Asylum, Chapter Eleven

Monday, 27 January, Year 6 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

"And to think I taught you that trick, you little snake !"

Frankie was looking straight at the driver through the mirror, and the poor guy thought she's actually talking to him, although what she said made no sense, so he tried a sort of mumbled halfway between an excuse and a question.

"No you didn't !" Janice was moving around in the seat as if she couldn't quite find a comfortable position.

"I should have known better than to let you two in there."

"That you should have. I shudder thinking what a certain party might say if he was to find about your horrible tactical ineptitude."

"Tactical ineptitude, ey? You been going to night school?"

"Eh... some of us are trying to make something of our lives, ya know?"

"Found a nice spot in a choir too, perhaps?"

"If you don't shut up I'm gonna tickle you!"

"You and whose army?"

With that the girls were intertwined, and the driver, a quaint elderly gentleman with a rather bald head and peaceful figure was trying hard not to notice the flurry of thighs and stomachs and everything else, but judging by the way his face was slowly turning rosier and rosier, he wasn't doing a terribly good job of it. He was a very peaceful man, when he was younger he was a bit more lively, but still a peaceful, reasonable young man, who never got in any sort of trouble. Even as a kid he never broke a window, and he never saw the inside of the principal's office. Every time he would pass by that door, going to the gym, or coming from the gym, or on rare occasions visiting the school nurse, he looked at the door with a sort of awe, it was terror and a vague curiosity and helplessness and his very definite hope that he will manage to behave himself and never have to enter that door. The principal's office was however very busy as a rule, and many other kids came and went all the time, and for the longest time he had wanted to talk to them, ask them, why did they end up there? After all, keeping out wasn't all that difficult, it never took him any effort at all. You just have to stay calm and collected and don't get involved in all the silly little plots and schemes school kids always seem to hatch, but never get any good at. It took him the better part of the school years to summon the courage, not the courage really, just, let's call it, adequate disposition, to ask one of the kids, what was the office like? And the answers keep coming about why that particular kid got in trouble, who did what and whose fault it really was, but he never managed to get across that he couldn't care less about all that, all he wanted to know is how does the office look, inside, and what goes on in there, and all the answers he ever got were always about things that led to, or at any rate happened before whoever he was talking to went in there. And eventually he never found out. It probably was a couch and a few easy chairs, a desk and a carpet, diplomas on the walls and maybe a coffee machine. But was the carpet cream or pink? Was the desk solid wood or metal or ice-cream? After all, did it matter any? A principal's office is just that, a principal's office, and nobody ever disciplined in there said the carpet color made any difference, and why should it?

That was, however, only the beginning. He worked for almost two decades at a metal processing plant, started as worker, slowly climbed the plant hierarchy, and eventually got the position of foreman, that was 5 promotions in 18 years, 1 promotion each 43 months, each week, when he signed his paycheck, he could have said, if he had known it, that he had another 1/200th of a promotion in his pocket, right there.

Eventually that plant went bankrupt, he never quite understood it all very well, something about overseas competition, and most of his retirement savings were gone suddenly, just as his entire life of slowly earned 1/200ths of promotions. In the hallways there was talk of the upper management sticking their hands in the company money, there were even some people from Washington, doing what they called an investigation, but for him all that meant very little. Luckily he was able to find a job as a cab driver, and now he had enough to get by, he never needed much anyway.

But even in his day at the plant, there always were places he never went. Usually he was too busy to notice, but every now and again, waiting for something, maybe a spare part for a malfunctioning bit of machinery, or his calling at some management meeting, he would diffusely think about all the places in that plant he never went to see. Of course he never went up in the management building, except every once a year or so, and then he noticed little, the hallway, the meeting room, but they never actually went into the offices, or the toilets, and in fact after living 8 or 10 hours a day for two decades of his life on that half square mile of land, he couldn't give an account or description that was anywhere remotely near informed, on more than a hundred square yards. The big hall where most of the machinery was, he never walked all the way. He was always going in and to his workplace on the same path, and he vaguely knew other people from the "Far away" workplaces, but he never actually was over there, never rested an elbow on one of their machines there, never spat on the floor at the other end of the hall. For all it mattered, it could have been in China.

