Library of Laughter Ch. 02

They tittered, saying things in their language he didn't understand. All the while, the ribbons above his head continued to spin, continued to spiral, around and around and around. He bit his lip.

The woman who'd spoken before leaned in close. She was wearing a deer skull, but he could see more of her face, now. She was one of the women who'd helped him get cool when he'd first arrived here. "S-Sorry about all this," he stammered.

"Oh, nae, think naught of it." She winked. "Let's just get to unwrappin' ye, though. Can't be havin' ye lyin' here all day, can we?"

A brunette said something that made the deer woman laugh.

They set to work, each slipping their fingers underneath the ribbons binding him. They seemed to be searching for the loose ends to the ribbons, but he wasn't sure they were looking very hard. His breath caught as one hand slipped under his arm, and he squirmed a little. This made them giggle some more, and his face reddened.

"Not to worry, Rufus," said the deer woman cheerfully, as her fingers slipped around his other arm. "We jes need ta find the loose end, and we'll have ye out of here quick as a bunny."

Rufus hoped so. He tensed as the fingers grazed over his armpit again. Down below, the girls focusing on his ankles were holding his feet steady, and their fingers seemed...

Oh. He took in a deep breath as he felt their fingers grazing over his toes. Oh, fuck.

"Get you free very soon," sang the deer woman, giggling, as her fingers tickled over his belly. He struggled to hold in a giggle. "Not ta worry, Rufus. Very soon."

Rufus tried not to squirm, knowing that this would likely only encourage them to take their time. But they seemed to need no encouragement. Already, their fingers were getting more and more daring. He tensed his whole body as the woman in the mask made of bird skulls ran her fingernails delicately over the sole of his foot, over and over again, as though deep in thought as she searched his leg's bindings.

"Um, l-listen," he squeaked, trying to hold in a little laugh, "I should m-mention that... that..."

"Hush, sweet lad," cooed the deer skull woman, brushing her hand over his eyes to momentarily block his vision. "We might have ta take a while here. Amuse yourself with the dance."

As her hand rose from his eyes, he found himself staring up into the spiraling ribbons. The song echoed in his ears endlessly, now that he was at the center of it, and the ribbons above spun in shimmering green and blue. His head buzzed and floated pleasantly.

But all the while, he was losing his mind in exquisite agony. The fingers were now brazenly slipping by all his sensitive spots, tickling his toes, his belly, his neck. He had a moment of relief as they seemed to finally get his arms free—then he gave a little squeal of surprise as he found his arms tied above his head with the same ribbon.

"Jes gettin' those outta the way," whispered the deer skull woman. "The ends ain't among 'em."

He only dimly heard her, even as he started to giggle helplessly, feeling the ribbons wrapping around his unprotected sides, feeling fingers tickling under his arms. He was lost in the song. Really, truly lost. His thoughts were blurring together, spinning together like mix in a blender, like feathers in the wind. Color swirled all around him.

They started tickling his armpits, and he wanted to fight, wanted to thrash, but all his helpless squirming was mindless and automatic. And they seemed to love it. His whole thought process was focused on the spirals. It was so hard to resist the spirals.

They were giggling, too. They seemed absolutely delighted with him, as their fingers tickled his toes, his armpits. It was getting very obviously deliberate—for every ribbon he felt them remove, several long seconds had to be spent under their merciless fingers.

They praised him in their native tongue. He squirmed, and giggled, and lost himself to the spiral. Lost himself to the unbearable teasing.

The torture went on for what felt like hours as the song droned on, and on, and on. Rufus was gasping for breath as he squealed with laughter, his mind lost in winding blue and green ribbons. They had him for their little tickle games, and there was nothing he could do about it but accept that they were going to tease him until he was a crimson mess.

"All done!" said the deer-skulled woman, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

He blinked.

It had been a minute or two, as far as he could tell. The woman were still dancing, and his 'rescuers' were rejoining the circle now. Only the deer-skulled woman remained to help him to his feet.

"Ye'll have to pardon us," she said, winking as she led him by the hand out of the maypole dance. "We... may've gotten a little carried away. We're na used to outsiders bein' so... sensitive."

"Uh. Yeah." Rufus was still horribly dizzy. He knew they'd tickled him pink, and he instinctively clutched at his sides, as if at any moment they would all turn and spring upon him again. "Well, um, thank you."

"Don't mention it!" He jumped a little as she patted him on the shoulder. "Have a good time, Rufus!"

