Текст книги "Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror"
Автор книги: Belle Aurora
Соавторы: Penny Reid,Ruth Clampett
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Текущая страница: 29 (всего у книги 39 страниц)
What the …
“Everyone, please follow me to the study to meet our host, Mr. Boddy,” Wadsworth instructs.
I watch in confused horror as the cast of Clue obediently rises from the table and follows a fictional butler through the entry hall.
“I’d like to know why we’re here, Wadsworth,” Colonel Mustard shouts.
Yeah, me too.
“I invited you – please follow to me the study and I will explain …” Wadsworth’s voice trails off.
I try to get Lena’s attention but she patters off ahead of me. Miss Scarlet on the other hand, gives me all her attention – pressing me against the wall outside the dining room and running her hand over my chest.
“I hear you do things to lady patients that doctors aren’t allowed to do,” she whispers while grabbing my junk. “Nice boots, Professor,” she adds in a breathless pant.
Miss Scarlet pushes off me in slow-motion but then she turns sharply and dashes off in front of me. As we make our way into the study, the guests disperse. Miss Scarlet chooses the antique desk to sit atop while I cozy up on the sofa next to Mrs. Peacock. Lena is seated in a wingback chair with her legs crossed. I stare feverishly at her body while placing my pipe in my mouth – this game better hurry up so I can get her naked.
A man in a dark suit and carrying a duffel bag moves swiftly to the fireplace. He looks at me like he’s confused and then shoots Wadsworth a nasty frown. No worries, because I’m soon distracted by a scantily dressed French maid with a huge rack.
“Would joo like some brandee?” Her French accent is terrible, but the view down her cleavage is awesome.
“I’ll take one,” Mrs. Peacock answers.
The maid continues to pass out the drinks to the guests and then places the tray on a table. She leaves, shutting the door behind her.
Wadsworth moves to the center of the room and nods to the man in the dark suit. “Very well, we’ve all been called here for one reason … blackmail!” His face becomes animated and excited as he addresses the guests. “Our host,” he points to the man with the duffel bag, “is blackmailing us.”
Mrs. Peacock fans herself with her purse and whines, “I’m not being blackmailed! I’m an open book. I have nothing to hide!”
The man against the fireplace laughs maniacally as Wadsworth reveals seven envelopes. “In my hand, I hold the only evidence of our government indiscretions. Including you, Mrs. Peacock.”
“I’m not ashamed of my dirty secrets,” Miss Scarlet declares with a devilish grin.
“Give me those envelopes,” Lena demands.
Colonel Mustard approaches the mystery man and claims, “So you’re Mr. Boddy?”
The man leaning against fireplace smirks. “Yeah, so what? There’s nothing you can do – I’ll be leaving now.”
Wadsworth puffs his chest and smiles. “Not so fast! I’ve called the police and locked all the doors. They will be here in thirty minutes. Once the police arrive, we can explain that we’ve been blackmailed and Mr. Boddy will be arrested.”
Mr. Green stands from his chair and moves toward Wadsworth. “We? Are you being blackmailed as well, Wadsworth?”
Wadsworth lowers his head and sighs. “I’m afraid so. My late wife befriended the wrong kind of people.” He raises his head and fakes a cry. “They were socialists. But I didn’t have any money so I was imprisoned as Mr. Boddy’s butler.”
“What exactly is a butler?” Colonel Mustard asks.
“I buttle.” Wadsworth deadpans.
Lena steps forward and asserts, “We should wait for the police and then we can forget about this horrible night.”
“Do you want the police to know about all your dead husbands?” Miss Scarlet quips.
“Enough!” Mr. Boddy opens his duffel bag and delivers a black box to each guest, excluding Wadsworth. I stare at the box in my lap, wondering how long this game plays out before the actual sex party begins. Talk about prolonged foreplay…
“In your box you will find a lethal weapon. The only person preventing us from leaving is Wadsworth. Murder Wadsworth and we can walk out of here and continue our monetary arrangements.” Mr. Boddy pauses by the light switch and waits for us to open our boxes.
Mrs. Peacock holds up a lead pipe and says, “But I’m not a murderer!”
Lena moves to the arm of the sofa where I’m sitting with her gifted weapon. She looks down at me and gives me a tiny smile. I glance at the nylon rope in her lap, imagining all the creative things that could be done with a rope and a naked Lena White.
