The Precious Touch - Part 6

by Gildsoul

Copyright 2000, by Gildsoul

This is the sixth chapter of this tale; to read the previous part, click here.

Part 6: A Sterling Collection

 Quickly retiring to his hotel room Carl called forth his spirit guide Ariel.

 “I am here, your oracle of knowledge.” Her voice was like a soft wind in his mind as Ariel’s wispy form appeared before him, “What enlightenment do you require?”

 “I transformed my love into a silver figurine, unfortunately someone seized her and I have no idea where she was taken.”

 “The spell you require will take a set duration of time.” Ariel replied, “I will instruct you on the method.”

 Carl sat spread eagle before the hotel room’s fireplace as he called upon a new aspect of his powers, teleporting an object without direct physical contact.

Concentrating on the psychic image of his beloved Pamela; he set up the spell to materialize her upon the fireplace’s wide hearthstone. According to Ariel’s instructions it would take 24 hours for the incantation to locate and teleport Pamela to this location. After flinging the spell into the ether he left for other business, intending to return well before the required day had passed.

 An exhilarated Joe McSteale pranced into his recreation room; euphoric over the fortune he had just made. Williams, having been fooled into buying a worthless piece of mining property, obviously was not such the rumored financial whiz!

 Placing his briefcase down, he suddenly remembered the figurine he had brought from the hotel meeting room. Removing the statuette, he held it up to the light for examination. It definitely was solid sterling silver, though he was puzzled slightly at the lack of any identifying marks on its underside. It was obviously of fine quality, why the hotel would purchase such an expensive ornamental figure, was an issue he was going to personally rake the hotel manager over the coals for.

 Mr. McSteale’s hobby was collecting fine silver and Pamela had just become the latest acquisition. Going to a large glass display case holding dozens of decorative silver objects, he placed the silver figurine upon one of its shelves. Weary from the long day of negotiations, he turned off the lights, retiring early, intending to continue the celebration in the morning after a good night's rest.

 Pamela stood in silent beauty behind the glass of the display cabinet, as motionless and inanimate as all the other sterling silver articles on display. Content in the soothing darkness, quiet, and the luxurious feeling of silver she fell into a state of total peacefulness where time had no meaning.

 Hours passed, then in the early morning darkness there was a slight scraping sound and a flicker of light, waking Pamela to full awareness. A man’s silhouette was moving across the room, as the beam of a flashlight he was holding swept the darkness. The flashlight stopped on the cabinet as the figure moved closer, there was a clicking sound as the lock was jimmied and the display case forced open.

 “It must be Carl!” Pamela thought, “Finally come to the liberate me! My darling, you’ve come!”

 There was no telepathic reply, only silence as the figure reached out with a gloved hand to take a silver teapot on the shelf above her and deposit it in a large sack. Pamela realized that the intruder wasn’t her beloved on a rescue mission but a burglar! Within minutes she along with the rest of the silver were within a heavy canvas bag slung over the thief’s shoulder as he made a silent exit through a window.

 Moments later the bag landed with a metallic racket in the back of a waiting van, the door slamming shut, there was muffled rattling from the bag as the vehicle bounced through the night.

 Many hours later the bag was opened and the contents dumped clattering into a large steel bin filled to the brim with other silver objects. Pamela found herself lying at an angle, partly buried under a loose assemblage of teapots, candlesticks, serving trays, bowls and plates, all sterling silver like her.

 The next morning the owner of the precious metal foundry arrived and got to work. Next to the bin holding the purloined sterling a hydraulic press stood like a hunched over steel goblin. The machine was used to compress loose scrap metal together into compact blocks; the resulting metal slabs were much easier to feed into the melting equipment than hundreds of individual pieces. A portion of the silver objects was taken from the holding bin and placed into the hungry jaws of the press, there was a rumble and squeal of metal as the machine began to feed. Moments later what had been a loose assemblage of silver had been compacted into a dense slab of crushed metal welded together by tremendous pressure. The resulting slab of silver was rough edged; its surface showing the outlines of flattened silver ornaments like layers of pressed metallic leaves. A new load of sterling silver objects were gulped by the greedy jaws of the press and flattened together into another irregular cube of alloy. The process was repeated several times until it was Pamela’s turn. She felt herself unceremoniously tossed with dozens of other sterling articles into the steel maw of the mechanism, its jaws began to close and then squeeze.

