Slickman had a grin on his face.

   Bub wore a solemn expression. "If you laugh," He said. "I will beat you without mercy about the head and shoulders."

   "Oh, I’ll not laugh." Slickman told him, "Unless you begin bawling like a massive barbarian baby."

   Bub’s face reddened. "I should have hit you with a bigger rock." He said. "I told you, I am not a barbarian."

   "Calm down," Slickman said. "Drink some more wine. The night is not done with tales of women just yet."

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The Sea Sorcerer Of Craven’s
Saucy Slut
(A Slickman Tale)

   Since you have told me something about your childhood, I’ll tell you something about mine.

   I’ll make it short and sweet.

   I never had a childhood. I don’t know who my mother or my father was. The only memories I have of when I was growing up, was that I was always hungry and would do anything to get a mouthful of food.

   I lived on the streets of the city of Poorland, sleeping in doorways or abandoned buildings. Foraging for food was what I lived for.

   I got my name because I have fast hands. I can steal a man’s money right out from under his nose and he’ll never see me do it.

   I’m the best thief there is, and I’m not half bad with a sword or a knife.

   None of this has anything to do with the story about a woman that I’m going to tell, but so what.

   Drink up and sit back, here it comes.

* * *

   After I relieved a wealthy Poorland merchant of some of his most prized possessions and had a pocket full of gold, I figured it would be a good idea to leave the city for a while. I was the only thief in that city good enough to be able to sneak into and get out of Demetrio the Merchant’s estate without being caught. So it was just a matter of time before he sent some hired strong arms to beat knots all over me and take back what I had taken.

   Besides, I was tired of Poorland anyway and hungered for new sights.

   That was how I came to be riding into the coastal village of Craven.

   Craven is a harbor village. On the coast, just to the south of Craven, overlooking Pathetic Ocean is steep treacherous cliffs.

   Next to the cliffs is a long sandy beach where the merchant ships dock. Just inland from that beach is the Village of Craven.

   Only a few hundred, if that many, people live in or around Craven. Most people steer clear of the coastal settlements because of the hurricane and storms that batter most of the coast of Pathetic Ocean almost constantly.

   But Craven was different. For some reason, storms stayed away. Hurricanes blew past.

   Craven did get winds, but nothing very strong. And it did get rains, but never enough to cause flooding.

   I came to Craven looking for a woman. Not any woman in particular, just some nice young innocent girl who would spread her legs and howl like a pack of hungry wolves as I fed her the bone.

   That’s all I wanted.

   I had a pocket full of gold and a hard dick in search of adventure.

   Craven was a dreary place. There were two houses of lodging, one tavern and one large whore house.

   I rented a room at Craven Inn and headed on over to the whore house, a place named Julia Robert’s Lip Smackin’ Good Head House.

   I bet I could guess what they specialized in.

   Julia Robert’s Lip Smackin’ Good Head House was a long flat wooden building. Inside, there was a large waiting room, a long hallway lead off of that with dozens of doors for rooms for fucking on both sides of the hallway.

   It was after dark. Torches were lit outside so customers could find their way in and candles were burning in the hallway so they could find their way to the right room.

   The waiting room had a powerful smell to it like rotting fish and the fish rotting here didn’t smell like they came from the ocean. The girls in here probably didn’t bath too regular. Oh well, I’d just have to hold my nose closed with one hand while squeezing titties with the other. Maybe if the girl did me extra good, I’d make her a present of a bar of soap. Don’t let anyone tell you, I won’t treat a woman the right way if she deserves it.

   In the waiting room, there was only a mean looking old guy who seemed like he’d spent too many winters out on the sea sitting in a chair.

   I came in the door and asked the old codger, "Where’s all your women? Bring them out. I’ll fuck them all. I have a powerful need to plant some seed."

   Without a blink of his eye the old salt said, "We’re fully booked up. There’s not a strumpet that’s not a pumpin’ in Craven tonight. Two fishing ships are in and all the sailors are dropping anchor."

   "I’ve got money," I told the old fart and pulled a gold coin out of my pocket and showed it to him.

   The old guy’s eyes brightened at the sight of the gold piece. He licked his lips. "Why, I’ll do you myself," He said starting to stand.

   "Sit back down, you ancient sausage swallower," I told him. "I only take my pleasures with the fairer sex."

   "I can be mighty fair," He came back with and batted his eyes at me to try and look cute.

   "This is not an argument you’re going to win," I told him.

   "No, I suppose not," He agreed.

   "Women ?" I inquired again.

   "Well," The old pole polisher said slowly. "Old Gerty is the only woman who’s not taken tonight."

