I parked in the gravel lot and went in the back entrance of my local adult video store, crunching through the slate and kicking up little swirls of dust with each step. Neon lights in the windows advertised quarter show booths, booths that in reality didn’t accept coins – only increments of dollar bills, from singles all the way up to twenties. An a-frame style signboard missing several of its mismatched bright orange and yellow letters hawked five DVD rentals for $5.

 

My kind of deal; just what I was looking for: cheap-ass entertainment.

           

            The smell hit me as soon as I walked through the doors. Every stroke shop I’ve ever been in has the same nasty funk hanging in the air, soaked into the woodwork - a gagging combination of dry, stale cum uneasily mingling with huge quantities of bleach and topped off with clouds of cigarette smoke; all of that fighting to be noticed under a hefty veil of depressing creepiness. At least the air conditioning was turned on,

 

I steeled myself, ignored the odor and moved past the blow-up doll displays, the racks of sex toys, the greasy, fingerprint-smeared glass counters full of colorful liquids and gels and condom packets. Nodded to the bored pierced, tattooed twenty-something’s lounging behind the counter, whose torn thrift-shop attire and purple and blue-dyed hair guaranteed them a life of great minimum-wage gigs just like this one. One of the two, an emaciated girl who was pulling off a great impression of a serious heroin addict, ignored me completely. Her companion glared at me sullenly, like I was going to try to shoplift a dildo or maybe, more likely, because I looked too much like his dad. I grinned and found the DVD’s for rent, racks of porn shelved along the walls and lined up on homemade shelving units in haphazard rows just past a pair of sensor alarm gates, a ton of smut tucked comfortably away in a room the size of a small warehouse.

           

            I took my time picking out my movies, going for the absolutely nastiest hardcore I could find, not wanting to really touch anything. Thank God for all that bleach. Even so, the CD jackets felt and looked greasy; and then I remembered the junkie-punks lounging at the counter, and guessed I knew how motivated they probably were to keep everything clean and germ free. I made sure to hold the movies like I would a dead skunk, using the tips of my fingers. I found an anal gang-bang orgy (‘Two hours of hardcore DP penetration!), a best-of chicks-with-dicks, a couple of rough sex sets and one or two seriously disturbing anime titles, tossed my choices on the counter. Heroin Girl had disappeared. Her buddy was eating a cold cheeseburger that might have been a day old, licking ketchup off his fingers and watching a video monitor, a movie with several couples humping in fast-forward. They looked a bit like bunnies fucking. Junkie-Boy roused himself enough to pause whatever he was screening, set me up with a rental account, drop my DVD’s into a black plastic bag and take my money. Then he went back to his choice of dinner theater. Heroin Girl was outside smoking a cigarette as I left. I smiled at her.

           

            “You have a nice day,” I said.

           

            She gave me a dose of full-on, disdainful punk-rock attitude, and wrinkled up her nose at me. I wondered if maybe I smelled like I’d been squirted by that imaginary dead skunk.  “Fuck-off, scumbag.”

           

            She took a last drag and flicked her smoldering butt into the gravel alongside a few dozen other dead cigarettes; ground it out under the heel of her heavy Doc Martin boot. She rolled her eyes theatrically, and I watched her grumble while she clunked all the way back to the counter to not do her crappy job some more. Tough life, I thought. Then I shrugged, got in my car and drove home through the heat to my air-conditioned house and my DVD player.

           

***

 

Twenty minutes later, I was naked and spread-eagled on the couch with my mouth open and my chin drooping onto my chest, bored to tears. I understood why Junkie-Boy in the porn shop was fast-forwarding through his movie. I had one of my hard-chosen video picks on, my limp dick in one hand and the remote in the other, watching some young dyed-blonde bitch with huge fake tits unenthusiastically blow-jobbing her way through twenty or thirty guys (who all seemed to be having the same case of erectile dysfunction that I was currently having) when the phone rang. I did the same thing the kid at the store did when I interrupted him: I hit pause on the remote. Then I answered the phone.

 

            “Hello?” I croaked.

 

            “Um, Grove? Is that you?” A soft female voice; musical and smooth like honey. It sounded vaguely familiar.

 

            “Uh-huh…” I mumbled, still trying to place the voice.

 

“This is Elizabeth. You remember?”

 

            Oh God, I thought. Elizabeth. An old friend of my last girlfriend, April, from time gone by; I’d met her once or twice, but April hadn’t seen much of Elizabeth since she married some uber-buff, male-model looking, upwardly-mobile freak of nature and stopped hanging out with anybody who either wasn’t in the beautiful people crowd or who didn’t earn half-a-million bucks a year. I half-remembered a crazily exotic, gorgeous woman, and guilty visions of wide, almond shaped eyes, thick brown hair, rich caramel skin and lush curves washed through my head. I fully remembered feelings of total and complete inadequacy the few times I’d been around her. Thanks to the images assaulting my senses, the skanky blonde frozen on my television screen suddenly morphed into a composite version of the Elizabeth I was seeing in my head.

 

            My throat went dry, and my dick actually, finally, twitched. “Yeah…yeah, of course I remember…”

 

            I swear I could almost hear her grinning through the phone. “Cool. I’d hate to think you’d forget me.”

