by Jon F. Merz
Tony could make out the swirling masses of people engaged in what looked like vertical expressions of sexual cravings. Their bodies flowed and twisted and gyrated at once in close proximity and then in a never-ending series of teasing gaps that produced an even more intense state of desire.
He heard Marie gasp next to him. “Look.”
And then he saw the mass of naked tangled flesh writhing on the floor in a second room, shrouded only in the remains of some tattered curtains strung callously across a violently breached archway in the wall. He was both aroused and disgusted by the carnal display and its oblivious lack of concern.
Marie was fascinated. Tony frowned. “Don’t tell me that intrigues you.”
She smiled. “Yeah, it does.”
“What, I’m not enough for you?”
Before she could answer, Tony’s eyes caught sight of a voluptuous exposed patch of thigh under a leather miniskirt. He wound his eyes upward until they came to rest on the porcelain face and the blue eyes housed within. She was looking at him through the swirl of long, black hair.
“Hello.” It was husky, throaty and Tony felt himself harden as though he had just called a phone sex line.
“Hey.”
She smiled. “That the best you can do?” She looked him up and down. “You must be new.”
Tony nodded. “Not my usual venue.”
“You don’t say.” She licked her lips. “I’m Gwynneviere.”
“Really?”
She nodded and then turned to Marie. “I like him.”
Marie smiled. “He’s all yours.”
Tony stepped back. “Excuse me?”
Marie patted his arm. “It’s all right, honey. I don’t mind.”
Gwynneviere frowned. “What, you don’t think I’m attractive?”
“It’s not that, it’s just that-”
“Don’t worry about Marie,” said Gwynneviere. “She can take care of herself. Let’s you and I have a drink, shall we?”
Tony watched as Marie disappeared into the orgy room and sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
Gwynneviere guided him up to the bar. “Have you ever had an oral martini?”
“A what?”
She grinned, flashing a brilliant white smile through her red coated lips. “Trust me. I think you’ll really enjoy it.” She turned and ordered the drink. The bartender served her two glasses, one filled with vermouth and one filled with vodka. She held the vodka out to Tony.
“Take it into your mouth, but don’t swallow.”
Tony did as she directed and watched her do the same. She billowed her cheeks, squinted her eyes together seductively and then curled her finger at Tony, urging him to come forward. He did so, the vodka burning his mouth.
Gwynneviere brought her lips over his, opened them and Tony did the same. At once, the vermouth and vodka mixed, spilled over their lips while Gwynneviere’s tongue rammed into Tony’s mouth, swirling the liquor maelstrom about. She parted from Tony’s mouth, tilted her head back and swallowed her portion.
Tony choked his down.
“-God,” was all he could say.
Gwynneviere beamed. “I prefer that over shaken or stirred any day.”
Tony cleared his throat, feeling the warmth of the drink hit his stomach and leave a nice pleasant feeling there. “Yeah, I can see why.”
Gwynneviere came closer. “Do you want me, Tony? Do you really want me?”
“Yeah.”
She drew him close to her and moved them out on the dance floor. The music buzzed in his ears while she ground her hips into his groin, then turned around so her buttocks teased his crotch more. Tony hardened under the onslaught and knew she could feel him rising.
She turned back around and licked his ear. “I think I like what I’m feeling.”
“That makes two of us.”
Then she bit his ear. Tony yelped, feeling the warm blood flow down his neck. “Hey!”
And then felt the exquisite sensation as she rolled her tongue up his neck, lapping the blood up. Then she kissed him again and Tony tasted the coppery syrup, and knew it was his own blood, already laden with alcohol.
Gwynneviere continued dancing with him, wrapping her legs around his waist, slithering up and down his body while the heat from Tony's groin spread until he felt flushed and high.
My tolerance must be shot, he thought.
Gwynneviere increased the tempo of her movement and Tony felt his penis steal more blood away from his brain, stiffening, pleading, and begging for release. Gwynneviere must have sensed it because she smiled again and took his hand and led him off the floor.
