Ritual

by Charles Dreme

  Title Page

  RITUAL

  By Charles Dreme

  Publisher Information

  Ritual first published as an eBook in 2011

  by Chimera Books Ltd.

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Digital Edition converted and published

  by Andrews UK limited 2010

  www.andrewsuk.com

  New authors are always welcome, or if you’re already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Charles Dreme. The right of Charles Dreme to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy.

  Chapter I

  Kasey swung open the glass double-doors, and stepped out onto the patio. The jungle sprawled beneath her and toward a flawless blue horizon. This was unlike Australia, unlike England, unlike the US, and unlike anywhere Kasey had lived or holidayed. This was Africa, where heat sizzled in the air, and the untamed wild threatened to explode with unforeseen danger.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  It had been Matt’s idea; Matt, who’d suggested it was time to reinvent herself - again. She was thirty-two. Ancient, for the pop world, he’d warned. She was competing with women ten years younger. What she needed to do was appeal to the masses, which meant exposure. And the best way to gain exposure? Kasey would’ve thought music, another hit song. But not Matt.

  ‘Africa,’ he said. ‘Two week shoot. Maybe a sexy calendar.’

  That’s how simple it had been for Matt, and after consideration Kasey had begrudgingly agreed. He was right. Her contemporaries were twenty-something cheesecakes, and cheesecakes were the sort of divas who dominated the industry. To compete, to remain relevant, Kasey had to fight them on their level.

  Now here she stood, fresh from the shower - showering frequently was a key to surviving the heat - and dressed in just a towel, sweating, and contemplating the impending shoot.

  It would be risqué without being indecent, she knew that much. Matt would never expose her. He promised the shots would be alluring, that they would titillate. Kasey had no problem with that - she’d done plenty of shoots throughout her career. She just wished that, on this occasion, she didn’t have to contend with the unbearable heat.

  ‘Hello.’

  She pivoted sharply, seeing Charles Smythe on the adjacent patio. In his thirties, he was spoiled British money who dabbled in music as a producer. He knew absolutely nothing about the business, although that didn’t stop him wielding considerable power in the industry. But this was his chalet, his retreat away from the civilised world - although from what Kasey had seen of him, his whole life was a retreat.

  ‘Hi, Charles.’

  She became hyper-conscious of being dressed in just a towel, of the way his eyes had narrowed as he studied her. The bulge in his pants was evident, and he exhibited not the slightest sign of self-consciousness. Kasey felt like shuddering - there was something lecherous about Charles.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘I need to get changed.’

  Before he could answer she headed back into her room, closing the doors behind her, although she could still feel Charles’s eyes on her. She could just imagine what he was thinking - he wore his lust the way he wore his erection, like a badge of accomplishment. The thought almost made her shudder, but then it occurred to her that maybe his attention was something she should take as a compliment - it proved she still had something to offer.

  She turned to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of her otherwise Spartan bedroom. There was none of the luxuries of modern civilisation here - a four-poster bed, a set of drawers, and a whirring ceiling fan that only circulated the humidity. The mirror itself had been included at her request.

  Now, she warily approached her reflection. This had been a growing apprehension lately - one that had almost threatened to become phobic. It was as if each time she saw herself she was afraid she’d find something wrong, find something that would tell her that - at thirty-two - she was past it.

  Studying her face up close she saw lines - extremely faint, but lines nonetheless. How long before they deepened? Before they transformed Kasey from a pop diva to a pop has-been? Of course, Madonna was still going strong at fifty, so Kasey thought there was no reason she should slow now. At any rate, her impish beauty, saucerous blue eyes, and toothy smile were as ageless as ever.

  She pulled back from the mirror with a flourish, the towel she wore swaying around her glistening body and threatening to unfurl. Could she still compete physically with contemporaries ten years her junior? She’d always been small, which had made it easier to maintain her petite figure but, nonetheless, she’d worked relentlessly in the gym to keep her figure, her belly flat, her legs toned, and her butt - which some raved was the best in the business - taut.

  Kasey tilted her head, her wet, blonde curls falling across her face, and imagined herself as a redhead. Or a brunette. She’d had every colour imaginable throughout her career, and any number of styles. Maybe what she needed was a makeover.

  The door opened partly and Matt poked his head in. ‘You ready?’ he asked.

  Kasey didn’t spare him a glance. Matt didn’t have to worry about this stuff. He was tall, athletic, with blonde hair and a carefree exuberance - a sort of surfer’s demeanour. She was sure he looked now exactly as he did ten years ago, and would look exactly the same in another ten years. That was the way men aged.

  ‘Kase?’

  Matt came into the room and folded her in his arms. His body was firm upon hers, and the protrusion of his erection through his shorts against the small of her back was encouraging. First Charles Smythe, now Matt.

