by Glenn Rolfe
The fun had only just begun, but first…
Chapter Fourteen
Richie’s eyes fluttered open. A sharp pain in his lower back and another in his hip begged for mercy.
What the hell?
Rising on his elbows, he didn’t know where he was. Flinging the blue blanket to the couch that Alison must have covered him with, he let out massive yawn and stretched. It was no surprise his body ached; he’d slept on the damn floor. The body pains were joined by the stabbing in his brain and the desert sand dryness in his throat. Were these the side effects of his new pastime? If they were they were well worth it. Anything was worth the pleasure and the thrills he’d been indulging in.
The cable box read 3:36 a.m. Not even morning yet. There was still time…. the thought elicited a now recognizable current through his body.
Emotionally, he hadn’t felt this great since the early days of his marriage to Samantha.
He shut the TV off, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a chair from the table and a beer from the fridge, and took up a seat. The trailer was still hot as hell; the beer can was already sweating in his hand. Popping the top, he tilted his head back and swigged cold brew. He wiped his mouth with his forearm and stared at his reflection in the window.
The other him smiled, and this time, Richie smiled back.
“Hello, Richie,” the other him said. “Are you ready to take things to the next level?”
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to see what the real you, the better you, is capable of?”
“Yes.”
“Come here my pet.” Richie watched as the other Alison strutted up next to the reflection. She wore a halter top and a pair of black lace panties. Her hardened nipples pressed against the flimsy fabric of the shirt. “Have you been a bad, bad girl?” his reflection said.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“You’re a naughty little bitch.” Richie’s reflection slid its hand into the back of her flowing hair and yanked her head backwards. The Reflection grinned, and said, “We need to show our friend what we do to naughty little bitches.”
Her moan sent a shiver through Richie’s spine, and he chugged the beer, never taking his eyes off the window.
Her shoulders slowly swayed to a silent rhythm, like sexy witches in those bad horror movies he occasionally caught late at night on the TV.
“Are you ready?” The Reflection asked.
“Yes,” Richie and the other Alison said in unison.
Richie licked his lips and let the empty beer can drop to the floor. His heart rate picked up, and The Reflection raised its right hand. Blackened tips broke the flesh of his fingertips and extended into four daggers. For a second, Richie saw his reflection’s face flash and change. The soft, perfect skin was absent. A dark substance clung tightly to a skull, and it glowed with ember red flecks. The grin dropped from Richie’s face, and a stirring in his stomach.
What is this?
Despite the tendril of fear crawling through him, he moved to the edge of his seat, his gaze still locked on The Reflection, who suddenly looked like him again, and the other Alison.
Filled with renewed anticipation, he was panting, wringing his hands. Lust for whatever he was about to be shown had him practically drooling. The charged blue aura crackled to life as he stood.
His hands trembled as the current swirled around him, from him.
In the window, Alison arched her back. Richie wanted her. He wanted to taste her and feel her again.
The kitchen disappeared, and they were all together surrounded in dark shadows.
The Reflection placed its daggered-hand at the base of her throat, curled its fingers into her succulent flesh and blood seeped down her neck and onto her chest like sap from a maple tree.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” The Reflection asked. “You’re sure? If we proceed, there’s no turning back.”
Richie tried to answer but found it hard to speak. He nodded.
The Reflection—
Domineus, a voice whispered in his head. We’re friends now.
Domineus dragged the clawed hand down to the top of–
(Sanikus, another voice said)
–the clawed hand dragged to her breasts and blood pulsed from the jagged trails. Groans of ecstasy and pain bellowed out from her mouth. Richie found himself aroused at the dark sight playing out before his eyes. Too hot, his skin tingly and glistening with sweat, he undressed. Domineus eased his claws out of the Sanikus’s skin and curled his onyx nails under the flimsy fabric stretched across her bosom. Her chest heaved as she gritted her teeth, preparing for her lover’s touch. Her hands ventured down inside the front of her lace underwear. Domineus pulled the taught fabric of her shirt down exposing one of her delicious, round breasts. In a flash, he swiped one if his razor-sharp nails across the erect nipple, lobbing it off.
Blood spurted toward Richie. He sucked in a breath and as he looked upon his bare chest found a series of crimson droplets upon his gleaming flesh. His mind hummed; the surge of pleasure rushing through him left his body feeling weak and numb. Enthralled and overwhelmed by the macabre scene unfolding before his eyes, Richie dropped to his knees in supplication and wept as the blood continued to flow.
“Richie,” Domineus said.
He looked up in time to witness the spirit or demon rear his daggered hand back and swipe across Sanikus’s throat.
“Come play with us,” Domineus offered.
Richie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell into a new, dark heaven.
Part Two:
Dark Ecstasy
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey James, you awake?”
James squinted his eyes against the hot crack of sunlight attacking his face through the blinds like a laser beam from the sun. Eric sat next to him. A snoopy comforter covered his lower half. “What is it, Eric?” he growled.