The stairs appeared out of nowhere and she climbed them ahead of him, her ass swaying back and forth like a hypnotist’s crystal. Tony walked behind her transfixed by the ripe opulence of her posterior.
The staircase opened up onto a second floor. Black doors barred entry into all but one room at the end. She led him there. Inside was a sheet of plywood.
“Lie down.”
Tony frowned. “Splinters, though.”
“You mean it might hurt?” She nodded. “Pleasure and pain, my dear.” And she pushed him down hard on the plywood, clambering atop him.
“Still want me?”
Tony nodded and shrugged himself out of his shirt. She slapped him.
“Don’t.” She straddled his chest and took her time dragging her nails up under the turtleneck across his chest and back down again toward his belly. Tony felt her break the skin a few times, but he was so aroused, the pain only magnified his desire for her.
She lifted her skirt up and Tony saw she wasn’t wearing any panties. She smiled and saw his attention was directed to the shaved patch above her mound and the piece of steel embedded in her clitoris. “Like it?”
“Must have hu-” and stopped himself. “Come here,” he said instead.
She complied and lowered herself onto his questing tongue. Tony felt the heat of her groin envelope his head and he couldn’t breathe.
“Make me come, Tony, then I’ll let you breathe.”
Tony felt the pressure on his chest and knew she was squeezing the last oxygen out of his system. He rammed his tongue inside, parting her lips and searching for her moistest spots. His head felt light and he knew he was close to blacking out, the pressure in his chest was increasing and his lungs were crying out for oxygen. Tony sent his tongue skyward again and this time found the steel post, nibbled, sucked and slurped for all he was worth.
And finally was rewarded with the gush of nectar, the sweet flow of her juice as she lifted herself and he drank her essence in, breathed, choked, gasped and found consciousness again.
Gwynneviere fell down into Tony's groin, tugging, tearing and ripping the jeans off with as much strength as she could muster after her orgasm. They came down to his knees and she found him with her lips, licked and suckled until she judged him sufficiently hard enough-slid down on top of him, writhing and bucking, sweat pouring out of them both in the frenzied moment of their coupling.
Tony's chest heaved and he struggled to draw in air to replenish his lungs. Gwynneviere was unforgiving in her pelvic onslaught. Tony rammed his hips upward, unsettling her dominant position and flung her down on the plywood hard, she cried out, wrapped her legs around his hips and sucked him back into the vacuum.
Her eyes closed. "Now, Tony," she cried. "Now!"
And he was there already feeling the heat rise in his face, the flush, the inevitable surge and then the expulsion of breath, spirit and himself as his own eyes closed in abandon to the waxing tidal plunge.
And then, felt the hands close over his throat, shutting off his oxygen supply. He snapped his eyes open and saw Gwynneviere beneath him reaching up with the vie-like grip. She was squeezing. He gagged. Tried to fend her off.
But her fingers had found his critical points and she was shutting him down. Tony panicked-punched down hard and into her face.
There was a smack, dull and her head snapped back against the plywood split
ting the particles slightly. She lay still.
Tony fell off her and lay gasping for a time. "Fuck." He glanced at her and saw her eyes were still closed.
Must have knocked her out, he decided. He crawled over and felt for her pulse.
There was none.
He tried again.
Nothing.
"Fuck."
Was she dead? He frowned. Didn't even hit her that hard. The bitch tried to kill me...what if she was dead?
Numbly he gathered his clothes and slid into them. All the while Gwynneviere didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just lay there...dead.
He had to find Marie. Find Marie and then get the hell out of here. Away from this, away from this weirdness, this insanity. Hell, anything was better than this kind of lifestyle.
He stumbled down the stairs and back into the main floor. There off to the right in the midst of the naked swirling mass of orgiastic pleasure, Marie lay ensconced in the midst of two men and two women. Her head was thrown back and if there hadn't been music numbing his ears, Tony knew Marie's screams would have brought down the walls.
