Elysium: The Chair

The two women flew into motion. The pale women in the vines flipped around on the stage and tensed like a cat trapped in a corner. The dark skinned cheetah scrambled to the stage and hunkered low, stalking the other.

The vocals screamed and the dark woman pounced.

The guitars thrashed as we watched the conflict in shock. The pale woman was caught by her black hair and flung down in her back. As soon as she dropped she was writhing and rubbing herself, tossing her head from side to side.

The darker woman swung her legs over the head over the other.

Michael and I exchanged glances. I couldn't place his exact emotion, but he seemed somewhere between shocked and impressed.

The women's bodies were inverted. The term "sixty nine" darted through my mind. The dark woman on top tore open the pale girl's legs, rising up like a cobra while her hands slid up to the girl's calves.

The music crashed into a riff of machine gun fast thrashing. The predator dove between those pale legs and feasted on the hot flesh there. I was bummed that I couldn't see the action between her thighs. The two were turned away from our corner of the stage.

Every few seconds, the cheetah woman would lift herself up, wipe her mouth dramatically, and pretend to pick her fangs. She hungrily eyed the men in front of her, putting on quite the show.

We watched in pure awe while the song continued to drown out all but thought and the lights circled the room. The Ballroom was coordinated chaos for several minutes. I was blown away. I found myself wondering how much money was invested into the place. Already my head felt light and hazy. The tall slender glass in my hand never seemed to empty.

All the while, I grew harder watching the action on the stage and around the room. Yellow hungry eyes cast seductive glares. Bare flesh slid together in a dance of sex and sweat and body paint. Fangs were bared and tongues lapped at the air as the dancers emitted moans and growls that were lost in the blaring music.

I rubbed my face and blinked my eyes, trying to get a grip on what I was watching. The two dancers on our stage were lying on their backs with their legs intertwined. Their bare crotches slid against one another as they rolled their hips and fucked right in front of us.

The women clawed at the stage and tore at their hair.

The guitars wailed.

When at last the lights lifted and the music began to wane, I felt like I had climbed from a plane crash after plummeting from the sky. The rush was over but adrenaline still swam in my veins. Blood still filled my dick, which was trapped between my jeans and my thigh.

****

The Rumor

****

Freddie watched the two dancers as they strutted from the stage to join the rest. His face barely held back his smile of joy. His brown eyes were wide when he turned to us.

"Oh... my... god, man," Freddie said.

Andy slapped the stage and held his hands wide with a solemn expression on his face. "Best fucking thing I've ever seen in my life."

Freddie rubbed his bald brown head and laughed. "Oh man, they were... that was freaking awesome."

I looked at Michael. He was still staring blankly at the stage.

"Uh, The Animals are not a band, dude," I said.

He looked at me and shook his head. Michael's only response was a laugh.

I watched the dancers exit the room through a door near the corner of the room beside the bar. A gentle song began to play, much quieter than the thrashing of the previous jam.

"I want a cheetah now," Freddie said. "Tate, you gotta put a cheetah on my leg or something."

"Right," Michael scoffed. "Alcohol and tattoos. Best combination ever."

"I don't work after hours, man," I said chuckling. "Shop's closed."

"Did I not tell you this place was awesome?" Freddie said, looking back and forth at us.

"It is pretty intense here," Michael agreed.

"Wow." Andy was fixing his collar on his striped shirt. "I think we've made a believer out him."

Freddie drained his glass and was already tapping the screen of his menu. "I don't see how she pulls all this off. Chick has to be rolling in cash. No telling what she brings in a night."

I gave him a look. "The dancer?"

"He's talking about Bloody Mary," Andy told me leaning over the stage. "She's like the owner or something."

Freddie glanced around the room. He shook his head.

"I haven't spotted her," he said. "Supposedly this is where she hangs out during the night."

I turned in my seat, giving the women in the room a once over. There was no one that stood out to me, but I didn't even know who I was looking for. My head swam as I checked out the gorgeous women in the room, employee and patron alike. My pants already seemed tighter, and some of the sights in the room weren't making them any more loose.

"And, uh, why is she called 'Bloody Mary'?" I asked.

Freddie shrugged. "Name that stuck, I guess. I've heard several. Bloody Mary, Black Widow, The Queen, take your pick."