Pamela could feel the pressure of the steel stamping down with irresistible force as she and the accompanying silver was crushed flat as every last bit of space between and within every article was jammed, distorted and fused by pressure into one monolithic block.

 “This is a “pressing” experience!” Pamela giggled, “I’ve had the “squeeze” put on me!”

 Pamela felt very snug in the tight fit of the surrounding silver, her metal body was a flattened silhouette of crumpled sterling silver sandwiched inside one of several compacted metal slabs stacked on a heavy pallet. A front-end loader lifted the pallet carrying the pallet, driving across the foundry floor and depositing them next to a large crucible. With a low roar, gas jets in the base of the crucible were lit as fire caressed the crucible in writhing flames as the vessel slowly began to heat.

 That morning, Carl and his mining consultant Larry Takashi were deep underground in the cold and damp of his new gold mine. Garbed in heavy boots, coveralls and hard-hats as they reached the end of the mineshaft, a craggy wall lit by the harsh glare of halogen lamps.

 “I cleared away the good ore piled up by McSteale’s guys and here’s is the result.” Larry pointed to a large sparkling vein along the bland rock face; “It’s mostly pyrite, quartz and so little gold as to be not worth extracting.

 Carl just smiled and reached his hand out, gently touching the glittering fissure for a moment. Focusing his thoughts he reached out psychically, feeling the buried mineral veins intertwined deep within the solid rock. Within the mineral layers a change began to take place, as worthless pyrite and quartz underwent a miraculous transmutation.

 “Take a swing at the vein Larry.” Carl requested as he pulled his hand back, “You never know what’s just under the surface.”

 Larry shrugged his shoulders and struck the vein with a pick ax. The gray surface rock broke away revealing a large gleaming yellow vein! Larry’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he stood staring back and forth at the gleaming debris at his feet and the revealed gold vein. He shook his head as if to clear his mind and picked up one of the gold nuggets lying on the ground. Stunned expression upon his face, as he examined the glittering metal cluster, using a field kit to do a few quick tests, then he uttered just one short word, “Gold!”

 “I’m willing to bet that there are millions of ounces of gold in that vein.” Carl replied confidently, “Looks like we’ve discovered one of the greatest gold deposits in over a century!”

 “You did it again, Carl!” Larry laughed as he shook hands with Carl, letting out a few whoops of joy in the process, “By golly I’d almost think you had the Midas touch!”

 “Oh, I guess I do sort of have something like a Midas touch.” Carl grinned as he checked his watch, “I have to go now, I’m meeting Pamela back at the hotel this evening.”

 Hours later after a long preheating, the white-hot crucible sat in the center of the foundry, ready to receive a load of scrap silver to melt down in its fiery heart. Soon the entire load of sterling silver slabs had been consigned to its ferocious heat.

 Pamela felt a gentle soothing heat; pleasant, so pleasant her orgasm began to magnify with a matching torridness. She, along with the other silver articles began to take on a reddish luminescence brightening slowly to a radiant orange. Everything began to soften as the silver approached the melting point, the pleasing sensation escalated her fervent desire to liquefy. Rivulets of molten silver began to trickle as she and the rest of the silver began to merge into a shapeless mass of liquid metal. Pamela’s spirit cried out in joy as she felt the substance of her diminutive self merging and blending with the exceedingly greater mass of silver into a shimmering pool of orange hot liquid alloy.

 After hours of heat all the silver was melted down to a vast incandescent yellow pool, now so hot, it flowed as easily as water.

 “OHH MYY! OHHH MYYYY! I FEEL SO LIQUID! “ Pamela’s telepathic shouts of orgasmic pleasure broadcast through the ether like thunder, “I CAN FEEL MYSELF BECOMING ONE WITH THE SILVER, MERGING, WE ARE ONE! OH YES, IT FEELS SO GOOD, OHHHHH YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!”

