Stranger Things Have Happened Ch 04

I seemed to be lying on a huge rug made from the pelt of some animal I didn't recognise. I bet that the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals would be fairly pissed to see there were animal heads mounted and hung all over the stone block walls. Where the bloody hell were they when you needed them? I don't say 'hell' lightly either. It looked as though that's where I was and I swear I could actually smell the sulphur. That's it. I've died and gone to hell for playing around with witchcraft and mystical stuff. Father Michael was right! I'm in hell!

"Not quite," said a voice.

I didn't know if I spoken out loud or if the man who sounded nothing like Russell Crowe read my mind. I felt an inexplicable desire to turn to see who had spoken but for some reason, my twisted brain knew without a single doubt that I shouldn't do that. So I didn't. It was easy to resist the urge really, since I'm basically a coward. I glued my eyes to the head of some bizarre kind of bear that had horns and frowned.

Bears don't have horns do they? I know that could have seemed like a stupid question but considering my mind was obviously unravelling; pride wasn't much of an issue any more. I don't think bears have horns but don't quote me. I've only ever paid attention to Australian animals since it's much more likely that I will get attacked by a white pointer at the beach than by a bear in the woods. I know that some whales have horns. Or are they dolphins? I can't remember exactly but I remember seeing them on the Discovery channel. They were white and had a single horn in the middle of their foreheads like unicorns.

"Look at me." The not-Russell-Crowe voice commanded.

"Um. I don't think I will actually," I said amicably, "I'm kind of enjoying looking around at this mildewy, Gothic style chamber with cumbersome arched windows and stained glass I mean, it's not like I get to see things like this every day since the oldest building in Australia can't be much more than two hundred years old, because basically, Europeans have only been here for that long…"

"Look at -"

"Oh look!" I interrupted him, "Are they statues of Gargoyles that I can see? Please tell me they aren't turning to look at me…"

"They are."

"I told you not to tell me that." I whined. "Oh good Lord! I even said 'please'!"

"I'm not good," The voice drawled, "but I am your lord, and you? You aren't in a position to demand anything. Look at me."

I swallowed hard. "Oh …um…oooo! Torture implements hanging on the walls and they actually look genuine. They must have cost you a buck or two eh? To have replicas made to look so authentic." I giggled weakly and suddenly regretted having noticed them.

"They aren't replicas and if you don't look at me, I'll be forced to use them on you." The voice threatened.

I closed my eyes and drew a shuddering breath. I didn't fancy the idea of having my fingernails pulled off but I liked the idea of looking at Alan-turned-Lucifer even less.

Oh God, I'm so sorry! Please? I take back every entire Tarot card reading I've ever given or had…

I waited, but nothing happened. No rabid PETA group was going to burst through the heavy arched door to save me or the stuffed animal heads, and God was ignoring me. What's more, the compulsion to look at he-who-no-longer-spoke-like-Russell-Crowe was fast becoming irresistible. My head started to turn against my will as though a hand were pulling it, slowly, inevitably toward him and I really did NOT want it to, but it was like driving past a car crash. Some bizarre sense of morbid curiosity demanded that I look at him.

At last, my eyes met his, although I would rather have worked up to that. I was actually aiming for his chin first. After that I might have looked at his lips, his nose and reach his eyes last. It was all a bit much, having those searing, red glowing things so suddenly boring holes through my eyes and into my soul. After everything else that had happened, I was feeling rather fragile. His eyes had a rather beautiful shape and probably would have been entirely swoon worthy if the irises hadn't resembled that of a stoned snake. They captured mine and to be perfectly truthful, it was all becoming a little too much.

From my peripheral I saw that he still had the cleft in his chin, which was a plus. He now had long shining black hair that was pulled back harshly from his face, but was still long enough to spill over his massive shoulders and I've already said that I find that look pretty hot. He wore a leather and chain harness of some sort - Oh ye gads, I hope he isn't some kind of crazy BDSM dude, you know, they can do some pretty spun things and I'm a wimp when it comes to pain - but he was also wearing the same leather pants that Alan had which was also a major plus.

Rawr!

