Author Note: I do not own the characters Dr. Scott or any other Rocky Horror character, Richard O'Brien does. However, Jiff Daff, Maygent, Frenkie, Janita, Maria, Bocky, and Jim are my warped creations.
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The pair drove down the rain-slicked roads of London as thunder roared and lightning flashed in crooked tongues across the sky. They, of course, were petrified, but who could blame them? Firstly, their fear was apparent because they were Americans and the British road system was, I quote, 'all wrong', what with the cars driving on the opposite side of the road and the steering wheel on the opposite side of the car. Secondly, if I may add, because all the buildings lining the road seemed the same in the rain: dark and ominous, with black gaping doorways that one knew were shut tight from the downpour.
Suddenly the couple grew aware of a sputtering and dying of their little car, due to the utter lack of gasoline. There they were stuck, in front of a much-graffiti-covered wall, with no fuel and no umbrellas.
"Jim, what happened?"
"The car ran out of gas, Janita," her tall male companion replied.
"I'm scared, Jim; what are we going to do?" she clutched her tiny purse to her chest, fearing the shadowy figures that she assumed were all approaching the dead vehicle.
"Well, the pumps are closed at this hour; we're going to have to go door-to-door to bum gas off of somebody." He adjusted his thick glasses and pulled the key out of the ignition. "Stay here, Janita; I'll be back in no time."
"You can't be serious. I'm coming with you; this place gives me the creeps."
As the rain poured upon the couple in what seemed like buckets, Janita used the map as a head-cover.
"Wh—that's our map, Janita!" Jim said, ripping the drenched paper off of her.
She sighed sadly as he handed the ruined paper back to her.
"Well, it's too late for the map now," he said, continuing on his way.
The couple walked alongside the graffiti-covered wall to the other side of the building that lie within, a gorgeous, castle-like domicile. Of course, the thunderstorm and the torrents of rain made it look less than inviting, but alas, Jim and Janita had to explore it further.
They approached the metal gate, Jim pushing timidly on the painted bars. The gate swung open easily.
"Maybe we'll have some luck here," he said, looking at his female companion. "I see some… really nice vehicles in their driveway—wow, a Bentley—so maybe they'll lend us some gasoline."
She smiled at her fiancé of six years, the man of her dreams, now drenched from head to toe and wearing those revoltingly nerdy glasses. Reaching up, she took the glasses from his face and placed them on a banister. She giggled, noticing the rain dripping off of his moustache and wondered when he'd finally shave the silly thing off.
One would think Jim would have known that moustaches were out at this point in time. Especially considering he was a hairstylist, and had to follow current styles. And that was precisely how he met the shy, virginal Janita.
Alright, Janita considered, maybe he isn't the man of my dreams. She watched him as he stood awestruck outside of the house. He works at a beauty parlor, no less, and wears sandals and khakis and fancy gold watches that dwarf her engagement ring in price. And he cares an awful lot about his appearance, she sneered. Not that he worked out or anything like other guys would do, but you can't even lay a finger on his hair or watch him shave. Ah, it was good enough to have a man to respect her boundaries enough to avoid pouncing on her before they were to be wed, whenever that would be….
He approached the large oaken door with its gigantic stained glass window, and signaled for Janita to come closer. Once she was standing next to him, he pressed the doorbell, and chimes rang out within the foyer.
It was then that they saw a man in the house approaching, his tall, lean shape appearing as a warped shadow in the pane of glass at the center of the door. Slowly he opened the door a creak and looked out at the drenched pair with his usual stern gaze.
"Hello," Jim timidly squeaked, as rain dripped into his mouth. "Can you lend us some gas? Our car has run out of—"
Suddenly, a loud metallic thud rang out from the direction of the couple's vehicle.
"Oh no!" Janita cried. She saw the yellow lights of a tow truck heading down the boulevard, most likely dragging their car behind it. "Now what are we going to do, Jim?" she asked her fiancé.
As he shrugged, the man opened the door a bit wider.
"Why don't you… come inside for awhile," he said quietly but sinisterly, with a British accent.
The couple followed the mysterious man into the house without even asking his name. There was an uneasy trust between them, now that Jim and Janita were left stranded without their car. The home seemed comfortable and warm, yet not lived in.
The pair could hear rock music coming from upstairs, as they feasted their eyes upon the inside of the elegantly decorated home. There were Japanese and Chinese sculptures and artwork, intricately beaded furniture, mysterious artifacts of all types, and cats scampering across the cushions and along the marble floor. Janita pulled back at the sight of the furred creatures; she had allergies to practically every kind of pet.
"Excuse me, sir, but what might your name be?" Jim asked the silent stranger.
He turned slowly to the couple whilst still walking, and answered their question in a stoic voice.
"It's Jiff Daff," he replied with a sigh. "Please, follow me."
Jim and Janita had to eye the man up, for his demeanor was, at the very least, a bit creepy. Jiff Daff was tall and slender, with a mop of grayish brown hair frizzed in a type of afro atop his head. His nose was straight and long, extending down his long face to practically cover his small, lipless mouth. His gaze was piercing yet distant, intense yet uninterested. Janita felt gooseflesh, and looked away to find a cat rubbing against her ankle.
