by Jack Phoenix
“Hold on,” he said, “do you have a fever or anything?”
“No,” she wheezed. “I feel okay except for the stupid pain in my stupid throat.”
“Well, meet me at my place at six.”
She drove up at 5:55 to his two-bedroom condominium, and he opened the door and greeted her before she was able to knock. He took her coat, and led her to his kitchen, where she could smell cooked vegetables, a fine steam filling the room. He pulled a chair out for her in his small dining space and poured her a bowl of homemade vegetable soup out of a crock-pot.
“I’m not a very good cook, so I hope it’s good,” he said to her, “but I figured this would go down pretty easy. Might make you feel better.”
They spent the rest of the evening curled up on his couch, watching movies of her choice that he illegally downloaded straight onto his computer, displaying them on his large flat-screen television. They refrained from kissing for fear of possible contagion, but Elizabeth never wanted to kiss someone more. She had dated casually throughout high school and college, but this man made her feel important.
He was sexy and witty and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. She was impressed with his savvy business skills and his confident swagger. She agreed to marry him when she found out she was pregnant because she was sure that he could provide her with the stability necessary to raise a child.
She had not listened to her mother. She had married for a reason other than love, and she had caved to a social pressure and the expectations of those around her that she should do the ‘right’ thing by her child.
She learned after the wedding that his persona was a well-constructed disguise, a ruse he’d effectively played to lure her and snare her. The disguise gradually deconstructed after she married and had a baby, then his true colors seeped through. It started when he demanded she quit the job she loved, and then dominated her time and attention, driving her friends away. He knew she had no family to turn to. Both of her parents had passed, her father when she was a child and her mother just a couple of years before college graduation. She didn’t have brothers or sisters. Elizabeth realized she was trapped financially, emotionally, and socially.
She was grateful to Wade Loeb for his willingness to reconnect after such an absence, and for his flexibility. As far as she knew, Roderick was still unaware of her relationship with him, and she preferred to keep it that way in order to keep Wade’s life less complicated.
“To liberation,” Wade toasted.
“To liberation,” she toasted back.
Chapter Ten
“Bring me another one,” Roderick demanded of the server carrying her upright tray of drinks.
He often came here to unwind, though it would not be a typical person’s first choice for such a purpose, considering the busy atmosphere. The environment of a gentlemen’s club—or just ‘strip joint’ as most laypeople would call it—though hardly peaceful, is certainly good for distracting the mind. It was electric, loud and flashy, a place of lightning.
The current entertainer was just finishing her act as Roderick took a sip of his fresh drink, anxiously awaiting his favorite dancer. He then heard the DJ announce that Monika, Roderick’s favorite dancer, would not be performing. Last night’s dream had him flustered, and it was so vivid. He just wanted to see a beautiful face, and a beautiful body to shake it all off. He was stressed from work, stressed from home, stressed from his dead father, and stressed from his insane sister. He downed his drink in a few gulps and ordered another. If he couldn’t dispel his worries, then he’d drown them.
He remembered when he was ten years old and his father let him drink his first beer. Actually, his father had more or less forced the beer down his throat. He was playing with his sister, pretending to have a tea party with her. She was acting strangely for quite some time, very depressed and quiet. He thought that a little tea party would cheer her up, and he was right. She smiled ever so slightly. Then his father came home from work and caught them. He grabbed little Roddy by the arm and hoisted him up, dragging him into the house.
“Boys don’t have tea parties,” he informed his son, “sissies have tea parties. Do you want to be a sissy?”
“No.”
“Good, then you don’t have tea parties. If you have to, you can pretend to have a beer party.”
“What does beer taste like?”
And at that, his father pulled a beer from the refrigerator, popped it open and handed it to his son. Little Roddy took one sip and involuntarily spit the nasty-tasting liquid onto the floor. His father commenced with a slap in the face, forced him to clean it up and then made little Roddy drink the entire can while he watched to make sure every last drop was gone.
His father was a trust fund baby; everything was handed down to him, but it didn’t keep him from being very frugal with his money. He would be damned if he’d have to pay to have the carpets cleaned because his wussy son couldn’t handle a little beer. Robert Whithers made it clear that anything his children did or could do to cost him more money was highly frowned upon.
In a form of adult retaliation, Roderick Whithers wasn’t as frugal. He already spent one-hundred and fifty dollars on drinks and strippers on this little adventure alone, and the night was still young. He told his wife he’d be out with the guys, but he was in no mood for male company tonight, and he often preferred to attend this establishment solo. He took pleasure in whipping out bill after bill, while some of the lower riffraff of the place stayed in the back with no tip money, and he enjoyed trying to impress some of the college kids that showed up. Besides, it was easier for him to find trouble when he didn’t have company.
The DJ made an announcement, “Alright, fellas, Monika may not be with us tonight, but we are bringing you triple the trouble! This is their first time performing at Sirenum, so let’s make them feel welcome! Please put your hands together for the terrible trio: Tissy, Ally, and Meg!”
