Wheel of Fantasy

The first of Three NuErotic Tales

© All Rights Reserved

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Main Characters

Arthur Baynebridge - A poverty stricken no hoper surviving day to day off his wits. He lives a banal existence masking a mysterious past. He is living day to day, only finding solace in alcohol and other illicit substances.

Luke D'Angelo - Charismatic devious TV show host. A very high profile extrovert that exudes hype and oozes charm. Has a soft powerful voice and is full of an animal magnetism that makes him irresistibly attractive to women.

Carmella Attenzione - Luke's voluptuous Assistant.

Alexia - The mysterious chauffer.

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Act One - Home Sweet Home

Location: In an aging block of flats footsteps echo up a dimly lit concrete stairwell toward a dark dingy apartment. A man in a heavy overcoat stumbles upwards. He is fumbling in his overcoat pocket for a key.

As he approaches his apartment's door he finally finds his key. Before entering he pauses for a moment and reaches into another of his overcoat pockets. He pulls out a crumpled packet of cigarettes.

Arthur: Looking closely at the crumpled cardboard box. "Oh shit!"

He flips the lid open and pulls out one of the contorted cigarettes. With his free hand he reaches back into the same overcoat pocket and pulls out a cigarette lighter.

He reaches up with the lighter in his hand and lights his cigarette by drawing deeply. He releases the grey smoke into the cold late night darkness.

He then places the cigarette lighter back into his pocket. Now he reaches for the apartment's deadlock with the key in his hand.

In his first attempt the key is deflected as it scrapes against the metal on the deadlock. His second attempt the key bounces off the deadlock. His third attempt the key awkwardly penetrates the lock.

He turns it slowly and it clunks and clicks. The lock eventually gives way and allows the heavy set door to open.

He enters barely noticing the dank odour of the mouldy old carpet. The entrance to the two room apartment is cluttered with clothes, bags and various containers and boxes. The mostly empty vessels and scant wall decorations hint at a previous illustrious existence.

The man stands wavering momentarily from exhaustion then he moves cautiously negotiating around the confusion. He moves toward an old red velour couch. He plonks himself on the couch and draws deeply on the half consumed cigarette.

He looks down beside him searching for something. He can't see it. With his free hand he reaches between the couches old stained cushions.

He still can't feel what he's looking for.

His eyes start to squint from tiredness as he begins to scan the apartment. At the other side of the cramped main room he sees what he's after on the old timber laminate breakfast bar.

Next to an unwashed dinner plate and half full glass of beer is the TV remote control.

Slowly he raises himself and moves toward the cramped kitchenette.

As he approaches the bar he ignores the build up of dishes in the single tub sink. There must be at least three days worth as the food is firmly encrusted on the dishes and pots that sit at the bottom of the pile.

He finishes his cigarette as he reaches the remote control. He takes one last deep draw and releases the noxious fumes into the cool humid atmosphere.

He starts his return trip to the couch holding the control in his hand. Then he detours to the old dilapidated fridge that is humming in the corner of the kitchen. On top is a small empty brown bottle that he proceeds to push his smouldering cigarette butt into.

Then he opens the fridge door and reaches in without looking.

Jackpot! He pulls out another impish brown bottle. This time it's full and unopened.

He struggles with sweaty hands and twists the cap against the rotation of the bottle. Eventually the cap gives way and he takes a crude swig from the elfish bottle.

He burps loudly as the amber liquid battles for space in his gullet.

Arthur: "Whoah shit!"

This time he lets out a smaller burp and his stomach settles a little more.

His head starts to spin. He's not going to make it to the couch. A wave of lethargy suddenly overwhelms Arthur.

The last thing he remembers is his bedroom door getting closer and then in the semi darkness his face hitting the cool cotton polyester blend of his pillow's cover.

Then the bright incessant flashing lights of the nearby neon skyscrapers commence their hypnotic penetration of the flimsy curtains that adorn the small bedroom window.

Act Two - Late Night TV

The invasive neon lights and late night traffic noises sustain an unrelenting attack on Arthur's rest. His eyes spring wide open. The cocktail of caffeine, alcohol, nicotine, salt and fat wasn't having its usual dampening effect.

It was time for the only sure cure for insomnia. Late night TV.

