She smiled gratitude, but it disappeared the instant he turned his back on her to resume his conversation.
The atmosphere was exhilarating.
There was so much potential around her; the place was teeming with males, most of which, she was confident, were seeking a mate, just like her.
She was determined.
She was going to show Adam that he was not the be-all and end-all of men, and that she could, and would, have anybody she wanted, whenever she wanted them.
And it hadn’t been but five minutes, before the slinky outline of her legs reeled in the first two would-be candidates, or boys as she saw them. They couldn’t have been long out of puberty.
They made a show of looking over her body and smiling at her. She made a show of smiling back, but she got bored very quickly.
It was flattering, but she wasn’t interested.
Adam may have been a few, alright, many years her junior, but he was different, he was much more mature than many men his age and certainly more mature than this motley duo.
It was as they approached her, and began to spout pathetic chat up diatribe, that she slid down from her perch and walked off, through the throng, towards the ladies, where, of course, there was a queue.
What was it with these places? It’s bad enough having to share a bloody toilet with the world and its crotch but being forced to stand in line for it is fucking ridiculous!
Nonetheless, Elisabeth waited as patiently as she could, which was no more than two minutes, and then, much to her displeasure, she noticed that she wasn’t standing in line at all! She had merely joined a clump of bimbos who could find no other place to converse, but in front of the convenience!
What is wrong with you fucking people?
The alcohol was mixing nicely in her stomach now, and the result of this fermentation was coursing through her veins, feeding her already intoxicated brain, where it continued to make her feel deliciously giddy.
With that, she shoved her way through the clutch of females, or prostitutes as her mind had dubbed them, to angry protestations, and made her way inside.
The room, stylised in blacks, greys and more urban graffiti, was heaving with girls reapplying makeup in front of drab stained basins, rearranging clothing and generally chit chatting about the evening’s events.
She paused to watch two girls, one of them with a pin through her eyebrow and a shaved head, tongue the other against the hand dryer.
She smiled, as she searched for a free cubicle, whilst considering the idea of a lesbian encounter, but dismissed it when she concluded that she enjoyed men too much.
If only they weren’t such bastards.
“Come on,” she chanted as she waited for a cubicle vacancy. Ideally, one furthest from these classless bitches, where she would have the opportunity to throw up in private, because she certainly had no intention of doing so in front of them.
But all of the doors remained firmly shut until, suddenly, one was relinquished, somewhat hastily, by a girl with spiky gelled hair, pink horns and a miserable face, made worse by lumpy smudged mascara.
She rushed out with her head bowed and a quivering bottom lip.
Elisabeth watched her scarper through the crowd, and was still half watching her when she pushed on the cubicle door, only to find that it was still occupied by a red-faced devil.
He was sitting on the toilet with a joint dangling from his lips while manoeuvring, with both hands, the backside of the scraggly blonde girl who was straddling him.
Elisabeth watched as the angel’s wings fluttered up and down in tandem with the bouncing motion of her body.
The devil paused momentarily to see who had opened the door. Satisfied it wasn’t who he expected it to be, he continued with the business in hand, soliciting more squeals of pleasure from his sexual companion.
Elisabeth apologised and then instantly felt foolish for doing so.
She turned away from the cubicle, awkwardly closing the door behind her.
It was then that, for the second time that evening, she felt eyes on her and her head snapped up; there he was, across the room, like a preacher among his disciples.
He was standing in the doorway, unmoving, in that same stoic way, oblivious to the girls pushing by him.
Elisabeth’s first reaction was to avert her gaze, but she couldn’t. She felt drawn to him just as she had outside. This, despite the fact that his face was obscured by the black hood of his coat.
She could just about discern a stubbly jaw, and, occasionally, as she angled her head, his eyes! They were piercing blue, almost violet, and they were observing her, fixing her to the spot, burning deep into her soul.
Her heart was pounding now, in synchrony with the thumping music, as a low-lying fog escaped the dance floor and slithered along the floor like a knot of snakes.
The mere presence of this man, and the danger that he exuded, made her stomach flutter, her blood pulsate, and elicited a delectable tingling between her legs.
She closed her eyes as she was enveloped by the massive bassline and raw guitar of Depeche Mode’s ‘Barrel of a Gun’. It crawled over her body and under her skirt as the walls leant in to kiss her, making her instinctively close her eyes.
When she reopened them, he was close, so close she could smell him; fresh, like a frosty winter’s morning, and now she could see his face, strange yet uncannily familiar…
Rupert?
His skin was tight, translucent, vibrant, and free from impurities. His nose was broad and proportioned, his lips full and kissable.
He was looking at her…
Oh God, save me from those eyes.
…Deep blue eyes, almost violet, beautiful, drinkable. They caressed her face, explored her body, while leeching her energy, causing her to sway.
She swallowed hard with a dry throat, “Rupert, what are you doing here?” she croaked.
She drank in his face. He was beautiful yet surreal, recognisable yet featureless, like a blurred being from a dream, a beautiful, beautiful dream.
