The game 44 artists and models

[Kay]

THE GAME 44 ARTIST AND MODELS Part 1
This story is much longer than the others. It had to be. It was a very full night. This is the first half. The second will be posted next Sunday.

1. Invitation to a ball
They had just finished dinner. It was in person, not virtual, and though they were relaxing in the playground everyone, Ian, host and hostess, was dressed conventionally and appropriately to gender. They sipped their wine as Ian delivered a lecture on Abalone civic history.
“There is a building not far from here. It’s roughly a cube. Looks bit like a dirty sugar cube in fact from some angles…”
“I know that one. I’ve seen it from the freeway and always wondered what it is. I’ve never been able to find it though.”
“Not surprising. It’s only about three miles from here but it’s in a snarl of tiny back streets close by the tracks. It has quite an interesting history. Three sides are plain but on the North side is a façade which could suggest Egyptian or Assyrian to someone who didn’t know very much about either. It was obviously meant to suggest Mystery, Things Unknown, that sort of thing. All capitalized of course.”
“Of course”
“It was built in the last years of the 19th century as the holy of holies of a secret society.”
“Masons?”
“Oh, decidedly not. Very 2nd or 3rd tier secret society. For some reason the 19th century was full of them. Places where men could get away from their wives, engage in silly ceremonies and plumb the mystic secrets of the universe. “
“Were naked girls involved perchance?” she interrupted. “I feel that there should be naked girls…”
“I think it very likely. They usually are in that sort of place.”
She sipped her wine and nodded her agreement. She had opinions on men’s clubs in general and secret societies specifically.
“Anyway, with little fuss they quietly and uneventfully ambled through the last years of the 19th and the first few years of the20th century.. I think their high point was when they gave Doc Holiday a membership. Anyway by the early 20’s the esoteric order of…whatever had quietly evaporated and only the building remained, increasingly surrounded by warehouses and light industry and vacant lots. The land it stood on wasn’t valuable enough for anyone to bother knocking it down and so it remained empty during most of the 20th century, a time capsule guarding eternal secrets that no one particularly cared about. And so it remained until a couple of years ago when a collective of makers, artists and similar misfits bought it from the city and converted its warren of rooms into workshops and studios and its central hall into an event space.”
She refilled their wine glasses and said, “Fascinating I’m sure, but does this all have a point?”
“A very substantial one that touches us deeply. It is the venue for the long awaited, much anticipated, and many times postponed 2023 Artists and Models Ball!” Ian finished triumphantly.
“So it’s finally happening?” she asked. She felt a sudden hollow sensation in her stomach.
“It is indeed. The last hurdle was a city councilman who has recently been developing a decency crusade.”
“The same one behind the book banning attempt at the library?”
“The very same. He has decided to stake his political future on decency and good taste. He’s not a native of these parts and may find Abalone less receptive than he expects. Fortunately he, like all politicians is, at heart, really only interested in one thing. Contributions.”
“Do you mean he took a bribe?” she asked in mock horror. “Where are my pearls? I must clutch them!”
“Certain considerations may have changed hands…I’m sure I don’t know the sordid details.” Ian purred.
“So you have official permission for…the dark one?”
“Oh, no. He has no idea about that one. He was objecting, at least ostensibly, to the vanilla version. But we needed a permit for that before we could even think of mounting the Other.”
“And can he be trusted?”
“A nice question. Someone once defined an honest politician as one who, when he is bought, stays bought, so…” He shrugged. “We shall have to see how honest our paragon of decency is.”
They looked at each other. So. It was finally going to happen. They had agreed to take part, but that had been months ago and the thing had continued to recede into the future, a month, six months, maybe next fall… It had become rather like flying cars, coming any day now, year after year…

