25. Sequin-Covered Freddy Krueger, Stage Ravens, and Blind Knots
Ron
A camera operator with a massive Steadicam strapped to a harness passes an inch from my nose, walking backward to capture our expressions, while a boom operator swings the long directional mic mere inches from our faces.
The massive production floodlights cut through the damp morning fog, illuminating the dirt clearing in front of the estate's barn entrance.
We are officially on set. And it is absolute chaos.
I try to concentrate, I swear to God I try. I should be focusing on the cameras, on the game, on the adrenaline of the competition, but... the truth is that every single particle of my body is tuned to one single frequency: Selene.
She's standing right next to me. At a distance that is not even remotely as close as I want it to be.
She is unbearably beautiful wearing just a white camisole, dark leggings, and a dark cardigan. Her hair is down, full of waves... I want to run my fingers through it. She truly looks like the Moon Goddess...
I can still feel the delicious burn of her nails scraping down my back.
The memory of her broken voice screaming my name in the dark sends all the blood rushing straight to my brain, destroying any attempt at clarity.
I move my arm just a fraction, brushing the back of my hand against the fabric of her sleeve.
An imperceptible touch. A purely physical necessity. She doesn't pull away.
"FRESH MEAT! FRESH MEAT!"
A high, harsh squawk shatters the tension.
From a perch mounted atop a production light, Pedro, Mayor Nino's myna bird, flaps his black wings. He's learned the script perfectly and repeats it with incredibly bad timing.
"Shut up, Pedro, you're ruining my dramatic entrance!" a voice screeches through a megaphone.
All the contestants turn toward the center of the clearing.
Standing atop a stack of old hay bales is Aunt Tina. Or rather... a completely insane, glamorous version of an '80s nightmare.
She's dressed up as Freddy Krueger. But, being Aunt Tina, the hideous red-and-green striped sweater is entirely covered in sparkling sequins.
She's wearing the iconic brown fedora on her head, but on her right hand, she sports a glove equipped not with rusty blades, but with incredibly long, mirror-polished silver claws.
"My dear condemned!" she starts, spreading her arms wide and flashing her fake blades. "Welcome to your first, true, terrifying challenge on Haunted Spurs!"
Mayor Nino, standing behind the boom operator, signals her to speed it up by rolling his hand in the air.
Aunt Tina blatantly ignores him.
She continues, her tone projected and theatrical. "This morning you will face the trial of the Butcher's Lasso! It is a challenge of survival, pure sensory deprivation, and above all... extreme, blind trust in your partner."
She lowers the megaphone and flashes a diabolical smile.
"As you know, we required that each pair have at least one cowboy or cowgirl. And indeed, for this challenge, the official cowboy or cowgirl of your pair will have to physically execute the trial! Blindfolded and deprived of sight, you will have to rely entirely on your partner's guidance."
She flashes the fake blades under the floodlights.
"The rules are simple. The barn behind me has been set up as a veritable slaughterhouse of horrors. Through fog, obstacles, blood, and a few... unexpected distractions... the cowboy must find a hidden lasso, retrieve a bale of hay by securing it with a perfect knot, and drag it out.
The clock is ticking. But beware! The cowboy will be blindfolded. Every step, every movement, and every decision will depend solely on the voice and touch of the other member of the pair."
I smile under my breath. Aunt Tina is a fucking evil genius. This challenge is going to be a blast.
"Alright then!" Tina booms, pointing a claw right at us. "Cowboys and Cowgirls, step forward!"
Being the official cowboy of my pair, I step forward without hesitation, raising my hand with a grin. The idea of having to rely completely on Selene is already pumping adrenaline through my veins.
To my left, an argument breaks out.
Since they signed up as "the cowboy couple," Cade and Cole are shoving each other to take the spot.
"I'll do it," Cole declares, adjusting his collar.
"Back off, idiot, I'm the better cowboy. I roped a calf blindfolded when I was twelve," Cade shoots back, blocking his path with an arm.
"Yeah, and then you fell into the pig trough. Leave it to the professionals."
Carolina rolls her eyes. "Boys, you're exhausting me before we even start. Settle it like real men."
The twins glare at each other. Then, in perfect sync, they raise their clenched fists.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
Three pumps. Cole throws rock. Cade throws scissors.
Cole flashes his insufferable rogue grin and winks at Carolina, while Cade kicks the dirt in frustration. "I'm the competing cowboy, Princess," Cole declares, stepping into line next to me.
Indya, being the declared cowgirl of her duo, steps forward without batting an eye, cracking her knuckles. Carolina claps a hand on her shoulder, looking proud.
