Chapter 9
"Are you sure this isn't hell?" Roger asked, only half kidding, but even though he was shouting at the top of his lungs, he couldn't be sure that Jill was able to hear him.
She just turned to him, gave an inscrutable smile, nodded her head ambiguously and kept on dancing.
Roger's feet hurt. He hadn't danced this hard since the days when he did the Frug on
California beaches with surf boards lined up, waiting for that perfect wave.
His legs hurt too.
As well as his back.
Then, of course, every time he started to think he was acting like a fool, he just let his eyes drift over to that immaculate cleavage threatening to pop right out of Jill's low-cut sweater ... and he decided that he could endure for a while longer.
He had to admit, there was a certain charm about the place ... it made him feel younger than he had in years ... he'd been getting into an 'over-the-hill' paranoia kind of funk lately, the kind of thing that can start to feed on itself, if you aren't careful. Jill's energy couldn't help but be infectious.
He looked around the room at the crowd jammed onto the dance floor. There was a wide variety, young punks and their big-bosomed women dressed in ersatz '50's outfits, the more sedate college crowd, cutting through the preppie image, along with young executives, like himself, trying to keep the years from spilling too swiftly out of the cup....
Lots of women.
Most of them beautiful ... or at least sexy. Big women, little women, women with big tits, women with their tits nearly hanging out ... Holy shit, he thought. It's Meredith!
And she'd seen him!
Oh no, she was making her way across the dance floor! She was coming over to talk to him!
He looked down at Jill, oblivious to the impending crisis, and wondered how he was going to handle this scene.
Meredith quickly decided the matter for him.
"Roger dear," she said, taking hold of his arm in a grand theatrical gesture. "It's so good to see you."
Jill's sensors were blasting warning messages to her at once, because she suddenly got a livid expression on her face and started to stare daggers at Meredith.
"Roger, you simply must come over here where we can hear each other and talk to me."
Roger tactfully disengaged himself from her grip and said, having to yell over the music "I'm with someone, Meredith. I'll catch you later."
He would not want to have to face the look she gave him every night in his dreams.
She cast a disparaging glance in Jill's direction and then, with a half-smirk, half-sneer she said, "Roger dear, since when do you date children?"
"Meredith, you're drunk."
"Roger, you are disappointing me."
Jill stepped between them. "Take a walk, cunt," she said. Meredith's eyes grew wide, and kept getting wider.
"My dear child, I'm going to step on you like you were a small bug, right now, if you don't move out of my way."
Roger felt like the world was crumbling.
"Hey look, you two calm down, would you ... Jill, I'll take care of this."
Jill gave him her own look of annoyance, and Roger was quickly coming to realize that' unless he got rid of Meredith soon, he was going to be out in the cold as far as Jill was concerned. There was a moment's hesitation, while he considered the options, but there was really no question as to who was the more desirable.
Meredith had walked out on him. The bitch had blown it right there as far as he was concerned, and he saw this whole episode as simply an effort to score points at both he and Jill's expense.
"Meredith, I really don't think."
"Roger, do be quiet, this no longer concerns you."
"Hey Meredith, you're really making an ass of yourself."
She totally ignored his comment and instead turned to Jill and without any warning, balled up her fist and swung.
There was a hurried flurry of activity as those around them suddenly fell over themselves trying to get out of the way, though Roger thought it looked like most just wanted to step back to gea better view.
The two didn't even hesitate, but went right for each other's throats.
There was a momentary shock as the crowd stared on in silent amazement. The band played on, smoke beginning to rise now from the drums.
Cacophony reigned. There seemed to be no order left to things. Roger had the feeling that somehow, civilization had contracted a bad case of paranoid schizophrenia. He felt very depressed.
Hands gripped Suzy's breasts with the force of a steel vise.
She felt heat searing her nerves, felt a numbing sensation blasting through all her brain cells.
She looked down between her legs. She could see thick white globs of sperm all over her pubic hair, and a thick slick film of goo coating her thighs.
She'd lost track of the number of cocks that had violated her by this time. Some of them had come back for seconds, she knew that. All she knew was that the more cocks that fucked her, the more aroused her pussy became, and the more she wanted to feel another cock in her.
Then, she saw who was next.
"Oh my God," she said through half-closed lips. "No ... no ... noooo"
He was massive. She didn't know where they'd been keeping him till now, but she hadn't seen him before.
His cock must have been easily fifteen inches long. It was a big around as her wrist! He was dark skinned, and had a ruddy, swarthy complexion, along With what certainly looked to her like knife scars.
There was one on his cheek, one along his neck, and one that seemed to run down his chest, and that disappeared inside his shirt.
She gasped in shock as he pulled his shirt off to reveal a chest that looked like Verdun. He saw her expression and started to laugh, and then said, in a voice that she could scarcely understand, "You think maybe I look a little strange, Ya? Come to Stinking Olaf, my little dearest. Come to stinking Olaf and I'll show you what a real man feels like."
