Possession Obsession

Possession Obsession Ciarra Sims All rights reserved. Copyright ©2005 Ciarra Sims No part of this e-book may be repr...

Author: Sims Ciara

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Possession Obsession Ciarra Sims All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2005 Ciarra Sims

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical

means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior

written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN 1-59596-144-5

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

PO Box 1561

Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Pat Haley Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Chapter One Chloe Carlyle stared at the man who moved across the club as if he owned it. Slade Brandt walked the walk of someone who knew who he was and where he was headed -- straight to the top. And why not? He’d always been that way, even back in high school, when he was known as Sam Brandenburg. It was just Sam’s nature to be assured and cool. He’d been cool enough to set up a garage band and practice until they got it right. Smart enough to change his name and enter a Battle of the Bands contest sponsored by the local radio station. And though his band didn’t win, he’d been savvy enough to get noticed and land a contract based on both talent and raw sex appeal. Oh, yeah, Slade Brandt definitely qualified as a babe magnet. Even in high school when his looks were adolescent and stringy, he’d still been a catch. He’d had some intangible magnetism that inspired a girl’s hormones to flutter. Back then Chloe had been a bookworm, complete with glasses and watery faded blue eyes. Her body had matured late and never quite lost its baby fat. Sam was two grades ahead of her and out of her league even then. The first time he’d noticed her, she’d humiliated herself. She’d dropped her books. When he handed them back, Chloe was so surprised she gasped, and her gum fell on his shoe! She’d mumbled a garbled “Thanks” that came out more like a burp. Some impression she’d made… Eight years later, Slade Brandt’s latest single was number two on the charts with a bullet, his last album had gone platinum, and he traveled with his own handpicked musicians now… and naturally, the groupies. But he hadn’t forgotten his roots. When he wasn’t on tour he always came home to visit his family. And Slade still frequented the club that had given him his break.

Ciarra Sims

Possession Obsession

-4-

Now he was about to honor that very club with a performance -- a nod to his beginnings -- and the place was packed. In a standing room crowd only, Chloe ended up plastered against the wall, hoping something about her would stick out, light up -somehow attract Slade’s attention. But why would it? She’d never lost that baby fat. She still lacked the sparkle and shine that attracted a man’s attention. So Chloe had to make do with watching Slade as he leaned back, casually lounging in his booth of honor, an eager groupie tucked under each arm. The blonde on his left scooted closer and Chloe just knew her thigh pressed against Slade’s. The darkskinned girl to his right was older. She turned her eager lips to Slade’s neck, nuzzling him. He obliged by giving her a French kiss that was blatantly for show. His tongue moved slowly into her mouth, then enthusiastically worked to and fro. Chloe hated both girls. She didn’t know them, but that didn’t matter. She hated what they represented -- the perfect body, heavy in the boobs, small waist, tight ass. They wore barely anything and Slade let them slobber and hang all over him. He probably fucked them both, too -- at the same time. She’d read in one of the tabloids that he liked his girls two on one. Chloe watched him finish the kiss with the dark brunette and turn to the blonde. Slade’s long dark hair fell to his shoulders. He pushed it back and bent to nuzzle at the busty young woman’s chest. Someone snapped a picture and he laughed. Another flash went off and a bodyguard stepped in front of Slade to keep it from becoming a paparazzi feeding frenzy. Chloe wondered what it would be like to have her picture splashed on the front page for anyone to see in a checkout line. “Slade’s new girl. The love of his life, he vows.” Chloe chuckled and sipped her piña colada. Fat chance. Even if both girls hanging onto Slade stitched their clothes together, she still wouldn’t fit into them. She heard the announcer give Slade his intro. The blonde scooted out of the booth and Slade slipped out, his faded jeans sinfully tight on his buff physique. Oh, he’d changed since high school -- and all for the sexier. He oozed a fucking pheromone that made all the

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girls wet. Chloe knew it. Her own panties were sopping despite the cotton absorbent crotch. She wished she could wear those wispy little thongs that women always threw on stage for Slade to pick up. If the panty donor looked particularly buxom or beautiful in that naturally sexy way Slade preferred, he’d sniff the undies and grin wolfishly. Then a bouncer would approach the lucky lady and escort her backstage for Slade’s own session of fan appreciation. Oh, yeah, she knew how it worked. She’d dreamed of being one of those women since Slade had been plain ol’ Sam, but even back then, she hadn’t stood a chance. Now as he stepped on stage and the crowd roared, she sure as hell didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in Hell. Slade had chosen a slow ballad that showcased his low voice, growling one minute and oozing honey the next. His trademark song from the movie Jaded Woman began plaintively. You have the face of an angel, the body to satisfy the devil

But your soul is mine.

You walk on air, but you don’t care

And your soul is mine.

Wherever you go, whoever you do

You’ll never escape me… break me.

You’re mine… all mine.

Chloe sighed and pretended he was singing to her… just her. His low growl might as well be caressing her, stroking her clit. Jaded woman

You don’t care who you hurt,

You step on my heart

And treat me like dirt.

But I don’t care

Because I love you

And you’re mine… all mine…

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-6-

The soft strumming of the electric guitar changed into a clamor of chords as the guitarist took advantage of a rare opportunity to break free and play a riff. The room vibrated and the walls shook. Chloe leaned back, absorbing the motions through her long skirt while Slade’s voice and the guitar vied for the floor. Chloe felt a pulse between her legs as the vibrations in the walls fed her arousal. Her clit tingled and twinged. And just when Slade hit the last note -- “All miiine” -- Chloe climaxed and moaned. God, to have Slade’s touch and voice bring her over the edge was the ultimate fantasy. But it was only a fantasy. He disappeared backstage and his bouncers lined the small stage. Girls were wailing and calling, guys hooting. Slade returned to the stage with a delighted boyish grin on his face as he accepted his due. His whole bad boy persona was at odds with that innocent grin, hinting to the audience they didn’t know him at all. Chloe could feel the energy around her, the lust in the air. A few pairs of garishly bright underwear were tossed on stage, landing at Slade’s feet. Chloe stepped away from the wall and made her way closer to the stage. At that very same moment, an errant pair of underwear flew short, missed the stage and landed on Chloe’s head. The crowd began to laugh… Worse, Slade laughed too. Mortified, Chloe tossed the underwear to the ground and headed toward the door. The crowd was suddenly too loud, her drink too sweet. She grew hot and clammy all over again, but this time it wasn’t from arousal. She pushed her way to the exit and spilled out to the parking lot. She had to get over this fixation for Sam Brandenburg and his persona Slade Brandt. The humiliation with the underwear was a wakeup call, like a dousing of ice water. She knew her future depended on her taking control. Well, at least it hadn’t been as humiliating as that time in high school when someone as a prank announced Chloe’s name as queen during the high school prom. Everyone had laughed then. Everyone but Sam.

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-7-

More than anything, Sam had always been kind. Like the day of that freak rainstorm… She’d been walking home alone and a deep voice from behind her had startled her. “You too, babe? Aren’t we a pair of drowned rats?” Sam. Just as wet as she was, he’d taken off his jacket and shielded Chloe with it. Her own knight to the rescue. And that’s why Chloe loved him so. Adored him. Was obsessed with him. Chloe drove her Saab to the modest condo she’d poured her hard-earned money into. She squirmed in the seat, her clothes now seeming two sizes too small. She couldn’t wait to get inside and shower off the acrid smoke odor from the club -- not to mention her own personal juices Slade had provoked. Grabbing the mail from the delivery box, she fumbled for her keys before stumbling up the stairs to the faux porch. It consisted of just a railing and a flowerpot. Some porch. But until she could afford better this small place would be home. Chloe had studied to be a teacher in college, then decided it wasn’t her calling. Tried applying her art minor to a career, but there wasn’t anything open, except her current job hosting tours through the museum. And so for now, that was Chloe’s life… that and worshipping Sam Brandenburg a.k.a. Slade Brandt from afar. Sighing heavily, Chloe dropped her clothes in layers as she walked down the hall, creating a trail that led into her bedroom. She wondered what it would be like to be Sam’s girl. To have his hands run down her body, scorching her with his touch. She could still remember the heat that radiated from him whenever he was close. Remember that day in the rain when the cold seemed to evaporate just by him being near. She’d been warm to the point of toasty and they’d walked so close together she could inhale Sam’s spicy male scent. In the bathroom, Chloe lit the cherrywood candle set in front of the 5x5 glossy of Slade Brandt, courtesy of his fan club. Next to that was the yearbook photo of Sam. And Chloe found that candid, boyish face just as sexy.

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She hit the shower spigots and waited for the water to heat up. A glance in the mirror showed breasts that were full, the mauve nipples deliciously brazen, tipped upward begging for attention. Sam would adore them. Chloe closed her eyes, feeling the wetness of a tongue, Sam’s tongue. Licking, spinning, his tongue trailing down the sides, over the generous curves until he reached a puckered bud. Chloe ran her fingertips over those buds, wanting Sam, longing for Sam. She imagined an urgent hand on her shoulder, pressing softly yet insistently, encouraging her to her knees. A voice in her ear whispered, “What do you want?” Chloe half-moaned, “I want you, Sam.” The bathroom fogged with steam. Droplets of perspiration ran down her forehead beading on her lips. Lips that felt a hard cock pressing insistently, demanding service. Chloe pretended to resist. Slade might be used to having his way, but Chloe wasn’t one of his groupies. She wanted Sam on her terms, not the brash Slade. But her own body betrayed her as it hungered for love. For him. And in a moment of weakness, she licked the moisture beads, both salty and sweet, from her lips, parting them slightly. A low chuckle met her ears. Sam’s hardness needed no guidance as it pressed against her lips and slipped inside. Chloe’s tongue brushed against the smoothness, running down the side teasingly. Sam caught his breath and it was Chloe’s turn to preen. She knew her man and how he liked it. She allowed his cock into the back of her throat. It was all about control. Slade demanded it. Chloe craved it and Sam… Sam wanted Chloe. She applied pressure with her throat and tongue, consistently caressing and sucking his cock, allowing Sam to ride the motion. And knew when he was about to come. The sudden clench of his ass muscles as she held him tight and guided him against her mouth indicated he was very close. Chloe wanted him to know how much she wanted to please him. She stroked his balls and massaged them, then pulled her head back and popped his hard cock out of her mouth, wet with saliva and pre-come. Chloe smiled a cat-like grin. She leaned back gracefully, supporting herself with her one arm. Then she motioned with her finger, a signal to her lover to move closer. As he hovered over

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her she massaged his balls, rhythmically pumping his cock with her right hand. Suddenly he ejaculated and like a fountain of creamy white it spurted onto her belly and covered her breasts. Chloe laughed and continued to pump. Then she opened her mouth and beckoned for Sam to fill her again. But Sam now was the one in control and he had other plans. He lowered himself onto her and slid down her belly like a snake. Always concerned for her comfort, he unfolded her legs so the muscles could rest briefly. He held her ankles and stroked up her calves, rubbing her knees and swirling his hands around her thighs. His tongue followed and he licked a path over velvety creases that hid her wet pussy, slick with anticipation. He dipped low. His tongue withdrew and his head rested between her legs, breathing her feminine essence. Chloe moaned and raised her hips under his weight, craving his attention. Sam shook his head. His five o’clock shadow rubbed her clit and Chloe caught her breath. A sudden gush from her cunt caught her unaware. With Sam it was always like that. Her body was no longer hers when he was near. He kept rubbing her pussy until she trembled. Then at the last moment as she spoke the magic word -- “Please” -- he thrust his tongue fully inside her and lapped her slick pussy while she came. Her body quaking, her head tossing from side to side. She could no longer speak but only clasped the back of his head, stroking her fingers through his thick dark hair. Sam leaned back and she noticed he still had an erection, the mushroom tip broad and pulsing with blood. He smiled mischievously, then slid lower and laid it full on her stomach, showing how far he would reach inside her when he finally penetrated her. “It’ll prod against your womb and someday when you’re ready, I’ll fill it with my seed and we’ll create a life. Yours and mine. Our child.” His lips kissed her belly almost reverently and drew back. “Show me what you want.” Chloe touched the lips of her labia, opening them to show the darkening shades of pink. Then she smiled and guided him to her entrance. He pressed against her and entered slowly, withdrew and pressed inside again, inch by inch. When he was in to the hilt, he moved back and plunged into her all the way again, riding her hard. Just the way she liked it. She locked her heels around his ass and gave him back as much as he gave, reveling in the sensation as he filled her over and over.

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Her body fit his like a glove, welcoming the pounding and stroking of his cock. Her clit began to tingle, signaling her impending orgasm. Chloe swore she saw stars for a moment. She spiraled out of control, gasping Sam’s name as she convulsed, the orgasm rocketing through her. Sam thrust all the harder, and his breathing became ragged. He flexed forward once more and his groan filled the small room as he came. Chloe clutched him to her as she felt his semen shooting deep inside her pussy, bathing her womb, giving her a deep satisfaction she’d never known before. Now nothing could be better than falling asleep beside Sam, his arms around her. Nothing. Chloe opened her eyes and sighed. She became aware of her surroundings while lying on the bathroom floor without her clothes on and certainly without Sam. Damn! It was happening more and more lately. Sometimes she dreamt of fucking him in her sleep. That was okay. She supposed even masturbating in front of his picture wasn’t too offbeat. But now Sam was all she could think of. He was taking over her life! Disturbed for her sanity, Chloe showered and donned her fluffy pick chenille robe and ducky slippers. Her thick auburn hair, unavoidably curly in texture, threatened to frizzle out of control. Usually she just tied it back without much thought to styling. The makeup she’d applied to go to the club easily washed off and now her face was fresh and glowing. If not for the sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of her nose, she might have laid claim to peaches and cream skin. “Ah well, Lord love a duck,” Chloe laughed, kicking off her duck slippers and quacking as she climbed into bed. “Good-night Sam,” she whispered into her pillow and closed her eyes.

