"Frig yourself while I enter your behind," the warlock said.
"Satan, take my soul," Beatrice heard someone chanting. It gave her the creeps to hear such talk.
"Don't be nervous," Stefan said. "Need I remind you that you are being protected by ray golden penumbra. It will be even more effective if you let me bugger you."
"Very well," the supremely attractive blonde shivered with fear. "You've talked me into it."
"Thank you," the warlock of white magic sighed, as he spread her lovely ass cheeks apart, and pressed the head of his organ slowly up against her tightened asshole.
She tried to pull away with fear.
But Stefan was too fast for her-making like a winged-footed Hermes, with his swift organ. He entered the outer area of her rectum. He felt the resistance of the sphincter muscle.
Reaching beneath her, and taking hold of the woman's clitoris, frigging her, helping her to relax, the warlock shoved his cock slowly up her ass. When he was all the way in, he helped the gorgeous blonde up on her knees, enabling him to sodomize her most soundly.
In the background, deep down in the Caverns of Babylon, the devil worshippers moaned with lustful volume.
The devil hovered about them, watching the ceremonies. Only the white warlock, and the blonde before him, were protected against the evil one's energy. Beatrice found protection in the guise of Stefan's cock rammed up her ass, acting as a spiritual magic wand.
CHAPTER ONE
The big, lanky brunette wasn't sure how she had ended up in bed with the beautiful, blonde lesbian.
Cora had never thought of herself as particularly attracted to women. She knew a beautiful woman when she saw one, and wasn't so insecure about her sexuality, that she couldn't pause to admire the beauties on the street. And in New York, it seemed that there were more beauties per square inch of sidewalk, than anywhere in the world.
And now she was with one of the beauties-in her own bed. There were changes going on in Cora's life. It was as though the devil had a hold of her. At thirty years of age, she expected some semblance of order in her life, some stability. But there just wasn't any. There was nothing to hold onto. And she felt as though she was hurtling once more down the slide of irrationality, into some new abyss.
It seemed like it was going to be an evil abyss this time-an inferno.
She blamed all of her recent actions of late on these strange, internal changes. A secretary by profession, she wondered why she didn't have a simple, ordered life, like the other secretaries. They all seemed so happy, in their simple lives. Cora wondered why she didn't like to go shopping for clothes on Saturdays, and dating the silly young men.
She ran her fingers slowly through Beatrice's long, blonde tresses. The stunning blonde looked at her affectionately. Cora had no idea the blonde was a lesbian, when she first saw" her on the street, earlier that day.
The lanky brunette had played hooky from work. She just couldn't deal with typing executive correspondence all day long. She was so sick of the phony, bullshit lingo the businessmen used. She thought they were all a bunch of starched collar, wing-tipped, double breasted, Windsor knotted fools. There were some days when she thought of becoming a strip tease dancer, or even a prostitute-anything to get away from men.
She liked sex plenty. It was the men she couldn't stand. She wondered why it always had to be such a complicated process just to get a stiff dick up her cunt.
And then the changes started happening. She felt as though she was losing interest in men-most men. There were still a few men she saw on the street from time-to-time, who did something special for her. But she was too shy to make the initial moves. She felt very much an Anglo-Saxon woman in that respect. It was most likely because of her Canadian rearing, she figured, that made it difficult to own up to her sexuality, her genital equality with the males of the species.
As she gave up slowly on men, she turned increasingly to masturbation. It had been a long time since she had been so focused on this aspect of her sexuality. As a young woman she was an incurable masturbator. It was difficult for her to sit down without rubbing her tender thighs together, when she was young.
She had been getting back to that place.
Every night before she went to bed, she would press her fingers tenderly against hex vagina, tracing the outline of her inner lips. The sensations she delivered to herself had always been better than any that men had given her. Increasingly, she found that her sexual thoughts no longer focused on the males of the species. Cocks were only devices to fill the pussy. She didn't like what was attached to the cock.
But she hadn't been willing, for the longest time, to admit that it was pussy, and not cock that she cherished. It seemed like a big step to take. She didn't want to deal with it. Even thinking about it caused her brow to wrinkle, and her eye to twitch.
She was afraid of these changes. This growing dissatisfaction with her lot as a secretary, and her position, vis-...-vis men, was becoming a bit of. a vexatious situation for her. And she knew what was bugging her was simply the tip of the ice berg.
For weeks, it seemed, the lanky brunette had been working up to something. She was certain that great changes were in store for her. She felt an increasing attraction for things mystical, and even evil. At least she thought it was evil. At that point in her life, she was under the impression that anything that was irrational, that seemed' somehow magical, or religious, was evil.
The blonde was aware of Cora's pensive mood. She touched the brunette's face. "What's troubling you? Don't you want to go through with this?"
"I'm afraid," Cora said. "I really am afraid. I just don't know what to do."
"Just slow down," Beatrice said. "I can tell that something is bugging you. Do you want to tell me about it?"
"It's all these changes," the brunette said. "Here I am in bed with you. I always sensed I had lesbian tendencies. And now-well, I think it's getting a hold of me."
"And you think that's evil, right?" Beatrice asked.
"Well, I guess I'm more concerned these days with the entire issue of good and evil than I ever have been before. Tell me, do you believe in the devil?"
"That's just a bunch of shit they tell you about in church," Beatrice said. "I don't believe any of it."
"Just the same," Cora said, "I think there's something to it. I really do. The stuff worries me. But I'm drawn to it."
"And you figure that I'm part of this evil trip, right?" the blonde said.
"How did you know?"
"I'm beginning to figure you out. I've made chicks like you before. You're scared shitless of your own sexuality. Right?"
"I'm lonely. I'm very lonely. Men don't feel enough-like me, for me to relate to. Yet, I'm afraid to admit that I might be a lesbian."
"It's no great crime. I've been gay on and off all my life, and I must say, it's added a great deal of depth and dimension to my life."
"More like dementia."
"I. wouldn't say that," the blonde seemed hurt.
"I'm sorry," the brunette sighed, bending her face down to Beatrice's mouth, kissing it softly.
"That's more like it," the blonde smiled, moving her naked body closer to Cora's. "Do you want to get it on now?"
"Can we talk just a little while longer?" the brunette sighed. "It helps calm me."
"Sure," Beatrice said. "I understand. Tell me more about this evil trip? What are you, some sort of witch?"
"I believe in witches, and warlocks," Cora said. "But I don't think I'm a witch. Not yet, anyway."
"You make it sound as though you really are going to be a witch," the blonde said. "I've met people like you before. I think you should be very careful. You might be sick."
"Sick?"
"As in psycho. I've flipped out before. Haven't we all? I was at Bellevue, too. What a place. Talk about hell. Well, to make a long story short, just let me say that you should be very careful with these kinds of thoughts. All this good and evil crap is just a bunch of illusion. Forget about it. It's no big deal. Let it slide."
"But you're so beautiful. I never thought that beautiful people like you flipped out."
"That's just another illusion, my dear. Let me tell you, it's damn tough being beautiful. The men are afraid of you, and the women are jealous. It's a losing proposition, any way you look at it."
"I'm not exactly ugly, you know? I know what you mean. I know exactly what you mean."
"I figured you would," the woman said. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't beautiful. I think you are very attractive."
"Thank you," Cora smiled. "I'm sorry I snapped like that. I feel nervous lately. So many changes."
"Tell me about them."
"Well," Cora took a deep breath, "it all started when I went to the Goat's Head Inn, down in Soho."
"The what?"
"It's? bar. Well, I thought it was a bar. But it's much more than that. God, it's a whole lot more than that."
"You're talking in riddles," she said. "I don't understand."
"I thought it was just a bar. I was lonely one night. I liked the red lights inside. It seemed a warm, and friendly ambience. So I went in. I met Baba and Stefan there."
"Who are they?"
"She's a witch," Cora said, her brow tightened, and her eye twitching, "and he's a warlock."
"Oh, sure. How can you tell? Do they fly around on broom sticks?"
"That's a fallacy," Cora said. "But they aren't bad witches. At least they say they're not into black magic. I believe it about Stefan, but I just don't know what to think about Baba. I just have this feeling that she might be real evil."
"It sounds to me like they're just playing some sort of game on your head. I tell you, there's no such thing as the devil, and witches."
"Well, what about the Caverns of Babylon?"
"What?"
"That's a secret back room, in the rear of the Goat's Head Inn," Cora said. "There's a secret passageway. Baba and Stefan showed it to me. And it leads to the sewers of New York."
"You went down into the sewers of the city?" Beatrice asked with incredulity.
"It's not like that," Cora said. "It's been converted. The old sewers were made into these caverns. It feels just like being down inside some huge underground cave. There are all sorts of evil things down there. I really must take you there."
"I'm not sure I would want to go," Beatrice said. "I don't believe in the devil, but it sure as hell sounds like those people do. And that's dangerous shit to play with. That's the kind of stuff that Charles Manson was into."
"I can see that in Baba, perhaps," Cora said. "But I just don't believe that about Stefan. He seems so pure and good."
"Listen, honey, no offense, but I really am sick of talking. I've just met you, and I would like to make love to you."
"I'm sorry," Cora said. "I guess I am a bit confused, that's all. I feel better about it all, being here with you."
"That's nice," the blonde smiled, stroking the brunette's long, silken hair, and staring hungrily at Cora's delightful little breasts, topped with sweet, pink nipples.
"Tell me," Beatrice said, "what did you think when you saw me on the street today? From what you've told me about yourself, I'm really surprised that you picked me up."
"I'm surprised, too," Cora said. "I don't know. I was just walking along, thinking how lonely I am, wondering why it's so damn difficult to find a man I can relate to, and then you were there. I saw you from the rear. I hope you don't mind me saying that you have the most beautiful little ass I've ever seen before."
"You already told me."
"That's right. Well, there I was, on Fifth Avenue, feeling depressed, thinking about good and evil, and who the fuck I am, and then you were there. It was as if you appeared out of nowhere. I just loved that tight sweater you were wearing, and your tight skirt. I liked the line of your hips. I could see that there was no bra strap. I knew your tits were bouncing as you walked. I imagined them moving about, dancing like little ballerinas, while I followed you slowly down the street. I completely ignored everyone but you. I couldn't take my eyes off your ass.
"You were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen-from the rear."
"You mean I'm not, anymore?"
"You're still the greatest to me."
"Now you're talking the way I like you to talk," the lovely blonde sighed. "Tell me more. I need to hear some good things. Just because I'm beautiful, don't start thinking that my ego doesn't need boosting. It certainly does."
"I understand," Cora said. "Well, I walked as fast as I could, without breaking into a run, to catch up with you. I walked alongside you for a bit. Did you notice me?"
"I sure as hell did," she said. "I thought you were pretty cute yourself. I like big ladies, like you."
"You are much too kind," the lovely woman said. "I think I'm built like a damn basketball player."
"That's nonsense," Beatrice said. "Think of yourself more as a Titian model."
"That's sweet."
"Tell me more about me," the blonde sighed, staring into Cora's eyes, lustfully, emotionally.
"I liked your profile a lot," Cora said. "I liked the way your tits bounced as you walked. I felt a sexual attraction towards you. I felt evil. But I didn't care. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be part of you."
"I was thinking the same thought as we walked along," the young woman sighed." I felt strange vibes from you. I wasn't sure if you were gay, or just checking me out for purely aesthetic purposes.
"I wanted to think the former, but I feared the latter."
"I guess it was a bit of both," Cora admitted. "I didn't know how I was going to do it. But I knew that it had to be done. I was shy about it."
"You are so cute," Beatrice smiled, as she moved her hand to Cora's smooth, creamy breast.
The brunette sighed with relaxation as she felt the blonde's tender hand move over one breast, and then the next. Cora could feel her pussy grow warm, and moistened. Her inner lips tingled with an excitement, and a surrender, she was unaccustomed to.
"Well, at least you did manage to bump into me," the blonde said.
"What was funny about that," Cora said, "was that I didn't plan on doing that. It happened, sort of by accident. There I was walking beside you, trying to be discreet, as I stared at your voluptuous blonde beauty, and suddenly I lost my footing on the sidewalk, and plunged into you.
"I guess I'm just not very coordinated," the brunette said. "When I was a kid, after we moved from Canada to Alabama, I began taking ballet lessons. But I couldn't hack it. I was too lanky."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Beatrice said. "I like you just the way you are."
"You are so kind to me. You were pretty cool about it, when I felt against you."
"What was I supposed to do?" Beatrice said. "There we were, piled on top of each other on the sidewalk. Your face was pressed to mine. I kissed you. I thought that was the most appropriate thing to do at the time."
"That's when I realized that I "wanted to make love to you," the brunette sighed.
"I know. That's why we're here in bed together. But what I'm wondering, is when are we going to get it on. I'm a little sick of chewing the fat with you-no offense. But I would so much like to be making love with you."
"I agree," the attractive young woman said. "Kiss me. I'm ready for you."
The blonde smiled, and brought her lips slowly, tenderly, to Cora's mouth. There was no hesitation this time. The brunette gave herself completely to the attractive young blonde. They kissed passionately. Their tongues worked slowly, continuously, back and forth over each other's tongue. Cora rolled over on her back. She became passive. She wanted to be made love to. She wanted to forget all about good and evil, and what sex she actually was. She just wanted to make love-to climax, again, and again.
The lovely blonde moved her mouth slowly to Cora's breast. She ran her tongue tenderly over the lanky woman's breast, and then concentrated on the nipple. She took the pink nipple into her mouth, and sucked at it. Cora moaned, and ran her fingers sensuously over the blonde's firm breasts.
"You make me feel so good," Cora moaned. "I just can't believe what a wonderful lover you are. You're so considerate."
"I want to make you feel good,"-Beatrice sighed. "I care a great deal about you. I want to feel our bodies, souls and minds join together. Can you dig it?"
"Yes, I can dig it," Cora said. "I can dig it a lot."
They ceased their chatter. They got into love making.
The only sounds that came past their beautiful lips, was the sound of their passion.
The stunning blonde pressed her body fully on top of the brunette. She moved between Cora's thighs, as if she were a man, and Cora was the woman she was about to enter.
The lovely brunette moaned with passion as Beatrice worked her succulent, hot, moistened pussy rhythmically against Cora's brown pube-covered cunt.
Their clits touched in a swollen embrace. They groaned, as they sensed the pending orgasms.
Beatrice sucked wildly, hotly, at Cora's mouth. And then she moved her lips to the brunette's ear. She licked the rim of the ear, and then plunged the tip of her tongue into the aural canal. The woman groaned with delight at Beatrice's tongue worked about on her ear.
Slowly, the blonde moved her mouth down to the breasts again. She massaged them sensuously, and then passionately, working her groin about against the woman's vagina.
Cora was burning up with passion. She pumped her cunt up against the blonde's body, hungry to have the mouth on her pussy.
"Go down on me," Cora sighed. "Make me come."
"With pleasure," Beatrice sighed, as she moved her mouth slowly, snake-like, down over the brunette's voluptuous body, down to the mound of venus. She pulled tenderly at Cora's cunt hair, as she spread the woman's vaginal lips apart, staring into the hot sex furnace.
Cora spread her legs widely apart. She was ready to feel the woman's mouth deliver a stunning orgasm.
She was ready for anything and everything. She simply wanted to give herself up to her passion. That's all she essentially wanted from life at that moment. All her fears were forgotten, all her phobias, all the things that plagued her mind.
She was ready for orgasm.-Beatrice crouched tightly between the brunette's thighs. She licked the vaginal mound, and then concentrated the movement of her tongue over the inner pussy lips, and then the hole, and only after sufficiently teasing the horny woman, the clitoris would be expertly licked, sucked, and pulled at between restrained teeth.
"Oh, God in heaven, thank you," Cora sighed, as Beatrice's tongue slid down into her passion pit. "This is wonderful. I can't remember such pleasure ever in my life."
The blonde didn't reply-not with words, anyway. She continued to move her tongue slowly, tenderly over the hardened clit bump. The brunette responded by thrusting her cunt up against the blonde's mouth.
They were both groaning with pleasure. Tiny droplets of perspiration beaded on Cora's brow. Her hands moved to her own breasts, which she caressed tenderly, while the blonde moved her tongue slowly, expertly, over the hardened clit meat.
The young woman on her back, wrapped her legs tightly around Beatrice, pulling her mouth firmly up against her vagina. The brunette's clitoris was practically spastic as the orgasm began to focus.
Beatrice glanced up at Cora's face, now and then, while sucking at the clitoris, to find that the brunette was burning up with passion. She was on the verge of coming. She ran her hands over Cora's thighs and ass, and gently probed the brunette's behind with her little finger, while Cora began to come.
The blonde could see and feel it coming. The attractive brunette dropped her mouth open. She groaned with hot passion. Her entire body seemed on the verge of something awesome.
Beatrice began to suck more slowly. She toyed with the firm clit button in her mouth. She prolonged the long moment of ecstasy. Beatrice could see in her newly discovered lover's face, that it was indeed a moment of supreme sexual exaltation.
The brunette took her nipples tenderly between her finger tips, rolling the sensitive pap back and forth between her fingers. She could feel the orgasm come into focus. She knew that it would only be a question of a few moments. And then the orgasm would flower like a lotus blossom.
Beatrice forced two fingers deeply into Cora's vagina, and one up her ass, and she sucked passionately at the brunette's clit. Cora screamed with passion. From head to toe her body shook with absolute delight. The pleasure was memorable, and remarkable.
"Oh, yes, my lovely friend," Cora groaned, "you make me come. You make me feel so well, You are much too good to me. Much too good."
Beatrice continued to work her digits in and out of the woman's orifices, while toying with her clit, between her lips, and teeth. The tip of her tongue never moved from the apex of the .brunette's clit. The orgasm was nearly perfect as it burst from the small organ, filling her groin completely with hot flashes of pleasure.
From head to toe the young woman's body trembled with delight. The hair on her head practically stood on end.
Beatrice continued to suck on the brunette's clit, until Cora could stand no more.
"Oh, my God," Cora moaned, "enough. I can't take it any more. It's too good."
"I understand exactly what you mean," Beatrice sighed, as she lifted her moistened mouth from the brunette's satisfied slash.
"Men can't understand that, can they?" Cora said.
"That's why I try to have as little to do as possible with them. Men are simply no good."
"I know what you mean."
"Do you? Can it be that you are truly the perfect lesbian lover I have been looking for all my life?"
"I don't know," Cora said. "I'm still not a pro, yet."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Beatrice smiled. "Didn't it feel nice the way I sucked you off?"
"It sure did," Cora smiled. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed sex so much before."
"I think I know what you mean," she said. "I think you'll find in your experiences in life, that no man could ever please you as much as a woman."
"I can believe that," Cora said. "Oh, Beatrice, I do so much want to be a good lover to you. Tell me what you want me to do. I want to repay you for the pleasure you have given me."
"It's no big deal," the blonde smiled. "I gave you that pleasure because I like you. I like you a lot. I know it might sound stupid, and maybe insane, and I do have a history of major flip-outs, but I think I love you."
"We just met. Love takes a lifetime."
"I knew you would say that."
"I like you a lot. I think I love you. I'm just not ready to surrender to you, yet. Everyone wants me to surrender these days. I wonder how it got to be a war."
"Who else wants you to surrender?"
"Baba and Meyer Suisse."
"Meyer Suisse?"
"That's a code name Stefan uses sometimes.
He's sort of childish. You know how little kids like to make up names?"
"Yeah. I have a name like that, too."
"You do?"
"Yes, Dilly May Sobbers."
"That's crazy."
"And do you think Meyer Suisse is normal?"
"Well, Suisse does mean sweet in German. And he is sort of sweet, even if he is a warlock."
"Well, Dilly May Sobbers means just plain old Dilly May Sobbers."
"I take it you don't want me to talk about my other friends?"
"Not those evil ones," Beatrice said.
"I told you he isn't evil. Why, he's no more evil than Christ."
"Tell me about a normal friend you have."
"I don't know what normal means anymore. But there is Chubbs."
"Chubbs?"
"He's my hamster. That's him over there in the aquarium."
"A hamster in an aquarium-that really takes the cake."
"No, he eats lettuce and carrots."
"Enough. Eat me."
"That was rather blunt." . "You make me nervous with your silly talk," the woman said. "I would much prefer to simply have you suck on my vagina."
"I can understand that," Cora said. "I can really babble on at times."