I open my box to find a dagger. Unsure if it’s real, I carefully pick up the handle and examine the blade. Plastic.
And then the lights go out.
Thump.
Bump.
Crash.
I hear Mrs. Peacock moving from the sofa, but I stay put. In the darkness, I feel Lena’s nails combing through my hair, and then her hand grabbing the back of my neck. She kisses me. With her lips parting and her mouth accepting my tongue, we make out in the blackness like two teenagers.
Bang!
A gunshot pops through the silence forcing Lena to break our kiss. And then the lights come on.
“He’s dead!” someone shouts.
“There was a gunshot – who has the revolver?” Colonel Mustard demands.
Everyone turns their heads toward the desk where Mr. Green is shaking nervously. “I didn’t do it!” he shouts, dropping the gun on the floor.
Wadsworth kneels near the body, Mr. Boddy, and rolls him over. “Professor Plum, there’s no gunshot wound. Is he dead?”
“I’m just a teacher,” I say with a smile. I rise from the sofa and walk over to the body.
“No, you’re a psychologist with the W.H.O. – surely you can take a pulse,” Wadsworth insists.
Oh, right. I kneel next to the man on the floor and pretend to take his pulse. “Yep, he’s dead.”
“Then who killed him?” Lena asks.
With a trembling voice, Mrs. Peacock shouts, “This is just too much. I need a drink.” She picks up a glass of brandy from the tray and throws it back in one swallow.
Mr. Green points at the glass and yips, “Maybe it was poison!”
Mrs. Peacock launches the glass at the wall and wails. “I don’t want to die!”
Picking up the empty glass, Colonel Mustard states, “Now we’ll never know if the brandy is poisonous.”
Placing his arm around a faint Mrs. Peacock, Wadsworth adds, “Unless she, ya know.”
“Aaahhhhaaaa!” A scream resonates outside the study, forcing everyone to exaggerate a panic attack and rush out the door.
“Yvette!” they shout in unison.
Fuck. For a sex party, this is more elaborate and kinkier than I originally thought. Not wanting to stay in the study by myself, and wanting to know what’s going on, I dash out into the hall. I catch Wadsworth darting behind a door with my dagger.
I find the other guests standing inside a room with a large billiard table. On top of the pool table is the maid, Yvette, fingering a lace handkerchief.
“Why did you scream?” Lena asks on cue.
“I was frighteened, mon dieu,” she explains in her horrible French accent.
“Tell us what you heard, Yvette,” Colonel Mustard orders.
Glancing from Lena to Miss Scarlet, and finally to Yvette’s large chest, I eagerly accept this silly charade on the pretense that there will be a buffet of breasts in my near future. Even Mrs. Peacock, as quirky as she is, has a nice rack.
Crossing her legs and revealing a lace garter, Yvette mutters, “I heard a gun in the studee. I don’t want to be all alone so I scweamed.”
“Aaaahhhhaaa! Help!”
“Who’s screaming now?” Mr. Green asks, running in the direction of the yelp.
Following the other guests’ lead and plodding off toward the kitchen, I place my hand on Miss Scarlet’s back. She stops, takes my face in her hands, and kisses me. I run my hands up and down her body as Lena bumps into us.
“Shall we go to the kitchen?” Lena frowns.
We move quickly to the kitchen to find a large woman dressed as a cook draped on top of Wadsworth. He’s squirming beneath her dead weight until Colonel Mustard and Mr. Green heave her body onto a nearby chair. Obviously, she’s not really dead, and the blood stain on her back looks incredibly fake. I also catch her breathing but decide to just look away in fear that I may laugh.
“Another murder!” Mrs. Peacock screams.
Wadsworth stands inches from my face and says, “If I’m not mistaken, Professor Plum was given the dagger used to kill the cook.”
Everyone gasps.
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Uh, yeah. But I left it in the study.”
“So anyone could have taken the dagger,” Lena adds in my defense.
“But we were all in the billiard room with Yvette,” Mr. Green protests.
Actually, no. I saw Wadsworth carrying the knife and sneaking off somewhere.
Colonel Mustard wipes his brow and exhales. “That can only mean that there is someone else in the house.”
In unison, the women flutter and flail and Mrs. Peacock even loses her balance.
