Her Halo Rests on Horns

Doug waited until the door was safely closed behind his associate before he braved a closer look at the page displayed in front of him. But he feared his eyes had already recognized all too clearly in the one fragment of a moment when it was dropped on his desk what the "gimmick" was Bill was so impressed with.

The page was an advertisement for a new perfume created by one Antonio Zantis; a famous perfume mogul; much sought after by Doug's agency{and every other advertising agency on the planet} and widely considered the goose that lays the golden eggs in the industry. This newest perfume that had been in hush hush development was now released and was saturating the market with ads of high octane quality, higher competitive nature, and now highest unique exposure.

Doug's exposure. The ad was a photo of Doug and Angel in her bedroom in Chicago.

He was staring at a nightmare- his nightmare-contained within a photograph in a highly circulated magazine; read and viewed by hundreds of thousands of people in all walks of life. All the horrors of that night assaulted his eyes, and disrupted the steady rhythm of his breathing as he relived the scene yet once more. He looked at the paper reflection of himself, as he fumbled for a cigarette he knew he couldn't light in his office, but felt the overwhelming compulsion to smoke anyway. He held it within his trembling fingers, as he studied the picture trying to make sense of anything from that night.

Here in this perfume advertisement was a man imprisoned in a chastity belt; bound at the hands to a bed with men's ties and shackled at the ankles with irons in spread eagle fashion. Him. This "model" wore nothing more than a tie; a portion of which was visible; so easy for Doug to recognize as his Orion tie. Two gold coins nestled in his eye sockets; a henchman's hood concealing his true identity from all of the world but two people; the two in the photo – Doug and the female counterpart of Satan. It was every detail; everything- EVERYTHING - of that horrific night in Chicago.

He searched for his lighter with quivering hands; a cigarette just the sedative needed to calm the nerves that were all trying to escape through raised gooseflesh. He suddenly remembered when –and why –his lighter was used that night, as he studied the photo and pieced yet more of the perverted puzzle together. A word was crudely written across his naked chest; the effect so real it could never be mistaken as something other than melted candlewax. He remembered Angel's remark to him, 'Almost done, Dougie; just one more letter' and again the frost of fear chilled his veins. 'One more letter' was the letter "E". It finished the word that Doug's eyes were welded to in the advertisement.

The word spelled out in red wax was: MINE

The ad was for the new upscale perfume sensation, "Devil' Z Deception"

and the marketing concept was, indeed, ideal in subliminal meaning and theme impression. As Doug perused the ad's detail further {and his resurrected memories of that night}, the spider's web began to untangle; disintegrate; as the broom of stark realization swept it away.

Angel had been a "star" in this feature, too. She was posed near the foot of the bed in the foreground; kneeling; her delicious body draped in the black satin corset. The candlelight glowing from the sconce behind the bed added drama; a decadent mood to the scene, and the expertise of the photographer for this "shoot" was obvious. But the most effective impact was felt with what Angel was intending in her pose. She had one arm extended above her upturned head; her thick, blood red hair cascading well below the cheeks of her voluptuous ass and onto the back of her calves. Her alluring lavender eyes, her finest seductive feature, were now closed to the general public; as she posed with those luscious red lips parted and serpent's tongue extended, as if waiting to be fed the wafer at communion. But this was not a church scene. This was the spider's lair; the Devil's castle. And the key to the chastity belt was this satanic communicant's offering – she was dangling it above her mouth as if she was going to swallow it.

The slogan below the picture explained the scene perfectly. Along with the name of the perfume at the top of the full page ad, the slogan was also done in bold Gothic lettering; again adding to the mood the campaign wished to project.

The phrase that stood out in this promotion and would become, no doubt, the catalyst to its publicity success was:

>Unleash the deZires in You<

Doug's trance was only broken by the ashes that fell onto the magazine from the cigarette still dangling from his mouth. As he brushed them away, his hand came to rest next to the final pieces to this vexing puzzle that had been tormenting him for the last two long, anguishing months.

