He was right. It did help; most of the dull people were turning into colourful characters, and those people she would have normally avoided were suddenly becoming more agreeable, and their double entendres less repulsive.
This included comments made by Trevor Branson, a lawyer from a top London firm.
He was a forty-year-old man in decent shape with a tendency to laugh at his own jokes. He had joined Rachel and Jason as they stood at the bar.
But, once again, before she knew what was happening, she found herself abandoned, talking to the man, while Jay chatted up some woman, old enough to be his mother, on the other side of the room.
Still, Rachel didn’t mind. She had come to learn that there was no harm in flirting.
Besides, Trevor knew she was with Jason, and that meant that even if she did play him at his own game of sexual innuendo, there could never be any risk of him jumping her.
That’s why when Trevor suggested they move to a quiet anteroom, she accepted, although she did take more booze with her, just in case she needed him to become more interesting.
He closed the door behind them, sat on a leather couch and patted the seat beside him. Rachel, head still buzzing from the champagne, nearly fell on top of him.
“Hmmm, steady,” he said with a laugh, running his hands over her rear, and manoeuvring her into the seat next to him.
“Oops, sorry, it’s this champagne. I think it’s a bit rich for me,” she giggled, “Rich? You get that?”
“Hmm, I like your laugh,” Trevor said with a big smile as he ogled Rachel’s cleavage. “So, this is your first time here.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Yes, it is.”
“Have you enjoyed yourself so far?”
Rachel hiccupped, “Oh yeah, so far, despite the fact that my boyfriend keeps disappearing.”
“He does?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, petulantly.
“Oh well, never mind,” Trevor said with a smile and patting her leg. “We’ll just have to amuse ourselves without him.”
This, of course, in Rachel’s inebriated state was highly amusing and she erupted into fits of laughter. As she did so, her breasts wobbled inside the fabric of her dress and Trevor enjoyed this, he enjoyed this very much.
He did like her laugh, he especially liked it when she leant back into the sofa, propping both her hands for support on the headrest. It was as if she were ready, almost as if she were inviting him to crawl on top of her, but he didn’t, not just yet, he wanted to savour the moment first. He planned to deny himself, because that made the rest much more exciting.
Instead, he settled for feeling her knee. Then, graduated to her leg and then, the inside of her thighs.
“Where have you been all this time my delicious Rachel?”
“Working.”
“Working?”
“Yes, you know, switchboard, and before that it was accounts and before that computer science. I know what you are going to say, it’s not necessarily an attractive subject for a girl, but I liked it, and it opens doors to lots of opportunities.
“Fascinating,” Trevor agreed, totally uninterested, as his hand tickled up the inside of Rachel’s thigh. “So you like the anatomy of computers then. Fixing them and all that. And how do you feel about me fixing you?” he said with lusty eyes.
Rachel giggled, “Fix me? I’m unfixable, mate,” she stated, sitting forward, but fell back again when Trevor pressed a hand on her chest.
“Hey!” she protested with a laugh and pushed up once more.
“Oh no, I prefer you much more when you lean back,” he said, placing a hand on her tummy.
“I don’t like leaning back,” Rachel said, “Makes me feel woozy.”
“That’s okay,” Trevor whispered, licking his lips and tasting her curvy breasts with his eyes, “Woozy is nice.”
“Not this kind of woozy, I feel like I’m going to puke!”
She tried to sit up again, but Trevor’s powerful hand stopped her once more.
“Hey, stop that,” she protested.
“No, I’m ready,” he stated. “I’m ready for it, now,” he said, grabbing her hand in his.
Rachel laughed, “Ready for what?”
“To have you,” he replied with another lick of his thin lips that, even in her stupor, made Rachel recoil.
She forced a laugh, “Uh, I don’t think so,” she said, pushing his hand off.
She moved to stand up, but a sharp tug on the hem of her dress brought her back down again, right into the lawyer’s lap, where Rachel could feel his hardness through her dress.
“Eww, let go of me!” she protested, but Trevor had other plans and, with hands on her thighs, manhandled her rear to rub him, while simultaneously pushing his face into her breasts.
He moaned appreciatively as he did so.
“Get off me!”
“Oh yes, yes,” he cheered, “I like it feisty!”
“Get your fucking hands off me!” she screamed, tugging at his hair forcing him loosen his grip; she fell to the floor with a thump.
“You bitch, that hurt! You’re going to pay for that,” he said, still inebriated with lust, as if it were all part of the game.
Rachel scrambled to her feet and moved to leave the room, but before she could get to the door, strong hands grabbed her hair and yanked her back, making her cry out in pain.
“Hmm that’s it, I like to hear you scream,” he said and propelled her, face first, back onto the sofa. Then, before Rachel could collect herself, he was on her back, like a randy dog, rubbing himself up against her, sucking the air in over his teeth and snorting like a pig.
“Get off me! Get off!” She protested now as vehemently as her head pounded.
“Yes, that’s it, fight me bitch, fight me,” he said, slapping her backside and then pulling up her dress to expose part of her legs. “Oh yes, me likey, yes,” he appreciated as he held one hand on the back of her neck, to keep her doubled over, and ran the other over her rear.
