to actually stand up in front of the couch and wiggle out of them and her panties, fighting her underwear like an overgrown child. She laughed to herself, despite her frustration, remembering that she'd dressed for this date with some thoughts of clothing that would be easy to remove, if the situation arose.  It was lucky she'd not put on a tight skirt, the zipper would probably have locked up completely.

The sex itself made undressing seem simple. Once naked, she stripped Robert completely, and he looked great naked.  She'd always enjoyed the moment of seeing a man naked, the cock especially, since she'd always felt it first, if only through clothing, and it was interesting to see how nearly she'd judged the size and shape. His was a bit longer than she'd thought, and had slight leftward curve.

Tearing her eyes and removing her hands from his erection, Julie stood up and lead Robert into the bedroom, wondering if she'd have to take all the initiative forever.

It looked that way, for once they were in the bedroom Robert merely pulled down the covers, and laid in the center of the bed on his back, his only movement the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed rapidly, and his dick's slight twitching. His eyes were locked on hers, and their hunger belied his passive body.  He wanted her desperately, she could see that, but why didn't he make a move?

Julie decided she didn't care, she was way too hot to worry about it now.  She crawled onto the bed, kneeling over Robert and taking his cock in her hand as she pushed it into her wetness.  It should have been instantly inside of her, his reluctance had somehow aroused her more than she could ever remember from foreplay, but despite her extreme lubrication and his thobbing hardness, she could not fuck.

It slid off to one side, she lost her grip and sat on his thighs, she had a sudden urge so sneeze and leaned to the side to do it.  Through all this absurdity, Robert's sincere, probing blue eyes never left her face.  The yearning in them was almost painful, and Julie tried again, wanting to laugh and make light of things, but somehow unable. The fun and playful act of sex had become a life and death struggle, not to be laughed at or teased about. Levity was not for here.

Finally, after a struggle that was more annoyance than tantalization, she got him inside. He stayed hard, and she was certainly still ready, but the difficulties continued.  Robert began to thrust, and she tried to match his movements, but it was somehow impossible. They could achieve no natural rocking motion, no matter how hard she tried to equal his speed, there was nothing but jarring discord.

Memories of high school flooded her head again, and she pushed them away with more difficulty this time. She'd not been a virgin for over a decade, and had never been lonely for long. She was not about to lose out on the enjoyment just because nothing was working right.

She rolled over onto her back and Robert moved on top of her, but this worked no better.  Thirty fumbling seconds just to achieve penetration, and it felt so good, but as he started to thrust she felt herself clenching as he pushed, thrusting as he withdrew, and their pelvises bashing painfully every other stroke.  What the hell was this? She'd never had sex in her life that wasn't instinctive and easy.

Robert seemed far less perturbed than she, and after five exhausting and painful minutes, he pulled off, and collapsed onto the bed beside her.  

Julie lay there in silence, holding Robert's hand, panting in exhaustion and frustration.  Her belly hurt, her groin hurt, and she was sure Robert had at least one aching ball; he'd pushed as she'd moved a minute before and the whack of him into her thigh bone had to have stung.  She was still horny too, the river of fire in her backed up and dammed, damned.

Robert pulled the covers up over them, and began to speak quietly, pillow volume, loud enough to hear but not jarring, not the braying sated ox so many men seemed to become afterwards. Julie thought about it, as his pleasant voice filled the air, and rejected sexual incompletion as the reason. He sounded different than other men, and she thought he always would, even after the next time when it would be better. She promised herself it would be.

"When I was eight," Robert began, "There was a big storm. All the trees were blown down, and there were some live wires down.  The power company came out and shut off everything, and as they were up working on fixing the lines and men were out with chain saws to clear away the trees, my dad took me and my brother out walking in the destruction.

Dad took us by the hand, and led us through the neighborhood, pointing out where the wires were, making sure we understood to avoid them even though they were harmless now. We looked at the fallen trees and the power company men in the orange trucks, and our neighbor Mr. Gomele as he cut up branches from his Live Oak and dragged them out of his driveway. I could see one of the power guys at a big green metal box, with the thousands of wires going every which way inside of it.  I didn't understand any of it back then."

Julie got the feeling that now he could probably take the power box apart and put it back together blindfolded, but she didn't interrupt. She did think seriously about running her hand down his muscled stomach and checking to see if he was still hard, but decided that the morning would be soon enough to try again. Her crotch and thighs hurt anyway. He was so hard, lithe but muscular. With their being so out of joint, it had been like humping a brick.

"Across the street from one of the power guys up on a pole, Ricky started to climb up on a fallen tree trunk. Dad stood by him and held his hand, so he wouldn't fall off. I don't think they ever saw it coming.

"I was standing towards the street, looking around.  I wanted to climb on the trees, but that was for little kids, like Ricky. I was nine.  I heard some sizzling sounds, and looked across the street, wondering if the wire was supposed to be sparking like that, when there was the explosion."

Julie felt her stomach drop.  This simple childhood memory seemed to be taking a dark twist.  Robert continued, in his soft voice, "I don't think I even moved, just watched the wire as it swung down towards me, big purple sparks flying off it and the end twitching. It looked like the end of a lizard's tail when they break off, all jumping and jerking around. The wire didn't even swing straight, the power was so high in it that it was sort of moving from side to side as it came down. Like a knuckleball."

Julie's thoughts of sex were gone as she saw the scene through Robert's eyes. How the descending power line would look to an eight year old. How everything was so clear and green the morning after the storm. The white ceiling above her was invisible as her eyes saw the thick black wire spitting purple sparks. In the bright, clear morning air.

