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Snaked

By: sr71plt



Reba didn't know why she kept checking back in at the zoo's reptile and bird house; she was repelled by and afraid of snakes. OK, yes, she was fascinated and drawn to them as well. Whatever the reality of that, as she was doing her rounds to make sure that all of the visitors had left for the day, she found herself walking up the path to the reptile and bird house. She knew she was going to check inside, even though she hadn't checked inside any of the other exhibits and even though this would be her third visit to this building this afternoon. Her position as deputy director of the zoo didn't entail checking the grounds at closing. Yet, here she was—again about to enter the one building that gave her the creeps.

"Hello, Ms. Stern. Back again, I see."

As soon as Reba entered the building, she knew why she kept coming back. Bud, the keeper of the reptile and bird exhibit—she couldn't bring herself to call him by his nickname, Viper, as some of the other employees did—was still in the exhibit. He had two big bags of bird seed stacked in the center of the corridor, and he'd opened one and was throwing seed up by the handful into feed repositories in the bird level of the exhibit.

"Uhh, just checking one last time for the evening, Bud. But I don't know why; these brutish snakes give me the creeps. They are even more dangerous looking in the evening than under the full sunlight."

Bud gave her the hint of a leer that frightened her. She knew why she had returned to this exhibit, and Bud knew too. She was fascinated by the young man. Younger than she was by a good ten years, he fit in perfectly in this exhibit. Dark and handsome in a glowering sort of way—and lithe; he was always darting around the exhibit. But not in a frenetic sort of way; rather, he glided. Reba didn't want to go as far as to say he seemed to slither about, because his movement was actually graceful and mesmerizing. But it did seem to blend in well with the image of snakes. He was thin, but he had good musculature; his muscles were sinewy and seemed to undulate below his skin as he hauled heavy material around.

Bud gave her an intense look, and then he laughed. Embarrassed, she turned her eyes from him and toward the snake enclosure, behind its thick glass. She flinched as one of the vipers took notice of her and rose its head from its coil and fanned out its hood.

Once again that dry laugh from Bud. "We both know you didn't come in here to see that snake, did you, Ms. Reba? You came in here to see this snake."

Reba's eyes darted back to Bud; he had one of his hands on his crotch, cupping his basket.

Reba turned and fled the reptile house. Flinging herself out of the door, she twisted just to the right of the entrance and leaned back into the stuccoed wall there for support. She was hyperventilating. She couldn't go any farther until she'd calmed down. One, two, three big breaths. Bud's laugh cut through the wall again, setting off the racing of her heart once more. One, two, three more big breaths. She thought she could leave now. But as she pushed off from the wall, she could hear Bud, inside, humming a haunting tune. And when she took her first step away from the wall, it wasn't down the path toward her office; it was back through the entrance of the reptile house and into Bud's waiting arms.

Bud's mouth found hers as he wrapped his arms around her, and she opened to his flickering tongue as he turned her back toward the glass of the snake enclosure and pinned her against the pipe railing running along the length of the exhibit, a foot and a half off the glass and three feet from the ground. The railing was biting into her butt, and her back was arched toward the glass, her shoulder blades against the cold surface. Bud held her there with one arm, while his other hand was busy ripping away the buttons of her khaki work blouse and tearing at her bra. He'd forced his pelvis between her legs, and she felt his manhood uncoiling and hardening against the crotch of her shorts. She trembled at his ferocity and at the feel of his strength against her.

She was free of her blouse and bra, and Bud buried his face between her breasts and started making little darting strikes of his tongue against the tender skin of her breasts and at her hardening nipples. She threw her head back against the glass and turned it—and immediately was sorry she had, because the cobra had taken an interest in what was happening on the other side of the glass and had slithered closer, risen from its coil again, and was swaying back and forth, mesmerized by the nearby coupling, only about a foot beyond the transparent divide.

Reba lurched, as Bud's hand ripped the buttons off her shorts and roughly cupped her mound. She cried out as a long, search finger slid between her labia and struck at her clit. She had subconsciously known she wanted this, but he was taking her roughly and by ferocious storm. The fingers, one snaking in at first, but quickly joined by another and then another, were driving her wild. And she was flowing for him. A fingernail bit into her clit and she cried out again and started to shake uncontrollably.

His searching finger was extracted, but only long enough for him to pull her shorts away and prop her butt on the cold pipe of the railing.

His face was now buried between her legs. His tongue was darting into her, and he was attacking her with short, sharp bites of his teeth—on her tender inner thighs and even on the lips of her cunt. The violence of his attack made her spasm orgastically. But he gave her no peace. She clung to his head with her hands, holding him into her, a victim of her long-held desires for and fears of him. As he feasted between her legs, her hands glided over the hard, smooth, young muscles of his biceps and shoulders.

Bud laughed a little laugh of triumph at how quickly he had brought Reba to orgasm. He drank in the evidence of his victory, and when she began to moan and twitch again at his onslaught, pulled away from her. He stood then, close to her, his hips pushing in at her bruised pelvis, arched his back away from her, and pulled off his work shirt.

Reba gasped as she realized why he always wore high-necked T shirts under his work khakis. He had a tattoo of an emerald-green snake winding around his torso, its tail hidden below the line of his pants on his belly and the head of the snake embossing his neck, its forked, scarlet-red tongue flicking out for one of Bud's ears.

Dazzled at the sight, Reba tentatively reached out a hand and traced the scales of the snake the wound around below Bud's well-muscled pecs.

Calmer now, Bud gave another of his dry laughs and placed a hand over Reba's as it traced the figure of the snake.

"Like what you see?" he asked, almost in mocking tones.

"Yes," Reba answered in a small voice, mesmerized at how well the snake was drawn to Bud's musculature. When he moved, the rippling of his muscles seemed to start the snake moving as well—up and around Bud's torso.

Bud's grip on Reba's hand tightened, and he moved her fingers down now, Following the coil of the snake below his pecs and then skipping over to pick up the lower part of the snake as it wound around to the front of his belly. Down, down he slid her hand. She tried to pull back from his control, but he was just too strong for her. Down to where the tail disappeared below the waistband of Bud's pants. And then down between material and skin until he held her hand there, at the root of his cock.

Reba was breathing heavily now. And so was Bud. With his other hand, he slowly unzipped and opened the fly of his pants—to reveal that the tip of the snakes tail wound around the root of Bud's cock.

Reba whimpered and Bud laughed.

Then he pushed down his pants and stepped out of them. He forced Reba's hand down the length of his cock. It was a very, very long cock, but it was thin, even as it engorged.

Reba was trembling all over and, she let out a groan when her fingers reached the mushroom cap of Bud's penis. She felt something hard at the tip and Bud laughed again and pulled away so that she could see what he had pierced the knob of his cock with.

Her blood went cold when she saw that it was a triangle, a gold triangle, clearly fashioned as a snake's head. And it had a small ring through the snakes mouth.

Reba didn't have long to think about what that ring represented, because Bud leaned down and fumbled around in the pocket of his discarded pants and came out with a long, scarlet ribbon—a single ribbon but split half way from the end so that it was forked. There was a tiny clasp at the end so that Bud could—and did—attach the ribbon to the snakehead ring at the tip of his dick—a long ribbon of red forked tongue at the end of his penis.

Bud's cock was hard as steel. Hard and long and standing straight out. It bridged the distance between his crotch and Reba's lower belly now, and it poked insistently at her as he moved into her, encased her in his arms and tenderly kissed her on the lips.

The kiss went on and on and became more inflamed and consumed all of her attention and energy—so much so that it was a total shock when Bud pulled his hips back and, whipping them back at her, struck hard and fast at and into her vagina with that long, long cock of his. Her back had struck the glass hard when he had thrust into her, and her head snapped around—just in time to see the frightened cobra strike at her as well, its fangs lashing out at her through the thankfully thick glass partition.

Reba tried to thrash about—to escape—and to scream out her shock and pain. But the Viper held her fast in his grip, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth now brutally in possession of hers.

The cock struck hard, repeatedly, to the quick of her, that snake head biting at the very center of her with each strike, the red-ribboned forked tongue swirling around inside her and then back out of her as the Viper recoiled, only to strike again. The Viper's venom was spitting up into her at great depth and she was firing off repeated orgasms in response.

At length, both were spent. And Reba's attention was readjusting from focusing on that long, long cock striking up into her and slithering around inside her and murmured her discomfort at having been crushed against the hard pipe railing. When another one of his dry laughs, Bud turned her then, maintaining purchase of his cock inside her, and laid her down on her back on the birdseed bags in the center of the aisle. He arched his chest up from her, supported by his hands and locked elbows, their pelvis still glued together, and Reba ran her fingers lightly along the coils of the snake tattoo around his torso, still mesmerized by how animated it was when Bud's muscles rippled, as Bud reloaded with his venom.