Chapter Two After work the next day -- six tours through the museum -- Chloe stopped to get a salad from a fast food place. As she left her stomach growled angrily so Chloe wheeled around and ordered a full hamburger meal. Who was she trying to kid? All the dieting in the world wouldn’t give her a sexy figure that would inspire a man to ejaculate all over her breasts! Oh, she’d had a few boyfriends. One slobbered around his post adolescent braces when they kissed and the other decided he was gay and left her for the TV cable guy. It wasn’t as if she’d screamed “Sam!” in a moment of passion. Chloe had done her best. She’d given a part of her heart to each relationship. But the truth was, she was tired of trying to change. Chloe was looking for a man who would accept her just as she was. So damn it, if she wanted to fantasize about a man who was out of her league and wouldn’t ever give her the time of day that was her business! When she arrived at her condo the mailbox was stuffed with an oversized envelope and a yellow card from the post office. The card said she hadn’t been home to accept a registered package. Now she’d have to go early morning to the post office and that meant she would be late to work… again. Irritating. Life was irritating. The oversized envelope had been sent by a law firm, Sneed, McNally and Piedmont. Snooty buggers, Chloe smirked. Sometimes she feigned a British accent for no particular reason other than entertaining herself. She had a naughty flash of tying up Messieurs Sneed, McNally and Piedmont and whipping their naked buttocks as they recited the penal code. Laughing she slit the envelope with her fingernail and read the letter enclosed:

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I regret to inform you your Great Aunt Antonia DeGuzman-Lovette-Brown-SchmidtRoss-DeLeon-Perkins has passed away from this world. She’s made a bequest in her will and we are asking you to honor her request by signing for delivery of said inheritance. The registered package should follow in a few days. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call us at the above number. Sincerely, Jeremy Sneed Chloe felt sad. She’d met Aunt Toni only once. She must have been around eighty-something, but damn, the woman had looked fantastic… sort of like Joan Collins, well-preserved and built like a brick house. Heavens, that was years ago when Chloe had been just a kid. Her staid parents had whispered about Aunt Toni, but they’d never said anything openly other than she was “quite a character” or “not a good influence on children.” She’d been married at least six times, the last two years before her death. Chloe remembered meeting one of her husbands when she’d met Aunt Toni for the first time. He was younger than Aunt Toni. Very handsome, even by today’s standards. Aunt Toni seemed to have him completely enthralled. He’d kissed Aunt Toni’s fingers and winked when he thought no one was looking. Couldn’t stop touching her. Though Aunt Toni had been very rich, his actions seemed sincere and loving. He’d shown genuine affection, watching his wife with a smoldering gaze. It was obvious to anyone they were very much in love. Go, Aunt Toni, Chloe had thought at the time. Maybe somehow Aunt Toni had sensed Chloe’s admiration and remembered her in the will. Chloe wished she’d been closer to this forbidden scion of the family, but Aunt Toni had moved to Paris with her last husband and that’s where she’d apparently died. But a registered package? From France? It was all so mysterious. Maybe a piece of jewelry, but if so why not ship it by courier from France and be done with it? Well, tomorrow at the post office she would sign and find out what the big deal was.

***

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The next morning, the post office had people already waiting outside before they opened at eight. Chloe groaned. Sure enough, she would be more than a few minutes late to work. While she waited, Chloe dreamed of her new inheritance. Perhaps it was a check for the balance of Aunt Toni’s estate. That was doubtful, but even a thousand dollars would be welcome and a godsend. When she handed the clerk the yellow reclamation card, the clerk said something to someone in the back room and a large package was hefted by two clerks to the front of the post office. Chloe blinked. “What is this?” The clerk grunted under the weight. “Probably the kitchen sink,” he muttered sarcastically. “You’re lucky it came in just under the seventy pound limit.” With the end of the package sticking out of the trunk, Chloe drove to the museum. How could she leave the package sticking out like that all day without it being stolen? Damn! She paid the parking attendant $20 to keep an eye on her car and hoped for the best. Mr. Plessey, the museum curator and her boss, tapped his wristwatch as she skittered past to take her place as a tour assembled. By the time Chloe left it was after eight. The parking garage was empty, the entry attendant long gone. Chloe had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as she approached her car. Sure enough, the package wasn’t there. And how the hell could she file a police report when she had no idea what had been inside the box? This day wasn’t quite the celebration she’d planned. Chloe drove toward the exit where the night attendant was on duty. He looked at her closely. “You the one with the package?” “Yes! Do you know what happened to it?” “Sure. Louis left it with me. Said I should hold it for you. Good thing you came for it. Was about to move it away. It’s weird. Trust me.” Chloe breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the man slide the package from the booth where he’d tucked it away. “Why do you say it’s weird?”

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He helped her place the container into her trunk, almost throwing the large parcel to get rid of it. Chloe noticed the package was warm to the touch. “You feel it, too? The heat. What’s in there?” “I don’t know,” Chloe admitted. “It is weird.” “That’s not the whole of it. Earlier I heard something moving in there.” “That’s not possible.” Chloe thought he might be having a bit of fun at her expense. “Lady, just get it out of here.” Tired, Chloe obliged gladly. The only thing she wanted was to get home and unload Aunt Toni’s mystery package. However the package was too heavy for her to carry it up the stairs to her condo. Maybe she could ease it up the stairs one step at a time. But as she grabbed the package and gave it a jerk any pro wrestler would have been proud of, she almost lost her balance. What the hell? Though the package remained the same size, now it was amazingly lighter. She searched the car to see if something had spilled out. Nothing. It remained sealed the same as when she’d picked it up. But it still felt curiously warm. And as Chloe carried it up the stairs, she could swear it was growing hotter with each step. Once inside the condo, she nearly threw her back out when the package suddenly increased in weight. She dropped it inside the door and it hit with a thud. From somewhere below a muffled voice yelled, “Knock it off!” Mrs. Kravitz, from the condo below. She hated loud music, loud appliances, and any signs of fun in the complex. Just to annoy her, Chloe jumped up and down on the floor a few times. Really, it wasn’t that she’d set out to be a bad neighbor, but Mrs. Kravitz had single-handedly alienated nearly everyone in the complex. Someday Chloe was going to get the hell out of Dodge, or at least the Sunny Meadows Condominiums. She pushed the package across the floor to the living room. The container was longer than wide and snagged in the carpet. Enough was enough. Chloe went to the

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tiny kitchen and got a knife. She tried carefully to cut around the taped seams, but just as she’d snipped the first seam the whole package burst open. Inside the now flattened cardboard carton was a chest. It looked quite old and had brass fittings like a sea chest. Why the weight would vary was too bizarre to contemplate. Chloe eyed the chest. The front clasp seemed easy enough. She pressed on it, but nothing happened. The big leather buckle around the chest stayed secure. She grabbed the knife and tried to pry open the metal fastening. Nothing. It had to be jammed. The chest looked solid enough to withstand a jackhammer. Chloe walked around it, contemplating her next move. The chest was solidly hammered and bound by hinges, except for the one spot in the back, where the corrugated metal was indented with the shape of a handprint -small -- obviously a woman’s. Was it her late aunt’s? Had she specifically designed the chest for herself and this was her signature? Chloe gingerly placed her right hand in the print. They were exactly the same size! Chloe examined the trunk again, feeling a bond that moments before had been absent. Her benevolent feeling ended as soon as she realized her hand was stuck. The indention looked smaller and pinched her hand. Chloe pulled back, but it held firm. Her hand was stuck tight. Something stung her palm, like dozens of tiny barbs. Chloe yanked with all her might, tumbling over backwards as her hand came loose easily. How could the trunk have imprisoned her hand? Was it her imagination? Chloe rolled upright and looked at her palm. Tiny droplets of blood had marked a design. There was no mistaking the pattern of a blood red rose. The outline appeared clearly and her blood stained the petals. Chloe jumped up and ran to the kitchen to wipe her palm on a paper towel. The blood rose wouldn’t come off or even smear. She washed her hand with water as hot as she could stand, scrubbing it with a dish brush. When she dried it, the design was plain as day, and even more vibrant in intensity. What the hell was going on?

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Chloe walked back to the small living room and approached the trunk slowly. Timidly. Maybe she should call someone and have them haul it away. Something freakishly strange about the chest made the hair on the back of Chloe’s neck stand up. Two things halted Chloe. One: Who could she call and say “I inherited a possessed trunk, could you take it off my hands?” She’d be doing five to ten in the Funny Farm for sure. And the second thing hinged on desperation. Chloe wanted -- no, needed -- to see the contents of the trunk. Her life couldn’t get any worse and damn it, her curiosity was killing her. Chloe noticed that the clasp had popped open… wide open as if the trunk had just given in and decided to reveal its contents. She wondered if her struggle had jarred the clasp loose. At this point anything seemed possible. Maybe her blood had acted as a sacrifice that activated the trunk. Chloe laughed at her whimsical thoughts then glanced at her rose tattooed palm. She gulped. It just wasn’t funny when your own blood was involved. The trunk was open. Just a crack. Chloe tried to peer inside. Nothing but darkness. She took a lunge forward and threw open the lid.

Chapter Three Something flew out and covered her face, threatening to smother her. Chloe panicked. She couldn’t breathe! Shrieking and clawing at the thing, she fought for dear life. It fell to the floor in a pile of sleek satin and black lace. Good Lord! She’d been attacked by some sort of undergarment? A teddy? Ignoring the puddle of material, Chloe peered carefully into the trunk. It was piled to the brim with what appeared to be clothes. Or at least underclothes. Bright colors and soft materials glistened and seemed to shiver in the room’s bright light. All this trouble for a bunch of old clothes? Okay, so they were in perfect vintage shape, but still, considering what she’d gone through, Aunt Toni could have been a bit more generous. Chloe fingered the trunk’s garments. Hmm. French and very chic. But, honestly, she’d never wear these kinds of things. What was the point? Besides, they looked incredibly small. The lot consisted of dainty chemises and rigid looking bustiers, silk stockings and eyelet camisoles, plus full slips and half-slips, a couple of bras and a few items that looked to be girdles. No. They were corsets. Good God, Aunt Toni must have been mad to send her these things! It probably cost a fortune just to ship them from France via the lawyers. Chloe would rather have the money from the shipping than this useless pretty lingerie. Chloe looked at her palm. It ached mildly but the rose glowed so vividly. What a complete disappointment. She sighed and rocked back on her heels, considering her alternatives. She could sell the items to a vintage store and get a pretty penny, but then guilt would come into play. Aunt Toni, for whatever reason, had sent the trunk to her, and she’d obviously had wanted her to have the contents… but why?

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Chloe picked up the silky teddy and replaced it on top of the pile of garments in the trunk. They were crammed in so tight, it was no wonder the teddy had jumped out when the trunk opened. A folded piece of paper on the floor caught her eye. It must have fallen from the folds of the teddy. The letter was written by a trembly hand, as if scribbled by someone who knew time was of the essence. Aunt Toni, perhaps suspecting she was dying, had wanted to tie up her loose ends. Chloe was touched to be one of those ends. My dear great grand niece Chloe, Although we met briefly, for me, it was such a poignant moment. You have no idea how much you and I have in common. I felt your pain and your sullen cry for help, even as you stubbornly tried to hide beneath that shy exterior. You have potential, only needing the catalyst to spark your natural instincts. Humor an old woman and honor my request that you keep these garments in the trunk. Wear them, but never share them. Never discard or lose them. If they wear out, take the thread and incorporate it into a new garment. When your long life is over, leave them, as I did, to a deserving blood relation who will use their potential to the fullest. These garments were created centuries ago, hand-sewn by a gypsy seer who imparted great powers into their stitches. One by one over the centuries the material was reinvented into garments suited for the times, but never has the power left their midst. Take this as it is intended, a gift to last eternity. With love, Antonia (Aunt Toni) Chloe regarded the letter in her hand. The poor old lady had been senile in her last hours. Her signature was positively faint as if pressing the pen to paper had been too much of a burden. But as Chloe watched, the paper began to waver in her vision. The ink faded until nothing was left but a blank sheet of stationary, smelling faintly of jasmine. Had she imagined Aunt Toni’s last bequest? No, she was sure she had not. She was not crazy nor had imagined it. She spotted a lacy bit of fluff in the corner of the

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trunk and plucked it out. It was a garter, light blue satin, embroidered with white lace, wrapped around an old photo. Chloe examined the picture and was shocked to see herself in it. Obviously it couldn’t really be her. The young woman in the black and white photograph was wearing a gingham pinafore. Yet that tangled, wiry hair and freckled fresh-face were exactly like her. The eyes peered sullenly and mouth tried to smile at the camera but it came out as a lop-sided grin. Chloe turned the photo over and caught her breath. “Antonia -- aged sixteen” was written on the back. The fabulous flamboyant Aunt Toni had been the spitting image of Chloe at sixteen! But the ugly duckling had become a swan. The Aunt Toni Chloe remembered had commanded attention. She’d been stately and glamorous even in her advanced age. How in the world could such a transformation have taken place? Chloe stared at the trunk. It couldn’t be. There was no way a bunch of undergarments could transform a woman to such an extent. She examined the garter and slid it over her wrist cautiously. It felt soft and innocent, maybe just a little naughty. The scent of jasmine wafted from the trunk, filling the room with cloying sweetness. The condo began to vibrate. Chloe’s first thought was of an earthquake. The vibration suddenly stopped. From below the no-nonsense voice of Mrs. Kravitz bellowed, “Knock it off, gawd-dammit!” The gravelly harsh-toned complaint shook Chloe, brought her back to reality. Gypsy magic, her foot! In defiance she slid the garter off and used it like a slingshot, shooting it across the room. It landed on the threadbare loveseat against the wall. Chloe ignored the trunk and went to take a shower. Then she heated some frozen lasagna in the microwave and sat, watching TV, the trunk just barely out of her line of vision. With a chuckle, Chloe got up from the couch and reached into the trunk, grabbed a black lace-edged red satin corset and the matching suspender silk stockings.