"Babble on my cunt, honey, and get me off," Beatrice sighed, as she rolled over, and spread her legs widely apart. Cora looked down at the lovely blonde's body with admiration.
She ran her hand slowly, tenderly over the woman's body. She caressed the small, creamy smooth breasts, feeling them grow warm, and firm. The pinkened nipples grew taut, like rubber baby bottle nipples.
Cora took these firm paps in her mouth, one at a time, and then slowly worked her way down to the woman's blonde pube-covered slash. She spread the pussy lips apart, and ran her tongue slowly, sensuously, lovingly, over the sweet smelling vagina.
She pressed her tongue slowly into the crack. She moved her tongue slowly along Beatrice's crimson colored inner pussy lips. The attractive blonde spread her legs widely, and gyrated her pelvis gently, like a modern dancer, as she moved her pussy against the woman's mouth.
"You are quite a lover," the blonde sighed. "Even better than I expected."
Cora didn't reply. She moved her mouth firmly about the delightful organ, using her tongue to tease the blonde, the way Beatrice had done to her.
She could feel the tension build nearly to the point of explosion in her pussy. Her clit pulsated wildly.
She pumped, and then rolled the brunette over on her back. She was then sitting on Cora's face.
The brunette didn't panic. She continued to suck on Beatrice's vagina, tasting the hot juices, smelling the organic perfume that wafted from the crevice of passion and delight.
The brunette was doing a splendid job of it. To show, her appreciation, the blonde leaned forward over the brunette's pussy, and blew warm air over the still sensitive tissue, while she worked her pussy about on Cora's face.
"Oh, yes," the blonde began to sigh, "I think I'm going to come."
Cora sucked hard, and passionately. She ran her tongue about in Beatrice's cunt hole, and then concentrated on the blood engorged clitoris. She worked the magic meat wedge about in her mouth, pulling at it, nipping at it with her teeth. They were both groaning in unison. They were both burning up with passion.
Cora reached up and rested her hands on the blonde's breasts. She caressed them tenderly. As she waited for the exquisite woman to come.
"Yes," the blonde groaned, "It's happening. I'm coming."
Cora could feel it as well. She felt the tension pounding in the blonde's clit. The clit meat was pulsating in her mouth. She moved her lips about on it, and felt it tremble, and then throb.
Beatrice screamed with unchained passion. It practically frightened Cora, listening to the loud moans, as she worked her mouth about on the sex organ.
"You are just so good to me," the blonde sighed, rolling off Cora. "I'm so glad we've found each other. It feels just like the real thing."
"You mean you love me?" Cora asked, licking the blonde's cunt juice off her lips.
"I'm not sure if I know what that is," the blonde said. "All I know is that it feels good. It feels really good to be with you."
"I feel exactly the same way about it," Cora said. "I feel terribly close to you. I think I love you. But maybe it's just an illusion, like good and evil-and the devil."
"Why do you always have to bring the devil up, when we're talking about sex?"
"Gee, I never saw it that way," Cora said. "I don't think sex is bad. That's for sure. In fact, I think it's pretty wonderful."
"Then what sort of conflict is going on in your head?" the blonde asked. "You can feel it, eh?"
"It's rather apparent."
"I don't know how to explain it," she said. "I suppose it has something to do with Baba and Stefan."
"You mean Meyer Suisse?"
"The same person."
"Okay, Cora," Beatrice said. "I can dig where you're at. I have a strange feeling that being associated with you is going to be like a ride on a crazy, cosmic merry-go-round. But I care about you, and I'm willing to help you get over this thing."
"That's wonderful," Cora said. "Does that mean that you'll go with me to the Goat's Head Inn, and see for yourself that I wasn't making all of this up?"
"Yes," the blonde said. "But only if you promise to keep in mind that I'm your lover-you belong to me."
"I accept that," Cora said. "Don't forget, I like you plenty."
"I won't forget," the blonde smiled. "That's the reason we're together. The feeling is quite mutual."
"Sort of like mutual fun?"
"Is that meant to be one of your jokes?"
"No," Cora said. "Will you come with me?"
"Yes," she replied.
CHAPTER TWO
In the cab down to Soho, Cora was nervous, and Beatrice was bored.
"I don't know how I constantly get sucked into these weird situations," Beatrice lamented.
"You mean you've been through this before?"
"Not exactly this trip," the blonde said. "It's always been something, though. It seems that with every chick I fall for, there is some heavy number that goes with it."
"Gee, now I feel guilty," Cora said. "I feel as though I'm sucking you into a trip that you might not want to be sucked into."
"Mostly, I would just like to suck on your pussy, and have you suck on mine."
"I would like that, too," Cora said. "It's just that I'm sort of involved in this weird trip with Baba and Stefan. I'm not sure it's such a bad trip, either. I'm completely confused about it all. I'm just totally confused."
"I can definitely dig it," she said. "It all sounds like a load of horseshit to me. Tell me a little about these people, before we get there."
"Well, Stefan is this really strange guy. I mean, he's handsome, and his intentions seem noble, but there's something about him that's strange."
"Give me an example."
"Well, for one thing, he has cat eyes."
"Really?"
"Well, they look like cat eyes. He has this intense look about it. Sometimes, I feel as though I see evil in his eyes. But I think that's me. It's as though he is a mirror for me. Perhaps for everyone. He just doesn't seem quite like a human being.""
"Meaning what?" the skeptical blonde sighed.
"Meaning that he might really be a warlock, a magician, a sorcerer."
"Well, I simply don't believe in that kind of stuff. Tell me about the other one-the woman."
"Baba seems to be. really evil to me. She's the one who is a real witch, a bride of the devil itself."
"Sure."
"No, really. Sometimes her hair is red, and sometimes it is raven-black."
"She does it?"
"No, it just changes-right before your eyes."
"Give me a break."
"I knew you wouldn't believe any of this. That's why I wanted you to come along with me. I wanted you to see it for yourself."
"I'll keep an open mind." she said, "but you should be aware that I think all of this is just a bunch of psychotic drivel. Remember, I spent time at Bellevue. I know what's happening."
"Let's not talk about it anymore. You just look around, meet Stefan and Baba, and tell me what you think."
"You can be sure of that."
After the cab had unloaded the two attractive women in front of the Goat's Head Inn, Beatrice did feel rather strange about the place. There was a premonition of strange things to come. The hot red lights inside the bar beckoned, as if she were being pulled into Hades itself.
Cora turned and looked strangely at Beatrice. "Are you afraid?"
"No, I'm not afraid. I'm just not sure that I want to be wasting my time like this."
"Don't worry about it," Cora said. "Just come in. It will be fun. It's not quite ten o'clock. The bar's not too crowded yet."
The blonde walked hesitatingly into the bar, with Cora.
The place did seem rather satanic, the blonde decided. She looked about. The walls were covered in red velvet. There were whips and other items of sexual abuse and bondage hanging from the wall. The lamps on the tables were human skulls, with candles sitting atop, dripping red wax down over the craniums.
"This place gives me the willies," Beatrice said, standing close to Cora.
"Do you understand what I mean, now?" the brunette said.
"I don't think it's for real. Don't get me wrong. I just think that these people have gone to a lot of trouble to make it seem real."
Beatrice looked about the bar. Everyone inside seemed to be dressed in black and red. Many of the people wore strange silver icons.
"That's Baba and Stefan over there," Cora said.
Beatrice looked over to where the two stood.
The blonde was beginning to understand some of what the brunette had tried to explain.
"They are weird. That's for sure."
Beatrice studied them both, carefully. The woman, Baba, did indeed have an evil look about her. Her hair was red, for the time being. Her body was slim, and sensuous. She looked to be about thirty. Yet there was a sense of timelessness about her.
The witch had numerous silver bangles, icons, and other items dangling from all over her.
"You are right about one thing," Beatrice said.
"What's that?"
"She's definitely an evil one." ."See!"
"An evil human being, honey. What's her sexual preference?"
"I think she's strictly a lesbian. She doesn't seem to relate well to men. I think she's really afraid of them."
"I might enjoy a little sexual unity with her," Beatrice said. "It might be nice to have an evil fuck."
"See, I told you something would happen to you if you came here. And you haven't seen anything yet."
"Yeah, yeah."
"What do you think of Stefan?"
"I think he's cute," Beatrice smiled. "If I wasn't a lesbian, I might enjoy him."
"See, he does have an effect, even on you."
"It's just that even from across the room, I can pick up a gentle vibe from him. There is something very wholesome, and nice about him."
"Wait until you meet him."
"It seems that that is what is just about to happen," Beatrice said, as she noticed Baba and Stefan approach from across the room. Stefan had a smile on his face; Baba wore a frown.
The two approached.
"Hello, Cora," the redheaded witch smiled, studying both women's bodies, simultaneously.
"Hello, Baba," the brunette said. "This is my friend, Beatrice."
"Nice to meet you, I'm sure," the witch smiled, staring at Beatrice's breasts.
"I'm Stefan," the handsome, bearded, cat-eyed young man stepped forward. He was also dressed in black, but the blonde had an unmistakable impression that he was an infinitely good person-almost Godly. Beatrice wondered what a man like him was doing with a woman like Baba.
"Pleased to meet you," the blonde extended her hand. Stefan took it, and slowly brought his lips to her hand. He kissed the hand tenderly. The whiskers tickled, Beatrice thought.
"It was very thoughtful of you to bring along such an attractive friend," the witch smiled. "I suppose you'll both be wanting to come down into the dark Caverns of Babylon at midnight?"
"I thought Beatrice would enjoy that."
"Yes, she just might," Baba smiled, wickedly.
"Tell me," Stefan said to Beatrice, "have you been exposed to what lies beyond, yet?"
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"I mean, are you aware of the forces of good and evil at work in your life?"
"So, it was from you that Cora picked up all that mumbo jumbo about good and evil?"
"It's hardly mumbo jumbo," Stefan smiled, "as you will see, if you have the courage."
"I'm not afraid of such silly illusions."
"You look familiar," Stefan said to Beatrice. "Have I met you before?"
"No. I'm sure I would have remembered you, if we had."
"Yes, I suppose so," he smiled. "I'm funny with names and faces. Sometimes I run into people I know quite well, intimately. And it's as though I never saw them before in my life. I get confused about things."
"Yes," Beatrice smiled. "I'm sure of that."
She noticed a rather large bulge in his groin. She wasn't entirely put off by it. There was something about this man which didn't intimidate her. For some strange reason, she could not fully comprehend, she felt a strong attraction towards him.
Without her having noticed, Cora and Baba had wandered off into a corner of the bar. Beatrice was left standing alone with Stefan. .
"You are very beautiful," he smiled. "I suppose you've heard that before?"
"A few times."
"And you are a lesbian?"
"I'm surprised you guessed that. I don't look like a dyke, do I?"
"No. But I sense it. You aren't threatened by me, though, are you?"
"No, not at all. That's rather strange."
"Yes," he smiled. "But I can feel it."
"Just like that?"
"There's much about life that doesn't meet the eye."
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" she said. "No, go ahead."
"It's rather obvious to me that Baba is an evil woman. But you don't seem evil. In fact, I pick up rather nice vibes from you."
"I'm not really evil," he smiled. "In fact, I like to think of myself as a good person."
"Then why are you here?"
"I'm here because Baba is evil."
"I don't understand," Beatrice said.
"I must counterbalance what she is," he said. "She is evil incarnate. And I am her opposite. I must stick close by her, in order to negate her evil."
"I see," the blonde said. "That's sort of like algebra, right? Like plus one and minus one equal zero."
"You catch on pretty quick," he smiled. "I know you are a lesbian and all that, but you don't mind me telling you that I think you are absolutely beautiful, do you?"
"No, I like that, in fact."
"Would it blow your mind if I told you that I wanted to make love with you?"
"It does and it doesn't," she said, quite candidly. "You see, I am also aware of an attraction to you. I just don't know what to make of it."
"Why don't you make me?"
"I'm frightened of cock," she said. "I'm afraid I might lose my head, and like it. Then I wouldn't be gay any longer. I'm scared shitless to give up my identity as a lesbian. What would I be then?"
"It would be absurd for you to merely continue on as a lesbian, just because you were afraid not to be one."
"I know that sounds logical. But I'm so confused."
"Bartender," Stefan called out to the black frocked man behind the bar, who wore an absolutely satanic looking pointed beard, "two Bloody Marys."
"How did you know that's what I drank?"
"A lucky guess."
"I don't know about you," she said. "You are too weird for me to figure."
"Trust me. I know I must seem a little bit eccentric to you, but I'm essentially a very good person. You have to trust that."
"I'll try," she said.
"A toast?" he said, holding his glass aloft. "What should we drink to?" she asked. "Let's drink to the struggle of good against evil?"
"More of that?"
"There's no escaping it," he said.
The attractive blonde raised her glass to his, clicked, and then drank.
The two made small talk for longer than they realized. Beatrice continued to relax, feeling closer and closer to the handsome young bearded man. They inched closer and closer together as they talked. His green, cat eyes were focused on her orbs.
There was a tacit understanding between them-a sexual awareness of each other.
"You know," Beatrice finally felt close enough to the man who called himself Meyer Suisse, to tell him the truth, "I think you are really cute. I really wouldn't mind making love with you."
"I'm glad," he said, putting his hand on hers. "I, too, would welcome the opportunity to hold your naked body close to mine, to kiss you, and suck you, and make splendid love to you."
"Your words warm me, turn me on. I am ready, willing and able."
Their conversation was cut short as Baba and Cora walked across the bar to their side.
"So, have you to been getting acquainted?" Baba asked, as she stood with her arm around the young woman's shoulders.
"Take your hands off her," Beatrice grew angry.
"Now, now," Baba smiled, not moving her hand from the brunette's shoulder, "do I sense a little lesbian jealousy?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what you should be sensing," the woman said. "She. belongs to me."
"No one belongs to anyone," the wicked witch smiled. "Only the devil himself can claim such ownership."
"And God," Stefan said.
"I wouldn't know about that," the wicked one said.
"Don't provoke my new friend," Stefan said. "I like Beatrice. I like her a lot."
"Now I'm feeling jealous," Cora said.
"We can all feel jealous about many things, if we choose to," the warlock said.
The clock struck twelve.
"It's now time," Baba said.
"Do we have to?" Stefan said.
"I'm going anyway," Baba said.
"Then I have to go," he said. "I can't leave you down there alone. You might get into too much evil."
"You know me quite well," the witch said.
"I want to see these Caverns of Babylon," Beatrice said.
"Very well," Stefan said. "Then I guess it's time."
The four of them moved slowly towards what appeared to be a blank wall.
A line of other bar attendees, formed behind the foursome. They were men and women, mostly dressed in black, and wearing the strange silver icons.
Baba moved a panel of the wall aside. There was a push button electronic combination lock set in the wall.
The witch pressed the buttons, and the door slid open. Sulphur smoke spilled from the opening in the wall. Strange odors rose from the opened wall. Baba, her arm still around the attractive brunette, walked slowly down the stairs, into the depths of the Caverns of Babylon.
Stefan and Beatrice followed. And then the others.
They walked down a spiral, winding staircase, into the midst of the yellow sulphur smoke.
Hot red lights were shining everywhere. Beatrice felt strange. It was no longer like an illusion-it seemed like the real thing.
"I don't know about this," the blonde said to Meyer Suisse. "This really does seem like an evil place."
"It is," he said. "I wasn't kidding."
"You mean the devil is real?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to be in here. I want out."
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll protect you."
"You really are into white magic, aren't you?"
"I try to, but I have my impurities as well."
"Stick close by. This place really does give me the shakes."
They all continued to walk down into the hot, steamy, smelly depths of the converted sewers of New York.
Steam was coming up from the hot, frightening depths.
"Is there really a devil?" Beatrice asked.
"Yes."
"Will he appear to us?"
"That's all a myth," he said. "He's a concept, a vibration. He is here, in the Caverns of Babylon."
The attractive, lesbian, blonde, took Stefan's hand in hers, and squeezed it tightly.
She saw Baba ahead, with her arm around Cora. It didn't bother her, not for the time being. She felt much safer with Stefan.
"What will happen?" Beatrice asked.
"I don't know," he said. "It's never the same twice. It's always different. It's difficult to know how it will be today."
They reached the bottom of the spiraling stairs. The odor of sulphur was everywhere. Smoke rose. There was brackish, moldy water in the bottom of the no longer used sewer tubes.
Beatrice felt certain that she saw movement in the water.
"Oh, my God," she said, "what was that?"
They both looked around in the murky water.
"An alligator," he said.
"Alligator?"
"Yes," Stefan said, "you know those stories about people flushing baby alligators imported from Florida down their toilets?"
"You mean it's true-they really live on?"
"Yes. And they grow, feasting on human excrement, rats, and other edibles that people flush down their toilets."
Beatrice felt horrified, as she stepped towards the edge of the water, and saw the shadows of long, white, human shit encrusted alligators, moving beneath the shallow, murky depths.
"That's hideous," she said, as she moved to his side, and held him tightly. "I want to leave."
"You're safe with me," Meyer Suisse said. He held her tightly to her, and moved his lips to her mouth.
"You are so beautiful," he said. "I want to make love to you."
"Here and now?" she asked incredulously.
"That is what goes on here," the man said. "Look around you."
The attractive blonde did just that. She was astounded to see that most of the men and women had undressed, and were kissing, and fondling each other's naked bodies.
It was hot down in the caverns. The bodies were sweating, glistening under the reflection of the hot, red lights.
"It's disgusting," she said. "This is like being in hell."
"That's the general idea," he smiled.
Beatrice looked down upon the glistening, lustful bodies, as mouths moved over cocks, and pussies. There were men fucking women in the cunt, mouth, and asshole. And there were women going down on each other.
The blonde was horrified as she saw Cora, her lover, naked, and in the arms of Baba. Baba's hair was black now. She looked lovely, sexual, intense.
"Don't be jealous," Stefan pulled her tightly to his side.
"But I just met Cora, and Baba is stealing her away from me," Beatrice complained.
"Don't worry," the good-natured warlock smiled. "Baba will lose interest quickly enough."
"I would like to tear her hair out," Beatrice said, bitterly.
"Don't let it bother you."
The blonde looked around and saw men and women bowing down before a black five-pointed star, affixed to the wall. They were invoking the devil.
"This place is vile and evil, I fear," Beatrice said.
"Don't worry about it, my darling," he said.
"Just take off your clothes. Let's get it on."
"I'm not sure I want to get it on, with a man," she said.
"I'm not just any man," he smiled. "I'm Meyer Suisse."
"I have a pet name, too, you know?"
"No, I didn't," he said. "I love names-though I tend to forget them. What is it?"
"Dilly May Sobbers."
"What?"
"Dilly May Sobbers."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"I don't think so," she said. "I just like the sound of it."
"You're as nuts as I am, you know that?" Stefan said, as he began to undress.
"I guess we're all just a bit nuts," Beatrice smiled, and unzipped her skirt down the side.
Soon, the two of them were standing naked before each other. Stefan's cock was erect, large, red, and poised for action.
"You have a nice stick," she said.
"And you have a lovely body," Stefan said, above the moans of the copulating devil worshippers. "Your breasts are so creamy smooth. Your nipples invite my tender kisses."
"I'm not used to a man talking to me this way," she said. "It sort of spins my head about."
"Don't let it worry you," he said. "I will be most kind and loving to you, and your body. Perhaps you'll change your mind about men."
The woman felt comfortable standing naked before Stefan. She liked the looks of his body. She liked the size of his organ. She wanted to feel it between her legs-and in other, more curious places.
They moved slowly together. Somehow the sounds of the devil worshippers, and the alligators splashing about in the slime, was overcome. Neither the warlock, nor the blonde lovely were aware of the sounds. They could have been floating on a cloud in heaven, for all it mattered.
Stefan moved his hand gingerly over Beatrice's mound of blonde pubic hair, probing her cunt opening, as he kissed her, and moved his hand over her breast. He squeezed her mammary lovingly, moving his mouth from breast to breast, sucking at her paps.
He moved his stiffened organ between her hot, creamy smooth thighs. He lifted the meat stick up against her moistened opening.
"I had no idea a cock could feel so good," she moaned.
"I told you it would be different," he said.
"All I know is that when I leave here," Beatrice said, "I'm going to be very confused. I'm not going to know whether it's true or not. I'm going to think it's all just an illusion."
