A Tale of Two Parties

With the chanting at a rapid crescendo Eve turned and dropped to her hands and knees. Adam knelt with his enormous manhood jutting from his body. The chanters sped even more as Eve reached back between her legs to guide the cock into its place. Her face went ecstatic as he pushed his great flesh into her welcoming body.

"No fuckin' way that's in her," Bonnie muttered, the chanting continued as Adam gained speed. Eve's moans were clear despite the chanting but the woman wasn't expressing pain.

Suddenly Eve arched her head back, her eyes closed as she moaned loudly and her body shook. The chanters all went silent and Adam increased his effort and he began to growl and exhale loudly. He jammed himself as deeply as possible, his pubic flesh met Eve's buttocks and he screamed.

As Adam's scream resonated the black-robe behind him threw back his hood, it was man with dark black beard, heavy eyebrows and his slick black hair pulled into a ponytail. He pulled a long knife from under his robe and stepped forward.

"Dark gods of the night," he yelled in a firm deep voice, "accept this sacrifice!"

He grabbed Adam's hair and pulled his head back with his left hand and his right hand rose.

"NO!" Bonnie shouted and jumped up, knocked the plywood partition forward where it hit the brazier on its metal stand. The brazier rocked forward, back, then forward and the weight of the plywood won out and the metal stand fell forward and the brazier spilled its fire across the wooden floor. Jake's mouth gaped as he watched a front of liquid fire move away from them, one of the robed chanters turned just as the fire reached her and in moments she was engulfed in flame.

She screamed and jumped to the left into a neighboring robe, the second caught on fire. The two of them struggled and fell further against a third, the trio fell backwards onto a second brazier and knocked it backwards. The flaming oil splashed onto the floor and against a wall, both very old, very dry timber that took to the flame with gusto. In moments fronts of fire raced in both directions away from the source.

The leader had released Adam without having used the knife and the spent man collapsed forward on a prone and seemingly insensate Eve.

"KILL THEM!" He shouted and waved the knife. But his flock was in panic, the robes at the far side scrambled backwards and those nearest the now-revealed Jake and Bonnie stutter stepped in confusion.

"Bonnie," Jake tugged her arm, she stood, stared at the near-naked couple seemingly comatose on the floor, "Bonnie! Nothing we can do, gotta get the fuck outta here!!!"

The sight of the robed leader's wide-eyed glare and wordless scream finally broke Bonnie's resolve to help the prone Adam and Eve. The red gleam of firelight reflected off the long knife he held high was the final push. She and Jake broke and reversed in haste the path they'd taken in stealth a short while earlier. Jake knocked over another piece of plywood and tried to pull down a stretch of black curtain to slow any pursuit.

Jake stopped at the head of the stairs and nudged Bonnie ahead of him, she'd lost her red cloche and neither were interested in going back for it. He couldn't see the pursuers but heard their screams and saw the curtains being thrown. Beyond he saw the spread of terrible red and orange as the flames rose to the rafters twenty feet above them.

"Move it, girl," he pushed down the stairs, "this place is going down!"

Five steps before the last stair the door was thrown open and Jake was unable to stop as he and the Mongrel sandwiched Bonnie between them, her scream was muffled by contact and loss of breath as the Mongrel hit the second stair on the way up. Fortunately their combined weight and momentum caught him off balance and he fell backwards, he held one step but his second foot missed its target and he went down. He screamed in a deep voice that became a gurgle after a sickening crack as the bulk of his body, with Jake and Bonnie on his chest, snapped his neck as his head hit the floor at the wrong angle.

Jake pushed himself up and looked at the blank eyes of the Mongrel. He pulled a wheezing Bonnie to her feet, heard distant shouts from his right.

"What the fuck?" a Mongrel at the far end of the hallway stared, a couple of heads popped out of doorways along that same hall.

"Shit," Jake said, he heard Bonnie's breathing settle, she shook her head.

"Down there," the deep, booming voice of the robed leader called from the top of the stairs. Jake heard heavy boots hit the topmost stairs.

Jake racked his brain if there was another way out as two Mongrels began to run toward them in the hall and footfalls neared on the stairs. Suddenly the Mongrels were engulfed in a cascade of flame and timber as the charred ceiling collapsed, robed, burning bodies contributed to the conflagration. That started a cascade as one hastily built wall after another collapsed outward from the initial cataclysm. Men and women screamed as wood and fire found them. Cheap, dirty mattresses caught fire and began to dump thick smoke into the area.

