THE
SECOND
SIGHT
Chapter 24
BOAT
(feebly)
No, don’t do that.
VERONICA
(whispering)
And why not, darling?
Her voice is thick with lust.
Boat knows that voice.
It had preceded most of their sweet unifications. Even as his br@in fights against it he feels the tension building up in his groin, and he exhales shallowly.
VERONICA
You’ve broken a lot of hearts this evening, Yaw, my love. Including me. I nee-ded a little powder myself. You’ve been a very bad boy, and I’m going to punish you. Come to Mama, baby!
She begins to gyrate seductively towards Boat, her eyes half-shut and filled with sheer lust.
Long, lovely fingers pull down the zi-pper of the jacket slowly to her navel, and then she gently peels it off her shoulders.
One look at her sleek beauty, the wonderful swell of her firm br£-$ts, and then Boat is lost.
Hers is a body made for love, a body that sets the pulses racing, crafted to create a figure that is in itself a s-×ual aphrodisiac.
As Bob used to say, she is well-bended! Not as crazy-bended as the nak-ed woman I had made love to in the dark…
Very well-bended indeed!
de-ep heat creeps up his ne-ck, filling him with a desi-re that takes his breath away.
Boat watches, transfixed, as she glides seductively towards him. She is now in a scarlet G-string which accentuates the bulge of her intimacy, little tufts of silky black hair jutting out at the sides.
The jacket falls to the floor, and she turns slowly, her back to him now, long legs slightly parted, hips swaying.
Her thumbs hook into the G-string, and then she gently pulls it down, bending so that her firm bu-ttocks are jutting out invitingly in the air.
The ache in his trousers is unbearable now.
de-ep down in him a voice screams, seeming to wail out a warning. It is there briefly, and then it is gone.
Yaw Boat bridges the space between them and grips her s-×y wai-st. She arcs upward, takes his hands, and dra-pes them across her br£-$ts. He runs his hands over them gently, his thumbs elongating her n¡pp|es.
She M0-ns de-eply, her head pushing unto his shoulders so that he can clamp hot li-ps on hers. Her hands are working feverishly, pulling down his zi-pper, ripping him out of the confines of his boxers and expertly moving her hands over his turgid shaft, flic-king it maddeningly-sweetly between the crack of her incredible bu-ttocks.
Boat is a lost decadent pole behind her. She leans into him, parting her legs, angling wai-st forward slightly to ru-b him against her moist loins as the heat takes them by storm.
There is now no turning back as she bends and grips her knees, pushing against him, nee-ding him inside her roiling depths, and with an animal gr-unt Boat thr-usts into her jade gate.
She cries out in ecstasy and pushes into him de-eply.
de-ep down he suddenly heard that warning voice again:
Decadent soul…
Soul decadent…
Debauchery!
But it is faint, because he simply can’t resist the hunger of his body.
She moves away from him, turns and throws her arms around his ne-ck.
She grinds into him as she ki-sses him with frenzied lust, and then she moves up, her legs winding around his wai-st as he holds her up and settles her once again on him.
Standing rigidly and holding her up, she uses her arms around his ne-ck for leverage and grinds on him savagely until the floodgates open for both of them and, gr-unting with harsh bestial release, they explode simultaneously.
He puts her on the bed, and lies down.
He is not surprised when she reverses on top of him, her back to him, and lowers herself once again on his deflating member.
A few twists and tugs later, she has him raging again, and she Gr0-ns and settles down fully on him…
Boat does not know for how long he slept, but he comes awake slowly.
Veronica is sprawled across him, sleeping soundly.
Boat pushes her legs off gently and gets off the bed.
He trudges to the small bathroom and takes a long ice-cold shower, and brushes his teeth.
He returns to the room and starts dressing, and then his eyes fall on Veronica.
She is lying on her back now, still nak-ed, and her legs are spread.
Embedded de-eply in her is a terribly-terrible demon that looks like an anaconda. It is fluid-like and scaly with changing skin colour. It seems to be curled around her with its tail in her throat and it yawning mouth framing her vagina.
Its mouth is open, and its fangs are splayed, terrible and deadly, inside her very core, so that it seems he has been sticking his pe-nis right inside the bloody mouth of that thing.
Boat’s knees go week, and his stomach muscles give way, and suddenly he rushes to the bathroom and vomits violently into the sink, his face tortured by the sight, his whole body weak with horror.
He is filled with de-ep revulsion.
Trembling, scared, and full of remorse, he returns to the room and dresses quickly. He puts an envelope filled with money and with her name on the back down on the dresser, and then he flees from the room.
The sounds from the casino are muted.
Many people have left, evidently. Boat has predictably overslept. The sight if that demon in Veronica intrudes again, and Boat stops suddenly, putting his hand against the wall and trembling violently.
BOAT
(horrified)
Oh Lord… oh, my dear Lord!
He can’t take it anymore.
He is going home to wait for his father. This thing is surely going to drive him mad.
Boat shudders again violently.
He knows, for a certainty, that he is not going to ever make love again… not ever!
Because he is certain that he is never going to be able to have an erection again, and be able to put it inside a woman, any woman, even Elaine, his angel.
He will always have that image of that anaconda demon receiving his di-ck inside its mouth…
BOAT
(trembling)
Oh, Awuradze! Awuradze Nyankopon! w£tin sef be this now? Oh, my dear Lord!!
He takes the back door which leads him to the swimming pool area. There are a lot of people still in the pool. The weekend party is still on.
He is threading his way throu-ghthe sprawled bodies, making for the door that leads to the bar, when steel-like fingers suddenly clamp themselves on his arm and grip ha-rd!
Boat turns with a savage curse to face whoever is holding him, but I swallows the outburst that has risen to his li-ps when he sees that his antagonist is ZEKE.
