by Simone Leigh
James said that he’s her Rock….
Will speaks. “Charlotte. You have mentioned that sometimes, the children you knew at Blessingmoors would simply disappear, taken away. Can you tell me any more about that?”
“All I really know is that at about fourteen or fifteen, we just didn’t see them anymore. We were told that the older ones were moved onto another home, for seniors, but we never ever heard back from any of them.”
“None of them?”
She shrugs. “Not that I ever saw.”
“So, for your purposes, the older teenagers simply vanished?”
She nods, then stares at the ground.
“What about the younger ones? Did they ever disappear?”
“Sometimes, usually if they’d been beaten hard. We’d be told they were taken from the Infirmary to a hospital, but sometimes, they didn’t come back.”
James interrupts. “You told me Charlotte, that you were in the Infirmary on one occasion?”
“Yes, I’d run away, again. I was always caught sooner or later, and the Police would bring me back….” She stares at Will for a moment, who blushes and looks down. “…. We were always beaten for running away. That time, yes, I ended up in the Infirmary. They told the Social Worker I’d been drinking and taken a fall down the stairs.…”
“Did children ever disappear from the Infirmary itself?”
“Well, the kids would go in there sometimes, and we wouldn’t see them again, if that’s what you mean.”
“And you have no idea where they went?”
Charlotte is silent, staring down. Her breathing is quickening, her face pale. At first, I think we have lost her, but then, her words visibly being forced out….
“You know there were cellars there, right?”
“Yes, we know about the cellars. The whole premises was of course searched at the time, before it was demolished.”
Richard interrupts. “When we took the building down last year, the cellars were filled in and covered over, as part of the rebuilding program, both of them.”
Charlotte looks up. “Both of them?”
“Yes, both of them.”
“Richard, there were three cellars in that place….”
_________________________________
Michael
“Charlotte, you don’t have to do this.”
“I think I do.”
I hold her hand as we stand together at the demolished site of the old Blessingmoors institution. Now a wasteland of rubble awaiting redevelopment in the new City Project, the only pointers to the old buildings are the road layout and a few hard to identify pillars and gateposts. Nonetheless, we believe we are standing on what was once the threshold of the Blessingmoors building.
Charlotte is pale, even more so than usual, and her hand as I hold it, is clammy. James is here, his face a mask, as he stands, hands in pockets, simply watching, but his eyes follow her everywhere as she steps over the rubble.
The others; Haswell, Stanton, and a variety of investigators in white paper coveralls, also stand by, watching.
“I’m sorry.” she says. “I just don’t recognise any of it. There’s nothing here to recognise.”
“Perhaps with your eyes closed?” I suggest. “Start at some known point and see if you can walk in the dark? Keep hold of my hand. I won’t let you stumble.”
She doesn’t speak, simply nodding as she licks her dry lips. She turns to Haswell. “This was the front entrance?”
“Yes.”
Then, closing her eyes, gripping my hand tightly, “I’ll try. I was smaller then, of course. And it was a long time ago.”
Stepping forward. “There were three steps, up into the hallway.” I steady her as she walks.
She continues. “There was a door here.” She indicates ahead. “Then a corridor and another door.” Eyes still closed, she opens invisible doors, walking through unseen halls.
She waves to one side. “That’s a staircase, up to the dorms.” Stanton is beside us now, examining some old document. I glance at him, not liking to ask. He holds up the sheet; a tattered floor plan. As Charlotte speaks, he is comparing her words with the plan, nodding agreement.
We walk a little further. She indicates the other way. That’s the corridor to the kitchens. Two of the cellars came off from there. I think one was an old coal cellar. The other was just general storage.”
Stanton nods. “Yes, we know about those.”
She hesitates, her face churning.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can smell it…. It’s got to be just in my head, but I can smell the place.”
“What does it smell of?”
“….. dust, the children, disinfectant, cabbage…. I don’t know. It’s just how it smelled. I’d never thought about it before, but it feels like….” She pauses, swallowing hard.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Want to take a break?”
“No. I want to do this.”
We keep walking. Everyone is with us now, walking quietly behind us as Charlotte continues her blind walk in the dark.
She waves vaguely ahead of her. The main stairs were here. Upstairs was the staff area, where they lived. I was never up there. I think they had bedrooms and a common room, but I never saw it.” Then she veers to one side. “But there was another door here, by the side of the stairs.”
Stanton looks puzzled, looking at his plan. “Are you sure of that, Charlotte? It shows a blank wall here.”
She nods, vigorously. “I’m sure. The door was sort of under the stairs. You would only see it if you knew it was there. But it led to another cellar, the one they used as a punishment room.”
“Alright.” says Stanton. “You’ve done enough.” Then he turns to me. “Get her out of here.” Waving over to the white coveralled technicians. “Geo-phys, over here.”
I pull Charlotte away, nodding James to join us. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”
Charlotte resists. “You’re not staying here.” I say. Still she hesitates. “Charlotte, I’ll drag you off if I have to. You’re not staying here.”
“And I’ll help him.” says James.
Reluctantly, she comes with us.