"Go, go, go, baby," Jake grabbed Bonnie's hand and veered left, "watch it."

They stepped as quickly as they could across an obstacle course that would've caused hardened Marines to hesitate. A scream was cut short behind them as the lead robe apparently misjudged his step over the dead Mongrel and hit the ground.

"Hell of a first date, wolfman," Bonnie's voice was shaky but her grip was strong and her booted feet danced with his as they fought their way to the only apparent path out other than simply waiting for the floor they were on to collapse in the inferno.

Teacher's Pet

"Miss Shaw," Peter said, with no reaction he moved to stand close to the woman's right shoulder as she faced the stage, a tall, almost empty glass with an orange liquid, he started to speak and his voice was too loud as the band's music went silent suddenly, "MISS SHAW, Joyce!"

He stopped, his mouth in a crooked smile at the volume as the woman turned.

He was right. It was Joyce Shaw, Miss Shaw. His former English and Writing teacher. And lover of poetry. Her slightly sharp face was a bit more drawn than he'd remembered it, her jawline firmer and not surprisingly a few more lines at the edges of her eyes. Her lips were artificially red and darker and slightly heavier mascara and shadow than he'd remembered. But her hair was the same curly darkish blonde not quite to the shoulders she'd always had and her grey-blue eyes the same. The dress didn't emphasise her figure but it seemed she might've added a few pounds which suited what he could see.

Her eyes flared, it was unclear if it was anger or confusion but then they morphed and went from tight to wide, her mouth froze in its own circle of amazement.

"Peter," she said slowly, "Peter Miller."

"Yup, Miss Shaw," he said, nodded, smiled softly, wondered what he looked like with a white, silk scarf around his neck and antique goggles on top of his head.

"I think we can dispense with the 'Miss Shaw' bit, Peter," she laughed, "Joyce is fine. I'm not a teacher anymore."

"Shit, you didn't come back my senior year, everyone said you'd transferred out of town, shouldn't have taken failing to teach ME poetry that hard..."

She sniffed, shook her head, a trace of sadness before she half-smiled, then frowned.

"But why are you here? I'd hoped...," she asked.

"Ah, uh, hey. I'm at the Uni, computer science," he shrugged, "kind of a tour guide thing tonight, just dropping by."

He was happy to see she began to smile but seemed hesitant.

"Honest," he continued, "I've got my student ID..."

"Peter," she said softly, "you were lots of things but never a liar."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he hesitated an instant before he returned the embrace with his arms around her lower back. She had some sort of light, woody perfume on but it wasn't unpleasant. Just then the bassist hit a walking groove that the crowd felt as much as heard.

"A few more like you, then," she whispered into his ear, "and I might not have told the school district to shove their job..."

His cock had reacted to the embrace and he could feel the pressure of her body against his, she was tall, only a couple of inches shorter than him with her moderately high heels. She didn't pull back so he tightened his arms incrementally and she let him. They swayed to the deep throb as they rotated with the crowd before the rest of the band kicked in to push the beat harder. She nudged and he responded to release her but she kept her right arm around him, the glass in her left, his left arm still around her waist. She drained the glass then looked at him and mimed 'refill?' He nodded and they pushed toward the bar.

"Far end," Peter leaned to her ear, "got a deal going."

"That why a nice Uni student," she leaned in to his ear, paused to nip at it, "is at the shithead capital of the world tonight?"

He squeezed her waist at that, his intent to return the question back at her and she nudged her hip into his. They separated as he made it back to the bartender who'd served Anna's party as the band went to a slower, softer beat. His expression indicated he remembered Peter, if not Joyce.

"Single malt, the good stuff," he looked at Peter, "don't worry. She's been back herself... I don't want to die."

He winked at that.

"And your lady?"

"Sex on the beach," Joyce said with a broad smile. The bartender returned it and slid away as something he needed wasn't at arm's reach.

"Find us a beach, I could help with that, too," Peter said. Joyce looked at him, her face wavered before she smiled, looked down at the floor, back up.

"We'll see," her voice so soft he wasn't sure he'd heard it or imagined it. The bartender returned and put their two glasses on the bar.

"Get going you two, and if you talk to her make sure to tell her..." Peter slipped him a dollar bill, he shoved it into a breast pocket.

"Ok, story," she used her best teacher's voice once they'd stepped away from the bar, "oh, hey, this has the good stuff. What the hell you into?"