He had his hands around his cock now, and was pulling on it, stroking it solidly, firmly.
It quickly grew to its totally erect state.
"Har, har, har," Olaf laughed as her eyes widened in what he must have taken to be fear.
But it wasn't. It was wide-eyed anticipation.
She could already feel her body stretching wildly from the force of his cock entering her.
He brought the glans right up to her lips.
"Hold her down now fellows, or she'll be up and squealing like a stuck pig as soon as she feels me crawling up into her."
She felt hands pressing into her body, holding her down, along with the stray finger up her ass-hole, or the stray pinch to one of her nipples.
But all she could think about was that cock, that huge, massive, weighty log, already pressing into her cunt, already spreading her lips, already making her feel like she was turning inside out.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," she moaned.
"That's right," Olaf encouraged her, "make it loud, and wiggle around on the pole, my little beauty. You are a bitch of a beauty, and Olaf-likes you very much."
He started to jerk his hips to shove his cock into her all the way. Even though she had just finished fucking God knows how many guys, and therefore had a residue of cum inside her slit making it wet and slippery, Olaf's cock could hardly make any progress inside her.
He had to push as had as he could to cover any territory at all, and every centimeter was packed with pain for her. Then, he slammed it the rest of the way into her. She screamed. At the same time, there was another shout, from off to her side. Clyde yelled, "You fucking fools, you let her get away!! "
Everyone had been so interested in watching Olaf's cock get into Suzy, that they'd forgotten her sister, who somehow had managed to remain conscious and wiggle out of her ties. Suzy dimly saw, through the haze, her fleeting form scurrying across the floor of the backstage area.
The last she saw of her, was her naked body charging through the curtains, apparently racing out onto the stage.
Then, the force of Olaf's cock hit her, and she blacked out.
"My God!" Roger screamed, looking up on the stage.
"Whatever are you talking about, Roger dear?" Meredith asked, an amused look on her face.
Jill, looking in the direction that Roger's eyes were riveted on, gasped.
"My GOD!" she repeated, laughing. "Is that part of the act?"
"The fucking hell it's part of the act! That's one of my girls!! "
Meredith stared at Roger as though he'd lost all control of his senses. "One of your girls ... a quaint concept, but somehow, it just doesn't quite seem right."
Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and she was looking at Roger now as though he was ready for the farm.
Jill took him more seriously. "Roger! Where are you going?"
"To find out what the fuck's going on!! "
He was pushing his way through the crowd now, and Jill was pushing her way after him. Never content to be left out of things, Meredith stared after them for a few seconds and then charged after them.
On stage, the band had ground to a halt. The lead singer, sporting a Mohawk hair style, had gotten a queasy look on his face.
Cindi, her eyes livid now, rushed, and before he could get out of the way, she butted him, head first, solidly in the gut.
The microphone flew out of his hand, and with a wild-eyed look on his face, and a shriek, he toppled off the edge of the stage and landed squarely in the middle of a cluster of lobotomized slam-dancers pogo jumping into each other with a delightful lack of any sense of timing whatsoever. They hardly noticed that the band had stopped playing, actually, and that one of their number had joined them. Literally.
Cindy grabbed the microphone that he'd dropped, and began screaming "They raped me!!!! THESE ANIMALS RAPED ME AND MY SISTER!!! SHE'S STILL BACK THERE!!! "
The crowd ate it up. Cindi's body sported bruises, and there was a cut over one eye, and she had jism dripping from her hair.
The point being that no one could possibly believe that those things were exactly what they appeared to be. No way. Obviously, a very clever, if extreme, act.
Now the manager of the club was running to the stage, while the band kind of milled around, wondering what was going to happen next.
Breeze, their guitarist, had mysteriously disappeared.
He, in fact, was the first one that Roger encountered when he fought his way backstage. His jaw hit the floor.
He looked around, and the only thing he could find that was within reach and looked solid enough to do the job was a Fender Fretless Bass, one of the finer instruments made, costing roughly $600 to $900, depending on style and wood, and accessories.
None of this occurred to Roger, of course. He saw two things that it had going for it. It was long. It was extremely heavy at one end. He picked it up, balanced it a second in his hands to get a feel for the dynamics of the situation, and then like an avenging knight, he roared into the group, carving the proverbial path through a solid wall of human flesh to get to the damsel in distress.
He heard "UNNNNNNCLLEEEE ROGERRRRRR!! "
And he heard the plopping thunk of heavy wood striking human skulls. Cantaloupes hitting the sidewalk.
Later, they sat in Roger's apartment, sipping hot chocolate ("Oh please, Uncle Roger, can't we have a drink just this once?") and the girls recounted their story a last time. "It was horrible," they both agreed.
"Well, you just let that be a lesson to you," Roger said, firmly.
"Sure thing, Uncle Roger," they agreed. Then, they left the room.
"You don't seem to have much to say," Roger told Jill.
"Oh, I just have a warning for you."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"I don't think you're ready for those two. I don't think New York is ready for those two."