by Park, J. R.
Martin looked forward at the wall and then closed his eyes tight. He felt the warmth of the prisoner’s hard penis press against the back of his leg. Two thickset hands clenched his naked bum cheeks and spread them wide. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his life but he knew he could fight no more. Martin thought back to the beach and the seaside. He felt the huge, throbbing prick glide up his thigh as he recited the last Punch and Judy show he’d performed. He felt the end of the assailant’s penis touch his anus, which immediately contracted in defence. As dry and unwilling as his body was he knew the force of these brutes could not be stopped.
He felt his rectum being spread wider still as, like a grotesque worm, the prisoners erection pushed and forced its way inside.
Martin woke with a shock and found himself sat upright in bed. His skin was damp and the bed sheets saturated with sweat. His bedroom was still as he wildly looked around in confusion. He panted as the adrenalin that had flooded his body took a while to subside. He was safe. He was at home.
The clock read 3:40 as he lay back on his bed, too exhausted to be concerned with damp linen. He buried his head into his pillow and sobbed. He cried for his past, the one he had suffered and the one he had missed. He quietly pleaded to any god that would listen to protect his future. And he hoped for some kind of blessing.
In the darkness of his room the Punch costume sat, propped up on a chair, and grinned an unflinching grin at the scene before him.
Jo had suffered a restless night of turmoil and anguish. Despite all the reassurances her friend Pippa had offered on the phone yesterday they had done nothing to alleviate the cycle of thought and fear that ran through her mind. She had decided to stop by and see Pippa before her shift at the café started, and so made an early morning call to her best friend’s house.
‘I never imagined he would come back,’ Jo stirred her cup of tea agitatedly as she slumped in her friend’s sitting room dressed in her pink uniform, ready for work.
‘Come on Jo,’ Pippa assured her, ‘it doesn’t matter. What’s he going to do?’
Pippa was of the same age as Jo and they had been friends since school. She had always been the stronger one of the two so she was not surprised about Jo’s reaction and current state of mind. Pippa sat down opposite her friend and dunked a biscuit into her warm beverage. Her pretty features were framed by long brunette hair that flowed in gentle waves almost reaching her bottom. She had always been the most attractive girl in her year at school, and having only left a few years ago her popularity remained in adult life throughout the town.
Jo was not convinced by her friend’s blasé attitude with which she took the arrival of Martin Powell to Stanswick Sands.
‘I hear what you’re saying Pip,’ Jo whined, ‘but I just feel so awful. I was able to forget about it whilst he wasn’t here, but seeing him standing there in front of me…’ She trailed off for a moment, then regained her focus, ‘Pip, he looks so old, so messed up. You haven’t seen him. It sends shivers all over me just thinking about it.’
Jo stood up from her seat and walked to the window. On the windowsill stood a picture of the two girls when they were nine years old. The two stood together in matching yellow dresses, Pippa with a polka dot bow in her hair, holding hands. She picked up the picture and looked at the happy faces, searching for some comfort.
‘Relax Jo,’ Pippa watched a tear silently roll down her friend’s face, ‘Martin Powell is not anybody’s concern any more. The person most worried about it is you.’ She stood up and walked towards her distressed mate, ‘And I get it, I really do. From time to time it crosses my mind just how awful it was, but that was such a long time ago. People move on. We’ve grown up, we have jobs.’
‘You have a baby,’ Jo smirked as she wiped the tear from her face.
‘I have a baby. It’s a different world,’ Pippa held Jo for a moment in a gentle embrace. ‘Now if you want shivers down your spine get Colin to have a read of this,’ her tone lightened and she pulled a book out from under the coffee table.
It had the picture of a man and women, naked and interlocked in a passionate kiss on the cover. The title above the two lovers read 40 New Ways To Orgasm.
‘Really?’ Jo was not convinced.
‘Why not, it can’t hurt,’ Pippa smiled, ‘I have no use for it. Haven’t been in the mood since Jarred left me.’
‘Why such a sexy costume for the carnival then?’ Jo quizzed.