Reba traced the returning of his desire—both her own desire and adrenaline never having dissipated—with the uncoiling of his long cock up into her again. It was slithering up inside her. He seemed so calm, so much in control, until she sensed his lust had taken possession of him. His sinewy arm muscles started trembling, and he grabbed her hips roughly in his hands and started fucking her hard again, striking up into while pulling her pelvis into him, and then pushing her hips away until he had slid almost entirely out of her, and then striking again. He loosened his grip as Reba began meeting his thrusts with those of her own, and the two set up a rhythm that led to repeated orgasms and frenzied cries of ecstasy.

With each flooding of her insides with Bud's venom, Reba became weaker and more drowsy, and she finally drifted off, him still fucking her hard and deep. When she awoke, she was alone, laying on her back, naked, and very sore on the birdseed bags, her clothing in disarray over beside the glass of the snake enclosure. She sat up, and looked around her, at first having no idea why she was here—and then, as the memory flooded back into her, looking around for Bud.

Bud was gone. But there, stretched out on the corridor floor between her and the snake enclosure, was the molted skin of a giant green snake. She started to tremble.

It had to be something Bud had cleared out of the snake enclosure earlier that day. I must have been simply something Bud had cleared out of the snake enclosure earlier today. 

Snaked on Anjajavy Beach



I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I'd better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth.

The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented cocksman I could attract. I had been on a road tour for months and could have had any woman I'd wanted during that time. But revealing what I really wanted just wasn't the type of publicity the band—or its teenaged-girl-based fan club—could use. And that's why on this particular evening I found myself on Anjajavy Beach on the northern coast of the island of Madagascar in search of relief for this heat I'd been in for a total plowing for the last few months of what must have been the longest road show concert series any international band had ever done.

My voice was hoarse from all of the performances, and my ass was twitching for attention. Madagascar wasn't necessarily the end of the earth. But it was so open to accommodating what I needed without a whole lot of publicity that it seemed the right place to be.

I'd heard that Howard's Bar on the fringe of Anjajavy Beach was the place to hook up. So, long after the sun had gone down, I entered the garden bar dressed in my most fetching low-rise stonewashed jeans and a pair of loafers and showered body and shampooed hair—augmented with a smattering of gold glitter to attract attention—and nothing else other than a friendly smile that had been plastered across numerous music, fashion, and gossip magazine covers.

The party was already in full swing. A couple of bars were set up under palm trees surrounding a meandering concrete terrace with a pool, many clumps of lush tropical vegetation that provided a good many discrete pocket garden areas, and a network of muted lighting that highlighted the central dance floor and provided good mood light to all of the other nooks and crannies about. There was a good crowd already partying—all hunky-looking men and all obviously either on the make or well into making or being made. A band of Indian musicians was doing a creditable job off to the side of many of the hit tunes of the day, including several that I had recorded to platinum myself.

I recognized some of the men there and was surprised to see most of them here; I didn't feel so isolated now in what I had to do to keep public face. But as long as they didn't do a double-take at seeing me, I wouldn't mess with their desire to hang out without being outed either. Still, with all of the talent in evidence, I was both surprised and a little gratified to note that all eyes at least stopped when they saw me, smattered with gold glitter and a familiar face, and a good many lingered there—with some even bold enough to give me a come hither look that I knew so well when I was on vacation from my public world.

I could feel my butt twitching. One of these hunks was going to top me tonight—sometime before I left Howard's Bar—and I wasn't going to let him go until he'd done me royally. I was going to work some unsuspecting guy to exhaustion tonight.

I sat at a bar stool watching the crowd and brushing off the braver of the swirl of cruisers who approached me with their tongues hanging out, whether attracted by recognized celebrity or my hours spent in the gym and grooming shops I knew not—nor did I particularly care. Any brand of honey would do tonight as long as the bees had nice bods, big dicks, and a lot of stamina. I wanted something special—and I wanted it soon; I'd flown all the way from L.A. for this.

Within about ten minutes, I'd seen him. I was sure that I saw him before he saw me. He was at a table with three other capable-looking muscle men—and he was the hunkiest of the lot. I could hear their boisterous conversation well enough to tell that they were all Aussies. He had the size and physique of a footballer and the face of a movie star. All blond good looks with enough of a tan to make him look like a serious outdoor sportsman. He was wearing baggy cargo shorts and a godawful Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose to reveal a serious bodybuilder's torso. I decided that if he had a cock to match that, he could very well be in for a special treat tonight.

He must have felt someone watching him intensely, because he turned to me, made eye contact, and gave me a glorious smile.

I was about to go over and tell him he was the night's lucky winner when a swirl of bodies came between the two of us. His table was across an edge of the dance floor from where I was sitting, and the singer of the band that was playing had put on a hard sell for dancers to flood the floor. They had done so. And out of that new, distracting wave of dancers, my attention was torn away from the Aussie hunk and found a new, fascinating focus.

There, highlighted by a traveling strobe light that must have been guided by a real fan in the lighting booth, was a sight that took my breath away. The dancer was Sri Lankan. He had a rich chocolate-brown body that was well muscled but that also was as lithe and as flexible as anything I'd seen on a man. He had a healthy head of black hair and a face so chiseled and fine boned that it was hard to think it was natural. But it was his torso that mesmerized. He was undulating in perfect harmony with the music in a slow, sensual motion that stretched and highlighted every muscle. He was wearing an island-style sarong skirt that barely covered his hips, and considering the movement of his body, it was hard to understand how the sarong stayed in place. As beautiful as the movement of his torso to the music was, however, what was primarily arresting was his body tattoo.

He had a gorgeous, almost luminous, rendering of an intricately scaled snake, in reds, greens, and purples, coiled around his midsection and winding up and around his left shoulder. The head of the snake, which, when examined closely, evoked the beauty and features of the dancer himself, dipped down and looked out—straight at me; always focused on me—from his sternum at the center of his torso just below his pecs. And when I was able to pull my gaze from this as the dancer made the snake sway back and forth with the undulating of the music's rhythm, I followed the tail of the snake. It wound back around to the front of the Sri Lankan and came just to below his puckered navel and then disappeared down and beyond the dipping waistline of the sarong, toward the very center of the dancer.

The dancer had seen me. The dancer had chosen me. He moved to directly between me and my line of sight on the Aussie hunk and stood there, dancing only for me. Swaying to the music for me. Undulating his snake tattoo in a mesmerizing movement that held my attention entirely and aroused my already oozing juices. The Sri Lankan was dancing with his hands too, turning them in impossible positions to the rhythm of the music. They were beckoning to me, and the dancer was slowly retreating from me, but drawing me with him.

I had no idea I'd left the bar stool and was following the swaying snake until we were beyond the dance floor and entering one of the more private parts of the garden, still within sight of the swimming pool and well within hearing of the band music and softly lit, but somehow completely cut off from the swirling vortex of cruising men on the dance floor and at the bars. The achingly handsome Sri Lankan was still moving with the music, undulating his muscles and that fascinating snake. I was charmed. He drew me over to a velour-covered padded lounge chair, one of a large set scattered around the pool area, and I sank into that without being fully aware that I no longer was sitting at the bar.

The Sri Lankan swayed in front me to the music, drawing ever closer to me. The snake was holding my attention enthralled. I felt the long slender fingers at my waistband and the button being undone, and I heard the zipper being slowly worked down. And I felt my jeans being pulled off my legs, but I had eyes only for the undulating of the snake tattoo. It seemed alive. Sensual, not the least bit frightening.

The dancer leaned down and his handsome face crowded my vision. He was smiling and telling me how beautiful I was and asking me if he could fuck me. His long slender fingers were stroking my cock. And of course I told him he could fuck me. That's what I'd come here for. Exotic relief. And this was far beyond my wildest dreams.

He gave me a deep, possessing kiss on the lips, and his tongue darted inside my mouth. Here, there, everywhere. Exploring, slithering inside me.

He moved one of my hands to the knot at the waist of his sarong and whispered that I should untie it. All the time, he was swaying to the music, his muscles and that snake undulating in breathtaking motion. My hands were trembling and it took both of them to undo the knot. When I had finally managed to untie it, he stepped away from me as the silk of the sarong slithered down his legs and puddled on the concrete of the pool deck at his feet.

I gasped when I saw him naked. The tail of the snake wound down his groin and onto his penis and encircled it twice before ending just short of the cut glans head and on the top surface of his cock. His cock was long and curved up in tumescence. I had gasped mostly, though, because his bulbous dickhead had been rouged the same color as the snake head on his chest and two tiny green eyes had also been inked in. And, most maddeningly of all, he had a stud in his penis head and attached to that was five or six inches of thin red ribbon, slit most of the way from the tip. The forked tongue of the snake.

"Do you want to make love to it before I fuck you?" he whispered to me in a sing song voice.

