Magical Mystery Tour Ch. 01

Fantasy 1: Underneath The Mango Tree

Arnold Craven drove his rented BMW in the streets of London out to find that Madame Gypsy Rose’s address that his pal Johnny Olron gave him. He turned left to a narrow street called Dean driving slowly as he scoured the building establishments.

Finally he spotted the place. It was a jazz pub called Al-Grozo with Egyptian decor. Johnny said that he had to speak the password Umbop to the bartender. Once inside the joint, he sat on a barstool and ordered scotch on the rocks from the mustachioed Arab bartender. A motley crowd was listening to a fat woman onstage singing a Billy Holiday classic backed up by a group of middle-aged musicians. Arnold took a mental note of himself.

Arnold is six feet tall with some resemblance to Pierce Brosnan. Maybe the hair or the lips. At 51 his hair has been graying nicely, ever more making him a handsome executive in a communication company in the US. He told his friend Johnny, a bit older than him and a Jack Nicholson look-a-like that he couldn’t get it up anymore and his sex life has been a sorry note. Since his wife died he often had bouts of depression. He needed some fire in his gut. He knew Viagra but he was reluctant to try it. His mind is often times elsewhere that he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do. His pal Johnny Olron is always enjoying life, quite the opposite of him. Johnny is an absolute pussyhound. He’d had the best, he’d had the worst but still unaffected by any kind of sexual disease. But although he abhors his pal’s excessive womanizing, he still remains as his best friend. Son of a very wealthy man Johnny doesn’t need to work. Racing cars and chasing women have always been his prime passion. Recently Johnny gave him a gift card that says: ‘for the man who seems to have everything’—Madame Rose Claviére and below is the address. It intrigued him that one day he decided to take the plunge and wing to London.

Halfway through his drink, he called the bartender and leaned over close to the side of his face and murmured the password to him. The bartender looked at him briefly and while polishing a glass he inconspicuously instructed him where to proceed.

After paying for his drink, he left a twenty-dollar tip and set off to the direction he was given. He entered the door marked ‘unauthorized persons keep off’. Inside he walked into an empty, dimly lit hallway then saw to his left the stairs leading down. He went three plights down until he reached an alley and headed toward a gray double door and pushed them open. Alas! It was an entrance to a somewhat simulated mine tunnel with a bridge to cross. The overhead curve and the walls that looked like furrowed earth were seething with red glow like there was molten matter beneath. “Thank goodness it’s warm here than the cold weather outside,” he told himself. The bridge had a wooden plank wide enough for his two feet to stand and walk on. There were ropes on both sides to hold on to. The plank creaked and swayed slightly under his steps. He could hear gurgling sound of water beneath the bridge with steam rising above it giving a misty setting around. Cautiously, he staggered along recalling those Indiana Jones’ movies he saw in the 80s.

The bridge was terminated with a bend that was dimly lighted. While his eyes adjusted to the dark way up ahead a very tall, mummified figure carrying what seemed to be a scythe stopped him dead on his tracks.

Before he could utter a word, the mummy raised the scythe above to cut him off. Arnold stepped backward holding up his hands to shield his head.

“Hey, Please no I’m here to see Madame Rose,” Arnold managed to yell despite the horror that struck him. The mummy lowered the scythe and spoke in a deep voice, “follow me,” and turned his back on him and walked in a brisk manner. Arnold quickly calmed down and followed in his footsteps through the twists and turns in that tunnel stepping on little animal bones like a bat’s skull until they reached a metal door which looked like an old vault with a turning wheel. The door is lighted by burning torches hanging by its sides. The mummy steered the wheel back and forth and then pulled the heavy door outward after an unlatching metal sounded.

“Get inside,” the mummy ordered and he did so. The door closed behind him sounding as if he was locked inside. It was chamber with a bat cave décor, cobwebs hanging so that he had to cast aside with his arm to see what else was inside. He found a tribunal in front that is seen only clearly whenever an artificial lightning light flashes over accompanied by the sound of a distant rumble. Slowly he walked toward and saw a slab of stone raising up from the ground along with a high back stone chair making a sound like that of crunching gravel and a mild tremor under his feet. It stopped at the level a desk should stand. Behind the chair was a bluish curtain that turned brighter upon the lightning flash. He stood next to the slab and wondered what’s going to happen next.

