Sybil: Hate Nymph 2
Steam and heat shimmered off the streets of the open air market as Dorian shoved the rest of his Cajun fish sandwich into his mouth. His mom would kill him if she knew he was eating food from back home, and not trying the variety of traditional dishes one would encounter while vacationing in Thailand. What she didn’t know though was that he was here to escape, but not to vacation.
He just couldn’t stand knowing she was with another man.
He lit a cigarette and breathed the smoke out.
It danced in wisps and clouded in front of the hanging lamps that lined the market.
Men and women called to passersby and tried to sell trinkets, fresh fish, rugs, t-shirts, and jewelry. Sketch artists traced caricatures for paying customers, and two police men strolled along the sidewalk chatting in the language that Dorian thought sounded like ducks having sex.
He finished his smoke, gathered his bag, and hailed a cab.
The ride to his hotel was uneventful, but interesting as the city streamed by through the window. Lights reflected off the hood of the cab, and a light mist began to fall which was pleasant in the humid air.
Dorian counted out the correct amount from the foreign coins he had and entered his hotel. He walked up an outdoor stairwell and fumbled with his keys in the lock before entering his room.
He threw his bag on the chair and laid on the bed. There was a t.v., but everything was in Thais so it was pointless to watch.
He showered quickly and threw on clean cargos and a white polo and headed for the lobby. The lobby and bar area were in full swing and revelers rushed back and forth between tables, the dance floor, and the bar. Dorian approached the bar and ordered a beer.
He wanted a rum and coke, but didn’t trust the water used to make the ice, and didn’t want it warm. He lit a fresh cigarette and scanned the crowd.
“Don’t see too many Americans around here.”
Dorian looked at the speaker to see a stunning Thai woman. She was wearing a bikini top and white shorts, with sandals. Her almond shaped eyes were of a violet hue, and tattoos crossed her lower back and stomach. She smiled and extended her hand.
“My name is Sybil.”
Dorian took her hand.
“Dorian. How did you know I was American?””
She laughed, exposing a perfect row of white teeth and smiled at him with a half-smile, that seemed to say she was laughing at the world.
“You just have that air about you,” she replied and walked into the party. She was gone in seconds. Dorian turned back to his beer and thought about Michelle.
He was engaged to Michelle for over a year when it happened. He was an avid volleyball player, and frequently entered tournaments with various teams. One such tournament that he arrived early at was cancelled due to lack of teams, so he returned home without even breaking a sweat.
Michelle was however.
She was on her hands and knees on their couch when he walked in, but Dorian noticed the man standing behind her first.
They hadn’t expected him for a couple of hours.
“Jesus mate, your dragging down the whole bloody party with that face.”
The loud exclamation dredged Dorian back from his reverie and he turned to face the speaker. The largest black man Dorian had ever seen loomed over him. His skin was the color of coal, and his teeth were sparkling white, the only color in his face. Even his eyes were such a dark brown that they looked black. He stood about six feet seven inches, and had to wear nearly three hundred pounds. The behemoth sidled up next to him and heaved his bulk onto the bar stool next to him. Even though he was seated, the man seemed to tower over Dorian. He extended a hand that was pink underneath and it swallowed up Dorians hand as he shook.
“The name is Abraham mate, and I am a black Australian in Thailand!”
Abraham bellowed a great laugh from him and it resonated off the beams that supported the roof of the bar.
“Dorian. I am a white guy in a yellow land.”
“You look like you could use a shot and a brew! Barman, a round her for me and my mate, and don’t chill the shots. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my time on the john!”
This last remark brought another round of laughing from the large black man, who had to wipe tears from his eyes when he was finished.
“Thanks, Abraham.”
“Always nice to have someone to drink with mate.”
Dorian liked that the man didn’t pry as to why Dorian was here, or what he was doing. The two spent the rest of the evening trading stories from their hometowns and firing down shots until they both retired to their rooms.
Dorian collapsed on his bed when he finally figured out how to open his room door, quite inebriated, and thought to himself
“Thailand is great.”
The sand was warm and the water clear as Dorian laid on the beach. A forgotten novel by Poppy Z. Brite rested next to him as he looked over the ocean.
“Little help D-man?”
Dorian looked behind him and noticed Abraham by the volleyball net. He was pointing to a volleyball that had rolled to within a few inches of Dorian.
Dorian picked it up and walked it back over to him.
“Need another?” asked Dorian.
“”Like the shots last night mate, always room for one more.” Abraham patted his belly and laughed heartily again.
Dorian noticed the woman who introduced herself as Sybil was on the other side of the net and had a different bikini top on, that pushed her nearly perfect breasts into submission. She smiled at him while he was looking at her with that half-smile and waved.
