The Hambledown Dream

by Dean Mayes

  “Whatever you’ve been taking must’ve had an effect on the boss,” Samantha said in a Southern accent. “Take a break and have a bite.”

  Andy wiped his hands with a towel and tossed it to Samantha.

  “Hospital appears to agree with you, huh? Although I wouldn’t go around fixing anybody with that flat stare of yours - those baby browns are looking a little too bloodshot just now.” She pointed casually at his eyes.

  Andy quickly glanced in the mirrored panel beside him. His eyes were indeed puffy, the whites lined with red veins.

  “You know, I’ll bet your eyes are just full of useful information about what you got up to the other night.”

  Andy flashed her an angry scowl as he sat down to his meal.

  Samantha had a penchant for alternative therapies. She was taking some sort of class for iridology in particular, and was constantly trying out her new techniques on her colleagues in The Public House. Andy, however, was in no mood for her quackery right now. His scowl intensified.

  “Whoa!” Samantha said, throwing her hands up, mock-defensively. She leaned in close to him. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know - none of them do. But you had better thank Beck and me for covering your ass for you - especially yesterday. The old man thinks you were actually home ill.”

  Andy’s tensed shoulders relaxed and he glanced across at her but said nothing.

  Samantha folded her arms over and appraised him, searching for a change of subject.

  “So what is going on with you today? You’re making me look bad.”

  Andy shrugged.

  “Nothing’s going on. I’m just - I dunno - feeling motivated.”

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed, then she cocked her head slightly to one side.

  “You nearly bought it the other night, didn’t you?”

  Andy chewed nervously on his food. He didn’t respond, nor did he look up. Samantha could tell by the discreet twitch of his shoulder that she had hit the mark.

  “That’s it!” she crowed, trying to keep her voice down but attracting the attention of a few of the patrons.

  “Look, can you just fucking drop it!” Andy snapped under his breath, his fork and knife clattering noisily on the plate in front of him. This time, when his glare drilled into her eyes, she saw something there that chilled her.

  Immediately Samantha backed away and let him finish his meal in silence.

  Andy regretted having snapped at Samantha so harshly. Though he would never admit it, he liked Samantha. She brightened up the smoke-filled bar.

  Checking his watch, he gave the plate to one of the kitchen hands as they went past. He sighed, realizing he only had a couple of hours to go. He returned to his duties quietly and studiously.

  Gideon sidled up to Samantha.

  “So. Did you manage to find out what’s up with the kid?”

  Samantha shrugged without looking at Gideon. He could see she was uncomfortable with the question.

  “I dunno. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  Gideon regarded her curiously, then shook his head before turning away.

  “I think I liked him better when he was a lazy shit,” he snapped as he left the bar.

  The door to the front bar opened then, and a group of five young men entered, led by a particularly vicious-looking Latino. Despite the darkened interior of the bar, most of these new arrivals were wearing sunglasses and none of them made any move to remove them. Sporting slicked-back hair and expensive street clothing, including the bejeweled Stetson he held, the leader regarded the patrons absently, chewing gum before he spied Andy behind the bar. His companions were dressed similarly and appeared almost as menacing.

  Andy felt their presence even before he looked up in their direction.

  It was Vasq.

  Emilio Vasq - smalltime crime-lord wannabe and self-styled stand-over man - approached Andy with theatrically outstretched arms as if to embrace him.

  “Devvvvv - my friend! How are you feeling tonight?”

  Andy’s expression set like stone as Vasq’s menacing tone chilled him. He did not know where to look. The patrons in the bar, attracted by Vasq’s loud voice, all turned in the direction of the bar, studying Andy and the others with interest.

  “What are you doing here, Vasq?” Andy said quietly.

  “Awww, no reason, dawg. I wanted to be sure that you were feeling better, you know. After all, the word was that you were pretty close to the edge.”

  Vasq and his posse spread out along the bar.

  “Look, guys, how about a drink?” Samantha ventured, sensing that this situation was rapidly becoming tense. Andy immediately brushed her away.

