Sex
Fiend
by Karen Bayly
The
fiend
slipped from its dimension onto the tarmac, then paused, sensing for prey. This
was a new hunting ground, unfamiliar, but ripe with possibility. It slithered,
almost invisible, toward an old red Ford Falcon. The vehicle crackled with the
type of energy generated by two hormonally charged teenage bodies. It tested
the edges of the doors until it discovered a miniscule gap. It oozed inside,
then crawled under the passenger seat. And waited.
#
Dean
eyed Jenny
as she drank her bottle of Coke. Like a snake charmer, she hypnotised him,
teasing the straw with her tongue, then wrapping her lip around the end. He
loved the way her jaw and throat moved as she sucked. He wondered what that
mouth of hers could give him.
He
eased closer
and laid his hand on her knee. She stopped drinking and smiled at him.
“Cheeky.”
He
walked his
fingers to her mid-thigh. “Who, me? Never!”
She
giggled and
shifted her weight so that her knees parted. Dean’s heartbeat ramped up. He
leaned over and kissed her. She moaned.
“Oh,
that’s so
good. Don’t stop.”
He
kissed her
again.
“Not
that you
idiot, the other thing.”
She
slid down
the seat, eyes half-closed.
“Yes,
that.”
Dean
sat back
and stared at her. He wasn’t even touching her.
She
moaned
louder. His fingers probing between her thighs was exquisitely unbearable.
Usually, he fumbled at her clothes like a schoolboy. This time he was getting
to her. She wanted to go all the way.
“Come
on, baby.
Let’s do it,” she groaned.
She
grabbed him
by the neck and pulled him toward her. Her tongue invaded his mouth, her teeth
grazing his gums.
He
shivered as
her hand slipped into his jeans. Something was off. He felt sick, not aroused.
“C’mon,
Jen. Not
where everyone can watch.”
‘‘No-one
is
here, baby. We’re in our own little world. See?”
Dean
stared out
into darkness. No movie screen, no vehicles, only utter blackness stretching
into the distance. His panic rose like bile as he grabbed the door handle. She
seized his hand and yanked it away so hard, he heard the bones crack.
“Ow,
Jenny!”
She
licked her
lips. “Jenny,” she said, tasting the word. “Yummy name.”
She
leaned over,
flicked a lever. Dean’s seat fell back with a thump. He struggled to sit
upright, but she straddled him, pinned his arms over his head.
“Mmm,
time for
consummation,” she purred.
She
lay her body
on his, her strength overwhelming, the feel of her irresistible. His resistance
ebbed, and the fiend lapped at him, sending his senses spinning into overload.
He realised he was dying, but he didn’t care. Instead, he marvelled at his
demise, in thrall to an unimaginable ecstasy. Somewhere in the distance, Jenny
screamed in blood-curdling terror.
#
The
movie
credits rolled across the screen. People roused, started their cars, drove off.
An ancient Holden pulled up beside the Ford.
“Hey
Deano!
We’re heading to Tony’s for burgers. Wanna come?”
Dean’s
best
friend, Tom, pressed his nose to the misted glass of the driver’s window, hands
on either side of his face. Kylie, his girlfriend, appeared beside him.
“What’s
up?”
“Dunno.
Deano’s
missing. Jen’s fast asleep. Should we wake her?”
“I’ll
do it.”
She
sauntered
round to the other side and rattled the door handle. Locked. No problem. She
hadn’t spent a few months in juvie for nothing. A few seconds with a bobby pin
and…
Jen’s
mutilated
body fell at her feet. Stomach ripped open, breasts missing, claw marks and
blood everywhere.
Something
crawled from the carnage, freezing Kylie’s scream mid-throat. She could feel
Tom beside her, both of them paralysed with fear as it sniffed her foot, her
bare leg, her groin. Snarling, it slid away into thin air.
#
Kylie
paused
outside the padlocked gates. She’d spent years at this drive-in trying to find
the thing that killed her friends. It should have closed that night, but the
owner had friends in high places. Three more couples had to die.
Now,
there was
talk of it opening again. Not on her watch. Not while she could pick a lock or
light a fire.
-END-
Karen Bayly is a writer and
software tester. Her passion for writing began as a child when she wrote soap
operas for Barbie, Ken, and a host of other dollies to perform. These days it’s
her PhD in biology and her research background that inform her writing, a
fusion of science fiction, horror, and fantasy.
Her short stories and poems
have appeared in journals such as Black Hare Press, Toasted Cheese, Overland,
Yellow Mama Webzine, Skive Magazine, Voluted Tales, and Every Day Fiction. Her
steampunk novel, Fortitude, was published by Mary Celeste Press. She lives in
Sydney, Australia with two indoor cats, a guitar, and a ukulele.