Lucrezia Magazine

She was drunk, she was very drunk.
Alec wasn’t exactly sober himself; hell, no one at the bar was. But Bunnie was far gone. He didn’t even know her full name, just that she’d been very friendly all evening, and readily come home with him. Neither did he know how they had gotten to the topic they were talking about now, but it was strangely fascinating.

“Sa’yrs and nymphs,” she said, “They’ll do ya, they’ll really do ya. Down at the state park…myth foress, thass it, myth forest. Reelly do you.”
“State park? What state park?”
“Can’t rem, remember. Down a lil path, behin’ the porta-loos. Long lil path to the lake...up and up, then down, then up, then down…the lake. Strangers. They’ll do you, they’ll really do you.”
“What park ? what…s’ name?” he asked, none too coherently.
Bunnie waved her hand. “Tip of my tongue. Tell you when I re..remember.” She staggered off to the bathroom. She came back dressed and a little more sober, insisting she must leave. He saw her into a taxi, then fell into bed.
He awoke with a splitting headache. He dressed slowly, downed a glass of juice and a cold muffin, and picked up his car keys. A scrap of paper lay on his dresser, with a barely legible scrawl. Her phone number? That wasn’t it. It said ‘Adam Powell State Park.’
Maybe next weekend I’ll check it out, he thought.

***

The forest rustled in the late afternoon sunshine. Alec looked around at the shimmering leaves, and the unaccustomed quiet emphasized the sound. Parking his truck behind some bushes where it would not be obvious, he followed the path behind the portable lavatories at the car-park. He hoped it was the one that Bunnie had mentioned. The park closed at sundown and visitors were supposed to leave. He wanted to be well away and hidden before dusk.
Alec walked deeper into the woods, following the narrow path that seemed barely there. He wore camouflage khakis. Whether it helped conceal him or not, he could not tell, but it seemed the thing to do. He hoped there were no rangers around, enforcing the sun-down rule. His rifle was loaded and ready in case of danger. There were times a man needed a gun.
By sundown, having climbed up and down several steep hills, he reached the clearing on the edge of the lake. On either side, the forest went down to the water’s edge; an unseasonal rainfall had raised the level. Where he stood, the open space was almost a hundred yards across.
As darkness fell, he could hear the sound of pipes.
With the eye of an experienced hunter, he found a hiding spot amid some bushes, and settled in. The music drew nearer, together with a rustling of leaves that was louder than the usual forest fall. Then, quite suddenly, he was there, entering the clearing – a satyr. His body was that of a middle-aged man, and Alec could see a bald patch on his head. A little paunch indicated a life of some comfort. He wore no clothes. Below the waist, he was covered in short hair like goat-hide. His slender legs ended in neat hooves.
Alec held his breath. He wanted to stay and watch the satyr, undiscovered. It was dangerous. He knew what satyrs did to humans they discovered spying on them. It was not a pleasant death. Or was that centaurs? He tightened his grip on his rifle.
Two younger satyrs wandered into the clearing, pushing through the bushes near the lake. One was blond, the other had black hair cut straight across. Both paused, seeming to listen, and then continued playing. The blond one played a melody on his pipe; the dark one effortlessly kept up with him, complex trills and riffs embroidering the tune. Alec listened and waited, enthralled. Somehow, the twilight did not fade into night, but stalled at dusk.
“I know you’re there, you know,” said the oldest satyr in a conversational tone. Alec wondered if he was addressing him.
“Yes, you, the one in the bushes. You might as well come out.
Warily, Alec emerged. “How did you know I was there?”
“We heard you. We’re musicians. We understand sounds.”
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” he asked, mouth dry.
“I don’t know,” the Satyr said. “Can you sing?”
“Sing?” asked Alec apprehensively. “Yeah, I can sing.” He didn’t usually sing when he wasn’t drunk, but he’d been in the a-capella choir as a kid, and done some solo parts.
“Just what we need. Here.” The satyr pulled a sheet of music from a bag he wore across his chest. “I’m Atris. These are Sarn and Behfal.”
Alec looked at the music, and it started to come back to him. He hummed the tune. As he sang, the pipes wove in and out, and soon they were singing a dialogue. The music rose and fell. Alec was intoxicated. He could hardly believe he was singing -- with satyrs. He wanted more than anything to come back.
“Yes,” said Atris. “Next week, same time, same place. Tell no one. And don’t bring that weapon here.” And yet he felt faintly disappointment. They’ll do ya, they’ll really do ya. Was this what she’d meant? Music?

