“Nolan lhooked more at Apoca than at me.”

  “Men do look; they can’t help it.” It was as if Nolan wasn’t there.

  “They do,” the ghost agreed. “I’m used to it. But here’s the thing. I’m lonely. I lost my fiancé over a decade ago, back in Mundania, and he has moved on. I wish him well. But I wish I could have at least a bit of the life I had before. The flirting, the dating, the nhaughty feels, the censored dialogue. I miss it.”

  “Nolan’s not available,” the ant reminded her. “He’s courting Apoca.”

  “Yes. But Gent is available.”

  “And he’s halfway normal, here in the pun zone. You’ve got his interest. But there’s a problem. You’re a ghost.”

  “This about that: Ghosts can do more than some folk think, when we try. I can make my face feel solid, so I can kiss.”

  “What about the rest of you? Men like to get their hands on the soft stuff.”

  “I can firm that up, too, one place at a time. It works best in the dark, so he can’t see my face disappear when I focus on my chest, or wherever. I can give him a good time, piece by piece. That’s not the problem.”

  Nolan realized that it was Aurora the ghost had come to visit, not him. Still, this was interesting. He hadn’t realized how much females knew about males, whatever the species.

  “Then what is? You know he’ll go as far as you enable him to.”

  “It is whether it is appropriate. There can’t be anything permanent. For one thing, he will inevitably age and die, in time, while I will always be twenty-one.”

  “Still, you could give him several decades.”

  “But I couldn’t marry him. I would be distracting him from whatever living woman might want him. That would not be fair.”

  “I see your point. But ants don’t marry, so I can’t advise you on that. You’ll have to ask Nolan.”

  Suddenly Nolan was in the dialogue. “You can do it. Just advise him at the outset that it is only a passing fling, subject to termination at any time by either party. That he should consider living women, and you will fade out when he finds one he likes.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that! But would he really want to make out with a ghost? I mean, looking is one thing, but seriously touching is another. He might be turned off.”

  “I don’t think so. Men like touching even more than looking.”

  Her eyes grew large and lovely, with deep-blue irises and long lashes. “Would you touch as well as look?”

  Oops. “I am oriented on another woman,” he said uncomfortably.

  “Clarification,” Aurora said. “She is not propositioning you. She is asking your opinion as a man.”

  Oh. “Yes, I would touch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She remains uncertain,” Aurora said. “Kiss her and pass judgment.”

  This might be dangerous terrain. “I don’t—”

  He was cut off by the contact of the ghost’s firm lips against his. She kissed him deeply and tenderly. His emotion flared. What a smooch!

  She drew back, releasing him from a near freak-out.

  “… see any reason why not,” he finished breathlessly.

  “Thank you, Nolan.”

  “You’re welcome.” He still felt as if he were floating.

  “I’ll go broach him now.” She faded.

  “You did well,” Aurora said.

  “She could have seduced me if she tried. If she had a firmer body.”

  “That was apparent. You gave her the answer she needed.”

  “I suppose I did. Now, if only it was as easy with Apoca.”

  “Well, you might ask her.”

  “That might turn her off.”

  “It might,” the ant agreed.

  They went silent, drifting off to sleep. But the kiss lingered. If Ghorgeous could do that with her mouth, what might she do with her chest? Her legs? She could indeed be a man’s lover in the dark.

  “But she’s not Apoca,” Aurora said.

  “I envy Gent.”

  “Surely you do. Now, sleep.”

  But he couldn’t sleep. He kept feeling that kiss.

  “You’re not even interested in the ghost!” the ant exclaimed.

  “True.” But the kiss remained.

  “For shame’s sake! You’re all up in a heaval. We’ve got to erase that kiss!”

  Indeed. “How?”

  “There’s a way. Apoca can do it. She doesn’t have to enslave a man; she can do an ordinary kiss when she chooses. She can overwrite the ghost kiss.”

  “But I don’t want to turn her off by appearing to be interested in another female.”

  “She kissed you.”

  “But the kiss smote me.”

  The ant considered. “Apoca should understand. It has to be risked.”

  That seemed to be true. “Still, she might think I was just trying to sneak one in.”

  “I will handle it. I will talk to her. Stay here.” The ant jumped off his shoulder and hurried into the night. Fortunately Apoca’s tent was not far away.

  Now it was the prospect of Apoca’s kiss that held his attention. What a dream that was! He had been fascinated by her ever since seeing her image. Yes, her lips were huge, but that was her species. She remained a remarkably attractive woman, and surely the right one for him.

  Someone approached his tent in the darkness. “Aurora explained,” Apoca said. “I understand.” She got down on the ground before him. He was aware of her more by sound than sight, but did see the faint plaid of her hair, indicating her mixed thoughts. “This is only a corrective measure, not a commitment. You’re courting me. If you are going to be distracted by a kiss, it had better be mine. Besides, I owe you for saving me from the maenads.”

  Perversely, he tried to argue. “Yes, but Ghorgeous could have—”

  Her face intercepted his, downside up. She kissed him.

  The ghost’s kiss had made him feel as if he were floating. Apoca’s kiss lifted him literally off the ground so that his back nudged the roof of the tent.

