Here’s part two. A little forshadowing that I will spread back to part one when I polish. A lot of sexytime. part three, the horror incarnate, soon. A large chunk of it is already written.
Part three has been added.
*****
John led her out a side entrance, and the wave of heat hit Lena like a wall.
“Umm, is this place close?”
“Just across the street.”
“Good, because this is just unnatural. It should not be this hot at , what, almost midnight?”
“Hey, it’s cooler than earlier today. It’s, what, one ten? Um, in C that would be, lesse, minus thirty five, times five, divided by nine, forty one?”
Lena snorted in disgust. “What sane man lives in that temperature?”
“The kind that lives next to a 24 hour ice cream shop. Here we are.”
They sat at a table near the window, watching the street. Large trucks kept pulling through and turning down a side street down the road from them.
“Going to the convention center, “ John explained. “final setup is tonight, deliveries of flyers and posters and merchandise, food deliveries, that kind of thing. Give it an hour, and it’ll be dead and quiet. “
Lena licked the last of her ice cream from her spoon, conscious of a smear of chocolate syrup on her chin. “Well, what can I say, I need the quiet hours to create in this world of mine.”

“Well, I don’t think writing is considered blue collar, but I know the feeling.”
Lena leaned forward in her chair, elbow on table and head on knuckles. “Okay, cute, nerdy in your own way, willing to put up with me, AND you catch my obscure musical references. Any other amazing qualities I should know about?”
John smiled, mimicking her pose, and bringing his face a few inches from her. “Well, it’s been awhile, but I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.” He leaned slowly towards her, and Lena’s lips puckered slightly in anticipation. His tounge darted out and, catching her by surprise, licked the syrup from her chin, before catching her lips. They kissed, lightly, gently.
“Hey, hey, no sucking face in my store. Get a room you two!”
They broke apart, giggling.
“He’s got a point. And I should get to sleep. Walk me to my room?”
John looked her in the eyes for a moment. She realized that her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth, and she was chewing on it. She let it go as he smiled and stood, offering her a hand. She took it, flashes of story going through her head. Even as she stood, she felt her brain running, turning the whole encounter into a scene she could write later.
He brushed his hand through her hair, and Lena’s mind emptied of everything but the feel of his lips kissing her just above the temples.
***
John led her in through the same back entrance they left by.
“If Tracy sees us coming in together, I’ll never hear the end of it. She’s the jealous type.”
Lena punched him lightly in the shoulder with her free hand. “Ohh, hot commodity are you? She’d be jealous of me?”
Her breath caught as he lifted her arm and spun her, then took her fist in his other hand, leading her through an impromptu dance down the hallway. “No you silly thing, of me. Tracy prefers the ladys. Reads straight porn, but prefers the ladies, never understood that myself. “
He stopped two stepping her, pulling her against him for another kiss.
A year later, she pulled slightly away. “Should we be making out in the hallway?”
“Not really.”
“Then why have we stopped?”
“This is your room.“
Lena looked over his shoulder at the number. “So it is.”
She pushed him up against the door, fumblingfor the keycard while nibbling up his neck. One hand entwined in her hair, his other took hold of the card, fingers folding around hers, and together they guided the card into the slot.
Lena repressed a momentary thought of a similar action happening shortly. The door clicked and popped open behind John, the two of them falling inside. John recovered and stood, just saving them from sprawling on the floor together. They looked each other in the eye for a moment, and broke out together in laughter. The sound was broken as he pulled her to his lips. Her own parted, his tongue caressing hers. Her face flushed, and for a moment, all sense of self fled, her mind and body melting together into him. There was her, and there was him, and there was the kiss, and they were one.
Then they again were two, breaking for air.
“I, um. I mean. That is.”, Lena’s composure broke, the wave of confidence that had carried her since dinner evaporating suddenly in the heat of her desire. Once again she found herself timid, shy, withdrawn Lena. “Do you want to, uhh, sit on the couch, or, umm?”
John smiled, and with a squeak of surprise from Lena, tucked an arm under her knees and swung her up into his arms. She clutched her arms around his neck as he turned and too the few steps remaining to the large hotel room bed. He set her down on the edge, her arms relaxing as his lips and tongue found her neck, working from one sensitive spot to another.
His hands stroked her cheeks, then slowly walked their way down her body, resting finally on her hips. He paused, a question on his face as his fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. She realized that she again had half her lip under her top teeth. She flushed, and answered him by lifting her arms up over her head.
With a movement, her shirt was off, her body lifting in a wave as the fabric passed under her body with a whisper.
“I.. I didn’t think you were that strong, carrying me like that.”
“Lifting dishes all day, builds muscle.”