"Yeah but how did she earn them?" Michael elaborated.

"I don't know man." Freddie took his time relighting the Cuban cigar, puffing until he got a steady burn. "I know a lot of officials and politicians and shit don't like her, obviously. But just as many are probably in bed with her business. Guess that's how she gets away with all this."

He puffed the cigar and leaned forward.

"You always hear it said that you can get anything here. That anything is possible. I mean Dad told me a lot about The Ballroom, but supposedly there's like, more to this place. You know that girl I dated that used to work at that bar on fifth?"

Michael rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, Erica, the crybaby. We remember."

Freddie ignored him. "She was telling me about like these contracts you could get. Supposed to be for reserving rooms but it's not the same as downstairs. You have to negotiate them through Bloody Mary, no one else. She said you can get anything you want. She was telling me that she heard of crazy shit. Sex stuff, drugs, underground fetish things, and all that. She even heard of people disappearing here."

"Oh cool," Michael said chuckling. "We could get murdered here, too?"

"Nah, that's bullshit," Andy said. "There's too many myths about this place. Most of that shit is made up."

I was intrigued. It seemed like Club Elysium held all kinds of secrets. I'd never heard of a place that could get away with as much as I'd already seen. Freddie was smoking a Cuban cigar, for crying out loud, and I'd already watched two girls fuck each other on stage. There certainly seemed to be more to the place, and I did recall seeing the name on the news more than once, but I'd never given it any thought.

"Sounds like a fairy tale to me, Freddie," I heard Michael say.

Freddie held out his hands. "Yeah, so is all this, but it's happening!"

"So Bloody Mary is a genie, granting wishes," Andy said, managing the most serious face he could and staring straight at Freddie.

"Yes. I mean, no...." Freddie grinned. "You're missing the point."

"I think the place is crazy enough," Michael said.

His eyes narrowed. I realized he was looking down at the glowing screen of his menu. The one in front of me was lit up as well.

"We're stage three, right?" I asked.

"Yep," Andy answered. "According to this, showtime for stage three is in thirty seconds."

I shook my head and smiled as Andy brushed the front of his short brown hair with his fingers. He licked his thumb and smoothed out his small eyebrows, exaggerating the motion.

"Guess we better get ready, boys," he said.

"Damn I need another drink, man." Freddie searched for the waitress peering over the tables.

"So, what, each stage has it's own show?" Michael said.

No one had time to give him an answer.

****

The Show

****

The lights dimmed slowly until the room was cloaked in complete darkness. Strange sounds silenced the chatter in the room. To me, it sounded like the warped and whispered blurb of a faulty cassette tape. That sound made my arm hair stand on end in the dark. Looking over, I could barely see Michael beside me.

At once came the gentle tap of a drum, and the soft hiss of a cymbal. On top of this relaxing beat was the strumming of a bass guitar. The riff that was played was equally as gentle, its notes rising, falling, alternating, and repeating. I thought I could feel my body settling and growing warm from the soothing hum of the music.

I saw the stage first. It began to glow dimly, then grew brighter. My eyes were sucked into to the rich blue color that cast its ghastly light over the faces around the stage. Beyond was darkness, where shapes of the other patrons loomed like shadowy phantoms.

As the gentle tune continued, I noticed the faces across the stage looking up and pointing toward the ceiling. I followed their gaze. I had to sit back in my chair to see them, and I could barely make out the figures above.

There were two of them, both were female, and they were sliding slowly down the metallic pole that undoubtedly reached to the ceiling somewhere above. I watched them descend and admired their bodies in the blue glow. Both gripped the pole with a single hand and two thighs. The way they rode the poles down reminded me of children on a swing set with their legs together and kicking slowly.

When they neared the bottom, I could see that their hair was blond and pulled into pigtails. The two of them wore matching attire, small frilly skirts and white blouses tied above their bare stomachs. I eyed their legs in particular, which were wound from ankle to upper thigh with some kind of string or ribbon. Two heels clicked on the glowing stage as the first girl touched down.

I gasped, when she whirled to face our side of the stage.

The blonde wore a mask, depicting a pale face, smiling red lips, and blushed cheeks. The eyes were rimmed with painted lashes, which helped to give the expression an air of sweetness and glee.