"When the wire missed me, it went by my ear so close I could hear it crackling like logs in a big fire. Dad made a sort of grunt, like a dog when you wake it up. Ricky didn't say anything, at least that I heard. They stunk though. Even when I woke up, after the wire bounced off them and hit me, I could smell them. Burned. Like bacon or sausage or some breakfast meat. It was strange, since the air smelled so clean, with all the dirt and everything washed down by the storm."

There was no fear or emotion in Robert's voice as he talked, and listening to his dispassionate narrative, Julie didn't feel any of the pain of the child in his voice. It was just something interesting, like the time you got your appendix out, or had the measles, or got the bike you really wanted for Christmas. The morning after the big storm when your dad and your brother got fried by a power line. No big deal, just one of those things that happens when you're a kid.

"They could never really explain why it didn't cook me too. They said stuff like my shoes grounded me, or the first burst of power going into my dad drained the line for an instant, or it just brushed me. None of the excuses were any good, but they were just making them so they'd feel better. The doctors, the power company guys, they didn't care about me, they just wanted to know why I'd gotten so lucky. They were thinking about me as a guinea pig for some revolutionary electricity survival technique. They never could figure anything out, though. It was chance, just one of those things that happens when you're a kid."

Somehow it seemed perfectly natural for Robert to repeat the words she'd thought just seconds before. Julie realized then that over the months he'd often taken the words out of her mouth, or even the thoughts from her head. He didn't seem conscious of it at all. It was probably just because they were so attracted to each other; they shared similar brain chemistry or something.

"My raincoat was melted most of the way up the back, where the wire hit me. A three foot hole, or so. One of the doctors said you could'a kicked a mule through it. My hair was on fire when I fell down, they said, and it burned for a while before they were able to get the power line off of me. There was still all kinds of charge in me even then, enough to knock out some neighbor who tried to put me out. I think he was okay after a couple of weeks though.

"All my hair fell out a week later, but no one at school teased me much. I think they kinda felt sorry for me. Mom took the insurance money and moved us a little later, and my hair was mostly grown back in when I got to the new school. I never told anyone there about anything, so that part of my life was gone. Along with my dad and brother. Just one of those things."

He paused there for a few minutes, lying quietly next to her, his warm upper arm resting against the back of her neck as he cradled her. Julie thought about what to say. He didn't seem to want sympathy, or even understanding, really. There had been no questions, no probing her for her feelings about the story, and now that he was done, he could be asleep, for all she knew.

After a moment his voice started up again, still steady and quiet. He spoke without any pauses, almost like he was reading off a script. Like he'd been practicing for years. Julie listened.

"I think that was when the stuff started. I don't really remember anything about my life before the storm. The only memory of my brother alive was the way he tried to keep from crying in bed as the lightning flashed and the thunder rumbled over the house. He was so little and scared, I think I used to give him a hug, rather than calling his a baby. I hope I did, but I don't really remember.

"The stuff might have been before, but I don't think so. I remember one time on my tenth birthday party. I didn't have many friends at my new school, but mom insisted on a party anyway, so I had some kids over, and we were waiting for the cake. Mom had gone into the kitchen to bring it out, and we were all sitting around the dining room table, which we never ate at except when guests came over. That didn't happen much.

"Mom was in the kitchen for a long time, and everyone was so quiet, just sitting at the table with other kids they didn't really know that well, waiting for the cake so they could stuff down some sugar and go home. I didn't really get any good presents, that year.

"Finally she came into the room, with this big chocolate cake in her arms, and she was crying. We all just stared, for there was this slender woman with a funny hat and a huge cake on a platter, and she was crying. She put the cake down on the table, and dropped a handful of blackened matches beside it. We watched as she lit another one, and touched it to the wick. The flame was good for a second, but then it turned weird, really white, and flashed out. Then a second later the match went out too. There wasn't even any smoke, just the charred wood.

"Mom dropped the matchbook, which was just about empty, I saw, picked up the butcher knife, and started slicing up the cake. She was sniffing and trying to laugh about it, how the 'silly candles' and 'darned matches' wouldn't work. It wasn't really very funny, though. I think the kids were a little scared, even.

"I knew it was me, though. The sight of the white flash of the flame was just like the power line. I didn't burn right either. I should have been dead, just like dad and Ricky.

"That was just one thing. Sometimes the car wouldn't start for a while, or the oven wouldn't cook stuff right. Mom never figured it out, I don't think. She never saw the power line, or the sparks."

Julie didn't have any idea what to say. She'd listened quietly for over an hour, and now that The Man in her life was quiet, she stayed that way. Not speechless, but quiet. It had sounded like the truth, but who knew? Of course things like that couldn't happen for any reason; sometimes matches didn't light and cars didn't start, there wasn't anything magical about it. Those things were just random.

Julie wondered what anything Robert had said had to do with his quirks, or his puzzles. He almost answered her. She thought again about how often he said what she'd just been thinking.

"I knew I was different in high school. Sometimes people would see me for the first time and just stop and stare. They didn't seem to realize how weird they were acting, and after a moment they'd snap out of it and keep on walking, as if nothing had happened. When I was in class stuff would break with no one near it, or chalk would squeak on the board. It drove teachers crazy, and I think they figured out it had something to do with me, but what could they do? It was just one of those things.

"I never noticed the other stuff until I was much older. It seems to be getting worse, like whatever was supposed to get me back then knows it missed me, and is still trying to catch me. I think one day it will, since it's getting closer. I almost see it in the mirrors, and sometimes smell it ajar. Like burned pork, and it's a little stronger every time, both the smell and the push."

Julie expected him to go on, to explain his suddenly cryptic statements, but he got up, out of bed, and walked into the bathroom. She laid in bed, waiting for him to come back, to tell her the rest. What smell? What was ajar?

On To Part Two -->

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