Sexodrom scene

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– You know you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth?! – he grimaced with annoyance, crossing his short chubby arms on his chest, resembling a grumpy beardless gnome.  

– I know that… – Andy let out a small apologetic giggle.  

– Then why are you behaving like that?!  

– Like what?!  

– Like a fucking careless dumbass! – the man’s hands sprung in the air.  

– I am not…  

– Oh, you are, boy! – the stern glance in the man’s eyes has made Andy not even trying to open his mouth. – His manager kept on pressing: – I got you from rags to riches, boy, but you seem to be wanting to ruin it all for both of us!  

– What do you mean?! – his voice seemed offended.  

– Oh, don’t give me that pathetic look! You know very well what I’m talking about! – the man crossed his arms again. – You are breaking the rules! Leaving in the middle of shootings, cancelling arrangements, cheating on Christine…  

– W-what?!... I have not! – Andy sounded dumbstriken. – Well, the meetings, yes, maybe… But not the cheating. Who told you that rubbish?!  

– I called her, and she told me everything! You, that day, Fiona…  

– Fiona’s just a friend!  

– Beating around the bush, are you?  

– She is wrong, you are wrong! – Andy grinded his teeth and his face got covered with ruddy patches.  

– But his manager seemed to ignore that, carrying on scolding:  

– Listen, I know you’re worried sick – marriage is a big awkward thing, ask my ex-wives, – he chuckled. – But cheating on your fiancée for everyone to see, with two different girls in one day! Come on, Andy, this is the dumbest thing to do…  

– No, I haven’t done anything… She went hysterical! It was all a silly misunderstanding! – Andy leaped towards his manager, looking extremely upset and anxious. – Gerald, you know me, I would never do anything of that sort! So why don’t you believe me?!  

The man stood up as well, giving Andy a cooperative smirk, which meant he wasn’t convinced, but still expressed his man-to-man solidarity on that delicate yet common matter.  

– Ok, ok… I believe you. Now listen…  

Andy intended to carry on his assertion, but the little man cut it short, yanking him by the sleeves of his oversized hoodie.  

– Would you stop drowning yourself in self-pity and listen to me for a minute! – Gazing on his expensive watch, he made a sigh of intended disapproval. – Money talks and the clock is ticking. Call her!  

There was a nerve wrecking pause between the two. One could clearly see Andy’s jaw muscles contracting in a frenzy of the moment. He even clenched his fists – it was clearly a gesture of unconscious protest.  

– No, I won’t! I am not going to apologize for something I haven’t done! –  

there was a note of genuine resentment in his voice.  

However, that didn’t put the little man aback, though he had stepped back from surprise.  

– You seem to be doing this on purpose, of which I don’t know yet, – he shook his fat stumpy finger in front of Andy’s chest, being too short to reach his face. – But I will figure it out! Because you’re doing it intentionally.  

Andy wasn’t looking at the man – his eyes focusing somewhere beyond the horizon.  

– …Why, Andy, why are you doing that to me?! To yourself! She is important to us, you know that!  

– I am not doing anything… – Andy uttered the words with an angry delay. – Leave me alone, will you!  

But his manager flouted the plea, sticking to his habitual methods:  

– Then what this all is about?!  

Motionless before, Andy’s strong torso shifted, turning towards the door. His manager saw that, and dashed forward:  

– Wait a second, where are you going?! – he tried to block it with his chubby little body, jumping around the exit like a funny infuriated pug.  

– Andy clenched his fists even stronger, looking at his manager this time with a furious unhidden disgust:  

– Move out of my way, before I regret for not hitting you in the face!  

He pushed his manager aside with just one fling of his hand, opened the door ajar, and promptly strode along the street, scurrying to be disappeared, before the two of his security men find out and chaise after their celebrity runaway.  

– No, Andy, wait, I just wanted to help you!  

The shorty stumbled over the stairs, being caught in time by the two chunky black guys.  

He freed himself off their grip, panting angrily:  

– It’s not me you should be watching after, morons!  

Andy was standing before an old American skyscraper, like they used to build around the beginning of the 20’s century; it wasn’t as tall and impressive as the modern one but had a great Newyorkian gangster type of charm to it, with brownish stone facade and a narrow entrance door, showing off the glamourous glory of its deluxe golden vitrage.  

Andy pulled a crumpled card out of his pocket to make sure the taxi driver brought him to the right address. The building number was right – he shoved the card back into his baggy pants, breathed out deeply to feel unhesitant again, and walked in bravely.  

The interior was warm and welcoming, a sort of a classy chic peppered with lustrous patina of bourgeois splendor. There were velvety couch and three matching armchairs, and even a tea table, hiding in between the decorative leaves of the plants, scattered from above or standing in old-fashion pots.  

There was a narrow brightly lit set of stairs on the right, and a short corridor, probably leading to the lifts on the front.  

Andy froze in bewilderment – the card didn’t say or directed which floor to take or where exactly to go – all it showed was the address, and its name, written in thick, shiny, dark-red, capital letters:  

“SEXODROM”.  

Andy cringed his forehead and chuckled nervously – this hallway didn’t look like anything with the “sex” attached to it. He also wasn’t keen on climbing up every floor in the building to find out the desired residence.  

Maybe he was mistaken afterall – he turned himself to go away, getting back to the door.  

– How can I help you, sir? – a royal, or what many would call a posh, accent  

stroke Andy’s ears in surprise. He jerked aside, and looked back, facing a formidable figure of a man standing right behind him.  

– Excuse me? – Andy gawked at him with a startled look. He could’ve sworn there was no one around a second ago!  

– Need help? – the man repeated his question in a less formal fashion.  

Andy halted for a brief second, making up his mind if he should leave or bear with the man afterall.  

– …Yes, I believe so… – he pulled out the visiting card once again. – I don’t want to disturb you, but maybe… – he halted again – that whole asking procedure felt somewhat embarrassing: – Maybe you happen to know… – his hands suddenly felt shaky holding it before the man. – Can you tell me where it is? – and he almost shoved the card right up his nose.  

– Let me see… – the man lowered Andy’s hand with a polite smile, leveling it with his eyesight. He paused, making Andy feel even more insecure. – Oh yes, I suppose I do, – the man broke this nerve-wracking moment, lowering his glasses and shifting his pale eyes on Andy, as if he was intended to devour him.  

But no, he smiled at him, this time as if they were acquainted.  

– Follow me… – Was all that the man said, calling him with a wave of his whitely-gloved hand.  

Now this became quite obvious – that was the man’s job. Andy presumed that he was being a receptionist or a steward of some sort, because of the way he was dressed, wearing a black tailcoat suit and a red bow tie. Unless this middle-aged chap had an old farts party somewhere nearby – Andy chuckled merrily, finally feeling relaxed again.  

So, he nodded and went after the butler, because he liked to obey and follow, in other words, go along with the flow.  

As rightly guessed, the corridor indeed ended up with a lift on its right side, greeting its visitors with geometrical sunbeams of its art deco doors. So shiny-golden and well-balanced and overwhelming they were, it even caught Andy’s cynically indifferent and satiated eye.  

– After you… – the man let Andy in, leaving him gaping at the interior, all  

incrusted with amazing carvings of the same sunbeam pattern and other geometrical art deco shapes he couldn’t comprehend. He gave in to temptation and drew his fingers over the intriguing surface – it felt like genuine gold!  

– We’ve been waiting for you Mr. Marvel…  

Andy flinched, and withdrew his palm away, hiding his hands in his pockets; pressing himself to the wall, as if wanting to disappear behind it.  

He could have recognized his face, but how the hell did he know he was coming?!  

A gloved finger pressed number thirteen out of the sixteen on the floor panel, which left Andy extremely puzzled, for the building didn’t seem to appear that high in the street.  

The lift made a strange creaking noise, and started to go up, climbing at a snail's pace, quite enough to have a short conversation, or in this case an almost bizarre emotionless monologue…  

– Please forgive me for not showing up in time, – said the man, stroking his thick silver goatee beard. – I should’ve met you at the door, but I had urgent matters to be called upon.  

– Nothing serious, I hope…  

– Oh no, no, they’ve been resolved in the best possible manner.  

– Glad to hear that…  

– Call me Ralph, – the steward conveniently offered his name. – I am in charge of the guests. Again, I am very sorry about your unnecessary waiting… It would’ve been a great loss for us all if you left the place without paying us a visit, Mr. Marvel.  

– It’s okay, no offence taken… Ralph…- Andy squeezed out a deliberate smile. – If you want, you can call me Andy…  

– Oh no, no, we don’t call our guests by any of their names; neither private nor family! Not when they enter our humble realm…  

- So, what do you call them by? – he nervously chortled, trying to grasp the  

thread of logics.  

– Numbers…  

Andy’s right eyebrow rose up on its own in bewilderment. The man saw it and smirked:  

– Not always numbers. Every so often one can get a better card or… a deal, –  

the man maybe kept on smiling, but not his eyes, and his voice stayed as cold as the bottom of an ice pit for their entire conversation. – I hope you wouldn’t mind that, Mr. Marvel. You must understand, the discreetness of our guests is our major priority, as well as their utmost satisfaction, of course.  