"It is," he said. "Everything on the material plane is an illusion. It's a mirror image of what truly exists."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"Meaning that though we're here, in the depths of hell, symbolically, we are actually, again symbolically, in heaven."
"That's all much too confusing for me to digest," she said. "But when I go to work in the morning, I know that I'm going to be mighty confused. So much has happened to me today, I just don't know what to make of it."
"I suppose working in an office can be a drag," he said, "after experiencing interesting things like this."
"Let's not talk right now," Beatrice sighed. "I want you to fuck me, Stefan. I can't believe it, but I really want you to shove your cock in my cunt. I just don't know what's come over me.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "Everything will just flow along."
He knelt beside her, and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. They were lying on the sulfur smoke warmed rocks. It was comfortable in a strange sort of way, the blonde thought.
She rolled over on her back, and spread her legs widely apart. The lovely woman was ready for cock.
With a look of great expectations, coupled with a dash of dismay, the blonde spread her legs for Stefan.
He crept between her thighs, and pressed his organ slowly into the moistened crack.
"Oh, Stefan," she groaned, "It feels so nice. Come into me. Fill me with your cock."
He moved his organ slowly into her pussy.
She was amazed that it happened so easily. His cock slid slowly but surely into the depths of her beautiful vagina.
She wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling his organ deeply inside her vagina.
"Oh, yes," she groaned, "It does feel good. It feels very good."
They were pumping hard now. Their bodies pulsated with hot passion. His cock was all the way inside her cunt.
Stefan's mouth moved over her breast. He sucked at her pap, and then moved his mouth to her other nipple.
"Yes, yes, yes," she groaned, "It does turn me on. In the midst of all this evil, I feel so close to you."
"I feel the same way," he said, as he moved his erection slowly in and out of her tightened, moistened, cunt.
"I'm going to come," she sighed. "I just can't believe that it feels so good. With your cock in my cunt."
"Yeah, it's sort of nice, eh?"
"It's more than nice," she groaned, as she pressed her pelvis up against him, and bit him on the lip, nearly drawing blood, "It's exquisite. For this brief moment in time and space, I am aware of pleasure from a man. It's a nice feeling."
The woman began to come.
She writhed, bucked, and sighed with increasing passion, as the warlock's cock pumped powerfully in and out of her cunt.
"God," she screamed, "I can't take it."
"Sure you can," he said, as he worked his organ continuously in and out of her pussy, feeling the firm clit throb against his cock, as he pressed in and out of her.
The woman screamed, her loud moans of pleasure mingling with the passionate cries of the devil worshippers, who fucked madly in the subterranean depths of New York.
"This is all so sick," she cried out. "I can't stand it."
"Sure you can," he said, riding her high now, rubbing up against her clitoris.
When, at last, the climax had run its course, Stefan pulled his stiff rod from her slit.
"Have you come?"
"You would have felt it if I had," he said. "No, I'm saving that for now."
"What do you mean?"
"Roll over, my lovely friend," he said, turning the woman over on her belly. "What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to bugger you."
"The hell you are!"
"To fuck is nice, but to bugger is divine. Give it a chance."
"I certainly can't imagine it feeling good," she said.
"Frig yourself while I enter your behind," he said.
"Satan, take my soul," she heard someone chanting. It gave her the creeps to hear such talk.
"Don't be nervous," Stefan said. "Need I remind you that you are being protected by my presence. It will be even more effective if you let me press my tool up your ass."
"Very well," she shivered with fear. "You've talked me into it."
"Thank you," he said, as he spread her lovely ass cheeks apart, and pressed the head of his organ slowly up against her tightened asshole.
She tried to pull away with fear.
But Stefan was too fast for her. He entered the outer area of her rectum. He felt the resistance of the anal sphincter, but he pressed on, anyway.
He wanted her. He wanted her terribly.
The warlock shoved his cock slowly up her ass. When he was all the way in, he helped the gorgeous blonde up upon her knees.
Reaching beneath her, he began to toy with her firm clitoris, while his organ worked in and out of the tightened asshole.
"Oh, yes," she groaned, "it does feel good. It feels real good."
"I knew you would like it," he said, as he continued to frig her, moving his organ in and out of her ass.
"Oh, Lord," she sighed, "I do like it. I think I'm going to come."
"Me as well."
"Oh, Stefan," she groaned, "I don't know if this is a dream, or what. But it feels so very nice to have your cock in my ass. I think I'm going to come. I think I'm going to...."
She couldn't finish.
Her body shook with delight as the orgasm swept through her.
Both of their moans of high pleasure, mingled with the sounds of satanic perversion.
They were all sexually obsessed. Beatrice was totally confused.
Yet, despite the confusion, her fear, and the sense of evil that hung about her, she was ready to feel Meyer Suisse's spunk shoot into her ass. She continued to orgasm softly, working her body sensuously against the firm cock stick, feeling it plunge deeply into her ass.
She worked her hips about, pumping her ass back down firmly on Stefan's organ.
"Yes, baby," he groaned hotly, pumping, sweating, ready to shoot And then he did shoot. His hot come went shooting deeply into her ass. He groaned and pumped spasmodically, as the organ thundered in her ass, and his hot load went shooting deeply into her rectum.
The pleasure was intense.
"Oh, Stefan" Beatrice sighed, "that was something special."
"Sometimes, many special things happen to us."
He pulled his limpening fuck stick from the gorgeous woman's behind.
Beatrice sat up, feeling the warm spunk trickle from both her pussy and anus. She looked about the Caverns. She still couldn't believe the things that were going on. It seemed so sick, so perverted, so evil.
Young comely women were bowing down before inscriptions in the wall-symbols of Satan, and devil worship.
Young women were making love with each other. Men were fucking women in the mouth, cunt, and asshole.
The caverns echoed with the hot sounds of satanic orgasm.
Beatrice glanced down upon the rocks, near the water, where the alligators wallowed in the filthy water, as if waiting for someone to fall, accidentally into the water, to be gobbled up.
Jaws were snapping. The sight of the human shit encrusted reptiles, wallowing in shit and piss was disgusting to Beatrice. She was a woman of refined tastes, at least she liked to think so. She knew, with her history of serious mental flip-outs, and stopovers at Bellevue, that all of this could be an hallucination.
That realization troubled her. She didn't even want to think about that.
She glanced down at two female bodies moving together in sexual rhythm down on the rocks.
Looking closer, she realized that it was Cora and Baba.
She was angry. She felt the blood boil in her veins.
As if reading her mind, Stefan reached over and grabbed the lovely blonde by the arm. "Just calm down," he said. "There's nothing you can do about it. Just accept it. Baba won't keep her. That's not her style. She just wants to enjoy your friend.
But it was difficult for Beatrice to accept that. She shook with anger as she watched Cora crouched between the now redheaded witch.
Beatrice was raging with furious anger. "I can't stand this. I'll kill her."
"Isn't that rather hypocritical?" he said. . "Why?"
"We just made love. Why shouldn't Cora make love with Baba?"
"That's different," the blonde said, still red in the face with anger.-'You and I were just messing around. You're not evil-at least you say you aren't."
"I'm not evil."
"But she is. And she might try to put a spell on Cora. She might try to make a sex slave out of her."
"I'll look out for her, don't you worry."
Beatrice wasn't listening. She saw the two women writhing, orgasmic, howling like a couple of copulating wolves.
It made the young blonde furious.
"I don't think I ever want to come back here again," Beatrice said. "And I don't want Cora here, either."
"Fine, that can be arranged," Stefan said.
"How?"
"I'll just simply spin a myth that will change all that."
"What?"
"For you and Cora, after you leave here, it will seem like a dream. Oh, you might remember aspects, but it will seem more like a dream, than a reality.
"It will be as if it had never happened," the white warlock said. N
"I don't know how you can do such things," she turned to look into his cat eyes. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"
"I wish I knew."
"You don't know who you are?"
"Do any of us?"
"Sure. I know who I am."
"Do you really?" he said, with an ironic smile on his face.
"You scare me, you know that?"
"I know I do," he said. "But there's no reason for you to be scared. It's all in your imagination."
"J think I want to get out of here."
"Just a little longer."
"Why the wait?"
"It is best to leave at three in the morning. It is a good time."
"What is that-more hocus pocus?"
"No," he smiled. "Don't you worry about a thing. It will all seem like nothing. You'll go to work in the morning, perhaps feeling a bit confused by all of this, but it won't trouble you. It will vanish into the memories of your subconscious mind."
"If you say so."
"You're a strange one," she said. "Tell me," Stefan said, "would you like to meet me in Central Park sometime? We can climb trees."
"I was never the Tom-boy type," the attractive blonde sighed. "I really don't think I could get into it."
"That's a shame," Stefan smiled. "But I understand. There's something about tree climbing that doesn't appeal to a lot of people. But it certainly is something that we should never have stopped doing, after we grew up."
"I never climbed trees."
"I see," he said.
CHAPTER THREE
Bea left the office the next day, confused. She wanted a drink and a good fuck. With a stranger. She went to an old cookery where she used to work and looked around. A few of the same old regulars. No strangers. Only fat bodies. She moved on, aimless and driven at the same time. Lust was going to be her downfall as well as her profession. She finally bumped into an acquaintance who dragged her off to a gay bar. Cora was there. It was inevitable. There was no sense in running from it, they were meant to be together, tonight.
"Hi, didn't expect you, so soon anyway."
"Me neither. As a matter-of-fact, you're the last person I would have said I wanted to see, if I'd been given the choice."
"That could be taken as an insult. I won't .though. What would you like?"
"A great fuck. Two hours of sex a day for the next month."
"You already look to be in great shape, you'd be incredible, then."
"I feel doomed. Do you want to join me?"
"I'd like to. But I'm here to meet someone. The leader, you know, of the group that I mentioned."
"Oh, yeah? Meyer Suisse? Your namesake."
"Go to the devil! I only said it as a ploy to see if you'd react to the name."
"You'd better tell me what's going on."
"In my life? In my life with the group? In the group's life? In life?"
"The group. There's all the time in the world for your life and my listening to you about your life. This group business sounds urgent though."
"Meyer Suisse is the leader. He has helped me a lot. I was in this predicament where I had to find genitals for baby triplets and he gave me a whole series of rituals, and spelled me around town and I confessed to him every night for eight nights, before the full moon."
"He's a powerful man and as far as I can gather he has a huge following of believers. All would be Satans."
"Looks like the master is here. Introduce me as Dilly May Sobbers, will you?"
"Good evening ladies."
"Good evening. I hope you had no trouble finding this place?"
"No. But I didn't expect you to be so beautifully accompanied."
"Meyer Suisse, this is Dilly May Dobbers, Meyer Suisse."
"I've heard such a lot about you, Dilly May." Suisse looked into Beatrice's eyes and she felt the bottom go out of her stomach. His eyes were the kind of eyes that appear in dreams, no face, no body, the eyes only. Her spine was rushing and she put her hand to her back to anchor herself to her stool.
While this was going on, Suisse and Cora were locked into their own eyeball embrace. She watched his power delve into Cora's pits and felt him take her over and she got stronger with his strength not with her own. When she spoke her voice was ever so slightly different.
"She and I want to make love. Will you join
"Yes." No trips, no buts, no stipulations, he was straight out. Beatrice knew he was going to be hard to beat.
The three of them left and checked into the Chelsea. The desk clerk was familiar with all three of them and was surprised to see them together. . "One room?"
"With two double beds." Oh, one of those. Some sexual therapy trip. Fuck one and roll over and fuck the other. They all felt what the clerk was thinking as though he had said it out loud.
"It's never what you think it is." Beatrice said it over her shoulder as the three of them walked to the elevator. The silence in the elevator was uncomfortable, each one assessing their reason for being there and wondering if it was the same reason the others were there, too.
"I'm here because I want to be." Cora answered it for herself as if for them all.
"I'm here for need and out of curiosity." Beatrice thought this was closer.
"I'm here because of two beautiful women."
"Who are dykes." Beatrice felt she had to correct him, hold his charm at bay.
He got it and she felt him admire him. He must be used to needy, dumb limpets, she thought to herself. What kind of people would be interested in following some fanatic's idea of what the devil is?
"I have many different kinds of people who follow me." Suisse answered her unspoken question. This was getting uncanny, but not creepy. Yet.
"I believe it." She followed him along the corridor.
The key for some reason didn't fit so Suisse pulled out an ivory one with a skeleton on the top and opened it with that. Nobody spoke and he walked in first, as if into this office. There were no cockroaches, visible. The tap dripped though. Cora went to turn it off and came back, beautiful and lankily naked. Her limbs were even bigger than Beatrice expected and Beatrice felt her nipples and clit harden as she looked at her. Suisse was forgotten for a second but her body sensed him close to her and she thought she could feel his pelvis moving.
They both walked to Cora and took her arm. Beatrice sat down on one bed and held her large round hand in hers and Suisse sat on the other bed and Beatrice could feel his energy streaming through Cora's body from his hand and into her own. It was also a contest of desire. Beatrice almost pulling Cora onto the bed with her and Suisse holding her to take her onto his bed. Beatrice didn't want friction immediately so she granted it to him and kissed Cora's lovely thigh and let go of her hand. Cora, tall and serene but inwardly very nervous, looked down at Beatrice and smiled into her. Her eyes took from her as much as Suisse's gave.
"You're very beautiful and I'm glad I have met you at last." She said it as though she had been searching for a long time. Maybe she had. Minutes last years when you're on the lookout.
"Your eyes are taking my lust. Give me yours so I can feel it. I have enough room inside me, look." Beatrice opened her mouth wide and Cora let her eyes caress the inside of Bea's mouth. It was delicious, the tickle in her throat, reaching deep into her loins. She lifted up her pelvis and squeezed the muscles of her ass. Cora felt this from Beatrice, she didn't see it. Suisse saw it and his ego made him intervene. This was some powerful couple, usually women had only eyes for him whenever he was around. And when he wasn't, they always said they fucked someone else and thought of him. These two women were quite openly not thinking of him. He was jealous and jealousy always made him strive and striving made him impotent. He felt a little doomed.
"Ladies, he-hum. Please turn and look at me." They broke apart and turned reluctantly to look at the warlock leader. He sounded sharp, like a school master. Even the all powerful, whimper.
When he had their attention he began to tell them a story. Beatrice wasn't into it but she listened out of politeness. She was thinking about Cora's thighs.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked her quickly, all he was getting from her was a block.
"Cora's thighs." She said it quietly and closed her eyes. Cora blushed.
"You must concentrate on what I'm saying to you."
"Why, I came here to sleep with this amazing woman and you're asking me to concentrate on some stuff you're talking about. We're paying good money for these beds and I want to use them." Beatrice was irritable. She spent every day being patient with irritable people and she was ready to be real irritable herself. She knew it was cloddish and she wanted to cry. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry. You guys better visit together. I'll take a nap and be presentable in a few minutes. Excuse me." She was asleep in seconds. It was impressive. She literally dropped off. While she was out she dreamt of the other two. They were on the bed and the two of them had huge cat eyes and tiny bodies. They cuddled first and were merry together but it gradually got more and more desperate and they grasped each other and there was sweat and some other stuff like gold dust and he looked like he was strangling her and she was grinning this awful grin and his eyes started to bulge out of his head and then she hiccupped and hiccupped and hiccupped. His cock was short and guppy like but when his gnarled hand put it into her seething cavern she groaned and started to tear out his hair. It was a wig so it came off pretty fast. It wasn't that he was bald it was that he had curly red hair and looked like the offspring of a Viking and Satan. There was glint and she knew that Cora was in his power and that whatever she had intimated to Beatrice was channeled either through him or because of his power over her. Pity, she Vas a power over her. Pity, she was a sweet babe. It wasn't a passionate dream. Beatrice was uncomfortable in her sleep and woke up before she opened her eyes. What was actually happening on the bed beside her wasn't too far away from her dream. Suisse was on top. looking down. Cora was underneath her lips parted in a grin as he humped her. His ass had scratches on it so she'd probably been asleep for awhile. They were certainly involved, their breathing was short and chugging. Then she heard a grunt and a sentence, "God, I wish you were her!" It was him talking, not her.
Beatrice sat up and he saw that she had heard.
"Get over here!" Suisse growled it at her.
"You come over here, if you want me."
The nap had obviously not done much good. Suisse came suddenly with an "Oh no" and a "Oh, oh and a thank you Satan." His face buried in Cora's shoulder and she stroked his red hair and back. Her lips looked very red and for some reason Beatrice thought they were covered in blood. She stared at the two of them and then Suisse slunk out of her arms and sat up and looked at Beatrice. He came over, naked onto her bed and as soon as he touched the bed she saw this handsome, athletic and inviting body that made her pussy quiver in a way it hadn't for years. It was the male quiver, not the lesbian longing for a tickle and a finger. This lust was for strength and logs and gripping muscles with tongues that forced their way into her closed teeth. His hair was flaming and his eyes ate her skin her mouth her entire body.
She wanted him, a huge, plain and bald want for a fresh and wet cock.
The little sausage roll she had seen in her dream was a Sequoia, a tall pine tree that shot endlessly into her netherlands. Lesbian nation the netherlands all those dykes. Dykes are there to curb the flood. Lesbians help the population explosion.
"I have been waiting for you, for years, my dear. I'm glad you finally found me."
"What's my name? You mean it's something different than Dilly May Sobbers?" He giggled and Beatrice couldn't tell if he was really asking.
She subsided into the dizziness and ache of her lusting body. It was wonderful, simply wonderful there was no way around it. There were hairs in her mouth and the prong was in her pussy and she was driven to put her pelvis wherever he made it go. It was wonderful and she wanted to do this for days and weeks until her whole life was consumed by this cloudy daze. Thunder struck and the lightning roared and the sweat poured and the rain bowed in awe at the mess they doing dirty together.
"You're great. You're tremendous. You're the best fuck I've ever had." She said what he wanted to hear. He pulled off her and she was left writhing on the bed, her sucking cave was open and gaping in longing for his plunger. Her plumbing would only be clean from his sperm. He watched her roll in frustration and she moaned and clutched her hands in her pussy and scratched at herself, trying to relieve the torment. He began to laugh, this hideous, maniacal laugh. It froze her lust, and it didn't subside it simply paused. She looked at him and saw she had been played on. She looked at Cora and Cora was frozen stiff, her arms in the air where she had touched Suisse's hair and back. Yes, and it was blood on her lips, it had trickled a drip onto her chin. "OOAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCEEEEEEEH"
"OOAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCEEEEEEEH" Beatrice hollered, absolutely horrified. Then she remembered the reputation of the Chelsea, the killings. that nobody catered to the screams in the room next door and nobody would budge. There was clam in her pudendum. There was glee all over his face.
"You've killed her!"
"No, dearie, she's resting."
"What do you mean, resting?"
"Frozen. You'll be like that too, in a few minutes. Then when you wake up you'll be my friend forever."
"Freeze you friends? Keep them forever? C'mon, you're sick."
"Not sick, dearie. Wise. You have been caught, petrified in the most fantastic fuck of your life, when you're brought out, you still will be. It's the eternal orgasm. You're here till kingdom come."
Beatrice could feel things starting to slow down and she fought manically, knowing that most of his power was in suggestion. He watched her and played with his dick with his funny hands and she spat on him. Or tried to. It never got past her mouth.
"What are you doing, my lovely?" His fingers were in his mouth and he wet them and stroked his dong lovingly with the moist fingers. He had become quite ugly and unattractive to her, yet when she blinked he would flash into the old macho Yank, just like a three dimensional postcard.
Beatrice made herself salivate and chewed her tongue to keep it from hardening. She had to find a way to stay in motion. She rolled off the bed and tried standing on her head to get the blood back into her head, but it made her feel sick so she came down. It was like the dentist freezing for teeth except it was all over. But it wasn't going to be all over for her. She fumbling, put her clothes on and looked over at Suisse. He looked like he was asleep, in fact, here was a bit of a snore. His hand was still holding his croissant and there was dried sperm on his thumb and foreskin. She had to leave. Just as she opened the door his voice rang out, "Where do you think you're going m'dear?"
Beatrice didn't answer and kept going but the door was jammed-and she didn't have the strength. He had frozen it too, probably. She stumbled over to the window and got one up before he could do any hocus-pocus on it. They were three flights up. She made it to the fire escape but then his peculiar face poked out and said, "You're not going down there. Look at the snakes on the street."
