The Chosen

This sounded as fishy as the business about Lee leaving. “If the main ruptured, how come my shower worked this morning?’’

“We have more than one main, Vera. Listen, I’ve got work to do, and no time to take a ration of shit from you. You got anymore questions, go ask Mr. Feldspar.” And with that, Kyle walked out.

He is such a prick! Vera thought. Yeah, right, go ask Feldspar. I would, you schmuck, if you could friggin’ find him! Vera left the office herself, then slipped into the lobby ladies’ room. She was not surprised to find that all the faucets worked when she turned them on. Then she scurried to the restaurant kitchen—all the water worked there too. Broken water main, my ass. This was outrageous! And when she went to check the water in the room-service kitchen, she—

Shit!

—cursed heartily aloud.

The door to room service, as always, was locked.

You can’t just close The Inn, the irate thoughts followed her up the stairs. The kitchen water is fine—I’ve got reservations!

She had no choice. Feldspar was clearly a private person, not one to appreciate being bothered in his room. But as a manager, Vera felt it her right to know what was going on, and she deserved a better explanation than Kyle’s cock and bull. She marched briskly down the second-floor hall, passed her own suite, to the suite at the very end. Centered on the door shined a tiny brass plaque which read: feldspar, do not disturb.

Well, sorry, boss, but I’m going to disturb you. Vera stood a moment to compose herself, then firmly rapped on the ornate door.

The door not only was unlocked, it was ajar.

It swung open.

“Mr. Feldspar, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she apologized, “but—”

Vera stared, vexed.

She knew in a glance that Feldspar was not in the suite. In fact, there was nothing in the suite. No drapes, no carpet, no wallpaper.

No furniture. No bed.

Just four bare walls and a bare floor.

And a lot of cobwebs.

««—»»

“Things are going well. It’s a wonder, is it not?”

The Factotum’s voice loomed, his satisfaction akin to the most gentle halo in the turbid, hot dark. “My servants, soon we’ll be one as was my promise. Have faith. We must have faith.”

Zyra and Lemi nodded. The sweat of their labors slickened their young sheens of skin. So beautiful, the Factotum mused. So young and full of voracity…

“Nor must we allow our servants to get out of hand,” he added then, and led them away in his frock to the next vault. Horrors prevailed, such wondrous deeds. A nude woman, chained to the floor, squealed in bliss as both orifices were penetrated simultaneously. They’d been feeding her; her mouth bulged with remnants of Lemi’s delights. “We must never forget what happened last time,” the Factotum finished on a portentous note which hung in the air.

Yes, things had definitely gotten out of hand that time. Desire was often hard to reign; they’d been too free with the liberties they’d overlooked. Some hierarchs had been slighted,