Beetlesmith's Ch. 20

It was almost hypnotic watching it all unfold. So much so, I began to have a bout of tunnel vision, where the crowd of guests was in perfect focus while everything in my periphery was a blur. Adding to that was a strange sensation that I was being pulled forward, toward the guests. I was soon disoriented, and my mind dizzy, as the strong force continued pulling me in such a way that I was leaning far forward, ready to jump into the fray.

I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs away. Looking over at Karen, I understood where the strange sensations were coming from as she stared back at me with an impish grin.

I laughed at her failed attempt to draw me into the crowd, and called her over to me.

As she straddled my legs, she asked, "You can't blame a mistress Queen for trying. Are you mad?"

"No sweetheart, I understand."

"Don't you want to join in?"

"It's just not my taste, now that I'm seeing it firsthand."

"Oh, please," she whined.

I hoisted her bottom up, slipping my cock into her pussy. Then I leaned back on the ottoman, pulling her with me while kissing her deeply.

Without voice, I called Mark over to us, and without voice, I commanded him to enter her.

Karen went wide-eye in surprise, when she felt Mark's slickened cock inching deep into her ass.

I laughed at her surprised look before telling her, "This is close to a man as I'll get."

I watched her face the whole time Mark and I pounded into her, serene and angelic even when screaming in passion and covered by her own sweat. Whether in the throes of orgasm, licking my cock or just licking stamps, she was always, every bit the woman I fell in love with. My own true Helen of Troy, beautiful and captivating, and she was mine, and I would do anything to keep her. Even sail an armada across the world to bring her back to me.

"Your mine, forever," I said quietly to her, as she found violent release.

As her climax waned, she stared at me, bright-eyed, and breathed that sweet phrase from before, "Yes, in all things." Then her eyes moisten as she laid her head in my chest.

We laid such, with her resting on top of me, for a long while, until I said to her, "Sometimes when I look at you I remember this line from a movie, 'There are some women who can change men into boys, and the boys back into men. That's a woman worth fighting for.' I'll always fight for you to my dying day."

She looked up at me with a smile. "Funny, I've been thinking something similar about you lately, that there are some men who can make a woman forget her virtues, and thank God she did. You will never lose me, my sweet, sweet Sir. Never."

I was about to kiss her again when many oily arms wrapped themselves around her, and she was pulled away from me, and into the throng.

That was ironic, God does have a sense of humor.

They all held onto her tight, arms wrapped around various parts of her body as cocks and cunts, lips and mouths were pressed into her. She accepted it all, sucking and stroking, cock and pussy alike, as they came within reach, all while a bevy assortment of fingers and cocks were thrown sensuously into any opening at her other end.

Then from somewhere other than Karen, I again felt that strange sensation. The dizziness and tunnel vision took hold of me, and it looked like everyone was falling away, falling down through dark clouds of soot and ash. I blinked, focused, and saw that I was looking down at that same flat plain from my visions, as if I were hovering above it all, suspended by an invisible force as the others continued their slow descent towards the bottom.

I focused on Karen, trying to take my mind off that plain and the clouds, off those things that I knew weren't really there. She was still wrapped up by the many oily arms, looking as if she were bound by thick cords of rope, held tight against the many oily bodies of the guests. And, as they descended, she was pulled down along with them. Her eyes were wide as she looked back at me, her mouth stamped open in a look of surprise. Stretching out her arms toward me, she beckoned me to join her with the others—beckoning me like the dead, Captain Ahab, whose corpse, when lashed to the side of the great white whale, beckoned his crew to follow him into Perdition.

I followed, and falling into the oily mass, I opened myself up to every lustful act that can be performed under Heaven and Earth.

********

It was about three in the morning when Karen and I heard the first of the guests beginning to stir. Not on the elixir ourselves, we never fell unconscious. Instead, we passed the time playing with each other while the guests slept.

It was Jack. His cock was hard, and he looked wired given his dilated pupils. He was obviously deep in the throes of 'Afterglow.'

During the night, in addition to all the fun we had together, I had brought Karen up to speed on the other side effects of the drug, the ones that I hadn't told her about earlier. I especially told her about the 'Afterglow Effect.' When she saw Jack, she decided to take her leave knowing what he was going to want. Bidding Jack a hasty goodnight, she went up to our room to take a nap for a couple of hours.

Jack looked despondent when she left.

"You're up early," I said to him.

He grunted, "Couldn't sleep. Isn't anyone else up?"

"Nope, everyone's still zonked."

"Fuck!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, playing along, though I knew the answer.

"I don't know what it is, but I'm still horny as hell, and there's no one up to fuck."

"Well, don't look at me."