  “These guys don’t want anything to drink.”

  He set his bar towel down on the counter and moved past her.

  “Cover for me.”

  Vasq watched Andy slip through the far end of the counter and go immediately to the side entrance that led out onto the street. He disappeared through it, forcing Vasq - after several moments - to follow him.

  It was chilly on the sidewalk, but Andy ignored it, pacing back and forth as Vasq and his crew emptied out from inside the bar. The sun was disappearing rapidly behind the L track nearby. His breath was visible in the cool evening air.

  “I’m very concerned about what I’ve been hearing, Dev. You were visited by the police down in the city.”

  “That’s true,” Andy said cautiously. “But you haven’t had any blue-and-white visitors to your door since the weekend, have you?”

  Andy didn’t know that for sure, of course, but the mere fact that they were standing here now was enough of an indicator for him to push forward with his supposition.

  Vasq grinned broadly, his eyes narrowing as he nodded approvingly.

  Andy’s gone and grown a set, Vasq thought amusedly.

  “True, true. But I...,”

  “I said nothing, Emilio,” Andy cut him off brusquely. “They kept at me ... but I didn’t say anything.”

  Vasq approached Andy then, arrogantly stepping into his personal space and eyeballing him intensely. He often did that with his subordinates.

  “It’s got me worried. You see, I can’t afford to have a marked associate. Yet no one would deny that you are my best courier. You can appreciate my dilemma.”

  Andy stood fast and eyeballed Vasq - something he’d never done before. As had happened with Samantha earlier, something within those eyes unsettled Vasq, knocked him off center. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; he stood back and stopped chewing his gum.

  “There is no dilemma, Vasq,” Andy said, his voice quivering upon the edge of breaking. “I have to go.”

  Abruptly, Andy turned on his heel and went back inside the bar, leaving Vasq standing there. One of his companions stepped forward.

  “Man, are you just gonna let him go like that?”

  Vasq said nothing. A dark cloud settled over him and he began chewing his gum again, angrily. He turned away from the others and walked off down the street.

  ***

  Andy unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside. Blue light from the living room bathed the entrance hall. The sound of a cheering crowd emanating from the TV told him right away that Beck must be home. Sure enough, as he appeared in the entrance to the living room, there was Beck lounging in a Cubs shirt and boxers, balancing a bowl of Chinese noodles on his belly and a beer on the edge of the couch. The game was on.

  Beck was tall and solidly built. He had a rugged visage that resembled a bulldog, with big eyes, a misshapen nose and a warm smile. Curiously, one of his most striking features was a set of almost perfect teeth. He was completely bald, having shaved his thinning hair as close to the skin as possible. Beck worked as a laborer on a construction site and, unlike Andy, had a work ethic worth its weight in gold.

  “Hey man,” he greeted cheerily through a mouthful of noodles. Beck struggled off the couch, spilling his beer as he did so. “Where you been at? I tried calling ya, but your cell was off aga
in.”

  “Pub,” Andy grumbled, taking off his cap and jacket.

  Beck appeared genuinely surprised.

  “Fuck, man, what are you doing working after being in hospital? You don’t work even when you are functioning normally.”

  Andy wanted to be angry right then, but, of all the people who’d made some sort of jibe today, only Beck’s carried no malice with it. And of all the people who’d stayed away over the weekend, only Beck had called regularly to check to see if Andy was OK. A fistful of message slips were still in the pocket of the ruined shirt he’d discarded earlier.

  Andy settled upon a wan smile as Beck slapped his shoulder gently.

  “Thank god you’re all right. I thought this was it, this time - you know?”

  Beck turned his head towards the TV and gestured with his head towards it.

  “I’d ask you to watch the game, man, but ... ahhh...”

  He hesitated a moment before gesturing with a nod towards Andy’s room.

  “You got company.”

  Andy winced.

  “She’s still here?”

  Beck chuckled under his breath.

  “Man, you better do somethin’ with her quick. I thought she was gonna jump my bones at one point.”

  “Oh, man, she is the last person I wanna see right now. I just want to go to bed.”

