Shock Treatment (5 page)

She stopped kneading her head. It wasn't helping.

Come on,
she thought.
Somebody help me.

She peered through the glass doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. The lights were on inside, giving her hope that some of the staff had already arrived. The lobby was decorated in an ancient Egyptian motif. Bamboo plants and leafy papyri rose from glazed earthenware vases. Hieroglyphs were painted on the walls. Sandstone tiles, looking like they'd been chipped off the pyramids, fronted the reception desk, which was, maddeningly, as yet unoccupied. Flowing water trickled over a shallow artificial stream. Rita prayed that the staff was just in the back somewhere. Her knuckles rapped against the door.

“Hello?”

She was half-convinced that no one could hear her when an exotic presence emerged from the rear of the salon. Rita gasped in relief as she recognized Alexandra Nile, the owner of The Nile. A decade or two older than Rita, Madame Alexandra was clad in a flowing silk kaftan embroidered with stylized lotus fronds. Jet-black bangs (dyed, no doubt) hung beneath the saffron turban wrapped atop her head. Crystal earrings dangled from her lobes, and a silver
ankh hung upon her chest. Turquoise bracelets adorned her wrists. Open-toed sandals peeked out from beneath the hem of her robe. Impeccable posture added inches to her height.

Thank God,
Rita thought.
I knew I would find somebody here.

Madame Alexandra approached the entrance from the other side. Kohl-lined violet eyes regarded Rita through the glass. Her gaunt, immaculate face held a quizzical, slightly annoyed expression. She glanced pointedly at her watch.

“Ms. Segura?” she asked. Rita was a regular at The Nile. “I'm afraid we don't open for another hour.”

“I know, I know.” Rita raised her voice to be heard through the glass. “I hate to impose on you like this, but I feel one of my bad headaches coming on, and you know your massages are the only things that stop them.” Rita had tried acupuncture, biofeedback, meditation, Botox, and every medication under the sun, but nothing had worked for long. She winced in pain, the pressure building in her temple. Even with the shades on, the light was hurting her eyes. “Please. I have an important luncheon this afternoon, and I don't want to have to cancel.”

Madame Alexandra frowned, clearly reluctant to open early. “I don't know. . . .”

“Please!” Rita implored. She knew she was one of Madame Alexandra's top customers, and had talked The Nile up to all of her high-society acquaintances. Surely that counted for something. “I would be so grateful if you could just squeeze me in early. As a personal favor?”

The salon owner vacillated, perhaps weighing the negative consequences of disappointing so influential a client. Rita regretted throwing her wealth and status around, but didn't see any viable alternative. The prospect of facing today's busy social calendar while fighting a raging migraine was just too ghastly to be contemplated.

“Just this once,” she pleaded. “You're the only place in town that has the treatment I need.”

“This is true,” Madame Alexandra conceded. Sighing, she bowed to the inevitable and unlocked the door. “I suppose we can make an exception in an emergency.”

“Thank you so much!” Rita rushed into the lobby before the other woman could change her mind. Things were starting to look up; there was still time to halt the migraine in its tracks. “I won't make a habit of this, I promise.”

Madame Alexandra waved away her gratitude. “Do not trouble yourself.” Now that the decision had been made, the glamorous spa owner was all hospitality. Her rotund tones held an upper-class, vaguely British accent of questionable authenticity. “We wouldn't want to see one of our favorite clients suffer.”

“That's very generous of you.” Rita basked in the soothing atmosphere of the lobby. Middle Eastern music played softly in the background. Incense perfumed the air. Shelves of lotions and other personal care products were on display next to the reception desk. An indoor stream flowed through a gap in the tile floor. Bamboo and palm fronds added a touch of nature to the waiting area, where a couch and
chairs surrounded a low ebony coffee table. New Age magazines fanned across the tabletop. Flyers and pamphlets promoted various spiritual retreats and workshops. Gods, goddesses, and pharaohs reigned in two dimensions upon the painted walls. A bas-relief sphinx presided serenely upon the sandstone front of the reception desk. The miniature Nile babbled softly over polished stones.

Yes,
Rita thought.
Today is looking better already.

