Yes (3 page)

Hannah
nodded.

"What
does attract you?" She asked.

"Why
the cuisines, my dear," he said with a grin. "Or more specifically,
the rich oddities that some cultures ingest for sustenance and ritual
alike."

Hannah
pinched her eyebrows together.

"You
see, Jean Paul has a unique appetite for things you and I might find
repugnant," Dominic said. "Please, Jean Paul, share."

"Yes,
Dominic is correct. I have eaten things you might consider odd; however, to the
people who eat them on a regular basis, they are like your hamburgers and French
fries." He took a sip of his drink and peered at her thoughtfully.
"For example, in Europe, as you may know, they enjoy blood pudding, which
is comprised largely of coagulated blood drawn from pigs, cattle, sheep or what
have you: earthy, meaty like iron. In Asia, they have bat paste, where a live
bat is forced into a vat of boiling milk until it becomes malleable enough to be
mashed into an edible pulp. Elsewhere, balut, hasma, jellied moose nose,
countless dishes consisting of fried or boiled rats, hornets, spiders, roaches
and other anthropods."

Hannah
put a hand to her stomach and grimaced.

"Ah,
a common reaction, my dear," Jean Paul said. "However, had you tasted
some of these cuisines, you would assuredly change your opinion; some are quite
tasty once you get past the textures. In fact, I've adopted many to my usual
menu. Casu marzu, for instance, which is made when the rind of a whole Pecorino
cheese is removed to allow flies access to inject their larvae. As the maggots
consume the cheese over a period of time, the acid from their digestive tracts
works to break down the fat in the cheese, leaving a particularly unique
flavor. Currently, this cheese is banned by the European Union due to
ridiculous health concerns, so it must be procured on the black market;
however, it is a treat worth pursuing, I can assure you."

Hannah
looked at Dominic who was smiling with sincere amusement.

"Tell
her what else you've added to your personal menu, Jean Paul."

A
wry little smile trickled across the old man's face.

"It's
ok?" He asked Dominic, who nodded and put his hand out.

"Please."

Hannah
furrowed her brows as Jean Paul cleared his throat.

"Well,
you see my dear, throughout my life, one of my largest curiosities has centered
on the consumption of human beings, themselves, by other human beings. So I
made a point to explore regions of the world where this was said to still
occur. More often than not, these turned out to only be rumors; however,
occasionally, I found success."

He
squinted and licked his lips.

"The
way it was prepared by natives left it stringy and tough and somewhat sour; but
since then, I've found if you soak the meat in milk prior to consumption, the
flavor is much better."

Hannah
moved a little closer to Dominic.

"You
eat people?"

Jean
Paul smiled.

"No
one you know, my dear."

The
old man chuckled and put his arm around his date's slender waist.

"You
see, one of the privileges that comes with money is the ability to demand
things outside the reach of the general populace, and so it is the case for
me."

An
awkward silence fell upon their circle before Dominic finally spoke.

"Well,
we should mingle elsewhere," he said. "Jean Paul, as always, thank
you for entertaining us."

Jean
Paul nodded and held out his hand.

"It
was a pleasure."

Hannah
placed a reluctant hand atop the old man's wrinkled fingers, and he pushed
another warm, moist kiss against her knuckles.

"Nice
to me you," she lied, and then they were off to meet other guests, who all
seemed perfectly comfortable describing their own individual bizarre lifestyles
and habits.

By
the end of the night, Hannah's mind was reeling.

"Have
you not been entertained?" Dominic asked with an arrogant smirk.

"I
guess you could say that."

A
large man approached and whispered something in Dominic's ear. He frowned and
set his drink on a table.

"I'm
sorry to say I must leave you for a moment," he said, and then he and his
associate walked away.

Hannah
watched them weave through the crowd which had thinned considerably in the last
hour, and then they both disappeared behind a big black door. She swallowed the
last of her martini and returned to the bar.

"Where
has everyone gone?" She asked the bartender.

"To
the suite one floor down for the after party," he said. "The elevator
attendant will take you there at your request."

She
looked around at the sparse crowd and saw Jean Paul grinning at her from across
the room.

"Perhaps
I will investigate this after party."

With
that, she ordered another drink and headed toward the elevator. The attendant
asked her floor, and when she told him, he seemed to give up a wry little
smile. When the doors opened, he gave a gracious nod, and she stepped out into
a beautifully decorated hallway cast in dim lighting. Quickly, a large man
stepped forward and asked her intentions.

"I
was told there was an after party on this floor?"

"Yes,"
he said politely. "Just down the hallway and through those doors."

She
nodded and proceeded the rest of the way, but as she approached the doors,
something stopped her. It was noise: strange, muffled noises the origin of
which her mind could not resolve. She looked over her shoulder toward the man,
but he only smiled and raised his eyebrows.

Without
responding, she turned back toward the doors and took hold of the knobs. With a
sudden jerk, she pulled them open to reveal a mob of nude men and women engaged
in an astounding array of fleshly acts.

She
froze in the doorway, while her eyes took in the scene: women sucking
testicles, while other men took them from behind, men engaged in anal
intercourse, others sitting in chairs watching it all, cigarettes dangling from
their fingers, serious looks on their faces.

In
one far corner, a man held another man's head as he devoured his penis; a few
feet from them, a lovely woman lay sprawled, while an even lovelier woman
massaged her clitoris with her bright pink tongue.