  Beck took a swig of his beer and flashed Andy a mischievous grin.

  “Well, I’m just gonna turn the game up loud and try not to get hard listening to you two fuck, OK?”

  Andy scowled - but only half-seriously.

  “Fuck you, man.”

  “Not likely, asshole.”

  Beck turned away from Andy, mockingly grabbing his own crotch as he plunked down again and went back to watching the game.

  Though he thought he had little desire for it, by the time Andy stepped into his darkened room and saw her lying there in the half-light, his erection pressed firmly against the inside of his jeans. He supposed it was the fishnets that did it. He had a thing for her legs and feet, and the fishnet stockings she wore tipped him over every time. She was topless, except for the necklace and Gothic cross she wore. Her breasts were milky and smooth, her nipples erect.

  The room was thick with marijuana smoke. Music issued softly from the laptop on the desk. She was smoking a joint, the smoke trailing up and catching the light from the laptop.

  Cassie watched him as he stepped forward into the room and stood at the end of the bed. A smile tugged at her lips. She lifted her foot, placing it on his erection then moved it slowly back and forth. She offered him her joint. He hesitated, then took it, drawing back deeply, feeling the cannabis infuse through his lungs and into his body. The effect was almost immediate.

  Andy closed his eyes and sighed at the sensation of her foot on his erection. Slowly he undid the button of his jeans, unzipped them and allowed them to drop to the floor, revealing his hardened cock. Taking it in both her feet she played with him for a while, expertly stroking his shaft while she massaged her breasts. Cassie slid one foot up over his chest and towards his mouth, pushing against his lips with her toes until they parted and he began sucking and licking her toes and the underside of her fishnetted sole. She licked her lips.

  In his mind’s eye, cast in shades of gray, he could see another body, a woman’s body glistening with droplets of water. Her flat stomach, delicate navel, shapely hips. A man’s arm - his arm - and outstretched hand moved slowly across her, his fingers touched her skin gently, stroking across her one way, then the other before moving down ... down...

  Overcome by the waves of desire, Andy knelt on the bed as Cassie rolled over onto her haunches and crawled on fours towards him. She began licking and biting roughly at his belly, growling playfully. She stroked the insides of his thighs with her slender nails, digging into his skin, drawing blood. He shivered, but did not move away. She licked at the droplets of blood before cupping his genitals in her hands, taking his shaft in her mouth sucking him urgently, wantonly. He became more aroused as he looked down on her back, the elaborate tattoo of the dragon that extended across both shoulder blades.

  Two mouths meet - a man and a woman’s. Their lips part, tongues touch each other gently, lovingly, then passionately. They envelop each other in a lingering kiss. The lips are familiar. The taste is slightly salty, like the sea. He feels a breeze nearby. His hand explores her slowly, gently. He cups her delicate breast in his hand. His thumb slowly brushes her nipple. Her body reacts immediately...

  Andy reached out and ran his fingers roughly down along the length of her slender spine, past her fishnets, down between her buttocks and further until he found her wetness. He rubbed his fingers over her swollen clitoris and her whole body shivered as he masturbated her eagerly. He penetrated deep inside her, feeling the walls of her vagina. Cassie gnashed her teeth together, feeling the waves of pleasure engulf her. She was throbbing with desire for him. Lifting her free hand up to his chest she ran her fingers down it, scratching at his skin with her nails. Waves of pain rippled through him, exciting him more. She withdrew him from her mouth and turned her body around so that he could have her from behind. He was drunk with an animal desire. Roughly peeling down her denim shorts and fishnets in one swift action Andy parted her buttocks. Feeling for her vagina with the head of his penis, he pushed deep inside her angrily, firmly. Cassie squealed with ecstasy as he fucked her deeply; she brushed her fingers against her swollen clitoris with each movement. Their bodies were bathed in sweat. The air in the room was stifling, but it only excited them more. She buried her head in the pillow before her, overcome with each penetration, moaning with desire.

