Balustrade by Mark Henry Page A

quite strange.”
    “ Oh?”
    “ Yes. He said, and I quote.” And she did too, going so far as making air quotes around her words. “This meat is the wrong color. Isn't that strange? This meat is the wrong color . What could that possibly mean?”
    “ Were they arguing over dinner?”
    “ No, just out in the hall. It didn't make any sense. There wasn't any meat around anywhere, except the ones dangling between their…” She paused, a look of distaste squirreling onto her face. “Down there,” she whispered finally, signaling to the spot between her legs.
    “ Hmm,” Hilary said, stretching the sound out more to humor this woman than anything else. “Have you noticed anything else?”
    “ Besides that this retreat seems to be a gigantic cover-up for some sort of swinger's convention?”
    “ Well, yeah. That's been my take ever since we were shown our rooms.” But she thought back to Jack's seduction in the steam room and couldn't deny that there was something to the place that had had a sexual effect on both Jack and, to a lesser extent, Hilary. At least she'd been able to enjoy it and that certainly hadn’t been the case as of late.
    “ Well,” Claire confided. “There's also that Chantal. She's too pretty. I'm thinking a fembot.”
    “ Nice talking to you.” Hilary tipped her glass in the crazy woman's direction and backed away quickly. Never turn your back on the actively psychotic. She'd remembered that quip from a management training course.
    The circle of guests parted and the staff of Balustrade marched forward one after the next, t he suggestives followed by the surrogates, trailed by the Ludovic and Chantal in their New York best, fitted black suit and tie on him, anaconda intestine stretched over her—or possibly a dress, Hilary would lay odds on the former. The woman pressed through the group, producing a key and unlatching a gate into the cage, then descending stone-faced into the darkness, the rest of the staff following. Hilary's eyes were trained on Ludovic. He trailed the line by a few feet as if his presence were bulldozing the rest into the pit, only instead of standing at the top as they plummeted into uncertainty; he joined them, trodding willingly into the darkness.
    Swallowed whole.
    Hilary glanced at Jack. “If that was the indoctrination,” she whispered, “so anti-climactic.”
    “ Hugely,” he agreed.
    A man chuckled behind them but when Hilary turned to acknowledge him, he shook his limp penis at her . She scowled at the man who smiled back pleasantly, as though this were a perfectly reasonable greeting.
    What are you in for, buddy? She wondered. She’d seen that kind of behavior before, in street people, but never in someone who appeared to bathe. One thing is for certain, if you’re comfortable shaking your genitalia at a perfect stranger, guaranteed, that’s what’s wrong with your relationship. It’s not them, buddy.
    It’s you.
    “Pervert,” she mouthed.
    He chuckled some more, sparking in her a need to lunge for him, lay into him like a lazy employee. She had to stop herself from putting him in his place. But what was his place? Probably best to ignore that kind of thing, particularly within Balustrade’s anything goes fuck all atmosphere. He could end up being a dick-shaking trendsetter.
                  Just then a shushing began at the front of the crowd closest to the balustrade, it grew in a wave until, counter-intuitively, everyone was shushing so loudly it drowned out any other possible sound.
                  Eventually, the cacophony died down just as a storm-front cast the courtyard in lavender shadow. Hilary stared into the roiling square of clouds, hot veins of lightning webbing through it, and wiped the first fat drop of rain from her cheek.
                  A jarring squeal issued from the darkened bottom of the wrought iron cage, like claws scrabbling against metal. Hilary staggered backward, glancing at Jack as