 

            “No chance,” I said, the words sounding like crunchy shards of glass.

 

            “Ah, you’re still a sweetie, aren’t you?”

 

Sweetie, she said. All of a sudden, I was getting a little light-headed. I managed a laugh. “If you say so.”

 

She laughed too. More honey, dripping. The sound sent a shiver down my back. “Is April around?” she asked.

 

“Um, no…  She’s been living in Europe, with her folks. Sorry.”

 

“Europe? So…what about you guys?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Things just, you know…didn’t last.”

 

Oh. Well… Shit. I’m sorry. I was going to invite her to this…party I was having Friday night.”

 

“That’s too bad. I’m sure she would’ve liked to go.” I didn’t know what else to say. There was a long, pregnant pause. I listened to the crackling void on the other end of the phone line, and I had the sinking feeling that our strained little conversation was over. Then Liz surprised me.

 

“Hey, well, how would you like to come, Grove?”

 

I blinked. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. I know it’s kind of late notice, and it’s…a little silly, I guess, kind of a girlie thing, you know? I mean, you might not be interested, but I need to bring someone…” She drifted off.

 

For a second, I wondered why she was asking me to come, not her husband. But that thought lasted the blink of an eye; if it meant seeing Liz again, there was no way I was going to refuse. I was honestly kind of curious anyway. And besides, my dick was harder than it’d been all morning, even after watching five bucks worth of porn. I didn’t have any big plans for Friday. What did I have to lose?

 

“What kind of ‘girlie thing’ are we talking about?” I asked.

 

She laughed again, nervously, I thought. I wondered what about talking to me could make Liz nervous. “It’s kind of…a…a lingerie party.”

 

My turn to laugh. Liz stayed quiet. I blinked, waited a beat before answering with a dumbfounded, “You’re kidding, right?”

 

Liz sighed on the other end of the line, then, matter-of-factly, “No.”

 

“You want me to come to a lingerie party.”

 

“Yeah, if you want….I mean, I know it sounds weird, but I promised there would be a bunch of us, and most of the girls I know are going to be there, but…” She paused, took a breath. “You know, you don’t have to buy anything if you don’t want to, but you could get a gift for April, and there’s going to be some stuff for guys too…leopard skin underwear, stuff like that…”

 

I chewed it over. Thought about maybe being the only guy in a roomful of tipsy, scantily-clad women. Thought about what April was going to say when she found out.

 

I made up my mind. I was in. “Hey, sure Liz. It’ll be fun.”

 

“Really?” She sounded almost relieved. “You’ll come?”

 

“Yeah, I…”

 

“That’s great! Everybody’s going to get here about eight. Here let me give you my phone number and the directions to my house…”

 

“Okay, hold on and let me find a pen…”

 

I sat up and scribbled some notes on the back of my video receipt. Liz thanked me again, and we both hung up. I sat there with the phone in my lap for a long minute. Then I grinned and went back to my movie, and this time I didn’t have any trouble getting it up.

 

***

 

“No shit?”

 

            It was the next afternoon, Thursday, and I was eating lunch with my buddy Andre at a cheap mexi-café we liked, seated outside at a curbside table under a canvas umbrella. Andre was finishing up a taco platter; I was snacking on a huge, spicy pile of cheese and salsa dripping nachos.

 

            I nodded, popped a jalapeno pepper in my mouth and chewed happily, savoring the oily burn. I’d just filled Andre in on yesterday’s events. He’d met Elizabeth once, after April and I bought our home, at our housewarming party. A long time ago, it seemed. I could see from his eyes that he had the same memories of her that I did. I grinned and wiped my hands on my napkin while I confirmed the question.

 

“Yep. The whole truth, brotha. No shit.”

 

            Andre leaned back. The aluminum chair under his big ass squeaked and groaned. He adjusted his Yankees cap, wiped fingers down his wiry goatee, shook his head.

 

“Damn, man. Shit like this isn’t fair. I knew that girl was a shark the minute I laid eyes on her.” He crossed his arms, chewed on his lip. “How come she invited you? Does that tall mocha drink dig the white boy cream?”

 

            I shrugged and sipped cold beer. The burn receded to a constant, pleasant tingle at the back of my tongue. “Hell if I know.”

 

            “You know, if she finds out – and you know she’s gonna – April’s gonna eat you alive if any shit happens.”

 

            “She will even if nothing happens.” I said, digging back into the pile of chips. “I’ll just cross my fingers. But nothing’s going to happen, you know, Liz is married, man, to some dude way out of my league.”

 

            “Doesn’t matter,” Andre waved that comment on by. “You said it didn’t sound like he’d be around anyway, right? You get there, all that pussy spread out on the couch and what-not; they’ll all be drinking wine, getting’ all tipsy and giggly, next thing you know they’ll be trying on the frilly panties and shit, modeling for you…then, BAM! You’ll be on the floor, humping away; drunk, horny bitches lined up to be fuckin’ you…”

 

            I snorted. “Right.”

 

            “Look, Grove,” he pointed a finger at my cell phone. “Reg and I’ll be at Tin’s club tomorrow night, maxin’ with Barry and his boys.”

