SKIN, TONGUE, BONES; Part 1

WHEN SLY DOG TOUCHED LUCY MAY, BONES MEANT SHIT. He became a collapsable magnet made of polarized paperclips, flexible
and loose, and pretty miss May his opposite. Their energy sucked like her sweet mouth and they collapsed into a deadlocked embrace of indescribable addiction.
         And Sly Dog had explored the town supply. “Check more pussy” all his boys would say, shooting bottles behind the barn, passing the fifth. “That Peggy Wellington has some fine tits. Finest pair in town I’d say. You so sly, why don’t you pop her Sly Dog?”
         And he did. He busted her chastity all over his mother’s best white blanket, which he clumsily strew out over a grassy hill with nice view of the sunset. He moved back and forth, appreciated her pressure, her warmth, her wetness. But she was nothing to him. There was no pulse, there was no soul, there was no mind or being. She was lips to him. She was legs, and ass, and pussy. She was skin, and tongue, and bones.
         And he shot his seed all through her insides. And then he left her there.
         
         Peggy Wellington stood wavering for about five minutes in complete silence. Her knees shook a bit as Sly Dog’s remnants oozed out from her stormed innards. She felt plowed, skewered like a pig, consumed like a delectable meal.
         What be it. She fell forward ready for more.

         But Sly Dog had his dick gripped tightly. He liked to start off with Lucy May the same way each time. He lay her down in front of him, he left the light on, and then he ran his hands down her, from her neck down across her breasts stopping to pinch and lick and nibble. He always breathed deeply through his nose, catching every sweet and sudden scent. He would move his hands all over her body, probing his fingers in her mouth, her anus, her dripping sex, her throbbing clitoris. He played her like a piano and woke her body up. And then, then he would sieze the ankles of his undulating prize and he would slide inside of her. And then he would remain…motionless.
 
Sly Dog had his dick gripped tightly.

For as he lay there, moving his hands possessively over her face, her tits, her clit, Lucy May moved against him, grinding her burning sex up and down his patient member. He would close his eyes, he would tune his ears in to her whimpering and moaning, her involuntary gasps of “Sly Dog” and “Oh Yes” and “Fuck Me please”. He would savor each rippling and desperate contraction that danced down the length of him. He would appreciate the pussy, and then, when she had begged enough, he would pull back, slam forward, and fuck Lucy May until she screamed, tensed, shook, and sighed.
         And then she would lie there, her whole body jittering, every muscle as tight as it could be, her legs rigid and firm against the matress, her sex possessively and defiantly trapping Sly Dog’s exit.
“Again” she breathed, barely audible. Sly Dog chuckled and wiped his brow.
“Again girl? Are you sure?”
And Lucy May swiped her left hand across his face. “I fucking said again!”
And Sly turned his head back to her, looking like he was gonna hit her back. She shrunk down like she was scared. He was still inside her. He moved his face closer to hers and she moved back, afraid. “Don’t you hit me again girl” he l, -said, and then he thrusted in and out real quick. Lucy May let out a little yelp, half surprise, half pleasure. “Remember who makes you shiver.” And with that Sly Dog grabbed Lucy’s left leg with his right hand and pulled it across his body till Lucy May was on all fours in front of him.
“Face down, girl” Sly Dog ordered, and Lucy obeyed quickly. Sly stared down at the heart shaped image of her thighs and her ass staring up at him. He slapped his left hand down on her cheeks, territorially. He turned, spit into his right hand, smeared it over the head, down the shaft, and then seized her hips tightly. He placed the tip in, and then the bastard stopped.
“Beg for it” he said. Lucy scoffed. “Stop dicking around and put it in.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, I’m the one with the dick you need, so beg for it.”
Lucy realized he was serious and tried to back up on him. But he was too quick. He gripped her tightly, striking her immobile. “You want me inside you? Answer me.”
“Yes” she confessed.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes”
“You want me to hold your hips and slam your fine body until your screaming and shaking all over again? You want to feel me up in you? You want me?”
“Yes! Yes! Oh God yes! Please!”
“Then beg for it”
“Please, oh my god Sly Dog, please, I need it”
“Beg girl”
“Please Sly Dog, plea…I nee…you…insi…me…”
“Beg”
“Fu…me…I…”
and it was too much for her. Her impatience overpowered his grip and she pushed back, her tight pussy lips sucking down his manhood.
And then Papa May burst into the barn, machete in hand.