   "Tell me about her," I said. Tapping Stinger at my side I added, "If you’re not truthful or this is some kind of a ruse to part me from my money without me getting what I came for, I’ll come back out here and split your old skull for you."

   "All right," He said. "Since you’re asking, I’ll be telling. Usually, I just tell the fellows to just go on up, go in and close the door so it stays dark. Gerty gives the absolute best head in existence. Bar none, she is the best. Only because you insist on knowing, I’ll tell you her secret."

   "Gerty had a husband once, a long time ago, who stabbed her left eye out. She killed him in his sleep for it. But that don’t make no difference now. Gerty’s special head technique is that she has a glass eye she can pop out. And let me tell you, that socket where her left eye used to be, that is the sweetest hole I ever did stick my dick in."

   "You are a sick old bastard!" I told that sick old bastard.

   "You asked for the truth," He said. "I’ve done it myself many a times and it’s good. Except she does shake like she’s got the St. Vitas Dance and snot and drool does fly from her nose and mouth when you get to really pumping on her eyehole. It must be that bumping into her brain that hakes her shake like that. It hasn’t never bothered me none. In fact, it kind of adds a bit of excitement when she starts jerking all around like she’s done lost control, at least she don’t shit herself."

   "I’ll be passing on Gerty," I said and headed out the door.

   The old rump rider was laughing as I exited. Just before the door banged shut behind me he yelled. "You’ll be back. I’ll have her keep and eye out for you."

* * *

   The smell of sea salt was in the air as I trudged across town toward the tavern. Gulls screamed unseen in the sky. The distant rumble of the surf crashing on sea shells and sand was strangely soothing to my battered thief’s nerves.

   The only tavern in Craven was named, They Always Look Better After A Few.

   Never was there a truer statement, I thought and entered.

   A few oil lamps burned on tables where cards and dice were being played by the few sailors not occupied with digging for treasure at Julia Robert’s Lip Smackin’ Good Head House.

   I went to the bar and ordered a mug of strong dark ale from a rotund smiling bartender. He gave me my beer and I took a drink from it. It was some throat strangling rot.

   "Where can I find me a woman in this town?" I asked the barman.

   "Been to Julia’s?" He asked.

   "Yeah," I answered.

   "There’s none to be had around Craven tonight," He said. "The girls at Julia’s are all that are available. If they’re all occupied, there are no others to be had."

   "Then, what are they all waiting around for?" I asked, motioning to the two tables full of sailors.

   "Look closely," The barman answered. "They’ve got what they came for. You could say those are some sailors who really like their semen."

   And watching closely I did see one of the guys run his hand up another’s leg and a few moments later another sailor leaned over and kissed the sailor next to him on the lips. After what I’d seen of Craven so far, this village was beginning to look like a mud-packers paradise.

   "That’s just great," I told the barman.

   I drank a few large mugs of the rotten tasting ale and had to admit after the fourth one, it didn’t taste all that bad anymore. Through a drunken haze I talked to barman Bob and wasted time. I wasn’t getting what I came for, so I figured I may as well get drunk and did a good job of that.

* * *

   When I could barely stand and I was the only drinker left in They Always Look Better After A Few, I stumbled out the door.

   I was going to go back to my room at Craven Inn and pass out when I heard her call out to me from a patch of blackness between two closed merchant shops.

   "Mister, please help." She called and with the background of screeching gulls at first I didn’t realize a woman was calling to me.

   Somehow, after I already passed the alleyway, her words made it through the beer glaze I was gliding in and I realized I was being summoned.

   "Mister, please, please help me!" She called.

   I stopped, then went back and looked into the dark between the shops. Even though my mind swam in a sea of suds, I was no fool. My right hand stayed on the grip of Stinger, ready to draw and spill blood in an instant.

   "Who’s back there?" I asked from the flickering light of the torch lit street.

   From out of the blackness stepped a vision of loveliness. "Only me good sir," The young innocent maid I had been dreaming of said to me. "Could you help me good sir? I’ve escaped from Damgaard the Sea Sorcerer and need a place to hide until morning, when I will get a horse and ride away from this accursed village."

   I looked this woman up and down in the flickering torchlight. She wore the garments of a dancing girl, which is to say, she didn’t wear much at all.

   All of the curves on this woman were of the right proportions and in the right places. She had the kind of straight coal black hair that I’ve always loved running my fingers through and milky white flawless skin. As I studied her, I could see she studied me also. The flash of her eyes told me that she liked what she saw.

   "I’ll hide you in my room," I told the woman. "Of course to properly protect you, I’ll need to keep you very to me."