 

“They’re playing?” I asked. We’d known Barry from way back. He’d been a fixture on the local music scene since we were all in college together. Now he was heading up some retro-funk band that had been scaring up some hot press lately.

 

“Yeah. Tin’s isn’t too far from where you’re gonna be, right? Only what – ten, fifteen minutes away? Anyway, you need some help handling all that pussy, you call us.” Andre leered, showing off a mouthful of big white teeth. He picked up his last taco and poured half a bottle hot sauce over it. “An’ we’ll come a’ runnin’.”

 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

 

“You bet, baby, you bet. Anything for a friend. Right, homeboy?” Andre took a huge bite. Half the taco disappeared. He chewed, bobbing his head in time to a reggae song pouring out of the café’s outside speaker system. “I’m mister thoughtful, you know that.”

 

***

 

I was running late Friday night. Got off work late and immediately got stuck in a massive snarl of traffic. Bumper to bumper for as far as the eye could see. I veered off the freeway at the closest exit to my house, stopped for a quick burger at a fast food drive-through, got stuck behind a soccer-mom’s van that was idling, belching black smoke. When I finally pulled back out into the streets, I opened my bag of food, only to discover the goon at the window got my order all wrong. Fuck it – I didn’t have time to go back and complain. I grumbled, but scarfed the shit down anyway, and took side streets the rest of the way home. Parked in the driveway and ran inside at twenty-to-eight, grabbed a quick shower, dressed, checked myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, frowned, dressed again. By the time I pulled up at Liz’s curb, it was a quarter past, and the street around her house was full of expensive luxury cars. I found a spot a ways up the hill, parked, beeped my car locked, and walked back, carrying a bottle of decent wine I’d picked up during my lunch hour.

 

It was clear that Liz and her husband liked their privacy. Their house was big and old, set far back from the road on a good-sized chunk of real estate. The thing must’ve cost a fortune. Leafy, box-trimmed hedges surrounded the large, fresh-cut, forest green lawn, isolating the house further from the neighbors. All the lights inside were turned on. I opened the rod-iron gate and went down the front path to the door, rang the bell. Made sure my reflection looked good while the chime gonged somewhere deep in the house.

 

I was about to ring again when a lock clicked open, and I heard that magic voice, the honey muffled behind the heavy wood door. Then the door opened, and Liz was there, smiling at me, smothering me with a wave of pure physical force. She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged every perfect curve, black silk stockings, and polished black stiletto heels. She nonchalantly tugged a flopped-down spaghetti strap back over a shapely, nut-brown shoulder and pulled me inside.

 

“Grove! I didn’t think you were going to make it!” She said, and pushed the door gently closed. It clicked shut.

 

I grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Work…you know?”

 

She shook her head. Long silver baubles dangled from her earlobes, diamonds flashed in the light. Her dark eyes sparkled.

 

“No,” she laughed, “not really.”

 

“Here,” I said, and awkwardly held out the bottle of wine. “I brought this for you.”

 

            She took the bottle and smiled, barely looked at it. Her eyes were still on mine.

 

“Oh, baby, you didn’t need to do that.”

 

“Well, you know, it’s a party and all…”

 

She stepped close and hugged me. Her hair was cut shorter than I remembered, curling in waves close to her neck. A wispy brown lock tickled my nose, and felt her breath warm at the side of my throat. I hugged her back, feeling her body press tight against me. I got that lightheaded feeling again, and my dick began tingling, got harder than it had been during any of my recent jack-off time. I caught a whiff of perfume, sweet and subtle, that I barely referenced past my sudden sensory overload. There was something else in the air too, sharp and pungent, smelling like cinnamon; candles, or incense, maybe.

 

We parted, and she took a second, looked me up and down. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she asked.

 

I wasn’t too sure how to take that, but she looked approving. “I guess not.”

 

“You look good enough to eat…” She smiled. Then she took my arm, wrapped it up in hers. “C’mon, let’s go introduce you to the girls…”

 

***

           

Liz walked me to the living room and made her introductions. I nodded as she ticked off the names she was telling me, making an effort to match names with faces, and even managing to remember a few. Andre about had it right: there were maybe twenty gorgeous women; some younger, some older, all dressed to the hilt, sipping wine and fruity mixed drinks. They were sitting in a loose semi-circle, on the sofa and in chairs; all positioned facing another, extremely busty older woman, primly dressed in a close-fitted business suit and skirt. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a Vanity Fair spread. Boxes and bags of things were spread out on the coffee table and tucked around her feet. Each of the ladies smiled appraisingly at me. I almost felt like I was dessert, just being brought out after a tasty meal.

 

            “So,” I said, glancing around. “Where’s uh, what’s his name…”

 

            “Doug?”

 

            That was pretty boy’s name. “Yeah, Doug.”

 

“Oh, he won’t be coming home.” Liz waved away the subject, instead asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

            “Um, sure. Anything’s okay.”

 

            She flitted over to the bar, came back with a glass of something cold. Latched right back onto my arm. “Here, try it.”

