by Luna Blue
The elevator doors opened onto the communal living room, filled with people enjoying a pre-dinner drink. I was still enveloped in a warm glow of happiness, I was pleased to be surrounded by other people, probably for the first time in my life. People were marvellous! Elevators were marvellous! Life was marvellous! Everything was just marvellous! I gave Thomas a big cheesy grin and he quickly looked away from the annoying Westerner who may or may not have been on drugs. Drugs of love, Thomas.
“Nobody fucking move!” The masked gunmen came from nowhere. I froze, rooted to the spot, my beach bag falling to the floor in seemingly slow motion. It thudded onto the hardwood floor, just outside of the elevator door. I didn’t think I’d ever heard a louder noise in all my life.
Chapter 10
My brain touched back to the news broadcast on the radio played on our trip from the airport to the resort. It’s part of the human condition to never think of political tensions or otherwise risk in general will touch your generally sheltered life, and generally, it doesn’t. We were simply, in this moment, the unlucky ones.
Everyone in the lounge area froze, as though a god had hit the pause button on life. The silence was deafening. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, a Tell-Tale sound, just like in the Edgar Allen Poe short story. My lungs couldn’t fill themselves with air. Was there even air left in the room?
“Stay calm, honey, stay calm.” Mike’s arms returned to my waist as he whispered into my ear, placating me. But I felt so removed from the situation, I didn’t feel that falling apart was an option. I was someone else, watching this unfold in an episode of The Walking Dead, only there were two men with guns instead of zombies. Possibly the same thing, metaphorically at least. Mike was a beacon of strength and comfort. Only a moment ago he had kept an ocean of sharks at bay, just by speaking. I heard rasping breathing and realised it was my own. “Don’t move, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Thomas slumped back into the elevator as one of the gunmen jammed the doors open.
“Some of you are going to die, there is no doubt ’bout it,” the man who was the leader said in broken English. “You have all come to a country that, after sixty years of civil war, is now persecuting Muslims. You have come to a country the world forgot about. We are here to make the world remember.”
“My friend and I, we are Muslims, and we all had people die. People we loved. We want to make other people die. We want the world to take notice. Burma has been ignored for too long.”
“You all think Buddhists are peaceful. But there are different sides to every religion. Do not think that Buddhism is the passive religion. It is not. None of them are. And today, we show you that as Muslims, we are not peaceful.
“All women must go to this side of the room,” he said, pointing to the bar with his gun. The other gunmen moved around the room, separating couples.
“We want your fucking mobile phones too,” he said as he divided people from their loved ones.
I couldn’t move. My body had abandoned me, redesigning its core make-up into cement; a far cry from the jelly legs of bliss after my sexual encounter with Mike in the Bay of Bengal. An elderly lady at the bar was having trouble breathing, her frail body too shaky to work properly. A small child was crying, screaming as her father was ripped away from her. The child’s mother leant down and pulled her tight, having little effect on the now hysterical sobs of her daughter. She looked at the father and nodded that they were going to be all right.
The second gunmen punched the elderly lady on her nose. Blood spewed over her pearl necklace and she slumped over her lounge chair, unconscious. “If you take too long to move, you get hurt,” he said. All the female guests started to move frantically to the bar, some of them were screaming, others were quiet in their resolve to survive this situation and get out of it as quickly as possible.
There were only two of them, but there may as well have been ten. Both were wearing balaclavas and carrying guns of some sort. I’d never seen a real gun before, and I had no idea what type they were; smallish but terrifying despite their size.
The one separating couples approached Mike and me. He wore a backpack with a Quicksilver logo on it. I looked at his eyes, visible through his hooded mask. They were angry eyes, the eyes of a teenager. Young and angry at the world. With a gun. Great.
“Well, look what we have over here,” he said. “Check out this piece of arse. In these tiny, tiny shorts, she ain’t no Muslim woman. We should take her.” He turned to the leader.
