Maya's Aura: The Awakening

by Smith, Skye

  The porschehole took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry I was so rude. Could you please move your truck?"

  "Hey," said Maya, "I'm not finished my shopping yet. I want to buy a coat in the consignment store, but I left my money at home. I have to wait for my boyfriend to bring me my money. He hates it when men are rude to me."

  Marique caught on with a snicker. "Do you think he'll hit him? Zat last guy wound up in hospital." She had to turn away and put a fist in her mouth. The two hardhats looked at her and she winked at them.

  The porschehole took a deep breath. The bank manager had left him to his fate. The crowd was against him. The police would certainly ticket him, and the fine was heavy. He wondered if he should hide in the bank until the boyfriend had come and gone. Dammit, the whole reason he had parked in this space was that he was running late. "How much do you need for the coat?"

  "A hundred," she lied.

  The man actually harrumphed scornfully. "My wife pays a hundred to have hers cleaned. Here." he counted out the hundred and handed it to Maya. "Now, please move your truck."

  Once the porschehole had disappeared in a chirp of tires, Maya dragged Marique back to the shop. "Now, try on that skirt," she ordered, "while I try on the coat." They met again at the mirror, and gave each other big smiles. They grabbed their stuff from the change room and strutted to the cash desk in their new clothes. Maya had the hundred in her hand and was searching around in her bag for the rest.

  "A hundred for both, including tax." said the owner. "I watched you two school that prime ass and I take great pleasure in taking his hundred. It is enough." She put the hundred in her cash drawer. "Trouble is, men like that take pride in being asses, as if privilege is their birthright. You watch, he'll park there again next time."

  In the liquor store, Marique bought the canned beer that was on sale and a bag of ice. "I always buy cans. Bottles are too heavy to carry down the trail and I don't like broken glass on the beach. Last year I limp for a month because of glass."

  The two hardhats hung out near the old truck while they were loading the beer into a packsack and a cooler chest. Marique waved to them and said, "Merci, you were sweet to help." She climbed nimbly into the truck, showing a lot of leg in the split of the skirt. "Men are so funny. They did not look at my legs in my cutoffs, but now in this skirt I show only a little leg and they can't move their eyes."

  "In English it is called grace," Maya said as she backed smoothly and expertly out of the space. That set the hard hats laughing about the porschehole again. "Cutoffs are not graceful, but that skirt is. Presentation is everything."

  "Grace. It is the same word en Francais. As for presentation, you look very smart in that coat. Very professional. No, not that profession. Like office worker. We must hurry now if I want to sell all of these beer before the beach is too cold. People do not drink beer when it is cold."

  "I thought the beer was for Randy to sell."

  "Randy has a sometimes job, so I take his place selling beer on those days. That way the other beer sellers don't get mad at me."

  * * *

  She helped carry the beer down to the beach and then went to visit with Amy. It must have been a slow day. She still had lots of food unsold. "Gee, I hope Marique sells all her beer. It was brutal carrying it down. I'd hate to have to carry it back up."

  "Tell me about it," said Amy. " Don't worry about her. She'll be sold out within the hour. Are you with her today? She usually helps me carry my stuff back up the trail, but today there is too much. I could use your help."

  "Sure, I'll be behind that log over there out of this chilly breeze."

  "Oh, the bird dogs will love that," Amy said almost under her breath.

  "What do you mean?"

  "There are people who get their kicks by sitting in the bushes on the cliffside with big scopes and ogling girls like you. Especially when there is a cool breeze and everyone is on the land side of the logs to get out of it." The blank stare made her explain. "When you sun bathe on the land side of a log they can focus on you from the bushes. On the regular side, they can't."

  "Ew, that's creepy."

  "Well the U.B.C. cops are too busy trying to stop the beer sellers to take care of the creeps. They just raised the fine for selling beer down here. No fine for being creepy."

  "But why don't the bird dogs just come down here and have a good look?"

  "Because they are creepy. Because they can't do the trail. Maybe they don't want to be recognized, so they pretend to be bird watchers instead."

