Pleasuria

by John J. Jessop

  “How about I order room service?”

  Jason was desperate to stall. He was hoping to get a confession from her without any kinky sex stuff. How would I explain that to Chelsea? “I’d rather take you out somewhere. We can grab a quick bite, and then back to the room for kinky sex. I’ll pick you up at one. See you soon.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want. I do like the idea of kinky sex. I’m into that.”

  He disconnected the call, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. Fearful thoughts pummeled him as an inner struggle played out in his office. He mumble-argued with himself.

  “What the hell? I’m no detective. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” Maybe if he took her out to lunch first, he could trip her up and get a confession. If that didn’t work, then he would take her back to the room and ply her with lots of champagne. That’s it, Plan B is I’ll get her drunk. I’ll get us both drunk. Good idea. That should work. But what if Chelsea finds out? He was not trying to be unfaithful to his wife, just catch a murderer. Would she understand? “If she runs over me, I hope she uses her car. My little red rocket wouldn’t kill me, probably just maim me.” He felt dizzy, broke out in a cold sweat and had to sit at his desk for a few minutes to clear his head.

  • • •

  Jason surprised himself by finding the courage to leave the office at twelve thirty, and by one he was knocking on the door to room 444. Tanya opened the door wearing one of the robes that came with the room, handed him a glass of champagne, and kissed him gently on the lips, apparently not enthusiastic about the idea of going out for lunch.

  “Hello, big boy,” she said, her voice deep and sultry. “I hope you’re feeling energetic. I went ahead and took a hot bath, I’ve already had a couple of glasses of the bubbly, and I’m ready to rock and roll. You wanted me in the little black dress, but how’s this?” She flung open the robe to reveal bare breasts, a smooth, flat stomach, and not an inch of fabric covering anything below.

  Jason felt faint, his knees going weak, his mind filled with desire to take her naked body in his arms, but a vision of Chelsea in her nurse’s uniform, a deranged look on her face and a scalpel in her hand, stopped him. He collected himself.

  “I want you . . . I mean, I want food. I’m really hungry. Besides, you promised me we could start with you in that little black dress. I really like that little black dress. I want to tear it off of you with my teeth. Let’s go get some lunch first, then back to the room for more bubbly, the dress, and some major sexual activity.”

  Looking disappointed, she said, “Man, you really are hung up on that little black dress. And you’re hungry, for food, at a time like this? I don’t understand men. Give me a minute to get dressed, and we can get some lunch. But then it’s back here for the main event, and you’d better not disappoint me. I traveled a long way for this.”

  She came out of the bathroom dressed in a short, dark-blue skirt and sheer white blouse unbuttoned a couple of buttons lower than necessary to show Jason what he was missing by insisting on lunch first. Jason said to her breasts, “Nice blouse. Not the little black dress, but not bad at all.”

  The red rocket was parked in the lot in front of the hotel, the top down as always. As they approached the car, Tanya said, “That’s a really cute car, but isn’t it a little small for you? How do you drive it? How do you even get in it?”

  Jason looked up at the sky, saw storm clouds on the horizon, noted that it smelled like rain, and said as they got into the car, “This is part of my midlife crisis, my little red rocket. It’s an awesome car, with just a couple of minor issues, like I can’t put the top up, my knee hits the steering wheel when I use the clutch, and I’ve developed a slight limp in my left leg as the result. No worries though. We should get to McDonald’s long before the rain hits.”

  Tanya, having trouble processing all the things that were wrong with that statement, said, “Can you drive this car safely? I didn’t come all the way up here to die in a car crash. And McDonald’s? You’re taking me to McDonald’s for lunch? I assumed we were going somewhere nice, with plates and silverware, where we could get some good food and a couple of stiff drinks to loosen up for the afternoon’s gymnastics. McDonald’s? Are you shitting me?”

  Jason gallantly opened the passenger door for her, and then struggled getting his large frame into the driver’s seat. As he pulled out into traffic, he mumbled, “She’s beginning to sound like Chelsea.”

  “What did you say? I can barely hear you over the force of the wind trying to rip my head off.”