Pippa held up a black and pink corset, admiring its risqué nature.
‘Nothing wrong with looking sexy,’ she retorted, ‘and besides I might get back into the whole dating thing once I get my sleepless nights back from little Danny.’
‘Yeah yeah,’ Jo mocked, ‘you and your team have gone with sexy burlesque in a bid to tickle the judges fancy and win. I know you girl!’
‘Moi?’ Pippa faked innocence in her expression. ‘I’ve only wanted to win this thing forever. Think I might have found a winning formula. The whole town has already been talking about my float.’
She smiled and tilted her head to one side with a compassionate smile to her friend.
‘Now cheer up and relax,’ Pippa said softly stroking her friend’s arm, ‘and if it really gets too much, well you know what to do?’
‘No, what?’ Jo asked.
‘We’re in a seaside town,’ Pippa’s smile grew with playfulness, ‘go chuck yourself in the sea.’
If the town of Stanswick Sands was likened to a beached whale slowly dying on land as the surrounding environment caused it to perish, then the pier would have been its rotting tail. A decaying strip that reached back out to sea.
Martin stood on the moss covered timber that formed the pier’s structure and leant against the railings. He watched the waves crash against themselves as swooping seagulls filled the air with a cacophonic chorus. The sky was grey and brooding, but the storms had held off giving the locals a reprieve from the rain. Few people had taken the chance of a dry and less windy day to venture to the pier. Among those that had were a few fishermen casting lines into the rough sea and some thrill seekers that sought amusement in the archaic attractions decorated with fluorescent lights and garish paint work.
Martin wore a long coat and hat, it had been a while since he had felt the sea breeze and he found it cold this time of year. He looked down at his watch through a pair of sunglasses and read it to be quarter past one. Polly was late for their date.
He wondered if she was going to come at all when he noticed a flash of green and purple through the crowd. Polly’s coat proudly stood out as she strode with confidence to their planned meeting point.
‘Polly!’ Martin called.
‘Martin? Why hello, I barely recognised you there,’ she approached him with a smile, ‘what’s with the disguise?’
‘What?’ Martin asked.
‘It’s hardly weather for sunglasses,’ she pointed to his face and the shades he wore.
‘Oh yes,’ he countered, ‘I found them out when going through all my things last night. I thought I should get into the spirit of the seaside and give them an airing.’
‘Shame about the weather,’ Polly looked to the sky with a mild grimace, ‘I hope it doesn’t ruin the carnival.’
It was Martin’s turn to keep the spirits high, ‘Us British are made of sterner stuff than to be put off by a little bit of rain. If we were we would never get anything done!’
He made a loop with his arm and offered it to Polly. She accepted the invitation, putting her hand through the hole and round his bicep, linking arms. Together they strolled along the pier.
‘There is so much joy to be had here,’ Martin spoke with the enthusiasm of a tour guide, ‘we have the big wheel, the dodgems.’
The pair walked into an undercover building filled with music and flashing lights emitting from arcade machines that were lined up in rows.
‘This was never really my sort of thing,’ Martin raised his voice to be heard over the electronic din.
‘I can’t say I have ever really played any computer games,’ Polly said, ‘the two pee machines are as far as I go. How about that?’
Polly pointed across the room to a shooting range. Rifles were laid out on the counter in a row and behind them, on the back wall, were a series of targets. Hanging above the red and white targets were a collection of cuddly toys. Lions, tigers and bears were the prizes for the crack shot.
‘How’s your aim?’ she asked.
‘A challenge hey?’ Martin tipped his hat to his date, ‘I accept madam.’
Martin picked up a rifle and looked down the barrel, aiming it at the target in front of him. He shuffled uncomfortably as he tried to get a good aim but the sunglasses dimmed his view and made it hard to ensure he was set for the bull’s eye. Not wanting to lose face in front of his date he took a guess and squeezed the trigger. The shot fired off but completely missed the target and instead made a hole in one of the stuffed toys hanging from the ceiling. The unfortunate lion swung in the air as its stuffing fell to the floor.