  She ended it after an eternal instant. “That should do it.” She got back to her feet and departed.

  “Now you can sleep,” Nimbus said as he slowly sank back to the ground. She had evidently transferred to him during the kiss.

  Nimbus? “Where’s Aurora?” he demanded, alarmed.

  “Peace,” the nickelpede said. “She’s getting to know Apoca, just as I am getting to know you. We are all on this mission together and need to know each other well, in case there’s a complication.” She communicated by contact telepathy, just as Aurora did.

  That did make sense when he considered it. This could also be a source of information about Apoca’s real feelings toward him.

  “Ha! I will never tell you about her suppressed interest in your lean bare butt, just as Aurora will be silent about yours in her plush butt. It wouldn’t be ethical.”

  “What do nickelpedes know or care about ethics?”

  “Very little. It’s an advantage.”

  It seemed that they would get along.

  He did sleep, in due course, and dreamed of Apoca, butt and all. He woke later and thought about it. It was true: Apoca’s kiss not only had not hurt him, it had extirpated the ghost. He was getting smitten by Apoca, but this was natural. Yes, her kiss helped, but not compulsively. He knew why she had not used her power on him: she wanted an independent friend, not a love slave.

  “Naturally, I will not divulge that her interests and dreams parallel yours,” Nimbus said.

  “Naturally,” he agreed.

  “Aurora is a beautiful ant. I like her. I am beautiful too, for my kind.” She flashed a translated picture of a lovely human woman with outsized gloves covering her pincers. He was reminded how nickelpedes could gouge out nickel-sized scoops of flesh.

  “You are,” he agreed. It was amazing how nice even the most formidable bugs could be, once he got to know them.

  “You could make a handsome nick stud, too, with the right translation.”

  He laughed. “Thanks.”

  “Care to dream with me?”

  Nickelpedes dreamed? “How?”

  “Like this.” Her sightly human image kissed him on the mouth. There was a surge of passion, but it rapidly faded. “I know better than to put too much oomph in it. That’s what Ghorgeous did.”

  “Thank you,” he said weakly. He certainly didn’t need more kiss complications.

  “You don’t,” Nimbus agreed. “Fortunately, ghosts and bugs are incidental. Apoca is the one for you.”

  “Yes.” He had always thought of nickelpedes as the nastiest of bugs. That would never be the case again.

  “To be sure.”

  They both relaxed. Again, he had no trouble sleeping.

  In the morning the humans ate from their packs, not trusting the local pies, handled natural functions, and resumed their journey. The bugs foraged for themselves, then rejoined their original companions. “How did you like Nimbus?” Aurora inquired.

  Diplomacy was best. “She’s almost as nice as you.”

  The ant laughed. That was another thing she had learned from her association with humans. “I know she kissed you. She likes being naughty.”

  “And you don’t?”

  Aurora formed her own dream image, and kissed him, low voltage with just a tinge of rapture. Clearly naughtiness was a quality the bugs shared.

  He had now been kissed by four different females within the past night and day. A ghost, two bugs, and a woman. Four completely different types, but a similar command of flirtation. Maybe the ladies really did rule.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  Gent looked surprisingly satisfied. He was technically Apoca’s love slave, but it seemed that a little fling on the side was not out of order. Nolan had a notion how that could be. He was no longer obsessed with the ghost’s kiss, but he remembered its power.

  They came to a cornfield, forging through the head-high plants until progress stopped. “We are up to our ears in corn,” Gent said. Fortunately their flashing posterior nakedness was mostly concealed by the massed stalks.

  The sun became bright. Vinia found a patch of cap plants and harvested a cap to shield her eyes. But when she put it on, fluid drenched her head, and there was a strong smell of fuel. It seemed that her paths did not cover incidental items.

  “Gas cap,” Gent said.

  Annoyed, the girl shed the rest of her clothes and headed for a nearby pool to wash herself off. She grabbed for another cap as she passed it.

  “I wouldn’t,” Gent warned. “That’s a screw cap.”

  “A what?”

  “Don’t put it on!” Apoca snapped without explaining.

  Vinia reluctantly let it go. She jumped in the pool, rinsed her hair, then harvested a smock to wear.

  They came to a clearing where there were many loaves of bread scattered about. The moment they entered it, music played and the bread started dancing.

  “A bun dance,” Gent said.

  Nolan got the pun. “Abundance.” With plenty of bread doing it. He didn’t bother to look down at his nakedness because of that awful pun.

  They skirted the dance and came to a solid stake set in the ground. But the moment they approached it rapiers projected sharply from it.

  “Fencepost,” Gent explained. “As in fencing.”

  There was a collective groan, and of course they were all bare again.

  But they were taking it in stride, as it were. Clothing no longer mattered as much.

  Nolan found himself walking beside Apoca. Was that by her design, or his? Did it matter?

  “Nimbus kissed me.” So that he was not hiding anything from her.

  “I told her to.”

  That set him back. “Why?”

  “So I could verify whether you would tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “I am intrigued by you, but I prefer complete honesty between us.”

  Did she really? “Do you want me to tell you what I’d like to do with you in bed?”

