Incarna

Day 3: Sydney Australia - Early Morning

Sunlight slowly and painfully prized his eye lids apart. He allowed himself to squint from where his head lay in collision with a pillow. She wasn’t there and his bedroom glowed with morning sunlight. Oh how he longed to stretch naked in its warmth instead of feeling this tortured imprisonment.

Every muscle in his body screamed no to be moved. He ignored them, he had too. He felt crumpled and twisted and needed desperately to stretch out. A memory of waking in the languid luxury of a rested body overwhelmed him and tears trickled down his cheeks to stain the pillow he seemingly could not raise his head from.

He opened his eyes wide and the fragrance of the roses next to the bed filled his inbreath. He’d put them their yesterday lunch time in preparation for a dalliance last night. He tried to swallow and he gagged on his own dry mouth as the memory of yesterday filled him with remorse. A darkness opened inside him he could not see beyond.

He moved his fingers then his hands. They felt stiff but the screaming pain eased. Slowly he worked his way through the list of his body parts. Moving this and rolling that till all his body began to feel normal. Tone sat up and stared. His bed wasn’t the matted, fetid mess he’d seen last night with her slime and his semen laying in smears and globs over everything he or it had touched.

There was no sign of any of it. He sat up and looked at his hands then felt his chest. There were no oozing wounds from her claws. No torn skin across his head where she’d held him with her horns. No red raw flesh were her fur had torn the skin right off him wherever she’d rubbed against him. There was nothing, except the memories, vivid and horrendous; and her words, “pay it back.”

He knew what she meant because every time he’d heard the words his mind had become filled with the faces of all those whose lives had been torn apart by his ridiculous and selfish advice for their retirement finances. He’d invested everything he could lay his hands on into those fraudulent schemes. Then the GFC crash, and down had come the house of cards and he’d stepped away from it just in time to watch those too cautious to be swept away. In hard, and away fast, was his motto and he’d setup his entire future out of the fees and charges from those trades.

Now how am I gonna get out of this? He thought as his mind began to race with the probabilities. Where had she come from, where did she go to? It cant have been real, yet? … and then there was the threat, “every night will be the same, till you have paid it back!”

There was no way he could go into the office today. He looked and felt like shit and no amount of PowerOn tonic was going to get him through today. He hobbled like an old man across to his desk. His bedroom was open plan with his study with large picture windows drawing in the beauty of his multi million dollar Sydney Harbour view. His girls loved waking up to his attentions and that view!

His laptop screen came alive, all his icons came up and his work home page opened with his signature fanfare. There were the summaries of yesterdays trades and holds and todays futures. He flicked the touchscreen through to his long term accounts all secured away off shore in different vaults and currencies but all linked to the one trading algorithm. As he watched he could see the numbers going up as the multitude of microtrades kept increasing his wealth.

Tone flicked to another screen and called up his records for the period before and after the crashes that caused the GFC. He sub itemised all those small investors who had taken the risk on his word and then lost all. He held his finger over the enter button then, Shit fuck! He swore when he saw the final tally. It would cost him at least half of his wealth. He stood up then grabbed the nearest chair as his head swam and his empty stomach screamed revolt.

He walked away from the screen and padded to his small snug kitchen. Designed so that if you cooked with someone you would have to rub bodies as you squeezed passed each other. Nude cooking was loads of fun and so had been the sex. He ate quickly from his fruit bowl and then ran a mixture of veg through his juicer. Something would have to lift his energy sooner of later. He put the kettle on and set the temperature for 88 degrees. Just nice for a Triple Ginseng tea to boost his immunity.

His phone sounded with a message from the office. “Turn off all devices, raid under way. Protect protect protect!” He stumbled back to his screen then slumped to his knees, tears running down his face and shit oozing down his legs as he went into shock. It was all gone, all his tallies were at zero. He’d been cleaned out!

Tone watched a cartoon succubus dance across his screen, squatting and pissing every now and then and leaving putrid smears down the screen, to pool along the base. Small Succubus hatched from eggs amid the stinking pool and began to climb up the screen. The screen went hazy then a bright flash as all his data was corrupted. Tone was stunned, he couldn’t see but his head was instantly clear and his body free of aches and pains. His heart began to race then a sharp pain grabbed his left arm and he couldn’t breathe. He fell unconscious and naked to the floor.