A Calculated Magic

24

The sound of a woman giggling woke Jack. Eyes still closed, he inhaled deeply. The air smelled like perfume. Something soft and delicate tickled the bottom of his feet. Another woman giggled. Contentedly, Jack stretched his arms lazily over his chest. Then, with a start, realized where he was.

Eyes open, he scrambled into a sitting position. He was resting on a huge stack of pillows on the floor of a gilt-decorated chamber-He still wore the same clothes as when he had entered the elevator, except for one thing. His shoes and socks were missing. Two stunning young ladies, supernatural in origin and dressed in the same transparent outfit worn by Sharon, had been caressing his soles with long ostrich feathers.

“Welcome, master,” said one of the women, her hair and eyes jet black. “You may call me Alis,” She pointed to her companion, a redhead with green eyes. “My friend is Candi. We are here to serve you. In all ways.”

Jack gulped. The two girls possessed incredibly lush bodies shamelessly revealed by their thin gauze clothing. Concentrating in Paradise was going to take vast amounts of willpower.

“Hugo, Mongo,” he whispered, hoping the two ravens were close at hand. He could use a dose of the blackbirds’ sarcasm. Perhaps even a peck or two on his ears. But they didn’t answer.

“No, silly,” said Candi, scrambling over to Jack’s side. Pressing herself against his shoulders, she began unbuttoning his shirt. “Candi and Alis.”

“Stop that,” he commanded hastily, trying to ignore the heat of the girl’s barely clad body. Alis, reaching for his belt buckle, paused and pouted. Then she smiled wickedly.

“The master prefers to remain dressed while we engage in delightful acts?” she asked. She wiggled, setting alarm bells ringing inside Jack’s head. “That would be a novelty.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack, closing his eyes to avoid distractions. He raised one hand and pointed in a direction past his toes. “Go sit over there. Both of you. Right now. Then we’ll talk.”

“Talk?” questioned Candi, a few seconds later. While their near nude figures still had Jack sweating, he could at least keep his eyes open while he spoke. “We displease the master?”

“There are fleshier women for those who prefer their houris with more substance,” said Alis. “We can summon them if the master is unhappy with us.”

“Please be quiet,” said Jack. He wished he knew what had happened to the ravens. Finding Megan without them would be impossible. Especially if Paradise consisted primarily of rooms like this one, and was populated with women like his two companions. Even his encounter weeks ago with the mall nymphs had not prepared him for the houris. He had never met women so willing to satisfy his every command.

That thought broke the numbness gripping his mind. He was letting his emotions override his intellect. The solution to his problems sat a few feet away. He merely had to switch directions.

“You’re here to please me?” he asked.

“Yes, master,” answered both girls happily, rising to their feet. “Any way you desire.”

“Then sit down,” said Jack, rubbing his eyes to erase his latest vision. “I want to ask you some questions. Understand? Questions. And I desire for you to provide me with, to the best of your knowledge, complete, truthful replies.”

“Questions?” said Alis, wrinkling her nose. “The master prefers to talk about sex rather than engage in it. I’ve heard of this new style of oral sex but never engaged in it before.”

“Oh, give me a break,” said Jack, his temper flaring. “I’m not interested in any kind of sex at the moment I require information and you two sexpots are going to provide it.”

“Whatever turns you on,” said Candi, with a shrug of her beautiful shoulders. Gone was the humble servant motif. “But you’re passing up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m really special.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Jack, frowning. The houri’s statements triggered a long-forgotten memory. He stared at the girl closer. “Didn’t you say those exact words in an X-rated film, Bimbo Sluts from Los Angeles?”

“Yes,” said Candi excitedly. “You saw it? I made my screen debut in that movie.”

“They showed it at a bachelor party I attended,” said Jack. “Everyone there commented on your acting abilities,” He saw no reason to mention the remarks focused primarily on Candi’s lack of any such talents. The attendees had agreed she exhibited a greater command of body language than the spoken word. Jack groped for an appropriate compliment. “You showed lots of enthusiasm.”

“Thanks,” said Candi. Jumping to her feet, she tugged off her top and pantaloons. Totally naked, she bent over and grabbed her ankles with her hands, her buttocks thrust in Jack’s direction. “This pose look familiar?” she asked, cheerfully. “I’m thrilled you recognize my features. I’ve starred in seventeen other films. But in most of them my face isn’t on the screen.”

“Please take your seat,” whispered Jack, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. Watching a porno flick rarely turned him on. Being in the same room with one of the stars ready, willing, and able was another story. “Immediately.”

“Your wish is my command,” said Candi, dropping to the floor. “But I promise, you’ll regret wasting the opportunity.”

“Hey,” said Alis, “cut the commercial. I’m no slouch, either,” She winked at Jack. “On my day off, I work as a private dancer for hotel guests. I’m sure you’ve noticed the ads in the phone book and in the newspapers.”