It was in the credits at the very bottom of the page; the fine print that is so often overlooked by the everyday lay reader, but in his field, the advertising game, the rule of "know your competitor better than you know yourself" was never ignored. He concentrated on the small amount of information given, and read it over and over again until the cloudy film still left on the window of his mind was wiped down to the crystal clear clarity of truth. He now understood.

He grabbed his jacket and headed to the elevators; his mind's gears now turning at a renewed gate. As the doors opened to the main floor lobby, Doug quickened his pace and walked to the bustling retail district of the city but a short distance away.

Once inside the main department store, his point of destination was the fragrances department. He was looking to reaffirm; to reassure himself closure on the night that had been haunting him for the last two sleepless months.

"Good afternoon, sir! I'm Tracey. Is there something I can help you with today?" the young woman at the perfume counter greeted, as Doug's eyes scanned the all glass breakfront behind the salesclerk.

"Yes, I think you can. I would like to see that perfume right there, please." He pointed to a distinct perfume bottle that was on the top shelf in the display case.

"Oh, sir!" You have chosen THE most extraordinary perfume on the market today- bar none!" she exclaimed, as she carefully took the decanter down off the shelf and placed it in Doug's hands. Tracey's exuberance seemed genuine concerning his selection; not just an automatic comment in the hopes of getting a sale.

"This newest fragrance from ">Z<" is his ultimate achievement yet," she continued, as she reached beneath the counter for the customer fragrance sample vials. "Have you seen the advertisement for this perfume yet? It is very dramatic, seductive, and decadent – as is the scent in this bottle. If I wore this for my fiancé, I couldn't even begin to imagine what I would be capable of unleashing!"

Doug was half listening to the salesclerk's enthusiasm, as he closely examined the design of the bottle that he had, in an ominous way, been party to inspiring. It was a glass bottle; black in color; with a brushed gray metal sleeve covering it. The raised Gothic lettering on the front, Devil'Z Deception added to the overall appearance and subliminal message it strongly conveyed. But it was the bottle's sleeve that gave Doug a dark reminder of that night in Chicago two months ago. It was shaped like a male chastity belt; a scale model of the one he had been forced to wear; the one that was now being seen in advertisements around the world. The perfume also had another chilling detail – a key hanging from a metal chain that served as nothing more than an accent on the perfume decanter's stopper, but held much somber connotations for Doug. It was a miniature, but identical key that Angel had worn around her neck, and had used to lock the chastity belt onto him. The oxygen escaped from Doug's lungs very slowly.

He now took the sample vial handed to him, as Tracey offered yet more of her findings on the mysterious new fragrance rave.

"Every time I open this vial for someone, I am reminded of intense heat; an inferno; but yet it is cool when it touches the skin. I don't know – something like... "

"Something like Firewater." Doug murmured as he passed the flask beneath his nose. But along with the feelings she had just described, there was an underlying hint of spices; cinnamon; peppermint perhaps. It was like a drink. A drink he had seen being made for Angel. The perfume had all the underlying characteristics of a Fireball.

*******

A few minutes later, Doug walked out of the store; $185.00 lighter in his wallet and a perfume chastity belt-in-a-bag in his hand, and headed toward the nearest bar for a liquid lunch. He needed a drink; maybe three; to control the aftershock tremors that now beset him.

He walked into a small, nondescript bar that he remembered passing a short while before on his way to the department store. Although there were only two other men in the establishment occupying the seats facing the TV, he chose a stool in the corner of the bar and ordered his first of maybe many beers by the friendly bartender that introduced herself to Doug as Maureen. "Hello, Maureen. I'd like a Coors lite on tap, and please keep the flow running steady. Don't worry – I'm not driving anything but these feet; one in front of the other" He sat there drinking his first glass of beer and mentally recapped the afternoon's twisted events, as he pulled out the unique perfume decanter from the bag and set it on the bar next to his coaster. He studied the design of the bottle for the tenth time in a half hour; now knowing why Angel felt the necessity to go to such extremes as she did that April night in Chicago.