But they had no eyes.

Only empty black holes stared back at us from their smiling masked faces. Any whimsical emotion was robbed by those dark hollow pits. Both of the masked doll faced girls were on the stage now. They pranced about, taking small choppy steps that made their frilly skirts bounce.

I looked over at Freddie. He mouthed the words "what the fuck" before turning his eyes back to the stage.

One of the masked blondes made her way to the corner of the stage down the way from us. She was holding something in each hand but I couldn't make out what it was in the gloom. She stood straight and stiff, and I blew out air when she bent at the waist. The little skirt rose and I saw her tight round ass. Her ribbon laced legs looked so long and smooth in the blue light.

My dick nodded uncomfortably in my pants. I shifted, watching the blonde place something at the corner of the stage. She rose up quickly, holding her arms straight by her side and flaring out her hands like a ballerina. The movement was beautiful, but jittery and unnatural and... eerily wrong.

The girl whirled. Her hollow eyes seemed to stare in our direction. She pranced across the stage, moving like a doll that had just learned to walk on those luscious legs. I noticed the other girl behind her on the other side of the stage, mimicking the exact actions of her counterpart in perfect synchronization.

When she came to stand above us at the corner of the stage, we were looking up her long legs under her skirt. I could make out the outline of her tight mound beneath the sheer panties she wore. I had to shift in my seat and swallow the moisture in my mouth at the mere sight. Again the girl bent all the way over, keeping her legs straight. Then I saw what was in her hand.

It was a long purple dildo.

There was a large suction cup on the bottom of the thing, and she pressed the base firmly against to stage, right at the corner between Freddie and I. When she released it and rose up, the clear dildo wagged but stood straight.

I exchanged glances with Freddie. He had an amused expression on his face. We watched as the two masked women stepped to opposite sides of the stage, and as though they were puppets pulled by the same strings, they struck a pose and waved a single hand to the sky.

Three spotlights flashed overhead. Each of the lights were a bright icy blue or white color, and circled one another against the velvety curtained wall beyond until at last, the three spotlights came together above us.

There, on the pole some twenty feet in the air, was another woman.

Another layer of music was added to the soothing tune that played. It was the grinding of a rhythm guitar, but it sounded so distant, so muffled. It harmonized with the humming of the bass guitar, playing the same notes while adding a bright raspy echo to the song. It seemed to herald the appearance of the woman above.

Down she slid, more gracefully than her doll faced hostesses had before her. One of her legs was hooked around the pole while her arm was wrapped above, hugging it close to her shoulder. Her head lay beside the pole, her eyes cast down as though she were saddened. All the while, she tapped the metal bar in time with the beat using her free foot. The woman wore a great sprawling robe sparkling in the spotlight, cascading down like a moonlit waterfall. She twirled a single feathered strap of the robe along with the raspy thrash of the distant guitar.

The woman touched down and drifted from the pole to stand before us. Her head nodded slightly while she swayed to the music like a tree in a breeze. Still she swung the strap in her hand. Feathers lined the hem of her great robe and up to nestle her smooth pale face, like a fancy boa or scarf.

Still her eyes were cast at the floor. Glossy black hair hung perfectly straight beside her cheeks. The ends of her hair seemed to simply fade into nothingness. I could see her pale body beneath the robe. She wore some sort of lingerie.

Something flashed below me. I glanced down the black screen of the menu, where a single name glowed in shimmering letters.

Lilah.

My eyes shot back up to soak in the view. Her arms were slowly lifting, the sparkling robe fanning out like the wings of an angel. Lilah tilted her head to one side, then eased it back and rolled it to her other shoulder as though basking in some unseen glow of comfort. Her eyes were still closed as she swayed to the music.

I was nearly startled to see the two masked women step behind her and slide the robe from her shoulders.

Lilah was absolutely stunning.

Her pale skin gleamed in the bright spotlight. A purple camisole top hugged her bulging breasts tightly in its lacy cups, creating a pleasant line of cleavage. A sheer fabric flared beneath the cups, split down the middle to expose her stomach. I sighed through trembling lips as I eyed the curve of her narrow waist the wide berth of her hips.

