Camilla

On Thursday night at about 8:30, Miles Holland went into

Club Ritz

and saw Camilla crawling around naked onstage; as soon as she saw him standing by the tip rail, she turned around so her ass was pointing at his face. Looking back at him with her agape eyes and puckered lips asking him if he liked what he saw, she spread her buttocks open wide so he could see her gaping pussy and dirty asshole.

The song soon finished, and she got offstage, taking only her purse. The naked girl took her former boss into a private room; he sat on one of the couches, and she sat on his lap.

"How are you, Mr. Holland?" she asked.

"Oh, pretty damn good, for a widower," he said.

"You should be feeling great, now that the bitch is gone forever, sir."

"Please, Camilla: call me Miles. I'm not your boss anymore."

"But I like calling you

sir

; you're my lord and master." She giggled and tickled him under the chin.

"What have I done to deserve such honour?"

"You suffered beatings and humiliation from a nasty, domineering woman, when she should have loved you," Camilla explained. "My deference to you will compensate for that. Y'know, when I saw just how nasty she could be, for the first time in my life I was thinking really violent thoughts. She reminded me of my late mother."

Miles was confused. "I-I don't follow you," he said.

"I

hated

my mother!" Camilla growled.

"I see," he said. Oh dear, a girl with issues, he thought.

"Want a blow job?" she asked, unzipping his fly.

"Oh, yeah," he grunted as she pulled his hardening cock out of his pants and knelt between his legs.

She masturbated him briefly, then brought her lips to the tip of his dick. Looking up in his eyes with the smile of a happy whore, she said, "Anything for you, my lord and master," and started kissing and licking his dick-hole.

"Oh!" he moaned as her wet lips wrapped around his knob. It slid in her mouth half-way, then he said, "Let's do a 69, OK? I want your pretty brown asshole in my face."

She pulled his cock out of her mouth with a jerk and a popping sound, then said, "Yes, sir. Let's get on the bed." They went over, he lay on the bed on his back, and she got on top, on all fours. She'd spread her legs out and pushed her ass out at his face. He propped his head up with a pillow so her asshole--only perfunctorily wiped after a recent crapping--was millimetres from his lips and tongue. "As you can smell, sir, I'm all stinky. I pooped a half hour ago."

"Oh,

yeah

," the coprophiliac moaned as he gluttonously inhaled the fresh faecal odour. "Wonderful: Chanel Number Two." She giggled, and he started licking her asshole.

Oh well, she thought as she put his cock back in her mouth; if he gets sick from any germs in my butt, I'll use the psychic powers of Nigrovum to make him better. He slid his finger inside her vagina and rubbed it against her G-spot. Her sighs quickly changed into squeals. Her hand shook his balls as her salivating mouth went up and down on his hard cock.

He opened her asshole and slid his tongue in about half an inch. His index and long fingers probed deep inside her soaking cunt, gently poking her A-spot. She wrapped her upper lip tightly around his bulging

corpus spongiosum

. Both of them were moaning loudly, at ascending pitches about an octave apart from each other. Sensing his imminent ejaculation as well as hers, she took his cock out of her mouth and licked his dick-hole while jerking him off. Soon after that, they came deluges on each other's faces almost simultaneously. She giggled as she licked his come off her lips. He used his fingers to direct every drop of her come towards his mouth so he could eat it. She turned around so he could see his come still dripping off her face.

After several minutes of panting and catching their breath, he asked, "How much...for the b-job?"

"Nothing, of course," she said. "It was...as good for me...as it was good...for you."

*******************

Having satisfied her urges for the night, Camilla went home early. In her bedroom, she turned on her lap-top and checked her e-mail. Bob would arrive in Toronto on Friday afternoon; including the strip joint's address in her reply, she told him to meet her in

Club Ritz

on Saturday night. She also suggested they do a photo shoot on Sunday.

She then read an e-mail she got from Dr. Singh, in which he told her more about what he'd discovered about Nigrovum.

All the grass and other plant life in Vancouver and the surrounding area is blanketed with Nigrovum,

he'd written.

