The Game 44 Artists and Models part two

[Kay]

THE GAME 44 ARTIST AND MODELS Part 2

3. Returning from the Ball
When they had run VR simulations of the Ball they had considered all sorts of options.
If one could see the audience, if one couldn’t. Possible scenarios. Would the attendant demons suck? Almost certainly, she had designed the Monster with that in mind. Would they have to simulate a sex act? Almost certainly.
Would they be required to perform a genuine one? Unknown.
Really? With Ian as ringmaster?
Well…
They had even explored impossible ones. He had performed as the very female Jessica Rabbit demon, she as a very well-endowed male demon. Unlikely as those scenarios had been she found them intriguing, entertaining.
If a bit unsettling…
Ultimately they decided that, fascinating as the experiment had been, they just couldn’t foretell what the real experience would be.
For example, running naked, shoeless, from one shadow to another through the backstreets of Abalone hadn’t appeared on her dance card at all…

“We’ve lost her! We’ve got to go back!”
“I can just about find my way to the storeroom from here, but if we start wandering I’ll be totally lost.”
“But we can’t…”
“We’re almost there. We can get a flashlight and your clothes and …”
“What about yours?”
“No time, it’ll take me at least 15 minutes to get all this stuff off. Come on!”
Two more hallways and a false turn brought them finally to the storeroom. Ian found his phone, stuffed his clothes into a bag and slung it over his shoulder. Demon #2 tore off, thankfully, his heels, quickly got dressed and shoved demon#1’s clothes, shorts, tshirt, flip flops in his pockets. In 90 seconds they were back in the labyrinth.
By the light of Ian’s phone they made their way carefully back listening for any voices, carefully shielding their light at every turn.
“She can’t be much farther back…”
“If she is they’ll have her. I… damn!”
Around a corner ahead they heard voices and there was a flash of a light on a far wall.
“Back this way. Hurry! I really hoped they hadn’t got this far in so fast…”
“Is there another way out?”
“Not on this level. Quick, in here.”
“But it’s a storeroom…!”
Ian pointed to a ladder bolted to the wall.
“That way.”
“What? Where does that get us?”
“Second floor and then out onto the roof. There’s a fire escape at the back.”
The impossibility of climbing a ladder on goat legs didn’t occur to him and consequently didn’t slow him down at all.

She huddled between a bush and the building. Stupid! Stupid! Why couldn’t she keep up? But she had lost hold of Ian’s costume, or something had given way. He hadn’t noticed and took a turn, she had smacked hard into a wall and gone down. She wasn’t knocked out, just stunned but when she got up she had no idea which way was the right one. Feeling her way she guessed and apparently turned the wrong way. Now what? She couldn’t hear them and couldn’t call out. She found a doorway, went through and found herself in a small room. She felt shelves and almost tripped over a bucket. No way out. But then she felt the jamb of another door. She listened, carefully, opened it and realized it was an exterior door. At the same moment she heard unfamiliar voices in the hallway. She had no choice. She slipped outside, quietly closed the door and heard it click. She burrowed behind the bushes. All right, let’s think about this. The door was certainly locked behind her so that way was closed. What are my options? Hide here until…well, until what? Dawn? And then what?
Or you could surrender.
She considered it. How much trouble were they really in? Okay, they were putting on a raunchy show. So? Nobody was hurt. There were no minors present to be corrupted by the sight of naughty bits. The police had actually been a bit too keen and jumped too early. All right, she was naked. But they hadn’t actually DONE anything. Would that matter?
She considered consequences. Arrests for extreme naughtiness might bring some professional fall out to some people. She was pretty sure her freelance work wouldn’t suffer. Likewise for her fellow demon’s various projects. Ian though… he actually stood to lose a lot. His hospital was very understanding about not knowing which gender he was going to present on any given day, but there had to be a limit. So, I hope he gets away and doesn’t try to be my shining knight…
But then she thought about what surrender would actually mean. Climb out of her bush and present herself naked to a group of smiling, no doubt very appreciative policemen?
No, I can’t do that, I won’t.
But you were perfectly willing to suck the devil’s cock for an audience.
Well yes, that’s totally different.
But…
And we’ll work out why later. I’m busy.
She looked out from the bush. She was at the back side of the building. So I make my way around to the parking lot, find Ian’s van, which I know he never locks, climb in and wait for them there. And they’ll know that’s what I’ll do. Carefully she worked her way along the wall and looked out. And then sat back having seen the obvious flaw in the plan. The parking lot was full of flashing lights, police vans and cars.
So, wait? For how long? From experience she knew that Abalone police could spin a fender bender into half a day of lane restrictions. She returned to her bush and thought. She could try to wait them out, but the longer she did the likelier she was to be found. It was obviously the crime of the century. They might have dogs… And even if they left they might leave a few behind on the off chance of stragglers. Admittedly that would be PhD level thinking for Abalone cops, but not inconceivable…
She couldn’t see any alternative. It’s that tried-and-true porn trope, the naked painted lady walk. She reviewed the way they had come. Quite a long walk… certainly way past her previous record of down the road to the corner shop and back.
She reviewed the route. The first thing was to get away from the building and into the wash that ran behind it. Along that until she was well away, then into the snarl of streets…
It was going to be a long night. She took the first few steps and stopped. No, no way am I doing this in heels.
But can you do three miles of Abalone barefoot? You’ve never kept a bike wheel unpunctured for more than a week.
I have to. I wouldn’t walk three miles anywhere in heels…
She ripped them off and entered the wash.