         We’ve all been there. Our dicks deep in the warmth of some fine flesh, and she’s getting there, you know? She’s gonna cum pretty soon, all we have to do is last long enough to get her there. And we’re slamming and slamming, and, oh shit, you feel it coming. You feel that ejaculation crawling up and your mind is racing to come up with the most unsavory, foul, pitiless, revolting and, most of all, distracting image you can, to kick that orgasm back down again.

Well as orgasm killers go, the females father, bursting into the room mid game, armed with a blood caked two inch blade, is way up there.

And Sly Dog wasn’t in the mood anymore. But you see, this is where it really gets fucked up. Papa May came into the room all vibrantly in the way he moved, but he didn’t make all that much noise. At least he didn’t make enough for anyone to hear him over Lucy’s “singing” (shall we say). Even Sly Dog didn’t see him at first. Till he opened his eyes. Then he sees this big, gap toothed grin shining on this scruffy, saggy face. He donned blood splotched overalls, his eyes were burning fury, and his machete had ornaments of muscle, of fat, of tissue, all down the blade. It was hog slaughtering day on May farm, and Mr. May had just come in (from/for) the kill.
         But as I said, there was a gruesome little blooper in this sitch. Although Sly Dog ceased his humping as soon as Papa May and his big blade came into view, Lucy was still moaning and her face was still pressed rather aggressively into the pillow so that she was in no way aware of her father’s presence. Sly Dog, who had been doing most of the work, ceased suddenly in mortal terror, and he  and Papa May locked eyes and held their ground. Lucy continued to moan. During that moment of inaction, there seemed to be an almost ocular exchange between May and Dog. If it had been verbal it would have gone something like this.
“I see you have your cock inside my daughter”
“Yes, I guess I do”
“But your not fucking her anymore”
“No, I’m preparing for death”
“Huh, well she doesn’t know I’m here, does she?”
“I’m getting the idea that she doesn’t”
“Huh, I wonder what will happen next”.
And like watching a train wreck in slow motion, the answer backed up, slowly at first, grinding her ass and pussy up against Sly Dog, fucking him and fucking him as he stared, eyes glazed over in resignation, until Lucy, eyes always shut, brought herself to a resounding climax and fell forward, dreamily into the pillow.
         There was silence. It seemed as though there might almost be peace. And then father began to clap.
“Oh my god!” screamed Lucy, who then quickly wrapped herself up in blanket.
“Quite a fuck!” said Papa May, moving aggressively towards Sly Dog, brandishing the machete through the air.
“Mr. May, please, I care about your daughter”
“You care about her enough to get off in her!
To fill up with your nitwit seed!”
“Sir!”
And Mr. May has Sly Dog against the wall, and he carefully placed the point of the machete against Sly Dogs cheek, right below his eye.
“I’m going to cut you right here”
“No sir”
“So that every time you look in the mirror…”
“Please”
“You’ll remember not to fuck with Archibald Kennsington May!”
And he flicked his wrist upward, and flesh was separated and Sly Dog yelped and bled.
“No, Papa no!” screamed Lucy, and she ran forward to defend her lover. But Papa was quick, he wheeled around and sieze Lucy by the neck, lifting her into the air and tossing her violently onto the bed. Sly Dog gripped his face with both hand, trying to hold his blood in as he slunk down to the floor.
“My little princess huh!” shouted her father as he circled the bed, machete wagging. Something about the fact that both Sly Dog and Lucy were stark naked and still dripping with each other’s fluids gave, at the very least, a sharp psychological edge to the fully clothed Mr. May.
“My little whore!” He moved forward and seized both of Lucy’s nipples firmly between his fingers.
“Are you ready to have a baby sucking on these! Hum! Are you ready to have a greedy little mouth sucking and chaffing them day after day!”
“Daddy stop!”
He moved his right hand down and slid two fingers up into her sex. Her eyes rolled back as this mad man broke any semblance of familial security Lucy had, as he gave birth to this incestual, heartless, senseless rage that knew no bounds.
“And what about this” he said sardonically, as he twirled his fingers around and around inside her passage, still sticky with Sly Dog’s spunk.
“Are you ready to have this ripped open! For a screaming human face to tear through you!”
“Stop! Stop! Who are you! What are you doing! Stop!”
And he pulled his fingers out and turned around. Sly Dog was stumbling to his feet when Mr. May quickly and precisely placed the full extent of his blade across Sly’s neck. With his other hand, he firmly seized the head of Sly Dog’s penis, and pulled it out taut, like a guitar string.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asked Sly Dog, eyes wide with terror.
“Taking precauations” said Mr. May, and then pulled back the blade and swung it down, severing the Dog from the Sly, and spraying blood everywhere.