Her shirt tossed somewhere to the side, he took her hands in his, her arms still raised above her head. He caught her by the wrists, holding her arms down for a moment as he leaned against her. She felt a moment of panic at being pinned down, excited and afraid at the same time. She writhed against the pressure for a moment, fighting to be free, then relaxed as his fingers ran down her wrists. They gently slid down her arms, across her shoulders, moving past and around her bra. His fingertips fairly glided as they moved down her sides, the caress raising a shiver up her spine, and a warmth between her legs.
His hands ended their journey touching each other, thumbs and forefingers making a triangle around her navel.
“You, on the other hand, are just as beautiful as I’d hoped.”
Lena blushed, her cheeks twisting in a goofy grin. The joke in her mind, something about the cheese in the line, died on her lips in a gasp. He lowered his face to her belly, tongue against her navel, lips nibbling around. She moaned as pleasure coursed through her body, hips rising to push her flesh harder against his face. Hands and mouth worked their way back up her stomach, warmth of breath and tongue seeking each sensitive spot in turn.
Her fingers twisted in his hair, her breath ragged. Lena wasn’t quite sure how or when her bra came off, she only knew that she could feel his hot breath on a bare nipple. She tensed, waiting, but he simply cupped the breast in one hand, lifting it slightly. He brought his tongue to where breast met chest, ringing the outside of her flesh. He dragged his tongue slowly inward in a spiral, just meeting the edge of her areola with a wiggle and flip of the tip of his tongue. He repeated the process with her other breast, looping just outside the most sensitive skin where it darkened.
“God, stop teasing!” Lena twisted her fingers into a better grip, jerking his head forward just an inch. A gasp of delight burst from her as her nipple slid into his warm, wet mouth. The sound quickly softened to a contented purr as he slowly played and stroked with her nipple. Lena leaned her head forward, inhaling slowly the smell of him, his hair. She vaguely considered asking him what shampoo he used, to smell so clean and so musky at the same time, but the thought faded as he cupped the first breast he had worked on with his free hand, rubbing the nipple with his thumb in time to his tongue on the other.
Lost in the dual sensation, she heard her zipper working before she felt it, and nimble fingers quickly popped the button on her shorts. His fingers slip between shorts and panties, and Lena arched her back, grinding against his hand.
John slowly massaged her, fingers still outside her panties. The fabric grew warm and wet, her body quickly responding to his touch. She gripped his hair tighter, grinding his head against her chest as fingers slipped under the elastic band of her underwear.
Two fingers slid down along side either side of her lips, rough against the sparse hair. John’s middle finger rimmed the opening slowly. He coated it in her, moistening his finger before sliding it in and up to the roof of her vulva.
She clenched her body, face buried tightly against his head. The fleeting thought as his finger stroked inside her ran through her head, “He’s better at that than I am…” before she stopped thinking of much at all and faded away in sensation.
His tongue and fingers moved in unison, stroking, rubbing, and licking each stroke together. Between moans she giggled, gasping out. “Synchronized… Petting. New… Olympic sport…. “
Pressure built inside, already at a crescendo when his thumb slipped between her lips, pushing skin up to rest on her clitoris. Moments later she convulsed, body floating and mind burning from the orgasm. John sped his motions, and just as the first faded, another burst from her body, unable to draw breath, straining against him. He slowed, and as she lay back, her fingers coming loose from his hair, raised himself up on the bed. She twitched slightly as his fingers slid out of her, and he smiled as he brought them to his lips.
“You taste wonderful.” His other hand twirled her hair about her temple, then pulled away suddenly. It felt like hair being pulled, but no pain, just a long sliding feeling. He brought that hand to his mouth as well. “Just wonderful.”
“Did.. did you just eat my ha…aaaahhhh.” The question died on her lips as he slid half off the bed, separating her legs and stroking his tongue down her slit. In moment he had her hood rolled back, and was massaging her clitoris between his tongue and top lip. Lena clutched at the sheets, subconsciously backing away from the stimulation overload, as John hauled her closer, arms encircling her thighs.
Time forgotten, she drifted in a blur, one orgasm to the next. Self-consciously she felt a growing puddle under her ass, a small thread of terror in the back of her mind that he would drown after too long. The sound of rustling from the bathroom caught her attention before she realized that she felt a cold breeze on her now uncovered and moist crotch. She looked up to see John coming back from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a condom. He wasn’t the largest she’d seen, but still a decent size. Besides, she thought to herself, if he’s half as good with his cock as he is with his hands and mouth.
She slid back in the bed, propping a pillow behind her, spreading her legs in what she hoped was a seductive manner. “Get over here and fuck me.”
He smiled as he climbed into the bed, dick bobbing. “It would be my pleasure”
He teased her with it at first, rubbing himself up and down on her, easing in an inch, then back out.