  "Oh well. It's not like I would cover up if they were walking around your stall. Let them focus on me. I'm getting cold standing here," and with that she went over and set up on the land side of a big log out of the breeze. She was warmed by the sun immediately.

  She must have dozed because the next thing she knew Marique was prodding her. "Hey ,you want to split my last beer?"

  "You sold all of those, that fast?"

  "Yeah, mostly to the new students over by the trail head. You know. They sit on the logs hoping to see nude women, but never take their pants off."

  "Well, they do see nude women. They see you. All you ever wear down here is your backpack."

  "It was good business. Randy asks four dollar per beer, but on bad days he sells two for five dollar so he does not need to carry them back up. I just sold all of mine for ten each."

  "What? But there are other sellers with much better prices. Why would they buy at that price?"

  "Silly, they make me stand in front of them while they slowly search for their money. If they want to pay extra to stare at my pussy close up, so what? On this beach I show it anyway. They pay hotel prices to be served by a nude waitress. That is fair. Besides I don't have papers to get other work." She was talking too much, trying to justify herself, trying to convince herself.

  Marique lay down beside her out of the chill breeze and in the sun. "Oh, that feels good. I get so cold walking around and handling cold beer." She ran her icy hand up Maya's thigh and made her jump. "Did Amy talk to you about carrying for her?"

  "Sure, no problem."

  "She is packing up now. See that mist rolling in? That is cold fog. All fog is cold fog."

  "Tell me about it," moaned Maya, "I grew up in the fog forests of Northern California. I hate fog. So, like you sold beer here last year, too?"

  "Last year, yes, but just a little. There were a lot of Japanese business men last year. One of the tour companies promised them a walk in the forest and along a wild beach. They would bring them down here. It was a success. They loved it down here. They would walk down in suits and ties, all in a tight group, but some would split off and take off their clothes. They would pretend it was to swim, but they never got in further than their ankles."

  "So, they bought beer at hotel prices."

  "Not so much."

  "So how did you save so much? How much did you say, five thousand?"

  "I shined their shoes. I bought an old-fashioned shoeshine box and polished every shoe in the tour, at ten dollars a shine plus tips. No cameras allowed."

  Maya started to giggle and then laugh aloud and they both started that gut wrenching laughter that hurts so much, feels so good, and is so hard to stop. Between sputters she said, "I can just" "imagine" "the jiggle" "as you worked the shoeshine brush" "omigod!" "that was genius" "oh stop!"

  "Well," Marique caught her breath as she tried to stop laughing, "The haircut ladies let me set up beside them, and , and, oh it was too funny! They went with me to Goa on all the money we made." She broke out in wrenching laughter again and set Maya off. "Oh, good times. It was such easy money, and they were so polite." She started laughing again. "So polite. They would pay me a big tip if, oh my, if I would put my clothes on and pose with them in a photo."

  Maya's tummy hurt from laughing. "Put your clothes on, they, they, they had you jiggling naked over their shoes, and so they paid you to put your clothes on."

  "Hey," came a call, "I'm packed. Let's get
going before this fog hits."

  "Here Marique, you wear my coat. You are still like ice."

  * * *

  She was almost to the top of the trail. She rested again puffing hard. The cooler chest she was carrying seemed to weigh a ton. The fog was now thick in the trees. The beach had been empty by the time they shuttled all the stuff to the base of the trail, and then they had shuttled it up landing to landing. Marique had gone to bring the truck around, and Amy was at the top guarding her stuff and waiting for the truck.

  Fair is fair. She didn't mind doing this lugging. Amy was older and heavier, though still fit from using this trail. She made it to the top with the cooler and piled it with the others. Amy thanked her again. "Only one left," she said between puffs, and then turned and set off back down the trail.

  She felt light as a feather descending the trail without a burden. She reached the last cooler and sat on it to rest. She wouldn't rest long. The fog was getting denser and colder. Wearing just the sundress, it was only the exertion that was keeping her warm.

