by Andy Love
“Do me a favour, Colin. Fasten the buckle on my shoe?”
He swivelled around in his chair to face the blonde. She lifted her foot into the middle of his thighs and smiled, as he examined her leg, all the way up.
The short skirt crept up her thighs, as he cupped her ankle in his hand, and fumbled with the buckle. When he closed the buckle, his hand slid up her smooth leg, until his thumb toyed with the bottom of her skirt. His passion grew, and Cindy smiled at the young man’s visible yield to her plan.
She placed her designer handbag on her raised knee, pulled out a cigarette and lit the white stick of poisons. The blonde shook the match a few times, before tossing it into the waste paper bin. The young mans hand crept past the price of a small repair to her car, so pulled her leg away and tugged at the bottom of her skirt.
Colin jumped up, he noticed grey smoke belch from the bin. Flames snakes from the bin, before he reached it.
“Jeez, you’ve set the bin alight, Cindy. You’re really clumsy.”
“How did that happen?” she whined. “It wasn’t me, I wouldn’t do that. You distracted me…tried to touch me.”
Colin shook his head, crammed his foot in the bin to stomp out the fire. The flames ignited his cheap suit, and quickly consumed the trouser leg. He hopped on the spot and yelped. He shook his leg, to dislodge the bucket of flames. The paper burnt and plastic fell onto the floor. It created little fires, which fed on the carpet tiles. Cindy stepped back from him in disgust. Her hands flapped around, as she imitated a bird in first flight.
“Yuk, that’s gross, Colin. Stop it! Put it out!”
The man’s shirt and tie ignited, flames scorched marks on his face and singed his hair. He stood in the middle of the office, the bucket stuck on his foot and screamed. He rolled on the floor and left fires, which devoured the carpet tiles. The flames grew, ate their way along the floor, and burnt up each tile as it merged with another fire. Colin bumped into tables and chairs. He set them alight as the flames raged and engulfed the office.
He rolled too close to the blonde. She ran out the only exit and locked him inside the inferno. The terrified blonde would get dirty, her lush, bouncy hair and the expensive extensions would burn. Her creamy soft skin would become scarred and dry. Crusty scabs would indicate the regeneration process, and leave her ugly.
~~~~~~~~~~
She watched flames consume the young man, as choices rampaged through her normally empty and peaceful mind.
‘What should I do? I can’t go in there to save him, and why should I? It’s hot and dirty in there. He’s a guy; he’ll manage to sort it out. They always help me when I don’t want to get dirty, it’s beneath me.’
“Darn, I’ve chipped my French polished nail.” She complained.
The excess lacquer on Cindy’s hair meant, if she ventured into the intense heat, it could go up in a puff of smoke and flames. She ran up to the window, waved her hand and shouted at the man who screamed in flames.
“Come out of there at once, Colin Crispen.” She demanded then pleaded. “Please come out.”
‘Why won’t he listen to me?’ She didn’t understand the pain he endured, as clothes fused to his skin and dripped on the floor. The heat liquefied his fat, which burst through his hard arid shell and fed the flames. The office filled with flames, and gorged on air and combustibles.
She could hear the snaps, pops and growls of the fire. It consumed, sought release and hungered for air. She ran to the window and banged on it with her hands. Her brain registered the effect. ‘Ouch, that hurt!’
Blankness swept over her face as thoughts troubled her. ‘Surly Colin just can’t see me. How could any man not see how pretty I am? It took hours to fix my hair, to coordinate these designer clothes, to care for…’
”Oh, look at the state of my nail!”
She daintily took off her red high heel shoe, which matched her lips, and hammered it on the glass. “Colin!”
“Why the hell did the fool start a fire anyway?” She mumbled.
Her mind raced like an old nag in a thoroughbred race. ‘If I call the emergency services to put out the fire, it would solve this problem, but what if they ask me questions? What if they blame me?’
She stopped hitting the glass and put her shoe on. Concentration wasn’t possible, with all the growls and roars from the fire. She needed to calm down; pulled a nail file from her bag and methodically rasped the little chip, on an almost perfect fingernail. It always helped her focus, and a stray spark of intelligence might get lost in her mind. The blonde stabbed the air with her nail file, to acknowledge her great idea. She put it back in her bag and walked out the building.