The Artists and Models Ball was a fixture in Abalone, at least it had been until the onset of plague had upended normality. It was a night of music and theatrics put on by the local art college. The main draw was the presence of scantily clad “artists” and especially “models” who performed, served drinks, and circulated among the crowd. It was a night of safe debauchery and acceptable levels of lubriciousness. “Bawdy” was as far as it generally went. And proceeds went to charity, so attendees drawn by the possibility of seeing a bit of naughtiness could nevertheless feel downright virtuous. “It’s only a bit of harmless fun…”
But that, Ian had explained to them, was the public event. There was Another. A private, after hours, invitation only affair, one of decidedly unsafe debauchery and quite unacceptable levels of lubriciousness, where ‘bawdy’ was seen only dimly, if at all, in the rear-view mirror.
Ian, of course, was one of the organizers and prime movers.
For this year’s Ball (whenever it actually happened) he was going to be the main presenter as well. He had developed a costume and persona befitting the momentous occasion. It derived from the tarot card of the Devil.
She remembered her reaction on seeing Ian’s drawing for the first time. It depicted a fearsomely demonic and aggressively hermaphroditic Lord of Hell, one possessing an impressive erect phallus and a pair of equally impressive and unlikely breasts. When she managed to tear her eyes away from those features a second glance confirmed that the monster was indeed intended to be Ian. Considering the embellishments it was quite a good likeness.
“It’s amazing,” she said. “…but the proportions seem to be a bit off …? You aren’t that tall, nor surely quite that well endowed. And here I speak with a bit more knowledge than I should have. I understand male vanity but still…”
“No, it’s accurate. I’m going to be on stilts under those goat legs. I’m quite stable on 12” ones, but I would really like to go to 18”. I may have to settle for 15 or so though.”
“So that would make you…”
“Somewhere between 6’10” and 7’4” I’m thinking. Interestingly that would put my male member somewhere around 4 feet to 4 and half feet above the ground. You’d barely need to bend forward to kiss it. My tits, however, will be about 5 and a half feet or so up, maybe a bit more. You might have to stand on tiptoe to reach them…”
“I would…?”
“One would. Hypothetically speaking of course.”
“Of course.”
“Anyway, as you so kindly pointed out, this picture doesn’t accurately portray my anatomy. As I am going to be so tall it will obviously have to be in scale, so I will need a simulacrum and I thought with your experience in making such things…”
Surprisingly she had the skill set to pull off such a project, which he knew.
“Ah, I see,” she said with interest.
She examined the figure again more carefully. The thought of the project and its possibilities clearly intrigued her.
And the challenge would draw her in. Which he also knew.
His excitement when, after some thought she said that, rather than a static prop, she could make it erect on command and ‘function’ had been beautiful to behold.