He gingerly rises taking the remote control that rests by his face next to the pillow. On the side table he feels for and picks up the crumpled cigarette packet. He takes another twisted cigarette and places it in his mouth. In the burst of coloured light he pauses to see if the lighter is within sight. No such luck.

He arrives at the dank couch and he remembers that lighter is in a pocket of his overcoat that is hung over the armrest. He then lights his cigarette and then negotiates a comfortable position with his head nestled against the armrest and his legs raised onto the far side of the couch.

He presses the red button on the remote control that is being directed clumsily at the small black box in the corner of the room.

The well worn black plastic relic crackles and hisses into life. A screen full of very loud static welcomes him. The green l-e-d indicator bar reduces its indications simultaneously as the volume decreases.

A green number two then appears on the top right hand side of the screen and a fuzzy image appears. It's not very clear but he can make out the perfect abdominal features exuding energy. The Abswing endorsement music is only barely audible under the static hiss.

Arthur: "Fuck that's too much exercise for me at this hour."

The number three appears at the top right hand side of the screen. The blurry image is in black and white. It is an old movie, a classic that takes too much concentration to watch. The number four then appears on the top right hand side of the screen.

This channel is just static.

Number five normally doesn't get a clear picture at all. Arthur wasn't even sure that it had been tuned to a channel. So he tried to pass it quickly.

In the instant that the number five appears on the screen an image flickers but the speed that Arthur changes channel upwards and the static makes it too hard to see. From what he could make out it resembles an ad for a phone sex line. He could make out a gorgeous woman saying something. However Arthur did not recognise this particular ad. A telephone number also briefly appears in the instantaneous vision.

At the number six there is too much static in the image. He clicks back down.

Arthur: "That's unusual."

The image flickers again however it remains too fuzzy to make out. Arthur loses patience and flicks up to the next available channel. The image is still only static. He goes up another channel. More static. He keeps clicking upwards through the channels until he is back at number one.

Number one has now also gone completely out of tune. Arthur looks over at the dog-eared aerial that rests precariously next to the television set. Beside the aerial is his open bedroom door that aligns with his small bedroom window.

The scene reveals the culprit to the interrupted TV viewing. The monstrous city skyscrapers that interfere with his ability to get a clear signal lurk in the background smugly flaunting their entrancing flashing neon lights.

Arthur: Whispering under his breath. "Fuck I hate those buildings."

Out of habit he continues to climb through the channels.

He gets to number five and a clear image briefly flickers through the static.

Arthur: "Shit."

Arthur waits on this channel for a few seconds. The image of a seductive woman flickers momentarily but the audio is not discernable.

Arthur: "That's weird."

He is curious as this channel has never had a picture on it before.

Arthur raises himself off the couch and moves toward the rickety aerial. He twists the crooked right antenna slightly higher and to the left. The picture flickers momentarily again then it dissolves into the static.

Arthur: Sensing a small eminent victory. "Mmmh... almost..."

With some additional movement of the aerial the picture starts to develop a hazy form and the audio clears up a little.

The Male Voice-Over on the TV crackles. "...chance of a lifetime. And it's absolutely free."

The audio blends into the hissing static once again.

Arthur wasn't sure he heard right and was getting more and more frustrated by the lack of reception. His television was his only solace in his grim world and even though it wasn't usually great this latest denial of privilege was adding insult to injury.

Arthur: "Come on." Frantically manoeuvring the aerial. "Come on you're the only thing I have left that doesn't shit me..."

Sometimes miracles do happen...

The image emerges clearer than ever before. The screen zooms out on an elaborate game show wheel spinning at speed.

As the shot zooms out further a seductive assistant is revealed standing next to it. An assistant unlike any Arthur has ever seen on late night television.

Arthur: "Holy shite!"

There is still a lot of static over the audio but at least the image is clear. The assistant is adorned in delicate black see-through lingerie. It's not leaving anything to the imagination.

Arthur: Shaking his head he reveals a little of his past. "Finally we're getting continental with our TV."

Arthur's arm becomes heavy with fatigue. As he lowers the aerial only slightly the image begins to dissolve into static.

Arthur: "Oh no."

