The Deader the Better Read Online Free PDF

“Can I take
your coat?”
    “I’m a little chilly,” she
said.
    “Yeah,” he offered. “I can
tell.”
    The drone of voices and the muted
clinking of glasses became a dull roar as Gunter pulled open one of
the doors on the left. Narva pulled me through the doorway. The first
impression was that of a nineteenth century gentleman’s club. Dark
walls and drapes, big chandelier casting a yellow light over banquet
tables and acres of overstuffed furniture lining the walls. Whatever
sense of propriety the furnishings might have provided was
immediately dispelled by the fact that the waiters weren’t wearing
pants. Or, more properly, that’s all they were wearing. Black
leather bow ties and tight latex briefs.
    Gunter stepped into the room behind
us and closed the door.
    “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll
find Mr. Spooner.”
    I heard a yelp of pain followed by
scattered applause. The music changed to Chopin. Opus
something-or-other. Gunter walked past us, back to the door.
    Spooner wore a monocle.
    “Our new friends from the south,”
Spooner said. Narva offered her hand. Spooner took it and brought it
to his lips.
    “Oooh,” Narva enthused. “And
all these wonderful boy toys.”
    “We have a strap-on collection
second to none,” he assured her.
    He was still slobbering on the back
of her hand. She leaned over and spoke into his ear. “Tonight,”
she said. “We had in mind…how shall I say…something…”
    “Pristine,” he finished for her.
    “Yes,” she said. “Pristine.”
    “Of the female persuasion?”
Spooner asked. She nodded. Spooner leaned in and whispered in her
ear. I only caught the end of what Spooner was saying.
    “…shouldn’t be much more than
an hour or so. We’ll have her fresh as the morning dew for you.”
    I moved to Narva’s side. “In the
meantime,” Spooner was saying, “allow me to show you around our
little gathering.”
    He took Narva by the ass and started
into the party. I walked along the center of the room. The furniture
had been moved off to the sides. Each grouping was afforded some
measure of privacy by a series of antique screens that shielded the
occupants from prying eyes. No compilation or description of the
carnal acts being performed within those walls could adequately
describe the scene. My mistake was to let my curiosity get the best
of me. Halfway down the room, I peeked around the corner of one of
the screens. The woman wore a white gown, kneeling on a chair, dress
thrown up over her head. Red shoes. I turned away. After that, I
minded my own business. Spooner had his hand down the back of her
panties as he steered Narva around the corner toward what appeared to
be the dining room. I took in a demonstration of Japanese rope
bondage being given in the library. There were three schools. One,
the artsy, was a triumph of style over substance, where it didn’t
matter what position the subject was in as long as the ropes and
knots were pretty. A second was all about making the victim as
uncomfortable as possible without obstructing entry. The third style
involved trussing the victim up like a rib roast, while placing knots
and braids at precisely those areas designed to produce the most
longterm discomfort. Narva jostled my elbow. She was alone. “Our
host was called away,” she said.
    “A pity,” I said. “You two
seemed to be getting on famously.”
    Narva smirked. A black woman in a
leather jumpsuit stopped by our sides. She put the tip of her finger
in her mouth and then traced it around one of Narva’s nipples.
    “A ménage, perhaps,” she said.
“Something wet?”
    When we allowed how we’d given up
those very acts for Lent, she moved on.
    “The exotic stuff is upstairs,”
Narva said. I was horrified. “You mean this isn’t it?”
    “Hardly,” she sniffed.
    “How do you know?”
    “He said we should enjoy ourselves.
Introduce ourselves to people before Gunter takes us upstairs.”
    “Let’s go,” I said.
    The house was laid out