Sumo guy had turned out to be a Hittar Demon from the Seventh Depth.
Amanda's quick thinking and fast talking, along with some fancy foot and spellwork by one of the PMS security guys, meant I'd gotten off lightly—I was unconscious by the third punch.
A black eye, several bruises and a host of aches and pains greeted me when I woke up in the morning. That wasn't the only thing, either. A message, hand written in a perfectly metered handscript, was pinned to my pillow.
“Thanks for the fun night, hope you slept well. I'll catch up with you tomorrow, after work.” It was signed Amanda.
“Oh, God!”
I groaned into the pillow since it seemed much easier than trying to recollect last night. I don't think anything happened. God, I hope it didn't. But I did recall the odd vision of Amanda helping me strip…
I pulled up the covers and checked.
Phew, I still had my boxer shorts on. Thank heavens I'd had the foresight to buy a new pack for this trip so they looked decently, well, decent.
Trying to ignore the thudding headache and the grating sounds of my bones and muscles, I stripped off my boxers and creaked my way to the bathroom. A hot shower, a cup of the in-room coffee, and Tylenol were on the agenda.
“Really, Chuppypoo, you shouldn't leave your underwear lying around on the floor. You never know when a pretty girl is going to visit.”
“Disgusting habit,” Dad agreed.
“Mom, Dad! Do you mind? I'm trying to take a shower here.”
“Well,” Mom humphed. “Talk about ungrateful.”
“Selfish, Mother, he grew up selfish.”
“Whatever.” Tired of arguing, and hurting too much to stand around, naked, in front of my parents while they criticized me, I went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Not that locking the door would keep them out, it just made me feel better.
After a few minutes in the shower the muscles started easing and I felt a lot better. Though, for some odd reason, I felt uneasy. As if something had changed but I couldn't tell what.
“Hello? Roger?”
I froze mid-suds. The husky female voice sounded way too close and much too much aroused.
“Roger?”
I screamed as the shower curtain was pulled back and a naked, young and absolutely beautiful woman stepped into the tub with me. “I’m so glad I found you like this.”
“Who are you?” I stammered, clambering out of the tub and wrapping one of the towels around my waist. “What are you doing here?”
“Erinimia,” she whispered, running a finger through the soap on my chest. “Daddy forced me to work as a maid here as a punishment for having sex with our gardener. But I’m glad he did now, or I wouldn’t have come across you.”
“But the door was locked.” I checked the door. It was wide open. Mom was standing outside grinning. “Mooom! How could you?”
“It wasn’t me, Chuppypoo, and you look so happy together.”
Involuntarily I stuck a hand over the towel over my erection. This damn weekend was turning into the convention from Hell.
“You don’t need that,” Erinimia purred, then winked. My towel vanished.
Then I noticed the water from the shower splitting around her, forming little hearts and flowers that floated to the tub before dispersing and vanishing down the drain.
“A water nymph.” I was doomed. If a minor deity wanted to ravish me, I was doomed.
“Ooh, a clever mortal.” Erinimia stepped out of the shower already dry. “Or should I say morsel? A delicious, I-must-have-him, morsel.”
I backed out of the doorway, stumbling over one of my suitcases. Falling backwards, I ending up lying in a tumble of dildos and vibrators as my apocalypse stepped closer.
“You are just so perfect.” Lust oozed out of every word Erinimia said. “Even if this kills me, it will be divine.”
“It will kill me,” I squeaked. Throwing my hand out sideways, it connected with one of my latex devices, which I grabbed and held it in front of me—a very ineffectual weapon of defense. I’d somehow managed to pick up the Poseidon’s Trident model. How is it my life is full of such ironies?
“I’d have at her, son,” Dad encouraged me. “You could do a lot worse.”
“I want a granddaughter first,” Mom added. “So make sure she’s on top.”
“Mom! Dad!”
Erinimia stepped closer and then spotted the pink, three-pronged vibrator in my hand. Her eyes widened and her breath seemed to come in little gasps.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said softly. “Does that thing work?”
“Uhm, yes, yes, of course it does,” I told her, grasping any lifeline I could and pushed the switch. All three prongs buzzed loudly. I fumbled with my free hand amongst the spilled debris. I found the ‘Oh, Hell, Yes!’ lubrication oil and passed it over to Erinimia, along with Poseidon’s Trident. “Special super lube effects for immortals,” I said. “With advanced clitoral enhancing qualities. Fit for a goddess. Why don’t you try them? Free samples.”