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How much weight would she actually have to lose to fit into these delicate naughty bits? They were positively decadent. What the hell. She might resemble a packed sausage but what harm could it do? Nobody would see her. If she ever wanted to see how these risqué garments would look on her, now was the time. She certainly would never go into a store to try them on. She slid one leg through and then everything happened so fast that Chloe couldn’t remember pulling up the stockings or fastening them. She felt lightheaded -thought she might pass out as a tingling began in her legs and moved over her body. A roar like a freight train filled her ears. One minute she was in the living room, hopping on one leg to pull up a silk stocking and garter, and the next she stood in the bathroom, regarding herself in the mirror. Not only that, she was wearing the full outfit and it all fit perfectly. She was still her usual size, but the garments had stretched until they fit as if they’d been handmade exclusively for her. Damn, she looked awesome! Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Her hair shone brazenly auburn with golden highlights. She twisted her hair into a loose knot, and to her amazement it obeyed, staying up with just a clip. Maybe it wasn’t a gypsy’s magic, but wow, she felt alive! In the back of her closet, Chloe found the black plunge-front dress she’d purchased years ago for the senior high school dance. At the last minute she’d chickened out and not gone. She slid the clingy material over her head and watched it mold perfectly to the curves of the corset. Her breasts pressed full and luminously white above the low neckline, while her body positively hummed with energy. She slipped on a sexy pair of gold lamé heels. Chloe didn’t know where she was going but she felt too good to stay home. On her way down to the Saab she passed a neighbor taking out his trash. Normally no one acknowledged one another in the complex. But as she passed the neighbor, he called to her. “Good evening, Chloe. On your way out tonight?” Chloe couldn’t recall the man’s name. She’d met him only once. “Uuh, yes.”

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“Well, have a good evening. And be sure to drop in and visit sometime. My wife was just saying we need to be more neighborly.” From the way he stared at her ass, Chloe thought neighborliness had achieved a new level. She drove down the main drag and pulled into the first club she saw. The Blue Lagoon was exclusive, trendy, and had a twenty-dollar cover charge. Chloe felt positively giddy as she parked and sauntered up to the club. The door was crowded with patrons waiting their turn. The few lucky ones considered to be a draw were given preference and bypassed the line, going straight inside. As she lined up, a bouncer motioned to Chloe. “Yo, sexy.” Chloe looked behind her, sure to see some voluptuous blonde. The bouncer smiled directly at her. “Come on in, darling.” She couldn’t believe it. Chloe walked past the velvet ropes and into the club. She tried to give twenty dollars to the bouncer but he shook his head. “You don’t pay tonight. I should pay you for giving me such a hard-on. You’re one hot señorita.” Chloe almost slapped herself to be sure she was awake. She felt sexy as hell. Apparently the feeling transferred to others. Maybe Aunt Toni’s legacy, currently hugging her curves, gave off raw pheromones. Or it might be something as simple as her newfound confidence. Whatever the reason, Chloe felt inclined to thank Aunt Toni for the transformation. The fluorescent lighting, all done in blue, gave the impression the club was underwater. Topless mermaids sat on their rocks in the corners, bathed in light as they swished their tails and smiled at the customers. Chloe wondered how long she could hold that pose without toppling off her perch. She sat at the bar waiting patiently to order her drink. Someone slid onto the barstool next to her and pressed suggestively against her. “You here alone?” Chloe looked the guy over. His clothes were trendy, but his manners sucked. He was way too close. And too pushy. She tried to think of the best way to extricate herself. “No, I’m with…” She quickly scanned the room. Across the bar a delicious hunk of a

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male dressed in an Italian suit held court surrounded by women. Without thought, Chloe finished, “Him.” The guy glanced across the room and scowled. “It looks like your boyfriend’s got his hands full. What say you and me cut out and do a little one on one horizontal mambo?” Chloe couldn’t believe the guy’s nerve. “You ask my boyfriend if it’s okay with him.” She turned her back on the idiot, thinking that would be the end of it. To her horror he called out loudly, “Hey, Ray, you mind if I take one of your girls out for a good time?” The hunk must have been a club fixture as all eyes turned from him to Chloe and the rude interloper. Ray approached the bar. He stood in front of Chloe and slowly looked at her up and down. Chloe just knew he was going to put her down and laugh at the idea of her being with him. She prepared herself for the humiliation. But Ray smiled and grinned. “You asking for this girl, Joe?” “Uh yeah, Ray. You got plenty. What’s one less?” Ray shook his head. “So you think that if I have a handful of jewels you should take the diamond of the bunch? I don’t think so. This one is all mine.” Ray grasped her wrist and she was too shocked to resist as he led her to a secluded booth. He waited while she scooted into one side, then slid in and sat next to her, effectively blocking her in. He held up two fingers and a pair of champagne flutes appeared almost instantly. Whoever Ray was, he had the help of the Blue Lagoon at his beck and call. Chloe didn’t know too much about champagne, but this one had to be expensive. It tasted light and the bubbles tickled her nose. She sipped it while Ray regarded her curiously. “I know most of the girls who come in here, but I don’t recognize you.” Chloe felt emboldened and not just from the champagne. She gave Ray a measuring look. “Maybe you don’t remember me.”

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Ray chuckled. “Not likely. I own this club and believe me, I’d remember a fine sexy woman like you.” Chloe gulped her champagne quickly. For a man of Ray’s wealth and looks to show interest in her had to be a miracle! Or was there something to Aunt Toni’s legacy in the trunk? Chloe felt warmth next to her skin. Whatever the garment gave off -- whether pheromones or old-fashioned lust -- it definitely had an effect. And not just on Chloe but on those around her. “I’m Chloe.” Ray reached out and took her hand by the wrist. He stroked the pulse point as he spoke. “So what do you like, Chloe?” “Like? This champagne is lovely.” “I’m not talking about drinks.” Ray leaned back, ran his hand slowly along her back and slid it to her thigh. He squeezed lightly. Chloe raised an eyebrow. Ray smiled. “What rocks your world? Makes you purr? A threesome? Backdoor play or maybe just a good toe licking?” Chloe tried hard not to giggle. The champagne and Ray’s words were getting to her. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried very much. But I have dreamt of things.” Her answer seemed to please Ray more than just a little. His hand traveled upward and encountered the garter. Chloe heard his sharp intake of breath. The naughty bit of lace had a definite effect on the man. He slid down in the booth slightly, his crotch plainly visible. Chloe could see the bulge even in the dim lighting. He placed her hand on the bulge and rubbed it back and forth. “Are you interested?” Chloe almost snatched her hand away. After all, she barely knew the man. But how often would an opportunity for a wild time with a handsome man present itself? Chloe was a realist. Chances of it happening again were about the same as winning the

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lottery. Hell the lottery had better odds. So she cocked her head and smiled. “Maybe. What do you have in mind?” Ray unzipped his trousers and guided her hand inside the opening. Chloe touched bare skin and realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. She felt velvety skin, hot and moist. His cock responded instantly and tightened under her touch. Chloe was fascinated. Her previous encounters had been more groping than minor foreplay. Never had she been able to leisurely take the time to explore and fondle, discovering the pleasures of the human body. Ray groaned under his breath. “That’s it, honey. Lightly to start. Now lean down, baby, and take it into your mouth.” Chloe jerked, closing her hand too tightly. Ray jumped as she squeezed. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just too public.” Ray covered her hand and pried her fingers loose one at a time. “If you want privacy, I know the perfect place. We can enjoy ourselves to our heart’s content. I mean, if you want to experiment…” Chloe pictured his apartment, a glass of wine, perhaps some heavy petting, and then they would make love until the sun came up. The perfect ending to the perfect evening. “Yes,” she agreed breathlessly. Ray almost yanked her from the booth as he led her by the wrist. The Blue Lagoon had many dark corners outside the glare of the fluorescent lights. Chloe thought they were headed for a back entrance. The heavy blue velvet curtain in front of the door Ray led her through was a sure sign of an exit. But to her surprise the door opened on a staircase leading down. A bare light bulb hung above and a string of the same lights draped from the ceiling in a line with no end. It was steep, and in her heels, Chloe stumbled numerous times. Ray quickly caught her and balanced her against him. He squeezed her breast through her dress, then without warning pressed her against the rail and felt her ass, bunching her dress up. “Easy, lover.” Chloe began to have some serious misgivings about her little adventure. “Where are we going?”

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“Ah, ah, my experiment, my rules. But I’ll tell you what few outsiders know. This part of town was built right on top of the old part. You know the Urban Redevelopment Project? Well, they razed the old buildings, but didn’t bother with the old conduits for water and electricity. Now they’re the personal playground for people like me, those who like to play on the dark side.” “Uh, playground?” “We call them the Tunnels of Lust. They can take you anywhere you want to go. All the big clubs on the strip have private entrances. Come now, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Ray’s soft husky tone did nothing to reassure Chloe. Her inner warning about strangers had picked a hell of a time to finally kick in. Maybe she could work some magic on Ray with the help of Aunt Toni. “Hey, wait, lover boy.” She eased back, trying to loosen Ray’s hands from her ass. “What say we take it slow? Very slow. And go back to my place.” She ran her hand down his arm, squeezing the tight biceps. She wanted out of this close atmosphere -- now. The stairs ended and the tunnel began. The smell of mildew and something else reached her. Like old air that never circulated. Ray grabbed her ass tighter and lifted her. “What say I just fuck you right here and now?” He punctuated the statement by rubbing Chloe’s crotch against his own. Apparently Aunt Toni’s inheritance didn’t inspire romance as much as it did lust. They were alone. Chloe suspected that if she didn’t follow Ray’s lead and agree to accompany him, she was going to get raped in these tunnels. Jeez, Aunt Toni, couldn’t you have just left me a vase or something? She tried for false bravado and failed. Shivering at her predicament and with only herself to blame, Chloe had to find a way to buy some time. “Let’s do it somewhere else, okay? This place gives me the creeps. I want the first time to be special.” “Oh, it’ll be special all right. I promise you.” To Chloe’s relief Ray set her down. Dragging her by the wrist, he led her into a softly lit passage. The underpass narrowed in spots, most of its space taken by the pipes overhead and conduits running along the wall.

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They passed a few other stairways leading up to what Chloe thought might be other businesses’ access to the tunnels. They all looked exactly the same to Chloe. Still it seemed Ray knew where he was headed. He paused before a narrow spiral staircase leading upward. “Where are we?” Chloe had to have some kind of direction so when she gave Ray the slip, she could escape aboveground and find her way back to her car. Ray smiled slyly. “We are at the playground for adults. You wanted to play, didn’t you?” “Uh… sure.” Chloe tried to sound convincing, but knew she had failed. “Too late to turn back now, sweet,” Ray breathed in her ear. “It’s showtime!” He propelled her in front of him and up the staircase. Chloe could feel his eyes on her backside, sliding over every inch of her. Damn it, Aunt Toni! What have you done? There was no one to blame but herself. She’d dreamed of being attractive to men and now she was. But this wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Why couldn’t she have exercised some caution before jumping into something that could turn very dangerous with the first attractive man she’d met tonight? Damn it, feeling sexy was one thing, but risky foolishness was another. She climbed the stairs as if going to an execution. What lay at the top? In her mind she pictured a cheap neon lit hotel room, pseudo-torture chamber. When she reached the top of the stairs she pulled the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was locked. Ray laughed. “Don’t worry, love, I have the magic pass.” He took a card out of his pocket and slid it over an unseen sensor built into a pad by the door. A beep sounded, then a click, and the door opened a crack. “In you go.” Ray ground his pelvis into her ass and Chloe jumped forward.

Chapter Four The vibration of techno bass driven music assaulted her ears, then the dim light changed to strobe darkness. Flashes of light blitzed around her as the door swung closed behind Ray. Chloe realized the room was some sort of meeting chamber. All around, faces glowed and receded in flashes of light, some gothic painted and others costumed in bizarre fashion, like painted clowns and floppy-hatted court jesters. A false Marie Antoinette and Cher drifted into view raising champagne flutes. Chloe shook her head to clear the freakish vision and turned back to the door, but it was gone. The flashes came faster and all the faces started to blur. Dizzily Chloe looked for an escape. Ray guided her through the throng of lunacy into a darkened hall. Through closed doors Chloe heard the sounds of pain and pleasure, moans and sighs, the sound of a slap or a lash. She shivered, her nerves taut and her senses on full red alert. Chloe planted her feet. “No way. Get me outta here.” Ray laughed softly. “Why suddenly play the reticent virgin? Come on and I’ll show you around. If you can’t get comfortable, we’ll go.” Chloe began to say “no” but she felt the corset tighten and she gasped. It must have sounded like an assent because Ray smiled. “That’s my beauty. I know just what you need to make you purr.” He opened a door to a sort of innocuous looking room. Set casually against one wall was an overstuffed sofa, with a wet bar in the corner and a bare paneled wall completing the picture. Chloe breathed easier. “You want a drink?” Ray gave a shrug toward the bar.

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At least he asked instead of trying to ply her with liquor. Her earlier fears about him receded a little. “Sure. Just a wine spritzer if you have it.” “Nope. Vodka and grapefruit juice okay? I’ll mix it light.” Chloe watched the mixing, ensuring that he wouldn’t slip anything into her drink. He offered the highball glass to her and waited while she tasted it. Nice, smooth, and settling to her nerves. Chloe sat on the sofa and leaned back, enjoying the feel of the sensual suede rubbing against the back of her legs. Though Chloe was not a short woman, it was deep and plush enough her feet didn’t reach the floor. She sipped her drink while Ray made one for himself. He sat next to her, close enough to whisper, yet not enough to crowd her. Chloe relaxed and smiled when he said, “Alone at last.” “I admit I was nervous. I wasn’t sure where you were taking me.” “It’s up to you. Where do you want to go? This place can be anything you want.” “I don’t understand.” “Watch.” Ray pressed the remote control built into the sofa arm. A wall panel slid back, revealing a double row of TV screens. “What’s my lady’s pleasure?” Chloe stared. TV? He’d brought her here for TV? “Uh, anything’s fine with me.” Ray laughed and pressed a button. Several screens came on at once. A myriad of pictures flashed before Chloe’s eyes. On one screen a young woman costumed in a French maid uniform was wielding a feather duster. She reached high onto a shelf to dust a bust of Napoleon. At that moment another figure came into view -- a man with long hair tied back, clad in tight breeches of another era and an open ruffled shirt, exclaimed, “Mon dieu, you are a tasty piece, Bridgette.” The maid turned quickly, backing away until she pressed against the bookcase. The gent approached her and buried his head between her generous breasts. Hands lifted her dainty skirt. Fingers were clearly visible against bare thighs. The maid wore no undergarments!