“God damnit! Stop teasing me and fuckuckuck…” He slid into her, her legs wrapping around his waist, hands on his shoulders. He didn’t jackhammer his way like other boys had, but started slow, working up a rhythm with her. Their bodies moved together, slowly speeding up. As she luxuriated in the filling sensation, her mind wandered, rethinking scenes she’d written before, or had yet to write. Aspects of John and his lovemaking were sliced apart and became part of other characters. She almost heard Sally, “Thank you! You better give him that tongue!”
Writing evaporated as her muscles started to clench, her breath coming louder and more ragged in her own ear. They bucked against each other, and she could feel his cock spasming and twitching in her. He leaned into her, looking her dead in the eye, almost unnerving as she fought to hold his gaze and not simply throw her head back. Then his eyes were closed, and he was groaning as she raked her fingernails into her shoulders, pulling him to her as her own body cried out.
They lay there, panting for air. Lena looked at him, and laughed slightly.
“Wow.”
“Wow is right.”
“John?”
He idly swirled a finger around her nipple for a moment. “Yes Lena?”
“As beautiful as you hoped. Sounds like you were waiting for me. Are you secretly a stalker? It’s okay if you are. “
“You’re the writer. What would the appropriately cheesy line be?”
She thought for a moment, and a line she’d already written before was perfect.
“Of course I was waiting for you. I’ve always waited for you, I just didn’t know it. “
He smiled at her. “Oh no, I certainly knew it.” He kissed her gently, idly tugging at her hair.
She broke for air. “John?”
“Yes Lena?”
“That thing you did earlier? Where you held my hands down?”
His smile furrowed. “Sorry about that. Some women enjoy it, you didn’t, so I let go.”
She reached for him, stroking his cheek. He turned into her hand, nuzzling and kissing her palm. Women. She felt oddly happy he said women, and not girls.
“Well, I think I might, if not surprised. Enjoy it, I mean. If you’re up for another go?”
Lena rolled over onto her belly, thinking of an ex’s favorite position. She hiked her ass in the air a little, spreading herself out. A moment later he was in her again, pressing deeper than before. She stretched her arms out in front of her, pressing palms against the headboard as he held her wrists together, forcing her harder against the bed with each thrust. The panic returned, but faded, the inability to move worrying, but feeling certain that he would let go if she asked.
He nibbled on her ear, and whispered to her. “The moment you aren’t comfortable, tell me.”
She nodded, stretching her body back against him with each thrust. Then he wrapped his legs around hers, and she was fully pinned. She struggled for a moment, then relaxed, letting him take control, and lost herself in him.
*****
*****
Lena slowly awake, a smile on her face, darkness around her. She felt her arms still stretched above her head, his hands still holding her wrists. His body still tight against her. “We slept like this”, she thought. “That’s kinda”
Creeeeeaaaaak.
That’s…. not a good sound. She quickly took stock, and realized that it wasn’t hands, but rope holding her wrist. Rope binding her body tight.
Creeeeaaaaak.
Rope around her ankles, holding her upside down. Rope creaking as her body swayed slowly in the air.
“Awake?”
A light came on, weak, indistinct. John was lit in the center, naked. “Good morning darling. Was it good for you?”
He smiled obscenely as a tittering filled the air, as of many people stifling laughter.
“What.. what is this? Some kind of sick Misery thing? You really are a fan, and hid it, and now you’re going to torture the end out of me?”
John laughed, a disgusting, half human sound. “So far, and yet…” He reached out to her head, she twisted away, but just ended up swaying more as he touched her temple. A faint sucking sound, and the feeling of emptiness, and his hand came away holding… something. Something red, and wriggling, a worm from her mind. He dropped it, and her gaze followed it down, her head pivoting to an unnatural angle to see… A sheen, a shimmer. Some liquid that the worm joined, melted into. The surface roiled, and resolved into a moment of time, a character she hadn’t named yet, but knew intimately, dying at the hands of the heroine. “So close.”
“I… I haven’t even written that yet. How… What…”
John grabbed her cheek, his fingers rough and leathery. “Oh, no, you haven’t written it. But you’ve created it.” He pulled her towards him, towards his lips. She puckered in horror, eyes clamped tight, as cold wet lumps touched her face, her cheek, her lips. He laughed that dreadful laugh again, and sent her swinging away. She could see a barrel beneath her, filling with red worms that held her, her essence. Drips of crimson came away from her body as she swung, joining the pool.
Each swung brought John in and out of view, and each swing, he.. changed. His body grew gaunt, his fingers sharpened, elongated. His mouth stretched, warped, a sucker with teeth.
“You’re stealing my story! You bastard! You could take my life, but you’re stealing my story.”
“Not stealing. Feeding. Eating quite well, in fact. “
“Ea.. what are you?”
“We are many things, dear one. Many things.”
