Beetle Juice by Piers Anthony

tried to fathom it via telepathy, but found only nonsense:
Beetle Juice
. He followed it briefly, then, nervous, returned to the house.
    â€œWhat is it?” he asked Weava. She was able to see the trail only when he held her hand and faced it.
    â€œThat is your legitimate escape,” she answered. “I know of it only through legend, but it seems it is true. It is an aspect of an entity known as the Amoeba that spans all our universe and all time and all alternate universes. Few, very few, are ever offered the privilege of joining it. This is your destiny, Wetzel. You must take that trail.”
    â€œCome with me!”
    â€œI can not.”
    â€œTry.” He held her hand and led her onto the trail. They walked a short distance into it, and the village faded. “See?” he said, letting her hand go.
    She vanished.
    Alarmed, he ran back off the trail. There she was, standing in the street. “When you let go, I reverted to my own frame. This is for you alone.”
    He fought the notion, but during the night, between frenzied bouts of sex, she persuaded him. He would take the trail, leaving her and the village behind. It represented his peaceful compromise. His chance to discover his greater destiny. His search for the Virgin. This persuasion was Weava’s final gift to him.
    But he could not do it without giving her an equivalent gift. He would share his secret with her.
    â€œBut you must not,” she protested. “I never asked you to do that.”
    â€œIt is my virginity,” he agreed. “My own personal privacy. I want you to have it to remember me by. You are the one person who deserves it. You don’t have to share it; it can be your secret too.”
    â€œI can not deny that the idea of learning it fascinates me,” she said. “But I think I would prefer to have you keep it. That’s safer.”
    â€œIf I am gone, and you keep it, it will remain secret. It is my ultimate trust in you.”
    She could not demur further. He became the teacher, guiding her to his most secret place, the storm shelter, and showing her the precious secrets stored there.
    â€œOh, it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed as she looked around, clapping her hands like a little girl.
    And the telepathy was so close and intense that they were both in the haunted cellar, seeing each other there.
    â€œYou can even take off your clothes and show me your secret place, if you want to,” he said smiling. “You are my first and only visitor. My virgin of the moment.”
    â€œI want to. No one can see us here.” She stripped and stood naked before him, and he saw every detail. He was thrilled, not so much by her body, which he had seen so many times before, but by the fact that he saw it here in the storm shelter. No one else had ever been here before. “I do feel like a virgin, here.”
    He kissed her, and she kissed him, and they sank down on the stone floor and made love. It was glorious.
    Then he guided her so that she was able to make her own storm shelter that no one else needed to see or even know about. She had been sexually molested as a small child, in the woodshed, and not even understood the nature of it until years later; then she had buried it, embarrassed. Now that memory served to hide whatever other secrets she might have. But, to erase the ugly smell of it, she took Wetzel into that woodshed and made love to him there. Now it was a place with a pleasant memory that she would not mind visiting again.
    â€œThank you, Wetzel, for this marvelous gift,” she said. “This is my place of restored virginity. I will always be a virgin here. Only you know better.”
    â€œI know no such thing. I love you, my virgin.” He kissed her again, loving her, and she melted in his embrace. In her mind she had indeed become virginal here, and that was what truly counted.
    Then they emerged and found themselves in her bed in her house, pleasantly