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And as porn went, it was hot. Chloe’s eyes stayed riveted as the gentleman carried the willing maid to a library table and dumped her on its edge. Her thighs fell open, exposing dark curls. Her master buried his head between her legs, his tongue delving in and out of her folds. The sound of moans could be heard clearly. Despite the porn being blatantly bad, the sight of the maid’s pussy being eaten aroused Chloe. A flash of heat ran through her body, made her shiver. She turned to another screen. A harmless group of older women, clad in tweeds and horn-rimmed glasses, were being served by a waiter in a shirt and tie, along with the required redjacketed uniform. As the waiter leaned over to clear an empty plate, one of the women reached and patted his ass. Another lady ran her hand down his fly, unzipped him, sliding out an unbelievably long, thick cock. She stroked the waiter’s cock until it stood straight out. A sedate tweedy matron dropped from her chair to her knees and slipped his cock into her mouth, leisurely working it back and forth. The distended organ changed from peach to purple as the blood ran excitedly to its head. The waiter grabbed his seducer’s head and closed his eyes in bliss. Another woman moved behind him. Her dexterous hands loosened and dropped his pants to the floor, cupping his ass. And still -- in the other monitor the French maid writhed against her master’s mouth. Chloe’s pussy tingled as she absorbed the scenes. Her eyes roamed from one screen to another. Now a slender naked man was hunched over a carousel horse, grasping the pole. Behind him sat another man -- muscular, though his features held a surreal beauty. The merry-go-round’s calliope began to play and the ride slowly started to turn. There were more men riding the carousel, all naked and riding in tandem. One man clung to the pole as it lifted him high. The man behind him stroked his own cock. As the pole came down, he grabbed his partner’s hips and guided him down, impaling him in one sure motion.

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The ride had a fairytale quality to it with the bright, gaily painted horses and whimsical music. And if the gasps and moans hadn’t drowned out the calliope or the sound of skin on skin wasn’t so audible, Chloe might not have believed her eyes. Surrounded -- drowning in sex, Chloe watched all the screens at the same time. She wriggled on the couch, growing turned on. “It’s okay,” Ray approved. “Touch yourself. Enjoy what you see.” Not in a million years would Chloe have believed she could be seduced by images. She slid further down on the couch while her eyes stayed glued to the screens. It was impossible to blink as the maid orgasmed into her lover’s mouth, the waiter ejaculated into his customer’s, and the carousel spun faster, the riders now screaming for release. Chloe felt a hand on her arm and she closed her eyes. She wanted to be that maid, enjoying the tongue of her lover against her pussy. Wanted to deep throat a cock - to give her man the satisfaction of swallowing his come, milking his essence until he screamed her name in pleasure. And she wanted to experience the thrust of a lover who would take her ass in the most intimate of ways. An intrusive hand slid to Chloe’s breast, stroked through the material of her dress. Ray’s hand, she reminded herself. She forced her eyes to open and watched the TV screens, becoming a character, a participant in one of the scenes. A new scene appeared. A toga-clad woman entered a pillared temple and approached an altar. The walls were lined with white statues that seemed almost life like in detail. The maiden set her offering of herbs and sweetmeats on the altar and one of the statues slowly separated from the wall. The muscular man was totally nude and beautiful in his stark paleness. His cock, alabaster white, matching the rest of him, stood erect, giving the appearance of hard stone. The maiden recited her vows to the gods and the statue reached for her. She had no time to scream as her toga was ripped from her body and she was lifted onto the altar.

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The statue parted her thighs and his thick rod rested against her bare cunt. His silvery eyes glinted while the maiden shivered -- not from fear. She kept her thighs open and offered herself to the idol. His cock slid inside her, the maiden allowing him to push and pull as he wished. His ass, perfectly rounded and muscled, flexed while he pumped savagely into her pussy. The sight of that stark, white cock thrusting into the maiden made Chloe breathe deeply. Ray’s hand slid under her dress and cupped her breasts. He lifted the heavy mounds from the corset and tweaked the nipples almost playfully. He whispered, “Take off your dress,” and Chloe, without taking her gaze off the screen, proceeded to unbutton her dress. Now the statue was sliding his wet cock from the maiden. Another statue separated itself from the wall. Almost identical to the first, it approached and knelt between the maiden’s splayed thighs. His long tongue licked eagerly, cleaning the juices running down her thighs. Behind him, the first statue reached to stroke the white ass of the second statue. He parted the taut cheeks and grasped the flanks firmly with one hand while guiding his cock with the other. The statue between the maiden’s thighs licked faster, his tongue plunging in and out as she lay moaning under his assault. With one thrust the second statue pushed his cock against his twin’s hole. The tip pressed, then stopped, as if it had met with some resistance. A low keening cry was heard as the first statue backed into his twin, the huge cock sliding in to the hilt. And the maiden began to come. The maiden was left in a daze while the statues grappled. Using the altar for a brace, the alabaster statue pushed slowly into the other sculpture. He pulled out, jerked hard, and his hips started to pump faster and faster. Moving like a piston, he filled him over and over until he rammed one last time, spilling himself inside the other man. There the statues remained frozen, caught for eternity in the most intimate embrace. And the screen went black.

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Ray took her hand, pulled gently, and Chloe stood nervously before Ray clad only in her corset and silk hose, her high heels accentuating her height. Her breasts were bare and thrust up by the corset, the nipples high, begging for attention. Her hair had come undone from its clip and hung thick and loose. She didn’t even remember taking off her dress. It was as if she were someone else, her mind disengaged from her body. The movies had made her feel like a voyeur. She longed to be touched and stroked, both in love and lust. The heat between her thighs raged out of control in a way that was both torturous and pleasurable. “God, you’re beautiful!” Ray muttered. Maybe because no man had ever whispered those words to her, or simply because she’d been seduced by a bombardment of erotic images, when Ray moved behind her and pushed against her, Chloe didn’t protest but instead leaned back. His erection pressed aggressively against her ass, his hand wandering to her belly down past the confines of the corset, touching and petting her through the garter. His fingers traced circles through the fabric against her heat. Chloe arched against his hand, leaving no doubt she was a willing participant. Ray slid her underwear aside and fingered her wet slit. Her clit tingled against his touch and Chloe sagged as her legs trembled. “I want to taste you,” Ray whispered in her ear and pressed her toward the couch. Chloe sat and Ray nudged her legs apart, slipping her underwear down from beneath the garter. The corset kept her back straight so she eased down on the sofa to be more comfortable as Ray began licking her slick pussy. At the first touch of his tongue against her folds Chloe gasped. Ray began devouring her, almost savagely, slurping like a man starved. She climaxed almost instantly, yet Ray wasn’t finished. He pushed his tongue inside her, fucked her with the tip, pressing his face tight against her mound. Chloe gasped as the sensitive walls of her cunt contracted against the rough edges of his tongue.

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She kneaded her hands against the couch arms, like a cat in ecstasy. She hit something with her fingers and vaguely realized she’d punched the console of the couch. A TV screen flickered on and Chloe lurched in surprise. “Easy, love,” Ray breathed against her. “I’m gonna finish you and then we’ll see about dessert.”

Chapter Five The tongue snaked back inside her. Chloe closed her eyes, jerking them open as a voice from the TV called her back to reality. On the screen a man stood manacled to a wall, his naked form lithe and wiry. His cock was half-erect, dangling loosely. A woman dressed in skin-hugging latex walked toward him and unfastened a tab on her chest. A taut breast fell out. “Suck my tit.” To punctuate her demand, she placed a riding crop across the man’s chest, none too gently. Without another word she held her small breast to the man’s mouth and waited for him to obey. Chloe watched astonished. All thoughts of Ray and what he was doing were lost as she stared at the screen. The man sucked the breast into his mouth but it was apparent he wasn’t into the task. He raised his head and stared into the camera. “Sorry, love, it’s no use. It’s not working for me anymore.” The woman pulled back, leaving her bare breast in his face. “We can try something else, Slade. Something kinkier.” “Thanks, Dionne, but I’m tired, hon. Maybe I’m too jaded from the road to submit even to your skills.” Ray finally realized he’d lost his audience. He pulled his head from between Chloe’s thighs. “What gives?” Chloe ignored him, her gaze on the TV screen. “You like Dionne? She’s a very good dominatrix. Hell, I could get into a threesome and some bondage but I thought for the first time you’d want to start out slow --” Chloe breathed, “Sam.”

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“Slade Brandt?” Ray laughed. “It’s a little known secret he prefers the dark side. But he’s a tortured soul, sweetheart. He’s been coming here for months, whenever he’s in town.” Chloe hauled herself upright on the couch. “But he does movies?” “Movies?” Ray seemed surprised. “Oh, those? Those aren’t movies,” he laughed. “Those are live video feed from the house rooms.” “Sam? Uh… Slade is here?” “You have got to be kidding me! You’re a Slade groupie? Just my luck, the night I pick up a hot chick and Slade Brandt chooses the same night to put in an appearance at the club.” Chloe heard Ray sigh but her attention remained focused on the TV monitor. “What is it with women and Slade? You practically throw yourselves at his feet and he could care less. Even Dionne doesn’t satisfy him anymore. No, my angel, you’re better off with me than that road hound. He likes a woman who controls. Why don’t we pick up where we left off and forget Slade’s in the next room? I’ll make you very happy…” But Chloe felt a humming surge through her body and it had nothing to do with Ray or the fact he’d just performed oral sex on her. She was a woman on a mission. She ignored Ray and, clad only in her corset, stockings, and heels, strode to the door. “Hey, wait just a minute,” Ray called. “Haven’t you heard of dancing with the one who brought you to the party?” But Chloe kept walking and passed through the door. Ray might not have existed for all the attention she spared him. Chloe no longer saw or heard Ray. In her head she heard one phrase. “Sam is next door. Sam is next door.” The hall went both ways, left and right, and she had a 50-50 chance of finding the correct room. Endorphins flowed through her body. Damn, she could probably kick the door in even if it were locked! The knob turned easily and she wasn’t of a mind to just peek inside. Something drove her to barge right in. A couple lay on the floor, naked as the day they were born, fucking doggie-style with enthusiasm. They paid her no heed so Chloe didn’t bother with an apology. They wouldn’t have heard her over their echoing grunts and groans anyway.

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She simply turned and left, knowing she probably was on the live feed. Yet no one came to scold her or escort her from the club, so Chloe simply retraced her steps and followed the hall to the right. This door didn’t open as Chloe turned the knob. She pushed harder. With a creak and a jab it finally opened. The room was so dark, at first Chloe thought it was empty, but a deep voice in the dark rang out. “Dionne, are you back? Sorry, I’m just not into it tonight. Maybe when I come back from tour. Shit, I’m tired. Tired of all of it.” Chloe knew that voice. She’d heard it often enough in her fantasies. “I’m not Dionne, Sam.” Something moved in the darkness. Chloe felt the air stir as someone approached her. A deep voice spoke softly. “Sam? Only my parents call me Sam. Who are you? You aren’t just a fan.” “No.” The darkness gave Chloe a feeling of safety. The corset and heels made her feel sexy as hell. Still, Sam had been with the most beautiful women in the world. How could Chloe compete with that? Sexy magical lingerie or not! “I’m Chloe Carlyle. You probably don’t remember me from high school.” “No… I… Wait a minute… Are you that --” Chloe could just imagine how his mind made the connection. “That lump of redhaired nothing that was teased to death and elected prom queen as a joke.” But Sam only laughed low. “Are you still as cute as I remember?” Cute? Did he have her mixed up with someone else? Because he must have met thousands of ladies on tour, he couldn’t really remember… “I remember once you dropped your books outside the library and when I helped pick them up, you dropped your gum on my shoe.” Chloe flinched. He did remember her. The gum, a wad the size of two gumballs, had fallen in a gooey clod onto his sneakers. Mortified, she’d practically grabbed her books and ran away. “Guess you’ve gotten over being shy since you’re at this club.”

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Chloe opened her mouth to say, no, this was her first time, that this evening was a mistake. She’d inherited a trunk of lingerie from her great aunt and it made her irresistible. So she’d wanted to get fucked and had jumped at the chance with the first handsome guy she’d met. Chloe winced. It sounded insane and not very flattering. It wasn’t like she was hard up. Oh hell, yes she was! She bit down the words, resisted the temptation to give any explanation for her actions, and felt the corset vibrate against her breasts. What was up with that? She realized Sam stood close to her, barely a few feet away. The corset, for whatever reason, had reacted to him. Now the garter on her leg contracted. Chloe shifted her weight and the words came tumbling out. “Actually, I’m here to check out this place. I’ve heard it could change my life.” She tried to keep her voice steady, almost bored. “I thought so, too.” Sam’s voice lowered to a gruff whisper. “I can’t seem to find peace of mind anymore. Day after day on the road, same type of groupies, all wanting Slade Brandt. My manager, my agent, my publicist, all want a piece. And the band wants Slade’s hardass rock songs. But what about what I want? Everyone worships Slade Brandt, but no one gives a damn about Sam Brandenburg.” Chloe breathed deeply. She could smell Sam. It was heavenly, a combination of spicy and earthy male all rolled into one. “I give a damn. What do you want, Sam?” “I want to be Sam Brandenburg again. Writing my own songs and playing them as I wrote them. Not synthesized and distorted into another person’s ideal. I want…” “Yes?” “To lose myself for a few hours in places like this until I forget Slade Brandt and learn to be a normal human being again. But it’s not working anymore. I can’t get Slade out of my head!” Chloe could hardly believe the man who had everything and everyone at his beck and call was miserable. Yet it resonated from his voice, like a desperate plea for help. Chloe remembered Dionne and her leather whip, her voice ordering Slade to suck her breast. Slade’s dark side might be Sam’s pent-up frustrations seeking an outlet. But

Ciarra Sims


- 38 -

he’d lost his edge. Could Chloe help him? Could her obsession become a slave to passion? Her passion? The corset tightened and a rush of heat radiated throughout her body until desire pulsed steadily between her legs. Chloe was positively burning with hunger for Sam. “I can help you, Sam. Let me help you. No cameras, nothing but you and me. Here and now.” A hand touched her arm and stroked upward. Chloe shivered under his touch. How could she confess she’d dreamed about him almost every night, worshipped him from afar since high school? That was just it, she couldn’t. She didn’t want him to think of her as just another fan. “If you want my help, you must ask for it.” Chloe spoke evenly, keeping the yearning hidden in her voice. “You are sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Slade spoke in her ear. “Not the wallflower I remember.” “People change.” Chloe reached up in the dark and softly traced his face. She stroked the hard chin, the stubble of his late evening five o’clock shadow, scratchy against her fingers. He pressed against her hand. “I want your help, Chloe. Can you bring Sam back?” Chloe felt something wet against her palm. A tear? She swallowed her sympathy. If she gave in now, it would be over and Sam would no doubt refuse her. She’d dreamt of this moment, over and over. Sam in her arms, begging her for his release. But it had been Sam, not Slade -- not Slade the rock star, who was so disillusioned and out of touch even from his inner soul. He was on the edge, selfdestructive and on the path to an early grave. Chloe would help him at any cost. “Tonight, we’ll get to know each other.” She spoke confidently, hoping her voice wouldn’t quaver. “No lights. Just words and senses. Touch, taste, and smell. Run your hands over my body, feel every inch of my skin.”

