"No, you don't have to fucking worry about it, becaushe it'sh retarded," Murderface growled. "There'sh no such thing ash a Boner Goddessh."
"Yeeeah, 'cause Boner Goddesses are always dudes," Pickles offered, slowly sliding off of his lounge chair. "'N . . 'n . . 'n they always have huge boners."
"Thanks Pickles, that really makes me feel better," Nathan growled.
The band had made it back to the hotel in one piece. Skwisgaar had immediately rounded up as many females as he could find and headed back to his suite. Charles had excused himself and retired to his own suite with the triplets in tow. Toki had taken the painkillers prescribed at the decompression center and gone to bed. That left Pickles, Nathan, and Murderface sulking around the pool.
"Hey, maybe that'sh why she wouldn't fuck Shkwisgaar!" Murderface declared. "She's actually a dude!"
"You just said she didn't fucking exist, Murderface! Pick a side!" Nathan thundered. "I totally saw her today, but I thought she was a fucking water goddess! I didn't know she was a fucking sex goddess!"
"Sn – sn – sn – a fuckin' sex goddess . . ." Pickles tittered. "That's like, repetitive."
"Hey, I know! I threw shome shit in that shacred pit, too! Sho she owesh me a fuck! If she doesh exisht, I should be able to get laid!" The bassist rolled out of his lounge chair, staggered a little, and took off in search of a receptive female.
"Y'know . . . I hate t' say it, but Murderface . . . Murderface has a point," Pickles pointed out.
"Huh?" Nathan grunted.
"If this Boner Goddess really is pissed at you, then you shouldn't be able t' git it up, right?" Pickles muttered. "So . . . like, go pick up a chick. See if your dick works."
Nathan considered this. It made sense to him. He hoped like hell he wouldn't end up naked with a hot chick going 'This has never happened before, but I pissed off this Boner Goddess . . .' But if he didn't try; how was he supposed to know?
The front man scanned the pool area. Skwisgaar had already gathered up most of the hot chicks . . . and the not-so-hot chicks . . . and chicks Nathan wouldn't touch with a ten-foot-pole. Pickings were pretty slim. He was about to give up when he noticed a woman entering the pool. She must have just gotten here because there was no way Skwisgaar would have left her alone. She waded into the warm, shallow water in a tiny bikini, lit from below by the pool lights. Nathan usually liked women with bigger tits, but the tight little body she was sporting made up for it.
"Be right back . . . . maybe," he growled.
"Good luck!" Pickles called.
Nathan lowered himself into the other end of the pool and swam towards his target. She was splashing and playing in the water like a kid; even going so far as doing handstands on the pool bottom. Huh, usually hot chicks didn't like to get their hair and makeup all messed up. But it was cool; this was just a test case anyway. Nathan could get into it. A tiny little woman like that made him feel all big and powerful. When he had to be careful he didn't hurt her it was like . . . kind of exciting. Oh yeah, he was starting to not believe in the Boner Goddess already.
The bikini babe surfaced, slicked water out of her face and looked startled to see the metal god so close.
"Hi," Nathan purred in his flirtiest tone. "I'm Nathan."
"Um . . . I know," she said with a puzzled smile.
"Oh. Right. You wanna come back to my room?"
The look of confusion deepened.
"What for?" she asked cautiously.
"Uh . . ." What kind of question was that? Wasn't it fucking obvious? "Y'know . . . hang out . . . whatever."
Nathan made his intents clear with a light stroke of her arm.
"Uh . . ." the woman said. "Uh . . . . I – I don't think Charles would like that."
Nathan blinked.
"Why the fuck would Charles care if we fucked?" He asked. Ten seconds later, realization dawned. "Oh! OH! Oh, you're one of his chicks!"
"Hope," the woman supplied.
". . . . Ugh. Why do I feel like I just hit on my fucking stepmother?" Nathan inquired.
"I didn't know you had a stepmother," Hope said.
"I don't, but if I had one, this is what it would feel like. Hey Pickles! The fucking Boner Goddess exists!"
