Of Princes and Toads

Of Princes and Toads


Muscling his way into the Oasis, Red basked in the longing glances from the female patrons. Accustomed to this reaction, he strutted through the crowd without a glance to either side.

The buzz tingling up his spinal cord signaled his body’s familiar response to yearning from the ladies.

He selected a barstool by the middle of the counter, and like a king ascending his throne, assessed the night’s prospects.

The familiar mixed with the unfamiliar. Linda chatted with Rhonda in the corner. Pearl nodded towards him from the dance floor, blowing smoke rings from the pouty lips of a fish face.

Red didn’t care. They were yesterday’s fodder.

The frisky and playful Wendy flirted with a man he didn’t recognize. He fought the instinct to steal her, deciding instead that knowing that he could was enough.

Margie’s skin-tight blouse clung to her bosom, exposing enough cleavage to entice any man. However, she sat alone. Her scowl revealed a bitter attitude towards men. Having contributed to it himself, Red avoided her gaze. Not from guilt. Just the absence of promise.

The unfamiliar appeared middling and ordinary, second class in this highbrow pickup bar. He bid his time.
Sipping a gin and tonic, Red bantered with the bartender. He noticed looks of poorly hidden jealousy from the male patronage. The reputation of his exploits had spread throughout the establishment, and he didn’t solicit their company. He didn’t need them.

Time passed and still nothing of interest surfaced. He considered drawing from the second tier. A woman entered the building he deemed worthy of his attention. Tall and slender, long black hair reached her waist. She wore a black see-through blouse, with a red cape covering her shoulders, and the olive complexion of a Greek goddess. Setting her eyes on him, she smiled.

‘Pay dirt’ he thought.

Stretching his six-foot four body, he panned his massive chest in front of her, providing a view of his Apollo-like body. Tightening his facial muscles, he twitched his mustache, accompanied by the corners of pursed lips curving upwards. Women found this irresistible.

It remained a mystery to him why they responded the way they did. He never had to do anything. The colder he treated them, the crazier the response.

‘I must give off great pheromones,’ he thought, chuckling to himself.

Approaching her, he asked if he could join her. ‘No need for a phony pick-up lines’.

“Sure.” Extending her hand, she pumped his with a delicate but firm grip.

“I’m Red Barnes,” he said.

“Penelope Sprite. Glad to meet you.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Margarita, no salt,” she said, smiling.

He gestured to the bartender. Turning back to her, he said, “You have an air about you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. You’re feminine, but carry yourself with the confidence of an IBM CEO. Innocent, yet possessing an almost ageless quality.”

“What a thing to say!”

He thought he detected a smirk on her face, but pushed the thought aside. “I don’t know what I mean. I’ve met a lot of women, but you. . . ”

“Is that the best you can do to kindle my spark?”

Red detected sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.” Uncertainty filled Red, as he realized she’d gained the advantage.

“You remind me of a little boy.”

“That I most certainly am not. I’m one hundred percent corn-fed beef,” he said with a grin. Squeezing his fists, the veins in his forearm popped out, accentuating the muscles of his biceps and triceps. His confidence returning, he clanked his glass against hers.

“My, my,” laughed Penelope. “Everything a lady could want.”

Again, Red felt thrown off-center. Any other woman conveying this manner of cheek would have elicited one of his a sample put-downs, and slunk away with wounded pride.

“Would you like to take me home?” she asked.

“Whoa! That’s throwing me a slider.”

“Let’s go,” she said. The same wicked smile appeared on her face.

Recovering himself, he left a tip and escorted her to his car. He wondered whether he’d encountered something special, maybe super-kinky. Expelling a sigh, he pressed the accelerator to the floor, speeding towards his condo. Penelope rested her hand on his groin, and began to massage his manhood. A warning registered in his mind, but he ignored it. He could no more refuse her foreplay, than refuse to shoot a buck paralyzed by in his high-beams . He didn’t care about the means. Only the ends mattered.

Penelope quickened her rhythm, and his synapses fired like an AK-47. Lurching between lanes, he struggled to retain control of the steering wheel. Penelope laughed a heinous laugh, several times almost landing them in the ditch.

Arriving at his pad, he gave her a tour of his apartment. Collector rifles filled a glass cabinet, and a deep sea fishing trophy adorned the mantel of his fireplace. A fifty-two-inch flat screen television covered the adjoining wall. He hoped it hinted at the idea of filming their sex.

“I’m impressed,” she said sarcastically.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asked.

“Gregorian chant?” she said.

This time he laughed. “Right!”

She did not react. She was serious.

“Well here’s the bedroom,” he said. The bedroom door revealed a large king size bed with a hard red mahogany frame. The carpet color was a matching bronze and the walls were painted a faded yellow.
He led her to the near side of the bed.

“Is that the bathroom?” she said pointing to a door leading off to the side.

“Yes,” he said. A sense of trepidation accompanied his amplified fervor. He forged on.

“Do you mind if I freshen up a little bit?” she asked.

“No, go right ahead.”

Entering the bathroom she closed the door. He undressed and lay naked on the bed. Twirling the coils of hair on his chest, he eyed his impressive manhood. It would be enough to regain his mastery over the situation. It had never failed him yet.

After what seemed eternity, she said, “I’m coming out honey.”

He gasped as she emerged from the restroom. The goddess that entered the bathroom had transformed into a monster. A gargoyle’s green head replaced her classic Greek facial features. Incisors protruded from her mouth, reaching her chin. Bloodshot eyes fixed him with a gaze he could not escape from. A reptilian body bore scales, with open blisters emitting pus as it swung its crocodilian tail.

He pushed himself back, rolled off the bed, and backed into a corner. His gaze riveted, he said, “What are you?”

“Imagine a woman like me sleeping with a man like you,” she said with a blood-curdling laugh.

His gaze riveted, he let out a whimper. “No. Please, no. Go away.”

The strangest sensation washed over him. He felt his stomach roil, as if his insides were being sucked out. A void resulted, leaving him empty. Adopting the fetal position, he felt himself become nothing.

Pain replaced the vacuum in his soul. The sum of all the anguish he caused women returned to him. Rejections, lies, and emotional coldness wracked his heart. He cried and gnashed his teeth.

Penelope Sprite reentered the Oasis before closing time. Linda, Rhonda, and Pearl encircled a table. Wendy abandoned her man-friend and advanced towards the gathering. Penelope flashed a thumbs-up towards Margie, who also joined the party.

“It’s done,” Penelope said. “I took his soul.”

The ladies clinked their wine glasses, and a hooray erupted from the company.

“How much do we owe you?” asked Linda.

“It’s on the house. I enjoyed it.” She turned her back and strode towards the door.

“Can we summon you again?” asked Margie. “In case we find more like him?”

“You can count on it."