Wax Museum: An Erotic Short Story

by

Lexie
Lashe

Wax Museum © Copyright 2013 by
Lexie
Lashe

First Electronic Printing March
2013, The Raven Books

Cover art by Natalie Winters, ©
Copyright 2012-2013

Edited by Suz Gower

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Published by The Raven Books

All books
copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written
permission from the author,
Lexie
Lashe
.

This novel is a work
of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or
dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.

Published by The
Raven Books

www.ravenhappyhour.com
 
www.theravenbooks.com

Raven Books and
all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013

by

Lexie
Lashe

“Wax porn,”
Sandra laughed. She glanced at her best friend and roommate, Max. He was always
dragging her out to see something new, but the tall, western, brothel-style
building was the last thing she’d expected. From one of the top windows a wax
male figure leaned out over the fake wooden balcony. Three hands massaged his
chest from behind, though the women who touched him were hidden from view. Next
to them, a salon girl peeked out of her window to watch. Her period costume
covered her upper body—barely. “You brought me to look at wax porn.”

“I got
an invitation,” Max said, giving her an impish grin. “How could I say no?”

“Easily.
Stop being a social-network whore and stop joining every mailing list that will
have you. Five hours a day on the computer is four too many.”

“But
the emails say they’re important,” he answered. “And how else would you have
seen live, naked, bungee jumping? Or the pants-less flash mob?”

“That
mob contained more jiggling penises than I ever want to see in one place
again.”

Max
laughed as he started rocking his hips to simulate the flash mob’s gyrating
dance moves. “You know you liked it.”

She
slugged him lightly in the shoulder to get him to stop. “You do know everything
I know about wax museums comes from horror movies.”

Sandra
turned her attention to the next display. It was a scene from the French Court
in the palace of King Louis. A noblewoman had an expression of pleasure on her
face as a man’s boots poked out from under her oversized gown. It was so
realistic; she could see the scuff marks on the soles from
everyday
wear. “Is it wrong I’m jealous someone is getting laid? Even if they are made
out of melted candles?”

“You
are pathetic, Sandy,” Max said. “I have no idea why you’re not getting any. You
could have almost any guy you want and you bitch about not being able to get
laid. Seriously, guys are easy. You find one in a bar, crook your finger at him
and he’ll do whatever you want him to. We’re simple creatures. We eat, sleep
and try to fuck whoever will have us.”

“Charming,”
Sandra drawled, “and you wonder why we’re just roommates.”

“
Er
, no, we’re just roommates because you don’t have a
penis.”

“Ah,
that’s it.” She gave a wry laugh. “I keep forgetting.”

“Enough
jokes,” he said, hooking her arm. “Let’s go behind the curtain.” He pointed to
a sign that read
Warning: Erotica
Gallery. By entering you agree that the museum is not liable for anything that
might happen inside
.

“What
do you think that’s all about?” Sandra asked. “People getting busy freaked out
a couple of customers or something? Some lady fainted because she thought the
displays were moving and it was really a horny couple?”

“These
displays are a little creepy.” Max’s hand tightened on her arm. “I swear their
eyes follow us.”

“Actually,
I did a college paper on the phenomena.” Sandra stopped near the sign before
entering, pointing to the face of a very athletic man looking out from the
inside of a 1950’s Chevy. He had a half smile on his face and a brunette bent
over his lap. “It all has to do with perspective and how the artist uses the
highlights and shadow of the paint. Since the paint is fixed in place, wherever
you walk the position of it doesn’t change and it creates the illusion that the
eyes are following you. But—”

“I take
it back. I know exactly why you’re not getting laid,” Max interrupted. “You are
such a geek.”

She
laughed, knowing full and well he meant it with love…even though it was true.

“Actually,”
a voice said, “it is because the wax is magical and has a life of its own. The
people and places are blessed, or cursed, depending on your definition of the
word.”

Sandra
turned to look at the man who spoke. He was in his late sixties, and wore a
smock that strangely matched the gray hair of his temples.