Analysis of it indicates that it has been here for at least three or four years. Nothing seems to kill it: neither changes in weather nor those of temperature. Not even uprooting the grass ends its life: in fact, the uprooted or snow-covered grass stays alive longer thanks to Nigrovum. Those microscopic black 'eggs' also multiply rapidly.

Camilla thought back to those days when she'd masturbated to orgasm in parks, much to the lecherous enjoyment of onlookers. She remembered when, as a sixteen-year-old virgin, she hated having a hymen, and wished it was gone. After having masturbated, come, and peed on the grass several times, and having felt the wet grass tickle her genitals, she later noticed her hymen had shrunk, or perhaps melted to a shorter length, the remainder hidden inside her vagina. Small wonder Wayne was surprised at her hymen's anomalous shortness when he deflowered her. She'd been wishing it away.

Dr. Singh's e-mail continued.

I theorize that Nigrovum came to earth from outer space, pushed here by the solar wind,

he wrote.

I believe each microscopic black 'egg' is an extremely intelligent, technologically advanced alien life form, though of course I can't prove it. My colleagues don't believe me; they think Nigrovum is just a microscopic earthly life form we hadn't discovered till now. Still, I know of no other life form on this earth that can be compared to Nigrovum; it fits nowhere in evolution. I insist they are infinitesimally small aliens: who says aliens have to look like anthropomorphic insects or lizards, coming to earth in flying saucers, as in those B science fiction movies? They probably came down to earth from the sky in the rain, then settled on the vegetation, since it was living. Any kind of moisture seems to be what they travel in.

They passed from the grass into your vagina, and therefrom into your bloodstream, by traveling through your come and piss when you soaked the grass with your emissions. You say you enjoyed the way the grass tickled your vulva: since you were in a state of arousal and lubrication, the Nigrovum could have passed from the blades of grass into our body even before you'd ejaculated or urinated; when those latter emissions saturated the grass, even more Nigrovum, much more, must have entered your body. This is why you are so powerful psychically--you probably have millions of them swimming and multiplying in your blood right now; and they seem to have a technology that makes smart-phones seem like smoke signals.

Use your psychic powers wisely, Camilla. Be responsible with it: don't let fear or desire influence your judgement; don't be selfish with it, and don't use it to harm anyone--even those you don't like or think are bad people. Those lovers of yours who died, particularly Mr. Baker and Mr. Leroy, seem to have been consumed with maddening passions. Their corpses' eyes, hair, fingernails, and toenails are all as black as pitch, and their skin is ghostly white even by a corpse's standards. You and Candice must be careful with Nigrovum: it can be a powerful friend, or a deadly enemy.

I recommend pursuing spirituality. As a practicing Hindu, I feel my sense of enlightenment and peace of mind accelerating thanks to Nigrovum. Perhaps Nigrovum, with its clinging to life, is the next avatar of Vishnu. Who knows? Go to church; pray to God, and focus on love--de-emphasize the sex. I fear that your promiscuity may be spiralling out of control, and Nigrovum will only precipitate that spiralling. Nigrovum seems to magnify our emotions, so feel good feelings, and think good thoughts...not bad ones.

She told him in her reply not to worry. She was using Nigrovum only for good; after all, she'd protected and freed a man from his abusive wife, didn't she? Of course, she never mentioned using Nigrovum to kill Mrs. Holland...

She then thought about the people whose lives she could have saved with Nigrovum, but regrettably didn't. Poor Calina and Li-ping: if only Camilla and Candice had used their psychic powers on those masked men sooner. A month ago, when the police had found Calina's and Li-ping's bodies, and it was discovered that a bullet had been put in each girl's head, and that their heads and limbs had been hacked off to facilitate their disposal, Camilla threw up on hearing the news. From now on, Camilla would be resolute in using Nigrovum's psychic gifts to kill anyone she thought would be a danger to whomever she cared for. Though Carrie hadn't yet proven herself a danger, Camilla would be watching...

********************

Around midnight, Camilla and Agape were watching a DVD of Stanley Kubrick's

The Shining

. They were also drinking and smoking joints. During the scene when Jack was kissing the naked woman in the bathroom, Camilla started getting excited.

