Strange Flesh Read Online Free PDF

the pair of queens I was betting, drawing a sigh from the nut flush.
     
    Blythe was sprawled in a wingback chair in the upstairs members-only lounge. Eyes closed, ashing into a full tumbler of scotch. Around her neck hung her trademark pearls, a stunning string that glowed with an extraordinary scarlet luster.
    To me such unique jewelry spoke to the ethereal nature of its owner, but I’d heard a sour-pussed Grotonian complain that they were just “tacky dye-cultured fakes.” Spiteful, yes, but I later found out she was right in a sense. They were a replica of a strand that had been assembled over centuries, but only because to wear the originals demanded a massive security detail. Anyway, those were on loan to a museum in Kyotobecause a small war had been fought over them during the Tokugawa shogunate.
    According to legend, the pearls were collected by a bloodthirsty witch-queen who had a special hidden grotto over which she liked to hang her victims after they’d submitted to her twisted pleasures. Eventually their bodies would fall and be consumed by the local sharks, their blood seeping into the oyster beds below. After each victim, the queen then sent a virgin village girl to harvest a single pearl. Blythe’s strand grew to over a hundred stones before the peasants revolted, and a minor warlord, sensing opportunity, invaded the prefecture. Though the evil queen was eventually fed to her rather ungrateful familiars, members of her cult retrieved the pearls, and the strand continued to grow. How Blythe ended up with them is a saga unto itself.
    I stood there for a minute thinking desperately of what to say. An attitude of servility seemed best.
    “Would the lady care for a fresh adult beverage?”
    She smiled but didn’t open her eyes. “They’ve made poor little Jimmy the hatchet man, huh?”
    “Not at all. Nous casa, vous casa . I think you’d make a fine member here.”
    One eye opened. “What a revolting idea.”
    “That’s not likely to be the most revolting idea you hear tonight if you stay with us.”
    “Pryce, go away. I’m looking for someone to fight with.”
    “Try me. I can be very irritating when called upon.”
    “I don’t know who put you up to this, but I’m not leaving.”
    “’Course not. Why would you? You’ll be thrilled to know we have a lively round of COD on tap, followed by strip poker. We may even have an orgy, at which you’d be more than welcome.”
    “Oh, barf. Wellesley?”
    “No, I believe our guests tonight hail from Brookline High School.”
    “Liar. You’re not going to have any orgy.”
    I cut my eyes over to the giant stuffed fruit bat perched over the bar and winced. “I think Fulgencio may beg to differ.” The club mascot’s head came off to reveal a secret compartment intended for Cuban cigars but in practice used as our ceremonial stash locker. It was generally filled with at least ten hits of Ecstasy.
    “You are all vermin . . . Fine, you can walk me home.”
    “And miss my first orgy?”
    “If you think you’re in line for an orgy, you’re probably too stupid to help me find my way. Enjoy yourself with your boyfriends.” She got up, a trace of sway in her step. I offered her my arm.
    Despite having devoted long hours to speculating about what I might do to please Blythe Randall, all I could come up with was a plan so ridiculous, I suppose it had a certain childish charm. “Why don’t we go to the vault at Herrell’s and tell each other secrets? They have milk shakes there.” Herrell’s was an ice cream parlor housed in an old bank.
    She gave me a long appraising look and finally pointed to our bar. “Might I suggest you liberate that scotch?”
     
    Out on the street, Blythe was less stable. She whispered into my neck, “You know, you’re very sweet, but all this really isn’t necessary.”
    “Well, I’m getting a milk shake, and it’s going to seem a little strange if I’m sitting there by myself mumbling about how I used to jerk off