They lay on the roof and looked over the edge. The flashing lights in the car park looked quite festive.
“Well. The van was a good idea. I’m sure she would have thought of it.”
“I can’t see her down there. I don’t think they have her… So…now what?”
“Well, we could wait up here. We might even see her if she makes it out. But…”
“They’re being pretty thorough. They’ll make it up here eventually. I think we better get down while we can and get at least some way away.”
Five minutes later they were at the bottom huddling by some bins.
“What now? We can’t leave, she might still be in there.”
“Let’s work our way round, she might be hiding somewhere.”
Using the bushes for cover they searched the three sides out of sight of the parking lot. No sign of her.
“We have to decide.”
Ian was distraught. “I can’t, I’ve screwed this up, but I can’t make it worse…”
“It’s all right, we’ll get through it…”
But Ian had suddenly jumped up and run toward the wash. He returned a moment later holding something red.
A shoe.


She finally made it to the sidewalk, but the wash had been brutal. She thought she was probably bleeding but didn’t bother to check. As she planned the next stretch she considered the situation. Well, the downside was that she was naked, shoeless and far from home.
But there were also several things in her favor. She had originally been painted red with black accents. What with one thing and another she was now a bit scuffed for a demon, but rather effectively camouflaged for the task in hand. She could flow from shadow to shadow. This area was very sparsely lit and at this hour almost totally untrafficked. Closer to home there were some major, more travelled streets to negotiate, but even in those areas Abalone was a very dark city.
All in all as she moved along, jogging occasionally where the surface permitted, she was feeling pretty good. Pity no one’s video taping this, we could post a naked girl in public tape, those were always popular. And that made her wonder if anyone had recorded their performance? I do hope so…
She was still worried about the demons, but she couldn’t do anything about it. And she was confident in their Diabolic Powers. They’d be ok.

“She’ll be ok,” he said trying to calm the increasingly frantic Ian. They had managed to track her through the wash, her footprints clear on sand which had recently been scoured by a rainstorm.
“She’s quite intrepid. I think she used to be a girl scout or something…”
“Oh, good,” muttered Ian. “Trained a lot like this, did they?”