He was huge, towering almost. In fact, I think he may even have had a chance at making 'The Rock' look like a small boy playing with plastic dumbbells. He looked like the perfect villain actually. The writers of the Erotic Romance e-books I sometimes buy would love him! I didn't think that I would be bothered in the slightest if they wanted to keep him either. I frowned and held my breath for a few moments to explore the thought…nope, not even a twinge of jealousy!

Basically, he was still as gorgeous as Alan had been - albeit in a sinister, I'm-going-to-eat-your-soul kind of way. He reached out a thick finger which was attached to a heavy square palm -Oh goodie! That hadn't changed either - then he winked slyly and tapped my nose in an almost chiding manner.

"You need to be little more careful what you wish for, Missy." He said cheerily.

It was as though a spell of calm had been broken and I was free to move again. So, I did what any self respecting bookish type who wears granny undies on their days off would do.

I slapped my eyes closed again and screamed like a heroine in a b-grade horror movie.

I'd like to say I pulled myself together in true heroine style, and, after I finished my frantic and repeated, extremely loud screams, I managed to smote snake eyes. But, I if said that I'd be lying. Not that I have a problem with lying, especially if it was to save my arse but truthfully, I thought I'd already gotten my soul into enough trouble without adding to my woes by compounding the disaster with falsities. I never usually bother lying because quite simply, I'm just not very good at it.

The evil version of the Penis God, or PG for short didn't even flinch for the entire time I attempted to shatter his eardrums. Eventually, I realised my b-grade horror movie heroine act just didn't seem to be working so I stopped and rubbed my aching jaw. It was hurting pretty badly from being held so wide for so long.

PG moved to crouch in front of me and was so close that a massive, thick thigh was on either side of my body and his…

er…wow!…

huge package was at eye level. It seemed that the old wife's tale about thumbs and penis size were true, in his case at least.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow, "Are you finished?"

I froze and sucked my lips. Had he noticed my rather intense perusal of his bulge? Oh bloody hell, I hoped not! "Are you finished' is a pretty broad question and I didn't know if he meant to ask if I was finished screaming or if I was finished checking out his bulge. If he was referring to my screeching my head off, I would naturally want to continue if it annoyed him but a timely flash of light caught my eye, reflecting from the sharp edges of the torture implements that decorated the walls. Call me daft, but I had a sneaking suspicion it probably wouldn't be a good idea to make old PG angry. I suspected that to do so could be worse than pissing off my inner voice and letting it drive me to insanity, and let's face it, if I wasn't crazy, I was standing on the edge and my toes were hanging over!

On the other hand, if he meant to ask if I was finished checking out the God between his legs, what could I say? Nice dick?

"Thank you." He smirked.

I buried my horrified face in my hands and didn't even bother to ask if I'd said that out loud. One thing was for sure, I didn't have to worry about burning in the eternal fires of hell. My cheeks were flaming hot enough to make me spontaneously combust!

"You've finished screaming?"

Oh, he had been referring to my screaming…

I peeked through my fingers and saw that PG had angled his face downward, trying to capture my eyes with his snake-ish ones. Through the little 'v' between my index finger and my middle finger, I realised that I could block out most of his face and limit my vision so that I could only see the cleft in his chin - which was just fine with me - and not his weird- me -out - eyes or his long black hair, bulging muscles or the impressive bundle between his legs.

"Hmmm?"

Oh …clearly he wanted an answer to what I thought was actually quite obvious, that yes, I was finished screaming. I couldn't have continued even if I wanted to, and I kind of did. I froze. I could feel pain! More than anything else, that realisation told me in no uncertain terms that we weren't in Kansas anymore, Toto.

"Take your hands away from your face." PG commanded.

I felt compelled to obey and I wondered if he was using some kind of Jedi mind trick on me, like when I couldn't stop my head from turning to look at him earlier. I really did not want to look at him but of their own accord, my fingers began to peel off my face. I gritted my teeth, trying to force them to remain where they were. I tried so hard that sweat beaded on my forehead with the effort!

When PG realised that his little Jedi mind trick wasn't working, the pressure on my hands to remove them from my face intensified. I gritted my teeth with the effort of holding them there but no matter how much I tried, my fingers were being inevitably pulled away from my face. They had been pulled back by some unseen force until they were poised, claw-like, a few centimetres away from my face. I groaned with effort and managed to pull them back a small way.