 

            Every eye was still on me. I was definitely starting to feel like I was on display, definitely the odd man out. “Uh, cheers,” I said, and took a tentative sip. The drink was sweet, with a slight tang of alcohol and an almost bitter undercurrent of something I couldn’t place. For a second, I had a crazy feeling, remembering the old Agatha Christie type mysteries, where the detective has solved the murder, declaring death by poisoning, and goes on to describe how arsenic was supposed to taste, like bitter almonds. “Mm,” I mumbled, pushing the paranoid thought away. “That’s pretty good.”

 

            It was like a sigh of acceptance passed through the room. Liz smiled up at me. My head was absolutely swimming, being this close to her.

 

            The older woman with all the packages licked her red painted lips with the corner of a tiny pink tongue. She patted her silver hair, made sure it was in place, pulled back in a severe bun. She winked at me. “Well,” she said. “Let’s make our guest comfortable and get started, shall we?”

 

            Next to me, still clinging to my arm, Liz almost curtsied. “Of course, Sarah. Sorry, all.” She turned to me, whispered, “Here, sit by me.”

 

            I let Liz pull me to the couch. The two women sitting there shifted to make room. A blonde in her early twenties patted the cushion next to her hip, smiled invitingly. We sat down. Liz set the bottle of wine in a bucket of ice on the table, and I wondered how much wine they’d already gone through. I wiggled in between the blonde and Liz, suddenly enjoying the press of warm female bodies next to me. I looked around; found that I was still the center of attention: the ladies stared and demurely sipped their drinks; the blonde who’d scooted over to make room smiled and practically nuzzled up next to me. Liz put her hand possessively on my thigh, and I almost jumped. She patted my leg, and I noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

 

            I blinked, wondering…

 

The woman named Sarah clapped her hands, and all the attention immediately snapped back in her direction. “Back to business,” she said, smiled sweetly, and opened the bag sitting in front of her, rooted around. Tissue paper rustled. I took another sip of my drink, caught some of the women glancing at me out of the corner of their eyes. I raised my eyebrows, got more smiles. The blonde, I think her name was Kate, shifted, and her breast brushed my elbow. I tried to shrink my six-foot-two self into a smaller space and failed. Her breast stayed where it was. It was a nice, soft breast. Even so, I moved slightly closer to Liz, who started gently petting the inside of my leg. The blonde scooted closer, her big, soft boob again connecting with my elbow.

 

I swallowed hard.

 

There was a quiet murmur around the room, and all the attention focused back towards the front, to Sarah. “Okay, our first item would look fantastic on our new friend tonight, I think…” Sarah smiled my way as she said that, and held up a pair of heavy padded leather handcuffs.

 

            “Holy shit,” I whispered. The blonde took my free arm and pressed my hand to her leg. I stared, and then took another slug from my glass as Liz’s hand found my crotch and continued its slow, steady petting.

 

***

           

Forty-five minutes later, I was working on my fourth or fifth drink. I was tipsy enough to have lost count. Most of the bags and boxes were empty, I was horny as all hell, and my head was reeling. I wondered why; the drinks didn’t seem all that strong. Women had disappeared into the bedrooms, come back wearing skimpy silk and lace outfits, each one with less material than the last. Women drank and laughed while teasing me with little buzzing clit-stimulators and huge strap-on vibrators. The blonde next to me, Kate, was now naked except for a white satin push-up bra and a pair of crotchless panties. I knew they were crotchless because my fingertips were exploring and told me so. Sarah had taken off her suit top and skirt, and she was now standing with a small riding crop, modeling the black corset and stockings she’d had on underneath her clothes. She wore the outfit like an old pro. Liz was still in her dress, except both the straps were down off her shoulders now, and to me she looked sexier than any of the other ladies who were parading around in their new undies. She had her arm around my shoulder. She and Kate were both brazenly nuzzling my neck; Liz’s wandering hand had long since found the zipper to my pants and had disappeared inside; Blondie had unbuttoned most of my shirt, and was tickling my chest with her fingernails. I could see Sarah smiling at me with a wicked gleam in her eye. She smacked the tough leather crop down hard into her palm, and I jumped. Other eyes were beginning to turn our way…

 

The sensation around my crotch was driving me out of my mind. Liz had me hard as a rock. Andre’s voice was playing over-and-over, like a loop reel in my head, ‘…next thing you know they’ll be trying on the frilly shit, modeling it for you…then, BAM! You’ll be on the floor, humping away…’

 

“Whooo,” I muttered. “Need to use the bathroom, I think.”

 

Kate pouted as I extracted my hand from between her legs. Liz paused, gave me that seductive smile again, pointed. “Upstairs, first door on the left.”

 

“’Kay,” I said. “Back in a minute.”

 

“You hurry.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded.

 

I excused myself and carefully wandered up the stairs, using the banister to steady myself. My head was spinning badly. I rounded the corner, found the bathroom. My dick was hanging out of my open pants, pointing straight out at an angle. I washed my hands and rinsed my face with cold water. I thought about what was going to happen when I want back downstairs, and stared at my dripping face in the mirror, realizing the blood pressure pounding through my dick wasn’t letting up. I was getting more than a little panicked. Shit, I thought. This isn’t natural. Did Liz drug me?

