Chad stood in the darkness with the steel shaft holding him in midair with the football. The party had broken up hours earlier.
Click! The door opened.
"Whoa! I half expected the alarm to go off," said a whispering voice.
"I told you that I paid the gallery worker to give me a copy of the key, and leave the alarm off," said a voice that Chad had heard earlier in the evening.
"Sh!"
"No one can hear me, except you. And maybe the statues?" said the man loudly, but I suppose turning on the lights might attract attention. Help me unmount the statue."
Chad felt hands on his body. He was lifted off the steel display rod.
"Uh, what if the artist comes back? He lives upstairs, doesn't he?"
"He and his boy toy are Alex at the Majestic Hotel right now. There's no way he'll leave a $1400 per night hotel suite before morning checkout."
"$1400?"
"Yes, I told him, I had booked the suite for us, but that our plans changed, so he could have it for the night."
"Our suite?"
"It was a ruse to get him out of the gallery," sighed the man.
"Oh, will we stay there sometime?"
"Oh, my pretty little flower," sighed the man.
Click sounded the metal rod as it released its captive. It made a painful scraping noise, as it came dislodged. It was painful too. Chad wanted to scream. He felt cold air rush into his permanently opened asshole.
"Ah, we got him free, now let's see if he's still alive."
"Alive?"
"I told you the artist uses live models. He can't sculpt worth a hill of beans. Never has been able to do it."
The other tapped on Chad. His insides echoed hollowly.
"Alive?" asked the other again. At first, Chad thought the other was a woman, but then a guy. When they had been examining him earlier at the party. He had only seen the man. The other had never walked around the front, or if he or she had, Chad didn't know the person because they hadn't spoken when in view. Now, the shadowy figure was clad in a balacava and loose black sweater could be male or female.
"Here help me turn him around, so I can pour the antidote into his open hole."
"But won't that destroy the statue?"
"Well, if he's dead, then the artist will have some explaining to do, as to how his model ended up dead. If he's alive, well, maybe he can help me get my revenge..."
A warm thick liquid began to trickle into Chad's frozen fiberglass hole. He started to feel warm all over. He was being rescued?
"Is the antidote permanent?" asked the other.
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because I know you. You're not an altruist."
Temporarily rescue? wondered Chad.