Suddenly, PG snarled a frustrated growl and the instant he did, whatever it was that was peeling my hands from my face was released, quickly. Before I could stop them, my fingers slammed back and poked me straight in the eye!

"Ow!" The word was an agonised hissed.

I rolled back and onto my knees as though by squirming, I could relieve the blinding white pain that exploded in my head. I don't think there is anything more excruciating than being poked in the eye. Child birth would have to come close, I would guess. Trying to push something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a pea would probably be quite agonizing. Other than that, a poked eyeball took the cake.

PG chuckled low and with genuine amusement. He still sounded evil but I could tell he thought it was hilarious I had poked myself in the eye.

I clenched my jaw furiously. For crying out loud, I couldn't even be abducted and terrified without someone laughing at me, not even in my mind! I was pretty sure that all of this was still happening in my mind and I didn't care if it wasn't. As far as I was concerned, it was bloody well happening in my mind and that's all there was to it. Like a good reader, I could suspend my disbelief for the sake of my sanity - what was left of it anyway.

"Let me see." PG's voice vibrated along my spine and I could feel his massive body hunched over mine.

"No! Just leave it!"

"I can make it better…" He drawled.

He gripped my jaw with one hand, turning my face in his direction and seized both of my wrists in his other hand, effortlessly removing them from where I had all but glued them over my weeping, aching eye. He removed my hands so easily that I kind of wondered why he even bothered with the Jedi mind trick. Maybe he just wanted me to know he could do things merely with the power of his thoughts. The bloody show off.

He pressed his lips against my eye. I don't think he opened them. He didn't need to I suppose, they were so full and firm yet soft at the same time that they just kind of enclosed my eye in that little pouty 'o'.

Speaking of 'o', quite a long one escaped my lips on an exhalation of breath that left my body boneless in its wake as though I didn't have a skeleton at all and the breath I'd just released, was the only thing providing my 'bits' with any kind of structure. I literally melted.

Worst of all, PG knew I had too because I felt his lips change shape and stretch into a lazy smile against my eye. Best of all, since I was obviously in no condition to put up a fight, he released the vice like grip he had on my wrists, which had actually been quite uncomfortable. He cupped my head in his large, warm hands and my thoughts scrambled.

He pulled away slightly and my eyes fluttered open. I have no doubt they were as dazed as my head was. Belatedly, I realised the pain in my eye had disappeared the instant he laid his lips on my closed eyelid. Just like that! I felt a sting in my thumb where I had burned it on my tea and not so belatedly, I jutted the injured digit up and held it in front of his lips, hoping he would take the hint.

He did, and I lost myself in the perfect bow shape of his mouth when he caught the blister in his pouting 'o' …

ooooooooo farrrk…

…

Oh yeah, kiss the blister on my thumb, baby!

Kiss the remnants of my sanity goodbye while you are at it 'cos there was nothing left happening in my head. All that was left was mush, which was of no use to man or beast and all it did, was pulse and quiver. It didn't even have the faculty to protest about what was happening. It was too busy mushafying to do anything more than use my mouth to release a carnal sounding growl when the entire length of my thumb was sucked into PG's warm, wet mouth. I definitely could not have reproduced the sound, even if I'd tried to.

At some stage, PG had manoeuvred us until he was kneeling behind me and I was kneeling in between his spread thighs. My boneless body had melted itself liquidly against the hard ridges and clefts of his torso. His marble hard bulge pressed into the middle of my back and from my vantage point, I could see underneath his heavy square jaw. His muscles move hypnotically under his skin and I became lost in them as he kissed his way to my wrist. His long, almost canine looking tongue caught my eye next, when he lapped at the pulse in my wrist and I became mesmerised by the dimple in his cheek, which kept winking in and out of sight as he worked his jaw.

Oh.

Ye.

Gads.

He was perfect. If I could have written a list of everything I found attractive in a man, PG would be the physical embodiment. Admittedly, I find most things about men attractive, just because I'm allergic to them doesn't mean I don't love them. I decided with the few brain cells I had left that hadn't spontaneously combusted the way my cheeks tend to, the first thing I was going to do when I woke up was get a Tarot card reading. If this was a glimpse of some other place and not some kind of bizarre dream - slash- meditation gone haywire, I wanted to make sure that I got to come back here eventually…with him.

