MATING RITUAL
By
Daniel Skye
Cameron Davis had never seen a
deer up close before. On his daily nature walks, he’d see herds of deer
trailing in the distance. Whenever he tried to inch closer, the sound of
rustling leaves and fallen branches snapping under his feet would send them scattering.
The good news was he finally
got to pet one. The bad news was he rammed it down with his pickup truck. It
was a fawn that must have been separated from its mother. The baby deer lay in
the center of the road, twitching for ten minutes before it quietly settled
down. He tried to comfort it, gently petting its side when the twitching ceased
and he knew there was no time to save it. There was minimal damage done to his
vehicle, but that wasn’t his primary concern.
An older man drove by in a red convertible
and made a smartass comment about Cameron killing Bambi before he sped away.
Cameron was shaking his head, but this insensitive stranger actually made him
feel better about himself. At least he had the decency to stop and call 911,
who put him in touch with animal control. They sent a police officer who took
down his basic information.
“Is there any damage to the
vehicle?” was the officer’s first major question.
“Not really,” Cameron said. “A
slight crack in one of the headlights. I’ll get it fixed as soon as possible.”
“Well,” the officer shrugged,
“Don’t feel too bad about it. Happens all the time around here.” Then the
officer put on a pair of dark gloves and apathetically dragged the deer carcass
to the side of the road, leaving it behind for animal control to cart away.
Cameron returned home that
evening and spent four hours on his laptop, meticulously scouring every dating
site, every chat room, every personal ad. He needed a good lay, a one-night
fling to get over the trauma of killing another living creature.
He felt sick over the whole
ordeal. Though he believed getting struck down was a bit more humane than what
those poor deer had been through in the last few months. Carcasses found maimed
and mutilated; the damage so deliberate that no vehicle could have caused the
tissue injuries sustained.
Cameron lived in Dorchester,
and most of the town had already written it off as the work of twisted teens or
some devil-worshipping cult that sacrifices animals to their demonic savoir.
And the cops seemed in no rush to catch the culprits. They were wrapped up in
the disappearance of Ed Lee, a local auto mechanic.
The lengthy search turned up
nothing more than a severed ear that was found discarded by the entrance ramp
of Route 25. The ear could have belonged to anyone, but the bullet-shaped
earring dangling from the pierced lobe gave it away. Cameron didn’t know anyone
else in town who’d dare wear them.
Ed Lee was an avid hunter. He
was last seen by his wife, packing his rifle and hunting gear into his truck.
Half of Dorchester drove trucks, but Ed’s was more than conspicuous. It was a
shiny yellow pickup with a Confederate flag painted across the back windshield.
Under it were the words the south will
rise again! Cameron was convinced the poor bastard was delusional. That
didn’t stop him from feeling bad when they mentioned his disappearance in the
paper.
If a gun-toting redneck like
Lee was vulnerable, that made Cameron a moving target. He had never fired a gun
before in his life. He barely even had to raise his fists. The closest he ever
came to a fight was when he shoved some drunk who was trying to sweet-talk his
ex-girlfriend. And when the papers mentioned the cops finding his ear, he knew
if they found Lee, he wouldn’t be alive. But he wasn’t going to let this gruesome
discovery prevent him from carrying out his business.
It took Cameron four hours to
connect with Tara; a slim, athletic brunette from Ocean City. They chatted for
thirty minutes via Skype and a meeting was set for the following evening.
Cameron arrived at the pub
fifteen minutes early only to discover Tara was way ahead of him. She had
arrived fifteen minutes before him to prepare herself.
He recognized her, though he
was used to seeing her in a pink tank top, sports bra, and skin-tight
sweatpants. He had spotted her jogging many times on his daily walks.
“I’ve seen you around before,”
he commented as they ordered their first round of drinks.
“Dorchester is a twenty minute
commute from Ocean City so I drive down here a lot to use the trails. I jog a
lot.”
“I can tell,” he grinned. “I
almost didn’t recognize you without the sweatpants.”
“I almost wore them tonight,”
she giggled. “But I didn’t think it was appropriate for a first date.”
“Is that what this is, a date?”
He sipped his drink.
“If you play your cards right,”
she winked as she downed her vodka martini. “Did you know that guy from around
here who disappeared? What was his name…?”
“Ed Lee,” Cameron answered for
her. “He worked on my truck a few times. But I didn’t really know him
personally.”
“It’s kind of scary when you
think about it,” she said. “If that can happen to someone out here, it can
happen to any of us.”
Three drinks later and Tara was
already insisting on heading back to his place. Cameron knew this was going to
be easy, just not that easy. But he wasn’t one to question his luck. It usually
came in streaks. He was convinced his bad luck streak had climaxed when he
struck that baby deer. Tara was now the kick-start of his good luck streak.