Ciarra Sims


- 39 -

Sam stepped close enough to run his hands over her, like a blind person learning his surroundings. He touched Chloe’s thick hair, twining his fingers through it, running it between his thumb and forefinger. He molded her face to his palm, tracing her ear with his finger. “Taste me,” Chloe ordered. Sam’s tongue ran along the inside of her ear, darting along the delicate etched curve. Chloe bit her lip to keep from moaning. Sam licked the sensitive skin of her neck and slid slowly to her nape, laving with his tongue, tasting the salt on her skin. His hand stroked the back of her neck as his tongue moved to her mouth. He kissed the outer edge of her lips and the soft crease on the side. He pressed harder and Chloe opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside like a whisper of wet silk. She let him explore and feel her tongue, tracing deliciously the sensitive edges before Chloe began her own assault on his senses. She tasted him -- melding with her. Her tongue teased his with light strokes. Sam pulled her closer. Her breasts were squeezed tight against his naked chest. Chloe could feel his heart pounding, the beats erratic with excitement. His hand slid between them and cupped her breast, his palm lightly stroking and caressing until the tips were hard and pebbled nubs. The kiss turned wild. One of his hands dipped lower and covered her pussy. Chloe almost sighed. His finger found her clit, rubbing it back and forth before delving inside her cunt. He pushed slowly inside her, then in and out. His thumb stroked her clit in a rhythm as if strumming a guitar. Chloe pressed against Sam’s hand, urging him on. Her breath came in short staccato gasps. She forgot everything. Forgot her surroundings, centered only in Sam and his magic fingers. Forgot that Ray had already pleasured her. It was a new evening, a new lover and it was her Sam. She rode his hand, fucking herself in a rocking motion. Her legs trembled. His hand on her back eased her to the ground to a gymnastic mat that absorbed both their weights evenly.

Ciarra Sims


- 40 -

Sam’s hard cock pressed urgently against her belly, demanding attention. She reached down and fondled his stiff organ. He certainly had no trouble sustaining a full erection now! Chloe stroked the length, feeling the smooth mushroom head, a tiny bit of moisture coating her finger. The creamy texture of his pre-come was an aphrodisiac to her already overloaded senses. “Fuck me, Sam. Just you and me. We are alone in the world. Your cock, my pussy. Come inside me, now.” In total darkness, Chloe guided him to her slit. He nudged against her labia as Chloe stroked his balls, sifting her fingers through the curly thatch of coarse hair. Sam groaned and pulled back. “Are you fucking Slade Brandt or Sam Brandenburg?” Chloe palmed his balls and stroked the indention between the sacs. “There’s only Sam Brandenburg and Chloe Carlyle in this room. Fuck me. And when I scream your name in the heat of passion it’ll prove to you I’m sincere. Your name, Sam.” Sam’s cock thrust forward, splitting her labia and surging deep. Chloe gasped as he filled her, a dream come true, but so much better than in her dreams. Reality was her fantasy. His hardness created a delicious friction as it tunneled through her slick walls, forced its way deep inside her and branded her with a searing heat. Sam groaned. He roared and pulled back, thrusting almost savagely. The corset constricted against her ribs. It should have been hard to breathe, but it wasn’t. Electric shocks pulsed through her center as if it had pressed a nerve directly connected to her cunt. It made Chloe want to give Sam back everything he gave to her and more. She needed to run her hands over his body, memorize every scar, every indention. She wanted to run her tongue down his chest to where the hair tapered to a dark trail, leading to his cock and balls. She craved his cock, every delicious inch of it inside her, working magic, pounding until she exploded. Most of all, she wanted to take away all his pain and gift him only with pleasure.

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- 41 -

Sam pumped into her. In and out. Over and over. Chloe grabbed his ass in her hands and moved hard against him, burying his cock to the hilt. He allowed her the freedom to rock against him, to feel the tip of his cock against her cervix. Then it was she who gave Sam free rein and he slammed into her. She clenched her vaginal walls around him, trying to milk every inch and every slide. Chloe began to shake with the effort to control her orgasm. She wanted to feel Sam burst inside her. Give him the pleasure of knowing she wanted Sam, not Slade, for her lover. Chloe trembled harder and Sam must have felt her effort to hold back. “It’s okay. Let it go.” Chloe whispered in the darkness. “Not until I feel Sam Brandenburg’s hard cock spurting inside me. I want you, Sam, only you.” Chloe clenched and released her intimate muscles. Sam groaned in her ear and erupted inside her. Ripples of pleasure shot through her body. Chloe allowed her own orgasm to wash over her and she moaned, “Sam, oooh, Sam, keep pumping. Let me milk you until you’ve exorcised your demons.” Sam slowly kept thrusting and Chloe instantly climaxed again. They shuddered in each other’s arms, coming back to earth as one. The only sound in the dark room was the heavy breathing of two exhausted lovers. Sam held Chloe to him. He brushed her hair back from her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Chloe. Sam says thank you.”

Chapter Six Chloe opened her eyes slowly. Her back pressed against something hard and she realized they were both lying on the floor. Every single muscle hurt. Padded mat or not, the surface wasn’t meant for sleeping. But it didn’t seem to affect Sam. He was out like a light, sleeping heavily. His arms felt heavy around her. Chloe wished they were alone in the world, just the two of them. No intrusions, no Slade persona to deal with. No fame and screaming fans. Just Chloe and Sam, forever. But even a dreamer like Chloe knew what a night with Sam meant. It was just a night to him, no big deal. He would resume his life as Slade and forget Chloe in the arms of a beautiful tease who would worship Slade and his jaded lifestyle. Chloe lifted Sam’s arm draped across her breasts. Damn! Why did he have to be so sexy and unpretentious one minute, then unapproachable and edgy the next? She supposed it went with the territory of being a public commodity. Fighting to maintain your identity and staying true to yourself. How did he stand it? Not very well. Last night he’d pleaded for help. That was the problem, she realized. Sam and Slade were incompatible. With a sigh she gently placed his arm back down, her hand covering his own. She squeezed it, trying to give him her strength. Sam cupped her breast and snuggled closer. Just a little more time, Chloe wished. I’ll just lie here a little longer and pretend we’re a normal couple, just two lovers fully into each other. Sam’s hand caressed her in his sleep, drifting over her nipple and rubbing the nub. He muttered something low and Chloe leaned closer to hear him. “Lock up when you leave, love. Slade wants to sleep in today.” He made a smacking noise with his lips and snored.

Ciarra Sims


- 43 -

Chloe felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her. Reality had kicked in with a vengeance. The bastard believed she was just a night’s lay on the road! She, Chloe Carlyle, was just another cheap groupie wanting a piece of ass and the thrill of saying she’d slept with the great Slade Brandt? Not in his fucking lifetime! He could take his fame and money and shove it up his sexy ass! Chloe stumbled furiously to her feet. Oh, sure, they were a normal couple all right. Normal to Slade’s way of thinking… a one-night, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am fuck. But that wasn’t Chloe’s lifestyle and never would be. When she’d hit the town last night, she’d been curious, wanting to be wild for once, but her short stint with Ray had proven she was a one-man woman… Unfortunately, that one man, the one lying at her feet, was a womanizing selfish jerk! She groped in the dark until she found a door handle. Her fantasy night was over. It was time for Cinderella to return home and lock up her lingerie. Outside in the hall a single light bulb lit the way. The stark reality that she walked naked from the butt down made her self-conscious. She wore garters and stockings, but still her crotch was bare and open to the world. Chloe retraced her steps to the room where Ray had first taken her. The room was now empty and her dress lay on the floor, but as she searched for her underwear it ended up missing. Just great. Ray or some other man had probably taken them as a trophy. Oh, God, maybe they hung underwear on their bedpost and sniffed them on cold nights while jerking off. Chloe almost growled as she dressed quickly. Her perfect night was becoming a nightmare and she knew in her heart what Sam would realize once he was fully awake. She was just plain Chloe Carlyle and he was Slade Brandt. She hoped that at least this evening had proved to him that Sam was still a vibrant part of him and Slade a mere shadow. Sam would always be his inner core. But jeez, Chloe was just Chloe and Slade was an icon. His muttering in his sleep proved happy-ever-after endings didn’t happen to people like her. Chloe dressed to the hilt was no uber-model and Slade enjoyed the very best in women, as well as in life.

Ciarra Sims


- 44 -

With a heavy heart Chloe found her way to the front of the club where the techno beat still pulsed and strobe lights flickered insanely. She found the front door manned by a bouncer. Chloe scooted carefully past him so her dress wouldn’t flip up in back and show her bare ass. Sexy lingerie or not, her night of fun had ended. It was cold outside and she recognized the warehouse district from the number of loading docks with idle trucks backed up to them. She walked a few blocks, shivering in the late night air. It could have all been a dream. But her car at the Blue Lagoon was proof enough that she’d been lucid. At her condo, she ignored the trunk in her living room and unhooked the corset in front of the mirror. Her body showed marks where Sam’s beard stubble had rubbed over her, leaving a red path. Already her mind replayed their lovemaking over and over, every move, every thrust. Chloe let the corset fall to the floor and slid the garter from her thigh. It was just a bunch of lingerie, after all. But the encounter with Sam had been real and the best moment of Chloe’s entire life. She would cherish it forever. Bittersweet or not.

*** When Chloe woke up she felt sore. Sore, but humming. Even the knowledge she had to go back to her mundane job at the museum wasn’t going to kill her buzz. Chloe had a hard time thinking Slade and Sam were one and the same. Slade was a narcissistic jerk who treated women as trophies, to be strutted about on his arm as decorations, making him look good in photo ops. He was called “The Rebel Warrior” -- and he was more than willing to propagate that persona. The tabloids portrayed him as a hell-raising rocker, smashing hotel rooms to pieces with his band in tow, mocking authority and rebelling at every turn. His affairs were brief and steamy, often publicized to the point they seemed publicity stunts and fodder for his PR team to leak to the press.

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- 45 -

And Sam, well, Sam was the boy grown into a man she remembered in high school, always fighting for the underdog and caring about the world around him. He was sensitive, but hard-edged when he had to be. Chloe smiled, realizing she’d elevated Sam to super-hero status. But she couldn’t help it. Sam was the one she’d made love with last night. Had woken up beside him. Sam was the one she loved and cherished… she always would. She showered, wishing Sam stood in the tiled cubicle, running his hands down her body, holding her ass cheeks tight as he pulled her to him. She remembered the spicy smell of his body, imagining the heat from the water intensifying the scent. His stiff cock looked humorous with a ring of bubbles around the mushroomed head. But there was nothing funny as Chloe used the loofah sponge to both caress and clean, palming the hard organ, sliding her hand up and down the length, until Sam closed his eyes and pumped into her hand. Smiling, Chloe would take him into her mouth and work him back and forth, feeling the heated blood rush back into the hardening cock. She had total control as she ran her tongue over the soft skin, feeling the sensitive head, swirling over the small opening at the tip. Sam would shudder, running his fingers through her wet hair, guiding the rhythm of her mouth. With a groan his hips pumped forward, communicating he was about to climax. Chloe relaxed her throat, sliding his cock deep as he spurted hot come down her throat. She swallowed his seed, unwilling to allow any part of him to escape. Then Sam would take her by the hand and lead her into the bedroom. He would gently lay her on the bed and make love to her. It was Sam not Slade who worshipped her body, laving her with his tongue, covering her with kisses and caresses until she begged for release. Her pussy ached for him, just as it had last night. She could still feel his hard cock inside her, thrusting deep, churning with his inner rage until he’d finally accepted Chloe wasn’t after him for what he represented, but rather who he was down deep inside.

Ciarra Sims


- 46 -

Chloe sighed. It would have been nice to have more time, but she’d take what she could get. For Chloe, dreams of Sam had to be enough and for now reliving her night with him was enough. At work Chloe led two tours before taking her break. Mr. Plessey had been absent most of the morning, only making an appearance as he tried to join a group of tourists and blend into the masses. He obviously was listening to Chloe’s dissertation about seventeenth century oils and the ignominy of being a starving artist, unrecognized until modern day declared them a genius. Like she couldn’t see her boss slithering around the museum corners, hanging on her every word to be sure she spouted the spiel the museum insisted she follow verbatim. Chloe longed to make up far-fetched tales about the artists. “Did you know this painting was part of a duke’s estate? And the artist painted it while the duchess posed naked. The clothes were added later when the duke discovered his wanton wife in flagrante delicto with the artist’s face buried between her legs. He was a sticker for details.” She could just imagine ol’ Plessey falling into a coma from the shock. Chloe’s break gave her just about enough time to pee and drink a cup of coffee. She reached into her purse to hunt for change for the coffee machine when her hand found something silky inside her purse. The lacy garter. How the hell did that get in there? Chloe mischievously rolled it onto her arm over the pristine white blouse she wore. Let Plessey brood on this infraction. Chloe laughed. Chloe couldn’t fathom why she was in such a good mood. The hangover from last night should have long ago worn off, but it hadn’t. She should have been mourning the fact her once in a lifetime fantasy was over and she would never see Sam again. Certainly she’d never fall asleep in his arms, taste him, feel him inside her, filling her until she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. When Sam resumed his Slade Brandt career, Chloe’s night with him would blur into a montage of all the groupies he’d fucked. But no matter what, Chloe still felt good about last night.