 Far away in his hotel room Carl suddenly gasped, his loins growing warm as he began to feel the telepathic pleasure broadcasting from an enraptured Pamela. He looked at his watch, only a little time to go before the magical spell brought her back to him.

 A turntable with rows of iron molds was moved up before the crucible, the vessel began to tip forward and a thin stream of molten silver poured out into one of the molds. When the liquid silver had reached the brim of the first mold the crucible was tipped back, stopping the flow of liquid metal. The turntable rotated a few degrees, placing another empty mold under the spout, the crucible tipped again and a new stream of silver began to flow. Over and over the process of pouring silver was repeated, until the crucible was empty.

 By then the molten silver had cooled, turning back into hard metal. One by one the molds were tipped over and shining silver ingots fell out to the concrete floor with loud metallic clanks. The ingots were taken to a large walk in safe and stacked with hundreds of identical silver bullion ingots, the door closed with a loud slam, the tumbler spun once and all was quiet.

 Pamela enjoyed the marvelous sensation of being a dispersed essence among dozens of separate silver bars. She could feel her diffuse metal atoms embedded among far vaster numbers of metal atoms, combined into solid sterling silver alloy. The precious metal sang with psychic energy as its very substance radiated waves of pleasure through space and time.

 Carl sat cross-legged before the low brickwork platform of the fireplace, concentrating as the magic conjuration began to take hold. There was a wavering simmer in the air over the brick surface of the hearth and abruptly a large stack of metal ingots materialized.

 “Pamela, you in there?” Carl inquired telepathically to the assemblage of silver bars.

 “Actually I’m not in here, I am here!” Pamela’s thoughts espered through the room, “I was melted down with what must have been a ton of stolen silver and cast into ingots! You’re looking at all of me; I’m merged with all this silver! Everyone say’s I’m well “stacked”, well I am now! And I feel GREAT!”

 Carl picked up one of the gleaming ingots; the heavy bar had a slight waviness on its sides from the mold it had been cast from. Smooth ripples were frozen into its underside as the molten silver had hardened, an insignia and serial number stamped into its or her base. He stroked the smooth surface of the hard silver, feeling the cool impenetrable alloy under his skin, sensing Pamela’s commingled essence in the precious metal.
 “Uooohhh, I love it when you stroke me!” Pamela’s soul moaned in delight.

 “I know how much you love being a pile of silver bricks Pamela, but your present blocky appearance is not as pleasing.”

 “Oh I know how I can become pleasing to the eye!” Pamela’s replied excitedly, “You could have me melted down and made into jewelry! Just think how many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and earrings I could become! It’d be fun to be in display cases, every sparkling part of me nestled in velvet lined boxes, sold, worn by countless customers and stored in ladies jewelry boxes around the world!  Ohh, it would feel soo goood, you know how much I love jewelry!”
 With his other hand he picked up a second ingot and a bar in each hand hefted the heavy silver ingots like a pair of weights. Carl tapped the pair of ingots together gently; listening to the metallic clang as the two masses of silver rang in combo like small silver bells.

 “OHHH, It FEELS so GOOD when I vibrate!” Pamela’s mental voice took on a bell like tone matching the chiming sound from the striking metal as she sang a tune of an old sixties song, “Good, goood, gooood, gooood vibrations! OOOhhh! I’ve just got a new idea! Why not melt me down and cast me into a giant silver bell, then ring me all the time! It would Feel so GOOD!!”

 Carl placed the two bars back on the pile of ingots.

 “Well, perhaps we can experiment with that aspect later.” There’s an affair scheduled to commemorate the opening of my new gold mine, and you promised to come along.”

 “Aw come-on, if you’ve been to one party you’ve been to them all! As I was saying, you could refashion me into a bell, put me into the bell tower at your mansion and ring me whenever you want! Besides; I am originally from Georgia, so I’d be a real southern “belle”!”

 Carl didn’t say anything, stepped back and began Pamela’s restoration. The huge pile of silver ingots began to rise upwards and spin in a disordered spiral of glinting metal. The spiral became a silvery blur as the bars turned to quicksilver, flowing and intertwining into separate manifestations floating within the gyrating vortex. There was no heat as the liquid silver, resembling graceful blobs of mercury, reformed into individual solid objects. The cloud of silver ornaments settled with a gentle clamor into a huge pile, overflowing the edge of the hearth with a clatter.