   She smiled a sly smile when I said this and slid up against me. "Most definitely good sir," She said, "The closer the better."

* * *

   To say that this woman was enthusiastic would be like saying a fish likes to swim or a bird likes to fly. This woman seemed to be made for one mission only, and it was my good fortune that it was the same mission I had been on the entire night.

   I’m not sure who tore whose clothes off, but we did do some quick tugging and tearing until we wore what we came into this world wearing. We attacked each other like wild animals, except no animals ever made as much noise as we did and they never did as many different things to each other as we did.

   After our fourth grappling and groping we took a breather. With her lying in my arms I asked. "Just what is your name anyway, and what is this business you were saying about this sorcerer?"

   She laughed and snuggled close to me. "I am Angelina and the Sea Sorcerer Damgaard has been holding me prisoner inside his cave in the cliffs to the south of Craven. I don’t know how long he has kept me. My mind is foggy as to how he captured me too. He has been keeping me drugged so he could use my body any time he wanted. Tonight, He took over long with his incantations and invocations to the sea gods and his potions wore off on me before he administered new ones. As soon as my mind cleared, I fled him and was lucky enough to meet you."

   "We should dress now and leave." Angelina said. "If he finds me, he will take me back. And I would hate to think what he would do to you."

   It was my turn to laugh then. "Girl," I said. "Whether he’s a sorcerer or not, he can’t see through walls and even if he could, I’ll send him to his ancestors with Stinger."

   That was when the door burst inward. It was shattered and turned to splinters and flung in pieces against the far wall.

   A huge shaggy thing, so large it had to stoop over to pass under the top of the door lurched into the room. It was covered entirely by a foul smelling black matted fur.

   Angelina screamed and her voice ripped the night air.

   I bounded naked out of bed, all the wrong parts swinging free and sprang toward where my clothes and weapons lay scattered on the floor.

   The thing was not a beast. The only noise it made was a deep throated raspy breathing.

   It back handed me as I made a grab for stinger and I was knocked flying through the air and bounced off a stone wall.

   Flickering firefly spots danced in front of my eyes and the thing turned to Angelina.

   It opened its mouth and the speech that issued from that throat sounded like a scholarly old man’s voice. "You cannot leave me Angelina." It said. "You cannot. You know what that would mean. Why do you try?"

   "I hate you!" Angelina shouted.

   I regained my feet and charged to where Stinger lay again. This time, the shaggy thing grabbed me by the arm, picked me up over its head and pitched me full force over a table and into another stone wall.

   All was blackness.

* * *

   I came to with a ringing in my ears and a serious pain in my head and back. My beer buzz was completely gone. Guess a real good bouncing on the bed and a bouncing off the walls will do that for you.

   It was still pitch black outside, so I’m not sure how long I was unconscious. No one came to investigate what Angelina’s screams or my crashing around the room had been about. Not sure I blame them either. If I would have been on the other side of the wall I bounced off of, I probably would have just rolled over and went back to sleep thanking the gods for good solid stone.

   Or maybe it was just that after all the noise Angelina and I was making when we were banging like beasts, they thought her screams and the crashing around was me just giving her the ultimate orgasm. If that was the reason and the guy next door had a woman with him he probably nudged her and said, "Come on honey, it’s my turn now."

   Whatever it was, no one came out.

   The thought did occur to me that I could just go get my horse from the stable at the rear of Craven Inn and ride on out. I didn’t want to pay for the busted door or the busted furniture and mainly I didn’t want to explain what had happened to it.

   Just leaving might have been the best idea.

   But to tell you the truth, something happened to me when Angelina was grinning up at me during the throws of one of her orgasms. She had a crazed wild look in her eyes, a lusty insaneness about her.

   Was it love, that, that look had awakened in me?

   Are you fucking crazy? I don’t think so! I just wasn’t done fucking this woman yet. Maybe after the fifth time I would be. Maybe after the fiftieth time, I don’t know.

   I only know I wanted to find out.

* * *

   After I’d dressed and donned my weapons, Stinger and my three throwing daggers on my belt, I got my horse and rode to the spot just south of Craven, where the cliffs came down and met Pathetic Ocean.

   Wading out to knee deep in the cold water I peered up at the cliff face. If it had not been for a lantern hanging in the mouth of the cavern, I never would have seen Damgaard’s cave at all in the gloom of the night.

   The cavern was out over the crashing waves at least thirty yards and the climb up would be at least one hundred feet.

   There were no other openings in the cliffs as far as I could see and the thought did occur to me that there must be some other entrance or else Angelina could never have made it out. But I wasn’t going to search the surrounding countryside for holes in the ground.

