"How much longer we gotta' go like this, Babe?"
"Not too much. I can feel us getting close. Just concentrate. Hold the climax with your mind. Don't let it go."
Jeez, she's gorgeous, her nude body all damp and shiny from the last, I don't know, has it been two hours? Maybe it's been two days. But she keeps sayin', "Hold on. Don't let it go yet." So we're still at it. Seems like I been pumpin' away at her sweet box all night.

I don't know. I don't usually answer those personals in the back of the paper, but it'd been a long dry spell. You know what I mean? The kind where you get up every morning figuring this is the day your balls just shrivel up and turn to dust. So I was lookin' in the paper, and there's this chick advertising an exotic time for any guy brave enough for a really wild babe. Genuine fantasy shit, ya know?

So I call the number and leave my name in the electronic mailbox down at the paper. Real sweet voice. Smooth as silk. Twice as expensive too, I figure. But whatever, I made the call.

A couple days go by and I get a return call. The voice on my answering machine is the same smooth one from the ad. Maybe I'm in luck. So we make a connection over the phone, and she tells me to meet her at this club on Sunset. I know the place no problem.

Then I start havin' my doubts. I mean, if this chick's for real, why does she have to advertise? Maybe she's like that woman in the "Martian Chronicles." Gorgeous voice but looks to kill a horse? Probably fat, too. Oh well, this dry spell has been a little too long. Fat chicks need love too, right?

So I go down there, and right away, I can see, I'm way off. Her name is Karla, and she turns out to be some kind of exotic beauty. Long black hair, black eyes, dark tan, petite, kind of Polynesian looking, and a figure full of dangerous curves. Long red fingernails and dressed really sharp, green satin dress tight, sleeveless, and painfully short. Man, this is my lucky night, for sure! I figure all I gotta' do is impress her.

So she gives me her sad tale. I guess chicks have dry spells too. Says that attractive women have more of a problem because guys are easily intimidated. Afraid to ask them out, or even approach 'em, ya know? She says that she's not looking for commitment right now, but just somebody to help her with some special fantasy of hers. Some kind of sexual yoga, or something like that. So if I'm agreeable and can hold my juice until she says, she can show me stuff to blow my mind. I'm just nodding my head, and thinking, you can show me anything you want so long as I get to take that skin-tight dress off of you first.

We didn't stay at the club long, just one drink. She tells me that she put out the ad because she's serious about what she wants. She doesn't want to waste any time. Man, my kinda woman! Right about now, I'm figurin' I'm dreamin'. I didn't even get to spend the cash that I took out of the teller machine tonight.

Her place is pretty nice, a small cottage set back from the street in the hills north of Beverly Hills. Posh furnishings, but not much of it. I start lookin' for the bedroom, but she says no need. We gotta' do it in the living room because there's more room. Whatever. So she lights a fire in the fireplace and piles on the wood like it's gonna' be burnin' for a long time. Then she opens up a small cabinet on the opposite wall and starts pullin' out all these candles and stuff. A chalice, a dagger, all sorts of weird junk like you see in the movies. So I gotta' ask, is this satanic or something? She says no, they're just symbols for her yoga or tantra or something like that, mumbles something about going home. She starts makin' chalk marks on the carpet, placin' candles all over the place, lights some incense. I tell her that I'd be a little more relaxed if we had some music, so she turns on the stereo, something kind of quiet, that generic jazz stuff that they play on TV when the actress is at home. Okay, that'll do.

So she stands in the middle of all these chalk marks and just drops her dress. Man, the gates of paradise just opened! I've seen curves before, but this babe would put the road through Topanga Canyon to shame. The lights are off, the fireplace is goin', the candles are lit, and the music is just kind of whisperin' through the house, and there's this tasty brown goddess standing fully nude with just a smile and a gesture of her hand.

Well I undress in record time, but she says we have to go slow. It HAS to be slow or we stop, and that'll be the end of it all. Okay, okay, I can play this game. No problem. Well not much of a problem.

