Group Hex Vol 1

by Andrew Robertson

  Her long lean legs shimmered in the moonlight that filtered through shredded curtains. The smooth lines of her femininity cast shadows and contours along one of the most perfect bodies he had ever seen in the flesh.

  He opened his eyes. His hands ached, his arms numb. His legs twitched but the shackles held him tight.

  How long had he been here?

  He shut his eyes. Clear mason jars with punctured lids were filled with beetles that scrambled over each other in quest for escape. A clover field filled with lazy bees laden with pollen flew from purple flower to purple flower. Her lips. The woods. His bike bouncing along large rocks in the road. Wobbling. Sliding.

  A hazy glimpse of a door. Of a number. Wood chipped and rotted. 367.

  A woman’s laugh broke through the buzzing.

  He opened his eyes and stared at the door.

  Would it say 367 on the other side?

  Had day and night and then day flipped by yet again?

  He opened his swollen eyes and realized that his vision had decidedly blurred since his last awakening.

  A sharp jolt of pain shot along his neck as he turned his head to study what was on the dresser.

  Sunlight beaming into the mirror cast glancing twinkles that hurt his eyes as he squinted. Nothing unusual as far as hotel dressers went. Vanity bags overstuffed with the magical hope of beauty interspersed with several bottles of booze and half-filled glasses.

  He was pulled back into the darkness, the cold metal of the cuffs cutting into his wrists. Hands roughly caressed him, ran along his torso. Two hands. More hands. Lips pressed against his. He couldn’t open his eyes to see as his shackled hands were guided to one set of breasts and then another.

  A perfumed woman with long legs straddled him and filled herself up with his generosity. Another pressed her soft musky scent against his face. For the first time he realized he wore a ball gag.

  Whispers and giggles brushed through the darkness, meaning elusive as his body trembled with fear and pleasure. The musty odor of the room permeated his senses, overriding the scented flesh moaning around him.

  Warmth spread through him, lulling his panic into exhausted slumber.

  Daniel burst awake. He was in his own bed in his own house. He stared around the bedroom and sighed. He held his hands up before his eyes. No shackles.

  It had only been a dream. An endless sweaty dream within a dream nightmare.

  He rubbed his wrists as memories of the handcuffs ebbed away. He still ached but figured that all the training he’d been doing was catching up with him. He saw the clock flashing, and he hit the button but the 12:00 blinked as if in defiance.

  Maybe the power had gone out while he slept. He sat up and a wave of dizziness ebbed through him. Shaking his head, flashes of being beaten returned. He looked down at his naked body and saw very faint bruises.

  Had it been a dream?

  He climbed out of bed, stiff, and achy and headed for the bathroom. While he relieved himself, he stared at the lean taut man in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. There was indeed faint bruising along his chest and legs. Even along his arms below the collage of colourful tattoos were light red scratches.

  He couldn’t shake the grogginess as he rubbed his wrists and examined his thighs.

  He didn’t remember doing anything but spending the day before working out and then curling up in bed with his wife, Addy.

  He leaned into the mirror over the sink and studied his face. His brown eyes were large and dark, haunted even. Were those shadows of bruising along his angular cheekbones and below his chin? Touching the marks, he winced. Flashes of hands and mouths and hair invaded his memory in a disjointed blur. He could almost smell musky perfume if it weren’t for the chemical taste in his mouth.

  He brushed his teeth and gargled and the foul taste was gone.

  He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping into the tub.

  The spray was hot and welcoming as he puzzled over the realism of his dreams and the faded marks on his body. The water beat as sharp as hail against him. As he pulled back the shower curtain, he was startled to see Addy standing there in front of him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she reached for his arm. Her touch was cold and firm. He looked into her face. Nothing. Her mouth, her forehead…all was a blank slate. Her normally vibrant blue eyes were dark as she stared at him. Dark when she was angry. Dark when she was worried. Dark when something just wasn’t right.

