House of Cabal Volume One: Eden (14 page)

You need to understand, this is a key to
Dana’s body, not to Dana’s heart. Dana would be making love to me
through you. Not fucking, not sex, making love. I would be in the
room and you would be our sex surrogate.

If you decline, say nothing and we’ll
pretend you never saw this letter. If you are interested, it can be
the one night or we can arrange something more long-term. Money is
not an issue.

Your friend,

Thomas Parr’s bold signature is scrawled
across the bottom.

With the extra cash I could pay back my
student loans. Just the first thing that popped into my head.

I test the shower with my hand.

They’re debauched hedonists. He gets off on
watching his wife, the pervert. And she gets off on him
watching.

I add a touch more cold and step in. The heat
is extreme on my chilled skin, but only for a few moments.

They can’t disguise this as something pure.
If you’re married, you don’t have sex with other people. Simple as
that.

Thomas wrote the letter before we met. He
didn’t have enough time to write it when he went away with Dana
when I first got here. That means this was planned. What else was
part of this perversion? Could all this—the riddle, the box and the
key, Dana waiting at the newspaper box—be connected?

It’s too complicated. It’s an absurd
conspiracy theory. Instead of playing an elaborate game of riddles
and chance encounters, they could have simply asked me outright. I
would have said no, but they could’ve asked.

My body has acclimated to the intense heat,
and I reduce the cold a bit more.

It’s an offer of casual sex, an offer I’ve
received many times and never accepted. Casual sex would prove what
everyone presumes: that I’m just looks with no moral substance. I
would never actually cheat on Carrie. My ethics are all I have.

I lean out of the shower, dripping water onto
the tiles, and grab the soap, shampoo, and conditioner from the
open drawer.

To feel better about me and Carrie having
sex, I proposed. That’s some extreme conservatism right there. I’m
like an Amish person. I’m a Puritan. I had to make her an honest
woman just because we were doing it. No surprise pregnancy was
needed to motivate me.

Even the Amish get a hedonistic period before
they settle down and commit to their faith.

I close my eyes and let the shampoo suds gush
over me.

I never had my wild days. If I really am a
moral person, why does that bother me so much? Why do I feel like
I’m missing out on something important? It’s not fair.

I turn down the cold even more and turn my
back to the scalding water. The hotter it gets, the more I can
take.

You ask me what I’m going to do.

I feel sorry for them, I genuinely do, but
come on, a key to her heart? What a load of BS. Wait! I get it now.
That’s the key in the box! It’s crazy, but they planned all this.
They’re rich. And bored. Maybe they thought it would be
entertaining to put a riddle on my porch and watch me scramble. But
why did the note in the box say that I was too late when Dana is
still being offered up?

I turn off the water. My body pulses with
heat and my mind is in a haze. I don’t want to think anymore. I’m
tired of thinking.

You hand me a towel. Thanks. It feels and
smells as if it’s from a store shelf.

I wipe steam from the mirror. My muscled back
is now lobster red. My flesh beads with moisture right after I dry
it. I’m never going to get dry with all this steam trapped in
here.

With the towel cupped over my groin, I open
the door. Steam rolls out into the hall. I go back to the mirror
and dry my arm pits, watching the doorway out of the corner of my
eye.

“You almost done in there?” Dana, as I
expected, has come to the door.

My excitement feels like it belongs to
someone else. I try to sound casual. “I forgot to turn on the fan,
so I’m letting out the steam.” I bend over to dry my legs, showing
off my red ass.

She flicks the fan on without stepping into
the room. “I thought you weren’t an exhibitionist.”

I stretch my arms out and rub the towel
across my upper back. My heart races.

Her posture pushes her breasts forward, her
nipples pronounced through her dress. I want to touch them, and I
know she wants me to. My cock rises and I cover myself with the
towel. I try not to cringe with embarrassment, but it’s too late.
She is staring. I close the distance between us in a few steps.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

She steps back, surprised, as I close the
door.

I turn around and lean back. “God, what am I
doing?”

