Hot Blood: Tales of Erotic Horror

Moments of awkward silence numbed the stand-off until Jason squeezed between the two front bucket seats to switch on the radio. Their favorite song was playing — «Cherish» by The Association. Jason edged closer to Carla and met her lips in an extended kiss. She sighed at his embrace, at the stroking of her breasts. His right arm around her tightly, Jason dropped his left hand to her lap where her jeans remained open and inviting.

This time she offered no resistance.

At last, Jason thought. His fingers slipped inside the scratchy denim lining of the zipper, under the elastic band of her panties, then crawled spider-like through a tangled web of pubic hair. He felt himself growing unbearably aroused as he pushed his hand further to the velvet dampness between her legs. Jason exhaled to relieve the tension. God, she felt warm down there.

Her musky fragrance scented the confined quarters of the automobile. Beads of sweat bubbled across Jason's face and neck as bis left hand grew wanner and wanner. He wanted to explore her secrets further but she practically sizzled at his touch. Something's wrong, he thought. Nobody can be this hot…

Jason gasped for air, sensing a sudden shift in Caria's mood. No longer tense, she moaned softly into his ear, squirming with delight as the temperature inside the car climbed steadily higher.

Jason closed his eyes. His fingers… they felt raw and began to sting… to burn…

He jerked his hand from her denims and stared with disbelief. A ribbon of smoke trailed the motion of his hand and drifted toward the fogged back windshield, his palm sweltering with a pale orange sheen. Candle-like flames flickered from his fingertips, and he began to scream — a coarse, hollow shriek barely audible above the verbal elation of his companion. Caria's eyes glowed like crimson coals as she looked on in approval.

A torch-like blaze flared from Jason's outstretched hand, consuming his shirt sleeve as it crept slowly up his arm, the stench of burning flesh tainting the air.

Frantically Jason beat his arm against the seat to extinguish the fire. He jerked and screamed as the pain grew more intense — And then he awoke.

For the fourth consecutive night, the same dream awakened him — not entirely a product of his imagination, but instead, a flashback from twenty years past, an incident all-too-real except for the nightmarish fiery conclusion.

The illuminated numbers of the digital clock shone dimly through the darkness — 3:43 a.m. Jason Strong, a family man in his late thirties, struggled through another interruption of sleep, his heart racing from both fear and sexual excitement as Kathy, his wife, slept undisturbed at his side.

Carefully Jason pushed the covers away, wiped perspiration from his face, and took another deep breath.

As before, the graphic vision left him not only frightened, but aroused and unfulfilled as well. Unfortunately, Kathy hated being awakened to make love, and would likely question his inopportune horniness. So Jason lay awake the remainder of the night, and worried for the first time that he might be losing his mind.

'Jason!' Kathy's voice shrilled. Jason's head jerked in response.

'Uh… yes, honey?'

Kathy stared at him across the cluttered remains of dinner at the kitchen table.

'What on earth has been wrong with you lately?' she asked. 'You hardly spoke to the kids tonight, and now you're staring into space again. Are you feeling all right? Is something wrong at work?'

'Oh, no,' he answered, dabbing a napkin at his lips with nervous embarrassment. 'It's nothing, really. I was just thinking.'

But when he looked at Kathy, he saw Carla instead. Jason remembered every inch of his first love's body, and could almost feel her youthful flesh again. In his mind, he re-experienced the sensuous cupping of her ass in his palms as he faced her naked in the shallow waters of a moonlight swim. He sensed her fingernails clawing at his back, her hot breath at his ear, her —

'Jason!' Kathy snapped. 'Will you please speak to me?'

Jason swallowed hard and shook his head.

'I'm sorry, Kat,' he said. 'I guess I'm just exhausted. Please try to understand.'

Kathy began to clear the table, wearing expressions of hurt and aggravation. 'I really don't understand,' she complained as the dinnerware clattered loudly into the sink. The faucet ran a stream of hot water over the dirty dishes as Jason cleared his throat and stood beside the table.

'Do you mind if I skip the shopping spree tonight?' he asked. 'I'm really bushed…'

Kathy frowned, then reconsidered. 'I know you're not feeling well, honey,' she said with a semblance of a smile.

Jason hung his head, feeling a nervous twitch in his cheek, his eyes watering as if he were about to cry.

'Why don't you slip into your pajamas and watch football while we're gone?' Kathy suggested with a loving hug.

Jason exhaled and sighed. 'I love you, Kat,' he muttered.

And with his voice breaking, he added, 'And I always will. I promise.'

The Dolphins were ahead by two touchdowns when the telephone jarred Jason from the doldrums of Monday Night Football. He yawned and twitched at the cold hardwood floor on his bare feet as he padded to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver.

'Hello?' he mumbled.

Silence.

'Hello?' he repeated impatiently.

The line crackled with static interference, then a favorite oldie from the sixties drifted faintly from the receiver, 'Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye' by The Casinos. Caria's transparent image materialized before him, a telephone receiver pressed against a mass of matted brown hair at her ear, her free arm extended toward him. Tears streaked her eye makeup, and coagulated blood oozed from a fresh cut at her wrist. Jason's eardrums pounded, his mouth suddenly dry and cotton-like.

'Carla?' he muttered into the receiver.

There was no response.

'Carla, is that you?'

He remembered making love in the back seat of his car and the first time they had made it in a bed. He could almost feel the texture of her skin, the warmth and sensitivity of her touch as the past events sharpened with clarity.

But then the memories changed, as if directed by an external source. Scenes from his youth were suddenly engulfed by rising mental flames, like film transparencies curled and destroyed by fire. Jason's hand began to tremble as he reached to hang up the phone. His pajamas were soaked with perspiration — he felt dizzy and needed to sit.

At the kitchen table Jason considered what he might do next. It was early yet. Kathy would be out at least a couple more hours.

He desperately needed someone to talk to.

Jason stared across the candle-lit bar room table at Bill Reese, his best friend. The Hogs-Eye Saloon, a favorite of theirs, was quiet as usual tonight except for the sound of Monday Night Football that whispered from a big-screen television across the room.

'She's really getting the best of me,' Jason groaned as he lowered a half-empty mug to the tabletop.

'I never knew Carla. What was so special about her?' Bill asked.

Jason took another sip, then continued.

'She was my first lay! That makes her pretty damn special, right?'

'Yeah, but I'm not going ape-shit over my first lay,' Bill countered with a shake of his head.

Jason stared blankly ahead. 'She was not only my first, but she was also the best I