Leering, she folded her arms beneath her chest and squeezed her breasts tightly together. “Strangely enough, my legs rarely bother me. But my back aches terribly.”

Jack swallowed a deep breath. While prostitution was legal in several Nevada counties, it was against the law in Las Vegas. However, business travelers and gamblers expected to find sex for sale in the city. Resourceful hookers managed to subvert city ordinances by advertising themselves as “private nude dancers for hire,” No mention was made of any extra services they might provide for customers. A large section of the telephone directory featured hundreds of such services and there were even free advertising newspapers distributed on street corners with phone numbers and provocative nude photos of the “entertainers” included.

“Then you’re not full-time inhabitants of Paradise?” asked Jack, trying to regain his equilibrium. “I assumed the houris never left this place.”

“Are you kidding?” said Candi. “It’s actually kinda dull down here. Only two types of men visit us. There’s the high rollers the boss wants to entertain so they’ll keep coming back to the casino and drop more money. They’re okay, though most of them have bigger dreams than they can handle, if you get my meaning.”

Jack nodded. Most males fantasized of being surrounded by a bevy of breathtaking, eager women. But dealing with the actual situation was another matter entirely.

“The second bunch come late at night,” continued Candi. “They’re the idiots who sincerely believe this hideaway is Paradise. As you can imagine, brains aren’t their strong suit. They arrive doped up to the eyeballs, so keeping them entertained isn’t difficult. Most of them pass out long before time’s up.”

“I prefer your crowd, handsome,” said Alis, licking her upper lip with her tongue. “While fraternizing with clients on our off days is strictly forbidden, I’ve been known to make exceptions.”

Jack shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t think my fiancée would approve.”

Alis smiled seductively. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, you might learn a few new tricks.”

“Wow!” said a familiar voice in Jack’s right ear. “That’s some hot potato.”

“Hugo,” said Jack, sighing with relief. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hell describes it, Johnnie,” declared Mongo in his other ear. “Rescuing Megan is going to be a lot more difficult than you imagined.”

“Hey,” said Candi. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Don’t tell me he’s nuts,” said Alis. “I kinda liked the guy.”

Weighing his options, Jack decided honesty was the best policy. If what Mongo said was true, he needed all the help he could muster. Snapping his fingers, he commanded, “Make yourself visible, boys.”

The two ravens flickered into existence on Jack’s shoulders. Hugo, with his flair for dramatics, flapped his wings and cawed. Mongo, more reserved, merely bowed his head once in greeting.

“How neat,” said Candi, otherwise unperturbed.

“Cool,” said Alis, equally undisturbed. Magical beings themselves, it took more than a pair of transparent ravens to shock them.

“Alis, Candi,” said Jack, “meet Hugo and Mongo. The birds are my assistants. We’re here to free my girlfriend, Megan, who’s held prisoner down here.”

“Pleased to meetcha, girls,” said Hugo. Though it was physically impossible for a bird to leer, he leered. “I love your outfits. We spotted a bunch of your associates while flying through the walls, but we were in too much of a hurry to catch more than a quick glimpse of what they were doing. It’s amazing the positions you humans are capable of assuming.”

“Charmed,” said Mongo, as Jack turned beet red.

“I’m a movie actress,” declared Candi. “Maybe you’ve seen some of my films: Hot and Ready, Twice Is Not Enough…”

“Sure,” said Hugo. “I thought you looked familiar. When things get boring at home, Mongo and me fly over to the local X-rated theater for a few laughs,” The bird cawed. “Now that you mention it, wasn’t that Lola Landru in the garden-five rooms from here? She was doing her special number on this one old guy. His face was so red I thought he’d pop his buttons.”

“Lots of us houris moonlight as adult film stars,” said Candi. “It’s a quick way to make a few bucks.”

“Hold on,” said Jack, sensing that he was swiftly losing control of the conversation. “Let’s start from the beginning. The very beginning.

“Obviously, none of the supernaturals here are really houris. By definition, they live in heaven and this place doesn’t exactly fit that description. Who are you girls?”

“Well,” answered Candi, “for a mortal you seem pretty well informed. There’s nearly seventy of us working here for Mr. Hasan. We’re wood nymphs, sea sprites, and assorted other classical beings with an appetite for uninhibited sex. Most of us drifted to Las Vegas because of its reputation as a wide-open city.

When Mr. Hasan opened this resort, he placed a coded advertisement in the newspaper, specifically looking for women like us.”

“Sure,” added Alis. “The pay’s good, the hours aren’t bad, and we get to indulge in our favorite pastime with a nice variety of partners. Mr. Hasan insists we pretend we’re houris and this facility is Paradise, but the only ones fooled are the dimwits he sends here at night. The rest of our customers don’t mind playing along with the gag. They’re usually occupied with other matters.”

