by Karen Botha
He pulls down the straps on my vest and bra in a succinct movement; releasing my breasts. He cups one in each hand and sucks at an erect nipple showering me with needles of pleasure. He moves to the next, snagging his teeth, power tooling sharp rushes of ecstasy.
His free hand works beneath my waistband, straining as he forces his palm into the back of my panties. He curls his arm between my thighs and inserts his fingers inside me with ease. He lets out a groan as my breath catches. Shivers run down my legs, buckling my knees. He catches me, sandwiching my limp body between the sterile cubicle wall with his harder form. He's grinding into my leg, panting. My head swims as pulsing consumes me. He releases my clothing and takes me from the front simultaneously with his other hand whilst nipping at my neck with his hungry mouth.
Waves crash in my ears as I surrender. I gush over his fingers, stifling a scream with my hand. I bite into my flesh. He snatches it away, forcing his wet digits into my mouth. I suck them deep, whilst finishing unbuttoning his flies.
He springs free and I bend. Greedy to feel him down my throat, I widen and accept more. I choke. Slide up and then back down, deeper. He's moving into me, helping me take him. I taste his salty end, sucking out his excited juice and flick his tip with my tongue. He moans, arches his hips backwards, controlling his need to thrust. I grab at his waist and drag him into me, deep again.
He pulls away, panting, spins me round and bulldozes my underwear out of the way. I fall forward, loose breasts spilling over the toilet. He plunges into me. I steady myself on the concrete wall and he clutches my chest, pulling my body upright. Bending his knees, he slides in and out, rough, but oh so needed.
‘Thank you for bringing me,’ I take his hand, squeezing it as we creep out, giggling. We head round to the guest garage. I walk a little more wide legged than usual trying to realign my lingerie, then settle to wait for our turn on the track.
I’m fidgety. Adrenalin pumps into my joints and I crack my wrists, preparing me for another new experience. A stream of visitors plop into the low passenger seats of highly tuned sports cars. I tune the hum of engines and tools into the background and listen to their voices. Stress pushes them an octave higher than they would otherwise be. I’m not nervous, I’m thrilled; agitated that I have to wait.
They zoom off into the distance, motors clanging through rapid gears. I watch, detached as their cars fleetingly pass by at the end of their first lap, both driver and passenger blurred by speed. When the short laps are over, they're a mix of either elation and relief. And I wait. I wait until its my turn. I wait for the climax of my day.
I let Giles go first and then instruct Nathan, my driver. ‘Whatever happens, we must go quicker than that car,’ I point.
Nathan opens his mouth, releasing a deep chuckle, ‘the girl likes racing,’ he nods his head slowly.
‘Haha, yeah, only as of today, but I’m hooked,’ we shake hands, sealing our deal.
Nathan has already explained that during the first lap we won’t go too fast. It's something to do with getting our tyres hot enough so they grip the track properly. So I’m not too concerned when I see Giles pulling off ahead of us as he hits the start/finish line for loop two. As we cross in second place though, I reinforce, ‘now we can catch him!’ Just so Nathan is in no doubt that I definitely took that first round to be a warm up.
He hits the peddle and the G force slams my head back. An unseen pressure is crushing my neck, a headache gnaws at my temples. We sling the car around a right bend, and I’m in awe at Nathan’s ability to hold it steady when we’re moving with such acceleration. We pass under a bridge and I guess this is what they call, straight line speed, because he is booting it and true to his word we’re catching Giles.
‘We’re going to try to overtake him,’ Nathan screams at me over the din of the engine.
‘Yes do it,’ I manage, gripping the door handle. As we come out of the straight, into the bend we pass down the inside of Giles. His driver isn’t expecting it though and moves over to take the next curve wide. He clips us. The car shunts to the right and back left again as the rear end swings out, bouncing us down the track. My teeth jabber together. And then it happens.
Time changes pace, slow motion takes centre stage as the car floats off the track. A serene moment in the middle of impending disaster. I don’t hear the crash, but I’m totally aware of my phone clonking my head.