   Most men would look up at this sheer wall of jagged rock with crashing waves beneath and say, "That’s it, I give up!" But not me, I’m an experienced night time wall climber and the walls I’m accustomed to climbing were built specifically to keep me from scaling them. While this cliff face would be difficult, it was no where near insurmountable.

   I started up the wall, climbing more by feel and instinct than anything else. Night climbing is not much harder than day climbing actually. Usually, you’re too close to what you’re grasping at to see very much anyway.

   Hand over hand I went. Toes and fingers searching out the smallest crevices, testing it to make sure it could sustain my weight. Then, pulling and pushing myself up to the side. There were patches of slimy moss growing on the rocks. A few times I grabbed onto hand holds that would have sent me sliding down the cliff face to be bashed against jagged stones by the crashing surf.

   The going was dangerous and tiring. At least half a dozen times I nearly pitched to my death. But some day, something is going to kill me anyway. So I thought, why give up now. Besides, where I was already, it was just as hard to climb back down as it was to go forward.

   Finally the lantern was just above my head and I pulled myself up and into the yawning cave opening and stood up.

* * *

   The cave led backward into the rocky Earth in a pitch black tunnel. The hanging lantern was the only light. I took the lantern and started down the dark tunnel.

   The sound of the surf behind me was like the rhythmic breathing of one of the great Sea Gods. As I went into a stygian blackness so thick it was like oil in front of me, the sound of the waves faded away and I began to feel a soft breeze blowing past me into the interior of the earth. There must be an outlet I knew, otherwise there would be no place for the air that rushed passed me to be going.

   I started to hear strange chanting ahead. At first I thought it was just the echoes of the surf being twisted by the walls of the cave into the sound of voices. But, moving forward, the chanting became more distinct and I knew it was not any echo of a natural sound.

   This was the echo of one man chanting incantations and magic spells. This man was beseeching the gods to keep the winds at bay and protect his village and for this he promised a sacrifice of a lamb.

   I came around a bend in the tunnel and caught sight of the chanter.

   The chamber I stepped into was enormous. At least seventy feet across this bubble inside solid rock had a ceiling that was lost in shadows. All the walls were lined with book shelves that were filled with arcane tomes of all types.

   The lone light inside the chamber was a bonfire that cast dancing shadows backward away from the three who stood in front of its flames.

   By the fire stood the black shaggy thing that tossed me about my room like a child’s rag doll. He held Angelina in front of him, pinning her arms to her sides.

   Beside them stood the chanter, The Sorcerer, garbed in dark purple robes with the symbols for the moon, stars and planets embroidered into it. He waved a knife in the air over his head and sang out to the ancient gods of the ocean. In front of him lay a softly mewing lamb.

   The Sorcerer Damgaard was an old man with a long white beard and a shining wrinkled bald head. But for all of his ancientness, he radiated raw power like a volcano.

   The Sorcerer’s entreaties to the higher powers were reaching a crescendo, getting louder beseeching demanding.

   Their backs were to me.

   With Stinger clutched tightly in my right fist I crept up behind them.

   They didn’t see me until I was almost within reach of the ugly black thing with my blade.

   Catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye, Damgaard uttered a strangled cry.

   Big And Furry hurled Angelina to the side and turned to me. It bellowed out a blood curdling cry that made the hair on my neck stand straight up and reached an enormous hand at me.

   I’d had enough for one night of being in the friendly embraces of that fiend. When he reached, I ripped Stinger to the side and the beast’s hand flew free from his wrist.

   Blood spewed from the stump spraying the air and I was glad to see it. At least it proved this thing was a creature of blood and bone and could be killed.

   It screamed and hurled itself at me swinging a death blow with its one good arm.

   I leaped to the side and as the beast passed, slashed a disemboweling stroke across its stomach. The things guts fell with a plop to the stone floor.

   Rushing in as it fell I stabbed the creature through the chest, only to have Stinger, stuck in bone, ripped from my grasp by the weight of the thing.

   Now I turned to the Sorcerer Damgaard.

   "You ruined the ceremony!" Damgaard shouted at me. "I’ll have to start from the beginning or the storm will come and wash Craven away."

   I started for him. "I’m going to rip the head from your shoulders with my bare hands," I told Damgaard.

   "I think not," He answered and with a flick of his left wrist flung something at me that looked like twinkling starlight.

   Everything tilted crazily. I didn’t know what was up or down. The points of twinkling starlight grew and all else faded until I was alone, floating in a white nothingness. White was everywhere.