  “Taking a shower. What else?” he asked as he leaned towards her to kiss her cheek. She turned her head away.

  “You were gone again.” She sighed.

  “Gone?”

  “Yes, gone. You know you were.”

  Daniel squinted at Addy to see if she was kidding. Her face was too angry for games.

  “Where did I go?” he asked.

  “Off on your bike. Like always.” She planted her hands on hips and walked out of the room. Daniel plucked a towel from the rack and rubbed himself down, hop skipping as he followed her. She sat heavily on the bed.

  “So, who is it?” she finally whispered.

  “Who?” Daniel asked in surprise. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  Addy took a deep breath and stared into his eyes.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It was obvious you were in no shape for anything.”

  She patted the bed and he sat down. Her apparent fury seemed to contradict her next words.

  “You had an accident and you’ve been out for a while.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Don’t you remember? Your bike careened from the trail and you fell down that little cliff in the park.”

  Daniel thought for a moment. Rocks and skidding. Maybe he had tumbled.

  “I did?”

  “You banged yourself up pretty good. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days.”

  Daniel blinked and fought to reach back into his memory but it was a jumbled confusion of sex and flashing lights and buzzing.

  “I have?”

  Panic flooded through Daniel as he stood up.

  “What day is it?” He raced into the living room and found the remote. He clicked the tv to the programming guide. The date and time flashed in the corner of the panel.

  “No!” he cried out. “Oh no!” He held his head and paced around, his breath coming in quick spurts as he circled.

  “What?” Addy said as she walked past him into the kitchen. He continued to pace until she returned with coffee. She held a cup out to him. He stared at her offering then turned his focus back to the TV.

  “You realize the meet is in three days,” he said, sipping the coffee.

  “Yes, but you can’t do it. You’re too ill,” she said softly, looking at him with a coy smile. Daniel narrowed his eyes.

  “Why are you like that? Why do you think it’s funny that I lost three days of training?”

  “I don’t, but that’s what happens.”

  “What happens?”

  “When you cheat on your wife.”

  Daniel took a deep breath and pursed his lips. His heart pounded and he spoke firmly.

  “I didn’t cheat. When did I cheat? I didn’t even do anything yesterday or whenever the fuck it was except train. This is a big event you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I can win a lot of money,” he said. “Don’t you want me to win the money?”

  Addy tilted her head cockily at him.

  “Ah, but you have competition,” she smirked. Daniel curled his hand into a fist.

  “Everyone is competition and I’m not afraid. Godammit.”

  He drained his coffee cup and marched back up to the bedroom.

  “So fucking what if Bill Simpson won the last two meets,” he shouted. “I’m always right up his ass. I was champion for five years before that son of a bitch.”

  “And now you’ve met your competition!” Addy said as she trai
led after him.

  “Of course. Keeps us young. Keeps everyone on their best game.” Daniel laughed sarcastically. He flung open his dresser drawer and pulled on his yellow, orange, and black biking outfit.

  “You’re sick.” She said firmly watching him dress. “Something is very wrong with you.”

  “So if I’m so sick, why am I not in a hospital? You let me sleep three days before an event?”

  “They thought you’d get more rest at home. In case the fans…”

  Daniel laughed.

  “Fans?”

  “Groupies. You know…”

  “Yeah, right,” Daniel chuckled. “Maybe the big guys have fans.”

  “Maybe all you sports guys. Fucking chick magnets.” She scowled.

  “Excuse me?” he stared at her, his brown eyes large and sad. The conversation was always the same. Always. Every time. One digression before they had even married and he had been paying for it ever since.

  She started to speak again but then refrained. She tightened her lips as he left the room. Daniel found his runners by the front door and kneeled over to put them on. She followed him, hovering over his back like a vulture.

  “Daniel. You can’t do it. What if you pass out again?”

  “I need to train,” he firmly said as he stood up.

  “She was here,” Addy said.

