Inn on the Edge

by Gail Bridges

  “Hold hands! Make a circle!” Mr. Abiba took Valerian’s hand. Valerian took Zora’s. And so on, until we were joined, all of us.

  “This is new,” whispered Zenith.

  “I just invented it!” said Mr. Abiba. “It is new! And I shall call it…Train Ride! I suggest you close your eyes to maximize the effect, but it’s entirely up to you. And now I shall start the engine.”

  A tingling sensation bloomed inside me, a tiny bundle of warmth nestled in my very core. Then it grew and began to spread. It expanded to include my stomach, my pelvis, my butt. Then it reached between my legs, warmed my breasts, flowed down my thighs, making me shiver with excitement. The warmth was like an engine—he was right about that—with a life of its own, a part of me and yet not. I stood there, part of a linked circle, wondering if everyone else felt it too.

  Did Josh?

  Someone giggled from the other side of the circle.

  “In a moment the Train Ride shall begin!” boomed Mr. Abiba. He was silent for a moment, then his voice rang out. “There! There! I have started the engine.”

  The engine inside me became stronger. I spread my legs and bit my lip. My. Oh my.

  But Mr. Abiba wasn’t finished talking, explaining, coaching. “I will pass the Train from my hand to Valerian’s hand. He will pass it on to Zora. Understand? Yes?” He looked at Josh, at me, at Geoffrey. Then at the rest of the circle. “Very well. When it is your turn to ride, you will board the Train and travel however long you like. Then you will step off and pass the Train to the next person. Is this clear?”

  Nods all around the circle.

  “Splendid! Ride the Train for as long as you can bear to! Do not drop the hands you hold, or the Train will become derailed and the game will end. Yes?”

  More nods.

  “Very well. That…is…all.”

  Had he started? Was the Train being passed now? How would we know?

  I stood still, waiting, my hand in Josh’s on one side and in Geoffrey’s on the other. Everyone stood with their heads bowed, eyes down or closed, hands clasped with those around them. I peeked from under half-closed eyelids. From where I stood, I couldn’t see Zora very well, but I assumed she was the one currently riding the Train. I shivered with anticipation. What was it like? How long until it came to me? Where was it? According to Mr. Abiba, he’d passed the Train to Valerian, who passed it to Zora, who would pass it to Josh—

  Josh!

  He stiffened next to me, pulling on my hand. I tightened my grip. His jaw fell open. He must be riding the Train! His breath came in little puffs and he hunched over into himself, rocking on the balls of his feet. What was he feeling? What made him grind my knuckles so hard? I peered at him, wondering, wincing, waiting. His erection grew in his pants, a tent formed over his crotch. Was the Train that good? What was—

  Oh my god!

  I gasped.

  Pure feeling, erotic and sensual, poured into me from Josh’s hand. He went limp, swaying on his feet as every muscle in my body contracted with pure joy. My breasts! My pussy! Everything! My elbows and knees, even! All filled with a beautiful roaring, an impossible tide of sensation! I had an orgasm in eight seconds flat, standing there holding hands with Josh and Geoffrey—an apex, I mean apex.

  It rushed through me like a locomotive. Like a steaming, churning, crazed freight engine, it ran riot through my erogenous zones, leaving me gasping for air and weak at the knees.

  Oh… Oh… Oh!

  Not able to take another second of the intense splendor that came so close to being too much, I passed the Train to Geoffrey.

  And felt him melt.

  So this was Mr. Abiba’s idea of a parlor game! I’d hoped the game would be something special, but Train Ride was in a league of its own. It left Spin the Bottle groveling in the dust! Train Ride was a peacock among crows! A diamond among pebbles! Train Ride was…was…was…it was an Olympic contender! No, forget the Olympics—Train Ride was worthy of the Nobel Prize!

  If only they awarded prizes in such things.

  Josh squeezed my hand. We grinned at each other, both still breathing hard, ignoring the close-your-eyes thing. As was Zora, who leaned forward into the circle, watching us and grinning, her face flushed a rosy color, a color I didn’t even bother to name, which tells you the state I was in. Josh grinned. I grinned back. We both grinned at Zora.