 

Carefully, I left the bathroom and snuck a look around the corner, used my cell phone to zoom in and snap a picture. I crept back into the bathroom and shut the door, sat on the edge of the bathtub, called Andre. He answered on the second ring. I could hear a crowd, but no music. I guessed he was already at the club, but it was still too early for the band to have started.

 

“Hey mutherfucker,” he shouted over the noise. “’Was’up? Where you at?”

 

“Dude, I’m here.” I hissed.

 

“Where?”

 

I shook my head. He sounded drunker than I felt, but I knew it was more an act for the benefit of whoever was at the bar around him. Andre didn’t drink anything except mineral water. He thought everything else was poison aimed at the righteous black man.

 

“I’m at that party I was telling you about.”

 

It took him a beat. “The bitch party?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sssshhhiiiiit. You bangin’ yet?”

 

“Andre, shut up, dammit. I need your help.”

 

“Boy, a real man in yo’ place wouldn’t need no help.” He laughed.

 

I groaned. “Man, I’m not Captain Jim-fucking-Kirk, alright?”

 

More laughter.

 

“Look, I’m sending you a picture. Check it out. I’m trapped here with a couple dozen drunk, freaky women, and as cool as that sounds, I’m not eighteen fucking years old anymore, you know what I’m saying? I need some god-damn, dick-swinging help here, right now!”

 

I could hear Reg in the background, asking what was up. Andre was laughing so hard he could barely talk. “Shit, man, I was just fuckin’ around wit’ you, Grove, you know you my boy…”

 

I cut him off. “Just look at the damn picture. Okay? You remember the address?”

 

“Well, yeah. Yeah, homeboy, but…”

 

“Good. Hurry.”

 

I disconnected the line, mailed off the picture. As soon as it was sent, I stood, pocketed the phone and opened the bathroom door. I stepped out into the hall, right in front of a tidal wave of drunk and horny womanhood, surging up the stairs. Sarah and Liz led the charge. They stopped barely a foot away from me. Sarah ran the tip of her riding crop up and down my chest.

 

“Well, well. We thought you ran away.”

 

“Oh, no,” I said, as I was surrounded by the flow of curvaceous, scantily clad bodies. “I was just coming back to join the party.”

 

“That’s very sweet. Liz told me you were a sweet boy.” Sarah smiled, and her eyes no longer held that bright, mischievous quality I thought I’d seen early. Now they looked…hungry.

 

“Yeah, well…” I started. Small, warm hands were slowly touching me, running all over. I noticed Liz take my hand, felt a thick leather strap wrap around my wrist. “Hey, now! Uh, look, why don’t we go back down and…”

 

“I don’t think so, sweet boy.”

 

Sarah looked at Liz, who buckled the leather handcuffs tight. I was pushed and pulled over backwards. I lost my balance and fell into the mass of flesh, and then they were all over me. I struggled, but they pinned me to the floor and easily pulled my arms up over my head, tightened the straps of another cuff on my other arm, and then they started ripping at my clothes. I freaked. Started to yell, and Sarah nodded to Liz. She knelt by my head, I looked at her pleadingly, and when I opened my mouth, she stuffed a hard rubber ball inside, then wrapped it in a leather gag and buckled it around my head. My shoes and socks were pulled off, my pants and underwear followed fast, and my shirt was torn to shreds. Hungry, lusting eyes stared at me from above. More cuffs were clamped around my ankles. Sarah straddled my naked body, lightly stroked my swollen cock with her whip. The damn thing throbbed and twitched as she probed at it.

 

“We’ve come to bring the…party…to you.”

 

***

 

Andre snapped his flip-phone shut, slapped it down on the counter, feeling a little bit pissed at his best friend. He remembered Elizabeth, all right, remembered how fine she was, and he just couldn’t figure why Grove sounded so upset. Reg was sitting on the barstool opposite, staring at him, waiting for him to say something. On stage, Barry and the band were just getting their equipment set up, getting ready for their sound check.

 

            “What?”

 

            “Dunno.” Andre shrugged. “Homeboy’s nuts, man.”

 

            The sound tech in the upper booth called check; on stage, the band’s drummer lit into a groove, then Barry joined in with a heavy, rubbery base line. They sounded good-to-go to Andre. He was standing, ready to join the crowd already pushing up to the edge of the stage, but paused as his cell vibrated. Andre checked the phone’s screen: mail from Grove. He flipped open his phone, hit a button, and his jaw dropped.

 

            “What?” Reg repeated over the roar of the crowd. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?”

 

            “Look.”

 

Andre held out the phone. Reg squinted, blinked, looked up at Andre.

 

“That what I think it is?” he said.

 

Andre just nodded.

 

“We outta here?” Reg asked.

 

A beat, then they both nodded together.

 

“YO! BARRY!”

 

Andre cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed while Reg wildly waved his arms. Barry glanced up, confused, spotted his friends and shrugged, as if to say, what?

“WE’LL CHECK YOU LATER, BRO!”

 

Then they were pushing out of the club, heading towards Andre’s car.