Beatrice closed her eyes in case she looked and did see snakes. She felt his hand touch her skin and it felt like an octopus. Her eyes were closed and she wouldn't open them in case he did some flash hypnosis. She had a vision of his eyes coming into her eyeballs right through the lids and landing on her pupils and blinding her with a mesmerizing kiss. She felt that she would like to jump. Then she thought of her mother. Here was the suicide. Not the attempt, but the act. She didn't want it. Clinging to the fire escape with her eyes still closed she put her face in the direction of the sun so she could scald out his image. She began to climb down the fire escape and grope from stair to stair with her eyes still shut. Suisse hissed. She was numb and slow and refused to open her eyes. There was rust on the stairs and it scratched her legs.
Then she figured out that Suisse would be at the bottom with some plan and story for anybody who was wandering by.
She opened eyes, feeling like a dinosaur waking up after a twenty thousand year nap and trying to flee before an oncoming tidal wave. Whatever Suisse had done to her, something was happening. He had probably put a freezing pill in her cunt or a freezing spray in his sperm or transferred a drug by their tongues. She was a sexual therapist herself and knew the boundaries of hypnotism. She was not hypnotized. This thing would wear off, there was no spell. ' She had to get home Or to a doctor. When her eyes opened she looked into the face of a young girl who was staring out the window at her on the second floor. Beatrice motioned to her to open the window and asked the girl if she would mind letting her go out through the apartment front door. The girl didn't say anything and Beatrice flopped over the sill and staggered to the door. It opened, there was no spell on it and she walked out slowly and down the stairs. There he was in the lobby. He had forgotten to put on his wig so his wild looks were against him.
"There she is! Thank you, please don't let her leave the building."
Suisse came up to her and took her elbow. She screamed, "Let go of me you rapist." The doorman was there in a second. He was calm, very used to scenes.
"Don't mind her, she's having one of her spells."
"Doorman, this man has raped me and drugged me and I need some help. Please will' you help me?" Beatrice in her daze hadn't forgotten she was beautiful and no one had not been susceptible to her, yet. The doorman, having to choose between her and Suisse, chose her.
"According to both of you, this woman needs some help. I will call a doctor and he will check her." Suisse was agitated but put on the appearance of calmness.
"I am quite capable of caring for her myself, however, if you choose to doubt my integrity, I cannot help but impress on you that you have no legal right to do what you're doing."
"And you, sir? You do?"
"Of course. She is my wife."
"That's a lie. Before a couple of hours ago, I had never seen him before in my life. Go upstairs and see. Room 324. There's a woman there that he's drugged, and done something to. I'm not sure what. There's all sorts of goings on, and I am unprotected. I'm not sure what."
The doorman was, you know a regular doorman, friendly, deaf and not too quick on the uptake. He looked from one to the other and didn't know what to do so he had an erection.
"I'll go and call a doctor," he mumbled putting his wrists over his crotch. He went and called a doctor. It was the wrong thing to do. Beatrice did not want to be alone and near this psychopath any more. She looked at the floor and tried to follow the doorman and was, of course detained by Suisse.
"Let go of me." She screamed it again, not knowing what else to do. At least a ruckus was something. Some people came by but Suisse smiled at them as though she was doing another one of her numbers. He didn't let go of her arm, and his nails were giving her the pain of a crucifixion. At least she could feel it. Beatrice refused to look at him. A doctor was in the lobby. He lived in the building. Beatrice ran into his arms. He was surprised but accepted her body gracefully.
"What's the matter?"
"Get me away from that man!"
Not knowing what was what, the doctor's manhood was aroused. He led her up to his room.
As soon as the door closed, Beatrice said, "Can we go somewhere else? He followed us and will come and get me." The doctor was wonderful and broadminded and he led her back down the stairs and into a taxicab. They went to the airport and booked a flight to Miami. She told him her story on the plane. He was fascinated.
Also skeptical, and he humored her. She was a beautiful woman and from his experience, beautiful women get into predicaments that nobody else anywhere get into.
"Here we are. Think he'll come?"
"You never know. How did I manage to end up in the bar with the woman I didn't want to see? How was it that I described him perfectly to her in my office never having seen him?"
She remained passive and they landed in Miami shortly after two a.m. in fluorescent lights, fluorescent lights and a waning moon. They checked into the nearest Hilton and got the honeymoon suite. It wasn't till the next night that they discovered that every suite was a honeymoon suite, that there were only couples in the hotel and all of them were on their honeymoon. It was a honeymoon hotel.
The doctor's name was Stanley. Beatrice thought he was nice, but wondered how she got into this predicament. The dining room a thousand couples all doing intimate dinners, cafeteria style. If you wanted and this couple was willing, you could have the waited go over to them and ask them if they wanted to dine with you. And then you would have a couple of couples dining together and getting hot and horny together.
That was always fun.
And if the four of you hit it off well, you could for a small fee, rent a chamber and dine alone. The chamber was carpeted with a chandelier and red plush carpet and mirrors on the ceiling. There was a couch and throw cushions on the floor. If the couple wanted, the waiter would stay and feed hand to mouth any style you wanted. The food on the menu with an asterisk had added aphrodisiacs. There was a "Lovers' Special" that guaranteed wonderful nights. There were private beaches of about fifteen feet of real coast, and public beaches with paths worn deep from the line up couples waiting to view with their own eyes, the spectacular view or feel with their own bodies the nesting coves. They even had little signs on the trees saying, Occupied which could be turned on if you didn't want to be disturbed. Not everyone didn't want to be disturbed. Coupling with other couples was encouraged and the beds were all big enough for four.
One night Beatrice and Stanley joined their neighbours and had a riot. The couple had just met two days before and got married the day before and this was their second night and they were ready for some new action. Stanley was forty but in spite of his age he liked to have fun.
They were experts on sexual deviance. They wanted to try out the facilities at the hotel and the desk clerk said that everyone staying had to be married so Harold and Maud went next door and a computer married them. The computer also would divorce them, but it took a little longer. Harold and Maud weren't too sure that they wanted a divorce. So far they were having a good time, and everything was going merrily. However, it was a shocker when Beatrice's honeymoon heaven was shadowed by an uncanny incident.
"Ever met a devil?" Harold asked. She froze.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I was only curious. Some of the other couples told us of a witch haven on the beach that was made when a group of Satanic missionaries held a conference in this hotel last fall. They were saying that some of the rooms have spells on them and a couple of nasty incidents have taken place since then. I spoke to the management about it but they firmly denied everything. I guess they don't want to scare anybody. I'm quite curious, though. I've done a lot in my time, but I have never met a witch or a warlock. I'd like to have the pleasure."
Stanley put his arms around Beatrice. He could feel her shaking and he didn't let go. Bedside manner was" one of his strong points and he knew when it was needed.
"Why don't we all go for a swim before we retire?" Harold suggested it to clear the air and their heads.
"Great idea. Have you seen their exercise room down there?" She replied in the negative.
"All erotic exercises. It's really something. I went down there early this morning and I was the only one there."
"Where is it?"
"It's hidden. The guard has to show you. They had a machine that is for tightening buttocks and a man sits on it and there's a tube Filled with liver or something squishy and these two rubber hands massage and squeeze your cheeks together It's guaranteed to give you two orgasms in twenty seconds. Unusual contraption. And there's another one that widens your asshole and strengthens the endurance lime. The guard did it to me. Highly erotic." Beatrice was all for it.
"Let me tell you about this machine. There's a ring made of a soft kind of material that you insert over your dick to hold it out. The partner has one too and his ass is right in front of yours. There is a dildo that fills with liquid in order to get hard and the two rubber hands again to grease and massage the hole. The dildo emits a grease and when it moves it waggles and screws. It goes in so gently that you don't even know it's there and then it spews out the delicious grease and you tighten and open and tighten and open and then it screws in even deeper. All the time this contraption that's strapping you in is moving your pelvis so your dick that's charging straight-out in front of you is reaching for the hole of your partner in front of you. So you're trying to score in the ass of your partner and the straps give in letting you get closer and closer till you think you're gonna die if you don't get there.
And as you come, the straps feel it and let you push into the partner's ass and your sperm gets put in the safe. It's amazing and such a study in timing. This machine knows really understands what a man needs. More than a lot. of women. Maud understands, just like the machine, don't you sweetie?"
Maud kicked him hard in the shins. "Watch your P's and Q's you patronizing sex maniac."
They all went down to the pool. It was empty. It was extraordinary that there were so many people in the hotel and the facilities were hardly ever full. They probably spent all their time in bed. No bathing suits were allowed. Some of the bathing caps had French ticklers on them. There were playboy inflatable girls and boys and rubber fish with open mouths that were made to hold penises and rubber swordfish with dildoes for swords. Then there were always the people, of course.
The whirlpools on the edge pulsed and massaged and gave, the women orgasms.
The drains had channels that men could rest in as long as they could hold their breaths. One of the occupations was to position a dummy, at the bottom of the diving board and dive off and try and land matching its sexual organ with yours and have an orgasm by the time you surfaced.
Beatrice was interested in Maude. They went into the shower together. Beatrice put her hands over Maud and her skin had that dry wetness that it gets when the water has taken away all the natural juices.
Beatrice knelt down in the pouring water and her hands gripped the strong thighs of the woman. Her tongue searched and pushed its way into Maud's cunt and darted and plunged and pierced her numb skin. She put her nose against the hole and she could smell the woman's strong vital smell. Her nose moved back and forth across her clit and Maud arched her back in response to the intense touching.
"You argh woch fkerfuool," Maud mouthed at her, her mouth full of water.
In reply, Beatrice shoved her middle finger up Maud's hole with a violence that made her squeeze in on Bea's finger."
"Hummmmmmm," she sighed. Suddenly there was Stanley's head around the corner.
"You ladies deserted us forever? I'm not ready to fuck Harold yet, I just met him. Why don't you come and join us? You know, give us a treat. Let us at least watch you and vicariously enjoy you. You're better than stag films, by a long shot."
The women didn't answer. They were lost and speechless. Too much ache. Bea kept pumping her finger up Maud's hold and she could feel her cervix hard and soft at the end of her hole. She tried a couple more fingers but it didn't work so well. One finger fuck, two fingers pluck, three fingers run amuck, four fingers get stuck five fingers, fist deluxe.
"Had enough?" Tears were there though it was hard to tell in the shower. Maud nodded and Beatrice took her hand and led her into the pool. She felt close to her, there was a gentleness between them.
"Hi. Coming in?" The regular wet gambit. It was Harold. Beatrice mistrusted his dilettante curiosity. He spent his time getting kicks by investigating new kinks.
"What's the difference between loving and being in love?" It was Maud, asking Bea.
"One is torture and the other is illusion." Beatrice was quick and wise at the same time Harold was getting off on a live jelly fish that the life guard had tossed into the water. He. had wrapped it around his dick and the tingles and the texture were making him groan and wince. For some reason all this was irritating Beatrice.
"I'm ready for blankets and softness and lying horizontal. A bit of conservative and suburban sex." Beatrice split and went up to the room by herself. She undressed and lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, watching. She didn't know how long she was there, it seemed like quite a while when she heard a soft click and then another and then another. The room suddenly was very close and the air was still. She sat up and felt her skin creeping and for the first time in her life she understood the expression about hair standing on end. Something had happened in the room. The windows had closed. The door that she had left open for the others was probably locked. Christ, oh Christ. Beatrice, Beatrice was quaking. With the unknown you couldn't grin and bear it. What was to bear? Here was part of it, climbing into her bed. She felt the bed sink with the weight of an invisible body and then felt something, was it a hand? Her whole body went stiff with fright. It was a hand or something with fingers and it was stroking the side of her ribs.
"Can you talk?" Beatrice whispered to it.
She didn't attempt anything louder, nothing would come out she was sure. If she hadn't lost her mind, she had lost her voice. It didn't answer but she heard a slight hiss. The only other hisses she had heard in her life were the old Arab women and Meyer Suisse. Hell, was this Suisse or his ghost, or did all spirits from the underworld hiss?
The hand didn't feel violent. It stroked her gently and her body shivered with trepidation and some delight. Bodies often took over and liked what the mind hated. Then the whole weight of a body climbed on top of her and she didn't scream.
"You can fuck me, but you can't freeze me." She warned it and after that began to feel more confident. There weren't any lips and she couldn't feel pubic hair, and the legs were stroking her like the hands. Two pairs of hands? It was hard to tell. Her body was beginning to like it, the hands were so gentle, but Beatrice brushed them away any time they moved near her neck.
"Stick to my private parts," she commanded wryly. It did. She didn't know if it was a man or woman yet but the finger went inside her and she throbbed with desire for this loving spirit.
CHAPTER FOUR
She woke up with people everywhere. There was Stanley, and Harold and Maud and a host of other unrecognizables. Everything felt numb and there was this huge lump between her legs. Was she having a kid? She tried to sit up and look down but someone held her down or else she was too weak. At this point, gravity and muscle were the same thing. After awhile the voices stopped being muffled and she started to distinguish the phrases. There was an awful lot of noise, banging and thumping and pushing.
"Hi." It was Stanley doing bedside manner. She was grateful.
It sounded uncertain so she tried again. "Uh ... hi, what's the matter?"
'What's the matter?"
"The door to the room was sealed shut and the porter couldn't open it so we broke it down and you were here unconscious and I had to revive you. You're still pretty groggy, but you're all here. How are you feeling?"
"Slow and unsure. I feel like I've had triplets or something."
"No wonder. Look." He held up a huge plastic rag doll, red and with horns and a penis and a tail and breasts.
"This was shoved up inside you and only the tail was visible. The devil's tampax."
"The umbilical." She joked and didn't feel horror, yet.
"How'd that big monster fit inside my tube?"
"We thought it might be one of those toys that expand under changing circumstances. So it wasn't that big at first but either in you, or as it came out, it enlarged and changed proportion. We thought we'd have to cut you open like with a kid, it was so obstinate in coming out. And Tony, the bellhop here said it grinned at him when we pulled it out."
"Great. Why me?"
"You know why. It wasn't an accident. "
"Yeah. Follow me everywhere. Never a lover, always a devil."
"Want something to drink?" It was the waiter from downstairs. The only woman in this room filled with people .was Maud. She. looked for her and she was crying and talking to a man in the corner who was crying too. Beatrice was glad to see the man cry for some reason.
"No thanks, unless it's a sleeping draught. For a hundred years."
He smiled sympathetically.
"The world is riddled with devils. But you look like an angel that must have power so that's probably why they're trying to get you." A romantic. Mallory was comforted by his interpretation. She felt far too weak to take anything but commiseration.
"Hey, you're bleeding inside." Stanley put a soft rag into her cunt and the gentleness of it made her feel soothed and taken care of. Stanley really had hypnotic hands. She wished everyone would go away and he would stay and make love to her. She watched him stroke her. He was moving his hands up and down on her thighs and her skin began to tingle and her throbbing cunt started to ache through the pain that it already felt.
"I wish everyone would go away except you."-She said it quietly but everyone disappeared within ten seconds. She felt confused and thought she must be hallucinating.
"I must be hallucinating."
"Why?"
"Everyone has disappeared."
"But you commanded them to:" Stanley's voice sounded surprised. Mallory looked at him, now even more confused. Why had he said that, as though she were a queen or something? But he looked at her calmly and impassively as though what he had said was perfectly normal. Maybe it was. She looked around and saw that the repulsive offspring she had borne was sitting grinning at her in the chair. How dare he grin.
"Wipe your face!" The smile vanished and Stanley went to the bathroom and came back with a towel rubbing his jaw.
"That better?"
"Mmm, it was like some hallucinogenic drug when you imagine something and realize it and some live object (human) assumes another thing that's very different, because they haven't taken the thing that is making you see other things and so are functioning in the world of household objects still. Pantheism, that was it." She stared at him.
"If you were a pantheist, we could communicate better." She said it to Stanley but the wee devil grinned again.
"Get that repulsive thing out of here!" She was irritated now. Stanley got up and went to the chair it was sitting on and when he picked it up he dropped it quickly back onto the chair.
"Ow! It kicked me in the balls?"
"Stanley, don't complain. Get rid of it."
He tried to pick it up, with ginger hesitation. The little monster stuck to the chair and so when lifted the chair came with it. Package deal.
"Chair n'all?"
"I don't care. As long as it goes." Mallory was irritated and tired. What was the hassle.
"Kill it, or rip it up or put it in the incinerator. Do anything with it but don't let me see. Stanley dutifully walked out. As soon as he was gone. Mallory heard herself screaming in the distance. Where was she if she could hear herself? Who knows? Somebody would say The Hilton honeymoon hotel. Somebody else would say in the psychotic world of schizofriendlyland. Somebody else would say in an induced coma caused by postpartum. Somebody else would say in the world of the devil. Onwards.
The scream was full of words.
"I want you to fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me. I want you to fuck me till baby comes home."
Minutes later Stanley rushed in and slammed the door and fell on the carpet panting and scorched.
"Yes?"
"He got me. He got me." He gasped it out. "Who?"
"The wee devil. I put him in the incinerator out and stomped out the fire on my good suit." this thing attacked me and knocked me down and I was on fire. It was the weee devil, I saw him scurry down the hall and it looked like he came in here. He must have opened the door, that big hefty iron chute's door and jumped and closed the door and turned to leave and
"Where's the beast gone?" Stanley looked around thoroughly when he heard my hysterical voice. Nothing visible anywhere. Though he found a red balloon that looked used in my third drawer.
"What's this? A prophylactic?"
"His skin. The lid of the chrysalis, a chrysalid. Unstuffed derma; the kasha flowed. A red rubber for a pair of honeymooning elephants."
"How can you be so funny at a time like this?"
"When else is there time to be funny?"
"Stanley, will you make love to me? Now."
He sat down on the bed and quickly got up again. His burnt suit had left a huge black mark on the snowy eiderdown. He took his clothes off and came back to the bed.
"Hey! Look at this."
"What? You're going to say the mark looks like a devil's face on my blanket?"
"No. It looks like your face." There was silence and my body started shuddering. Stanley carefully removed the quilt onto the floor, then changed his mind and dropped it out the window. As soon as he slammed the window shut the wind, threw the blanket back up and a picture of her black face glared at her from the closed window. She screamed and hid in the bed. Stanley said later it stayed for nearly thirty seconds before the wind took it away and when it left the black marks were left on the window and he had to go out oh the sill (thirteenth story) to clean it off.
"My hot and cold hero." Mallory put her arms around his neck when he had stroked her out of her paralyzed fetal cave. Stanley kissed. Her lips were irresistible and he felt he could kiss them forever.
"Kiss me forever."
"Long last kiss. When is forever over?"
"Somewhere after never."
He put his lips on her breast and there was a tickle that could never be appeased. It was wonderful. "Suck me forever."
"Forever yours, baby." His quick Hollywood come back was funny even though it didn't look it. His voice was gruff. He thrust out his pelvis as though he was pumping into me. She tried sitting up. He undid his old jock strap, leftover from the exercise room (it was really some fancy French tickler for males). His cock poked out, looking for air. There was a giggle in the room and she felt nervous, as if someone were watching them. Stanley's beautiful hands comforted her. They were so inexplicably masculine. She saw his eyes, jealously eating her. Her cunt was aching, aching. Nothing like a longing for a gorgeous prick to make pussy pray for more. Beatrice wished he hadn't worn any underwear. She loved men who didn't wear underwear. It's very direct and discreet. She didn't know what it was about men who swaddle their private parts and why it seemed so odd. He brought it towards her and her cunt rose up to take him in and just as she could feel it touch her curly hair he pulled it away and bit her nipple instead. Tricks and tease. Ruled by the rudder that guides the groans. She groaned. She remembered when she used to try and keep from making noise but it always slipped out even when her mouth was closed. He put in his tongue and pulled out her plum and fucked her till she was numb in the bum. His dick seemed larger than before and filled her up. Her hole felt enormous after her child extraction. She wished she'd been awake at the labor party. Stanley was talking to her in a strained voice.
"I'm gonna fuck your pussy silly and fuck your mouth till it groans and fuck your tits till they fall off. I'm gonna stick my thin but thundering prick up your hole and ram it in until you die. Baby you're gonna scream for mercy and I'm never gonna give you none. You're gonna cry for me to stop and I'm never gonna cause my prick will never leave you alone and it's immortal, you royal bitch, I'm gonna make you pay for your womanhood and I'm going to watch you and watch you until your parts are never private again."