Again Arthur tries to adjust the blur. Both the audio and vision are gone. In his frustration he leaves the aerial momentarily and flicks through the range of channels. But there's nothing available. He presses the channel five button on the remote control and frenetically moves the aerial to try to regain vision.

The image is still static but the audio begins to get clearer.

Male Voiceover: "...erable life. You can make your wildest fantasy come true. All you need to do is..."

The audio fades momentarily then it comes back.

Male Voiceover: "...just phone us now on Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six. Don't lose this lifetime opportunity. Our offer is completely free. Yes you heard that right, it's completely...

The voice begins to fade out and Arthur frantically manoeuvres to fix the reception but he only succeeds in completely losing the audio once again.

Arthur: Leaning to his left and glaring through his bedroom window at the skyscrapers. "I'll blow the fuck out of you one day."

Suddenly the image re-emerges.

It's the beautiful assistant. A dark haired olive skinned curvy beauty. She is standing next to the wheel with her hands indicating the prize names that are etched onto the wheel segments. Arthur is trying to make out what they are but a phone number appears on the screen obscuring the prize details. The image behind the numbers then zooms into the woman's bust.

Arthur: "Bloody hell!"

The bold numbers register in Arthur's memory.

Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six.

Again Arthur falters with the building fatigue in his arm. He loses the image. He desperately moves the aerial again but only the audio returns for a moment.

Male Voiceover: "...let your miserable life get the better of you. Take control and spin the wheel of fantasy. It's free and you'll never look back, all you have to do is..."

The audio fades once again.

Arthur desperately tries to regain some reception. But there's only static on the screen. He keeps jiggling and fumbling with the two twisted antennae, but nothing emerges.

A realization of futility sweeps over him. He's lost the contact with something that he wanted to know. He needed to know. He looks through his dark bedroom window at the buildings that seemed to stare back at him defiantly.

Arthur: "Bastards."

'What was that ad?' he thought to himself. The whole episode seems to disappear in the hazy swirl of his memory. All that stuck in his memory was an olive skinned beauty, a mysterious wheel and a long phone number.

The number just wouldn't leave his memory.

Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six.

Act Three - Call Me

Again Arthur found himself tested by the incessant intrusion of those ubiquitous neon lights. He's lying in bed trying to let his fatigue overwhelm him but the lights keep pushing their penetrating energy through his eyelids.

He rolls over to face away but he can still feel the lights presence.

Arthur: "Oh shit."

He's been lying for a while. Fading in and out of consciousness. As he drifts out of consciousness he enters straight into a weird dream.

Those damn numbers keep reverberating in his head.

Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six.

The weird thing about the dream is that as he drifts back into consciousness the weird dream doesn't fade away. It seems to waken with him. Even the incessant neon pulses seem to be echoing those numbers.

Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six.

Arthur can't stand it so he searches for respite from this peculiar lilt. He raises himself gingerly.

Arthur: "Where did I put those smokes?"

The light in the main living room momentarily blinds him as he flicks the switch on.

Eventually Arthur can see the crumpled packet placed on the old derelict couch.

He captures the servile target and opens it. Only one smoke left.

Arthur: "Phew..."

As he looks around for his lighter the lights from the other side of the apartment seem to pulse out an unerring almost poetic rhythm. It reminded him of how he used to recall phone numbers. Only now the light's rhythm only kept pulsing out one number.

It departed from Arthur's mouth in a soft whisper.

Arthur: (Soft whisper) "Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six."

In his peripheral vision the phone seems to inexplicably attract Arthur's attention.

A twinge of curiosity starts to creep into Arthur's consciousness.

As he turns to look directly at the phone the numbers softly spill from his lips.

Arthur: (Soft whisper) "Zero, zero, one, three, nine, eight, seven, six, six, six."

The compulsion is now overwhelming. A strange magnetism draws Arthur closer to the phone.

His memory momentarily blurs and the next thing he can see is his fingers punching out the numbers on the dirty buttons of the touch phone.

Zero, zero, one, three, nine. He pauses trying to resist this overpowering urge but its no use. The inexplicable momentum gets the better of him. Eight, seven, six, six, six.

An uneasy silence underpins the intense atmosphere that now permeates the dingy room.

Then the inimitable ring tone intensifies against his ear.

Arthur's heart beats stronger.

