Have Spacecat, Will Travel: And Other Tails by John Hartness (best color ebook reader .txt) 📗

her building and stepped into the foyer. Herman stepped up and grabbed the door before it closed, following her into the small entryway.

“Forget your key?” she asked, smiling up at him. It was a smile full of flirtatious promise, a smile that said, Look down my shirt, Herman. Don’t you want to touch me?

“No. I’m staying with a friend. She works nights, and if I don’t have to wake her, that’s better. I have my apartment key, just not one to the front door. She didn’t have a spare.” Herman didn’t look at her, looked at his feet to keep from spooking the sheep. It wasn’t time yet. Almost. Almost time.

“Cool. Well, see you around.” She turned and walked to the elevator. Herman stepped between the sliding doors and watched as the girl pushed the “8” button.

“What a coincidence. I’m on eight as well,” Herman said, still not looking at the girl.

“Wow. Well, maybe you can come visit sometime while your friend is asleep. We could hang out. I’m at the end of the hall.” She was close to him now, and he could smell her whore perfume. It reminded Herman of the perfume the other whore had worn, the one who taught him how you take care of whores.

“May-maybe.” Herman hated it when he stammered. Lions don’t stutter, you worthless piece of trash! He stopped himself before slapping his own face, but he didn’t look up at the whore again. He’d see plenty of her soon enough. Soon enough he’d see all her secrets.

The elevator dinged for the eighth floor, and the doors slid open. The girl looked at him and said, “You sure you don’t want to come hang out while your friend sleeps? I need to grab a quick shower, but then we could watch TV. Or something.”

Herman pretended to think about it, then nodded shyly. “Th-that would be nice.” That’s good, idiot. Stuttering is g-g-good now. Makes you look harmless. She doesn’t need to know you’re a lion. Yet. They walked together down the dingy hallway with faded wallpaper and threadbare carpet. She stopped in front of the last door on the left and fished out a key. As the door opened, Herman made his lion move—he shoved her into the room, hard, knocking her to the floor and charging in after her. He turned and locked the double deadbolt, then his right calf exploded in a lightning strike of blue-white fire, and pain coursed over his entire body like a waterfall of fire. He collapsed to the floor in a twitching heap and stared at the whore, who wasn’t on the floor anymore. She was standing over him, holding a small black plastic device with two prongs sticking out of it. She pressed a button on the side, and sparks leapt from one metal post to the other.

“Feel good? This is my little friend. Why don’t you say hello?” Then she leaned over and pressed the stun gun to his neck, and everything vanished.

Herman woke up to darkness. His eyes were open, but he could see nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but realized that his mouth was already open, and there was something hard wedged between his teeth. He felt around the obstruction with his tongue and realized that he was wearing a ball gag. The filthy whore put one of her nasty sex toys in my mouth! He swallowed hard, then again, and again before he finally got his revulsion under control. He took a deep breath through his nose and smelled leather. He was blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair. He couldn’t move his arms at all, and his legs were bound at the ankles.

“Are we awake?” came the whore’s voice from the darkness. The memory and humiliation came flooding back to Herman, washing over him like a tide of pain and fear. The whore had tazed him and tied him up; now she could play her nasty sex games with him. Herman felt himself stirring down there, where good boys don’t touch, and his cheeks flushed.

“I know you’re awake. Don’t bother trying to fake it. If you pretend to be asleep, I’ll have to hurt you.” A ringing slap to the back of his head shot starbursts through the blackness that surrounded him. Then he heard the click-click-click of her whore shoes as she walked around him. She paced slowly, giggling quietly as Herman craned his neck and turned his head trying to get a glimpse of her, trying to see something, anything at all in the darkness that wrapped his head in the blackest night.

There was a sudden pressure on his right eye, and suddenly light streamed in. He jerked his head back from the sudden brightness, but a hand held him fast. Something pressed against his other eye, then he could see. He blinked furiously, trying to adjust to normal light after being in such complete darkness, and a tear escaped the corner of his left eye.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. I’m here now,” the whore crooned. He could see her now, still dressed in her too-short whore skirt and her dress shirt tied up to show off more of her whore chest than any decent woman ever would. She had pulled her hair up into pigtails, and put on even thicker makeup, painting her face almost like a clown with fire engine-red lips and perfect circles of Betty Boop blush on her cheeks. She looked like a demented sex toy, only real.

She slid into Herman’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck in a parody of a little girl, and nuzzled his neck. “Is this what you wanted, Herman? Did you want to love me? Is that why you followed me for six blocks? Is that why you made up that stupid story about your friend in this building? Is this what you wanted?” She wiggled her bottom on his lap, and Herman struggled to control it. He fought with himself but couldn’t help it. He