The steam has dissipated enough for me to get
dressed.

Thomas’s flannel boxers cover my erection and
the blue jeans cover the flannel. I pull on the undershirt and the
flannel button-up. Three ribbed condoms are inside the jeans’ right
pocket. They think I might go through three condoms in one night?
Who do they think I am? A porn star?

I can’t say yes to them. I would just be a
disappointment.

Dana isn’t in the hallway when I exit the
bathroom. “Hello?” I whisper. Nor is she in the dark living
room.

In the dining room, the bright light from the
kitchen spills across shiny plates, meticulously set silverware,
and my box. Thomas works away in the kitchen. I still don’t see
Dana.

I remove the lid on the box and give the key
another look. It doesn’t provide any revelations. I pull out the
note.

=>8<=

The first test was yours to win or lose,

But in the end there’ll only be one we
choose.

For now, take pride

At least you tried.

You have no choice but freedom plenty,

That is the paradox of a life so empty.

“Like steak?” Thomas says.

I leave the note behind and go into the
kitchen. “Actually, I’m vegetarian. But it looks like there’ll be
plenty to eat.”

He holds out a knife. “Here, help make the
salad.”

I slice into a red bell pepper with the
incredibly sharp blade. The seed-covered heart has some rot, but
the rest looks good.

With his bare hands, he lays out the steaks
in a preheated cast-iron skillet.

“So, what do you do?” I immediately think,
Why did I say that? He probably gets disability and doesn’t have
a job.

“I’m Indiana Jones.”

“What?”

He laughs. “My father was in the oil
business. I did that until I burned out. It’s not the most ethical
business; I’m too much of a bleeding heart. Anyway, Dana and I have
been using some of my old contacts to be amateur
archaeologists.”

He searches the drawers for something. Should
I help him, or would that be insulting?

“That sounds cool,” I say.

“Just a sec.”

He finally finds a fork in the last drawer at
the end of the counter. He rolls back to the stove and turns over
the sizzling steak.

“It
is
cool. We’ve been in contact
with these Muslim gnostics. A lot of their traditions go back
centuries. They have given us some pretty fascinating leads.”

“Like what?”

“We’ve been searching for Sumer texts.
Sumerian is the oldest language yet discovered. The gnostics say
they’ve heard of a religious cuneiform tablet hidden away in Iraqi
that predates the Pyramid texts, but they won’t give us any more
details unless we meet them face-to-face. Which means a trip to
Egypt.”

“Egypt?”

“I know. It’s a long way for a rumor, but the
women of the sect sent a photo of the box it’s supposed to be kept
in.” He puts the cutting board on the counter, gets out his wallet,
and hands me a folded piece of paper. “We have contacts in the
Iraqi Museum that enthusiastically disagree with the gnostics,
which makes us suspicious. If the text has religious significance,
they could be keeping it under wraps because it contradicts Islam
somehow.”

It’s a photocopy of what looks like a
photograph of a rectangular wooden box. The box has a symbol carved
into the lid: two arrows pointing at an eight.

I recognize it.

“I’ll be right back. You’re not going to
believe this.” I get my note from the table.

My note has the same symbol as the box.

“Is that the note you found in the
newspapers? Can I see?”

“Yeah.” I hand it to him. He examines both
sides. “Do you know what that symbol means?” I ask him.

He takes a potholder, moves the cast-iron pan
off the burner, and holds the note over the gas flame.

“What are you doing?!”

He lowers the paper to the heat. The text “At
least you tried” blackens.

“Don’t!”

“Calm down. The symbol means eternal
flame.”

The black fills in to create the shape of a
key. He moves the paper back and forth over the heat and other
words fill in around the writing.

“Dana! Thomas figured it out!”

“Call me Tom.” He continues to heat the
paper, revealing more and more invisible ink.

“Dana!”

She comes rushing in.

All the words have formed.

“Let me see?” I take it from him.

Dana crowds in behind me. “Do you mind
reading it out loud?”

I clear my throat and read the newly revealed
message.

