by Jamie Hawke
The two ladies who’d been looking giggled, and I said, “Let’s get to this party already, dammit.”
He shrugged and started following me, but then made a beeline for the ladies. Fuck him. I knew where the suite was and honestly, I would rather be seen entering by myself than with him right now.
I made it to the elevator and was standing right next to a nice old lady when he ran up shouting, “I got their digits, boyyy,” and stuck his hand in the doors to keep them open.
With a nod to the lady, he stood facing us as the doors closed.
“Young man, your bread is showing,” she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Sure enough, a bit of bread was sticking out of the side of his outfit.
“Ooh, sorry,” he replied, at least turning as he stuffed it back in—right as the doors opened to a family of four. They stood there frowning while the old lady got off, and then the dad said they’d take the next one.
The doors closed and Chris burst into laughter, turning back to me.
“It’s not that funny,” I said.
He breathed out with a last laugh, clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Jacky boy, lighten up. This is going to be a weekend of fun. We’re getting drunk, and I’m going to get you laid.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Aw, that’s sad.”
I glared, realizing I’d walked into that one. “Shut up. I meant I’m perfectly capable of meeting women on my own.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” He scoffed. “If you count Lena Hermon.”
“She was nice.”
“She was twice your age, dude, and only got with you to relive her college years.”
“Fuck you.”
The doors opened and he gave me a “fuck you” look back, then led the way. “Just stick close, buddy. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
We got more looks as we entered, but only one stuck out to me. Disheveled hair, a wild stare. Was this lady stalking me? No, there was no way she could’ve known I’d be here, right? It was definitely the same one though. She was on the opposite side of the room in the corner and wearing far too many clothes for something like this, considering she had a fur coat draped around her. I would’ve guessed she was going for a Cruella De Ville look, except it was black fur.
“Gotta take a piss,” I told Chris, breaking off for the bathroom, being sure not to make eye contact with Crazy over there.
“You know where to find me,” he replied, gesturing to the drink table against the far wall where more costumed honeys and some guys hitting on them were hanging out.
I’d let him embarrass himself without me for a few minutes. Maybe give that crazy chick out there a chance to focus on someone else. To my relief, the bathroom was unoccupied. I stepped in and closed the door, locking it, and had just pulled out my dick to take a piss when the door banged open, Green Lantern and Rainbow Dash making out.
“For fucks sake,” I said, covering myself and staring, as they tried to close the door, not even realizing I was in there.
They looked over and down, giggling, and made for the door.
“Lock it next time, ass,” Green Lantern said to me, and closed the door behind him.
I turned back to try and piss, when the door opened again.
“Okay, the lock doesn’t wor—”
The crazy lady slammed into me, knocking me right through the shower curtain and into the bathtub. Yes, dick still out, and no, I won’t comment on whether any piss went anywhere. All I will say is that I was struggling, confused, saw her sniffing my face and then she snarled and tried to bite me.
“What the fuck?” I was shouting, over and over. Someone started laughing, telling us to get a room, and then I broke free. I ran out of the bathroom, bumping into a space pirate chick and getting her drink all over both of us.
“Oh come on,” she said, then put a hand over her mouth, slapped me with the other, and said, “Pervert.”
I glanced down to see that my dick was still hanging out, growing slightly in spite of how freaked out I was. Then I heard the growling again.
“Stay back,” I said, moving for the suite door as I reached for the doorknob with one hand, the other trying to put my dick away but shaking and not doing the best job. The whole room was staring at me now, and it seemed to have gotten even more crowded. Shit.
“As you wish,” someone said then laughed, and another said something about the stable boy, then made a joke about using my sword and not being left-handed. Since it was my left hand on my dick, I got it, but was too annoyed and freaked out to laugh. That didn’t stop the rest of them from laughing even harder though—all but Chris, who leaned forward with a curious ‘what the fuck, dude’ look, a woman’s hand on his Wonder bread-supported package.