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- 47 -

She returned from break and passed Mr. Plessey, who was cataloging a collection laid out on the museum floor. “Ms. Carlyle…” Chloe dreaded the tone. “Are we late back from break?” Chloe glanced at her watch, looked away, then hastily glanced back down. Oh hell, it had stopped! “Uh, perhaps, Mr. Plessey. Sorry.” But Mr. Plessey was already approaching, his mouth hinged open to begin a lecture. He reached out and had the balls to tap Chloe’s watch fastened to her wrist. “If you cannot keep to a sched --” His eyes caught the lacy garter on her sleeve. He turned her hand over and stared at the rose tattoo on her palm. Chloe blanched. The strange tattoo glowed in the fluorescent light of the museum and the garter, well… What had started as a spark of rebellion was going to land her in hot water, on top of her truancy. Mr. Plessey smiled, a rare expression on his face that drew his features into a pointy, sharp, pinched look that reminded Chloe of a ferret. “Well, Ms. Carlyle… Chloe, isn’t it? You know, you’ve been giving tours here for a good while… I think it’s time we talked of your future, and where you see yourself down the road.” To Chloe’s horror he stroked her wrist slowly back and forth. Her skin crawled at his touch, so unlike Sam’s the night before. “Uh, yes, we should. Maybe later. I see a tour group forming and I should organize them. Excuse me.” “Of course, my dear.” But he didn’t let go of her wrist and Chloe had little choice but to jerk it from his grasp. She thought of kneeing Plessey in the balls and making a fast getaway. Instead Chloe took a deep breath before walking toward the group forming for the next tour. As Chloe guided her group through the museum Plessey followed, this time in full view, occasionally smiling and winking at Chloe. She wouldn’t put it past him to jump her in public. She could just picture herself in the modern art collection, trying to explain the weasel-faced man humping her leg like a horny poodle.

Ciarra Sims


- 48 -

When the tour was over Chloe almost locked herself in the restroom. Plessey had been looking for her constantly. While Chloe didn’t want to be a tour guide all her career, she’d rather eat dirt than let Plessey have one pound of flesh -- much less her whole body! A little before six she left, uneasily checking the parking garage. Plessey’s car was already gone. Chloe breathed a sigh. This could not go on another day! She headed to her condo. When she pulled into her parking space, the same neighbor she’d spoken to the night before had just pulled out of his space. He rolled down the window of his sedan and whistled. “Chloe, you’re looking quite beautiful today. Say, my wife is out for the evening and I was just running to the store for a steak. I could grab an extra and a bottle of wine and how about you pop by later?” Chloe wanted to scream. She shuddered at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. Aunt Toni’s inheritance was becoming a major problem. How did beautiful women stand it? Uck, what a pain. Chloe tried a polite reply, but it came out different than she intended. “Not a chance in hell, buddy. Tell your wife hello for me.” Well, neighborliness wasn’t her strong suit obviously. When she walked into her condo, the unmistakable sweet scent of jasmine filled the air. Chloe glanced around. Something wasn’t right. Had someone been here? There, strewn about, were the contents of the trunk. A silky teddy hung draped over the couch. By the TV a gaudy bit of ruched satin rested innocently, and the trail continued toward the bedroom. Chloe tiptoed to the single bedroom where a couple of stockings lay on the floor. Otherwise it was easy to see the room was empty. What the hell? Had some pervert broken in and scattered lingerie around the place? Not hardly. There was no sign of forced entry and the small condo seemed empty. She prowled the place, holding a bat she had handy by the front door for just such a scenario. Chloe wasn’t about to admit to being stark raving bonkers. But the alternative was that the trunk and its contents had a mind of their own.

Ciarra Sims


- 49 -

None of it made sense. A trunk filled with possessed lingerie? The thought made Chloe giggle. She had to get some rest, or she was going to go crazy. Let the lingerie lie where it may, she was too tired to care, possessed or not. She threw her pajamas on the bed and hit the shower. She planned on frozen pizza and TV for her late night companions. She’d had her night with Sam, nothing and no one could ever top that. After her hot shower, she came out of the bathroom, dropped the towel, and reached for her pajamas. But her fingers didn’t feel the comforting warmth of flannel. Chloe almost jumped at the feel of cool flounced georgette under her touch. Her neck almost cracked with the speed as she swiveled her head to stare at the bed. A long filmy dress in a shade of intense azure lay suggestively against the bedcovers. It was beautiful! Mesmerized, Chloe stroked the material. The smell of jasmine practically emanated from the garment in a cloying mist. It must have been in the bottom of the trunk. Chloe didn’t remember seeing it in her first excavation. Damn, it was such a pretty thing… wispy and soft. Suddenly Chloe pitched forward onto the bed. She grappled for a hold and connected with the bedspread. She twisted over as something covered her head and rolled down her body. Whoever it was was in for a fight, Chloe vowed, ready to defend herself with a kick to the groin. She prepared herself for a sharp kick, her leg extended. Her adrenaline surged as she waited for the next assault.

Chapter Seven Chloe growled as something stroked her leg. Her eyes flew downward to see what or who was her attacker. But the room was empty. What the hell? The dress! She was wearing it! Chloe scampered off the bed in a swirl of color. The dress fit her like a glove, tapering at the waist and flowing from the hips. Chloe’s heart pounded. Wild thoughts flew through her mind, randomly disjointed and meaningless. She was totally freaked out! She pulled at the silky material, trying to yank it over her head, but it wouldn’t budge. The bodice fit tightly and refused to loosen. The dress molded like a second skin, clinging to her curves tenaciously. She gasped when she felt the skirt flutter around her legs as if blowing from an unseen wind. Chloe froze, breathing hard. What was going on? She felt something sliding up her leg and hiked the skirt up. The silk and lace garter was now firmly around her thigh. Chloe remembered taking it off before her shower and leaving it on the dresser, right next to her car keys. She sat hard on the bed, half-afraid to move. But nothing else happened. The room grew darker and still she waited. A sudden burning in her palm caused her to rub the skin briskly. Her hand began to glow and the rose tattoo was as clear as if it were lit with an inner flame. Chloe’s head whirled and she heard Sam’s voice calling out. It came from far away and the pain in his tone made Chloe jerk from the bed. Sam needed her. She felt it in her heart as sure as the sound came again in her head. It wasn’t a summons by name but rather a pain straight from the soul. After all the strange events of this evening, this was simply just one more episode. But unlike the garter and the pieces of clothing, this was serious. It was Sam, her Sam!

Ciarra Sims


- 51 -

Wildly Chloe grabbed for the first pair of shoes in her small closet. She jammed her toes into them and headed for the door, whipping the car keys from the bureau. There was no time to consider this madness. No time to contemplate how she would find him. It didn’t matter. Only Sam mattered. She would do whatever she had to. The place to start was the club from last night. It was the one place Sam visited to rediscover himself and shed the skin of Slade. She would only waste time driving through the warehouse district trying to find the unmarked door from the street. Plus it was doubtful she’d get past the bouncer. The ruffle of material at her hem seemed to whisper to her. “Oh, shut up. Like you really have some power over men? I seriously doubt even you could sex me up tonight. I have to find Sam. Unless you can do that, then you are just a dress with an attitude.” She swore she heard a growl from her skirt. It was only hunger pains from her stomach. “Jeez, Chloe, get a grip,” she chided herself, realizing she hadn’t eaten since lunch and that hadn’t been much thanks to her boss’ unwanted attentions. No, she wouldn’t bother with the street entrance to the sex club. The Blue Lagoon and the strange tunnel were her best shot. She grabbed her purse, quickly trying to smooth her mussed auburn curls. The shower had only served to frizz the whole mess. Worse, Chloe realized as she fumbled for her wallet, she didn’t have the twenty-dollar cover charge. Maybe the bouncer would remember her from yesterday. But there was a towering blonde at the door -- a woman! Chloe looked at her dress. Would it work any charm on a woman? Aunt Toni, if you can hear me up there, just let your inheritance get me to Sam and I’ll live up to your bequest. I’ll guard that trunk and its contents for the rest of my life. I don’t care if they are possessed or I’m just psycho for thinking so. The blonde did look on the butch side. Maybe she had enough testosterone running through her. She might appreciate Chloe’s over-ripe figure and any magic the dress and garter wielded. Chloe sauntered to the front of the line formed at the club. “Hi there.” To her horror her voice was anything but sexy. It squeaked.

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- 52 -

“You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.” The blonde laughed. “You ain’t getting in this club, missy. Not in a million years.” She wasn’t looking at Chloe’s face but at her feet. Chloe looked at the line of hopeful patrons. The guys waiting looked at her with interest but they weren’t club material either. Chloe thought of rushing the blonde. She was a tank with breasts. But Sam was worth anything, even getting into a brawl. The blonde was still considering Chloe’s feet. Foot fetish? “Nice shoes.” A deep voice at her elbow made Chloe jump. She knew the voice. It was Ray, the club owner. Chloe should have been nicer to him last night. But her obsession with Slade had overpowered her manners. “Ray… I…” The blonde butted in. “Hey, Ray, you know Duckie here?” Duckie? What the hell was she calling her Duckie for? Was this some new slang for geek? Chloe bristled. The garter on her thigh tightened and she swore she smelled jasmine wafting through the air. Ray took her elbow. “Yeah, I know this siren. Come on in, baby. Let’s see if you and I can pick up where we left off last night.” Chloe was about to set him straight, but that wouldn’t get her into the club and the entrance to the tunnels -- and of course, to Sam. She allowed Ray to lead her inside. When they were safely in the door she tried to explain. “Listen, Ray. About last night…” He opened the door to a small office close inside the entrance. “I’m over it. Slade distracted you.” He waited for her to follow him into the secluded room, then reached for her elbow, stroking down her arm. “You get his autograph? Find out his dick’s not up to what you need? Come on, let Ray show you what a real man can do.” “Hey!” Chloe jerked away. “Don’t talk that way about Sam… I mean Slade. He’s perfect the way he is.” “Are you kidding me? That bent piece is too far gone in his dark world to be of use to anyone, let alone a woman like yourself. Forget him.”

Ciarra Sims


- 53 -

“I can’t. Where is he, Ray? You know too much about him. You know what I think? I think you’re jealous and you worship him too. You certainly keep close tabs on him. What’s the matter?” She saw Ray flinch. “It’s too late.” “For what?” “For Slade.” “What do you mean? He was here, wasn’t he?” “I set him up with what he wanted. He asked for it and I simply gave him the information. He’s warped and too far gone in a prison of his own making.” “Where is he?” “I’m not letting you go anywhere near that place. You deserve better than that perverted life he’s into.” Ray grabbed her hand. The garter slipped to her wrist so fast Chloe didn’t realize it until Ray rolled it off her hand and into his palm. Chloe smelled smoke and the material burst into flame. Ray screamed in surprise and dropped the burning garment onto a small cocktail table. “What the hell are you?” he whispered, nursing his scorched palm. “I’m a woman in love. Where is Slade, Ray?” Ray stood in shock watching the garter burn. The ashes scattered on the tabletop and then just as suddenly reformed. The lacy garter was reborn, just as delicate and silky as if it had never been destroyed. Chloe picked it up and replaced it on her arm, knowing that’s where it was meant to be. Ray backed toward the door, eyeing her warily. “You’re the one.” “The one what?” Chloe screamed, the beat of the background music drowning her voice as Ray opened the door. “Slade was here, earlier. He wanted… he said… he’d met someone last night that made him feel whole again. He thought he’d found someone who loved him for himself. But, he said, she’d left him after finding out he wasn’t the god Slade Brandt. So he wanted to go deeper into the underworld until he found his soul again and drowned out Slade forever.”

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Chloe caught her breath. Sam had wanted her! Sight unseen, remembering the shy gawky girl she’d been in high school, he’d wanted her. She thought she’d given him what he’d needed for a night -- to make him realize as Sam Brandenburg, he was just as important to people who truly cared about him. But one night hadn’t been enough. Sam had lost himself and Chloe had failed to save him. Fuck her insecurity! She’d been sure he had reclaimed his life as a rock star with beautiful women draped on his arm. Chloe never considered it was more than a one-night stand for Sam. Let Slade be damned with his mutterings in his sleep. It was Sam that mattered. “Where did you send him… back to that club?” Chloe demanded. “No. I… What’s wrong with your dress?” Chloe looked down to where her dress was beginning to shimmer in a kaleidoscope of colors. “I have to find Sam.” She knew it with a certainty she couldn’t explain. If the garments Aunt Toni had left her inspired lust, they must also recognize true love. And now they wanted Chloe to obey. “He was in this room, wasn’t he?” Chloe looked about then the answer hit her. “You have something of his, don’t you?” Ray glanced over to the desk against the wall. His gaze flitted back to Chloe. Chloe saw the paper on the desk. Her palm itched and the rose tattoo began to glow. She grabbed for the sheet just as Ray tried to beat her to it. “Hey,” he yelled. “That’s priceless, especially if Slade doesn’t come back. It’s his swan song.” Chloe unfolded the sheet. It was a poem… not a song. When I held you, I held the sun, the stars, the moon. For a night I was the man I wanted to be But now you’re gone and you meant everything Forever in my heart, my soul, my mind, our bodies lost in time. When you called my name, it was then I knew, All was lost if I couldn’t have you. The words blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She gulped and fought for control. “Where did he go? Tell me now, Ray, or…” What could she do? The garter on

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her arm twisted, reminding her. Her skirt swirled, causing Chloe to gaze down. Her eyes widened as she saw her shoes. No wonder the bouncer had called her Duckie. She’d been in such a hurry she’d grabbed the first pair of shoes in her closet and they were her yellow duckie slippers. Oh, God! “Listen, Ray, you saw what that garter can do with fire… If you thought that was a trip, just wait until you see what these duckie slippers can do to you. Do you want these ducks after your ass? Do you?” Chloe made a threatening kick in Ray’s direction. Ray tried for the door but Chloe was there first. “Hey, Chloe. I just told him where to go. I didn’t do anything he didn’t ask for.” “Where is he?” “They call it Drac’s Dungeon. It has some other fancy name but Drac’s the pet name. It’s hardcore and freaky. I don’t really know anyone who actually goes there, but I hear it’s rank. Vampire wannabes that drink blood and all that. Pretty sick, huh?” “Where is it?” Chloe shook a foot in Ray’s direction. “Hey, keep them back. I don’t want more trouble. It’s in the tunnels, but deeper. Door number thirteen with the skull and crossbones on it.” Chloe couldn’t believe she’d threatened a man with her duckie slippers. But then, she couldn’t believe she’d found Ray so attractive yesterday. She’d learned a lesson. Never settle for second best when your dreams are on the line. But her dream would turn into a nightmare if she couldn’t find Sam.