  He realized he had done it again, and said, trying to recover, “I said, do you like the sound of the engine? This baby really purrs. As to McDonald’s, I thought it would be quick, so we can get back to the hotel. Also, I’m a private detective, and my first client hasn’t paid me yet, so I’m a little strapped for cash at the moment. The hotel room pretty much cleaned me out. And I sure as hell don’t want a midday Marriott rental to appear on one of my credit cards. I’m afraid my wife would take exception to that.”

  Tanya was still having difficulty hearing him over the roar of the wind, and then there was the periodic rolling thunder that was now also drowning out his voice. “Don’t you still work for the government? I thought you were an FDA reviewer, at least that was Dick Littlething’s impression.”

  “Yes, I still work for the feds, but not for long. I’m planning to tell my wife that I’m quitting my government job this weekend. Then I’ll only have my PI salary. She’s gonna be pissed.”

  “Not half as pissed as if she finds out you’re screwing a hot blonde at the local Marriott. Sure you want to take me to McDonald’s?”

  Jason still needed some work on his detecting skills; he completely missed her thinly veiled threat to tell Chelsea. “Dear God, Chelsea can never find out about this. She’s a nurse, she knows a lot about human anatomy, and I don’t even want to think of all the ways she could hurt me. I know neither of us will tell her, but we have to be careful no one sees us.”

  In the spirit of trying to get Tanya to confess before he had to have sex with her, he asked, “So, while we’re on our way to McDonald’s, just for the sake of conversation, do you happen to know anything about what happened to doctors Thompkins and Shipley? You didn’t have anything to do with trying to poison them, did you? I’m just asking because it would be good to know if you’re a murderer before we go back to the hotel for an afternoon of wild sex.”

  “What? I can barely hear a word you’re saying above all that thunder. All I heard was ‘wild sex.’ I already told you, I’m looking forward to that. Maybe you should put up the top. I think it’s going to rain.”

  Jason realized that he had probably made a mistake by taking Tanya out in public in his red rocket, since the top was permanently down and they were both in plain sight. They were driving on a four-lane road, only two blocks from McDonald’s, when they passed a Ruby Tuesday, and Jason said, “Hey, that’s my wife’s favorite restaurant. Sometimes she goes there for lunch with some of the girls from work. Oh shit! That’s her car, parked on the street. Tanya, duck down in case she’s looking out the window.” He put his right hand on the top of Tanya’s head and tried to push her down in the seat, but the car was so small there was no place for her to go.

  At that moment, the universe decided to send a loud thunderclap to announce his presence to his wife, probably looking out the window of the restaurant as he approached. Then it started to rain. At this point, Jason’s nerves were shot. He said, “Damn, it’s raining so hard I can barely see. I’ve got the windshield wipers on high, but it’s not doing any good.”

  Just then, another loud thunderclap hit, and Jason reflexively yanked the steering wheel to the right. The car jumped the curb and entered the sidewalk. Tanya screamed as they drove up the sidewalk in front of Ruby Tuesday, people with umbrellas scattering in all directions. Jason said, “This is nice. Studies have shown that sometimes the sidewalk is the safest place to drive, but maybe I should try to get us ba
ck onto the street, just for the hell of it.”

  Tanya screamed again.

  Jason managed to drive the car back onto the road, miraculously avoiding colliding with parking meters, electric poles, parked cars, or pedestrians. He looked at Tanya, sitting next to him, soaking wet, and said, “Oh my, we’ll have to eat in the car. You can’t go into McDonald’s looking like that. You don’t have a bra on. I like it.”

  Tanya screamed again, but this time actual words came out. “Take me back to the hotel, NOW. I’m soaking wet, I want a hot bath, and if you want sex, you are going to order two bottles of their best champagne and a couple of New York strips from room service. You are going to ply with me steak and bubbly, get me warm and drunk, and only then can you have your way with me.”

  Jason started to say, “But—”

  “Don’t say a word. Just shut the fuck up and drive back to the hotel. We’re going to salvage this afternoon if it kills me, or you.”

