Fall of the Cities

by Vance Huxley

  *

  The lack of anything except the two official TV channels until ten p.m., and the BBC radio, which closed down at the same time, had changed the habits of a nation. Everyone tended to go to bed earlier. Caddi finally grinned at Harold and stood up. “Fun’s over, or for us at least. Now remember, Harry, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Mercedes, play nice, he’s allowed to ask you to ask him. You never know Harry, she might.” They all stood, waiting for the end of the show before heading to their barracks or back to their homes. As Harold stood, Mercedes removed his hand but leant very close.

  “Full sound and vision, lover-boy, so keep your hands and mouth under control,” she murmured in his ear. Mercedes continued, but louder. “Come on ‘Arold, you wouldn’t want to let it get cold, would you?”As the laughter died down Mercedes swept off towards the door, swaying gently and looking back over a shoulder. “I’ll go up first, so that you can have a preview. Try not to trip over your tongue. Or dick.”

  Mercedes continued out and up the stairs, giving it a bit more wiggle for everyone present. Harold followed with about an even mix of anticipation and apprehension. He didn’t know if survival would move him up or down on Caddi’s shit list. Mercedes got it right about the effect of following her upstairs,even if Harold managed not to trip. Wondering why she’d warned him about sound and vision distracted him, but not much.

  *

  Mercedes wore her little smile as she let Harold inside her bedroom. A queen sized bed with a huge plump quilt dominated the room, whilean expansive dresser covered in perfumes and makeup, and a couple of chairs, completed the furnishings. There were wardrobe doors along one wall and a door with a padlock at the opposite side. Seeing Harold glance that way, Mercedes curled a lip.

  “I sprayed-painted the bathroom walls when I moved in so I’d spot any drilling, and put on a padlock. I promised to skin any bastard who ran in a wire or camera, even if Caddi had ordered them to do it. Caddi agreed I could. I only had to carve one up to make it stick. No home movies in there.” Mercedes looked around the bedroom, making it clear that the same didn’t apply in here which seemed odd. “Of course, the other side the agreement is that I can’t take you or anyone else in there.” Mercedes waved Harold through, after opening the combination padlock while blocking any view. “Go and brush your teeth or whatever, and I’ll wait.”

  Harold used the loo, and took the chance of a quick shower before putting his clothes back on except for his boots and socks. He came back out to find Mercedes sorting through a selection of frilly nightwear. “What do you fancy, ‘Arold? A bit of lace?” A very little bit, Harold thought. “No, so maybe some silk?” Mercedes held up two small scraps.

  Harold’s mouth nearly said yes and Mercedes could tell, judging by her laugh. Harold remained half convinced that Caddi had told her to push him over the edge and kill him. If he’d been one of the usual gang bosses, Harold would have made a grab by now. They weren’t used to teasing, somaybe this was how Mercedes killed the others?”Wear whatever you usually do. Don’t make a special effort for me.” Harold kept his voice level and his face straight despite the big smile in response.

  “Dangerous, ‘Arold. Perhaps I don’t usually wear anything?” For one moment Harold thought Mercedes meant that, and knew he was a dead man. He couldn’t have ignored her naked in the bed all night, not the way Mercedes seemed to be getting under his skin. A relieved Harold remembered the cameras. No way did Mercedes give them a show every night. A big fluffy set of flannel pyjamas his brain prayed for, over the protests of his libido. Mercedes helped by moving on. “So this is the famous stick. What’s the story because it doesn’t seem to be up to the job? Most gang bosses have a good quality machete, but a stick?”

  “A present from a friend after a bit of strife. Anyway, you shouldn’t judge by appearances.You might get a surprise.”

  “Ha, yes. I can but hope, ‘Arold. I’ve been told your stick can be surprisingly effective. Now I’m wondering if you’ve got any other surprises for me.” Mercedes headed for the en-suite with that small smile back in place, leaving Harold sat in the chair by the bed. He entertained himself by trying to not think about a very sexy young woman, naked in the shower, while listening to it running. He also tried very hard not to imagine what Mercedes usually wore to bed.

  It had been a long time since a sexy woman got anywhere close to him, so Harold’s resistance was low. He usually avoided women in case they were targeted by the likes of Caddi. Harold realised he didn’t have to worry about putting Mercedes in danger, she already lived in the pit with the snakes and tigers.

