The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Eh?’ He asks. She doesn't reply but stays quiet. Keeping her head lowered and doing nothing to provoke him, ‘eh?’ he repeats angrier.

  ‘No,’ she whispers.

  ‘No what? You don’t take it in the arse? Fuck off…I bet you’ve had more cock up there than I’ve had…’

  ‘That’s enough,’ she shouts, ‘stop it…get a grip and just stop it.’

  ‘Eh?’ He says again, this time his voice is loaded with intent, ‘get a grip? You want me to get a grip?’

  ‘No I just meant…’

  ‘She wants a grip does she…all that talk of fucking has turned you on hasn’t it…I bet you were in the toilet touching yourself…fingering your wet pu…’

  ‘STOP IT,’ Paula shouts, ‘that is disgusting…’ She realises she’s taken a step away from the cubicle and is stood facing him.

  He exhales slowly and even in the moonlight she can see him sagging, ‘sorry…I’m sorry…I’m pissed and…’

  ‘Okay but please just stop, we’ll get through this but…’

  ‘I haven’t had a shag for ages…Not since the wife left and that was over a year ago,’ he takes a deep breath as her mouth drops open in shock, ‘I don’t want to go out like this…fat and ugly and no one loving me…’ he lets the comments hang in the air.

  ‘You’re not fat or ugly Clarke but this isn’t the time to…’

  ‘You don’t think I’m fat and ugly? Listen…we’re fucked…those fucking things will get in here and kill us, we can’t get out…’

  ‘We’ve just got to wait for help.’

  ‘There ain't no help coming…no one is coming…we’re here and fucked…so let’s go out with a bang eh?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Come on Paula, me and you, I’m not the best looking bloke in the world but hey,’ he grins, holding his hands out to the side, ‘it is the end of the world.’

  ‘No, please just stop it…’

  ‘Why? Why not? You just said you didn’t think I was ugly or fat.’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with that Clarke, it’s just wrong…’

  ‘And you went in the toilet and made yourself look all pretty for me.’

  Oh god he’s taken it completely the wrong way, ‘Please can we just drop it.’

  ‘I’ve always like you Paula, you know that…your perfume you wear and those tight skirts, always bending over the copier and wiggling it about eh?’ He takes a shuffling step forward. She takes a big step back.

  ‘No Clarke, I’m sorry but no…’

  ‘Eh?’ He whines, ‘why not? Fucking hell love I’m only asking for a shag, I’ll be in and out quicker than a rat up a drainpipe, you won’t even notice.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Paula, just bend over for me, pull your skirt up and let me have a quickie…I won’t grope your tits or anything, not unless you want me to that is,’ he adds hopefully.

  ‘No Clarke, stop, just please stop.’

  He shuffles closer, his voice low and whining as he starts pleading, ‘oh come on, I won’t spunk in you or anything like that, I’ll jizz in my hand…’

  ‘That’s disgusting, stop it…just stop…’

  ‘Just pretend I’m Dominic, ah come on Paula, I haven’t shagged anyone for ages, I’ll blow my load within minutes…please love, come on just let me shag you.’

  ‘Absolutely not and stop talking about it,’ she speaks clearly, keeping her voice neutral.

  ‘What harm will it do?’

  ‘Clarke there are people dying outside, my own mother is out there somewhere…we’re trapped and everything is going wrong, please I’m begging you to just stop…’

  ‘And I’m begging you to just let me shag you, fucking hell Paula, just let me stick it in.’

  ‘Please Clarke, please just stop.’

  ‘Okay, no shagging…just a blowjob then…I can give it a clean in the toilet and I won’t like you know…do it in your mouth or anything.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps with fear and frustration, ‘no…I said no! Get it…no.’

  ‘Paula,’ he whines, ‘just the tits then…just show me your tits and I’ll wank myself off, maybe give one of them a touch…’

  ‘Fucking stop it!’ She shouts, surprised at herself for swearing.

  ‘Just the tits, keep your knickers on…just the tits…show me your tits Paula and I’ll have a quick wank and we can go out happy. My wife broke my heart when she left, I don’t get to see the kids, I lost the house and the car…I can barely afford my rent…we’re going to die Paula, I just want to feel like a man.’

