Page 13 of Locked in Wonderland

Not a statue. Alive!

How? Why?

I could see it with all of them now. They were still, but not still enough. Little signs gave them away if you knew to look for them: slight tremors, color variations where veins lay beneath the skin, fine hairs catching the light. Statues definitely weren’t supposed to have hair. The eyes of all the statues were closed, presumably to hide the color. Was this Percy and Lola’s handiwork? Or someone else’s? Did I even want to know?

“Hey,” I said loudly, my voice echoing in the room.

Nothing. No reaction. None of them so much as opened their eyes. Their dedication to maintaining the facade somehow made it even creepier. Although I had to question whether I really wanted them to move. If they did, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t lose control of my bowels.

I edged my way past a large-breasted woman toward the door, battling with whether I was supposed to say, excuse me. In the end, I decided there was a time for politeness, and this wasn’t it.

A fleeting thought struck me as I reached for the door handle with my back to the ‘statues’. What if it was locked, and this was when they attacked me?

It wasn’t. And they didn’t.

Another gallery awaited me when I opened the door. This one was brighter, and there was no pretense that the subjects weren’t living. They were, however, still displayed in various tableaux. A painting that wasn’t. One lounged on a chaise-lounge surrounded by fruit. Another swung gently on a wooden swing suspended from the ceiling. Their eyes were open, but they stared straight ahead, completely expressionless.

There were people in this room, guests presumably, laughing and making comments while they circulated. At least it brought a little normality to the situation. Far better than the dark, empty room with the creepy statues.

I caught a woman gently by the arm. “The way out?” I asked when she turned to face me.

Her gaze trailed over me. The heat in her eyes when it finally returned to my face reminded me of how I was dressed. I could hardly blame her for treating me like a sexual object, given how much skin I had on display.

She pointed toward a door at the far end of the room. “Through the next gallery.”

I thanked her and headed that way, studying the faces of the ‘artwork’ I passed in case any of them were Warren. None were. I paused for a moment before opening the door, bracing myself for more weirdness. I was right to.

More tableaux. Only these were distinctly X-rated. Bodies arranged in positions that simulated various sex acts between a multitude of pairings and groups. All completely naked. Some twisted into positions that must have been excruciating to hold for more than a few minutes.

There were two particularly alarming things about this room. It wasn’t silent like the other two, moans and groans slipping free at regular intervals to add to the sexual frisson. And all the men were hard.

I stopped in front of one, this man slightly detached from the pair he posed with. He was handsome and muscular, dark hair slicked back from his forehead. Nature had been generous, his cock jutting out in front of him.

His gaze suddenly locked onto mine. “Touch me,” he said. “Make me come. Please.”

The desperation in his eyes suggested I’d be doing him a favor. Lola’s words came back to me. “You can look at the artwork in the gallery, but you can’t touch it. Even if it asks nicely.”

It had sounded like just another bizarre statement that made no sense. Now it felt more like a warning. I didn’t know what happened if you broke the rules, but I couldn’t risk it being banishment from Wonderland. Not until I’d found Warren, and not for someone I didn’t even know. Besides, if this man were suffering, he could just get up and walk out.

They all could.

“Please,” he said again.

I backed away. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

I turned on my heel and carried on through the gallery. Past a couple arm in arm, pointing and laughing at two women locked in an embrace. Past a tall man with his cock out, openly jerking himself off and seemingly unconcerned by who saw him. But then, I supposed what was one more cock in a sea of cocks?

Another door. I yanked it open, relief flooding through me when I saw the street beyond it.

Wonderland.

Finally.

Chapter Seven

My first impression of Wonderland was that it was big, bright, and busy. Towering buildings festooned with neon lights surrounded me, flashy signs screaming for attention everywhere I looked. I scanned them quickly: The Gilded Flamingo. House of Hearts. The Crooked Crown. Garden of Pain. The Mercy Room. Spades and Roses. If I hadn’t had a job to do, I might have been impressed. Where the hell was I supposed to start?

The reality of the situation finally sank in. I had nothing to rely on except a verbal description of Warren. I couldn’t even blame Percy and Lola for confiscating my phone for that. I hadn’t had any photos of Warren on it, anyway. We’d been too busy enjoying each other’s company to think about cataloguing it. If I’d had any, I would have shown them to the police.