The Sins Of Jack Price

Dinner with The Morning Star

I wasn't sure where I was, I didn't even know if I was still alive; last thing I remember was a bus rushing towards me and now, somehow, I stood in an empty cobblestone street. Tall, dirty brick buildings lined either side of me; a thick layer of fog made everything appear blurry and distorted. I felt like I was in old England and wouldn't be surprised if Jack the Ripper were to suddenly jump out of the shadows and slice me open. The thought sent a shiver up my spine and I suddenly felt exposed.

A dim glow further down the street sung to me like a lighthouse, drawing me towards it. It seemed to be the only thing that made sense; I knew what light was. I wanted to get off this dirty street, get somewhere safe.

I started walking towards light, my Italian boots clacking against the filthy cobblestone. I cringed; it better not ruin the leather. I became more careful with my steps, being sure to side-step any filth. As I continued down the street, the light slowly began to make a shape. I realized that it was a tall building, its brickwork was immaculate. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the buildings which looked like an atom bomb full of shit and filth had hit them, yet somehow left their concrete carcasses standing. I smiled as I neared, thankful that at least something in this confusing mess was clean.

A clean, crisp red carpet stretched out from the doorway; which was itself a large oak door set against a varnished frame. I smiled, feeling more comfortable now that something was clean. Maybe the owner of this place would be able to tell me where I was and how I got here. I pushed the heavy door open and was greeted by the faint smell of cinnamon and the gentle warble of classical music.

The interior was gorgeous. Red velvet clung to the walls, which were adorned with some extravagant paintings, even if their content was slightly disturbing; in the one nearest to me a man with no face was cutting the human head off a cow's body. A small stand rested near an archway that led to a dining room; I could see many lavish tables beyond. This was much more my style. Why was this beautiful place in such a shit hole?

A lady stepped up from behind the stand; as though she had been hiding there the whole time, waiting for someone to arrive. She smiled; the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and waved me over. Stepping up to the stand, I noticed how low cut her top was, showing off the brilliant cleavage of two very generous breasts. She caught me looking and smiled slyly as I removed my wedding ring behind my back.

"Hello, Jack," she said, "we've been waiting for you," she waved a hand towards the tables, "go on through, he's waiting for you in the VIP room."

Stunned by her voice, I failed to realize immediately that I'd never told her my name; nor had I made a reservation. I didn't even know where I was.

"How do you know my name," I asked, "where am I?"

She said nothing, just continued to smile with her arm out-stretched, pointing me towards the tables. I waved a hand in front of her face and got no response; a statue couldn't have stood stiller. With a final glance at her cleavage, I headed through the arch and into the dining area.

It was empty, except for the tables, not a soul to be seen. Decorated as if only the best of the best could dine here, the room sat in silence, even though it could easily seat 100. I would've thought somewhere this fancy would have a large clientele, despite its grubby location.

Moving through the tables, I found a door made of blackened wood, decorated with a sign that said VIP. This must be me, I thought, as I gently pushed the door open. The smell of cinnamon was stronger here and the music was louder, yet still at an acceptable volume. I moved into the room. It was a perfect circle decorated with the same luscious velvet walls. A large crystal chandelier hung from the roof, bathing the room in a pleasant light.