“Let’s go to the Centre.” I say. “You can have a swim, and I’ll give you a massage.”
Finally, she nods, really looking as though she agrees.
“I’ll join you in a while.” says James. “I want a word with Haswell and Stanton.”
__________________________________
Ten minutes later, I lead Charlotte by the hand into the Centre; it’s time the staff met my fiancée. If nothing else, it might persuade Tracy to stop making cows eyes at me. She was never in with a chance, and lately she’s been a bloody nuisance.
“Do you mind if I use the gym first?” asks Charlotte.
“Of course not. Use anything you want. Let’s get you some gear.”
I point her at the shop front. “Pick out what you want.” She chooses trainers, jogging pants and a top. I add in the kind of heavy duty sports bra that a girl with her figure needs, and a swimming costume. “Female changing rooms are over there.” I point. “And the gym’s through there. I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”
By the time I’ve done a quick round of the staff, and checked if anything needs my attention, Charlotte is already in the gym, jogging on a treadmill, upping the speed as I watch.
“Everything alright?”
She nods, beginning to perspire as she warms up, so I join her on the next machine, jogging along to keep her company. She increases her speed again, breathing more heavily.
After a few minutes, I see James walking by and wave him in.
“Just give me a shout if you need anything.” I say. As an afterthought, I put a bottle of water on the shelf in front of her. Charlotte nods thanks, again turning up the speed, and I leave her with it.
James nods towards her. “She okay?”
I rock my hand back and forth. �
�Running off nervous energy I’d say. I’ll give her another ten minutes on there, then I’ll get her into the swimming pool and give her a massage afterwards.”
As we watch, she turns up the speed yet again. Dripping sweat, she pounds the treadmill. Chest heaving and face red, she’s going for broke.
“Is that a good idea?” asks James.
“Within limits. As I say, I’ll give her a few minutes to burn off some stress, and then wind her down. Why don’t you go for a swim, and we’ll join you in a few minutes?”
He nods, heading in the direction of the male changing rooms.
Charlotte is still hammering away, so walking over, I reach across the control panel, setting the machine onto a cool-down program. As the track slows, I grab her wrist, feeling her pulse and counting.
“Two-twenty beats a minute. You’re over-doing it. Time for you to ease down a bit.”
For a moment she looks furious, but then washes a more polite expression over her face.
“Sorry. You’re right.”
“Shower off. Let’s go for a swim. James is already there.”
In the pool, she dives in, cutting the water cleanly. I follow. James seeing us, breaks off from crawling lengths, to swim over and join us.
Finally, I see her tension dissolve. The last time the three of us shared a pool, we were at the beach house. On more than one occasion, we had sex together in there. James flashes his brows at her, suggestively, and she smiles brightly, looking much more herself.
“There’s too many people around for us to use the pool as you might prefer.” I say to her. “But, in the massage room, we’ll be quiet.” Again, she smiles, eyes soft now. “Have a swim and then....”
She launches herself into the water, swimming slowly and easilsy in a relaxed breast-stroke.
“You’re taking her for a massage?” asks James.
“Mmm, yes. You joining us?
He pauses. “No, I think I’ll leave you with her. She needs your touch more than mine, right now, I think.”
I say nothing to this, no need to be tactless. Instead, I push off from the edge to join Charlotte. She flashes me a smile as she realises I am swimming beside her.
After a dozen or so lengths, catching her eye, I wave her out of the water. Pulling myself up on the side, I lift her out as she reaches up a hand.
Tracy, I notice, sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, is looking daggers at her.
My manner cool, “Something wrong, Tracy?”
“Um, no.”
“Then you should be watching the pool, shouldn’t you?”
She flushes, turning back to watch a party of schoolchildren getting their weekly lesson.
_________________________
Back out in Reception, showered and dressed, Charlotte finger-combs her damp hair. I take her by the hand again, leading her to one of the massage rooms, turning the key once we are inside. I want privacy now.
“Take your clothes off.” I say to her. “Lie on the bench.”
As she stretches out, on the white be-towelled massage table, I pull another towel over her. She doesn’t speak, simply watching me, wide-eyed, with an air of waiting.
In a silent mood, Babe? Perhaps, with all you have to think about right now….
“Lie back. Relax.” I sit, perched on the edge of the table next to her, my hands flat to her belly “Now, would you like a massage or a massage?”
She writhes, stretching and smiling, her green-grey eyes intense. “I think I’ll leave that to the masseur.”
Relaxing back, she lies framed by her sea of red hair, her skin very pale even against the white towel, spine arched, knees slightly akimbo. She gazes at me, lips slightly parted.
Jeez….
My cock twitches, balls pulling upwards.
I want to fuck your face, Babe…. Get my cock into that beautiful mouth…. Spill over your tongue and watch you lap it up.…
Locking with her eyes all the while, I oil my hands, rubbing my palms well to warm up.
I start at her feet, manipulating the toes, gliding through to her ankles before working her calves with the heel of my hand.
Her breathing is slow and deep….
Do I do the whole thing….?
