by Jim Goforth
The other was the one which worried and disturbed him, for it was a place filled with a deep foreboding dread.
Something was not right in here in this Ewok village of Gothic women; they were all too edgy, nervous, tense and suspicious, clamouring at Melissa with questions regarding two of their number whom Corey hadn't met, probably because they were 'still with the Plebs', whoever or whatever the Plebs might happen to be.
Desiree didn't speak as she walked with him to the hut which was a fact which further added fuel to the fire of his worried thoughts.
Head down and frowning, she appeared very deep in troublesome thought and though Corey debated asking her what was bothering her he elected not to.
He supposed if she really wanted him to know she would simply tell him, and as she hadn't yet volunteered the information he surmised that she wasn't going to.
All the same it irked him that she was troubled and knowing nothing about why, he could offer very little in the way of help or support.
Something was definitely amiss, something very wrong but he didn’t have a clue what.
Desiree vaulted up the three little wooden steps at the front of the structure and swung the door inwards, Corey following at a more sedate pace, still sporadically dripping water from his saturated clothing.
"This here is just a big walk in wardrobe really," said Desiree, the first words she'd spoken since they left the others behind. "Plenty of towels too. Strip off, get dried a bit and you should find something to wear."
"Is there...you know...guy clothes?" Queried Corey hesitantly.
He hadn't seen a single male presence among the entire bunch bar him and his two friends, but he guessed they didn't count.
He didn't really fancy capering around in a leather skirt and halter top.
Desiree allowed herself a slight chuckle.
"Plenty. Jeans, shirts. There should be something in there for you. I'll be out here, call out when you're ready."
Disappointment kicked a great big hole in Corey's chest as he realised she wasn't going to be accompanying him inside.
True, he was the one who was going to be stripping himself naked, but who was to say where that situation could lead if she was in there with him?
He trudged inside, trying to look forlorn and downcast, but if Desiree noticed his sad attempts to gain her attention she didn't acknowledge it.
His dreams of 'funny business' with or without Blaise and her G-string present crumbled away to dust as the door closed behind him.
If he had any of the audacity of his brazen mate Tim he would have most certainly be firing some comment at Desiree along the lines of 'Aren't you coming in to join me?' or something similar.
'So why don't you?' A tiny little voice of mischief railed at him inside his head. 'What have you got to lose? She can only say no can't she?'
'Either that or whip that knife off her belt and gut me like a fish,' Corey told himself, standing in the pitch black room, wondering why she hadn't bothered to turn a light on.
Suddenly the door popped open behind him and the small wedge of light from outside allowed him to see a shapely figure slipping into the room with him.
Illumination flooded the area simultaneous with the door closing again and he could see Desiree standing with her back to the shut door, one hand still over the light switch.
"Sorry," she apologised. "I don't know how I figured you'd be able to find your way in the dark."
"Guess I would have stumbled over a light switch sooner or later." Corey managed to say, sure that the pounding of his heart was much louder than his voice.
Now that she was actually inside with him without him having to so much as lift a finger or even open his mouth to speak, Corey didn’t quite know what to do, what to say or where to look.
So to avoid gaping at Desiree with a bugged slack jawed expression he surveyed the newly radiated room he found himself in.
Her appraisal of the room as a large walk in wardrobe wasn't far off the mark.
The wall opposite Corey was covered to the roof with shelves and upon each of these was stacked clothing, towels, sheets and other linen, even shoes.
A wooden ladder obviously attached to a runner on the top shelf and designed to slide along the wall for the purpose of reaching articles on the higher ledges was located in the left hand corner.
What disturbed Corey somewhat was the appearance of various dark reddy stains all throughout the room, which he guessed could have been old tomato sauce, but probably wasn't.
There was an abundance of said stain over in the corner, half hidden behind the ladder, but it was prevalent enough for Corey to see it, as though a bucket of red liquid had been liberally splashed into the corner.
It trailed out onto the wooden floor in dying trickles and if Corey wasn't mistaken some shapes further up the wall seemed to resemble bloody handprints.
He tore his vision away from that for he'd been scared out of his wits by the movie The Blair Witch Project and this situation here in this room put him eerily in mind of that very motion picture.
Elsewhere the stains weren't so gruesomely clear, but they were everywhere, tiny spots and splashes dotting the floor and marking the walls.
He hoped that the neatly piled clothes weren't similarly spotted with the suspicious crimson substance.
Desiree obviously noticed his discomfort, but she didn't speak up volunteering any information as to why the interior of the room looked like a slaughterhouse.
Instead she moved to the shelves, selecting items, a couple of towels, a pair of jeans, a flannelette shirt, even a pair of jockey shorts.
"I'm only guessing your size," she said. "I think I got it pretty close."
"Doesn't matter," mumbled Corey. "As long as they're dry, I'm happy."
"Everything is clean. We wash everything."
'Except the blood off the wall,' Corey said to himself, the thumping feeling of excitement at having her in the room with him now competing with the familiar old sensation of dread and apprehension.
