#GenghizInLove: Episode 61

Pandemonium reigned on the terrace. We were all under the indiscriminate influence of Basic Instinct, and the mysterious drug's effects were all too visible. Benito and Hachek lay locked together on the floor, their magnificent muscles writhing as they fought. Delilah lay asprawl between them, her clothes incitingly torn, her splendid breasts heaving with the shrieks she repeatedly uttered, mechanically, like a dysfunctional doll. Immanuel's tattered purple robes fluttered like the flag of some derelict nation as he stood precariously balanced on the balustrade, earnestly exhorting the unheeding combatants to cease their strife. Jesus sat motionless like a predator owl, watching through unblinking eyes, arms crossed across barrel chest, trained assassin's body relaxed and ready. And, crawling on all fours, my heart pounding, I negotiated the perilous hazards of the glass-strewn floor, seeking escape from the mayhem.

As I entered the safety of the elevator, I was filled with an instinctive need for chocolate milk. I craved its insipid reassurance, its cloying satiation. Riding down in my closed cocoon, I coveted childishness. The elevator door opened and I went over to the reception desk. Cute little Annichka was sitting behind the counter, playing with her dolls. She looked up at me and frowned.

"Oh, it's you." Annichka looked down again into the vacuous eyes of her plaything.

"What's the matter?" I asked, hurt. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

Annichka stuck a needle into her doll's eye. I blinked. "You never play with me," she squeaked sulkily. Her lower lip was stuck out in a mutinous pout. "You always promise to bring me drugs and to play with crayons but you never do."

I winced. She was right. Months had passed since that promise and, trapped against my will in earth-shaking conspiracies, I had been faithless to this pretty chiclet. "What about right now?" I asked hopefully. "Do you have your crayons here?"

"I don't want to play with you anymore." Annichka's lower lip quivered. She viciously ripped a sleeve off her doll's dress. "You like Barbie better than me. I hate you."

"Come on, sweetie," I pleaded but to no avail. "All right. Don't talk to me. But do you have some bandages here? I'm bleeding all over the carpet."

Annichka put her little hand to her mouth and squealed in horror. She was rummaging frantically through her first aid kit, tossing gauze and iodine everywhere, when I had my brilliant idea.

"Annichka, don't you want to try a new drug?"

"Yes, but shouldn't we first bandage..."

"No. Listen. Suck some blood out of this cut on my wrist." Annichka's eyes opened wide in amazement. "My bloodstream contains a drug called Basic Instinct," I insisted urgently. Annichka looked at me trustingly. I had a moment of misgiving, seeing those big brown eyes, but I suppressed this misplaced compassion ruthlessly. I fluttered my eyelashes at her and smiled toothily. "Trust me."

"Okay." Annichka smiled sweetly. I held out my bleeding wrist to her. She put her soft lips to the cut and sucked, at first with tentative little nips, but surprisingly soon, with greater zest, tweaking and licking with quick feline flicks of her hot tongue. I shivered and closed my eyes. Snippets of memory zipped through my head, odd fragments from my brief sojourn with my lost love, Anastasia. Anastasia's green eyes flashing as she advanced towards me brandishing a butcher knife; Anastasia flashing a perfect thigh as she casually inserted a needle; Anastasia holding me to her, clawing my back, huskily howling guttural endearments; Anastasia calmly kissing her father's severed head before turning to me in that inexplicable transfer of her spirit's green flame... An eerie calm enveloped me. I was a solitary spectator in an empty theater. Then I was dangling in the void, suspended without support in an endless chasm, alone. A hot sweet presence was gone: I was bereft.

Until Annichka looked up at me and smiled. I gasped. The brown centers of her bovine eyes were flickering, transmutating: the milk chocolate brown yielding at the edges, whipped into a hazel froth, slowly succumbing to the inexorable progress of a glittering viridian wave. Annichka's adorable face underwent a parallel transformation: the cute curves melted away, accentuating the arrogant angles of the cheekbones and the long loveliness of the haughty throat. Annichka's thick dark curls tightened and shimmered with a coppery sheen, accentuating the small pink freckles gathering on her very pale heart-shaped face. "I love the taste of blood," the girl whispered huskily. "You remembered."

"Anastasia."

"My stupid love. So slow to release me."

"You didn't explain."

"You didn't think."

"I can't help it."

"Did you miss me?"

"Until I realized that you were with me all along."

Without warning Anastasia slapped me hard. "You bastard," she snarled. "How dare you sleep with that trollop Madlenova?"

I bit my lip and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Anastasia glared at me through slitted eyes. "I had to fight her with all my power. Otherwise she would have stolen both our souls and then we would be languishing for all eternity in the belly of the beast."

"Oh, come on," I remonstrated. "She's not that bad."

"She's an old cow. I cannot believe that you wanted to release me into her body."

"Do you like this one?"

Anastasia appraised her new body dispassionately. "Not too bad. At least it's young." She wiggled her hips and stared down her front critically. "The bottom is all right and the legs are quite good but the breasts are a bit small."

"They are not," I protested hotly. "They are firm and round and high. And big enough for a hot little adolescent. What do you want, melons?"

"And why pick a receptionist?" Anastasia's upper lip curled in aristocratic dismay.

"Edit the snobbery," I replied firmly. "Annichka was easily the cutest girl around. And talented. The things she did with crayons..."