Which was how she came to build a realistic (for a certain value of realistic), operational demon’s phallus. When it was 90% complete she was able to show him the result over a video call. He had been so excited that 20 minutes later he appeared at their door.
“Show me.”
She brought him to the playground where it lay in a snarl of cables and tubes.
“All right, here we have it. I can tidy some of these lines away…”
As she began to describe it a nagging sense of déjà vu intruded. She was reminded of something, but what in the world could it be…?
Oh, of course…
“Now,” she said as Ian seated himself. “Do pay attention 007…”
Ian smiled.
“This contains the liquid. Anything of your choice, within reason.”
Or, knowing Ian, she thought, possibly way beyond reason…
“Nothing too thick, but otherwise…well, your call really… One pint capacity. I thought with all the layers of your costume there wouldn’t be any problem concealing it.”
“No, that’s fine. Ah…Could we perhaps do…two?”
Well, the front row is going to be in for an interesting night, she thought.
“That should be easy. What’s one more line in this mess? Triggers are here and here. This bulb for single shots. This battery powered pump for full auto, though of course that will empty even two pints pretty fast.”
She thought he might faint from joy.
“And could we see it… operate…?”
“Of course. Do you want to put it on?”
“Could you please? I want to get the audience eye view…”
Well, why not, she thought. The playground had seen stranger things. And oddly it wouldn’t even be the first time she had worn it…
She fastened the straps as best she could considering they had been designed for a larger operator.
“Are you sitting comfortably?” She pressed the button and the monster majestically awoke. Never mind faint with joy, murmured Conscience. He may have a stroke…
“Oh,” he finally said. “It’s glorious…”
She poured some water into one of the bottles.
“What’s the range?”
She smiled, walked across the room twelve feet or so, turned and fired. The gods of chance smiled, for she was not at all sure of aiming it. To Ian’s surprised delight it hit him square in the face.
“Wonderful! You could make a matched pair and we could duel!”
Well, there’s a thought to file away, murmured Conscience.
After a moment he said, “The size looks perfect, but can you still…?”
She was on the point of answering when the other member of the household entered carrying a laundry basket and wearing the Dress of the Day. Today that consisted of a micro skirt accessorized with a black lace bra, black stockings, and heels. Any request he might have made for panties had apparently been denied.
“Hello, Ian,” he said with a well-practiced curtsey.
“Ah good, you can help. Put the basket down there… Now, Ian was just asking a question which I think you can help with. If you could kneel just here, that’s right…”
“This must be Thursday,” he muttered to himself smiling. “I never could get the hang of Thursdays…”
“Now, open wide…no, wider than that, miss. There, that’s right… Ian, be a dear and get my camera. It’s there on the shelf.”
“Do you know,” Ian said, “I think there may be people who actually don’t spend their weekends like this? Hard to believe, I know. Ah well, their loss…”
Impressive, murmured Conscience, as he struggled with the Monster. He’s getting quite good at that. And she had to agree. His lipstick will need repairing though.
He managed about half but she was well satisfied, because that of course had been one of her main design parameters. Along with all the plumbing and hydraulics she had to keep an eye on the size. It had to be in proportion to the demon of course, but it couldn’t be too big. Because she knew without a doubt that, if Ian’s plans for the evening’s entertainment at Artists and Models came to pass, at some point in the performance it was going in her mouth. Possibly often and possibly for extended periods. She only hoped that Ian wouldn’t, in the excitement of the moment, attempt to introduce it any where else…

She pulled herself back from the memory. Yes, that had been a very successful day. But there was the present to deal with. The hollow feeling in her stomach was still there. Because apart from providing the special effects for Ian’s debut they had also agreed to take part in the festivities. Ian’s devil was based on the tarot card and the demon in that image had two attendants, male and female had he them. In the image they stood either side of him. They wore collars and leashes, which the demon held, but apart from that they were entirely unencumbered by clothes. Body paint he would permit and domino masks perhaps but nothing else.
And though the pictured attendant demons were merely standing she had no doubt that in performance they would be… busier.
But perhaps, she thought, it’s still a future date. Perhaps I can still prepare myself.
“Ahh, when is it…?” Just a bit of time…
“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. Tomorrow night! I’ll come round tomorrow early to get us all ready!”