Of course I did. He continued to undulate his tattooed torso in front of me to the rhythm of the music as I played his long, rouged cock with my mouth. He was humming to the music in half tones that harmonized with what the band was playing but that made the music into a more mysterious, sensuous sound. And somehow he managed to reach my cock with long sensual fingers and augment my arousal as I made love to the snake between his legs.

I heard rustling in the bushes and looked up to see that the Aussie who had first arrested my attention had followed us. He sat down on stonework surrounding an area of foliage in the shadows not far from us, and I heard the sound of a zipper, and he pulled out a cock even larger than I had hoped he had and fingered it as he intently watched with slitted eyes the Sri Lankan taking me.

Even before the Aussie arrived and settled himself, the Sri Lankan pulled away from me and, moving strong hands behind my knees on both sides, slid my body down the lounge chair so that my butt hung over the side, and spread my legs wide.

A light over the chair in a palm tree played down on us just right to focus down along a torso that was still swaying to the music. My eyes moved down from the undulating snake head on the torso to the approaching snake head at the end of his long, upward curved cock, and the light gave me a full view of him slithering inside me and giving my passage walls the combined thrill of dancing, swaying, a cock stud, and that swirling red-silk ribbon cock tongue.

He was striking inside me. Again and again. Biting every inch of my passage with the stud. Slithering that tongue inside, going ever deeper with each strike. I was lurching and moaning and groaning and begging him to fuck me forever just as he was doing. And the Sri Lankan was still swaying to the music and gliding his sensuous fingers over me and working my cock like the gear shift on a fine sports car.

I was turning my head this way and that way, glorying in the sensual fuck. I saw that the Aussie was highly aroused as well and was running his meaty hands over the deep curves and bulges of his muscles. His thick cock was standing out what seemed a full foot and he had his thumb on the head of it and was moving it in a slow, languid motion.

And now there were others there too. Not much different from one of my rock concerts—except that it was the Sri Lankan playing me to perfection rather than me taking the lead in entertaining the crowd. One of the small islanders had moved to the Aussie and, naked, was sitting, facing me, in the Aussie's lap. The Aussie was moving the smaller, bronzed islander up and down on his cock, controlled by strong hands around the smaller man's waist. The islander's head was lolling around on his shoulders, lost in the skewering by the larger man's prodigious cock. But the Aussie's eyes were on me. He, along with the Sri Lankan, was fucking me with his eyes. And I knew that later, when the Sri Lankan had done with me, I would be down in the shadows on the beach, being fucked by the Aussie in the same long masterful strokes with which he was taking the small islander.

The one light playing down between the torsos of the Sri Lankan and me, both swaying to the music of the fuck and slamming against each other, the snake between his legs slithering out and then slamming back into its hole. Repeatedly. Again and again. In rhythm to the music. The men gathered around were watching and fingering each other. One man was standing behind another, smaller one, and fucking him hard from behind. Lifting him with each thrust. Each thrust of his was timed with an appearance and holing of the snake between the Sri Lankan's legs.

I was getting exactly what I'd come for. I lay back and watched, along with the others, the rhythm of the Sri Lankan's fuck, knowing that I was the one getting the fullest enjoyment of it.

Laying and watching. No sense of time. Never wanting it to stop.



Snake's Harem







Snake's Harem



"They don't like you?"

Sylvess shook her head. "They have no real reason to like me, do they? I cooperate with the snakes."

"You also...seem to help them."

"I help where I can." She allowed slowly. "I am a healer. I was sworn to the goddess by the time I turned twenty-and-two. It is my purpose to soothe, heal and to find beauty and love." She shared a bitter smile with him. "There is very little of both to be found or encouraged here. Perhaps that is why beloved Hanali Celanil is not answering my devotions as....strongly as she did." She swallowed.

He realized then that he saw someone on the verge of breaking apart. Perhaps what vestige of her hope and determination she had had, she had lost when her friend was now dead. Her left hand trembled ever-so-slightly and there was a haunted caste to her eyes. Admitting that she was a cleric who's deity only answered marginally -- he somehow remembered having travelled with a cleric or two on his travels of which he remembered nothing -- was something she had done unintentionally, judging by the fashion in which she looked away.

"Your friend's death wasn't your fault." He pointed out calmly. "Nor is anyone else's here." He had understood enough of the structure here to realize as much, and he was sure she did too.

On some level.

Her eyes widened and she stared for a moment. The elf was silent for a while. "I'm going to see about having my....friend buried."

"Wait!" He said. "What...what am I supposed to do here? Do I join the other men in clearing and digging?"

"Someone will be along to explain as soon as I leave, I expect." She said with a now familiar-seeming twist to her lips.

She proved to be quite correct. A bare minute after she had left, the first visitors came to make his acquaintance. Both of them were human, yet they were very different in looks. The first -- who introduced herself as Alina -- was a short, buxom creature with wide hips and a clearly womanly form. She shot him a merry, lascivious smile and sat down on the bed without even asking.

"I see they found us new amusement." Her voice was strong and self-assured and she gave a toss of dark, waist-long hair. Her dress was the same that all women seemed to wear -- coarse, brown wool that neither hid nor particularly emphasized their forms.

"You'll have to excuse Alina." The second, willowy young who named herself Sali interjected. Her voice was quiet and incredibly precise, as though she chose every word for just that purpose and nothing else. "She is a little...comfortable here. " He looked at the other woman and agave her a significant look. "She has been here for almost seven years."

"Aye, I have." She shrugged, doing impressive things with her large breasts. "It's worse than some things, better than most. I used to work cleaning taverns after closing hours, and serving drunk men ale. Cleaning piss and barf." She shook her head.

Sali looked as though she had heard all that before.

"This beats that by far. Got clean blankets, decent meals and no innkeeper fucking my ass after I'm done." Alina smiled, though there was a certain glimmer of hate when she said that last part.

He studied her for a long time. "And you?" He asked Sali after a while.

She shrugged. "There is not that much to it, truly. I was taken when I went to fetch water. My father has a large farm where he grows vegetables, but I suppose I will never work there now."

"What do the men do here?" He asked.

Alina shook her head. "We don't know much about it. During the day, they are made to dig deeper and deeper. During the night..." there was a sparkle of amusement in her eyes now. "Well, let's just say that you fuck one of us raw." She giggled, as though making a mockery of the fact that he thought she would somehow euphamise it. Again she tossed her head, making her long swell of hair shake.

He stood, brushing off what tattered clothes he wore. "I don't think so."

The dark-haired woman looked perplexed. "Why not?" her eyes widened. "Oh, do you....are you...?" She brought her index fingers together in a suggestive way. "Cause they won't care."

"What?! No!"

"Then why not?"

"Because I don't force women." He explained patiently.

The two newcomers looked at each other for a moment.

"We don't like our circumstances here any more than you do. But for us, staying alive is simple." Alina shot a glance at Sali. "Relatively." She hastily adjusted. "We get with child."

"That's still no reason to...to behave that way."

"Is it not?" Sali inquired. "Would you not pull a damsel free from having her arm lodged in between monolithic stones, even if it threatened to break her frail bones and tear her fair skin?" Her voice was very quiet -- though that seemed to be the register it always had -- and again, very precise.

"You sure you're a farmer's daughter?" He frowned

Alina giggled. "She reads a little too much. The snakes allow some freedom for those who have offspring, like books, and such things." The buxom woman moved closer and placed her hand on his upper thigh. "So relax. Whatever you learned -- whatever we learned of proper behaviour elsewhere, it doesn't really apply here. Whether you like it or not."

She began stroking slowly.

Of course he reacted to that. He was careful -- not blind, dead or impotent. After a moments hesitation he leaned in and kissed her full on the lips. For some reason it felt right -- he had always enjoyed kissing a great deal, he realized. A number of dim scenes flashed through his mind -- women he had kissed, he realized. It made his temple throb, and he tried to empty his mind.

Her eyes had widened when he had leaned in to kiss her but she quickly complied by parting her lips. Her tongue met his. She tasted earthy and warm -- simple somehow. A quiet 'mmmm' left her lips pressed against his, and she eagerly moved closer.

Sali seemed to be content to sit quietly on his other side, her hands demurely folded in her lap as he kissed her friend until they both broke the gesture, breathing hard.

The sheen of saliva made Alina's lips glisten. "Mmmm." She said, leaning against him on the bed. "Gods above and below, you're a good kisser. Most men don't know the difference between that and eating a Clam. "

"Thank you." he replied, smiling.

"Buuuut.." she continued, tapping his chest with a finger "You're paying attention to the wrong girl, you know." She pushed him, pressing him clumsily against her friend. "Tonight you fuck Sali." The young woman stated, smiling.

Taran gave the other woman an uncertain glance. The graceful, quiet prisoner had begun looking at her lap too, her hands and fingers fidgeting.

"Are you...sure?" He looked at one, then the other. "She doesn't seem very interested, I have to say."