  ‘You okay?’

  Kasey turned in Matt’s arms and looked up at him.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ Matt said, kissing her lightly. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Do we have to?’ Kasey said, her right hand going down to his crotch and stroking his erection through his shorts.

  ‘They’re waiting for us.’

  ‘Aw.’

  Matt grinned, then kissed her again. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  Chapter II

  Kasey looked down at the water as it lapped her naked feet. How cool it felt - doubly so, in the suffocating conditions. She was dressed in a sheer gold chain-link dress meant to make her look like a water nymph. Underneath it she wore only a gold g-string. But still she felt as if the heat was smothering her.

  She lifted her gaze and looked at the shimmering blue lake that stretched out before her. To her immediate right and directly in front of her a jagged outcropping of rock enclosed the water. But to her left both the lake and outcropping ran adjacent and twisted and turned out of sight.

  Around her people were busy setting up: Roger, the photographer, blocking for the best shots, while directing the crew - who were comically inept - where to put the equipment; grips setting up reflective screens to get the best light; the make-up artis
t and hairdresser constantly hovering over her; there had to be almost twenty people seemingly working without any system whatsoever.

  Kasey turned to Matt, who was on his phone (and had been most of the morning), and seated in one of two banana lounges the crew had set up under a beach umbrella. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khaki shorts he could’ve been enjoying an idyllic day on the beach.

  He covered the mouthpiece of his phone. ‘Can you hang on just a moment?’ he asked her.

  Kasey shrugged at him and turned back to watch proceedings. The problem, she thought, was that to save money Roger had hired local labourers - people who had no idea what they were doing in a situation that required specialist talents.

  She was aware of Matt behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I have some bad news,’ he said.

  Kasey was immediately aware what Matt was doing; sometimes he defused her potential tantrums by usurping her with his own bad news. Kasey spun on his heel, determined to glower him into silence.

  ‘This is—’

  ‘I have to go back home,’ Matt said over the top of her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s an emergency with Ravenstone.’

  Kasey didn’t need much more explanation than that. Ravenstone was a young band on the cusp of superstardom recording their second album. Everybody thought they might galvanise the heavy metal industry, and lead music out of the pop-dominated assembly line. The problem was they were spoilt brats who bought into the bad boy myth.

  ‘When?’ Kasey asked.

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘You’re going to leave me with this?’ Kasey asked, gesturing expansively to the chaos behind her.

  ‘What?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Don’t play me, Matt.’

  ‘Let them get organised,’ Matt said. ‘It’s the first day.’

  Kasey could tell by his tone that he wasn’t happy with proceedings either, but he was trying to keep it together - for her sake, if no other reason. She lowered her head and let out a deep breath; she was hot, sweating again, and half-naked - could things get any worse?

  When she lifted her head she got her answer.

  Charles Smythe approached, eyes fixed on her. Kasey felt the skimpiness of her costume. Usually it wouldn’t matter; she’d performed concerts and shot video clips in things riskier than the gold chain-link dress. But the carnivorous way Charles looked at her made her feel naked.

  ‘I’m gonna take a walk,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just want to get some quiet,’ she said.

  ‘Kasey,’ Charles said, stopping before her and looking her up and down. ‘You’re looking wonderful.’

  ‘Thanks, Charles,’ Kasey said, not meeting his eye. ‘Excuse me.’

  Kasey turned, and feeling Charles’s eyes bore into her butt, hurried off.

  Chapter III

  Following the bank of the lake, Kasey wondered how on Earth she let Matt talk her into this. The concept - reinvent her image - was fine. But couldn’t they have done that somewhere more hospitable? Like Hawaii? Or the French Riviera? Matt had argued that just coming out to Africa was meritorious, and signalled to everybody just how invested she was in her career.

  Kasey stopped suddenly.

  Standing fifty yards directly ahead, his back to her, a naked black man bathed himself in the lake. His head was bald, shaved clean; his back impossibly broad, descending into a pair of buttocks that were bulbous but sharp. Powerfully built, his arms and legs rippled with every move.

  Standing motionless, breathless, Kasey watched as the man washed, the sight of his glistening body, muscles rippling, mesmerising. Who was he? Certainly not one of the crew - that was for sure. There was something primal about him, if not predatory. Was he a native?

  She turned to look back and was startled that she couldn’t see the crew. How far had she walked? She paused to listen - they’d been making an awful noise, but now she could hear nothing but her heartbeat thumping in her ears.

  Everything else was still.

  She returned her gaze to the black man, her eyes fixating on the broadness of his back, travelling up to his immense shoulders, and following every muscular crevice etched into his body.

  Kasey had spent enough time in gyms to see any number of barbell boys with inflated physiques built for show. Looking at this man, her immediate impression was that he could tear apart a lion with his bare hands.

