by G J Stevens
“Okay,” she said, and I blinked at the unexpected answer. “It was wrong of me.”
“No. No. It wasn’t. I want to. Wow, I really do, but you’re married and I’m working. I work for you,” I said, stumbling over the words as my body urged every muscle to surge forward and take what I wanted; to dive in feet first and drink down her fruit.
She replied with a sweet smile. “I understand. I shouldn’t put you in this situation,” she said, her voice low and quiet.
She leant in. This time I kept my head turned away from hers, her breath dancing on my ear as she whispered.
“I’m here if you ever want to.”
I pulled back, snatching a peck on her lips and headed from the kitchen, grabbing the keys to the car as I left.
14
I took a right out of the estate, driving at speed past the supermarket and taking little notice of a stream of people heading from a coach into the diner.
On and on I drove, going further than I had before. Mile after mile of empty dry land passed on either side.
Eventually the fire burning within me flickered as it calmed and little by little I let my speed slow.
Before too long I pulled over on to the dirt, but as thoughts began to stir again, I turned the car around.
I was ready for home. Ready to pull on my running gear again and stamp out the rest of my pent-up energy.
Driving back past the diner, the car park around it stood empty apart from the coach I’d seen on the way through. The area around the supermarket was quiet, too, with only the odd car coming or going.
I rolled on at the speed limit for a steady ten minutes more before I felt the tyre go, the car rocking to the side. I manhandled the steering wheel to the right.
Letting the car stumble from the black top and into the dirt, I sat looking along the long stretch of empty road ahead, watching the white lines shimmering in the rising heat haze.
Minutes later, I don’t know how long for sure, I left the cool air, letting the heat roll over me. The rim of the wheel rested in the dirt, the tyre with a great split down the side.
Resting my palms on the heat of the roof, I leaned against the metal, staring as the road disappeared on the horizon; the direction of the house. The cloudless sky had barely a breath of wind and for the first time since I’d seen the tall chimney, black, not white smoke pulled high into the air.
Leaving my arms against the heat, I turned in the opposite direction at the sound of air brakes.
The coach from the diner slowed, eventually coming to a stop alongside. I looked along its length and stared for a moment at each face peering back.
The bright-eyed kids smiling in my direction lifted my mood, as did the women with questioning looks, men with their eyebrows raised. I saw an older child, a teenager, in body at least. She wore a head brace as she smiled wide in my direction with an older woman at her side, wiping dribble from the girl’s mouth.
The door of the coach soon swung out and an old man squinted out at me, shouting from the driver’s seat.
“Need a hand?” he said in a gruff, low voice which didn’t seem to match his smile.
“Thanks, but I think I can manage.”
He pushed his hand to his brow, closed the door and the coach moved off.
Within ten minutes I had the car jacked up, sweat beading on my brow as I leant my foot on the wheel brace. The first nut loosened and the brace clattered to the floor. As I stood up, arching my back, I watched as another coach coasted to a stop, this time from the opposite direction.
The window at the driver’s side lowered. I half expected it to be the same man. It wasn’t, but he gave the same offer.
I declined and he tipped his cap, moving the bus back to the road.
I watched the windows as they sailed past. Each empty, except for the last which had a single pair of eyes glaring in my direction.
In the fleeting view I could see a tall young man with a heavy build who didn’t want me looking at him. I watched the coach disappear into the distance, then had the new tyre fitted within another ten minutes.
15
Celina stayed out most of the day, arriving home with the children from school and acting as if the events of the morning had never happened.
More than grateful for her reaction, the week continued in the same vein with neither of us avoiding each other, but her advances had stopped; although I wasn’t altogether sure for how long.
The weekend came, and the family trooped off to pick out a dog. Lenart, bleary-eyed, made a point of cutting across Celina as she called an invite to the kitchen.
I was too busy, Lenart added, the place getting in a mess and he took great joy in pointing out the workload would only increase when their new hair-shedding family member joined us.
I wasn’t worried about the extra work. I wasn’t worried about the not going on the trip. The more time I had to myself, the better; the more time I had to think. To plan. To observe.
Although my manipulation of the situation had been getting results, I felt the process was taking too much time. Each day that went by I felt myself diving more into the detail of the family. The result meant I had to battle off their advances, harmless or not, and I wasn’t getting to understand the only snippet of interest from next door.
The space hidden between the study and the bedroom.
In the living room I sat in Lenart’s overstuffed leather chair facing the large TV in the corner, with the faces of the street’s residents rolling around in my head.
Celina. I’d already discounted her and with the latest insight I firmly relegated her out of contention.
Lenart. I hadn’t got into the detail of his life away from the house, but when home, he drank too much, not leaving the house enough to be of any interest. He could be a nine-to-five officer who went to work each day. In intelligence assessment maybe, or some support role, but either way not a risk to me. He also went against the only guidance I’d received which pointed across to the neighbours.