"Stop speaking in the past tense," Anastasia interrupted. "I am Annichka. I am sixteen years old and very vapid." She rolled her eyes around in her head. The copper curls turned chestnut and the clear green eyes became murky momentarily before settling into placid brown. "I like this drug!" Annichka squealed happily. "Now can we play some other game?"

"Yes, sweetie. I know a very special game I want to play with you." I firmly led her behind the reception desk into the small room where the receptionists catnapped at night. I covered her face with hot kisses as we subsided noisily onto the flimsy camp bed.

With the passion reserved for lovers reunited after a long separation, Anastasia and I ran through the stages of love, the urgencies of clumsy preliminaries and premature culmination, the relief of laughter and affection, cuddle and fondle, then the careful impassioned agonizing bliss of coming together again, the lazy languorous tendresses that follow, leading only to more urbane embraces, the sophisticated wickedness available to those with time on their side. Naughty Anastasia amused herself by corrupting innocent Annichka, suddenly switching selves during our most dissolute caresses, snickering sardonically at her simple substitute's startled squeals.

"What will happen to Anastasia now?" I asked, idly stroking my beloved's sweet long flanks.

"How the devil should I know? I don't keep in touch with my previous bodies. She will probably go to mass regularly, have four corgis which she takes for long walks by the sea, dutifully accompany her husband to decorous church gatherings, and stare blankly when acquaintances ask why she stopped making movies."

"Poor thing." I wistfully remembered lying in bed with that smaller more fragile body.

She glowered at me. "Stop that. She's just a body."

"How can you be jealous of your own previous self?"

"You're with me now."

"But what should I call you?"

"Annichka, obviously. I may need a new name when I start my acting career."

"Annichka is going to become a movie star?"

"Of course. You don't think I'm going to be a receptionist forever, do you?"

"La di da." I stiffened and turned. "Isn't that someone ringing the bell at the reception desk?" Annichka and I threw on some clothes and left our little cave.

Delilah stood at the reception desk, sobbing hysterically. Her clothes were ripped to shreds and her hair was a serious mess. "Help me!" Delilah screamed wildly. "He wants to kill me!"

"Come here." Annichka and I escorted Delilah to the back room. I pulled out my flask from my pocket and cajoled the sobbing girl into gulping down a shot. She grimaced through her tears. I sighed. It was a sad sacrifice of good single malt but chivalry required it. After a few wasted shots, Delilah was calm enough to answer questions. "Who's trying to kill you?"

"Hachek." Delilah's face contorted again. "He knocked Benito down like a doormat and then started chasing me all over the building with a knife."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Delilah began to sniffle. "He... he called me the perfect Amerikan cow. He wanted to milk me. Boo hoo hooo!" She began to wail loudly again.

The reception bell rang insistently. We looked at each other. I squared my shoulders and nodded reassuringly at the girls. "It's probably Hachek. I'll handle him." Annichka looked at me adoringly. I marched out. Hachek was was bleeding profusely and his craggy hook nose seemed even more menacing than usual against the backdrop of his bloodless face. His tiny eyes held a cunning squint and his thin lips were twisted in an evil leer. He was holding a large hunting knife.

"All right," Hachek snarled nasally. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"My side of beef. I want a steak. Rare." Hachek jumped over the counter and rushed past me, felling me with one passing shoulder.

I eased myself up and followed him. Hachek stood against the far wall, holding Delilah in front of him. The knife was poised at Delilah's exposed throat. Annichka sat on the bed, calmly putting on her stockings. She looked at me ironically. "My man."

I stuck out my tongue at her and turned to Hachek. "Why do you want to kill her?"

"All my life I have longed to die. I just want to take her with me." Hachek giggled insanely. "Like a Pharaoh, secure in the knowledge that I will have company in the afterlife."

"Why don't you kill yourself first?" I suggested. "Then we'll slaughter her. Like a ritual heifer. Much more impressive that way."

Hachek frowned for a moment and then nodded. "Why not?" he said easily. "Do you promise to sacrifice her?" I nodded, ignoring Delilah's indignant gurgles. "Okay. Here goes." Hachek pulled the knife away from Delilah's throat and slashed it across his own. He toppled to the floor like a butchered bull. The sweet scent of blood rose sickeningly in the air.

"A ritual heifer, huh?" Delilah glowered at me. Her thick blonde eyelashes fluttered accusingly, half-obscuring her large azure eyes. "Recognize me now? Still want to sacrifice me, mister?"

"Lucy," I gasped. "Back from the dead. Again."

"Hi." Delilah/Lucy turned to Annichka/Anastasia. "We've met."

"Of course." Anastasia smiled. They shook hands. "I dreamed of you once. And then I saw you murdered in Berlin."

I rolled my eyes in my head. "Small world. What the devil are you doing here, Lucy? Why did you take over Delilah's body now?"

"I can't just wander around without a body," Lucy replied reasonably. "I smelled the blood. Why not Delilah? She's cute. And in case you've forgotten, the big bash begins in less than three hours. Xox is already here. Don't you want to meet him?"

Anastasia nodded. Her phosphorescent green eyes glittered in the darkness. "Why not?" I muttered feebly. Lucy laughed and led the way. We took the elevator up, up to the private suite of Xox, the lair of the lord of chaos himself.