The Set by Paul Hart-Wilden

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The clock was ticking. The wheels had been set in motion.
'Stop… here!' David pulled at the handle of the taxi door but it refused to open. 'C'mon!' The anxiety was clear in his voice.

'You have to pay the man!' Sheena pulled a crumpled bill out of her purse and passed it through to the driver. The light disappeared from the door. David burst out of the cab. Sheena stepped out behind him, smiling apologetically at the driver as she received her change.

'It's a bladder problem.'

Sheena jogged up the steps to the apartment building. David was already at the door, his finger pressed continually to the entry buzzer. He stepped back as Sheena appeared beside him, craning his head back to look up to the apartment on the seventh floor.

'Relax will you!' Sheena was finding David's paranoia increasingly difficult to deal with. She'd been right from the start. Friends are friends. Lovers are lovers. That's the way they come, that's the way they should stay. In the six months they'd been seriously dating nothing yet had changed her from the opinion that this was merely a stop-gap of a relationship, just a little something to keep the machinery functioning until…
A voice shouted a string of obscenity from the entryphone.
'Just open the damn door okay!' The buzzer sounded and David pushed the door open. Their footfalls echoed up into the darkness of the stairwell. It had been sometime since the elevator had last worked. Most regular visitors to the building automatically took the stairs.

'David!' Sheena had promised herself she'd quit smoking, just the occasional weed now and then. Her chest hurt as she tried to keep up. 'Slow down will you. This is crazy.'

Jason had dropped out of sight for over a week now. At first it had been assumed that this was just another of his little trips of self-discovery. They'd happened every six months or so since they were in school. He'd find a new plaything, a new source of chemical stimulation, whatever it was he was looking for at the time. He'd skip town, drop out of sight. A true child of the nineties, with a similar attention span, it didn't take him long to tire of these new experiences. A week without a sighting hadn't been enough to send David to panic stations. It had been the phone call that had tipped him over the edge. Almost before the line had gone dead, David had been pulling on his clothes, dragging Sheena out of bed.

At two thirty it had been difficult pulling a cab. They'd run for almost a dozen blocks before finding one who'd stop and drive them cross town. If only it had just been another late night 'I'm okay. See you in a couple of weeks.' kind of call. Not this time. Jason had sounded different, strange somehow. With the innumerable chemical substances that had become such a staple of Jason's diet over the years even the change in his voice hadn't been enough to send icy shivers down David's spinal column. Seven words. That had been enough to send his skin crawling, sent him chasing across town with his girlfriend in tow, fear and panic twisting his stomach into knots.
'I found it. I found the ritual.'

It was only at the apartment door that David finally slowed to a walk. He ran his hand across his face, wiping away a film of cold sweat. Balling his hand into a fist David hammered on the door as Sheena stood behind him, waiting for one of the adjacent doors to open and an angry neighbor come charging at them.

It took only a moment. Across the hall a door opened as far as the security chain would allow and an angry, brutal face pressed itself to the aperture, spitting out a stream of venom towards them. In her best apologetic tones Sheena tried to calm their assailant but her words were unnecessary as with his spleen sufficiently vent, the door slammed shut.

David recommenced his own assault on Jason's apartment when with a creak straight out of a bargain basement horror movie, the door of Jason's apartment swung slowly open. The ritual. It had scared David when they had first spoken of it. Why? He wasn't sure. Something deep inside told him it was wrong. Satyriasis. Even the word itself had come to be a stimulus of fear and disquiet within him.

The three had known each other since school. Over a dozen years together they had seen and shared secrets, more things in a decade of experimentation and exploration than a hundred people would experience in a dozen lifetimes.

Jason had always been the first to take a step, a risk, the most keen, most daring. A self professed sexual pioneer he had always wanted to break new ground, explore new frontiers. No part of his body went unexplored, no fantasy untried, no taboo unbroken. Sheena and David lagged someway behind, both in terms of the imagination to see the untrod paths ahead and their willingness to take that extra step into the unknown.

As they had grown older, Jason's search for sexual fulfilment and self-expression through a little original sin had changed direction. The procuring of texts and participation in a number of ritualistic encounters were all part of Jason's quest for the ultimate erotic thrill that magic could bring to him. But despite this his appetite for sexual satisfaction remained insatiable.