The light industrial area was behind her. She had entered and crossed a residential patch without even alerting any dogs and now she had come to a decision point. The park crossed her path. Going through it would cut off a large chunk of her route and the thought of walking on cool grass was almost irresistible. But only almost. Naked girl. Park at midnight. What’s wrong with this picture?
The answer was that Things lived in the park. Some had four legs, coyotes, javelinas. It was always best to keep a respectful distance from them. Though it was not totally unknown for juvenile bears to wander down the washes and end up there, that wasn’t even a remote concern right now. But there were also Others who dwelt very unofficially in the park who went on two legs. They were to be avoided at all costs. She sighed and turned left to make the long detour. In the distance there was a rumble of thunder.

“There was another,” he said, as they stood at the entrance to the park. Ian nodded. And they were getting closer. If she felt pressed by the danger of getting caught in the storm would she risk the park? He thought not, he hoped not. But it would significantly shorten her journey. If they were even still on her track. Since the shoe there hadn’t been any convenient clues like there always were in stories. Which way? I can’t get this wrong. Wronger. More wrong. Finally he said, “I think…this way…” The thunder was getting closer.

4. Incident at Cala del Buho
At last she had arrived at the final major obstacle. The river which cut across Abalone lay between her and their home, barely half a mile away now. She had almost done it! She lurked in the shadow and thought. The bridge was right in front of her but it was well lit, fairly frequently travelled and once on it she would have nowhere to run or hide. The alternative was to drop ten or twelve feet into the river and cross. In most parts of the world crossing a river like that would not have been the preferred option. But this was a desert river which meant that for most of the year it was about a hundred yards or so of sand left by the last flood, scrub and some surprisingly large trees, some standing on their islets, some lying where the floods had carried them, now gradually returning to the earth. It only held water during the brief monsoon season but then it could become a raging torrent. This was indeed the season but so far the rains hadn’t come.
Thunder muttered again. But they might which was a reason not to hang around in the river too long. Her heart sank as she thought of a crossing like the wash, but at least the sand might be deeper, and if she avoided the areas of driftwood, not quite so spiky..
She moved away from the bridge along the path looking for a good entry point, passed through the guard rail, hung over the side, dropped and rolled. It was only about seven feet down here and as she had hoped the sand was indeed soft, almost beachlike. The main thing she had to be careful of were the deposits left by the horses whose riders exercised them down here. She kept as close to trees for cover without actually entering the islands which were covered with broken branches and the occasional Volkswagen whose owner had said, “No, we can do it easy. It’s only a foot deep…”

They emerged from the north side of the park. The passage had been uneventful. A coyote had crossed their path at one point. They paused respectfully, but he had business of his own to attend to and merely gave them a glance. In return Ian had saluted him respectfully. “I like coyotes,” he said as they went on. “Very independent and cool. Somewhat like cats in fact. Cat owners of course tend to have a less favourable opinion…”
A few minutes later the demon muttered, “I think we’re being followed,”
Ian nodded agreement. “Head for that lamp.” They passed under it and the eldritch shadow and silhouette they cast must have done the trick. Whatever it had been faded back into the darkness.
Now out on the street they took their bearings. “The bridge is that way.”

She zigzagged her way in cover and then stopped. Through the thinning trees of the islet off in the distance she could see the bridge again and a spark under it. A fire. Not that way then. She decided to reverse course and leave the river in the oyher direction. It was a bit farther but not too much. She was backtracking along side of the islet when a piece of shadow separated itself from the rest and grabbed her wrist. Another hand went over her mouth.
She remembered, too late, another fact about bridges.
Trolls lived under them.

“It’s only about eight down here. We can drop.”
“Why don’t we use the bridge?”
“Because she didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“She just didn’t.”

