04 February 2009

Fatal Cure - Chapter 88

The younger man’s head and shoulders poke over a neighbouring cupboard. I move around a bright candelabrum to clarify my sight. He kneels on a mattress. Scrawny. Too much hair and a scruffy beard. And naked, like the brazen open-legged young woman lying beside him. She tugs at his arm as a reminder of unfinished business, miffed at the interruption.
“Sorry to barge in. Never thought I’d see you again. Arrr... you wanna cover that thing up.”
I look around aimlessly to give him a second of privacy. Am I the only person not flaunting their genitalia? Yep, it would appear so. God, there’re people entwined everywhere.
He looks at his erection without trying to hide it.
“I was umm, busy. So how come you’ve got clothes on.”
“Perhaps running around in the raw when Creeps are trying to kill you isn’t recommended. How’d you managed to snap out of it?”
“What? You mean this druggy thing they’ve all got going on? I think it's your fault. Who are you calling a Creep?”
“A Creep, you know, a Parasite, and what do you mean it’s my fault?”
“We called ‘em Lurches were I was. Remember outside, you told me to listen for the voice...?”
“...well I listened really hard, and I heard it. I don't think I was supposed to cos something weird happened. That other voice got shut out, you know, the one that wants me to be calm and horny all the time. Well, it can’t get a hold on me now. I can hear it if I concentrate but it keeps slipping off. I do what it wants whenever the Lurchers are around.”
“Any others like us?”
“Not dopey? Not really, but I’ve only been here a couple of hours. Here mostly.”
“I bet you have.”
He takes this as a compliment.
“I think some are under deeper than others. That lady next door; the one you were making scream, she’s hopeless. Hey! Psst! Look out, a Lurch is behind you. Quick, get your clothes off and get on a bed.”
His voice drops to a loud whisper. I turn to find Cricket’s face directly over my shoulder. His fingers run up to my elbow and clamps on. It’s a bad habit I should break him of.
“No need to worry. I managed to tame this one. That’s right, he does whatever I say and we’ve got some sort of shield... hey, you don't have to do that for his benefit.”
Deaf to my explanation, the boy has jumped between the legs of this bed’s owner and is pumping away madly. Her satisfied cries show how much realism he’s putting into the act.
I sigh roundly. With Cricket’s hand on my arm the tableaux we form is ‘man introducing boyfriend at swinger’s party’. The image makes me shudder and snicker simultaneously.
“Can you stop fucking her for a minute? I need a place to lie low and have a think for a bit.”
“Not here! Take your Creepy thing to another bed. There’s some up front against the windows if you want to look outside. You’re putting me off, standing there.”
Never would have guessed since he hardly missed a stroke.
We toddle off, trying not to gag at the sweet nothings he tells the already receptive woman.
I’m annoyed about the boy’s assumption Cricket and I have a homosexual relationship. What sort of sicko thinks that way? Dammit, I should have said something. He’s my slave, I’m its master. Nope that sounds a bit Sado-masochistic, especially with me wearing these leathers. Come to think of it we do look a bit suspect.
“You’re a liability Cricket. I may have to punch you in the head when we meet people from now on.”
He doesn’t answer. Having a pet Creep isn’t nearly as cool as I imagined. Then again I don't suppose I need to impress anyone with my heterosexuality.
Finding a place to rest up shouldn't be a problem; mattresses are arranged in every spare metre of space. The problem is each one has an occupant. The overly plump, aging or expectant being in the majority. Their splayed limbs and come hither looks are disconcerting and, on a few occasions, somewhat nauseating.
Apparently looks have nothing to do with the ability to carry a child. My dream of a silk draped harem full of stunning goddesses is squashed.
Despite the disappointment, I look forward to getting these pants off. It’s very warm in here.
Lucky stars be praised, I find an empty bed against a window. Pressing against the dirty glass gives me a view of yet more Creeps moving below and the ubiquitous mass of tendrils endlessly checking everyone’s credentials. That’s the one thing absent from this room. The fog must be all that is required.
I want to sit but the sheets on this bed are, well, crusty. Not worse than any I’ve messed myself but lying in other people’s body fluids is unwholesome.
Fortuitously the partitions around these ‘bedrooms’ are racks full of material. I drag a random selection from a shelf and tear off the packaging. My lucky dip results in a floral curtain, a bed sheet and pillow covers. These I drape across the stains and sit, probing cautiously through the smeary glass.
Before long I grow tired with mental strain. Maybe I should lie down for a few minutes. The gymnastics of removing shoes, squirming out of leather pants and extricating arms from the leather jacket, exhausts me. I lay back, bone weary. I’ll just have a short rest. There’s no way I can sleep. That would be stupid anyway. I’m in the middle of a Parasite...
...I start awake, mid-snore. A hand that isn’t mine is manipulating my penis.
“Bloody Hell, Cricket, what the fu... ohhh.”
It’s not Cricket.
“I’m ready for you.”
Jeez, those words again. It’s a shame the Parasite fog is the driving force behind them.
I blink up at the woman whose tantalising fingers caress my groin. Wet hair frames her full-cheeked face. Strange thing to notice first up as a set of pert breasts aren’t far from my nose. My bed’s designated tenant then? She must have been showering when I chose to crash here and returned to find me laid out.
Lucky her.
She’s attractive enough without need of makeup or alluring poses to warrant further scrutiny. Middle-aged and broad of hip with child bearing properties a Parasite might have sought. A natural blond too, I see.
I push her hand away as the reaction she’s after comes to fruition. I’m not sure I want to compromise my position further. Where’re my jocks? She’s stripped them off me while I slept.
“Hey, awww shit. Can’t believe I’m saying this but can you not rub my dick for a moment.”
“Are you ready for me then?”
There’s no choice, I have to give in to her needs. Beside, I’d never get my jocks on over this.
“Ohhhh, yeah, can’t you tell? You’re handling a dangerously backed-up weapon there, lady. Be careful you don't put an eye out when it goes off.”
She reclines with my eager help and I’m seconds from docking when the clump of boot-heels comes our way. A Creep and a bewildered, stark naked, older man appear at the ‘doorway’.
I roll over so fast my dick almost snaps off under me. I groan. For crying out loud, this isn’t a peep show. What do they want?
Ah, yes. The Creep is expecting to see a bit of copulation happening. In other words, I’d better get it on or get out. My new lady-friend needs no prompting. She wrestles me onto my back and straddles me. Some deft fiddling reinterests the sore appendage and I’m ridden enthusiastically.
Not being an exhibitionist, I find the audience daunting. Thankfully the man and his Creep move on to find a vacancy further down.
Sure, I should stop her now. After all I’m taking advantage... she’s acting under a compulsion...
... I don't stop her.
I wave a hand violently at Cricket until he does an about face. Nobody’s ruining the first real sex I’ve had in years with sad, blank eyes. The bubble that joins us gives the whole experience a threesome affect, though past fantasies call for an extra woman as the third, not a Parasite infected man.

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