The Great Ex-Scape

by Jo Watson

  “So, I’m good company then?” I asked playfully. His next response stopped my playfulness immediately, as well as my heart.

  “The best.” He said it with such authority. As if this was an irrefutable fact, like who the current president was or that the sky was blue.

  “Oh,” I managed feebly. My voice had a slight coy edge to it. “You’re good company too. The best,” I said.

  Alex looked over at me. The warm orange light in the cellar was making his gray eyes a shade of brown. Not a muddy, dull brown, but something rich and vibrant and chestnut. We smiled at each other. His smile was different somehow. Broad. Unrestrained. Open. As if he was trying to show me something. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the waitress smiling at us.

  “So I’ve poured you our famous Pinot Noir,” she said. Then she took another bottle out and placed it on the table. “This is our Malbec, and this . . .” she placed another bottle on the table, “is our blend.” She started moving away from us and I wondered where she was going. “I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled again. “You can come back up when you’ve tasted them and when you’re ready . . .” She said that last part with a smile in her voice and then closed the door behind her. She was gone.

  The atmosphere immediately changed. And as if they too were responding to the change, the lights flickered on and off quickly. A little shiver passed through me, but I didn’t feel cold. Suddenly the room felt so much smaller than I knew it really was, as if the walls were closing in and moving us closer towards each other. I became acutely aware of Alex next to me. The back of my knees itched and I scratched them quickly.

  “I would find this place totally creepy right now if you weren’t here,” I said, reaching for the glass of wine and raising it to my mouth.

  “Whoa!” Alex reached out and stopped me with his hand dramatically. “What are you doing? There is a way of doing this,” he said, forcing me to lower my glass back down to the table.

  “First we look at it.” Alex swirled his glass around and held it up, looking deeply into it. I copied him, not sure what the hell I was looking for.

  “We’re looking at the color of it.” Alex held a white napkin up behind the glass and scrutinized it further. I did the same while trying to bite back a smile. I felt so silly and out of my depth doing this.

  “Now swirl,” he said, swirling the wine around in the glass elegantly. I tried to copy him and splashed it all over my hand.

  “Ooops,” I said, and licked the wine off my finger.

  Alex shot me a playful, disapproving look. “Definitely, not how you do it.” He shook his head at me. “Now we smell.” He raised the glass to his nose and took a deep breath in. I watched in fascination for a moment. He looked so committed to this moment, as if he was concentrating one hundred percent on it. I lowered my nose to the glass, taking a whiff. Again, I had no idea what I was smelling for.

  “And now, we sip. Put it in your mouth for a while. Swirl it around slowly, and then only do you swallow.”

  I lifted it to my lips and finally took a small sip. I swirled it around my mouth, as I’d been instructed to do. And then swallowed.

  “Do you taste it?” Alex asked.

  “What?”

  “Currants and plums,” he said seriously.

  I burst out laughing. “No! I don’t taste that at all. I taste red wine.”

  Alex shook his head at me and tutted. “Oh, Val, you’re not trying hard enough. Take another sip.”

  “Fine.” I sipped and suddenly Alex was up and standing behind me. He placed his hands over my eyes and whispered in my ear.

  “Think about eating a sweet, juicy plum,” he said, his breath caressing the side of my ear.

  I giggled at this and he shushed me. “You have to take this seriously,” he urged in a stern, yet teasing voice.

  “Next you’ll be telling me to imagine myself running through a field of lavender in Tuscany and dancing in the sun.”

  “No, that’s only with the Merlot,” he said. I laughed again. This whole thing was cheesy, and funny and there was also something so damn cute about him getting so into his wine.

  “Fine. Fine. I’ll be serious,” I said. His hands were still over my eyes and this seemed to make all my other senses sharper, especially my sense of smell. I could smell Alex’s cologne now. It was slightly woody. It had an earthy quality to it, fruity, mossy, maybe even a little citrusy. It wafted into my nose and as I sipped, the smell somehow heightened the flavor of the wine. I concentrated hard, the warmth from his hands on my face made me more relaxed. Relaxed and in tune.