"Come on, Karla. I just wanna cum, Babe."
"Oh, we're so close . . . don't lose it now . . . I can feel it . . . the energy is rising . . . just give it a few more minutes, and you can have me any way you want . . . please, please, please . . . just hold on for a tiny bit more . . . ."
Man, that voice is more like a purr. Like a velvet glove down the middle of your back. Okay, just a little bit more. But it's been forever so far. I've got a few rug burns on my knees, and my crank is kinda sore, but jeez, she does feel divine.
Then I notice something in her fireplace. It's tiny and blue, all the way in the back, kinda glowing, but getting bigger.
"What's that blue thing in your fireplace?"
"Probably left over . . . one of those premade fireplace logs . . . concentrate on what you're doing . . . I'm going to need you . . . soon ... any minute . . . are you ready?"
"Yeah, Babe, I've been ready."

But that blue thing is getting bigger. It's kinda rectangular. It's like I'm looking down a long corridor, and this blue thing is a door, but it's getting closer all the time, rushing toward us here in the cottage, here in the candlelight.

Then Karla's hands grab my face, pull it down to hers, and shoves her tongue halfway down my throat. She starts grindin' her hips like a woman possessed, and I figure this has gotta' be the time. If it isn't, well, we'll just have to start over. Tough.

I let go, and six months' worth of self-relief makes me hungry for this one explosion. We both start groanin' real loud, and I'm just buckin' away tryin' to keep it all in her, not waste anything. But the wind is whippin' at my hair, and I open my eyes, and the whole fireplace is blue. I do see a door, a double door, made of steel with lots of rivets, plenty of rust and corrosion, and it's rushing toward us at Mach 10. Those doors fly open like an explosion. They go blasting past us like something out of a nightmare. Or like maybe we were flying toward them, and they just opened to let us in.

There is a huge slam, like a hundred cell block doors jammed shut behind us. I've lost my hard-on now, and I'm thinkin' that this bitch fed me some PCP or shit like that. But, oh God, where are we? I get off of her and stand up, and all I can see is this huge chasm full of roaring flames. Everything is red, flames light up the whole scene. I turn around, but there's no door, no fireplace, no cottage, just a blackened barren landscape as far as I can see.

I whip back around and she's standing right there. But the sight of her puts my stomach on tilt. Her skin has started falling off! I mean, like big sheets of it, just peeling off like she's some kind of radiation victim! A bunch of it has already made a wet pool around her feet. Where the skin is missing, there's nothing but blood-gorged muscle. She's bigger now. Her cherry-red nails are still red, but now they hang from twisted claws that are more like hooks. Her eyes are slit like a cat's, and they're pulsing with a sick green light that beats to the rhythm of her exposed heart. Blood seeps from between her muscles as she breathes. She stands a head taller than me now.

"You bitch! What did you do to me?! Where the hell . . . "
And a bizarre voice, like metal plowing through broken glass hisses out of a throat that's just a little too long. "Hell? No, not exactly..."

She takes a step toward me. Oh God, I can't move! My knees locked in abject fear. I can see the muscles of her arms tensing up like she's gonna' punch me, but before I can blink, her hands strike. Her nails punch through my chest, between my ribs. My sight becomes red screaming pain. Her claws are cutting though my insides. Jeez, my heart is pumpin' too hard. It's not workin' right.

Then she clenches those nightmarish hands into fists. I look down at them through my agony, all bloody muscles and bone, and those hook-like nails are locked around my ribs like they're suitcase handles. She's holdin' me up that way, cuz' I'm not usin' my legs anymore. We're movin' toward that big pit. I don't know how. I can hardly see now. God, it hurts so much!

She pulls me close to her face. No more lips, no soft skin, just lots of chisel-point teeth piercing the muscles around her mouth. Her breath stinks like sulphur and dank sewage. I can feel her body flexing, her back arching. She's lifting me up like a rag doll. Then she just tips over backwards and I can feel us falling. I can feel heat.

And the only other thing I know is the duet of her howling laugh and my tearing scream as we tumble downward.

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