  “Ready or not, I’m coming out.” Harold stood up. The result turned out to be anti-climactic, because Mercedes had put on a large man’s shirt. The bottom came lower than the dress had, just past her knees, and she held it overlapped at the throat and the waist. The shirt might have fitted Mack, but Harold thought it a stone certainty Mercedes wouldn’t be wearing a shirt belonging to a Hot Rod. She leant against the door frame, smiling. “Well?”

  Harold couldn’t say the first thing he thought of. Mercedes looked about thirteen with her figure buried in the fabric, and her hands clasped like that. The tongue peeking from between her full lips, and those dead eyes, jarred with the rest. “Unexpected. I might even survive the night.” Her mouth smiled wider as Mercedes sauntered across the room. Nope, definitely not thirteen.

  “Nearly eighteen,” she murmured, so someone had told Mercedes what the effect was. She glanced down, frowned and said, “Damn.”

  Harold was human. He looked down just as, with perfect timing, Mercedes opened the shirt wide until her hands were touching his shoulders. She leaned back, just a little. Without her boots the young woman now stood about five inches shorter than Harold, so she had to tip her head back to look him in the eyes with a real smile and whisper, “Gotcha.” Well she had, because there wasn’t much point looking away now. Mercedes didn’t wear a bra or knickers and yes, Harold could see her belly button as well.

  Mercedes leant forward just a bit, close enough to feel her breath, close enough for Harold to take a sharp breath. “The pool for the man who confirms that I’m going commando is substantial, I’ve been told. You could be a wealthy man, ‘Arold.”

  When she closed the shirt before stepping back, Harold realised Mercedes made sure the cameras couldn’t seethe flash. The cameras definitely meant everyone would know that Soldier Boy had a perfect view. Harold had to clear his throat, and even then his voice sounded a bit rough. “Sod ‘em. A bit of suspense is good for them.”

  Mercedes looked up from fastening the buttons. Her real smile flashed,and that something flickered in her dead eyes again beforeshe swept her gaze up and round the room. “Eat your hearts out, boys.” Mercedes rolled the sleeves up to her elbows,before putting out her arms and twirling. “Sexy enough, ‘Arold?”

  Harold cleared his throat again and this time his voice had almost returned to normal. “Mercedes, you could make a bin sack look sexy. As you bloody well know.”

  “Ooh, smooth.” Mercedes stepped closer, her little smile back again. “Well you picked my night wear, so now I suppose I get to choose yours.” She put her fingers on his chest before walking them down towards Harold’s belt.

  “Er. No?”

  “Wrong answer. If I insist you can’t say no, men never can.” Her fingers started on the buckle,but stopped as she looked up with a wicked little grin. “You haven’t gone commando, have you? Being a Soldier Boy and all that.”

  Harold laughed at the mischief in her voice. “No.”

  “Oh, what a pity. But then I might not have been able to resist, and then you would never get that memory.” Mercedes finished with the belt, yanking the zip down hard.

  “Careful!”

  “Oh, I was very careful to avoid anything that might be needed. Just a minute, let me have a proper look.” His jeans went down over Harold’s hips and dropped to the floor. “Mmm, very nice. So are the boxers. New, are they?”


  “Yes.” Harold was being careful, because so far the young woman seemed playful. Way too bloody playful, but the steel had shown when Mercedes mentioned no memories. Harold kicked the jeans away before she knelt down to shift them, because a man could only stand so much.Mercedes pouted. She bloody knew. “How many?” Harold asked because he had to try and distract Mercedes, ease this up a bit.

  Mercedes genuinely seemed puzzled. “How many what?”

  “How many claimed the pool?” Harold needed to figure out if she’d given him the usual razzle or special treatment. He couldn’t believe that Mercedes usually put on a show like this, not for every man brought in here. Unless she only did it for the ones she killed.

  That little smile came back as Mercedes pecked him on the cheek. “Nobody else has ever qualified, Soldier Boy. Smile, you’re a legend. I didn’t want you lying awake all night wondering.” Harold thought of pointing out that knowing wasn’t going to help him sleep, but before he could react Mercedes tapped his shirt. “This definitely comes off. Shall I help?” Since Mercedes already had hold of the cloth, ‘no’ wasn’t going to have any effect.