   Nothing else was here, only white. Up, down, everywhere, there was only the unblemished purer than the purest snow…..white.

   I might have screamed then, I’m not sure if I did or not. To be stuck in an endless nothingness is a frightening place to be. Even being tortured to death is better than that. The torture would eventually end. But this….who knows?

   Damgaard’s voice spoke to me. "You came for her," He said. "The faithless slut, I brought her back from her grave in the ocean. Angelina was a whore who a sea captain had drowned for murdering the sailors who paid for her body. The ocean is my element. When Angelina was placed in my home, I saw her punishment. Being a foolish old man, I was in love with the beauty of her and the pleasure her body promised from the first sight of Angelina. But, in life she was a constant schemer. Even death has not changed that. I had hoped it would."

   "You lie," I shouted and flung one of my throwing daggers at the spot where it seemed Damgaard’s voice came from.

   The dagger struck home with a thunk and I fell forward onto my hands and knees as the world around me reappeared.

   Damgaard sank to the floor. He sat wheezing and gasping out his last breath. He motioned toward Angelina, who was now getting to her feet.

   "Take her," He said and laughed. "Too bad you’ll not have as much time with her as I have. Then, you would torment."

   He fell back and moved no more.

   I took Angelina in my arms.

   "There is a back way out," She told me and led us to a door I’d not seen before.

   This passage was lit by torches the entire way. The tunnel arced upward and while walking Angelina fell against me as if in weakness.

   "I’m o.k." She said. "The fall when the creature shoved me, I just feel a little dizzy."

   So, supporting her weight on my shoulder, we made our way up through the tunnel. At first she only leaned on me as we moved along, but after a while, Angelina’s strength seemed to give out entirely and I picked her up and carried her.

   The tunnel came to an end at a sloping hole in the ground that I came carrying Angelina out of.

   The sun was just starting to rise as I laid her on the grass. By the new morning light Angelina’s face was as pale as chalk and when I touched her skin it was cold. As I watched her, her skin turned a soft blue and plumped up as though filling with a liquid from within.

   Angelina’s eyes flashed open. They were bloodshot, a harsh red. She reached for me. "No! No! Gods please don’t!" She screamed. "The things they did to me. They deserved it!"

   Her arms flailed the air and pushed at something unseen and I realized she was trying to swim even though she lay on her back on the grass. She looked like someone who was trying to swim with rocks tied to her legs and arms. As she fought the air shimmered around her. Phantom fish things swam in the shimmering air. They took bites from her skin. The fish darted and nipped and snatched chunks from her face and body.

   I swiped at the things attacking her and my hand went through them as though they were not there.

   Angelina’s skin was eaten away and there was nothing I could do about it. The skin was chewed from her face until I saw the raw meat beneath. That was chewed off until the skull and bones was all that remained. Then Angelina’s bones began dissolving. They turned into a filmy liquid that dissipated into the air. Then the thick shimmering air and the phantom fish things went away as though they and Angelina had never been.

* * *

   A large wind kicked up almost immediately. Storm clouds came rolling in. I collected my horse from the beach at the bottom of the cliffs and rode away from Craven.

   I had a feeling very bad weather was on the way and I didn’t want to be there when it arrived.

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Roasting Rabbits

   They were silent for a time chewing on their roasted rabbit and drinking large gulps of harsh tasting wine.

   Finally Bub said, "You loved her."

   Slickman laughed a loud laugh perhaps a bit too loud for the perceived joke and slapped his knee. "No, I guess you are not a barbarian are you. You, my friend, were born to be a poetry spouting pretty boy. The kind the barbarians love bending over and…"

   "That’s enough!" Bub roared, his face beginning to flush. "There is a limit to the insults I will take!"

   "O.K., O.K., calm down," Slickman said still smiling. "I won’t pick on you any more. Can’t take a joke, can you."

   Bub gave him another mean look.

   "About Angelina," Slickman said. "It wasn’t love, but I sure would like to have lain with that woman some more. The things that woman could do, we’d only begun scratching the surface."

   They went silent again, staring into the fire.

   "But you did love your woman?" Slickman asked.

   "With everything that I am," Bub answered and remained staring into the fire.

   "Just why is it you are traveling to the East anyway?" Slickman asked.

   If it was possible, Bub’s face looked even more grim and intense than it had before. "I am searching for my sister, Beth. I have no one in this world. I seek her because she was without blame and was cast into a horrible life. I would free her from that and give her a life less harsh."

   He looked into Slickman’s eyes. "Why do you travel to the East?" He asked.

   Slickman took a bite of rabbit, chewed and washed it down with a swallow of wine.