  There was a lot of grinning going on that first round.

  Holy fuck, Josh mouthed.

  I bent toward him, making sure not to drop Geoffrey’s hand—he was still in the middle of his ride, and besides, there was no way I was going to derail the Train—and kissed Josh, hard, on the mouth. I couldn’t wait until it came around again.

  We watched Geoffrey pass the Train to Jonathan, and Jonathan pass it to Zenith. She moaned aloud, making my insides contract. Everyone’s eyes were open now, trained on Zenith as she squirmed and shuddered, experiencing her ride. The people on the other side of Zenith must have been shaking with eagerness by then.

  Mr. Abiba certainly was.

  When the Train came back around, I was ready for it.

  Or rather, I thought I was ready for it.

  Josh’s reaction, a state bordering on delirium, ought to have warned me. It didn’t.

  The Train slammed into me with the force of a hurricane. I shrieked. I lurched. I would have fallen but for the hands holding mine. The Train was stronger this time. So much stronger. So powerful I could barely stand it. I screwed my eyes shut, blinded by the fireworks exploding in my body. The Train’s invasion knocked the breath from my lungs, so all-encompassing that it made me feel insignificant in comparison. I was nothing. I was puny. The Train was everything.

  Ecstasy! Ecstasy, like I’d never felt before.

  And something else too. Ecstasy and…hurt.

  Pain, almost.

  It was so unexpected.

  It burned, it cut, it twisted. It caused me to writhe in agony. It was agony, wasn’t it? Or was I writhing with passion, with purest, unadulterated lust? Lust…hurt…passion…agony… They felt the same—I couldn’t tell which was which.

  No more! No more!

  It had only been a few seconds, nowhere as long as last time, but it was enough. Gathering my last shreds of willpower, I passed the Train to Geoffrey.

  I didn’t even have an apex.

  Or had the entire thing been an apex?

  I had no idea.

  It took me longer this time to recuperate—the Train was halfway around the circle before I began to feel like myself again. It took Josh longer too. It took all of us longer. The room grew quiet after the second round. No more chatting or laughing or merry-making. No more playing. We husbanded our strength. Most everyone’s eyes were open. We were watchful and wary and subdued. Except, of course, for whoever happened to be riding the Train. That person might moan or pant or cry out or make strange gurgling noises that made the rest of us cringe. We watched as the Train passed from person to person, fascinated. And horrified too, each of us thinking, do I look like that?

  The game had turned a corner.

  What had started out so wonderfully fun was now an endurance contest. Who would be the one to derail the Train? Who would be the one who couldn’t take it any longer? Who would be the weakest among us? Would it be Rhonda-Lynne? Jonathan? One of the Guides?

  Me?

  Faster and faster the Train came around the circle. Each time stronger.

  I made it through another round.

  Then two more.

  It wasn’t fun anymore.

  Josh was white-faced and trembling even when it was long past his turn. His erection was so big I felt sorry for him—it must be uncomfortable stuffed inside his pants like that. His crotch had a growing wet stain, not that he noticed. All the men’s pants did. Mine were wet too. Sopping, actually. You just couldn’t see it.

  Geoffrey sank to his knees, keening, when it was his turn.

  Nikki cried.

  Tim held his arms locked stra
ight out at his sides, his face a strained mask.

  Rhonda-Lynne ground her hips back and forth against a nonexistent lover.

  Valerian bit his lip so hard that he spewed droplets of blood on Nikki.

  Josh’s head jerked from side to side.

  And still the Train came.

  I tried not to watch the other people in the circle but I couldn’t stop myself. There’s an old saying about not being able to look away from a train wreck—well, this was one hell of a train wreck.

  Then I understood.

  We couldn’t stop.

  Mr. Abiba had lied! He’d said breaking the circle would derail the Train. He’d said if we dropped hands the game would be over—but he’d lied! There was no stopping it! He had us right where he wanted us, trapped in his circle, trapped in his game. We were locked in, just as we were locked in our rooms at night, just as we were locked in the inn itself. In a sudden burst of bright memory, it all came back to me. I remembered! I remembered everything. The pen that had pricked us. How we’d been manipulated. The altercation at the front door. Especially the altercation at the front door.