Erinimia licked her lips, looked at me, looked at her presents, and then looked at me.
“Just wait there a moment,” she said. “This won’t take long.”
As she nimbly leaped onto the bed and began her self-ministrations, I quickly stood up, grabbed my clothes, and got out of Dodge. I got a few odd looks from some of the paras as I dressed in the corridor, but it was certainly a lot safer than staying in the room with a lusty water nymph.
Even from out here I could tell religion was getting the better of her. That was the fifth time she’d called on Zeus. Turning quickly, I hurried to the elevator.
Things progressed even more badly. Around midmorning security had placed two permanent guards on my booth after I’d nearly been: 1. ripped to pieces by a gorgeous blonde werewolf; 2. drained dry by a Vampirella look-alike; 3. sucked to death by a succubus.
By the time lunch came around and Fritz found me, I was practically pleading to die.
“What in Gorgon’s tail is going on?” Fritz demanded, squaring off on me like I was some kind of lice he was about to squash. “First I hear you’ve been fighting a demon last night over a girl, and now you’re driving all the women in the hotel crazy.”
“Don’t blame me,” I sulked. “You’re the one who threw this stupid spell on me.”
“The spell…” Fritz squinted, looking like a baby about to poop. Then he stopped and threw up his hands in disgust. “What on Earth did you have to go fight with a demon for?” he demanded. “The demon’s magic has magnified the glamour lust twenty-fold. Every woman in town is going to come hunting you down.”
“Well, take the damn spell off,” I snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with women.”
“It’s a glamour lust spell, stupid,” Fritz explained none too patiently. “The only way to remove it is to have sex. It’s no good. You’re going to have to see Vegas sooner than I’d planned.”
“But I don’t want to see Vegas, I don’t even like Vegas. I want to go home and forget all this happened.”
“Mr. Ing,” Fritz said in a tone of voice that hinted of me being turned into a frog. “I don’t care if you like my daughter or not, you are going to meet her and seduce her. Do you understand?”
Vegas was his daughter's name? I felt it wiser to say nothing.
“Good.” He nodded. “Remain here and I will send her to meet you. Do not fail me.”
As he walked off, I began to rehearse a few thousand other plans that I could have had for this weekend. Unfortunately I was stuck with this one. Fritz had barely left the ballroom, and I noticed everyone relax as he did, when Amanda appeared in the doorway. She smiled, waved and headed directly for me.
If I’d never considered suicide before, this dilemma did.
“Hello, Roger.” Amanda smiled, and somehow that simple act from her was more comfort than I’d ever need. “I hear you’re having a few problems with our female guests and staff.”
“Well, in a nutshell, yes.”
She gave a small, carefree laugh that drove away the last chills the meeting with Fritz had given me and held out her hand. Unthinkingly I took it, then stood and walked out from behind the booth, following her.
“I know a place where you can stay for a while where you will be, shall we say, female free. Then we can try and get this problem sorted out.”
“Thank you.”
My heartfelt relief was probably not as great as the sense of belonging I felt. Somehow, my walking through the hotel while holding Amanda’s hand seemed perfectly normal. It felt right, in a sense that it was supposed to be so. So much so that Fritz’s command to stay where I was couldn’t hold me back. It was yet another of this weekend’s cruel ironies. I’d finally found someone I’d like to date and woo, hours before I was to have sex with a stranger and die.
“We have a small suite on the roof that is open to executive members of staff,” Amanda explained, taking me to a staff elevator and pressing the topmost button. She placed a keycard against a reader when the machine beeped a complaint. Finally satisfied, the elevator began moving. “I’ve put a notice out that it's undergoing repairs and is out of use. You’ll be left alone there for a week or so.”
“It will all be resolved by then,” I said mournfully.
“Really?”
I looked up at Amanda’s empathetic tone and felt her finger stroke my cheek. Instantly my erection flared up as her touch launched a thousand synapses. I looked at her face, her lips, her eyes. It took all my willpower not to lean forward and kiss her. From the look in her eyes I sensed she wanted it too, but for her sake—her life—I didn’t dare.
The bittersweet awkwardness was broken as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
My jaw dropped.
The small exec suite was an opulent oasis. Glass windows formed most of the walls and a thirty foot pool took up one small corner of the room. Fully stocked bars, TV, pool table, even bedrooms, sauna and hot tubs. I could vacation here for a month and still not get bored. Amanda led me over to the pool and rummaged in a small chest for a moment.