Still, I couldn’t fully put him to one side.
Lenara. She seemed like an average housewife, much more so than Celina. She feared her husband straying, but other than the interrogation she’d given, she took no interest in anything and I knew if she hadn’t had her condition she wouldn’t have taken the help from Alarica.
Frank. Now he was interesting. A doctor, but no longer practicing. Instead, he worked for a corporation in the pharmaceutical industry. He held a thread of interest, despite his charisma overflowing into everyone in his vicinity. He had my attention; so, too, did the room concealed in his study.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I found Alarica smiling in a short denim skirt and a bright pink vest top leaving little to the imagination as it gave maximum exposure to the sun baking at her back.
Now here stood an interesting character.
A typical early twenties woman. At least what I thought a typical profile would be like. The people I mixed with from an early age were not what you would describe as normal to most.
Alarica loved having an affair with the man of the house. To be honest, who could blame her when he looked like he did, exuding so much charm; if he could do what he’d done to me with one finger...?
I shut down the thought.
She dabbled in drugs, but was smart enough to keep herself safe and no doubt could handle most things thrown at her. She told lies well and could keep a secret. She could act as would be expected of her, putting up such a convincing front. She would say the right things at the right time. With a little training and self-defence lessons, she might even pass selection.
“Night club, next Saturday. You up for it?” she said as the door completed the arc.
My analysis vanished out of my thoughts.
“Ah, yeah,” I said, my eyelids batting away my hesitation. “Why not.”
“Great.”
“Who’s coming?” I replied.
“You and me. That enough?” she said, smiling
widely.
“Great.”
“Catch you later,” she said and with that she turned, almost skipping as she headed back to her house.
A club. I hadn’t been to one of those for a couple of years. The music had no doubt changed, but it would be nice to get away from this place and let my hair down.
I could feel a smile draw onto my lips. I stiffened them flat, but couldn’t hold them from turning back up.
I immediately thought of how I could avoid telling Celina too much of what we planned, in fear that she’d invite herself along. It was the last thing I’d want right now. Instead of a relaxing night with someone who I genuinely enjoyed the company of, I would constantly have to defend myself from her advances, or innuendo, intensifying with each serving of alcohol.
***
It wasn’t long before the family were back. No pup bounded out of the car, but their arms were full of supplies and a long list of stores needed next time I went to the shops, all ready for next week and the day when they would pick up the new member of the family.
I avoided any looks from Lenart and busied myself with the day until it was time for Alarica to call, but she didn’t. Instead, I called at the house to find it locked up, the dog gone too, if the lack of a barked reply from the doorbell was anything to go by.
Heading home whilst trying to put the question of why Alarica had mentioned nothing, I changed into my running gear before heading between the houses to sprint along the hard-baked mud path, savouring the cool air as I passed under the thick canopy.
I ran for ten minutes, letting my mind clear, focusing on the details of the path ahead and the trees either side whilst keeping my breath even so I could listen to the noises of the forest; the birds singing and the small creatures scurrying from each of my footfalls and other strange sounds which I couldn’t quite put my fingers on.
I ran on for another ten minutes before letting myself slow, stopping to lean against a tree to allow my breathing to calm. My head had cleared by this time, my thoughts turning to how the hell I’d get a look in the hidden room and see what was in there.
Could it just be a safe to keep the family jewels in?
If Frank could afford the house, then he could well have pots of money or gold he didn’t trust to the banks.
Could it be a deep wardrobe? But then why build it in a study at all? Why not extend the other way, widening the one in the bedroom?
Hadn’t they just had the whole place gutted and the inside rebuilt?
A sex dungeon? I’d read in some book I’d long forgotten the title of, but surely Alarica would know about it, either now or soon. She would have said something.
Perhaps something more mundane.
A room with CCTV monitors. Part of a comprehensive security system. Although I’d seen no sign of any camera, inside or out.
Perhaps it held computers, a server maybe? Locked away and sound-proofed, but then wouldn’t it need an air conditioner? The condenser obvious outside from some angle?
It wasn’t large enough to be a space to relax in and he had his study for that. It was too small for a gym and why keep it locked?
Maybe it housed some specialist equipment. Maybe he was a scuba diver or had some other unique hobby. Of course it could be a deep wardrobe and used for storage, the ornate doors just a way of hiding its mundane nature.
Realising my pace had slowed, my thoughts paused as I concentrated on a sound alien to the forest. A sound I knew, but was out of place.
About to run again I stopped as Alarica joined the path just a few steps in front, her cheeks flushed, her face a picture of alarm with her head flashing back from where she’d stepped from.
I followed her look but a thick tree obscured the sight, then watched her double take back to me, a grin appearing as she realised who’d startled her.
About to bound forward to ask what she was up to, I stopped as another leg stepped from behind the tree and on to the path.
Frank. Behind him, the dog bounded over, his lead held at Frank’s wrist. With red cheeks and tired eyes, Frank looked like he’d just been running too.