  And yes, I understood.

  The game would not stop until Mr. Abiba ended it.

  He was evil.

  I had to tell Josh.

  But Josh was in no condition to understand anything. His eyes were wide open, but they were unfocused and wild-looking. I yanked on his hand, tried to separate our joined hands even though I knew it was no use.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself. The Train was coming around again. It was Zora’s turn and soon it would be Josh’s, and then…it would be mine. I had to be ready when it came. A moment later Josh went rigid, and I knew it would be any second now. The Train would slam into me and there was nothing I could do about it. I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Abiba staring at me, his eyes boring into mine. His lips slowly rose in a snarl.

  He knew. He knew that I knew.

  And then it was my turn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Someone was leaning over me.

  Zenith.

  She perched on the edge of my bed, wearing flannel pajamas, patting my head, running her fingers through my hair, gently massaging my shoulders. “Hey, there,” she whispered when she saw my open eyes.

  I tried to sit up but she shook her head.

  “You fell. You conked your head and passed out. Don’t you remember?”

  I blinked. I was in my own room. It was dim, nighttime, probably very early morning. The bathroom light was on, casting a bluish glow over everything, casting a bluish glow over Zenith. I gazed up at her. Pretty Zenith. She looked different, her hair dark and lustrous in this strange light. It wasn’t anywhere near the real color. Some of it fell over me, like a curtain. I reached up and let a lock of it fall through my fingers. “No. I don’t remember.”

  “We were playing a game and you wiped out. It was pretty dramatic, sweetie.”

  “Really?”

  “You had a fit! Do you have epilepsy or something?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Her words spilled out one after another. “We were playing a game, like I said, and it was your turn. It happened so fast. None of us saw it! You screamed. Then you went all stiff and jerky. You crashed so hard to the floor it’s a wonder you didn’t break a bone! You pulled Josh and Geoffrey down with you, did you know that? Of course you didn’t. How could you? They’re okay, don’t worry.” She took a shuddering breath. “No one could wake you up. Oh Angie. We were all so upset. Mr. Abiba was beside himself. He fairly flew across the room to get to your side! He said it was his fault—he must have said it ten times—he said the game was too much for you, it triggered a seizure.” She looked sideways at me, shaking her head. “Too bad, because you were sure into it!” She put her hand on my forehead, rubbing in slow circles, leaning in even closer. I could sense her warmth, smell her apple-scented hair, feel her breath on my cheek. “Mr. Abiba really likes you, you know.”

  He liked me? I would have to think about that. Later.

  “My head hurts,” I said, touching a sore place behind my left ear.

  “That’s where you fell.”

  “Everything hurts.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  I stared up at her, perplexed. I didn’t remember falling. I didn’t remember the game, whatever it had been. Was it normal, not to remember? What had triggered my seizure, if it had been a seizure? I didn’t have epilepsy, that much I knew. Then why? How had it happened? I remembered dinner. And that awkward question-and-answer session. Then going to the Fine Arts Room to see Jonathan’s jewelry. I remembered promising Mr. Abiba I would break out my art supplies and start painting for him. Yes. I remembered being excited about that. But falling? I had no memory of taking a dive to the ground! None.

  And no memory of a game I’d apparently been a huge fan of.

  “Where’s Josh?” My voice sounded thin. “I want Josh.”

  Zenith put her finger to her lips. She nodded her chin toward the other side of the king-sized bed, where Josh slept with his back to me, snoring quietly, a blanket-covered lump only an arm’s length away. Josh! Right next to me, and I hadn’t even known it! How much better I felt knowing he was nearby. My lips silently formed his name, over and over. I hadn’t noticed his snoring before, but now I did—every snort and puff and wheeze—and it comforted me.

  Zenith was so close her lips almost touched my ear. “Josh has been by your side for hours. He fell asleep only a little bit ago. He’s exhausted, poor thing.”

  Josh.

  Of course he’d stayed by my side for hours. I would have done the same for him.

  I leaned over, ignoring my protesting head, and kissed him ever so gently on the top of his head.