………

“Andy…Andy…Andy…”
Effervescent echo circles about. Illusory color, big cats and bears and dogs, forming little crescent eyes, burning with color. “Andy…Andy…Andy”
“I am searching for an Andy”

“Andy?  I’m going to need a last name, madam”
“Andy…Andy Andy Andy…I’m sorry I don’t know his last name, but he’s about five foot ten and he usually wears a trenchcoat”
“I’m sorry madam”
“Smells like marihuana, reeks of it”
“Sorry”
“Sips Amaretto and Cream”
“Oh, are you sure you aren’t looking for a Mr. Dashell Haze?”
“Dashell Haze? Is he here?”
“Why yes madam. Mr. Haze rooms with us here at the Jackson Heights quite regularly. You’ll find him in room 21”

Spark of nostalgia dancing like light blue fairies bounces through the optic nerve. Andy flutters a bit, confused, maybe in a bath tub. Most certainly covered in vomit. Also semen. Also urine. Also blood.

The door to room 21 opened slowly, and standing there, bespectacled in horn rimmed shades, stood Dashell Haze.
“Illustrious Evie, how treats you the night” he said, sucking down a bottle of purple liquid.
Evie sighed relief.
“Dash” she exhaled, “so good to see a familiar face.”
Dash smirked. “Well don’t grace the hallway, grace the room!” and he stepped aside to let her in.

         Evie moved into room 21 and saw that Dash had made the place his little home away from home (note: Dashel Haze was a man who lived a nomadic life. His home could be called so many things, his sister Zoe’s attic, the abandoned cement factory, or room 21 at the Jackson Heights, but mostly Dashel Haze’s home was in his rucksack. He carried his home wherever he went, like a turtle. His home consisted of a pipe, a lighter, a tin of marihuana, a flask of amaretto, a book, ever changing, a balisong, a wad of cash held together by a rubber band, a pack of condoms, a vile of essential massage oil, a candle, some shurikens, a snack, usually some crackers and cheese, a porno magazine, an umbrella, a spare shirt, and a photograph of his sister Zoe, which he stared at when he felt as though life had quit on him, as though “God” had told his leagues of angels to forget about Dashel Haze and leave him to the wolves). Room 21 at the Jackson Heights was decorated with holes and spray paint. Dash liked to mark his territory by hurling shurikens at the walls. He marked them up with his little ninja star marks, and then he tagged “Feelin’ hazy” over them.
         Feelin’ hazy was a tag known throughout town. No one but Dash’s closest friends knew it was he who spread the name. Feelin’ hazy became such a popular tag, that graffiti artists all over the area had put out a prize of five hundred dollars if the man who wrote “feelin’ hazy” would step forward and claim his fame.
“I can’t admit that I’m tagging that!” Dash would say.
“That kills the legend! Feelin’ hazy will live on after I die. It’s immortal. And I like it better if people have to imagine who the guy writing it is. Maybe some people think I’m seven feet tall with knobs and sideburns, or maybe they think I’m a girl, maybe they think I’m some sultry sack of skin and bones with big red lips and long pale legs. All they know about me is how I’m feeling. I’m feelin’ hazy.”