"Who are you?" Beatrice was still groggy and she had forgotten who was with her in the bed.
"I'm a doctor in a way. I give people what they need. Healthy patients and sick ones I treat them all."
Beatrice was really confused by now. Her haze was making her forget who she was, where she had been, who her friends were, what life was, what sex, who she was fucking with, what sex they were, why she was here, what her name was if she was first or third person. She couldn't concentrate more than about five seconds on anything. Her thoughts were in this dream world and for some reason she kept thinking she was in Israel picking fruit instead of lying in Miami having her own fruit plucked. She wondered if this man on top of her was another vacuous affair, a cock that was touring the world of empty cunts. Having orgasms like dinner, every day regardless of circumstance. Well, she guessed it wasn't much different from dinner, one got satiated in the same way. It felt more vacant when the cock pulled out than when the stomach was full. Sometimes when Beatrice was feeling loyal to one person she wore a blue T-shirt with "No Vacancy" written between the tits. Israel was quite far away and she'd never been there. A holy fuck after the sperm from the mount. Bad pun, laboured reference. She was hazy, remember?
"Give me cunt, sex, food. Let me eat you." Stanley helped pull her to her knees and she fell forward and her, mouth landed on his dick. His hard and thin stiff slipped easily between her lips and he pushed it hard down her throat. It made her grunt and her nostrils closed and she nearly blacked out. This woman was out of control, definitely off the wall. The head of his dick was hard and soft at the same time, sprung with jelly and so sensitive that it could have been an insect unto itself.
"Eat me, baby, Bea, eat me out. Suck me till I slide away."
His voice was different yet again and Beatrice felt like she was mother somebody fucking all mankind, from devil to doctor.
His dick, lithe and active pumped itself in her mouth and she felt its hard bounce against her palate and then down her throat. It was so deep in her throat she felt on the verge. It was so steep in her boat she felt a strange urge. She succumbed. Her teeth sunk into his flesh and she moved in slow motion, from the inside. The moved with the slow, inevitable force of a bulldozer and Stanley's scream was voiceless and never ending. Her force was unshakable and her teeth was razor sharp. It went on and on and there was no fight. After a long time, there was a slow almost tender moving apart, again in a cloud and Stanley lay on his back his face contorted in the same grimace of the soundless scream. Beatrice was lying curled and fetal, sucking on his dick like a thumb. She was gradually awakening and the sucking was like a cat washing kittens. She licked the entire dick and licked the sperm that was all over her mouth and her muscles could be seen growing stronger with each lick. Stanley was motionless, frozen. Beatrice sat up and got off the bed, the dick still in her mouth. She took it out when she got to the mirror and examined it for traces of blood and sperm and imperfections. None visible, she opened the drawer with the rubber in it and place the dismembered dick in the rubber bag.
"Nice dickie, you grow up to be a monster, now." She spoke to it like a child and with a lot of affection.
She went back to the castrated Stanley and looked him up and down. She put her hands on his face and gently and competently massaged the grimace off the face and working the skin that became pliable at her touch.
Then she bent over and kissed his sealed crotch and it opened, the. place where the attachment had been opened to her lips, like two tender flaps putting their arms out to the prodigal mother. Beatrice took the two middle fingers of her left hand and with the same steadfast, unemotional plunge pressed them eternally in between the open folds. The skin resisted but her fingers persisted and it reluctantly gave way and a tunnel was molded in the wet surging but immobile body. It was a peat bog corpse. The fossil of a man that was found, his history worn and imprinted in the earth but the peat was malleable and could be burned and molded and made into new things. Beatrice worked on him like a potter centering her pot. She drew the weight down from the bulky U.S. doctor with a briefcase shoulders and placed the extra flesh on his thighs. There was a knock on the door but a watcher, a third eye on the scene would have said she hadn't heard. It knocked, two long and one short, one short and one long. Then it stopped. She continued her formation until it was complete then lay on him and kissed his stiff mouth and breathed in his ear. Her tongue grew about two inches as it lathered his throat and washed the inside of his mouth with her saliva. Then she climbed off and went to the door. It had been about fifteen minutes since the knock had not been heard. She opened the door and welcomed the empty air with the graciousness of an American queen meeting her entourage before the marriage ceremony with her old mate but new body. It was in this manner that she answered the door.
A transsexual in a vest that was very tight around the dyke's loins. Always love all ways, Beatrice's new motto was inscribed as a greeting in the air by fireflies.
There was a kicking in the wood at the side of the room and Beatrice watched the chest of drawers expand and shake like a can of spinach in a Popeye cartoon. There was a squeak and a chuckle as it did. It busted to smithereens and this little red cherub with a dick like a monster popped out and leered at the beautiful, pedestaled Beatrice.
"Hi, I'm from the Inferno."
Beatrice smiled at him and held out her hand. The munchkin hopped onto her arm and up to her shoulder and put his dick in Beatrice's white ear. She laughed and the feeling made her put her hand to her asshole and scratch the edge, greasing the hole with her dry nail. There was a regular knock and a call on the door and the kitty pissed in her ear before he jumped kamikaze style into the air and disappeared. Beatrice went drippingly to the door and opened it. The manager of the hotel was there, inquiring after her health and suggesting that they had prepared a special dinner for her and Stanley. She said she'd be right down and he stopped her a moment and said," Excuse me, madam, but there is something in your ear." He put his left hand to her right ear and fingered the creases and she tilted her head to make his fingers touch her cheek. He put his young, handsome face to her rosy cheek and kissed her car. His teeth wrapped around the knob he had been playing with and in one of the most erotic surges Beatrice had ever felt. A large amarilia was pulled by his teeth out of her ear. A flowering penis. She felt washed and cleansed and to make sure there wasn't any more in her olfactory ravine the manager stuck his tongue down her new highway till he grazed her middle ear and the erection that gave him, made him throw Beatrice to the floor. In the hallway he pulled up the cloth that was covering her and pushed his dulcet throb into her soldered iron grip. It was agony and they writhed in the heat and the grip of their melting pots. She was thrown back by his force and her back arched and her pelvis got wider and wider until she had all of him inside her.
His dick was raging and he put it in her again and once more till she groaned and rolled over onto her stomach. Her thighs were wrapped by his ribs and she pulsed back and back onto his stiff, jamming her honeyed monster onto the tip of his dick and his eyes closed and his mouth was wide open.
"Hello there." It was Stanley, melted, revitalized, standing in the doorway, clothed and jealous. They didn't hear him. Their breath was paired and panted and chugging together as they climbed the ladder from fire to the cerebral and angelic haze, from Satanic drive to heavenly collapse. It took minutes and watching, Stanley got turned on and reached down with his doctor hand to diddle his cock. The duet reached its climax with Stanley's scream of recognition at his memberless condition.
"Where's my cock?" He roared and slammed the door of the bedroom as he went in to look for it. Beatrice and her manager lay in each other's manger for a while to share the exhaustion. They peeled apart as the door quietly opened again and a dejected, humiliated, impotent man slowly walked out. Beatrice stood in front of him and kissed him lip to lip. The manager on the floor got up. The kiss to Stanley livened him a little and Beatrice persisted knowing that her kisses had always been irresistible to him. The manager in the get up had got up and went. Beatrice felt his hand brush her ass as he walked pas', and she sent him a wet bolt of a fart as she continued to kiss Stanley. She could feel him unwillingly begin to respond to her tongue and lips and she kept on bathing him in saliva and lust until he forgot his loss. She put her hands on his shoulders and bent her knees and still kissing they lowered to the floor. It was a movement that Hollywood took years to perfect and life never cooperated with the same grace. They lay down and her hand brushed the almost forgotten amarilis to the side without crushing it. Her kissing became fervent and his body slowly reacted and pressed her to him. Him? Stanley's mind was raging with the question of what he was and this kissing seemed to tell him what he could be. As his breath changed, and out of habit his pelvis pumped up to her and she kissed him till he would have ejaculated and then reached for the hardy stem. She plunged the amarilis into his new hole, root first so the flower and the petals remained intact on the outside. She rolled off him. The two disheveled bodies lay on their backs on the patterned broadloom of the Hilton hallway. She started to laugh. He looked over.
"MMM?"
"We're in the hallway." Beatrice started to hoot and he giggled a bit making the petals quiver on the end of the stick. His hole was long enough to hold the entire stem and as they got up he left it in. A quick fix up and they went to their special dinner.
It was duck and parsnips and Chateau Margaux. Floating Island and French brie.
A good meal. Hearty, and out of place in Miami, in the heat, but not unusual when you consider the money and the mentality of the people who inhabit either as transients or residents the flashy city.
"I hope you are enjoying the meal." The manager was intimately concerned with their well being. Beatrice looked into his eyes and Stanley smiled.
"Of course, but tell me something. Why is it prepared especially for us?"
"Madam, surely you know that this is what they served to all the village council after the witch was drowned on the ducking stool."
"Which witch?"
"Any one. The duck was considered the most mundane of the game and one of the strongest flyers. It gives the eater strength to flee from the devil and the parsnips cooked in garlic because of the strength of the smell and the flavour, and the amount of vitamins restores health and wilts the evil spirits. The Floating Island symbolizes the isolation of the witch on her stool; and the bathing of the meringue in the sauce as you lather it down is the doing away of the evil woman drowning her in the custard sauce and crushing her with your teeth. Part of the English mentality of grin and bear it, though it's effortless with this delectable dessert."
"Good story. "
"When he left Beatrice, whose plate had been empty, systematically regurgitate the entire meal, whole and put it back on her plate. Stanley looked at her askance and then, realising why she had done it, his expression melted into horror.
"Beatrice?"
"Yes?" She sort of snarled at him.
"You changed sides."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a devil in disguise."
"Look like a ... she looks, I look.." Her voice trailed.
"You still rook beautiful but your expression changes a fraction of an inch every now and again and you look absolutely hideous." She turned to him exuding her most ravishing inch.
"You make me forget."
"What?"
"Everything. That I have a goddam flower in a hole where my penis used to be. That you've transformed into some perverted maniac and stolen my precious item and fed it to some imp. That I came here to take care of you and you've turned the tables and done me in-".
"Stanley, where did you get such peculiar fancies?"
"Here." He pulled out his battered flower. "You've deflowered yourself." She chided him.
"How do you explain this?" He tossed it at her.
"How would I know how you lost your dick? You should take care of your possessions. But if you like we can ask around.
Or put up a sign that says "Penis, Penis my Jumping genius lost or stolen or strayed."
"What's a little sex? So you don't have one? Or it's a little, different? Consider yourself lucky, you can now be the fairer sex, you can taste what most men crave for but never understand. What are you complaining about?"
"You're nuts! Totally nuts. Here I thought I was saving a lady in distress or at least about to have a dazzling affair and what to I get, pudendum and devils and a wacko carbuncle whose possessed by some mischievous oversexed Satan."
"You're not having fun, Stanley?" Beatrice leaned over to him and her breast nearly fell out of her dress and onto her plate. Her hair fell forward onto her face and she looked more than alluring, she looked ravishing. She slid her painted nail along his thigh under the table and touched his flower. How could he resist her devastating charm? Her eyelashes alone were enough to give him an erection, if he could ever have one again, It felt the same, he must have a phantom cock or something.
"What can I say, sweetheart?" He nuzzled against her hair, and when he opened his eyes he noticed that every other couple in the room was nuzzling too and he felt like a Busby Berkley movie with the five hundred girls dancing in unison. It happened again later. He couldn't resist the temptation to lightly kiss Beatrice's lily flesh above her heart and it kept getting more and more visible and as he bent over he saw a wave in the room and he saw two hundred other men all bending over to let their pungent lips graze against the lily fresh skin of on the sunny side of their loved one's twin hillocks.
"My God! Do you see what's going on? We're all under hypnosis. These crazies have got us all under some behaviour modification routine where our gestures are limited to one leader's repertoire. It's fucking weird! Look, Bea, someone is making everyone move the same way with their partner. As I bent over-like this, so did every other man in the room! Who do you think the leader is?"
"Stanley darling, I think you've had a severe shock today and now, under the influence of the Chateau Margaux, you're not only diddled but you're seeing pink elephants."
"You don't believe me, eh? Watch this!" Stanley slid under the table and put his lips to Bea's cunt and then quickly pulled up the clot and saw that all the other men had disappeared under the white damask also. The only difference was, that he couldn't see the other men's heads poking out to check out the scene. That would mean that there' were probably only certain cues that the men responded to and that once done; they would continue on their merry way and do their own motions. The question was, who initiated it and what was the cue! If was easy to guess the possibilities from the evidence, and the theme of the hotel. Sexual maneuvers were the cues, but it remained for experiment to see whether it was men only, or if the women were sheep too.
"Bea," he whispered as he climbed back onto his seat, "wait a minute, and then do something explicitly sexual that only you could do to me. There must be some erotic idiosyncrasy that you have up your sleeve. Do it directly to me, and let me watch the room."
They continued eating in silence and for a second he thought she was not going to oblige, or hadn't heard, or something. Then suddenly she whipped off her top so her two magnificent jugs stood out in their full glory and she rapidly stood up and over him, placing her tit, like a mother into his mouth. He forgot to look, it was so unexpected, so tumultuous and so unbelievable to have that bursting milk bottle crammed into his mouth v that he sucked like a baby calf out of instinctive habit and need. She left it there until her nipple began to hurt, then she reached inside his mouth with her finger pushing her nail along the soft malleable flesh of his mouth and pierced her nipple so the milk flowed into him. He gasped and gagged like a woman taking her first head and then manfully, and eagerly took all from her breast till it reduced and rejoined its sister's size.
Beatrice gently extracted it from his mouth and put them both back into her dress. He sat there, silent his eyes shut, mouth full, still savouring the inexplicable taste of sweet milky water.
"Oh hell, I forgot to check. Did you?"
"Check, what?"
"What we were talking about, the synchronization, everybody doing the same thing."
"I don't know what you mean, I'm sure I didn't check."
"Why don't you try another tidbit and I'll check it out this time."
"So what to you want me to do?" She smiled in a conciliatory way.
"Any startling and wonderful thing you can think of to titillate me."
She smiled a little again and they didn't say much for awhile. He waited patiently watching her face flicker with untold thoughts and she began to whisper to herself under her breath, as if he wasn't at the table beside in a dining room but stuck in a park where she had hung out for years and there was nothing left in life but begging for the occasional dollar to buy a bottle and sitting out on the bench.
She picked up the wine bottle that was empty and smashed it across the table. She kept whispering herself in this strange way and didn't notice the godawful crash and the flying glass in the air. Nobody else in the room other than her heard it either, or showed that they had heard it. This place was giving Stanley the willies. He had been here, this was the second day and it felt like centuries. A sex change, he kept reminding himself of it and reaching down with his hand to feel if his penis had returned. His hand diddling his new hole and his eyes vacant but staring in the direction of Beatrice, he watched her smile at him in a glitter that conjured sequins and tinsel and almost menaced him with the broken neck. She stood up again and came around behind him and just before she touched him, he noticed all the rockette honeymooners walking slowly around their lovers' chairs, all with empty and smashed bottlenecks. Then she touched him and he forgot in the shock and quiver of the magnetic stroke. All blood polarized to his shoulder blades and he arched his head up to her, so she would kiss him. She bent over and her lips pressed against his pink skin, the texture of pink worms. Her lips opened his and her tongue pressed into his mouth and hung straight down his esophagus. It was fountains, it was youth, it was passion and they played at it as experts. Her tongue, stroked his into an erect eel and sucked it till it lolled out of his mouth and he was out of control. She pulled off him and he was left mouth upturned and tongue outstretched in suspense, waiting for her next plunge. She drove her mouth down hard on his tongue and bit it and he uttered some version of "UUOOOWWARGH!"
Keeping her mouth on his she loosened her arm with the bottleneck and gently touched the jagged edge to the fresh rim of his new hole. His legs spread in expectation, like a woman's and his pelvis pushed upwards to receive a thrust penis. She initiated the virgin vulva, deflowered the amarilis with a plunge of the neck into his cave. She never stopped kissing him and his screams again were silent but not frozen. The kiss was a struggle, as the two tongues wrestled, his for freedom and hers to conquer. In the pain of the loin and the fury of the kiss, he was unable to formulate any kind of thought, anything at all except the need to feel more and the need to struggle. There was blood dripping onto the floor and there was no feeling at all in his stiff legs. All sensation was crowded into the two major orifices; his mouth that took in sustenance in exchange for kisses and the more articulate darts, the lettered ones. The other that needs as much food though in a way it's luxurious food, as some can and have proven to be able to survive without it. Its exchange is the overflow not the regurgitation of wit or vomit both a recycling of existing life but the formation, of new cells, squalling and unchewed. Stanley was lost. He was bleeding at the' dinner table and entranced by the pain that this bewitched succubus had instilled. There was still lust in his nostrils. His endurance was now a woman's with the aggression and thrust of a man used to plodding and plugging and being ambitious and competitive. A woman's endurance is nothing to do with competition, though it has been proven that religious groups, Catholics and Jews will out do Protestants by miles in studies of pain endurance. When they are told that their religious group has the lowest threshold, in loyalty and conquering possessiveness, their group rises to the top. "Are you still with me Stanley?" Her voice was gentle and he couldn't tell what she really meant. By the cloudiness of it he intimated that it was different from a general communion. Is there an average category for the normal reaction to a normal communion or even communication between two. Why stop there? Between there? Between a crowd? In his thickness he remembered what he had forgotten. The impetus for this delirious pain. Were all the nymphet witches whispering to their conquered Ulysses, if they were still hanging on? In spite of the blood, the castration, the duck and the devil's delight in it all?
CHAPTER FIVE
Cora rolled over and pushed Meyer Suisse out of the bed. He snored.
"Do all warlock leaders snore?" She asked irritably.
"Darling, do you want me to give you a case of crabs?"
There was silence as they both snored. "Hih, iih, hih, ieih." Cora was sobbing in her sleep.
Suisse sat up and looked at her. She opened her eyes and screamed, the first thing she saw was Suisse's ugly image. "Oh Suisse, you terrify me. I had such an awful dream.. I dreamt that Beatrice was eaten by lice and all that was left was her eyes and her left knee. Then an eagle landed on her bony head, or where it would have been and plucked out her eyes. She kept screaming, 'My vulva, you bloody pig, pluck me where I need it,' and then my mother was there and she was shaped like a mango and she peeled herself down to the pit and a huge pig came and sat on her. You were in it too, yelling curses and crying and gathering baskets of finger nails."
Suisse laughed and stroked her nipples.
"Do you know how to rescue babies? Dead babies?" was changing the subject to more practical things.
"No." Cora sounded dubious, She didn't know if she wanted to know. She knew how to kill them at a glance and to put curses on them Suisse had been teaching her but to rescue them, it sounded a bit like Protestant housewives who did goodwill projects to sever their guilt.
"You place two fingers right between their nipples, like this." He demonstrated oh Cora.
"Then you press down about half and inch and pump. Like this."
"Pat a cake. Pat a cake baker's man. Give us a pat as fast as you bake. Put it down, turn around and wake, for heaven's sake."
"Bad. Sweetheart your wit is dying as you do."
Cora cuffed Suisse and bit off his nipples. She chewed them and smiled as blood erupted from his two craters.
"Think you're clever? Teach you a few tricks and you try them on the master. Unwise, even in jest."
Cora felt her breasts turning to cement. She looked down and they were. What? Turning to cement. She waited until they were hard and dry, about fifteen minutes. Then she stood up on her feet at the end of the bed, right by the feet of the lying Suisse, who was lying prone and passive with his eyes shut. He was daydreaming or perhaps early morning dreaming, that haze on the threshold between sleep and day dream.
Cora fell flat on his chest and knocked him out. Her new concrete jugs left concave pits in his broken ribs. She clambered off and looked at him, unconscious and her face tight with spite she went to the washroom and climbed into the shower. Her breasts had been her prize. She massaged the concrete gently but she couldn't muster the slightest sensation.
The silence in the bedroom was empty. Cora got worried and went over to Suisse and listened for his breath and there wasn't any. She checked his pulse and there wasn't any. She screamed at him and he opened his eyes.
"Do you have to do that?" My ears can hear for miles and you nearly killed them."
She shook him.
"You stopped breathing, your heart stopped. What happened?"