That felt and was a bit disturbing, but Andy tried to ignore this, blaming it on  

the weariness of the butler’s job.  

– Of course, I understand… Ralph. Just let me make it clear, because…  

A clinking sound had heralded their arrival, and the lift opened its splendid doors. The steward went out and began striding over a vividly crimson carpet along a lengthy curtained corridor.  

– Wait... – Andy caught up his pace in few speedy steps. – Will I be given a  

number or a nickname as well? – he gasped out heavily. – I’ve never been to such place before, so…  

He glanced around the narrow foyer – everything about it was either red, black, or golden.  

– Hold your horses, young man! You will see soon enough all for yourself… – the butler stopped at the end of the hallway by what was meant to be an entrance to some hidden room; there was no door present, only some heavy bordeaux draperies. – But before entering the actual place you’d need to undergo some minor preparations.  

Andy’s eyebrow jerked up again.  

– You wouldn’t be able to get in with this… – the man observed Andy’s baggy and unkept clothes with a stern eye. Indeed, he looked quite clumsy in them.  

– You want me to change my clothes? I could take off my shoes if you want…  

– Not quite so…  

– Then what?  

The man sighed, nodding his head disapprovingly:  

– I’m afraid, you don’t quite understand. I expected you might need some help after all… Molly!  

Suddenly the drapes quivered, and a blond curly head popped outside the curtains. The head was busy with chewing a bubble gum.  

– This is Molly. She’ll help you through. Say hello, Molly…  

The girl shifted her huge angelic eyes on Andy, noting his good-looking presence, and her face lit up immediately in a wide-ranging smile:  

– Oh, hello… – she got out a bit more of her short petit body, waving her hand to him.  

She seemed to be a fun little person, so Andy waved her back.  

– How many times do I have to tell you – no flirting with our guests! – The man lowered his glasses down his nose bridge, staring rigorously at the girl.  

– Oh, but he’s cute! – the girl puckered her lips petulantly. – You are cute! – she smiled at Andy again, this time sending him a naughty wink as an extra.  

Andy beamed, and was ready to wink back at her, but the steward stepped forward, obscuring his happily reddened face from the girl’s sight.  

– We’d never get anywhere if you keep on clinging to your usual, – the man glanced at his watch. – I need you to make it fast, we’re in a hurry…  

– Okay, pops, – she puffed her lips offendedly, which gave her round face an incredible resemblance to one of those renascence cherubs.  

– And, Molly….  

– Yes pops?! – she demonstratively kept chewing on her bubble gum.  

The man grabbed Andy by his shoulders and pushed forward towards the curtains:  

– This young man is here for the first time, so be gentle with him… – then he leaned to his flushing ear and said in a calm yet quite sardonic tone: – Sometimes, if carried away she can be a true monster…- this was probably the maximum of emotion this extremely restrained butler could have allowed himself to express. – However, – he continued, – if anything about it makes you uncomfortable, you may always leave… – he eased on his grip, finally freeing Andy’s shoulders. – But I believe, she won’t be that rough on you, because she likes you. Molly, you like him, don’t you?  

– I sure do, pops, – she blew up a funny bubble and then popped it with her tongue.  

He stepped aside, allowing the girl to take Andy by his hand.  

– Wait… Mr. … Ralph…  

– Meet you on the other side… – he kindly patted him on his back, intending to departure, but halted, addressing Andy’s ear once more, just to give some advice: – Molly’s never wrong… so trust her choices…  

With that the old chap turned on his heel to leave the place; but where about, our adventurous Andy had no idea – the man seemed to have vanished the moment he turned his head to catch a glimpse of him going away.  

– Come! – her little white hands snapped his arm and pulled him in with a force he didn’t expect to be present in such a miniature body. In fact, at first, he had even thought she was just a teenager, but now, standing against her in this scruffy dimmed space, with her leering at him from below with her slightly bulging, yet still angelic eyes, he could clearly see that down there, she owned a decent pair of “peaches”, pressed tightly in a revealing circus bra with a funny glittering tinsel dangling from its rims.  

So, she was simply being short and youthful – the type of ingenue woman, always appearing pure and innocent, looking and staying younger than her actual age.  

And maybe it was him being way too tall for her. He kept forgetting he was above the average height, being surrounded way too often by fashion models or other trendy and wealthy women usually seeking their benefit in high heels.  

Furthermore, this cheeky American lassie wore no heels, actually no shoes at all!  

She kept ogling her big eyes at him, not even making a wink! Her burlesque costume shimmering in semi-darkness, as if being covered in tiny fireflies.  

– What’s now? – he chuckled, creasing his forehead amusingly to show he was being altogether deeply curious and mystified by what was about to happen to him now.  

– Don’t move! I am trying to decide… – she shook him by the sleeve like a pampered little girl.  

– To decide what?!  

– Shoosh! – she angrily squeezed his arms. And he felt even through the thickness of the fabric how dangerously sharp her fingernails were.  

She lingered again for some while, staring at him with that intense motionless look.  

– Oh, I see now… – she nodded her head in serious consent, and stepped back, setting him free.  

– Eh… – he wasn’t that amused anymore, starting to feel a bit anxious, with startled butterflies flapping frantically about his stomach.  

She took something black from the counter and approached him again: – Now close your eyes and bend over! – the tone of her voice was pretty frivolous yet demanding.  

He looked at her in hesitation.  

– Close my eyes? Why?  

– You heard me, mister! – she stomped her smooth naked foot impatiently – her eyes shooting angry sparks at him. She wasn’t kidding!  

– Ok, baby girl, just don’t shoot me! – he threw up his hands in the air. – I am just trying to be nice and…  

– You, do what I said, now! – she snapped at him.  

Andy swallowed:  

– I am sorry… Just don’t be mad! – he gave out one of his supreme charmful smiles. – I am being a good boy… and… I am… closing… my eyes… for you! – he said slowly, shutting his eyes. – Just for you, baby girl! No peeking!  

– Good! – she ignored his over-acting.  

– Now what?!  

– Wait and see…  

He heard her soft and somewhat childlike voice nearing his face, feeling the rush of warm air coming from her mouth and hitting his neck, and jolted.  

– Don’t be a woos! – It smelled with candied fruit chewing gum.  

– I am not! – his ears boiling shamefully. – I’d just like to know what you are going to do…  

– I’m gonna tie your eyes, silly! – she had a strong Texan accent, which he noticed only now. – But if you scared, you know your way out…  

Such bluntness of remark provoked an unexpected impulse of angry enthusiasm, bringing Andy to his familiar stubbornness.  

– I am no coward, baby girl! – he said with an induced scoffing smile on his face. – I’m sure you’ll cry your heart out if I go away!  

– Then stop asking stupid questions! – he felt her little palm lifting up his sleeve – this time her nails digging right into his skin.  

– Okay, okay… – his face reddened. He was clearly compelled to obey her orders, without doubting the supremacy of her authority.  

– Now, lean over – you’re too tall for me! – she pushed him downward, her tightening the bits of a cloth or a ribbon or whatever there was over his eyes.  

– Now stretch your arms to me…  

He felt the sharpness of her nails sliding over his back, her fingers grabbing the sides of his hoodie and pulling it over his head.  

– Stop twitching like a worm and stay still!  

And so, he stood still not daring to make a peep against her commands.  

– She began taking his t-shirt off, and then attended the rest – her agile fingers running swiftly up and down about his body, and before he could protest, his beige hip-hop pants fell off, landing on the ground like a dead animal. He tripped over them, awkwardly withdrawing his feet. Then went his shoes and socks, his chain, and his watch, and finally his tightly fitting briefs.  

He hadn’t given up the final anchor that easily, holding on to his underwear till the last second, like a scared child, grasping the safety ring before his first attempt of self-reliant swimming.  

She tried to pull them off with force. He clenched the branded elastic.  

– Do not touch them! – his right hand trembled, groping the closest wall. He attempted a stride, but mistakenly crashed into her chest, like a newborn puppy.  

She smirked, watching him being so defensive about this last bit of self-privacy, and yet so defenseless at the same time, trying to find his way along the dusty surface of the wall.  

– Give them to me! – she caught him by the very exit, forcefully dragging backwards.  

– Not even if you like me! – he protested through nervous giggling still being blindfolded.  

– You will give them to me, now!  

She was probably enjoying that little rant, or so he thought, and maybe covertly he did like it as well. Afterall, nobody prevented him from taking the cloth off his eyes and leave the place.  

– No! – Andy clasped the elastic with hopeless might. – No fucking way!  

He stopped, waiting for some kind of response on her part: a tag, a pull, something… another outburst of tremendously cute yelling… Anything?!  

But on the contrary, his little cantankerous American hushed, and now, all he could hear in the chilled air was the rapid breathing and thumping of his own heart.  

– Ahhh! – The strike of her stinging fingers was so sudden, it made him twitch. – Stop that, it tickles! – he was jumping and jolting, like a puffing hot popcorn.  