"Th-Thanks. Yo too!" He smiled weakly after her as he hurried away from the scene.

As he departed, though, a strange thought struck him.

Wait, since when does she speak English?

~ ~ ~ ~

Brielle arrived not long after. Because they'd both made such excellent time getting back, they decided to spend some time in town, head back to the ruins, and then just camp out for the night and run the investigations in the morning. Brielle was very tired after the walk, and he was still ... well.

Explaining it all to Brielle was mortifying. He'd even considered keeping it a secret, but first, he feared one of the village girls would tell her anyways, and second, he was a little disturbed by it all. She, however, seemed unconcerned.

"Like I said, the girls 'round these parts are... sly." She gave a wide shrug. "It's how courting works. All flirtin' an' teasin'. You presented too tempting a target. It's important na ta let 'em know they've got to you."

"A bit late for that now," Rufus muttered.

"Agh, yes." She bit her lip. "Some of 'em will leave ye be after 'getting their fill', but I'd avoid putting yourself in any states like that around them ion the future. Others are gonna see in you a... well, a fun sport. They won't pull anything so blatant as what they did today, of course." She jabbed him in the side with a wink. He flinched. "I should probably mention that the new moon festivals, ah, tend to involve a lot of wine. They weren't themselves. Really, ye're lucky they didn't try to get you as drunk as they. We might be havin' a very different kinda conversation if they had."

"This town is starting to unnerve me, Brielle—no offense."

"Yeah... yeah, I can see that." Brielle chewed her lip. "It's a nice place, really. Jes' the folk are a little wild."

Rufus swallowed. You can say that again.

Part of him wanted to ask Brielle about the maypole. About how... how it had made him so dizzy. Something about that felt important. But what was he supposed to say? Say, Brielle, how come those ribbons hypnotized me into doing whatever the women wanted?

She'd think he was addled by heat at best and a fool at worst. She'd think it was all in his head.

Which... maybe it was. He didn't know. Rufus was just trying to get by in a very, very strange town.

Brielle nudged him, and Rufus blinked. "Say, why don't we relax a bit?" She gestured to a building up ahead. "Enjoy one of the more modern attractions in this little village?"

Rufus squinted. There was no sign on the building to identify it, but as they drew closer, he saw that it appeared to be some sort of massage parlor. A blonde woman and a redhead in plain green shirts and skirts manned the counter, both looking exceptionally cheerful considering the clear tedium of their task at the moment.

"Massages?"

"Sure!" Brielle grinned brightly at him. "Wouldn't that be a nice way to relax?"

He considered it. Brielle seemed unusually eager. "I suppose I could work on my research while you did that."

"Oh, well, I meant—" She trailed off, then laughed, rolling her eyes. "Sure. I'll get you the rubbings I got, and you can look 'em over while I have myself seen to. I need it after the walk here."

"Regretting leaving your shoes behind now?" he asked, smiling slightly as they entered. The massage parlor's air was heavy and hot, and steam rose all around them, blurring his vision a little.

"Yeah, yeah..." Brielle beamed as they approached the counter. "Afternoon, Siobhan! Ciara! I'm feelin' a bit stiff. Mind if I owe you one?"

The blonde tsked. "You'd owe us three, Brielle, dear." She was an older woman—perhaps in her thirties. "Bring us an extra basket of mushrooms this week an' we'll keep it at two."

Brielle gave a somewhat nervous laugh—the first time Rufus had seen her nervous around anyone, now that he thought about it. "Aye, aye, fair enough. An' Ciara!" She gestured back to Rufus as he took a seat in the front area of the building. "This's Rufus, a friend from outside."

"Well, hello, Rufus," Ciara chirped, batting her eyelashes at him. She was a curvy woman, and seemed a little off-balance, as if she'd recently been drinking.

"Yes, hello," Rufus said absently, taking a seat and pulling out some of the papers.

There was a pause. Rufus looked up; Ciara looked confused, and a little peeved.

"Oh, he's na getting' a massage, Ciara," Brielle said. "Just gonna study while I'm seen to."

"But..." Ciara and Siobhan exchanged strange looks.

"He's employin' me right now. No mischief; he's not lookin' for it."

Ciara—the younger redhead—raised her hands defensively, as if the very idea was absurd. She seemed annoyed. Seeing that the matter had been resolved, Rufus returned to his papers.

