Once the spears were removed from Martin’s body, he flipped over so that he was on top of the ebu gogo. Her enormous breasts spread out on either side of her like two scrolls unrolling across the floor. To Martin they looked like an angel’s wings.
Martin fucked the three and a half foot tall fur covered ebu gogo with abandon as she leaned her head back and moaned. Amber screamed, “Martin, what the fuck are you doing? Stop!”
But Martin did not hear her. He was too lost in the sex act. He was so unaware of his surroundings that he wasn’t even a little bit self-conscious of his ridiculous looking scrunched-up orgasm face.
Martin ejaculated inside of the humanoid creature, collapsed on top of her in exhaustion, and then after a few moments had gone by, rolled to her side, resting his head on one of her breasts that was spread across the floor as if it were a long pillow.
The animal at his side had a satisfied look on its nonhuman face, and as Martin looked at that face, a horrified look came onto his own. The ebu gogo ran one of its little hands through his hair. Trembling, his face suddenly drained of color, he muttered, “My God. My God. What have I done? What have I done?”
Martin got up and backed away from the ebu gogo and screeched, “I have had sex with an animal. Oh my God. I have committed an act of bestiality.”
The ebu gogo got up off the ground and approached him lovingly as her breasts that hung almost to her feet gently swayed back and forth. He backed away in horror and revulsion and cried, “Go away. Go away! Leave me be. Leave me be!”
Martin’s face was red, tears streamed from his eyes, and snot dribbled from his chin. The ebu gogo Martin had just had sex with said something to the others and the ebu gogo all turned and left the small room where they were. Some remained outside the room and guarded it with their little tiny spears.
Chapter 4
Lewis and Clare exited the tube station and walked down Cromwell Road towards the Museum of Natural History, London. Lewis left Clare at the steps and entered the museum. Inside, he waited for a guard to pass and entered a door marked “Restricted Access.” He climbed down a few flights of cement stairs and made his way through the dark, dank basement of the museum. Strange and mysterious artifacts were strewn about everywhere.
Lewis came to the door he had been looking for and opened it, revealing Michael Stern, PhD, bent over a canvas, arranging the tagged, fossilized bones of a primitive human. Dr. Stern did not notice Lewis standing in the doorway, so Lewis took the opportunity to study the man. Even alone as he thought he was, Dr. Stern exuded a bitter contempt for the rest of the world. He was a man in his early forties, someone who should be in the middle of raising a family and enjoying all the benefits that come with being gainfully employed and in the prime of life. But the deep lines on his face and the downward curve of his mouth showed him to be a loner in the extreme.
Finally noticing the presence of another person in his personal space, Dr. Stern stood up from his work, faced the tall, muscular middle-aged man that stood in the doorway, and said rather curtly, “I’m sorry. This area is closed to museum guests.”
“Are you Dr. Michael Stern, PhD? My name is Lewis Dare. I would like to have a word with you.”
“There is a sign-up sheet outside my office.”
“I’m sure there is, but I’m in a hurry.”
Dr. Stern replied, “I’m sorry. I forgot to speak to you in American," adopted an American accent, and said in his most polite and pleasant tone of voice, “Fuck off, please. I’m busy.”
Lewis chuckled and said, “My, you Brits have the driest sense of humor,” and entered the small room, which was stuffed with fossils of various extinct species of hominids. “I leave tomorrow morning for Indonesia, where I plan to discover the ebu gogo. If you come with me, I am prepared to pay you one million dollars for your services.”
Dr. Stern ignored the absurd figure, gave Lewis an incredulous look, and said, “Excuse me? What is an ebu gogo?”
“In 2004, archeologists on the Indonesian island of Flores dug up a fossil that, although it was shaped like an adult man, was only three feet tall. They continued to dig in the area and found many more fossils, all adult, and all between three and four feet in height. They realized that they had discovered an entirely new dwarf species in the genus of Homo, and they named the species Homo floresiensis. The Homo floresiensis died out a scant twelve thousand years ago. But natives on the island of Flores tell stories of little creatures they call the ebu gogo, which bear a striking resemblance to the Homo floresiensis.”
Dr. Stern looked Lewis over suspiciously. “Just what is your field?”
“Cryptozoology.”
Dr. Stern straightened his back, stuck his nose in the air, and said stiffly, “I am already employed by the Museum of Natural History, and I am not going to destroy my reputation by going on an expedition with a cryptozoologist. Please leave.”
“I understand your concern, but you should know that cryptozoology has gained much mainstream acceptance over the past decade.”
“Not in Great Britain, fortunately. I have been very patient with you, but if you don’t leave now, I will call security.”
“You have all day to think my offer over. Please, take my card.”
Lewis handed Dr. Stern his card, which read “Lewis Dare, Cryptozoologist, Nutritionist, Author, Life Coach, and Most Brilliant Man in the World,” and departed. Dr. Stern stood there for a moment after Lewis left looking at the card in disbelief. He shook his head and muttered, “Americans.”
Lewis left the Museum of Natural History in a huff. He was a man who was not accustomed to hearing no, and on the rare occasion that somebody did tell him no, he retaliated in the vicious, no-holds-barred manner of the billionaire class of which he was a part. He stormed down the wide stone stairway to Clare, who sat on a step eating fish and chips out of a greasy white paper basket decorated with red crisscrossing lines, and demanded, “What’s the number of the museum director again?”
Clare looked up at her father, shocked. “Dad, you’re not really going to do that?”
Lewis grabbed Clare’s bag in his large hands and rummaged through it. Clare put aside her basket of fish and chips and grabbed and slapped at her father’s muscular arms and shoulders with her greasy little hands as she cried, “Dad, stop it! You never go through a lady’s purse!”
Lewis turned the purse upside down and shook it, and condoms, loose tampons, and little bags of recreational drugs spilled out everywhere, along with a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. Lewis grabbed the paper and took out his phone.
Red-faced, Clare knelt and quickly gathered up her things as she muttered, “Ugh. This is a new low, even for you. There is something called Karma you know, and this is going to come back to bite you in the ass.”
Lewis dialed his phone and waited a moment before speaking. “Hello, may I speak with the museum director… Hello… My name isn’t important… I have some disturbing information about the person in charge of your upcoming Charles Darwin exhibit… Yes, Dr. Stern. Did you know that he once argued that chimpanzees devolved from an isolated population of human beings…? You didn’t? Well, I doubt people would like to know that the person arranging your Charles Darwin exhibit holds such unorthodox beliefs… You want proof? Well, if you give me your email address I can forward you this article he wrote…”
Later that evening, Lewis walked down a hall of the Wilton Hotel, London, took out a key card, and entered the penthouse suite. He stepped into his private bedroom and flipped on the lights revealing a skinny, effete man in his mid-twenties, with wet hair as if he had just taken a shower, reclining on Lewis’s bed, wearing Lewis’s bathrobe, and nothing else. Lewis jumped. “Jack Holland?”