 

***

 

The women dragged me, kicking and squirming, down the hall to the large master bedroom. Liz opened the door, and they hauled me onto a king-size bed. A heavy plastic sheet crackled underneath me. They gathered around the bed, several of them spreading my arms and legs into a wide X-shape. They cuffed my wrists to a heavy iron headboard and my legs to strong iron posts below. They hushed as Sarah straddled my legs, positioned her hips over my knees. She flicked the leather thong at the tip of her riding at my nipples, stinging. She used it to caress me, slid the tip along my jaw.

 

“Now, Sweet,” she whispered. “Don’t be frightened. You’ve been chosen, just for this, specially, by my dear Elizabeth.”

 

Liz smiled vacantly. Like there was nobody home.

 

Sarah slid forward, easing herself over my throbbing cock.

 

“Do you like that, Sweet?” Sarah hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t you like being so hard?” She reached between her legs and grabbed me, pulling my shaft towards warm, moist lips. “Just a little special powder that dear Elizabeth slipped into your drinks, so you’ll be able to pleasure us for hours and hours.”

 

I closed my eyes as she sank onto me, wiggling like a snake, her pussy taking me in, inch by inch. A low hum filled the room, and I opened my eyes. Sarah had her whip in one hand, balled into a tiny fist and braced on my chest; the other was busy untying the red satin ribbon binding her corset closed. Her eyes were closed tight, a look of pure rapture etched on her smooth face. In the dim light, her pale skin shined like porcelain. Liz knelt on the bed at the left side of my head, eyes closed, her body swaying slightly. She stroked my hair. The hem of her dress was pulled up over her hips, her fingers lightly rubbing her between her thighs. Blondie was on my right, and she’d taken a different approach: she’d pressed her body against the wall by my trapped hand and jammed my fingers into her pussy. Warm juice flowed down over my wrist. The other women around me chanted in a single, sing-song voice, their eyes flickering, bodies moving as one.

 

Above me, Sarah’s hips began a slow, serpentine writhing. She bent forward; mashing her heavy tits into my chest, the soft muscles in her pussy squeezing and releasing my cock as she moved. Her lips grazed my neck, nibbled gently at the hollow of my throat. She opened her eyes and smiled, whipped my side with her crop. I grunted into the gag and my entire body lurched up off the bed with the sudden, stinging pain. She whipped me again, and again, from side to side, each lash stinging, making me twist under her, try to flinch away, but it just drove me further up inside her.

 

“Move, sweet boy. Move with me…”

 

She kept her face level with mine, one hand grabbing my throat, choking me; she hit me harder and faster, until I was bucking spasmodically underneath her, my cock driving up into her pussy. She grunted with effort, and her eyes seemed to cloud over with pleasure as she hurt me, relishing my pain, whipping me into a frenzy.

 

“That’s it…” she moaned softly, “Ummm…so big and hard…,” Her voice changed, dropped to a hiss, a whisper, “You know Sweet, dear Elizabeth slipped you a tiny bit of a very strong drug in each of your drinks…mmmm…that’s it, right…there…mmm, just like that, Sweet…that’s…beautiful…” She gasped and dug her red fingernails into the soft skin of my neck. She swallowed me completely inside, sucking me fully into her warm, juicy cunt. She squirmed happily, rubbing her round bottom on my groin. “Each drink had a large enough dose to make you stay hard and lively for all of us to enjoy you, no matter how many times we decide to take you. Isn’t that wonderful? Mmmmmmm…ohhh…”

 

She licked a finger, ran it down my forehead, over my cheek, and tickled the gag in my mouth. Wiped away the spit oozing down my face; licked her fingers clean. She laughed and began grinding, moving harder and faster, raking her nails over my chest and shoulders hard enough to draw blood. I groaned and cried out, the sounds completely muffled. Sarah fucked me slowly, her whip always working, turning my sides a beet red. Tears of paid and frustration joined the saliva pooling on the plastic under my head, but my dick seemed to have a mind of its own, throbbing painfully with ever tiny squeeze from her pussy.

 

When Sarah finally began to peak, the chanting around us rose to a crescendo. Most of the women I could see were openly masturbating. Sarah pushed away from me, arched her spine and threw her head back. She howled towards the ceiling, her huge tits bouncing, her butt grinding and slapping against my thighs. I fought and fought the urge to cum, but she finally won. She came with a long, sharp cry, her pussy clenching me so hard that I exploded with her, pumping thick white streams of cum, just as her hot juice ran and dribbled down my belly and thighs. Sarah collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, and I heard other women climax as well. I lay still, my cock still hard; aching and buried deep, moisture dripping onto the plastic sheet under my ass.

 

Minutes passed, and when Sarah sat up again, through the muted light, I could swear her eyes had turned to dark slits.

 

Sarah paused for a moment, distracted, like she was listening for something only she could hear, then smiled and turned to two of the younger women. “Well, well. Susan, Tabitha – it seems that Elizabeth’s friend here has taken it on himself to invite more guests. Most unexpected, but…they are just now arriving. Why don’t you go and greet them, offer them refreshments before bringing them back here, hmm?”

 

I could hear the girls mumble, “Of course, Mistress.” Then I heard Elizabeth’s doorbell chiming - once, twice - quietly, as if from very far away; and then the soft patter of the girls’ footsteps receding down the hall.

