by C. W. LaSart
Her face appeared directly in front of his own and Scott pulled back, trying to get as far away as he could.
No longer wearing the dark brown contacts, her real eyes gleamed a brilliant yellow, the pupils black, reptilian slits. She smiled and smoothed a hand across his stomach, making him aware that the mask was all he wore. His wrists and ankles were bound to the posts of a massive bed.
“Good. You’re finally awake. I was worried.” She leaned in to kiss him, getting only leather when he turned his head.
“What are you?”
“Oh you poor thing, you really did hit your head pretty hard. It’s okay if you’re confused.” She continued to run her hand across his body from chest to thigh, each pass coming closer to his groin. “I’m your lover, of course.”
Scott felt helpless. Accustomed to being the predator, he shuddered at the feeling of being prey. All he felt now was an overwhelming need to escape. The light touch of her hand upon his cock made him jump, and his body broke out in gooseflesh.
“Let me go, lady. Please.”
She tilted her head to the side, an impish grin at odds with her alien eyes. “Sometimes when I’m without a lover for too long, I have to pleasure myself. It’s okay now. I have you to pleasure me.”
Scott stared at the woman who stood with a wink and stretched, showing off her lithe body. Up close, Scott saw the pink scars that ran down her arms and legs and crossed her breasts and belly, the twisted, red scar tissue where she had walked into his hunting knife.
“Like what you see?” She preened, turning from side to side to give him the full view.
The knife gleamed in the overhead light as she retrieved it from the table, running her fingertip across the sharp edge. A bead of blood welled up on her thumb and she put it to her mouth, her eyes closed in rapture as her pink tongue flicked out to capture it.
“I love the foreplay.” Laying the blade against her wrist, she slowly drew it up the length of her arm, peeling away an inch-wide slice of her skin.
Realizing her intent, Scott clamped his lips shut an instant before the strip of flesh mashed against his mouth, smearing it with blood.
“Hard to get, huh?” Her tone mild and pleasant, she grabbed his balls, squeezing and twisting in one swift motion.
Bright flashes of light overtook Scott’s vision and he opened his mouth, unsure of whether he would scream, vomit, or both. With unnatural speed, the woman stuffed the wad of skin into his mouth and pushed up on his jaw, making it impossible for him to spit. A salty, coppery tang filled his mouth and he felt bile burn its way up his throat, threatening to choke him as he lay there helpless. Left with little choice, he swallowed the meat whole, knowing that to chew would mean choking on his own puke.
She cooed in his ear, flicking the blade of the knife lightly across one of his nipples and licking the corner of his mouth before he could turn away. Sitting back, her freakish eyes appraised the naked expanse of his body.
His balls still ached and his head throbbed. He didn’t like the way that her eyes kept returning to his crotch.
“You crazy fucking bitch. I’m done playing now. Let me go or I’m gonna kill you!”
She stuffed something silky in his mouth (he thought it might be panties) then zipped the mask up tight. “I think you’ve said enough.”
“I was hoping you would be the one. It’s been so long.” She grabbed a scrapbook from the darkness beneath the bed, opening the cover and smiling at what she saw. Holding it above him so he could see, she pointed to various articles, lovingly snipped and pasted to the pages. She read aloud. “City terrorized as masked rapist strikes again. Masked Menace claims his fourth victim. Citizens urged to watch over young, female neighbors as serial rapist remains at large.”
Her hand returned to tracing his chest, the knife sliding lightly just behind it. Reaching a spot on his ribs, she pursed her mouth and cocked her head, then she nodded to herself in a satisfied way.
“Oh lover.” She breathed, her face taking on a dreamy look. “Can you feel that? It’s so sensual, isn’t it? The sharing of flesh and pleasure. I’m inside you now.”
Pausing to lift the book once again, she flipped to the back, a look of pride lighting her face as she showed him another set of articles.
