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From: Pulp Fan <pulpfan@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: NEW - Castle Malinov Solstice Orgy: Next Weekend
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LORD MALINOV'S SOLSTICE ORGY:
THE NEXT WEEKEND
by
A Pulp Fan
NOTE:
A short time ago I stumbled across the Solstice
Orgy at Castle Malinov, a series of stories
created by several ASS and ASSM writers, depicting
an orgy occurring at Castle Malinov over the
winter solstice. Though I was too late to join in
the fun, I decided to jot this little story down.
It will make absolutely no sense to you unless you
first read at least some of the stories in the
series (all of which are highly recommended).
They are archived on Malinov's site,
http://www.gslink.com/~dcain/xanadu/erotica/.
Have fun and watch out for the moat!
This story is copyright 1998 by A Pulp Fan.
Permission is given to repost it, or to put it on
free websites, but please don't alter the text.
* * * * * *
The young man looked up at the imposing
heights of Castle Malinov rising in front of him.
A duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he gazed at
the imposing edifice with awe.
"Wow," he thought to himself. "This guy
Malinov must really be loaded!"
Thin, with sandy-brown hair, he had journeyed
there to attend an event hosted by the near
mythical Lord. Though he had been slightly
worried during the boat trip by the look of the
gruff man who had ferried him across the water,
now that he was here, it seemed silly that he'd
ever had worries. The castle was incredible, the
grounds finely tended. As he walked up the
crushed stone path to the front entryway, erotic
topiaries hinted at the wonders he had read about,
bacchanalian splendors which lay just before him
inside those mysterious walls. If only those
walls could talk! His step quickened.
When he was still some distance from the
giant oaken double-door, it swung open. Two young
women bounded out, followed by two large, burly
men overladen with luggage.
"Bye, Mal!" He could hear their cries faintly
as they skipped down the steps. "See you next
year!" Behind them, framed in the doorway, a
well-dressed, aristocratic looking man returned
their farewell waves. Putting two and two
together, this had to be the host himself, Lord
Malinov.
"Have good trips, Kim, Taria!" he called.
The two women passed the man on the path.
"Hey there!" they said in unison, smiling at
him as they went by.
"Hey there yourselves," he replied, smiling
back. As they passed him, his spirits soared even
higher. If these two were any indication of what
lay in wait at Castle Malinov, this was going to
be one awesome weekend. Man, they were lookers!
A few steps past the newcomer, one of the
women turned and yelled back to Lord Malinov.
"Don't forget to tell Ivan we'll meet him and Rob
at the 'copter after we've said goodbye to the
horses!"
"Helicopter?" the newcomer thought to
himself, nodding politely at the two porters as he
passed them. "Malinov really does have some
coin!"
His eyes brightened with a sudden thought.
"Hey, maybe I could join the Mile High Club this
weekend!" he exulted to himself for a second,
before doubt flickered into his mind. "Then
again...how high can a helicopter fly?"
His musings vanished as he reached the steps.
The master of Castle Malinov hadn't gone inside;
rather he stood there, lounging against the frame
of the open door, arms crossed, a slightly
quizzical expression on his face as he watched the
young man ascend the stairs.
"Hmmm," the new arrival thought to himself as
he saw the mysterious Lord clearly for the first
time. "I thought he'd be taller."
As the young man reached the top of the
landing, Malinov uncoiled, his body moving
lithely, veiled power in his stride as he stepped
forward to greet the stranger.
"Greetings," Malinov said, holding out his
hand. "I'm Malinov, the owner of this castle.
Can I help you?"
The newcomer returned Malinov's firm grasp.
"Hi. We've never met...well, of course you know
that! Sorry. I'm John, though some people know
me as Pulp Fan. I heard about your party
and...uh...well, even though I don't have an
invitation, I _do_ know some of the people who are
supposed to be attending and, well, I thought..."
An amused twinkle came into Malinov's eyes.
He held up his hand, stopping the other in mid-
sentence. Smiling, he said, "You don't need to
say any more. I always have plenty of room, and
you indeed would have been welcome."
John didn't like the sound of that. A tinge
of panic in his voice, "What do you mean, 'would
have been'?"
"Well, I hate to tell you this, but the party
you're referring to took place _last_ weekend."
John's heart dropped. He was sure the "thud"
as it hit the ground could be heard all the way
back to the mainland.
"Last...last weekend?" he stammered.
"But...but...I can't believe it!" Almost
pleading, he finished plaintively, "But your
parties are supposed to be the best! I can't have
missed it!"
"Well, immodest as it may be of me to say,"
responded the master of Castle Malinov, "I think
most people have a pretty good time at them. I
don't know how you did it, but you did indeed miss
it by a week. That's a new one for the journals--
no one's ever done that before, not even The Bear.
A few of my guests stayed over an extra week, but
even they're leaving in a few moments. You saw
the two young ladies a moment ago--the boyfriend
of one is probably already at the helicopter. My
other remaining guest is on his way down as well
to catch a lift back. In fact, I think I hear him
now."
From behind Lord Malinov came the sound of
hurried footsteps, sneakers scuffing on polished
wooden floors.
"Hey, Mal, dude!" a voice shouted out.
"Where'd the babes go to?"
Malinov turned slightly as a young, slightly
disheveled, man bounded out of the castle.
"They're at the stables, Ivan," he replied.
"They told me to tell you they'd meet you at the
copter."
"Cool." Noticing the new arrival whom
Malinov had been talking to, he stuck out his
hand. "Hey, dude, how's it goin'? I'm Poison
Ivan."
Still somewhat numb, trying to absorb the
news that he was a week late, John reflexively
shook Ivan's hand. "Uh, yeah, hi," he replied,
demonstrating his fluent command over the English
language. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just a
little spaced right now. I'm Pulp Fan--we've
spoken."
"Right! Nice to finally meet you. Should I
call you Pulp, or will Mr. Fan do?" Ivan asked
with a grin.
"Ah, no, John will do just fine."
"So what're you doing here?" Ivan asked.
"John marked the wrong weekend on his
calendar for my little soiree," Malinov explained.
"Bummer for you, dude," Ivan sympathized.
"It was totally awesome."
Malinov faced the disheartened young man.
"Sorry about this," he said. "Maybe next year.
Normally I'd invite you to stay awhile at the
castle anyway, but I'm off to the Continent and I
always give the staff some time off after my
events--my parties take a lot out of them!. I'm
afraid you'll just have to catch the ride back to
the mainland."
"No, no problem. I understand," John
replied. "I just can't believe I got the wrong
weekend..."
"Well, like I said, maybe next year," Malinov
said. "I have to run, but it was nice meeting
you." With a final word to Poison Ivan, the
master of Castle Malinov turned and re-entered its
mysterious walls, the doors swinging shut behind
him.
As the two men walked back down the path
towards the helicopter pad, Ivan shook his head.
"You should have been there, dude," he enthused.
"You would have loved it--there were these
supermodels..."
THE END
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