 Carl began to dig through the vast heap of stolen silverware, taking several minutes to locate the small silver statuette of Pamela. He placed the silver figure upon a nearby table and started to walk back toward the silver hoard, pausing in mid step. Thinking for a moment he turned around and removed Pamela from the tabletop, placing her on the floor, then reversing the spell that had shrunk her down in size. Moments later Pamela was full a full sized sterling silver statue, standing in rigid beauty in the center of the room. Carl was about to perform the second part of the spell and turn the gleaming metal back to flesh and blood when he hesitated. In her present metallic state, Pamela weighed close to a ton, far to heavy for someone to steal; she would be safe in the locked hotel room. And she did want to remain a sterling personality for a while longer, he decided to leave her in her silvery ecstasy while he got rid of the pile of loot. He walked over to the mass of glittering metal before the fireplace and reached out his arms, with a pop and he along with the rest of the silver disappeared.

 Carl watched at a discrete distance as he watched the surprised owner of the metal foundry arrive at his business. All the doors in his building were open, police cars parked in front, as dozens of police officers milled around and through the foundry as they executed a search warrant. Remembering the name on the foundry mark stamped on Pamela’s silver ingots, he had called in an anonymous tip to the police. Not only did the lawmen find the heap of teleported silver, but also additional stolen goods stashed in the safe. Carl grinned as the crook was handcuffed, placed in a squad car and driven away. Only a fading laugh remained behind as he teleported back to the hotel room.

 That night Carl and Pamela arrived at the opulent residence of Mr. McSteale, Carl in a tuxedo, Pamela in an evening gown, a perfect couple as they strode into the party. Everyone glanced at the new center of attention, as Pamela, received lustful stares from each male and tinges of envy from every female.

Pamela wore a gold lame evening gown, with matching gold arm length gloves; gold shoes, gold purse and a diamond studded gold necklace around her elegant neck. Her makeup had a gold motif as well, gold lipstick, gold tinted eye shadow and blush. Her blonde hair was even more golden, hair and eyebrows dusted with a sparkling layer of gold powder giving a beautiful metallic sheen. A golden goddess of beauty, sheer perfection trimmed with shining gold apparel.

 “Greetings, Mr. Williams.” McSteale shook hands with Carl, “And accompanied with the famous model Pamela Eclaire.” He bowed slightly and kissed her gloved hand, “And this is my wife Ruby” He introduced a shapely young brunette wearing a revealing red sequined gown as she stepped forward to welcome them.

 “Ahh, Pamela, it’s been a long time!”

 “Oh my! If it isn’t Ruby Beryl!” Pamela cried out upon recognizing Mr. McSteale’s wife, “I didn’t know you were betrothed and to Mr. McSteale of all people!”

 “Why yes! We met in Vegas three years ago and married soon after!”

 “Why you look just wonderful!”

 “You too!”

 Carl noticed that the two ladies had a slightly strained tone to their voices as they exchanged small talk. He had been around enough to recognize the subtle cues of body language and speech as they tried to hide their true feelings; they utterly despised each other.
 “Your girlfriend looks good in gold.” Mr. McSteale muttered to Carl, “She’s a real golden girl.”

 “Yes, Pamela loves the feel of gold, she spends a lot of time as a golden girl.” Carl took another sip of champagne; “In fact if she had her way she’d stay gold all the time.”

 Carl finished the glass of champagne with a small gulp and continued, “Speaking of gold, we made an interesting discovery in the mine yesterday. We dug just a few more feet and struck a major gold vein, Mr. Takashi says the ore is the richest he’s seen. He estimates that there could be several million ounces of gold in the new vein. At current prices it could come to several billion dollars.”

 “Several billion dollars!” McSteale’s face paled, when he realized that in making millions in profit selling the mine, he had lost billions in the process. He didn’t say anything more, but ordered a double scotch and whiskey from the bar, downing it rapidly, then ordering another and another...