***

"Oh, ooooh, she is bringing a friend !"

Mr Hinkle-Bailay, the legal tenant of apt. 25A at #156 Regent street was hopping up and down in glee, at the moment wearing just underwear. Strangely enough, the shorts didn't seem to fit too well... actually, they didn't fit at all, quite the contrary by the looks of it, they must have been fitting in a most painful manner. One might be as bold as to say their designer, along with the producer, retailer and everyone else up and down the supply chain operated holding the erroneous belief that the customer they are serving is going to be... well let's just say they never expected cock and balls. The bra was a significantly better fit.

Mr Hinkle-Bailay turned off completely the previously dim lights, and started focusing his obviously very expensive telescope. In the round circle of sight there was a large creamy plush couch with matching pillows, and at regular intervals of about 4 seconds, a new article of clothing was flying over and landing on it more or less comfortably. A jacket missed the thing by about a foot, and flew way past into the hallway. Then a sweater cuddled up on a pillow with one sleeve on top, open as if it was in fact a strange sort of woolen creature using a periscope-like appendage to spy the surroundings. A beige blouse and a silken shirt with pearly buttons flew in tandem, one landing right in the middle of the sofa, the other falling a bit short, and ending up with both sleeves apart, one hanging on the floor, one extended over the backrest as if it was caught in some interrogation device, something medieval and terrible.

Then there was a pause, Mr. Hinkle-Bailay thought, Bras ! Bras! But there were no bras flying in the air, or maybe there were but completely invisible. Then a topless Janice landed on the couch, squishing the woolen creature and its periscope-like appendages. Unbelievably tiny pink nipples crowned her breasts, making them seem even more sumptuous. She bit her lower lip softly and then Frankie was on top of her, resting on all fours, like some sort of feral feline, if it wasn't for the very obviously human genitals. At which point Mr Hinkle-Bailay was entirely too absorbed in some other activity to pay much more attention.

***

Fred closed and locked the door with a great sense of relief. Finally, some peace to collect his thoughts, reflect on the events of the evening and the future of his club. Leaning there against the door, looking at the empty room he simply allowed the quiet of it to envelop him; then wanting even more he flipped off the lights too.

He was startled by a tiny sound, unidentifiable, from somewhere in the back of the room and quickly turned the lights back on. John? It must be, Fred did not recall seeing John leave with the rest of the crowd.

Indeed, there he was, crouching in the darkest corner, behind the bookshelves, clutching something tightly to his chest.

"John."

No response.

"John?"

There was a little stirring, a tiny sound Fred couldn't quite place.

"John, everyone else is gone; would you like to share the last of the cookies and soda with me?"

Slowly John emerged from the shadows and Fred saw him settled on the sofa then went to collect up a plate of cookies from the refreshment table. Pouring the cups of soda, Fred reflected on his own obvious lack of perception and caring about his club members. He had been so caught up in the incredible events of the evening that he completely forgotten about John. This simply would not do, if the club was to thrive he really must do a better job of things.

Fred carried the sodas and plate of cookies back and set them on the small table next to where John was sitting quietly on the sofa, eyes a bit glassy. Fred sat there a few minutes, thinking what to say, how to start a conversation, perhaps ease the tension a bit. Unfortunately all that came to mind was immediately rejected as simply being too foolish and banal under the circumstances. At last, he reached for a cookie and began to munch, just to cover his discomfort. Noticing, John too reached for a cookie, apparently forgetting the object he still clutched to his chest.

The blue vase slid from his grasp, bouncing on the edge of the sofa it flew higher. Fred and John were both frozen, watching the vase flip over in mid-aid, slowly, majestically like it had all the time in the world. The lights reflected from it in sparkles as it tumbled over and over, landing once again on the edge of the sofa and sliding towards the floor. Neither of the men could even draw breath so captivated were they by the amazing sight, they tensed expecting next the tinkling sound of broken glass, but the vase settled quietly on the floor, miraculously unbroken.

Both continued to gaze for some time at the blue vase, resting peacefully on the polished floor. Looking up eventually their eyes met for a fleeting moment and as one they rose and headed for the door.

***

"... I want to drink... and I will drink... until somebody..."