And then the crazy lady was running for me but I had the door open, my dick in my pants, and I ran.
2
The elevator was closed, so I opted for the stairway. Halfway there I realized I could probably take this chick, but what was I going to do, fight some lady in the hotel? Fuck that. If I could just shake her off, go back and find Chris or just wait out the night in my hotel room, none of this would be that big of a deal. No statements or police, no being accused of attacking her or whatever else might happen.
I was halfway down the stairs when she came crashing out, the door slamming back into the wall before swinging shut again with a loud thud. She leaped after me, taking me down the rest of the stairs to the floor below. Struggling to try and throw her off, I suddenly remembered the other reason to run—in the bathtub, she’d been freakishly strong.
“Whatever you think I did,” I said, my hand pushing up on her chin as she pinned me to the floor, “it wasn’t me!”
“You’re exactly who I’m looking for,” she growled, and for a moment she paused, staring at me. Then I noticed why her eyes had looked so crazy earlier. Wolf eyes. Teeth too… and damn, she’d done a great job with them. Everyone did a great job with their costumes at these things though, so it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Combined with her strength and the fact that she’d just tackled me down a stairway, though, this whole picture was giving me a panic attack and, for some annoying reason, a fucking boner.
Oh, shit, that’s why she’d stopped. It had slipped back out, as I was wearing boxers and never got my zipper up. She moved, her fur coat over my legs, her ass—leather-clad, I could now see and feel against my cock—pressing against it.
For a brief second, her eyes actually changed to normal brown eyes, and her hand moved back and felt me, as if to make sure this was real. Her eyes went wide, eyebrows arched, and she said, “Wh—what’re you doing to me?”
“Me?” I asked, spasming slightly at her touch. Oddly, she didn’t let go, but held it tighter, as if releasing it would cause her to slide back into madness.
She bit her lip, brow furrowing now in concentration and concern, and then she released me to take my face in her hands and move in for a kiss.
I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. A prostitute scenario set up by Chris? Some woman who thought I was someone else and into this wackiness? Well, maybe I was. And hell, her hand on my cock had been the most action the little guy had seen in a while, and now that her eyes weren’t crazy… I went with it.
Her lips pressed firmly against mine as if testing me. She nibbled slightly then pulled back, eyes right in front of mine to the point that I could barely get them into focus, and then she was at it again, kissing me and reaching back to stroke me.
I was about to protest, or at least tell her we should go back to her room—hers, because no way was I taking someone this unstable to mine—when the door above clanged open again and Chris and three others ran out, shouting for me. The change in this woman was instant. Where I’d felt her kiss and soft hand just a minute ago, now there were nails digging into me like claws. I screamed, only to find I should’ve done anything I could to beat her off instead, because then she bit me! Fucking bit me, those sharp teeth
sinking right into my shoulder, tearing as she growled and—
BAM! Someone knocked her off me. I saw Chris, then Batgirl staring at me in horror before taking her cape and throwing it over my exposed cock while another man came down after Chris to try and restrain the crazy lady.
“This is so—shit—so fucked up!” Batgirl kept saying while the guy, who I glanced over to see was dressed as a modern take on Robin Hood, I guessed, was telling the crazy lady to stop resisting, that he was going to call the cops.
But then both he and Chris were shoved back, knocking Batgirl onto me so that she hit my dick with her back and she shouted in pain at the same time I did, me worrying it might be broken or bent, and now Crazy Lady was gone, pounding down the stairs.
“Fuck, FUCK!” I said, grasping my shoulder where Crazy Lady had bit me, and Batgirl was on her knees, hands to her face asking if I was okay. Meanwhile Robin Hood pulled out his phone and dialed the cops.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Batgirl said, and she pulled her cape up to check on me—I guess not really thinking that the wound she was checking was my still-exposed boner, and then she frowned, confused, and moved my hands from my shoulder. “The fuck… Is this a sick joke? Some weird thing you do? Henry, put the phone away.”