         
Andy turns to the side, bright reflection off white tile. Bathroom, bad lighting, scar on the side of his abdomen. Tub of…of cold…of ice…

         Sucking on a waterpipe like it was His mothers teet sat Homes Jinn, local tripper. “Fly suddenly to boisterious boys and toys of love and sexy joys” ranted Homes, letting a brilliant plume of smoke drift out from in him.
         “Homes and I have been riding psychadelia since noon” said Dash. Dashes eyes were red, Dashes face was pale. Dash did not look good.
“Where’s Andy” Evie asked, trying to ignore the rising, gripping concern she had for Dash, a concern she had not felt in a long time…
…not since he rocked inside her. Not since he’d whispered “snow flake” in her ear.

Andy can’t move because most of his body is numb. Twirling vestiges of hallucination somersault across his view. “Fuck this” thinks Andy and he stands, steps out of the ice bath, and his feet slide ride out from under him the second they touch tile. As Andy’s face hits the ground he identifies a hollow feeling deep inside the pit of him. Something is missing.

“Andy went off with some latin beauty” said Dash.
“Not latin” said Homes. “Italian stallion bucking with reins unduly laid upon her brazen back.”
Dash laughed and then explained to Evie “you see, we’ve been smoking Quibbler Herb, it causes lyricism. Homes does it all the time, makes Him witty, helps Him rhyme.”
Dash lifted the bottle of purple liquid to his lips once more, and swallowed.
“What’s that you’re drinking, Dash?” asked Evie.
Dash looked at the bottle. “This?” he said. “Oh this, they sent it over for me to try, I ain’t liking it too much.”
“They sent it over? Who are they?”
Dash stopped to think. “I don’t know” he said. “But Homes does. Homes has been slugging this stuff for years.”
“Eco Cull Eeger” said Homes, turning to face Evie.
“Fly remnants of skulls, the great leader intact with shotgun shells, sent all three souls to hell, I fell to the floor, screamed for my sister, lived her down, and felt the Slosh surround me, sister, daughter, Madeline, I…guilty of this putrid crime, did enter, once more, worlds of Slosh! By Gosh! I feel the rush a dying.”
Dash laughed once more. “SO there you go” he said. “Anyway, to answer your previous question, Andy is incommunicato. We can’t seem to find him, he went home with this beautiful girl named…um…I remember it was a saucy name, a beautiful saucy name that made me stiff…”
“Lucia” said Homes, as He flicked, lit, and sucked.
“Lucia! Of course!” said Dash, snapping his fingers in triumph.

“Lucia, how has your patient recovered?”
“I do not know”
“Is he dead?”
“I do not know”
“Will he die?”
“It is likely”
“Do you care?
“I do not care”
“Then you are truly ready. Did you bring it?”
“It?”
“A souveniere. A trophy.”
“Oh yes, a trophy, a piece of my meat. Oh yes, I brought a trophy.”
“Let us see it”
“Here it is”
“Hmmmm………let me hold it”
………………………………………………………………”This is good work indeed, Lucia”
“Thank you, mistress”
“What kind of a fuck was he, Lucia?”
“A good fuck mistress”
“Did he make you cum”
“Twice mistress”
“Twice? A good fuck indeed. Shame to lose him.”
“We have a piece of him, mistress”
“Indeed we do. And quite a piece we have”
“It is in rather healthy condition, mistress. It will go for a fair price.”
“That it will, Lucia. In renaissance Italy, the kidney was thought to be the divine organ. In the Sistine chapel, God can be seen floating in a giant human kidney towards Adam.”
“We will get a lot of money for this”
“Money is not everything, Lucia”
“Money is everything, mistress”

Andy tastes blood.