  "Say," said a man's voice out of the fog behind her, "this fog has got me turned around." It was from one of the side trails that ran along the edge of the cliff. "Is this the main path up?"

  "Duh," replied Maya, standing and trying to see the speaker.

  "So if I go straight I keep on the side trail. That’s the one that goes to my car. Thank you."

  She could just see the bulk of a man now, and he was walking towards her. She decided to pick up the cooler and get to the top quick. She heard a crack and a low howl.

  "Ow ow ow. I've slipped. Ow. Damn fog. I think I cracked my back. Please help me get to the main trail. Is there a bench there?"

  She crept through the fog to the man. He was down and holding his back. Something shone. A huge pair of binoculars. He was reaching a hand out towards her, obviously in pain. She took his hand in both of hers to help him stand, but he was too heavy and her footing was bad, so he pulled her down instead of her pulling him up. Then the nausea started and she felt faint.

  He crawled on top of her and held her down with his weight and put a hand hard against her mouth so she couldn't speak or scream. "You're the beer seller from the beach, aren't you? I watch you walk about down there. I was hoping to meet you some day."

  His breath was in her face. Whiskey and cigars. It almost hid the seeping scent of charred toast. She knew it was silly to struggle. He could have a weapon, or that stuff they put on handkerchiefs to make you pass out. She calmed herself and forced herself to relax.

  He felt her relax under him. "I'm going to loosen my hand slowly. If you yell you will regret it. A broken nose will ruin your looks forever."

  "What do you want?" she said between gasps of breath. She had already been short of breath before his hand.

  "I want to be alone with you in a private room with both of us naked."

  She was trying to think. She needed to bluff him to let her stand up so she could run. "A thousand dollars," she said quickly, "anything you want for a thousand dollars." If he would let her up, she had a chance.

  "That's a lot of money," he smirked. He was winning.

  "A lot for me. You look rich enough to afford it."

  "Okay then, a thousand, but I don't carry sums like that on me. It's in my car back along this side trail. You aren't going to try to run if I let you up, are you? That would be rude after we have made a bargain."

  She wriggled her hands free and pressed them together as if she were praying to him. She looked up into his face. "Please don't make me ugly. Beauty is all I have. I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me." She watched his grin twist and become evil.

  She felt her aura building. It was pushing away the heavy blackness. It was pushing away the scorched flavors. It was filling her head with milk white. She dare not close her eyes. She must watch him. With her eyes closed, the aura built more slowly.

  He was fishing in his pocket for something but he was careful to keep most of his weight sat on her. He pulled out something that looked like a belt. A dog collar. He put a dog collar around her throat. He clicked a leash to it. He had her on a dog leash. She forced herself to be calm.

  "Now, you can't run. You can't break our bargain. I am going to let you up and we are going to my car for the thousand dollars, and then I am going to take you to a place I know where we can be alone." He felt her move and squirm. "No, no, no. You don't do anything without my permission, or else," he held up what looked like a car lock fob. He pressed it.

  The shock of it snapped her neck back and forth. He put his hand hard on her mouth so she could not scream. The pain of it. The shock of it. Her aura had disappeared. She had to get it back.

  "A little improvement to a dog collar that punishes dogs for barking. The electric shock won't damage you but it does hurt, doesn't it my sweet little beer-selling slut? I always knew you were a whore. Now you know what to expect if you try to renege on our bargain."

  She stopped moving. She put her hands back in prayer mode. "Oh please, not again. It hurt so much. Anything, I'll do anything." She saw him raising the fob and his eyes glistened. "No, please no, not again." She heard his cruel laugh and it frightened her, so she gabbled desperately, "let's go to your car. Please. I'm so cold."

  He wrenched her to her feet and pushed her along the side trail in front of him. Her sundress was soiled and wet and stuck to her bottom and legs. He could feel the excitement surging through him. This one would be better than the last one. The last one had fought him and he'd had to kill her. That was before he had created the dog collar. This one he would play with for weeks, maybe even months.