Mercifully, Madame Alexandra did not keep her waiting. She clapped her hands. “Heather!”

A fit young blonde answered her summons. In keeping with the spa's theme, she wore a pleated white linen dress with sandals. Freckles dotted her rosy cheeks, which held traces of baby fat. A sandy yellow pixie cut gave her a gamine look. “Yes, Madame Alexandra?”

“Ms. Segura requires a serpentine massage immediately,” the spa owner informed the masseuse grandly. She had the air of an empress issuing a decree. “Is the Cleopatra Room prepared?”

“Yes, Madame,” Heather answered. “All set.”

“Excellent.” Madame Alexandra guided Rita back toward the dressing rooms. “Heather will be with you as soon as you're ready.”

Rita sighed in anticipation. She could feel her whole body relaxing already. Even the pressure in her skull seemed easier to bear. “You're a lifesaver, Madame Alexandra. I won't forget this.”

The older woman airily dismissed her praise. “Please. It's the least we can do for you.” They stepped into a corridor and she veered away to the left. “I'll be in my office if you need anything.”

“I think I'm fine,” Rita said. “Thanks again.”

She knew the layout of the spa by heart. Finding her way to the dressing rooms, she enjoyed having the whole place to herself. She made a mental note to send Madame Alexandra a thank-you note later, and perhaps a deluxe fruit basket or bouquet of flowers. Eager to avail herself of The Nile's unique services, Rita wasted no time undressing. Hanging her wrap and designer clothes in a convenient locker, she changed into a white terrycloth bathrobe and slippers before scampering down to the Cleopatra Room at the end of the hall. A profile of the legendary queen was painted on the door. Rita didn't give it a second look before slipping inside.

“The usual treatment?” Heather asked her as she entered. A clean white towel was draped over the girl's arm. A second towel was already spread out atop the massage table. A clear glass cupboard held various massage oils and lotions. An electronic towel warmer, which resembled a large metal toaster, sat on a countertop next to the sink. A classical painting of Cleopatra lounging on a barge was framed on one wall. Wall sconces flickered softly. The dim, subdued lighting was easy on her eyes. The tile floor felt warm beneath her slippers.

Accustomed to the graceful decor, her gaze was immediately drawn to the chamber's most singular accouterment, which sat atop a carved ebony cabinet against the back wall. A rectangular glass vivarium held at least a dozen snakes of various sizes and colors. Their sinuous bodies slithered over, under, and across each other, beneath the warming glow of a heat lamp. As always, Rita was fascinated
by the nesting reptiles. Largish king and corn snakes, at least three feet in length, mingled with smaller garter snakes. Smooth, shiny scales varied in hue from one end of the spectrum to the other. Yellow racing stripes ran along the length of thin black snakes. Brightly colored bands circled their bodies, dividing them into segments. Iridescent checkers and blotches added to their visual allure. Unblinking reptilian eyes gazed back at her. A forked tongue flicked at the glass between them.

“Yes, please.”

She swiftly disrobed and lay facedown on the cushioned massage table. The room was warm enough that her bare skin didn't feel at all chilled. Heather laid her towel across Rita's rear end in a token concession to modesty. “Looks like you've been working on your tan,” the masseuse observed, admiring the client's evenly toned skin. “I'm jealous.”

Rita appreciated the compliment, but was in no mood for small talk. A pang in her temple started to spread to her forehead. She sensed they were running out of time. “Hurry, please.”

“Of course,” Heather assured her. “Coming right up.”

Rita turned her head sideways to watch the masseuse in action. She braced herself for company as Heather slid open the lid of the vivarium and took out two large handfuls of hissing snakes. The serpents squirmed restlessly, trying to escape, but Heather managed to hold on to all of the tangled reptiles. Scaly coils wrapped around her wrists and forearms.

“Here we go,” she said.

Without further ado, Heather gently deposited
the snakes onto Rita's back. Their cool, dry bodies undulated across her naked flesh. Agitated by their sudden change in location, they attempted to flee in every direction, but Heather deftly herded them back toward Rita's spine, braiding them together to slow their escape. The larger, heavier snakes kneaded her deep tissues, while the smaller serpents fluttered across her skin like caressing fingers. Despite the heat lamp, their cold-blooded bodies were chilly at first, but she knew from experience that her own innate warmth would soon heat them up. A scaly belly slithered down her spine.