“So neither of you two know where Andy is right now?”
Homes twitched a bit and then He spit “bitch, mine eyes have the seen glory, all my nights of endless pain and wonder, fuckin useless bodies that did leave me in a womb of sorts, I thought in these crude forts I’d build my nerves to find another kind of God, a new divinity, more earthly, heartly, soully, fucking this (He seizes) all I own, that goes with slideback, severed cords…”
Homes trailed on. He was now fully standing, making violent hand motions as He spoke with grandeur about His various horrors and accomplishments.
         Dash turned to Evie, in invitation to ignore Homes. “Evie, you look great” said Dash, taking a step forward that was at first unwelcome and then welcome within a nanosecond (as soon as she caught a whiff of him). Dashell dropped the bottle to the ground, purple liquid spilling everywhere.
Homes ceased His poem as soon as He noticed the spill.
“What are you doing, man?! That’s Slosh! That’s nature’s nectar! Mother’s milk!”
And Homes stooped down on His knees and licked the purple from the floor.
Ignorant of Jinn’s actions, Evie and Dash were lip locked. Evie’s mind was racing,
“no!”
was her first thought, followed shortly by “yes, please, more”.
But eventually she seized control of her self and pushed Dash away.
Her arm braced between them, they stood at a distance, eyes gazing over each other, eyes wanting the other so bad, but eyes…weary and different, unfamiliar, sad…they wanted each other, but not these versions. They wanted the old versions, the happier versions, the ones with hope.

No hope lay in these eyes.

“Dash, I just, I can’t do…I cant…”
“Shhhhh” Dash hushed, placing his hand delicately across her lips. Her eyes drifting closed, her tongue ventured softly, subtly forward and licked his hand, just a small, passable affection. Neither acknowledged it, and yet both knew it would happen, knew it was happening, knew it happened.

Andy…Andy…Andy…

“I tell you of societies! I tell you of overthrown oligarchies, of rape and pillage, villages destroyed, hold Jackie, shaking junkie, coke fiend, hold back set forth, virginity, spilled willingly, across white satin, nose candy more psylocibin, why my Slosh spread like the hydra’s heads!”
Homes was mid tantrum. He sucked what liquid He could from the floorboards, and something about the combination of the Slosh, the Quibbler and the wood alcohol was putting Him in a bad place.
Dash stood before Evie, both stuck in a Chinese finger lock of lost love, a tractor beam of impossibility.
Dash smiled. “Moving on” he said. “How’s the new job”
“You mean with the Hiverwood Gazette?” she smiled.
“Of course, you’re the editor of a newspaper, that’s big!”
“I guess it is. That’s why I’m here. I need Andy, he’s supposed to have a story for us.”
“A story? On what?”
“I don’t know”
“I read his “Struggle of the Youth” piece. Not bad for a seventeen year old.”
“Yes, that got a good reaction, but he’s doing some piece on the American Black Market in Tsirhc Drol”
“There’s a black market here in Tsirhc Drol?”

Tsirhc Drol (pronounced Su-rc- Dr-o-el)
Refers to the sixth burrow of New York City. Rarely spoken of, Tsirhc Drol is actually just about six blocks of street. But Tsirhc Drol grows bigger every day. Last week, Tsirhc Drol was no bigger than a single store. By next week it will consist of at least ten blocks. Tsirhc Drol is the burrow that refuses to quit. It will squash all competition and Brooklyn and Manhattan will crumble to the all powerful, all knowing power of Tsirch Drol as it spreads it’s fingers into the surrounding area.

“There is quite a dark side to this beast, it feasts on hearts, on livers, kidneys…” Homes began to rant once more.
“There’s no black market here in Tsirhc Drol! I’ve been in Tsirhc Drol for three days now and I can’t even score some decent grass!”
Evie rolled her eyes and then said “that’s because it isn’t a drug market”
Dash looked confused. “Well if not a drug market, then…then what? A weapons market?”
“Organs, sex slaves, and illegal animals” spit Lucy. Dash and her stood still a moment. Homes ceased His speech and sat down on the ground cross-legged.
“I feel that she speaks truly, Haze,” he said.

Zoe, Eve, Roland.

