The Star of Babylon - Lust - Chapter 08

[Nathan Saniti]

The Star of Babylon - Lust - Chapter 8

The Bellhop tried his best to hasten past the office door marked "The Captain," but it swung wide before he could get past. He froze in his steps, his heart playing a Buddy Rich drum solo within his chest. "BOY!" growled a gravelly voice from within the room. The lonely light of a desk lamp shone on a pair of hands poking out of a tailored suit folded sternly on top of the mahogany.

The Bellhop swallowed audibly as he slowly turned his eyes to the blackness of the office. A pair of crimson glowing eyes met his stare, turning the blood in his veins into ice water. "Y... Yes sir?"

"Did you get the pink champagne iced and delivered to Mr. Neville Saniti?"

"I..." he stammered, "I did, sir."

"And what of the preparations in the Master's Chambers? The time for the feast is upon us."

"I was just on my way to..."

In a flash, the eyes that only seconds ago resided behind the desk were now located mere inches from the doorway, the face they belonged to still shrouded from the light. A gnarled and grotesque hand shot out from the room, clasping the half naked young man around the throat, effortlessly lifting him a foot off of the ground.

"I didn't ask what you were going to do, I asked if everything was ready." The voice grew more menacing with each syllable, the grip tightening with every utterance, causing the poor kid to choke and gasp as he fought for dear life. "I'll ask you one more time. Is everything ready for the feast?"

"N... No."

A grumble that would make a coward of any lion emanated from the darkness. "Then consider yourself an appetizer."

With a blood-curdling scream, the Bellhop was whisked into the shadows, only his hat remaining in the safety of the hallway. The sounds of bones gnashing, sinew squelching, flesh being rapidly torn quickly drowned the fading screams of the poor Bellhop. Soon, a pool of blood trickled from inside the office and towards the hallway as if reaching for the hat and the security it had once provided. The sounds of slurping, as if someone were finishing their soda and wanted to get every last drop, echoed from the chamber, the blood withdrawing from whence it came. Soon, nothing remained, save the hat.

The same obscene, crimson spattered hand reached out at floor level, snatching the hat from its resting place. Seconds later, the window overlooking the courtyard opened. "Choose," growled the Captain as he chucked the cap outside at the mesmerized dancers below.

A light breeze took the fez in its grasp, floating it this way and that in every direction prior to lighting on another half naked young man, this one slightly more broad shouldered that the last. It clamped itself down upon his blonde locks, his gyrating ceasing immediately. He stood stiff as a board, his distracted mind anew with purpose. He clapped his heels together in attention, marching a beeline for the lobby under unspoken orders.

*******

Mirrored ceilings hung above the boudoir in Neville's suite. He and Magdelline has partaken of her favorite beverage, In fact, had it not been magically refilling itself, the bottle would have been emptied hours ago just prior to their first, more importantly Neville's premiere, love-making session.

She had entered his room with no pretense, and he had met her advances with no resistance. Eons of bottled up anticipation released itself in a seemingly endless supply, their energies revitalized from the liquor and desire burning within them both.

Now, they lay in rest, a much needed respite from their exercise, holding each other in the night air as their sweat evaporated. Magdelline rested her head on Neville's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a relaxed pace. Her alabaster skin nearly matching the pale of his, she stroked his chest, tracing the lines of his abdomen with her fingers. "Neville," she chirped after a deep sigh. "I have something to tell you."

His mind, enthralled by her touch, snapped back to reality with a small start. "Hmmm?" He snorted as he shook what remained of the cobwebs to bring his mentality to full focus. "What is it, my dear?"

"My dear?" he thought, "I sound like my brother, and if it feels like this, I could get used to it." He looked upon his female companion with the awe of an artist with a blank canvas. A smile curled the edges of his lips, a feat no one would have thought possible, had there been more than a singular witness to it.

Seeing his smile brought nothing but guilt to her heart. It ached unlike any pain she had ever felt in her previous lives. She choked on the lump in her throat, turning away from him in sheer remorse. "Please don't look at me like that, Neville."

He sat up on his elbow, deep worry on his face. "Why? Have I done something wrong?" He caressed her shoulder, gripping it lightly, panic settling into his soul. "Please. Talk to me."

Her shoulder shook itself free from his hand, not out of spite, but from the force of her sobs. They lurched and heaved as millennia of fulfilling her purpose coupled with her feelings towards this strange, lovely man rained down on her heart in an instant.

"Let me help you," Neville's own voice cracked at witnessing her breakdown. "Tell me why you're crying."

She lurched back towards him, knocking him on his back as she mounted him in one swift motion, pinning his shoulders to the mattress. Her tears streamed onto his chest, puddling briefly before flowing onto the sheets.

"I... I can't," she stumbled. "I can't do this." Despite her words, her motions told an entirely different story, encouraging and teasing her companion's carnal quest, confusing his senses. Her undulating stopped as she leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Your life is in danger."

Neville mind shifted involuntarily back and forth between the puzzlement of her mouth's message versus that of her body. "What do you mean?"

"We are all prisoners here, of our own device," she huffed as she seduced his desires yet again. "I was sent here to do just what I am now; to bring your soul under my spell and trap you here. Just as I have so many before you."

Neville stopped her actions mid-stroke, a stern look upon his face. Slowly, he rolled them both over. "It doesn't matter. I'm smitten with you."

She had heard those sentiments before, many times. This time, it panged like knives in her heart to hear it said. She had discovered that she could still harbor her own feelings for a man the very second she laid eyes on the dark gentleman next to her. "It's too late.  He's under my spell," she thought. For the first time since becoming the Madam of this godforsaken hotel, the notion frightened her, shook her very existence. "Can I live with myself when I see him in the courtyard? Will I yearn for him as he dances his desires for me away in the night air for eternity?"

"I love you, Magdelline," Neville professed, staring deeply into her gaze. "As I have never loved a woman before."

She returned his intent look, her soul suddenly feeling light. A glow within her grew from his confession. Her sobs ceased, replaced by a glimmer of hope, of faith in the words she had just heard. "I..." She struggled for the words she could never bring herself to speak with any sincerity before. "I love you too, Neville Saniti."

Deep within the confines of both Neville's room and Magdelline's own closet, two suitcases ceased their existence simultaneously.