by Gayle Keo
“Not just Jason,” Marla pleaded. “The witch has girls as breeding slaves. And she has Rachel, Janet’s wife.”
“The lives of your friends don’t concern us. You promised to leave us alone, but here you are grinding salt into old wounds and begging us to help your lover. You have some gall, woman.”
“It’s not gall,” Liam said. “It’s desperation.”
“I don’t care what her motivation is,” Leon said. “We cannot help her.”
“Yes, I can.”
Marla’s heart dared to hope. Liam let go her hand, stood and move to Leon. Leon backed away.
“Liam?” he said. Marla heard his authority drain from his voice. “You can’t mean?”
“I want to help,” Liam said. “I have to help. And not just for Laird. Marla talked of the witch breeding werewolves. Once she has a brood, she can breed more and more. I don’t know about you, but I am not comfortable with the idea of Dana having a small army. I have to help.”
“But – but the children.”
“Sweetheart the children will adapt. For all they know it’s just something that Daddies do sometimes. And it will only be for a little while.”
“What about the others in town? What will they think?”
Liam looked at Leon with one eyebrow raised.
“Don’t be so petty.”
“I just . . .” Leon clutched his hair. It was his turn to start pacing. “It’s just so sudden. I mean, we need to think about this.”
“You think about it. I already have. Now excuse me, I need some privacy.”
And so saying Liam left the room. Leon glared at Marla. The fire and passion quickly returned and he stormed to her. He grabbed her by the lapels and pulled her face to face.
“You would battle a witch,” he said seething. “But you are nothing but a harpy, stealing joy wherever you go. You had better kick that witch’s ass from here to Franaal, or I will . . .”
He raised a fist. Marla shrank back but no blow came. He shoved her back into the chair and stormed from the room. Marla sat alone, confused and frightened. She wondered what she had just caused. Leon’s words cut to her heart, but what choice did she have? Liam was right, she was desperate. But in her desperation what had she caused.
She didn’t know what to do. She sat and waited. And waited. The grandfather clock softly chimed an hour. She thought to check with Janet, but she dared not move. The clocked chimed the quarter hour, the half hour, then she heard someone on the stairs and a figure strode into the room.
“Liam?” she gasped.
The blond haired woman smiled and nodded.
“Your – you’re a girl?”
“A female,” Liam said, “to be precise. Not like those funny little changes we can do during sex. This is a transformation.”
“Into a real female?”
“Yep,” Liam said. “Ovaries, mammaries, the whole shebang. Though my breasts feel like they have an awful sunburn, and the hair down there itches. But that will pass, I’m sure.”
“How . . .”
“You want the technical lecture?”
“B-but – Leon?”
“He’ll get over it,” Liam chuckled, “especially when he realizes what I can do. Besides, I like being pretty.”
And she was. She had changed her clothes, but she filled the boy clothes rather nicely. Her curves fit her form, her blonde hair seemed to glimmer and she even had lovely nails.
“So,” she said. “Shall we see to our friend?”
*****
By the first hint of dawn they had reached Interstate Ninety-five Southbound. Marla was too wound up, so she drove. Janet was asleep in the passenger seat. The Head was propped up in the cargo area, staring in awe at the dark world outside. Laird lay in the backseat, slowly uncurling. Liam had said that it would take some time for him to fully recover.
She had gone with Marla to the Blazer. She crawled into the back seat. She stroked his hair a few times, then holding his forehead in her open palm she spoke a single, unintelligible word and the silvery glow pulsed once, then twice, then faded. Laird took a deep breath and Marla’s heart melted. Then Liam slid out and smiled nodding to Marla.
“That’s it?”
“That’s all,” Liam said. “I know; all that ado for a soft touch and a loving word. But it was the only way.”
“Okay,” Marla said. “Okay. What do we do now?”
“He’s sleeping. Let the poor dear rest. He’ll recover soon. When he wakes he’ll be sore, but none the worse.”