Sinday


Back at the carpark, Alec knew he didn’t want to leave, couldn’t wait a whole week. Instead, he slept in his truck, and late in the afternoon, followed the trail back into the forest, listening for the satyrs’ pipes as he neared the lake.
Instead, he heard a feminine voice. “Oh, do look what Atris has brought us. It’s a human man. Oh oh, he’s got a weapon.”
A group of naked laughing nymphs burst into the clearing.
Alec sprang to his feet. “I’m waiting for Atris,” he said, “I’m a little early.”
“A few days early,” said one, “But we don’t take it amiss.”
“Atris will be slightly late,” said another, “He’s...a bit tied up.”
“But you won’t be bored.”
“And neither will we.”
From the forest came an outraged shout. “Zira!”
Whoever Zira was, she ignored it.
They were circling him now. Five lovely females, their hair floating about their breasts like long soft fur.
“In fact, you might be glad.”
“Hey…” Alec wasn’t sure if he wanted to protest. He put out his hands to fend them off as they invaded his space. A nymph grabbed each of his hands, and gently but effortlessly, they pulled his arms behind him.
“You’re not going to be ungracious, are you?’
“Or are we mistaken? Do you prefer boys? The satyrs said not.”
“No, no, I like women,” Alec said desperately.
“Well, then,” said a nymph, “Lie back and enjoy it.” She unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt.
Alec realized he had been separated from his rifle, which lay near the log on which he had sat. The nymph saw him look.
“No, no, we don’t want these here,” she said, and flung it in a high arc into the lake. Alec realized the softness of the nymph’s arms belied their strength.
The voice in the forest called out again. “Velya! By Chiron’s corpse, let me loose!”
“Now,” she said, and reached for another button, and another. Soon, they had his shirt down about his shoulders. The nymph holding his arms, pulled down and back, forcing him to bend his knees and rest his head on her shoulder. Another unbuckled his belt, and laid it on the log. Then she unhooked and unzipped his pants.
“Nice,” she said, and then with a single swift movement, she pulled his trousers and boxer shorts down to his knees, leaving him bare.
“I think we need to get his boots off,” one said, and did so.
“What are you doing,” Alec asked, angry with himself that his voice came out a hoarse whisper, “What are you doing to me?”
“What do you think?’ they laughed.
“Lay him down, Zira, he’ll be more comfortable.” Zira deposited him in the grass. Something had been tied round his wrists; he couldn’t move them from behind him. A nymph reached under him, holding his butt and groping into the cleft between.
“Ah, that does turn you on,” she said, “And this should keep you going.”
She shook something toward his face. The perfume was pleasant but oversweet, a little intoxicating.
“And now, we’re going to have our way with you.”
Unsure of how this would end, Alec tried to shake his head, but one of the nymphs had her hands in his hair and he found he could not move his head. A nymph leaned down, and parting his lips with her tongue, kissed him hard. Then she straddled him.
“Am I going to die?” he asked.
“Friends, he wants to know if he’s going to die!”
“Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to go?”
Zira said, “Who’s on next?”
“Adra!” bellowed Atris from the forest, “Release me now!”
But he wasn’t going to die, though he felt like a little death, several times. After they finished with him, they helped him up and dressed him again, holding his arms behind his back the whole time. Several of them kissed him. Then with a merry “Next Sinday, then!” they were gone as suddenly as they had arrived.
Alec sat down hard on the log, breathing heavily. Soon afterward, Atris came into the clearing.
“Wretched minxes! They’re insatiable. They all had me twice before they got to you. I should have warned you. Never on a Sinday. They’re always mischievous, but on Sindays they do whatever they want and any sensible male just gets out of the way. I hope they weren’t too nasty.”
“Not really,” said Alec slowly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to avoid the woods on Sindays or not. “I thought satyrs chased nymphs, not the other way round.”
“Oh, that happens too,” said Atris, “Only not very often.”

Manday

Alec left work early and barely made it in at dusk. What would the evening bring?
It brought a beautiful woman, wearing a silver robe. As in a dream he moved toward her. Then she was naked and he found, so was he. She ran her hands through his hair and down his face and chest and belly and drew him gently to the ground. He put his arms around her and she melted into them. She kissed him deeply, making him catch his breath. He felt her reaching for him as he returned the kiss. The wind in the trees moaned a strange song. He rolled on top of her and thrust into her welcoming body, and she caught his rhythm and complemented it. He felt not quite awake, as though it was all a wet dream. But when he sat up afterward, she didn’t disappear.
She was looking at him speculatively. “Good…now, let’s explore some, shall we?”
“What do you mean?” he asked. He felt satiated, yet paradoxically hungry for more.
“Would you like this, I wonder?”
Suddenly, where the woman had lain, Alec was looking at a large man standing naked and ithyphallic.
“No!” He recoiled in shock. “I’m not into that!”
“Hey, hey,” the man growled, “No need to go all phobic.”
Alec scrambled to his feet. “I’m not homophobic, I just don’t go for that. Some of my best friends…” Are what? he thought, unable to complete the sentence. Beautiful women who transform into big guys on the ready?
The big guy casually dropped a hand on his shoulder, and he found he couldn’t move. “I said it’s all right. We’re exploring.”
“Not that kind of exploring,” said Alec, trying to back away.
“Let’s try something else.” The hand disappeared from his shoulder as the big guy turned into a sheep. “This kind?” it baaed.
“No,” groaned Alec, “Not that kind either. Females, women, you know, girls, dames, chicks.”
Perhaps it took him too literally. The figure before him now was a large yellow bird, covered in downy feathers. It advanced enticingly toward him with a lascivious air. The moaning wind in the trees picked up again. The sound that had been eerily beautiful when it accompanied the lady in silver seemed a weird accompaniment to the chick’s overtures. It dipped its wings like an ostrich in love.
“Nooooooo,” said Alec, as it stepped him. In minutes it was over, surprising rather than painful. Avian proctology.
“That was – different,” said the chick, clicking its beak in pleasure or amusement. “But maybe we should try something else again.”
It changed into a small plump woman with tousled blond hair. “Better?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Alec, “Can we just stop the exploration here? Please?”
“Oh, all right,” she conceded. “I’ll hold this form for a bit.” She moved into his arms, and he responded gladly. The dry grass of the glade was inexplicably soft under them.