Siobhan came out from behind the counter and took Brielle by the hand, leading her to the right. The right half of the building was taken up with several comfortable-looking mats. Brielle nonchalantly took off her shirt and skirt, leaving only her undergarments, and lay down facedown on the mat. Siobhan knelt next to her.

As they began a steady stream of murmured banter, Rufus allowed himself to tune it out and concentrate on his work. He had in front of him four completed pages of rubbings. He sighed, missing his phone. Photos would be vastly preferable right now.

On one knee, he balanced his journal. On the other, he laid the papers. Translation was a long and tedious process, so he was hear for the long haul. Hopefully the steam wouldn't mess up the rubbings.

As he worked and took notes, Rufus allowed his mind to drift into his work, and gradually forgot where he was. It was easier that way. The air was heady, but not so much that he was having too much trouble breathing. It looked thicker in the massage area where Brielle was, though.

As Rufus examined the first paper, he vaguely registered another woman coming in. He didn't look up, and she was quickly escorted by Ciara to a mat just behind his chair. He frowned, peering intently at a sigil. He couldn't tell if it was a fault of the rubbing, or if he was just translating wrong again.

God, this was frustrating.

Someone said something to him in Irish. He gave a start, turning around.

The speaker was a dark-haired woman lying face-up on the mat next to him. She smiled brightly up at him as Ciara gently massaged her neck in her lap. It was a gentle, sensual sort of massage.

The dark-haired woman said something else, waggling her toes. Rufus bit his lip, eyes drawn down to her slender, elegant soles. She seemed to be asking him to massage them while Ciara massaged her neck.

"S-Sorry," he said uncertainly, looking to Ciara as if hoping she would translate. "I don't speak Irish."

Ciara met his gaze, smiled, and whispered something to the dark-haired woman. She giggled; Rufus had the feeling she hadn't been a faithful translator.

The dark-haired woman continued to smile. She slowly lifted one leg, resting it on his ankle, toes gently tickling his bare skin. She said the same thing again. He still didn't understand it. But his face was getting hotter.

Rufus's mouth was dry. Her foot felt very soft, and very smooth. She grinned, and for a moment he badly—very, very badly—wanted to do as she said.

"You have such pretty eyes," he heard Ciara murmur to her. "Such pretty, deep green eyes. Eyes to get lost in."

Rufus swallowed, staring into those pretty eyes. Distantly, he registered that Ciara was speaking English. The toes continued to delicately stroke along his ankle.

The dark-haired woman said the same thing a third time, this time in a sweet cooing voice like syrup. Rufus knew his face was beetred at this point. He stared into her eyes as her toes nimbly grazed along his knee.

"Such easy eyes to stare into," Ciara purred. "Such easy eyes to surrender to. So hard to look away."

The dark-haired woman's smile widened. Her eyes really were very... very pretty.

"Sorry," Rufus mumbled, and scooted the chair away out of her reach. Her face fell slightly in disappointment. He quickly tore his gaze away from those pretty, pretty eyes, trying desperately to hide how dizzy he was feeling.

He was about to go back to his book when he noticed Brielle.

Rufus's guide was facing away from him, so he couldn't see her expression, just her posture—completely, utterly relaxed. Her face was basically flat against the mat, as if she couldn't even move if she wanted to. Nothing too strange about that—she was getting a massage, after all.

But there was something else. Siobhan, the older blonde, was currently rubbing between her shoulder blades. But her lips were pressed up to Brielle's ear.

Whispering to her.

Suddenly. Rufus wondered if what he had mistaken for a small talk conversation was in fact not a conversation—but a monologue.

Brielle quivered as Siobhan's fingers glided over the small of her back, in an almost... ticklish gesture. She gave a wicked grin as Brielle's back arched in response.

Rufus hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was interfere in this place's customs. Brielle was a returning customer here—surely whatever was happening now was normal.

Or she thought it was normal. She had seemed... strangely eager to come here.

The air in here was so thick with steam, it was making his head feel light. He stained his ears, trying not to give away to Ciara that he was paying attention.

He couldn't quite make out what Siobhan was whispering.

But he could hear Brielle whimpering back, "Yes. Yes. Yes."

The memory drifted into his mind unbidden: Him lying on his back, trussed up in red ribbon, staring up in a dreamy daze into a spiral of color.

He glanced back at the dark-haired woman and Ciara, who now seemed quite preoccupied with each other. Rufus briefly wondered if this parlor offered other services.

