Free Trolley No. 1852 by Edward Lee Page A

Aheb remarked as Selina pressed
her lips to the plumbed sphincter and began to suck.
    “There, good, good, dear. Suck it all
out…”
    Numbed to stupefaction, all I could do was
watch as poor Selina engaged in the revolting process of evacuating
Miss Aheb’s rectal vault of the thogg’s semen. When her face came
away from the cleft, she wobbled on her knees.
    “Swallow now, dear,” the madam dictated,
“and then you’d both best be on your way.”
    Selina stared in the
chandelier’s sinister unlight, lips pursed as her mouth obviously remained full
of the creature’s spermatic void. She steeled herself, went tense,
then audibly swallowed.
    I watched then as my sister rose to
listlessly redress herself and re-don the grim parchment mask.
    Miss Aheb indicated the strange poles
standing to either side of the bed. “The carriers are full as you
can see. Take them now—the back stairs as usual, and be on your way
through the ingression brink.”
    At this incomprehensible command, Selina
lifted up one of the poles while the motorman hoisted up the other.
These poles or rods or whatever they were continued to mystify me.
What exactly was the mass of shriveled, semi-lucent things adhered
to them? Again, I thought of wizened grapes…
    Miss Aheb stood up, her nude body stunning
in its curvatures yet appalling in its discolor. “Go in glory,” she
oddly bid my sister, “and sing praise to our benefactors.”
    Here was the only occasion for a vocal
utterance on Selina’s part. “Yes, Madam Aheb.”
    “And have the trolley back
by bell-time. Soon our very generous guests will have had their
fill of the evening’s delights.” She grinned wickedly in the
shimmering light that was not light. “As we so have our fill
of them… ”
    Selina and the motorman departed through an
adjoining door and disappeared. I was able to detect the sound of
descending footfalls…
    They’re going down a set
of ancillary stairs, I realized, to the trolley.
    My own footfalls took me
in haste, down the sweeping main stairs to the atrium; I realized
the import of moving faster than my sister and the cumbersome
motorman, and was confident of this goal’s achievability. From each
stair-hall I detected the sounds of sexual traffic (moans, murmurs,
squeals of lascivious release) and was relieved to find the atrium
devoid of prostitutes and male suitors alike. At once I passed
through the large outer door to the decrepit courtyard, and in the
moon’s bedimmed light, I boarded the vacant trolley and piloted
myself to the rearmost seats of the second car, to hide myself.
Before I’d stowed my person behind the wood-slat seat, however, I
paused to take further note of that great archway of lichen-stained
blocks embrasuring the mammoth door of rusted iron beams studded
with rivets. Again I was perplexed by the almost mirage-like image:
a sickly colored mist that seemed impossibly oily, sifting beneath the great door’s
gap; and with it, evidence of some weird half-light that I was now
able to correspond to the indefinable shimmer of Miss Aheb’s
bed-chamber.
    What could possibly be behind the door that
would possess such strange traits? This was New York City, for
goodness sake…
    I ducked back down, as the footsteps I knew
would come had arrived. I heard my sister and her monstrous
companion clatter aboard the trolley. Exposing myself to an obvious
risk, I dared to steal a split-second peek above the seat-back’s
edge…
    Selina and the
motorman—that thing— had planted the pair of mass-cloaked rods in mounts of some
sort or other, where they now stood upright as they had upstairs.
Selina tended to some flicking of switches on a control board, but
it was the motorman who dismounted and plodded toward the massive
arched door.
    A loud metallic clang! reverberated as a
bolt was thrown, then came the keening grind of old hinges as the
thing secreted beneath the garb of a transit motorman pulled open
the doors.
    With half an eye over the