She was tired of her stalled life and meaningless job––a dishwasher at the Greasy Plate Café in Santa Cruz. And her sex life was nearly nonexistent: there were a few lovers, but after the sex it was always the same thing in the morning, a note left on the bed: It was fun. I’ll call you––her phone never rang.
Katie had been at the Greasy Plate for two years washing the same sloppy dishes and listening to the same tired stories day in and day out from her boss and coworkers. Nothing had ever changed. Until she saw a flyer on the café’s community board: Gain Material Wealth Through Chanting and Meditation. Come and Join Guru Bicroom Slyme for a night of material wisdom. Your bank account depends on it. Thursday, 8pm. San Jose Spiritual World. $5.00 Donation. Nobody will be turned away.
When she arrived, the small room was crowded with mostly hippie-looking and new age-looking women in their fifties and sixties, along with a few middle-aged men. Katie sat next to a skinny, weathered-looking man is his thirties. He had short-cropped orange hair, with a rutted, oily face, and eyes that were perpetually wet. And he couldn’t stop staring at her––Katie was nondescript-looking, and to most men she was invisible, with her long, mousey-brown hair that she wore in a perpetual braid down the middle of her back, and her complexion was like a colorless dawn; her brown eyes lacked sparkle; her cloths were plain, and she wore old Birkenstocks with rainbow socks. The orange-haired man smiled through crooked teeth, “Hi, I’m Archie.” Katie smiled, then moved to another chair.
Suddenly, throughout the room a gong sounded. The place went silent and still. Guru Bicroom Slyme entered quickly from a side door and sat in an overly large white and gold throne at the front of the room. He closed his eyes and chanted, Nee Mee Wun Tun Ta Tu Ta, for fifteen seconds––Slyme was adorned in the standard white Indian guru costume, with the typical long, dark hair and cliched chest-length beard. He was fifty-eight and from Bandera, Texas: the cowboy capitol of the world.
After chanting, Slyme looked around the room. He smiled, and with a pronounced Texan drawl, said, “Welcome, to your material wealth and riches. Tonight, I will introduce you to a path of happiness that will lead you to your rightful share of the material world. With this new enlightenment you will be happy. Yes, money is happiness.” He paused, smiled and continued, “This is only an introduction. And to stay on this healthy path of financial happiness you must come to my ashram in the Santa Cruz mountains to learn about the inherent value of meditation, along with this potent chant, Nee Mee Wun Tun Ta Tu Ta, to gain access to your inner-power, to let this power surge come forth as your guide, so that you may truly own your rightful share of the material world. Yes, money is happiness.”
After listening to Guru Slyme speak for an hour on material wealth and your rightful share, two-dozen people signed up for the $2000.00 per person, month-long instructional at Slyme’s Ashram. Katie had $2500.00 in her bank account. She was ready to gamble on gaining control over her share of material wealth. She quit her job at the Greasy Plate, and a month later she was at Guru Bicroom Slyme’s Santa Cruz mountain ashram seeking enlightenment to financial freedom.
A plain-Jane from the Midwest, twenty-one-year-old, Katie Luge appeared as dull as a dry mop until she was seen naked with her hair down at the hot spring. Her breasts were full and firm as any harvest moons, bordered by a waist of tight curves that led to a magnificent ass and dazzlingly legs that could pull your eyes from your head and leave you happily blind. Katie was seen in a new light of succulence, while the group waited for Guru Slyme to come and lead the first meditation.
In the warm water, a man in his late-thirties slid over to Katie and whispered hello. Katie smiled. He had a British accent and that odd level of attractiveness and homeliness that many male Brit’s have. He had thin, wiry, blond hair, with thick, bushy eyebrows that appeared as two caterpillars sleeping above his eyes. His bleached skin was translucent, as if it weren’t there, but he had nice lips and penetrating light-blue eyes. He slid closer to Katie so that their thighs were touching, and her heart raced like a hot engine. She hadn’t been naked with a man, nor had had any sex, in a few of months. She was aroused by this stranger’s closeness, and thought, how exciting it would be to get laid by an older man. The Brit sensed her excitement, and slid even closer. Their shoulders touched and Katie’s heart pounded like a fist taking her rib cage apart. The Brit leaned in and whispered, “Are you here with somebody?”
“I’m alone,” she said with a gasp.