The music was carrying the strange voice of a young man... or maybe a no longer young and avid smoking woman, speaking with a very strange accent that couldn't be quite placed, vowels a shade too open, consonants nasal when they shouldn't have been...

"until I can find one who can tell me... how much to drink so it's just perfect... not too much and not too little... and I will drink..."

The man was sitting at a small table in the back, with a huge newspaper open, that he was obviously not really reading, just sifting. Remarkably, he was placed precisely in the right spot under a light bulb, light came from above and a bit behind, so in spite of the relative gloom of the place he had excellent reading conditions, as if he was a child preparing his homework in the house of some overly educated and excessively careful parents.

"until my head will fall behind... and still I don't understand... why everybody stares at me... "

There were steps and giggles and the man raised his eyes and dropped the newspaper on the table. A very striking pair was approaching, one blond and one dark haired, holding each other behind the back like schoolgirls on the school playground.

"You will never guess where we are coming from."

"Might be easier than you think, considering you are wearing Janice's favorite lipstick."

Frankie eyed Janice... Janice eyed her back, their expressions a perfect mirror for each other's surprise and amazement... that sort of feeling as if somebody suddenly pulled the carpet from right under your feet. How can he possibly notice shades of gloss, even with the help of electric lights fighting the gloom of this bar, that was really an old cellar, and as such had no windows to speak of.

The man smiled broadly, Frankie cursed in her own mind, Janice sat down. Suddenly Frankie was in an odd position, Janice had sat on the free seat to the left of the man, there was one more to the right, but the table was right next to the wall, and there was no getting there, so now she was to sit in front of them, on any of the three empty seats. Frankie cursed again in her own mind, at Janice this time, and then she decided she will force the point.

"Do you mind? " and she slid herself over Janice's legs towards the right seat. She felt a pinch on her inner thigh which she quickly reciprocated by use of her left high heel, not too hard just to make the point... after all the pinch was not hard either. Then having passed the realm of the evil Janice she stopped in the man's lap, as if, exhausted by her long journey, she simply lacked the strength to go the last few inches.

"My god you are heavy." She puffed and turned to face him but he was smiling from the corners of his eyes, and when she tried to move to the empty seat he held her, so now she was sitting on his right leg.
"So, where are you coming from, then?"

"Right now, from a place on Regent street you used to be a lot more familiar with, but let us not spoil the story by starting the meal with whipped cream."

"You whipped her?" One could almost mistake that for a serious question. If he didn't know his man, that is.

"Shit, I should have thought of that." Frankie was suddenly a lot more lively.

"Ya, you and whose army?"

"Can you believe the lil slut?"

"I hope you haven't been going on like this at that nerd coven." The man was squinting his eyes into what was, for most anybody that knew him any, a most terrifying and terrible sight.

"Eh, of course not. We were good little girls, there."

Frankie quickly estimated the situation, she could blow the horn on the coffee treat, but then she'd blow the horn on the fact she fell for it, too... course some of them doobies at that club would blow the horn eventually anyway, that man could always extricate things from people. Eh, what the hell, let him extricate it then, what does he know about her idiots anyway? Ya, isn't this grand, she just managed to put herself in a position where she'd depend on their prey to help her against her natural ally, just cuz she had nothing better to do. Insane!

"By the way, never let her make coffee, she makes the absolute worst I ever had."

The man had been looking straught at her for the past second, so obviously he knew something was going on in there.

"Alright, what did you two do?"

Janice looked down like a fourteen year old schoolgirl that forgot her homework, but is perfectly aware the teacher notices her breasts every now and again. Mostly every now.

"Well you see, when I got there she was already sitting like some Cleopatra mummy tended by a bunch of dorks... hehe, Snow White, how come I didn't think of that earlier. And then she said my ass won't fit on their local sofas."

"Hehehe, not that it would, but it was only because their dork chairman, ya, they have one, a dork-en-chef, said they should bring a couch for you."

"He said that?" the man was half smiling, half doubtful.

"Yea, I suppose he was a bit lost in meditation... you know, Freudian slips and all."

"And then after being so horribly mistreated" Janice was gradually adopting the tone of a pleading barrister, a teary crescendo, "indeed after being made practically a laughingstock by the evil girl sitting right there" and she pointed at Frankie "I retreated to the kitchen to have some coffee and cry to my poor dove heart's sate."