"You smashed my ribs and the pain was a bit much, so I took off. You know, went to another place to check out something more exciting than stone jugs. When I heard you scream I was in the doorway to my outsides and I snuck back home before you started to make trouble for the Chelsea.
The Chelsea Hotel. They had been there for three days and hadn't left the room once. Room service and television, and magic lessons and now lesions. Things were getting close. The air was ready for a going over. Cora's nostrils wanted some verdure cunt. Beatrice was not forgotten, but she had left them with a bang. They tried to contact her through their dreams two nights ago and discovered where she was. The had both woken up with the same location in mind. Suisse had negotiated the happenings of the honeymoon hotel.
"So things are starting to get nasty, is that it?"
"You started it. If you'd left my breasts alone, I would be happy now. At the moment I feel like killing you."
"Try it." He was calm and there was an immediate tensing of Cora's naked body. She jumped him and they wrestled. She bit his ear and it came off and when she opened her mouth it floated up to the ceiling above the bed. His gnarled and bony hands fingered her and he threw her over him and spanked her huge and magnificent buttocks. Her weight hurt his broken ribs. Suisse had to content himself with lying on his side and sucking her toes. "You have beautiful toes. I want them." His tongue spread in between the cracks and his wet slug, gave her tingles and shudders.
He suckled them and then he bit them. He put his teeth in and as she laughed drew his mouth up and nipped the toe off. It floated up to join the ear above the bed. Neither of them noticed their missing parts. There was so much left and it was a clean, bloodless, break.
"You like musicals?"
"Baby, I hate them. Those moralistic songs with no skill, all about life with no wit."
"Let's go to one."
"Why don't we write them?"
"Let's," she replied.
"OK. You begin. We'll write it and read it at the meeting tonight."
"What meeting?"
"There's a coven in Central Park. It's Walpurgis Nacht tonight."
"April 30."
"Let's plot it."
"Suzie was a nymphomaniac. She worked as an executive secretary and she had an insatiable appetitive. She had never had an orgasm. She couldn't get enough."
As she was talking, Cora was kissing,-Suisse and mouthing his other ear. Her tongue pushed into its little hole and wet it. He put his hands to her stone dugs and massaged them back to life. They made her feel like spring.
"Mmmm," she said.
The flesh got warm and numb and started to give her pins and needles and she squirmed in the delicious agony that always came with the new blood surging.-
"You continue." She nudged her tongue into his mouth and put her pussy over his pounding stick.
"Suzie loved men. Suzie was beautiful. She was blond and she often put her cunt on someone's penis, in fact, she always did it every time she came upon, a stray dick that was pounding and longing. Pricks loved her too. They made her happy. She never understood how she got to be a secretary when the only time she felt happy was when there was a prick inside her."
Cora had been bearing her weight down on his cock and her whole back was plunging onto him. He found it hard to think. "Suzie wanted to write. She wanted to be a famous and erotic writer. She wanted to write about all her experiences with men and tell the world about secrets that they didn't dare talk about. She had breasts that sometimes were made of concrete and sometimes made out of candy floss. She loved to pull one up to her mouth and suck it and pretend she could feel the milk coming into her.
It was revitalizing her. She was now possessed with death. She had been a stripper once and had watched a woman who did an act with a boa constrictor who strangled her in the height of her sex act. They had to kill the snake and Suzie had thought that that was the way to die. For art, in the middle. She wanted to die in the middle of her first orgasm. She didn't mind that she had never had one. She just kept on hunting and her appetite for men astounded women and made them insanely jealous. Suzie never got tired. She could fuck six men a night. Then she met a warlock. He was the first man who was her equal. He came before her but he could go on for longer. She once even had to ask him to stop. She gave him some steak to masturbate with while she took a rest. He told her a secret. That he wanted to die fucking her. That it was the complete culmination he could possibly think of. She told him her secret. They were paired, two lusty mates with the same ambition. The next day by cruel fate she fell into a construction sewer and landed on one of the workmen at the bottom of the chute, twenty feet down, killing both of them."
Cora was listening and had stopped kissing Suisse. He stopped talking so that she would start kissing him again.
"Go on."
"Only if you don't stop kissing me."
Cora's tongue slid down his vertebrae and found its way into his asshole. It licked the lines on the brown circle and she handled his goose pimpled balls as though they were jewels. That's what Suisse called them. He would say to Cora," Do anything you like but take care of my jewels." It was lines like that that made her think she loved him. So she stroked his jewels and licked his flatulent tush and he started again.
"A simple end. With Suzie gone, the warlock felt there was no use, and as a tribute to her he cut off his prick and buried it with her. No, let's try a better end. Now that Suzie wasn't there to stop him or, at the very least to caress him, the warlock spent his time masturbating and talking to himself whispering curses and spells under his breath. One day in the peak of an orgasm and while he cried out Suzie's name, his penis came off in his hand and he was left, spellbound but stickless. A warlock without his stick is like an olive without a pimento. He was last seen wandering vaguely somewhere near Buckingham Palace."
"Definite potential."
"Kiss my ass." Cora did and it felt wonderful. His cheeks trembled and his penis pumped the empty air.
"No more of that, I need to be filled up." Cora climbed onto his stick and rode away into the moonlight.
They slept and the toe and ear hanging in the air above them were later joined by a breast and another toe and an eye.
"Hey, wake up." Cora shook Suisse gently and tried to wake him.
He grunted and said, "What time did you say?" Cora called and it was four o'clock in the afternoon.
"Aren't we leaving today?" But Suisse had fallen asleep again.
After some time had passed, Cora shook him.
"Suisse! Do it! Wake up!"
"Ugh! Too much sleep." He struggled and saw his absent parts on the ceiling.
"Hey! Look what's up there."
Cora looked and screamed. She was only scared because she hadn't felt that they were missing.
"What if something falls off when I walk down the street and I never know? I'll be so embarrassed."
"If it falls off and you don't miss it then you weren't using it anyway and someone else deserves it. Think how many ugly girls would long to have one of your tits come floating
"They couldn't use it' "Sweetheart, anything that falls off that quick, can be attached quick too. It's not even a transplant. Just graft it on."
"Or a floating dick finding its way into an empty cunt."
"On the street? It would take some finding with all the underwear you ladies wear."
"Garter belts, girdles, panty girdles, garters bikini pants, slips, half slips, there's not much. Most women don't wear half of them."
"I wish they would. That's about all the difference there is between the two sexes. There's a lot of mystique in a swaddled body. Look at Jesus. Nobody could see him for the cloth, but everyone knew he was the one."
"Bad analogy. Stick to sex. Sex and religion doesn't cut it when you're dealing with Satan."
"Satan is only there because of it."
"Enough. Let's fuck, get up, retrieve our lost parts, and go to Central Park. I'm dying to see what you weirdos come up with when there's more than two of you together. Will I be able to kiss you in front of a witch?"
Cora was candid and she could see by the way he squirmed that Meyer Suisse took advantage of his position as a leader and probably all the witches there were in love with him. His face twitched a little.
"Hell, is this going to be awkward."
"How?"
"It'll be dark and there'll be fifty witches there ready to jump you and watching every move you make and I'll be hanging around with the novice and apprentice witches picking up dropped finger nails and sucking leftover blood and won't be able to get in on the action or they'll stuff me into this boiling cauldron and I'll be cursed into deformity and they'll eat me."
"Exactly. You've got it. I'll race you into the shower."
It was the first shower Suisse had taken in the three days they had been there. He smelled not only of sex, but of sweat and this musty odor of stale frankincense that Cora had smelt around all of the magic people. Funny to call them that. These people were far from magical, but they dealt in illusion that was for sure.
"Want me to wash you?" As she washed him his skin peeled off in her hand and she got scared.
"You gonna disappear any moment, Mr. Suisse."
He smiled and looked at her and they hugged wetly. She pushed him away to continue washing him and his arms stayed around her but his body left them behind her. Cora screamed in horror and clung to him and tried to reattach the arms to their empty sockets. While she was doing this he put his wet stick in her wet cunt, bent his knees and shoved it up. She grunted but kept on working.
"It's one thing to lose a toe, but a pair of arms is a bit extravagant. Can't you hold yourself together?"
He shrugged and didn't say anything. One of the reasons, all the witches thought he must be their leader was because he didn't ever freak out when the curses backfired. This was obviously a mistake. He had been racking his brains for the past four hours to find the curse that had failed or a remedy.
"You don't seem worried. You have another one in the closet?"
Suisse smiled at her and bit her nose off. She was left with a black triangle where her nose had been. She screamed again and the force of her scream pushed his dick out of her hole.
"Hey! Look what you have done to me, this is terrible."
"Look what you did to me. Give it back. I need it. I didn't give it you. I didn't ask to be amputated. Kill me while you're at it. I'd rather be dead than without a nose."
The black triangle reminded him of something. Meyer Suisse jumped out of the shower and ran dripping into the bedroom. He picked up the yellow pages and hunted. He looked like he knew what he was looking for.
"Grand Union please."
"Yes. I'm looking for a kind of grass seed that is used in catalyzing the growth of alfalfa sprouts. It's called gibberilum."
He hung up and rummaged around some more and called some other numbers. One had it, was open and he dressed and split within seconds.
When he returned Cora was on the bed trying to cajole her lost parts to come down. No luck, she was using the only spell he had taught her, the beginning spell that was the Satanic version of "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep."
He took the package and lay the naked and tormented woman on the bed and sprinkled a few seeds over her black triangle. He muttered to himself and her scared eyes looked up into his crossed ones. He muttered like a maniac and soon she felt wisdom tooth pain as a bone pushed through her flat triangle.
"Suisse, something's happening."
"Don't touch it. Don't move. Don't think about sex. Tell me a children's story."
"Once upon a time...."
By the time of the happily ever after she had a nose. Small and not quite an exact replica and there was still a black cloud hovering around it but it had nostrils and was quite recognizable.
"Oh Suisse, but it's not mine. This belonged to somebody else. Look at it. It was a black's nose, it's not from the same genes."
"You want me to remove it?"
"No, no. Maybe fix a little?" She screwed up her face and pleading she bent up to kiss him.
"Stay still. It might fall off."
"Can I think about sex?"
Suisse said a firm no and shoved his prick into her cunt. He grunted as it reached the deep end and he pumped fast to keep himself afloat but it was too late. He came within six seconds. He groaned and left it in to rest.
After a pause it started up again and there was some rapid humping and he said a muffled, "Oh, no, help, oh, no," into her shoulder and came again. He was a woman, she was sure. Parts of him were all woman.
"Why have you never changed sex?"
"Why should I? I get both aspects this way." He smiled weakly and looked very, very tired. Cora wondered for the first time how old he was.
"What is it?" He was stroking her bulbous peaks and his wilted log still lay damp inside.
"You look timeless and ancient and exhausted." She caressed the indentations where she had broken his ribs and said it gently so he wouldn't be insulted. He was very touchy about what he looked like, all these witches were, it had something to do with their illusive preoccupation.
"Sweetheart, am I wrinkled?"
"No.
"Suisse?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't ever call me sweetheart again, OK?"
"Only if-you let me seduce you in front of the witches tonight in Central Park. "
"It's a deal." Cora was a latent exhibitionist and doing a live stag movie in Central Park for a horde of witches, tickled more than her fancy. She liked Suisse to plan adventures. When he talked of wrinkles, he deflated and looked like a queer old queen that was worried and tired and aspiring to the image that had vanished years ago.
CHAPTER SIX
Beatrice was lying on her bed and rolled over. Stanley was snoring and it drove her nuts.
"Can't you do something about the swamp up your nose?" She was tired and irritable and Stanley had bled all over the sheets and she couldn't be bothered to clean it up.
"I could have my nose removed, I guess."
"Let me hypnotize you. Maybe that'll work."
"Sure. I'll try anything. How should I pose. Like this?" He took a ridiculous statuesque position, a munchkin trying to be Bacchus.
"Lie down. Now look into my eyes. You are felling a little drowsy. You want to go to sleep because your eyes feel so heavy you can hardly keep them open. You hear only the sound of my beautiful voice and it lulls you like your mother's voice lulled you and you only want to hear more of it and you want it to lull you to sleep. You are very tired. That's right, you keep yawning and your eyes can't seem to stay open. You aren't even trying to keep them open. You're not trying to do anything. All that you hear is the sound of my voice relaxing your entire body. Your limbs feel heavy. Your head feels very heavy and it is falling back into sleep.
Easy victim. She kept going to make sure.
"As you sleep you're going to relax your pharynx. Everybody does. You relax your pharynx more than anyone else in the world. It is very dangerous to your health. I am going to count to ten and by the time I have finished counting you will have relaxed your pharynx, but not enough to block the air passage and you will never snore again." She counted to ten, slowly and then there was utter silence. Stanley had not only passed out, but his breathing had stopped. Beatrice took his pulse and it was going. She left him breathless.
"What time is it?" It was Stanley's voice calling out in the darkness. It was about twenty minutes after he had gone to sleep and Beatrice was sitting, staring, awake.
"Four o'clock," she said.
"And-what day is it?'"
"Walpurgis Nacht." Stanley asked her if she wanted to celebrate. "We're in a perfect place to do it," said Beatrice. Stanley looked around.
"Let's go. Let's go back to Manhattan. We can go for a walk in the park and then I'll take you home to meet Mother. It'll be quiet, it'll be fun."
"OK." Beatrice was ready. Things had been pretty jammed.
They packed and left. No hassle. As they drove to the airport in the taxi they both looked back at the front of the hotel.
"Do you see what I see?"
Stanley put his arms around Beatrice and together they stared through the back window at a thousand tiny red bodies, sitting on all the window sills outside all the rooms. They were chattering and romping from sill to sill, like birds on a cliff. The couple shuddered and turned back; Stanley paid the taxi driver and ran into Beatrice climbing out with the luggage.
"No. no, don't help us. We'll take can.' of it."
"What's up?"
"He's dressed in a red devil's suit." Stanley rushed into the airport so he didn't see the kiss Beatrice planted on the forehead of the taxi river.
They climbed on the plane and fastened their seat belt. A woman in a scarlet suit and garish green eye shadow sat down beside them and fastened hers. She was beside Beatrice so Stanley didn't get the full effect, though he did smell an overdose of Chypre, this ghastly scent she exuded in billows from her pulse.
"Don't eat the food. It's poisonous. Wait and I'll feed you when we get home."
"Stanley you're so moral."
Beatrice didn't eat but she put her hand on his inner thigh and stroked it.
"Can I do this, doctor?"
"Prescribed. Guaranteed to nurse you and me back to stupendous form in minutes."
The ride was bumpy and long, and Beatrice vomited. Stanley wanted to but so many years of retention didn't allow him too. He got up and went to the washroom. There was a line up but he waited. He watched the stewardess watch him. He liked being looked at. He was used to it. Most of his patients fell in love with him, but he never did anything about it. That is, he never did more than fuck them after visiting hours.
He flirted with her and when it was time, when there was space for him in the can she pushed her way in with him. The room was the size of a crib. There was only room for one to stand so her entrance pushed him onto the seat.
"Pretty cozy in here." What the hell was she doing?
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him hard and full on the mouth.
He forgot everything and did what he always did. He touched and squeezed her breast and grabbed both breasts hard and squashed them together and pressed his loins against her.
He did quite honestly forget everything. He forgot that he didn't have a cock any more and even when she pushed him up on the seat so that he was standing on the rim of the toilet and began undoing his pants, he still didn't remember he was memberless.
It was exciting and he moved his hands around on her earlobes, dangling his nail in her ear hole and making little noises.
"You're cute yourself." His low voice was masculine and gruff and it .excited her.
"You're the man with the beautiful j woman?"
"She's nothing compared to you." His bedside manner was sharp and his attempts at gallantry were ' habits by now and it never occurred to him that they were insincere.
Her lips were parted and she opened his fly and pulled his pants apart. She didn't say an thing but reached her knowing hand into the flap of his rayon Stanfield's underwear and searched for his click like a mother cat moving her kitten's head towards a nipple for nursing. She couldn't find it. Obviously.
She finally pulled his pants off and looked. Nothing. A hairless slit.
"Hey, you queer?"
"Oh, God!" Stanley suddenly remembered and groaned with intense humiliation. He blushed like a fourteen year old and tried to pull his pants up quickly.
She pulled them back down and there was a slight tussle and Stanley's foot slipped into the toilet shoot.
"This is worse than being an adolescent."
"You're very calm about it, despite the strangeness." She had worked on charm in the same way he had.
"Let me out of here."
She opened the door and walked out of the tiny cubicle. He sat down on the seat with his head in his hands. He had forgotten to piss and didn't feel like it any more.
He zipped his pants and trudged mournfully back to the seat He saw the ghastly woman in the red suit on the inside seat and looked at her and wanted to run.
"You a witch?"
She smiled at him and her teeth were yellow inside her crimson lips. She didn't say anything but her palm greased his as he bumped past her and into his seat. He wiped the grease off on the underside of his seat and looked at Beatrice. She was pretending to sleep and he gazed at her face.
It had changed in the past three days. He was sure. It wasn't simply his familiarity. There was something mocking about her expression even when she was asleep. She looked like she was watching him with her eyes closed. It made him uncomfortable. Witches. Then he noticed a steward in a red suit. He looked over the top of his seat and the row in front on both sides of the aisle was filled with people wearing some kind of red suit.
Stanley tried not to panic and sat back and closed his eyes. His hands out of habit crossed themselves over his penis place. A gesture he had first done when he was twelve to hide his conspicuous erections.
Then he remembered his predicament and sat on his hands. He tried to close his eyes and succeeded.
"Asleep?" As soon as he had shut his eyes, Beatrice spoke to him. Figures, it was a conspiracy.-
"Yes." He growled at her and didn't open his eyes.
"Want me to tell you a story?"
She did and he fell asleep, genuinely in her second sentence.
The clouds out the window were black and shaped liked witches. Beatrice looked at them and felt them salute her as they flew by. One passed looking like a bishop and she watched it collide and evaporate on contact with a devil's horns.
"More liquid?" The stewardess was standing there, very white faced and holding a glass towards Beatrice. She took it and gulped it. It was red but not thick and it was lukewarm. Blood. She saw two tiny syringe marks on the stewardess's neck as she took the glass away. Beatrice felt warm and delighted at the royal treatment she was getting.
She began talking with the witch beside her.
"You going tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"You one of the leaders?" Beatrice nodded assent.
"Who is your friend?"
"My friend." Beatrice's answer was curt and abrupt.
"Sorry. No pressure. Let's see your hair." Beatrice succumbed to the standard form of geniality that witch's always go through. As she caressed Beatrice's hair the woman pulled her face to hers and there was a long kiss. Tongues met tongues and the two woman told each other stories of tongue stems. The juice flowed freely from the mouth to the mouth and their pores opened wide to let the sexuality and fire of their lips pour in. It was passionate and subversive at the same time. Beatrice actually preferred women to men and she told the witch that by putting her hand on the stranger's thigh and drawing it up into the woman's crack. Too many clothes and no room to undress. The frustration of the muffled parts only increased their passion.
The kisses turned to nuzzles, turned to bites. Their mouths explored each others' faces and the wetness of their kisses was animal like.
There were various animal sounds, soft grunts, and purrs.
"Kisses. There's nothing like them."
Stanley woke up after awhile and poked the kissing Beatrice in the back.
"Hey! What about me?"
She turned to him and kissed him taking a breath as she changed from mouth to mouth.
"Mmmmm, Beatrice, your kisses are irresistible"
"Kisses. There's nothing like them." She smiled at him and blew in his nostrils. He responded by picking her up and placing her on his lap.
His hands explored her. He knew her like a fairy tale and loved to repeat the lines over and over and he savored her curves and creases like a connoisseur. She tasted like a rich sauterne. He tasted like a liqueur. She tasted womanly. That inexplicable smell and taste of scented soap and perfumed skin and cheese. That wonderful smell of cheese, goat cheese that only women could muster up. He loved it when women didn't wash. After days of lovemaking and no cleaning, to have a woman walk into his office, reeking of sex, turned him on and often he had to go and masturbate before he could examine her. Only once had he given in and fucked a girl in his office. She was Chinese and she had come for a pregnancy test and to be fitted for a diaphragm. She was fourteen and absolutely beautiful. When he put his hands inside her, her beautiful thighs came right out of the stirrups and wrapped themselves around his neck. He had had women come on to him before, but in more traditional manners and he gave into the delight of sucking her and when he put his cock into her she didn't say a word but she grabbed him hard with her thighs and his prick went into her with the thrust of a battering ram. In the entire sequence she didn't utter one sound and he tried to keep himself silent too but forgot at the end and groaned and screamed and grunted. Thinking of this, his loins responded with the surge of blood they were accustomed to but now there was no place for the blood to go and it swirled around in a whirlpool in his would be loins and he understood" finally, a woman in heat. It was so specific but the release was so indirect. No ejaculation, just thundering currents.