Alina snorted. "Don't let her fool you." The woman stood, cocking her head and looking at her friend. "Sali is like a mare in heat most of the time. She just doesn't show it all that much. I'm pretty sure by the time she was kidnapped she had tried most of the boys from the neighbouring farms.

Sali's head came up instantly, glaring at her friend. A rosy blush coloured her cheeks prettily, yet she said nothing or made no objection to the other woman's outrageous claim. Her head turned slowly. She looked at him, then quickly looked away, clearing her throat.

Alina seemed to be fighting a grin. Reaching out, she took a hold of the other woman's garment by the shoulder, pulling her violently against him so that her body suddenly pressed against his with a muted squeak coming from her.

"What-" He began, but Alina cut him off.

"Relax. This is what she wants. It's what she needs."

The blonde looked up at him. The blush still gave her a face a red tinge and her lips were slightly parted. Her dark eyes contrasted well against her blonde hair. One hand came up -- her left -- against his shoulder.

He frowned down at her. She didn't say a word but rather seemed to wait for him to take the initiative. Another memory came to him like a fleeting dream. He reached down and cupped her chin in his comparatively large hand. Her skin was incredibly soft and seemed to tremble beneath his fingers.

A shiver ran through her. She closed her eyes. Sali's lips moved and she seemed to mouth 'Yes'.

When he moved her head with his hand, she complied instantly without even a trace the resistance he expected from her. She was a classic, noble beauty despite being a farmer's daughter. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes slightly tilted. He couldn't imagine what care it had taken to get her hair into that kind of order down here. When he touched it, it spilled over his hand like silk.

The first kiss was initiated by her, lips hovering almost upon his for several moments before she leaned in. Like everything else she did, the way her lips parted was demure. Hesitant. Gracefully, she kissed him back with hands put against his upper arms. Her fingers trembled.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alina smile and step back from the bed.

Sali's fingers sought the collar of his stained shirt, slim digits stroking the soiled fabric hesitantly. Her eyes glittered and shone like dark pools struck by rays of bright sunlight. She opened her mouth, then cleared her throat and whispered almost inaudibly.

"Undress me."

Taran obeyed. He pulled the fabric of the loose dress from her shoulders, exposing pale skin. A scar that ran from the base of her ribcage up the side of her chest to the lower point below the breast was the first thing that caught his attention. Her breasts were small -- compared with Alina's. The orbs were peach-sized but very firm and tipped with stiff, pink nipples.

He could not understand how she could smell of rosewater of all things. He must smell like a pigsty in comparison!

When he pulled her dress down completely, she laid back on the bed and looked into the stone wall. Her hands came up however, deftly undoing the sometimes broken buttons of his shirt. In moments, she pulled the garment off and gently -- everything she did seemed utterly feminine and demure -- and used hands to urge him down atop her. When he positioned himself like he wanted with hands cupping her firm breasts, she looked away from the wall and met his eyes.

"Are you going to fuck me?"

The whisper was almost inaudible. He doubted Alina had heard a trace of it.

"Yes." By comparison, his answer was strong and seemed to echo in the small room.

She gave a visible shudder. The way she bit her lower lip and smiled however suggested that it was a pleased shudder. Sali spread her legs slowly, revealing a sex covered with downy, fine hair.

When he reached to touch it, she gave a violent twitch and shudder, pressing her lower body against his hand in a demanding way. When he looked into her eyes, she gave firm, decisive nod.

"Do it. Go ahead. Do it. I want it." It was no louder than before, her eyes shone and her slim fingers traced the callous skin of his upper arms where he assumed that blades had made the scars that stood out against the skin, sometimes like ridges.

His member was already out of the almost shredded breeches he still wore, and fully hardened at the sight of this demure, beautiful young woman below him. Hands grasping for the smooth curves of her shoulders, he held her down in the surprisingly soft bedding and pressed down on her, his cock pressing against her pussy for a moment or two before slipping inside.

He gasped, groaning loudly. She was warm, and already sopping wet. He supposed that either she truly wanted this, like Alina said, or the woman below him was very good at pretending.

Her arms came up to wrap around his back. Sali had closed her eyes tightly. Her breath came in quick, small gasps that left her without any audible exclamation whatsoever.

He began thrusting slowly, pressing his cock into her. It went with surprising ease. For someone with her attitude he had expected a more virginal experience, but it was as though she had been a courtesan for years. Judging by the way she moved, she was more likely to be a courtesan with years of experience.

He doubted -- though he could not remember as much yet -- that he had ever been with someone as quiet as her however.

Her mouth moved and her body writhed beneath his. Her eyes closed when he closed his grip around her shoulder more tightly, and she pressed up against his thrusting cock. Sali licked her lips.

"Fuck me." She whispered, leaning close so that he could hear. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me fuck me, fuck me." The last was a heated whisper punctuated by a tongue-kiss

For some reason, her approach to the whole thing made him whisper back. "Yes, you feel perfect. You feel so very..." he moaned, biting back a grunt. "...good!"

Her face lit up in a smile and she kissed him again, deeper this time.

He returned the passionate gesture eagerly, enjoying the feeling of her incredibly smooth, supple body beneath his. He slipped in and out of her with ease, yet the sensation was superbly pleasurable. He could not remember -- well, he could not remember much -- a better lay he had experienced.

"I'm going to cum." She had leaned close to his ear, her urgent whisper hot with breath and urgency. "I'm going to cum around you." Upon finishing that sentence, her eyes widened and her mouth opened into an 'O'. She closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip hard enough to leave visible, whitened marks. Her entire body trembled, her legs twitching against his back as she wrapped them tightly around his waist.

Her high drove him to thrust harder, further inside her. She simply felt too good not to. Taran proceeded to thrust harder, ram deeper in ways that made her brush her head against the the small pillow on the bed. She turned, twisted and thrust back up at him.

"Yessssss..." She finally exhaled, relaxing completely against him.

He slowly stopped, despite not having cum yet and she opened her eyes.

"Finish. You have to." She told him in a whisper. A small smile spread on her lips. "I want you to finish properly." She thrust against him suggestively, demonstratively reaching to grasp his buttocks, pressing him inside her.

Taran moaned.

He continued thrusting violently, glad for the permission to continue. Despite her being quite tall, he easily loomed over her thanks to simple bulk. The way she stroked the ridges and indentations of his muscles, she seemed to enjoy it much the same.

"You want to cum inside me?" She coaxed in a whisper, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Do it. Cum inside me. You can, as often as you want. The more the better." Sali gasped as he thrust deep., burying the length of his thick cock inside her.

"Yes....yes. Harder. Deeper. Do it, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Yes!" The last was a harsh whisper and she sucked on his earlobe.

"Mmmm. Fuck yes! He fought to keep the last word quiet, pressing inside her hard enough to push her body backward on the bed, her arms almost being pushed away from him as he began cumming inside her.

Taran held her close, sparks dancing in front of his eyes. He realized -- out of breath -- that he probably should have been resting after the ordeal of being healed. He laid down atop of her, panting.

Sali smiled up at him, stroking his hair in a tender, almost sisterly fashion. That feeling was disturbing.

He quickly forced himself up from her. She gave a small pout, then got up and stretched.

That was when he saw Alina and recalled her presence in the small area that served for his 'room'.

She had a wide grin on her face and stepped forward to help a suddenly shy and floor-gazing Sali into her coarse dress. "You did good. Don't worry if she's shy now. She always is after that."

Indeed, Sali gave Alina a quick glare. She shot him a swift glance in turn, a gesture beneath lowered lashes but didn't speak. The two bid him farewell, which he returned before sitting down on the bed.

It was perhaps ten minutes later that the elven priestess returned and gave him a nod of greeting. She sat down without comment, wiping stained hands on her dress. She raised her head, sniffing the air much like an animal. A humourless smile appeared on her lips.

"Who?" She asked, studying him from head to toe. Her tilted eyes were intent like those of a cat.

He felt himself blush. "Sali. Her name's Sali."

"Oh." her forehead furrowed slightly and she seemed to lose some of the aggression. Approval actually touched her features with a minuscule smile. "That is a little unexpected. Was Alina with her? Of course she was. They're inseparable, strangely enough. The other women would have torn the thing to pieces if it weren't for Alina."

"Alina?" He frowned. The buxom woman had looked more -- and told him that she was -- a tavern wench.

"Aye. She has the stature of a serving girl" She used the human term awkwardly " But strikes with the force of a stone golem." The priestess gave him a bemused smile. "One thing to keep in mind -- she has killed two of the women for lesser offences and one man for refusing her."

He blinked

She reached out to pat his knee. "It is a strange place, to which you've come, Taran. Remember that and you'll make it here. Most men seem unsure whether to cheer or flee."

He had caught the odd vibe strongest from Alina.