  “Plums?” he asked again, softly, right into my ear. I could feel his breath on the side of my face like thousands of tiny ant footsteps rushing over my skin. His smooth face slowly grazed my neck and a warm sensation set my skin ablaze. And then suddenly, I could taste it. Plums! It was so subtle you could almost miss it, but it was there.

  I turned around and looked at him. “Plums!” I nodded, excitedly. “I taste them. It’s amazing. Delicious.”

  Alex smiled at me and went back to his seat. He looked so pleased with himself right now.

  “I told you. You’ve just being doing it all wrong. You just needed to be in a dusty cellar, surrounded by old bottled and barrels—”

  “And in the right company.” I cut him off.

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  I felt a tingle rush through me as the wine warmed me from the inside. Or was it something else warming me? “Clearly, I’ve just never been with the right person before . . . until now,” I said softly.

  His smile faded a little and he looked at me seriously. “Until now,” he echoed, and then he broke eye contact with me and fiddled with the green ribbon around his finger.

  I looked down at mine too, and suddenly it felt tight and so did my throat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “This place doesn’t seem real,” I said. We were standing on the hotel balcony upstairs sipping our wine together after our meal. The view was incredible from up here in this little mountain town. The island of Réunion was full of surprises, that’s for sure. A couple of hours away were the warm, tropical beaches, and a little way inland was this. Suddenly, a white trickle of cloud started rolling down the side of the mountain, bringing with it a cold mist.

  “Look at that.” I walked over to the railing to get a better look. Alex joined me.

  “That mist,” I said as a massive wall of ghostly whiteness started creeping noiselessly over the top of the mountains and came towards us. Where had it all come from so quickly?

  “It’s kind of creepy,” Alex said. He was standing next to me now.

  “Don’t say that.” I nudged his shoulder playfully with mine.

  “But it is.” He turned and leaned against the balcony railing, turning his back on the mountains and looking straight at me. He was holding a glass of red wine in his hand. “It’s like the start of a horror movie,” he whispered. “Two lonely travelers get trapped in a small, mysterious mountain town when a strange, thick mist rolls in, blocking all the exits in and out.”

  “Stop it.” I smacked him on the shoulder this time. “Don’t say stuff like thaaa—” My eyes widened as I looked at the mountain. The thick fog was moving even faster now. Flowing smoothly and quietly, a faceless creature eating up the mountain as it went. I swallowed hard. He was right. This was creepy as hell.

  “Do you think it will come all the way up here?” I asked, crossing my arms around myself. The temperature had definitely plummeted.

  I fixed my gaze on the foot of the mountain, where the row of brightly colored houses sat. In my mind, they became a kind of boundary, as long as the mist didn’t make it that far, we would be fine. Only, within minutes, the thick white veil began to flow over the roofs of the houses, almost as if it were a liquid, dribbling over them. Coating them, until finally, even the almost luminous lime-colored house had disappeared completely. I shivered.

  “I guess we know the answer to the question t
hen: it is coming for us,” he said in a creepy horror voice.

  “Stop it,” I said to him again.

  Alex smiled at me. “Wait, you really are scared, aren’t you?”

  “Well, look at it. It’s a big, mysterious mist and it’s coming right for us.”

  Alex took a step closer to me. “Why are you so scared of a little bit of mist?”

  “My grandmother,” I said. “She used to tell me these terrible, terrible, awful Russian folktales when I was younger. And they scared me for life. So yes, I am terrified of mist.”

  “Oh?” He raised a curious brow. “Like what?”

  “The bloody Baba Yaga for one. This evil ogress who comes and takes disobedient children to her little wooden house in the misty woods where she cooks them and eats them,” I said.

  “Sounds terrible.”

  “It is. And don’t get me started on Koschei the Deathless. She’s not great either.”

  “Awful,” Alex said.

  “They are!” I said, keeping my eye on the creeping mist that was now rolling down the street towards us. In a few moments, it was sure to climb up onto our balcony and then plunge us into its whiteness. “She used to tell me them in Russian, which made them even more creepier.”