“You
must be the artist,” Max said.

“You’re
very talented.” Sandra said a silent prayer her friend wouldn’t say anything
asinine to embarrass her. Max didn’t always have a filter.

The
artist looked at her. “I like your face. You would make a fine addition.”

“You…”
She blinked in confusion, glancing around. “You want me to model for you?”

“Perhaps.”
He walked away, moving to a group waiting by the front door. “But it is not
really up to me. It is the wax that makes the decision.”

“See, I
told you guys wanted you,” Max teased.

“Please,
he’s like my dad’s age. And I’m pretty sure he just said he wanted to encase me
in wax.” Sandra pushed the curtain aside and walked into the erotica room.

The
first displays didn’t really do anything for her—bondage gear, paddle spanking,
grown men pretending to be babies. The artistic details were amazing and she
could appreciate that much, but they weren’t her scene and she didn’t find them
particularly arousing. She wasn’t into men crapping in their diapers so their
nannies could change them—no matter how aroused their male parts appeared.

“To
each their own,” she mumbled, moving on.

The
displays formed a path through the room, forcing the onlookers to walk in a
single direction through the museum. There was a woman being fucked on a pool
table, her breast squished in her lover’s palm. A 1960s couple made love before
the light of a black-and-white television show. A blanket molded around their
bodies as the husband remained eternally on top, mid-thrust. Two drug addicts
had dirty sex in a dank alley. Another couple did it in a bathroom stall. A man
jerked off to the peep show dancer’s ass pressed intimately against glass.

Suddenly,
the pathway split. Two male symbols pointed in one direction, two female in
another, and then a male and female in a third. Max laughed, pushing her to
what he called the “straight hall” while he went to explore something a little
more to his taste.

Now
alone, she wandered into the hall. A small chill worked over her as the lights
dimmed. The displays became intimate—a kiss, a caress, a lingering look. There
was a lifted skirt and a hand upon a thigh. Her stomach tightened in longing.
This was what she craved—desire. More than anything she wanted to be desired.
She wanted a man to look at her, deep and sure, like the cover of some grocery
store romance novel. She wanted a man so passionate for her that he didn’t stop
to think. A real man, a strong man, an alpha.

Just as
she thought it, she came upon the perfect specimen of her fantasy—a lone man
standing before a long stretch of forest, which was cut by a dirt path. Dark,
shoulder-length hair framed sinfully dark eyes. They seemed to call to her,
beckoning her in. Behind him was the hint of a cabin. Her eyes traveled down to
a bare chest, to snuggly fitted jeans and sturdy work boots. His nipples looked
erect, matching the clear outline his hard cock formed beneath his jeans. The
man was aroused.

“How
sad for you, lumberjack,” Sandra said to no one in particular, taking her fill
of him. “Stuck in a permanent state of arousal.”

Now
this was a man—strong, outdoorsy, confident. What she wouldn’t do to him if he
was real and they were alone.

A
flannel shirt lay across a nearby log, held down by an axe. She stepped slowly
to the side, trying to peek deeper into the forest. Who was he waiting for?
More of the cabin came into view. The painted background was terrifically
realistic. She wondered how deep the display actually went. Sandra glanced
around, searching for security cameras or guards. Not seeing any, she quickly
reached forward to touch a tree trunk. The wax was firm beneath her fingers.
Then, glancing around again, she came to the man. Quickly, she reached to touch
the hard length in his pants. A giggle escaped her at the small display of
naughtiness.

“You
are a big lumberjack, aren’t you?” Sandra said. “Too bad they don’t make men
like you in real life.”

She
began to walk away, but something stopped her. She turned to him once more.
Then, reaching out, she moved to touch his cock. Something compelled her to
want to feel it. She pressed her palm more firmly against him, running her
fingers up and down the hard length. For wax it felt really nice, warm and so
lifelike. Her sex wetted with cream. Her nipples tingled.

Suddenly,
a hand grasped her wrist and pulled her toward the display. She let loose a
scream of surprise as she tumbled to the waxy ground. With a hard thud, her
face slammed into dirt.