“I…”
“You…?”
“I need to change…”
“You need to change…yes?”
“I need to change my underwear.”
“What?” James propped himself up on his elbows, and then dug the sleepies out of his eyes. Eric’s face was a red Rudolph nose shining under a Christmas moon. “What the hell did you do?”
“I had a, a wet dream.”
“Jesus, Eric. So what? We all have them. Just put your shorts back on.”
Eric peeled back the blanket. The front of his blue underwear was soaked.
“What the hell, man?”
“I had a couple of them.”
“Well, cover up. I don’t want to see that. Jesus.”
“I need to go to the bathroom and clean up, but I’m too afraid Carrie will see me on my way down the hall…oh, shit, or her mom. You gotta help me, man.”
“This is the weirdest thing I’ve had to deal with all su–” He stopped mid-sentence and thought about how he’d seen his father at the hotel. “–this is one of the weirdest situations I’ve ever been in, man.” He wiggled out of his sleeping bag and stretched his sore back. “What do you want me to do? I don’t have any extra underwear with me, and Kevin’s sure as hell aren’t gonna fit you.”
“I just need to get rid of them. I can put my shorts back on and go commando.”
“So you want me to do…what exactly?”
“I need you to throw them out–”
“Gross. Uh-uh.”
“I’ll wrap them in my shirt. I just need you to get them to the trash and then bring me a towel or something.”
“Jeez, Eric. Why don’t you just run to the bathroom?”
“No way, dude. Carrie could wander out at any moment. For all I know she’s in there and comes out just when I get to the door. I’d be…I’d be freaking mortified.”
“Mortified? Where the hell’d you learn that word?”
“I don’t know; I think I read it in my cousin Sheila’s Seventeen. Girls always say it when their wicked embarra
ssed in the monthly confession things.”
James wondered what Eric was doing reading Seventeen, but let it pass. “Okay, so what do I have to do again?”
James eased open Kevin’s door. His best friend snored from his top bunk oblivious to their plight. James stuck his head into the hallway and heard the familiar voices of the morning show his mom always watched coming from the TV downstairs. Kev’s mom was up, or was it Carrie? He pulled his head back into the room and held his hand out to Eric. “You got it?”
“Yep, here, man.”
James took the black t-shirt containing Eric’s contaminated undies. “You owe me big time for this.”
“Sure, man,” Eric said. “Anything.”
James held the bundled t-shirt out and away from his body. He crept into the hallway and over to the railing at the top of the stairs. The living room was clear.
Good. Maybe Mrs. Hall is in the shower or out in her garden.
Carrie stayed up as late as they did. Chances were good that she was still asleep. Feeling the coast was clear, James quickly descended the stairs. There was no one to be seen. He glanced out into the backyard through the living room window. He could see the big, green hose lying in the grass. It stopped just before the bushel of tomato plants in Mrs. H’s garden. He spun around still holding the Eric spunk bomb away from him and hurried into the kitchen. The garbage can was at the end of the counter on the other side of the doorway. James dropped his socked foot on the button at the base of the can and the lid flipped up.
“James?”
Startled, he dropped the shirt in the trash and backed away as the lid closed with a thump.
Kevin’s mom stared at him from the refrigerator, a jug of what looked like iced-tea in her hand.
“Oh, hey Mrs. H.”
“James, what did you just throw away?”
“Oh, I, uh, just a shirt I ruined.”
“A ruined shirt? Honey, Kevin is a walking disaster. I can get anything clean.” She put the jug down on the counter and stepped toward him.
“No,” he barked.
“James, I can’t have you throwing out a perfectly good shirt when I can take care of it and make it as good as new again.”
“You really don’t have to do that. I have plenty of them. Honest.”
“Nonsense. Step aside.” He watched as she stepped on the lever and the trash can welcomed her. Horror filled him as she picked the shirt out of the trash.
“What’s so bad about this shirt–” The underwear rolled out and hit the tile floor.
James’s face warmed like the fires of Hades. It didn’t matter that the mess in those blue underwear was not his. In the eyes of his girlfriend’s mom, this shame was now his to own.
“James.” Her face blushed, challenging his.
Mortified. Yep Eric’s word fit perfect.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of James. I’ve also dealt with this a time or two. I have two boys you know.”
Frozen in time. Forever branded as the kid with the wet dream problem, James was lost for words. Before he could find something to say, Mrs. H bent over and pinched the waistband of Eric’s soiled undies and lifted them, placing them atop the crumpled black t-shirt.
“No worries, James. I’ll throw these in the wash and have them cleaned before you head home.”
“Thanks,” he managed. Spinning on his heels, he wanted to die, or kill Eric, maybe both.
Carrie stood smiling at him.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I have to…go kill somebody. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her shoulder, shook his head, and slipped by her.
He flew up the stairs determined to strangle Eric to death.
“How’d it go?” Eric sat on the white rocking chair by the TV with a PlayStation controller in his hand.
“Oh, good. I think I’m gonna kill you now.” James started across the room.