He surreptitiously moved to a chair nearer Brielle and listened intently. His heart was pounding.

Now he could hear what was being whispered.

"Such a good girl," Siobhan was cooing. "Such a good girl. Mind so soft."

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

"So good to feel so weak," Siobhan hissed. "That's a good, good girl..."

"Yes. Y-Yes..."

"Brielle!" Rufus called. "You alright there?"

"Yes," he heard Brielle whimper. "Yes."

Siobhan looked startled, but she quickly recovered with a look of sly confidence. "She enjoys what she paid for, doesn't she?" Her hand caressed Brielle's ass.

"Yes."

Rufus leaped to his feet, letting the journal fall to the floor but clutching the papers tight. His head spun a little—the air here was headier than he'd thought. "Brielle!" he said sharply.

"Yes. Yes."

Rufus hurried over, ignoring the protests of the masseuses, and flicked Brielle on the nose.

"Ow!" Brielle's hand flew to her nose. She stared up at Rufus, blinking rapidly. "What... what are you..."

"Brielle, they were—were, um..." Rufus shot the two woman a nervous look. They were both glaring at him. "Brielle, can I... speak to you outside?"

~ ~ ~ ~

Brielle's expression was ashen as they hurried away from the parlor.

"I didn't... I didn't know why I wanted to stop here so badly," she said softly, eyes wide. "I stop here every week. It's why I owe 'em so many favors. You... you don't suppose..."

"I don't know. Rufus grimaced. "I'm an archeologist, not a psychologist. I don't know if... if hypnosis really works. But you seemed really out of it." He bit his lip. "And, um... I'm starting to think hypnosis might not be so rare in this town."

Reluctantly, he parted with the extra details behind that noon's little ribbon incident.

Brielle looked disturbed. "It can't... it must be some sort of misunderstandin', Rufus. I can't believe that of this town. It's odd, but..."

She stopped short. Rufus kept walking a few steps before he registered, stopped as well, and turned to face her.

She was staring at him in horror. "Ye don't suppose... when people stop mistrustin' the folk of this village, start joinin' in the old ways, like Talla's lot did..."

Rufus shook his head. It was too much to even imagine. It felt like science fiction, or like some silly movie from the 70s. "If that's true—and I'm not saying it is—I guess you stayed clearer of it because you aren't around... as much. Since you're always hunting mushrooms and such. So... at least there's that."

"Did I stay clear of it?" Brielle sounded panicked. Rufus realized that while he was trying to stay skeptical—even if he wasn't sure it was exactly rational to be skeptical in this situation—Brielle was taking this very, very seriously. "Rufus, I grew up here! I go to that parlor every week! Sometimes more 'n that, if we're bein' honest! I can't imagine what they could've been workin' on me."

"Well... yes." Rufus cleared his throat. "But Brielle, we don't even know if all this is true." He shot an uneasy glance around them, remembering they were still in town—and some houses had open windows.

"It is true. It has to be." Brielle stared up at the sky. "It explains everythin'. Why people talk behind my back. Why it's so rare for folk to leave here. But... who'd be behind it?"

Rufus swallowed. "Well... who's in charge around here?" Privately, he wasn't sure he should be encouraging this kind of panic. Brielle was not taking his theory well at all.

She turned to him, stricken. "No one is! I mean, I s'pose the elders, in a sense, but this village... we've never felt any need for kings or mayors or anythin' of the sort."

"Brielle, I feel I should... two incidents don't a conspiracy make." Rufus coughed. "And you might not want to jump to conclusions."

"Right. You're right." Brielle nodded quickly, though she seemed unconvinced. "I just... it's just a lot, Rufus. It's just a lot to imagine. And it scares me to think about it." She frowned at him uncertainly. "An' bein' frank with you, Rufus, the way people're actin around you is almost as unsettling. The girls are always flirts, but Ingrid back there? She's never acted this way with local boys! It's like everyone in town is out to make you a husband."

Rufus bit his lip. "I really can't stress how much I'm not interested in that."

"Mm-hm." Brielle looked like she wanted to make a joke, but through force of will, she kept a straight face. "Anyways, it's got me worryin'. Maybe we should... just get out of town for a while."

"I agree." Rufus held up his purchases. "Besides, if this is some kind of effort to distract us from the research, we should double down on the research."

"Oh! That reminds me." Brielle's eyes lit up. "You'll never believe what I found."

~ ~ ~ ~

The little maze did lead somewhere, as it turned out.