Sheena and David had never been as desperate as Jason. They enjoyed his company and the participation he allowed them but they did not share his need to continually push back the frontiers.

From the darkness came the sound of the flick of a switch and the room filled with light. Inside of the apartment everything was a mess. Furniture was overturned, destroyed, the walls were smeared with obscene tantric symbols. From the fetid smell that assaulted their nostrils it was clear that the artist's chosen medium was faecal matter. Blood, semen and half-digested food had been added to the mix, increasing the range of the palette. Clouds of heavy incense hung in the air, blurring the view of the carefully orchestrated destruction. In the center of an immense, swirling pattern of handprints and geometric designs on the far wall was the number seventy-seven.

David's blood chilled in his veins, his stomach tightened, his throat constricted. Seventy-seven.

'I found it. I found the ritual.' David almost jumped out of his skin. Sheena turned abruptly towards the source of the voice, the darkened passage leading into the bedroom. Slowly a shape emerged. Gaunt, pale, eyes sunken back into his head, rimmed in black. Jason looked a mess. His sweat pants were stained, damp with numerous patches of mucus, semen, and blood, beneath which the stirrings of his ardour could clearly be seen. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing something red across his cheek.

'My God…' Sheena breathed. 'You look awful…'

'But I feel fine.' Jason entered the room, seeming to drift towards them without moving. He looked exhausted, incapable of making even the slightest effort. The tips of his fingers could be seen to be trembling.

'Jesus Christ man… where've you been?' The corners of Jason's thin, elegant mouth curled slowly into the most seductive of smiles.

'I told you… I've found the ritual.'

'Have you tried it yet?' Sheena had to know. Even in his pitiful, emaciated state something still burned of the animal attraction. During the course of their lives she had only been partnered with him on a handful of occasions. Somehow it always seemed to be the one path he never completely went down. At times it had left her feeling unwanted, outside. At others she had thought it the only reason she had managed to keep her sanity. The things he had told her, the sights he had described. Sometimes she felt she would go mad to have experienced such things. A cautious toe in the pool of exploration was as close to the edge as she needed to go. But not Jason. He had long since flung himself head first into the murky waters, caring not where or whether he finally resurfaced. Now for some reason she felt her skin prickling. Perhaps it was the numerous stimulants hanging in the air, suspended on the fragrant clouds that danced in the lamplight.

'Satyriasis.' The timbre of his voice, the rhythm of the word, sent shivers through her body. She knew how much it meant to him, if he truly had found what he was looking for. His tousled hair fell across his eyes as he shook his head. 'Maybe.'

David's face clearly showed his concern over Jason's condition. He warned him not to go any further, pleaded with his friend but Jason's ears were closed to such entreaties. He wouldn't listen to them, desperate as he was to pursue the ritual. It had become an obsession and it held him in its grip. Besides, what pathetic pleas they could make were already redundant. It was already too late. The clock was already ticking.

Through his explorations, Jason had heard tales of the ritual. The ritual of Satyriasis. A ritual said to give the power to enjoy seventy seven orgasms within twenty four hours. The number had become the object of his fascination. Seventy-seven. Not seven. Not seventy. Seventy-seven. A potion concocted from the plant satyricon dissolved in milk was all that had been needed. Seventy-seven. Reciting it like a mantra he danced around them. Taking Sheena by the hands he spun her around and around until she fell drunk and giddy into the mess of cushions scattered across the floor.

'C'mon… we're leaving.' David held out his hand to Sheena as she lay back giggling on the floor. She was presented with a straight forward choice. David or Jason. A chance to delve further than she had ever gone before, to experience a level of pleasure and intoxication beyond anything she had previously imagined possible. Jason took her hand, holding it against his hardened crotch. She was curious as to whether there is any truth in the claims he had made for the satyricon philtre.

'We don't need anyone here bringing us down.' There was a steely edge to Jason's voice, a darkness in his eyes. For the first time in his company David felt scared. David looked down into Sheena's eyes, the last time he would ever see her alive. She looked like someone he'd never seen before.

A cab for the return ride home pulled in at the kerb almost immediately David walked out of the apartment building, as if he were meant to be someplace else. He peered up out of the taxi, searching for Jason's apartment among the wall of darkened windows but the building had already disappeared from view.

Sheena could feel the heat emanating from Jason's body as he drew her to him.

