Adventures in Sugarland

by M J Marstens

  My mouth flaps open a couple of times and I probably look like a stupid fish, but what do I even say to this nonsense? Finally, I settle on something simple:

  “My name is Wynn Gealan, not White.”

  I don’t point out that my name Welsh actually does mean ‘white maiden’???. It’s like my parents needed to label my albinism.

  Mr. Red gives a wicked smile, while slowly appraising me from head to toe.

  “You look white to me,” he says in a heated voice that grates against nerves and causes my sex to clench in need.

  I scowl.

  I don’t like it when people make fun of me for my coloring.

  Or rather, for my lack of coloring.

  And besides, my dress is colorful enough. I sweep a hand to indicate this and look down, but instead of seeing the rich ombré pattern, I see nothing but white. Then I remember seeing those snippets of color while falling and wonder if the trip down stripped my dress of its pigmentation.

  Which wouldn’t be the worst thing.

  No, the worst thing is being clothed in a white dress that’s sopping wet from the rainstorm and totally see-through, displaying my body for all to see.

  No wonder Mr. Red looks ready to combust.

  I can only imagine the erotic tableau I make for their eyes.

  Even my undergarments lack color and only their lacey texture shields my most private areas from the men’s prying eyes.

  I clear my throat in a scolding manner, snapping three sets of eyes back to my face.

  “Gentlemen, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I have an interview I need to conduct. Can you please direct me back in the direction of Doolin, thank you.”

  Mr. Blue steps up and says in a deep, soothing voice, “Unfortunately, Mistress Gealan, you’re no longer in. . . Doolin, wherever that is. As Roux pointed out, you’ve heeded the call of the colors and are now in Rainbowland.”

  I snort at the ridiculous name.

  I might be an overgrown child, but Rainbowland sounds like a girls’ themed amusement park.

  That I totally want tickets to.

  Roux cocks his head to the side, taking in my reaction.

  “Why does that amuse you, Mistress Gealan?”

  “Sorry, it just sounds like a seven-year-old named this place.”

  “She did,” he says coolly.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said ‘she did’. Queen Rainbowheart the First named this land when she was a mere seven years young. For her, it signified the purity, innocence, and peace found inside a child’s heart and symbolized how she wanted this land to be.”

  My jaded criticism dries up and I feel embarrassed about my reaction. I have no reason to judge these people, especially given my own proclivity towards rainbows. The name is a beautiful reminder of what adults seem to forget but constantly yearn for: youth. And that’s exactly how I would describe my surroundings, youthful. Everywhere here is full of new growth and new life; Rainbowland is practically teeming with vivacity.

  Roux steps forward into my personal space, and I inhale his intoxicating scent. He smells like expensive cologne and sin. I might try to lick him to see if he tastes as good as he smells, but he holds up the handcuffs, reminding me that he has them. Up close, they glitter in the sun, and I realize they are completely made of crystal quartz.

  I reach to touch the shiny stone-carved cuffs and Roux freaking slaps them over my wrists!

  “What the feck- I mean fuck?!”

  “Tut, tut,” Mr. Yellow chimes, prowling towards me. “Such naughty words from such a pure-colored girl.”

  “I’ll show you how fucking pur-”

  Roux has stepped behind me and slips a large hand over my mouth to muffle my offensive words.

  “Are you saying you didn’t want me to handcuff you?” He whispers seductively in my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

  I shake my head in the negative, but Mr. Yellow looks on with a knowing grin.

  “Liar,” he taunts.

  I growl at the man and begin to thrash against Roux when Mr. Blue calls out:

  “Time to go. Now.”