“Where exactly are we?” asked Jack.

“One floor beneath the lower level of the resort,” said Alis. “It was built the same time as the original hotel, supposedly as an underground storage area.

“The long elevator ride is a sham. Most of the time you’re in the car is spent developing the proper mood. It only takes a few seconds to arrive at the gates of Paradise. The doors remain closed until your tour guide finishes her spiel and puts you to sleep. Then the visitors are delivered to chambers like this room throughout the complex. The sleeping gas wears off pretty quick and you awake in heaven. When three hours are up, we spray you with the same formula and you’re returned to the surface. It’s easy and effective.”

“With so many supernaturals working here,” said Jack, “I expect there are other passages to the surface than the elevator.”

“Naturally,” said Candi. “There’s a number of stairways connected to the mausoleum level. That’s how we enter and leave Paradise. The doors are marked No Admittance: Building Personnel Only,” She giggled. “Of course, the doors require a key to use them. Otherwise, we’d be overrun with tourists looking for bathrooms.”

“Incredible,” said Jack, trying to digest everything he had heard. “Hasan’s established this mini-Paradise beneath his own hotel for two purposes. During the day he entertains his wealthiest high rollers with a sexual fantasy playground catering to their wildest dreams.”

“You’d be surprised at the number of repeat visitors,” interrupted Candi. “We’re a popular attraction.”

“I’ll bet,” said Jack. “Then, late at night, he uses the same surroundings and nymphs to brainwash his recruits for the Assassins League. It’s a slick operation.”

“Cost effective, too,” said Mongo. “I’m impressed. Al-Sabbah might be a bloodthirsty, inhuman fiend, but he’s a good businessman.”

“The dollars dropped by the millionaires anxious to visit this spot probably cover the overhead with money to spare,” said Jack. “Which leads me to the question of the day. How much are you ladies paid for working here?”

“A thousand a week,” said Candi. “With two weeks’ paid vacation a year. We’ve got a contract. And a union.”

“Besides,” said Alis, “while the official Paradise guidelines forbid making outside contacts with our visitors, nobody enforces the rules. Lots of the girls moonlight on their days off,” She smiled. “Some of us don’t charge anything for fellows we really find fascinating. Guys like you, for instance.”

“Watch it, sister,” said Hugo, as Jack stammered an unintelligible answer. “He’s taken. His girlfriend has a nasty temper. And her father’s an awfully powerful wizard who does anything she asks.”

“Just making casual conversation,” said Alis, half turning her face so Hugo couldn’t see, and winking at Jack. Though he remained true to his fiancée, his toes still curled.

Commanding his hormones to calm down. Jack asked, “How would you girls like to make twenty-five thousand helping me? It wouldn’t require you to participate in anything dangerous. Merely open a few doors, provide a couple of costumes, things like that. No one would ever learn of your participation.”

“Twenty-five grand,” said Candi. “That’s a half year’s salary. I could finance my own movies with that bankroll.”

“You sure we couldn’t get in trouble with Mr. Hasan?” asked Alis. “I’d hate to lose this gig. And the boss didn’t strike me as the sort of person who forgives and forgets.”

“All I want to do,” said Jack, “is rescue my girlfriend. Supply me with two costumes like the ones you’re wearing and a key to the next floor and I’ll be set. A female friend of mine can dress up in one of the outfits. She and I will sneak down here in the evening and recover Megan. Disguising her in the proper accoutrements, we’ll escape before anyone notices she’s missing.”

“Uh, boss,” said Hugo, “there’s a major flaw in your maneuvers.”

“Which is?” asked Jack.

“Megan’s being held a prisoner on an barren stone island at the center of Paradise,” said Hugo. “The place is surrounded by a moat of burning lava. She’s guarded there by an incredibly ugly creature. It has the head and breasts of a woman, the wings of a bird, the tail of a serpent, and the paws of a lion. It’s not your usual run-of-the-mill warden, Johnnie, This creature means business.”

“The monster was playing Trivial Pursuit with Megan,” added Mongo. “The entire time we were there, it never missed a question. Not one.”

“Now for the really bad news,” said Hugo. “There’s only one bridge across the river of fire. It’s patrolled by a well-known beast from Cassandra’s milieu. We recognized it right away. It looks hungry. Real hungry.”

“A beast,” repeated Jack, his spirits sinking faster than a punctured balloon. He had naturally presumed that Megan was guarded by the Old Man of the Mountain’s Assassins. His background in game theory should have warned him not to make unwarranted assumptions. A monster and a legendary beast introduced unexpected variables into his rescue equation.

“It’s a seven-foot-tall dog with three heads and the tail of a serpent,” said Mongo. “I believe his name is Cerberus, Guardian of the Underworld.”

“Hell,” said Jack.

“Exactly,” said Mongo.