  Jason mumbled, “Damn, she really is starting to sound like Chelsea. Why do women treat me this way? It can’t be me.”

  CHAPTER 26

  When they finally got back to the hotel room, Tanya took another hot bath while Jason ordered the steaks and bubbly. She wore the cloth robe again while they ate. After several more glasses of champagne, she put on the little black dress. She stood next to the bed, sipping, and he walked over to her. He took in her wavy blonde hair, her delicious full lips and perfect features, and then focused on the enticingly bountiful cleavage. He had to tear his eyes away to force them to continue on down to her long, silky legs and perfect, rounded butt, also mostly exposed by the short dress. When he smelled her perfume, l’air du couchez avec moi, his knees went weak, and he was immediately confused as to why he was there.

  “Plan B, plan B,” he mumbled.

  “I won’t need Plan B, Jason. I’m on birth control. Now get on with it. I’m fed, buzzed, and ready. No more interruptions. What do I need to do to get you going?”

  “That dress is plenty. God, you look good.” He was losing his focus again, strongly tempted by her overwhelming beauty, sexual allure, and willingness to do kinky things with him. He envisioned slapping himself in the face to clear his head, pictured Chelsea running over him with his car some more, and he mumbled, “Jason, get hold of yourself. Stick with the mission.”

  Tanya look confused. “What? Sorry, what did you say? You talkin’ dirty, nasty boy?”

  “Sorry, the sight of you in that dress overwhelmed me for a second. I said that I can’t wait to get hold of you.”

  “So, let’s get to it. I’m ready to go.” She started to peel the dress up over her thighs.

  “Uh, leave the dress on for now. You look spectacular. Just let me sit here for a few minutes, gaze upon your incredible body, and then I’ll help you remove it, with my teeth.”

  Tanya giggled. “That’ll work. Sounds like fun.”

  Jason thought, I need to bring the conversation around to the murders; need to get her into the right position to effectively interrogate her. Yes, the right position. “I’m feeling kind of kinky this afternoon. It’s been a while since I did anything over-the-top in the bedroom. How about I tie you up and take the dress off of you myself? Maybe I’ll cut it off.”

  She giggled. “I like it. If that’s what it takes to get you going, let’s do it.”

  “I need something to tie you up. The complimentary bathrobes have cloth ties for the waist. I can use those.”

  “I’ll pour us some more champagne while you look in the closet. I hung my robe in there, next to the other one. Hurry. I’m ready to play.”

  He walked over to the closet doors, just outside the bathroom and directly across from a sink with a full mirror. As he opened one of the doors, he glimpsed Tanya in the mirror over the sink, and what he saw put things in a whole new light.

  Oh shit. She’s dumping a blue powder into one of the glasses. She must know what I’m up to. I might suck as a detective, but it don’t take no Jessica Fletcher to figure out that the blue powder is probably ground-up pills, methinks Pleasuria? But his male ego had not quite given up. Or maybe she’s just trying to roofie me.”

  He removed the waist ties from the two bathrobes, closed the closet door and said, “Here I come, ready or not. Let’s get kinky.”

  The two full champagne glasses sat side by side on the dresser next to the TV. Since he had seen her add the powder through the mirror, which reversed images, he wasn’t sure which one contained the drug. “How about we finish up these glasses of champagne, and then I’ll tie your wrists to the bedposts,” he said.

  He had the advantage; he knew she had spiked one of the champagne glasses, and she didn’t know that he knew.

  “Which glass is mine?” he asked. “I want to finish the bottle and get to the good stuff.”

  Jason purposefully stood an arm’s length away, waiting for her to hand him one of the glasses. As she reached for the glass that she intended to give him, before she could pick it up he swooped in behind her and put his arms around her, kissing her on the back of the neck.

  “Oooh,” she squealed with feigned delight. He continued to kiss the back of her neck and nibble on her ear, managing to turn her away from the dresser. She was so sexy, she smelled so good, and he was getting tipsy; his eyes glossed over as he got lost in the thought of kinky sex, and nibbling turned into gentle biting.