Then it’s quiet.
GILES
Debris flies everywhere.
We are out of it, I feel the shunt. And I hear it. That crunch as her car hit the barrier. I scream at my driver. I have no idea what I say. I want him to pull over. Need him to pull over.
He does. But not quick enough.
I run back up the track. I can’t feel my legs, they’re numb. I’m numb. Not again! Her car is upside down. They're both hanging, seat belts suspending them in the air. There's no movement. I can’t get there fast enough, my legs are like lead, my lungs heavy with gravel. There is silence. My solitary breath in my ears rhythmically supplying my organs with excesses.
‘Lucy,’ I cry as loud as I can, trying to ascertain whether she's moving as I run full pelt. Nothing.
‘Lucy!’ I try again, a growl comes from some desperate place deep in my gut. I’m finally there.
The marshalls have arrived before me. They’re blocking my view, preventing me from reaching Lucy.
‘Please, leave her alone,’ one of them instructs. He doesn’t last long. I shove him with a force only adrenalin can supply and run to her. There’s blood dripping down her forehead, into her hair which hangs loose towards the ground. Her face is ashen.
‘Lucy, speak to me,’ I’m roaring, my lungs on fire. I pull the jammed door, falling backwards when it doesn’t move.
‘Please sir, don’t touch her,’ someone requests in the background as I try to free her from her safety harness through the window. She is breathing and I grab at her, screaming again for her to wake; to open her eyes for me. An ambulance arrives and I’m ushered away. I grapple with words trying to explain who I am. No-one is listening.
‘Please sir, let the professionals through,’ I half catch. I stand, watching the film play out in front of me. Excluded from the action. Beaten for a short second by the necessity to allow professional aid to deliver what I can’t.
More sirens. The Fire Brigade arrive with a flurry of briefings. Still strangely detached from the bleak chaos, I’m suddenly struck by the irony of the situation. I take a physical step back, recoiling, watching as they jack up the bonnet of the car to stabilise it. I remember Steph's training, I know the jaws will cut Lucy out. The team hurry about organising extinguishing tools in case the vehicle should blow. I’m shoved further backwards and told to ‘stand clear of the scene’.
Once again; that terrible word. And once again it’s the woman I love involved in that scene. The heavy hydraulic teeth clasp the flimsy fibreglass of the car. It creaks under their pressure and after some fidgeting with positions, the door pops off.
One of the ambulance crew was inside the cockpit with Lucy, on his knees talking to her encouraging her to come round. I hear her then. There’s a break in the hum of the machinery. She groans. Not loudly, but it’s her.
A lump rises quickly in my throat and I burst out crying and lurch forward, the knot, untangling in relief. I’m restrained by the same guy who was on the receiving end of my earlier trauma. He was more ready this time, standing tall, bracing himself for my physical attack.
‘Lucy, are you OK?’ She responds with another groan.
‘Sir, are you with this woman?’ The Chief Fire Officer enquires, moving to stand next to my human barrier.
‘Yes, she’s my girlfriend.’
‘Please let him through, let him go and be with her,’ he says more quietly laying a hand on the arm of my personal security. I run towards him and he grabs my shoulder in a practised grip. I stop, unsure of what I’ve done.
‘Please do not touch her until you’re told
it is OK. Keep her speaking.’
I nod, thankful to be closer. A man who was asking Lucy her name moves over to allow me to get near, I’m not sure in all the commotion whether he was part of the ambulance crew or the fire brigade.
‘Lucy, it’s Giles, I’m here, can you hear me?’
She grunts again. The ambulance team are attending to her and her driver inside the car. I hadn’t even thought about him. His skin is sallow and sweaty, eyes sunken, but he manages to croak that he is OK.
I catch my first proper glimpse of Lucy now that the door is off. Her face is pretty bashed in from the airbag, she already has a purple egg appearing under her eye socket. They’re shining a thin torch in her eyes. Her nose is bust, and blood is spread all over her face. The paramedics have placed a plastic brace on her neck.