"Tour guide," he shrugged, "why I'm here."

"Uni students slumming, huh?"

"Oh hell no," he shook his head, looked around, nudged Joyce's shoulder, kept his hand there and she didn't move, "see over there, the woman..."

"With the two linebackers, you mean? Blondish, tall, weird, weird getup. And, wow..."

"Yup. Out of towner, her own muscle there, she's got some hot brunette driving her around, a local I'm certain but no one I know. She's in a really tight black catsuit, cat mask, calls herself Cat. That one over there is Anna. But, the disguise..."

"Is incredible."

"Isn't. It's not... a... disguise... That stain is real. Hard from here, but has heterochromia, extreme..."

"Yeah," she chuckled softly, "Julie. Wouldn't give you the time of day... Those are two things you'd know plenty about, had your eyes all over her back then."

He stared at Joyce.

"Huh?"

"You told me," she said quietly, "remember I told you about that Jeremy fucker, caused me no end of grief?"

"Yeah...," he shook his head.

"What's that Anna want?"

"No idea, Cat brought 'em to the Uni party I was at, some lowlifes I knew happened by, and once Anna heard about this she insisted we come."

"Scouting...," Joyce said absently before she took a long suck on the straw in her drink and stared at Anna, before she turned to Peter, "what'd she do to the bartender?"

"Showed her tits, said she'd been told if she did so we'd get free drinks."

"Ok, from what I can see here wish I'd seen 'em," Joyce laughed, "they'd charge me double if I tried that."

"I highly doubt that," he said then when she looked at him, "well, at least so far as what I've ever seen. I'd be happy to..."

"Stop that," he did but she smiled, "nah, c'mon, let's go dance."

She took his hand and led him back into the heaving mass. The band switched to a slow, languid song, Peter pressed into Joyce's side and she pressed back. After a moment of that she turned first her head then her body and caught his eyes. She moved forward by an inch and he responded and leaned slightly down to meet her lips. Their touch was tentative before it firmed, her free arm went around his shoulder and his pulled her by the waist against his body. Their lips opened by silent but mutual agreement and his tongue was first to breach the opening where it was welcomed when the tip of her tongue circled his slowly and encouraged it deeper.

They weren't the only ones.

And all hell broke loose.

A horrid hundred-plus decibel squeal screamed through the speaker banks and caused almost everyone in the crowd to scream back. Hands went to ears as glasses, bottles and cups shattered on the floor, beers, spirits and other contents splashed on owners and neighbors.

"Fuck," Peter groaned as they separated. With a final blast of energy the sound system died completely. Joyce's back was to the stage, her eyes closed her hands pressed tightly over her ears. Peter looked up, saw the drummer and his kit overwhelmed by a mass of mostly naked people running pell-mell from behind the stage, more streamed from the far side of it, Mongrels amongst them.

Then almost the entirety of the wall behind the stage seemed to explode outward, knocking people down if they weren't crushed by other runners.

"Joyce, MOVE," Peter shouted and grabbed her by the arm and he roughly pulled her as he shouldered through the crowd to screams and threats, suddenly most of the mass of people moved with them.

"Holy FUCK," a mass imprecation as the nearest forty-foot tall bank of speakers and framework crashed to the floor where they'd been kissing. He didn't know how many people were under it but he saw at least ten sets of legs and a few heads with their mouths screaming in pain. The lucky ones were probably already dead.

They looked together and saw a wall of flames that engulfed the back third of the building. People streamed out of the exits on each side and at the far end of the building. He looked quickly, saw Laurel, a breakwater that directed people away from Anna. That strange woman had that odd watch he'd noticed by her mouth, she seemed to speak into it. He couldn't see Hardy, Cat or Dave.

"We need to go," Joyce pulled at him, he resisted.

"Gotta find Dave and Cat," he said, "I think they were out there."

Then he looked to his right and saw Bonnie, the girl who'd been with Jake. Her beautiful red dress was covered in black soot, her hair and face were smudged with it, she'd lost her hat and her mask. She was wild-eyed and manic and stumbled among the crashed stack of speakers.

"Go out Joyce, I gotta get that girl," Peter half-shouted, "see you there."

"No way," he heard, felt her just behind him as they pushed through the rapidly thinning crowd. A few people just stood, frozen, too stoned or drunk to respond rationally.