He hadn't really needed to see this abattoir room to know that something was amiss in this camp of flighty edgy women and now he had, those feelings were firmly reinforced.
He found himself wishing that she'd never turned the lights on, though he was glad that she'd come inside.
Self consciously he began to undress, but he needn't have bothered stressing.
Having dumped the bundle of clothes and towels at his feet Desiree was now moving along the shelves, rearranging things, fidgeting with clothing, her back to him.
Seeing as how she hadn't begun to help him undress or anything of the kind, a dejected Corey figured she hadn't joined him in the walk in wardrobe for any of Blaise's 'funny business'.
'Then why is she still here?' his niggling little mental voice of mischief challenged. 'Why didn't she just give you the gear and head back outside, leaving you to get yourself dried and dressed hey? Think about that.'
Corey thought about that as he untidily dropped his jacket, hearing the bourbon bottle in the pocket clink on the wooden floor.
He continued to think about it, keeping a wary eye on Desiree's back as he stripped of his drenched shirt and began to vigorously towel himself off.
For one unpleasant moment the possibility that she was still in the room for the nasty purpose of adding a bit of a Corey bloodstain to the interior entered his mind and he dismissed the scenario rapidly.
As easy as it was to picture the likes of Raven or Melissa or some of the newest weirdoes in the camp spraying people’s blood around, it was a little more difficult to envision it happening at the dainty hands of darling Desiree.
Besides, Corey told himself as he dropped his jeans and pants hastily and gave himself a solid drying with the towel, who is to say what kind of creature it was who lost the blood in the first place?
Maybe this room used to be a slaughterhouse where the ladies despatched various animals for food prior to its reincarnation as a clothes storeroom.
That particular notion sat well with Corey and he decided he'd run with that as an explanation as to why blood stains decorated the place though it was probably just as easy or easier to make the kill outside.
With Desiree's back to him still, he gazed at her buttocks, tight under that teasing little skirt, and felt an abrupt stirring of longing in his groin.
Quickly he stepped into the jockeys she'd provided and yanked them up, fumbling for the pair of faded jeans.
He had them halfway up and was attempting to get his own belt off his wet pair when Desiree suddenly wheeled around to face him, a desperate kind of expression on her gorgeous face.
"Corey," she said hesitantly as he managed to fasten the jeans just in time to conceal his now full grown and slightly painful erection.
"Yes?" He was able to choke out, stooping to sweep up the flannelette shirt.
Desiree paused, looking for all the world as if she was trying very hard to find the words she wanted to say.
"You and your friends," she said slowly. "You probably never should have come with us."
"Why?" Corey asked, confused, wondering why she seemed so edgy, why she was telling him this. "What’s the matter? I thought you were happy for us to come."
"Well I am. We are. But there's a reason for it, and it isn't just to smoke some bud and party with you."
"Okay," Corey buttoned his shirt cautiously, keeping his eyes fixed on her, feeling that little trip hammer starting up in his heart again and this time not knowing if it was excitement or dread triggering it. "And...and what's the reason?"
Desiree's beautiful face twisted in an agony of indecision and it wrenched Corey's heart to see her in such a quandary.
He had a bad bad feeling that the thundering horses inside his chest were signaling a bad omen rather than a pleasant one.
"Melissa is going to ask you and your friends to do something for us. Well, really it wouldn’t be so much of a request, more of an order because she won't take kindly to it if you refuse.
A couple of our girls are in a bit of trouble and we really need you to help out. You'll help us won't you?"
Gazing upon her exquisite features, desperation and query emblazoned all over them, Corey would have done absolutely anything to help this goddess in her hour of need.
The sensation of dread tightening its dark clawed fist around his palpitating heart kept him from immediately voicing any agreement.
He stared into her dark eyes for a long period of time.
"What sort of trouble?" Was the question he asked when finally he found his voice.
"I should probably let Melissa tell you."
"I can't really help if I don't know what I'm looking at can I?" Corey reasoned.
The voice of mischief in his mind saw opportunity lurking here.
'Sure you can help her Corny, you can help her anyway she likes. But what's in it for you hey? Maybe she's wearing a sexy little G-string under that barely there skirt. Might help you help her if you could get a little look see at that. For a start. Ball's in your court, you could do nicely out of this.'
That voice, riling him with Raven's unfortunate nickname for him sounded more like it was a voice belonging to Tim.
That was more Tim's bag, trying to wangle sexual favours for payment of his services than it was Corey's.
No doubt Corey was dying to see if Desiree wore a G-string, in fact dying to do much more to her and with her, but he couldn't bring himself to use any kind of blackmail or anything like that as a bargaining tool.
He was smart enough to realise that the girls wouldn't leave themselves so open like that, that if he even hinted that Desiree should lift her skirt, bend over and flash her naked buttocks there would be severe repercussions.
For all he knew, right now Lee and Tim might be outside with knife blades to their throats and a refusal by him to help out as such could result in their deaths, followed swiftly by his.
Though he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe the worst of Desiree, that she could be involved in distasteful business like that, it was easy enough to picture the likes of Melissa and Raven up to their necks in it.