'You're more like me than you care to admit.' Sheena knew it was true, couldn't deny it. The circle was complete. As she had once lost one thing that could never be replaced, so she was about to lose another. From the first time they had met she had always been attracted to him… it was only his continual experiments with excess that scared her, kept her at arms length and ultimately forced her to cleave to another. David had been her safety net, his own caution preventing her from stepping too far into the dark.

But now the darkness was coming for her… smothering, enveloping. He ripped her panties away, his hands aggressively forcing apart her legs. Sheena gasped as he dominated her totally.

She panted, trying to catch her breath. Her hands reached up to the waistband of his sweatpants, desperate to become a participant not just a spectator. Jason brushed her aside, flipping her effortlessly onto her front, one hand under her hips, pulling her towards him, his other hand pressing down on her back, forcing her face into the floor. She cried out as he penetrated her.

Unable to sleep, his waking vision haunted by the image of Sheena in his arms, David made a call. The Adept was angry at being woken at such a time.

'Satyriasis? You call me at this time to ask me about Satyriasis?' Swallowing the anxiety that was making him sound more aggressive than necessary to extract any useful information, David softened his voice and started again.

Sheena screamed. She could feel blood dribbling down between her legs from the lacerated tissue of her vagina. Jason showed no signs of tiring.
'Get back here!' He grabbed Sheena's ankle as she tried to crawl away, dragging her back towards him.
'Please… Jason…' Sheena grabbed at the floor, clawing at the detritus scattered around her. Ahead of her the open door to the bedroom offered some hope of sanctuary. Her fingers momentarily brushed the frame of the door before she was again dragged back.

'You wanna take a look see? What's the matter… you not comfortable out here?' Jason stepped over her, his foot inadvertently crushing the fingers of her left hand. As she squealed in pain, Sheena was grabbed by the arm and dragged through the doorway.

The bedroom looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood was sprayed across the wall behind the bed, reaching up to the ceiling where it still continued to drip in thick globules onto the ravaged body sprawled balleticly across the blood-soaked bed.

Sheena screamed as Jason picked her up and threw her onto the bed. She spun round, desperately clawing at the crimson sheets to get away. Half falling off the bed she found herself staring into the sightless eyes of a second female corpse.

Jason leant nonchalantly against the door, his priapic member showing no sign of tiring. In her frantic efforts to twist away from the horror around her, Sheena was becoming wrapped in the bloody sheets.

'Lasted less than two hours… both of them. Can you believe that?'
Sheena stared wide-eyed from within her reddened shroud.

'Jesus… Can't remember how many times it took before I broke 'em. Still… I guess you get what you pay for! Bitches!' Jason gripped his erection tightly in his hand. The tip was bright red, almost glowing in the half-light. Blood ran freely from the shredded foreskin.

'C'mon… it's fuck time again!' Sheena started to sob, shaking her head as he stepped toward her.

'Please Jason, no!' Jason smiled but the sparkle in his eyes was already gone. His chest was heaving as he sucked in breath after deep breath.

'I need to set myself a new fitness program! Shit! This stuff's better then Viagra!' Jason took a step forward but hesitated as a stitch pierced his side. Sheena took her chance, diving off the bed in an attempt to pass him.
'Oh no you don't.' Moving with surprising speed and agility, Jason lunged at Sheena, grabbing her by the hair, ripping a handful from her scalp.
'I'd save your energy if I were you. We're a long way from finished.'

David was learning a lesson that served only to heighten his dread. The Adept had confirmed what Jason had previously told them about Satyriasis but he added a little detail that had not been mentioned to them before. Imbibing the philtre did allow for seventy-seven acts of copulation in a twenty four hours period - however, as with all similar deals, there was a trade off. The number of copulations was non negotiable - whether you wanted them or not. Neither was the time in which they must be performed. Seventy-seven ejaculations in twenty-four hours. Not seven. Not seventy. Seventy-seven.

'However strong your friend might think he is, I doubt that he has either the strength or the stamina to cope with the full power of the satyricon.'

As the receiver slipped from his grasp, David felt the world collapsing around him. His fingers shook so much that it took him four attempts to successfully dial Jason's number. Number busy. A further two attempts were necessary to dial Sheena's apartment. David prayed that she'd seen sense and gone home. The answerphone cut in. David slammed the phone down.