“Here, you’ll need these.” I caught the ball of cloth just before it hit my face. The aqua blue unraveled into a pair of swim shorts. “Changing rooms are over there.” Amanda pointed to a small row of cubicles. “I’ll make us a drink while you dress.”
I took my time in the changing cubicle. Partly because I was a bit embarrassed by the hard-on that wouldn’t die and there was no way this flimsy bit of material was going to hide my aroused condition. Secondly, hell, the way Amanda had me feeling, I felt vulnerable enough. To go out dressed with barely anything on was almost impossible. Inevitably I had to move, so, biting the bullet, I left the cubicle.
And things immediately got worse.
“I’m, I’m…”
“Sit down, relax.”
Amanda waved me over to the pair of recliners she’d set up beside the pool close enough to the water to be within touching distance. Small glass tables beside the recliners held our drinks. Mine was a deep purple and looked like it would cost more than my suite for the night. Hers was a deep burgundy red, like her fingernails and lipstick—and the tiny scraps of fabric that were pretending to be a bikini.
She stood up and walked towards me, somehow managing to keep her nipples and, erhm, other things covered. Thank God Mom wasn’t here. Amanda stopped in front of me, the light reflecting off the pool beside us and casting glowing wrinkles over her skin.
I reached out to touch her cheek, and her lips parted slightly, making mine ache for her kiss. I leaned closer, heart thumping and head spinning. She reached up, holding my shoulders.
“Roger,” she whispered, moments before out lips met. I paused, waiting for her to finish. “You smell of soap.”
Plummeting into the cool water of the pond snapped me back to my senses. At first I felt angry; then I began to laugh. Amanda had pushed me in and saved us both from my weakness. When I laughed, she began laughing, too. It was a healing salve between us.
“Come get your drink,” she said, “before it gets too warm.”
“Okay, I’ll swim down and meet you at the other end.”
With that I beat a quick crawl, trying to work out my sexual frustration in a battle with the water. It didn’t really work.
Several cocktails, a delicious tray of sushi, and a lot of swimming and chatting later, I was feeling a lot calmer. We’d watched the sun set and shared stories of our childhood, and I still wanted this woman like I’ve never wanted a woman before. I felt she had the same trouble I did, but that was probably the glamour lust spell. Every time we accidentally touched, which was often, it was an extreme form of torture. I would give my life for this woman, and I barely knew her.
“So what’s the problem?” Amanda asked, looking me straight in the eye and startling me out of my meanderings. “What trouble are you in with Mr. Fritz?”
Sighing, I sat up, pulling the recliner to a chair position. “How much do you know about Fritz?” I asked.
“I know he’s evil, conceited, cruel. We all do. Everyone who works for him.”
“Everyone says that about their employer, though.” I grinned. “Doesn’t mean you really know him.”
Amanda’s expression darkened.
“I know he’s the world’s most powerful, most evil wizard, and I hate him because he killed my mother.”
That got my attention.
“What? Why?”
“Breeding program.” Amanda hid her face, almost as if she were ashamed of her heritage. “Fritz is always breeding something with something. He thinks he can make a perfect race of slaves, or soldiers, or hunters. He forces them to breed and kills the parents, then tries to make the offspring believe it’s his own. None of us ever do, though. We all find out sooner or later.”
“God dammit!” I smacked my fist against the chair. “So that’s what he’s using me for! I thought this sacrificial seduction business sounded weird.”
“Mr. Fritz has got you on his breeding program?” Amanda looked horrified. “Why would he do that? And with whom?”
“He ordered me to seduce his daughter, Vegas,” I explained, my rage beginning to burn. “Then he told me he was going to kill me.”
“He was planning to kill Vegas?” Amanda’s expression went from dark to icy cold. “He’s going too far. We have to stop him.”
“How?” I asked. “What can I do against someone that powerful?”
“So you’re just going to go have sex with…Vegas and let him kill you both?”
“No!” I snapped, sensing Amanda’s jealousy. “I could never, not…” I paused, daring myself with my intended audacity. Amanda watched me, her eyes bright with a glimmer of hope. “I could never make love to anyone, not now. Not unless it was you.”
We looked at each other for a moment, both shocked to silence by the enormity of those words. Amanda was the first to move. She took my hand with hers and squeezed. Her unshed tears made her eyes glisten in the semi-dark of the suite.