They free her. The crew catch her as she slides down the passenger seat. They place her upon a plastic back board and onto the gurney in the ambulance. My mind flashes back, history repeating, visions of the past mingled with today. I can’t get a grip on what is reality.
‘Would you like to travel with her?’ someone asks.
I must have said ‘yes’ because I’m ushered into the back where I can take a seat next to Lucy. The paramedics are checking her out as we pull away. I sit, broken.
The crew is nice, and the lady has kindness in her eyes.
‘It doesn’t appear too serious, we’re just taking her to the hospital as a precaution as she blacked out.’ Her voice judders as the ambulance makes its way off the gravel at the side of the track.
Lucy starts to laugh. I kid you not. She bloody laughs.
‘Trust me to end up in an accident,’ she croaks.
The bubble of tension bursts and we all start to giggle, admittedly a little high pitched and manic, but filled with all the relief you can expel in one go.
‘Are you OK?’ I’m unsure of what on earth is going on, stroking her face and feeling less than useless.
‘Yeah, I have a bit of a headache,’ she tries to touch her head, but her hand is linked to wires which resist her movement. Her eyes are glassy.
‘That’s a good sign,’ discloses the paramedic, ‘she remembers she’s been in an accident,’ and I exhale. Another massive, sigh of relief spews out my residual tension.
‘How is Nathan?’ Lucy asks.
‘He seemed OK, he was talking when we left.’
The paramedic is quiet, but I expect they don’t want to give too much away before they understand all the facts.
‘You had me worried,’ I whisper quietly as I touch my face to hers enjoying the warmth of her skin near mine.
‘I’m sorry, I wanted to beat you, it was so much fun.’
‘Hmm, see what an excess of fun got you,’ I chastise kissing her gently on her cheek. Hot tears spill from the corners of my eyes, leaving streaks as they splash on her dried blood.
Work are fabulous. I take a few days off and stay with Lucy whilst she recuperates.
‘Thanks for caring for me so well.’ It’s the afternoon before I need to return.
‘That’s OK, Pumpkin, I just wish I could spend more time with you.’
‘What and cramp my TV viewing even more than you have already,’ her eyebrows raise in mock question - her choice of television shows is truly appalling.
‘Haha, I watched your rubbish for the first few days.’
‘Yeah, only until you knew I was getting better - then you started to moan.’
I hold my hands up in front of me; guilty.
‘How’s your head?’ Despite her joking about the programmes she has been suffering with headaches since the accident.
‘OK. I could do with some more painkillers in a while, but I’m fine for now.’
‘No, let me get you some,’ I hop up, delighted to be of use.
‘No, I’ll have them later,’ she protests, but I don't listen. If she is in any kind of discomfort and I can do anything at all to help, I’m in. I bring the bottle to the living room and proudly present them to her.
‘Would you like a drink to take them with?’
She puts them on the side of the sofa.
‘I’ll have them in a bit, thanks for getting them.’
‘No, if you’re in pain take the tablets,’ I’m already leaving the room and shouting behind me whilst pouring her some cold water.
‘Here,’ I put the glass in her hand, the condensation already forming at the bottom. She picks up the pills and takes two in her cupped palm.
‘Good girl,’ I encourage, smiling at her, watching closely. ‘Now show me you’ve swallowed them all,’ she opens her mouth wide, knowing the drill.
A car catches Lucy's eye as it pulls onto our drive. She glances up, then dismisses it as another stranger using our land as a turning circle at the end of the cul-de-sac, and focuses back on the TV. When it parks up, she does a double take.
‘Who’s that?’ she asks struggling to sit up, craning her neck the best she can.
‘It’s Wyndham and Penelope, they wanted to come say hi.’
‘Oh, but look at me, I’m a mess. I can’t meet your brother dressed like this, why didn’t you mention it?’
‘I wanted it to be a nice surprise for you, cheer you up.’ Her face crumples into cross lines and she unwinds herself awkwardly off the sofa.
‘I have to change out of my pyjamas,’ she hisses at me, ‘stall them.’