He walked, waded, tripped over the arms, legs and genitalia and found an arm that belonged to Marie. Pulled. Found the rest of her. Yanked hard.
"We have to go!"
Her eyes were half-closed. "Don't want to."
Jesus, drugs. What had they given her?
"Come on!"
Marie pitched forward and he caught her. Where the hell were her clothes?
"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"
Tony looked up, surprised he could hear over the music.
Even more surprised at the speaker.
Gwynneviere.
"I thought you were dead."
She shrugged. "Maybe you were wrong."
"No pulse. You didn't have a pulse!"
"Are you saying I have no heart, Tony?" She spread her arms and her body wavered in the darkness, became a shadow and then completely transparent. Blood flowed in her veins, her arteries, her capillaries. Tendons flexed and small strands of striated muscle stretched taut over pale ivory bones. She looked down.
"Well, I'll be damned. You're right. I don't have a heart."
Tony looked at her chest and saw there was a void where her heart should have been. Nevertheless blood flowed inside of her.
"Suppose it would help to have one, don't you?"
She walked over to Marie and plunged her hand into Marie's chest, twisted, wrenched and ripped her hand back out. Inside, throbbed Marie's heart. Gwynneviere looked down at her hand and smiled.
"Nice one. This'll do."
Marie stood weaving and looked down confused at the gaping hole in her chest, the flaps of skin and bloody gore smeared across her skin.
"Tony?" she said and then fell forward. Dead.
Gwynneviere smiled. "Pity. She would have been delicious. Unfortunately, I needed her."
Tony felt his insides turn to water and his knees buckled. Gwynneviere pulled him to his feet. "Don't go weak on me now, Tony."
"Yeah, that would be bad form, man."
Tony turned and saw the man with the metal Mohawk pushing his way from across the club. He stopped short of Gwynneviere. "Well?"
She shrugged. "Not bad. He'll do, I suppose."
Mohawk Man nodded. "Cool." He turned to Tony. "Wanna see what I'm missing?"
And then his image blurred as Gwynneviere's had. Tony looked and made out all the vital organs. And then felt the rush of bile in his throat as he looked lower and saw the space where Mohawk Man's genitals should have been.
Then felt the agonizing clasp of fingers around his own scrotum as Mohawk Man wrenched Tony's groin off, felt the rush of blood, the tug of veins and torn tissue as he sank to the floor, already losing consciousness.
Snow
An early attempt at writing what might happen to people who find themselves in a situation from which there is no escape. What happens before they die? What do they say? What do they think about? Quick, but interesting….
“Did you ever think that this would be the way we went out?”
“Went out? That’s awful pessimistic, don’t you think?”
Davis shrugged. “More like realistic, dude. Doesn’t look like we got much of a snowball’s chance in hell of living this out.”
“Even less if you two keep blabbering away and using up all the damned O2.”
Merkell glanced at Davis and giggled. “Shit, we’re done for anyway, mister hot-shot K2 expeditioner ‘hey guys wanna go hiking in the woods during a blizzard?’ extraordinairre. Might’s well use it up laughing.”
Gennaro frowned. “I’d prefer to use it up by waiting for our inevitable rescue.”
“Inevitable, the man says,” said Davis rolling his eyes. “Damn, now that’s consoling.”
“Tell me something, Gennaro,” said Merkell, “when you were off in Tibet-”
“Nepal,” corrected Gennaro.
“Nepal, then. Did you ever think about waking up in your very own snow coffin, like we’re in now?”
Gennaro frowned. “You hear stories. Hope that it doesn’t happen to you.”
“Hope. Man, that’s all we going on now, you know?” said Davis.
“Hope has to count for something,” said Gennaro quietly.
“Hope counting for everything now, man” said Davis. “We ain’t got to count on your skill no more.”
Merkell giggled again. “How much air you guys figure we have left?”
Gennaro looked around them. “Tent’s not that big. Maybe an hour.”
“Maybe less,” said Davis.
“Maybe,” said Gennaro.