Rupert? Is that you?
It had to be him, and this pleased her, it pleased her immensely.
Then, as if he had read her mind, his lips curled up in what would have ordinarily been construed as a smile, but Elisabeth knew it to be more, much more; it was a promise, a promise of inconceivable pleasure.
The rhythm oozed and the drumbeat burrowed as the volume increased. The metallic rock accentuated her senses, as his cool hand touched her face and instantly constricted her breath to short, rasping spasms. His fingers traced their way over her lips, and down to the back of her neck, eliciting small hairs, like soldiers, to attention.
His blue eyes shimmered in the neon ultraviolet light, and his steely gaze bore deep into her as his face drew closer…
Closer…
… his lips offering to quench her lustful thirst.
“Oh my God, Rupert, please…”
She stilled her breath, as her heart continued to drum rhythmically in her ears. She closed her eyes once more in anticipation of the moment, as the music’s gravelled vocals drew to a seductive crescendo; they scratched through her extremities and electrified her senses, as everyone else in the room dissolved to shadows.
Kiss me!
And that is when they caught her; strong fingers closed around her wrist, spun her on the spot and tugged her so fast forward she nearly lost her balance.
Elisabeth Harrison was yanked, unceremoniously, into a cubicle and thrown up against the plywood wall, causing it to protest against its rusty metal restraints.
The door was still ajar giving onlookers a side view of the action.
For her, the action was violent but delicious.
He was in front of her now.
Her eyes were closed once more, but she could sense his proximity, and she breathed him in, that same fresh morning scent, deliriously intoxicating her nostrils.
She dared to open her eyes to see that she was now penned in by two strong arm
s. They leant against the wall, on either side of her.
He was watching her again, and it was all she could do to not look away, for all her nervous extremities were on fire. She couldn’t bear it.
He was smiling again. That same smile, like he knew what she was thinking, had learned of her arousal for him, and enjoyed tormenting her with tantric anticipation.
His lips hovered enticingly close. Just inches away.
OH YES! Kiss me, Rupert. Kiss me!
After all these years of yearning, all of these years of anticipating this forbidden moment, she was finally going to have the only man she had ever wanted but was never allowed.
The start of a new track whispered, “It’s time to burn” and then a pounding percussion of house music faded in, shaking the wooden partition and jangling Elisabeth’s desires.
The stranger tilted his head slightly, studying her, as a dog would as it tries to understand the fluttering of an insect. And then, in one lightning movement, his hand shot out and delicately caressed her face as he pressed his body close to hers. Then he began to rhythmically, almost in sync with the music, push himself against her.
She moaned with excitement as she could feel him.
She reached down to touch, but his hands grabbed both of her arms and pushed them up, over her head.
Oh yes, be rough with me, please be rough with me, I want all of you.
But Elisabeth would have no choice in the matter. It took the stranger seconds to reach down and tug roughly at the hem of her skirt, which he then yanked upward, over her face, encasing both her arms and transforming her into a human chrysalis.
Through the haze of the thin fabric, the only thing she could discern were dancing shadows of humanoid outlines projected on the dingy walls all around her.
No Rupert! No! Not like this, I want to see you.
Her mind spoke the words, not her mouth, as a hand grabbed her thigh in a grip that made her squeal. Then, she felt her left leg being lifted onto a strong arm as something pulled at her panties.
Seconds later, she felt his freezing cold body pressing against hers, and then he was inside. Not small but large, not gentle but as rough as a mounting stallion, burning his way so deep that the pain fractures shot through her, like an aching tooth.
She screamed, but her voice was muffled inside the cloth, and drowned by the pulsating rhythm that accompanied each and every one of the probing thrusts that were violating her.
“No, Rupert, not like this! Not with you!”, but he wouldn’t stop, he continued to pound her as if she were not a human being, but an animal to be inseminated.
Then she saw them, through the haze of the Lycra, the very eyes that had seduced her, those beautiful blue eyes had metamorphosed into ugly black cavities.
“NOOOOOOOO!”
She battled to free herself from the cocoon, but the powerful arms kept her in place as he pushed deeper and faster, deeper and faster until he suddenly shuddered inside her; the climax as quiet as it was painful.
Then, abruptly, he withdrew as a sword would from a wound, leaving her standing there, body shaking and face sweating in the impromptu, claustrophobic cloth sack.
And then he was gone, the presence dissipated like mist in the moonlight.
In her inebriated, nauseous state, it would have been easy for her to think that she had dreamt the encounter, but the grazing on her thighs, pain between her legs, told her that her ordeal had indeed been real.
Slowly, Elisabeth Harrison allowed her violated body to slide down the cubicle wall, until her naked buttocks hit the cold tiles with a thump.
There, with breathing that was quick and shallow, she sat, unmoving, inside her cocoon, as the door to the cubicle slowly closed, as if leaving her alone to weep with some dignity while contemplating the darkness that had been planted inside her.
Across the city, Adam opened the front door to find the house in total darkness.