  Two bodies, entwined together, move rhythmically, synchronously under a silk sheet. Her gentle moan echoes in his mind as he makes love to her. His head is buried in her neck and she gently kisses his forehead. Slowly, he looks up at her ... at her slender lips, up ... at her porcelain cheekbones, up ... into her eyes. Perfect jewels, deep blue ... a world within a world...

  Andy’s eyes went wide as the single image of the woman’s eyes lingered in his consciousness.

  Who is she?

  The question echoed silently in his mind, through the fever of his arousal.

  He grabbed Cassie’s hips in his hands and pushed deeper, feeling the climax building. Reflexively, he grabbed the back of her hair, pulling her up. Cassie ground her hips against him harder and harder, licking her lips and grinning maniacally. He held her around her neck, his grip tightening as the waves of orgasm approached, and then his breath was sucked from his lungs as he exploded into her. He let out a guttural moan. Simultaneously Cassie felt her whole body spasm, her vaginal muscles rippled, her clitoris throbbed so hard it took her breath away. She felt a satisfying gush within her as every single muscle fibre let go, and together they collapsed on the bed, bathed in sweat, bathed in smoke from the marijuana, totally and utterly spent.

  In the darkness of the room, Andy gazed at the ceiling. The image of those eyes remained, those that had eluded him in the visions that had come to him.

  Who was this stranger who was visiting his subconscious?

  Was she a stranger?

  CHAPTER 5

  Andy sprinted across the lawn of the university fairly gasping for breath. He was horribly late and he knew it, but still he ran in some vain hope that it would make a difference. He gripped the unwieldy guitar case in his left hand, occasionally bumping it against his legs, cursing himself every time he did so.

  This was the Conservatory where Andy studied classical guitar under the tutelage of some of the finest practitioners of the art in Chicago, if not the country. The guitar was the one thing of value to Andy. His talent had been discovered early by his grandmother, of all people. She had nurtured his gift, encouraging him and paying for lessons she could barely afford. Andy had been admitted to this institution on a scholarship, having continued to display a prodigious talent for the instrument during his senior years at high school. For someone con
sidered underprivileged, Andy’s talent was described as a revelation. He had been encouraged to go as far as he could with his gift.

  But, as with other facets of his life right now, Andy’s place at the Conservatory was under threat. Because of the overdose he had missed a crucial exam. It wasn’t the first time. He’d missed exams and important tutorial sessions in the past for similar infractions. One too many hours at the raves, one too many drinks, one too many illicit substances.

  As he ran, Andy was mentally working through possible scenarios to bullshit his way out of this mess. Though he knew the situation was dire, he deluded himself into thinking he would be able to sweet-talk his way out. His instructor, Veldtman, would be fuming.

  He leapt up a flight of stairs, but the painful twinge of a stitch tugged ferociously at his lower right side and he had to stop.

  Andy was a mess.

  Because he was late, he hadn’t showered this morning. He reeked of stale marijuana smoke and sex. His hair was greasy, his face was a mess of acne and what he thought was a developing cold sore. His clothes were the same ones he had worn yesterday - rumpled and in dire need of laundering. As he approached the doors to the lecture theater, he pulled his cap down a little further and checked his underarms. The cheap deodorant was simply that - cheap. It couldn’t disguise his wretched body odor.

  As he snapped open the door and stepped inside, he was confronted by a welcoming darkness. The class was in the middle of watching a documentary film. Andy found an empty line of seats at the very back of the amphitheater and huddled there, praying that she hadn’t noticed him but knowing that she had.

  Sorrel Veldtman, diminutive and somewhat earth-motherish, had been Andy’s lecturer and tutor for the past two years. She was one of the few people he held in any regard. Veldtman had been a master of the classical guitar for more than 40 years, having brought her talent from a coastal village near Tel Aviv to the concert halls of both New York and Chicago. It was rumored that she had recorded with Jose Feliciano, though Andy had never been able to confirm this. Veldtman was a master of flamenco, a discipline Andy himself aspired to. She was noted for her loud head scarves and her deeply lined face that was harsh yet quite stunning.