“We can spoil with his plans very easily,” she said, smiling a sweet smile that instantly hit me in the groin. I wondered if I’d ever go soft again. “And in a very pleasurable way.”
“If we did that,” I told her, “he’d kill us both.”
She pulled me out of the chair and down to the ground, rolling me on my back.
“Well, we’d have to stop him doing that, too,” she admitted, sliding her hands up my thighs, pulling my swim shorts down and off. “We'll have to think about that while we work.”
I couldn’t resist her touch, her voice. I wanted this even more than she did. She sat astride me, the rough fabric of her bikini bottom rubbing against me, inflaming me more. She moved her fingers and hands over my chest. With each touch, each new sensation, it became harder to breathe and think.
I reached up, brushing my hands over her breasts, toying with her nipples. She gasped, took short hopping breaths in time with my stroking. Her moisture now eased through the fabr
ic of the bikini, warming me and making her movements feel smoother. I didn’t want smoother.
Grasping her gently around the neck I pulled her head down, crushing her lips against mine in a kiss filled with two days of frustrated hunger. We fought lip to lip for domination of a kiss that robbed all sane thoughts from my mind. Reaching around her ass, I grabbed the thong of her bikini bottom, yanking it to one side, and forced her down.
Her scream of delight as I entered her was smothered by our rampant kiss. Breathless, she pushed away from me and sat. Rocking hard, eyes closed, she hummed and moved. Hands free, I squeezed her breasts, held and pinched her nipples, stroked and touched a woman’s body in ways I’d only dreamed of. The sensations in my groin built to overpowering.
“I can’t hold…” I tried to warn her.
“Me too—” her words cut short as she screamed. Bucking and jerking against me, forcing me over the edge. I screamed.
Then screamed.
And screamed as a searing white light burst from Amanda eyes, mouth, ears, vagina.
She sat impaled in neon-bright ecstasy.
Then I screamed again as my muscles locked, my mouth burst open, and light, a warm, pulsing light, burst open within me and shot in fluid streams from any exit in my body it could find.
The magics, Amanda’s, mine. They speared upwards to the sky, piercing the roof and mingling with the clouds, twisting the once-clear sky into a maelstrom. A storm to mother all storms.
When it had grown silent, except for the drumming of the rain on the windows, Amanda looked down at me with a sleepy smile.
“Wow,” was all she said.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” a horribly familiar voice said. “Congratulations, boy.”
I think I broke the speed record for standing at that moment. Amanda and I found ourselves facing our worse nemesis, naked.
“Fritz!” I said.
“Dad!”
“Vegas.”
“Vegas?” I asked.
“Roger.”
“Fritz?”
“Oh, Dad!”
“Hehe.” Fritz rubbed his hands together. “Well, it worked, didn’t it, Vegas? Now if you’ll just step aside so I can kill him.”
“Amanda? Vegas?”
“Wizards always have a choice of names, Roger. It's part of our disguise. Now if you would stand over here and quietly die—”
“No, Dad, I’m not letting you kill him. I love him.”
“Don’t be stupid, Vegas. You know that’s just the magic binding you. It always binds you to your first lover. It’s why I had to kill my first wife, awful nag that she was.”
“Fritz? Dad?”
“But I do love him, Dad. And he loves me. He was prepared to die instead of doing what you made him do. Besides he’s a wizard, too. He’ll be bound by the same binding.”
“Wizard! Binding!”
“Enough, Vegas, he has to go.”
Fritz cast his hand out at me. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed against the roof. There was a sort of friiiitz sound and Fritz’s spell fell from his fingers and wriggled itself to death on the floor.
“It’s why he’s nicknamed Fritz,” Amanda/Vegas whispered to me. “He can’t cast magic in a thunderstorm.”
“I’m a wizard?” I asked, dumbfounded. Of course, that could explain why I’d felt so different all my life.
“Die! Die! Die!”
Friiitz, friiitz, friiitz.
“Not tonight,” I told him, waving him away. “I’m too tired to die.”
A bright blue bolt shot from my hand, throwing Fritz across the floor to the elevator.
“No!” Amanda grabbed my arm. “You can’t kill him. He’s my dad!”
“But all I did was—”
Amanda grabbed my hand as I tried to flick it again.
“I have a much better idea.” She placed my hand against her breast. “Why don’t we go talk about this in my bedroom?”
My little cock robin answered for her.