The other two were watching her go on with delight, like an impromptu theatrical performance. Which, in fact, it was.

"But lo and behold, there was another woman there!"

"A woman?" the man was definitely surprised now.

"Well I didn't exactly check, but I'm pretty sure, yes."

"Not to worry, I think she just got divorced."

Frankie realized suddenly the stars were rightly aligned to make her escape and she quickly seized the opportunity.

"Besides, she is absolutely harmless. That is to say, absolutely harmless if your own camp manages to identify friend and foe."

"What did you do?" The man was watching Janice through sharp eyes.

"Well.... umm... I...." then she spoke quickly "Heated her coffee and put ice in it." and when she was finished she closed her eyes and jerked her hands over her head and curled on the seat as if she expected them to bludgeon her any minute.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the man was obviously exasperated.

"Oi, let her be. She loves me, she just doesn't know how to show it properly." Frankie was smiling from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes, yes, 'tis true." Janice was extended over the man and hugging Frankie... or moreover resting her head on Frankie's bosom.

"So how many of them?"

"There's maybe a dozen of them, there's one called Fred that's something like the boss of the show. Then there's Manny, this guy is tall like there's no end to him and he speaks in dust-balled metaphors. He called me an angel from the heavens, you know."

"How very perceptive. I mean look at this scene, the angel and the dove. It's nothing short of eucharistic." Janice tried to mumble something in response but it was muffled and inaudible.

"Then there is a fatty guy, that's Ralph, he and the woman have something going on I suspect."

"Wnnlllnnnn" Janice said.

"Huh?"

"Wunnnllluuullllunnn"

Frankie was chuckling "Stop that, it tickles."

Janice stood back up. "Woman's name is Peggy. And there is this fifth guy that I'm not sure has a name and behaves very oddly."

"Oddly, how?"

"I dunno, he's strange."

"Ya, he's weird."

With that the threesome was engulfed in a smoke of plotting and conspiracy that shrouded them from the eyes of the writer.

***

The man extended a hand and instantly a cab was stopped right there next to them.

"Now girls, it's the third inside-a-car scene in this novel, and both the previous ones erupted into a back seat melee. Please behave or the readers might get the idea our nice author has a hangup or something."

"Don't worry, we're both plugged."

"You are?" the man gave Frankie a look of curiosity.

"Yep." Janice was giggling, and it spread like the plague.

***

"Here it is, sir, number 137".

"Thanks, Felix." The man handed a hundred. "Buy some stocks for me, will you."

"Thank you, sir." The driver had this very respectful, almost servile attitude, the way he ran to open the doors for the ladies, with his head very bent, the way he just stood there as they entered the building.
As the man closed the door behind them, Frankie started unbuttoning.

"Is there a single one you don't know?" Janice had a pensive expression on her full lips that sort of spread on all the rest of her face.

"Probably. This is just a good man, used to work at the old Chapman plant for years, before it went bust."

"Probably somewhere in Taiwan." Frankie's lips had the ironic bend again, one corner slightly up and both pointy and sharp. As she said that she was done with the blouse and passed it to Janice, who took it absent-mindedly the way long time mothers would take clothes passed by their adventurous children.

"Chapman? Isn't that the plant Patrick was investigated for? Even had to go to some congressional hearing." Janice was obviously following a thought.

"Ya, but they couldn't pin anything. Not that they usually can, anyway."

By then, Frankie was out of her skirt too and Janice was going through her purse for the key.

"Hello there."

