Fantasy 3: THE POP SEDUCTRESS IN DISTRESS
Our swinging hero Arnold Craven had gone back to Madame Rose for his next fantasy trip session. Nothing of those crap games occurred anymore preceding the latest meeting with her. He was directed to go straight to a suite room at the Grand Hollywood Hotel.
In the suite room where only the lamps were lit Arnold followed the instruction and the first was to switch on the huge TV set. Madame Rose appeared on the flat screen TV and conversed with him. Still her identity remained enigmatic as her face appeared partly hidden and all that could be seen from her was her nose down to her décolletage to die for.
Arnold told her that he'd decided to quit playing the role of James Bond in his fantasy. Neither was he taking those girls in the 60s. He wanted to play himself, although much younger and virile of course and chose to play the hero rescuing a damsel in distress. The damsel he chose was the phenomenal pop princess Britney Spears and he as an F.B.I. agent.
That said, he would fork much higher bucks as the girl he'd chosen was contemporary, currently youthful and at the height of her fame, according to Madam Rose. Money was no problem for Arnold and so his wish was granted.
The usual two goblets filled with the enigmatic potion were already set there for Arnold along with a special gadget that he had to use to watch the complimentary entertainment treat usually given while he sipped his drink. Unlike the programs before where the entertainers were seen in person, this time Arnold would watch the Olympic games in Greece on TV. However, the special gadget were x-ray glasses so he would get to see the athletes without a stitch of clothing including the referees, coaches and those involved.
Arnold had great fun watching as never in the history of his life nor for any entertainment matter had he witnessed such a show. Surely, more than ever, it was a fortune to pay such indulgences.
After he consumed the potion, Arnold felt his body spin like a freebee and shoot into oblivion. In a matter of moments he found himself standing on a side street looking across rows of houses spaced reasonably wide apart from each other.
Our hero looked kinda like a younger Pierce Brosnan wearing a blue surf shirt with subdued prints and a darker pair of linen pants and Rocksport leather casual. It was a windy summer and the breeze mussed his black tousled hair as he crossed the street.
When Arnold rang the doorbell thrice at one particular house, a man in his thirties with dirty blonde hair answered the door. The man just opened a crack and peered without unhinging the chain lock.
"Yeah?" The man spoke.
"Sorry to bother you buddy. I'm a lost tourist down here and I wonder if I could use your phone," Arnold said.
"You're a stranger," the man answered sort of queerly eyeing him from head to foot.
Arnold flashed a 50 dollar bill that told he was willing to pay for the inconvenience. The man relented, opened the door and gestured to him to enter.
A musty smell wafted his nostrils as he followed the man inside and observed that the place looked like a neglected dress shop.
"This place is familiar to me. I don't know if I'd seen this place in a movie," Arnold said.
The man was wearing an Indian long sleeved shirt sloppily tucked in Levi's. After he retrieved the phone from under the counter he spoke with a knowing smile.
"You know, you're making an alibi, the reason you came here is because you're after me."
"Why should it be so?" Arnold asked.
"Because I am the most wanted gay in this town," he replied cheekily checking the phone if it had a dial tone or not.
"S' that so?" Arnold said as he was briefly distracted by a big butterfly fluttering by and landing on a colorful spool of thread.
"You should see me with my make up on, I look like Britney Spears," she laughed a brittle laugh."
Instinct swiftly told him that this man was FBI's most wanted man—Flinger Bunting –the serial killer whose penchant was skinning off his victims which had been mostly girls. The two clues that linked him were first, the butterfly that he saw which this man had been known to cultivate and the mention of Britney Spears who had been reported missing for two days and believed to have been kidnapped in the vicinity of her Sta Monica penthouse. Acting fast, Arnold flashed his FBI ID wallet badge, and drew his 301 Browning from the small of his back and pointed it to him.
"Freeze! F.B.I." He said.
The man shook with more laughter. "You're funny. Where's your gun?"
Arnold gulped fearfully when he noticed that he had no gun in his hand, but eventually the gun materialized in his hand in an instant. The man changed his expression.
"I said freeze!," he repeated. "Turn around. Put your hands on your hand." His voice barked aloud.
Knowing that in the movie he saw, this man would make his quick escape, and so he quickly picked up a stone object he spotted and hurled it to him just as the man attempted to duck into the kitchen. The object hit the man just below his back skull and he fell on his face on the floor knocking him out of his senses.
Arnold moved forward and handcuffed the guy's one hand, dragged him further into the kitchen and chained his other hand to an old metal pipe under the kitchen sink. Suddenly he heard a sound. A distress crying of a girl. He noticed that an entrance on the floor leading to the cellar was opened. He went down the stairwell into a dungeon-like hideaway. Swiveling side to side with his gun for protection, he came upon a pit and located the girl crying:
"Please get me out of here." The voice pleaded.
By the naked bulb hanging over the pit Arnold peered down trying to make out who the girl could be. "Are you Britney Sprears?"
"Yes I am. Who are you?" She was standing face up her hands cupping the side of her mouth.
"FBI. I'll get you out. Is your kidnapper alone?"
"Yes."
"I'll just try to find a ladder or rope to get you out of there."
"'kay. Please hurry. Where is he? Did you arrest him?"
"I handcuffed him. He's upstairs."
"Don't let him get away. He's a dangerous man. He's going to kill me I know." Her panicky voice said.
"Don't worry other officers will arrive and they'll get him. Just hang in there. Holy shit!" He spat in disgust. He'd come upon the killer's lab or skinning room where big moths flew overhead and saw a 'skin suit' fitted on a dressmaker's dummy.
"What the hell...? Arnold reacted to the horror at the sight he just found. In a bathroom off the workroom, he found a female hand and wrist extending out of a murky mixture in a bathtub.
Britney cried again. "Bring me out of here officer."
"Hold on I found the rope ladder."