As they walked down the corridor, another man awaited them with an enormous mound of curly brown hair on his head. He stood even taller than Jiff Daff, but didn't appear quite as threatening to the pair. He waited calmly by the foreign-made grandfather clock, laughing quietly to himself as Janita attempted to shoo away the feline.
"You look quite… wet," he said softly, with a strong British accent.
"Fetch them some clothing, Maygent," Jiff Daff ordered sullenly.
The curly-haired man complied with a slight bowing of the head. Janita couldn't help but stare at him, for it had appeared as if he had been flirting with her, for he was watching her during the comment about… wetness. He had deep brown eyes with little creases about them, most likely from laughing, she supposed. His long thin legs connected with slender, manly hips, and his shoulders were broad—just the kind of manly man she had been desiring. He had no facial hair, but his five o'clock shadow was obvious. The distress in her eyes was obvious at seeing a wedding ring on his left ring finger, and she sighed aloud as he fetched the clothes.
He handed two silken robe-like garments to the stunned pair. Janita accepted hers with a slight blush.
"Please… do change your clothes. Mustn't stain the Persian rugs!" Jiff Daff commented in an almost jovial tone.
Janita looked at Maygent again, hoping he'd point her way to a bathroom. "Um, sir?" she said, gazing at him while holding the robe—
"You can call me Maygent," he responded with a shy smile. "How may I help you?"
She couldn't help but laugh giddily. Jim had already practically disappeared from her mind. Her mind had a fogginess to it, and she shook her head, attempting to remember her question.
"Oh, yes," she recalled. "Do you have a—bathroom or parlor where I can change my clothes?"
Maygent quickly glanced over at Jiff Daff, who shook his head in a rather exaggerated fashion.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss; the master of the house has many a guest here tonight, so I'm afraid they are all quite… unsanitary at the moment."
"Call me Janita," she responded with a blush. "I don't really require much—"
"You can change here," he offered. "I'll ensure that Jiff Daff and I are not watching."
Janita glanced over at Jim. His head was off in the clouds somewhere, for he was admiring a rather colorful painting of a calico cat. He wasn't paying the least bit of attention to what had been going on between her and the handsome… butler? She wasn't sure what position Maygent held in the household, but by his reference to a 'master,' it must not have been very high. That didn't sway her obvious attraction to him. Even so, she was quite the virginal one, and wasn't sure how to convey this emotion without seeming prudish, on the one hand, or easy, on the other hand.
"Okay, but only if you promise not to look," she said, beginning to untuck her modest blouse.
Jim wandered off in the direction of a Persian cat as Janita changed into the comfortable, dry robe. Maygent kept his eyes fixed on something behind him as she changed, although he did peek once or twice, turning her face the color of a beet with embarrassment and… whatever else.
"All done," she said with a slight sigh. The intensity of the moment had made her lightheaded, as she watched Maygent turn towards her again with interest apparent in his boyish face.
Jiff Daff had apparently taken off after the curious Jim, and the two of them reappeared with Jim in a dry robe as well.
"Let's head upstairs then," Jiff Daff commented, with an edge to his voice. "The master of the house will be quite excited to see… American guests…."
The quartet headed up the beautiful stairwell, as the couple silently admired the plush rug covering each and every one of the stairs. The rock music became louder as they approached a double-door encrusted with some kind of gold paint, and carved upon with enchanting symbols.
Jiff Daff opened the door to find a long ballroom with wooden floors and six crystal chandeliers, holding a large crowd of Britons seated in eight neat rows extending to the front of the room where a cushioned throne sat, the picture of celebrity and royalty. The chair seemed to be made of a type of bronze, and consisted of several intricate carvings. A pair of lions wearing crowns in their manes made up the legs of the chair, and a large griffin extending its snakelike tongue was carved into the back, its gigantic wings splayed outwards and a bit forwards, to make up the arms of the chair.
The Britons were singing amidst themselves, and the din of their incessant chatter was detracting from the prim and proper appearance of the room itself. They stood in front of their seats, but went through synchronized motions of the song quite splendidly.
Jim, Janita, Maygent, and Jiff Daff took their seats at the back of the room in four folding chairs set up behind the final row of Britons. Almost immediately, the lights of the chandeliers dimmed to near darkness and a single white spotlight shone on the very back of the room. The Britons fell to a complete hush, seemingly knowing what to expect. The entire audience turned around and faced the double-doors, awaiting what was to come.
Okay, first chapter done... If you see strange parallels between this and something else, please don't mention it in your reviews; however do review. If youDO see the parallels, you will enjoy this story more. If you want to know what this attempts to parallel, email me at crystalrose7788 at hotmail dot com. You can wait though, because it may become clearer later. Thanks! --Crystal
BTW: Even though not stated, this story will be a SLIGHT crossover between Rocky Horror and Moulin Rouge. Just slightly.