“Shit,” said Merkell.
No one said anything for awhile. They had woken up, buried under the snow fallen from the massive blizzard raging somewhere above their heads. It was quiet. Very quiet.
“Feels like we’re in a sound-proofed room,” said Davis.
“All the sound is staying here with us,” said Gennaro.
Merkell shifted. “You imagine what this is gonna look like when Spring comes around?”
“They be able to find us by the bad smell,” said Davis. “Kinda like thawing meat, you know?”
“Mmm mmm, time to eat,” said Merkell laughing again.
“Jesus,” said Gennaro. “You guys are sick.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware we were supposed to be solemn at a time like this.”
“Hell, we dying anyway,” said Davis. “Like the man said, may as well go out having a good time.”
Gennaro frowned. “Guys we really need to focus here.”
“On what, exactly?” asked Merkell.
“Rescue.”
“Rescue? The boy is loopy,” said Davis. “Man, we dying and that is all there is to it. You got that?”
“No! I don’t! Okay? I don’t wanna die! I don’t want to freeze to death in some backwoods remote part of the woods, housed in a tent that no one’ll find until it gets warm out and the snow melts!”
“You saying you don’t like us no more?” asked Davis quietly.
Gennaro looked at him. “What...?”
Merkell snorted. “Fuck, man, Davis is wired.”
Davis hooped once and clapped Gennaro on the back. “Hey man, just forget that shit okay? Way I see it, we got two choices.”
“Two?”
Merkell nodded gleefully. “Pay attention.”
Davis punched his arm. “Okay, we got option numero dinero-”
“What? It’s uno you hog.”
“Fuck you man, shit don’t rhyme right.”
Merkell snorted again. “Oh, shit, well, then, ‘scuse me...continue sir.”
“Numero dinero we can sit here and be all solemn like and die.”
“What’s number two?” asked Gennaro.
Davis smiled. “I got one of my fine-ass monster joints here. We can light this shit up and go out baked. What you guys say?”
Merkell thumped him on the back. “Got a lighter?”
“Zipp
o city right here, man.”
“Yowza, babe, light that puppy up.”
Gennaro took the lighter. “Guys, this will deplete the O2 faster.”
“And make the trip a lot easier to take,” said Merkell snatching the Zippo back. He flicked it once and watched the flame jump up. “Get that J over here Davis.”
“Got it man,” said Davis holding the weed over the flame. In seconds it caught and he took a long drag.
Merkell took it from him and sucked on it for a long time, holding the smoke for what seemed like an eternity before coughing it out. “Hoowee.”
Gennaro looked at them both and reached out for the joint at long last. He inhaled and swallowed the smoke, coughing and retching almost immediately.
Davis chuckled. “How that for irony? Brother has himself a freaking heart attack before he can suffocate to death. Man, that is damned inconsiderate of you.”
“And I am too fucked up right now to give CPR to your ass,” chimed in Merkell.
Gennaro recovered and reached for the bone. “Assholes. When we get to the other side, I’m kicking both your asses.”
Davis took the joint back and took another hit. “Yeah, whatever. You can try.”
Merkell looked at them both. “One thing’s for sure, guys.”
“What’s that?”
“If heaven has a drug use policy, we’re all gonna fail.”
Davis looked at him and chuckled. “Man, that is one stupid fucking thing to say.”
“Fuck you very much, buttmunch, I haven’t heard anything wittier from you since we landed in this mess.”
“I’m saving myself,” said Davis.
“For what, asshole? The resurrection?”
Gennaro laughed at that one and the three of them giggled uncontrollably.
“I can’t see shit,” said Gennaro finally.
“Smoke, man,” said Davis. “I forgot to let the flap open.”
Merkell snorted again. “Now that’s funny.”
The joint extinguished itself.
“Fuck.”
“Shit.”
“What happened?”
“No more high times, man” said Davis.
“Thanks, guys,” said Gennaro.
“Hey, Davis,” said Merkell.