He tenses himself in anticipation of the inevitable answer.

The ring tone continues.

For a brief moment Arthur feels like he's escaped a mysterious fate.

His relaxation is unfounded. A strong sensual voice answers his involuntary summons.

Female Voice: "Welcome to the Wheel of Fantasy. This is Carmela. How can I help you?"

A nervous tremor reverberates through Arthur. He hesitates.

Carmela: "Hello... Hello... Is anyone there?"

Arthur: "Hell... Hello."

Carmela: "Hi... Who's calling?"

Arthur's mind is racing. He knows he has to say something and he also knows he needs to be guarded. But the tension lets down his guard.

Arthur: "Hello, my name is Arthur Baynebridge."

Carmela: Her voice becomes smooth, almost intoxicating. "Hello Arthur did you know you've rung the Wheel of Fantasy?"

Arthur: "Well... I saw the ad on TV.

Carmela interrupts.

Carmela: "Would you like to join us?"

Arthur: Well... I just wanted to know about..."

Carmela: "Don't be nervous Arthur. Let me tell you a little about the Wheel."

Arthur: "Yeah, sure... I heard that I can change my..."

Carmela: "That's right Arthur. Wheel of Fantasy is an amazing opportunity.

Arthur: "So how..."

Carmela: Politely interrupting once again. "So you'd like to take the opportunity to change your life... An opportunity to get further than what you already had."

Arthur looks up at a framed certificate that illustrates his illustrious past. His voice deepens.

Arthur: "Yes... Doesn't everybody?"

Carmela: A subtle laugh escapes from her voice. "I guess everyone does. Well heres a chance to do that. All you have to do is just say... Yes."

Arthur stays silent. Awkward seconds slip by. His focus remains on the framed certificate.

Arthur: "Ok, tell me..."

The silence makes Arthur edgy.

Arthur: "Hello... Hell..."

Carmela: "Ok Arthur give me your details and we'll be in contact in a very, very short time."

Arthur takes a few seconds to absorb the compelling request.

As Arthur provides his details he sees through the small window next to his front door the lights of a car approaching from down the street. He completes the information and a sleek dark limousine comes into view. It rolls slowly past the apartment block.

Carmela: "Thank you Arthur. Now just relax and well be back to you very shortly..."

Arthur: "How short..."

Carmela: Politely interrupts again with her smooth and strong persuasive voice. "Very, very shortly."

At this point the line goes dead and Arthur realises he has an unlit cigarette still hanging from the side of his mouth. He is still following the tail lights of the limousine that is now further down the street.

He turns away from the window and the phone and notices his cigarette lighter is placed poignantly on the couch's armrest.

Arthur: As he sinks deep into the couches aging cushions reaching over for the lighter. "Ah finally the comfort of good old nicotine."

Act Four - The Awakening

Arthur stirs in a doze on the aging couch.

Gentle rapping breaks the silence in the apartment.

Arthur's eyes spring wide open as another round of rapping finishes.

Arthur: "What..."

He squints to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit dinginess of his shabby abode.

The front window rattles once again.

Arthur turns over his shoulder to look at the window. He can see that it's become darker outside. At the window a silhouette is trying to attract his attention.

Arthur: Quietly to himself. "Who the fuck..."

He gets up very slowly and shuffles to the front door.

The rapping stops.

As he gets closer to the door he shields his eyes trying to make out who is invading his privacy. But the outside passage lights have gone off. Arthur thinks to himself that it must be very late.

He slides the chain into the lock.

Arthur: "Who is it?"

For a moment there's no response. Then another silky smooth female voice responds.

Female Voice: "It's your driver."

Arthur stops dead in his tracks. Wariness creeps under his skin.

Arthur: Questions. "Driver?"

Female Voice: "Is this Arthur Baynebridge of apartment 6G 103 Pearmoth Drive?"

Arthur: Standing in stunned silence. "Yes that's me."

Female Voice: "Well I'm here to take you to the Wheel of Fantasy."

A wave of realisation flushes through Arthur. The earlier call had seemed so surreal he had misplaced it in his mind.

Now it started to come back.

Arthur: Fumbling for the door handle. "I'm sorry I wasn't expecting someone to call so soon."

Female Voice: "That's Ok Wheel is something really special."