…. let’s see what she wants…
Moving upwards to her thighs, I work the muscles deeply as she begins to tremble, a shuddering that rises from her pelvis, transmitting through her flesh to my fingers….
And I can almost see her growing wetter….
Should I take the towel away….?
…No, not yet…. make her wait….
I skip to the far reach of her body.
Still sitting with one hip balanced by her on the bench, pressing the pads of my fingers against either side of her temples, I circle the skin behind her ears. Skimming behind to the base of her skull, I lift her slightly at the neck, and she arches into my massage/caress. Sliding up into her hair, I work her scalp, all the time her breathing deepening, and now, quickening….
I’ll make you gasp soon, Baby…
Her eyelids begin to flutter. “Don’t relax too much.” I say.
She opens her eyes again, slightly showing her teeth in a semi-smile…
Time to fire up….
“Look at me…”
Her head resting back, her eyes widen to meet with mine again.
I move down to her shoulders, kneading through to her muscles with fingers and thumb, bending to nibble at the delicate skin of her neck. Her breath hitches, and she turns, reaching up to kiss the side of my face, her hand sliding into my hair to pull me to her. Open mouthed, I kiss her and she moans softly, her fingernails digging into my scalp.
Jeez, but these pants are getting tight.…
Fuck the massage….
I drop to her breasts, skimming the skin with the palms of my hands, mouthing at a nipple. I suckle gently, and it puckers and tightens between my lips, hardening when I nibble. She whimpers softly, beginning to pant, both hands tightening around my neck and shoulders.
I slide away the towel, leaving her naked for me, thighs parted in invite, her skin gleaming from the oil. I glide a palm down across her stomach, over the vee of her thighs. She is already warm and damp, curls glistening, labia swelling with her arousal….
If I can arouse you Babe, you’re not feeling too bad….
Pushing my fingers in further, she is slick and warm. Testing her pussy, she quivers under my hand as I briefly finger-fuck her.
I stand back, shucking off my jogging bottoms and tee shirt. I don’t want to do anything complicated; just get inside her, fuck her, remind her that she’s loved.
The bench is narrow for two of us, and I’m careful as I settle atop her. Her thighs part wide for me, inviting me in, then wrap around me. Her arms swing around my shoulders, pulling me close.
I slide my arms under her, lifting her a little, pulling her into my embrace. As I ease my cock inside her, she moans gently.
“Shhh….” I murmur. “We can’t be too noisy here.”
She nods, smiling dreamily.
You just want me inside you Babe, don’t you?
She feels tight and slick and warm as I move slowly within her, not yet thrusting, but working up her arousal. She sighs and trembles, rocking gently with me, matching my tempo as I begin to move more powerfully.
Will you come, Babe? In this state of mind?
I don’t think so….
No pressure then….
I don’t think she even wants to climax. She simply needs the closeness. All the while I work her body, fuck her with my cock, her eyes are open, gazing into mine.
She reaches to kiss me. “My Golden Lover.” she murmurs.
Where did you get that from, Babe? No-one ever called me that before you….
I come suddenly, unexpectedly. The pressure straining at the base of my cock, balls abruptly tight, I spurt into her, once, twice, her tightness around my shaft increasing as she contracts around me, I think deliberately, as she fee
ls me come.
Vaguely conscious that her fingers are twisting into my hair, I pump a final shot, before collapsing onto her.
Realising that I’m crushing her, I pull my weight away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to come so soon. Are you alright, Charlotte?”
Again, she doesn’t speak, simply kissing my face.
Yeah…. she’s fine now.
“Let’s go find James.”
_________________________________
Charlotte
I look through endless photos, some in old books, some on databases. I flick pages, click websites; weary of seeing blue eyes, brown eyes, scars, black hair, long beards, goatee beards, clean shaven, bald, sharp-eyed, dull; hundreds of them. On the laptop, I set the gallery of strangers to ’Slideshow’ and let it simply play, one face after another, flicking past every few seconds.
Michael comes in, bearing a tray of mugs. “Coffee?”
“Oh, lovely. Yes, thanks.”
He peers over my shoulder. “Nothing?”
“Nope. I’m not even sure now, I would recognise someone I knew. It was so long ago. I was just a kid, and…. and I think I’m going blind looking at this lot.”
“Is it just random strangers they’re showing you?”
“I don’t think so. I think they’re suspects in people trafficking cases, but there’s so many of them.”
Something familiar flashes by my peripheral vision, and my head pivots back to the screen. “Whoa….”
I stab at the keyboard, reversing the slideshow. What did I see?
The previous face is still a stranger. I don’t know it. I click back again.
And the familiar stares out at me, from years past; older than I remember, but still the same face. The forehead is higher, hair greyer, but the same cold, deadpan eyes stare blankly out; no emotion there, the gaze of a monster.
There are monsters in the world, and most of them look like real people.
“You know him?” asks Michael, his voice flat, careful.
Feeling sick. “I did. A long time ago.”
“At Blessingmoors?”
I nod. “He wasn’t one of the regular staff. He came by occasionally, and he’d leave taking the older ones with him. We would never see them again.”