  “Do you speak Russian?” Alex asked, looking at me strangely now.

  “A little. Why?”

  “This might sound strange, but I’ve never thought French was the sexiest-sounding language.” He paused and stared at me.

  “And you think Russian is?” I was amused by this. “Russian sounds like Klingon.”

  “Not when spoken by a beautiful woman.” Alex took another step towards me. “Say something,” he said slowly and softly, gazing at me intently. His gray eyes seemed darker in this light. They were mesmerizing and I felt myself being pulled into them.

  “Chto ya dolzhen skazat?” I said softly. It meant, What do you want me to say?

  Alex’s eyes widened and a small smile crept over his lips. “Okay, I have no idea what you said, but it was . . . wow . . .” He looked at me seriously. “You’re a really interesting woman, Valeria.” It was said slowly and purposefully.

  “I am?” I asked. My stomach tightened.

  Alex nodded and raised the glass of wine up to his lips again. I watched him closely as he sipped. The blood-red liquid ran down the side of the glass and then flowed into his open lips. He swallowed, and then the very tip of his tongue came out to lick the tiny red drop that was clinging to the side of his mouth. Suddenly, I forgot about the mist and all I could see was Alex and his lips and the wine. I let my eyes drift up from his lips, drift up his face until I reached his eyes. He was already looking at me. His eyes were an even darker gray now, it never ceased to amaze me how the colors changed so much. Like a chameleon, changing color with each and every emotion.

  I suddenly shivered. Something cold nipped at my ankles. I looked down. “It’s here,” I said. The first white finger of mist crept up onto our balcony. I took a step back as more seemed to move in, like the smoke of dry ice moving across the floor, it soon pooled and danced around my feet, as if it were ready to swallow me.

  I looked back up at Alex. Right behind him, almost like a solid wall moving towards us, the mist came. It moved over his shoulders and around his torso, as if it had hands that were reaching out. We both looked down at the space between us, as the mist pushed its way in and began to smother us. Alex put his hands into it and swatted, the mist reacted immediately, swirling and coiling as if it were angry. And then, it was everywhere.

  I shivered again as the moist cold droplets completely surrounded us. I looked over at Alex, he was soft around the edges as the mist blurred him.

  “God, it’s freezing,” I said. A moment later, I felt something warm and firm on the side of my face. It took a second to realize what it was. Alex had reached out and put his hand on my cheek. Without so much as a second thought, I reached up and placed my hand over his. I slipped a finger between his and he tightened his grip on it.

  “You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said with such care and sincerity that I think I wanted to cry, but I pushed that feeling away.

  “What, will you fight off all the evil creatures when they descend from the mist?” I said teasingly instead.

  “For you . . .” His voice was even slower and softer now. The warmth from his hand radiated out across my cheeks and into my lips. “I’ll fight them to the death.”

  My first thought was to burst out laughing at this, but something stopped me. Even though Alex had said this with the slightest smile in his voice, there was something so sincere about his comment too that I felt truly touched by it.

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning it entirely. The mist suddenly got even thicker, swirling around us now and causing his face to blur even more. “We should probably try and get back to our rooms before we can’t find them,” I said, feeling a genuine sense of worry that we might never be able to make it out of this mist.

  “Good point,” Alex said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  We stepped outside into the garden where our rooms were situated. By this time, visibility was almost zero. I felt disorientated, until I felt the big hand on my lower back.

  “This way,” the calm, authoritative voice said. It was Alex’s voice, of course, not some voice from above or anything. But it was a voice I would listen to. There was something about it. It was the tone. The words he chose, the way he said them. If Alex had to tell you something truly awful, like there was a giant spider clinging to you, it would probably still sound like music to your ears.

  We stumbled forwards together, but couldn’t see a thing. The mist was so thick now that you could feel it with your hand. As if it had a weight to it. It was also wet, it clung to my skin and coated me in a thin layer of icy, cold moisture.

  “Shit!” I tripped over something and landed on the floor.