Within minutes the familiar rush of volleyball came back to Dorian. Although these people weren’t as good as the guys in his leagues, they provided good competition and soon all involved were sweating and panting.
The group retired to the bar after taking a dip in the water and ordered rounds of tropical drinks and beers. Within a few minutes the sun had completely dried them and the tranquil setting made the group drowsy. Abraham was the first to retire, but he promised his volleyball comrades that he would see them in the bar that night. One by one the group drifted off until only Dorian and Sybil remained.
“You don’t like Americans?” questioned Dorian, in reference to their previous conversation.
“I don’t judge by nationality. Do you want to fuck me?”
Dorian nearly choked on his drink, sure that he heard her wrong.
“What?”
“I asked if you want to fuck me. I see the way you stare off to the distance and I know that look. A woman has hurt you. I can make you forget her.”
Dorian stared at this woman he barely knew, and noticed again how her breasts were magnificent. She bit her lower lip and stared at him with her violet eyes.
Dorian knew he didn’t want a relationship. He never again wanted one. But this woman was offering herself to him and it had been a long time.
Since Michelle.
“Lets go to my room.”
Dorian tensed and the collapsed breathing heavily on top of Sybil. He eased out of her and rolled to his back. She looked at him with that half-smile and said, “I’ve gotta take a piss.”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
When he woke, Dorian noticed it was dark outside. He roused himself, and showered the smell of suntan lotion, sand, and sex from his frame. He lathered up well, and rinsed with cold water at the end to refresh himself.
Dorian entered the bar but didn’t see Sybil anywhere. A meaty hand clamped on his shoulder and the jovial Abraham handed him a beer.
“To volleyball!” exclaimed the mammoth man.
The toast proved not to be the last for the evening as rounds of drinks were heavily consumed.
Dorian ducked out of the bar early, and headed for bed. He wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, and wanted to rest for the promised game tomorrow. When Abraham went to the bathroom, Dorian used it as his cue, and escaped the party that was swathed in smoke and conversation. As he approached the outdoor stairwell that led up to the rooms, he saw Abraham necking with a girl against a wall.
“Good for him,” thought Dorian until he realized the woman was Sybil. Her tattooed body left no question that she was the one who had Abraham pressed against the wall with her tongue down his throat.
“What a slut,” thought Dorian and turned away in anger. He began to mount the steps but paused.
He was tired of woman walking all over him, and he was going to confront Sybil.
He turned back to the pair and approached them.
“Abraham. We gotta talk. It’s about the girl you are kissing right now.”
Dorian started into his tirade, but paused as he got closer because something didn’t seem right.
When he got close enough, Sybil turned to him with that half smile.
A half smile that was covered in gore.
A large chunk of Abrahams neck was missing, and fresh blood spattered on the dusty sidewalk.
“Wanna fuck baby?”
Dorian screamed and began running.
“If Abraham was dead, how in the hell was she holding his body up against the wall?” thought Dorian as his legs pumped and his feet pounded over the sand.
“What the hell is she?”
The blood and strength made him think vampire, which was absolutely ridiculous since everyones they do not exist, but he had seen her during the day. “Vampires cant go out in the sunlight, right?” he thought as he sprinted away.
The questions swam through his head, but were quickly blotted out when Dorian looked behind him.
It was Sybil.
She was running after him.
She was gaining on him.
Dorian ran up the beachfront to an abandoned market much like the one he ate at earlier in the week and weaved his way between stalls.
He stopped at a fish stand, now rinsed clean with no fish on display. It did however have a large knife used to prep the fish for sale under the counter. Dorian gripped the wicked looking blade and turned to face Sybil.
She was nowhere to be seen.
He sensed someone behind him and he turned, bringing the knife up in a swift swing.
Almond shaped eyes widened, then closed, as arterial blood sprayed from the large gash across her throat. The gore fountained into the night air and drenched Dorians hair and shoulders in the lifeforce of the woman he gashed.
It was not Sybil.
“Guy came down here to rob the cash boxes of the market after dark. The vic tried to stop him and he sliced her up for her troubles.” The cop continued to lay out his report from gathered from the crime scene and interviews with the husband of the murdered woman. Dorian was waiting in a nearby police car waiting for transport.
The knife was in a bag in the trunk, tagged as evidence.
“The ME here yet?” questioned one of the cops.
“Naw, they got an animal attack over at the hotel. Body all chewed up. Big mess over there. They’ll be here after.”
A large crowd gathered on the beach trying to see the latest batch of violence man wreaks upon itself. Dorian gazed at them, trying to fathom how he was in this predicament. Sybil walked past the door of the police cruiser and tapped the glassly tightly. Dorian was found screaming in the car hysterically as she glided past the line of police tape, with her violet eyes laughing and wearing a half-smile.
