Hollawien: Part 1-2 of 3

  The apartment is on the second floor at the end of a dimly lit hallway. The door is dark red, although I’m not really noticing anything other than Erica.

  Even her name seems sexy to me, ‘Erica…Erica..Err..iiic..aaa…’ It repeats in my head like a tune that got stuck replaying in my mind.

  The door is ajar and she pushes it open and stands with her back flat against it, as flat as she can considering her voluptuousness. There is a curved opening between her back and the wood where her perfect bubble ass and shoulders are pressed against it. Her posture is pushing her full round tits out towards me as she waves me past into the dark apartment. I swear I can feel heat coming off them as my elbow passes within inches of what I’m sure are the roundest, smoothest, most pliable tits any man will ever experience.

  I’m standing in the small foyer of a room I cannot fully make out. The only light is coming from a single thin candle on the opposite side of what appears to be a living room. The flame gives off enough light to illuminate the small end table the silver candlestick is sitting on and a couch. I can’t make out any other details other than there is a person sitting on the couch. What I can see is that the occupant of the overstuffed couch is a woman, an old woman judging from the large unkempt ball of gray hair and multi-layered full dress she’s wearing. Although I can’t make out her details, the flickering light shows numerous etched cracks in her face. A large hooked shadow dances across her cheek opposite the flame. The word crone pops into my mind.

  “Oh, uh, hello,” I say in surprise. My erection is  immediately killed off by A: the sight of a woman I don’t think even a death row rapist could get it going for, and B: my shame for fantasizing about Erica, regardless of her feminine guiles, she is still a child.

  A new thought comes to mind a horrible thought, ‘Gypsies.’ I start to panic, ‘old woman…, young sexy girl…, it’s a fucking trap.’ I don’t know their scam but I know I don’t want to be part of it.

  “Uh, I’m sorry Erica but I,” I start talking and waving my hands as I’m turning and walk right into her. Both hands palms out, wavering back and forth like scared ‘jazz hands,’ planted firmly on her tits.

  “Oh jeez, sorry!” I shout as I jump back further into the apartment. Even in my surprised state I can’t help but think, ‘holy crap I was right, Be-Jesus that felt good.’

  I look at her face, she’s not smiling; her lower lip is pumped out, her eyes downcast. To my dismay, her pout is even more enticing than her smile.

  “I’m sorry, really.” I didn’t mean…” She cuts me off. “That wasn’t nice. Papa says boys shouldn’t touch without me saying it’s OK.”

  “I really didn’t…”

  She breaks into a smile and laughs, “Oh Gus, don’t be silly, I know it was an accident. This time anyway.”She throws a lower lip bite and eyebrow rise at me as she gives my body an obvious quick up-down glance; her gaze lingers on my now flaccid but still visibly enlarged dick

  I find myself staring into her eyes as she studies my body, I’ve forgotten why I felt so panicked a moment ago. Looking at her I feel relaxed and safe.

  “Now Gus,” she says in that soothing voice, “about the light?”

  My mind is repeating her name again, it’s like its being beamed into my skull on a radio signal meant just for me; ‘Erica…Erica…Err-iii-caaa…Err-oo-tii-caa.’

  “What??” I shake my head and close my eyelids, my sense of danger rekindled. I keep my eyes averted from her and pop my cell out of its holster. Opening them just enough to see the screen, I thumb its surface and punch the icon of two turtles mating, my speed dial for Tony. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Gus, what are you doing? You have to help us, we need the light.” Erica says this in the same quiet accent as before. My feeling of dread increases as I realize her voice doesn’t have the same effect if I’m not looking at her. I hear the front door close and the sound of multiple locks latching as Tony answers.

  “Hey bud, where the fuck are ya.” He says unaware of my predicament.

  “Hey Tony, I found a good party,” I need to make him understand I need him to find me without letting Erica and the hag on the couch know I’m concerned.

  “Remember that house I took a leak on?” I try to sound amused at the thought.

  “Dude that was three blocks ago. I’m on the street we were looking for. Get your ass over here.” He’s laughing and doesn’t sound like he’s going to come back.

  I risk catching sight of her face and glance back towards the door. There are now two figures standing behind her. I can’t make out any details other than one is much smaller than her, a child probably, holding something in its mouth. The second figure is a man, taller than Erica but still half a foot shorter than I am. Although he’s facing away from me, he appears to be skinny, almost emaciated.  I watch closely as he is busy securing the door; there are multiple locks. I continue to try to convince Tony I need help.

  “Yeah, um sure, sure I’ll come over, but if I’m not there in a half hour, that means this party’s rocking and you should come back.” I hope he understood because at that moment I see the thin man turn a large knob in the center of the door. <Thunk-Clank>, the final lock sounds big and solid. My phone cuts out, my connection to Tony severed.


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