  Zenith sighed. She sounded tired too. “We were afraid you had a concussion. Mr. Abiba—he’s a medical doctor, you know—Mr. Abiba said you needed to rest. To sleep it off. He said a good night’s sleep and you’d be fine.”

  My head hurt but I was feeling better every moment. My thoughts were almost coherent—getting there, anyway. I was lucid enough to wonder at Zenith’s words. Mr. Abiba had said to sleep off a potential concussion? Really? That didn’t seem right. No one in their right mind slept off a potential concussion. You could die from doing that.

  But maybe I was wrong, maybe I was thinking of something else. A doctor would know better than I would.

  “Mr. Abiba took good care of you,” said Zenith, “He just now left. And I took over. He wanted you to drink this tea as soon as you woke up.” She reached to the nightstand and carefully passed a full cup to me. “He said it will help with your aches and pains.”

  I sat up, suddenly realizing how very thirsty I was. And hungry. I drank, and the still-warm liquid was sweet and refreshing. Mint, definitely mint, with something I couldn’t quite identify—although I thought perhaps I’d tasted it somewhere before. Wishing I could have more, I gave her back the cup. Then I settled down again onto my pillow. It was better that way. My head didn’t complain quite so much.

  I yawned. “Who changed my clothes?”

  “I don’t know. You already had your nightgown on when Mr. Abiba called for me.”

  “Oh.” I’d have to ask Josh.

  “Mr. Abiba examined you. Josh and I helped.”

  “Really? Uh…thanks.”

  “He lifted your eyelids and compared your pupils.”

  “Okay,” I said, stretching, feeling a warm sensation in my middle. It must be the tea, doing its work. “Did they match?”

  “I guess so. I’m not the doctor.” She regarded me, then leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek.

  “So I’m okay?”

  “You’re fine! Mr. Abiba tested your reflexes. He pinched your toes and you jumped. I saw it. He did a bunch of stuff, Angie. He ran his hands up and down your legs. Checking for broken bones, I guess. He thumped your chest and palpated your stomach. He was amazing. So calm and in control! Never panicked for a moment. He examined you all over
, naked hands to naked skin—he says it’s without doubt the finest way to diagnose a problem. His words, not mine.” Zenith took a breath, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m gushing, aren’t I? I know I am. Of course I am. You would be too. I just want you to know the level of care he gave you. He told Josh and me he gave you the best neurological exam possible without an MRI. And you passed. Angie, you passed.” She kissed me again.

  I liked the kiss. A lot. And I liked passing Mr. Abiba’s exam too. Even though I wasn’t sure how I felt about the naked hands to naked skin thing.

  But I wasn’t the doctor. What did I know?

  She sat back, looking at me. “And when he was finished, he sat here—in that very chair—and held your hand. That hand. Right there. It was so sweet.”

  The hand in question twitched. We stared at it, as if my hand contained some small part of Mr. Abiba’s genius.

  Because obviously, the man was a genius.

  “Hey—make space for me?” Zenith wriggled farther onto the bed and drew her legs up. “Mind if I lie down next to you?” She didn’t wait for an answer but stretched out beside me and tugged on the covers.

  I would have said yes, if she’d waited. I was feeling that much better. The warm sensation in my middle had turned into a tingle. A very nice tingle.

  “Zenith,” I said, “thank you.”

  She lay on her side, facing me. She touched my nose lightly with her finger. “You’re welcome. Spoon with me?”

  I looked at her.

  Then, knowing I was doing something it would be hard to turn away from—not that I wanted to—I turned my back and snuggled up to her. So different from Josh. So comforting. So soft. So female. Snuggling with Zenith was familiar, as if our bodies were designed to fit together, as if our knees and hips and elbows fell at exactly the right places on each other. Josh and I were perfect too, but in a different way. He was so much taller than me. Our parts didn’t exactly meet up in the same places. Not unless we worked at it. Josh was a lot of things, but soft and cuddly wasn’t one of them. His knees were bony. His hips poked at me. We were perfect together but we didn’t fittogether. Not like this. Not like Zenith and me. I breathed deeply, feeling her breasts pressing against my back. Her long hair tickling my shoulders. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me, loving me.