“We need to search the house – it’s time for everyone’s favorite part.” Wadsworth removes some long matches from a drawer and begins to cut them into different lengths, a pair at each size. “We’ll pair off and then decide what to do as a group. Bedrooms are on the second and third floor. Each pair can take a room.”
Finally! I wonder what Mr. Boddy and the cook do during the sex portion of the party.
Wadsworth distributes the matchsticks as I move closer to Lena – I want her to know that I want to be with her. Colonel Mustard and Yvette pair up and leave the kitchen in a hurry. They’re probably heading straight for the biggest bed. Next, Mrs. Peacock and Wadsworth tap their matches together and join arms. Wadsworth gives me a sly smile as he passes me on his way out of the kitchen. My odds are awesome, and hopefully Lena won’t be upset or jealous if I end up with Miss …
“You’re with me, sister,” Miss Scarlett teases. Holding their matchsticks together, Lena and Miss Scarlett acknowledge their matching pair.
But?
That leaves …
“Let’s go, Professor – I know where we should start.”
Nope. No. Nada. Uh uh. Never in a million years.
Full of frustration and nursing a bad case of blue balls, I shout, “Lena, I’m not fucking a guy. You’re welcome to stay and have your fun, but I just can’t do this.”
Mr. Green’s eyes widen as he frowns in horror. Worried that I may have offended him, I quickly add, “Bro, it’s not you. I’m into women.”
Breaking character, Lena stomps toward me and barks, “Chris, what in the hell are you talking about?”
“The sex party. Hey, I’m okay with being paired with a stranger, but I’m not comfortable with a guy.”
“Sex party?” Miss Scarlet snickers.
“Chris, if you haven’t noticed, this is a group of intellectuals that meet once a month for Clue reenactments. We needed a Plum … wait, why on earth would you think I was bringing you to a sex party?”
If I really think long and hard about her question, I will just end up embarrassing myself further. So instead, I simply place my hands on Lena’s shoulders and kiss her cheek. “I should probably go.”
I make my way through the entry hall and straight toward the front door, secretly praying that none of the others follow me. Placing my hand on the doorknob, I glance at myself in the entry mirror. Shit! I’m such an idiot. And I can’t even open the door. What the actual fuck?
“Chris,” Lena’s voice rasps.
I turn to face her and force a smile. “Lena tonight has been equally intriguing and ridiculous. I think I enjoyed some of it, but it’s just not my thing.”
“I’m really sorry I gave you the wrong impression about the party. When I met you today, you seemed like a guy that would be laid back and fun. It takes a certain kind of guy to put up with my little hobby.”
And maybe I could make it work – her hobby in exchange for kinky sex. “I’ll call you next week,” I say. And I will. I can take her to dinner on my own terms and bring her back to my own apartment.
“I’d like that. Here, I need to unlock the door.” Removing a key from a jar near the door, she adds, “Rules of the game.”
“Good night, Lena.”
She gives me a tiny, pathetic wave – alerting me that I will never see her or my Stetson again.
Once I’m outside, I walk a few blocks, enjoying the fresh air and laughing at my own stupidity. I take out my phone and text Adam.
ME: You will never believe where I was.
Adam: In the library with the revolver.
* * *
11:45 p.m.
By day, Bleecker Street is a typical Downtown avenue with businesses and apartment buildings. Tonight, in the midst of ghouls and goblins, it rivals Sixth Street in Austin during the South by Southwest music festival. People spill onto the street outside Bixby’s bar wearing an array of costumes – although I doubt anyone else has a story like mine. After squeezing through some pimps and hookers and stepping on the rubber claw of an oversized chicken, I spot Adam and his girlfriend, Chloe, standing at a high cocktail table.
Chloe, enchanting as usual, sashays toward me wearing layers of suede and floral, and a skirt that drags the floor. She has a daisy tucked behind her ear and a beaded headband fastened around her long, brown hair.
“Chris!” Smiling dazedly, she forms a ‘V’ with her index and middle fingers. “Peace, my brother.”
“Nice costume, Moon Beam.”
Chloe takes my hand and drags me to the table with Adam and a tray of pumpkin-flavored beer. “I heard you had an interesting night,” she says over her shoulder.
Adam smiles arrogantly and adds, “Hey, Brooks, glad you made it out of there alive.”