Andy…Andy…Andy

         Andy opened his eyes. “Get up” he thought. “Get up, get up, get up or you’ll never get up again”. And then came the quitting voice. “That’s fine” it said “we’ve had a good run, so you die because you get sliced up by some fine chick who fucked you and drugged you, funny way to knock off, stick with it” and Andy let his eyes roll, let the death take hold and then…

And then…

The other voice said “motherfucker, I ain’t telling you again! Get up!”

“Lucia, do you believe that you are ready for your last assignment”
“I am ready, mistress”
“I will give you the assignment, bend on your knees and pleasure me while I describe it to you”
“Yes mistress” (she descends, lifts up the leather skirt, and licks the bittersweet flesh)
“That is good, that is good, continue in that manner (moan) Oh Lucia, you are skilled, you handle the pussy with a tenderness unfound in most young girls.”
“(pausing briefly) thank you mistress, I get a lot of practice (she returns to her task)”
“(mmm) well Lucia, you are talented. Can you handle the cock as well as you do the cunt?”
“(pausing once more) I am the queen of nerves, mistress. I can make any man cum quicker and harder in my hands, or in my mouth, or in my loins, or in my ass, than any woman ever has before”
“Well Lucia, can you make me cum?”
“I can mistress”
“Do it. Do it this instant.”
(Lucia returns to her work. The mistress’s thighs lock deadly around her head as she flushes, blushes and screams. The mistress catches her breath and then speaks slowly)
“Lucia, my flesh is duly satisfied”
“You are welcome mistress”
“Continue (Lucia brings her tongue back down to the burning flesh, laps slowly as the mistress speaks), Lucia, your assignment is a difficult one. The most difficult you have faced thus far. It is not unlike the assignment you had last night, in that the end goal is to retrieve a piece of a certain man. The crucial difference is the gravity of this piece. Unlike the simple kidney you have delivered, this piece is one in a billion. There is no substitute for it, no alternative solution to the service it provides. It is…oh yes! Yes, right there! Yes…it…it…oh Lucia…it is as…as…as singular, as irreplaceable as the Holy Grail. In its reception I will become, myself, Holy.”
“What is it mistress?”
“Deep in Tsirhc Drol, in the same area through which you hunted last night, there resides a man. He is a wayward man, lost soul and sight. He is a confused man most of all. He knows not the power he possesses.”
“Who is this man, mistress?”
“His name is Homes Jinn, and I need you to retrieve his seed.”

Andy on his feet. Wobbling. Eyes see something on the floor, connected…a cord? A…(blurry vision causes dizziness) he falls back over, hits the tile, catches the shock with his palms, keeps his eyes forward. Double image shifts into focus.
He sees

A telephone.

Oh sweet mercy, a telephone.

         “Wheelin’, dealin’, Lucy Dobbs, did place her red dress on my floor” spouted Homes, Quibbler twisting through His system.
“Would you like to smoke some Quibbler?” Dash asked Evie, extending the pipe towards her.
“No thank you” she said.
“Are you sure?” Dash asked once more. “It’s the perfect drug for anyone involved in journalism.”
Evie thought a moment and then said “not right now, but can I buy some from you? I’d like to try it later on.”
Dash reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of red leaves. He handed it to her.
“Free of charge” he said. “Take a sample pack”
Evie smiled, took the bag, and stuffed it in her pocket.
“Smoke it with a typewriter close at hand” Dash recommended. “It helps you flow.”
“Ring, ring! Ring, ring!” said Homes quite loudly, inexplicably mocking the sound of a telephone.
“What’s the deal with this guy?” asked Evie, motioning towards Mr. Jinn.
“I haven’t figured him out myself” answered Dash, and then suddenly the phone rang.