Robin Hood frowned, apparently on hold anyway. “But…?”
“Put the phone away. This guy isn’t hurt, fucking prick.” She stood, stomping up the stairs, but paused to spit—the spit landing right on my dick. As humorous as that would’ve been at some weird times, right now it was enough to cause me to look down at my shoulder to see that there were no claw marks, no blood.
As Robin Hood—or Henry—followed her, he gave me a curious look, glanced down the stairwell, and said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I looked at my shoulder now, confused. Nothing. A tear in my clothes, but no teeth marks, and no blood.
“Henry!” Batgirl called out, now through the door.
“Yeah… I guess I am,” I said, bewildered, and handed the cape to him.
He held his hands up, quickly ascending the stairs. “You keep it.”
I used it to wipe the spit off of me, then concealed myself and pushed up to a sitting position. The last thing I wanted was to be there if the crazy lady returned, but considering what had just happened… I was starting to wonder if it was me who was crazy.
Trying to put all of this behind me, I stood, went another floor down, and stepped into the hallway. The lights were almost blinding and my ears were ringing. I staggered forward. Had the chick drugged me?
I made it to the elevator, checked my phone to see that Chris had texted, telling me she got away and saying he’d see me back at the party. He wanted to hear all about what had just happened.
The elevator dinged. I stepped in alone and wavered, hand on the button. Someone was running, and they came into the edge of my sight. Not wanting to move my head or anything really, I lingered with my hand on the elevator button, but whoever it was stopped, facing me from the hall, then walked away.
That had me curious, at least, so I leaned against the elevator wall and looked out, only catching sight of black clothes and black hair. Odd that they’d turned like that, I thought as I let the doors close and headed back to my room, so not in a party mood. My only guess was that the person had been the sleep study woman from earlier, but why turn like that at the sight of me? Maybe I’d come off as too big of a creep, checking out women so blatantly. Who was I kidding? I had been a creep, and maybe this was my karma.
No more, not tonight.
I made it through my door and kicked off my shoes, texting Chris that I was going to take it easy, be ready for the next day… and collapsed onto my bed. Everything was sore. My mind was full of confusion at the quick flashes of bliss, at the woman stroking my cock and kissing me, then attacking me. Attacking me, it would seem, in a way that left no evidence but for a tear in my shirt. Surely I hadn’t drunk enough to be this fucked up, but the room felt like it was spinning. I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, and then she was in my mind again, those sharp teeth gnashing, her eyes fluctuating between wolf and normal.
At one point I started to drift off into sleep, but then there was a dream, well a nightmare really. This time both her hands were wrapped around my cock, claws digging in, and I was screaming.
My eyes shot open and I woke up in a cold sweat, and had to check downstairs to be sure everything was healthy. Looking good, but my prospects for sleep weren’t.
I rolled over, pulled my wallet from my pants, and then the sleep study card. Staring at it, I thought that maybe I’d give it a try. Was it too late? Rolling onto my side hurt, but I found my cell and checked. Damn, it was pretty early, actually.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice answered, and it had a bit of that rough, snarky edge to it that I couldn’t be sure, but thought sounded familiar.
“About the sleep study,” I started. “When can I sign up? Will it help me sleep if I’m having nightmares?”
“What kind of nightmares?”
“I’d… rather not say.”
A silence followed, and then the voice said, “Come by the booth tomorrow at eleven a.m. I’ll be there,” and then the line went dead.
That was… weird. I was starting to have doubts, but knew there was no way I’d survive the day tomorrow if I didn’t try something. A nice nap might be just the trick. Also, I couldn’t forget that sword—and the more I thought of it, the heavier my eyelids got, so that soon I was drifting off to sleep again.
3
As much as I’d like to say I slept like a baby the rest of that night, it would be a lie. I kept rolling around, going back and forth between being hot and cold, and even finding the smell of the sheets and blankets maddening—cleaning supplies, old smoke, maybe? All of it was so overwhelming that at one point I just stripped and lay in the bathtub, staring at the ceiling.
