Strum: virgin captive of the billionaire demon rock star monster (The Squirm Files) (8 page)

“Maybe I wanna clean it.”

But he released her and she turned around.
Wow.
Zagan looked even sexier with his pants down around his ankles and his cock glistening with her moisture and his cum. But one other thing drew her gaze – a set of black, glossy horns curled from his head.

“You’ve got something new on your head.”

“These?” He reached up and ran his hand along one horn. “It’s because of you. With all this power, I can’t hide my true self anymore.”

“I love them.”
She looked him up and down again. Why was this so attractive? “I’m such a dirty girl.”

“Oh, you are. You are.” He grinned back at her and hauled up his pants, zipped up.

“How can I walk around here now? I’ve got holes in my tights and cum on me.”

These small things never did bother the aver
age romance character. Why her?

“I can fix that.” He bent and stripped off her tights
and panties then wiped between her legs while kissing her like he wanted to remember her taste until the end of time.

When he was done, she was sure her eyes were glazed
and she’d lost a few brain cells.

Dayum
.
“Stop cheating. Kissing me isn’t a substitute for explaining why I won’t dribble cum as I walk.”

He shook his finger at her. “Naughty.
Dirty mouth. You won’t because I say you won’t. I’m a sex demon and such knowledge comes with the title. But you will have to keep your T-shirt down if you don’t want to show off your hot little sex-reddened pussy.”

Gah
.
She yanked down the edges. “Give me my tights. It’s better than this.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“I ate them.”

Her mouth fell open but no words would come.

Was he telling the truth? Was it possible? He was a demon. They weren’t on the floor. He’d eaten them?
Really?

“You didn’t?”

“They tasted good too.” He winked and slowly checked her out, especially where her T-shirt ended. “Besides, I wanted you like this, without panties.”

Glaring at h
im seemed the best thing option.

Important: r
emember to never ask him to do the laundry. Or look after her cat.

Zagan
beckoned to the three of them. The ebook section door ahead was blasted off its hinges and smoking.

“We have to be on the alert from
now on! My power tells me the Necrosexi-texmexicon is definitely down there! But I still can’t get hold of Lars, Skoll, or Mr. T. Something has gone wrong,” he yelled, very loudly, signaling the next plot development in as obvious a way as possible.

Virginia
took her hands off her ears and frowned. “We still have no weapons.”

He rapped the
gold guitar hanging at his back. “I have this.”

“Does it shoot bullets or ninja stars or explode?”

“It squashes things when I hit them with it.”

“
Uh-huh.”

Dangerous Bob gave it the once over then materialized a piece of four by two from somewhere unknown.

Shit.
Virginia blinked. So that’s where it came from.

The last of their squad, Crush, just patted his groin and chuckled.

The man was so up himself, if tortured. What could he do with that?

“Good.”
Zagan nodded. “We’re all armed then, except Virginia, and she doesn’t count because she’s a girl.”

Ohmigod
.
She was going to have to do a lot of ignoring today, or she was going to kill somebody whose name started with
Z
. “The demon loses ten points on the marriageable scale.
I
have my razor sharp wit.”

Zagan
smiled. “I know you do. I’m counting on it.”

“And gains fifteen on the rebound.”

Crush chuckled while also managing to leer at her almost exposed bottom.

For the fiftieth time she tugged
the shirt down. If they had to crawl through any ceiling ducts on this book finding expedition, she was going last.

“Remember, eyes peeled for abnormalities that might mean the book’s been here. When we catch it, we have to make it open a portal so Karl
and the Sea Wolves can return here, then send it through, back to wherever it came from.”

They sneaked through the door and continued on past many askew doors. There’d been bad things happening. Debris and actual paper pages littered the floor. People ran past them toward the exit, screaming, with panic written on their faces.
..in big letters.

“Why the paper,
Zagan?” She stopped at his shoulder and peered through the nearest genre door – Erotic Literature.

“I think the
Necrosexi-texmexicon is making the electronic contents of the stories become real. This is where the worst of it seems to be, and I can sense the book too.” He checked his guitar, like a ninja checking his sword, putting his hand to the neck where it jutted above his shoulder.