  “Who?” Daniel stopped and stared at Addy.

  “That whore you fucked that time,” she said, spitting the words out.

  “No. She didn’t.” Daniel’s heart pounded rapidly. The dreams. Were they real? But he didn’t remember even talking to her. He stared at Addy as he sorted through his memories.

  “I told you at the time, never cheat, it’s not worth it. The crazies.”

  He shook his head.

  “No. No. No,” he said. “How long have we been together? Six years and three months. I cheated once in a true moment of weakness early on. I’ve been paying for it ever since.” He reached towards her, trying to touch her face. She recoiled from him. “I love you, Addy.”

  “You love your damn competitions more. When did it go from being a hobby to way of life?” she demanded.

  “When I started to win.” Daniel shrugged and opened the front door. “We can talk later.”

  Soon he was biking down the city streets, his mind racing once more. Every inch of his body felt run over by a truck. The breeze whistled through his helmet and he focused on the entrance to the park ahead.

  As he coursed along the bike trails, through the wooded pathways, he thought of Addy. He thought of that other woman, Vivian. His one mistake.

  He was handcuffed to the bed and she gyrated on top of him, her long blond curls bouncing as she laughed. He thrust into her, every pleasurable inch bringing guilt about Addy. Yet Vivian was so tight and moist and just different. Maybe it was her long lean torso and slender hips that created the difference tightly squeezed around him. Maybe it was the way her enormous breasts bobbed just over his head, giving him a pleasurable view of large firm nipples. He yearned to suckle her breasts and flick those juicy nipples with his tongue. But the ball gag prevented it and again, he was shackled from wrist to ankles.

  She arched her back, pushing against him as her fingers clasped his shins. She cried out with a moan as he continued to thrust. She sighed and her thighs trembled. Then she pulled herself up and over until her face was nearly touching his.

  “Fuck me, Daniel. Come on,” she breathed as she stared into his eyes, working herself up into another frenzy on him. He willingly complied and let sensation fill him.

  Then the trees were in front of him and he had to sharply turn the wheel to keep from hitting a log by the side of the path. He was thrown slightly off balance but righted himself up again. A wave of dizziness filled him and he realized he had forgotten to bring water. He pumped his legs harder.

  “Don’t get carried away this time.” A voice whispered in the darkness of his memory. “We don’t have enough time.”

  Daniel shook his head. Thirsty. Just thirst. Thirst consumed him.

  Daniel peddled harder and then glided down a hill. He stared over at an immense pond. He had passed it a million times over the years yet he was always drawn to it. And besides, there was a bench and a water fountain at the edge of it.

  He hopped off of his bike and leaned it against the bench. Then he greedily slurped the warm water from the fountain.

  When he was quenched, he wandered over to the bench and sat on it. The pond sprawled as far as he could see, a giant patchwork of water lilies and algae.

  We’re almost out. We’re going to have to use less.

  In the distance, children were playing on the swings and slides. A constant droning buzzing sound, perhaps a hive of nearby bees, added a backbeat to the sticky damp heat of the day.

  A frog splashed into the water, or perhaps it was a fish jumping or even a beaver. Several large black birds circled overhead, cawing as they swooped ever closer towards him.

  Daniel stared into the pond. So many strange things.

  The buzzing grew louder. The frantic, horny screams of a cicada? A swarm of angry bees?

  He stood up, dizziness overwhelming him and leaned on the bench for support.

  He has a fetish for handcuffs.

  Good thing.

  He opened his eyes and she wasn’t there. In fact, the dingy hotel room looked slightly different and perhaps it was a different room. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. Yet the buzz of the neon sign was the same.

  His shackles held him too firm to do much more than raise his head and look at his body. There were no marks. No blood. Nothing showed in the blinking red glare of the neon sign as it lazily buzzed and flashed.