Mike’s arms tightened around my shoulders. “I need you to stay calm. Nothing is going to happen to you,” he told me, never taking his eyes off the teenager with the gun.
“You a tough guy?” Angry Eyes asked Mike.
“No. But you’re not touching her. You’re not touching anyone. We are guests in your country, we have no political agenda.” Big mistake. Both men moved towards Mike as though they were one entity. Their guns were raised, uncontrolled and angry fingers on the triggers.
Mike widened his stance. “Join the other men now, while you have the chance. Today is not your day to be a hero,” the leader said. Angry Eyes sneered.
In a sudden whirl of movement, Mike shoved me away from the guns. I fell to the ground, near Thomas, who hadn’t moved from the ball he had contracted himself into in the back corner of the elevator. Thomas uncurled a hand and grabbed me, pulling me close to him. Before I could digest the situation and exactly how I came to be a ball next to the Thomas ball, Mike elbowed Angry Eyes in the throat. He dropped the gun as he held his throat with both hands, desperate to take a breath. Mike ducked to grab the gun, a bullet whizzing over his head into the wall near a potted plant.
Picking up the gun, he held it steady, aiming at the leader. People screamed, running down the stairs or towards the hallway, desperate to get to the safety of their rooms. Others were just running. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mike, he had moved so fast, methodically, and now was perfectly still.
The leader was stunned, hesitating as he took in the devastation of his planned attack. Angry Eyes was still gasping for breath. The leader took his eyes off Mike, looking to the gasping man, asking him a question we couldn’t understand. The moment he took his eyes off Mike, he was tackled to the ground. Pinning the leader under him, Mike’s sturdy body holding him in place, he held the gun close to the enemy’s face. I could see the fear emitting in his eyes. So powerful was this fear it came through the mask, almost tangible.
Mike remained focused on the leader. As he did, Angry Eyes got up and punched me in the temple with all his strength. I tasted blood as it melted along the side of my face, leaking down over my new kaftan. I felt sick as I morphed into a jelly substance. It was getting harder to remain upright. The last thing I heard was the ringing of a gunshot.
As I slumped into the conclusive blackness, I could hear Nick Cave’s “Red Right Hand.”
***
“Rosie! Rosie, wake up honey!” I opened my eyes to see Mike, and what I assumed was a paramedic leaning over me. He had a kind face, highlighted by closely cropped hair. I wanted to touch the stubble that framed his rounded face but my arms were too heavy to lift up. Mike’s eyes were wild with fear, round as saucers. I could see all the whites of his eyes. They were clear eyes. Kind eyes.
“There you are, you’re going to be okay,” the kind faced paramedic said in smooth English. He had a faint British accent.
“She’s fine, no stitches needed, but she’s in shock, and she’ll have a very bad headache for a few days,” he said, turning to Mike. “I can take her back to the hospital to get her checked further, if you would prefer.”
Mike was even more sexy than he was before, but how this was even possible was beyond me and my new head wound. I noticed his profound sexiness even through the blinding pain in my head.
There was a weird thumping noise. What was that? The thumping noise was breaking through my chest, in time with the shaking of my hands.
“Do you want to go to the hospital, honey?”
I groaned, the pain in my head splitting my skull. As I sat up slowly, swallowing bile, the room slowly came back into focus. I touched the side of my head and felt a cheesecloth type fabric tapped to my temple. I thought I could smell coriander and metal. It was blood.
“No. I’ll be okay.” My kaftan, on the other hand, would never be okay again. It was dead, too much of my blood had spilt on it.
Spending time in a foreign bed, in a foreign hospital, away from Mike was not going to aide my recovery. I just wanted a cocktail, some chocolate mud cake, and a lot of well earnt attention from Mike. Maybe a new dress would help too. Feeling Mike’s arms around me would take away any sort of pain. Even the pain from being punched in the temple.
“How long was I out for? Have they gone? Is the lady okay?” My voice was groggy. Suddenly I realised I had asked after the lady who got hit. I was concerned for her, despite my own potentially life threatening situation. I grinned and it hurt. “Dad would be so proud of me.”