  “Val?” Alex asked. I could hear his arms flapping and see the trails they were making through the mist, even if I couldn’t see him properly. I reached up for one of the hands but couldn’t find it. I climbed onto my hands and knees and then tried to stand, only my head hit something on the way up.

  “Val!” Alex shouted and I felt him jump back.

  But as he did, a razor-sharp pain radiated through my scalp like fire.

  “OH MY GOD!” I screeched. “Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.” I was frantic and crawled forward on my knees. I found Alex’s legs and quickly wrapped my arms around them tightly, pulling him as close as I could, not caring that my head was now fully in his crotch. Face first.

  “Val!” Alex tried to push me away but I clung on even tighter. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” I wailed.

  “Uh . . . I don’t know,” Alex said.

  “Well, I’m not suddenly trying to go down on you if that’s what you think!” I said, in between winces of pain. “Stop moving, please,” I begged and grabbed onto his legs even harder. “My hair is stuck on something. And it’s fucking sore!”

  “Your . . .” I felt his hands come down. On the top of my head at first, then they slid over my cheeks, over my face, into my hair. “Where?” he asked.

  “Here.” I pulled my head away slightly, pulling back my free hair and exposing the strand that was stuck. It stretched from my head right to his crotch area, there was just no making this up. I was attached to Alex’s crotch! I felt his hands fumble some more, his thumb clipped my lip, his palm squished my nose, he poked a finger in my eye. Finally, he had the strand between his finger and located the problem.

  “My belt buckle,” he said. “It’s stuck in my belt buckle.”

  “Great!” I threw my arms in the air and almost lost my balance. I grabbed onto Alex once more.

  “Uh . . . those aren’t my thighs,” Alex said awkwardly.

  I squeezed. The things beneath my hands felt hard and firm and . . . “Oooohhh,” I said, suddenly realizing
that I was gripping his backside. I released my hands, not before giving it the tiniest little squeeze again.

  “God, I hope no one sees us like this.” I sighed and then shook my head a little.

  “Whoa!” Alex grabbed the top of my head with his hand and held it firmly in place. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?” I asked.

  “Don’t move like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know,” he said with a strange tone in his voice. “You know.” Great vocal emphasis was placed on this last “you know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” I replied. “I don’t know, know, you know.”

  “Just stop moving your head like that,” he said, sounding exasperated, or was that desperation in his voice?

  “What, like this?” I moved my head again and this time his hand came down a lot harder on the top my head.

  “VAL!” he said loudly. “Every time you move your head like that it’s causing some friction . . .”

  “Oh.” I thought about it for a second and then got it. “OH!” I said, biting my lip. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be . . .” My voice tapered off as I looked straight ahead of me, and yup, it had grown somewhat. I tried to bite back an awkward smile, but couldn’t. This was the second time in a few days that I’d had an encounter with his surprisingly large package—was the universe trying to tell me something? Well, if it was, it wasn’t being very subtle about it, that’s for sure. In fact, it was being very in your face about the whole thing. Literally.

  “Let’s just get you loose, shall we?” He sounded determined, and fiddled with my hair until he finally managed to free me.

  “Thank God,” I exclaimed loudly as I felt the tension on my head relax. Alex then pulled me up so forcefully and quickly that I smooshed into his chest. I lost my breath for a moment as the wind was knocked out of me by his solid frame. Instinctively, I placed my hands on his shoulders and held myself in place. I pressed myself into him a little, even though I knew I shouldn’t. But his body was hard and firm and he smelt good and was so nice and kind and fun and I was a little warm and fuzzy around the edges because of all the wine. My inhibitions were down, my morals slightly looser and there was something so romantic about this mist all of a sudden. Alex slipped his hand around my back and held me in place. It didn’t feel like a very friendly hand, though, not the kind of hand that helps friends to their feet and stops them from falling backwards. It felt like a totally different kind of hand. The kind that cups a woman’s back possessively as if she were theirs. The kind of hand that was both firm and reassuring and frightening in the way it made my knees weak and mind swirl with thoughts that I was sure I wasn’t meant to be having. His hand slipped down a little lower and gripped me tighter.