Here was Bea on his lap and no cock for her to bump against.
"I have no cock for you to jam on to." He said it ruefully.
"Don't worry, we'll find you a nice man to fill you up."
Stanley vomited. All over Beatrice's beautiful back. The kissing had released his retentions and the statement had aggravated his sea sickness! Air sickness. Gay sickness. General revulsion.
Everybody was suddenly crowding around, red jacketed stewards, red dressed stewardesses, red bellied, gentlemen, a red faced doctor, the red witch from the aisle seat and readily available Beatrice. He was em harassed.
"Stop patting, everyone, please, I'll clean it myself. Sorry, Bea, terribly. Please, do let me do it alone. Yes, I'm fine."
They did. Finally. But he had seen their stares and couldn't wait for the ride to end so he would never have to see any of them again. Especially the grey one who had kissed Bea.
"How could you kiss her?" He whispered it to her.
"She had got and extraordinary tongue. And if you close your eyes, what difference does it make?" The old line that came up all the time. Usually, men said it to women, though.
"How much longer?"
"About as long as it takes for you to have a shit." The power of suggestion. He went off and tried again, this time avoiding the stewardess and anyone else. He looked at his face in the compact mirror and he thought he looked a different man. He couldn't be precise about the details, it was an air. Well! Understandable after the last three days. Thank God it was over. He noticed beside the provided soap there was a clove of garlic. He popped it in his mouth and swallowed it He felt the rush in his system as it absorbed the shock of such a onslaught of raw material. Another appeared in place of the one he had taken. He slipped it into his pocket and went back and sat down. As he brushed passed the witch, she seemed to recoil from him and no part of her touched him, there was no banging knees, nothing. And Beatrice refused to kiss him and became cold and he felt her watched her disappear into the distance even though her body stayed and was actually there beside him.
"HOOOOW," he breathed on her face, to bring her back to life.
"This is what God breathed into Adam to give him life." He whispered to her as a cloud of garlic enveloped her face. She shrank and got visibly smaller in front of his eyes. He stared at her shocked.
"Don't talk that stuff about God to me. And get your measly face away from me!" She spoke shrilly and refused to look at him and her tone was irritable. Stanley was shocked. She looked ugly and wrinkled and pinched. Was this the voluptuous monster that had driven him wild? This woman should be selling detergent or pesticides, not travelling beside him. Another voice in him told him of their trial visit and etceteras. Her face remained imprinted on his retina and he drew away to the window. He was a calm man, this was all so terribly peculiar.
"Prepare for touchdown." Everyone prepared.
There was a thud, a suck and whistle, and everything sang, and then there were shouts. Stanley suddenly thought-DC 10, we're on one of those faulty DC 10's.
They were and the. engine dropped out of the plane as they landed. Beatrice grabbed him by the shoulders and they sailed through the air as the plane exploded and burned. He clutched Beatrice and tried to comfort her.
"Hang on to me, my darling, we'll go together."
"No! Hang on to me! I'll get us out of this." Stanley realized that this was no random quantum leap or even a leap of faith. This woman knew where she was going and they soared into the air and glided and flew and then crashed into a tree.
"Christ! Are you alright, Bea?" she chuckled at him from a higher branch.
"Perfect timing! Just in time for our walk."
"Central Park! You've landed us in Central Park. You devil!" He said it admiringly.
"That's right, sweetheart!" They gingerly climbed down from the tree. Stanley was stiff but Beatrice was bright. Her eyes were green again and she was beautiful. Stanley forgot his shriveled picture.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was dark. There were clouds. The moon wasn't anywhere visible. The park was crowded but nothing could be seen. Things flitted. There was no noise. Manhattan seemed as far away as Miami. The plane crash was a fantasy. Stanley was scared. Other people in the park, regulars, were afraid, too. Something was going on. Things brushed by, but there were no muggings. Hair stood on end. It was evil but it wasn't crime. It was a thick air, muffled and coated with implication.
Stanley sniffed then tried to stop himself.
"Bea?" He tried to find her arm. He found it and clung to it. Then he put his arm around her and it was someone else. He knew it was. The bones were different. He started to shake and tried to let go but it was their turn to cling.
"Let go of me!"
There was no answer and the hands felt determined and strong. There was no struggle and he was compelled by the silence to obey.
He put his right hand down the front of his pants to where his precious tiddle used to be and put a finger in the hole that was left. It was tangible and the gesture comforted him more than aroused him. Or, it aroused him and comforted him.
The arms knew where they were going. They turned corners and squeezed when there was going to be a bump and backed him away from trees. Stanley felt trusting, in the guide. For some reason he forgot about Beatrice. She knew what she was doing more than he. He needed taking care of. A doctor whom no one in their life had considered taking care of was now the most helpless and uncertain impatient of them all.
The arms stopped him and began to turn him in circles. He kept his hand down his pants and it stayed there, becoming his center and keeping him from dizziness.
Then the arms let go and because of his root he didn't stagger.
He opened his eyes and only then did he realise that they had been closed for the entire walk. He was standing in a small glen and it was filled with people .
The people were walking around, not saying anything.
Someone came up to him and he saw it was Cora. The woman who had been with Beatrice when he rescued her.
"Welcome."
"Hello. Where's Beatrice?"
Cora bent down (she was much taller than he) and kissed him on the mouth. He suddenly was consumed with desire and without thinking he threw her to the ground and began to caress her roughly. She had a dildo and crammed it into his hole. His pants were undone by magic and their passion was all they could think of. Her mouth was irresistible, like Beatrices. Not like Beatrices, but irresistible, nonetheless.
His hands went over her and she liked it he . could tell, she writhed and moaned. He bit her and put his finger up inside her. Then he entered her with the extended prong of the dildo .
She moaned. He groaned. She screamed. He wept.
He came for the first time without his thing. They came together and it was a meeting of blood and cloud, and teeth. They bit each other hard and the clenching teeth clung to skin as their pelvises romped and thrust into each other hard. He reached and put a finger slowly up her asshole. She grunted and she humped it.
His eyes opened for a second and he did a double take. Through the erotic unstoppable haze he saw they were in the center of a circle and people were silently watching him. He thought he saw his mother, Beatrice, the Chinese girl and another patient from his hospital.
"Baby, where are we?" He gasped at her.
"Central Park. It's a coven. You're the guest of honour. That's why we rescued you from the plane. You had to come. You're going to write about us. You're going to become our missionary."
"Stop. We've gotta stop." He choked it out. She didn't stop her pelvis from moving and his body, with woman's urges,, surged again and again.. They went on until she fell off him and they rolled apart and their naked bodies stared" at the vacant, starless sky. He didn't feel cold, but without the hugging body, he felt spooky.
The crowd had silently stood there the entire time, watching. Nobody moved.
Then somebody moved. He felt himself being lifted by several pair of hands.
Nobody moved.
He couldn't understand what in hell was happening to him at that particular moment in time.
The hands laid him down and stood him up. They were all naked, but some had shawls on. They all had green eyes.
A person came towards him.
"Welcome." Just like Cora had said.
"You were expecting me?"
"Of course."
Stanley looked closer and saw it was Meyer Suisse. Beatrice had told him everything she knew about him.
"Complete correct," Suisse replied, smiling.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing. You are our guest of honor."
"The sacrificial victim?"
"Perhaps, but until then, you may stay with me and I'll guide you through the ceremony."
Stanley said nothing. What could he say? What could he do?
There was sound now. A chanting and the figures were slowly moving counterclockwise in the circle. There were maybe five hundred of them.
"Where did you find your gang?"
"They came to me. Like you."
Stanley felt him smile in the dark. Unpleasantly.
Someone came forward and placed three bundles in the center. A platform emerged by itself. An altar and the bundles began to move. He went closer, only because Suisse pushed him forward.
The altar had a rat, a baby and a doll on it. The doll didn't move but it was chanting, like the circle. It actually appeared to be leading the chant. He wondered if it was a tape loop inside. The next episode was the confrontation of the rat and the baby. The baby sensed the danger of the animal and didn't look at it so the rat had no suspense to plan it's jump with. Every time the rat moved and some of the times it didn't, the baby screamed.
It wasn't the indefinite, issuing wail of a bawling brat. It was a specific warning and plea for help.
Stanley walked to the altar and picked the baby up. The chanting stopped. The only thing Stanley understood about witches and black magic was that it was built on suggestibility and the myth surrounding it. They never did things directly, always alluded to it. Ploughed every furrow with insinuations.
So the doctor had done what doctors always try and do. Save lives. It was unexpected and he gathered strength from the shattering he felt in the ranks.
"Put it back, you fool!"
Suisse was hissing at him.
"Sorry, I'm the guest here, so you mustn't take offense at my behaviour."
"You watch and don't interfere!"
Suisse tried to look menacing but he had shrunk the way Beatrice had before his breath of garlic. He took the other clove out of his pocket and put a morsel in his mouth and chewed it. Then he put his mouth over the baby's tiny aperture and pushed the chewed clove into its throat. It gagged but swallowed it.
Stanley felt better. They were immune. It worked. Suisse and nobody else attempted to take the baby from him and it slept in his arms.
Things continued. They began chanting again and two figures, one of them Suisse walked slowly towards each other.
"Owatiddysaka," the voices repeated. It was low and powerful, like any chanting. And they obviously believed.
The figures "met and Suisse removed the shawl from the other body and revealed Cora, glistening in splendor. Her flesh was mother of pearl.
Stanley would have had a massive erection , if he could have. As it was his blood surged and his nipples got hard and his tongue fell out of his mouth.
The two naked bodies circled each other.
Suisse had a large cock and it was on display.
Stanley felt jealous. He wanted to be Suisse and he wanted to fight with him over Cora. What a gorgeous dame!
Stanley could feel the entire crowd sizzling with lust and envy but the doll on the altar drove them on in their circling.
The bodies came slowly and deliberately closer. The crowd stopped moving so they could crouch and watch. It had the suspense of a cock fight. Cora was febrile, tense and panther-like.
Suisse had changed size again and was large and strutting. He pounced on Cora and tried to throw her to the ground. She kicked him in the balls and he leapt backwards with a howl and a hiss went up from the crowd.
Cora fought like a tiger. Her teeth glistened and sunk into him with the ferocity of a wildcat. Her toes were prehensile and clambered over him, kicking and tossing him to the ground. Her hands tore at his hair. "You fucking bitch!"
"You cuntsucking son of a pig! Come near me and I'll kill you!"
"I'm gonna rape you. I'm gonna stick my cock into you till you scream and blubber for mercy. I'm gonna make you eat my head till you die from choking on sperm!"
There was hate and torture in the air. The crowd hissed and ooed in response to every move like a boxing match. There were no cheers for one or the other side though. It was reaction from the crowd, no goading.
It was five after ten.
By fifteen after they were both rolling on the ground. He wasn't in her yet, but there he goes! He shot his puck into her goal and she cried a deep howling cat wail and pulled off him and tried to get away.
Suisse was to quick, he tackled her and knocked her down. Her mouth was panting and he shoved his menacing and wet cock deep into her throat, ramming it down with a plunge that made her gag. All the women in the crowd made a similar sound and it echoed over the trees in the park.
Stanley realized what happened. Suisse and Cora had hypnotized the crowd already mesmerized by the chanting and they were responding internally to the rape.
They were actually inside the fucking bodies and were feeling everything that Suisse and Cora were as though it was happening to them.
Stanley looked at the crowd and the women's legs were open and the men were crouching in a pose like Suisse. With every thrust of his body their bodies humped and the women arched. The air was electric with the concentration on the copulating pair. Five hundred people were participating in the rape of Cora.
A swan flew over and landed beside them. It pecked at Suisse with its bill and he yelped with the pain but didn't stop. He fell onto Cora and crammed her body into the ground and fucked her mercilessly. She screamed and fought and fought and then when he just couldn't stand it any more she stopped and let her hot torch be quenched by the searing dagger. He was piercing her and her thighs were scratched by the beak of the swan.
"Take me, take me."
A chorus of voices from the crowd moaned, "take me, take me." Now that Suisse had entered her, the crowd, tortured in its suspense and turned in on itself as couple after couple moaned "take me" to its name until there were hundreds of coupling, taking naked glistening cocks and cunts fighting for fusion in the grass.
Stanley licked his lip and held the baby. He put his face on it and licked it all over. Then he hugged it and sat down and put it between his legs as he continued to watch.
"Want company?"
He looked and an extraordinarily beautiful man with a mellifluous voice sat down beside him. He had black curly hair, an aquiline nose, and eyelashes, long black and curly. His skin looked very white and womanly.
Stanley didn't say anything.
"You're not afraid of me are you?"
"No. I find you very beautiful.' "You want to lie down?"
"With you?"
"The man laughed. It was one of those throaty guttural laughs that you read about in novels but never hear.
He put his hand on Stanley's back and gently touched his neck.
Stanley closed his eyes and didn't allow himself to think.
"What are you thinking?"
The voice was caressing him like the hand.
"I was thinking that I wasn't going to allow myself to think."
The voice chuckled, low, erotic and Stanley relaxed under the hand.
"Come here. Come down here."
He was lying invitingly on his back and when Stanley looked at him her he couldn't tell. (If it was him or her.)
"Are you a man?" "
"Come and try me."
"Why do you want me?"
"I don't question. My blood leads me."
"I want you." Stanley heard his voice saying to this creature what he had only said to a woman before.
"You look like a unicorn."
The boy was pleased and laughed softly and drew Stanley towards him until their chests met.
Their eyes looked into each others and stayed in for a long time.
Stanley felt his pulse quickening and felt rather than saw their lips moving slowly together. Just before they met his heart beat wildly and his breath gave a tiny gasp that blew air on to the juicy lips of this Hermes.
They kissed. At first slow then it got raw and harder as their bodies crushed together and their teeth ground their tongues into their throats and the blood flowed.
"You're a man." Stanley growled it into his ear. The voice was gravelly and the ferociousness of his statement aroused the stranger more. He grabbed Stanley's chin with his hands and pushed him onto his back and rammed his cock onto Stanley's belly and the sperm smothered his skin like the most luscious bath oil.
"Make me hard again!" He commanded Stanley.
Stanley was shy and his hand touched the soft but eager member.
"You'll have to teach me."
"You know. Pretend it's your own. Before it happened."
The boy acknowledged the missing part gently and accepted it with ease. Stanley felt grateful for his politeness.
"It's not politeness, you know. I like your body. I envy the freedom and wisdom you now have."
"Touch me."
They touched each other and explored each others parts like adolescents, shy but not furtive.
"You're good."
Stanley responded to the encouragement and his touching followed the instinct guided by his blood.
Their bodies touched with nipples and tongues. The boy put his tongue into Stanley's holes and there was a pause and a groan as the penis went into Stanley's asshole. His hole was tight. Nothing but a finger had gone up it before. The boy greased the outside of the hole and waited there, caressing it until it had relaxed. Then he gently put it up and it stayed. Slow. He was young, but already a teacher. When it fit and Stanley's walls were ready he pumped it out and in. Sharp. Once. Stanley screamed. The baby woke up. It cried and then grunted and began to imitate all of Stanley's noises.
"Oh God, fuck me! Fuck me up, up into my, up my hole!" Stanley spat and gasped, at the man.
"Oh Gaw Fu K me mme Fuck u u u ihna ummee hall." The baby repeated the sounds but not the words.
"God! I'm deflowering a virgin!"
"Kiss me." Stanley wanted wet lips and tender brushes with this hard fucking. His dick, the stranger's went in and up and in and out and pumped him like a disco tune till he couldn't stand it and his body was weak and limp and still he kept on.
"You're merciless! You torturer!" Stanley gasped at him.
"I'm gonna do it to you do it to you do it to you." He chanted at Stanley with the pulse of a driven man.
The boy's hand clutched his ribs from behind and heaved his ribs up and down with his fast breaths.
"Enough?"
"Don't-don't stop."
There were tears on Stanley's face. He had always been the aggressor. He had never been fucked in his life.
"You like it? You were made for this. I can feel it. You've taken your time but now you're home."
The words were like a balm on the lonely Stanley. He felt abused by the women, he felt used up, they take his sperm and then send him the bill for the abortion. They suck his cock and then complain that he didn't give it to them. They let him seduce them and then tear him apart and castrate him.
"You, you know, you're right."
He started to sob and the boy took out his dick from Stanley's loosened hole and quickly put his arms around Stanley's chest and kissed him on the mouth.
The sobs turned to hiccups.
The hiccups turned to laughter.
The laughter turned to joyful words.
"I love you."
"I love you." Stanley replied in the wonder of his virginal love.
They two of them hugged and lay in each others' arms. Their thighs were "intertwined and their heads were kissing. Not wet, but little chews on the ears and on the cheeks. Puppies. Middle-aged puppy with a young sage.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cora got up and the glen was empty. How had everybody left. Where had they gone? She spied Stanley asleep over under a tree. She felt cold and there was that baby, still asleep but with no blanket. It was May day. She heard some kids playing.
"Stanley, Stanley, wake up."
Stanley didn't wake up. Cora stared at him in horror and then picked up the baby and ran.
She ran and ran and ran. Her throat was burning, and she kept on running. Her legs were hurting and she thought that her ankles might break any moment but she kept running. She had read descriptions of people running and what it felt like and this was just like it. They survived to write about it and so would she. She didn't stop till she got home.
She later figured it out to be three miles. Pretty good for a first run.
She put the baby under her cover on the bed and called a doctor. I
"Hello, I've found a baby and it's been lying out naked all night and I wonder if you would come and check it."
"Oh, OK, I'll be there."
She hung up and sat down. She got up and moved around. She sat down again.
She had a shower. She lay down and masturbated. She put in a tampax. She read some pornography. She got an obscene phone call. She looked at her collection of dildoes. She masturbated a little more till her clit rejected her. The she got dressed and went to the clinic with the baby.
"You OK, yourself?"
The doctor seemed quite concerned with her. After he finished with the child and pronounced judgment, he asked to examine her. She hesitated and he pressed the matter.
"You looked slightly harassed. I'd like to reassure you."
"I'm OK, really, just tired."
"May I take you to lunch?"
She looked at him and started to cry. His hands massaged her and caressed her shoulders. She sobbed for a long time and he made no effort to question or commiserate. He waited until the sobbing subsided somewhat. With a fatherly tone he addressed her.
"Tell what the problem is."
"Really, I mean it. There's no problem, I'm just tired. I had a long and involved experience."
"Then you need some protein."
His wonderful hands picked her up and placed her on her feet. They walked out together, leaving the dead baby on the examining table.
"Steak tartar. That's what I want."
Cora's appetite sounded vampiric.
"You like Strinberg?"
"The playwright? Why? I've only read one thing, I think. Didn't he write the Dance of Death?"
"Yes. What did you think of it?" , They talked and walked and he was so steady and friendly and secure and he knew what to say next and was calm and kind that things seemed both responsible and irresponsible at the same time. She could be irresponsible because he so obviously was able to pick up the pieces. Responsible because she wanted to be straight with him.
"I've spent the last month, intensely involved with witches and warlocks. Last night was a coven. Walpurgis Nacht, you know it?"
He nodded. He seemed nonplussed. Doctors were generally conservative but they had seen a lot of death, a lot of struggling, a lot of real stuff.
"You a witch?"
"Approaching it. I think last night was enough."
"Where were you?"
"Central Park."
His hands never left her and they were strong and comforting and she knew she could tell him anything and he would be able to take it. She didn't care if he judged her.
"Judge me. Kiss me. Take me."
"I am. I will. I am about to."
As they walked into Feathers, someone screamed. A man had looked at Cora and had a heart attack. Her loins crackled and the doctor stepped in and revived him.
"How you doing?"
He sat down at her table and looked haggard and full of adrenalin.
"My loins are crackling."
"Still interested in food?"
