tagSci-Fi & FantasyAsk Alice Ch. 03

Ask Alice Ch. 03


Notes from the author:

Hello reader. Parts one and two of this story were published under the fetish category. By the end of part two the science fiction angle took over so I thought I'd try it here in the science fiction and fantasy category. Here is a brief set up to get you caught up.

In part one, Alice Mihara, a Japanese girl from Honolulu participates in a group sex party arranged by her boyfriend, Nelson. At first, she's reluctant and not keen on the idea of being the only woman at the party. After putting her initial hesitancy aside, she surprises her boyfriend (and herself) at the crazy sleazy things she was willing to do. At nights end, after showering away the bukakke dousing she received from the men at the party, an odd tingling sensation forms in her her fingertips and toes. The sensation quickly spreads throughout her entire body putting her in a panic. Then quite unwittingly, Alice bizarrely stumbles through a mirror into another word.

In part two, a thoroughly freaked out Alice finds herself on a movie set that looks exactly like her Honolulu townhouse. In this world, she is a famous movie star up there with the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow and Natalie Portman. People she knows exist in this new world, but all are bizarrely different, chiefly, her best friend Joy Maeda, who is insanely the famous porn star, Mandy Almond. Alice discovers that she is staring in a movie about her sexual exploits from her other life. Written into her movie contract is a scene that calls for unsimulated sex, the very same group sex scene she had lived through on the other side of the mirror. Doubting her sanity, and with help from her porn star best friend, Alice performs the scene with raunchy perfection. The weird sensation in her body returns. This time, Alice willingly steps through a dressing room mirror hoping it will return her to her to her old life. No such luck though. Poor confused Alice finds herself in the clutches of Las Vegas gangsters in the year 1983.


September, 1983, Hollywood California

In answer to an ad announcing an open audition for a part in an art film, Alice Mihara sat in a seedy front office on Hollywood Boulevard waiting for her turn to talk to producers. Five other women were ahead of her. Rumors floated that the guys running this so called 'art film' worked for the porn industry. People had showed up anyway, for this was Hollywood where everyone jumped at the chance to get into a film, even a possible porno.

Alice sat brooding about the insane situation she was in. First of all a gangster from Las Vegas was hunting for her, second, she was, hands down, the strangest refuge in all of human history. She didn't escape from some war torn country, that would have been normal, even desirable. Alice Mihara was lost in time for somehow she had left the year 2014 and found herself in the year 1983. All the gangster stuff aside, being stuck in 1983 was somewhere between hell and damnation. She prayed that this movie audition will help her find her way back to 2014.

She looked around and saw that she was the only one in the room not plastered with heavy makeup or wearing spandex of some kind. Alice suspected that some of the women in the room, perhaps all of them, were seasoned porn stars. Alice wore a simple white blouse and a snug black skirt that came to mid thigh. She had wrongheadedly dressed as she would have for a job interview in her time. She wished for hot pants, a fuchsia tube top and a lot more makeup ... not to mention bigger boobs. There must be a full acre of fake tits in the room if all were summed together. Clearly, plastic surgery was in high gear in the gaudy 80's and her small A-cup chest felt totally inadequate. Also, she was the only one in the room not smoking.

As a smelly cloud of tobacco smoke floated her way, Alice did her best not to show her disgust. She desperately wanted to tell the others in the room that being in the sex industry was unhealthy enough without sucking poison into your lungs. Too polite (and not stupid) she held her tongue...and breath.

A fat guy in a ponytail dressed in a loud red aloha shirt and khaki shorts, smelling of cheep cologne, stepped into the room.

"Chelsea Nova?" the guy called, looking at a clipboard.

A tall blond with a figure that would look perfect on an eighties porno VHS box, crushed out her cigarette and followed fat boy through a door marked by a handmade sign that said MOVIE AUDITION-QUIET PLEASE.

Alice had signed in with a bogus name. She didn't want to use her real name of course, not with a gangster on her tail. She still found it hard to get her head around the fact that just three months ago, she had stepped through a mirror and into the life a different Alice. The 1983 Alice had worked for Lester Byson the mobbed up owner of the Roman Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. The other Alice had been some kind of computer wiz and had created a program that predicted the outcomes of pro football games with near thirty present accuracy. 2014 Alice popped into the body of 1983 Alice just as one of Lester Byson's goons was making her an offer she couldn't refuse. Under threat of torture, 2014 Alice agreed to work for Byson. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to run the programs the other Alice had created on her modified Apple Lisa. To her 2014 sensibilities, using that old computer was like trying to start a fire without matches, a thing she had no idea how to do. Out of desperation, she leaned on her near photographic memory.