2. The Ball
“No, not that way,” said the towering figure behind them. “That’s the metal shop. This way…I think…yes definitely this way…”
“How do you find your way in here?”
They were making their way from a storeroom which they had taken over as dressing room and staging area through a warren of passages, blind hallways, cubicles and chambers which took up, apart from the main hall, the bulk it seemed of the building. The addition of artists and makers who had lately colonized the space by cutting through original walls and throwing up new partitions had further complicated an already complicated floorplan..
“And why is it so…so… this way?”
“I read an account of the place a while back by an urban archaeologist. He suggested that this area was intended to be an intentional labyrinth intended to represent the travels of the soul after death between incarnations.”
“And do you buy it?”
“No, I think they just had a crap architect.”
“If any…”
“That’s even more likely. It was probably designed by one of the Brotherhood who had a book of engravings of Sights of the Near East and delusions of competency. Anyway here we are.”
They had arrived at a backstage area. Beyond the curtains she could hear a crowd.
Ever since Ian had announced the ball she had been trying not to dwell on it. Just put one foot in front of the other, do the next thing. They had spent a light day, certainly no games were involved. In the afternoon Ian arrived, possibly for (im)moral support. They had a simple meal and then drove to the temple in the early evening. One foot in front of the other…
Ian brought them to the back storeroom where they made their preparations. Ian stripped and they all helped to assemble the Demonic Presence. She concentrated on the Device, fitting and securing lines, pumps, straps. It was such engrossing and fiddly work that she could put aside what it was all ultimately leading to. Ian strapped himself into the stilts. Fortunately the ceilings were high enough to accommodate him. Barely. Then it was time for the demons. She paused, but only momentarily. Once it would have been much harder, but she had been naked in front of Ian how many times now? The demons peeled off their tshirts shorts and underthings and applied body paint to each other, a base of red with black accents. Ian touched up a few hard to reach bits and accentuated her breasts and added some Mysterious Sigils. Or something. Then he gave them their black domino masks and fastened on their breakaway Velcro collars.
Then came their shoes. Footwear had occasioned much discussion. Goat legs would have been good but impractical in the time at hand. Bare feet of course were an option but Ian considered human feet inelegantly made. Many cultures had apparently agreed with him, which was why so many came up with some form of high heels. And heels, if not too high, were a definite possibility for her, even if it would throw off the relative positions of mouth and penis a bit. But the objection to that was that she would then be taller than her male counterpart demon, and Ian couldn’t stand the jarring asymmetry of that. In the end the solution was simple of course. Both male and female demons would wear heels. Antic attic once again didn’t disappoint. She found some bright red ones in both required sizes (prompting her once again to wonder who left such things so regularly.) To be sure they weren’t by any means comfortable, but they wouldn’t be walking much, and anyway why should demons be comfortable?
So that’s all right, whispered Conscience, now you’re not naked at all.
Finally they all got full length black cloaks. The Great Reveal would come on stage…
Don’t think about it. One step at a time…
But one step at a time had finally brought them to Here. And Now.
Ian arranged them, male demon to his left, female to his right. He fastened their leashes on the collars. He paused a moment, then nodded to a figure off to the right.
A deep organ note sounded, grew.
The curtains opened.


Though she had tried not to dwell on it she hadn’t been able to stop herself planning the Moment. Above all she knew she mustn’t smile. That would somehow acknowledge her nudity, somehow offer herself for approval…
Instead she had a mantra. You aren’t a naked Vegas showgirl. You aren’t naked at all. You’re a demon, and far superior to mere mortals. She raised her chin haughtily and waited, remembering what Ian said about cosplay. Confidence and sincerity was the key. Once you could fake those….
She had expected a blaze of light which would hopefully hide the audience but instead all before her was darkness. She could sense them out there but they were very still, waiting.
The organ music swelled. It wasn’t the toccata and fugue, that would have been too trite, but it was in that vein. Behind her she became aware that a red light was beginning to glow. Ah, that’s good. They’ll see silhouettes at first, but they won’t know quite what we are. Two figures with Something unrecognizable and vaguely threatening looming between. She could feel the tension growing but now it wasn’t only hers.
The organ music reached a crescendo and spotlights blazed on. As she had thought she couldn’t see the audience but she felt an indrawn breath.
Stand for one, two beats, then she heard Ian quietly say “…all right, when I say…” The music reached another peak. “…now…”
The spotlight flared, almost blinding her, she released the catch at her neck and the cloak fell away.
I’ve done it she thought in surprise. I’ve really done it! I’m standing stark naked in a room full of strangers… what the hell am I doing…?
She pushed the thought down. Take the next step…
She had thought about her pose as well. Confidence. I can’t look like I’m waiting for a bus. A nice contrapposta, weight on one foot, think Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. But no hands modestly covering up breast and pussy like that slut. Chin up, shoulders back, hands clasped behind the back, body slightly turned. Not so much Venus in fact as Degas’ Little Ballerina. Now there was a disturbing thought…
Slowly she turned her head, apparently regarding the still invisible audience with disdain.
There was another indrawn breath and then as the audience realized what they were seeing a burst of applause. It felt like a wall of psychic approval.
Wow, murmured Conscience. We might actually be able to pull this off.
She realized out of the corner of her eye that the spotlights were very tightly aimed. Ian was a step back and still shrouded in shadow.
As they had planned she waited for a count of five after the Reveal, then she took a two steps downstage and slightly to the right as the other demon moved forward and left, the better to give the Demon room to advance. Ian hadn’t given much direction for the choreography beyond this. She had the feeling that he was going to largely extemporize, though she had a pretty good general idea what was going to occur.
The move brought her closer to the edge of the stage and she realized as she looked down that she could see one of the audience, a young, rather cute guy who was gazing up at her in delighted wonder. His girlfriend beside him had noted his interest and didn’t look quite as pleased.
Ah, well, she thought. Holding his gaze without a hint of a smile she deliberately brought her hand from behind her back and slowly caressed her breast until the nipple rose in response. His eyes widened even more. She pursed her lips in a kiss, glanced at and caught the gaze of the girlfriend and held it for a long moment and then looked pointedly away, dismissing them.
Admit it, you’re enjoying this, whispered Conscience.
I may survive. Ian’s not the only one who can extemporize. Tonight those two may have the best sex of their lives.
Or they’ll have a flaming argument in the parking lot and totally break up.
Either way a night to remember.