“Ha ha. Get all the jokes out now so I can enjoy the rest of my night,” I demand. “Where’s your costume?”
Chloe laughs as she says, “Did you expect Adam to be wearing anything that might make him look slightly ridiculous?” She passes me a pumpkin ale and places her elbow on Adam’s shoulder. “Show Chris your costume.”
Adam sighs and then points to the front of his gray T-shirt. I can make out some lettering and a canoe forged inside a circle. Ah, Camp Crystal Lake, the fictional camp of the Friday 13th franchise. My cousin, Daisy, was an extra in the first movie – and if the VHS tape is paused at just the exact second, her sneakers with the rainbow laces make a cameo. “Understated brilliance, bro,” I admit.
Chloe then puts her arms around Adam’s waist as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. I want that someday – someday when I’m ready.
“So Chris, how did you end up as a prime suspect in a murder dinner theater?” Chloe asks.
“I can answer that. It was payback,” Adam interjects.
Surprised, Chloe asks, “So you knew where he was going? Sometimes you two act like little boys.”
“He kidnapped my cactus!” Adam sarcastically whines.
Puzzled, I ask, “How did you know about the party? Wait, lemme guess – she invited you to go before she even met me.”
Placing his empty bottle of beer on the table and taking another one, Adam answers cockily, “Of course she asked me first, Brooks.”
“Wait, who are you talking about?” Chloe interrupts.
Adam turns to Chloe, rubbing her shoulder and smiling. “Remember that mystery writer I told you about? Lena DeMarco? She’s been researching white collar trials for the past month. She’s friends with someone important because I was instructed to give her full access.”
“Oh, yeah. I read her last novel,” Chloe says, nodding her head.
DeMarco. I only knew her as Ms. White.
“She came in today for a file. Before Lena left, she invited me to the Clue reenactment. I declined and found her a replacement,” Adam teases with a smile.
Chloe looks at me and asks, “And then what happened?”
“Adam introduced me to Lena. She introduced herself as Lena White – Adam didn’t correct her, and he failed to give me a heads up.”
“Ad-am.” Chloe pinches his waist as he laughs.
“Chloe, it was fine. At first,” I whisper.
“Really? Like how?”
“Don’t think I’m crude, okay?” Chloe is a lady, and my intentions are sometimes ungentlemanly.
“I’m not a prude,” she defends.
Throwing back some warm ale, I laugh at the night’s events. “Lena’s smokin’ hot, and I wanted to get laid. I was invited to her apartment where I drank cognac and then allowed a woman to sexually control me – she did some dirty things to me.” I raise my t-shirt and show them the lipstick stains on my chest. “And then she promised even dirtier things if I dressed how she wanted and took her to a party,” I say, finger-quoting the last word.
Confused, Adam asks, “So you didn’t know it was a Clue party?”
“No, you jackass. In fact, she kept talking about interacting with other guests and role-playing – even told me to let it all go and enjoy new experiences.” I lower the volume of my voice, knowing that Adam will find my next statement hysterical. “I thought we were going to a sex party.”
They both erupt in laughter. Adam slaps my back and teases, “So when did you figure out the mystery?”
“Colonel Mustard was the a-ha moment,” I answer, embarrassed.
“And that’s when you left?” Chloe asks, still chuckling.
I close my eyes and exhale. “Not exactly. I thought it was just a nerdy swinger party, and when you have such high hopes for sex in a new way, it’s impossible to believe it could be anything else.”
“Shit, Brooks! When did you finally figure it out?” Adam quips.
“Can I get a stronger drink first?” I ask, placing the nasty beer on the table.
Chloe shakes her head. “Not tonight. The bar is only serving pumpkin ale and the house special.”
Frowning, I say, “Well, after the maid was killed with my dagger in the kitchen, it clicked. To make the long story short – ”
“Too late.”
That voice. Her voice.
“Nat, you’re here!” Chloe shouts.
Natalie.
“Looking cheesy, Adam. Who’s the geek with the elbow patches?”
Damn, her snarky mouth is incredible.
Turning around to meet her gaze, I glance at my watch – willing it to stop. Our eyes connect. There she is … the girl that will eventually belong to me.
“Do you remember Chris?” I think Chloe asks the question. But I can’t be sure as I enter a new dimension that only consists of Natalie, smiling in suspended time.