  His face was close to the glass side of his favorite bee container in his insect room. Their bodies undulated as they burrowed up and down through the honeycomb. He loved fresh honey and honeycomb and kept the bees for that very reason. Plus, the honey gave him energy to perform in the triathlon. The constant drone of their vibrations soothed him as he spent hours watching them, often while pumping his hand weights.

  Their constant drone, the neon sign, they melted together in his mind. His mouth watered for honey. He opened the drawer in the counter cabinet that held his insect collections and pulled out a spoon from a drawer of many. He unscrewed one of the jars of honey and scooped the spoon in. He tipped his head back and let the honey slide along his teeth and tongue, savouring the thick sweetness.

  He blinked and looked around. His head swam and he realized that he was naked. He stared around for a robe or t-shirt but his workshop was the same as always. The area was neat and orderly with containers housing a variety of insects that he had plucked out of the nearby park to study for his own amusement.

  His bees were fine. Their constant drone reassured him they hadn’t been harmed. They would survive.

  He sighed, wondering about his bees, as he tried to edge his body around to ease the pain of the shackles. The crumbling stucco ceiling above him didn’t do much to inspire his confidence that things were going to end well. He cried out, or at least tried, until he realised that the pressure around his head was the unrelenting ball gag.

  He was poised at the starting line, straddling his bike, his vision focused far down the track, scanning it for obstacles, searching for a finish line that he’d never see. The starting gun fired and he began to peddle. He started off fantastic, the crowds waving at him as he passed by them in a blur.

  Focus

  He likes handcuffs.

  Cheater.

  He shook his head and ignored the thoughts; breath and peddling, man and machine. All he could do was focus on the world ahead of him. A world where there was no confusion. Where life made sense.

  Some of his fellow racers passed him. Others lagged behind. Steadily he peddled.

  He was doing well. If only he didn’t feel so ill lately. But it had to have been the stress of all the training. Each day blended into the next. He could bare
ly remember waking up that morning for the race. The strange dreams that had plagued him so horribly for the past few weeks continued to haunt him.

  Sultry perfumed flesh straddled his torso. Soft folds of velvet brushed against his face.

  He pushed the image aside and peddled faster.

  He likes hands cuffs.

  Shhh.

  He’ll never know.

  He cut through the water, strong arms pulling him forward, legs kicking with firm determination. His breath rang in his ears every time he broke the surface.

  The murmur of spectators and echoes of the announcer throbbed through the water, the vibrations wrapping around him and spurring him on. He sensed the swimmer on the right bearing down on him and he pushed himself harder.

  It’s time to say good-bye, Vivian.

  The throaty woman’s voice startled him awake.

  Addy.

  He opened his eyes, strung up in the handcuffs. The ball gag was in his mouth and what he saw made him quickly close his eyes once more to feign sleep.

  Addy was in her lingerie and stood by the bed, a gun pointed at Vivian who stood fully naked. Daniel squinted. The women were turned away from him as he attempted to watch, grateful for his long lashes.

  “What are you doing?” Vivian’s voice was tinged with panic.

  “Your job is done,” Addy said. “And now, so are you.”

  “Addy? I thought you loved me?”

  “Love you? You cheated with my husband. Why do you think I’d love you? I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long...”

  “I don’t understand...”

  “Before he cheated, I was so trusting of him. I adored him. And that night with you broke something inside of me I’ve never found again.”

  Daniel jumped as the gun went off. He squeezed his eyes tight as he heard the thump of Vivian’s body hit the floor.

  Addy’s hands were on him, fingers prying the ball gag out of his mouth as the other unbuckled the leather straps. She tossed the ball gag over to the dresser and leaned over for one of the liquor bottles.

  Daniel coughed on his phlegm. Before he could get any sounds out, she had him by the throat, tipping his mouth up as she poured booze into it.

  His eyes burned with tears as the warm scotch ripped down his throat, creating a fiery pit in his stomach. The scotch spilled sloppily everywhere and while he choked, she tossed the bottle across the room where it smashed and shattered to the floor.