  ‘What by standing there in the dark staring at my boobs?’ She asks in shock.

  ‘Yes, I’m worthless and fat and ugly, I’ll never get promoted or do anything other than sit in this shitty office…I drink myself stupid every day and hate myself so much,’ a drunken sob bursts out, quickly cut off with a hard sniff.

  ‘Clarke I’m sorry, I’m sorry but please don’t ask me…I can’t help you and…’

  ‘You didn’t see what I saw Paula, it’s everywhere…dead bodies and everyone killing each other…please love, please just let me see a pair of real tits before I die, not just internet tits but real ones.’

  ‘Clarke you’re scaring me now, please don’t.’

  He takes a deliberate step forward, ‘show me your tits,’ his voice changes, the pleading tone gone, replaced with a firmer edge.

  ‘Stop this,’ she snaps but her voice quavers, showing the fear running through her.

  ‘Show me your tits,’ he growls, harder this time, demanding.

  She puts her hand to her neck as though covering herself, stepping backwards towards the cubicle, ‘Clarke…this is wrong, please just stop.’

  ‘NOW,’ He shouts, she catches a glimpse of face from the moonlight. The angry expression, set eyebrows and thinly pursed lips. ‘Show me your fucking tits.’

  She flinches at the sound of his zip being pulled down, with the windows behind him his form is silhouetted, his hands lost in the shadows at the front of his body. Material being moved, he breathes hard as he fumbles to release himself.

  ‘Clarke…please…don’t do this.’ Too late. It’s happening.

  ‘Come on love, just talk to me while I do it…say something nice to me,’ his tone softens again, breathing gets faster, in the quietness of the office she can hear the rustle of his shirt sleeve against his belt as he starts stroking himself.

  She stays silent, utterly shocked to the core of what’s happening. She wants to run and hide from him. But just the thought of doing anything that might set him off, might provoke his anger again. Right now he’s masturbating just feet from her, but he’s not touching her. Frozen to the spot she listens to his breathing, feeling repulsed and sickened but unable to do anything.

  ‘Say something Paula…’

  ‘I can’t…please don’t do this Clarke, you’re a decent man and this is horrible.’

  ‘Just talk to me, say something nice.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What bra are you wearing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is it white and lacy or black or see through?’ His voice rasps out.

  ‘No, just…no.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he whispers, ‘come on just tell me…’

  ‘No Clarke, I’m not doing this.’

  ‘I bet it’s white and lacy…it is isn’t it…all white and lacy and tight.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about your knickers? You wearing a thong?’

  She closes her eyes, feeling a knot of fear and disgust grip at her stomach.

  ‘It’s a thong isn’t it…bet it goes right into your arse,’ he makes a grunting noise, then snorts to clear his nasal passage. ‘I know the window is behind me, you can’t see me…but I can see you Paula, please…just undo your blouse for me…just a few buttons.’

  ‘No,’ she whimpers, rooted to the spot.

  Her eyes fill with tears, trapped, alone and scared. Get it done, get it don
e quickly. She raises a shaking hand to her top button, he gasps with excitement at seeing her move. Her trembling fingers work at the button, she squeezes her eyes closed. Hating herself for doing this, hating him, terrified and praying this isn’t really happening.

  ‘Yeah…oh yeah…’ he breathes out as the first button comes undone, ‘do the next one…the next one.’

  She stifles the sob, clenching her jaw and willing herself to just let him get it done, show him something to get him to finish quickly. She works at the next one, using her finger tips to push the material apart, showing him the skin of her chest.

  ‘Oh god Paula, oh my god…keep going…please I’m begging you…do the next one.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t touch me,’ she says with a shaky voice.

  ‘Just fucking DO IT,’ He bellows, his voice cracking with anger. Spittle hits her face. She flinches, jerking her head back. Ice cold fear grips inside.

  Tears stream down her cheeks, silently falling from her chin onto the soft material of her shirt. Her lip trembles as she works the next button, praying he’ll finish soon. She pushes the material apart knowing her cleavage will be on show now. A strange urge to look down, to see what he can see comes over her, can he see the cleft of the cleavage in the dark.