The house music began to play and a triad of leather-clad vixens stepped from behind the curtain and onto the stage. For but a moment they stood still, legs spread apart, hands on their hips with pride, looking over their audience as if surveying their kingdom, their fiery red hair flowing down their backs. Wearing little more than black straps, one was tall and statuesque, another short and petite and the other somewhere in the middle in height but with a finer-toned body. She was carrying a large, golden snake that clung to her shoulders, and twisted down her arm, resting its head in her hand.
Roderick Whithers detested snakes. His father found a snake in the yard once when he was a child. Little Roddy had wanted to examine it, maybe try to touch it, but instead his father came by with a shovel, slamming the blade down upon the snake, decapitating it. He picked up its headless body and tossed it around his son’s neck, laughing as a spot of the snake’s blood stained little Roddy’s shirt. The sight of snakes disturbed him ever since.
Despite his aversion to the serpent, he sensed a primal almost biblical allure that it attributed to her form as she began to step forward in rhythm with the music. Her ample breasts bounced, barely contained within her top. Roderick’s drink went faster and faster down his throat, his palms sweaty, his heart racing as the virtual Amazon before him danced with her shorter companion. The girl with the snake bent and twirled as her familiar hung and slithered around her torso with every move like it had rehearsed the dance a hundred times.
Roderick no longer had to ask his server for more drinks; the drinks just started appearing, and his eyes began to glaze over, entranced. He watched the short and tall girls sharing the same pole, their clothing peeled away and discarded across the stage. They were irresistible. He was the Argo, enchanted by their song. He went through three drinks in less than ten minutes. His blood boiled, not to mention the activity that was occurring in other areas of his anatomy, for it seemed as though the three dancers were watching him just
as intensely as he was watching them. They swayed back and forth, their hair flying, hips shaking, and they suddenly stopped, pointing right at him.
He was used to the performers at this club giving him the eye and taking notice. He was a handsome, well built man and he was very aware of this, which is why he always sat near the stage, but he had never been singled out in such a way. His shock increased when two of the ladies proceeded to the edge, grabbed him by his arms and pulled him up out of his seat.
He was paralyzed, his back to all the other men who were hooting and hollering and clapping their hands together, until one of the ladies took hold of him and spun him around to face them. He had never expected such excitement, he didn’t even know it was legal to touch the performers or for them to touch him. They danced around him, sultry, running their fingers down his arms and chest. He felt a pair of hands grasping his shoulders and, pulling down gently, removing his jacket. The dancer with the snake pulled up a chair and placed it behind him, while her partners gently kissed him on the sides of his neck. They stopped their kissing, stood firm, and looked him straight in the face with a strong but sensual gaze and pushed him down into the chair.
The dancer with the snake walked around, palmed his shoulder and straddled his lap. She began dancing on him, moving her pelvis and those curvaceous hips along his crotch until he knew she could feel his pulsing bulge. She leaned forward, face-to-face. Her snake raised its head, looking him in the face as well, but he was too distracted by her beauty to care when both of their tongues flicked across his nose. He felt the arms of the other two dancers wrap around him, and he was breathless at the sight of these three goddesses, all huddled together.
“So,” said the one with the snake, a seductive curl at the side of her lips, “are you enjoying the show?” She then squeezed her breasts together, letting her tongue reach down and tickle the tops of them.
He still had no breath. A schoolboy smile was his only reply.
“Oh girls, I think he’s speechless.”
“No need to be shy around us, Mister Whithers,” said one of the other dancers, caressing her left nipple.
“How…how…how do you know my name?” he stuttered, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh, we’re big fans,” said the third dancer.
“Oh yes,” chimed the lady with the snake, pushing down on his thighs, “we’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Really?” he said, trying to concentrate on being inquisitive despite the distractions. It is difficult for a man to switch heads once one of them has established control. “So, uh, did someone, uh…put you up to this?”
“Maybe,” said one, leaning over behind him, biting the tip of her finger with a grin. Her arms spread along his, her chin touching his forehead.
He questioned with a chuckle, “Who…who? Who sent you then?”
The third dancer answered, kneeling down, “Maybe someone sent us. Maybe someone who knows just how special you are.”
“Uh, like who?” he asked her.
“Or,” began the dancer with the snake, “maybe your name is on your credit card. Which is on your tab. At the bar.”
“Oh,” he paused, “right.”
“Bottom line,” she said, “we’ve noticed you. So, what are you doing after the show?”
He took another glance at all three faces as the dancers rubbed him over with their polished nails and said, “I…I don’t know. What should I be doing after the show?”
She and her snake came face to face with him again and she answered, “Us.”
Roderick felt beads of sweat on his forehead as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sounds fun to me.”
“Or maybe,” she said, tickling the chin of the golden snake, “we’ll do you.”
“I’m in,” he stated.
“We thought as much, you sinner, you. Come to the Nyx Motel at three o’ clock. Room 3F. We’ll be ready and waiting,” and the three dancers gave him a kiss on each cheek and disappeared behind the stage curtain, their buttocks vibrating with each step.
