In the Belly of the Beast

5

Ruby dreamed of cat-house days. Traveling back in time, she felt the decades erased. She was young again.

***

She stood in the center of a room - full slip, barefooted, electric. The long tresses of platinum cascaded down her shoulders and back, a shimmering waterfall of whitened silk. The undulating lines of her body transformed the matronly slip into sexy lingerie.

The sun shown through the open window, and the sheer curtains swelled like wind-filled sails in a gentle breeze. The bed was unmade, the sheets strewn across the mattress in a violent disarray. Her clothes lay crumpled on the floor in tiny abandoned piles, her shoes askew beside them.

She swept her hands over her body, cupping her full breasts, massaging her neck and scalp. It was a gesture of self-love.

She knew the measure of her beauty was great, and was mindful of how much the gods had favored her. But a wink from the gods was a fleeting thing.

Many might pay homage to her beauty and bow at her feet.

Men.

Women.

But it would not always be this way.

Live for today; it was her motto. 

Time was her enemy.

Wrinkles would come. The luster of youth and the glow of good looks would fade, leaving behind their vanishing imprint on her shriveling shell.

He came to her as she stood in the room. The man with the gun. The man with the eyes. He took her in his arms. He took her. 

Hot with passion, they writhed on the floor. He entered her again and again, deeper and deeper, until he touched of that place made her arch and cry out in pleasure.

The wind breathed into the windows, and once again, the shears billowed like sails unhinged. Dust chimeras danced their feverish frenzy, a mad jitterbug about the room.

She felt the brush of whiskers against her nipples.

***

She opened her eyes. The dull glow of the nightlight filled the room with its weak light. The rough blanket chafed at her chin. Her head pounded in rhythm with her heart. Boom. Boom. Boom.

She raised her head from the pillow and saw the man sitting in the chair. Sylvester, still in the man's lap, stared back at her too.

"You don't sleep," she said in a voice graveled and deep.

The man stared back in stony silence.

"What time is it?" she finally asked.

"Early," he said at last.

"I had a dream," she said.

"I know. But it's still early. Lie back. Try to rest."

"My head. Hurts," she complained.

"Just relax," he said. "Rest. Close your eyes. It will ease, you'll see."

The pounding in her head began to subside. She closed her eyes, and her breathing took on the measured cadence of sleep.

She did not dream.

She awoke with warm light streaming across her face.

The stranger must have opened the curtain. How nice.

Geoffrey! Oh no! It was late. He'd be raging.

She'd overslept.

***

She sat up like a shot, but a sharp pain knifed through her head. She fell back into the pillow. Once the pain had eased, she slowly lifted her head and then her body from bed. She took her time, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The truck that hit me must have backed over my carcass several times for good measure, she thought.

Her whole body was stiff and sore. She gingerly reached for her worn out robe.

"Hey, you old sow! A guy could waste away to bones waiting for you to bring him some chow!"

"Hold your hairy horses, Geoffrey. I'm getting it," she yelled as she entered the kitchen.

Sylvester was doing figure eights around the man's legs. His back was to her. He was doing something at the stove.

He glanced over his shoulder and said, "You needed your rest. Here's something to keep the monster at bay."

He finished pouring the coffee into the mug and placed it on a tray heaped with breakfast goodies.

"Don't worry, I saved some for you," the man whispered.

She delivered the tray to Geoffrey's room. For once, the stranger chose not to follow.

"It's about time," he said. "Guy could go gray waiting around for you."

He looked at the mounds of morsels piled high on the tray. His eyes widened, and his thick tongue started at one corner of his puckered mouth. The pink serpentine organ slithered from side to side, leaving a trail of spittle smeared across his lower lip.

"Now this is more like it," he said.

His mouth was watering so that his speech sounded mushy and wet like hers.

She left him.

"Meet his approval?" he asked when she reentered the kitchen.

"What do you think?" she said.

She sat down and began eating her breakfast. She always thought herself a good cook, but even she would have to admit that this was the best food she'd ever eaten.

She had just finished the last bite when the hush of the morning was shattered. A loud clatter and a series of frantic screams were coming from the back bedroom. She rose from the table and trotted down the hall as quickly as she could.

"Augh! Oh gawd! Augh! Augh!"

She threw open the door to Geoffrey's room.

His immense body lay in the middle of the bed, the tortured mattress sagged beneath its load. The tray was lying across the room, its contents dripping from the wall and scattered remnants strewn helter-skelter on the floor.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Ruby cried.