 Carl left McSteale to drown his sorrows, circulating among the guests, listening to the trivial speech and posturing typical of the yuppies, wannabe's and hangers on populating upper class parties. Partygoers wandered in tittering groups through the large mansion, some couples wandering off into side rooms for privacy. Some of the ladies were quite attractive; some even approached Pamela’s magnificence.

 The party was an average upper crust affair, except for one negative aspect. Decorating the mansion were various life-sized statues stationed in corners and entryways. Crude figures of plaster, paper mache and plastic sheeting, totally amateurish attempts at sculpture looking completely out of place.
 Ever since gaining magical powers, every attractive woman made him think about which substance she would look best transformed into. Upon meeting Mr. McSteale’s wife, her tight red sequined dress reminded him of the gem ruby, he had instantly envisioned her a statue made of the precious stone. The slim fashion model in the corner with a toga like sash across her shoulders would be perfect as marble. A slender beauty with collar length hair near the bar would look best turned to bronze and placed in an entryway. A cute redhead across the room would look excellent as platinum, shrunk down and mounted as a table centerpiece. As he wandered through the crowd, women made teasing eye contact with him, sizing him up, never knowing that in his imagination he was sizing each of them up as well; for a pedestal.

 Wandering back towards Pamela’s area, watching, as she chattered with group of ladies, no doubt over typical party gossip. There was a sweet looking oriental girl in the cluster of women who would make an excellent jade carving, perhaps put in the corner of the pool room. A luscious woman with dark hair on the right would be perfect as an ebony figurine on a shelf in his reading room. His eyes wandered the room; imagination filling the room with statues, figurines and a few wall relief's.
 Pamela excused herself from the group to powder her nose, later as she sat in front of the mirror in the ladies room adjusting her makeup she heard a whisper in her ear.

 “You look marvelous tonight.” Carl’s masculine voice startled her.

 “Carl, What are you doing here!” She hissed as she spun around, “This is the ladies room, guys aren’t allowed here!”

 Pamela turned and saw nothing, no Carl, no one at all in fact, just the wall behind her.

 “I’m trying out a new power; invisibility!” Carl had stopped whispering and switched to mental telepathy.

 Pamela suddenly noticed that the other women in the powder room were staring at her, no doubt because of her sudden outburst of arguing with non-existent persons.

 “Oh, I’m just practicing a talk, er, speech I’m planning for my boyfriend, umm, yes, I’m a bit upset now.” Pamela lied.

 With knowing smiles they nodded their heads in agreement then turned back towards their makeup mirrors.

 “You just can’t sneak in here, if you want to talk to me while invisible, do it in private!”

 “Sorry, I’ll get some privacy for us.”

 Suddenly from the far end of the powder room there came a familiar musical chime, Pamela recognized the faint sound of something being transmuted, having witnessed and experienced the process many times.

 A slender blonde sitting before the room long mirror suddenly turned to a white marble statue, frozen in a delicate pose, applying a stick of marble lipstick to pursed marble lips. The woman next to the first statue, powdering her nose, turned into a bronze figure holding a bronze makeup brush, staring permanently into the depths of the mirror. The wave of transformations stepped down the line of women so fast; none took notice of their neighbor's sudden immobility and silence. Moments later almost a dozen statues of marble, bronze, glass and porcelain sat or stood in quiescent glory staring into their inanimate reflections, for all the world looking like a display in an art gallery.

 “Carl, what if someone comes in, how do I explain a row of statues in the powder room!” Pamela asked with a stern tone,” After you eventually restore them they will remember being statues, how will we explain it?”

 Just then the door to the room opened and two college age women walked upon the strange scene of Pamela standing defiantly, shaking her finger at thin air, beside a row of statues arrayed along one wall. They had a second to register surprise when both turned into polished granite, astonishment fixed upon their stony visages. One statue had an outstretched hand wrapped around the handle of the closed door, preventing it from opening. The door jiggled, voices and the sound of knocking could be heard from the other side, the stone maiden holding the door closed must of weighed close to a ton, blocking all entry.