In a way, he could see how this existence could be none-too-objectionable for some. Especially if one came from a difficult background. It seemed that the masters here did not mistreat or abuse the prisoners and slaves, as long as they did what they were expected to. Taran supposed that there were worse ways of living.

Still, it was not a choice he would have made.

"Have any more memories returned to you?"

"Bits and pieces, mostly. Nothing that really makes sense yet."

"It will come back in time." She assured him. "You did not take any significant damage from the blow. Nothing that will cause a permanent mark either. I've seen worse in the men and women being brought here. Much worse." She looked uncomfortable.  

"You take an awful lot of interest in me." He pointed out, smiling at her. "If what you want is what they wanted, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while."

"Wha..." her eyes widened in indignation. Her full-armed 'SLAP!' was surprisingly strong for a woman of her stature and build. "I was attempting to be nice and welcoming, you Human swine, you!" Her voice was cold.

He rubbed his cheek. "That was a joke."

"Oh." She stared for a moment, her look softening. A little anyway. "Well, it was a poor jest." She stood. "I will leave you to your affairs then."

He thought of something further to say as an excuse yet could not find anything. He let her leave, laying down on the bed. Exhaustion from the healing as well as from other things that had recently happened claimed him, and he fell asleep.



Snakes in Taipei



Codes: MF, oral, first, violence, interracial.

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy my first attempt branching out from the fan-fiction genre. As with all my stories, opinions expressed by the themes herein are mine. You are free to agree or not at your discretion. Any characters based on real people are used fictitiously herein. I welcome all feedback. Please do not publish my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you.

***

Snakes in Taipei.

Taipei, Taiwan. March 1997.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Snake Alley!"

The New England preppie strode before his five charges like a drill sergeant, green eyes gazing with intensity and hand gestures accompanying his words. He was a few inches over six feet, in his early twenties and built like a football linebacker. Black hair curled over his brow, adding a slick tone to his Romanesque face. Traffic honked nearby and punctuated his words. The streets were otherwise deserted. Of the five high school seniors lined up before the older boy, all but two were unsteady on their feet.

"The first rule of Snake Alley is: you do not talk about what happens to you here. The second rule is: you do not talk about it. Got that?"

A Japanese youth with noble features directed a frown towards the brown-haired Dutchman standing at his left. "Didn't we all hear of this place thanks to people breaking those rules?"

"You make an excellent point, Yoshi!" Christopher Bradley broke in before anyone else could answer. "I know you will discuss your experiences here. I expect it. However, I still discourage it. Snake Alley must retain some of its characteristic mystique. Wouldn't you agree, Doug?" He looked directly at the other American in the group, the one who stood at ease along with Yoshi.

Doug Ramsay was a stocky kid from East Texas, six feet tall with blue eyes and thick dark blond hair. He wore a polo shirt and jeans, same as everyone else in the group, but he stood out from them. There were several reasons. First was his outgoing nature. Doug had the respect of many and could make friends with anyone. It was daunting to some. There was also his creativity and intelligence, backed by a talent for spontaneous introspection. He was capable of quoting numerous literary works, holding his own in most any philosophical discussion, and finding ingenious solutions to various problems. Early in life, Doug had suffered from shyness and social withdrawal. He overcame that via personal bravery and now wanted to inspire others to rise above their own hardships. At age eighteen, he was just starting out on doing that with his life.

Doug adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, coughed, and then shrugged. "W-whatever you say," he told Bradley. "Y-you're the one who's been here before."

"Damn right!" Bradley rejoined with a sneer. "Put your accent back on, Doug. Not everyone here will appreciate that stammer."

"Thank you," Doug said. His tone was now even and tinged with a British brogue.

Bradley sized up the rest of the crew. There was Yoshihiro Aoi from Japan, Wouter Staal from Holland, and Lakshmana Maheswari from India. Steve Lin was the only one raised in Taiwan and even he held a foreign passport obtained in Hawaii, his birthplace. Bradley was an alumnus of the Taipei School for International Children, which the other five boys currently attended. Newly graduated from college, he enjoyed hanging with the younger crowd when not working at his father's distributor for Seagram Coolers. Doug and the others were also children of diplomats and international merchants doing business in Taiwan.

"You would do well to listen to me," Bradley addressed them. "There are tons of rumors concerning Snake Alley. Most hold some truth. Not all, though. I will separate fiction from fact."

"This place will get us laid, right?" asked Steve, the shortest of the group. He was the best groomed among them too, Doug judged. Now Steve's nervous twitch was ruining all his careful work.

"Yes." Bradley's voice was condescending. He had already answered the question several times during the past quarter year. "You paid your fee and passed your evaluation like everyone else. You come to Snake Alley a virgin, you will exit a man. Pedro, Garrett and the rest who have come here under my care are testimony to that." The preppie put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I understand your anxiety. You don't have much luck with the ladies, do you?"

"None of them really like me," Steve confirmed with a nod.

"Get some self-esteem," Wouter advised.

"Easy for you to say," Steve grumbled. "You're a basketball forward with a steady girlfriend. You're better at martial arts than me and on the yearbook staff too. I got none of that."

"You do have your musical talent," said Lak. He was of medium height and frame, his face aquiline with a deep tan.

"Like trombone's going to do me any good here," Steve rejected that claim. "Heck, I don't even know where I'm headed after I graduate TSIC." He pointed at each of his companions. "Wouter, you're going home to join the army. Maybe you'll get into that 'Korps Commandotropen' as a communications specialist the way you want to. Yoshi, you wish to become a chef."

"I'm doing the military to pay for it," Yoshi put in. "Cooking is not my immediate goal."

"Right," Steve said. "Lak, you have a position lined up at a Bangalore technology concern. Doug, what are you doing again?"

"I shall finish high school in the United States," Doug admitted, embarrassed. He had traveled the world with his Italian stepfather and experienced several different curriculums at varied educational institutions. TSIC was to be his second to last grade school, or so he hoped. The final one was Monsignor Kelly Catholic High in Beaumont. Prior to his teen years, Doug had studied in Waldorf, Montessori, Episcopalian and European classrooms. He forced himself to appreciate the diverse portfolio at times, but he never blamed his family for it. Doug's stepfather couldn't help his job moving him around and his mother couldn't stop loving her man and wanting to be with him. She had divorced Doug's father when her son was but a toddler, then married her current husband when Doug was seven. Their courtship lasted four years. Doug's mother was also a bit paranoid, concerned about keeping her family together and safe on a constant basis. 

"That isn't your fault," Wouter calmed Doug. "Your mother doesn't want some Chinese missile blowing you away."

"It won't happen," Doug shot back. "Of course, try telling that to Mom." 

Threats from the government on the Chinese mainland had prompted Doug's upcoming departure. The leaders of China did not like that Taiwan, their former rebellious province, was becoming a strong trade power with the rest of the globe. Doug's stepfather had repeatedly assured his mother their anger was all a show. Nothing serious would actually occur. Mom was sending Doug and his sister to her family in Texas, though, just in case. Why can't my stepfather tell her the Friendship has everything under control? Doug wondered. Maybe he has and she doesn't believe him.

The Friendship was an ancient Masonic order spread across Earth among people of all walks of life. It worked for knowledge, charity and stability. Doug's stepfather was of middle rank in the secret society and had inducted Doug a few months ago, aided by three TSIC teachers and a local Catholic priest. Yoshi, Wouter and Bradley were also lower-tier Friendship members. Many of the planet's governments had Friends in key positions of influence. China's was no exception. Nor was Taiwan's government or that of the United States, Taiwan's largest ally. Doug was certain the Friendship would never allow a war to break out between Taiwan and its mainland rival. There might be old generals longing for a moment of glory, as his mother feared, but the Friendship could stop them. In ten years or so, China might even want to invest economically in Taiwan.

Mom doesn't think so, however, Doug reminded himself. She's afraid, I have to go. I guess it could be fine. "Perhaps it will be nice to finish out the semester on American soil before I head for the University of Texas in the fall," he voiced his musings. "I will study history there and apply to a local law enforcement agency. After that, who knows what I'll do next?"

"Your future's planned, man," Steve snapped. "Everyone's is here except for mine. I don't like that."

"Hey, your parents want you to establish your own life," said Bradley. "My dad and your GPA got you into USC, you take it from there. I think you have something great ahead."

"Sure, whatever," Steve replied, looking around. "Let's drop it, okay? I want to get through tonight first."

"You will," Bradley promised. "The bus ride is over, it's a weekend, and we're here. I've already quoted the first two rules. Number three: our parents don't find out we did this. Yes, Yoshi, I know yours are open-minded and into manga. I am likewise aware that your parents are swingers, Wouter. Not all our families hold similar interests, though. Right, Steve?"

"True," the Taiwanese youth assented. His parents did not know of the trip and he did not intend to inform them.