=>8<=

The first test was yours to win or lose,

But in the end there’ll only be one we
choose.

For now, take pride
in
a riddle solved well

And progress to where your soul will
dwell.

(There is now a key symbol here.)

This key unlocks a lecherous man, woman, and
saint.

Are we pure or is there taint?

Arrive the nineteenth and find the question
to your answer:

The death of man or the cure to cancer?

You have no choice but freedom plenty,

That is the paradox of a life so empty.

So choose to use the iron key,

If not, things will be as they used to
be,

And we know you want nothing of the kind

For you are not satisfied with your
betrothed

Or with your endless daily grind.

I’m now sure the key in the box is the key to
Dana’s body. The newly revealed message says as much. Thomas is
giving his key to me. They are the “
lecherous man, woman,”
in the riddle and I’m the “
saint
” who is supposed to help
them.

“Do you know what it means?” she says.

I lean in. “I think so.”

I kiss her lower lip. She kisses back, her
fingers run through my still-damp hair, the tips of our tongues
touch, I pull her against me, and she opens her mouth wider. I
wanted to be a man again, and I am with her against me. I could
conquer the world. I kiss her jaw and her earlobe and her tender
neck.

She whispers, “I’ve missed you inside
me.”

I’m supposed to play the part of Thomas. I
prefer that; I can be someone else. I’m already wearing his
clothes. I can be an adventurer who travels the world with a
gorgeous wife, living off my oil fortune.

I lead her down the hall by the hand.

“Tell me which one’s the bedroom.” I sound
confident, and I don’t know if it’s an act or not.

“There.”

I go into a dark bedroom.

Before I know what’s happening, we’re kissing
and she unbuttons my shirt. My erection strains against my fly, the
tip painfully sensitive from hitting the brick wall earlier.

This isn’t Carrie I’m kissing.

I’m shaking as I drop my pants and pull down
my underwear. I want to tell Dana I was attacked in the street and
that I’ve only had sex with one other woman. I was baptized in the
rain. Now I want my confession.

The hallway light shining through the open
door creates a rectangle spotlight on the bedspread.

“Get on the bed,” she orders.

I do as I’m told.

“Get on your knees.”

I sit on my heels. I don’t want her to see my
scrapped feet.

She’s not looking at my feet. She’s focused
on my jutting erection. She hikes up her dress to mid thigh and
kneels on the bed in front of me. In the light, I’m naked and
exposed while she still has on her dress.

“Thomas.” She touches my cheek and gazes into
my eyes as if looking for Thomas’s spirit inside of me.

I whisper that I love her. It’s easier to
feel love when I’m someone else.

I lean in, but she holds me back.

“Wait.”

Her husband rolls into the room. This isn’t
for me. This is for Dana and Thomas. I’m here to express their
love.

“I love you,” I say. It’s all an act, but it
feels more genuine than any time with Carrie.

Dana touches my cheek. “I love you too.”

I lean in. “You’ve been so patient.” I kiss
her. “I want you to have everything. You deserve everything.”

She whispers in my ear. “You are going to
come so hard tonight.”

Thomas grabs the pants from the floor,
searches the pockets, and hands her a condom. She gives the condom
back.

“I want you to put it on.”

She looks to see my reaction, and I’m not
sure what she means, and then suddenly I understand. She wants
Thomas to put the condom on my painfully erect dick.

I’ve passed over to some unknown, alien
place. I don’t know them. More importantly, I don’t know
myself.

He rips the condom open with his hands.
Carrie always uses her teeth, and I often worry during sex that she
tore the latex and that she’ll become pregnant, despite the fact
she’s on the pill.

I keep eye contact with Dana as Thomas rolls
the condom down. My stomach flutters. He is careful to get it
rolled all the way down to the base.

I pant, heat rising in my upper torso and in
my face. The lust scares me. I want Dana more than I’ve ever wanted
Carrie. Dana’s lips are parted and full from our kissing, her skin
flushed, and I hear her ragged breaths mirroring my own. She’s
trembling too. Everything is alive and out of control.