“See, I’m in here too! Yet another body found in the James River, missing its skin. Man’s skinned corpse left beneath overpass. Police seeking leads in fifth slaying, sources calling the killer THE GHOUL.” Laying the scrap book aside, she turned her attention back to Scott.
Kissing the zipper that covered Scott’s mouth, she slashed with the knife, ignoring his muffled screams as his eyes bulged out in terror. Cutting away a section of the skin along his ribs, she paid no attention as he wailed and bucked when the knife hit bone.
His peripheral vision behind the mask shrank down to pinpoints as Scott began to black out again, barely seeing the dripping hunk of his flesh she held up before him.
“I’m in you now, lover.” She said with a sigh, bringing his bloody flesh to his mouth and unzipping the mask. “Don’t worry, lover. It’s an acquired taste.”
CARNALITY
Chad kicked an empty beer can into the gutter, listening as it rattled into the shadows. It was late, and he’d wandered farther than he’d meant to. Rows of dilapidated apartments interspersed with run-down shops rose up on either side of him. Normally he would’ve driven through this area with his windows up and doors locked. The street looked abandoned, but he knew dangers could be waiting for him. Gang bangers with nothing better to do than mug and beat the shit out of a white guy who’d wandered too far across the tracks, to name one. Maybe even kill him.
Chad didn’t give a shit about that now. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kept walking. He wasn’t sober, but wasn’t as drunk as he would like to have been, either. A saner part of his mind tried to reason with him. You should’ve stayed at the bar with Elliot and Sasha. You can still find your way back before you get your dumb ass killed.
“Fuck Elliot.” He said to the empty street. “And fuck Sasha, too.”
That was the whole problem. It was the reason he’d left the bar in the first place. His best friend in the world was too distracted with Sasha to notice his departure. Chad left them in the bar, swaying in each other’s arms on the dance floor.
Chad left because he couldn’t fuck Sasha. Not anymore. In two days she would become Mrs. Elliot Holmes, and she had ended her and Chad’s affair last night.
“Fuck you Sasha.” Chad repeated, but the words came out softer, as his rage turned to self-pity.
Finding a rusty bench next to an overflowing garbage can stinking like rot, Chad slumped down and put his head in his hands. He should hate Elliot, wanted to hate Elliot, but he just couldn’t. They’d been friends since childhood, and in all those years, Elliot had never shown himself to be anything other than a great guy. They’d spent holidays with each other’s families and vacationed together every summer since grade school. They’d gone to the same law school both their fathers had attended together decades before. Their families were intertwined in more ways than they were not. Elliot never once tried to take a girl from Chad, though Lord knows he could’ve had them all. Chad couldn’t not love him.
It was Sasha who’d fucked things up. He had wanted her from the moment Elliot introduced them. He found her beautiful and vivacious, with a contagious spirit that made him want her constantly. But she belonged to Chad. He couldn’t make a move on his best friend’s girl.
At first, Chad had just been in awe of this amazing woman and his lucky friend who had found her. He couldn’t even be jealous of Elliot, knowing in his heart that his friend deserved this divine creature.
They went everywhere together, the three of them inseparable. Sometimes Chad would bring a date as well, but it always felt wrong to include another woman, and he would find some excuse not to invite her out again.
Chad began to measure all potential girlfriends against Sasha, with the other g
irl coming up short every time.
He wanted Sasha. In fact, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone. Sometimes, he felt sick with need when she smiled at him, desperate to hear the sounds she would make as he slipped inside of her. His fantasies consumed his waking moments. But still, he had no intentions of betraying Elliot. He couldn’t dream of hurting someone who trusted him so much.
Things could have been all right, despite Chad’s desperate longing, but Sasha wouldn’t let it lie. She knew Chad wanted her and she enjoyed the torment he felt. She began egging him on. Small things at first, like holding his gaze when he looked at her, or making sure her hand brushed his as they walked into the bar. Affectionate pats on the leg that started at the knee, but soon traveled up to his thigh. When the opportunity to consummate the relationship finally arrived, he’d accepted without hesitation.