 “Well, that sort of solves part of the problem!” She rolled her eyes, “What do we tell our involuntary monuments when you return them to normal. That they all suffered from a mass hallucination of being turned into statues?”

 “Easily solved, just watch!” Carl replied.

 One by one the statues returned to flesh and blood until all but the stoned figure blocking the door were almost back to normal, staying motionless and silent in a trance like state.

 “Part two, coming up!” Carl giggled, “In their hypnotized state I will erase all memories of their transformation and then turn off the lights, their confusion in the sudden darkness will disguise the lost moments.”

 There was the sound of the light switch clicking and the room was plunged into total blackness, cries of surprise erupting as everyone began stumbling about in the dark. Carl simultaneously restored and placed an amnesia spell on the remaining statue holding the door closed and teleported out. The door, no longer blocked by an attractive granite obelisk swung open under the press of those trying to gain entry, dim light from the entrance flooded the room, allowing the light switch to be located.

 “Someone must have bumped into the light switch!”

 Pamela’s explanation seemed acceptable.

 “The lights going out startled me!” One of the former statues observed, “For some reason it seems as if I blanked out, I have a faint memory of a wonderful feeling, happiness and I suddenly feel invigorated.”

 “I do too! Must of been the sudden shock, I feel it too!”

 There were affirmative replies from around the room from all of those transformed; thinking quickly Pamela created a reasonable explanation.

 “Remember how refreshed you feel after being startled, the emotional rush does that!”

 A rational interpretation; moments later the event had been dismissed and forgotten, as everyone went back to business as if nothing had occurred.

 Leaving the ladies room Pamela spied a no longer invisible Carl standing with a cluster of men, no doubt talking about business, sports and other male trivia. Carl noticed Pamela in the edge of his vision, turned his head and winked at her. She shook her head and motioned for him to come over. Carl disengaged himself from the group and wandered over to Pamela, martini in hand, walking with a loose gait of someone with a light alcohol induced buzz. Pamela took him aside to a quiet corner of the room.

 “What did you do in the powder room?” Pamela whispered, “You took a real big chance in there!”

 “Not to worry.” Carl replied in a relaxed, slightly intoxicated tone, “I had everything under control, honey.”

 All the while both were talking in subdued voices, smiling at occasional passerby’s and trying to look inconspicuous, an impossible attempt considering Pamela’s stunning presence. Pamela glanced at the group of ladies she had just left, now all listening attentively to a new center of attention, Pamela’s old nemesis, Ruby Beryl, correction, Mrs. McSteale. The group of women were following Ruby’s every word with rapt fascination, laughing with loud snickers, making derisive glances in Pamela’s direction. She knew what was going on, having known Ruby for years, Ruby was notorious for character assassination, gossip and slander against her rivals; Pamela was the latest target.

 “Grrr!” Pamela hissed like a steam kettle, “That lying whore Ruby McSteale is spreading gossip about me behind my back as usual!”

 “Pamela, don’t worry, its just jealous words.” Carl tried to calm her.

 “Jealous words?” Pamela whispered, “Earlier she implied that you can’t get it up in bed and have to pay me to, ahh, service you!”

 “She did, did she? Well I’m going to have to do something about that.”

 One thing Carl was proud of was his virility and manhood; he was very short tempered towards those who would besmirch his honor. He wandered off to an inconspicuous area and invoked his invisibility spell.

 “Here comes Carl Williams in stealth mode!” Pamela being the only one hearing his telepathic battle cry as she rejoined Ruby and friends, she smiled...

 “Did I miss anything, girls?” She inquired

 “Oh, no, nothing at all.” Ruby replied with an upturned nose, “Nothing of any importance...”

 Ruby and her entourage tittered, several looked at Pamela strangely and whispering amongst themselves. Pamela with great effort kept a happy face, as her angry soul raged silently in embarrassment, she thought about last Carl’s words, then her grin broadened.

 “As I was telling everyone, all the marvelous statues on display in the mansion were created by me in my workshop.” Ruby exclaimed.

 In unison the small crowd of hanger-on’s made positive endorsements about Ruby’s sculptures and her artistic genius; they lied very convincingly, Pamela observed.