“Of course he would be,” Mike said, but he was unaware of the monumental personality shift that the blow to my head had caused. I grinned again. I was cured.
“They’re gone. They took the lady to the hospital, but I think she will be okay too. She had a broken nose, but she’s lucky she didn’t have a stroke or a heart attack. Must be a tough old duck.” Mike buried his face into my neck. “I killed them for touching you. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me.” His voice was breaking.
“Well, technically, I didn’t see that side of you. I passed out before you went all commando.
“I’m sorry, Rosie, I’m sorry this happened.” I thought of the mother of Angry Eyes. Did she know what her son was involved with, what sort of a man he was? Did she make him that way? Would anyone mourn for him? I knew I would not.
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “You saved my life, you’re a freaking hero!” I tried to stand up slowly, ignoring the fact that my head might literally break in two. “This didn’t happen because of you, it happened and we were just here, that’s all.” I leant on my hands, pushing myself the last little bit so I was standing upright. My hands were shaking, my whole body was shaking. That would be the shock the paramedic spoke of.
“I’m okay, I’m starting to feel better.” I felt as though I could run a marathon, naked, through Russia in winter. I felt more alive than I had ever felt before, more so than the time I ate twelve banana cupcakes with the cream cheese icing. “I think you are the coolest man I have ever seen. What you did was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Can I take her now?” Mike asked the paramedic, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. I wanted to kiss them so badly.
“Yes, of course. Just make sure she gets plenty of rest. No excitement. She’s had enough for one night.”
Mike’s powerful arms scooped me up and he carried me to our room. I nestled into his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of the safety he offered me. I didn’t have to worry about anything for the rest of the night, Mike could take care of everything. It was a wonderful feeling.
I raised my head to his, my lips finding the softness of his, and I kissed him, still folded safely in his arms. “Mmmmm, you smell good. Like heroics and cookie dough.”
“You’re in shock,” Mike said after kissing me back. “I most certainly do not smell like cookies. I’m a man, for heaven’s sake, a tough man. No tough man smells like cookie dough.” He laughed as he unclicked the lock to our room.
“Well, the knock on my head has given me the courage to tell you that I see you as the incredible man you are. How did you do that? To those men, I mean. Were you a spy? Are you a spy?”
“I’m not a spy. I’m not a spy because this isn’t a Hollywood movie. I’m not going to suddenly become Jack Reacher. I just know how to fight. I did a bit of stealth, hand-to-hand combat for the army, but I’m not a spy, and I’m not Jack Reacher.”
“No, you’re like Rambo. You’re exactly like Rambo.” I decided more conclusively. “And I know you must have done a bit more than simple hand-to-hand combat in the army.” Mike looked surprised. “Yes, that’s right, I’m not ashamed to say I have spent many lonely nights Googling army drill sergeants.”
“Maybe,” I continued, getting back to the Rambo conversation “if it was 1982. At least Rambo is a desirable height. Reacher is too short, in the movies anyway.” Regardless of his attitude towards his power and skill, I heard the “Rambo” theme music wafting in through the possible cracks in my head.
“Ooooh, you should totally make the theme music for your show the tune from “Rambo!””
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Placing me on the bed in our suite, Mike leaned over me. “I think I may be affected by adrenaline too.” He groaned, kissing me and holding my hands, sitting in front of me.
“Whatever the cause, I need you. Make love to me again,” I said. His pale brown eyes looked deep into my almond-shaped eyes, a question formed on the iris, a question he didn’t ask. Wetness was pooling between my legs again as he slid the top of my swimmers off, lifting my arms above my head. Holding my hands in the air with one of his, he kissed me with an urgency that surprised me.
I leaned back on the bed and his body followed me as he removed his red t-shirt, exposing his barrel-chested body. God, he was a beautiful man, I wanted him so much. I was pressed into the white linen of the hotel bed and I could feel his hardness pressing between my legs, want and desire fuelling its movements.