Roderick stood up, adjusting himself and wiping the sweat from his brow, his heart pounding as the sound of applause echoed in his ears. He retrieved his jacket from the other side of the stage and stepped off, surprised that none of the other horny male customers gave him a high-five or two.
As he left the building, he could hear the DJ overhead hollering, “Aren’t they beautiful, fellas, that is Tissy, Ally, and Meg, let’s hear it for ‘em! And you saw them exclusively here at the Sirenum!”
Roderick knew this would be an interesting night.
Chapter Eleven
He was hungry. But the only eating establishments open at this time of night were fast food joints. He didn’t want his breath to smell like onions and hamburger. Horny will win against hungry every time. He had no idea where the Nyx Motel was, hadn’t ever heard of it. Thank God for GPS.
He always amused himself by imagining the GPS system cussing at him in that lovely, mechanized female voice if he made a wrong turn, such as “I said, turn left, dumb ass,” or “what’s wrong with you, dipshit?” He figured he’d use that joke with the ladies when he got there. “What took you so long?” one of them would say. “Oh, I made a right turn instead of a left. You know if my GPS would insult me and make me feel like shit for not listening instead of just saying ‘recalculating’ then maybe I’d listen better.” They’d smile and giggle. Girls always like a funny guy. It enhances the sex appeal by showing them that you have brains as well as bulge.
As he drove the interstate, he saw the houses and buildings becoming fewer and fewer until he realized he was exiting the city. He was not very familiar with this area, but the GPS was reliable and proved a good investment once again. When he arrived, he was surprised by how nice of a place it was, unlike most shady motels on long stretches of highway. The outside of the building was colorful with bright paint, radiant flowers, and neon lights. He could hear the hum of the lights, even feel it on his skin, as he approached room 3F.
He didn’t have to knock, as the door opened gently at his approach. Standing there, her arms stretched across the doorway, was the dancer who had straddled his lap just a few hours before, wearing nothing but black panties, her long red hair draped over her shoulder, concealing her nipples.
“What took you so long?” she asked, as the other two topless women came up behind her, leaning their heads on her shoulders, looking at him like he was a puppy.
“I…uh…made a wrong turn or something. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Come on in.”
“Okay.”
He stepped inside. The walls were a dull brown, but the burning candles were placed throughout the room, their flickering shadows brightened the floor and countertops. There was no television or other electronics that Roderick could see, just a couple of dressers, a mirror and a bed with red sheets and red pillowcases.
“Well, this is a nice set up, isn’t it?” he said sarcastically. “What? No music?”
“We like it,” said one of the girls as she sat slowly on the bed. “It suits us finely.”
In the corner of the room, the taller girl was petting the golden snake that coiled around a simple wooden pole. It was completely still except for its tongue, and had its head perched as it observed the proceeding.
“I didn’t realize that thing would be here,” said Roderick.
“Don’t worry, Mister Whithers, she likes you.” The woman petting the snake said as she approached the bed to join the other two.
“Please,” he urged, unbuttoning his shirt, “call me Rod.”
“We’ll call you whatever we want to call you, sinner,” one of them said as they all three rose from the bed and gathered around him.
It was the moment that Roderick was looking forward to the most; when all three would be lookin
g for a part of his body to claim and service. One stood in front of him, the other two to his sides. They began kissing, placing their hands on the sides of his face to turn him in their respective directions, taking turns on his lips. He wrapped his arms around the waists of the two beside him, while their hands crawled under his shirt, and the woman in front of him began rubbing his crotch, causing small moans of pleasure from his throat while his tongue was in her mouth. They began to undress him, and he tried to return the favor. He began pulling down on the panties of the two to his sides, but they quickly grabbed his hands and raised them to their breasts instead.
His excitement was evident, and it increased as his pants and underwear were pulled down. He stopped kissing the girl to his right to look down with a satisfied smile at the one who was crouched down in front of him, urging her on. She looked up at him, grinning, and wrapped her fingers around his member.
“Fuck yeah,” he whispered down at her. “You like that, don’t you. Yeah, you take it then…”
She took him into her mouth, moving her lips and her hand rigorously yet sensuously. The other two moved aside as his head lay back in ecstasy and his hands moved to her hair, encouraging her to continue, but his moans turned to yelps as he felt her teeth biting down. Pulling her hair, he began to scream but she bit harder and, glancing up at him, he saw her once lovely eyes had become a glowing green. The glow of those eyes was the last thing he saw before everything went dark.
* * * *
It took a few minutes to process it all after regaining consciousness. There was so much to process; the color red, the pain in his head, the pain between his legs, the memories of what had transpired and the fact that he couldn’t move. It was the latter that caused the most panic. When the blurriness began to cease, he could see the straps on his hands tied to the bed legs. His legs were tied to the opposite side. He was face down, spread eagle and horizontal across the mattress, stripped of all his clothing except for the cross around his neck. He grunted and cried as he pulled and pulled to free himself, but quickly realized he would only rub his wrists raw.