“Finally,”
a gruff voice said.

Blinking
in confusion, she tried to get her bearings as she pushed up. The air was sweet
and a cool breeze hit the back of her head. The trees moved. Terrified, she
turned to get out of the display, but the museum was gone. In its place was
more forest.

“What’s
happening?” she asked, her voice shaking almost as badly as her limbs.

“Finally,”
the voice said again. The lumberjack was moving, talking.

“Max
set this up,” she said, voicing the only explanation she could think of. “That
bitch.”

The
lumberjack made a move toward her, stalking her like his prey. She lifted her
hand to stop the hallucination. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her fingers
to his very aroused cock. A low moan sounded and he began undoing his belt with
one hand as he kept her fingers to him with the other. For a moment, she was
too stunned to protest. Despite herself, she felt a shock of awareness in her
pussy. Cream gathered between her thighs, dampening her panties so they clung
to her sex.

She
looked around the forest. A bird squawked. Bugs chirped. Feeling heat, she
turned her attention back to the man. He had pulled her hand down the front of
his opened pants, forcing her to massage his cock.

She
jerked away from him. The feel of him tingled against her palm and she wiped it
against her leg to erase the sensation. “What are you doing? What is this?
Where am I? Are you an escort?”

“You’re
in my fantasy. I’ve been waiting for a very long time.” He strode forward and
took her by the back of the neck to jerk her to his chest. His mouth hit hers
in a hard kiss. She made a small noise of surprise. His lips moved insistently,
and for a long moment she made no move to stop him.

Then,
as if coming to her senses, she pushed his chest. She breathed hard and hurried
toward where the display should be. She didn’t care that it looked like forest.
If she got in, there had to be a way out. With a hard smack, she ran into a
barrier and fell back. She ignored the pain, instead crawling toward the
invisible wall trapping her in the strange world.

Her
hand hit the wall, and she searched it for an opening. Then, from behind, the
lumberjack grabbed her hips and pulled. Without her realizing what he was up
to, he had knelt behind her. The hard press of his cock hit her ass and she
moaned, more surprised at her physical response than what he did to cause it.

“Ah,
there’s a lover,” he said. Hands fumbled at her waist, trying to unfasten her
jeans. She tried to crawl along the invisible barrier. He moved with her a few
paces, his movements hampered by the fact he was on his hands and knees. He
directed her around toward the tree stump holding his shirt and axe.

Sandra’s
heart beat at a feverish tempo. Seeing the weapon, she wasn’t sure if she
should go for it or run the other direction. Since the man was clearly leading
her toward the axe, she hurried forward and reached to grab the handle. He
instantly let go of her and moved to take it. His grip was strong and he
managed to jerk it from her easily.

“There
is no need for that.” He tossed it aside and it landed several feet down the
path. He began to push his pants from his hips. “Now, how would you like me to
take you? Or would you like to suck me first?”

“Whatever
you think is happening is not happening. This is a hallucination, or a
delusion, or a psychotic break.”

“This
is magic. Old magic. I paid my debt and earned my prize. You are my prize. Why
are you resisting? You would not have come in had you not been aroused by me.
You reached for me. You wanted me first and…” he paused, breathing deeply as if
he could smell her, “I accept your invitation.”

Sandra
barely heard him. She stared at his naked cock. The size of it caused a small
shiver of apprehension, even as moisture wet her pussy.
The
smooth shaft and blunt tip showed the full heat of his arousal, so hard that
veins had begun to rise along the shaft.
He was right. She had lusted for him as she stared at his
perfect male body. But now wax had turned to flesh and he was here, ready to
take her, to be the man, the alpha she needed. A bizarre spell wound over her
senses as she found she wanted to comply. Who would know? She was clearly
hallucinating. And she wanted him so badly.

She
pulled at her shirt, answering him with her actions. She had to stand to
completely undress. His eyes watched her. His hand stroked his cock. The second
her last piece of clothing hit the ground, he went for her.