He laughed weakly at my joke, and said almost to himself, "Maybe I can get Pam or Jackie up."

"You know what I usually do when I'm anxious like you; I take a long walk around the neighborhood."

He looked at me as if I'd just offered him a shit sandwich.

I continued to press him, "No really, I'll join you. I'm sure someone will be up by the time we get back. In the meantime, I can tell you my ideas about the Chevy accounts. Besides, it's cool in the early morning and we could both use the fresh air. It's kind of stuffy in here and smells like stale sex."

He finally agreed.

********

It was about three hours later when I heard the others beginning to stir.

Jack had already left when Karen came down from her 'nap.' Denise was with her.

Their hair was wildly tossed about, having that 'just fucked hard' look, even more so than from the events of last night. It was obvious they had an exquisitely energetic time playing with each other.

They're such naughty little cock slaves. I'll have so much fun with them later.

They both kissed me a good morning.

Sitting next to me, Karen asked, "I heard the door earlier. Where did you go?"

"Oh, I took Jack for a walk around the neighborhood."

Now Denise looked at me like I'd just offeredher a shit sandwich, and asked with distain, "Whatever for, didn't you get enough of the asshole during the party?"

I handed her my cell phone with the pictures I took a couple of hours ago. Denise gasped in horror when she saw them.

Illuminated by a bright, gibbous moon and with the help of the phones internal flash, she saw wonderfully clear shots of Jack in compromising, oral positions. I can't describe the pictures any more than that, except to say that a neighbor's male Black Labrador was available and willing.

Denise wouldn't have to worry anymore about alimony; she'd get anything and everything she asked.

********

I got into work late the following Monday. I knew something was off the minute I hit my floor.

As the elevator doors opened, I could hear a loud crescendo of voices reverberating off the walls and ceiling. The office was abuzz with something. Secretaries were chattering with each other, executives wandered in and out of each other's offices or were talking in the corridors. Nothing related to company business was being done by the looks of things.

I guessed what the excitement was about the second I stepped into view of the crowd —the whole floor went dead silent, as all eyes turned toward me.

Obviously, word leaked back at what happened this weekend.

Goddamn Jack or Candice, nobody can keep their fucking mouths shut anymore.

I walked slowly, yet purposefully, to my office, saying my perfunctory hellos along the way, as I always did. No point in hiding it, or denying it, or being ashamed of it, it was my life, not theirs, and it was Monday morning.

Get to work everyone!

Yet, work was the last thing I could do. Every time I started reviewing stat reports, out of the corner of my eye I could see them wandering past my door to look in. Looking at me like I was some zoo animal caged in its makeshift, natural habitat. All that was missing were the sno-cones, soft pretzels, and iced drinks in the onlooker's grimy hands as they gawked at the exotic beast, hoping it would do something it naturally did in the wild.

Maybe I should whip my cock out and start jerking it for the next onlooker.

I ignored it as best I could. Ignored the stares from the women—some disgusted, some curious, and even some aroused—and those from the men—some jealous, some pious, and still more with admiration.

Getting coffee was always a strange adventure. Mostly snide comments and embarrassed giggles were dropped as I passed, but some sighs, too—maybe out of want and desire, or maybe out of exasperation at my nerve and aplomb. The only constant in my journey to the break room was that it always emptied when I entered, and that all eyes followed me to and from my office. Eventually, I went without coffee the rest of the day.

Candice was at her desk, a nervous look donning her face. I didn't talk to her. I didn't need to, her look told me it was Jack who blabbed.

Maybe I should flash email everyone in the corporation those pictures of him with Fido.

Poor girl, I hoped he, at least, kept her name out of his ribald tales to the other executives. This place would be hell for her if he didn't. I noticed that none of the secretaries were ogling her, so maybe her reputation was safe.

Still, I held my own. I kept ignoring, kept working, and kept talking business to the other executives under my charge when I needed to. None of them said anything about what they heard, and if they were too chicken shit to ask, I wasn't going to say. Yet, their eyes still followed me, stared at me, gawked at me as I worked, and it was beginning to piss me off.

It wasn't until Peter paid me a call around lunch that I'd finally had it with their crap.

Peter, the friend of mine who first gave me the news about Kendall getting shit-canned, came storming into my office slamming the door behind him. He lit into me with a five-minute diatribe, pissed off that I didn't invite him to the orgy. I didn't say anything back to him. I kept my cool while I let him vent his disappointment. Toward the end, he said something like, 'I thought you were my friend. Fuck you, and fuck off,' before storming back out, slamming the door behind him.

After that, I just kept the door closed and gave up on anymore work. Instead, I set about planning the next party.