“Will he, remember?”
“Oh yes,” Liam said, “everything. He will even be aware of what has happened around him while he was in stasis.”
“Oh, Liam,” Marla said wrapping her arms around the woman. “How can I thank you?”
“Do what you have to do,” Liam said caressing her. “Save your lover. Save Janet’s lover. Save the world from that witch’s werewolf army. But most of all forget what Leon said.”
“It’s true,” Marla said clutching Liam, the woman’s breasts nestling above her own. “Wherever I go I bring trouble and sorrow.”
“No child. Wherever you go you make choices. You stand up. That’s why despite all the trouble and sorrow, I still love you.”
Marla gazed into the Hroth’s intense yet serene eyes. She moved, just a little. Liam moved back, just a little. Their lips brushed. Then Laird groaned.
“I’m sorry!” Janet cried. “I just thought – I thought that if he was going to uncurl, that we should get that belt and pack off of him. I mean – I mean there’s a knife back there.”
“Your friend is very wise,” Liam said.
And so with Laird free of the constraints, he seemed to relax in his sleep and uncurl a little. Liam smiled, kissed Marla and went back into her house. With a different sort of ache in her heart, but with a new will to go on, Marla took the wheel and they drove away. She kept glancing back at Laird. As the hours progressed, he relaxed until he was stretched out in the back seat. Dawn was full when he finally stirred. Marla smiled when she saw his eyes open.
“Hey you,” she said. “Welcome back. How’re you feeling?”
“Coffee,” he said.
“Next rest stop.”
“Where are we?”
“Massachusetts,” Marla said. “Heading to Bean-Town.”
“Why?”
“To save Jason.”
“Is Jason in Boston?”
“Probably not,” she said. “But we need the help of a witch. And so we are going to pay a visit to Jarris.”
“Yep.”
“Oh boy.”
At the rest stop, Laird spent some time on the grassy place working out the kinks. Then they both relished the fast-food coffee. Marla was surprised that Laird had heard and knew. She filled him in on the rest. But Laird stopped her when she came to the part of approaching Liam and Leon.
“Your reasoning was sound,” he said. “And the results are good. But you broke a promise. There will be a reckoning.”
“I understand,” she said gazing into the black of her coffee.
“No,” Laird said. “You don’t. But that’s another issue for another time. Right now we have more pressing matters. So. You have a plan to meet Jarris. Through him you want to meet a witch. You have a vehicle crammed with an assortment of weapons, money and drugs.”
“And jewelry,” Marla said. “Don’t forget the jewelry.”
“And jewels. Yes,” he mulled. “As a sidebar here, have you thought about what might happen if the police were to pull you over?”
“Bribe them,” she said. “Anyway I can.”
“I see,” he nodded. “Is your plan then to bribe a witch also?”
“I don’t know much about witches,” Marla said. “But judging from what Vanessa abandoned, I bet that they don’t care a lot about that stuff. I plan to bribe Jarris. He is, if nothing else a hedonist.”
“Okay then,” Laird said. “Assuming that you successfully bribe Jarris and he intr
oduces you to a witch. What then?”
“Then,” Marla said with a sigh. “I have no idea.”
“The question then becomes; what do witches want?”
“That is a bad question,” Marla said. “It’s like asking what werewolves want. Or what do women or Hispanics or aliens want.”
“Brava,” Laird said. “So the question transforms; what will the witch that we meet want?”
“I don’t know.”
The two sipped their coffee.
As they neared Boston the traffic slowed, and soon crawled. Janet drove. Laird sat in the cargo area chatting with the Head. Marla stretched out on the back seat and napped. She felt grimy. She so wanted a shower. They snaked down Interstate Ninety-three through the heart of the city and into South Boston. Marla directed and they got off and onto Dorchester. There they found a cheap motel and the three crashed onto the musty bed.
The head sat in the back of the Chevy, still fascinated.