“Let’s walk through the woods after meditation.”
“I’d love that.”
“I’m Finley Scott, from Bristol, U.K.”
“Katie Luge, from Lecompton, Kansas.”
From the redwood forest, Guru Slyme viewed the hot spring with binoculars. He had especially watched Katie undress, which hardened him like a boy with a first erection, and then, to his dismay, Scott had moved in on her. He noticed Katie’s excitement when Scott whispered in her ear
––Scott had followed Slyme to the ashram after attending his lecture in Bristol. There was an unresolved issue between the two men over Scott’s wife having had a one-night tryst with Slyme
––and it was at that moment, of seeing Katie naked, that the guru decided she would be one of his intimates. He had many, but none as young as Katie.
When Scott noticed Slyme approaching the hot spring, he moved closer to Katie and put his arm around her waist. She placed her hand on the inside of his thigh near his sex. Scott became aroused.
When a few of the disciples stood up and bowed to the guru, it caused everyone to stand. The guru then noticed Scott’s erection, and was irritated over his contact with Katie––Slyme was a short, thin man with dense body hair, and who resembled a small gorilla. At seeing him naked, Katie was put-off by his appearance.
The guru sat in the water, looked at Scott, and said, “Hello, Finley. Thank you for making the long journey.”
“Guru Slyme, thank you for having me.”
“Tell me Finely, how’s your young wife? Is she here with you?”
Katie’s expression soured, and Scott’s face turned somber, “She killed herself, a year ago. Shortly after we attended your lecture in Bristol.” Katie sighed, almost with relief.
Slyme nodded. He then lowered his head and said, “Let us meditate on the immaculate energy that has brought us together for a month of spiritual-financial wisdom, which only brings true happiness to your lives. Yes, money is happiness.”
There was silence all around the hot spring.
After a twenty-minute meditation, the guru slid over to Katie and whispered in her ear. She said no thank you, and that she was going on a hike with Scott. Katie noticed that Slyme had a repelling body odor. She pulled back and slid closer to Scott. The guru was flattened by her reply: he was not accustomed to rejection from a woman.
After they had dressed, Katie and Scott walked into the woods. The guru’s thoughts boiled and festered like the blisters of a skin disease; he did not handle competition well, and he thought: I will bring an immediate end to this infatuation.
When they were out of sight the guru left the spring and headed for the binoculars he had kept hidden in a tree. He located the couple in a patch of moss a hundred yards into the forest. They were naked. Scott was lying on his back and Katie was on top of him. They had fluid sex in several positions for a half-hour, and Katie had had several orgasms, until they collapsed onto the luscious green moss and fell asleep. Slyme watched the entire time while getting himself off. And then his bitter thoughts went to work: he would get Scott out of the ashram, no matter what it took.
Later that day everyone was sitting at the outside tables having lunch. Katie and Scott sat closely together, like lovers do, while Guru Slyme was surrounded by a few of the other women who were fawning over him, especially one good-looking woman in her fifties who was more flirtatious than the others, but he was distracted by the display of affection that was going on between the new lovers. At that moment the guru decided that he was going to tell Scott that he was uncomfortable with having him here after the incident with his wife. He would say that he truly regrets what happened and it would be best for both of them if Scott left the ashram.
Katie was living in bliss. She and Scott had sex multiple times that day, even to the point of other people whispering complaints about having to listen to her moans and gasps coming from Scotts cabin. She had never had sex so many times with the same man before. She transformed: her eyes sparkled with delight; she wore her hair down, and even had it cut several inches, and she bought new clothes from the ashram’s boutique that were exotic and sensual. Her life had truly uplifted.
Katie had asked Scott about his wife. He told her that Slyme had seduced her, and that her suicide note had said: I had a moment of weakness with Guru Slyme. I failed you and I can’t live with myself.
Katie asked him why he was here, in the wake of betrayal and with the tragic ending for his wife. He told her that he needed to let it go, that he needed to move on, and this was the only way to resolve the negativity between him and Slyme, to come here, to forgive him. Scott also said that he doesn’t believe in anything that Slyme teaches. That it was his thirty-year-old wife who had been taken by his force of personality and promises. Scott confessed that meeting Katie was a bright, new beginning, a revived light-source in his life––he had not expected romance with another woman so quickly after his wife’s death. Later that day, Katie had moved into Scott’s cabin where they had spent most of their free-time––in between the guru’s talks––fucking.