She’s gone. It’s the fastest I’ve seen her move since the accident but I keep that thought to myself. I open the door before they have a chance to knock, give Pen a quick hug and shake Wyndham’s hand, grateful for them breaking up the monotony of illness.
‘Did you find us OK?’
‘Yeah, it’s a bit tricky by the shops, my initial instinct is that I was turning into a car park, but you briefed me well. I followed the sat nav and we’ve had no problems.’ I show them into the lounge.
‘This is nice, it’s homely.’ Penelope turns in the middle of the room, her eyes darting as she takes in every fine detail.
When Lucy reappears a few seconds later, she is in jeans and a t-shirt and I think she may have combed her hair, but I can’t be certain. I’m not too sure what the fuss was about, but anyway, she’s all smiles, so that’s fine. She resumes her seat on the sofa after some valiant hugging that makes her cringe. She presses the button to make the machine hum quietly into the reclining position.
‘Lucy, I’m impressed with your music system, top of the range, a veritable choice.’ Lucy smiles, clearly pleased with Wyndham's compliment.
‘I love my music, it’s important to have a flawless sound with a good bass.’
‘Turn it on, lets have a listen,’ Wyndham enthuses.
‘Erm…’ I start, conscious of Lucy's pounding head. But I’m overruled.
‘Sure,’ she presses a few buttons on her mobile. The thing springs into life filling the room with a track that's played on the radio many times before. This time I pick-up more than the main stream of music.
‘There’s loads happening underneath that you can't detect on a standard system, can you catch it?’ she asks Wyndham.
‘Yeah, it really is fantastic.’
‘It gives you an ability to see, or rather hear, I suppose, if you’re being super picky about it, what is going on under the surface. Wouldn’t it be great if we could do that with life?’
We all stare at her, not expecting this level of depth to be prompted by a discussion about what is effectively a glorified I-pod.
I offer to make a drink, Wyndham follows. ‘A bit of good old role reversal,’ he punches my arm gently.
‘Huh?’
‘The guys making the drinks, whilst the women sit, listening to music.’
‘Ah... ’
‘So, how are things?’ He covers his mouth, ‘how is the guy that was driving, is he out of his coma yet?’
‘No. No change. The doctors aren’t sure if he will. It’s a waiting game.’
‘Oh no, so what happened, how
did he end up coming off worse?’
‘No one is really positive, but they assume he was trying to hold Lucy as the car flipped and somehow he’s cracked his head in the process.’
‘So he has a brain injury?’
‘Yeah, apparently it’s to do with the wires that connect into his brain becoming dislodged. They just need to wait, see whether nature will repair itself.’
‘If it does, will he be OK?’
‘There’s no way of telling, but I guess the chances are slim of him coming out unscathed. It’s terrible, don’t mention it to Lucy. She’s a bit of a mess. They’re still investigating the accident too which isn’t helping.’ I raise my eyes in frustration. Lucy needs this to be over, for closure.
‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
‘That friend of hers’, Paula, is also not helping matters. I’m positive she’s got her claws into the police about this and she’s making them delve into every detail.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she has a downer on me. Her opinion is that life is generally something to be suspicious about, which means that Steph dying is a prime target for her paranoia. She has determined that I had a hand in it. With the accident on top of it all…’ I leave the rest unsaid as Wyndham nods his head understanding my predicament. ‘Thing is though, Lucy needs to believe it was all an accident to be able to move on. It’s just fate. That kind of thing can’t be planned. But, I'd bet Paula doesn’t agree.’ Familiar frustration followed by anger wells up inside me. There’s nothing I can do.
‘Eek, you can do without that,’ Wyndham sucks air through his teeth pulling is mouth taught.
We stir the tea in silence.
‘How is Lucy about it all now?’ Wyndham asks finally.
‘She says it’s nice that Paula cares. Actually, she doesn't have the capacity to process all the individual elements right now. If it’s not a conspiracy theory, then she is responsible because she was asking the guy to drive faster. She won’t let herself win.’