*****
Jarris Ward Montgomery had his home, offices and studios in an old school building on Cobden Street. Happily ensconced in his little city fortress, the pudgy little werewolf lived a quiet life amusing himself with fine food, interesting company, and a handful of slaves who would work his every whim. But his joy was his production studio. Carved from the old gymnasium, he had a live sound stage, two lesser studios, and a production room in the old score-keeping booth that rivaled any.
Every day, and twice on Sundays, his live show I Believe would swarm the cable networks. The public was fascinated with the occult, and talk-shows that had witches and warlocks, werewolves and vampires were everywhere. But his show had something else.
While all of the witch and werewolf wannabe’s tugged at heart strings and wept, he made it real. He would transform. He would find a way somewhere in the show to get angry. Maybe at a guest, maybe at a one of his slick commercials, maybe at something in politics, but in almost every show he would fall into his werewolf rage, begin to transform right there in the studio – and then the producers would have to cut away to a commercial.
The studio audience was always frightened, and they always told their friends of the horror that they had seen that poor man go through. And judging by the sales of his product lines, Jarris knew that his audience had many friends.
So it was that when the rag-tag bunch of troublemakers burst into his office brandishing shotguns, his first thought was who to fire in Security. Then he looked at the woman holding the barrel to his head.
“Marla?” he asked.
The woman batted her eyes.
“Marla, what the hell?”
“I need a witch,” she said.
“Marla? You couldn’t have called? Made an appointment or something?”
“There is no way,” she said. “That you would have ever answered my call. I needed to get your attention fast. Do I have your attention?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay then,” she said slinging the shotgun. “I need a witch. I have over seventy-thousand dollars.”
Marla could almost see his brain working. She had a sinking feeling when he sat back and smiled.
“No,” he said.
“I have at least that in diamonds,” Marla responded.
“No.”
“What do you want then? Guns? Drugs?”
“How about women?” Jarris asked. “Got any of those?”
“Look mother fucker,” Janet said pumping her weapon.
“No, you look,” he said. “Shoot me. I’m dead, and where are you. This place will be swarming with cops and then there’s going to be some fun. And you won’t even have a witch. And why the hell do you come barging here demanding one? What the hell do you need a witch for?”
“A witch has Jason,” Marla said. “She has your brother. I need your help.”
“Half-brother,” Jarris corrected. “And why would I care about that jackass?”
“Because he is your kin,” Marla said. “He is your kind, and that creature is using him to”
“No, let me guess,” Jarris said, pondering. “If a witch wanted a lover, you’d be angry and emotional, but not here and not so desperate. So that’s out. Now if she wanted a protector –um, no. That doesn’t make sense and Jason would never whore himself out like that – but wait! That’s it. He is whoring. He’s a breeder!”
“That witch kidnapped him,” Marla cried.
“I see,” Jarris said. “And she so charmed him and all the rest. What a delicious plot for my next film. Is anyone taking notes?”
“Jarris!”
“Marla!” he shouted back. “You have invaded my home with weapons. You try to bribe my cooperation with drugs and money, and your pretty friend here threatens to blow my head off! I do not like that. I don’t like that at all.”
Jarris snapped his fingers. Three women appeared in three corners of the room. They were dressed as Geisha Girls. They wore fine, shapeless silk robes with sashes, their dark hair done up in the shimada style. They stood silent, eyes intent.
“Oh boy,” Laird said softly.
“Yeah,” Jarris said with a grin. “Oh boy. You wanted a witch? I got three. Your buckshot will never leave your barrels; no matter how fast alien-boy can move. Now I’m gonna be gracious, for old time’s sake. I’ll give you to the count of three to get the hell out of here before I call the cops. One.”
“Jarris,” Marla pleaded, “don’t you understand? This is Jason I’m talking about. I have to help him!”
“Two.”
“Jarris I don’t know where else to turn. You have to help me! I’ll do anything!”