Holding her wrist firmly the man pulled out a phone and punched in a number. Of course trolls have cell phones she thought. Why not?
“Lenny!... yes it’s Carlos, who the hell else would it be? Listen, I found a girl… a girl… Jesus…tits, cunt,” He looked down at her. “nice ass… yeah…”
He lowered the phone and said quietly, shaking his head. “Lenny…nice guy but dumb as a basket of rocks…” He raised the phone again and said, “We’ll be a few minutes. We’re going round the islet instead of through. She’s…well, you’ll see. What? No, you don’t have to get the gear ready. I told you we’re not doing that crap any more!”
He jammed the phone back in his pocket, shaking his head. “…bonehead…”, he muttered.
“It’s shorter to cut through the islet,” he continued conversationally. “but I don’t think your feet could take that. We’ll go around. We’ll let your…condition be a nice surprise for him. Why are you naked anyway? Not that I’m complaining, mind.”
“What was… Lenny saying…?”
“Oh, Lenny has this thing…when he gets a girl, First he likes to strip her, or get her to strip...”
He paused and then said, “Well, you’ve saved him the trouble of that I guess. Anyway then he likes to peg her out spreadeagle on the sand… I think he saw it in an old movie or some shit. Can’t seem to get it outta his head… I’m trying to break him of the habit.”
“…thank you…”
He looked at her and smiled.
“Oh, we’re still going to fuck, make no mistake. And things. But we got a mattress up there that’s almost clean and a half gallon of red wine. We’re not animals! We’ll have a party, you’re already dressed for it. You might even enjoy yourself.”
Good lord she thought. I’ve been captured by Good Troll/Bad troll.

They came out from around the island and she could see the camp ahead tucked out of sight under the bridge. The usual rubbish camps lay around. A couple of bikes stood off to the side. But what kind of brain-dead moron pitches a camp in the middle of a river in monsoon season? There was, indeed, the mattress and even at this distance she could see Lenny’s leer. Lenny had greasy hair and was wearing jeans which had possibly once been blue but was now mainly Abalone red dirt color. That and a cut off denim jacket with a large patch identified him as Abalone bargain basement Hells Angel. A troll indeed. And despite what Carlos had said he was holding a handful of ropes.
Carlos was a good bit cleaner, had shoulder length black hair and seemed, just from his speech and manner to be slightly higher in the gene pool. (Which considering the company wouldn’t be difficult.) I might even like to go out drinking with him under different circumstances. Of course he was conceited enough to be sure that no woman could seriously turn down a night of passion with him. But in that he was no different from many (most?) other men. Off to the right she saw something which decided her. Well, I’m sorry, Carlos but this has gone about far enough.
As they crossed the last stretch she gave a little cry and stumbled. Carlos wasn’t holding her wrist too tightly but it caught him off guard and pulled him off balance. As his stance opened she turned to face him and brought her knee up with all the force she could. It was a perfect strike and she almost lifted him off the ground. His breath exploded out and as he curled up over the pain she grabbed his neck and slammed his face down into her forehead. She heard and felt the bones shatter. He fell away, blinded and stunned. She rolled to the side and came up with what she had seen, a piece of driftwood about four feet long, jagged, and for bonus hit points carrying a bent rusty nail at the end.
“You bitch!” Lenny cried out.
He pulled out a large knife and advanced on her. She swung the lance, causing Lenny to jerk back only narrowly avoiding the blow. He retreated a step, obviously reconsidering the relative merits of a short blade against a pole arm.
“Didn’t watch enough martial arts movies as a kid did you, asshole…?” she muttered to herself.
Nevertheless she could tell that he was gathering himself for another rush. She was preparing to ground the heel of the spear in the sand to meet his charge when they heard a shout. Lenny turned and saw a man approaching out of the darkness.
He was dressed in Abalone formal wear, shorts and a tshirt but his face was painted red and black and devil horns curled back from his brow. At port arms he held a length of metal, even longer than hers with some wicked looking spurs. Lenny took in the painted face and devil horns.
“What the fuck? Is the circus in town?”
“Get away from her!” said the man as he advanced.
“Piss off!” shouted Lenny “Get your own! This one’s mine.”
And then another form emerged from the gloom. It couldn’t walk as fast in the sand as the other. At first it was an amorphous shadow silhouetted by distant city lights, then, in an act of perfect timing which Abalone could occasionally pull off, there was a lightning strike almost directly overhead. The flash and thunder detonation were simultaneous. The blue white glare revealed for an instant a figure of nightmare, horned, taloned, ravening. As the glare and after image faded the demon strode into the circle of firelight on great goat legs. Ten feet high He loomed. Upcast shadows thrown by the fire played horribly on His features, His great breasts and His monstrous erection.
Lenny stumbled back in horror, dropping the knife.
“NO,” thundered the specter in tones almost too low to hear. “YOU ARE MINE”
Lenny’s eyes grew round and his mouth opened, perhaps to scream.
THANK YOU, said the demon in a quieter tone. THAT MAKES IT SO MUCH EASIER…
A full auto stream of concentrated lemon juice hit Lenny’s eyes and open mouth. Some went up his nose. He fell strangled, choking, blinded, trying to cover his eyes. The Demon stood over him and the stream didn’t stop for a long time.