She left him no choice, he had to protect his brutally assaulted armpits.  

With one precise jerk she managed to take down his briefs and snatch them away as her cherished possession.    

– Done! – she sounded satisfied, leaving Andy’s stunningly proportional body disgracefully naked.  

She rose up on her tiptoes to remove the bandage. Andy rubbed his eyes with relieve, readjusting his renewed vision. Even the dim light seemed brighter now, or were those the multiple candles, glimmering all over the red darkish walls, making him feel he’d entered a church, or rather a funeral, because of the massive wooden chest in the middle of the room, reminding him of a coffin. Molly was sitting on it, chewing on her bubble gum with an extra fervor. Her blond curly hair resembled a huge white dandelion or a ball of sweet cotton, changing its shades from the movement of her head from silver white to yellow, pink, or orange in the vibrant shimmering of the candlelight.  

– Hello! – she smilingly waved her miniature palm at him, and puffed out a huge bubble, just to be blown up at the next second.  

– You’re not going to give them back, I suppose… – he looked down at his feet, covering his slightly stiffened member with his palms.  

All in all, this wasn’t a totally new experience for him to be stripped by desired women, but this particular act of undressing has felt ever so strange and impropriate. Her straightforward attitude, when she pulled off his hoody, this mild yet assuring assertiveness in the way she was taking his t-shirt, the gentleness yet the confidence in every move of her fingers, when she unlocked his chain and his watch. She might’ve been pretty rough and abrupt, but at the same time very soft with her touch when needed.  

And the untamed way she unzipped his pants, spoke in favour of her other hidden and more desired abilities. Even when she took his shoes and socks off it was wildly sensual.  

Oh yes, the socks… he loved every second of her touching his feet! He didn’t even know his feet could be so arousingly sensitive to touch – that peculiar American lassie, she must’ve had truly magic fingers! And the darkness she had purposely put him through only multiplied the tactility of those naughty sensations.  

– No! – she stood up, smirking at him widely and wickedly. – but I’ve got something else for you instead!  

She fervently hopped towards him:  

– Ok. Riddle! – her freckled nose almost met his chest, and she looked up at him, gleefully beaming. – I’ve long nose, but not a beak, I ain’t a cat, but love to lick. I follow and obey your hand. I am your most devoted friend!  

– Hmm, let me think… a desperate pussy licker?  

– Wrong! – she pressed her nails into his bare torso, crossing angrily her whitish thus almost invisible eyebrows.  

– Oh dear, pardon my manners! – he cringed, soaking in the stingy discomfort. – Most devoted, huh… – the more he lingered the more painful it got. – …Oh, silly me, this is simple! – he awkwardly giggled, feeling her uplifted bosom slowly forcing itself upon him:  

– Answer!  

He breathed in, gnawing on his lower lip from this stoical torment.  

– Would you mind taking your hands off my sides, because it really hurts, and I’ll be more than happy to declare my final guess…  

She eased the grip, but left her hands in place.  

– Thank you, – he seemed to be pleased, beginning to smile again. – Just don’t kill me if I’m wrong…  

– I follow and obey your hand. I am your most devoted friend… Answer, now!  

For a second, he felt afraid she was going to use her cruel training methods.  

– A dog! – he hurriedly blurted out.  

– Good boy! – the vigorous clapping of her hands meant he was right. He breathed out in relief.  

– Now close your eyes again!  

He flinched:  

– You’re not gonna tie them back, are you?  

– Oh no, Mr., just for a short while! I need it for my surprise, – she sounded alluringly mischievous, provoking his imagination.  

– Okay, baby girl…  

By this time, he was clever enough not to argue with this little seductive punk, having made his presumptions about why the butler called her a probable monster.  

And so, he closed his eyes tightly and waited for her to tell him when to open them back.  

It didn’t take long till he heard her exuberant voice, her raising up on her tiptoes, and him feeling her restrained breasts touching his pounding chest.  

– You can open them now, Mr.  

– Okay, baby girl…  

He opened his eyes and smiled. He was beginning, yet struggling to trust her; also, he never liked sudden surprises – them rarely being pleasant, and if happened, they always came at the cost of his time, wealth, or wellbeing.  

He noticed her holding something behind the back, and attempted to have a quick look, but she recoiled. That worried him, but he pretended he was not bothered or interested, and patiently waited for her to step forward when she felt ready to do so herself. This clever little trick has usually worked with obstinate cockalorum girls. And it worked this time as well:  

– Tah-dah! – she jumped over, handing him a black leathery three-dimensional object.  

His eyebrow twitched up:  

– Oh, a mask… of a dog… right… Why not a bloody racoon?!  

She couldn’t work out whether he was more disappointed, annoyed, or just joking.  

– Don’t you like it? – she wasn’t upset, just curious.  

– Well, it is a nicely made mask… – he had a closer look, fumbling the mask in his hands. – …but, babes, why a dog?  

– Because you are one! – she seemed failing to comprehend his problem.  

– Do I look like a dog to you?  

– No, Mr. you don’t, but you sure are a dog…  

– Can I have something else instead?  

– No Mr., you can’t.  

– Then I just go without it… – he returned the mask to her.  

– No can do! – she shook her head in refusion. – They all wear masks…  

He crossly snickered:  

– Are they all dogs there?  

– No, all kinds of animals… – she shrugged her shoulders.  

– Then why can’t I pick something else?!  

– Even if you’re stubborn like a donkey you still a dog, Mr. – she kept insisting. – … A fork can’t be a spoon, right?!  

– Says who?! – he uttered with silly desperation, feeling he’s fighting windmills in the field of absurdity.  

– Says I! – she stomped her lovely bare foot. – And if I say you’re a dog, then you’re a dog, Mr.! And if you don’t want it, then go home, Mr.!  

Andy took a few seconds to ponder about. This whole situation seemed to be pretty senseless, but it was even more senseless to cowardly leave in the middle of it! He’s gone way too far to give away this bizarre affair, he shall stick to it now, at least for the sheer curiosity.  

– Okay, baby girl, – he sighed. – I’ll be a dog if you want me so… Where’s that bloody mask of yours?  

– Here! – she beamed. – Let me put it for you!  

There was an unexpected change about her conduct, suddenly she became more pliant, more agreeable. It showed in the way she adjusted the mask on his smiling face.  

– …There is nothing bad about dogs, – her lighthearted voice sounded mellow and reassuring. – Some get to be nasty hyenas or even ugly monkeys!  

– What’s wrong with monkeys? – he bent over to make the task of buckling the mask easier for her. – I like monkeys, they’re hilarious imps…  

– But dogs loyal and friendly, – she smiled stroking on his mask’s snout.  

– I am more than friendly, baby-girl…  

The mask only covered the upper bit of the face, so she could still enjoy his enchanting grin.  

– Nice fangs! – she giggled playfully. – Now let me bring the rest and then I lead you the way…  

The rest, right…  

What a bummer! He forgot he was nude as a toddler! Had he really thought of going wherever she meant to take him naked, like a stupid reckless buffoon?!  

– Do you get to wear a mask too? – he was viewing her opening the casket and rummaging inside. He scrutinized her cute little bottom in particular.  

– Oh no, it is just for our guests, Mr. …  

– Will you stop calling me mister! – he pouted, tightening his palms on his pulsating crotch. – It makes me feel outdated…  

– Ok, Mr., – she naughtily chirruped, shutting down the chest with a squeaky thump.  

They swapped gazes, and both laughed at each other’s jokes. They seem to finally get along.  

She’d already came back, starting to adapt the rest of his strange costume, which merely included of a full-body harness, a pair of half finger gloves, a tail and a bow tied collar – all leathery and black.  

He’d been waiting till the very end for her to bring him at least some kind of coverage for his private area, but to no avail.  

– That’s it? – he asked, all of a sudden becoming very timid.  

– Uhu, – she fastened the last piece of the equipment – a springy black tail, sticking upwards, like of a dog’s when showing his master its good moods.  

Andy touched his behind, groping the furry addition. It wasn’t rigid, and he probably could sit down without it getting in the way.  

– Does it wiggle?  

– If you want it to wiggle, I could sort it out for you, – she rose on her tip toes again, spreading his bowtie, getting dangerously close to his withered lips.  

He gulped, pursing them together, trying to regain their moisty luster.  

– No, no… I’m just joking, – he chortled. – It’s fine with me, as long as I can’t see it… – and since he didn’t want to disappoint her, he put on a broad elaborated smile.  

– Good doggy, keep on smiling! – she acknowledged his effort, patting his rather cute doggy ears. – I bet they’d like your fangs as much as I do! – with that she pulled out a long leathery leash, playfully crossing it around her elbows, and pressing and entwining the rest of it over and between her legs. – Puppy time…  

Both of Andy’s eyebrows simultaneously went up, then down in bewilderment, not that she could see that from under his mask. She kept ogling at his constrained athletic frame, smirking at him teasingly:  

– Say woof…  

Andy’s uncertainty changed into legitimate frowning, but he swallowed his pride once again and complied to her request.  