  “Easy, PI Longfellow. You’re going to leave marks,” she giggled.

  To bring himself back from the abyss once more, he focused on a single thought: Chelsea’ll kill me. Chelsea, kill me. Hurt me, bad, real bad.

  When her back was to the dresser, he stopped nibbling, took one of the glasses and handed it to her. “Let’s drink to this afternoon,” he said, as he raised the remaining glass in the air.

  She was an excellent actress, but he saw just the slightest look of concern as she also raised her glass; had he pulled a double switcheroo? She had to drink or give herself away. She said, “To this afternoon. If you don’t make a move soon, it’s going to be tomorrow.” They both took a sip.

  Then he said, “To unbridled passion, and kinky stuff.” With that, he emptied his glass in a single gulp, indicating that she should do the same.

  She reluctantly finished off her champagne. She said, more concern than passion in her voice, “Yes. To the kinky stuff.”

  He kept pouring until both bottles were completely empty. His plan B, to get them both drunk, was working, at least on him. The champagne and that damned little black dress were scrambling his brain again. Stalling for more time, trying to figure out how to get her to confess, he took her in his arms, and then shoved her onto the bed.

  “Lie back and give me your wrrishts . . . wrists.” Crap, slurring my words, he thought. He tied her wrists to the bedposts, clumsily fumbling as he made knots. Plan B sucks. She holds her liquor better than I do.

  “Yes, Jason. Make me your slave. Take me. Ravage me. I’m helpless in your hands.” She went along, confident that he had been the one to drink the spiked champagne. She was willing to go as far as necessary to give the drug time to take effect.

  Tanya knew a lot about Pleasuria; she had worked with Lance Harden to carry out some rather illegal experiments with the drug on human subjects. The drug was intended to be very specific, to counteract depression with no side effects, which was supposed to be its greatest advantage. However, it didn’t turn out to be all that specific, and the side effects were very unusual, especially at the higher doses. Pleasuria affected men and women differently. Men suffered extreme sexual hallucinations that were dangerous under certain circumstances. The warning label should read, Do not take Pleasuria while driving, working with dangerous machinery, cooking, bathing, doing anything in public, or doing pretty much anything at all. Side effects include hallucinations and humping whatever is within reach. Women experienced hypersexual arousal that led to multiple spontaneous orgasms, each one stronger than the last, that came more and more frequently until
it all ended in one final, never-ending explosion of lethal pleasure. That warning label should read, Do not take Pleasuria unless you want to die from extreme pleasure. Side effects include perpetual orgasm and an exploding heart.

  After Jason had her securely tied her to the bed, he said confidently, his speech still occasionally slurred from too much champagne, “Okay, now that you’re comferble . . . comfortable. I have a few questions.”

  She looked surprised. “Questions? What the hell? You are supposed to brutally ravage me, not talk me to death. I didn’t come all this way to talk. We could have done that on the phone. Now take me, Detective. Cut this damned dress off and have your way with me.”

  His eyes glossed over, and he started to tear off the dress with his teeth to ravage her, but that vision of Chelsea running over him repeatedly with his car showed up again. Damned vision. He put his teeth away and said, “Tanya. You are my lasht . . . last remaining suspect for the attempted murders of Wendy Thompkins and Joanne Shipley. Did you try to kill them? Did you shlip . . . slip them something to cause a hypersexual-arousal response?”

  Tanya said, quite convincingly, “What the hell are you talking about?” She knew how long it should take for the Pleasuria to take effect, and she was sure that it would happen soon. So far, he had just slurred his words a little, a response to the champagne.

  Jason persisted. “I get why you might want to harm two of them women . . . them two women. They both hooked up with Hard . . . Lance Harden . . . and you wanted him for yourself. Isn’t that so?”

  “Jason, have you gone mad? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I like Wendy and Joanne. I worked with both of them, and we were friends. I thought you and I were going to meet this afternoon for wild, kinky sex. You obviously lied to me. What a bummer. And you can’t hold your liquor worth a damn. You’re getting drunk. I doubt you could even get it up.”