“I’m engaged,” Tara confessed
as they entered his bedroom.
“That doesn’t trouble me if it
doesn’t trouble you.” Cameron smiled nervously. The fact did trouble him a bit,
but he was feeling buzzed and his judgment was fogged by alcohol consumption. The
words emanating from his mouth were not his but merely the words he thought
Tara wanted to hear.
“No trouble at all,” she
smiled, a little tipsy. Her soft lips pressed against his. But Cameron felt the
time for smooching had passed.
Cameron lifted her with
authority, but laid her down on the bed gently, the way a caring lover would.
He unbuttoned his silk shirt and lifted her purple blouse. Before he could
unhook her bra, she was already pulling the straps down and unzipping her miniskirt.
He ditched his pants and boxers and slid Tara’s panties down slowly, caressing
her glossy legs and thighs.
“I like to be on top,” Tara
insisted.
“Whatever gets you off,”
Cameron smirked.
He rolled over to let Tara
mount him. She leaned over and dug into purse at the edge of the bed, producing
a pair of metal handcuffs. “Do you have a kinky side?”
“Not normally, but I can make
an exception for you.”
Tara cuffed his wrists between
the vertical bars of his iron headboard and straddled his waist. She began to
slowly roll her hips back and forth, bending closer to his chest and then
rising up.
With Cameron’s wrists bound,
his movements were restricted. He responded by thrusting upwards and falling
back. She reached up and clasped his hands, pulling them together tightly. They
started to move in unison, rising as the other fell. Sweat glistened on their
bodies as the room grew hotter and they began to quicken the pace.
Tara clamped her thighs tightly
around Cameron and dug in with her heels. She started grinding more forcibly
against him. He thrust harder with his pelvis as she moaned with delight.
Cameron’s curtains were open and the crescent moonlight seemed to beam off her
ample breasts as they bounced with every thrust or shift of her waist.
“Don’t come until I do,” she
commanded.
Cameron fought to hold on as
she rolled and worked her hips faster and harder. The effort was draining him
and he wasn’t sure if he could abide. Tara was breathing rapidly, crying out in
pleasure. She began to gasp as she emitted soft little moans. He could feel her
smooth skin growing hotter. She sucked in the air and arched back, her nails
digging into his hands. He couldn’t hold out any longer and started to climax.
Tara bucked wildly against him,
her own orgasm consuming her. She moaned as she fell atop his chest and lay
motionless for several minutes, panting heavily. Then she reached up and
stroked his face, nuzzling hers against his. She planted a wet kiss against his
scruffy cheek.
“You usually get all cuddly and
affectionate after sex, ’cause I’m not really down with that.”
“Not usually. But tonight is a
special occasion. I want you to enjoy it as long as you can.”
“What do you mean special
occasion? And my wrists are getting sore, you feel like unlocking these cuffs
for me?
“And spoil the fun? Not just
yet. I think you have some more left inside of you.”
“Two in a row? You’re quite the
energetic gal.”
“Ever heard of sexual
cannibalism?”
“Can’t say that I have,” he
chuckled. Oh, Cameron, he thought, you sure know how to pick them. First she
cuffs you to the bed, now she’s talking about people eating each other. What’s
she going to do next, show off her bracelet from the loony bin?
“After sex, the female praying
mantis will devour the head of the male. It’s often connected to reproduction.
The female needs the nutrients necessary to feed her offspring. Essentially,
one dies so others can be born in its place. They do this after sex because
that’s when the male is in his most vulnerable state.”
“You’re
making me hungry,” Cameron joked. “We should get dinner.”
“That
was dinner. Now it’s time for dessert.”
“Dessert?”
Cameron asked, bewildered.
Her naked body quaked, the skin
bubbling and pushing outwards as her figure increased in mass. The nails of her
fingers slipped off one by one as sharp, prodigious claws forced their way to
the surface and became whole with her fingers. Her legs were no longer the silky smooth
runner’s legs he had encountered that evening. They had swelled to the width of
telephone poles, and they were sprouting hair. The hair kept spreading until
every inch of her body was consumed by it. Her face had become distorted, taking
on the shape of an animal’s snout, with two rows of fangs jutting from her
mouth. Her eyes were yellow and glowing.
She leaned in and sunk her
teeth into his neck. He spent his final moments twitching, his mind flashing
back and forth between Ed Lee and that baby deer that lay helpless in the road.
He understood now how Lee and all those innocent deer had met their fates.
Unfortunately this newfound information would never leave Cameron’s bedroom.
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