– Woof…  

– This wasn’t very loud at all! – she scowled, loosely hitting him with the leash. – Again!  

– Woof, Woof… – he repeated somewhat more enthusiastically.  

– I can’t hear you! – she hit him again, this time for real, and yelled – Louder!  

– Wo-woof Woo-oof! – he tried the best he could at emulating barking. He even drew his hands to his chest like paws, pulling his tongue out and mimicking dog’s breathing.  

– Wow, you sound so natural! – she praised him with genuine vigor and astonishment. – Mr., you’re a high breed!  

– Thanks… –That dubious mask has turned out to be pretty handy, hiding his blushing face. – I mean – Woof!  

– Aw, you’re such a well-behaved doggy!  

It was stated with so much awe and sweetness that Andy felt his fastly increasing shaft to be too painful to cover, hence he turned aside and hurried to distract her mind before she would see his unyielding upheaval.  

– Do you feel?! Is it me, or it’s getting chillier... – his jaw muscles were fluctuating nervously as though he was chewing on a bubble-gum as well as miss Dandelion was; the moniker he had secretly named that brassy southern girl, but was too cautious to use, afraid she might get one of her frisky outbursts again. – I don’t want my little comrade to catch cold and start coughing… Maybe you should give me something to wrap him with?  

– But real dogs don’t wear pants, – she shrugged her fragile shoulders.  

– But, baby-girl, he doesn’t feel so well… – he pleaded, trying not to glance at her, because it made his escalating problem even greater.  

– Then you just let him sneeze his soul out!  

– Aw, don’t say that… this is so cruel of you… – he carried on with his declining joshing, dragging the moment to just earn some time for his elevation to subside.  

– Whatever – she shrugged her shoulders again, quietly giggling, because she might have noticed it afterall.  

– By the way… what about my belongings? – he worryingly looked around, but all he could see was hundreds of small candle lights dazzling and blurring his vision. – …they might look cheap, but they cost me a small fortune, – he frowned, – especially my shoes…  

– I know, – she shrugged her shoulders again. – You’ll get all of them back, once you’re out of here…  

– And my watch… it’s not just some watch…  

– Oh, don’t fret, it is safe! – she nodded her frizzy head. – Nothing has ever disappeared from here! Now turn around...  

He smiled uneasily:  

– I’m just making sure... It is an important present, you know…  

– Stop being such a nagger! – she came forward to him, getting up on her tiptoes. – You worry too much… You’ll be fine! – He could feel the warmth of her sweetened breath hitting his trunk and heard a click – her attaching the leash to his harness.  

– Could you at least tell where you are taking me?! – he nearly whimpered, caught in his despondency.  

She deliberately seemed to have ignored his question:  

– A good doggy always follows his leads and orders! – She tangled the extend over her arm to make it shorter, and pulled on the leash: – Let’s go…  

Is that it? Is that all? You’re done and ready to go, but where, but why?!  

My dear fellow, get a grip on yourself and be composed, be acceptable and be valiant, for there is no way back for you, only forwards to wherever you’re about to be taken.  

Yes, you feel apprehensive and doubtful, fearing the upcoming, the uncertain and the formidable unknown; the unknown pleasurable and thrilling enough, to be the happiest and the most liberating time of your life to attain here and now. The bittersweet pill to your delightfully agonizing despair, the gateway, and the solution to your ongoing mysteriously tantalizing dreams; the feasible resolution of your most hidden hopes and fantasies, and possibly the finest and the most promising way to your longing salvation.  

What have you put yourself into? – you are wondering. Where are you going to? – only she knows. What is about to become? – only the time would tell…  

He followed her like a sacrificial lamb, having made only few steps when suddenly there was a tempestuous, shortly abrupt blast of wind, as if somebody had opened a window into a cold blizzarding night – and night it was; blowing away the candle-lights and leaving Andy yet again cluelessly blindfolded.  

They entered and walked through a narrow corridor, of which he could have only guessed by touching its walls with his trembling and perspiring hands, feeling the roughness of the pitch-black fabric tapestry.  

It struck like the light at the end of the tunnel, though not so bright and ecstatic as described. The light was dim and shimmering, as if glowing from within the murky water of the twilighted pond.  

– Stop, – she almost whispered, pulling him by the leash about twenty feet from the exit, which presented itself in a form of some sort of a glistering curtain.  

– Are we there yet?  

He could spot her by the twinkling of her fair hair. She turned to him.  

– Keep quiet. – she looked up and put a porcelain-like finger to her pudgy lips. She seemed particularly lovely, but exceptionally serious. He nodded his head, pressing his lips together through an impending smile.  

– Now listen… – she softly clutched his masculine arms. – You are about to enter “The hall of temperance”, to get your number, so don’t talk there, and if you do, don’t be too loud…  

– I’ll be numb as a fish and humble as a holy sister, my dear impetuous missus, – he couldn’t avoid the joy of making that sarcastic remark, though hushing his voice as well.  

– Shush! – she squeezed a palm over his mouth. – We also call it “The chamber of silence”, – she continued. – You shouldn’t be noisy there. You can touch people and they can touch you, but you shouldn’t talk to them.  

– Sounds like… fun…  

She rolled her eyes with exasperation:  

– Once you get your title you can do whatever… but 'til then you must be fully respectful. Do you understand that?  

– I understand! I’m not stupid… I’ll manage…  

She suddenly smiled, becoming friendly again:  

– Just be a behaved doggy, okay?  

– Look who’s nagging now… – he smirked, and crossed his arms, aspiring to look confident and impressive: – In case you don’t know, I am British, and we are well-known for being exceptionally polite…  

– Pshhh… – she crossed her arms as well, expressing her scoffing annoyance if only for a brief second, then she smiled again: – Let’s go then… – she pulled on a leash with a powerful jerk; God, that sassy girl had strength of a vigorous man, he thought, almost tumbling forward.  

Andy yanked and barricaded himself by propping the wall with his legs and arms.  

– Wait…  

– What’s wrong? – she frowned a little, though still cheerful.  

– I’m… not ready yet…  

– Getting cold feet, Mr.?  

– No… I mean, yes… – he sighed, feeling most disheartened – apparently, he wasn’t as courageous as he thought; but then all at once that just became the finest excuse under the given circumstances of absolute obscurity. – Let’s go back… I want to go back! – he intended to shout out in full voice, but instead he hardly whispered.  

– Fine… – she opened her palm, allowing her side of the leash to fall down. – But you go on your own because I’m staying here, – all of a sudden, her voice sounded so unempatic, so indifferent.  

– Are you not coming with me?  

She shook her fuzzy head in denial.  

Andy gazed back, but there was nothing there, but a completely pitched black void. He always hated and feared darkness, but that kind of darkness felt particularly malevolent.  

Bedmonsters!  

His childhood horrors flashbacked at him ferociously from this wall of blackness like a huge ball of fire.  

His adult self knew those fears were nothing but the convoluted games of his own mind, but his adolescent part was screaming – danger! It was growing on him with every additional second of gaping into that lost corridor, until it overtook over the last bit of his willpower, leaving at the dead end of no choice.  

Who knows what lurks there if he goes alone!  

– Not much of a choice… – he sulked, stooping his shoulders at a thought he had to travel on his own.  

He gulped and looked at her, looking for a flashlight, a lighter, a stupid candle?! Of course, she had none on her, he realized – that was a silly assumption; what he didn’t know, is that even if he had one it would still be a worthless helper.  

– Okay then… let’s go to, what do you call it, a silent cell?  

– A chamber of silence…  

– Yeah, that thing, – Andy tried smiling again. He picked up the leash and returned it to her. – After you, my dear…  

And so, they headed to finish their journey together, him leveling with her pace and going almost side to side, until they reached the very threshold of the entrance.  

What previously, because of the distance, had looked like a solid watery mantle, now appeared to be a stringy curtain made of tubular glassy pieces, looking, and glistening almost like the tinsel on Molly’s bra. She quieted and wasn’t tagging anymore, she let him go forward.  

Andy ran his fingers in-between the strings – they clinked; so softly and melodically, he could’ve sworn, he heard a lyrical tune in the air about it even after he’d left the veil still. There was something vague and distant behind it, and it was emanating muffled light and music.  

– Give me a moment… – he walked away from it, if only one step, and lingered, trying to figure out what could be hiding there.  

That’ was strange, but thinking about going through this strange veil has made him both anxious and thrilled. It somewhat resembled the backstage excitement, before entering the theatrical scene with its bright lights and loud applauding hitting one’s ears and face.  

He gasped and strode forward once again – the glassy strings of the curtain almost stroking his chest.  

And then she pushed him…  

Andy looked back, but his brassy guide wasn’t there, and the strange curtain also wasn’t there, but a wall of a dirty-pink tint of faded rose petals. He glanced a few times aback, then forward, then aback, then all over the place, ignoring the occasional masked people in strange leathery costumes, resembling his own, standing around, or sitting on black leather couches; he was searching just for Molly.  

– Shit… – he gasped, finally realizing he was now left at his own disposal.  