Back in Honolulu ... two mirrors ago ... Alice worked for a TV station. She was the sports statistician for the lazy and ultimately stupid sports caster, Marty Soto. Her knack for retaining information made the ex-football player look like a genius. Anyway, Alice had memorized mountains of scores and stats for the NFL going back to the first Super Bowl. Naturally, her predictions for the gangsters went from the low thirties to one hundred percent accurate. Needless to say, she got the full attention of the head gangster Lester Byson.

That turned out okay at first. She became the darling of Lester Byson's eyes and he gave her a suite to live in on the VIP floor of the hotel. She never had to pay for meals and ate at the best restaurants in town. Byson paid for all her clothes too and let her use his limo fleet to where ever she wanted to go. Although she missed the trappings of her life in 2014, she liked being treated like a rock star. Who wouldn't?

The luster wore off on the day Lester Byson called her into his office. A nervous looking skinny man sat in a plush chair before Byson's desk. Two of Byson's goons stood nearby eying up the guy. One of the goons was Nelson.

Two mirrors ago, in Honolulu 2014, Nelson was her boyfriend. He had worked at the same TV station as her. That other Nelson was sort of responsible for Alice stepping through that first mirror. He had arranged the little orgy she took part in that had somehow launched her into an alternate existence. She had no idea why she was able to walk through mirrors, all she knew was that it was somehow connected to her sexual activity. The odd repeating of people she knew from her world seemed a staple of her mirror travels and she simply didn't question it anymore. Anyway, this Nelson was NOT her boyfriend, in fact he was the one who put the hurt on her when she had first arrived.

"My Oriental good luck charm," Byson said, squeezing both her hands then kissed her cheeks like she was family.

Alice flinched at the word Oriental. In 2014, no one used the word. "ASIAN good luck charm," Alice corrected as Byson invited her to sit in the chair next to the twitchy guy.

Byson gave her a leveled look, but then smiled and even chuckled. She knew that he wasn't the kind of guy who liked being corrected, especially not in front of his minions. But she was making him a butt load of money and had earned a little indulgence.

"I wanna let you know Alice, that this wasn't my idea, okay?" Byson said as he sat in his chair behind his desk.

"What's up?" Alice asked. Her eyes flickered to the nervous guy seated next to her.

"This is Rich Navarro," Byson said bobbing his head at skinny twitchy guy. "He's a card counter, he cheats me out of my money."

"Mr. Byson, please—" Navarro started to say.

Alice flinched when Byson yelled at Navarro cutting him short.

"Shut the fuck up you degenerate cheat!"

Byson picked up a glass paperweight with the hotel symbol on it and threw it at Navarro smacking him hard in the mouth splitting open his lower lip. Navarro clutched at his now bleeding mouth and wisely kept quiet.

Alice shook allover from the sudden brutality.

"See what you made me do you fucking cheat?" Byson said, sitting back into his chair. "You made me do violence in front of this delicate little Oriental lady."

Someone stepped between Alice and the Navarro. It was Marco Delamo, Byson's limo driver. Alice instinctively leaned away from him. Marco gave Alice a smile that made her skin crawl. Their was something dark and evil about the guy, and from day one, he scared the shit out of her.

Marco nodded to Nelson. Nelson grabbed Navarro's left arm and held it straight up.

"Oh please Mr. Byson," Navarro begged.

"Don't you fucking whine to me," Byson said.

Marco gripped the guys left thumb. Navarro howled in pain as Marco bent and snapped it like a twig. Navarro tried to pull his arm down but Nelson held firm and the other goon held Navarro down in the chair with two big mitts at the guy's shoulders near his neck.

Alice grew pale, her eyes wide with horror. Marco's eyes found hers, he gave her a wink like he was letting her in on a joke as he gripped the guy's index finger on the same hand and snapped that one too. He systematically moved from finger to finger until all five were broken and Navarro screamed with each snapped digit. Nelson let Navarro's arm drop. Moaning, Navarro held his crippled hand close to his chest, his face pale, tears leaking from his eyes.