“Bloody shit ran off after a rabbit,” he blurted, turning to me with concern.
Alarica burst into laughter, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“What?” Frank replied with a nervous laugh.
“This is Catarina,” she replied. “Remember her? She’s that one. Rein,” she added, tipping her head in my direction.
“Oh yes,” Frank replied, his mouth beaming wide. “Sorry, Catarina, I didn’t recognise you without the dress.” He held his hand out, taking two steps forward.
I held my palm up. “I’m all sweaty,” I said.
“That doesn’t bother me,” he replied, taking my hand and kissing the back of my hand.
“Nice to see you both, but I better finish my run,” I said, and without giving a chance for reply I ran past them, catching a few words from Alarica before the distance built.
“I’ll ask her.”
16
I'm in a stranger’s room.
A strange room.
The moonlight is shining from the wrong place. That’s not my window.
My head hurts as I squint around.
Have they drugged me?
It’s a similar feeling, but not quite the same as I’ve felt before.
There's a SIG Sauer P226 on the side. Or a hairbrush and a comb at an unlucky angle.
I’m naked.
No. There’s a long t-shirt there, or a nightie. I don’t own a nightie.
I can see the white of my smalls discarded to the side of the bed. I'm not alone according to the soft snore at my side.
My throat is hoarse. I ache all over.
The night started out in the city. A cab ride for about an hour. A bar, another bar soon after.
Talking about everything and nothing with Alarica. Ally after last night and she calls me Rein, or Cat now.
It sounded best when she said it with her German accent. Clean. Pure. I don’t feel like that now.
We talked about the job, which she showed so much enthusiasm for.
No plans to move on in the immediate future. There’s talk of her joining Frank’s firm later on, when she’s ready for a more serious job.
She directed the same question to me.
I told her I wasn’t looking, but things always change. I didn’t want to be cleaning houses all my life. I have skills, I remember saying. She laughed in reply, then asked what skills I had.
I can’t remember my response, just a vague recollection I’d drawn the conversation back to her, over and again, veering from my backstory where the danger grew more real as each of the drinks flooded my brain.
I wished for the pills they’d mentioned in training to slow the effect of alcohol. But I’m alone; their stark reply reaffirming each time.
Four or five drinks in, I let loose. Egged on by her enthusiasm, matching her pace and she can drink.
Men formed up, strutting like peacocks, a queue stretching out till we moved on again.
The club. Some small place, famous in the area, but only by those in the know. Busy, but not packed. Loud, but still we could hear. Invited by a stranger to the VIP area where they left us alone.
She had me drink all sorts. Drinks of all colours. Smells and tastes I’d never seen.
I slowed several times only for her to speed me up as we slipped back into our flow.
She started with her challenge again, to get me to lose what I hadn't already; the conversation as clear as if it had been just moments ago. I repeated I wasn't in a rush.
I should be, she’d said. It would open my eyes. I told her for the first time about how I almost did with Celina. I told how much I'd wanted to, would have, if the situation had been different.
She said it wouldn’t matter; it’s different with a man. Not better, but different.
I told her I was happy to wait for the right one.
She turned to point around the sm
all area. “Which one?” she’d said, her finger outstretched to each man in turn.
“Not a stranger,” I’d said.
“Who then?” she asked, another drink in our hands, my laughter rising. “What about Frank?” she’d said, her eyebrows raised when I didn’t reply.
“He’s for someone else,” I said after a pause.
She smiled. “What if I didn’t mind?” she’d replied.
What if his wife did? I recalled not mentioning.
“Do you fancy him?” she asked.
I remember the long pause before my reply. “What’s not to like?”
“Then why not?”
“He probably wouldn’t even want to,” I replied, doing my best to stop the giggle.
She shot back, “He does. He asked me to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I replied, my smile beaming as I felt the nerves rise.
“That he wants you. He wants to fuck you. He told me.”
I’d sat back in the seat, staring at her. I remember the shock even though I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“He told you he wants to fuck me?” I said. I remember the slur in my voice.
“Yes, he wants to be your first,” she’d replied.
“You told him? How does that even come up?” I asked, almost shrieking, another full glass in my hand from nowhere.
She smiled and let the silence hang.
“And you don’t mind?” I’d asked.
“No,” she replied without pause. “My present to you.” Silence hung again between us, only the beat of the bass in the air.
“I’d be too nervous,” I said.
“Don’t be. You won’t be,” she said.
“Why?” I replied.
A smile grew on her face as she wet her lips with her tongue. “I’ll be there to hold your hand,” she said, letting her eyebrows rise and fall.
“You like to watch?” I said, my voice just above the pounding beat.
“More than watching,” she replied, leaning forward to let her breasts swell over the line of her low-cut dress.
I drew my gaze from the table line and took a deep breath, swallowing a large mouthful of champagne.