He reckoned given half a chance Raven would dice him up like sushi whether she had a valid reason or otherwise.
He didn't quite know why he rubbed her the wrong way, but she'd immediately detested him from first sight and though she hadn't shown such animosity to either of his friends he guessed she didn't like them too much either.
"Two of our girls have gotten themselves lost in the woods," said Desiree eventually. "And we need you boys to find them."
"Us?" Corey asked, stupefied. "Hell we don't know anything about the woods. Surely you girls know the woods better than us?"
"It's not that...well, they've been..." Desiree didn’t seem to be able to say what she was trying to. "Just please say you'll help us. Please. For your own sake as well as mine"
"Okay," Corey finally said after an eternal pause, his mouth dry and his heart pounding. "Okay, I'll help. As much as I can. But only for you."
"Oh thank you Corey!" She said, the relief literally flooding out in her voice. "I promise you, you won't be sorry. I'll thank you good and proper later on."
As that significant phrase wormed seductively into Corey's imaginative mind Desiree suddenly stepped right up to him, wrapped her arms tightly around his body and planted a big kiss right on his mouth, her tongue darting in between his lips.
He felt her breasts pressing hard against his chest, the heat of her groin against his and just before he passed out from delirious delight she gave him a tight squeeze and released him.
"You all ready to go?” She asked him, a devious smile playing on her lips.
Naturally she was enquiring as to whether he was ready to depart the bloodstained clothes storage facility to rejoin the others, but Corey was ready to go in an entirely different direction.
"Yes I am," he told her. "In more than one way."
"I know," she laughed and he felt his cheeks redden as he realised the erection he'd attempted to hide from her earlier was still very much in existence, a fact her extremely close proximity to him would have revealed to her.
As Desiree switched off the light, thankfully drowning the room in black and as they vacated the premises, Corey felt his head buzzing with joyous excitement and adrenalin.
He could still taste the sweetness of Desiree upon his lips, could still feel the radiant heat of her body, her succulent curves pressed hard against him and it made him ache furiously to touch her some more.
He longed to slowly undress her and diligently explore every inch of her glorious figure, praising and worshipping her with fingers and tongue.
He wanted to be lost within her flesh, performing sexual feats of great acrobatics, twisting and turning in a multitude of wonderful positions.
His mind furiously fast tracked past the miniscule hurdle of whatever helping find the two lost girls entailed, dismissing it, virtually forgetting it.
Wandering along with her hand entwined in his, Corey mentally wrote his own script for the evening’s movie, albeit from the point the couple of missing women were safely reunited with their fellows.
Now he was glad he'd agreed to help the women out, as foolish as it may have been to do so with no real idea of what was involved.
Buzzing with a gleeful exuberance Corey was left wondering exactly how Desiree planned to 'thank him good and proper' after this was all done.
He vanquished the blood spattered clothing room from his mind, sending with it his worry at the anxious air of apprehension in the camp, along with visions of evil Raven lying in wait for him.
Everything else was trivial, nothing mattered now, but being with Desiree and having her back in his arms.
'It's all good,' Corey told himself, trying to keep a smug smile from emerging on his features. 'Fucking good in fact. I sure hope Pete had a good night 'cause mine is shaping up to be tremendous. Kinda feels more like my birthday.'
/> CHAPTER 8
The bonfire was still blazing as Desiree and Corey approached and it cast plenty of illumination over the clearing it burned within.
The population of the camp was gathered all around it, at least twenty or thirty women, most of them sitting or sprawling on the ground with a handful standing.
Corey observed that Melissa, Raven and Raven's twin were amongst those standing, but he could see no sign of his two mates.
Once his eyes adjusted to the constant dancing of shadows the firelight created he managed to locate Tim.
The big fellow was sitting at the fore of the congregation about three or four feet from where Melissa and co. stood.
The mischievous G-string clad Blaise was lying flat on her back with her head reclining on Tim's lap while he idly played with her plait with one hand and swigged from a bottle of beer held in the other.
Lee sat next to these two in a cross-legged pose with his chin resting in his hands.
The girl with the pink and blue hair, Rachel, sat just behind Lee along with the two women who'd originally confronted the group when they'd first arrived at the camp.
Corey didn't recognise anybody else naturally, since he didn't know any of the others.
He made a beeline for his friends, virtually dragging Desiree with him who gave voice to a delightful laugh.
To his disappointment she didn't join him as he sprawled gracelessly upon the ground alongside Lee.
However she did crouch and issue him with a solid kiss right next to the corner of his mouth before she straightened and moved off to join Melissa's standing crew.
A whistle escaped from the pursed lips of Tim and he clapped his free hand against his thigh, grinning madly at Corey, dancing pools of dark shadow making his face resemble that of some oversize hobgoblin.
"Did you hit it Corey?" He asked lewdly. "Bet she let you hit it from the back and you bust your nuts in about thirty seconds flat."
Grinning foolishly Corey failed to reply and Tim took his silence as an affirmative.
"You did hit it didn't you? Dirty dog, shit I must be slipping if Corey gets in before I do."