Frankie spoke in her casual, somewhat amused, somewhat ironic, almost friendly tone. The man was absently caressing her left buttock as she stood there stark naked on her high heels, while watching the poor guy that had stumbled on them. He was in his forties, with a bit of a belly, staring at the threesome, the completely naked Frankie on high heels, Janice putting the key in the lock, the man not paying much attention, as if immersed in some thoughts of his own... he was paralyzed. A minute ago he was telling his wife he's gonna go buy cigarettes, and now here he was. Of course his wife was a bit overweight, just like him, they couldn't really afford food, which isn't to say they couldn't afford something to eat, anyone can, but they never quite had the time to cook, or the money to eat in a good restaurant, so they were stuck with pizzas and Chinese take out and frosted dinners and fast food hamburgers with their synthetic lard and naturally-identical flavorings and dyes and meat tenderizers and preservatives and everything else they stick into it until it's made more on a plant than in a farm, more by man than cow or sow. And his wife was a bit shorter than this woman, even without the heels, and she definitely didn't have her absolutely flat belly, with cute almost-visible muscles on the lower sides, and his wife's breasts weren't nowhere near that perky, although they seemed about the same age, and his wife definitely didn't have this sort of ass, he didn't even think it was possible, even kids have a little bit of cellulite, a little, but no, she was perfectly smooth, as if sculpted. And his wife never shaved, she said it's too much hassle. He just stood there not even sure he is dreaming or awake, not even wanting to find out, not wanting to make a single move that might, maybe, shatter the dream. He wasn't breathing.

The man pulled a bit at the plastic toy lodged between Frankie's buttocks, she went "Rawr" and then they went in and Janice closed the door.

The poor guy was still standing there, still not visibly breathing.

"Want one yourself?" Frankie was smiling and welcoming.

"Hehehe" the man laughed, "I don't think so."

"Eh, don't be such a prude."

"I'm not a prude, I'm a virgin."

"Gah, if it wasn't so boring I'd give you the virgin talk. Can't you give yourself the virgin talk and spare me the time?"

The man was drawing the curtains, Frankie went for the drinks. Most people keep drinks in the kitchen nowadays, but Janice was old fashioned like that, or pretentious, she had a full sized cabinet with all sorts of things.

"Why are you drawing the curtains?" Janice was now also smiling, almost ironically.

"What, that old pervy living across the street got evicted or something?"

"Not that I know of... he was right there at his spot earlier today."

"Ha! You slut, that's why you were handling me like that earlier, pushing and pulling all the time, let me guess, he can't see this spot right here." Frankie was pointing to where they got undressed, not even six hours ago.

"Course he can't, that balcony is in the way. I think one day he's gonna fire a missile at that balcony." Janice was smiling broadly, content with herself, and even more content with having been discovered.

"Can he see the shower?"

"Yep."

"And I bet you put on a show every time you shower, too."

"Yep." Judging by Janice's face, she was more and more content with herself, if that was even possible.

"Can't you get her into a film or something for Christ's sake?"

"This is nothing, did I ever tell you about poor father Pensaciolla?"

"Don't think so..."

"The lil slut took to going to church, every Sunday."

"What, you'd have me burn in Hell for all my afterlife?" Janice was trying to keep from laughing, chuckling now and again in spite of herself.

"She would always sit in the front row, close to the aisle. She would always wear a skirt, not too short, she was going to church after all. She would always wait a bit, and then, when the poor priest would start his sermon, she'd pull her skirt up slowly, not all the way, just enough. And she would never wear panties."

"I wore panties! Twice even!"

"Let me guess, the extra thin nylon thongs I gave you." Frankie was beginning to get the hang of it.

"You didn't give them to me! You made me work for them!" Janice was feigning indignation masterfully.

"What, you love licking girls anyway. Doesn't qualify."

"Course it does, doesn't matter if you like it or not."

"Anyway, the poor priest gave a "How to resist temptations of the flesh" sermon five times in a row. His parish is mostly retired people. He was just about to get sacked, they started thinking he's mocking them. Can you imagine how surprised I was when Jack came in, said a priest is there to see me? I mean I was with my hands in everything right that moment, we had to get a huge drop cloth and cover the entire office practically."

"Could have sent him off."

"He called you a succubus, you know?"

"Who, me?" Janice was wearing her most perfect mask of innocence. Between the blue eyes and the cute mouth and the almost angelic appearance, she looked as if she just fell from the sky in that Regent st. apartment. It was so perfect a mask she usually kept it on a shelf of her brain, and only used it for special occasions, so it doesn't crack or get damaged in any way.

Frankie had never sat down, she was too turned on to sit on that lovely plush couch without staining it terribly, so now she was standing behind Janice.