They
filed through the beaten-up door and were faced with another long corridor, immensely long, that disappeared into a haze in the distance. It was deserted and there were thousands more doors to either side.

“
Be very careful,” he added. “Stick close to me.”

Good advice but where would a story
be if no one did anything stupid?

“Sure.” She couldn’t get over seeing those horns sticking out of his head.

What would it be like to hold them while he made love to her? Preoccupied, she wandered over to a door labelled Disasters in Book Covers and wrenched it open, found yet another corridor of doors, each one covered with a different book cover. The place was a maze of doors. She figured these would be the stories you could buy. She checked the nearest, then screamed.

Dangerous Bob
sprinted over, swearing a dirty streak. *What?*

“
It
has been here. Something awful has happened. Look.” She had one hand plastered over her eyes but she peeked through her fingers.

Screechy horror violin-
type music assaulted their ears for a few tense seconds.

Before them loomed a cover
with a man’s bare chest above a landscape of three upright dildos, a dinosaur, and an elegant woman with bright red lipstick.
Dongzilla in Mantitty City by Wetly Comeson
was proclaimed in searing white letters.

“God.
It’s horrible,” she managed to croak out.

Bob was struck dumb. When Crush walked up and looked, all he did was squeak.

“What...has happened here?” Staggering a little, she wandered further along, and found a book cover door with a woman dressed as a short-skirted schoolgirl under the title,
fuck being subtle by Spanky Schoolgirl
. Then there was
Private Trumpet by Racy McDacy
with a woman being sexually molested by a trumpet.

“Oh
my god,” she whispered. “I need therapy.”

Before she could go further
along, Zagan called them back.

“Out!
There’s nothing we can do. Some things are beyond even my powers. Our Necrosexi-texmexicon book hasn’t been here. These are just victims of an author with a poor taste and the ability to ass-fuck a book design program.”

She was the last out
and she leaned back against the Disasters in Book Covers door, breathing deeply, regaining her sanity. Close call.

From the way Crush was still quivering he was just as badly affected. Poor Bob, his eyes were wide and his eyebrows seemed permanently glued in the upright and startled position.

Focus.
“If we’d opened one, what’s behind the door?”

Her demon mused a second. “Just the story, I think.
Though with reality being distorted, it might be dangerous to go too far in. You could be trapped in there. But come with me, all of you. There’s something I need to show you.”

When they returned to the main corridor he led them down to
another door. The worried expression Zagan wore made her wonder what was wrong.

“I’ve found
Skoll and Lars. It’s not pretty. But this is what you have to be wary of. We must never let our attention wander.”

At a door called
Hearts at War
, bearing a cover with a passionate couple kissing in a jungle, he inhaled then pulled it open. “Let’s see if we can rescue them.”

Whatever
she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. A whole different world was before her. Miles and miles of land. Below was jungle and beyond that seemed to be crops or fields. They descended a narrow grassy path to the jungle. Grass rustled and something calf-high waddled from the bushes.

“Books!”
She gasped, pointing vigorously. “Walking books!” She bent at the knees to see under them. Little legs? How cute. When had this turned into a fairy tale?

Though Crush tried to pick one up, the little books
scampered away and ended up in a small herd of five or six around Virginia’s ankles, bumping into her, rattling their pages, and whispering.

“
They like you.” Zagan grinned. “Another example of the world going weird. The Book must be close. Let’s go.”

The p
ath wove between huge rainforest trees that stretched their branches overhead. The light dimmed. Sounds of squeaking apes came from the left, somewhere off the path. Virginia ducked under vines to follow Zagan. The screeching ape noises grew louder. In the gloom, figures scampered and leaped. Her heart knocked at her chest, in a distinct effort to vacate the premises.

What was going on
here?

When he halted, they stopped behi
nd him then spread out. She stood to his left.

“Damn.
” Zagan swore quietly. “Too late. It’s Skoll. Best if you don’t look. Let’s go.”

But even though he tried to block her view as he turned, she could see past
him. A whole herd of some sort of ape was cavorting, and...having sex? Lars was in there? Somewhere? It was a boiling cauldron of apes on crack.

“Don’t look.”
Zagan shepherded her backward.

“Why? What’s he doing?”