Marco's brow wrinkled and he ask Byson, "Is he right or left handed?"

"Right," Byson said. "I would know because I watched him cheat me on the security videos."

"So sorry Rich," Marco apologized to Navarro. "I did the wrong hand, gotta start over."

"NO!" Navarro screamed as Nelson muscled Navarro's other arm up high. Marco repeated his brutal performances as Byson chuckled.

Alice got sick and puked in Byson's wastebasket. Byson gave her a serious look and said, "You don't ever wanna cheat me, understand, Alice?" She nodded gravely to show that she had taking the lesson to heart. He smiled and playfully bumped her nose with a knuckle."Good girl. Like I said, this was not my idea, but Marco thought that you should understand our policy about cheats, okay?"

Marco gave her a warm smile.

The brutality on that day effectively burst Alice's rock star bubble. Immediately, she started a campaign of sleeping around with Byson's goons and his VIP guests in hopes of recreating a mirror escape but nothing came of that. Her anxiety grew with each failure, and worse, she was on Marco's radar. Everywhere she turned, there he was. Two weeks after watching the card cheat get his fingers busted, Alice skipped town via Greyhound with just two thousand dollars in cash. She headed to Los Angeles. It seemed like a big enough place to get lost in ... she hoped.

The waiting room was getting unbearable with all the smoke. She considered giving up her spot just to go outside to breathe in the somewhat fresher L.A. smog. But she held firm banking that this audition was the right sleazy ticket she was looking for.

Fake boobed Chelsea Nova came storming back into the smoke filled room.

"They're just a couple of fucking pervs!" the woman said, "They ain't makin' a movie! They just wanna see your tits!" She walked out and all the women in the room left with her.

Alice stayed. The sleazier these guys were the better she figured.

Fat ponytail guy came into the room along with a skinny guy dressed in a bad fitting dark blue suit. They both gawked at Alice, amazed that someone was still in the waiting area.

"Um ... we'll be right back," the fat guy said. The pair went back into the room marked by the audition sign and closed the door behind them.

She sighed. With nothing else to do but wait, the rehashed events that had led her to this moment.

After stepped off the bus in downtown L.A., she found a cheap apartment in Hollywood. Sleeping around with every guy she met hadn't work in Vegas so she took a shot at getting work at local strip clubs. The first thing she learned was that she was in lousy shape especially after months of living a life of indolent luxury. The first couple of auditions wore her out. She took to jogging and hitting the local YMCA to get fit so that she could compete for runway space. After several rejections, she finally landed a stripper gig but nothing came out of that but mediocre tips. She simply didn't have the figure to pull in the big money, but more importantly, stripping didn't spark whatever it was that allowed her to step into a mirrors. She didn't understand why it didn't work? She was sure that men staring at her naked body would do the trick.

After weeks of ineffectual stripping, she saw an ad for an escort service and went to apply for a job. She had no delusion what an escort really was. Prostitution payed better than stripping and most the time nobody cared that she lacked big breasts. She did a lot of fucking but no mystery tingling manifested ever. On a day, after being fucked from behind by some sweaty jerk in an ally who skipped out on paying her, she went home and got totally shit faced. She was so miserable that she actually missed working for Lester Byson at the Roman Hotel. At least there she was comfortable. Here in L.A. she had to hold down a shitty job at a restaurant on top of doing johns in allies. One night, in drunken despair, she violently threw herself at the dressing mirror near her bed desperate to escape the misery her life had become. The next day, sporting a bruised forehead and a swollen nose, not to mention a broken mirror, she vowed never again to get that drunk again. She broke that vow next day of course.

Desperate for money, she sought out a local bookie and placed a few bets on some football games. She worried that Byson would be looking out for someone placing winning bets on NFL games so she made sure that her bets were modest and just enough to cover her meager rent and groceries. To play it safe, She threw in a couple of loser bets for window dressing.

Her head returned to the present when fat and skinny came back into the waiting area.

"What's your name?" skinny guy asked.

"Trixie Takahashi," she lied. She had gotten the name from a science fiction story she had read. It was an e-book bought by Honolulu Nelson for his Kendall Fire. The story was pure porn but she had kind of liked it. The main character was a rough and tumble Japanese chick doing her best to survive in a big complex world not of her making ... much like Alice like herself.

