Coochie Coochie
Chapter Seven
M.C. Laphar
Chapter Seven
M.C. Laphar
Cana enjoyed the dancing to some extent. The music had a beat that was much better than the “Classical Masterpieces” on DirecTV. And the food being served was delicious, there were sausages, sweet potatoes, fruits of all kinds that she had never gotten the opportunity to taste. Vegetables that she enjoyed, and because of the deliciousness, considered becoming a vegetarian. Then she stopped and laughed at herself momentarily.
Me, considering being a vegetarian, while my life hangs in the balance! Ha! How whimsical, what fanciful delight, and yet, I have great faith I'll not be long for this world from tonight. She looked at Dante, who delicately ate a portion of his steak tartar, and then washed it down with glass after glass of a dark drink that Cana assumed was a heavy wine.
“I am glad you're not driving,” she said and tilted her eyebrow in the direction of his glass.
“I do not drink alcohol Parvati.” He said with a combative brow, “this is sparkling grape juice.” He gulped down the last of the drink. “Wine would make steak tartar taste even worse than it is.”
“How does it taste anyway?”
“It tastes like a cold wet tongue that's been tenderized. In essence, a cannibal's delight.”
“Hannibal Lecter,” she said under her breath. He stared at her, having heard the name then laughed.
“Hannibal Lecter,” he whispered, “He's got nothing on me.”
“My those two seem to be getting on quite well, they're smiling at each other and everything.” The Baroness Zilpah Munchausen said to her husband. “Have you noticed?”
“Yes I have,” the baron said. “they look lovely together, and yet I have a dark feeling about that Parvati girl.”
“Oh hush Miguel,” Zilpah said, “You have a dark feeling about every girl that Dante brings to the ball.”
“It's not my fault,” Miguel said. “I just pick up the vibe the girls give off.”
“Is it any wonder that you are wrong when it comes to my own feelings?”
“Yes,” Munchausen said, “it is some small wonder.”
Two hours had passed, during which time there was a display of Bondage accessories, and the hintingat, a grand exposition that was to take place. It was financed by three of the Gargalene Associates' Highest and most Benefactorial Members. After this, they music began again, and numerous people began to dance. Dante and Cana slipped out of the room after finishing their meal and began to make their way up the stairs. Before they reached the top of the stairs a man called after them.
“Master Aligheri?” Cana nearly jumped in surprise at the sight of her uncle Claude. Would she be free?
“Yes Master Foucault?” Dante said with overt superiority. “I am quite occupied with my dear Parvati, is something the matter?”
“I wanted to talk with you about tonight's show.”
Dante sighed, “Well then, let us speak.” He began to descend the stairway, his eyes locked on Claude's. “What did you wish to speak about, Master Foucault?”
“The slaves,” he began, “they are healthy, right?”
“I do not own slaves Master Foucault, that implies they are treated severely and that they are unhealthy, my victims,.are at peak perfection. They are washed daily, and they are fed well. They are also treated with kindness and respect.” Dante heard grumbling in Cana's throat. “Except if they are my lovers. Then they are treated differently.”
“How differently?” Claude asked.
“How do you treat your slaves Master Foucault?” Dante replied, “Do you tickle the women until they shit themselves like the Baron and Baroness did their daughter? Do you starve them, and then tickle them until their minds reel? Because I know my participants will be clean. But what of your slaves? Have you broken their will? Have you become a true misogynist in your manner?”
“What do you do to your lovers?”
“I have no time for discussions.”
“Just tell me what you do to them,” Claude demanded. Dante hissed a dry laugh.
“Heh, you want to see what I do to my lovers?” He turned to Cana, “Parvati, remove your top.” Cana reluctantly did as she was told. When she removed the corset and the dress fell to her hips, the painting shone more brightly, and gloriously than it had been before. The fire looked so real Claude thought he'd be burnt by the light, and the stars looked to be trading the planets along his niece's bosom. Seeing Cana aroused her uncle to some extent. But he quickly suppressed those thoughts and spoke to Dante who had turned to face Cana.
“She's still a slave, no matter how you paint it. She;s still a fucking slave.” Dante turned, and in the turn the back of his hand whipped across Claude's face, leaving a horrible red mark on his whole left side of his face.
“A slave, is what you keep; what you collect. I collect the laughter, the giggles, of those who wander into my caress. Those who find themselves in my care. And not a single one of them, regret it in the end.”
“Except Bethany!”
“She was a special case. She was unstable.”
“And you enslaved her, you toyed with her like a mouse in a maze with a hungry cat. And now she is in Saint Elizabeth's Mental Hospital.”
“She was going to have a nervous breakdown anyway, then she'd have been of no use to you, or to me. You're just jealous because she fell in love with me and not you.” Dante said with a decietful grin.
“You never loved her,” Claude shouted, “You never loved her, or any of your lovers, and you definitely don't love Cana!” Everything in the stairway was quiet. Dante simply stared at Claude with amusement. Claude and Cana were both stricken with horror. Dante stepped toward Claude and whispered in his ear.
“God was said to have given Muhammad great knowledge Claude, and he passed much of it to others. One of the pieces was, never get angry.” Claude tried to punch him in the rib, but Dante caught the arm and twisted it painfully, bringing the man down slowly to the floor. “Do you know why Claude? It's because you end up getting your wrist twisted to the floor, and you end up revealing the obvious, that you want your niece back.” He released Claude's hand and let him rise to his feet. Dante placed his boot on Claude's chest and pushed him back until he tumbled down the stairway. He turned and grabbed Cana and brought her to one of the bedrooms.
“You never kick someone when they're down Dante,” Cana said with disappointment in her voice.
“It was better that he saw the foot coming than to have had it at his back,” he said as he opened the door and let Cana enter, he admired her beautiful flawless skinned back. “And besides, I didn't kick him. I nudged him.” He shut the door as he entered.