"Jack Nicholson was so hot back then," she said after puffing on a joint and passing it to her father. "So much talent and intensity in his acting; in this movie, he's just the right age for my tastes. I wish that was me, nude and kissing him. I have a better body than that skinny girl, anyway. Put me in a time machine and send me back to 1980, and I would totally fuck Jack. Kubrick, too: I don't care if he was fat then; smart is sexy, he was a genius filmmaker, and I would suck him--"

"Camilla, I'm really not interested," Agape said, blushing at his daughter's bold tongue.

"Oh, sorry, Daddy," she said, now blushing herself. At least I'm not thinking about

you

that way, Daddy, she thought.

********************

Two hours later, she was in bed and dreaming about the movie.

Sitting at a table, she saw Scatman Crothers talking to her as if she were little Danny. "I can remember when I was a little boy," he said to her. "My grandmother and I could hold conversations entirely without ever opening our mouths." Camilla briefly looked down at her ice cream, then heard Dr. Singh's voice instead of that of Crothers. "She called it 'Nigrovum'." She looked up and saw Singh's face.

Then she saw herself riding on the trike Danny was on when he rode through all the halls of the

Overlook Hotel

. She didn't see the

Overlook's

interior, though: no North American aboriginal art or any of the set designs used in the movie were there. Instead, she saw the halls and room of that mansion by Grouse Mountain, but with one significant difference--on the wallpaper and the carpets, she saw patterns of small black eggs everywhere. Sometimes the colour of the background was different--sometimes white, sometimes yellow, sometimes brown, sometimes red--but always she saw those little black egg patterns. On the carpets, the background colour was always green, but the little black egg pattern was never missing.

As she was going down a hallway with bedrooms on either side, she went around a corner and saw Calina and Li-ping, both naked, about ten feet from her. A loud gong crash was heard, from Penderecki's

De Natura Sonoris No. 1

, as soon as Camilla saw them. She stopped pedalling and stared at them, frightened. Calina's hair (including her pubes), normally brown, was now as black as that of the Asian standing beside her, and her eyes were also equally black. The finger- and toenails of both girls were black, too. The girls' skin was as ghostly white as their hair was black. They said, "Come make love with us, Camilla." Then what Camilla saw suddenly changed to a vision of the girls lying dead on the floor, bloody, with bullet holes in their foreheads, and mutilated, just as the police had found them. Then it switched back to the girls naked and 'alive': they said, "Come make love with us." Back to the bloody, dismembered bodies, then again back to them naked and standing: "Forever..."; bloody and mutilated, then back to 'living', "and ever..."; bloody and mutilated again, then 'living', "and ever...". Penderecki's dissonant music continued to be heard.

Next, Jack Nicholson came into the bathroom where, instead of seeing light green paint on the walls, the Nigrovum pattern was everywhere, with a yellow background for the walls and green one for the carpet. Penderecki's

The Awakening of Jacob

could be heard as he slowly approached the bathtub, where Camilla arose and pulled the shower curtain aside to reveal her naked body. Jack grinned lustfully. She slowly got out of the bathtub and walked over to him.

"I've always admired you, Mr. Nicholson," she said, putting her hands on his chest. "Does my body please you?"

"Yes," he said, moving his hands over to her hips.

"Would you like to enjoy me?" she asked.

They embraced and kissed. He looked in the mirror, and instead of seeing her as she originally looked, now her skin was ghostly pale (though still attractive), and her hair, eyes, fingernails, and toenails were all black. He let go of her and backed up a bit, shocked at what he saw. Giggling almost insanely at his reaction, she slowly walked towards him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Getting over his initial shock, he said, "Hey, you're still easy on the eye...in a Goth girl sort of way. What the hell: let's fuck."

They left the bathroom and went to the bed. He got on first, lying on his back; she got on top of him in the cowgirl position. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his fully-erect cock; she took it and aimed her moist pussy over it. As she came down on his cock and it slowly slid inside her, she sighed and squealed. As she rode on his cock, he enjoyed watching her tits bounce up and down, and he started grabbing them aggressively. His cock was so huge in her pussy that she was already coming; but it also hurt a bit, like Wayne's cock when he popped her cherry. Looking down on her lover, she'd see Jack; then she'd look up briefly and look down again, seeing Wayne instead. Then she'd look up and down again, and see Jack; then up and down, seeing Wayne again. Their faces continued to alternate like this throughout the fuck. Though the faces alternated, the cock's size--as well as the pleasure and pain it simultaneously caused--was a constant. Come mixed with blood started pouring out of her pussy and onto her lover's thighs.