‘Oops,’ Polly laughed, ‘I think you should try taking your sunglasses off.’
Martin smiled and reached for his shades, hesitated and put the rifle down.
‘Maybe this isn’t my game,’ he admitted. ‘Terribly sorry about the toy,’ he said to the attendant, ‘please let me pay for it.’
‘Oh Martin you are funny,’ Polly said with delight as he handed over the money. She pulled at his arm, ‘Can we go on the big wheel?’
‘Your request is my pleasure,’ came Martin’s reply as they made their way to the giant structure overlooking the sea.
The afternoon was filled with laughter and playfulness as the two tried out all the rides the pier had to offer. As they embarked on the big wheel Martin made a joke about falling off at the moment the carriage overlooked the water below. He stumbled forward and leaned out over the safety railings. Polly was initially scared but giggled when she realised it was nothing more than horseplay. The old gent got to show off his skills by hooking a duck and winning his lady a cuddly toy. He proved himself a skillful driver of the dodgems and amid screams of delight they both held their own on the waltzers. To catch their breath they sat down for a moment eating fish and chips fresh from yesterday’s catch and joked about who could build the biggest sandcastle in the summer. Once they had finished their meal they strolled further along the pier, their hands met, their fingers entwined and they gently held each other’s palm in a sign of togetherness that pleased them both.
‘Who’d have thought there was so much fun on the pier!’ Polly remarked.
‘I’ve saved the best till last,’ Martin replied as he stopped and faced an attraction. ‘Polly, please let me introduce you to my particular favourite, the Maze of Mirrors.’
The lights surrounding the entrance flickered on and off and Polly looked a little underwhelmed.
‘It may not look like much,’ admitted Martin, ‘but just you wait until we get inside.’
He paid a bored looking attendant who barely gave them the time of day and they entered into a dimly lit room.
The maze was instantly confusing on its entrance as the mirrored walls reflected images of both them and potential passageways. Polly walked forward towards an opening but was immediately halted as she crashed into a mirror with a bang.
‘Careful!’ called Martin. ‘Don’t hurt yourself.’
Slowing her pace Polly shuffled her feet forwards with her hands outstretched. She could not trust her eyes in this place of illusion. Martin removed his sunglasses to get a better view of his surroundings.
‘You could get lost in here for days,’ Polly wondered in awe.
‘If you really want to lose yourself,’ he said, ‘where better than a maze.’
‘I can’t work out where I’m going,’ Polly called out with delight as she felt her way forward. ‘Martin? Martin?’
There was no response from behind her. She stopped in her tracks. Looking round she was greeted by countless reflections of herself, each with the same concerned look on her face, but no sign of her date.
‘Martin?’ she called out again, her voice weak and trembling with uncertainty.
‘Boo!’ Martin shouted as he suddenly jumped out on her from his hiding place.
Polly shrieked and then laughed as she held on to him.
‘Oh you!’ she laughed. They slid into a clinch and she gazed at his face, ‘It’s nice to see your eyes at long last.’
‘I guess some things you just have to wait for,’ he quipped.
‘And it was worth the wait.’
They leaned towards each other until their lips met and with a gentle but assured passion they kissed. Martin pulled her closer; his hand softly squeezed her waist, pulling her hips towards his.
As they slowly broke off from their embrace Polly looked at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.
‘Is this where you end all your dates?’ she joked.
‘It’s worked well for me so far,’ he said with a knowing wink.
They both giggled and kissed again.
‘Come on,’ said Martin with rejuvenated vigour, ‘my knowledge is a bit rusty but I can still find my way round.’ He took her by the hand, ‘Let’s show you out.’
Skillfully Martin led Polly round the maze. A left, a right, an unexpected loop back round. He had to stop and think a few times, but only momentarily, and within a few minutes they emerged, blinking in the natural light.
‘I can’t believe it!’ whooped Polly. ‘You knew exactly where you were going!’