"You talked to her for five fuckin' seconds, dood!" Pickles called back. "An' you're standing in a pool! Give it a sec!"
"She's from Charles' harem!" Nathan called back, starting to wade back towards the drummer.
Pickles cackled briefly.
"Oh dood! Hey, don't tell Charles on us, okay?" he called to Hope.
"Actually, Nathan just didn't recognize me; it's cool. What are you guys doing?" she asked, following the lead singer.
"Ah, Pickles! Don't say anything! Now she wants to talk to us!" Nathan hissed in a stage whisper.
"Jesus, Nat'an, don't be rude!" Pickles chided. "Hey um . . . . I can't see what color you're wearin' . . . which one are you?"
"I'm Hope," Hope offered again.
"Seriously, why do you color-coordinate your clothes? Most triplets stop doing that when they're like, five," Nathan growled, climbing out of the pool.
"It's easier to sort our laundry this way," Hope stated with a shrug. "If we didn't live together we probably wouldn't bother."
"Hey, why aren't you up with Charles?" Pickles asked.
"Faith won the coin toss and Mercy's taking a bubble bath. So I thought I'd grab a swim before my turn came up."
"Coin toss? What coin toss?" Nathan asked.
"Well, y'know . . . to see who gets to get reacquainted with Charles first."
Nathan and Pickles stared at her for a long time.
"Oh my fuckin' Gahd . . ." Pickles muttered, trying not to laugh out loud.
"You flip a fucking coin to see who gets to fuck him first?" Nathan thundered.
"Oh my fuckin' Gahd!"
"Charles won't choose; he says he doesn't want to show favoritism to anybody. We have to work it out on our own." Hope pushed away from the wall. The lone triplet started to tread water in front of the two metal gods. "When we all lived together we had a schedule and we each got him for a whole night. I . . .um . . . I really miss that."
"A fucking coin . . . I don't know if that's hysterical or fucking sad," Nathan growled. "Doesn't that piss you off?"
"What? The coin toss? We used to do rock, paper, scissors, but there were cheating issues."
"Rock, paper, scissors!" Pickles squealed, curling up on his lounge chair.
"Uhhggg . . ." Nathan sighed. "I mean, doesn't it bother you that Charles is upstairs right now fucking one of your sisters?"
"No. My sisters need love, too."
Nathan stared down at her.
"Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded.
"There's nothing wrong with me!" Hope said, starting to get irritated. "We're just . . . a little different in how we love! If I was a lesbian you wouldn't have any problems with it, would you?"
"Hot lesbian triplets? Fuck, no!" Pickles blurted.
"So what's the big deal if I share a boyfriend? If it doesn't bother me, why should it bother you?"
"'Cause it's wrong!" Nathan thundered.
"Why?"
"'Cause Charles is better than that!" the front man returned without hesitation. "He shouldn't get distracted by the fact that there's three of you! He deserves the fucking best, not the top three runners up!"
"Nathan."
It wasn't a shout and shouldn't have carried so clearly, especially not with Nathan Explosion bellowing like a water buffalo. Further impossibility revealed Charles standing on the third-floor private balcony to his suite. The CFO was bare-chested, his hair rumpled by the wind and other activities, but he still radiated an air of complete and total authority.
"Oooo! Nate, you're busted!" Pickles hissed.
"Hope, I think you'd better come back up," Charles announced.
Hope immediately stroked for the side of the pool and climbed out. A Gear seemed to materialize by her side with a dry towel. Charles watched her walk into the lobby, then went back into his suite without another word.
"Did he look pissed?" Nathan asked.
"Dood, he's upstairs gettin' lucky with a set of triplets. I'm sure he doesn't care that you don't like his girlfriend."
Across the courtyard, someone else took notice of the exchange.
"I'm starting to think you're right about them being post-human," Matthias allowed, sipping his drink.
The assistant was officially off-duty. The band was corralled, Mr. Offdensen was ensconced for the night, and the Gears were on standing orders. The disguised immortal sat at one of the poolside bar tables in a light blue speedo and nothing else. This state of undress revealed a simplistic tattoo of a red heart with an arrow through it on his left shoulder.