Chapter Eight The tunnel entrance was easy to discover. If you knew what you were looking for, it really wasn’t hidden. Chloe didn’t find it any more appealing the second time than she had on the first. The steps down seemed easier to navigate in her slippers. Chloe passed two doors, careful not to lose count. The lights flickered on and off as if mocking her. God, her imagination was running rampant. When she reached a pair of circular steps she recognized from yesterday, she breathed a sigh of relief. It comforted her to recognize the area, even if it was the sub-entrance to a kink club. From there on out it was a mystery where she was headed. The cement path made a turn and narrowed to a mere strip. Chloe counted doors… seven, eight, nine, ten… The next stairway leading to door eleven was made of two landings. Chloe began to feel claustrophobic the deeper she ventured underground. Door twelve wasn’t even visible from the path. Only the stairs leading up indicated there was a door at the top. To Chloe’s confusion the path ended abruptly at a rough-hewn door with a skull and crossbones painted in vivid streaks in red, simulating blood running down the wood. No stairs indicated an upward climb, just the door with an old-fashioned glass doorknob and a brass doorknocker under the painted warning symbol. Chloe turned the knob, expecting it to be locked. But it turned easily enough, though she had to push hard against it to get it to budge. A single uncovered light bulb hung suspended by a cord from a vast cavernous ceiling, revealing a chamber hollowed out of sandstone. To add to her confusion, there were several doors leading off away from the chamber. Made of wood, they were all painted vivid colors with bizarre symbols carved into them.

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Apparently door number thirteen was merely a porthole… but to where? God, too many choices. Chloe should have been scared, maybe a little intrigued, but she was preoccupied with Sam. With a shuffle from her duck slippers she approached a door. Though garish in its intense color, what really made Chloe cringe were the sandstone walls of the chamber. They were pock-mocked, with niches carved out. In the niches lay bones, half buried but recognizable. Here a leg bone protruded. God, was that a skull? Chloe couldn’t believe she’d stumbled onto someone’s chamber of horrors. A voice behind her just about made her pee her pants. “Revolting and disgusting, aren’t they? And yet, you can’t help but stare at them.” Chloe turned to see a slight figure dressed all in black, in full Goth make-up. A girl, maybe a woman, hard to tell under the white pancake, gray-tinged cheekbones. “Who are you?” Chloe demanded. “Don’t freak. I’m Donnie. I just stepped out for a smoke. This chamber is usually vacant.” “Stepped out? From where?” Donnie laughed, more like a high-pitched giggle that echoed off the dense walls. “You’re freaked, aren’t you? Look, the bones aren’t real. They’re plaster of Paris. See?” She yanked a femur from its niche. “Some indie company shot a low-budget horror film down here, and left the props.” Chloe realized the bones glowed whiter than white and hardly the yellowed color of old death. She exhaled heavily. “So where did you say you came from?” Donnie lit a cigarette and dangled it in front of Chloe. “I didn’t. You wanna drag?” Chloe shook her head. “I don’t smoke. It’s bad for your health.” “Says who? Stupid people who spout crap? I don’t pay attention to propaganda.”

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That answered Chloe’s question on age. Donnie was a typical rebellious teen. “I’m looking for a friend. I heard he came through door thirteen looking for something dangerous.” Donnie took a deep drag of her smoke. “Door Thirteen is just the beginning. Once you get here, it’s whatever gets you off. See that blue door? That’s a gay club where you can have anything and everything for a price. The purple door, well, let’s just say it ain’t legal, and no one checks ID’s. It goes downhill from there.” “Which door did you come from?”

“That one.” Donnie pointed up.

Chloe raised her eyes and gasped. High up was an arch cut into the sandstone

and a door outline was just barely visible. A rickety set of wooden ladders climbed the side of the chamber. “It’s called the Anasazi Club. Wanna see?” “I’m looking for a vampire club.” Donnie smiled and two clip-on fangs sliced the air dramatically. “You found us.” Oh shit. Chloe had the urge to whimper. She hated heights. “I’ll take you up. We looove fresh blood.” Donnie laughed at her own joke. Chloe looked down at her wispy gown and slippers. Donnie regarded her with interest. “Nice shoes. You’re gonna fit right in.” Chloe closed her eyes. I can do this for Sam. She approached the ladder against the cavern wall slowly, wondering if she should kick off the slippers. Donnie had stopped right behind her as Chloe hiked up her dress and, balancing on one foot, started to remove a slipper. “I would keep those on. These ladders are pretty sturdy but old and have nasty splinters on the rungs. It’s not that hard, see…” Donnie’s outfit consisted of a long black dress and high heeled spiked boots. “I can climb in these, so those quackers should be a piece of cake.” Actually, the climb wasn’t so hard. The ladders were safely bolted to the wall. It wasn’t until she reached the second ladder and stretched that she made the mistake of

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looking down. Her vision swam and her head spun as Chloe realized just how high up she was hanging. “Don’t look down, silly.” Donnie stood right behind her, the cigarette dangling from her mouth. “Too late to turn back. See that handle? Climb to the last rung and grab it. Pretty simple. Just swing onto the platform.” Chloe pictured losing her grip and having her ass burned on Donnie’s ciggie, before plunging to her death. She was going to kill Sam… if she found him. I will find him, she promised. After all this, she would, or die trying. Her morbid humor got the best of her and she grinned as she swung herself into the doorway. The simple wooden door looked innocuous and normal -- ludicrous even for being twentyfive feet up in the air. Should she just knock? Donnie swung up next to her. She grinned, her hair a strange green color that reflected phosphorescent in the dim lighting. “Don’t bother. They figure anyone who wants in bad enough to do the climb has some business for being here. Come on, I’ll show you around.” She pushed the door open and Chloe screamed.

Chapter Nine Chloe came face to face with a human nightmare. A tall angular man, more bones than flesh, stood just inside the doorway. Naked, he had twined around his thin body the largest python Chloe had ever seen except on Animal Planet. The snake’s head rose to Chloe’s level. Its tongue slithered just inches from her face as if using its sensory heat to deduct if she were prey. The tall man laughed and spoke in a heavy Cockney accent. “Eh, luv, Frankie here likes you. He don’t like most humanoids, but he fancies you… and I do too.” Great. Chloe cringed as the snake poked at her. Just her luck, Aunt Toni’s legacy seemed to work on males of all species. When she finally summoned her nerve and looked past the snake, she noted the angular man wore white body paint, making him look cadaverous. His cock was erect and definitely regarding Chloe much like the snake. “I’m here for Sam… I mean Slade. Where is he?” “You’re the priestess?” Chloe never considered where her answer would land her, other than one step closer to Sam. “Uh, yeah.” “Drat. I was hoping you and me and Frankie could hook up later. But I see that idea is shot to buggery. Figures the one woman I meet that tweaks my dilly and she’s got to conserve her power for a ceremony. Follow me, luv, and I’ll take you to the chamber. But is there any chance for another night? I can’t believe how horny you’ve made me in all of five minutes.” Chloe smiled brilliantly. She wasn’t about to piss anyone off when she’d gotten this far. Her pale friend seemed satisfied with her reaction and led the way into the club. It was like infiltrating Dante’s Inferno with patrons dressed in black while sipping

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concoctions poured over foaming dry ice. Fog machines blasted thick, dense steam until everyone appeared to be floating in the heavy atmosphere of hard rock music. People smiled at Chloe, their lips peeling back to show fangs in every size and color. Some were obviously clip-ons, but others looked so real, they had to be the genius of modern day dentistry and tooth filling. The walls had video screens playing looped reels of flames crawling their way up to the ceiling, devouring the room from four sides. Chloe almost missed when her guide disappeared into the floor. A trap door opened with a set of steps leading down. Chloe had had enough tunneling to last her a lifetime. “Hey. Where are we going?” “Easy, love,” her companion cooed. “They said you were new, but I thought you’d have seen a crypt before.” A crypt? Chloe blanched. “Look at this mess up here. You want to perform a ritual with all this noise and distraction? Of course not. So step lively now and mind your duckie slippers, which by the way I find very kinky. You use them in the ceremony? What for?” Chloe went down a few steps, her mind flying in all directions to keep up and formulate a plan at the same time. “They uh… they represent man’s yearning to fly free of his earthly bonds and let his soul soar.” Jeez, she was spinning some stupid tall tales. “Excellent. I must get me a pair. Easy, Frankie.” The pale form grabbed a lantern off the peg on the wall. The snake began to writhe. “Frankie hates the dark down here. Something about the dead makes him skittish.” “We’re not in a real crypt.” Chloe looked around at the stone walls and the empty altar ahead. From somewhere she heard the sound of water dripping and the chamber smelled dank. “Check out the etchings on the wall stones. Those are actual crypts. We’re under the Craven Hills cemetery. And this… well, let’s just say they sealed this eternal hole back in the 30’s. But there are underground tunnels everywhere.”

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Oh God! Chloe could indeed make out epitaphs and dates written on the wall stones, see the cracks where the crypt stones had been sealed in their niches. Chloe halted at the last step. “Look, luv, I’ve got to take Frankie back up. He’s squeezing me so tight, I’m about to crack a rib. Pissy bugger, he is. Take this light and go down to the second crypt on the right. You’ll find what you’re looking for there. But be warned, this guy paid half in cash and a lot of dough is at stake, so take good care of him and ease his pain. Otherwise, Dracy and his gang will have your and my arse.” “Dracy?” Chloe turned when he didn’t answer. She was alone. The noise above dimmed as the trap door closed. A lantern hung from a peg on the rail next to her. The stone chamber was eerie with just the drip of water echoing off the walls. Chloe didn’t want to be alone in here! She almost ran past the altar to where the stones parted in an arch and entered into another crypt. This room seemed empty as well, except for a coffin lying on a platform, knee-high and open. Chloe didn’t want to look. She tried to keep her eyes averted as she noticed another arched stone entryway into another chamber beyond. She wished she could avoid passing the coffin, but it was in the pathway. She inched closer and her eyes couldn’t help but glance inside. A man lay in formal attire, his arms crossed over his chest in quiet repose. Clean with rosy cheeks, the mortician had done an excellent job. Chloe tiptoed past. Her ears heard a squeak, a rustle from the coffin, and a hand snaked out to grab her own. Chloe shrieked and tried to pull away. A deep laugh met her efforts. “You’re late.” The man in the coffin released her and sat up. Chloe watched him nimbly propel himself from the coffin. He wasn’t tall and resembled a bulldog, stout with a pug nose. Nor was he as old as he’d first appeared. “I’m Dracy St. John. You must be the priestess. We’ve prepared everything just as you instructed. Your client is in there.” He motioned through the arch. Chloe kept her voice level, ignoring the pounding of her heart. “Excellent. Take me to him.”

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“Sure. He’s still a little groggy from the bloodletting earlier this evening, but he has recovered quite well. He’s strong and will take some stamina to wear down. But he’s a nice addition to the cult. I can’t believe we’ve snared a real icon. Maybe now we’ll get some good press out of this. We’re not complete animals, you know.” “We?” Chloe stared at the little man. “Vampires. We’ve been around for centuries, yet we aren’t recognized.” Chloe wanted to cry, but resorted to humor instead. “Have you tried the American Express card?” “What?” “Nothing.” Chloe couldn’t believe she stood calmly talking to a lunatic in a crypt, but for Sam she would do anything. Her mind shuddered at the thought of the bloodletting ritual. She knew Sam needed help. This time he’d really gotten himself mixed up in something bizarre. She followed Dracy cautiously, hoping he was a civilized lunatic of sorts. The archway opened onto a small room with candles placed on pedestals surrounding a platform. Staked out on a mattress lay Sam. Naked and prone, he was spread eagle, his legs and arms fastened. A bandage was wrapped around his arm, no doubt from where the blood had been drawn. Chloe wanted to run to him, but it occurred to her that the strange Mr. Dracy really believed he was a vampire and the danger of exposing herself was very real. She regarded Sam impassively, scanning the room for a way out to make a fast getaway. From the shadows stepped a woman wrapped in a robe, her long hair plastered down with some sort of oil. As she drew closer Chloe could see red dripping from the strands. Good God, she was covered in blood! How much had they taken from Sam? “You took too much of his life force,” she fabricated. “I must take him for recovery before I can perform the ceremony.” “Relax.” Dracy grabbed a lock of the other woman’s hair and ran it through his mouth, sucking the strands. “This isn’t Slade’s. Ursula here is my concubine and feeds my desires… all of them. Kneel, Ursula.”