 

And while Sarah turned her attention back to me, through a blurry haze of drugs and pain, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself and my friends into.

 

***

 

“There, that’s it.”

 

            Andre drove past the house, hunting for a place to park. That was the address, for sure, her thought, and damn, Grove wasn’t kidding about the party being packed. There were cars lined up halfway up and down the block. He cruised up a short hill, spotted Grove’s car.

 

“Lookie-lookie,” Andre hummed, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb. “Grove even saved a space for us…” How was that for luck? He pulled a fast u-turn, parked right behind Grove’s old Beamer, then they got out and walked.

 

“Damn, will you look at this shit?” Reg whistled when they got close. The house stank of big money.

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Andre noticed all the lights were on. “Looks like the party’s still happenin’, Yo.”

 

They followed the walkway to the porch, tapped the doorbell twice. Andre listened to the chime, deep inside, kept humming, feeling loose and horny, remembering the roomful of tiny, half-naked women in the picture Grove sent. Reg kept staring, soaking in the size of the place.

 

***

 

“That’s a good, sweet boy,” Sarah hissed, after the girls had gone. “You’ve given up your seed, as you were chosen to do. And now…”

 

Sarah grabbed her crop in both hands, and pulled hard. A tiny, silver knife slipped from its sheath hidden in the handle of the whip, and my eyes went wide. I tried to scream and shake my head no…no, please, no!; but Liz wrapped a fist in my hair, holding me still. The gleaming blade bit deep, sliced a jagged oval from my naval past my nipples. Fresh blood spurted, mingling with the blood still oozing from the scratches Sarah’s fingernails had dug into my skin. I screamed into the gag and thrashed like a madman. My limbs were still buckled tight, and I flopped uselessly around on the bed. Sarah bent and lapped at the warm, sticky blood flowing from the shallow gash she’d carved.

 

Then, with a sickening, gurgling laugh, Sarah lifted her head to mock my screams, and finally, she showed me her true face.

 

I stared, horrified, at the thing that was Sarah, as her ruby lips blackened and peeled away over glistening needle sharp fangs; her tongue rolled out, long and bloated and covered with bristles that stuck like barbs in my skin, ripping away thin strips of skin as she began to feed. All around me, the women were changing: their smooth, creamy skin giving way to pale, scaly, dead flesh. Round eyes turned to black slits, fingers to claws. And hovering just above me, April’s friend, Elizabeth: the beautiful Elizabeth; bending close, brutally mashing my head to the side, grinning obscenely as her lovely smile distended; hot saliva dripped from the yawning pit of her mouth, burning on my cheek as her jagged teeth tore at my throat…

 

***

 

When the door finally opened, both Andre and Reg thought they’d died and gone to heaven. They were greeted by two phenomenal looking bitches swishing twin crystal drinking glasses that were brimming with scotch poured over chipped ice, and they were decked out in some of the skimpiest, sexiest bra’s and panties Andre had ever seen outside of a magazine.

 

They were still standing there staring, goggle-eyed and open-mouthed, when the girls made the first move. One smiled at Reg, the other at Andre. Without uttering a word, the girls batted their eyes, handed the dumbfounded men the drinks, then took them by the arm and whisked them inside. Reg automatically took a huge swig, downing half the drink in a gulp. The girl on his arm looked on approvingly. Andre looked down at his glass, back at the girl smiling up at him.

 

“Well, hey. Thanks, girl. Mm, damn! What is this, whiskey? How did you know that’s just what I needed?”

 

The girl just kept on smiling. She snuggled close, pressed warm, luscious curves against him. She giggled and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Try some.”

 

“Well, yeah, alright…,” Andre gulped at her touch, his crotch jumping to attention. “Let’s get this party started, huh?” Andre reluctantly sipped his drink, hating the booze’s smell, hating the burn of the alcohol as it trickled down his throat, hating the buzz he knew he was going to get from having even just this one glass; wishing to hell it was soda water. But everybody was watching and he didn’t want to play the fool, so he sipped anyway, and that’s when the little Asian cutie on his arm reached out, giggling, and tipped his glass straight up. Ice chips clunked against Andre’s teeth, and the amber liquid splashed down his throat, over his shirt.

 

He came up sputtering, eyes burning, staring at his ruined silk shirt. Reg and the tiny redhead clutching his arm laughed like it was the funniest damn thing they’d ever seen.

 

“Dammit, look at this shit,” he growled.

 

Reg was biting the lip of his glass, still snickering. “Yo, man. You s’posed to drink it. Like this…” He took another gulp, downed the rest of his drink, and turned to his girl. “That’s damn good, baby. Got any more?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, pulling him over to the bar by the stairwell. “Right over here…”

 

Andre futilely brushed at the alcohol dripping off his chin. The Asian cutie pouted for a second, then stepped closer when he ignored her. She gave him an impish little smile, and then started popping open his shirt buttons.

 

He took an involuntary step back as buttons bounced and scattered onto the polished floor. “Whoa – hey now…!”

 

The girl stared up into Andre’s eyes, her hands massaging his bare chest. “Why don’t you just finish the rest of that, and then come upstairs with me and we’ll get you out of these wet clothes?”