In the early evening, while Scott was alone relaxing in the meadow, the guru approached him. Scott sensed Slyme’s negativity even before he spoke. The guru demanded that he leave the ashram as early as possible tomorrow, because he felt physically threatened by his presence. Scott refused to accept Slyme’s demand. They had a loud, heated exchange of threats toward each other. Slyme gave him an ultimatum: “Either you leave or, starting tomorrow, I will separate the men from the women for the duration of this retreat. I will make sure that you and Katie will have no contact with each other what-so-ever for the rest of the month.”
“If you do anything to stand in the way of my relationship with her, I’ll make sure that you will never seduce another woman again.” Scott was livid. He was shaking. His hands had closed tightly into fists. As he spoke saliva formed around of his mouth, like a Rabid animal. He raised one fist to the level of Slyme’s eyes, and said, “I will bust your head open. You despicable pile of crap.”
Seeing that Scott was about to lose control, Slyme backed away from him. And before he slithered off, Slyme replied through clenched teeth, “You are a psychopath out for revenge. I will make sure that you are removed from my ashram as soon as possible. You, Mr. Scott, are a dangerous man.” Slyme spat at his feet and walked away.
Standing in the woods, at the edge of the meadow, unnoticed by the two men, the fifty-year-old woman, who had fawned over Slyme earlier on, had witnessed the hostile exchange––she then ran after the guru and caught up with him on the path.
“Guru––Guru Slyme, wait, please wait.” She was slightly out of breath.
Slyme turned to look at her and then turned away and continued to walk.
“Please, wait.” the woman asked again. “I heard Scott’s threats. Let me help you.”
Slyme stopped walking and turned to face the woman again. He was breathing heavily.
“Let me write a statement for you. I have the conversation in my head. He’s a horrible man, full of anger and revenge. Let me help you in getting him legally off of the ashram.”
Looking at the woman, Slyme noticed for the first time how seductive she looked dressed in sheer gypsy clothing that revealed much of her body. He noticed that, for her age, she had sexually stimulating energy. Though her face showed wear, her body was well maintained. He stood close to her so that his breath was hot on her face. Her nipples became erect, pushing through the silk fabric.
“What is your name, again?”
“Kara–Kara Springs.”
Slyme was silent. Though his arousal was obvious. He stepped closer to her, and Kara shuttered. Slyme could feel the heat from her body against his. He remained silent. Breathing deeply.
“I want to study with you––privately,” said Kara, with a seductive tone. “I want to know the secrets of the Chakras. I want to learn the positions of Kundalini. Please, I want you to take me––to take me to the next level.” Kara was breathing heavily, and as she pressed her body against Slyme’s she felt his erection push into her. She gasped.
“Yes, you are ready for the next level, and I will take you there.” Slyme pushed harder into Kara’s body. She gasped again, and her mouth was open and wet.
“Meet me tomorrow at the hot spring during my private time, at 4am. There, we shall begin.”
And then Slyme thought: there was something familiar about her––the structure of her face; her long, luscious dark hair. When he stepped back from her and began to walk away he turned and asked, “Have I seen you somewhere? You seem familiar.”
“I had attended a few of your lectures in Los Angeles. I am sure that was where you had seen me.” Kara spoke softly, while looking directly into his eyes.
“Tomorrow at 4am,” said Slyme, and walked away.
It was late evening. Katie had noticed that Finely was irritated over something, and she couldn’t help thinking: Was it toward her? Did she do something wrong?
That night they had loud and aggressive sex, and Scott was using macho, sexual language that she had not heard from him before; he fucked her harder than she had experienced with him, and he went on for longer than usual with anger-like energy––until they both passed out.
Around 4:30am, Katie woke up from a horrific dream about somebody holding her head under water. She was sweating and gasping for air, and then she noticed that Scott was not in bed. She had figured he was in one of the outside bathrooms. She forced herself to bypass the dream and to go back to sleep––today was an important day: Guru Slyme would reveal the coded mystery to Power Chanting Nee Mee Wun Tun Ta Tu Ta, and how to combine it with energizing Prana Yam and electrifying Meditation for gaining control of one’s material life––but in Scott’s eyes, Slyme was a charlatan who preyed on the emotions of women, and he needed to be dealt with. Scott was not, as he told Katie, at the ashram to peacefully resolve the disharmony between he and Slyme.
