"Garry Kilworth - Mirrors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kilworth Garry)

start. That had cost him five-fifty and he hardly ever used it. The chance
of an experience like this did not come twice in a lifetime. He really had
no choice.
'I'll take the Extra-special.'
The man was effusive.
'You make good choice. This wonderful adventure. Very fantasy. Very
erotic.' The man did a little shimmy with his hips and smiled one of those
enigmatic smiles that only Orientals can seem to produce. 'I guarantee you
never have nothing like this before in your life. You not forget this
night for a thousand years.'
'I should live so long,' replied Walt, dryly.
Walt had never been with an oriental woman. In truth he had not had sex
for quite a time, not since his marriage to Jody had broken up a year ago.
This would be quite a new experience for him. He believed he liked
diminutive females. They appeared to be more submissive. That might not
have been true, but it seemed so. Jody had not just been a muscular
five-feet-eight. She had also been a work-out freak. When her arms gripped
him around the back of his neck, and legs locked behind him, her heels
driving him into her, he had felt as if he were in some kind of medieval
vice, a fucking-machine built to pummel men's genitals to pulp. He had
felt manacled. No need for handcuffs or leather straps: Jody had been a
human bondage device all by herself!
He was led through narrow winding passageways, the walls lined with red
and gold flock wallpaper, to a wooden door. The man turned and smiled as
he produced a large iron key. The door was opened and Walt pressed gently
inside.
'Woman come in a moment. She pretty. You like her.'
'I'd better,' said Walt, staring around him.
There was a musky perfume coming from somewhere. He discovered holes in
the sides of the bed and guessed they were vents. The aroma was powerful
and intoxicating, with some kind of an aphrodisiac quality. He felt
himself being aroused. Walt had heard of certain foods and drinks doing
that, but not a fragrance.
The room was weird by his standards.
He inspected the bed , which was large with black satin sheets.
Each side had a huge round red pillow with a hole for its center.
The headboard was carved with a painted rainforest scene. There was a red
monkey motif following the oval shape of the bedhead: mischievous-looking
creatures with round quizzical mouths, linking tails. Snakes slid in and
out of stylized undergrowth. There were tigers in there somewhere, half in
and half out of shadow. Magnolia trees stood leafless and bare, with
dark-red cupola-shaped buds on the tips of their branches. Succulent
pitcher plants, with deep mysterious recesses, grew from mossy banks.
Vines entangled and wound their way throughout the whole scene, binding
all the individual beasts and plants together. Incongruously, right in the
center of the headboard there was a long railway train entering a deep
tunnel.
When he studied the picture closer he could see death in there too.
There were the symbolic skulls, obvious to any culture. He noticed that
these were arranged in casual piles with exactly four skulls to each heap.