Doug remembered that Lak's parents were former free love enthusiasts who had ceased their involvement in the lifestyle soon after meeting one another. His own were not into casual sex at all, although they were conscious that their son would like to be. Doug had begun dating at age twelve, his relationships responding to changing locales and hormones. There was also the influence of people such as Bradley, Wouter, and acquaintances of various other nationalities where promiscuous culture was established on the fringe. Doug had not yet succumbed to lust, but the temptation was there.

"You can tell your parents about this trip if you want," Bradley amended. "I would use caution. Speaking of that, rule four is safe sex."

"We know," Wouter said. "I stopped at the drug store on the way to the bus and bought condoms. My father has checked everyone out this past month." Phillip Staal was a senior doctor at Taipei Adventist Hospital. "Here are the Trojans if anyone needs them." He took a box out of his pocket and passed it around. Lak and Yoshi did not remove balloons from the package, preferring their own brands. Doug was happy to secure two extra condoms and Steve noticeably relaxed when he took a sole condom for himself.

"Grab a spare," Bradley ordered. "You're an enthusiastic teenager. I am certain you might need it. Let's do full disclosure. Besides me, no one here has any real fucking experience, right?"

"I have masturbated several million times," Lak corrected. "I have no plans to ever stop masturbating."

"It pleases me that can you admit that." Bradley gave the Indian an encouraging smile. "Anyone who says they don't masturbate is a liar, a moron or both. Masturbation doesn't count for much outside your own mind, though. Am I right, Yoshi? You're a virgin, like Lak and Steve here. Doug, what's in your portfolio?"

"There's only heavy petting at this point. Opportunities have been presented and I've turned them down. I worry about leaving behind something important."

"Come on, buddy," Wouter complained. "You're with Jodi Lee Nichols. She's one of the biggest sluts at TSIC. I know she does that other Australian chick she hangs with often. You've dated her too."

"Tanya's Kiwi and Ukrainian, Jodi Lee's Australian." Doug sighed. "I would love to screw them. I can't. I'm leaving Taiwan in two weeks."

"Dude, they may want to say farewell." Bradley grinned. "I know Jodi Lee's older sister wanted to tell me that when I left to start university."

"And now she's a confirmed lesbian," Doug said. "Tanya may be one also. Jodi Lee has warned me of the possibility. She tells me to grab Tanya while I still can, while she's figuring herself out. I want it and yet —"

"You're green," Bradley interrupted. "I understand. Well, after tonight, you will no longer be a rookie. How about you, Wouter? What base are you and Nadine at?"

"Third," the Dutchman answered. "I will be her cherry. I don't want her as mine, though."

"She's not the most dazzling woman in the world, huh?"

"No, to me she looks fine. It's her high expectations."

"Whatever. I picked all of you for this trip based on your novice sexual skills. I have my ear to the ground and I observe human behavior. That's how I knew. From this journey, you will gain entry into a new world and find traits you did not previously possess. Maybe then, Doug can find comfort in accepting female advances; Wouter will be able to satisfy his girlfriend, and so on. Forget your dreams, everyone. What happens here will outshine them. That's rule five."

Bradley went on to mention three additional rules. Their initial encounters in Snake Alley would probably be unique and they all needed to accept that. No one was to visit Snake Alley without the cooperation of Bradley or another veteran. Their supervisor would take point and they would follow his instructions. Finally, after receiving assent from everyone, the older boy led them down the crooked lane. Incense from a temple they passed wafted over them and all but Bradley coughed.

They had visited the area on previous occasions, just never late at night. Snake Alley was one of the more popular open-air marketplaces in Taiwan's capitol. Hawkers had stalls that sold all manner of goods from fast food to clothing and electronics. Doug purchased one of his more dependable backpacks from a Snake Alley vendor his freshman year and Yoshi used the peddlers as aids to his Christmas shopping. In the late afternoon and early evening, crowds of adults and children alike wandered the vicinity and sampled its wares. Once a certain hour approached, however, they retreated and Snake Alley took on its more notorious function.

"Mamba venom!" a merchant cried. "Straighten your spine. Raise your fortitude. Improve your performance with the opposite gender! Come, try some!"

"No thanks," Bradley declined as he and the others walked past.

Doug recalled that traditional Oriental medicine had many uses for the bodily fluids of reptiles. There were ways to neutralize or limit the harmful qualities and enhance the legendary attributes. Most practitioners of the art were in contention with Western science, however. They were sometimes unlicensed despite their training and faced official opposition. Their ways were often difficult for Westerners to appreciate. Doug consumed ginseng as a memory vitamin and also enjoyed other delicacies such as shark fin soup, but never wanted to go further than that. His mother would be unhappy. In addition, law restricted some forms of Chinese medicine.

"Ah, welcome, foreign youngsters!" said another stall proprietor. "Would you like some rhino powder or tiger meat?"

Lak shot an upraised middle finger at the trader and he changed his tune. "It's just alley cat meat, not real tiger. My rhino powder is not real either. You buy anyway! Please?" Everyone overlooked him and continued on their path.

Snake Alley had legal trading by day and illegal by night. When the crowds withdrew, the more daring vendors emerged. A few of their shops offered pirated videotapes while others displayed imitations of various well-known consumer items. Dice rolled in the shadows and money changed hands. There were no narcotics sold other than the Oriental medicines, as trafficking in cocaine and heroin carried the death penalty throughout much of Southeast Asia. Marijuana was a lesser offense and was still available in some places, but it did not hold public interest. Bradley and his charges were after a different type of debauchery that night.

The older boy spoke with a shifty Malaysian magazine retailer. The merchant whispered something and then Bradley said thanks. "Stay behind me," he told the others. "Keep your hands in your pockets."

Doug locked eyes with a grungy man brushing close to him. The would-be thief backed away, his focus darting about his surroundings. Doug tossed him a fifty New Taiwan dollar coin, equivalent to two United States dollars at current exchange rates. He then ambled after Bradley without bothering to check if the mendicant retrieved the coin. One day my compassion may be my undoing, Doug conjectured. I will consider it a treasure until then.

"Do you think we might get into a fight tonight?" Lak asked Bradley. "Garrett told me he was mugged when you took him here."

"They'll be sorry if they try that with us," Wouter told Lak with a smile. "I know karate and kung fu. You and Yoshi are my best sparring partners. Bradley has instructed us. Steve can take punishment and fight back. Doug's been into the same stuff since before he came to Taipei."

"Yes," Doug agreed. "I haven't gotten into a real battle, though. None of us have."

"What about that summer camp bully?" Wouter inquired. "You told me he got you interested in martial arts."

"I don't count that. It was over too quickly." Doug recalled that the jerk made a snide remark, grabbed and yanked Doug's arm, and then Doug's fist split his lip. In the ensuing melee, the offender sustained a wrenched groin, two black eyes and several other contusions. Doug had mere slight bruises around the knuckles and knees. "Natural combat ability," he explained to the two counselors who pulled them apart. The next day they placed him in a camp karate program that was part of Chuck Norris's Kick-Start school. He was thirteen years old and had gained much expertise from then on. Despite it all, Doug preferred verbal debate to violent aggression. He had practiced that since kindergarten. "I don't like fighting anyway. You know that."

"We shouldn't have to fight anyone if you all do as I say," Bradley replied. He acquired further directions from a shoe salesman and then led his charges to a cul-de-sac that stood apart from the main thoroughfare. They went around numerous corners and stalls as they approached, waving off more eager merchants. Several rough Asians stood near the entrance of the dead end and looked over the boys. Bradley waved at a large Filipino who seemed to be in authority and received a welcoming laugh. The rest of the gang backed down.

"All right, everybody let me do the talking," Bradley said. "Trash your gum, Lak. Doug, where's your book?"

"I left it at home."

"Damn. I see you with one all the time. I didn't even notice."

"I do put it down when appropriate." Reading was Doug's favorite hobby, novels his steadiest companions. He aspired to become a writer himself one day.

"So I see. Wouter, fix that posture. Steve, your shoelace is untied. Gotcha! Your fly is unzipped, though. Ha, gotcha twice. Yoshi, as usual you look almost perfect. You might want to put on more Chap Stick. Good." Bradley suggested a couple further improvements and then nodded when everyone was spic and span.

The boys looked at each other one last time before heading into the alley. The time they had awaited was close and there would be no further chances to make ready. At last, they followed Bradley to a small plaza where the dead end terminated. Run-down apartment buildings flanked the street. More thugs gathered in the center. Hissing and snapping sounds echoed from within their lines.

"Sounds like an animal," Doug remarked. Curious, he edged between two Taiwanese bruisers for a closer view. A large king cobra stood in the ring formed by the group, squared off with an agile mongoose. Both animals growled as they circled one another and displayed obvious hostility. Their trainers barked commands while the spectators waited in expectation. A sly-eyed Vietnamese man of middle age turned to face Bradley's group.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Will the serpent or the mongoose triumph?"