Now the spotlights on the demons lowered a bit, the music drew to a thundering close, and the main spot flared to life illuminating the Old Enemy Himself. His breasts were pendulous, his member huge, his visage terrible to behold. He loomed and glowered over the shoulders of his attendants and from his throat came a rumble, maledictions almost too low to be heard, but felt in the chest and belly. (Ian’s joy at finding a small voice distorter had almost equalled his rapture over the Monster.)
For a moment there was a shocked silence, another indrawn breath and then another eruption of applause. The Demon stood, turning slightly to right and left accepting the worship due him, then he took another step forward. The applause faltered as an unease began to take form.
It died away to silence, the only noise the demon’s feet striking the wooden stage floor. And then there was a gasp as the devil’s diabolic penis stirred, swelled, finally becoming erect and terrible. As she had built it, it could come to full size in about three seconds, but that was too fast for drama. By controlling the pressure Ian could make it slowly rise, fall slightly, rise again. Before the fascinated crowd it throbbed horribly, before coming to its full, terrifying size. It twitched slightly as it stood.
She thought she could hear hushed murmurs, It can’t be real, but… no…yes…
Somewhere there was a choked off scream. Oh, Ian will cherish this moment in his memory hoard forever. She realized that against all expectations she was actually enjoying herself. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.
And now the demon was pacing back and forth on the stage and at his approach the crowd shrank back. Of course they didn’t believe he was really the devil but…
Clearly some didn’t entirely believe he wasn’t, either.
He came to the center again and paused, regarding the rabble of mere mortals come to pay him homage.
He took the great member in his hand.
In the shocked silence that had fallen He began to stroke it. Once, twice, three times…
It fired.
Two long bursts aimed left and right into the crowd. There were several more screams and this time she didn’t think they were all female voices. She had thought he might use milk for color, maybe cream if that wasn’t too thick, but instead the streams were pale yellow. She glanced at the other demon who clearly was thinking the same thing. No, surely even Ian wouldn’t use…?
And then a stray spatter from another rightward swing hit her and she smelled a familiar tang. Lemon juice. Concentrated. And hence perhaps some of the screams. Anyone hit in the eyes with that would also have an indelible memory of the evening. And she wondered, will he make me drink straight lemon juice…?
Now there was laughter and cheering from the back and some brave souls in the front surged forward with open mouths, begging the Demon for his blessing. The Demon rounded on them, prepared to fire again…
And then all hell, of another sort, broke loose. The main hall lights suddenly came on and she was able to see the audience properly for the first time. And coming through the doors at the end of the hall a dozen or so men in dark clothes. Police.
“Everybody stay right where you are!” as the crowd began to surge. “You on the stage…!”
“Come on dears.” Said Ian grabbing them and pulling toward the rear of the stage. “Mustn’t overstay our welcome…!”
“What happened…?”
“I think we just found out how honest our pet politician is. Wait a minute.”
Ian had stopped by a metal panel in the wall and wrenched it open. He hit some switches and all the lights died leaving them in pitch darkness. There were more shouts, screams…
“That’s better…”
“Better? This was bad enough before with lights…”
“Yes, but at least I know where I’m going and they don’t. Hang onto my hem, or something…”
They plunged into the labyrinth.

TO BE CONTINUED