  As her eyes travelled to his buttocks she became aware of how abrasive the chain-link was against her stiffening nipples. What would it be like to hold this man? To have him against her, inside her? She realised she was holding her breath and she exhaled, embarrassed.

  The man turned, and his eyes locked with Kasey’s. The rest of his face - which was youthful; she guessed he would’ve only been in his twenties - was impassive. But his eyes bored into Kasey’s. Alarm jolted her. If this guy was some native - which seemed very well to be the case - her life could be in jeopardy.

  She backed away, stumbled, fell upon her butt. Scrambling she got back to her feet, but saw that the man hadn’t moved. He continued to stand there, looking at her. Continuing to back away - now slowly - Kasey saw that he was actually wearing a loincloth that covered his crotch, and was shocked at her own disappointment.

  Still she continued to back away, step by step, her eyes remaining on the man, but he did not move. Instead he continued to stand there, ebony body gleaming in the sunlight, intentions indecipherable.

  When Kasey rounded the bank, obscuring the man from sight, she ran back to the camp, not dropping back to a walk until she had Matt in sight. He was still talking to Charles Smythe, who must’ve had some radar when it came to her, as his eyes locked on her when she re-entered their line of vision.

  ‘You been jogging or something?’ Matt asked.

  Kasey realised she was a mess - running back to camp had caused her to sweat more profusely than ever. She noted that her nipples protruded through her chain-link dress, and she folded one arm across her breasts. Her hair, which had been carefully prepared, had fallen in disarray. She didn’t want to even think about how her make-up would look.

  ‘Wherever did you go?’ Charles asked.

  Kasey didn’t know what to say. She’d planned to tell Matt about the man, but not in the presence of Charles. And what would they infer about her appearance? It was obvious what Charles would think, and the thought made her feel cheap, decadent, because her reaction to the naked black man had been lustful.

  ‘I was just walking,’ Kasey said.

  Matt gestured to the hairdresser and make-up artist. ‘We’re just about ready,’ he said. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Kasey said.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yep,’ Kasey said. ‘Let’s get this started.’

  Chapter IV

  Kasey stood in the shower under a stream of water too weak to be satisfying, and as she closed her eyes one image filled her mind.

  How big had he been? Six feet tall? Taller? It had been hard to judge from a distance. His size, however, had been undeniable. She imagined a life in the wild, deprived of the amenities of everyday life that she took for granted - amenities that made her existence easy and comfortable.

  Snapping off the shower she got out and wrapped a towel around her body. Her hair remained wet and dripping, but that was fine; although it was night the temperature hadn’t cooled appreciably.

  She went into the bedroom, where Matt was laying on the bed in just his shorts, reading a magazine - GQ, Kasey thought it was. He glimpsed at her, then returned his attention to his GQ.

  ‘Good shoot today, eh?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Kasey said - and after the disastrous start to the day, it had been. They’d gotten numerous shots of her romping in the water in
her chain-link dress. When Roger showed her the pictures later she’d been impressed - they had a raw vibrancy she thought they wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere.

  ‘Told you,’ Matt said, ‘this is the place...’

  He didn’t finish as Kasey clambered onto the bed, straddling his hips and feeling the bulge of his cock through his shorts. Gently she rotated her hips and he stiffened immediately. He lowered his magazine and looked at her quizzically.

  ‘What’s—?’

  Again she cut him off, kissing him, her fingers going to his naked chest while his hands fixed upon her buttocks, up her sides, her towel unfurling. His hands continued to move up, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, Kasey shuddering in response, her wet hair dripping on Matt’s face.

  ‘You could’ve dried your hair!’ he said.

  Kasey giggled at him and he spun her around, his body pressed down on hers, his erection pushing through his shorts into her hip, his right hand moving to her breast while his lips assaulted her jaw, moved down her neck and onto her chest. A low moan escaped Kasey’s lips as his tongue found her nipple.

  She closed her eyes and arched her back as his lips continued to move, down her belly and into her pubic thatch, the tip of his tongue running down to find her clit. Kasey gasped, her legs opening instinctively as Matt’s tongue furiously worked her clit, his hands coming up to her hips and moving to her breasts.

  A guttural shriek escaped Kasey’s lips and she bit down hard, wondering how soundproof the walls were. Not very, she thought. What would Charles Smythe think? As Matt’s tongue slipped inside her she bucked her hips and moaned deep and long, and decided it no longer mattered.

  Gently, rhythmically, Matt’s tongue probed her, his right hand coming down and his thumb teasing her clit. Kasey reared back until she’d lifted her hips from the bed, pushing her crotch forward to maximise every thrust of Matt’s tongue. She wanted him now, wanted his cock.