Levi gives a knowing nod to Emma, who looks at him with immense gratitude, thrilled she doesn't have to be blindfolded, and he steps up next to Indya.
Katherine steps forward, adjusting her gold glasses on her nose with a determined look. Sam rests his hands on her shoulders, looking at her with pride so blatant it melts the entire crew.
And Lizzie takes her step forward for her pair, too. She pulls her cowgirl hat low over her eyes, shooting a look of pure challenge at the camera. Josh steps right behind her, crossing his arms over his chest.
That just leaves Emerson and Susan. And here, production's logic hits a glaring snag.
"Um, excuse me?" Emerson pipes up, raising his hand and pushing his glasses up his nose. "I believe there is a gross inaccuracy in the rules. Neither of us is a cowboy. We were grouped together to fill a technical void in the cast. Statistically speaking, we do not meet the requirements to—"
"Emerson, you go."
Susan's voice is peremptory. She's pushing the astrophysicist from behind.
Emerson digs his heels in. "Susan, this is a blatant strategic error. The probability of me executing a knot under sensory deprivation is—"
"You're going, nerd. I'm sure you'll find a scientific way to pull it off," she cuts him off, grabbing him by the collar of his sweater vest and shoving him forward.
Emerson stumbles, joining our lineup of "cowboys" looking like a man walking to the gallows.
Aunt Tina snaps her fake blades together, making a screeching sound that sends the microphones into a frenzy. Production assistants emerge from the background, unrolling thick strips of black fabric.
"Very good, cannon fodder!" Tina cheers, pointing the megaphone toward the barn shrouded in fake fog. "Blindfold them!"
A production assistant ties the thick fabric of the black blindfold tightly behind my head. With a sharp tug, the light vanishes.
The darkness is immediate, disorienting, and complete.
Suddenly, my world shrinks. It’s reduced to what I feel on my skin and the sounds surrounding me. I hear the annoying hum of the fog machine, the crunch of boots on gravel, the heavy breathing of the other contestants.
And then, two small, cold, determined hands land on my hips.
A shiver shoots up my spine. The scent of orchids and rain washes over me, completely wiping out the smell of set dust.
"I'm right here," Selene whispers, her voice a millimeter from my shoulder. "Trust me."
I'd trust you with my life, Queen of Darkness.
An air horn blasts, shattering the air. The starting signal.
"Straight ahead, Ron. Run!" she orders.
I lunge forward blindly. The ground beneath my boots changes, shifting from hard gravel to packed dirt, and finally to the wooden floor of the barn. The air suddenly turns freezing and damp. Ghostly wails and the rattling of chains blare from hidden production speakers.
She is glued to my back.
"Left. Duck your head!"
I duck right as I graze something hard, maybe a low-hanging beam.
As I do, she presses herself flat against my back.
I feel the softness of her breasts press against my shoulder blades, her ragged breath hot on my neck.
Her right hand slides down my arm, grabbing my wrist to guide me, while the other grips my belt tightly.
Jesus.
Being blind amplifies every single fucking point of contact.
Every time her fingers squeeze my hips to steer me left or right, a jolt of pure lust shoots straight to my groin.
This sensory deprivation game is driving me insane.
The erotic tension of letting her guide me in the dark, of completely depending on her touch, is making me rock hard.
But we aren't the only ones pumping adrenaline through this dusty maze.
The echo inside the barn acts as a perfect live sports broadcast of what's happening a few feet ahead, to our right.
Over there, the chaos of the race has turned into pure, explosive competition. Carolina, guiding a blindfolded Indya, and Cade, guiding Cole, are locked in a frantic, screaming neck-and-neck sprint.
"Faster, Indya, to the right! We are destroying these fake cowboys!" yells the ex-princess's shrill, provocative voice.
"Watch where you step, Princess, or you're gonna end up right under our boots," Cade growls back, his voice incredibly close to hers. "Straight ahead, Cole, lengthen your stride, stay on 'em!"
"Don't get cocky, Cade," Carolina laughs, panting from the effort. "Indya is moving a hell of a lot faster than your twin, just admit it."
"Don't kid yourself, Princess," Cole chimes in. "When I take this blindfold off and catch you, I really want to see if you're this fast at doing other things."
"Oh, cowboy... you're going to have to work up a serious sweat to find that out. Indya, watch the post, duck!"
To our left, however, the atmosphere is a total disaster.
"It is not geometrically logical for the lasso to be hidden in a blind corner, Susan!" Emerson's whiny, nasal voice is steeped in panic at falling behind.