Oh you must a put Voodoo on me – Oh you must a cast a spell
The way I’m loving you girl – Ain’t no tongue can tell
Oh you must a been burning candles – Oh to make a love so strong
You must a sprinkled dust all around my bed – You must a had a
black cat bone
Just at a glance – You know you put me in a trance
Oh when I look into your eyes – Girl you have me hypnotized
Oh you must a put Voodoo on me – Oh you must a cast a spell
The way you got me loving you girl – Ain’t no tongue can tell
The barracuda alert went up as soon as the car was spotted on the high street, so the team were ready for her. Today they would waste five or six hours of their collective precious time trying to impress Elena with the new skills that they had gained, at her expense, during their week-long conference in New Orleans. The only issue was that the PVC clad, peroxide harpie was never satisfied, never pleased, never grateful for their efforts. She paid them well enough, thanks to the business model set up by Mr Grey when he had been the silent partner, but in the day to day running of the business, Elena was a cross between Rasputin and Hitler with all the self-righteous posturing of a malevolent dictator coupled with the “glowing and the smoke people” that often turned her skin a sickly shade of green while her eyes flashed pure red hate.
“Right people, shock and amaze me!” Just her witchy voice was enough to grate on their last nerve. They had never actually seen her smoke a cigarette but it certainly sounded like she was a 40-a-day kind of a gal. Each of them had speculated that if only she could develop the hacking cough and emphysema then perhaps she would stop coming into the salon. Of course, if they managed to ‘wow’ her with their new training then they might get the result they so dearly wanted today.
The first treatment was designed to relax her. It started with a simple scalp massage. Melinda had been working on her technique since returning from Louisiana, and now she was slowly and subtly stripping Elena of her silky tresses. Once she had enough hair collected in the basin she wrapped it carefully in a towel and disposed of it into a basket that Leroy skipped through and collected with unprecedented efficiency.
The next stop was the mani-pedi. Val stripped Elena’s crones feet of the five inch thigh high boots to reveal a mess of warped toes and bunyons that would have made a marine hurl chunks. Somehow, in the past Val had always been able to get the malevolent metatarsals into some sort of presentable order by summer but she new that this year would be the exception. Thank God for the conference, otherwise she knew she would be out of a job come strappy sandal time.
Placing her feet into the fish tank, Val let her new collection of little critters do their worst as they chewed of the dry chunks of dead skin. Then Val set about removing the false fingernails from Elena’s wrinkled sun-spotted paws, carefully trimming off the natural nail underneath. Once more the remnants were dropped into a container that Leroy removed from sight when she had finished. The manicure complete and stinky, fish feet removed from the tank and now began the arduous task of the pedicure. Again, Leroy, this time assisted by Jade, removed the fish tank to spaces unknown.
Macey took over the witch with a Brazilian wax job that was literally to die for. She held nothing back as she smeared the specially formulated warm wax on Elena’s nasty smelling nether regions, leaving it to set a little longer than usual before gleefully ripping not only the dark brown hair (Elena was far from a natural blonde) but also some of her skin off. At Elena’s shriek, Macey quickly applied a soothing balm and promised Elena, with a heartfelt smile, that the pain would be worth it for all the time that it saved further down the road. A poultice of the mix was strapped to the offending areas before Elena hobbled on her way like a cowboy coming off a four day muster.
Moving to the massage room, Elena stripped down to her sagging skin and lay prostate on the bed, awaiting the next treatment. Sven, the big beefy Swedish masseuse, had been carefully preparing rocks, oil and mud all morning. He rubbed his oily hands together with glee and set about smothering Elena’s body making sure to hit every nook and cranny. Five years ago he might have found it vaguely erotic to touch his boss this way but time had taken care of that lusty vibe and it took most of his effort not to ring her scrawny neck. The hot rocks were more hot than rock but with her aged, leathery epidermis Elena barely sucked in a hissy breath. As Sven applied the mud, which smelt vaguely of compost and vomit (it actually contained goat feces and lama spit), to Elena’s face, he smiled knowing that the combination of the heat from the rocks and the oil were going to leave savage welts all over her skin and she would be stupid enough to believe that once they faded she would look and feel better than ever.
For the next hour, while Elena lay slowly basting on the table, listening to Kenny G, the team went to work in the back room. First, the wax from the Brazilian was melted down and the blonde head hair was mixed in while the real fingernails were separated from the fake. More wax and oil was added before the fish were filleted and distributed through the mix. Eventually they were prepared and all that remained was to hustle Elena away from the salon so they could finish the real work of the day.
The problems started a week later. Thinking it was just her imagination she ignored the drooping nipple on her left breast. Surely once Isaac worked his magic her breast would elevate itself to its normally pert position. If not she would just have to make an appointment with Dr Tuck and have him take a look at what could be done. Instead of dwelling on it she redefined her lips, which quite frankly could do with another injection, and reapplied a layer of gloss before smacking them together and blowing herself a puckery kiss.