“The Book must have got to him. Skoll always did like anal and well, now he’s got it in abundance. Only I’m not sure who is doing what to who. It’s a maelstrom of gangbang monkey sex.”

Gulp.
Saying that in one sentence had to be some sort of record.

But as she
turned to leave, a thought struck. “Wait. Are those...let me guess, orangutans?”

“You know your apes. What does it matter?”

Crap.
“Never mind.”

An orangutan gang-bang
. She’d been right not to piss off the author. Poor, poor man, What had Skoll ever done except be a filthy-minded rock musician with a liking for fucking ass?

Bitch
author. Oops.
Think pretty thoughts, think pretty, non-incriminating thoughts.

In a gentle and perhaps kindly reassurance, Crush squeezed
Zagan’s shoulder. “He’s in his happy place.”

If that was happy, she’d take a prison sentence with a bunch of drop-the-soap-in-the-shower sex mad
crims.

Zagan
trudged on. “We go through the jungle, out the other side. I know Lars is here. I can feel him. And look. That’s his.”

A white extension
cord lay on the ground and went on as far as she could see, one cord after another, each plugged into the next.

“Why? Where’d that come from?”

“Lars always likes to stock up on those. Half the hotels we stay at, he’s got to fling the TV out the window with it still on. It’s a dare. An accomplishment. Especially if the TV is still on when it hits the water.”

“So
this is the rock musician’s version of a paper trail?”

“Yes.”

Once they emerged from the jungle, they found a field of red flowers that stretched from side to side and off toward the horizon. The air was hot, sticky, and stifling. The sun scorched the sky a pale blue and the path they now walked upon was gravel. Since Virginia had thrown away her stilettos long ago, she had to do a hop, skip, and
fucking ouch
dance, every now and then. Overhead, a squadron of buzzing, small planes wove in and out of each other’s flight paths, attempting to shoot each other from the sky. Machine guns rattled. Bullets were no doubt perforating things. It was a war, all right, though with no romantic kissing in sight.

“Where
’s Lars?” All she could see was the endless sea of flowers. Then a scream of glee erupted and a patch of flowers swayed as if something was brushing them.

Dangerous Bob pointed at the moving flowers
. “Fuckin’ fucker.”

“
Yup.” He was right. Lars rolled into view, squashing the edge of the flower field. On his face was ecstasy. His tongue lolled and he called out nonsense words.

“Poppies.
It’s a poppy field.” Zagan swore along with Bob. “Let’s drag him out of there, but he’ll be useless for hours. The man looks like he’s been chewing on the poppies.”

“
Gagagaga!” Lars waved and slumped again. He grabbed a bunch of flowers and stems and stuffed them in his mouth.

Two of the team out of action already.
Mr. T. was still missing.

“
Ow!” The little books had followed them through the jungle and one of them had nipped her ankle. She frowned, backing away but finding they wanted to huddle near her again. Had they gone feral?

When she stopped retreating, t
hey swarmed closer to her legs, and they seemed to be shivering.

She looked up at the jungle.
Something was coming from there, something that scared them.

There was a noise.
Rustling. Thumping. The bushes swayed. A tree toppled with a crunch then a thud as it hit the ground.

Mr. T. burst out, yelling
, and waving his short arms.

Tearing out after him
came a green and obviously magical book about six feet high. Trees and grass around it burst into rainbow flame. Pages of books were spat out, spinning, by the Necrosexi-texmexicon, like razor sharp Frisbees.

She felt herself pale and her fingers
grow cold.

P
aper cuts were the worst.

Little
booklings ran past it squeaking, most of them homing in on her. Did they think she was their momma or something?

Dangerous Bob materialized his four by two.

Zagan unslung his guitar.

Guitar music twanged through the air as if announcing to the audience that a Mexican desperado had been flushed into the open, his guns firing, his mustache twirling.

Crush...she wasn’t sure what he was doing but it looked rude.

The world exp
loded, metaphorically speaking.

Virginia stood there quaking as everyone ran at everyone else,
shouting, swinging their weapons or their cocks. Or in Mr. T’s case, transforming before her very wide eyes, into a Tyrannosaurus rex with big teeth and stompy feet. She scurried backward, herding the panicking booklings.