Angel had known all along what she had in mind for Doug that night. It was now nauseatingly clear to him that the intent was to lure him to her home- her web- and use and abuse him to her career advantage, and to let the chips fall where they may regarding his pain and fear - all in the pursuit of fame. The whole night's charade; from its inception at the hotel bar to the curt "stop and drop" of him at a Chicago curb in the wee hours of the morning, made complete sense now – and made Doug completely enraged.

"I see there's going to be one very happy woman at your house tonight, babe".

Doug's rising anger was suddenly dispelled by Maureen's voice as she came over with another pilsner of beer and looked at the perfume bottle sitting on the bar.

"That has got to be the sexiest scent on the face of the earth! I went to the store the other day and just for the hell of it, I went to take a look at what everybody's been talking about. The girl at the counter let me try the sample, and I fell in love with it. I felt like running home to the old man and showing him a couple of never before tried maneuvers!" She began to wash Doug's first empty glass as she finished with, "But, as much as I loved it on me; you know; the scent and my body chemistry were perfect for each other; I knew I couldn't afford it. Maybe some day if I hit the lottery." She finished drying her hands, and went to attend to the alcoholic needs of the two men seated at the other end of the bar.

When she returned to check on the status of Doug's second beer, Maureen only found the money for the two beers he had – and the bottle of perfume still sitting there. Doug was not. She heard a voice call out from the doorway, "I left you the perfume as a tip, Maureen. But only use it on the special occasions when you want to really torture the guy."

*******

Doug hit the button for the agency's floor as the elevator began its vertical journey to accommodate its sole passenger. He stood staring at the floor numbers flashing by in tempo, as his mind did its own flashing - back to the magazine still spread out on his desk, the credits at the bottom right hand corner of the page completing the puzzle.

The name of the photographer bore the same surname as the perfume creator: Zantis. Angel Azure Zantis - A>Z

He recalled at the end of that night when she mumbled to herself the words, 'This is the brass ring, Daddy. The one you won't refuse to grab' He shook his head in ironic disbelief, as all seemed so abstractly logical now. But he was still filled with anger as a victim often is after a certain length of time, and two months after was his certain length of time. He was going to find a way to repay the cunning bitch- and pay her back good.

As a treat for his battered and beaten mind, he drifted back to scenes of the first Angel he met in the bar; the first Angel that stripped him in her kitchen; the first Angel he had riding and licking and sucking his cock. His cock and balls joined Doug in his erotic memories now; crowding his jockeys and waiting for a helping hand to give them some instant relief. He smiled a broad smile, as a dirty and dirtier thought came to him, and as the doors of the elevator opened to the agency's floor, he wasted no time in putting the perverted thought into action.

He went straight to his office, and grabbing the magazine off of his desk, hurried to the men's room with it. Once inside a stall, he placed the magazine on the floor in front of the toilet; opened it to the perfume ad, and dropped his pants.

It didn't take but five minutes to cover her entire image with his cum. He had pumped his meat furiously; looking down at the picture of this devil's delight as his heavy balls routed their contents up his shaft and out the head's slit like a whole can of white silly string.

This masturbation climax was the best he ever had.

*******

Out of breath, but not out of ideas, Doug zipped his pants back up and folding up the cum spewed magazine, tossed it in the trash on his way out of the bathroom.

Doug thought about this first little private act of retribution as he entered his office and sat down at his desk. He felt temporarily satisfied, but he knew the photo milk bath was just simply that - temporary. He would need to plan out his revenge well and carefully if he was going to take the devil spider unaware.

He turned his attention back to his soft drink campaign, but his subconscious was apparently still dwelling on another's campaign, for he suddenly heard himself say aloud,

"Angel, they named the perfume after you. For you are most definitely, the...

"Devil'Z Deception"

To be continued... To be revenged... "By Orion's Sword"