"I mean, I suppose I'm a bit desensitized to it since I'm around so many immortals. But you see little tells if you watch for it. Offdensen's voice shouldn't have carried that far that clearly. And Dethklok practically worships him; have you noticed that?"
"Matty, how gay are you?"
Matthias tore his gaze away from the two musicians by the pool to look over at his companion. JB was hunched in her seat, slowly rubbing her legs together with a wretched look on her face.
"Excuse me?" Matty inquired coldly.
"Don't give me that look! I know lots of gay guys with kids they made the old fashioned way. I'm asking if you'd ever consider having sex with a female."
" . . . how would you feel if I asked you if you'd ever consider having sex with a woman?"
"Do I get to pick the woman?" JB asked. "'Cause if it was Gabrielle Reece, hellz yeah."
"G – Gabrielle – the volleyball player?"
"That woman is a golden goddess. She could do anything to me."
Matthias considered this carefully.
"Is this an indirect inquiry as to whether I would be interested in having sex with you?" He asked.
"Yeah," JB grunted. "'Cause since Skwisgaar threw his sacrifices in my sacred pool I've been so horny I can't see straight."
"Is that a euphemism for something?"
"No," the impromptu goddess growled. "Unfortunately."
"Just out of curiosity, why didn't you just fuck him? He totally wanted to; the man is a whore," Matty said. "Not that . . . anyone would need to be a whore to want to have sex with you . . ."
"I would have killed him," Johnny Betty announced mournfully. "Men with super-strength just have to be careful when they have sex with baseline humans, but women with super-strength will literally tear a human man apart. Yes, literally. Yes, I've done it and I never want to do it again."
Matthias shuddered.
"Well, that's horrifying. So wait; you signed up to be a goddess of sex and you can't have sex? I think you might be a goddess of irony, too."
"I can have sex!" Johnny Betty protested. "It just has to be with a fellow immortal! Or a post-human with super-strength. I'm fairly certain Skwisgaar's post human, but I didn't want to risk killing him."
"I appreciate that and you've been of great help on this trip, but sorry, honey," Matthias sighed.
"S'okay. I've got a 'friends with benefits' situation with this Frost Giant . . . kinda got a hankering for Scandinavian now anyway. I'll never get him down here but maybe I could get him to talk dirty to me over the phone."
Matty put his hands over his eyes and chuckled.
"You know, my little brother is still carrying a torch for you," he offered.
"Oooooooh, honey. Your little brother wants me to be in love and I don't think I'm up for that right now. I'm focusing on my career. I just wanna get fucked ten ways to Sunday, roll over and say: 'Mmmm, that was great. You can leave now.' I don't want to use him like that."
"But you'll use your Frost Giant buddy?"
"Njorthr knows I'm just using him for sex and he's fine with it! He doesn't want me barefoot and pregnant while he tends giant cattle. What time is it in Norway?" Johnny Betty pulled out a cell phone as she spoke.
"I don't think you're giving Clay enough credit, but whatever. It's not my job to hook you up."
Matthias was aware of a curious look aimed his way.
"Okay, fine, it is, but not right now. I have bigger fish to fry. Go have phone sex with your Ice Giant."
"I'm not quite free yet; I still have to get Murderface laid."
For a long moment, the only sounds were the background noises of a tropical night.
"Uuuuh . . ." Matthias began.
JB thrust out an arm and shook it, making a silver charm bracelet around her wrist jingle cheerfully.
"It's still a sacrifice! I can't afford to be picky at this point."
"But Murderface is . . . ah . . . have you ever met him?"
"Not face to face, thank God. Yes, I'm aware he's loud, rude, obnoxious and hateful."
"And the smell. Don't forget the smell," Matty offered.
"Cheerful thought. Don't worry, no matter how much of an ass he is, there's always someone drunk and desperate enough to hump him. I just have to keep some chick from coming to her senses long enough for him to seal the deal."
JB raised two fingers and sent out a questing spell to find a woman in the vicinity the exact mixture of desperate, drunk, and horny enough to consider fucking William Murderface.