 “Anyone want to see my art studio, I’ll take you all on a tour.” Ruby motioned to the group, “Follow me ladies.”

 The small crowd of women entered a large outer room; high windows along one side overlooking a snow shrouded backyard. Dozens of paintings in oil, acrylics and watercolors clung to the walls; several unfinished works were perched on easels. Clay, paper mache and plaster sculptures in various stages of completion were scattered about in a haphazard manner. Pamela noted silently what Ruby really needed was a lot of art school training or a massive talent transfusion, her “art” was as amateurish and crude as Ruby. There were all sorts of kitsch craft items, decoupage, garish paint, feathers, glitter and sequins glued to a variety of picture frames, vases and other knickknacks. Ruby had even created a hodgepodge of dolls, arranging big eyed baby faced figures in frilly dresses and a load of ultra cute saccharin sweetness. It all looked like someone had given a spoiled heiress a lot of money and told them to try and make art; it described Ruby perfectly.

 Ruby pointed to each of her “masterpieces” explaining how her artistic desires had come to fruition in her works, allowing the world to see her “talent”. As she directed the visitors to a garish florescent painted paper mache sculpture of a ballerina with ostrich feathers glued to its waist Pamela heard a familiar telepathic voice.
 “My eyes... colors clashing... gasp... poor taste... horrible!” An invisible Carl mentally broadcast his opinions in a mocking style, “Kitsch alert! Warning, warning, crummy art alert, warning!”

 With a sarcastic grin she rolled her eyes upwards, agreeing thoroughly with her invisible partner’s telepathic comments; this was bad art, not even worthy of a low budget craft fair.

 “And this is my latest experiments in modern art.”

  Ruby motioned them to a long workbench with a mishmash of arts and craft tools, supplies and a new accumulation of junk in progress.

  “Here I am working with liquid plastic resins to cast transparent sculptures with articles embedded inside.”

 She held up a clumsy human figure with several dozen glass beads and a sprinkling of glitter embedded within its clear plastic.

 Pamela noticed a faint lavender odor in the air, recognizing the smell of polyester resin. Recalling her high school art classes, the liquid resin was mixed with a few drops of catalyst and poured it into molds, hardening within minutes into solid crystal clear plastic.

 “And here is my experiments in adding colored dyes to the plastic.”

 Ruby smiled as she showed them a warped block of blue tinted plastic with swirls of sparkles embedded inside, art it was not.

 “I’m also starting to try out other kinds of plastic to work with, acrylic, styrene and epoxy resins.”

 Carl moved carefully past the ladies as to not bump into anyone or anything and alert everyone to the presence of an invisible man. Along one corner there were several life-sized objects shrouded under cloth tarps. Peering under the covers he saw life-sized abstract statues made of glued together acrylic sheets, polyester blobs and other plastics, very crude and just as lacking in taste.

 Finished with the description of her “artistic” techniques with plastics, Ruby walked over to one of the statues and grabbed a corner of the drop cloth concealing it.

 “And this is my latest plastic masterpiece!” Ruby announced as she began to pull the cover off; suddenly the lights went out.

 “Someone get the lights!” Pamela cried out, guessing that Carl was behind the sudden darkness.

 After a few moments the lights flickered back on, revealing Ruby’s latest masterpiece.

 “Oh my!” One of the ladies blurted out in surprise, “Ruby, it’s beautiful!”

 The entire crowd gathered around the unveiled masterwork, marveling at the polymerized statue, astonished at the contrast between Ruby’s previous amateurish attempts and her latest sculpture. Glinting in the light stood a delicately posed transparent plastic replica of Ruby, a slight look of wonder and surprise frozen on her face. Every detail captured in exquisite rose colored clear plastic, crimson light refracting through it as if the sculpture had been carved out of a giant ruby gemstone.

 “This is incredible Ruby, You’ve outdone yourself, Ruby, Ruby?”

 Everyone noticed that Ruby was nowhere to be seen, none realizing that Ruby had never left, and in fact was the statue before them.

 “Ahh, Ruby excused herself, she will be back later.” Pamela invented another convincing falsehood, she suspected that she would have to tell a lot more before the night was over.