What kind of a game is this. Am I going to be pinned down here and left for weird creatures to devour me? He shook his head forcing such notion from his mind. He touched the slab of stone, which was a cold marble with eerie streaks of veins. Suddenly strong incense wafted through his nostrils as smoke began emanating from below the curtains. He stepped back and covered his nose with the scarf around his neck so as not to be smothered by the smoke. When the smoke cleared up, a spotlight was thrown at the center of the curtain, which was parted by a tall, masked woman dressed sexily in a catwoman’s costume which displayed an impressive cleavage, narrow waist and curvy hips on shapely legs.

“This must be Madame Rose. Johnny didn’t tell me that she looked like this,” he mumbled under his breath. He thought she’s like some old witch.

“Good evening. Mr. Craven,” she spoke in a throaty bedroom voice.

“Um…good evening to you Madame Rose.” His bewilderment faded soon as she greeted him with a smile.

“The reception is quite enchanting,” he said.

“Certainly, my domain is enchanted. Welcome, Mr. Craven. I’m glad you didn’t have a faint heart on your way here,” she said and moved to take her seat.

“Oh, I believe that I still have a strong heart.”

“Good for you Mr. Craven, ‘cause that’s what you need here.

“You can call me Arny,” he said pronouncing it like horny.”

“Then Arny it is. Let’s do away with formalities and call me Rose.”

Just then he noticed that another masked woman appeared behind him pushing a chair for him to sit. She was clad in a cat suit all the same but with her beautiful tits exposed, pushed up and pressed together to make out a very fulsome impression. His whole body tingled pleasantly at the sight of the two women.

“Please sit down Arny,” Madam Rose said.

“Thank you,” he said and nodded his thanks to the woman with tits out. She made a little curtsy bow and disappeared in the shadow where she came.

Madame Rose went straight to the point. “Your friend have already taken care of the expenses but if you happen to have additional requests then it’s on you to decide and add.”

“May I know how much this whole thing had cost my friend?”

“One hundred thousand dollars. Down payment has been given, and if you are satisfied with the result half of the payment will be charged to your friend.”

“Oh,” he smirked. “This is something, huh?” A pause. “My friend Johnny is fantastic. He certainly knew something that I always didn’t know,” he informed her.

“He’s a regular client. Now tell me about your fantasy.”

“I’d like to be James Bond.”

Madame Rose nodded. “Of course, in a company of a beautiful woman.”

“Yeah,’ he said slightly blushing. “I feel like an old man and it’s funny why I should be doing this.”

“You oughta have fun. And you won’t regret this Arny. There is no age limit here. Most of my clients are much older than you. The only thing that is required is that you are willing to try this out with complete trust and by attesting to it you sign your name on this piece of paper.

He read the contents written in gothic letters and then Madame Rose pushed toward him on the desk a knife and a quill pen.

“Sign it with your own blood,” Madame Rose said.

“What!”

“I’m just kidding, remember this is all for fun.”

“Oh! You almost get me there,” he grinned and signed his name on the piece of paper.

“All right then. On with our game. Now who in particular would you like to have for company? You have to give me the name of the woman. James Bond have a great list of women he bedded in his movies to which I’m sure you are familiar with.”

“I think … Halley Berry?”

“Oh by the way there were actors who acted the role of James Bond. From Sean Connery to Roger Moore this is categorized as the philandering James Bonds. From Timothy Dalton to Pierce Brosnan they are considered as the civilized James Bonds and Halle Berry happens to be in Pierce Brosnan’s scope. You have to choose among these actors whom you would like to act out in your fantasy. If you choose Sean Connery then you’ll have to pick on the list of his women and that goes the same for the rest of the actors. If you can’t recall the names of the women then I could help you with that.”

He leaned backward “If I may ask you, whom would you choose among the James Bond actors?”

“Sean Connery,” she replied straight out.

“Why if I may ask again?”

“Because he’s got a bigger dick than the rest of them and he’s got fantastic stamina.”

A shaky laugh fell on his lips. “Okay, I’ll choose Sean and the woman would be ah, um Ursula Andress. Yeah, that’s right!” He blurted out. “The woman who emerged from the sea and walked the surf wearing a bikini with a belt knife. I couldn’t forget that scene.”