This notion made him feel acutely abandoned, smacking him right away with a nauseated explosion of tummy tingles.  

He made few more steps, but noticing the present people, froze almost in the middle of the hall, which wasn’t big or small, but just about the right size to occupy forty people or so, and still be spacious enough to roam about.  

And once he did that, all of the guests turned their heads at him, their eyes sparking greedily from the masks’ chinks, observing his flawless body, for a possible prey to play with. Or so he sensed, feeling vulnerable and having no place to hide.  

Hurrying to cover his rapidly hardening shaft with anxiously shaky palms, he felt a small tug on his harness.  

– I believe that is yours… – the silver-bearded man picked up the leash, that’s been dragging behind Andy all this time, and probably had been the real reason for these dressed up strangers gaping at him in the first place. In his other hand the butler was holding a tray fully loaded with various light beverages. – Welcome to the Sexsodrom! – he greeted pompously though still very quietly.  

Who would’ve believed our Andy would be so happy to see that unsympathetic receptionist again!  

– Ralph! – Andy’s face brightened with a smile in an instant. – I’m so glad to see you! Where is Molly?!  

The man put his gloved finger to his mouth:  

– She is where she is ought to be, – he said with impassive mien. – But, please, keep your voice down. She should have told you about the rules…  

– Sorry, my bad… she did… – he whispered. – It’s a pity she can’t come with me… I rather liked her…  

– I see she figured you just about right… – said the butler, letting out a small modest smile, too humble to be a smirk, yet revealing his large greyish teeth. – Come…  

He returned Andy his leash, and led him to a big window, curtained with white semi-transparent tulle, but draped so densely it completely obscured the outside view of total darkness.  

– So, Ralph, what is now…  

The man let out another humble smile:  

– Always rushing about that youth… so relentless, so demanding… Why not to wait and see?  

– You speak in riddles, Ralph…  

– Oh, don’t worry, I used to be the same... – the butler seemed to have skipped this disconcerted assertion. – You’ll get your number soon enough. Then you’d have to choose…  

– I thought this place meant to be more fun… – even hidden behind the mask Andy’s face was quite sullen.  

– And it certainly is! – proclaimed the man, still keeping his voice as calm as possible. – An abundance of pleasure for everyone! – he continued with an indifferent whisper. – Furthermore, I’m here to please you with some exceptionally great news.  

Andy’s eyebrow went up in irritable bewilderment:  

– What news?  

– Well, my dear fellow, because you’re one of our more special guests, or so to say: VIP, you’ll get a unique chance to visit all of our rooms… This is undeniably a true gesture of sheer generosity on behalf of our administration.  

For Andy had no clue what that old chap was talking about, he preferred to avoid interference, and just kept nodding and smiling, to show his appreciation on the matter, even if he hardly understood its meaning.  

– Not everyone gets to be so privileged, I must say, you’re an extremely lucky man…  

That was becoming exasperatingly awkward, because now he had to express his gratitude for possible benefits, he had no intention of receiving.  

Andy usually avoided thanking the anonymous or influential people for unasked errands; it wasn’t just the normal sincere “thank you” you say to anyone for a small assistance or just out of curtsey, for this type of “thank you” frequently meant being obliged, returning a favor when enquired, which usually occurred in the least suitable moment, often with time-consuming and unevenly unreasonable demands, therefore cuffing him under hovering pressure and the uncertainty of the unclaimed debt. “Extra favors equals extra headaches! ” – a fact thoroughly learnt in the hard “show business” way.  

– Well, whatever you have in mind, is very much appreciated…  

The butler gave away his third and his widest smile:  

– Oh, no doubt in that! We prepared you an exclusively unique treat, so rest assured, you’re going to love every moment of your exquisite leisure, take my word for it, my friend…  

There was something particularly nasty in the way he said the last bit of the sentence,  

stretching his lips to emphasize “my friend”.  

Yet again, Andy could hardly comprehend the butler’s intentions. He tried to put his highly effective imagination into use, but the wildest thing he got in mind was an orgy with five individuals – the biggest amount of people he’d been with: him, his best friend Jake, and another three random-fandom girls; pretty good, but not particularly wild either.  

– But first, as mentioned previously, you’d have to get your number, so you stay here and wait for your turn to come, – the butler carried on, returning to his usual monotonously sluggish manner of speech. – Meanwhile, treat yourself to a glass of our superb quality wine… – he slightly lifted a glass full of inviting dark-red liquid.  

– Thank you, but maybe later…  

– Perhaps, a cheerfully sparkling champagne, or maybe sweet and dirty martini as an alternative?  

A glass of water could have been nicer, but Andy was already thirsty enough to ponder about it.  

– Fine then, I’d give it a go... – he picked up the closest glass. – Is that a pink Champagne?  

– Excellent choice, my friend! It’ll help you to unwind…  

Andy turned his head away from the steward and grimaced – why did it sound so terribly unpleasant every time that old geezer said “friend”?! He sighed and took a large sip from the bubbling wine – it was a bit too sweet for his palet, but quite pleasant – indeed of a good quality.  

Andy stared back at the standing man:  

– Pretty decent stuff…  

– I’m glad you like it, – the butler respectfully nodded. – But beware to be moderate with your drinking, afterall this is a Hall of Temperance.  

– Excuse me, Ralph, but what are you implying here?  

– Oh, I am awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. But we’ve had some problems with our fresh guests before…  

– Oh, I see… So, you think, I am going to start singing and dancing in the middle of this crazy party of whispers… – Andy made an effort not to raise his voice, but if he could, he would allow himself to burst into an intended scornful laughing.  

The butler stepped closer, grabbing Andy’s shoulder in endorsement.  

– Please, don't hold a grudge against me, – he patted on his arm. – We are here to provide you with an outmost experience. It is part of my job to make sure our guests get the very best. My dear friend, I want you to know, you are very important to us… It wouldn’t be fair if you fall asleep inebriated in the middle of the main event, would it?  

– What event? – Andy took another big gulp from his glass.  

– Patience, my friend – there’s a time and a place for everything, – he gave out a particularly vicious example of his bitterly dull smiles. – Try interacting with our residents. They seem very fond of your strong-bodied presence…  

– You mean touching them? – Andy sneered.  

– My dear fellow, there’s nothing wrong with a good welcoming pat, – he finally let go of Andy’s arm. – Relax. You are just being too hard on yourself…  

– I suppose, you are right...  

Andy took a third lengthy mouthful, finishing the fizzy content of his glass in one go, and randomly looked down at his naked feet.  

Oh damn!  

His imperial scepter was raising forward in its might and glory.  

Having been busy with the conversation, he completely forgot he was being almost naked. But how come he hadn’t felt anything down there while chatting?!  

Andy glanced at the costumed guests – these perverted strangers had been probably staring at his excited buddy for all this time! He put the glass back on the steward’s tray, and stooped, trying to cover his screaming nudity.  

You are just being too hard on yourself…  

That bloody butler was clearly deriding this cumbersome situation! Furthermore, that filthy old dickhead pretended himself oblivious to the whole matter, standing and goggling his icy cold eyes at him as if nothing happened!  

Clenching his teeth, Andy shifted his vision from his sturdy penis to the butler’s figure, yet before he could utter anything on this concern, stopped in astonishment, caught completely unprepared to the revealing sight of the exposed semi-nakedness of his opponent. Yes, the attending man was still wearing his tailcoat, and his white gloves, and even the bordeaux bow tie and the rectangular glasses were still present at their due place, but from his waist downwards he was, well, completely and utterly naked! His bizarre bareness exposing a pair of quite hairy legs and a bush of grey pubic hair with a rather long and floppy phallus, hanging there like a monstrous wrinkly sausage.  

Andy had been so overflown, yet emotionally drained with recent events altogether that it was more than plausible for him to leave it unnoticed; he was also trying to look up or straight in front, knowing most of the guests were almost as equally stripped as himself. Nonetheless, he felt the alcohol kicking in fastly, and him becoming more and more inconsiderate about the entire thing with every passing second. Just one glass of frothy wine – Andy let out a small noiseless chuckle– and he felt as woozy as a virgin female drinker, – he chuckled again.  

That champagne must’ve been surprisingly strong! Andy’s never got drunk from just one glass of light-alcohol, perhaps just once for his first time only, which wasn’t at some prom party or a company of friends, but in their traditional deep-rooted pub with his permanently tipsy grandad – clearly, the old chap preferred to be the guide and the example to his grandson throughout his first steps in this hinky regard. An example already good enough to teach Andy to be staying away from homeland pubs for a long time after.  

He hasn’t eaten much from the early lunch; and it had been about evening when he arrived here, so maybe that was the cause to his sudden inebriation… then also this quite erotic undressing must’ve taken a while, while he’s being lost in time in the agile hands of that devilish chick.  

So what time was it?!  

He tried to raise the heavy tule tapestry and peep through the nearest window, but he saw nothing but the darkness – perhaps the glass itself was tanned in black to enhance the place’s atmosphere, he thought.  