  ‘I can see your tits…fucking hell…oh keep going, please…’ he grunts, his tone back to being softer.

  She does the next button quicker, determined to get it done as quick as possible. He hasn’t seen a naked woman for a long time. He’s drunk and will pass out. Just get it done quickly.

  She pulls the material of her shirt apart, revealing the front of her bra, the next button and she tugs the material free from the waistband of her skirt. At the same time of feeling utter repulsion she wills him to be turned on so he’ll finish.

  ‘Yeah…fuck they’re nice…really big too…pull your bra down for me, come on…’ He steps forward, a quick deft movement that belies the size of the man. She jolts backwards, her backside hitting the edge of the cubicle counter. He stands close, breathing stale breath into her face.

  ‘Almost….’ He grunts, going faster,’ his bulk blocks her path. His body shuffles closer. She can feel his erection against his hip, the movement of his hand. The fast breathing and stale air being blown into her face.

  A rustling of clothes. She flinches, tenses as the hand gently touches the material of her bra. A testing movement. A probe to see the reaction.

  ‘Stop,’ she flinches, pulling away from him.

  ‘Stay there you fucking whore,’ he snaps, the anger instantly pouring from him. He stops mid-stroke, pushing her body one handed against the counter. His hand finds her jaw, grabbing it to hold tight, ‘don’t fucking move.’

  She holds her breathe, craning her head away. Forehead knotted in terror she stays stock still as the hand starts probing further. Finger tips groping at her breasts. She feels the hand cup her, squeezing harder as his breathing becomes more laboured. His hand working faster.

  ‘Yeah,’ he gasps. One fat greasy finger slips inside the bra, yanking it down to reveal the nipple. He starts tweaking and rubbing it, making it stand up. She can feel the grease from the pizza being smeared over her, feel her nipple start to erect, an internal rage starts to build that her body responds like this. A physical reaction that she has no control over. Disgusted, repulsed with a growing feeling of sick building in her stomach.

  ‘You want it…you’re getting’ turned on,’ he whispers hoarsely.

  ‘No,’ she says through gritted teeth. The vomit starts to rise. She bites it down, swallowing hard and breathing heavy to force herself to not puke.

  ‘Fuck yeah…’ he keeps working the nipple, taking her heavy breathing as a sign she’s enjoying it. Flicking harder, pinching and pulling at the same spot. She winces with the pain, desperate for him to finish. His hand working furiously now, surely he must be close, he must be nearly there.

  ‘Please just stop,’ she begs.

  ‘You fucking want me, I’m gonna fuck you…you hear me, I’m gonna fuck you, turn round and pull your panties down.’

  ‘No,’ she whimpers, a tiny sound that shakes and cracks with fear. She gasps in terror, trying to push herself back against the cubicle, desperate to be away from him pawing at her.

  ‘I,’ he breathes hard between each word, ‘am…gonna….fuck….you,’ the last word is whispered in her ear followed by his hot, wet tongue darting out to lick her ear lobe. His hand drops to her groin, pushing the material of her skirt between her legs as he fumbles and rubs.

  Smothered, trapped and feeling his penis driving into her hip, almost dry humping her. The heat, the stale breath, his foul odour, fear, terror, anger and she snaps. Lashing out with both hands to drive him back. He takes a step back, grinning at the prospect of now being allowed to get rough. He slaps her across the face, once and hard. The noise sounding out like a clap and snapping her head to one side.

  ‘Plenty more where that came from,’ he grins, his face sickening in the pale light. She takes a quick step forward and drives her knee into his genitals, feeling the hardness of her knee cap impact against the softness of his testicles.

  He bends double, staggering back with his hands clutching at his groin, small gasping noises coming from him.

  ‘Stay away from me,’ she whispers, her voice low.

  ‘CUNT,’ he screams. She tries to run past him but he grabs out with one big hand, clenching the bun on the back of her hair. He grips and spins her round into the nearest desk. She hits it hard, the solid plinth sending shooting pains through her shin bones.