On
the other side of the room, a young black girl struggled to please three men at
the same time, her mouth and hands working furiously, their dicks hard and
throbbing and pale against her beautiful dark skin.

Nearby,
a pale-skinned girl with bright red hair struggled to cope with an enormous
penis, its astounding size unreal, like nothing Hannah had seen or imagined
before.

The
center of them room was like one mass of skin, mouths, genitals and writhing
legs. Women gave head indiscriminately, often switching from one cock to the
next without ever making eye contact with its host.

While
women arched their backs against crippling orgasms, men ejaculated on their
colorful masks, on backs, on legs, on other men.

At
last, Hannah drew the eyes of some of the men, and a few stood, their erections
growing even firmer, their faces hungry, like wolves at the sight of fresh
meat.

Without
thinking, she turned and fled down the hallway, past the security guard. He
opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word dropped from his lips, she
had successfully summoned the elevator and made her escape.

Chapter 4

An
hour later, Hannah sat at the rooftop bar, sipping a martini and mindlessly
listening to the bartender talk about his school studies. She was beginning to
think Dominic would not return at all, but just as she contemplated leaving, a
man arrived with a message.

"Mr.
Montero wanted to me to apologize for leaving you unattended for so long and
would like you to join him for a drink in his apartment suite three floors
down."

Having
delivered his message, the man turned abruptly and walked away.

Hannah
finished her drink and left a tip for the bartender.

"Thank
you," he said with a smile that brought a unique appeal to his ordinary
face.

"Can
you tell me which apartment suite is Mr. Montero's?" She asked.

"Three
floors down," he said, as he wiped the bar.

"Yes,
but which one?"

"No,"
he said. "He occupies the whole floor."

When
she met the elevator attendant this time, he greeted her with a familiar smile.

"You,
again?"

"Me,
again."

"Mr.
Montero's floor?" He asked.

"How
did you know?" She asked, but instead of answering, he simply pressed the
floor and crossed his hands.

When
the doors opened, another man stood before her, this one short, his dark face
ruined with pock marks and scars from whatever it was life had tossed his way.
He greeted her with a smile, exposing two gold teeth near the rear of his lower
jaw.

"This
way, miss," he said in an accent she couldn't identify.

They
crossed through a hallway, the walls pale so as not to detract from the paintings
that adorned them. Finally, they reached a large wooden door, which seemed wide
enough for a car. The man approached a keypad to the left of it and tapped in a
series of numerical codes, the buttons glowing green with every tap. When he
finished, a soft click went off and the door popped open. At this point the man
took a large step backward and turned his palm upward.

"Please,"
he said.

Hannah
nodded respectfully and entered, closing the door behind her.

Inside,
it was all white leather and tasteful extravagance, a tiny fire burning within
a massive fireplace, a candle in every direction.

"Have
a seat," Dominic said from behind the bar situated in the far corner.

She
put her head down and crossed the room, his eyes tracing her every step, studying
her as she smoothed the backside of her skirt to sit down. He finished making
whatever it was he was making and approached her, a single drink in his hand.
He looked as if he'd just come from the party, the belt gone from his black
slacks, the tie from his white shirt, two or three buttons undone to reveal the
upper portion of his muscular chest. He sat beside her and leaned back, his
knees spread open as if he'd known her long enough to expect anything and
everything without asking.

"Would
you like a drink?" He asked, as he sipped his.

"Yes,
thank you.”

He
lowered his eyebrows and swallowed, a shallow hiss escaping from his damp lips.

"Help
yourself."

She
smiled as if he was joking, but his demeanor remained unchanged. Finally, she
lifted to her feet and made her way over to the bar. He watched her the way,
noting the ticks of her high heels against the white tile. She surveyed the
liquors: everything you could imagine. She'd drink anything he'd put in front
of her, but he wasn't offering; so she made a martini and splashed a pair of
olives inside.

She
returned with her drink in hand, while he took in all her subtle movements
through lazy eyes, each one framed with dark rows of thick eyelashes that made
them uniquely bold, uniquely his.

In
her absence, he had moved to the center of the couch, and his face flashed a
cunning little smirk that made him look cute. She shook her head and sat beside
him.

"Aren't
you sly," she said, as she sipped her drink.

He
laid his arm over the couch behind her and leaned in closer, his fingers
lightly touching the ends of her long blonde hair.

"I've
been thinking of this moment all night," he said, as he moved in for a
kiss.

She
lifted her chin to oblige, their mouths coming together flush; his soft, full
lips skilled and practiced; her body awash with chills and warmth all at once.

For
several minutes they went on this way; and, then, without even realizing it,
she was atop him, her legs spread over his lap, dress pushed back over her
knees.

He
took her lower lip between his and sucked it, while she clawed her fingers
through his thick, black hair. As she worked his mouth, his hands explored her
body, his fingertips traveling slowly from her bare shoulders down to the small
of her back; the sensation of his touch so overwhelming, her head felt light.

Finally,
his appetite grew unruly, and he pushed her dress up over her hips and past her
panties, her body wriggling to oblige his desires.

While
she writhed atop his lap, he offered subtle, measured thrusts, the feel of his
erection against her clitoris making her shiver, her lips against his ear,
offering tiny little moans that drove him to the edge of sanity.