He seemed to have finished making love to my wrist and I have never ever experienced anything as erotic as that. He was entirely lost in the moment. His eyes were closed, his thick black lashes spread over his chiselled cheek bones like fans, (what is with all these men having thick beautiful eyelashes and I ask again, why they need them?) He curled my arm around his thick neck and after a few long moments, my brain finally registered that he was looking at me. If I'd had control of my body, I would have gasped and would probably have been startled. Helpless to do anything else, I looked at him in return, at the cleft in his chin, at the dimple dancing at the edge of his crooked smile… and panted.

I gathered enough presence of mind to ask, "What's your name?"

He snorted the ancestor of what could one day evolve into a chuckle. "It's not Alan."

"Do you mean that your name isn't Alan or that you aren't Alan?" I asked.

"Both."

"Then who is Alan?" I started to tense up a little. I was all for a good consequence free fucking but I was prone to prudishness. The thought of actually indulging in said activity, when I didn't even know the man's name was a little off putting. He could have been anyone, even if he was just a figment of my imagination.

Ah! The wonders of evolution! PG's snort had finally developed into a chuckle that crawled into my ear and sent a heavy, liquid shiver down my spine that set off electric shocks in my nipples and a fire in my groin.

His eyes seemed to drink in my features and he murmured, "Poor, fragile Missy. Scared of everything…"

I frowned, a little miffed and said rather indignantly, "I am not scared of everything."

"Scared of men," He continued as though he didn't hear my protest, "living her life behind a façade of allergies to keep them away…"

"I do not! My allergies are very real! You don't fake having an asthma attack when someone sprays something around the room." I argued.

"…Won't even fix the cylinder on her door because she likes to keep that security screen between herself and the world…"

"Oh crap!" I exclaimed, "I just haven't had time to fix it because I've been too busy running my business!"

"…Looking to fill her lonely life with crystals and clairvoyants and fortune tellers…"

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm trying to give my spiritual evolution a jump start so that -" I stopped suddenly and pressed my lips closed in a tight line.

He raised an amused eyebrow, and I got the impression he already knew what I had been going to say but he asked regardless, "So that what...?"

I didn't answer and squeezed my eyes tightly closed, hoping that when I opened them he would be no more real than my childhood fear of the devil sleeping under my bed.

"Tell me." He nuzzled my cheek and his voice vibrated over my skin.

"You'll laugh."

"I won't."

"So," I took a deep breath and blurted too fast for my rational mind to stop, "I will be so spiritually evolved I won't have to be reincarnated and come back here again."

I waited for him to laugh. He didn't. He just curled a hand around my throat and used his thick fingers to tilt my head back. His warm breath wash over my lips and of their own accord, they parted under his.

"Poor Missy." He crooned and I tasted his words on my tongue, "All that time and energy wasted when all you needed was a nice, long, hard fuck to cure what ailed you, by someone qualified to give it to you."

My eyes flared open. For some reason, hearing anyone say the 'f' word out loud still shocked me.

He snorted again and his nose crinkled sexily over his smile. "And I'm that qualified someone."

He crushed his mouth over mine before I could say anything and literally began to devour me. Not that I'm complaining. I love kissing; I could do it for hours. I love it better than sex but from what I could gather, you could never kiss a man without having to put out. I suspected that not-Alan was not merely going to kiss me for hours and then pat me on the head and send me on my way.

I tried to protest but my words turned into 'mmeummumm'. It's pretty hard to speak when there is a thick, hot tongue wrapped around yours like devil's ivy. I managed to wedge my fingers between his face and mine, breaking the kiss. Don't ask me how I did it because I'd be kidding myself if I thought I actually had the strength to pull him off if he didn't want to be. He had let me break the kiss.

He raised his eyes impatiently. "What?"

"Uh…" I swallowed hard and tried to find something, however small, in his snake like eyes to give me the courage to say …well, what was there to say?"I'm not wearing my Friday night undies…"