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Ursula shed her robe and knelt before him, placing her head on her arm and her ass in the air. Dracy stood behind her and unbuttoned his dark slacks. Without a word he took out his cock and stroked it erect. Before Chloe’s wide eyes he hunched over Ursula and thrust his cock into her waiting ass. Ursula moaned deep in what might have been a growl. Dracy penetrated her over and over, grabbing her hair and sucking on the bloody mass as he fucked her. Apparently it was all about Dracy as Ursula received nothing but taking the brunt of his lust. With a grunt Dracy stiffened over his “concubine” and shuddered to release. He pulled out his cock before it stopped spurting and ejaculated over Ursula’s back. Chloe stared at the freakish display. She’d seen naked lust before but never to this tasteless degree. It occurred to her Sam could have been used for Dracy’s pleasure. “Did you touch him?” She gestured toward Sam’s prostrate form, trying to swallow her rage. “Just to take the blood you requested. I know my rituals. The sacrifice must be sexually potent, lest his life force be depleted, and his chakra damaged.” “Yes. That’s right.” Chloe wondered how long she could improvise. “So let’s get this party started. I’ll read from the book while you perform the ritual. My followers, come join us.” Bodies appeared from the shadows as a half dozen men and women in dark robes joined hands and spread around the bed. A droning chant filled the air. “Release the indoctrinate.” Two large men came forth and untied Sam’s hands and ankles. Still he remained impassive on the bed. “Draw the curtain.” Dracy’s voice sounded disembodied and floated through the air. Chloe stood next to the mattress watching Sam as he began to stir, his head turning restlessly. She jumped forward as a curtain dropped from the ceiling and encircled the bed. Only a flicker of light from the candles outside the material showed the bed and its occupant. The chanting grew louder as Dracy began to recite. “We’ve been brought here tonight to greet a new disciple and welcome him into the fold. The great priestess will

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release his tortured soul and replace it with ours. He will become one with her and thus one with us. Let us begin.” Chloe noticed for the first time a table by the mattress. It wasn’t much more than a stand but it held several implements. A whip, its pointed end a series of feathers and narrow strips of leather, lay suggestively. A pair of cylinders in the shape of slender rockets gleamed and a few nubby rubber objects perched on the edge. Chloe’s mind began to comprehend what was supposed to take place -- a sex initiation into the cult! And she was the priestess of the rites. Where was the actual priestess? It didn’t matter unless Chloe couldn’t perform convincingly and the cult grew suspicious. Dracy’s voice recalled her attention. “Priestess, partake of the blood of our new body.” A goblet on the stand next to the mattress was the obvious vessel. Sam’s blood? Oh God, she couldn’t drink human blood. His blood! She saw the motion of shadows through the curtains. Maybe with the candles she could feign drinking. She raised the heavy silver goblet to her lips, making a show of tilting her head back. The smell of metallic sweetness made her gag. It might really be Sam’s blood! Cringing, she barely wet her lips then handed the goblet through a part in the curtains. Dracy’s head appeared as he regarded her bloody lips with satisfaction. “Now we will all consume his soul.” He drank deep from the goblet, then passed it to another. Chloe could see shadows moving and tilting the goblet. She turned away and closed the opening in the curtain. Dracy’s voice filtered through as he read a passage from the book. “The dark lord is our shepherd and we follow him willingly…” Chloe bent over Sam. “Sam, wake up!” she whispered. Sam’s eyes opened slowly. “Chloe, what are you doing here? I thought you’d left me when you found out I wasn’t the Slade everybody worships.”

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Chloe wanted to shoot herself for leaving him last night. “I would never do that. Come on, we have to get you out of here.” She didn’t have a clue but there had to be a way. “I can’t,” Sam rasped. “I need this, Chloe. I don’t like what I’ve become. Slade has taken over my life and I’ll do anything to recapture control. Can you understand?” Chloe felt partially responsible for Sam’s spiral into darkness, but she also recognized he believed in this ritual. He believed he needed to participate avidly to regain control over the debauched Slade. “All right, Sam. I’ll do what I can. But you have to know I wouldn’t do this unless I felt more for Sam than Slade. I’m doing this for you, Sam. You!” He nodded and pulled her down, kissing her almost desperately. Dracy’s voice recalled them to the task at hand. “The initiate must have all orifices filled in order that his essence shall not escape in vain. All must be given to the priestess. Proceed, Priestess of Rebirth.” Chloe looked at the side table and the implements. It was apparent what she had to do. “Turn over, Slade.” It was easier thinking of him as Slade for now. At least until she subjugated him into compliance. She thought there might have been a growl from the mattress -- as if Sam didn’t like her addressing him as his other persona. “Do it!” she ordered loudly. He stared at her, glowering. “You said you wanted Sam, but you called me Slade. You’re no different than the others.” Chloe stiffened. It was going to get ugly. “Dracy. He refuses to cooperate. He must be made to obey.” The droning grew to a crescendo as the two burly men stepped inside the curtained area. Chloe winced as she ordered, “Turn him on his stomach.” She watched the men grab Slade and flip him over. Slade’s naked butt looked smooth and inviting in the flickering light. She reached to the table before running her hand over Slade’s naked

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flank, under the approving eyes of the two guards. “Relax, Slade. If you want to truly be saved, then this is the way.” She warmed the cylinder in the palm of her hand. Long and rocket-shaped with a slight curve to the tip. And Chloe knew what had to be done. She massaged Slade’s ass, manipulating his cheeks to relax. With a gentle motion she placed the cylinder between the cheeks and pressed against his puckered hole. There was a grunt and a smothered growl from Slade, and after a brief resistance the tip disappeared inside. Slade struggled against the invasion but he was held firmly by the two guards. “Raise up, Slade. It’ll go easier.” To her relief Slade brought his knees under him and his ass took the rest of the cylinder. Chloe made sure it fit snugly then ordered, “Turn him back over and retie his hands.” Slade was flipped and his hands secured. He lay, trying to raise his ass and keep the cylinder from prodding too deep. “Leave us.” Chloe watched the two men leave the curtained area before she hitched her dress up to her waist. The garter on her thigh tingled and her dress began to sparkle as she climbed onto Slade and sat on his hips. She wore no underwear and her bush pressed into his pubic hair. As Slade was forced flat by the motion, he moaned. Chloe suspected the cylinder in his ass had slid deeper and was resting against his prostate. “Slade, listen to me. I am going to fuck you… Slade, not Sam. Give me all you have, Slade. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.” Chloe reached between them, where Slade’s cock was growing solidly rigid from contact with her mons. She stroked his penis until it stood on its own, thick and erect, begging for her attention. Chloe raised herself and, using one hand, parted her labia. Carefully, she settled against the tip of his cock, letting it prod her clit. She rocked on it for a moment as Slade’s breath deepened and he strained upward, forcing himself deeper. Chloe let him believe he had control then she raised up, depriving his hardness of her warmth. “What do you want?” “Your pussy.”

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“Who are you?” “Slade Brandt.” “Okay, Slade. Take what you want… if you can.” Chloe slid down on his cock and stayed still. “Fuck me, Slade.” He tried to comply but Chloe would not let him move his hips. “So, Slade is not the big man he pretends. You’re at my mercy.” She moved up and down on his cock, grinding just enough to force his ass into the mattress, the cylinder slipping deeper inside him. Chloe would bring back Sam if it killed her. “Now, Slade. Be a good boy and suck my breast, while I decide whether you’re worthy of me.” Chloe rose up and took her breast out of the dress bodice. It hung down teasingly in front of Slade’s lips. She pressed forward and Slade latched on, sucking the nipple voraciously. “Please me, Slade. Make love to my breast like you’re eating my pussy. If you’re good, I may just let you.” Chloe bit her lip as her nipple contracted. She wanted so badly to impale herself on Slade again and fuck his brains out. She had to be patient. Dracy’s voice droned on. “Once the orifices are blocked, the priestess will couple with the initiate until his essence is expelled, thus relieving his soul of the burden.” Chloe grabbed Slade’s hair and pulled his head up as he continued to suck her breast. Without warning she plunged back on his cock and began rocking, hunching over to allow Slade to lave her nipples as she demanded. Chloe reached for his balls and stroked lightly, increasing the pressure. The dildo in his ass went deeper as Slade cursed, bucking against her. He released her breast and began groaning. “Untie me and I’ll show you what Slade does best.” “Not a chance. You are for my pleasure. Only Sam gets the honor of taking what he wants. So shut up and come, Slade.” Chloe gripped him with her vaginal muscles, then released, only to clench again. Slade began to pant. “Slade never gives up control.” Chloe reached behind, insinuating her hand under his ass. She pressed the cylinder hard as she plunged on his cock. Slade screamed and pulled against the bindings on his wrists.

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“Come now, Slade!” Chloe felt his balls contract against her. She moved forward, rubbing as she fucked. Slade took a deep breath and screamed as he erupted inside her while she kept riding him, milking him. Slade came again almost immediately, his cock pistoning in spurts. Chloe looked down to where their bodies were joined. “Nice, Slade. Nice. But you didn’t make me come. Sam had no problem with that last night. I’m very disappointed in you.” Chloe lifted herself off Slade’s cock. His come ran down her thighs and Chloe took her fingers, wiping at the thickness. “You aren’t half the man Sam is, so clean up your own mess.” Chloe crawled up Slade’s body. “Lick me until I scream, Slade. It’s the least you can do.” She positioned her pussy over Slade’s face, lowering herself until she felt his five o’clock shadow rub against her clit. Slade apparently wasn’t used to being told he wasn’t good enough in bed. He applied himself with gusto. Chloe felt his tongue raking over her pussy lips, moving between them and plunging deep. He began thrusting, trying to take control. Chloe panted, breathed faster, and had to fight to keep her tone disinterested. “Is that all you’ve got, Slade? Make me come. Pretend your tongue is a cock and use it accordingly.” Slade’s tongue raked over her slick walls. Chloe could feel herself melting as a slide of creamy wetness flowed from her womb. She wanted to come, but she couldn’t, not for Slade. She had a pretty good idea how to exorcise Slade, but dear God, at what cost to her own passion? She was too close to coming. She lifted off him and moved down to his cock. It stood already half erect and recovering. She took him into her mouth, sliding it back and forth a few times, tasting his and her own juices. Without any warning she reached behind him and grasped the silver dildo in his ass, moving it partially out. Her mouth sucked his cock deeper as she shoved the cylinder inside him again. Slade screamed and shot his seed as Chloe sucked him dry. He lay trembling beneath her as she carefully withdrew the slim dildo from his ass and her mouth from his cock.

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From outside emerged the sounds of moans and coupling as the cult members sought their own releases. Dracy’s voice droned faster as if he were quoting from memory while being pleasured. Chloe could imagine Ursula giving him head as he recited. “And when his life force is shed, the initiate is filled with the soul of his captor and given a new life.” The curtains parted and the two burly men untied Slade’s wrists. He rested quietly, breathing heavily as Chloe lay down next to him. Her hand sought his and she clasped it to her breast. When their breathing eased, Chloe rose and peered outside the curtain. The room outside was empty. She looked down at the figure of her tormented lover and her eyes widened. The lacy garter from her thigh was now twined around his very erect cock. As she stared, a hand came up and reached for her. Chloe waited, unsure. Should she go to Slade? No, she could never go to him. “Chloe?” The voice from the bed made her reel. She wanted him so bad! “Sorry, Slade. I told you. I want Sam. Slade is not man enough for me.” “Slade’s gone, Chloe. There’s only Sam and you. And I, Sam, want you… now.” His hand yanked her forward and she fell on the mattress. Sam rolled on top of her, pressing between her thighs. The garter ringed his erection as Chloe opened her legs and he slid inside her. Without any reserve she allowed him to take control and fill her, thrusting over and over. He rocked up, stroking her clit until it hummed and tingled. To Chloe’s amazement her hand began to glow. The rose tattoo grew hot and she swore she could see a puff of smoke rising from the skin. Without thinking she grabbed Sam’s arm, slick with sweat. The moisture eased the burning, but Sam uttered a curse. “Fuck! Woman, what are you doing, taking the skin off me?” But then Chloe moaned as she felt a spiral in her cunt that radiated outward. Her long-denied orgasm washed over her as she wrapped her legs around him, locking her heels around his ass, the friction of their coupling sending her over the edge. Sam rose on his elbows. “I want to see you come. Only for Sam. Come for me, Chloe.”

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He watched Chloe’s face as she climaxed, then he trembled as his own need overtook him. He flexed once more, tightening his arms around her. With a lunge he groaned low in his throat, his hot seed spurting deep inside her. Slade was gone and in his place was the man of her dreams… Sam.

Epilogue Chloe tossed another piece of pretty lace and a teddy into the trunk. After she arranged and packed it, she locked the fastenings and tied the leather strap around the trunk. With a sigh she slid it into the closet. “I hope I don’t need you again, but if I do, I know where to find you.” She giggled as she shut the closet door, glancing to the bed where Sam lay sprawled asleep, naked on top of the covers. On his shoulder the tattoo of a blood rose glowed. Chloe’s brand, she realized as she regarded her own matching rose on her palm. She sighed contentedly. The condo didn’t seem so small and confining anymore, but rather cozy and snug. It was her and Sam’s little love nest. His solo career had started to take off and Chloe planned on making sure he never lost his way again. She kept him grounded and very, very satisfied. At the end of the day or a long night, Sam would never ever doubt whose pillow his head would rest on. A scrabbling noise and a thunk from inside the closet shifted Chloe’s attention. Chloe reopened the door and considered the trunk. As if talking to a pet she sighed, “Oh all right, what can wearing one little garter hurt? Or maybe a pretty bustier, but only around the condo. The world is not ready for Chloe the femme fatale just yet.” She laughed, then paused as she heard a whisper and the smell of jasmine wafted up from the trunk. Chloe inhaled the scent, no longer disconcerted by its unpredictable presence. “Thanks, Aunt Toni. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Chloe leaned against the closet door and smiled. Life was good. Sam was hers.

The End

Ciarra Sims Ciarra Sims is one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for. She lives a plain and simple life in Southern California with her pets, and tries to stay out of trouble. Her writing may be comedic or scary, depending on her mood… or it may sway toward a Regency or even a Western… whatever tickles her fancy at the time. Ciarra’s writing philosophy is “Don’t fall into a rut. Keep the reader and yourself wondering what’s next.”

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