"The snake," Doug replied without hesitation. Lak said the mongoose and the others shrugged. The Viet shouted at the trainers, who released their competitors. The cobra raised its head to bite. Before it could strike, the mongoose leapt forward and seized its opponent's neck in its fangs. There was a brief struggle and then the cobra collapsed in defeat. The mongoose's trainer retrieved it and put it in a cage. A witness cut the dead cobra open with a knife while another collected its blood in a glass jar.




Snakes in Taipei



"You must all drink," the Viet said when he took the jar. "It is tradition."

"Do it," Bradley concurred. He accepted the offered jar and consumed a quick swallow, then passed it to Yoshi. The Japanese youth followed Bradley's lead and then handed the jar to Lak.

Doug grimaced when his turn arrived. This is unnecessary, he wanted to complain, unhealthy, disgusting. Bradley and the Viet glared at him and he gulped down some blood nevertheless. The taste was horrible, salty and burning his throat worse than any alcoholic beverage. Doug gave the jar to a very apprehensive Steve, all the time trying to keep from spitting the snake blood out on the ground.

"It is an aphrodisiac," the Viet guaranteed. "Drink but a little and no harm will come to you."

"Thank you, Ho," said Bradley. "Drink up, guys. Ho tests everyone this way. He has the cleanest stable in Snake Alley. Unless you want to go elsewhere, you have to pass his challenge."

Steve took a large draught of the blood after hearing this. He then handed the jar to Wouter, who was grateful to see only a tad left. The Dutchman consumed it and then gave the empty jar to a swift attendant. Ho smiled and offered a bottle of water which they all accepted and sipped heavily. Doug was glad to get the snake blood flavor out of his mouth. "Are there more tests?" he asked the panderer.

"Not from me," Ho responded with a strange sneer. "This is your first time, yes?"

"It's all their first times," Bradley answered, "as usual. Is Rosie available?"

"For you, she is. I do not think these others are ready for her. Go with Fu Song. He will show you where to find Rosie. You boys, follow me."

Bradley told the group to trust Ho and then left with a skinny Manchurian hoodlum. Ho waved at the other five youths.

"My name is Ho Du Tran," he said. "I have lived here twenty-seven years. My business moves often, you have to hunt for it. You will enjoy good fun tonight. Let me know if you do not. If you tell the police or anyone like them about what goes on here, I will find out. You will not do business with me again. You are all healthy and have protection?"

Doug felt unsettled further as everyone replied in the affirmative. Ho was clearly trying to intimidate them with his detailed resume. He shouldn't be so pompous, Doug thought. I would not be here if Bradley didn't vouch for him. I don't think prostitution should be a crime provided it's well-regulated and practiced with ethics, but I know it is often not that way. I also know I will have to arrest people who indulge in it when I start my future career. I shall apply that law in accordance with my department's policy, discounting my personal feelings.

The police officers who arrested me for shoplifting Elton John tapes three years ago did the same, Doug reflected. They got the store to drop the charges because of my youth. The cops told me they would still be watching me, though. I've watched myself since and reversed my values. I'm watching you too, Ho Du Tran. If you have one objectionable thing going on here, I will tell the police about you. Bradley may not like me doing so. I don't care.

"You all want women, yes? Good, I only stock women. You will have to visit my cousin Chi Lai for men. I have several girls your age, some a few years older. You, Indian boy, and you, local boy, I send to experienced girls. I know the perfect girl for all of you. Mark my words. You treat my girls proper. If you hurt them, you will be hurt in return three times. You treat them right, you can come back like your pal Bradley. I will speak with the girls after they service you. I have doctor friends as well. If you are lying about your health and you harm my girls, I will find out. I take your word, I still check later. You understand? Do not sleep here. If you fall into slumber, the girl will awaken you and call for help if needed. You have as long as you want. I will collect the bill after you are done." He quoted a rate and asked if they could afford it.

They all answered yes. It was high, Doug thought. His allowance would cover it, though. He made a Friendship secret gesture at the Viet, hoping for a discount. Ho returned the hand movement and smiled but made no concession. Rats, Doug mused.

"I keep time." Ho produced a stopwatch. "You may also if you are not distracted. The girls may give you reduced rates if you do what they desire. Are there any special provisos?" Not one of the boys replied. "Tell the girls if you have any later. Come with me please."

Ho escorted them through a dingy curtain and into a white hallway. The cleanliness surprised Doug. I guess the exterior's a form of cover, he considered. I wonder what the women here will be like. I see numerous girls. I never have brought one home, however. My stepfather says I can date whom I please as long as I'm happy and I make them feel the same way. Mom hopes I find the right person in time and marry her, staying faithful thereafter. I want to satisfy them both.

I'm not sure I can ever find the correct one, though, he added. Mom and Stepdad didn't on the first try. I have a wandering attraction also. I like any girl as long as she's pretty and has a good personality. Honor, free spirit and kindness are also things I desire. My girl should be able to stand up for herself too. If she can't, I'll help her learn how. I'm drawn to all types of women whatever their size, shape, or other human division. If they're psychotic or bigoted, I stay away, but there are no additional deal-breakers. I have courted women of all races, including Asians here in Taiwan and Native Americans in Santa Fe where I got my first kiss in fourth grade. This last thought caused Doug to grin.

"You smile like that when you finish, British boy, I know you had a good time," Ho said.

"Give me a good woman and I will," Doug responded.

Ho laughed and then turned to a Taiwanese who walked beside him. The men spoke rapidly in Chinese to each other. Doug knew the language but was unable to follow the exact words. Ho's assistant ran away once the conversation concluded. His employer produced a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the boys, who all said no. The Viet smirked and smoked himself for the quarter hour it took his subordinate to return. Doug and the others spoke not a word in that time, unsure what they should say.

"All is prepared," the assistant told them when he came back. Ho nodded and extinguished his cigarette. He then walked across the hall to a staircase.

"Five rooms at the top. British boy, you take the first room on left. Then you, local boy, take the next one. Indian, Japanese, and finally you," Ho pointed at Wouter. "Do not go to different rooms than I say if you want the girls I selected for you. It will not matter if you take different girls, except I will know you don't trust me. I won't like that."

I will trust you for now, Doug decided. If the girl you chose for me is awful, I will deal with it later on. He allowed his comrades to head up the stairwell and then followed them once he saw Ho start the clock. The doors on the second floor were simple and unadorned. All were unlocked. Small one-bedroom apartments lay within. 

Doug caught a glimpse of Lak's room and saw that it was identical to his. The room contained a wood-framed cot with black sheets, black curtains at the window, a table and two chairs, and no other furniture. A candle in a sconce near the bed was the sole light source. There was one door in the room besides the entrance and a radio on the table. Doug clicked his on and then deactivated it after frowning at the Chinese opera that played. "Spectacular," he muttered.

"Close the door!" Ho called from downstairs. "The girl will come out when she hears it shut!"

"Thank you!" Doug replied. He looked at the door and noticed it had no lock. A frown and shrug later, he closed it. Doug then smoothed his hair and removed his glasses so he could wipe the lenses. When the other door in the room opened, he put them back on at once.

A Taiwanese girl stood in the archway to the lavatory. She was just over five feet in height with a slim figure her cotton negligee could not conceal. Her hair was flowing and adorned by a daffodil. My age, Doug guessed, maybe a year or so older. This chick's face is ancient beyond that, however. It holds the same level of awareness I have and my peers don't. I see something I can't fathom in her russet eyes.

"I am Wei Dao-Lan," he said in Chinese. "How are you?"

"Very good," the girl responded in the same language. "I am Sui Liang."

Water Dragon, Doug translated. I doubt it's her real name, but I think it's nice. She has the looks to be famous like Christina Chang or the other celebrity alumni of TSIC. I've always had the crazy desire to date famous women. Possibly this girl is the closest I will ever come.

Liang pointed at the stereo. "You do not like my music?"

"I think it has to grow on people. The dance and stories in Chinese opera are great. The music isn't so much, in my opinion."

"Have you seen Chinese opera?"

"White Snake, Monkey King, and several tales of the Three Kingdoms," Doug listed. He was nearing the limits of his Mandarin. "They're good. The singing, though, is bothersome."

A beguiling look dawned on Liang's lips. "You will learn to grasp it one day." She stepped closer to Doug and reached up to stroke his face. The smell of her recently washed body reached his nostrils and his pulse raced.

"You may be right," he had to agree with the girl. "Are you happy here, Sui Liang?"

"Let us find out together." She stepped to the side, headed for the bed.

I guess I can accept that, Doug thought. This woman doesn't want me to know her. I'm going against many of my rules here. That is the point. He pulled his shirttail from his pants and unfastened his belt.

Sui made no comments as he undressed. Instead, she lay on her back and watched him with her indomitable gaze. Maybe she really is a dragon, Doug said to himself, or at least a serpent like that cobra outside. I guess that makes me the mongoose. Why do I think my prediction as to the winner of our battle will be correct here?