  She laughed, not at all abashed. “Not that complete. Not yet.”

  “Then when?”

  “When I’m ready.”

  “Not when I’m ready?”

  “You’re courting me. You’ve already made your decision. I have not yet made mine. Therefore the option is mine.”

  “Are you playing hard to get?”

  “I’m flirting, my way.”

  He found that he liked her way. She was a fiercely independent woman, and he preferred that type.

  They came to a kind of forest gallery with several alcoves. They knew it was a gallery because it was ringed by a platoon of dancing gals. One alcove had an old-fashioned lamp from whose spout smoke was issuing. Gradually it formed into a floating Demon, who looked languidly at them, his eye lingering on Apoca, then eased back into the lamp. They watched, unable to move on.

  “Slow djinn,” Gent said.

  They flashed naked again. “I got the pun but refused to give that Demon the satisfaction of seeing my clothing fade,” Apoca said with muted pride.

  “He was undressing you mentally anyway,” Gent said.

  “Oh, fudge!”

  The next alcove had a male and a female zombie shambling together. They embraced messily and kissed, pushing in each other’s faces. They seemed to be much taken with each other. That was all.

  “When two zombies fall in love, it is necromance,” Gent said.

  Their clothing had not yet healed from the prior pun, but now it puffed into smoke.

  The next alcove had a man drinking from a glass labeled wormwood. Then he stared at a picture of a fair young woman.

  Nolan didn’t get it, and he saw that the others were similarly blank. But until they did get it, they were unable to move on.

  “Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,” Gent said. “This is an ad for wormwood as an aphrodisiac.”

  They all groaned as the smoke of their clothing caught fire.

  The next alcove had a mathematician with numbers all over his cloak as he worked a balky device consisting of circular pegs mounted on horizontal poles. The pegs refused to stay in the places he put them, and he was swearing blue streaks. There was no sound, but the streaks were crisscrossing the alcove. What was the pun?

  “That’s an abacuss,” Gent said. “A swearing mathematician.”

  The smoke blew away in the breeze, as they tried unsuccessfully to suppress their groans.

  Then at last they emerged from the gallery, leaving the gals behind, and found a broad field. “This is our first important stop,” Gent announced.

  Nolan was uncertain whether to feel relieved or worried.

  A female animal was grazing there, wearing a vest with the word “dolly” on it. That was all. This was important?

  Nolan spied the baton hovering close by. It occurred to him that a female protagonist might be able to handle this curious situation better.

  “She might,” Aurora agreed, bemused.

  Why not? “Okay, get on over there,” he told the baton.

  Chapter 4

  Dolly Llama

  Apoca saw the baton flying closer to her. She was to be the protagonist again? So be it. “Let’s find out what’s happening here,” she said, walking toward the animal, which looked like a sheep with a long neck. “Hello, Dolly!” she called.

  “Hello, Apoca,” the creature replied.

  Apoca paused, startled. Had the animal really spoken her name?

  “She did,” Nimbus said. “The way I do, mentally, though it seems she doesn’t need physical contact to do it.”

  “And hello, Nimbus.”

  Meanwhile the other members of their party were reacting as if hearing their own names, mentally. Simultaneous telepathy?

  “This is Dolly Llama, a noted local sage,” Gent said. “She is a pun on the name of the Dalai Lama of Tibet, Mundania, but she is not at all frivolous. Neither is the original Dalai.”

  Their clothing became un-opaque at the revelation of the pun, but the llama seemed not to be concerned. She was, after all, an animal. “Thank you, Gent,” Dolly said. “I am not into prophecy but can see that your punishment curse will have an unexpected termination, in due course.”

  “Thank you, Dolly,” he said, gratified.

  “And hello, Baton of Protagonism. I have not seen you here before.”

  The baton bobbed acknowledgment.

  Apoca was coming to realize that this was no ordinary talking animal.

  The llama’s attention focused on Vinia. “And your green paths led this party to me, Vinia. That’s interesting. It suggests that we may be able to do each other some good.”

  “I suppose we could lead you out of the pundemic zone,” Vinia said.

  Dolly shook her head. “No. I am not interested in departing this pasture. I came here to escape the constant appeals for advice from sundry and all. My life was devolving into pundemonium. Now I follow the example of the Good Magician, isolating myself to a degree and requiring recompense for my service. I reside in a virtual island within the pundemic zone, where the puns are reduced, though it is completely surrounded by them. Very few folk care to traverse this region, for a reason you understand, and fewer desire commentary rather than straight directives.”

  “You give answers!” Vinia exclaimed. “That’s why the paths lead to you.”

  “I proffer perspective. That is not the same.”

  “Whatever,” Apoca said. “The paths do seem to know what’s what.”

  “Perhaps. I represent one avenue among many, not necessarily the most useful one for you. You may prefer to pass me by.”

  “Maybe,” Apoca said. “I am inclined to consider what you offer versus what you cost, then weigh the alternatives before making a decision.”

  “You are an eminently sensible woman. Your suitor is fortunate that you are more than a pretty figure. What you desire is imponderable, while what I require may be dangerous even if feasible. This makes for vague parameters, which in turn require careful consideration.”