She had driven him crazy. Sasha, with her big fuck me eyes and the need to know that every guy in the world desired her. It wasn’t enough that she had Elliot, who was successful and handsome enough to catch the eyes of most women he met. Chad figured she really did love Elliot, but she needed more than what just one guy could give her. Maybe her daddy had been too distant, maybe mommy had shown her love with gifts rather than affection, blah, blah, blah.
Maybe she was just a slut.
It shouldn’t matter. She was Elliot’s problem. Chad had felt a mixture of relief and remorse when she’d told him last night they couldn’t see each other anymore, that she wanted to try to be a good wife. He wanted her to be good to Elliot, and it killed him a little inside every time they fucked around behind his friend’s back, but he would miss the sex.
“Fuck you, Sasha.”
***
Chad stood up from the bench. His eyes scanned the shadows for movement, hyper-aware of his expensive clothes and the cash bulging in his wallet. Sobered, he gathered his bearings and turned back the way he came. He considered calling a cab, but figured he couldn’t be too far from where he’d left his car.
After several blocks, Chad came across a small storefront, its lights shining out of a dirty front window adorned with a painted sign that read “Pawnshop.” Looking at his watch, he saw it was going on midnight, but a sign on the door indicated that it was open.
What the fuck? This wasn’t here before. He stopped to peer in the window, but the filth made it hard to see what was within.
Chad tried the door, certain it would be locked, that someone just forgot to flip the sign, but it opened easily. A bell tinkled as he walked in, announcing his arrival to an empty front desk.
“Hello? Is there anyone here?” Chad looked around at piles of junk stacked on shelves and the floor. A heap of jewelry lay scattered across broken toys; tools were mixed with kitchen wares. It would be impossible for the owner to know what he had in inventory. A thief’s wet dream, if any of the shit was even worth anything.
“Just a moment.” A frail voice called out from behind a room-length curtain that divided the shop from the back.
Chad picked up a balloon-like object that resembled a hot water bottle made of heavy, discolored rubber, with an unusual nozzle attached to a long hose that disappeared into the neck.
“Douche bag.” A man’s voice said, directly behind him. Startled from his inspection, Chad whirled around, and dropped the balloon. It landed on the concrete floor with a slap.
“Excuse me?” Chad said, offended.
“It’s a douche bag.”
Chad wiped his hand on his pant leg in disgust. “Who the hell would want a used douche bag?” Chad asked.
“You would be surprised what people come in here looking for. I don’t judge.” The old man winked at Chad and made his way across the floor slowly, settling on a stool behind the desk. “What can I help you with?”
“Me? Nothing, I guess. I just saw you were open and thought I’d check the place out. Why are you open so late?”
“My hours are never set, a perk of owning the place. I also suffer from insomnia something terrible lately. What can I show you?”
The old man leaned his elbows on the table. His eyes, like dark chips of glass, sparkled in his wizened face. Frizzy white hair formed a halo around his spotted head and his skin was dark. The man’s shrewd gaze bored through Chad, making it hard to maintain eye contact.
“I don’t need anything. Like I said, I just happened upon the place . . . ”
“Everyone needs something, son. Sometimes we just don’t know what it is.” The man retrieved a gnarled looking pipe from a drawer, filling the bowl with dark, oily looking tobacco from a dish on the desk. As he smoked, the room filled with an acrid, sweet smell that made Chad’s head swim, bringing back his drunk with a rush.
“You got troubles, boy. It’s written all over your face.”
Chad opened his mouth in denial, ready to flee back onto the street, away from the strange shop and the stranger old man with his trinkets and used feminine hygiene products. Instead, he found himself confessing. It all came out in a rush. The old guy just sat and smoked, nodding encouragement as the tale unraveled from their childhood friendship to their high school hijinks. The man passed no judgment as Chad admitted to his life-long jealousy of Elliot, and the way he had lived in his best friend’s shadow for so many years.