‘Just one of my many useless skills,’ Martin sounded bashful.
‘I’m impressed,’ she said kissing her hero on his cheek. ‘If you’ll excuse me I just need to spend a penny.’
‘Good idea,’ Martin thought aloud, ‘I’ll meet you here.’
Of all the various states of structural and decorative decay on show along the sea front the toilets were the worst. The walls were covered in offensive graffiti, and black mould that grew in the corners spread like stubborn shadows, refusing to move regardless of the time of day. Martin walked into the portacabin marked Gents and was greeted with a smell of stale urine. The floor was damp with puddles collecting in the dips of the uneven flooring. Martin decided against using the shit caked toilets with their seats ripped off and leant, uselessly, by their sides and instead relieved his bladder in a urinal. He had felt his penis stir with arousal when he and Polly had kissed and he smiled to himself at the possibilities that lay before him.
As he washed his hands he found himself stood next to a large stocky man with tattoos that ran up muscular forearms. The man had a shaven head and crooked nose.
‘Nice day,’ Martin said politely as the two washed their hands in unison.
The other man stopped his cleaning action and turned to look at Martin with an expression like the aging man was mad.
‘Not the weather,’ Martin caught sight of this expression, ‘it’s grim outside. I’m having a nice day on the pier. I guess my mood is just colouring the day for me.’
The other man nodded in understanding and finished rinsing his hands. He then stopped and turned to face Martin, staring intently and inquisitively at him.
‘Don’t I know you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Martin smiled nervously as he shook his hands dry.
‘Yes I do, yes I bloody do,’ the man spoke with disbelief. ‘You’re Martin Powell. You used to do the Punch and Judy show here years ago.’
‘You must have me mistaken,’ Martin was reluctant to reveal his identity.
‘Don’t give me that,’ the man was persistent, ‘you bloody well are.’
‘Uhhhh,’ Martin tried to move the conversation along, embarrassed that he had been recognised by someone he didn’t know, ‘I’d have thought everybody would have forgotten about me by now.’
‘It’s been so long,’ the man scratched his shaven head in bewilderment.
‘Ten years,’ Martin clarified.
‘And it should be at least another ten!’ the man’s tone changed as anger began to swell in his voice.
He stepped forward into Martin’s personal space until their noses met. Veins began to pulsate on his head as his features grew redder and redder.
‘How do you think the town could forget about you?’ he spoke whilst jabbing a thick, stubby finger into the older man’s chest. ‘After what you did? It makes my blood boil just to be stood in the same room as you.’
Turning the tap back on, the man scooped up some water in his hand and threw it at Martin’s crotch. The water soaked into his trousers, leaving a darkened damp patch making it look like he’d pissed himself.
The man smiled a malicious smile, ‘That won’t be the last accident to happen if you stay around here.’
Hurriedly Martin turned and left the toilets ensuring he put his sunglasses on as he stepped back out into public. He looked ridiculous as he walked back to his meeting point with a sodden crotch but it was better than staying in the toilets to dry himself and face further wrath from his assailant.
‘What on earth happened to you?’ Polly was not one to politely ignore things through potential embarrassment and pointed at the dripping crotch of his suit trousers.
‘Oh, just an accident with the taps,’ he lied, ‘come on let’s go.’
‘I can’t take you anywhere,’ she laughed as her hand slid into his and they walked away from the pier.
From the doorway of the Gents the shaven headed man watched them walk away. He balled his hands into tightly clenched fists as his rage simmered inside.
The date with Polly had gone very well but following the altercation with a man he did not recognise, Martin had decided it would be nice to have some company for the evening. It was a different world but history still haunted him it seemed. Grete had left a message with him that they’d like to meet up so Martin took the opportunity and invited both her and her son Kaspar round for dinner. He had always prided himself on his own ability to cook well and he enjoyed preparing the meal. If it went well maybe he’d invite Polly round for a candle lit, three course dinner. There was no better way to a person’s affections than pampering them with home cooked gourmet. And in Polly’s affections was where he wanted to be.