"Come in Trixie," skinny guy said, "sorry about the ruckus."

She shouldered her bag and followed them into the connecting office. She wasn't surprised to see a black leather sofa with a camera on a tripod nearby. Across from the sofa was a desk with a closet door behind it. The camera on the tripod looked old even by 1983 standards. Did it even work? she wondered. Just to see what they would say, she asked, "Why did the blonde girl storm out?"

"Well—" fat ponytail guy said but skinny blue suit cut in on him.

"We told her that the lead roll was going to be an Oriental girl. She didn't like that."

Alice smirked. Quick on his feet this one. "We don't like the term Oriental. It's Asian now," she corrected him. She wasn't sure if that were true here in '83, but fuck it, she hated the word Oriental. Why should she have to orient herself to someone else anyway?

"Sorry, Asian it is" skinny said. He stuck his hand out and she shook it. "My name is Dizzy I'm the producer. He pointed at fat ponytail guy. "This is Hambone the director."

Dizzy? Hambone? Either they were made up names of their mothers really hated them.

"We would like to ask you a few questions if that's okay?" Hambone, the so called director, said picking up a clip board.

He probably thought that the clipboard helped in his sincerity. Regretting her decision to stay, Alice lied, "I have another audition in an hour can we get this going?"

"Um ... okay," Dizzy said. "There is a bikini scene in the movie. Are you comfortable stripping down right now to show us what you got?"

Fucking losers, she thought. Just as she was about to stand and leave, she felt a tingling in her finger tips. Noway! Stripping in front of hundreds of horny men hadn't done a thing for her! Being fucked from behind in an ally hadn't caused some much as a tickle ... but somehow these these sleaze balls are setting me off! Go figure?

With her heart racing, she stood up and pulled her blouse over her head then unbuttoned her black skirt reducing herself to a black bra and white panties. Her toes started tingling now.

"Okay ... um great," Hambone said, taken off guard by her sudden compliance. Both men gawked at her like slack jawed idiots at a carnival freak show. She could almost feel their gaze on her exposed skin. She stared back waiting for one of them to speak. The morons didn't say a thing. She roll her eyes and said. "I'm okay with nudity too."

"Um ... good," Dizzy said, recovering from carnal shock first. "Several hot love scene are written in for the main character."

"Yeah, the leading man is here to do a scene with you," Hambone said. "You okay with that?"

"Absolutely," she said doing her best to look cute and alluring in her underwear. She hated acting cute, but it was all she had going. Clearly, in the big titty eighties she couldn't rely on her tiny A-cups. If Chelsea Nova and the other chicks hadn't cleared out, she doubted that these clowns would have given her half a glance.

Dizzy placed his hand on a black box on the desk and said loudly, "Kurt can you come in please?"

She rolled her eyes yet again. She suspected that the intercom wasn't really working for she saw no wires coming out of the thing and she doubted that the term wireless barely existed in the 1983. The door behind the desk opened and the so named Kurt stepped out.

He was waiting in the fucking closet? OMG!

The stupid set up aside, Kurt caught her fancy. The dude wasn't bad looking in a tacky, tanned Chippendale dancer kind of way. He had a blond crew cut and his nicely muscled upper body challenged his black t-shirt. He wore jeans that displayed a nice package. His eyes swept over her near naked form. Interestingly enough, the bulge between his legs tightened. He's certainly happy to see me, tiny figure or not, Alice thought with relief. A flush of desire rippled through her, followed by a familiar pressure in her head. God all mighty! This is happening! This is my ticket out!

Kurt's eyes dropped down to his crotch. He seemed dismayed at his reaction to her. He abruptly sat down on the sofa and crossed his legs to hide his condition. Was he worried about scaring me off? she thought. Or was he simply a little shy? If he was, she found that weirdly endearing.

Dizzy cleared his throat. "Trixie, this is Kurt our leading man."

She waked over to Kurt and held her hand out and the shook. She gave Kurt a small smile and even manged to look a little shy herself.

Dizzy and Hambone's eyes skittered allover her making her skin crawl, and yet at the same time, turning her on. Hambone handed out scripts. Alice read the title on the cover of hers aloud. "Frankenstein In Lust."

"It's a sexy adaptation of the Frankenstein monster story," Dizzy explained.

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