Then he felt a slight tap on his broad shoulder, and moved away from the windowsill, returning to the waiting man.  

– I must go, – proclaimed the butler, – But I might come to check on you once more. As for now, you would have to manage on your own. But be that as it may, my fairly young and prosperous fellow, I wish you the best of luck on this delightfully mesmerizing quest.  

The man shook Andy’s hand with a dry reluctant motion, and with that left the place so promptly that Andy merely noticed his departure out of the corner of eye – a hint of unpleasantly hairy buttocks, glimpsing through the tails of his suit as he walked away. He turned his head aside, just to find out the next moment the man was gone, evaporated, vanished almost the same way as it had happened previously.  

– Fucking Catman, – Andy murmured with uncovered disgust, comparing one of his favourite comic heroes, which possessed a major habit of undetected disappearance to one of the butler’s. Then somehow his mind traveled along the wrong course, purging his beloved Catman off his armored costume into nakedness, and leaving him in his famous mask and cloak only. – Fucking hell… – Andy tried to hinder the oncoming outburst of laughter, turning it into a chocking hiss.  

He might as well apply for the part of Catman next year – he thought, coming over one of the empty couches. He’s got the most suitable chin for that divine role: some plasticity in his movements, some roughness over the face, an intricate catlike moustache, and a mysterious huskiness in his voice – he should be able to work these out quite easily, and the role would be hopping right into his lucky pocket!  

Andy pulled his leash over and slumped down on the couch in outmost relief. The couch was soft and welcoming, not at all sticky as he thought it would be on his frame, perhaps just a bit squeaky against his harness.  

Whether the arrival of the guest-caretaker happened to be a sudden salvation, his departure, even more so, felt like a true deliverance. Maybe these were the unfathomable abrupt disappearances that made him feel so uneasy at this man’s presence, but maybe that was the stewards’ lack of emotions in how he presented himself, because there was nothing threatening in his words, even if some of his phrases were pretty unfathomable to Andy’s reasoning. But certainly, that was the coldest and most unsympathetic “good luck” of anyone wishing to him! – Andy took another glass off the tray, standing on a bedside table, this time a martini, which look much redder than his champaign. How conveniently devious telling one not to get pissed yet do everything for that to transpire!  

The martini tasted even sweeter than the bubbling wine and certainly was more intoxicating – Andy sensed that almost immediately, feeling his legs warming up and getting pleasingly numb.  

What was he thinking about… oh yes, the thrilling prospect for more grandiose roles! Him as the idol of stealth and melancholy, the gloomy representor of the crude and inexorable justice – the Catman! – a tempting possibility for yet another shiny coin to be slid into his epic piggybank of legendary entities, and another fat “V” to his list of straightforward achievements.  

But you already have got more than enough characters to play, you’d say; people are not stupid, they might get overwhelmed with the same repetitive face and theme! Bullshit, you’d answer, on the contrary: these simpletons are greedy for some good thoughtless stuff; and they would always want more of it, for they like to be overfed with easy digestible entertainment, slobbering over fresh mise-en-scèns of your handsome charismatic appearance.  

This ceaseless hyper-heroic mash of patheticy and relentless action, in which one movie resembles the others as their identical twin-brother, analogous in their characters, plots, costumes, special effects and music, 'til there is not much left to memorize, but a huge colorful rubber ball of rubber bands, rolling straight at you, – is the contemporary generic fast-food of the modern movie industry.  

But there are plenty of young good-looking actors, so why not to let them also have a chance, you’d say.  

Untalented traitors, and other envious scum, let’s see you getting roles of your own first, you lazy wishers.  

You’ve earned your titles fair and square! Now, let’s have those ambitious bastards starting from scratch, like you did in your time; then either succeed or be kick to the curbs: who gives the shit! You don’t! You’ve had your bitter bit of toil, and for that you’re one of the first in the line to lick off the sweetest top layer of the casting-cake!  

Hurrah, hurrah, you say. Away the doubts, away! Leave the jealousy to the jealous!  

And the victories to the victorious, for through the hardships they strived, and through the battles they fought to have rightfully attained their noble triumphs.  

Speaking of battles to be fought and fights to be won… ships, tanks, guns, and various firearms… You are feeling rather daring once again, while your greatest cannon is ready to shoot out its explosive balls all over the battlefield…  

Oh, you’ve even come up with a brief poem:  

Let’s light up this place, invade into space, lick, and embrace, and kiss your beautiful face… before we both lose our grace, or trace… Space, interface, disgrace, phase, itchy mace...  

Andy felt a bit wobbly to think straight… Somebody was touching his bollocks, and the funny thing was, he didn’t mind it at all!  

Everything was hazy, dusky, and rickety, making him blink for a moment, until he regained his composure again. He thought he heard a faint tune somewhere at the undefined distance. Corresponding with the beats of his own heart, this rather jazzy and rhythmic music was submerging on him as if from under the water. A blanket of ticklish inebriation gently descended upon, wrapping in comfortable warmth.  

Smiling pleasantly, yet somewhat senselessly, Andy looked down at his currently stimulated crotch.  

There were two hands aiming at him: a smaller and a chubbier one, playfully rocking his heated testicles, like a squishy toy – and certainly belonging to a female, and the other, substantially larger, and hairier, lying on his thigh inertly, but with its hefty fingers plummeting into the notch between his leg and his genitals.  

Well, at least his scepter wasn’t as alert as few minutes ago or was it longer than that – he seemed to have completely lost the track of time?!  

Was there anything they’ve put in those drinks he wondered, but the next second that thought slipped from his mind, melting like a snowflake on unmittened palm.  

Andy’s pensive stare slowly began climbing up from the plump, yet elegantly little palm along the pudgy arm, through a fairy sizable, largely-nippled, heavy raising chest of its female owner, over her short neck straight to her mask.  

As with his, her mask has been concealing just the upper bit of the face. It was all coated with small bluish and white feathers and had two circular holes with a pair of big glistening eyes piercing through them. There was also a relatively small beak on her nose, which meant the nose of his sweet harasser must have been pretty snub, for the leathery beak covered almost all of it. Her round cheeks and chin matched the mask shape perfectly – she was definitely an owl.  

Andy quietly chuckled, looking straight in her mysterious eyes. The owl smiled, revealing a charming pair of dimples, but said nothing, though still playing with his tightening nuts. Andy broadened his smile – at the end of the day, that was all he could do; he’d never thought an eye mask could come across with his social interactions, he was used to a full set of facial mimical expressions: the forehead, the eyebrows… the eyes! It is said, the human eyes are the gate to a person’s soul. He wasn’t even sure she could see his eyes in their full seductive splendor, hidden away behind the shadowed chinks of his dog-mask, however there was still the whiteness of his teeth, his pictorials and abdominals, and also his obnoxiously uncontrolled dick, for too many a time lately turning into a madly screaming cockerel.  

Anyhow, she wasn’t looking directly at him, and it took some time to realize she wasn’t watching him at all, but the owner of the other hand. Andy shifted his stare at the bulky figure of a man on his left.  

He was some sort of a beast: a wolf, or a lion – the mask owner had pretty long and voluminous hair, which could be interpreted for a mane; or maybe the nasty hyena, Molly had been grumbling about. His black wooden mask covered his entire face and had a carnivorous aggressive muzzle to it, carved wide open to reveal a demonic jaw of dark-red fangs. He wasn’t watching at him either, while his cumbersome hairy hand still lying motionlessly on Andy’s thigh, resembling a head of a languorously satiated python.  

He also had a pretty impressive chest, not as muscular, of that Andy’s probably had no match, judging by the various figures of the promenading guests, but so exceedingly hairy, hence Andy titled him as a “werewolf”.  

So, there they were: an Owl and a Werewolf, – what a freakishly bizarre couple.  

These two were a certain duo, of that Andy had no doubt, for there was some kind of fundamental mutuality between those contrasting people, as if he could draw an invisible line from one to another, with him being in the middle as their prey. And prey he felt.  

They meant no intentional harm but had chosen him as their special instrument for obtaining more profound intermediation for themselves, and also as a lavish puppet for their primary subliminal desires.  

This was quite an intuitive notion, but somehow, he was certain about it; it was as if he could just sense that. It was a type of new knowledge, a speechless befuddled revelation, and that contention stood incredibly clear and sharp.  

Furthermore, it seemed that all of his senses had all been sharpened at once, which happened to be incredibly peculiar, since he’s still been and felt strongly inebriated.  

The music wasn’t muffled any longer, and the smallest of sounds became very distinct, so much that he could hear people’s murmurs almost as normal talking. Being curious about it, he tried to concentrate further, and their conversing whispers hit his ears like a rumble from all over. Even the aromas surrounding the smothering coolness of the air had multiplied, revealing themselves in their sexist diversity: the men mostly smelled of tobacco, acrid sweat and alcohol, and the women flourished with various perfumes and the most pleasant, feminine scents of their own bodies. The tactile sensations had also been increased, making his skin oversensitive to the slightest touch or roughness.  