Lilah twisted her huge platform heels on the stage, slowly swinging her hips from side to side. She rubbed her neck with both hands and rolled her abdomen, a movement that was so alluring. I watched her move, admiring the G-string panties and eyeing the small piece of fabric that cupped her pussy. Her thighs... they were so thick and smooth. Each leg was wound with the same ribbon that I'd seen on the masked blondes. The ribbon crisscrossed up to her upper thigh like the intertwined patterns of two candy canes. It accented her pale fleshy thighs in such a way that made my mouth water.

Then her eyes opened and my world fell away.

Icy blue orbs stared in my direction. They were so big I thought I might drown in them. Dark sweeps of black and smokey grey shadowed those eyes, sucking me in like the pull of a black hole. Long curled lashes fanned the air when she blinked, speckled with glitter that shined like diamonds. If her irises were any lighter shade of blue, they would've been white.

I was petrified, frozen in Lilah's ice cold gaze. Her round face was so pale. Her lips were an astonishing shade of deep red, pursed and full. The black curtains of her hair hung around her cheeks like the drapes of a funeral dress. Lilah's expression was one of beautiful sadness, distant and carefree.

The rasping of the guitar faded. Only the strum of the bass and the tap and hiss of the drums remained. She didn't dance to the music. The melody moved her. It controlled the twist of her legs. It spun her hips in slow circles and lifted her arms into an unseen breeze. There was no beat of the drum, no strum of a thick string that was not accented by the enticing movement of her body.

God, she was perfect. I couldn't help thinking that she had been made just for me. Every single piece of her was proportioned exactly the ways I found attractive. It hurt me inside to look at her, but it was agonizing to look away. When her big eyes fell over me, my body grew weak and my mind went blank.

Lilah walked in a circle, the pole in her fingertips. With her every step she would give the tiniest flick of her platform heels. My dick strained in my pants when I saw the way it made her ass cheeks jiggle. Higher her hand climbed on the pole. I thought her nipple would slip free of the tiny cup that concealed it.

With not so much as a hop, Lilah pulled herself into the air on the pole, her feet lifting gracefully. Her body swung until her backside wound around the pole. She seemed to slither round and round as though her body were a ribbon encircling the metal. When Lilah descended to the stage, she pulled her thighs upward and bent her legs beneath her.

Then she was on her knees. Her black hair drifted weightlessly before her face, caught in the breeze of a dream. Lilah was squatting low with her legs spread and her hands planted on the stage. The pose drew her arms close and squeezed her breasts together.

She was staring right at me.

My mind's first impulse told me to look away. My eyes did not respond. Trapped in the trance of her frosty gaze, I watched her start a slow crawl toward me. Her shoulders rose and fell like those of a stalking tiger. Her round ass waved behind her.

The fog rose and the lighting began to change. The stage remained a pulsing blue, while hues of pink and purples danced across the room in a myriad of patterns. The colors glowed as rich as a watercolored sunset sky. A voice crept over the dark humming tune. The lyrics weren't sung, they were whispered and moaned seductively.

Lilah crawled from the ethereal fog. Her long sparkling lashes fanned the air while her large eyes watched me. She came to squat at the corner of the stage, right between Freddie and I. She was close enough to reach out and touch, and the sensation in my veins was torturous. I soaked in every inch of her pale flesh, every perfect curve of her body. Her head lowered... slowly....

Lilah flipped her black hair over her head and arched her back. Her arms bent behind her. My eyes traveled from her smooth neck, down the line of her cleavage, across her bare stomach, and to the puffy flesh beneath the small patch of fabric on the G-string.

The words in my ear startled me. They were louder than Freddie should have spoken them.

"She's gotta have implants or supplements or something, bro. Those titties are entirely too perfect to be real."

I didn't look at him. When my eyes met Lilah's again she was staring right at us from between the black curtains of her hair. Though she had the same indifferent sorrowful expression, I knew she had to have heard Freddie. My skin grew unbearably warm with embarrassment.

Lilah's hands moved from behind her back and crossed to each shoulder. Her head rolled and her hips twirled slowly to the deep thrum of the music. Her fingertips danced down her arms, pulling the straps of her camisole with them. Her hands continued down her rolling stomach, sliding down her thighs, and finally to the stage.