"Got 'er! Okay, just gotta make him as fuckable as possible . . ."
Johnny Betty held her hands apart and concentrated.
Had JB not had her mind clouded with sexual frustration and fantasies of Scandinavian accents, it might have occurred to her that she found a receptive female for such an odious male very quickly. If she had more experience, she might have realized it was suspiciously fast.
In fact if she had tried this same spell only a year later, she might have felt the tug from the other end, as though someone was setting themselves up to be in the exact position JB wanted.
But Johnny Betty had only been a goddess for a matter of hours.
"Excushe me, ladiesh . . . would you like to shee something shwell?"
The two women sitting at the hotel bar gave him a horrified look and fled.
"Picky shkanksh," Murderface growled.
"Hey, I know you! You're William Murderface!"
Dethklok's bassist turned towards the voice. A woman was addressing him. Yes . . . yes, definitely a woman.
Also, freckles.
There were freckles on every exposed inch of skin and buddy, was there a lot of exposed skin. A huge pair of tits were spilling out of a midrift top printed to look like a Confederate flag.
"Uh . . . yeah. Yeah I am," he muttered.
"I thought so!" the tits said. "I saw you play th' national anthem with your cock at the NASCAR Spirit Cup!"
"Oh yeah. It got pre-empted by fuckin' Toki and Shkwisgaar."
The tits had a really strong Southern accent; so strong you'd suspect it of being faked. Murderface raised his eyes slightly to take in the woman attached to those marvelous tits.
Oh.
Well, that was kind of a let-down.
The chick was on the chunky side, not quite to cankle size, but getting there. She had a butterfly tattoo on her bicep and a pierced belly button. Her hair was that totally-not-natural shade of red. Chunky Chick was currently draining a glass of something alcoholic.
Murderface opened his mouth to announce that he wasn't interested in Paula Deen's long-lost daughter.
"Hhhhhhhhiiiii-," he managed.
"Whatsa matter, honey, you got a frog in your throat?" she inquired. "Here; drink this."
The chick handed him a glass of something that looked like orange juice. Murderface took it and swallowed quickly. He got that burn in the back of his throat that told him it was a screwdriver, not just straight orange juice.
"My name's Dixie!" Chunky Chick announced. "Dixie Dunlap. My friends call me Double D . . . can ya guess why?"
Murderface's eyes went straight back to her tits. Dixie giggled drunkenly, giving those jugs a good jiggle. On the other hand . . . a fuck was a fuck and he was a fan of tits . . .
The bassist opened his mouth to tell Dixie that she could ride his cock if she promised to shut her mouth so he didn't have to listen to that fucking annoying Southern accent.
"Hiiiiiii-"
"Did you lose your voice or somethin'?"
This was weird. His throat didn't hurt and he could breathe just fine, but every time he tried to speak his throat just closed down.
Matthias tried to keep his howls of laughter muffled and keep an eye on the images displayed on JB's phone at the same time.
"A – a – a – a mute spell?" he wheezed.
"It ain't his looks that are the handicap, it's his fucking personality," JB announced. "I can't count the number of times I've thought: 'Oooo, he's hot. I hope he don't say nothing stupid!' So many more guys would get laid if they'd learn to shut the fuck up."
Murderface rubbed his neck. This was really odd; how was he supposed to score if he couldn't talk?
"You got somethin' wrong with your voice box, don'tcha?" Dixie asked, touching his neck. "Does it hurt?"
Murderface shook his head.
"Well, that's okay," Dixie drawled. "You don't exactly need t' talk for I got in mind."
Murderface stilled. Oh. Oh. Uh . . . yeah. Paula Deen Jr. seemed to . . . ah . . . want to fuck him. That . . . ah . . . that . . . that was a good thing.
"Ya wanna go back t' my room? Just nod," Dixie said with a filthy grin.
When she bared her teeth in that predatory smile, Murderface could see that she had a gap between her front teeth. Dethklok's bass player showed his own snaggle-tooth grin and nodded.