“Hey, darlin’,” I finally say with a smirk.
Her red lips part and slowly form a smile. “Hey.”
There’s conversation happening all around us, muffled and unimportant. Monster Mash pounds through the speakers as a few guys dressed in ridiculous costumes whistle as they walk past Natalie. But I don’t look. This is our bubble – a public seclusion of two people destined to be together.
“Odd costume,” she teases, thumbing my sleeve.
“Long story,” I reply, taking her hand.
Chloe interrupts our moment of suspension by shouting over the music. “Nice costume, Nat! Only you could pull off Marilyn Monroe. Want a beer?”
I glance at my watch as Natalie turns her head. As I suspected, no time has elapsed.
“Pumpkin beer is vile. What else is there?” Natalie asks.
“Blood-orange Sangria. Hey, did Pete come with you?” Adam asks, organizing the empty beer bottles on a tray.
Natalie sighs. “I left his lederhosen-wearing-ass at the party in Chelsea,” she looks back at me with a smile, “and came here.”
Best decision she’ll ever make.
Taking her hand, I say, “Let’s get a drink.” Walking toward the bar, I notice the eyes of every single guy skimming her body – Natalie’s a vision tonight, platinum wig and iconic white dress swaying against her hips – but she’s mine.
Soon.
The first and last time I saw Natalie, she had some major shit going on in her life. But on that night, I knew without a doubt that we would eventually be together. Funny how fate likes to control the outcome. And funny how we both allow it, knowing that one day it won’t matter.
“Here, grab that seat,” I say, guiding her by the small of her back to an empty chair.
Natalie sits on the leather stool and pulls me in next to her. “Let’s order the Sangria.”
While motioning for the bartender, I place my other arm around her bare shoulder. The bartender, dressed as the alien, Alf, places two napkins on the bar in front of us.
“Beer or Red Rum?” he asks in a nasally voice.
“Red Rum, I guess.”
When the bartender leaves, Natalie swivels slightly on the stool, her knee resting under my nuts. “How’ve you been, Chris?”
“I’m good. Busy at work.”
With her blue eyes sparkling, Natalie asks the inevitable question. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nah, holding out for someone special. You?”
“Yeah, but nothing serious. No one special.” Her hand moves to the waistband of my jeans as her pinky strokes my stomach. But when the bartender places the mini pitcher of blood-red liquid on the bar, she quickly removes her hand.
“May I present, Red Rum. Do you want to start a tab?” the bartender asks.
“Sure,” I say, pouring the alcoholic punch into our glasses. He leaves an orange ticket next to the pitcher and waddles away toward the other patrons in his furry costume.
When it’s just us, alone in a pocket of space controlled by fate, I smile. Returning my smile with a wink, Natalie brings the glass of Sangria to her mouth. She slowly takes a sip, and then staring into my eyes, sensually licks her lips.
I simply watch.
“Perfection. Do you want a taste?” Natalie asks.
I take the glass from her hand and place it on the bar next to mine. Leaning in and inching closer, we let our lips linger on the verge of a new story – our story. Placing all my faith in our future, I don’t kiss her, not yet.
I shift behind her, placing my hands on her shoulders, and pressing my mouth against her ear.
“Soon,” I whisper.
Are you craving more from Chris, Natalie, Adam and Chloe?
Continue on their timeless journey of friendship and love in the upcoming release, The Album.
A moment, a kiss, a love, an epic soundtrack.
Available 11.11.14
About the Author
Hey y’all!
Fifteen years ago I became a permanent New Yorker, but I have yet to abandon my Texas charm. NYC is an amazing place to find inspiration – the random and the ordinary that make up reality. My writing showcases inspired ideas, as well as my love for dichotomy, authenticity and humor.
I'm just a girl. A girl with a dream. A dream to write for television. I also had a dream to marry Christian Bale, but I digress. I'm a girl with a dream to write and write and write until someone tells me to stop. And even then I would find a way to write about the jerk who wanted me to stop.
Connect with Ashley Pullo
Website: www.ashleypullo.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/ashleypullo
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AshPullo
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/ashpullo
Email: [email protected]
Mailing List: www.ashleypullo.com
Other Books by Ashley Pullo
The Album 11.11.14
The Ballad 12.11.14