“That is a classic beach scene to which many a film have reprised but couldn’t beat. Perfect choice.”

“If I want another lady, is that okay?”

“Another 25 grand should be added and you have to wait for the waxing moon as I’ll have to prepare another potion for that. I do great preparation for every wish. That goes the same if you like two ladies or more at the same time which should cost you more. If you are satisfied with this one then certainly you will come back to try another until probably you have taken all the ladies you’d like to have. And each time you come back for more we’ll give you as much as 10 per cent discount.”

“Jesus, this is really fantastic!”

“Shall we begin, Arny?”

“I think so, Madame er…Rose,” he replied.

Madame rose snapped her fingers and the lady with her tits out appeared again from the shadows carrying a tray that held two stem glasses containing some brewed concoction.

“What are these?”

“The potion for your fantasy. You have to drink them all. Take your time if you wish and while you drink enjoy our compliment—Marie our exotic dancer will dance and strip away her clothes.”

“Wow! You really know how to make a man happy. May I know what these drinks contained?”

“Sweet red wine, rose petals, cloves, apple seeds, strawberry juice, vanilla extract, ginseng root and for the rest of the recipe my lips are sealed as they are to remain secret. I must leave you now Arny to attend to my other clients. Drink your wine accordingly as marked in numbers one and two and don’t interchange them. As soon as you finished the two glasses then you’ll find yourself in your great fantasy. Good luck and enjoy. See you later.”

She stood and turned away and parted the curtain to exit leaving a memory of her bare spectacular ass. The tits lady appeared again carrying votive candles on a tray setting them one by one on the stone desk half circling his two stem glasses filled with Madame Rose’s brews. He watched her tits jiggled as she set them all on the table. A moment later the room darkened and the candles only served as the flickering light while he began sipping his drink.

“Not bad, hmmm,” he whispered thoughtfully.

The spotlight was thrown back to the curtain and Arnold squinted in anticipation. The stripper appeared out of the curtain wearing a costume that dated back to eighteen century. She looked demure and virginal. A jolly chamber music was heard and the woman started to work stripping down her enormous clothes with dexterity. When fully naked, she danced like a ballerina in a slow erotic dance and Arny was in complete awe.

“What an artistic show. I’ve never seen the likes of it before,” he mumbled to himself and for the first time in years his sex hormones were raging. He realized then that he had consumed all the two wineglasses that were served to him never knowing how they really tasted. But it left a peppermint taste in his mouth.

As soon as the lady stripper disappeared his body trembled and a blue spectrum of lights shone out from him. The aura surrounding him increased to its brightness until he could only see white light enveloping his body.

In something like 10 seconds, he saw a mental picture of himself shooting out like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. A revitalizing effect took over in his body with the sound of crackling bones here and there until he felt tightness in his gut. Suddenly he was feeling great and very youthful.

When he opened his eyes from what seemed to be a deep slumber he was surprised to find himself on a Caribbean beach on a crisp, beautiful sunny day. Quickly he noticed his tanned hairy arms and it was definitely not his. He touched himself and felt that he had a very lean and muscular physique and his paunch belly was gone. It seemed like Sean Connery’s persona had taken over him. His senses tangled with the scent of the beautiful sea breeze and the surfing sound of the water. When he glanced around he saw the movie crew on the beach surprisingly still, frozen from the activity they were doing. He saw the director, Terence Young holding a megaphone, his mouth opened in the act of yelling and his other hand was raised in front pointing a finger toward the sea. The crew, from the cameramen to the production assistant, the man holding the boom mike, the clapper and everyone else were all a bunch of stiffs.

He stood from the sandy ground and brushed off the sand from the seat of his pants. His clothes fitted him well, an ice blue sport shirt with matching pants sans belt with the hem folded up close to his knees. He was barefoot. He walked around investigating the stiffed people and they looked like wax figures from a wax museum. He shook his head and fancied pulling off the bulging wallet of the director from his pants pocket. He found some 300 dollars and smaller bills and a picture of a lovely woman. “Hey I could earn some money here,” he grinned but returned the wallet into the director’s back pocket. One guy was seated, eyes squinting out to the sea, well dressed in a safari suit and holding a cigar between his fingers dangling from the armchair. Even the smoke was frozen. He must be ‘Cubby’ Brocolli the producer. He was tempted to touch one woman whose blouse hinted big breasts underneath but refrained from doing so. Nevertheless he patted her butt, reminding him what an incredible freedom he was having.