 “I turned out the lights with telekinesis, shrank the original statue down and pocketed it, then turned my attentions to Ruby.” Pamela heard Carl’s mental voice chuckling, “I was going to turn her into the actual gem, but she loves plastic so much I turned her into transparent colored acrylic.” “The statue looks like its made out of the gemstone, Ruby’s a ruby, imitation ruby, just as fake as her!”

 “Honey, I think you may have had a few to many drinks.” Pamela espered back to the stealthy Carl, “The funs over with, just change her back, please!”

 “Change her back? Why Ruby’s having a great time, the best orgasm she’s ever had, why end her pleasure so soon?” Carl replied merrily, “Just watch!”

 Suddenly the lights went out again, the women clamoring for someone to turn the lights back on. The lights flashed back on and to everyone’s surprise, except Pamela's, another statue had been unveiled. A slim redhead had been transformed into a statue of crystal clear plastic. The ladies gathered around to admire the new sculpture, not noticing that one of their number was missing. After a minute the light flicked off again in a repeat performance, after a short interval of darkness another plastic statue was revealed. This time a tall beauty had been turned into what appeared to be translucent white plastic, a slight look of surprise frozen on her glossy face. Pamela shook her head and sighed, when Carl was on a rush it was useless to try to convince him to stop.

This time the lights turned off for a much longer time, Pamela noticed that individual voices of the confused women began to go silent one at a time until there was complete stillness. After several minutes of absence the lights returned with a sudden glare, Pamela blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness.

 The room was now filled with dozens of female statues in evening gowns, all transformed into a variety of plastics; frozen -- or more accurately plasticized -- into rigid polymer women.

 “I turned them into a variety of new plastics to see the effects.” Carl spoke as he reversed his invisibility and reappeared next to his wife. “Recently I had been researching what different types of plastics are in use, I discovered there are hundreds of different kinds of plastics.”

 Carl continued talking as he walked up to a dark haired demoiselle resembling glossy porcelain and tapped her shoulder with a hollow plastic thunking sound.

 “For instance I changed her into polystyrene, notice how her body and clothing have retained their original color, everything including her hair and clothing one seamless piece of plastic.”

 The girl had been rotating her waist around in surprise when transformed, capturing her movement perfectly, her hair even had a slight twist frozen into it. The statues had a dynamic look from being immobilized in midstep, instead of the static classical poses Pamela had often been in during her numerous episodes as a statue.

 Carl went over to a woman made of translucent white plastic, picked her up with very little effort and rotated till her till she faced the center of the room.
 “ I turned her into hollow white polyethylene, notice how she weighs very little.” Carl effortlessly tipped her stiff form back revealing the underside, the statue was a thin walled hollow plastic shell.

 Carl pointed to each statue, describing the material each had been turned into. One transparent statue wasn’t the usual acrylic but a much stronger material called polycarbonite, a plastic so hard it was used in bullet proof glass. Another women had been turned into shinny jet-black PVC plastic, resembling polished ebony.

 “Notice the statue on your right.” Pamela turned to look, “Give her a gentle push.”

 The statue appeared to be translucent white plastic, very shinny; so glossy it almost looked wet. She touched the rigid figure, running her gloved hand across its cheek, it felt waxy to the touch, as if oil coated, yet it was dry. She carefully pushed the figure, it glided smoothly across the linoleum floor for several inches as if it were on a sheet of ice.

“I turned her into Teflon plastic, the slipperiest material in existence, the substance they use for a non stick coating on kitchen utensils.”

Carl had transformed others into ABS plastic, epoxy resin, polyurethane, polyamines and several other hard-to-pronounce plastics. The result was a profusion of stone still, correction, plastic still figures in a variety of transparent, translucent and nontransparent colors and finishes, sculptures deserving of any art gallery.

Pamela was starting to become envious; each of the new substances must have a unique feel that she wanted to experience for herself, yet Carl had gifted strangers with the touch first.

 “This party was getting boring, I’m going to make it a night to remember, the fun's just beginning!”

Coming soon, Chapter 7: From Party to Gallery

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