He called Elisabeth’s name, but she didn’t reply.
He dropped a bouquet of flowers on the coffee table and turned on the table lamp, revealing a handwritten card, “I’ll always be here for you, Elisabeth. If and when you decide to see it. Love Adam x.”
He was very sorry about tonight, but he wanted to try again. He needed to try again, for both their sakes.
18 Alone?
It felt as if she had been asleep just minutes when three loud raps at the front door echoed down the hallway, reached over the bed and jolted Ashley awake.
She bolted upright.
There, bleary eyed and in the still of the room, she waited for a few seconds to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming.
Nothing, but the sound of Rupert’s heavy breathing.
She looked over; he had his back to her and seemed to be sleeping soundly.
Seconds ticked by until she finally allowed herself to fall back onto the pillow.
BANG!
She bolted upright once more.
Somebody was at the front door.
She glanced at the red digits of the clock; it was 03:03 am.
“Rupert?” she called softly.
No answer.
“Rupert!”
But the only reply was a mumble about how he loved her. She considered yelling at him, but by the time she’d roused him from his sleep, she would have already dealt with whatever emergency this must be.
She rolled her eyes and climbed out of the bed and instantly regretted it, when a freeze enveloped her.
She snatched up her dressing gown from the nearby chair, pulled it tight around her and then padded out into the hallway, where her bare feet slapped loudly on the floor.
BANG!
The hammering was so loud, it shook the doorframe.
BANG!
“Oh my God. Alright, alright…Who is it?” she demanded as she reached the door.
Silence, just the low drone of the city nightlife outside.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
She slowly approached the door.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?” She called, louder this time, in the hope that it would actually wake Rupert, as she was finding the whole knockdown ginger routine unnerving.
Seconds ticked by.
She neared the door and then, carefully, and somewhat reluctantly placed her eye to the spy hole.
The hall outside was in total darkness, which she knew meant nobody could be there.
The hall lights were motion activated. They’d stay on for as long as they detected movement. If they were off, it meant that there was nobody out there.
Or was there?
She considered opening the door, and even looked at the handle, but decided against it. Unlike horror film heroines, she had no interest in exposing herself to whoever may be out there.
She looked back down the hall, towards the bedroom. She wanted to wake Rupert and maybe, just as a precaution, ring security.
It was as she was deliberating this that she replaced her eye to the spy hole and shrieked in horror when she found one piercing blue eye staring back at her.
She jumped back from the door, skidded on the bare floor and fell, backwards with a heavy thud.
She yelped as pain fractures splintered up her body.
“Rupert…” she whimpered.
BANG!
The sound was so loud it echoed around the entrance lobby, and rattled in her brain.
BANG!
“Rupert!”
BANG!
Flakes of plaster filled the air as sound shockwaves vibrated through the floor.
“RUPERT!”
BANG! BANG! RATTLE!
Louder…
“…Rupert!”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
….the coat stand shook, the vase on nearby table toppled and someone was shaking the doorknob!
“…Rupert!”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“RUPERT!”
The door whined, splintered and then smashed
open, slamming against the wall…
…Ashley screamed, and then awoke with a start, gasping and sweating.
Oh God.
It took her a few seconds to register the security of Rupert’s bed.
She breathed deeply as relief washed over her, like the sunshine streaming in through the bedroom window.
She pushed the hair from her eyes.
Just a dream, Ash. It was just a dream.
Perhaps, but she hadn’t experienced anything as terrifying since her teens.
Then she realised…sunshine!
After days of miserable weather, it was wonderful to finally see some sun, even if it did little to thaw the chill that had settled in her bones.
She rolled over to cuddle Rupert but, much to her disappointment, his side of the bed was empty. In his place was a folded sheet of paper.
She promptly unfolded and read:
Good morning, gorgeous; I’ve gone to fetch breakfast.
I called Marie and told her that you were going to be very late in this morning.
I love you.
The note was signed with lots of kisses and a smiley face.
Ashley grinned, and surveyed the tastefully furnished room, as if seeing it for the first time.
She wondered if the furniture had been Rupert’s personal choice or if he’d hired an interior designer. She made a mental note to ask as she considered exactly what life might be like as Mrs Harrison.
She allowed herself a few minutes to daydream that beautiful dream in an effort to banish all remnants of her nightmare, and then she slid her naked body out from under the covers and shivered.
It was freezing in the room, and this invoked immediate goose bumps all over her skin.
She hurried into the bathroom, turned on the shower, waited for the water to run hot, and then stepped underneath it.
She welcomed the feeling of hot water on her body and closed her eyes as it burned into her muscles, driving out the cold that had settled in there.
It took a few minutes for the water to melt away the eeriness of her nightmare, only for these to be replaced by thoughts of Jackie Harris and her book.
There was no doubt that the book was somewhat explosive, but could it actually spell trouble for Harrison? She doubted it, the company had published much more incendiary material, including a series of controversial autobiographies from well-known human rights abusers.
Unspeakable Page 13