  Harold tried to manage himself, but Mercedes insisted on helping and kept bumping her thin shirt against him as she did. She tossed the shirt into a corner. “I’ll get you a fresh one if you survive the night,” she promised, then indicated the bed. “After you, lover-boy, I want to watch your ass.” Harold climbed in, conscious of her appraising his body, a fair return for the stairs. He had expected Mercedes to be indifferent to men, butthe way she acted and eyed him up said different, so what happened now? Mercedes sauntered over to the bed, flipped back the covers and slipped in on the opposite side.

  “Take a really good look, Soldier Boy.” Mercedes showed Harold the big knife without a sheath that went under the covers as she pulled them up. “Anything that pokes, prods, tickles or lightly strokes me in the night, I keep.” She wasn’t teasing now. Mercedes turned on a table light, one of those that projected stars onto the walls and ceiling, and low muzak started up. She reached up to pull the cord, wriggling down the bed a little once the light went out.

  Harold had turned on his side, away from Mercedes, because that had to be safest. Behind him she pulled the quilt up almost over his head, so probably over hers. “This is so they can’t see me drool or suck my thumb”—a pause—”or anything.” Mercedes shuffled up tight behind Harold and slid an arm over, spooning into his back. “Goodnight, sleep tight.” Her soft voice breathed into his ear, followed by a silent laugh. Harold knew she’d laughed because her body vibratedagainst his back, and Mercedes would know as well.

  Hell, Harold could sleep tomorrow. He knew Mercedes didn’t usually snuggle and hug or no gangster would have survived, so she must be pushing again. But Harold wasn’t the usual gangster, so despite the special treatment he could handle it. He would take the ragging in the morning, collect Tessa and get out. Tessa.That thought calmed Harold down, the hand resting on his six pack stayed mercifully still, and, surprisingly, Harold dozed.

  *

  Harold woke suddenly because Mercedeshad moved behind him. Just a bit of wriggling but now Mercedes had her hands between them, working downwards. Harold barely had time to think of the buttons before her shirt came open. It must have because Harold could feel two warm points on his shoulder-blades, then every inch of herskindownwards including her thighs. He bit off a gasp when another of those silent laughs did interesting things to her skin and his, and again when her hand slid over again and dived towards his boxers! Harold grabbed her wrist. Mercedes wriggled, ruining any concentration Harold had left. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer.” Her soft voice barely whispered, her warm breath tickling the nape of his neck.

  “Mercedes?” Harold kept his voice low, but knew the sound and vision would probably pick it up. What the hell, he had to ask. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Harold heard a bit of surprise in her reply. “No, ‘Arold,” she breathed. Then louder, “Why, what would you do if I said yes?”

  “Turn over and make it worthwhile?” Harold felt the shudder of laughter very personally and much too naked.

  “After that, if you turn over I might not kill you until you get your ride.”Mercedes dropped her voice to that breathy whisper. “Ssh, ‘Arold, they can’t hear me over the music, not with my head under here. The cameras can’t see properly with the lights flickering, especially with this big lumpy quilt on.” A silent giggle vibrated against him.”They can hear you so you’ll have to suffer in silence. I thought we’d have a little fun, now I know you aren’t the type to kiss and tell.”

  Her hand had been trying to get free while Mercedes spoke but now she stopped. “Relax and enjoy, lover-boy. In a minute anyway.” Her hand slid over behind Harold, but came straight back. “Here,” and when Harold raised his hand Mercedes pushed a hard object into it. The knife! “Put it under your pillow.” As he did so her hand slid south again and Harold hadn’t a chance of an intercept this time.

  Harold shifted a bit. “Don’t turn over. If you turn over they’ll see, stupid.” He could hardly hear her voice, muffled by the quilt and his back. “Come on, up a bit.” Harold obediently lifted his hip and his boxers were out of the way. That friendly hand became even friendlier.

  Harold smiled to himself. So madam wanted a little fun, did she? He slid his own arm and hand up, over and down his back until his fingertips touched warm skin. Mercedes didn’t react and her hand never faltered, so Harold slid his hand down Mercedes’ side and onto the swell of her naked hip. That brought a small gasp from behind him and a slow wriggle as Harold squeezed and stroked.

