December 2013 – mainly windy – The Hedonism Return by Paul Evans

The Hedonism Return

By Paul Evans

The road to the house was mainly windy. Were it a river it would have been said to meander.

Nate Young muted the radio with a subconscious flick of a steering wheel paddle; focussing on the soothing voice of the Satnav during the journey’s terminal miles. Exacerbated by ominous clouds, the sky was already darkening on the last afternoon of 2012.

Cocooned in the 700 series BMW’s heated leather seats, the 26 year old negotiated the vehicle towards the imposing red brick country house with intensifying nervousness; he had paid handsomely for a ticket to the New Year party, but – as a sex orgy virgin – was struggling to manage his own expectation.

Expeditionary raindrops found his windscreen as he entered the house’s sizeable turning circle. A caricature butler directed him to an expansive detached garage at the side of the house. Judging by the other vehicles he was far from early. Four cars were enshrouded in tarpaulins. He briefly considered whether the owners knew why their house was being rented. But to leave four cars to rot they must be minted – he concluded.

* * * *

The lowlight of the night was his nervous shit’s refusal to flush, and having to open the door to a small queue of naked revellers with an apologetic shrug.

The highlight was meeting the diminutive Jane Hicks.

* * * *

“I’m Jane Hicks.”

“Hi. I’m Nate.”

The couple had found themselves in the kitchen; showered and clothed in the dawning of the year’s first morning.

“We met earlier.” ‘Met’ was emphasised with the customary finger quotation waggle.

“We did?”

“I had ‘party cum whore’ written on my belly in lipstick.”

“Ah! I didn’t recognise you without the mask. How are your wrists?”

“Okay now; thanks for loosening the bonds.”

“My pleasure. Coffee?”

* * * *

Nate and Jane commenced a distance relationship over the following weeks. Nate made money by plundering raw materials from disaster stricken areas, but Japan was – no pun intended – drying up and he was waiting for another catastrophe. He wasn’t worried though: climate change guaranteed him another windfall – so to speak – in the near future. 28 year old Jane was the attractive PR face of a pharmaceutical company Nate had never heard of. The fashionable upsurge of women’s erotica had ignited her wanton side.

The couple attended another orgy in early February; but neither felt right writhing with or kneeling in front of others. Both felt most satisfied simply enjoying each other’s company.

… until Nate was introduced to Jane’s friends.

After being seduced by Tara – who apparently lacked a gag reflex – while Jane popped out for cigarettes, word seemed to get around. 2013 was an eventful year.

* * * *

Nate extracted himself from Suzy, letting go of her ponytails.

The thirty-something anaesthetist looked back at him through tear-stained mascara.

“Thank you Daddy,” she exhaled breathlessly.

* * * *

Lindsey – whose handcuffs she patrolled with in her capacity as a Metropolitan Police officer – eventually satiated him after squirming with delight on his damp face.

* * * *

Megan, Belinda and Freya turned up at his flat one Saturday morning and gave him a reason not to go to football practice.

* * * *

Unsuspecting Jane made him feel loved.

* * * *

Nate returned from a job in Manila. Business was booming in the reclamation of raw materials: Typhoon Haiyan’s legacy. He’d ‘donated’ electrical generators to speed up the process and was celebrated as a humanitarian hero. On side-swiping the little plane symbol on his phone as the plane taxied, his welcome text arrived hand-in-hand with a message from the delightful Annabel:

Santa gave me new toys for Christmas. Help me wear out the batteries.

The text was accompanied by a location pin: the party house from a year ago; forty minutes from Jane’s house. Nate checked his reassuringly expensive watch. There was time before he was due to meet the Missus.

* * * *

The road was mainly windy. Nate parked next to the covered vehicles.

Bella met him dressed for dinner, brandishing two glasses of bubbles.

“Happy New Year stud,” she whispered.

Nate flourished a smile, threw back the alcohol and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Time to play,” he stated, sliding a hand beneath her glossily brushed auburn hair, pulling her mouth towards his.

Before their lips met he fell to the floor.

He blurted a laugh. “It was a long flight,” he mumbled before descending into unconsciousness.

* * * *

“He’s awake!”

Nate heaved open his weighty eyelids like thick vertical curtains. He sat at the head of a long table with all of his girls. Perched at the opposite end – looking beautiful – was Jane. All wore flattering cocktail dresses.

His addled wits were unable to comprehend a linear timeline to this point. The logical assumption was that he was drunk.

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” he began, before realising he was wearing a tux with all the trimmings. His chair was pushed uncomfortably close to the table but he felt agreeably numb to care.

Smiling stupidly, he drank deeply from the glass of wine before him.

“Shall I serve?” asked Jane brightly.

She rose and walked elegantly to a serving platter in the middle of the table. Lifting the silver cover, she exposed a small serving of seared meat nestled in a halo of leaves.

Nate woozily helped his conquests consume his severed penis.

He perished from blood loss and the garage gained another car before the night’s party commenced.

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