The girl nodded when his chest muscles and organ were visible. Her eyes showed no challenge or compliment. It was as though she had seen it all. Nothing could surprise her at any moment in time. Doug shivered as he put down his glasses and then shrugged off the feeling Liang gave him. I have to go to her, he realized. How could that crazy Viet panderer have discerned my needs so well?

"You are quite beautiful," Liang said. "Do I delight you?"

"We'll see." Doug said nothing more and sat down, his garments discarded on the bare plaster floor. First, he fondled Liang's hair, eased out the flower and captured it. He sniffed it and then invited her to do the same. Liang shook her head and raised herself on her haunches, then enfolded him in her limbs. The girl's hands traveled and probed Doug's body while her mouth approached his.

Doug turned his cheek to take her kiss there but Liang intercepted his movement. She trapped his face between her fingers and joined their lips. It was a brief yet very wild kiss. Doug's heart hammered like a gong. A tornado arose inside him. His hands were all of a sudden on Liang, tracing her curves. He did not linger on any one spot, knowing this might be his last chance with her. Doug wanted to do as much as he could in the little time they had.

The girl found his every touch exciting. She unfolded her body in long sinuous movements, her hair and eyes shining in the room's flickering candlelight. Her negligee slipped from her shoulders and Doug pulled it off. He then put his focus on her wide brown aureoles and the shaved canyon of her loins. Liang quivered with each caress. She was neither blind nor bored towards the attentions of men.

Her hands rubbed him, returning his touches. Her nipples hardened and her skin grew flushed. Similar tremors were in Doug's body. It was a different dance than the mongoose and cobra had waltzed in the alley, though no less purposeful and intense. Doug overcame his fears and Liang never showed any that she had. Thunder flashed in her eyes now and then, more frequent as their passion rose. She evidenced no further emotions, although she never stopped kissing or stroking Doug. Her legs coiled around him also, applying suction to his hips and drawing them to hers.

Let's get penetration over with, Doug resolved. He had enough experience with foreplay to prefer it but knew there would be time for that after the initial thrust. About to enter Liang, he stopped when he realized his organ was uncovered. He coughed and separated from her, then rolled over and reached for his pants. Liang watched as he took a condom from his pocket and donned it. When Doug resumed their joining, there was a hint of a grin on her face.

Their kisses became open-mouthed now, tongues meeting and lashing. Liang tasted bittersweet, though far more pleasing than the cobra blood Doug had swallowed minutes before they met. Her jade gate was slick with her own juices and Doug's iron bar slid right in. Then her muscles slammed on either side of him. Doug shook and blinked, almost releasing too soon. No, he commanded himself, slowing his heart rate as his martial arts classes had taught him. This moment is never just about me.

Soft fingers tapped his stomach, helping that thought stay firm. Liang's mouth voyaged across his skin, teasing his throat and nipples with teeth. Wind and waves swelled with turmoil inside her client. Doug deepened his touches on the girl, desiring that she pass the threshold before or soon after him. Was she dead to that as he heard some in her profession were? No, that seemed impossible, in particular for a person so young. How old was Liang, though, in all she had done and seen?

Her hand clasped his, and he decided that did not matter. Nothing was important but the present. The girl's arms and legs were on him, his body mated with hers. They lacked true intimate connection, yet that was small concern. I can get that from Jodi Lee and Tanya, Doug reasoned. Bradley is right that they want to tell me goodbye in a special way before I leave. There will be other women also, wherever the road of my travels takes me next. All will give their affection to me freely. I would like that better than women such as Liang. In my heart, I am bothered that I am getting her so easy for a few bucks.

With that, he surrendered to Liang's stroking. There was a time clock running and Doug's wallet was not bottomless. He hoped she might stay with him because she wanted to, but there was no use thinking about that. He filled his senses with Liang in the present, her echoing moans and twitching limbs. She scratched his back with her nails, the five fingers on each hand creating a tempo on his skin.

Liang's legs squeezed, and he let loose. There was no reason to hold off now. She seemed close too. Doug had created explosions in women a few times already with petting and kisses. He knew how to anticipate and prize them. Doug was sure this would develop further as he grew. He prayed it would never grow stale. "Oh, god," he groaned. Then he shook and spurted into Liang.

Scant seconds later, she answered him with her own climax. The girl gasped several times, gyrating like an Asian fan dancer on stage. Her body remained looped around Doug's during these movements, her eyes on his. "Good barbarian," she said in Chinese when she was done.

"I'll prove that further," Doug said in English. He pulled out of her limp arms and legs, then buffed his lips across her torso. Before, he had only kissed Liang's face. When her head dropped, his mouth was unoccupied. No more. Now he lapped her throat and tits, paying attention to the sensitive areas. Liang twitched, her soreness vanishing as he moved. Doug sucked each breast into a point and then licked her belly. The girl quivered and roared when his tongue went farther down. It was not a howl of dismay.

I have fantasized about doing this many times, Doug thought. My fingers have touched this zone, and now my tongue will do the same. I have stamina inside me, enough to keep going. I will pull away should she stop me, but I don't think she will. The girl moaned incoherently, and he stabbed his taste organ into her crevice. Ancient brown eyes gazed down upon Doug as he lapped her groin. His own blue eyes blinked rapidly, unnerved by Liang's interest.

Don't let her distract you, Doug ordered himself. Get familiar with her valley. You've read how to do this. Lick her walls and breathe on them. Suck on the sharp protrusion at the top of her pussy, the clitoris. Keep your moves tender. He followed each suggestion with his lips and tongue. Acrid juice dripped from Liang's portal. Doug was fully acclimated to its flavor now. He savored each twitch of release and brought on more with his mouth.

After a moment or two, Liang underwent another deep spasm. A flood of honey poured from her jade gate into Doug's gullet. He drank all of it that he could stand and then kissed his way back across Liang's body to her mouth. His hands, which had held apart her thighs during his licking, rose and clasped her shoulders. Doug and Liang kissed again when their heads were near each other, their eyes now shining with an inner light.

"Thank you," she hissed after they split.

"No problem," Doug replied. His voice imitated that of a mongoose from a cartoon based on a Rudyard Kipling tale he had first seen as a child. Doug stood and shook his hair, then put his clothes back on and smoothed them. I always liked that animated feature "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," he reflected. Later I found out real mongooses lose to snakes as often as they win. That's why I bet on the snake downstairs. I suppose the match was even with Liang and me.

Doug looked at Liang when he had completed dressing. "I would like to stay with you a while longer," he said. "Your boss charges too much, though."

Liang chuckled in reply and then used a pillow to wipe sweat from her skin. Afterwards she got up and retrieved her flower, then walked to Doug and placed the daffodil in his lapel. "Show Ho," she said before pecking him on the lips.

"Okay," Doug answered. So the flower was a token, he thought. Nice. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Liang told him over her shoulder as she returned to the lavatory. Doug admired the sway and slope of her naked back until the closed door separated it from his gaze. After doing so, he blew out the candle and exited the room.

Lak and Steve were waiting for him in the hallway. "It was incredible," the Taiwanese boy was telling the Indian. "She asked how I got so good with my mouth and I told her I play trombone. I didn't know what else it could be."

"Seventy-five other people in our school orchestra have that skill," Lak responded. "It's not limited to just you, Steve."

"Right, I know. Still, though, it was great to hear I had it. How was your girl?"

"Like Shakti in the epic poems of my homeland. Did you know Shakti slept with both my namesake and his brother in the unrated version of those poems?"

"She had fun tempting rakshasa demons too, right?" Doug inserted his opinion.

"Yes," Lak said, "and she paid for it with her dharma. This girl was akin to her, I think. What was yours like?"

"A gentleman does not tell."

"I see you have a flower, though," Ho Du Tran put in from nearby. Doug turned and saw the Viet leaning on a wall at the top of the stairwell. "Congratulations. Indian boy had a flower too. Taiwanese boy did not. Japanese boy also did not. He is outside waiting for you. Bradley and other boy not yet emerge."

"The girl was just fine, Ho," Doug said. "Uh, is this enough?" He took several gold coupons with Chiang Kai-shek's photograph out of his wallet, each a cash denomination of New Taiwan dollars.




Snakes in Taipei



"Half that," Ho told him. "No flower, full price. You still have money, so why not stay here more time?"

"I may need my money later." Doug was thinking that he should buy Jodi Lee and Tanya presents before he saw them again.

"Could you loan me some?" Steve asked. Doug shook his head.

"Never mind," Lak said. "There are games outside. You can win cash there. Some risks are worth taking, eh, buddy?"

"Yes," Doug agreed. He had taken one coming to Ho's stable and it turned out well. Doug doubted he would ever need to return. His legend was waiting in the world outside the door.

***

The End.