The two lesser demons rushed into each other’s arms and for a few moments their conversation was a series of are you all right I’m so sorry did he hurt you I’m sorry are you all right… then they kissed for a long time.
The demon gave them a few minutes and then thundered. BRING THEM TO ME.
They pulled up Lenny and Carlos by their collars and dragged them into the Presence. They knelt before Him. Lenny’s eyes were swollen shut and he could still hardly breathe. Carlos was still curled up. He was briefly and noisily sick in the sand. His face was covered in blood.
The demon sat on a rock before them and regarded them.
“Please sir,” croaked Carlos when he could speak, “We didn’t hurt her… please miss please, I’m sorry…”
The Demon addressed to her in a soft voice.
IS THIS TRUE. WERE YOU HURT?
“No sir. I was not.”
The Demon nodded.
CAN YOU HEAR ME? The demon’s soft speaking voice had a very similar timbre to a tiger’s low growl. And very much the same effect.
Carlos nodded. Lenny whimpered.
GOOD. NOW THE NICE THING ABOUT THE DESERT, I’M SURE YOU WILL AGREE, IS HOW EASY IT IS TO DISPOSE OF THE BODIES.
Even in the flickering firelight and through their battered faces she thought she could see them grow pale.
FOR EXAMPLE IF WE WERE TO… IMMOBILIZE YOU IN SOME WAY, YOU MIGHT WELL FIND IT DIFFICULT TO AVOID THE FLOOD WHICH IS COMING DOWN THIS RIVER IN ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES. IF ANYTHING WAS EVENTUALLY RECOVERED OF YOU SEVERAL MILES DOWNSTREAM IT WOULD EXCITE NO OFFICIAL INTEREST WHATSOEVER.
The first drops of rain began to fall.
Lenny was whimpering, apparently incapable of speech.
The demon asked, WILL ANYONE SPEAK FOR THEM?
Silence. Then she said,
“I will.”
She walked to the Demon’s side and turned to face them.
“This one,” pointing to Lenny, “is garbage. He could be staked out to await the flood and the world would be a better place.”
Lenny snuffled and softly cried.
She was silent for a long moment.
“As for the other… He did me no harm. I feel there may be half of a decent human there…”
Silence again. Finally she said,
“I ask for mercy.”
Silence.
FOR ONE? OR BOTH?
She held Lenny’s terrified gaze for a moment and then said,
“Both.”
The demon raised his hand.
IT SHALL BE DONE. IF YOU CAN LEAVE YOU MAY DO SO. THE CLOSEST PATH OUT IS FIFTY YARDS THAT WAY. TAKE NOTHING WITH YOU.
They struggled to their feet.
“Thank you sir,” said Carlos. “And thank you miss.”
They began to move when the demon added.
YOU WILL ENTERTAIN NO THOUGHTS OF REVENGE OR TREACHERY.
IF OUR PATHS CROSS AGAIN, I WILL KILL YOU.
EVENTUALLY, he added.
Supporting each other Lenny and Carlos staggered into the gloom.
When they were out of earshot the minor demon said,
“Well, I think that was a Teachable Moment. Think they’ll make it?”
“I SHOULD, AH, SORRY… I should think so. It won’t really flood here for about an hour. We should make haste though.”
They wandered over to the campsite and found the bottle of wine. For a while they just sat quietly, decompressed and breathed.
“Lemon juice went well, I thought,” Ian said thoughtfully. “Originally I had considered chili oil, but I thought that would be unfair to my worshipers… ah, well…missed opportunities…”
After a pause he said quietly,
“I can’t say how sorry I am that it all went, well, like this..”
“Ian, it’s all right. I had an amazing experience. I paraded naked before a fine selection of Abalone degenerates and crossed half the town in the same state. We fought trolls, took the field and its spoils and then I argued a case before the Lord of Hell. All things considered you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
She leaned over and kissed him, long and deeply.
“Well, yes, ahh…” when she finally released him. It was possible to surprise Ian, though it could take a fair amount of buildup.
“And speaking of clothes, I almost forgot. I brought yours…”