As the fucking continued, she saw a vision of the elevator scene from the movie: blood came pouring out of the elevator in a deluge. Then she saw herself on top of Jack again, still fucking, coming, and bleeding. The vision of the elevator scene came back, but instead of seeing blood pouring out, she saw her come splashing all over the lobby. Then she saw herself on top of Jack again; about to come, he pulled his cock out of her. She lay on her back on the bed, and he got up on his knees, jerking off briefly and raining come all over her tits.

They got off the bed and went back into the bathroom. He got into the bathtub, still with his clothes on.

"Do you want to shower with me?" she asked him.

"In a way," he said, lying on his back in the tub. "I want a golden shower."

"I hate to piss on a man I admire so much," she said while getting in the bathtub and squatting over his chest. "But if it pleases you, I'll do it." She started pissing. He grinned and groaned as the piss sprayed all over his chest, drops of yellow bouncing off and hitting him in the face and arms. Now she saw the elevator scene with her piss coming out of the elevator and flooding the lobby, pushing the chairs around. As she continued pissing, she saw Mr. Hanson's face being splashed on with her piss, instead of Jack's. Then she saw Jack's face again. She squeezed out her last few drops of piss, and they got out of the bathtub. "I have to poop," she said.

"Great," Jack the coprophiliac said. "I wanna watch."

She sat on the toilet and he stood in front of her, looking down between her wide-open legs. She squeezed out her first turd with a soft groan, and he delighted in hearing it plop in the toilet water. She looked down between her legs and saw more turds fall out of her ass and into the water. Hearing Mr. Leroy's voice say, "I love hearing your pretty asshole in action," she looked up and saw the face of her deceased former French teacher. Then she saw the elevator scene again, with her shit pouring out in an avalanche into the lobby, pushing the chairs around. Then she saw Jack looking down and watching her finish her shit.

Next, Camilla was walking through the halls of the Satanists' mansion as if it were the

Overlook Hotel

during the climax of the movie; she was holding a knife like terrified Shelley Duvall. Nigrovum patterns were everywhere on the walls and floor, with red and green backgrounds respectively on the former and the latter. Penderecki's

Utrenja II: Ewangelia

could be heard. She went by one bedroom and saw a masked man about to perform fellatio on a man in a bear suit, similar to a scene in the movie; turning around, she saw another masked man, though like the first masked man, his mask seemed to be his real face--mask and skin were merged together. His head was bloodied: he looked like one of the men Clarence had hit with the baseball bat when they were trying to escape the mansion that night over a month ago. The masked man held up a glass of liquor and said, "Great party, isn't it?"

Finally, she came to the area where Jack had been typing. Holding a baseball bat as Duvall did, she approached the typewriter slowly, and looked at the typing on the paper. This is what she saw:

'All sex and no love makes Camilla a bad girl.

All sex and nolove make Camilla a bad girl

All sex and no love makes Camilla a bad girl.

Allsex and no love makes Carmilla a bad girl.

All sex and no love makes Camilla a bad girl.

All sex and no love make Camila a bad girl.'

etc.

She thumbed through the papers on the table beside the typewriter, reading the same sentence typed over and over again (often with similar typos). It didn't frighten her for the same reason Shelley Duvall was frightened in the movie; it reminded her of Mr. Baker's suicide note, and of the guilt it provoked in her when she read of how her promiscuity had broken his lonely heart.

As she kept flipping through the papers, hoping to see something different in the writing, Jack was slowly coming up behind her.

"How do you like it?" said the voice of Mr. Baker, whom she saw after quickly turning around and screaming.

***********************

Camilla woke up with a fright. She felt pain in her vagina; her photographic memory told her it was the exact same pain she'd felt when Wayne had deflowered her. She pulled the blankets aside and looked between her wide-open legs. A mixture of come and blood had stained the sheets.