If she had taken a moment to glance back over her shoulder she might have noticed the bald spot that had formed at the back of her head. However, she was in a rush to get to Escala and demonstrate the radical outcomes of her team’s newly acquired skills. Skills that she had paid dearly for, thank you very much, foregoing her own training as she set about finding new and exciting ways to disturb the loving peace that was the marriage of Christian and his new slut wife, Anastasia Steele Grey.
Swallowing down the bile in her throat that she was sure was brought on by indigestion at the thought of the money-grabbing harlot, Elena cursed another split fingernail, swinging her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door. Half an hour later she was pulling up outside Escala and throwing the keys at the smirking valet before stalking through the entrance. She rode the elevator to the penthouse floor and emerged into the foyer just as the sky lit up with lightning.
The sparks matched her mood and she smirked into the mirror, giving her face a once over before making a grand entrance. The storm threw shadows across her reflection so she missed the subtle droop of her left eye and the lump that had formed on her chin. Instead she scrubbed the gloss off her yellow teeth before wheeling around and making for the double frosted glass doors.
That idiot Taylor was there to greet her, his eyes registering shock at the sight of her. Yes, the treatments were working. He waved her on ahead of him and had to reach out to support her when her ankle twisted beneath her.
“Are you alright?” Arrogant prick didn’t even address her by her name. She shrugged him off just as Christian came through to the great room but the movement must have been to much and her joint popped out, flopping her arm at a useless angle.
“God, Elena, what has happened to you?”
Elena tossed her hair with her good hand. “Oh, darling, do you like? Just some new treatments we are trialling at the salon.” She studiously ignored her bad arm and the fact that her ankle was twisted at an impossible angle. Instead she made an attempt at giving him a 360 degree view. She was thrilled when she heard both men gasp.
For their part, the ‘team’ were back at the salon, sipping Mimosas and passing around their Elena effigy.
“She’s the fugliest damn Barbie I have ever seen.” LeRoy dragged a finger down the back of the doll effectively pulling its butt out into a lopsided bulbous shape. In the Escala penthouse, as Elena rotated, her bum appeared to swell to twice its normal size while Christian stared at her in disbelief.
“Here, my turn.” Jade grabbed the figurine and palmed down the front so that the once pert breasts were now long, sagging effects. As Elena raised her chin defiantly to look Christian in the eye, he had to cover his mouth at the sight of her boobs doing an impression of tennis balls in a pair of pantyhose.
Jade passed the doll to Val who took great pleasure in squashing the feet out into paddle shapes. Meanwhile, Elena suddenly dropped in height by five inches as her boot heels snapped off and the side seams split to reveal her large, manky, flat feet. Still she wasn’t phased.
Big, beefy Sven had hold of her now and he carefully held the doll in one hand while pinching the crotch of it between his meaty fingers. Elena took the sudden pain and itching as longing and without hesitation squirmed as she touched herself. At this point Taylor walked into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He had no intention of leaving the boss alone with the bitch but he couldn’t stand there and watch her as she put her best efforts into seducing him either. For his part, Christian began to glower wondering what the hell he had ever seen in her.
It was Melinda’s turn next and she delighted in making the hair of the figurine stand up on its end. She giggled drunkenly as she removed one hair and placed it in Elena’s chin. Christian’s anger turned to shock and then barely suppressed laughter as Elena was transformed into the troll that she was, as he watched.
Elena, being the stupid and self-absorbed witch that she was, mistook his mirth for attraction and she stumbled toward him, dragging her bad foot and arm behind her. When she arrived in front of him, Christian was mesmerized by the long, blonde hair sprouting from the lump on her chin. Elena’s skin was a pallid, sickly green, probably as a result of the fact that Val had dunked her in the fish pond for a moment.
Finally it was Macey’s turn and she carefully set about stabbing a hole through the center of the doll’s tummy with a nail file. Elena, who was scratching at her nether regions almost missed catching her intestines as they came squirming out through the newly formed hole in her stomach. Taylor had the forethought to race over with a plastic bowl and catch them before they hit the floor.
The ‘team’ gathered around the table and set up a chanting prayer as they placed the doll in the middle of a bowl of Sven’s special oil and mud. They all lit a taper and with a combined movement set alight the candle that rested underneath bowl stand before stepping back to hold hands. Their chanting circle continued until the wax doll had become no more than a puddle.
“I’m melting, I’m melting.” Elena’s plaintive cries were not in agony but more shock and amazement that this should be happening to her. Christian and Taylor stood back as she hissed and groaned slowly becoming no more than a pool of liquid in the middle of the floor. Her final gasp was a clawed hand that reached out of the liquid, raising its bony middle finger at them both.
After she was gone, they both stood there for a while staring at the space where she had been. What could they say that could possibly explain what had happened here. Christian had no idea what to do next.
“You want a drink?” He nodded mutely in response to Taylor’s question. Taylor walked into the kitchen and emptied the bowl of now liquefied entrails down the waste disposal unit before pouring them both a healthy couple of fingers of Laguvalin. He took the glasses back over to Christian and they both downed the contents without another word and without taking their eyes off the puddle. When they had finished Taylor held his hand out for the empty glass.
“Right, I best get a bucket.”