Kindly get her down."
"Hey! Look! It’s Frankie the Third!" someone yelled.
"Sir," the demonstrator declared, "as a member of the Suicide Club, her remains will be auctioned to the highest bidder. Those are the rules. As a member, she agreed to them.
"Tootsie wasn’t a member of your club," Frank explained politely. "She was just looking for a good time riding your ‘skewer-bot’. Now, if you don’t want to be arrested for murder, I suggest you get her down. Now!"
"Mr… Frank," the demonstrator said, nervously, "If she isn’t already dead, she soon will be. Modern medicine isn’t nearly advanced enough to repair that kind of damage. You may as well let me auction…"
"Now!" Frank demanded.
Béla had come up on the stage with Frank. The three security guards approaching them suddenly stopped, mentally convinced by the dark-haired little vampire that this was all part of the show.
Frank fearfully looked up at his wife. She was hanging limp, upside down, still skewered, still glowing. Still cooking nicely.
"And turn off that damned light!" he demanded angrily.
"No!" Béla interrupted. "Leave it on, but retract it slowly. It will cauterize the wound."
The show was over. The curtain was drawn across the stage. Tanya was lying limp and unconscious on the floor. Surprisingly, she wasn’t bleeding. Béla scanned through her body moving damaged or cooked tissue out of the way of necessary blood and bodily function flows. The most difficult part was mentally reconnecting her damaged and crushed intestines.
"It’s unbelievable that she survived my skewer-bot," the demonstrator sighed, obviously disappointed.
"She’ll be all right, Frank," Béla said.
‘Distract him and I’ll take her home.’
"Perhaps if you added an electrical current to run inside the pole," suggested Frank.
The demonstrator turned and looked at his creation.
"Yes! Of course!" he exclaimed. "Instead of grounding everything against the rod, the rod would be the conductor! That would improve the efficiency of the cooking process, also!
"And, of course," he added, "I’ll have to add a headrest to keep the volunteer’s head in position so that, when she has her orgasm, she won’t be able to mess up the trajectory of the rod."
"The trajectory was messed up when she arched her back," Frank told him candidly. "You may have to accept that not every skewer is going to be perfect. If you’re compassionate enough to let your suicide orgasm, you may have to skewer her more than once. Of course, you could always ask her to keep her torso and head lined up…"
"Well, Mr… Frank," the demonstrator said. "Thank you very much for your input, and, of course, the use of your slut-bod for my demonstration. This has been an educational day for me."
"For us all," Frank agreed.
He turned around and left the stage.
"Hey!" the demonstrator called after him. "Where’d they go?"
Frank turned back and smiled at him. Then he turned and walked away.
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