  Her hand had stopped, butafter an appreciative murmur tickled his neck Mercedes started being friendly again. “You need to try harder than that.” Right, sauce for the goose. Harold slipped his hand down onto her belly and headed south. That should get a reaction.

  Bloody hell, did it ever! Her hand tightened, and there was a short explosion of air onto his neck followed by “yesssss.” Her whole body moved up a bit and pulled in tight, pinning Harold’s hand between them while her knee came up onto his thigh. Mercedes sighed. “Oh yes, ‘Arold, you have no idea how good that feels.”

  Harold tensed a little. What the hell? Mercedes must have felt it, because her hand eased a bit and she giggled. “What I would love to do,” her soft voice murmured, “is to turn you over and see just what your hands can do. Then what the rest can do, and they could sell the videos on street corners for all I care.” Even as Mercedes said it her leg came further over and she pushed against Harold’s back, and his trapped hand.

  Bitterness entered her soft tones, “But I have a deal.” Shit, this was the famous deal, the one with Caddi that nobody could work out. “If I screw you, if I screw anyone, Caddi gets me until he is tired of banging me. After which, in spite of any promises, he will pass me round the rest.” A sigh followed, no louder than the faint breathy voice. “This is breaking all the rules, but I am so tired of my own hands. Give me another memory, lover-boy.” Mercedes backed off a fraction, enough so that Harold could move his hand, and her thigh rubbed along the top of Harold’s. The rest of her stayed in contact all the way up his back but wriggled in a bit, while her hand went back to having fun.

  Harold didn’t even consider saying no. He wondered afterwards if his brain had quit by then, probably when she yanked his pants down. Enough conscious thought stayed for him to bite back his own moans, and groan, which didn’t take long. It had been a while since anyone’s hands had been on Harold as well. Her snigger felt wonderful, as did the writhing and soft moans, and the muffled noises preceding her long shudder. A quiet breathless voice tickled his neck. “Again, please, ‘Arold.”

  Harold repeated the treatment and got a repeat reaction followed by a long, soft sigh. Mercedes gave another of those muffled giggles that were more sensation than sound. “I think I might have bitten a hole in the pillow case.” Another giggle massaged Harold’s back. “I don’t let the perverts near m
y bedding so it won’t matter.”

  Mercedes gave a slow writhe, settling in to spoon as close as possible against Harold. “If I ever do a runner, I’m coming to find you.” A soft kiss caressedthe back of Harold’s shoulder, he felt the arm across his belly relax, and Harold did the same.

  Harold woke again, later in the night or early morning, with a hot tongue on the back of his neck. “Your leetle friend is awake, ‘Arold.” True, but Mercedes was certainly making sure he stayed awake. “Once more, lover-boy. Slowly, gently, and with feeling.” Mercedes pulled Harold’s hand over behind him. He just knew they’d never get away with it again, not with cameras.

  Her giggle short-circuited Harold’s brain, while the hot breath on his shoulder went straight down Harold’s spine to his leetle friend. “I always wake them up for more torment. That’s if they sleep at all.” Harold realised she meant the watchers were expecting some muttering, shuffling, and maybe a few noises. To hell with caution now anyway, because a gentleman should return a favour andMercedes seemed insistent on doing Harold a definite favour.

  This time Mercedes wasn’t so urgent and demanding, and held on longer, but when the shuddering started Harold couldn’t see how the quilt could hide it. The funny muffled noises went on longer but they were very muffled. They finally stopped, and a little later her breathing slowed as well. “Whew. Thank you, kind sir.” Mercedes gave a gentle sigh. “I might have bitten through the pillow this time.”

  Mercedes sighed again, which felt really pleasant. “When this war of Caddi’s is over, promise you’ll visit again, ‘Arold.” Harold squeezed her hand, he wasn’t allowed to talk. “Go to sleep now. Some asshole will bang on the door in the morning. We’ll be expected at breakfast, you looking haggard and me looking smug.” Another muffled giggle vibrated the warm sweaty flesh plastered to his back. “I can do the smug, no problem.” Her lips kissed Harold’s neck again. “Goodnight, lover-boy.” This time Harold went off to sleep without any trouble.