Lucifer's Lottery - Edward Lee [61]
Good God!
One curvaceous She-Demon taps down the sidewalk in Bone-Sandals, wearing a bra whose cups are Gryphon faces, while the monstrous woman’s hot pants seem to be composed of stitched-together eyeballs. The eyeballs look at you when she prances by. Hand-Bras and Tongue-Skirts are prevalent as well but then a vivacious bluish-skinned Succubus turns the corner dressed in an entire bodysuit of tongues. You groan when you see that each and every tongue is alive. Through another window you steal a glance at a sleek and perfect-bosomed Imp as she tries on a teddy made of shellacked bat wings, while yet another Succubus tries on a negligee made from various scalps. In a Surgical Salon next door, a fussy She-Imp appraises her own round rump in a mirror and complains to an attendant, “My ass is too big. I want hers!” and then points to one of several Human women standing on display. A man in a white smock says, “A fine choice, miss,” and promptly slices both buttocks off the Human who is held down on a cutting board by a Golem. The smocked man—presumably the cosmetic surgeon—hefts each buttock in his hands and says, “Come along to the surgery suite, miss. I’ll have these transplanted in a jiffy.” And if that’s not enough, your senses stall when a bell rings and then a crystalline door opens—fancily labeled COSMETIC GRAFTING—and out steps a petitely horned and very lusty She-Demon. Onto every square inch of her skin a nipple has been grafted. She seems delighted with the service and enthuses to Howard, “Oh, my husband, the Grand Duke Desalvo, has such a fetish for nipples, I just know he’ll love this!”
“Charming,” Howard compliments, then back to you, he continues, “Indeed, Mr. Hudson. Hell’s most exclusive are what you are beholding now. No indulgence, no luxury is deprived of this select group. In fact, there is only one class of inhabitant more favored, and that would be the members of the Privilato Class.”
You offer Howard a funky look. “The Privilat—”
“And, look! There’s one now!” Howard says and excitedly points upward.
An odd groaning sound ensues and fifty feet above the street, you notice something that can only be described as a wavering hole in the sky, approximately ten feet in diameter. A bizarre, fluidlike green light rims the hole and within stands a long-haired Human man wearing clothes fashioned entirely from sparkling jewels. His face appears ordinary, yet it is set in the widest grin, and then you see that even his teeth are exorbitant jewels. On his forehead is a fancy Gothic mark: the letter P. Hmm, you think. What’s with that guy? But what you notice even more profoundly are the man’s companions, six of the most beautiful naked women you’ve ever seen.
“No wonder the guy’s smiling,” you mention, your own lust sparked. “Check out the drop-dead gorgeous women he’s with.”
“And they’ll be with him in aeternum, Mr. Hudson, or until he wearies of them in which case they’ll be replaced by more. The women are known as Soubrettes—the very pinnacle of sexual servitor. Inhuman Growth Hormones are occultized and injected, to augment their most desirable body parts, and they’re trained quite exhaustively in the Sexual Arts. The technology they’re flying about town in is called a Nectoport.”
You stare incredulous at the spectacle—literally a hole in the sky, or a portal that’s moving. The oozing green light about the rim throbs. “What the . . . hell is it?”
“Hell’s answer to flying carpets, you could say,” Howard chuckles. “Did you know that I read The Thousand and One Nights when I was but a lad of eight years? Oh . . . of course you wouldn’t know that. Nevertheless, a Nectoport is quite obviously a mode of transportation . . . as well as a very exclusive one. With only very rare exceptions, they’re only to be operated by either the Constabulary, the Satanic