When Chad got to the part about Sasha, he ranted at the old man about how the first time, when Elliot was passed out in the bedroom, Sasha had kissed him before stripping right there in the living room and riding him to a shrieking climax on the couch. His fists balled at his sides when he told of how she would taunt him, laughing no matter how hard he pounded himself into her, urging him to hurt her, loving the roughness she couldn’t get from Elliot.
He ended his rant with his head hung as he muttered that he was supposed to throw Elliot a bachelor party tomorrow night, but couldn’t even do that since Sasha insisted on tagging along.
For a moment neither spoke, Chad caught up in his misery, the old man smoking his pipe and nodding. Then he spoke, his voice raspy from the cloying tobacco that stung Chad’s eyes.
“Pussy will destroy your life, son.”
Chad glanced up.
“Yeah. I guess it can.” He looked at the man, searching for some trace of humor or anger in his dark eyes, but saw only a weary sort of compassion that spoke of bitter experience.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You could tell your friend. Come clean, and stop the wedding.”
“I can’t do that. It would break his heart.”
“Better to break a heart now, than after he’s already married the bitch.”
“I know. But . . . ”
“But you don’t want to lose your friend.”
“Right.”
The old man nodded again, placing the hot pipe on the counter and pulling open a drawer, rummaging around as he spoke. “You have some tough choices, boy. Every man does sooner or later. But I think I’ve figured out what you need, and if I’m correct, it’s right here.” He held up a piece of paper, his wrinkled face bright with triumph. Laying the paper on the counter, he slid it towards Chad with one shaking hand.
It was some sort of ticket, a couple of inches long and maybe one inch wide, made of heavy card stock. The edges were worn and it was creased in places, the words printed on it faded but still legible. CLUB CARNAL.
“What is it?” He turned it over, seeing the words ADMIT TWO scrawled on the back.
“What does it look like? It’s a ticket to Club Carnal.” The man began to fill his pipe once again.
“What’s Club Carnal? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Son, there are a great many things you’ve never heard of, and if you live as long as I have, there will still be mysteries in the world.”
“So what is it? A strip club, or something?”
“Or something.” The man said, his pipe once again full and trickling bluish smoke that wreathed his head.
Chad was growing annoyed by the old man and his enigmatic
speech. “Look, no offense man, I appreciate you letting me come in here and unload my troubles all over you like that, but I’m not going to pay money for an old ticket to a club I’ve never heard of.”
“Who said anything about money? Consider it a gift. From an old man who’s been there.” His eyes sparkled, intense and unsettling.
“What’s there?” Chad looked at the ticket in his hand, feeling uneasy about the exchange.
“A lesson. Maybe a hard one, but one you need to learn.”
“That pussy will ruin my life?” Chad guessed.
“Exactly.” The old man didn’t smile.
“Where is Club Carnal?”
“The address is on the back.”
Chad turned the stub over again and saw an address where before there had only been ADMIT TWO. 122 ½ E. Maple Street, written in spiky handwriting. He was sure it hadn’t been there before.
“What the fuck? Is this some sort of trick?”
“Go there. See what there is to see and have fun. Fuck the girls, but whatever you do . . . ” He paused, his flinty eyes piercing Chad’s for emphasis. “Don’t partake of the flesh. You will want to, but don’t. Learn the lesson, son. Men are more susceptible to their sexual desires. It’s about self-control. Don’t take what is offered without question. No matter how much you want it. All of life has consequences, and beauty is never what it seems. Learn the lesson, Chad.”
He gave Chad another hard look before sliding off his stool and disappearing back behind the curtain.
“Hey! What the hell does that even mean?” Chad called to his back.
If the old man heard Chad from behind the curtain, he gave no indication. Chad made it back onto the street before it even occurred to him that he’d never given the other man his name.
***
Maple Street was in the old section of town, a few blocks away from the strange little shop. Knowing he should just find his car and go home, he turned down the deserted sidewalk to where it intersected Maple instead. He doubted Club Carnal even existed, since he’d never heard anyone mention the place. It wouldn’t hurt to check though.