“Shoes!” She cried.” I’ll never underestimate you again! Even if they are just flip flops!”
She winced as she put them on. Repair and restoration was going to take a few days.
“As for the rest… I think I’ll leave them off for now. I made it this far. I think I’d like to complete my cross-town run.”
The Demon stood up.
“Which we really should consider doing. We shouldn’t hang around here much longer. So I was thinking… have either of you ridden a motorcycle before?”
“…what…? Oh no, Ian, absolutely no!”
“But just picture it! And we’ll be home in ten minutes tops!”
“Which we should do with a certain amount of stealth…”
“They’re big, they’re noisy, and we would attract far too much of the wrong type of attention! And I’m pretty sure stealing motorcycles is frowned on rather more than doing naughty things on stage…”
“But it would look so… perfect…” Ian pleaded.
“It’s a wonderful image. Very heavy metal. I’ll paint you a picture. It’s not practical!”
“Practical??!! I’m a ten foot demon, he’s a pint sized demon…”
“…hey!...”
“And you’re painted red and sitting naked in a ditch! We don’t do practical!!”
“Sorry, I’m going to have to give that one to the Demon…”
And so on for far longer than they should have. Rivulets were forming by the time they finally made a decision and left the riverbed.
4. One way it might have ended.
And finally they were there. They turned the final corner and entered their street. Only a few hundred yards to go. Despite what they had said about stealth she was walking ahead of them in the middle of the road, head up and ignoring any possible witnesses. Behind her trudged two rather bedraggled demons.
“I meant what I said. I’m so sorry this happened this way. I’ll do anything you say, punish me however you want.”
“Oh, be quiet. Look at her. This night cranked her confidence level up about a thousand per cent. You may have created a monster we’ll both have to deal with…”
“But…”
“Ok, if you insist. For the next year whenever we all meet you go on your knees and pleasure us until we’ve had enough? But no, you’d enjoy that too much.”
“Well, yes…I would…” Ian sheepishly agreed.
“All right, how about this. Bring us all your female clothes, underclothes, makeup, everything. In fact bring all your clothes. We’ll have a bonfire and then we’ll get you a brand new wardrobe. For the next year you can wear Abalone geriatric casual. Khaki cargo shorts, solid color polo shirts, sandals with black socks… maybe a fanny pack. Short back and sides haircut.”
He heard Ian’s shocked intake of breath.
“No…makeup…?”
“None.”
He said quietly, “…ok…”
“Ian, I’m joking. I wouldn’t commit an artistic sin of that magnitude. I’d rather machine gun a herd of peacocks. Don’t worry. If, on reflection, she feels that you deserve punishment she’ll certainly tell you. She’s very inventive.”
They walked on a bit farther. Then he began, carefully,
“You make a very impressive Lord of Hell…but all that talk of…killing…? That was all just speaking in character… Wasn’t it?”
Ian was silent.
“…right?”
“If they had hurt her?” he said finally in a gruff voice. “What do you think?”
Ahead of them a scuffed, mussed and footsore demon laid a triumphant hand on their mailbox and turned to them with a radiant smile.
5. Or perhaps it was this way.
The deliveryman for Abalone 24/7 Pizza (motto: Anytime. No, really…) got in his van, tossed the money plus tip into the satchel and prepared to set off for his next delivery. Not much of a tip considering. You’d think people who expected to be able to call for pizza at 1 in the morning would have the sense to tip the poor slob who brought it accordingly… Not bloody likely.
Still, it all added up. With a hotbox in the back which could keep up to twenty pizzas hot, or at least acceptable (what do you expect at 1 in the morning?) he didn’t have to return to home base very often. Load em up and drive em out and wait for dispatch to direct him. What, you didn’t get your pizza for over an hour? Boo hoo.