He licked his lips, “Hmm, fresh meat,” he moaned as he slid his hand under her dress and fingered her panties.
Meanwhile, face down in one of the cushions, Rachel squirmed to get free. She was screaming, but her voice was muffled as her mouth was grotesquely pressed into the cushion’s fluffy cover.
“Geeett oooooff me! Get off!”
But Trevor was having none of it. Instead, he released her temporarily, long enough to pull himself out of his trousers, but it was long enough for her to lift herself up.
However, before she could turn around, he was mounting her again like a repulsive, slobbering animal.
He rubbed against her now bare flesh, and kept telling her how he was going to give it to her and how she was going to love it.
He yanked at her dress, ripped part of it and then at her panties, expecting them to tear also, but they didn’t. Instead they cut into Rachel’s thigh, making her scream.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”
“Yes, fight me, my beauty, fight me,” he chanted, as he attempted to barge his way between her legs. That’s when Rachel put all the strength she could muster into elbowing him in the chest.
He made a choking sound and slowly slithered off, eventually falling back onto the sofa.
Rachel, now panting from the exertion, wrenched herself up into a standing position and then turned to see the lawyer, slumped on the couch. He was clutching his chest with both hands, while his pink erection poked grotesquely up from his zipper.
The sight of it sickened and enraged her, and she swiftly brought her shoe up between his legs, smashing into his hanging testicles.
He cried out, but there was no sound, as the sickening sensation, that gripped the pit of his stomach, sucked the air from his lungs.
Rachel ran to the door, yanked it open and froze, as her brain struggled to translate the spectacle before her.
The lights had been dimmed, dipping the hallway in an eerie, jaundice yellow.
A
t the foot of the stairs, a couple chatted casually. Nearby, on a chaise longue, a man was lying back, with his arms tucked under his head while a gaunt, anaemic looking woman, in her sixties, hitched up her baggy navy dress, and straddled him. She then proceeded to flick her thighs, as if she were having a seizure.
Rachel found her feet, and ran forward, towards the ballroom.
The chatting couple paused temporarily to look at her, as if she’d been caught running in the school corridor.
The overhead lights had been switched off. The only illumination was thrown by candelabras, strategically positioned around the room.
Rachel’s mouth dropped open when she spotted, tangled in the velvet curtains across the room, a young man in his twenties with a woman, many years his senior.
He had one of her legs flung over his arm, as he pounded her against the backdrop of fabric, making it shake with every thrust. He was loud in his pleasure while she, thin lips pursed and eyes shut, grinned maniacally.
On a rug near them, a black woman’s head bobbed between the legs of an old man, whose face was contorted in spasms of pleasure, while his shiny wet tongue slithered over chapped lips.
Rachel blinked, convinced that this was all some hideous nightmare. Any second now, the horror was going to dissolve and she was going to wake up in bed to a sun-drenched bedroom.
But it wasn’t.
Minutes before, these people were dolled up, like some of the finest people of high society and now, now, they were half naked and copulating freely, like members of some kind of sex sect.
Sect?
Oh God.
This is where he had brought her, and these were the favours he wanted, and this was how much he loved her.
An angry wail brought her crashing back to the present. She turned to see her drinking companion stumble, hands between his legs, towards her, his face creased into a mask of rage.
She didn’t know what to do, where to go from here. Should she find Jason? Should she just run? Where to? She was in the middle of nowhere and she didn’t have the keys to the car.
She had no choice but to find Jason.
Where is he? With whom?
With a mixture of trepidation and rage, she raced up the stairs, as angry shouts were thrown after her.
“Jason!”
She ran down the corridor, opening doors as she went.
The first room was empty. The second revealed a semi naked woman. She was wearing rubber boots and gloves while a man, Rachel recognised as one of the politicians she had met earlier, lay sprawled on the bed pleasuring himself as he ogled her.
Both of them looked up as the intruder stormed into the room.
Rachel gaped but said nothing, she just turned on her heels and fled.
“Jason!” She shouted again, as she entered another room with subdued lighting, blacked out windows, and chains hanging from the ceiling.
Inside, a middle-aged, wafer thin man stood in his white underpants, with his hands chained up in a crucified pose, while a woman, in a leather outfit, shrieked obscenities at him. Both looked up when the door burst open and Rachel appeared on the threshold.
“JASON!” she screamed through horrified tears. “JASON!”
Another room; a man was crawling around in a giant nappy whilst an overweight woman, bulging out of a black nightdress fed him with a bottle.
They glared at her.
“JASON!”
Another door; middle-aged woman lay on her back as a young girl, two times her junior, in nothing but stiletto heels, crawled over her on all fours.
“JASON!”
Rachel was sobbing now. It was the house of horrors. Her boyfriend was nowhere in sight. She was alone.
Terrified.
That was until she barged into the next room, and instantly threw her hand to her mouth, not to stifle a scream but to stop the bile from spewing out of her mouth.
