Body Art
Body Art
Midpoint
BODY ART
Garry Charles
Copyright Garry Charles 2010
Smashwords Edition
Published by Garry Charles at Smashwords
License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may not be reproduced, copied without consent from the author. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author.
Thank you for your support.
I would like to thank Jamie McFarlane for allowing me to use a photo of his body for the cover and also Dan Rooke (Rookstar Tattoo) for adorning that body with some amazing artwork.
Rookstar Tattoo can be found at 225a Hamilton Drive, Acomb, York or call in for an appointment at 01904 331 372
Please note that this story first appeared in the online publication LSD Magazine.
***
BODY ART
Jeff Reardon had only ever seen beauty like it once before in his life. The first time she'd been flesh and blood. A face on the street. A whiff of perfume on a passing breeze. None of the others could match what she'd had…
Never!
Yes, she'd been perfection for the briefest of times and Jeff had never thought he would see her again. But now here she was, staring back at him from the brick fascia of the warehouse.
“You all right, boss?” Mark asked.
“Yeah, fine.” Jeff had to rip his gaze away from the spray-painted face of the goddess that towered from the floor to roof of the structure.
“Looks like you’ve seen a fucking ghost,” Mark joked.
“Nah… don’t talk stupid,” Jeff replied, already walking away.
“You want I give the guys the go ahead?” Mark yelled after him.
“Tell ‘em to be here early in the morning,” Jeff shouted without looking back. “I want this place levelled before the evening.”
Jeff continued walking, wanting to put distance between himself, Mark and the graffiti adorned wall. His breathing was coming hard and fast by the time he reached his car, sweat soaking his shirt so that it clung to his torso uncomfortably.
Jeff fell into the driver’s seat and leaned back, pushing his head against the seat as he attempted to get his breathing under control.
It couldn’t be her.
It had to be a coincidence.
Jeff let himself slump forward, bracing his forehead against the steering wheel, a wave of nausea rolling up from his gut to his throat.
Impossible.
No one else knew.
Jeff had been so careful, everything planned to ensure total secrecy. Not even Jeff’s wife, Ruth, had suspected what he was doing. She was content with their life, happy in the ignorant belief that all was well.
Pull yourself together.
Don’t lose it now.
Jeff slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purring quietly under the hood. He took another three deep breathes, turned on the air conditioning and pushed the gear stick into first.
By tomorrow morning it would be gone and he’d never see her image again. Of that he was sure. The wrecking crew would make sure of that. All Jeff had to do was forget about her just like he had before. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back.
**
Jeff wasn’t sure but it may have been guilt that made him suggest a meal out that night. He rung Ruth on his way home and told her to get ready, her choice of restaurant. It had been months since they'd ventured out anywhere and her excitement had been more than evident in her voice as she’d told Jeff that she loved him.
The evening started out well with them making love before leaving, a tender moment that left Ruth with a satisfied smile and made Jeff almost believe that everything was fine between them.
Almost.
Ruth had chosen the Italian restaurant they'd visited when they’d first met. It was under new management but the interior was just as Jeff remembered it and, if possible, the food was better. They ate and they drank, talking about work and memories. The usual, pedestrian conversations of a long term married couple.
They walked back to the tube arm in arm, Ruth’s happiness radiating from her face and threatening to infect Jeff. With everything going on in his life he’d forgotten what it felt like to be relaxed, to let go and just be himself. The last time he’d opened up and shown his true self had been with her...
The other woman.
The tube platform was empty of other travellers and they waited in silence for the next train to pull in, its arrival signalled by a wave of warm, stale air that made Jeff cringe. The tube always made him feel trapped and unclean, as if the air was tainted by those who had exhaled it before him, the aroma of their insides filling his nose with each breath. It disgusted him.
As the train pulled in alongside the platform, slowing to a gradual stop Jeff froze, his lungs seeming to contract as the hairs on the back of his neck were played with by invisible fingers of static.
Why here?
Why now?
Her painted form was laid out before him, the full length of the carriage taken up by her image. The warehouse had teased him with only her face but now she was visible in all her beauty. Jeff took it all in, every curve and peak just as he remembered. The artist had rendered her with loving care, using the paint sparingly to recreate her as no photo ever could.
What do you want?
Jeff staggered through the sliding doors, his eyes lingering on hers for as long as possible. As soon as he was on the train he slumped into the nearest seat and held his head in his hands.
“Jeff, are you alright?” Ruth asked, concerned. “Is it the chest pains again?”
“No,” Jeff sighed. “Just a migraine… should have laid off the red wine.”
Liar!
Jeff squeezed his eyes closed, knowing the memories of that night wanted to be relived and doing his best to fight against them. He could feel the blood hammering at his temples, his heart beating with excitement at the thought of the special time he'd spent with her.