“Hello”
(groggy, dying voice) “Dash?”
“Yeah, this is Dash. Who is this?”
“Dash this is…Dash this…Dash I…”
“Andy?”
“Dash I…I…I’ve been…Dash help me…”
“Andy? Where are you?”
“I’m…bathroom…shady…white I…I slipped and…oh the bitch…the bitch! She cut me”
“Where are you Andy?
“Dash…I’m…jeese I gotta be down…down in a basement…there ain’t no sunlight…no sunlight”
“Andy! Tell us where we can find you?
“I don’t kn…I do…O god the bitch really cut me”
“Andy, keep it together, talk to me!”
“There ain’t no sunlight down here, just these bri…these bright white…oh god they’re SO FUCKING BRIGHT!”
“Hold it together man! Don’t lose yourself!”
“MY HEAD IS BUMPING! BUMPING AND BUMPING!”
“Andy!”
“SO FUCKING LOUD!”
“Andy, you need to tell me where you are!”
“FUCK! THERE’S A HUGE FUCKING TEAR IN MY SIDE!”
“Where the hell are you Andy! We need to find you!”
“BITCH! BITCH! BITCH! I CAN’T…OH I’M GONNA…” (the sound of Andy wretching, vomiting, and spitting fills the phone)
“Andy I need to breathe man. Stop losing it, your freaking yourself out, you need to calm down.”
“THE BITCH TOOK SOMETHING OUT OF ME DASH!”

Dash stood in the room, alternatively shouting and soothing into the telephone. Evie stood a couple feet away, intently watching Dash, trying to piece together the situation from what she could hear. Homes sat on the floor. His legs were crossed and He was sipping a little vile of the same purple liquid Dash had been sipping earlier.
“When I find myself in times of trouble, I get Sloshy on the double” He spouted whimsically.
Evie broke her apprehensive attention on Dash as she heard something vibrating behind her. She turned around.
“ITCHHHHHH” It reverberated somewhere outside the door.
“IIIITCCHHH. IIITTCHHHH. EE UTTTT EEEE.” It sounded like a voice. An echo.

Evie ran outside into the hallway. Directly outside the door to room 21, there was the stairwell, which ran deep into the basement of the building. The stairway spiraled downward into visual infinity. Ringing up its epicenter came angry, panicked words.
“BIIIIIIITCHHH!” they echoed. “BIITCH! SHE CUT ME!”
Evie immediately recognized the voice.

“His seed, mistress?”
“Yes Lucia, his seed. His semen. I need you to bring it to me”
“For what purpose, mistress?”
“I wish to drink it”
“To drink it, mistress?”
“Yes, I wish to pour it down my throat”
“But mistress, what good will that do?”
“Mr. Homes Jinn has very special seed. He has only fathered one child. A daughter. Directly following the moment he filled his late wife with the seed that created that daughter, Homes Jinn became infertile. He was and remains unaware of this.”
“But mistress, if he’s infertile his sperm is even more useless”
“Wrong Lucia. Do not speak so insolently!” (the mistress swipes backhand across Lucia’s face, then reverses direction and gives her a taste of the front)
“I am sorry, mistress. So sorry. I beg forgiveness.”
“Succeed in this task and you will be absolved of any transgression you have ever made against me. The semen of Homes Jinn is a powerful elixir. You see, the moment that Jinn lost his ability to procreate, he was struck with divinity. His seed became no longer useful in a woman’s uterus. But in her stomach, oh the things it could do!”
(Lucia on her knees, naked, whip marks she begged for decorating her skin, tentatively swallows the mistress’s vaginal fluids, and then asks…)
“What things can it do, mistress?”
(The mistress smiles. Breathes slowly. Closes her eyes and places her left hand violently against Lucia’s sweaty head. She pushes her back, abruptly, violently. She reaches down and with her index and fourth finger, she spreads the sticky pink lips of her own sex, and then trails her middle finger up, starting on her perineum and then delicately…delicately…delicately, sliding up the center of the vulva, passing over the vagina, brushing the urethra, and then settling gently with a kiss on the clitoris. Then the top third of the finger just curls a bit. Just a bit. It keeps curling, tantalizing pleasure as though the words the mistress will soon say bathe her in such ecstasy as her lone little finger is doing)
“Swallow that man’s seed and you become omnipotent. Swallow that man’s seed and you will have the power to move mountains, to freeze and step backwards in time, to become invisible, to move thousands of miles in an instant. Swallow that man’s semen…and…(quivering middle finger brings her to orgasm) SWALLOW IT AND YOU BECOME GOD!!”
(She cums hard, her body undulating and blushing red all over, her finger slowing and eventually ceasing it’s pace)
(Lucia lets forth a wave of fluid in her loins. Seeing the mistress cum always turns her on. But this time it’s different. She is dripping not for the mistress, but for the power the mistress has described)
“So”(says the mistress while catching her breath)”will you get it for me?”
(Lucia takes three deep breaths. The answer is unspoken.)
(The mistress speaks)
“Have it for me in forty-eight hours. That is your mission. Go!”