With a natural ease, Mike hooked his fingers into my swimmer bottoms, still slightly wet from the sea, and I lifted my hips as he slid them down my legs. They crumpled to the floor as he undid the cord in his board shorts, tearing them off in a hurry. His cock was engorged and I took it in my hand, feeling its strength take up the space of my palm as he knelt on the bed. I started rubbing it, holding it firmly, squeezing pleasure into him.
His raised his face towards the teak ceiling. “Fuck, Rosie, that feels so good, it’s been so long.” His voice was barely audible, hidden in the erotic moment we were sharing. His fingers tangled in my hair, I could feel his palm print on the back of my head and it felt good. My muscles contracted, giving out more of the wetness.
Even though only a couple of hours ago he had been inside me, I knew what he meant. These were moments to be treasured, exploring each other. Before, the sex had been an almost introduction to each other’s bodies, an innocent need to release everything we had pent up from our sometimes tragic lives. But now, in this moment, it was about holding Mike’s cock in my hand and about him melding into me so I could become a part of him.
I lay back on the bed and opened my legs for him, waiting and wanting to receive him, all of him. He didn’t make me wait long, his thick cock gliding into me, filling me at once with his manliness, control, and strength. He was searing hot as he thrust in and out of me. At first, he was cautious, but the adrenalin and the wanting took over, and he was soon out of control with his passion for me. I wasn’t showing much more control. Looking into his eyes as he entered me again and again, I could feel the ecstasy building. I was close to coming.
He thrust again and I was swallowed into the crevasse of nowhere. Swirling into oblivion we were tossed together into the throes of desire. Leaning into him, I screamed my frenzy into his chest and he replied with his own climax, spraying his cum deep inside me. And in that moment, I ceased to exist.
“So, this is what our room looks like,” I said, sitting up a few moments later. With the jet lag and then rushing to the balloon, the conference, the beach, and then being knocked out, I hadn’t had much time to take in the suite. Plus, the beautiful man that was always in my sight was pretty distracting. I smiled at Mike. He grinned back.
“Who knew, you and I, mortal enemies, would end up this way,” I said.
“Well, I was your mortal enemy, but you were never mine.” Mike said. “I think Lee would have liked you.” He was thoughtful, his fingers running through my long dark hair.
“I think
we were always going to end up exactly here. Our attitudes just got in the way for a while,” I said. “All it took was a couple of men with guns pointed to our faces for me to truly reach a turning point.”
“Well, personally, I love your new attitude,” Mike said. “And may I remind you, that I have been asking you out for a beer for a very long time. There was something about your surliness that was so honest, so endearing. Sometimes.” His eyes were soft, and a shadow of concern floated through them, resting at the base. “I will never let anything happen to you again, Rosie. I want to spend the rest of my life protecting you. And Snip.”
“Do we know anything about those men?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want to be looked after like a needy puppy, I was a strong woman, and I could look after myself. But I was loving the attention from Mike.
“I doubt it at this stage. I would guess they were Muslim radicals, raging against the Buddhist radicals, and we were targeted because we were, basically, unlucky.” He looked deep into my eyes. “I can’t believe I almost lost you. I lost Lee, I cannot lose you as well.” Mike was holding me so tightly, I could see his muscles straining. Oxygen was becoming an issue.
“Don’t be dramatic, Mike, it’s just a knock to the head.”
I felt the warmth of affection spread through my body, into my soul. I had misjudged this man, I had read him so wrong and never given him the chance to show me who he was before this moment. And he was right, it was my attitude that had gotten in the way, not his. But he had changed my attitude, he had undone the twisted knot that had formed inside of me a long time ago. A really long time ago. I thought of Dad and smiled. He would have liked Mike, almost as much as I did.
“Why did you persist with being kind to me for so long?” I asked. Looking back on the person I used to be, it didn’t make much sense.