Jarris paused. He looked at her, cocked his head and the beginning of a grin appeared.
“Two and a half,” he said.
“What do you want?”
In reply he grinned broader.
“You’re kidding,” Marla said.
“And your friend,” he said. “Just for the hell of it.”
“Laird?”
“No,” Jarris laughed. “I’m nothing like my half-brother.”
He and Marla looked to Janet.
“Me?” she asked timidly.
“You do have such lovely breasts,” Jarris said.
“I – I can’t”
“Two and three-quarters,” Jarris said.
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Your cutie gives me what I want and you get to take home one of my slant-eyes sorceresses. My word of honor.”
Marla glared at him.
“Two and five-eighths. And what the hell, I’ll throw in dinner.”
“You’re a real bastard.”
“Thank you,” he said smiling. “Dinner will be formal.”
*****
“Janet?”
“Yes?”
“You seem nervous,” Marla said. “Um, have you ever been with a man?”
“No.”
“Oh.
The two sat primping before a lavish vanity. The Geishas had provided everything that they needed. Marla wore a simple, deep maroon Vera Wang evening gown with matching heels. A slim garter belt hugged her waist and cinched sheer, smoky silk stockings. Janet had on a strapless Terani in nude with glittering, silver sequins that radiated in a starburst up the delicate bust-line, and down the length of the skirt that poured to the floor.
“Dinner is served,” one of the geisha’s announced.
“You going to be okay?” Marla asked quietly.
“I’ve seen the movie,” Janet replied.
Jarris was a true Morph. The portly, almost pudgy imp they had encountered in the office was now a slim, dark gentleman in a most excellent tuxedo. It was still the same Jarris, but this was the Hollywood version. His manners were impeccable, his grace was smooth and he had even charmed the reluctant women into something like an interesting conversation. The wine was heady and Janet indulged. Desert parfaits were served in long stemmed crystal glasses, and when the tinkling of spoons ended Jarris took the ladies hands and led the
m on.
His bedroom was, like everything in his apartments plush and elegant to the point of opulence. The room was lit by candles and soft, undefined music lilted. Jarris looked first to Marla. She couldn’t hold his gaze. He was taller than she, and he took her delicate chin in hand and gently kissed her on the lips. Marla trembled at his nearness and his touch made her shudder. He smiled as though she had met that kiss with her passion. He softly stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She flinched. His fingers glided down her face, along her neck and then behind. He pulled the halter’s knot and her gown flowed along her figure, cascading to the floor like water. He brought his fingertips along her arm and then traced the outline of her breast.
Janet sighed. She stepped closer.
“You like ladies?” Jarris asked.
“I do,” Janet said.
Jarris smiled and stepped aside. Marla fell into Janet’s arms and the two kissed with a passion that was at once fervor and escape. Janet cupped Marla’s breast. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was just the need to hold and be held, but Marl felt a rush of arousal and she gave herself to that. Gone were any thoughts of being compelled or loving against her will, and she abandoned herself to her lust.
As the women kissed Marla slowly slid down the zipper of Janet’s dress. The gown, heavy with beading fell to the floor. Marla caressed the woman’s thighs and cheeks. Janet pulled Marla in closer and their breasts settled so comfortably together. And as their flesh meshed and entwined Marla hear a soft sigh. She turned to Jarris. His ears were laid back and pointed. He had doffed his jacket. He was fumbling with his bowtie.
Marla giggled. Janet looked at the werewolf. Then kissing Marla’s cheek, she strode to him, reached up and took over. Marla began on his shirt and they soon had his chest bare. He was hairy, and as his arousal grew so did his hair. Janet seemed fascinated. She ran her fingernails just beneath his curlies, gliding toward his nips. Marla stood by his side, teasing her tit against that rough fur. She began on his belt and slowly slid to her knees. Janet kissed him long and deep and Marla began to lick him. Then she took him.