In Bristol, Scott was a psychologist who had worked with children. He had a respectable and successful business, and was a pillar of strength in his community. His life had always been a fine balance of work and adventure, until his wife’s suicide. When the note was found in her pocket saying that she had had sex with Slyme, Scott’s mind twisted and melted like steel girders in an explosion. He started to drink heavily day and night, and his anger festered and boiled all over his brain, and his hate toward Slyme gathered and accumulated until it crawled under his skin and ate out his heart.
He had warned his wife that Slyme was an impostor, and a filthy womanizer, but his wife laughed it off. She told Scott to ‘loosen up, and to get out of your tight, academic mind, and let the universe guide you away from your baseless claims about Slyme’, and to let go of his ugly resistance to this beautiful and wise guru––Slyme seduced and fucked his wife and after that he had the audacity to tell Scott that he held the highest respect for him.
At 5:35am Katie was jolted awake by a screaming woman, and then she noticed that Scott was asleep in bed. The screaming got louder and Scott woke up. They both dressed and ran outside. The screams had come from the hot spring. When they got there a dozen others were standing around the spring. There, in the semi-darkness of dawn, a body face was down in the rocky, shallow creek that fed the hot spring. Blood spilled from where the forehead was caved in, like a melon bashed with a hammer, and then they realized it was Guru Slyme––apparently, he had slipped and struck his head on a rock.
A couple of hours later the ashram had turned into an investigation scene by the Sherriff’s Department. No one was allowed to leave. All fifty attendees would need to be questioned before they could go home.
Then, the investigation took an unexpected turn. Forensics had determined that the rock lying under Slyme’s forehead was placed there from somewhere else. The accident was now a possible homicide. When investigators had found the spot from where the rock was removed and brought to the hot spring, the rock was now a possible murder weapon.
After hours of interviewing the other attendees the police finally brought Finley Scott into the ashram’s office for questioning. He was anxious. More so than the others. The police has run a background check on him through the authorities in Bristol, which led to the suicide of his wife and to the note that revealed her affair with Slyme. Along with Kara Spring’s statement that she had heard Scott threaten Slyme with wanting to bust his head open, Scott was now the prime suspect. He had motive. But it was Katie’s statement, saying that he was not in bed at 4:30am, that led the to his arrest. Katie was distraught; she only wanted to tell the truth.
When the police handcuffed Scott and had put in the squad car, for transporting to Santa Cruz county jail, Kara Springs fell to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably, while she called out a name over and over again, “Ashely. Oh, Ashely. My baby, Ashely. My darling, Ashely” ––five years ago, at one of his L.A. retreats, Guru Slyme had raped Kara’s twenty-three-year-old daughter, Ashley, but there were no hard facts to charge Slyme with the rape. He had walked out of courthouse with his head held high and with a smirk from ear to ear across on his face.
As the years went on, Ashley decayed into alcohol abuse and depression, and then killed herself two years ago.
Kara Springs confessed to the premeditated murder of Guru Bicroom Slyme. She said that she had no remorse for taking his life and would happily do it again, ‘for all of the women in the world’, and that she could have lived in peace for the rest of her days for killing “that depraved guru”, but she said couldn’t live with having an innocent man sent to prison for her crime.
While sitting handcuffed in a squad car, and with sharp darkness coming from Kara’s eyes, like knife blades sticking out of them, she said, in an eerie, ragged voice, “He’s a good guru. A good guru now.”
by 
DAH
Dah was in Berlin in 1989––when the wall came down. One of my most spellbinding moments was meeting and talking with the writer William Burroughs, in San Francisco in 1981.
A multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The WEB nominee, my stories have appeared in Drinkers Only Magazine, Otoliths Literary Journal, Erotic Review, Literary Yard, Close To The Bone Magazine, The World Of Myth Magazine, Alien Buddha Zine, Writers Club e-Zine, and in Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Anthology. His first hard-boiled crime noir novel Double On The Murder was published by Close To The Bone Press in 2026. Kirkus Rreview called it 'a page turner'. He is working on the manuscript for his second crime noir novel while simultaneously working on his first collection of short crime fiction. Website: www.dahlusion.wordpress.com.
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