"What the...," Peter said as he saw a woman in a black robe, the hood back, approach Bonnie, a large, wicked knife in her hand raised and aimed at the thin girl. He looked down, saw a two foot long piece of loose metal pipe and picked it up. Bonnie was still twenty feet away.

"BONNIE," he shouted, "HIT THE FLOOR."

To her credit she didn't think, she dropped. He threw the pipe with his best forehand Ultimate flip, watched it spin. The black robed woman saw it too late and the end of it caught her in the chest just below her throat. She sat down and the knife fell from her hand, her eyes wide in shock.

Peter closed quickly to Bonnie, she looked up, mouthed 'you' as he reached down. She gave him her hand and he pulled her up.

"PETER," he heard from behind and looked forward, another robe, another knife. He pushed Bonnie forward and she screamed as she fell flat, he twisted and hit the robed man with a kick to the knee. The man went down but held the knife, Peter rolled and found his piece of pipe. The man rose to his knees and turned toward him as Peter walloped him in the side of his head with the pipe. The man dropped. He noticed the woman had recovered her knife. He tried to turn with the pipe but as she raised the knife her entire being jerked in a full body spasm and she half rose from her knees as if she were held by wires. He thought he could smell ozone as he watched waves of jerking muscles wrack the woman's body before she suddenly went slack and dropped like she'd had every bone in her body teleported away. The knife clattered and kept dropping this time.

"You fucker, you pushed...," Bonnie shouted but had stopped as she'd watched Peter strike the black-robed man, she began to scream when she saw the woman regain her knife but went silent as she too watched that strange fit. Then she turned as Joyce stepped to her.

"Give me your hands, girl," the standing woman said, Bonnie obeyed and Joyce helped her up.

"What the fuck," Peter said, as he looked at the prone woman as she quivered, a trickle of blood ran from her ears and nose, he looked around, caught Joyce's eyes which implored him to move. The entire back third of the building was a mass of fire and tongues of it had spread into the rafters in the main section of the building.

"Won't need the bulldozers," Peter said as he stood and met Joyce and Bonnie, "Bonnie, where's Jake?"

"Jake? Uh, dunno," her expression was agonised, "got separated."

He and Joyce helped her across the uneven surface. He looked at the far exit, saw who he took was Hardy. He seemed to push someone in front of him, Peter realized it was Dave. Cat trailed him and like Anna had that wristwatch held to her mouth. He assumed Anna and Laurel had already exited.

"Black robes, Bonnie," Peter looked back, saw the two prone, didn't see any others, spoke sharply, "who the fuck?"

"Cult. Killed Adam and Eve," her voice was strained, rough, she must've been close to wherever the fire started Peter guessed.

"Adam and Eve," Joyce said, "huh?"

"Giant cock," Bonnie said, Peter and Joyce looked at each other with 'what the hell' looks as they made it to the nearest side exit. Behind them they heard the first crash of rafter and roof.

"Move it," Peter pushed hard and they shoved a group through the double doors and they popped out like a cork.

They stopped twenty feet away from the building, no one willing to stay any closer. To their right they saw the 'back' of the building collapse in a massive spray of ash, flame, cinders and stone. The crowd yelled 'fuck' as one and scrambled further away into the neighboring empty lot. They heard a cacophony of sirens approach from multiple directions. They heard two cars smash into each other, shouts and curses as attendees tried to make themselves scarce before any sort of legitimate authority arrived. The throaty sounds of multiple motorcycles leaving was clear.

Peter looked and saw a van scream away from the far end of the parking area where it finished taking down a a partially collapsed chain-link fence, followed by multiple vehicles.

"Thanks, for waiting," he muttered, but appreciated that Anna had gotten Dave out so smiled and shrugged.

"What?" Joyce asked.

"My ride, saw it leave," he said to her. Bonnie had collapsed to her knees between them and sobbed quietly and Joyce and Peter had a hand each on her shoulders.

"I can help with that, but," she paused, they looked at each other, "it'll be in a cop car."

"Um, hey, what?" he sputtered.

"My new job. I'm undercover... Usually work vice."

"Shit, those black robes..."

"Fuck them," she said firmly, "that was self-defense. Besides, they'll be nothing but ashes soon... No."

Peter's jaw gaped as she winked.

"I made a couple in there," he said, "old-timers, figured there had to be a few new faces. But you? YOU?"

"The rest are over there," she nodded to a knot of a half dozen people in varied costumes, he saw the two he'd known about, exhaled loudly.