"Yes. Even more so. But just sensation."
"Very hot and full of texture."
That was his instruction to the waiter.
"Yes, doctor." The waiter smiled and returned a while later with mango, with whipping cream, with calves brains, with nuts, with raw egg yolks with steak tartar.
They ate with their fingers and slowly. Their eyes never left each others' faces. As she placed the mango in his mouth his lips touched her fingers. Her cunt got wet and she shivered.
"Cold?"
"No. Hot."
He laughed with his mouth full and his tongue licked his wet lips and it was pink and healthy.
"How old are you?"
"Old enough to know better and young enough to still be crying for you."
"Charmer. Too much charm, how can I see you through the technique?"
"Pretty fresh to be making such condemnations."
"Am I right?"
"Perhaps."
They talked and their lips played. They ate and their eyes played with each other. It was delicious suspense. It was an endurance test until the end of lunch. They hurried through dessert, their eagerness overcoming the titillation.
"Your place or..?"
He paid the bill with his credit card and they got up and hurried out.
"One question. Why did your face cause that man to have an attack?"
"I once put a curse on him so that it would happen. And now it has."
"You believe in that stuff?"
"I'm only answering your question."
They got into her apartment and there were two red men sitting on her couch."
"Hello Cora. Who is your friend?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Get out." One of them stood out and menaced the doctor. He stood his ground and stared at him. Then he turned on his heel, went to the refrigerator and pulled out some garlic. "Play myth, with myth."
They recoiled and he felt their weakness.
"You guys get out."
"O mi, O ki, O mi, sa. Ka sa wa sa o di ba."
The two red men began dancing around and chanting. They looked silly and the doctor smiled.
"You play with these guys?"
"Sssh. They're doing a curse. I have to figure out what it is in order to break it."
The phone rang. Cora moved to answer and they stopped their noise and looked at her. She picked up the receiver and a mouse jumped out of it. She screamed and they walked slowly towards her, menacingly.
The doctor had been watching this and walked to them and pulled them both back by the hair and popped the garlic in their mouths.
Their screams rang into the upturned receiver.
Then they wilted and shrank and cringed and fled.
"Cora, Cora, what's going on?"
"Suisse? It's two goblins with garlic in their mouths."
"Have they left?" She wanted to know.
"Yes. What curse have they put on me?"
The doctor's hands were undressing her and she was trembling with desire as she talked. His fingers found their way to her clit and brushed the curls of her red pubic hair.
"They've cursed you with nymphomania"
Cora laughed and put the receiver down.
She fell onto the doctor and he stood up with her over his shoulder and took her into the bedroom.
"Let's see how far this curse will go."
He put his lips to her hot and honeyed pot arid sucked her. The garlic from his mouth made her juice dry up and her vulva walls turned to prune paste.
"You no like my touch?"
"It's the garlic."
Cora's voice was tense and tight and high. He glanced at her face and saw it shriveled and pinched.
"Honey, they done you bad."
"Exorcise me."
Her command was a challenge. Doctors like challenges. They want to know that they're better than other people. They are plodders and rise up step by step to meet challenges, not flash by flash.
He kissed her and she bit him. She drew blood but he was relentless and pressed his tongue against, again and again.
"You felt no pain?"
His hands pushed her rearing arms back and pinned them harshly above her head. "I ignore it."
He bit her. There was not blood. He licked her entire face until it reeked of garlic. He put his lips over her nose and exhaled into her flaring nostrils. His hips rose up and she kicked him and struggled to get out of his grip. He took off his belt and tied her arms to the bedposts. Then he slid his cock down to where it was pressed against her hairy bone and grappled her thighs with his knees.
"Tell me what you feel. Everything."
"I feel this horrible cloud made only up of garlic surrounding my face and making my stomach freeze and my intestines plug up. I feel your hands stroking my nipples and I want them to be plucked off by your fingernails. I want to cut off your fingernails and have you pierce my ass with your plunger. I want to pull your hair out by the roots and stuff it up my nest and make a bed for you to put your head into."
He grabbed her by the hair and threw her back down on the bed. Her hands were still tied to the bedposts and her legs were curled up in a crouch position. He forced her legs to go straight and bit the inside of her thighs hard. She writhed and her back arched and she barred her teeth and snarled.
"I want you to put your thing in my mouth and. let me suck its juice until you die of desiccation. I want to knock your teeth out and suck the blood from your gums. I want to put a bullet into your asshole and let it ride its way up your bottomless tunnel till it punctures your insides and they spew out onto my belly and I pick them up and chew on them, chew on them. I want your prick to grind into my hole and put sperm all over the walls like a cream lined streamlined graffiti. I want your lips to kiss me and pour me into your mouth until I drown in your passion. I want the most extreme and strange thing done to me that you've ever thought of but nobody ever would let you do it to them. I want to make you come and force you to come every time with me, every time that I do and keep you coming till you think it's the end and then make you come once more and then we'll sleep. I want to sleep in your arms and curl my hands into your armpits and my chin around your neck and sleep there like baby wolves who have wrestled until they are exhausted and then I want you to want me more than you have ever wanted any woman."
"I want you. Don't stop talking. Let me take you while you talk."
The doctor found the talk erotic. She wasn't there, not in his touches, but lost in the idea that maybe if she could find the ultimate suggestion he would do it to her.
He put his dick into her and threw his entire weight onto her torso. She was winded and passed out. He didn't notice and fucked her limp body hard and fast. She came to in the middle of an orgasm and thought she was drugged. It was unconcious and driven.
"I, I am feeling dizzy, and there are these tingles in my belly and I am reeling and this thing is pushing me on and I must go further and I want to go on but I'm lost and it's so dizzy and I can't do anything except hold on to you, except hold onto you and I want to do something to make you feel the same way that I do but I can't. I'm lost, I feel like I'm drowning in this feeling of waves it's water and air and fire inside me and I feel as though something big is shifting, that the rift is opening and there's something big but I'm not going to be able to hold on much longer I feel I'm slippin' and I can't fight it and I have to give into you, that you're doing this to me, you're making me feel like this, and you're strong and it's just going on and on and on the riding, the highwaymen are riding me and I'm done for."
They came together and their cries and moans rose up and peaked with their open pores.
They cried and lay together for a while, wet and sticky.
She woke him up.
"What time is it?" He didn't know where he was.
"Twelve thirty."
"Christ, I have an appointment. Now."
He fled. She never saw him again. Cora was exorcised. She later heard of a bus falling off a bridge and saw that Beatrice had drowned. Suisse was murdered by some of his followers who accused him of manipulation and deception. Cora still had garlic at home. Cora said spells to herself often and like a habit. If asked she would say no. No. she never indulged in that kind of thing any more. But it never left. Marked and scarred but exorcised. She was a nymphomaniac who died one day in her bathtub when she fell asleep after forgetting about the gas pipes still being on and open.
EPILOGUE
Before her death, Cora had three abortions. The first was because of the doctor. She never saw him again but she sent him the bill. A check arrived the next day. The whole thing was ghastly. She went four months without guessing a thing, sure she felt strange, but she had never been pregnant before and she had always loved pickles. It wasn't at all strange that she had developed an insatiable desire for pickles. She had pickles for breakfast, snack, lunch, snack and tea and dinner and the late night snack.
The abortion clinic gave her the runaround. The doctor that examined her gave her the run around. Her family when she told them about it, called her a whore.
Her sister flew up from Philadelphia and stayed with her, supposedly to comfort her, but it was unbearable. They slept together in the big bed and her sister still liked to tweak her boobs. She would pretend she was asleep and wrap herself around Cora and in between her legs and cuddle, all with her eyes closed. All her life her sister Bertha never would say it, would never say out loud that she was a dyke. People would ask her, women would come on to her, but she would always act as if she was horrified. Cora didn't mind the actual touching, it was the history that went with it.
When they were kids and slept in the same bed they would play like that all the time, and then she loved it. Bertha was older and at first it was she who initiated it.
"Cora, can I touch you?"
"Waddya mean, sis? Sure, here."
"No, stupid, I mean like grownups do."
"Ya mean, like babies or sumpin?"
"Look you close your eyes and I'll do it. If you don't like it, I'll stop. But you will. It's fun. Martha and Tony and I used to do it after school Cora settled down with her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Her sister's hand touched her a little and then more, you like it?" Bertha asked her. "I don't know yet."
Bertha's hands were huge. She loved her little sister and had lusted after her in life, in day dreams and in nightmares, since she was born.
She didn't want to scare Cora off but she didn't want her hands to tremble either. Her touch was somewhere between rough and caressing. What was hard was that voices in her head kept saying curses and sometimes, though Cora never said anything, Bertha had the feeling that sometimes she was talking out loud.
"Is this dirty?" Cora would often ask. "No, baby, it's nice. It's because I love you."
"Well, when does it get dirty. I don't want mush, I want to play dirty. How can I tell Bobby and Suzie about this unless we do something dirty?"
"Cora! Don't you dare tell anyone about this or I'll kill you!"
Cora would giggle and be quiet for awhile but she was bored unless there was something scary about it. So Bertha changed and they would play Blind Man's Bluff and if somebody caught the other person, then they're would be some nooky-nooky.
But now, when Cora was twenty six and Bertha was thirty, things felt a little different. Bertha was lonely and had never really left home. Cora was dazzling and had left home at fourteen and had done simply, everything. Bertha still wanted to touch her, still thought of little Cora and still dreamed of her and Bertha still talked to herself. Only now it was quite loud. Too many years of masturbation and groaning in an empty room. She couldn't adapt when there was a person there.
"Come, put it in me, uh, that's it, in me, oh, yes, fuck me c'mon."
There was small talk like this, said to no one, mumbled out into the air. Cora felt embarrassed and at first didn't say anything. Then the next night it happened again.
"Come, put it in me, uh, that's it, in me, oh, yes, fuck me c'mon."
"Bertha, you're talking to yourself. If you want to do it with me then you have to talk to me, not whisper under your breath. You are not at home, you can yell and scream here, you can have as many orgasms as you want and with whomever you want.
Bertha would start to cry and there would be a blubbery scene that dug up acres from childhood graveyards and Cora would patiently go through the trips and hope Bertha would leave soon. Bertha ostensibly was there to comfort Cora but what turned up was Cora, independent and strong, was there holding Big Bertha's hand.
Cora felt weird with this lump inside her. She could fuck for the first time in her life and not worry about getting knocked up because she already was. All her life, every time she had lain with a man, she had worried. Sometimes for a split second and sometimes for an hour, depending on her mood, his cock and the time of the month. Birth control took up a lot of time. Every morning she would take her temperature, check her mucous, feel the texture of her cervix. It was like checking the plumbing. She would chart it, saying what had happened the night before what time she had gone to bed, whether she had got up before sticking the thermometer in.
"Why do you do all that stuff? It obviously isn't working. That's why your in such great shape."
"Fuck off. I have to figure this business out. How can I keep on going if I don't know how the plumbing is fixed. No one the sewer is clogged."
"I think what you're doing doesn't fit your life style."
"Too much indiscriminate fucking?"
"Too many men. You should stick to your sister."
"Wanna fuck?"
"Yes." Bertha's voice was low and soft and intense contrast to Cora's nonchalance. "Let's go home."
They walked arm in arm down the street and laughed and giggled. There was sadness in them but there was no nostalgia.
When they got home there was a man waiting for Cora.
"Wanna fuck?"
"No. Here. Meet my sister. Bertha, this is Manny."
"Wanna fuck?"
"Sure. But not now."
"You bitches are sure great on the timing."
He stormed off looking for a vacant tunnel.
Cora led her sister into the bedroom and then disappeared. She came back with some rope. Cora pushed her sister on to her face with her ass up in the air. She took her hands and tied them together behind her back. Then she put a rope around and around her chest and Bertha's breast pushed out, squashed and full between the ropes. The rope extended around her long and beautiful neck and slid down her belly and pulled up her crotch. The rope was hooked onto the ceiling and it yanked Bertha's crotch high into the air. Her face was sideways on the pillow and her teeth were bared and her lips rolled back.
Cora could tell there was no objection.
"Now you can yell at me and it'll fit right in." Cora chuckled to Bertha. She deliberately hadn't gagged her so that she would talk. Cora didn't tell Bertha but she had turned on the tape recorder as well.
She went up behind Bertha and licked her ass. Bertha farted in her face and then quickly clenched her ass muscles and said an embarrassed and hurried , excuse me. Cora bit her ass to make her relax. She licked and bit and licked and bit until the flesh was tense but not clenched.
"I wanna fuck you."
"Wanna fuck me?"
"Yeah, I wanna fuck you."
"Baby sister, it's been too long."
"What's the matter, I wanna fuck you. Here I am."
Cora put her tongue around the rope and made it wet and then pulled the tope along the tender skin of her sister's ass.
"Enough rope burns."
"You don't want pain?"
There was no answer. Cora kept going. That means, Cora kept going into her hole. "Talk to me."
"Baby, stick it in me, stick it."
"Like this?"
Cora put her finger into Bertha's black hole and shoved it deep enough to feel the shit. She took it out, looked at it and put it in again.
She wasn't embarrassed any more. She was tied, so no activity was required. Cora couldn't judge her on active performance and she could always close her eyes and then the words would come. Somehow she wasn't feeling conversational all of a sudden. Was her solo chatter only good on the sly? Every woman was a Sarah Bernhardt at home. Not an original line. But maybe it was true. Bertha was silent for awhile.
Cora was ready for a lot.
"No talking, sis?"
Cora flicked her ass with a wet towel. Bertha winced.
"Anything to say, yet?" Cora was performing nasty but she felt it a little, too.
"Nasty, baby. Nasty baby wants to take Mommy away from me?"
Was this for real? Cora knew for certain, Bertha had never done primal therapy but here it was, right there. Or was it? Maybe Bertha was performing too. Here was spice to interest the plot.
"You think so? What else do you think, my little chickadee? Cora gave it to her again.
"God, you think you've the power now? Just because I'm tied and strapped in this humiliating position doesn't make you any more powerful. If we were equal sis, I'd beat your brains out!"
Tomboy girl talk. Bertha's ass was red and lined. The lips of her cheeks kissed the rope. Cora reached down under and poked at her swamp. Her sister was bleeding, and she pulled out the tampax and dropped if on the floor. She put her finger inside and drew it out, bloody. Her finger painted bloody graffiti on the inside of Bertha's thigh.
"Like it?"
There was no answer. Bertha was still silent, . staring and silent.
"Bertha, are you OK? I thought you'd like this. Are you OK, sister?"
Cora felt ill. Morning sickness, bullshit, it was like this all day.
"Hang on, will you? I think I'm gonna vomit."
Cora went and was sick. When she came back, Bertha was mumbling to herself.
"Baby, come, put it to me, uh, that's it, in me, oh, yes, fuck me, c'mon.".
Cora watched her ass go in and out as her sister rubbed up against the rope. Her delicate, country skin was red but still fresh and delectable. The years in smog city made Cora's younger skin look grey and pocked. Her sister was even larger than Cora, with huge bones. People looked at her as she walked down the street. She was handsome and clear. But here she was tied up and Cora had vomited but came back in chewing a pickle.
She put the pickle up inside her sister's bloody hole and left it there.
"You read this?"
Cora held up 'A Hundred Days of Sodom' by the Marquis de Sade.
"No. But I've read Albert Schweitzer's essay on Jesus saying that the man was a paranoid schizophrenic. Fascinating, stuff."
"You believe in witches?"
Bertha nodded assent. Cora lay down on the bed and looked at her sister's face. She put her fingers on the cheek and felt around on the lines on the face.
"You have such beautiful bones. I used to hate you for them."
They both smiled. Cora pushed her lips over and kissed her sister. It was long and undemanding and comforting. Their tongues had no passion, but there was love. Love? What's that? How did that get in a porn novel?
"How do you cure a broken heart?"
It was Bertha's voice, low and shy.
"How can you tell when a heart is broken?"
Cora, cerebral as always.
"Your heart is not made of tissue paper, you know."
"No, I know, but the blood going into it makes it hurt."
"Who broke your heart?"
"An enchanter. He was magic and he lured me and I went and then I found that it was nothing to him, I was only another lip at the lake."
Bertha looked sad, forlorn, lost.
"Have you chased him away?"
"Yes. But when I'm with other men, I think of him. I've dreamt about him every third night for three months, now."
"What does he tell you in the dream?"
"It's always the same thing. He slights me and I get stuck in a tree. There's always water, there's always someone I don't know, and there's always these painfully awkward moments because I don't know what's happened, and he's calling the shots."
"Sounds like a schmuck. You'd best forget him, sweetie. I'll take care of you, you can stay here and we'll find you a new life.' Cora shocked herself. The last thing she wanted was Bertha living with her.
"He's wonderful That's it. I can't forget him. I saw him at a dinner party a while back and he was so kind to me. He wants to be nice, he is nice, he's a wild horse, though. Untamable."
"Baby, he's got you. You don't talk like anyone like that until he's got you. Here you are defending him. Christ!"
"Mama says they are all either dogs or chickens."
"She's a wise old geezer."
They cackled together. .
Cora unstrung her sister and they jostled and pretended to wrestle. Cora liked the idea of violence, but she could never go through with it.
"Sex. Sex. Remember now, that's the issue."
"How could I forget?"
"Easy. There are so many other things to think about. For example, this man I was telling you about, he and I were hopeless in bed. We might as well have been a cow and a woodpecker for the match we made. He even said it, on the devastating last night, he told me we were sexually incompatible. Because I was too big. he said. I think he was kindly telling me that I was hopeless in bed."
"What's that's supposed to mean? Hopeless in bed. You either like it or you don't. There's no standard. What's this crap, too big. You frightened him and he couldn't come or something. Is he tiny? "
"Well, he's about five four which is pretty short compared to my six three."
"Size is nothing. Think of all those Ivy League footballers in high school who liked cheerleaders, the tinier the better."
"Let's change the subject."
Bertha went into the kitchen and opened the window. There were bluebirds, two of them at the bird feeder. She felt like a cornflakes commercial.
"Wanna fuck, little birdies?"
"The devils. They eat everything and then clatter at my window at five in the morning."
"Boring. Let's talk. Let's tell secrets."
"I masturbated before you did."
"Daddy raped me when I was seven."
"The man that got me pregnant is the first man that I think I could fall in love with. I'll never see him again and he'll never know. I've said it to millions, but he's the first that I've dreamt about."
"Why don't you tell him?"
"You read The Maltese Falcon?"
"You mean, never give the work up for love?"
"Yeah. If this doctor had wanted to see me and talk about this thing inside me he knows where I live."
"God, Cora, you're really pregnant. Have you thought of having it?"
"Of course. I want it. Desperately. All the maternal powers are up and active."
"Why don't you have it?"
"And bring it up with what? I have a job as a translator at the UN. How can I give that up and take care of a kid. Who would look after it?"
"I'll take care of it."
"Bertha? You?"
"I want your kid, Cora. I'm scared to have one of my own, but I'd love to have yours."
"You're sick."
"You're sick to kill it."
"You want to kill it for me?"
"Cora, I love children. I may never have one. I want one."
"C'mon, you're only thirty, say that in fifteen more years."
"Why kill it?"
"Because I can't have it. It'll give me stretch marks. When MR. You Know arrives he won't like me because I'm ugly!"
"Cora, for Christ's sake, you don't still believe in princes do you?"
"Don't you?"
"No. It's nuts. There's no man going to arrive that's any better than any other one He might be a tighter fit, but mat's it Stick to me, sis, women have a hundred more things on the ball than men."
"But can't you have both?"
"Sure, get married and be a closet dyke."
"What's wrong with that?"
Suddenly there was an apparition in the air before the two girls.
It was Meyer Suisse's face. His face was simply hanging in the air before them, like a cumulus cloud in a pale blue sky.
"You must not have the baby," the voice announced.
"But why?" Cora asked. "It feels like a meant-to-be baby."
"Meant-to-be by the devil," the voice announced. "You must get rid of it. The baby must die."
"That's heavy stuff," Millicent said, as she masturbated.
"That's a shame about the kid," Bertha said. "I was sort of looking forward to raising a kid-being a father."
"You're sick," Cora said, as she began to retch.
"No, it's you who are sick. Get to the toilet. Don't puke all over the rug."
"It's the damn kid," Cora sighed. "I've got to get rid of the little devil. Get me a coat hanger."