“Ah,” Rita sighed rapturously. “Just what I needed.”

Serpentine massages were the latest therapeutic craze. According to Madame Alexandra, the practice had originated in Israel a few years back, but was slowly making inroads into America's trendier enclaves. The sinuous motions were said to relieve tension, soothe sore muscles, and even cure migraines. As far as Rita knew, The Nile was the only salon in Vegas currently offering the treatment, but she'd heard rumors that some of its competitors, and even a couple of the big resort hotels on the Strip, were thinking of adding live snakes to their spas and health clubs.
Seems like a natural for the Luxor,
she thought,
or maybe the Bellagio.

She settled in to enjoy the experience, luxuriating in the unique sensation of the snakes writhing all over her nude body. There was something undeniably sensual, and maybe even a little erotic, about it.
No wonder Eve had succumbed to the Serpent,
she mused; Rita felt like she had snuck back into the
Garden of Eden. A forked tongue tickled the back of her neck. She felt the pressure on her temple ease. Her eyes stopped hurting. Just as she'd hoped, the headache was already fading away.

Maybe she could make that luncheon after all.

Just as she was drifting off on a tide of bliss, however, she was jolted by a sudden sharp pain at the base of her neck. What felt like tiny needles pierced her flesh.

“Christ!” she yelled out. “I've been bitten!”

Her dreamy swoon evaporated. Her neck stung like blazes. Alarmed, she sat up abruptly, spilling the snakes onto the floor. The towel slid off her behind, landing unnoticed at Heather's feet. Glancing down, Rita was horrified to see a banded red, black, and yellow snake still hanging on to her throat, its fangs sunk into her jugular. The snake bounced against her bare shoulder, swinging back and forth like a scaly pendulum. An angry popping noise emanated from somewhere inside the creature.

“Crap!” she shrieked. “It won't let go!”

Heather's face was pale. She backed away fearfully, like she was on the verge of bolting from the room, while the spilled serpents scattered across the floor in all directions. She jumped in fright as a thick orange corn snake slithered across her foot.

“Omigod!” the girl blurted. “That's not supposed to happen!”

“I know that, you idiot!” Rita crouched atop the massage table, which was now an island of refuge surrounded by a sea of hissing menaces. Meanwhile, the banded snake's jaws were still clamped onto her neck. “Don't just stand there! Do something!”

Heather glanced longingly at the door. She inched toward the exit. “Maybe I should get Madame Alexandra?”

“Don't you dare leave me!” Rita snapped, close to hysterics. She started to reach for the snake herself, then yanked her hand back, afraid to touch it. The pain was getting worse by the second. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it. “Get it off me!”

“O-okay,” Heather stammered. Mustering her courage, she darted forward and grabbed onto the vicious creature's tail. Rita screamed as the snake's fangs were painfully ripped from her body. Heather yelped as well as she flung the snake against the nearest wall. It smacked against the plaster, then slid down onto the floor with the rest of the snakes. Heather scooted into a corner to get away from the swarming serpents. Hisses and pops assailed the women's ears.

Rita's hand went instinctively to her throat. The torn skin was wet and sticky. Blood trickled from a ring of ragged teeth marks at the base of her neck. Her fingers came away from the wound. They were red at the tips.

I don't understand,
she thought.
That's never happened before.

A tingling sensation seemed to spread from the bites. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Was it just her nerves, or was she starting to feel faint? She found it hard to swallow.

“Oh crap,” she whispered hoarsely. “Get a doctor. Call 9-1-1!”

Heather tried to calm her. “Don't worry. It will be all right. None of our snakes are poisonous.”

Rita wasn't so sure of that. Her vision blurred, double vision splitting Heather into shimmering blond twins. A cold sweat broke out over her exposed body. Her eyelids drooped. A trickle of drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. She suddenly felt weak and lethargic. The damn migraine came back full force, squeezing her skull like a red-hot vise. She panted raggedly, finding it difficult to breathe. Her arms and legs went limp and rubbery. Nausea turned her stomach. She could barely keep her eyes open.