  She feels a blow to the back of her head as he punches out, sprawling her over the top of the desk. He’s on top of her, grabbing at her skirt, first trying to pull it down, yanking at the material. She kicks and bucks but his body weight holds her down. Bent over the desk she can hardly move. He gives up trying to force the skirt down and starts pushing it up, grabbing the hem at the bottom and forcing it up over her thighs.

  She screams, a long ear piercing noise. He reacts with another punch, smacking her hard on the back of the skull, driving her forehead into the desk.

  She can feel her skirt being pushed up, her backside exposed. He grabs at her flimsy knickers, thrusting his fat greasy fingers between her legs.

  ‘You wet yet?’ He hisses, his fingers probing violently for the penetration. Paula can hardly breath, the weight of him is immense, his huge gut pressing into her, one heavy arm pinned across the back, his legs pushing into hers, trapping her in place.

  She gasps with agony as his finger jabs violently inside her. He pushes harder, driving his hand back and forth. Raping her with his fingers. His thumb angles round, starts groping for her anus. She can feel the fat digit pushing between her cheeks. She tenses with everything she has, clenching her muscles taut. He pushes in, unable to get inside. He hits her again, slamming her head against the desk. Still she tenses, locking her muscles up tight.

  ‘CUNT,’ he screams in frustration, not content with raping her vagina but wanting to defile all of her. Drunk on power, crazed with lust. No law, no police, nothing. He can do what he wants and he’s dreamt of this for a long time now.

  ‘Okay,’ she screams, ‘okay…you’re hurting me…’

  ‘Fuck you,’ he roars down, pressing his mouth next to her ear.

  ‘I’ll let you…I will…please…’ she sobs, begging him to get off.

  He doesn't reply but works his hand harder, sending shooting pain through her whole body.

  ‘Not like this,’ she gasps, ‘please Clarke…let me turn over, come on…let me turn over.’

  ‘Nah, I’ll fuck you like this,’ he grunts.

  ‘You can’t see my tits,’ she calls out, ‘don’t you want to see my tits Clarke…’

  He pauses, his hand going still. ‘Yeah, yeah fucking right I do…roll over and if you fucking do anything I’ll smash your fucking teeth in, you hear me you little cunt?’

  ‘Yes,’ she begs, ‘I won’t�
��I’m sorry, I should have let you, you were right.’

  Gripping her hair he eases back, sliding his fingers out from inside her. With his weight gone she gasps for breath and pauses then starts to move, rolling onto her side. He glares down at her, sniffing his fingers. She watches as he licks them, sucking on the one that was inside her.

  ‘You taste of spunk,’ he grins evilly.

  She lashes out, hard and fast. A signal runs from her brain to her hand. Telling her not to use her fist. Telling her not to risk damaging the bones. She opens her hand as she slams the base of her palm into his nose, using the power of her wrist and arm to snap the bone with a dull crack. He reels back, hands clutching at his face, blood pumping out between his fingers. On her back she grips the edge of the desk with her hands and kicks out hard with his legs, driving her feet into his soft stomach.

  He falls back with an audible oomph as the air is driven from him. Taking her chance she pulls herself free of the desk and runs for the door. His arm lashes out, catching a glimpse of her movement between his fingers, punching her hard to the side of the head. She spins off, staggering and losing her balance. He takes a step and kicks her stomach, his heavy foot driving into the softness of her stomach.

  Rolling with the blow, Paula scrabbles to move as his heavy foot stamps down, narrowly missing her head.

  Clambering to her feet she jumps back, moving further into the room, the escape to the door blocked by Clarke standing there.

  His breathing comes out hard. With her back to the window she can see his face, the dark patches streaming down from his nose. He wipes the blood away, smearing it along his cheeks. The alcohol anaesthetising the pain.

  Cold hard rage settles in her mind. The pain still pulsing from his fingers raping her. Her stomach hurting and tender. But the fear is gone.

  ‘You’re fucked,’ he wheezes and charges. She doesn't run away this time. She charges at him, hardly believing what she’s doing. She launches herself onto him, slamming the palms if her hands into his face again and again. He tries to lash out but she dances, ducks, weaves and moves. Hitting him again and again. He roars with pain and frustration, turning to keep walking at her.