Not long after he heard a woman singing a Caribbean folksong. She had just emerged from the sea and was walking the surf in a stunning white bikini and knife belt slung low about her hips. His heart beat faster.

“Holy Cow, she’s really Ursula Andress. This is incredible!” Arny exclaimed.

It crossed his mind that the woman is Honeychiles Rider who went with James Bond in his pursuit of Dr. No.

“Are you looking for shells too?” Honey Rider asked upon seeing James.

“No, I’m just looking,” James replied.

As she moved closer to him his manhood had thickened and hardened beneath his trousers like never before.

Arnold could not believe that he was actually speaking the dialogue between James Bond and Honey Rider.

“What the hell happened here? Everybody turned like stone effigies except us, James!”

Realizing the change in dialogue, he knew he was on his own now.

“I myself couldn’t believe this has happened,” he answered shrugging his shoulders.

“Do you think they touched those radioactive rocks in this island?”

“I don’t think so, that was only in the script,” he answered cleverly.

“James, it’s just the two of us here. I’m scared,” her beautiful face frowned.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be up and moving about after two hours like nothing happened.”

“You think so?”

“Positively. Otherwise this picture will not be finished.”

“Oh God thanks. I’m not alone,” she said slipping her arms under James’ and pressing her body close to him.

“James, I like your manly scent,” she murmured as her nose brushed at the crook of his shoulder and neck.

“I can say that our senses are mutually appreciating each other’s body.”

“James is that a gun in your pocket or you’re just glad to see me?” she said leaning back a little bit and glancing down at him.

“I believe that you’re talking about my gun that is licensed not to kill but to thrill. And yes I’m very happy to see you.”

“Then what shall we do around here and about that license to thrill weapon of yours, James?” She lifted her face to him; her mouth fractionally opened and eyes glittering with desire. He pressed her close to him and she shoved her hips against him grinding and teasing the hell of out his tumescent.

“With a beautiful woman like you I can certainly think of ideas to kill time.”

“Like what?”

“Kissing you for a start.”

James kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, brushed his lips on hers, until he’s sampling her his French kissing. And she responded with her own style and with as much ardor as he initiated. They felt that rush of excitement in their bodies and before long they were locked in steamy, sensual embrace and torrid kissing with no director to yell cut.

“Oh James, let’s get out of our clothes before these people come back to life,” she giggled flirtatiously.

“You first.”

“Yes, and then I’ll help you.” She reached behind her back and undid her bikini top liberating her breasts, big, strong, full and round and coral pink nipples to chew. The knife belt was next to come off and then the shell back until she stepped out from her bikini bottom tossing them nonchalantly across. It caught in the rigid finger of the director. They both shook with laughter at its unexpected landing.

As she stood fully naked before him, he stepped back a little to examine her divine beauty that could drive a man crazy at the count of three. Her bodily curves were scaled to perfection. Best round and pointed breasts he’d seen around, magnificently proud and gravity defying. And her bush was shaved showing a smooth dome with a deep cleft in the middle

“Why did you shave?” He asked softly.

“Don’t you like it? They told me so. This is for our shower scene that’s supposed to wash off the radioactive elements that contaminated our bodies. In order that the camera won’t catch my pubic hair, I would have to wear this special nude color fabric close to my skin that would as much hint nudity but actually hide it.”

“The heck, I like it?”

“Here let me help you with your shirt.” She yanked off the shirt from his pants and pulled them over his head.”

“You’re such a hairy guy James.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Heck I like it,” she imitated him and her lips zeroed in to his tiny nipples licking and nibbling them till they pebbled and contracted.

“Oh, my god this is really happening,” he spoke in his mind. After titillating the two tiny knobs she slid her face downward nibbling his stomach, pulling the hair between her lips while her hands began to work to undo his trousers.

“You know the rumors is that you have a big dick,” she said glancing up at him while her graceful hand cupped the bulge in his pants making tiny grasps of his hardness. As she was now crouched on her knees on the sand she slowly unzipped his pants and James helped her rid off the damn pants. His white briefs were stretched to the max in front inches before Honey Rider’s face. When Honey slipped them out of him, his trouser snake sprang like King Cobra jolting her head back.