  "You are a religious girl then, always praying. He won't save you. You are the devil's spawn, flaunting yourself for the price of a beer."

  "May I speak?" she asked. She wanted to touch the collar, to explore it, but she was afraid that may cause him to press the button.

  "I'll come closer. You may whisper."

  She lifted herself up to his ear. "How can I make you trust me so that you can take this collar off? I want your thousand dollars. I need your thousand dollars. You can trust me to keep the bargain. What if I kiss you? Softly kiss your cheek to start. Caress you. Oh, please let me do something to make you trust me."

  "Ah, then it begins. Good. Yes, caress me, kiss me softly." He bent his face lower towards her lips.

  The light was bad, the fog thick. She lightly touched his jaw with her finger tips, lifted her lips to his cheek, and then caressed under his jaw on his neck. She gave her self to her aura, with all her soul. All darkness in her mind disappeared in a flare of white light that was dazzling. He slumped, but she slumped with him and kept her hands on his neck. He lay on the ground motionless and still she kept her hands on his neck. Everything turned dazzling white.

  "Maya." Her name came through the whiteness. "Maya, where are you? Maya?" It was Marique's voice drifting through the whiteness. She let go of the man's throat and lay on the ground and grabbed her elbows. The brilliance withdrew and the milk whiteness became the whiteness of the fog in the late afternoon light.

  "Maya?" came the call again.

  "Over here." she answered back.

  "Are you okay?"

  "No. I need help."

  "Keep talking so I can find you."

  "I'm on the side trail." She heard footsteps on soft ground, and then a looming shape. "Closer, but be careful it's slippery." Finally Marique stood in front of her. "You look like a police woman in my new coat. I could use a friendly police woman right now."

  "Who is he?" Marique asked, seeing the form of a man lying on the trail. "Is he okay?"

  "No, I think he had a heart attack. I think he's dead."

  "Merde!"

  "He was stalking you. He wanted to get you alone in a private room so he could do things to you. He thought I was you."

  "What is that on your neck?"

  "Get it off, get it off me, but be careful. He has a button and when he presses it, you get a horrible electric
shock."

  "It looks like a dog collar. Aye, there is a metal box. The buckle is tricky. You need to undo it backwards than what you think. There, done. Are you okay? Why did you go with him? Why not run and scream?"

  "He tricked me and got me down and sat on me with his fist in my mouth. I tried to trick him so that he would let me up and I could run. I told him he could have me for a thousand dollars. He agreed, but then he tricked me again and put that collar on me."

  "A thousand dollars, and he agreed. Merde, what wouldn't I have done for a thousand? He should have just been nice and asked me. A thousand would get me back to Belgium. Let's check his pockets, eh?"

  "No," Maya pulled her back. "Don't touch anything. We don't want to be blamed by the police."

  "Aye, the police. If they come, they will fine me for the beer. I don't have the money for the fine. That would be a disaster."

  "Besides," Maya said, finally feeling strong enough to stand up. Marique helped her. "Besides, he said it was in his car."

  "So get his car keys. All we have to do is find the car. Easy money."

  "I don't believe he had the money. I think he just wanted to get me away from the main trail to where he could take his time and drug me. Then what? I fear to think."

  "And he was after me, not you." Marique pushed the man with her foot to roll him over. He was heavy so she kicked him in frustration. She finally got him to roll over so that she could see his face, but he kept rolling on the slope and rolled down into a ten foot gully. "Couchon, pig, enjoy yourself down there." She threw the dog collar and lead after him.

  "Did you recognize him?"

  "No, but I never remember the pigs, only the handsome ones. I block the pigs out of my mind while they stare at me. If they stare too much I pull my fanny pack around off my hip and cover my pussy. Did you see those binoculars. He will be one of the bird dogs that hang out on the cliff." She took another look over the edge and pulled herself back before she slipped. "So now what do we do?"

  "Don't you watch TV in Belgium? Grab that fallen fir branch and gently sweep away our tracks back to the main trail. Then let's get the effing hell out of here."