Evie dashed down the staircase as quickly as she could. An endless spiral, Andy’s screams of terror ever increasing in volume.
“I’M GONNA FUCKING DIE!” Echoing up and up they came, each one more desperate. Each one closer to resignation.
“Hold in there, Andy!” screamed to the side as she sped downward
downward
downward
Spiraling towards her mangled friend.

Andy felt fear closing his windpipe. He felt panick and terror constricting his skin around his bones, until it felt as though his bones would break through, splattering blood and tendons all over the place, giving him an exoskeleton.

And for a moment Andy saw this exact image, standing before him.

The hallucinogens he had taken last night were not quite drained from his system. And they certainly weren’t making the situation any easier to deal with.

“FUCKING HELP ME!” he screamed into the telephone. He clung to the phone dearly, like a life preserver in a stormy sea. Dashell’s muffled voice coming form the other end.
“Andy, it’s gonna be okay man. Andy! Andy I need you to calm down right now!”
“HELP ME!”

Evie burst…

…

Homes Jinn sat on the floor and He rocked back and forth. He rocked and He rocked and He rocked. He began to hum a little tune and then He picked up His water pipe. He removed a small, circular tin from His pocket. With surgical caution, He removed the lid. He packed the bowl of His water pipe full to the brim with a pinch of the red leaves in the tin. He lit the leaves, sucked them into the water pipe and watched the smoke collect. When the water pipe was cloudy and dense, He lifted the bowl out and inhaled. The fresh air rushed through the hole where the bowl was removed, clearing the water pipe and pushing the Quibbler smoke deep into His lungs. He sat, enjoying the smoke as it seeped into His system, and then He exhaled two parallel streams through His nostrils, like a great dragon. He then began to spit.
“In panicked sphericism I sit and wax about my head. Oh dread, poor beauty, Christian seed, inside my dearest love, did grow into sweet Madeline, oh God! Oh God! No one who touches her can understand that man demanding all in hand that packs the punch, snacked on for lunch, crunch knuckles between teeth and then…and then we rise again.”
He flicked his lighter once more, sucked from the tube, inhaled another deep hit.
“She is the muse” he said, exhaling. “She is a crimson angel bathed blood of all my sins. She is a Goddess, matching papa as I am myself A GOD!”

…

…through the door. “Andy!” she screamed, dashing forth to catch his falling figure. “Andy!”
His body was limp and helpless in her arms (just as she had been limp and helpless in his arms not two days before) and she held him close and whispered “It’s alright. Shhhh. Don’t cry. It’s all going to be alright.”

(Just as he had whispered)

Andy dropped the phone to the ground.

“Andy?” said Dash into the silent phone. “Andy?” he repeated, ever fearful. He was nervous. He was filled with dread. He feared that he would once more have to deal with the death of a close friend.

(Roland. Poor sap.)

“He’s alright” Homes said, and Dash turned to face the cross-legged man.
“He’s alright” Homes repeated. “Evie found him.”

…

“Detective Solomon, have you ever seen something like this before?”
“Like this? No ma’am, not like this. Nothing like this.”
“But you have seen horrible things?”
“Oh yes. I have seen the darkest side of humanity, I have seen men and women turned inside out, I have seen girls who have not even learned to walk hanging open like middle aged whores. I have seen so many horrific things. They are images that will never leave my mind.”
“Will this image leave your mind?”
“This image? Most certainly not. I will wake sweaty and out of breath from this image. No ma’am, this image and I have only just met.”