The street outside the apartment building was bathed in blue and red light. Police and Paramedics crowded round the entrance. Panic burst from David's lungs in one long pitiful scream. He burst through the cordon of onlookers, almost tripping face first into the gutter.

In the hall Police and Paramedics were gathered round the door to Jason's apartment. Over the general din and clutter a strident voice sought to rise above all others. It was the brutal face from the apartment across the hall; cursing the number of times he'd been forced to call the cops that night because of the Hellish cacophony coming from the apartment and protesting that the girl, or girls (David was too stunned to fully take in what was being said) might still be alive if they'd listened to him sooner.

Moving like a somnambulant, David passed through the wall of Police Officers. He stopped at the entrance to the apartment, momentarily blinded by the numerous flashes from the coroner's camera. Time seemed to slow to a complete stop.

There was no clinical white sheet to spare him. The black bodybag lay beside the body, unzipped, waiting to swallow her whole. Nothing about the look frozen on her face or the grotesque positioning of the limbs suggested that Sheena had died anything other than the most agonizing of deaths. She'd been fucked in every orifice her body had to offer. When those had become uninteresting or unusable she'd been fucked in several of the gaping wounds across her stomach and lower back.

'She's my… I… we…' Words stuck in his throat like fishbones. Tears filled his eyes, blurring the nightmare vision as the corpse of his ex-lover was stuffed unceremoniously into the black plastic shroud.

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, a large white face pressed close to his own. The mouth, a black hole of nothingness opened and closed like a fish. He heard words but made no sense of their meaning. He tried to respond but his tongue lay flaccid in his mouth. He was being shaken, pushed, shoved. He almost fell, dropping through a sea of treacle. Another face rose up in front of him. The voice softer, sympathetic, feeling his terror, compassion transmitting itself through the vice-like grip on his arms.
Somehow he managed to communicate with them, explaining who he was, why he was there.

He hit his head as they pushed him into the Police car. As they drove through the darkened streets David caught sight of his reflection. He hardly recognised the ghostly face that stared back at him.
The station was in pandemonium as David entered. Still in shock, he felt like he was moving one step removed from the rest of the world. That Jason was seemingly responsible for the deaths of two more unidentified females had made no discernible impact on David, smothered as he was in a cloying blanket of shock. His mumbled request to speak to Jason had been firmly rejected. Even now they only admitted him to the station for the purposes of interrogating him about his earlier visit to Jason's apartment.
Hardly had either David or the interrogating officer taken their seats in the interview room when the shout went up from the holding cells. The station's newest guest, already highly agitated when they had brought him in, was becoming increasingly unruly.
The holding cell area was filled with shouts and screams.

David followed the officer out of the interrogation room, using the cover of pandemonium to follow in the direction of Jason's anguished screams.

A key was thrust into the lock. As the door opened a foot slammed down into the pool of blood that burst across the doorsill. David began to choke almost instantly. Inside, the cell was awash with blood. Jason, naked from the waist down, blood covered his body, lay motionless on the floor. David stood in the doorway, unable to enter, the cloying stench of death and fornication threatening to suffocate him. He was oblivious to the commotion around him, the shouts for paramedics. He was pushed aside as another officer ran into the cell, almost losing his footing on the blood soaked floor.
Wide eyed, David stared at the cell wall opposite him. There were numerous bloodied holes in the wall of the cell. Every crack, every chip in the plaster had blood running from it. The mattress on the wooden bench dripped blood from more than a dozen cavities torn in the faded material.

'Get him out of here!' The Officer stabbed a finger, dripping with Jason's blood towards where David still remained motionless on the threshold of the sanguinary cell. Rough arms grabbed him, turning him away from the horror. David moved stiffly, responding to the barked orders like an automaton.

As he was forced away from the scene of Jason's death, David's eyes were suddenly caught by the subtlest of movements. A tiny piece of lacerated flesh fell away, dropping to the floor where it was immediately trampled underfoot. David closed his eyes, feeling the contents of his stomach rising into his throat, mixing with the bile that was threatening to burn its way out of his body. Even with his eyes closed he couldn't shake the vision from in front of him. All he could see was the keyhole. A tiny opening in the portal, dripping with blood. Small pieces of flesh still clung to the metal plate. David screamed as they dragged him away.

~The End~

Email the author: Paul Hart-Wilden


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The Set

©1991 Word Count: 3,600