"Can you believe the two faced slut? C'mon, help me out here. She needs to be properly punished for her countless sins." As she said that, she grabbed solid hold of Janice's arms and pulled them back a bit.

"Hehe, your goose is cooked now!" Said the man while grabbing Janice by the ankles. "She still has all the cuffs on the bed?"

"Oh yea."

"Noooooo, please, oh please, kind masters! Meeeercyyyy!" Janice was screaming at the top of her soft voice, while floating horizontally through the air, trying to get as few chuckles in between as possible. She was kicking and bucking, but both the man and Frankie held her tight, and they went like that, the two carrying a trapped succubus all the way to the bedroom.

"How very kind of you, to supply all these implements." The bed had three pairs of shackles at each end, one pair adjustable for length, the other furred, the third leather.

"Noooo!"

They put her on the bed, and she was still screaming and bucking, except nobody was really holding her at all now.

"You gonna tie her up dressed?"

"Well we can always cut the stuff off afterwards."

"Nu-uh, I love this sweater."

"Ey shuddup, you're supposed to scream and stuff." Frankie was smiling despite herself.

"Noooo! Please oh please, I don't want to go in the briar patch!" Janice was back to screaming and kicking. They helped her out of her sweater while she was conveniently kicking her legs in all directions, and then pulled her pants down while she was tugging and pulling at the cuffs on her wrists.

"You got any ice, my sweet dove?"

"I'll go check" a still naked Frankie grinned and ran off. "Heck, there's no ice, what sort of house you keep here?" she was yelling from the kitchen a moment later.

"Well d'oh. You finished it, you drank all my whiskey!"

"What, it was only a fifth."

"She drinks like a sailor, you know?" Janice spoke softly, just for the man to hear.

"I heard that! You know, I was gonna pass right past this, pretend I never saw it, but you and your big mouth that you can't keep shut... or at least busy." Frankie was coming in holding a 15 inch pheasant tail feather.

"What am I to do, he's still dressed." Then she eyed the feather and started screaming, this time for real

"Noooo, meeeercyy!"

"Heh... where do you tickle best? I always forget. Was it the nipples?" Frankie followed the contour of the left one with the tip of the feather while Janice was laughing and struggling as if possessed.

"The belllly. Was it the belly?" Frankie followed the contour of the breast, down to the belly and did a couple of large circles around it.

"NNNoooooo nooo it waaa ... it waaaasn't the beeelly!" Janice was screaming wherever she could manage to draw breath.

"Maybe the neck? Was that it?" Frankie went back up, following the bare skin with the tip of the feather, between the breasts and up the left side of the neck, behind the ear.. down towards the chin... back. Janice was just chuckling and laughing and trying to break loose.

"Hmm... what about around your ass? Right there in between, hmmm?"

"No no no, noooo, nooooo!" Janice was moving her ass like crazy in all directions.

"Is she saying no?" Frankie had an expression on her face, like she was an explorer in some far far away mountains, trying to pick up what his colleague is shouting from miles away, with very limited success.

"I don't think so, can't hear anything like that." The man was almost laughing himself. "I think she's saying yes, if anything."

"You sure?"

"Well how sure can you be, given the circumstances? I'm reasonably sure, yes." He managed with a straight face before bursting out laughing too.

"Alright, let's see." Frankie engaged in an interesting game with Janice, she was trying to touch with her feather right between Janice's pussy and asshole, or on the inner parts of her thighs, and Janice was moving madly to avoid it.

"Which side you want?" the man had undressed by now, managing to escape from all the buttons and belts and countless layers of clothing that made up his normal attire.

"Hmm..." Frankie stopped with the feather "Are you gonna be a good girl now?"

"Yes ma'am." Janice managed between two hick-ups.

"You gonna behave nicely and do all you're supposed to?"

"Yes ma'am, sure ma'am, anything."

"Wanna kiss and make up?"

Janice's eyes sparkled. "I thought you'd never ask... you're dripping."

Frankie moved and rested one knee next to each of Janice's shoulders and stood halfway up... and a small dripplet fell on Janice's chin. The man lifted Janice's ass and entered her slowly, playing with the plastic toy buried in her asshole...

"Hmm, hers is bigger, isn't it?"

"Course it is." Frankie said with a voice overcome with delight.

Continued

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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