Of course that meant that he ended up carrying a fair amount of cash, often it seemed in bloody quarters. People who ordered pizza at 1 in the morning didn’t do much in the way of electronic financial transactions. Accordingly when he had first started the job he had considered going armed. For about half a second. Because that way, he realized, was the path to early and quite permanent retirement.
Thinking such cheerful thoughts, he was just putting the van in gear when he heard the Sound. Motorcycles. At least two. And not just any bikes. These had a distinctive growl that could only mean one thing. Abalone Hells Angels. If they turned this way they would absolutely see the sign on top of the van which they would read as ‘Free money. Inquire within’ and stop for a withdrawal. As he had long ago decided, no problemo. He’d hand it over with a smile and throw in a free pizza... But the thing was that, regardless of his compliance, the Angels might consider it a point of professional pride to beat him senseless anyway. He was just preparing to throw the bag out the car window, lock the doors and hide on the floor when they turned the corner and he froze staring.
Definitely right about the hell part, but angelic?
Not so much...
There was an appropriate flash of lightning as the lead demon cruised by without a glance, his great goat legs bent up awkwardly. It wasn’t a small bike, but the Lord of Hell could definitely do with an upgrade. The two demons on the following bike were smaller. A male was driving. There was nothing to say about him. Streaked black and red face, small curling horns. Just your standard issue demon. Behind him sat a female demon. She was quite unmistakeably female because she was quite absolutely nude. She glanced over at him and blew a kiss as they passed. They roared down the road at quite a sedate pace for demons, turned the corner and were gone. The sound faded. Just another Abalone moment.
He sat for a long moment. It had happened so fast he hadn’t had time for a picture. And absent that, he knew there was no point telling anyone about it, which he regretted.
He started the van and set off. For the rest of the night he thought about the encounter. In fact the image stayed with him for days afterwards. The great pendulous breasted, impressively horned and massively endowed Leader. The second male, much smaller (and curiously dressed for a demon, in shorts and tshirt.) But mostly he thought about the nude girl demon who had smiled and blown him a kiss and waved goodbye as they turned the corner.
He had never seen anything like it. How could he?
Why, then, couldn’t he shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before?

6. Epilog
Some days later she was in her studio working on the painting. She had added a third bike to improve the composition, and the lightning was coming on nicely.
Her phone rang.
“Hey, Ian what’s up?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. Several major charities have been complaining to the city council about a vendetta one of their members was apparently waging against the Ball. Claimed donations suffered as a result. And then several very well-connected members of the community were swept up in a police raid on a private party after the ball. They’re raising all kinds of hell and have the clout to do it. Questions are being asked about whether the raid was actually properly authorized… and who was responsible. And in a possibly related matter the financial records of a certain morality reform councilman are coming under some close scrutiny for… I think the term is ‘irregularities…’
“Fascinating stuff.”
“Isn’t it? New developments hourly. But nothing like as good as what I really wanted to tell you.”
“Which is…?”
“I have video…”