Andy shifted his leg abruptly, enough to make the Werewolf withdraw his palm from its vulgar position and to move it to Andy’s knee; his fingers resting on it like a huge hungry tarantula.  

– Easy, mate… – Andy jerked his leg again, showing the man his utmost unconsent.  

– Sorry… we didn’t mean to disturb you, – the Werewolf shrugged his wooly shoulders. – The way you smiled, – he spoke, or rather say, barely whispered for them both. – …we thought you liked it, – suddenly he didn’t seem so intimidating – his deeply soft murmur was being honest and apologetic. Finally, he moved his hairy arm away.  

– Do you want me to stop touching you too? – the Owl didn’t sound so mystical anymore. Her voice was cajoling, and even reminded of Molly’s, but it was more maturely saturated and less audacious. She was just a woman, and he was just a man; human and searching for answers and discoveries, like himself.  

Andy made a short pause, trying to comprehend her question – afterall, it was considered intrusive and embarrassing, had he been maskless and pinpointed, perhaps, at some other place and time, but he wasn’t, as it was all being entirely incognito; and then, he was pretty drunk or high, or both… He had neither willpower nor good enough reason to think straight, to adjust and obey the rules of social comportment. All of those fundamental guidelines of etiquette suddenly seemed to be so tiresome, so irrelevant for the moment. Those tedious rules, numerous regulations, and indisputable instructions, following him everywhere, like a pesterous plague, were like a morbid ponderous leech voluntary positioned on his benevolent chest by his own hand in pursuance for better public relations, constantly sucking on his young ardent heart to eventually leave it still and emotionless.  

He was fed up with Gerald’s impeding recommendations on how to be “politically correct” so they could keep everyone regularly amused and agreeable. This headstrong “midget” has been anything but chivalrous, yet his hypocritical reproaches and cunning intentions have always rushed before him, drop by drop dribbling on Andy’s head with venomous methods of rules.  

Certainly, this frivolous place had also its rules and methods, but instead of constricting one’s urges, you were asked to unwind and be blatantly shameless even within the walls of The hall of Temperance.  

– It’s up to you… Miss… I mean: Missis, – Andy hurried to correct himself, paying attention on the Werewolf’s hand, morphing halfway through into a fist. Yet this didn’t stop him from sending The Owl another of his intentional smiles, while boldly eyeing her ample chest.  

She returned him a favour, smiling back – this time watching straight into his eyes. Again, by some remarkable notion, he wasn’t even doubtful – he’s been bloody sure about it!  

– Call me – The Duchess, – she said, as her fingers moved from Andy’s testicular sack to the core of his resuscitated manhood. – We don’t reveal our real names to strangers; even as handsome as you...  

– Oh, thank you, mi lady! – He tried to add a seductively meaningful note to each of his lackadaisical whispers: – This noble title is undeniably the best way to describe your numerous gifts and graces – so dignified, so refined. Though, I must say, just a tiny-winy bit demanding, but sort of in a good traditional way. The Duchess – sounds like a woman of outmost magnanimity, influence, and composure, – he was definitely being carried away, beginning to believe he was taking part in some royalty melodrama. “Magnanimity" – he remembered this intricate word from one of his colleague’s roles.  

– …Handsome and suave, – she let a tiny giggle of final conclusion. – If so, may I call you the Prince?  

– As you wish, mi lady, – Andy dwelt for a moment, thinking whether he shall kiss her other, less busy hand. He decided a nod would suffice – the presence of her lover, possibly even a husband still bothered him. – So, I’m a royal member now, – he sneered, hoping the Duchess-Owl would understand the full meaning of his repartee.  

– This is how most of you Brits sound to us Americans anyway, – The Werewolf answered for her, choosing to keep his eyes low, observing the slow frictions of her palm on Andy’s upsurging sprout.  

Whether he had meant that all of British were cocks, or just had a lighthearted joking, something in the way he’d voiced it, evoked a strong notion of incensed revulsion. Andy made an angry sip of his crimson martini.  

“A fucking retarded cuckolder, forced to watch his gorgeous American wifie jerking off an Englishmen”, he thought, “You, stupid pubic flosser, you know nothing of proper manners or royalty. I bet you’d gone ten times more excited if you knew your succulent milf is hand-jobbing a guy who had really been invited to the royal court to meet the actual queen and her lords.  

Suddenly he felt comfortable and confident enough to want to brag about his brief charity meeting with the monarchy; and the sheer thought of showing that off felt so strangely self-pleasing, it almost turned physical.  

That had been about four years ago, while him being only twenty-one, with his first blockbuster hitting the box office with tremendous success, turning a young unknown actor into a newly accredited superstar.  

Although shredded, he still remembered the bits of the meeting rather detailed – after all, such events usually happen once in a lifetime! He had been cautious and nervous, trying not to make a full out of himself, and follow the proper steps he’d learnt by heart on how to behave in front of her majesty.  

He remembered the queen, dressed in white garments, all old and tiny, but very polite, and so the rest of the people had also been polite; in fact, they had all been extremely courteous! And even the special celebrity banquet after the meeting had been completely and utterly mind-numbing with its high-class courtesy; so much, he’d even retained the herbal patterns on his napkin and the tablecloth to glance at, using them as a mean to escape the boredom and the awkwardness of the moment, when he had to address those extremely serious people.  

There was also a big gothic-like window with a view of the garden’s greenery; he’d eventually began looking through fleetingly for the rest of the mealtime for self-entertainment.  

On the whole, that had been quite a challenge for Andy’s hyperactive nature to bear with, being surrounded by so many respectfully significant people of certain age and inclinations when most of them were interested in politics and economy more than in their own families.  

At any way or another, that had been his major impression of them. And what had they thought of him? Well, probably not much, since he kept quiet and aloof, not knowing yet how to present himself in the best light.  

Andy had even tried joking few times, but nobody laughed or at least smiled, so he had kept it all to himself.  

That had felt like a personal fiasco, even with him still being a great assistance in attaining more than enough money for needed charities.  

He changed his mind – perhaps bragging about this solemn occasion wasn’t the greatest idea for the given moment.  

So instead, he produced one of his special tricks: firstly, turning slightly away, broadly smiling, then looking right at her, twisting his mouth in a cynical grin, and while carrying on flagrantly smirking, eyeing her voluptuous figure from head to bottom back to her face; and to sum up this affair of crafty seductions, rounding his lips in a suggestive manner, as if kissing the air, but clearly directing at her cutely half-opened delicious mouth.  

– This is some pretty rotten aristocratic gathering, – he chuckled, sloppily sipping out of his glass, and almost spilling its continence out, all because of what was going down there in the towering shrine of masculinity, surrounded by the bustling bushes, between the sturdy columns of his legs and the changing lianas of her agile fingers.  

He was afraid his mask would halt the trained magic of his enticing stunts from working out, but her hand’s rapidly shifting up and down confirmed the opposite, as though trying to ignite the light on the very tip of his temple’s turret.  

It was beginning to feel like a nice engagement afterall.  

– Darling, please pass me that champagne, – she requested, faintly touching her appetizing bosom with a free hand.  

Andy was more than ready to assist, but the Werewolf stepped in again.  

– Here we go, love, – he said, passing the glass above Andy’s head, and he’d probably been condescending doing so behind his carnivorous mask.  

– My darling Duchess, that beasty looking man must be your incarcerated servant. Please, forgive me if I’m wrong, but he looks like an ignorant ill-mannered peasant to me. I doubt he even has a proper name or title, so let’s just call him the Beast, if you may, – he said, observing her squelchy lips touching the rim of her glass, savoring the pinkishness of the simmering drink.  

– My dear, I suggest…- he was going to elaborate on the matter, and probably say something even more stupid but she answered his offer with a stronger squeeze of her moistened palm.  

– Shhh… My Prince, no more talking... – she took her hand away from his  

crotch and put on his dehydrated lips. Her palm was warm and smelled strongly of his own sweat and juices, which to his own amazement he found surprisingly pleasant, crushing him over with the wave of acute ecstasy.  

– Be quiet, – her palm returned to its former sanctuary, clasping his sizzling veiny rod once again. – Close your eyes and enjoy it…  

Her further whispering rang all foggy and muddled: all of the words got lost on their way to his brain, as all of his thoughts got concentrated in one place – his throbbing cock.  

And so, he did, closing his heavy eyelids and feeling he was starting to doze away into a curious state in-between pleasurable slumber and the increased vigilance of his heart and breathing.  

It was indeed a rather bizarre mise-en-scene of three fairly unclothed animalistically masked people sitting close to each other in a strange arrangement, surrounded by more strangely dressed people, which were talking, and groping each other in various intimate places.  

A young guy, with a superbly athletic frame, his strong arms rest loose on his thighs, completely reluctant to move, his head leans back relaxingly, maybe even asleep, but not quite so, for his mouth is open in a wide careless smile, as if frozen in the middle of demented laughter.  

In between short breaks of waiting, instead of the typical charges of moaning, he quietly gasps, suppressing the urges of voicing out his lingering satisfaction. He is trying his best not to be loud, still aware to what he’s been told: “This is the hall of Temperance – no one can be rowdy there. ” This is probably the only thing he still takes into consideration, for he doesn’t even care whose hand is touching his private organs anymore – his or hers; he is not even watching.  