So beautiful.
A work of living art.
My best work yet.
**
Jeff had never known her name. Names didn’t concern him. All he wanted was to bathe in the beauty of the female form and she'd been ideal.
It had been raining and the offer of a lift from the guy with the friendly smile had been too good to refuse, after all it was only a five minute drive. As she’d climbed in the car Jeff had carefully taken in the sight of her lower thigh, just visible below the hem of the red skirt. In that one brief glance he'd absorbed everything she had to offer.
Black heels, the kind that tie around the ankle. Sheer stockings though probably tights, but he could fantasise. Red skirt that hugged her slender hips. Leather jacket open at the front to reveal the low cut black top that showcased the rise and fall of her well tanned cleavage.
And then he’d come to her face, a pretty young thing framed with flowing blonde hair, full pink lips and the most stunning eyes Jeff had ever seen. They were a steel grey in colour with flecks of what he could only describe as sunburst, a vibrant orange that danced with life.
Perfection!
Everything after that always played out in a blur, the memory distorted by the adrenaline that surged through Jeff’s system. He could never quite remember when he’d seen the first signs of fear on her face. It was definitely after he’d driven straight passed the end of the street she lived on.
Then came the crying… the begging and pleading to stop the car. Jeff had just glanced at her and smiled and said, “I want to know you inside out.”
Eventually she'd screamed, but not for long. Her
initial fight had quickly drained away to weakened kicking and that had then faded to nothing more than a faint twitching. Before Jeff had really got to know her she'd become still and silent.
And oh so beautiful.
They always looked at their best once Jeff had got to know them inside out. The pureness left once the skin was peeled back was something that Jeff couldn’t deny. The way they felt under his caress, the slickness of exposed muscle and tendon giving him a sexual thrill unequalled by anything he'd ever experienced.
Jeff’s little secret.
**
Jeff pondered the source of the painted images over breakfast the next morning. In life other people must have known her and it made perfect sense that someone may have seen the beauty she held and decided to use it in their art. It was no different to how Jeff had used her, albeit in a different medium.
But it was only one of many options. Another of which brought a knot of fear into Jeff’s stomach. What if the paintings were being done for his benefit? What if someone knew about the special time he'd spent with her? What if they planned on making Jeff’s secret public, pressuring him into making a slip.
That wouldn’t do… not at all.
He had to know for sure.
**
Jeff drove faster than he usually did, impatient whenever he hit traffic and glancing at his watch every other minute. If the wrecking crew were as punctual as usual then he didn’t have much time if he was to see what he needed to see. Once done, they could level the old warehouse and destroy the pictorial evidence it held.
Jeff fumbled around on the passenger seat and found the mobile phone, depressing the speed dial and lifting the phone to his ear whilst steering the car with his free hand. He listened to the electronic ring sound over and over.
Answer the fucking phone, Mark.
Without hanging up Jeff threw the phone into the rear foot well and returned all his frustration onto reaching his destination.
Upon arrival at the site Jeff drove passed the billboard announcing the urban renewal without feeling the usual pride in his latest project. He had other, more important things on his mind. With the engine still running he could already hear the sound of heavy machinery on the far side of the warehouse and his heart sank into his gut.
Too late…
Can’t be.
Jeff jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running and the door wide open and took off on foot around the edge of the warehouse.
Mark saw Jeff first and ran to meet him, a huge smile on his face. “You come to see the start of something great,” he said, the smile slipping as Jeff’s expression became clear.
“Do you ever answer your fucking calls?” Jeff yelled in Mark’s face.
“Only when it rings,” Mark answered aggressively, shrugging away from Jeff. “What’s your fucking problem?”
Jeff ignored the question and stormed away from Mark, heading straight for the front of the warehouse and sighed with relief.
Still there…
Jeff looked up once again at the painted face and frowned.
Its changed…
It was still her face, but she'd changed overnight. The smile was gone, replaced with a mouth shaped to form a silent scream. The front top teeth were missing and a trickle of red paint ran over her bottom lip. The eyes no longer held the same innocent beauty Jeff remembered so well. The left one was hidden behind a swollen eye lid, the flesh tone recreated with purples and blacks. The right eye stared out over the world blindly, the upper half flooded by ruptured blood vessels.
This can’t be happening…
Jeff could have been looking at a photograph, each and every wound clearer than memory could have ever served. This was the way she'd looked as Jeff had shovelled soil over her face, filling in the unmarked grave that no relative would ever visit.
Someone knows…
All Jeff needed was a name and he searched the area of wall around the face, knowing it would be there. It had to be. They always tagged their work, but Jeff couldn’t find it.
If not around the picture then within it.
Jeff let his gaze move slowly over her face, tracing every spray painted line, looking deeply into every area of shaded colour. It was a puzzle meant for Jeff only and he would solve it. He worked his way down, from the top of her head to her chin and then began the journey back yet still he found no name… no tag… nothing to go on.
