Chapter 165 - Going Into Hyperspace

No, it's just impossible that Giorgio Fiorelli, the head of J. Acutti, could do that to Andrzej. But then where did he get all these unpleasant symptoms?

Andrzej Nowicki began to assess his situation.

The drug (if he was actually given something) worked well. The burning organ was beginning to beg for satisfaction, but Andrzej could not let any stranger touch him. He should have left the room, but his legs were too weak to take more than ten steps. Fiorelli will just come out after him and pull him back. Even if someone notices them, he will pretend that his friend has drunk too much. If it went on like this, Nowicki would become defenseless, at the grace and disfavor of the Italian, and he had a vague feeling that he did not want to get to know this grace at all. He wanted to shake him up, ask him directly what he had done to him, but he felt too physically insecure to risk a confrontation. He was ashamed to admit that he had to flee. Yes, but where?

"I'm feeling al little sick," he muttered.

The bathroom should have a lock. Even at the hotel. He headed for her door.

"You really should lie down." He felt Fiorelli's hand on his shoulder.

Andrzej feigned nausea. The grip immediately loosened. He used it to slip into the bathroom. He felt worse and worse. He tried to touch the lock with his hand. He went pale, unable to find him. What if it's not there?

It was!

He twisted it, feeling tremendously relieved, and fell to the floor. He touched his forehead, surprised at how hot and sweaty it was.

And what now? Should he sit here all night until the drug wears off?

Cholera!

Come on, goddamn it!

Outside the Italian asked about his well-being. What a farce! As if he did not realize what he had done and what else he wanted to do to him. Andrzej felt like one endless nightmare. He had to get away from this place, but between him and freedom was the whole room that Fiorelli was in, then the corridor, and most of all his weakness.

Call someone from the hotel?

No. They might misunderstand the situation, and he wasn't going to leave town.

But he couldn't stay here. Not in a state where his heart pounds so hard that he hears his every beat and sees his chest move. He needs to call someone and ask for help.

With trembling hands, he found the phone.

Who to call? To Bambus?

No, better not. He would have come to his aid, for sure, but had he found out what Fiorelli had done to him would have resulted in a spill of Italian blood. That was unnecessary. Dominik was not in the country, and even if he was, Andrzej could not have asked him for help in such a situation. After all, he will not call any of his colleagues, because they too could jump to conclusions.

In such a situation, he had one option. Only one contact. He would definitely prefer not to do this, not to call the man, but he felt so terrible that he didn't care anymore.

"What a nice surprise!" almost immediately he heard a slightly mocking voice in the receiver.

"He has ... Marczak ..."

Hell! Why is it so difficult for him to get his voice out? Why does his breathing have to be so heavy?

Marczak's voice changed immediately when he asked a short, matter-of-fact question:

"Where are you?"

Andrzej gave him the hotel name and room number.

"I'm around. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. No, in ten. Wait for me."

The hand with the phone dropped to his lap. She was trembling as if in a fever. Andrzej was trembling all over. It was as if his body was going to shatter to pieces.

It grew silent outside the door. He turned his face hard to that side. He still couldn't catch any sound. Fiorelli must have left, but he might as well have waited until Nowicki decided that he was safe and left. Andrzej laughed bitterly to himself. How did this absurd situation even come about?

Throughout the evening, the Italian behaved friendly and erotic undertones penetrated the photographer's consciousness. It was quite natural, however, that he was oversensitive. He was just misreading cultural differences. Yet there was something else behind Fiorelli's exuberance. But to use some drug against him? To risk it?

Sudden pain in the crotch made Andrzej groan. His penis cried out desperately for relief from his suffering.

"Why did you do this to me?" He asked through the door.

"I didn't do anything to you," came the reply after a moment's silence.

"Do not lie! It's some kind of drug. Aphrodisiac!"

This time a long break.

"I did not want that. You were just going to get excited. It was supposed to be a weak middle. Come on out, I swear I won't do anything you don't want to do."

He won't want to, right? A bit too late. After this drug, his whole body wanted to be caressed. He felt as if he had turned to lust.

"I'm sorry," Nowicki heard, and it sounded sincere. "I'll get a doctor. Maybe he will be able to help you ..."

"No."

Andrzej doubled over. It was on fire. He was trembling.

Marczak will be here in ten minutes. No, earlier. What time was it? Does not matter. He doesn't remember what time he called him anyway. He was unable to monitor the passage of time.

"I swear I didn't want that to happen," he heard again outside the door. "You are wonderful and I wanted to get you, but you were very distant all evening. I figured this powder would help you loosen up and want to make love to me yourself."

Has Fiorelli gone mad?

Or maybe I am crazy because his words reach me. My imagination sees his face like the girly heart of his dream guy…

No, no, no, he shook his head. Dominik. Only Dominik.

But Dominik is not here.

He's not here.

There is ...

Andrzej felt dizzy. It was madness, madness. His body has never been in such a pitiful condition. Devoured by the flame, he could barely breathe.

For God's sake, somebody help him!

There was a commotion outside the door. Nowicki did not know what was happening. He was too focused on having to breathe. Heard through a haze that someone was calling his name.

He blinked his eyelids.

"Marczak?" He asked surprised. "It's you?"

"Yes! Andrzej, are you in the bathroom? Open it up."

Yes, it was Marczak's voice. Firm, sharp, resisting opposition, but also strangely concerned.

"Wait a second" Nowicki struggled to get up from the floor. He turned the lock. The door gave way and he flew forward. Someone caught him.

"Look at me. Hi!"

Andrzej wanted to raise his head and look at the man who was speaking, but could not find him. Someone was lying on the floor. Someone else gripped his chin brutally and suddenly he saw his face.

"Marczak? What are you doing here?"

"You called me. You do not remember?" what a harsh yet pleasant voice. What a sensual fragrance!

He thinks… He thinks he called someone.

"You can go?" someone asked. Someone? Marczak?

"I can."

The legs, however, did not obey him. They trailed after him as if they had something better to do than go. Yet somehow he was moving forward.

"You smell good," Andrzej said, and brought his face closer to the smell.

"Shut the hell up," someone growled. Not someone, Marczak. Why is Marczak talking to him like that?"

"You do not like me anymore?"

"Andrzej, for God's sake, shut up!"

So he shut up.

There were lights, then a chill that relieved his body and allowed him to see the world more clearly. He could see the 100-year-old hotel building and the car. Someone pushed him in and hugged him. No, he was only wearing his seat belts.

Sharp pain pierced Andrzej's body. He doubled over.

"If you have to, then puke."

"No," he shook his head, which was a mistake because he couldn't make the images in his eyes stop spinning. Behind the glass, the lights blurred into streaks.

"How pretty," he smiled. The lights sped up. "We're going into hyperspace…"

The smudges sped up even more, and he felt himself being pressed into the seat as the WARP engines were activated.

No, it wasn't a spaceship. It was ... It was ...

They stopped. Someone helped him out. He felt that wonderful, sensual scent again and his body reacted by itself. Painfully.

Elevator and new interior. Familiar and yet strange. I think he's been here before. In this room as well. And here.

Suddenly a cascade of icy water poured over his head. Since when is it raining indoors ?! He snorted gasping for air. The cold, however, began to bring him back to consciousness.

Shower! Marczak threw him into a cold shower! Now he was standing next to him and watched Nowicki trying to stay upright under the stream of water.