Zeke is as hu-ge as an elephant, and seriously retarded. He is squat, and his breadth is incredibly amazing. He is so broad that he finds it difficult fitting his shoulders throu-ghdoorways, and always has to move in sideways.
Bob had once told Boat that Zeke suffers from some kind of hormonal deficiency which has given him his atrocious enormity and savage strength.
His clothes are always tailor-made to fit.
He has the biggest head Boat has ever seen on any shoulders. His eyes are close-set and skewed, and his li-ps are full to the point of being gross. He has arms like a gorilla, and over-sized hands that are perpetually bent into half-claws.
Boat relaxes, and doesn’t bother to struggle free now.
He knows that once Zeke’s fingers close around your arm it will take a nuclear weapon to dislodge them. He looks at Boat impas-sively.
When he speaks his voice is surprisingly tiny and soft, like a little girl’s voice, which belies the sheer malice trapped inside that mas-sive body.
ZEKE
Jonny wants you.
The ‘Johnny’ he is referring to is JOHN STYLES, a handsome bastard who calls himself the “Stylized Pimp of the New Century”.
He can supply you with any number of women you want, of any nationality and age, at any time on any day.
Some of his women are willing, others are coerced, some blackmailed, and some simply kidnapped. He is as despicable as they come. And, of course, he is an important link in Boat’s clientele chain, or used to be.
Zeke eats out of Johnny’s hand, and will kill at Johnny’s cough.
Boat doesn’t owe John any money, though, because he has given the money to John’s cousin earlier that evening, and so he wonders what that despicable man wants from him at a time when all he wants to do is get out of the club, away from all the hell and decay.
BOAT
(calmly)
I don’t have anything to discuss with your master, Zeke. So leave my arm.
His nostrils flares instantly with sudden wrath; he was that bad-tempered.
ZEKE
You come. Or Zeke cracks your head.
Put like that, Boat has no option but to allow himself to be pushed forward.
The pool area is in semi-darkness.
Soft music floats throu-ghhidden speakers, making the atmosphere just right for a tango with lust.
Couples are frolic-king in the pool. Others seek their plea-sures on towels and mats. Others sit at the pool-side tables and drank quietly or engaged their own kind of s-×ual bliss.
Boat and Zeke walk throu-ghwide French windows and climb a flight of spiral stairs to the wide reserved terrace where late diners were eating. The Terrace is always booked in advance, and it isn’t open to regular customers.
Topless waitresses move between the tables with laden trays. The upper terrace is set in the mode of some exotic African garden. Real and artificial flowers have been elaborately arranged. Flowers in bloom give the air a clean aroma, although it did nothing to minimize the mind-boggling uglies floating all around.
Zeke leads Boat to a corner table where John Styles is sitting with a beautiful lady.
He is dressed in a well-cut tuxedo, and puffing on a cigar. Styles looks up and smiles. He is a very handsome man, although his good looks tends to be skewed toward the feminine.
The full, sensuous li-ps, the long eyelashes, the fine nose and hu-ge eyes all give the impression of a beautiful woman trapped in the body of a man. His hands are delicate and finely manicured. His hair, left to grow and then made wavy by chemicals, is slic-ked back from a fine forehead, a few locks falling over the eye to give him a slightly dishevelled look which added to his allure.
He gestures to Boat to sit down in the chair opposite his, then he leans forward to plant a sloppy ki-ss on the li-ps of the woman beside him.
There is a glas-s of wine on the table beside a plate of partly-eaten salad and prawns in front of the woman.
Something makes Boat take a second look at her as he pulls out the chair and sits down.
There was an aura around the woman, a ba-rely discernible halo, like the dying embers of the for-ce-field Boat has seen around the poor widow and Mrs. Sam.
The woman with John Styles is dressed in a grey suit with an inner white shirt. Her thi-ghs are pressed together ti-ghtly, one of her hands is lying protectively over her exp-osed thi-ghs, the other hand trying unsuccessfully to hold the open ne-ck of her shirt together, to cover the tops of her exp-osed creamy br£-$ts.
Her face is dull, sque-ezed up in a silent cry for help. Even in the dim light Boat can see the sheen of tears on her cheeks, and the glazed look in her eyes, as if she has been drugged.
She is certainly not the type of lady that frequents the lust-ful li-ps. This girl is the type of woman you send home to meet Mama, the kind of girl who will pull down the edge of her blouse to cover any exp-osed pa-nty edge, the type of girl who will smoothen the hem of her skirt down to cover her thi-ghs as she sits down, legs properly kept together, hands linked on top of her thi-ghs for good effect.
She is now making whimpering sounds in her throat, her head lolling on the shoulder of Styles, her whole demeanour that of a distressed lady.
It doesn’t take the abilities of Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Styles has drugged her. He has opened her shirt, and has obviously been mauling her br£-$ts.
The skewed skirt tells Boat that Styles’ hands have found their way to her inner depths too.
Boat can now see the last vestiges of the for-ce-field hovering around her, and then slowly disappearing from around her.
It is the first time Boat is seeing such a phenomenon, and he is greatly affected.
So it can disappear? It can be lost? That incredible for-ce-field that shields the Chosen Ones can be lost?
For no apparent reason Boat feels incredibly sad!
That for-ce-field is something he has coveted ever since he set eyes on it. To see this beautiful innocent-woman losing such a great thing really cuts throu-ghBoat’s heart.
He is right then.
She is a Christian, and had evidently entered the lust-ful li-ps covered with the glory of her for-ce-field.
Somehow she has lost it; whether permanently or temporarily Boat doesn’t know. What he knows is that Styles has had a hand in it. He had obviously lured her here, on some pretext, drugged her, and is now having his way with her.
TBc…