Yeah, that's right, and I'm going to have it soon, too. I'll invite all those snooty fucks on my floor and everyone else in my neighborhood. I'll even go back to Beetlesmith's for more elixir. He'll have to deliver it in a tanker trunk for the number of assholes I'll invite, and even though most will turn their pious noses up at the invite, I'm sure all of those hypocritical assholes will attend.

I reached into the breast pocket of my suit coat for a pen, when felt stiff paper rustling against my fingertips. Pulling the papers out, I saw that they were yellowed, frayed and dog-eared at the edges, and having the faint aroma of tobacco smoke and wood mold.

It was Beetlesmith's old client list, the one I took from his store months ago. I hadn't worn this suit jacket since that time, and had completely forgotten I had his old list.

Looking at it with curiosity, I read so many names. All were former clients that could no longer obtain the elixir. Someone on that list had violated the code of silence, revealing to someone not on that list of the elixir's existence.

What did Beetlesmith say that time? Silence is golden.

Silence, indeed. Silence and the list were his insurance against prying eyes and exposure. Beetlesmith valued his anonymity, and the cost of violating his treasured secrets was banishment from the elixir. Not just banishment for the wrong doer, specifically, but for every single client on the list, as well.

There were more than a hundred names with corresponding addresses on three sheets of paper, all typed out in neat little rows, just like the list with my name. More than a hundred names banished from the elixir in a blink of an eye.

I wondered who squealed. Who was stupid enough to leak news of the elixir's existence to a third party, so that they, the uninvited, began snooping around Beetlesmith's shop in search of fabled potions? Just one misstep triggered Beetlesmith's reprisals, one misstep lead to banishment for them all.

As for me, I didn't care because I didn't need the elixir. I had my powers. I could make anyone do anything I wished with a thought. I could even change the inanimate, material world to a degree—digital images can be copied before being erased, all with just a thought—and I suspect I can do so much more if I try. That's why I felt secured telling Karen about the substance, even though that was a violation of Beetlesmith's code.

I don't like keeping secrets, especially from those I love. Fuck Beetlesmith, the lying fuck of a fraud, and his fucking code of silence.

So if by happenstance Beetlesmith should ever find out I revealed his secret to another—to my wife, no less—cutting me off of the elixir wouldn't be the punishment he deems it for me. And if by chance, one of the other miscreants on my list came looking for me for revenge because I had sent them all to banishment with my actions, then they had better be silent and quick about their retribution. If not, theywould become known to me, and Iwould destroy them.

I continued to scan the old list with morbid curiosity, recognizing about a third of the names. Many of these were local celebrities, politicians, and the like, who were regularly written about in our local papers, or talked about on our local television news hours.

Some of the more recognizable names were known internationally, very famous movie stars, musicians, and even leaders of state in Washington and from around the globe. It was hard for me to believe that movie stars and musicians would even bother with the elixir—fame and money were strong aphrodisiacs in their own right. However, there they were on the list, former valued customers of Beetlesmith. Now, all were cut off from the drug like the rest of the poor slobs.

It was then, as I continued to peer at the list, that I noticed something unusual about the more famous names. There was an apparent commonality shared between them, and it sent a chill through me. Logging onto the internet, I did a quick search of the more famous names, and sure enough, I was correct, a common thread existed, connecting all the glitterati together.

I broadened my search to include the local celebs. Entering one name after the other, I looked through old news reports and videos. After my search, there could be no doubt. Every name I entered intersected at that same common thread.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood out. I didn't bother searching the less well-known names, it would have taken too long. Besides, I knew instinctively I would find that same common thread running through all the people.

I bolted out of my office with the list in hand. Candice called after me, asking what was wrong, but I didn't stop. I needed to get to Beetlesmith's.

********

Peering through the smoky glass of the shop, I saw him sitting in the same spot I always found him. He was looking over at an older couple who were admiring a piece of bric-a-brac. He was thinking he's about to make a sale until I burst into his shop, spoiling his fun.

When he saw me, he immediately put on that same jovial face he always showed the chumps. The same smile he used just before fucking over our lives. He said, brightly, "Why Mr. Henry, It's been a long time..."

"Fuck you! Explain this!" I screamed, while holding up his old list of clients.

He didn't answer me right away, but followed the old couple with his eyes as they quickly left the store after hearing me scream.

"Well, that's a pity," he finally said, dejected, "You've ruined my sale, Mr..."

"Explain it!" I yelled, again.

He squinted and leaned forward, pretending he couldn't quite make out what I held in my hand. Finally, he said, "It looks like an old client list of mine. How did you get it?"

"Don't give me that shit, you fucking cocksucker! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Everyone on this list is dead!"