Sometimes at college before a big test or when I couldn’t focus, I’d go find a bathroom that wasn’t occupied and stroke one out, just to ease the tension. Tried that too, lying there in that bathroom, but it just wasn’t happening. No matter how hard I pulled and tugged, my mind was off in Crazyville.
By the end of it, I went out onto the patio, forgetting I was naked until two people in a window opposite were pointing and calling over a third, so I went back in and sat in the chair.
Point being—it sucked. Probably the worst night’s sleep of my life.
So when I was back at the conference the next day, wandering around with Chris asking what had happened, I mumbled some response and found him staring at me with concern. We were in a room with our favorite outfits from the Lost Pirates show, and I was staring at my reflection in a mirror on the other side of the main actor’s outfit, complete with the time compass, so it looked like I was the star myself. As far as I knew, I repeated myself, but he shook his head.
“I literally didn’t understand a word you just said,” he told me.
I glanced at my phone and frowned, realizing it was already almost eleven, and told him I had somewhere to go.
“Um, yes, you do,” he said. “We’re both seeing Will Wight talk about his latest Wuxia books, hello? Hoping to get a signature.”
Damn, was that at the same time? For Will Wight I could push through, I told myself. I made it over to Hall A with Chris and found our seating, and he waited anxiously while I sat there feeling really weird. I wondered if I was going to throw up. My vision was blurry, my stomach rumbling. Had I even remembered to eat? I couldn’t be sure. Sitting in the chair, I was feeling drugged out and tired, but even when I closed my eyes… nothing.
“Sorry, I gotta…” I didn’t even finish, just stood and brushed past Chris, heading for the door.
“What the hell?” he called after me, but stayed there. No way in hell was he going to miss a presentation by his favorite author.
A few of the people a couple of rows back laughed as I passed, one even standing with his finger through his fly, like a dick ha
nging out. If I wasn’t feeling like shit, I probably would’ve punched him. Nah, who was I kidding? That wasn’t my style. But maybe flipped him off, at least. Instead I just gave him a kind of wave of my hand, and was out of there.
My head cleared once I was out in the open again, but it was like walking when you’re slightly drunk but still trying to look sober. Everyone seemed to be having a fun time, laughing, watching performers. There was a group dressed as pirates and singing old pirate songs. I would’ve eaten that stuff up, if only I’d been able to sleep the night before. I’d ruled out anything Crazy Lady had done, thinking it must’ve been something that happened before she bit me. Maybe in my drink at the bar?
There was the booth, right ahead of me. I saw a white swan symbol on a cloth hanging down, and Goth Chick standing with her back to me. Walking up to her, I said, “I’m here.”
She turned and it wasn’t Goth Chick after all. This was another woman, probably nineteen at most, wearing a black cloak, giving her a sort of Kylo Ren look. Except that underneath it she was cute, with a sort of pug nose and beady green eyes.
“Oh, you’re not the one I spoke to yesterday,” I said. Of course, I would’ve said something much more clever if I wasn’t feeling like someone had squished a lemon in my brain.
She smiled in that way that doesn’t show teeth, picked up a paper and pen with a clipboard, and said, “You’re in for the morning session?”
“How long does it take?” I asked.
“The rest of your life,” she replied with a wink.
“Meaning, if it’s successful…” I rolled my eyes. “Right, I get it. Sales. But this little test/nap thingy?”
“An hour, but two if you prefer to sleep longer. Lots of spouses get tired, want to unwind without going all the way back to their hotels or whatever, so we’re getting a good response rate. You better hurry and decide if you want to get a slot.”
With one head turn to look out over the convention hall, feeling a sense of vertigo and flash of pain in my shoulder even though I knew there was no injury there, I said, “I’m in. Definitely. Whatever you’ve got, just help me sleep.”