 

“Um, okay…” He mumbled.

 

Andre took a last swig, swallowed with a wince. Then he let her take his hand, and found himself following her up the stairs, staring at her swishing ass. Reg and his girl were already halfway up, Reg stumbling a little, playfully pulling at her panties, the girl not doing much to stop him.

 

Andre’s eyes still stung. His vision blurred and he blinked hard, trying to clear it. The girl’s ass faded in and out. He realized he was about to get laid. Unbelievable. He hoped he wouldn’t have a hard time breaking out the condoms. He tried to think of something witty to say, to help break the tension. Came up with a lame, “So, Baby? What’s your name?”

 

She peeked over her shoulder. “Tabitha.”

 

“Tabitha…” Andre mumbled. He was already feeling a little bit juiced. That was some strong shit she made me guzzle, he thought. “We, uh, we were here to meet up with a friend of ours, a dude named Grover…er, well, he goes by Grove. White boy, but big, tall, you know? Played ball wit’ him back in school in the day…”

 

He was babbling. Shit felt all wrong, he needed some time to sort things out, get through the bleary haze that had taken over most of his skull. Tabitha seemed to notice he was hesitating, took him by the hand. “He’s right up here, sweetheart, in the bedroom with everybody else.”

 

“Oh, okay,” he nodded, as she pulled him on down the hall. “Hey – you say ‘sweetheart’?”

 

            For an answer, Tabitha gave him another enigmatic look, a look that sent his blood pounding.

 

Reg and his girl disappeared into a doorway, through which eager, female faces peeked out. Andre felt his crotch give him a push, felt it taking over, losing control. He was blinking hard now, lurching a little from side-to-side, when Tabitha guided him through the doorway.

 

Andre dropped her hand and glanced around. He shook his head, still trying to clear his vision. It wasn’t working, just making the back of his skull pound. The room started spinning. He closed his eyes and stopped dead, right inside the doorway. Hands reached for him, pulled him partway into the room, yanked at his wet, stained shirt, began unbuckling his pants. He groaned happily, enjoying the beginnings of his erection. The first thing he noticed, when he opened his eyes again, was Reg, completely surrounded by about six hot bitches that were pushing him to the floor, literally ripping off his clothes. Reg was giggling like a girl, halfway naked already, playfully biting at a pair of hard pink nipples swaying just out of his reach.

 

“Holy crap.”

 

Andre felt hands on his hips and looked down at Tabitha, who was kneeling in front of his crotch, pushing his pants down around his ankles. His cock sprung out, almost smacked her in the face. She wrapped him up in a tiny little fist, started pumping. When her lips touched him, Andre heard himself groan with pleasure.

 

He looked back down noticed the floor, some kind of funky carpet…no, not carpet, more like…plastic wrap, spread all over …?

 

Before he could think about what that meant any further, a half dozen women circled him. Fingers ran through his short, spiky dreadlocks. Hands played with his shoulders, his chest, pinched his ass. The crowd of women parted, and Andre glimpsed a hot-looking old bitch, riding the life out of some lucky dude tied to the bed. The dude’s legs and feet quivering, strapped to the headboard by the wrists, his hands knotted into fists clenched so hard the tendons stood out in his forearms. Andre saw something familiar, squinted to get a better look. A tattoo on one of the dude’s forearms, of some Muppet character – just like the one that Grove had done back in high school…

 

The fact took a moment to register. Then Andre called to his friend.

 

“Grove?”

 

            The woman straddling Grove turned and growled at the interruption, gnashing wickedly sharp teeth, wiping at a red smear dribbling down her chin. Another face that Andre recognized looked up as well, and he gasped. Elizabeth – or what passed for Elizabeth now. Both women were covered in blood; blood that was still weakly spurting from Grove’s skinned chest. Bare bone shone under crimson stained gristle. Grove’s body twitched spasmodically; free of Elizabeth’s grip, his head lolled forward, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, focused, then came to rest on Andre.

 

            Grove moaned wetly, whispered through bloody foam, “Help me…”

 

 Andre’s eyes popped open, his vision suddenly very clear. And then, Reg started screaming. Andre turned to see his friend being eaten alive…

 

            “Oh, holy fucking shit! Reg…”

 

            Andre felt needle sharp teeth bite into the thick muscles of his shoulders. Something hissed down by his groin, and he squealed in pain, jerked backwards as Tabitha bit into his penis, tearing away a mouthful of the organ with a spray of blood. Andre grabbed at his wounded manhood, tangled his feet in his pants and fell into the hall. He tried to crawl away from the horror, clawing at the thick carpet, mewling like a kitten. But strong hands grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him back into the bedroom. He struggled, but it was useless. Women covered him and he was flipped over, held easily in place on the floor as Reg’s howls became fainter, turned into a weak gurgling.

 

            The old woman slithered off Grove’s supine body, stood over Andre as he whimpered in fear and pain. She knelt, straddling his hips, bared her teeth in a wide, gory smile.

 

            “Welcome,” she hissed in a voice that was no longer remotely human, “to the party.”

 

            Andre had time to scream, once. And then the women began to feed.

 

 

~ Fin ~