We?
“We?”
Lights rose, and Lena could see many standing, sitting, around just outside the circle of light that held John and herself. John turned, and they rose to his motions, his swinging arms thick and lumpy in the wrong places. They were all human, yet not, wrong somehow, as John had become. Monster aside, she quickly recognized Tracy, and Robert, the old woman, every staff and most guests she had seen.
“When you humans first told stories, they were about us. Your darkest fears, your fevered dreams. Like you, but not like you, feeding from you, different enough to not only frighten, but terrify. “
He spun in place, facing her. A hand thrust at her face, fingers replaced by long, skeletal claws.
“But you forgot us. Forgot us for new fears, new stories. We WERE the story, once, and to survive, we fed on your other stories. We went from drinking blood to drinking imagination. We encouraged your myth makers, poets. Fed from them, their creations, the energy made by a rapt audience, sharing in a temporary delusion. “
“For a time, it was enough, the dregs, the echoes of emotion. But from time to time, we require something a little…”
He clanked two gleaming claws together, looking up, scanning the inside of his eyelids, searching for the right word. His claws gnashed together with a sharp sound that made Thunder flinch away, causing her to sway slowly.
The sound of creaking ropes broke his reverie, and he smiled then, a round mouth full of needle sharp teeth. The spires engorged his maw, shining stark and bone white in the small illumination that fell. His gaze traveled back down past his eyelids, and he hunched slightly, his eyes locked to hers. She tried to hold his gaze, but the same bright blue eyes that hours before had gazed at hers with animal hunger as they moved together, now gleamed with another hunger, more bestial, frightening, boring into her mind and soul.
She felt his breath, clean, warm and fresh across her face. ‘That’s not right”, she thought.”It should be hot, fetid, smell like rotting meat.”
“Something a little… fresher.”
He reached out a claw, and she bit down hard to keep from sinking as it slid between ropes and sank into her breast. Her vision swam as he twisted the finger and pulled, and a torrent of red followed, collecting into the barrel below.
The flow slowed to a drip, and Thunder caught her breath, her voice.
“I’ll be missed.”
John slid his fingers down her naked belly, catching and ripping a piece of skin off in a long smooth peel. The pain screamed in her mind, red torrents coming down, though she knew she lost no blood, no true flesh.
John looked at it, as did she, a white gossamer cloud, holding faces, feelings, words and actions. “Hm, some short story. Not worth your time.”
He threw the scrap behind him in an offhand gesture, and two of the beasts around him snapped and snarled, fighting for it before ripping it in half between them, shoving the gobbets in their mouths. As it vanished in their maws, the ideas of the story vanished from her mind.
“No, no you won’t. We’ve had millenia of practice, and modern tools just make it easier. Your twitter says you were turned back at the airport for documentation. You never made it to con. We run this building, everyone you’ve seen is one of us. “
“But, my story, my updates. “
“You live alone. Writers often do. And we have not the talent, the driver, but…”
Needle teeth pierced her ear, chewing. Without control, scenes, dialogue burst into her mind, fading as they were sucked out the wound in her head. “But we have your story. Do not worry little one. Your story will update. It is worth so much more as food, shared with humanity. Each reader sends that much more attention and power to each morsel we eat. “
He pulled a piece of gossamer from her arm, chewing on it. “You have other stories in you as well. We could never write them as well as you, but we shall have the essence, the part that is in you. The fans will know the feel, even if the words are no longer as pretty. Why, it took a second and third book before anyone found out Miss Andrews was already dead. And even then, we were already two of her ghost writers. “
Even as fear and pain wracked her mind, she had to know. The curiosity burned in her.
“And why, earlier? Why the charade?”
John smiled, a human one, his face softening back to the one that had caressed her intimately earlier. “Even as your mind gibbers in fear, the writer in you questions. No charade. I enjoyed you, as you enjoyed me. So much of writing is emotion, and by bringing you to that climax, no pun intended, of a great day, so much energy released and bound in story. “
His face twisted back to the beast, and a hand punctured her stomach. Her vision swam in red lines, the pain causing her gut to twist around the four talons that raked down, opening her up, gobs of meat hanging over the bucket.
“But great writing is pain. From pain comes growth, story, fear, anger, all the things we crave. So now, dear Thunder, we shall cause you pain, and you shall cause us joy. We’ve had lots of experience, with pain and story. First we bleed you dry. Then we shall strip your very soul from you. You will be with me a long, long time, Thunder.”
John took her face in his clawed hand, and looked her again in the eye. He kissed her, his tongue worming around in her mouth, violating her, flicking through her flesh, revulsion filling her as it touched her brain, caressing the wrinkles and folds. He pulled back, and his tongue left her, trailing dark red drops. “Do scream, please. It adds poignancy to the tale. “