Jason was so busy, he didn’t even notice his girlfriend enter the room.
He was on the bed, naked, along with a scrawny old woman and a thin young blonde.
Rachel could only watch as Jason’s, her boyfriend’s bare backside moved up and down, as he worked between the old lady’s legs.
She quivered with disgust as she watched the young girl lick her lips and run her hands all over her boyfriend, all over the man she had planned to marry, whose children she had planned to bear.
Rachel could no longer keep the contents of her stomach, and promptly vomited onto the carpet.
She remained doubled over for a while until she spotted it. Across the room, opposite the bed, a tripod-mounted video camera was recording everything in sickening detail.
The old woman’s bony fingers were entangled in Jason’s hair, and pushing his face towards the camera lens, as she ordered him to push deeper, faster.
Suddenly, the girl stopped caressing the copulating duo and looked up. Almost telepathically, Jason stopped what he was doing and turned around.
Rachel drew in a sharp breath, as if she had just been caught spying on them.
Their eyes met and the true weight of what was happening hit home.
She ran from the room and back down the corridor. She wanted out of that place. She wanted out of there, now.
“Rachel!” Jason called, but she had gone.
The woman pulled him back into her, but he refused. Then, much to her discontent, he withdrew.
He slid into his clothes, and was about to race out of the room, when Lurch and a couple of the others appeared on the threshold.
He skidded to a halt, then looked up, sheepishly, into Lurch’s solemn face.
Behind him, Trevor was ranting about how the girl had denied him, how he had been exposed by an outsider, and how the whole group was going to be outed.
Lurch silenced him with a wave of his hand.
“I… I’m sorry.” Jason said while, behind him, his sex partner hissed angrily.
“You brought a reject into our midst, Jason,” Lurch said.
“I, I didn’t know.”
“You know the rules,” someone piped up from the corridor.
“You have exposed us all!” Someone else shouted.
“I can fix it, really I can,” Jason said in a panic.
“Just like you fixed the other one?” Lurch asked, calmly.
“She was different,” Jason said.
“Different how?”
“She must be silenced!” Someone shouted.
“Silenced like the other one,” someone else agreed.
“She will expose us all!” someone else whined.
Jason shrank back as Lurch loomed closer, “Fix her like you did the other, or we’ll fix you,” he growled.
Jason, who was shaking now, nodded, scuttled out of the room and down the corridor, leaving the rest of the congregation to converge and chat, animatedly.
Rachel found the group of people at the foot of the stairs intimidating. They reminded her of a coven of witches. Especially the way in which they chattered to each other until they saw her, then the buzz ended and they settled for staring, instead. Burning holes in her body with accusatory eyes.
She hesitated, as she wiped tears from her face. Her mind was still swimming with alcohol, although recent events had gone some way to sobering her.
The reality of her predicament was as palpable as the atmosphere, as she slowly made her way down the stairs, closer to the sea of glowering faces.
I hate you too!
She thought.
She resented being here, hated what she had seen, and despised these creatures, for taking from her the only thing she had ever wanted.
She swallowed hard.
She felt cheap, betrayed and enraged, and if any of these freaks tried so much as to lift a finger to her, she would rip their fucking heads off!
It was with that thought that she descended the rest of the stairs and, much to her astonishment, the sea of bodies parted and allowed her to pass.
She hurried to the front door an
d, without looking back, yanked it open.
She stood there for a few moments, sucking in the freezing cold freshness of the outside world that suddenly made her feel so giddy, she had to lean onto the doorframe for support.
But there was no time to rest; voices were gathering behind her. One, in particular, was calling out her name; she recognised it, but didn’t care, she was done, and launched herself into the freezing cold night.
She grabbed handfuls of snow off cars, chewed, then spat it out, and repeated the process two or three times before actually swallowing some.
The air was still, and a supernatural moon shone brightly like a giant spotlight in a star-filled sky, glittering the winter wonderland around her.
She felt cold and the material of her dress was little defence against the chill, but such was the amount of adrenaline pumping through her body that the effect was diluted.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps crunching the snow behind her and so, without even looking back, she increased her speed, even though she had absolutely no idea where she was going. She figured, that as long as it was far away from here, she didn’t care.
“Rachel!”
She ignored him.
“Rachel, wait!”
“Get away from me, Jason!” She warned.
“Wait!”
“Fuck you!”
Jason had to jog to catch up with her and when he did, she was half way down the drive where frosted trees appeared to lean in, as if to listen to what was about to be said.
Jason grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where the hell are you going?” he asked as his breath fogged out into the night. He was wearing his jacket and carrying her shawl.
“As far away as I can get from you and the rest of those freaks!”
She snatched the shawl off him; she was mad, but not stupid. It was freezing out there.
“Rachel…” he put his hand on her arm, but she pushed it off. “Come on, Rach…”
“Come on? What do you mean, come on?”
“I mean come back to the house, let’s talk about this.”
“Oh My God, Jason. Do you really think we actually have anything left to talk about?”
“I love you, Rachel. What you saw back there doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
Unspeakable Page 42