An odd ominous couple closes down on him greedily from both sides of the couch, like a pair of enormous human tongs. They pat and caress him, sipping slowly out of their glasses: He is Mr. Martini, she is Mrs. Champagne. They swap their glasses in the air, tasting each other's drinks, above his panting figure: She is the Duchess, he is the Beast. They send each other cooing whispers, they have developed a personal language of naughty gestures – speechless and divine: She is an Owl, and he is a Werewolf.  

And yet they are no different than anyone of the guests in this room, for they all hide behind nicknames, masks, and numbers; just like an actor conceals his true nature behind his roles, a player behind his computer games, and a writer behind his plots and characters. Whereas an average modern-day life, if peaceful and prosper enough, is habitually predictable, physically demanding, mentally draining and painfully boring, even more so for the richest and the strongest of this concocted, so called “highly civilized” world.  

Every mortal needs his share of some satisfactory leisure, preferably comfortable and secure, as most of humans are not great risk takers, therefore it requires to be as distilled as possible from the ugly and frustrating scraps of the natural existence.  

Simply amazing how something artificial and feigned can evoke someone’s emotions and revive their declined feelings to their former potency. A fantasy on the verge of reality, a dream nearly come true, make one feel alive and sometimes even booming with brief, but amazingly daring and wicked ideas.  

And that what masks are meant for.  

They are also great in making you both attractive but invisible, providing its owner with a temporary salvation of self-annihilation, purging one from pangs of conscience and remorse, almost like a satisfying theatrical phantasm of sleeping; give a sense of uniqueness and might.  

Costumes and masks are a jolly fun of a prop, a fairly decorated crutch, strutting the soul, just as a longly anticipated bottle of whiskey for a drinker – all for the same reasons: to clear out and delude one’s mind in order to withstand another distastefully disrupting day out of many similar to follow.  

…So many, many days! So many, many masks! – he thinks to himself, as he snoozes away throughout the pleasurable rhythms of her hand’s movements. – Andy Marvel is a mask, and so is his face… “Am I nothing but a fucking mask? ”, he wonders in delusion, trying to keep his teary eyes open.  

Cats had come to pick him up: two sisters, probably twins, for their lusciously crimson lips and viciously glistering teeth, being exposed to a naked eye, seemed impeccably identical, while the rest of their faces, had been covered with a tight-fitting cat-like masks, attached as one piece with their costumes, just as Catman’s loyal assassins’ at its comics, only far more graciously designed – that was the second notion to come on his mind. The first had been about the titillating appeal of their tall modeling bodies, being covered almost entirely with black leather, revealing only the curvy cleavage of their middle-sized breasts inside the cutout of the shape of a heart.  

He hadn’t noticed them straight away; it took some time to regain senses, finding his way out of his sweet yet unsatisfactory slumber.  

It all started with one of the sisters groping his neck-shoulder-area from behind his back, ravenously and even painfully kneading it. Throughout the haziness of his reverie, he’d thought it was some of the guests, until he heard her insistent and startling voice saying his time has arrived and that he needed to get up:  

– …right now! – she said quietly, but it sounded buzzingly loud in his ears.  

Her sharp soprano breaking in on the very tip of his delicious trancing extasy, destroying the final accords of the symphony of his earthy pleasures…  

The Duchess – she’s been good, really good… But his time in the Hall of Temperance was mercilessly running out…  

– We’ve come to pick you up! – said the second sister.  

His heart jumped out of his chest, alerting him out of his dopey drowsiness.  

This was just a mere woman’s voice, but it was so directly straightforward that it felt, like he must immediately leave everything behind and do as instructed. Struggling with a sudden attack of heartburns, he even tried to stand up, but his legs were weak and his head dangerously spinning.  

– Oh, just look at that poor gorgeous darling, must be his first time, – the Cat sounded almost a typical English, but with some bizarre cattish tinge in her voice, as if she was stretching out her vowels; he couldn’t figure out whether it was natural or done on purpose... but it was most definitely erotically charged, and even if strict, quite ear pleasing. The other sister answered, and she sounded exactly the same:  

– Probably, dear… must be one of those rich spoiled brats… got an extra-super VIP with extension… – she chuckled, hooking the tip of his leash with her long, red-nailed finger. – Hey, doggy, wake up! – noticing Andy lapsing back into torpor, she bents over and boldly slaps him on his face. Andy tries to get up but failed again.  

– You think, he can walk? – she stares at his flagging figure, completely ignoring the sight of the pudgy palm still rubbing his crotch.  

– If Ralph says he’s ready, then he is… – her twin bents down and glances  

over the shoulder of her VIP at his tipsy euphoric face. – …more or less… – she grunts, shrugging her leathery shoulders.  

– Don’t stop… – he mumbles, feeling the palm of the Duchess slowing down.  

The Cats exchange disgruntled gazes.  

– Get up, lazy boy! – one of the sisters pushes her pointy heel into his ankle, making Andy cringe and sit up straight.  

– There is something better waiting for you if you come with us, – says the second Cat, hugging Andy with her black leathery arms, but looking at the Duchess.  

Andy stops smiling, feeling her soft palm leaving away his erected penis, this time permanently. He looks around like a confused baby, ready to burst into tears, stretching his strong arm towards his feathery deliverer, then trying to grab the glass of Champaign from her husband’s hands.  

– Bloody good, isn’t it?! – chuckles the Cat, which stands before him.  

– Oh yes! – says the other, coming over the Werewolf and taking away his glass, just to finish it off in one gulp. – A drop of vampire Blood, always refreshing! – she smiles, noticing the sour and slightly frightened look at Andy’s face.  

– She’s kidding, sweetheart, – her twin cooes at poor Andy, propping his shaky torso, while he is struggling to remain on his feet. – Where is his leash?  

– Here, my dear…  

– Thank you, darling…  

She takes the leash and gives it a pull:  

– You’re coming with us, pet. That’s right, doggy, off you go! Move it! – she pushes Andy forward, playfully smacking his shapely ass with her hand.  

– What about… – Andy glances back at his Owl lady and her Werewolf – such a wonderful friendly couple! – and he also looks around at other guests: what a great bunch of nice people; one of them even brushes Andy’s cock with his hand, while passing by; what a fine decent fellow! And since they suddenly all seem so lovely – he feels he’s going to cry, this time out of happiness, for they are so sweet and lovable, so welcoming and trustworthy! They are going to be so disappointed, so sad, for him leaving them like that! This is so tremendously unfair, so cruel, but so, so touchy… All they ever wanted is a bit of fun in his humble company, for they love him, and he loves them back even more so; those beautiful, beautiful kindhearted people, they just want him to enjoy himself, sharing their happiness with him in their own special way! If that isn’t great, what is?! – What about… – “I love you all, my great anonymous people! You, and you, and you; and also you, fat gent in the funny Elephant mask, and you too, my unfamiliar Snake with ugly cock, and even you, my adorable vulgar Vulture with droopy tities; whoever you might be, because you are all mine, and I am all yours, my poor unjustly forgotten fans, I love you even more than before I started hating you! ” – he feels ruefully regretful about being so nasty and selfish to them, and he is ever so sorry for neglecting such a greatly commendable crowd! He shall try and cry for them, but they won’t get to see his tears of sincere compassion under the mask. This is what this mask is for – hiding his tears away!  

– What about… – he repeats again, outstretching his hand towards random passbyers, trying to express his outmost gratitude, but he is just stuck, feeling he’s got emptiness in his mouth instead of words.  

– Leave it… – she jerked the leash, pulling Andy back towards her.  

– Can’t he stay for few more minutes?  

– Find yourself a less favorable prey… – the second Cat only smirked at the couple, coming over her double.  

– Nice tities… – Andy tried to follow one the passing waitresses, walking here and there, hiding behind peacock masks.  

– Stand still, Dog! – he had been pulled back in time.  

– Sorry… pussssss… – Andy hiccupped, trying to play with his swaying bit, as if not realizing it was part of his own body.  

– Oh, believe me, that hunk didn’t mind being hunted, – the Owl sounded hesitant. – But now he’s totally blasted, so maybe you should leave him with us.  

– So you can keep your dirty hands on him?  

– Why not, if the prey loves it…  

– What a selfish greedy bitch, isn’t she, darling, – sneakily smiles the other Cat, leaning on her sister’s shoulder.  

– I’m not surprised, my dear! – the latter replies, throwing a strict eye at Andy, exploringly fumbling his crotch. – Don’t touch that! – she slaps him on his fingers.  

And he obediently halts, as if fettered by unseen handcuffs.  

– Come dog, we’re leaving! – the second Cat holds Andy by his yielding  

arms, directing his way out. – Bye, Duchess… – she says as Andy is being pushed forward.  

– Yes, bye Duchess, – her twin turns back, looking at the bemused couple with an unhidden derision. – And, darling, take my advice: try hunkering after your own husband for a change!