COLLEGE COEDS OF THE CORN
Part IV: Rite of Passage
Vicky stopped, panting beside the open front door with her clothes bundled up in her arms. She could still hear the sounds of Brett fucking the two young women upstairs, continuing without her after the escape she had barely been able to convince herself to make.
"Oh god, Brett," she said with a sob, looking towards the stairs.
Will you think straight after you finish? Do I just have to wait around for that?
Did I think straighter after I finished?
"Shit. Shit shit shit." Vicky looked out the front door; the car was still pulled to the side of the street and there was no one around.
One of the women upstairs gave off a particularly loud moan and Vicky felt heat bloom from her gut, felt the pull to dive back into the pool of sexual bliss she'd just climbed out of. Her hand was even guiding itself back around her thigh, only the feel of her bra slipping free from between her fingers and slapping her knee distracting her from indulging herself once again.
"Got to get out," she said, shaking her head and hurriedly getting dressed. Still no panties, and as she stepped out the front door she cursed as she realized she didn't have car keys either.
She stopped on the front step, squeezing her fists and clenching her jaw.
No way can I go back in. No way can I go up there. If I get another look at what I'm missing, I'm not sure how much I'll care about those keys. There has to be another way.
Vicky stopped by the car to grab her cell phone. There hadn't been reception in hours, but she had been hoping the town might be better equipped to call for help. If it had been, whatever those girls had done to the town had included its cell towers, too. Still gripping her phone in her hand, Vicky turned and started back towards Main Street.
Empty doorways and dark windows kept Vicky on edge as she walked the five blocks back towards Main Street. There was just enough wind that she kept jumping at what she thought was more passionate moaning coming from every direction, but then the wind wound die down and she would convince herself she was being too jumpy.
If she had known how many doorways were not empty, and how many dark windows hid lascivious gazes pointed at her, she would have run all the way to Main Street.
With the pace she was making, Vicky was moving slowly past the Stradlin Catholic Church and had time to notice the church van parked on the side of the building. Pausing to look up and down the street one more time, Vicky walked over to the van and quietly opened the door. She checked for keys, hoping whatever priest owned it would be trusting enough of the quaint little town to leave the keys inside, but was quickly disappointed.
Inside a church should be safe enough...
Vicky reassured herself, looking towards the front door but not yet moving.
Standing that close to the building, she knew that it wasn't wind that she was hearing coming from behind the stained-glass windows.
There's probably a back office or something,
Vicky thought, looking along the building and seeing the hint of a back door around the corner of the church. She closed in on the side of the building and hurried towards that door.
If they're in the church itself, I just have to get in and out of the office and speed off in the van.
"Sure, fucking simple," Vicky muttered, shaking as she came up to the door.
What she'd thought was a back door was more of a side entrance, made of glass that let her peek around the corner and see into the church.
The next question she had to ask herself was if the crowd of people inside were distracted enough for her to sneak into the church and search for an office somewhere that might have keys to the van.
"Looks pretty fucking distracting," she whispered to herself, squinting to get a better look through the faintly tinted glass.
Inside the church, the pews had been ripped from the floor and lined up against the walls. A king size bed had been dragged into the center of the floor with a table placed at each corner. From where Vicky crouched, what stood upright in the center of each table appeared to be a phallus carved from an ear of corn. That these totems didn't fall over implied some sort of craftmanship attaching them to the tables, because they rocked back and forth quite a bit from the activity happening on the bed in their center.
What Vicky had no way of knowing at that moment was that the man on the bed was Isaac, the young man whose eighteenth birthday had coincided with the changes that had overcome the town of Stradlin. She could see, as he moved around atop the bed, the healing pentagram carved into his chest, and when she could finally tear her eyes away from the way his glistening muscles moved as he shoved Diane Miller's face deep into the mattress and used his weight to hold her there while he mechanically pounded her from behind, she saw the glazed look in his eyes and knew that whatever mystery was ongoing in Stradlin, this young man played some key role in it.
This seemed no less likely given the number of women who filled the pews surrounding the bed, dozens of women of all ages, nude and watching Isaac's ritualistic conquest with an almost feral excitement made obvious by the furious actions they were performing on themselves as they watched the youngest man in Stradlin fucking a woman twice his age. And as Vicky noticed the age disparity between Isaac's toned young body and Diane Miller's more aged curves, she realized for herself that
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