“Hey, Jamey Boy, what’s up?”
He stopped beside Eric and clutched him by the scruff of the neck.
“Ah, ouch, hey, man.”
“Oh, I think Kevin would love to hear this.”
“James, no, don’t–ah,” Eric whined.
“What? What?” Kevin was practically bouncing on his bed.
“Oh, nothing. Just that your mom now thinks I’m the king of wet dreams and the biggest pervert on the block.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
James continued to shake Eric by the neck until he flopped forward out of the chair and onto the floor.
“Quit it,” Eric said, tears in his eyes.
“Yeah, cry about it. Cry good and hard,” James said, plopping down into the rocking chair. He placed his arms on the armrests and scowled at Eric. “I swear, if Carrie had come down twenty seconds sooner, you’d be dead right now.”
“See what happens when I sleep in,” Kevin said, “I miss all the good stuff.” He climbed down from the top bunk, the bed frame creaking and sighing relief as he hit the floor. “Stop being a baby, Eric, or I’m gonna kick your ass and send you home. And if you got any jizz on my blanket, you’re taking it home.”
Eric wiped his tears and crossed his arms.
“I’m hungry,” Kevin said.
“I’m not going back down there,” James said, reaching for the PlayStation controller.
“Dude, don’t worry about it. My mom has seen it all. Trust me.”
James got up from the chair. “Come on, Wet Dreams, let’s go eat.”
“Ha!” Kevin laughed. “Wet Dreams. I think we can make that stick for the rest of the summer.”
Eric stood up and followed them out the door. “You guys are jerks.”
…
Alison’s limbs felt like they were lined with cement instead of bones and blood. She’d covered an hour for Rebecca, which helped her catch up on the time she missed coming in late herself, but exhaustion had run her down like a freight train. She felt lucky that she didn’t fall asleep at the wheel on the drive home.
Her phone buzzed. Picking it up from the cupholder, she saw it was a text from Jason. Keeping an eye on the road, she opened it.
Goodnight.
She put the phone back, and the simple message left her feeling sweet and sour.
She knew she should stop whatever this was with him before it got out of hand, but she really needed someone to talk to.
Pulling into the drive, the sight of the trailer made her feel ill.
We’re okay, she thought. This is just our first real hurdle.
She wanted to believe it, but their challenge was getting…complicated.
Getting out of the car, Alison trudged up the steps and opened the door.
Richie was lying flat on his back, naked as the day he was born.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” she said as she stormed over and slapped him. He didn’t twitch. She reared back and slapped him harder. “Hey!” she shouted.
His eyes fluttered open. “What the…”
She slapped him again. “What the hell did you do last night?”
“What time…whoa, uh…” he said, glancing down at himself.
“Yeah, you’re fucking naked, lying in the middle of the living room. What would you have done if James came home to find you like this instead of me?”
He sat up, crawled over to the couch, and snatched the blue blanket to cover up.
Alison reached into her purse, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. She never smoked in the house, but she needed something to keep her from killing Richie.
“So what is it? Huh? Am I not enough for you?” she asked.
She couldn’t believe it came out of her mouth. Jason had suggested that maybe Richie had a porn addiction or a girlfriend. She thought it ridiculous last night, but now…
“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked.
Her hands trembled. “I’ve come home three times and found you passed out with your dick in your hands. And last night…” she
took a drag and exhaled. “I don’t know what the hell you were doing last night in the kitchen.”
“I was…ya know what? Fuck you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, fuck you, Alison. I don’t need to explain what I do when I’m home alone to you or anyone else.” He got to his feet, the blanket tied around his waist.
“So, you think this is okay? This is fine?” She waved the cigarette at his half-nakedness. “What would you be saying right now if I was James?”
His eyebrows tried to connect above his seething Clint Eastwood eyes. She knew what his building anger looked like. She weakened watching his lips tighten, his nostrils flair. He pulled the blanket from his waist, flung it behind him and roared. She jumped back and clutched her chest. His eyes were on the verge of twitching out of his face. She tried to regain her composure taking a step forward as she hauled in another lung full of smoke.
“You got a problem with my body?” he yelled.
“No, I just want you to consider your son–”
“My son is my goddamn concern.” He stepped up nose-to-nose with her.
“Wh, what are you gonna do? Hit me?”
“Ahhh,” he roared again. Spittle and morning breath assailed her face; his top teeth bumped her lip. She managed to hold back the tears until he turned and stormed down the hallway. She heard a bang as he punched the wall before disappearing into the bedroom. Alison reached up to her quivering lips. Her hand came away with blood. She snatched her purse and hurried out of the house.
She would have to call James at Kevin’s and let him know she wasn’t going to be home tonight. And, despite her reservations last night, she was going to suggest he stay at his friend’s again tonight. Richie needed some time to figure out his shit, whether he knew it or not.
Backing out of the driveway, she grabbed her phone. Jason’s text still on display. She hit dial and waited for him to pick up.