Jeff finally turned away from the building and marched away, not looking back as the wrecking ball began its swing, but taking satisfaction of the sound as it crumbled bricks and mortar. He marched straight passed Mark and headed back to the car, he had to get away and release the tension. Maybe find someone new to spend some special time with.
Its been a while…
I deserve it.
The tiniest of smiles cracked Jeff’s face, the prospect of going in search of a perfect beauty almost cheering him up. The mood was quickly shattered as he rounded the rear end of the huge warehouse and was confronted with the empty waste ground.
Where’s my fucking car?
**
Ruth was worried about Jeff. The previous night had been a surprise, a pleasant one and everything had been going so well until they’d reached the tube. His entire mood had changed just like that and he'd been quiet ever since. Having the car stolen had done little to improve his state of mind and he sat in his office drinking all afternoon. It was now early evening and the bottle was down to the last quarter when the phone rang.
“Jeff, its for you,” Ruth shouted up to the office.
“Who is it?” Jeff asked gruffly as he stumbled down the stairs.
“The Police.”
“About fucking time,” Jeff snapped and snatched the phone from Ruth, waving her way as he raised it to his ear.
“This is Jeff Reardon,” he grumbled. “You found it yet?” He listened for a moment. “I understand.” He gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll arrange to have it collected.” Jeff hung up the phone and immediately reached for his jacket.
“You going to be alright, dear?” Ruth asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Going out.”
“Where?”
“None of your business.” Jeff walked out the front door and slammed it behind himself.
**
The officer had given Jeff the address of where the car had been dumped. He’d had no need to write it down. He knew it well. His company had put in a tender for the design work on the new Olympic site and he’d scouted the area whilst researching the project. They hadn’t got the contract but Jeff knew the area like the back of his hand.
Taking the tube would have saved time, but Jeff needed to think so he walked. Things were getting out of hand and he had to bring it to an end sooner rather than later. When he found the person responsible he’d teach them not to fuck with Jeff Reardon.
The car had been left where Jeff would see it upon his approach, displayed like a work of art in a gallery… a gallery that was intended for Jeff alone. The car was stood in the centre of a concrete desert and surround by three walls. The scene was lit by cracked street lamps, a dirty orange glow that gave it a sense of the unreal.
The walls featured the faces and more of each stranger he'd ever spent his special time with. It was a mural history of each life he'd taken when the need had become too much to deny.
So many…
Jeff had never kept count of his conquests… never taken a souvenir. He liked to think that each one night stand was just that, a few hours with that special person and then back to normal life. He wanted no reminders of how it had felt to be with each beauty. Reminders tended to dilute the experience.
Now he was reminded from every angle and they all looked down at him with accusations and hatred for what he'd reduced them to.
But the car that was the coup de grace. She'd been rendered as if sprawled across the body of the vehicle. Her head was on the hood, her hair drape
d lusciously over the wing and across the wheels. Her pert breasts covered the windscreen, the nipples seeming standing proud of the glass. Her flat stomach arched across the roof and her legs dangled wide down the rear of the car, revealing her damp sex.
Jeff walked closer, eager to reach out and touch her once again.
“Beautiful, wasn’t she?” asked a male voice from the shadows.
“What do you want?” Jeff didn’t bother to look around.
“I want nothing from you.” The voice replied. “I just paint them… give them new life.”
“Then why am I here?” Jeff shouted.
“Because it is what they wanted,” explained the voice.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Ask them,” the voice whispered. “Only they know.”
Jeff stepped closer to the car, watching as the skin began to peel away, the paint bubbling as if heated from within and running down the bodywork, only to reveal the tender flesh beneath. He reached out and placed his hand on the roof of the car, his palm resting over the swirl of her belly button.
“What do you want from me?”
“To feel.” The reply came from all angles, a harmonic sigh that whispered to Jeff.
“Why are you doing this?” Jeff cried out. “You were the special ones.”
“How dare you,” she snarled, her bloodied eyes snapping open and glaring at Jeff. “You had no right.”
Jeff staggered backwards, falling to his knees as tears blurred his vision yet he still saw her raise from the car, paint becoming flesh as she separated from the metal canvas. He swung his head from left to right and witnessed them all being reborn, climbing down from the walls and moving towards him.
“I loved you all,” Jeff sobbed, looking up into her eyes. “But I loved you the most.”
“Then let me return that love,” She hissed at Jeff, dropping to her knees and staring him in the face. “Let me show you how your love feels.” She thrust a hand forward, penetrating skin and muscle.
Jeff felt the searing pain in his gut and looked down at where her wrist disappeared into his torso, blood staining the white shirt fresh on that morning. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came.
Body Art Page 1