~~~~~~~~~~
Cindy approached the red phone box on the other side of the street. She wandered around the outside, patted her hands against the glass as the light flickered inside. It was difficult for her to understand how the door opened. The light continued to flicker and entice her forward. She eventually understood both hands were needed to open the door. Once inside, her face contorted in disgust at the smell of stale urine and damp. The sensitive little bottle-blonde was revolted. She looked at the receiver, but didn’t want to pick it up.
‘There must be millions of stinky germs on that thing. Yuk!’
The blonde looked in her bag and pulled out a tissue, unfolded it and picked up the receiver with her thumb and index finger. She didn’t allow it to touch her face. Cindy looked at the circular dial and was bemused by the numbers, which appeared.
‘Someone must be playing a prank; the phone thingy only has sixes on it, that’s odd.’
She ignored this fact and struggled to work out where the number nine would be. The phone clicked repeatedly as the dial reset thrice.
An automated voice sounded in her ear. “Your call’s not important to us, hang on.” Music played and a man screamed in song about a highway to hell. A female’s tinny voice interrupted, and announced her presence through the speaker. “What!” She shouted impatiently.
Cindy looked confused. ‘This isn’t the normal response for an emergency service.’
“Em, hello? I need fireman.”
“Yip, we all want one of those, honey.”
“Pardon? There’s a fire at Hob Street and someone is hurt. Please help.”
“Alright, don’t wet yer pants, honey. What’s yer name?”
“Cindy. Cindy Sinclair – without an E.”
“Now, Cindy, without an E.” The voice said sarcastically. “What colour of panties are yer wearing today?”
“What!”
“Was the question too hard for you? Panties, colour, you!”
Startled by a rap noise behind her, the blonde slammed the receiver down into the cradle, and turned to find the source. The small windows sectioned her view of a man, who beat his knuckles against the window.
She observed his glossy red hair, tied back from the sharp facial features, which were irresistibly rough. Cindy floundered, as she tried to find and open the door.
Once outside, she scanned the man from head to foot and checked for fashionable wears. She noticed his red hair continued in a metre of ponytail. His tight black leather jeans, black T-shirt and red waistcoat, hugged his muscular physic, as he stood in pointed red boots.
The blonde read his Satan tattoo on his right bicep and God on the left, when he spoke.
“Hey, Blondie. You seem upset, can I help?”
The next thought didn’t even pass through her minds polite filter, before it reached her mouth. “Guess the fashion police missed you.” Cindy blurted. This ordinary little man, with a particular lack of fashion or taste, repulsed her. “My colleague’s caught in a fire,” she pointed to the third floor window, “up there.” and thought, ‘I’m obviously smarter than him; his dress sense is terrible. I’m sure he’ll do as I ask.’
She instinctively pushed her chest out, gently rubbed her fingers along the necklace chain. It made the pendant gently bob in and out of her cleavage. The sexual hypnosis di
dn’t work on this man, how curious. He looked at the young, busty woman in front of him and laughed.
“What are you laughing at, this is serious. A man is trapped in that building. You should be in there saving him.”
“Are you sure you want him to be saved, wouldn’t you rather he perished? Is there anyone you don’t try to use, Cindy?”
The blonde looked quizzical at this unusual man, but the brain cells couldn’t fire up a little common sense. She raised her palms to heaven and shrugged her shoulders.
“Of course I want the man saved, but there’s no one to help.”
The red headed man placed his hands on his hips and spread his legs apart.
“Don’t fear little Miss Blondie, Demon Dave will save your arse.”
The man walked across the street toward the flames, as two windows on the third floor exploded. Broken glass showered down the side of the building, and landed on the pavement in a multitude of chimes. She hesitated in confusion.
‘Hang on a minute. Was this man really going to try to save Colin? That would spoil everything.’
The blonde ran, as fast as she could in high heels, and grabbed the demon by his ‘Satan’ arm.
“You can’t go in there. You’re mad!”
“No Cindy Sinclair, just…” His eyes seemed to search inside his head for the right word. “Bad!” He pulled his father’s name away from the blonde. “I do what I’m told. This man must be dragged from the fire.”
Cindy’s mind tired with thoughts. ‘How does he know my name? It doesn’t matter, really. Chances are, he’ll die in there too. Hopefully his awful rags will burn.’
She leaned against the red phone box and lit a cigarette, pursed her bright red lips around the tip, sucked, then blew out plumes of grey poison.
~~~~~~~~~~
To her amazement, the odd man dragged a charred and smoky body from the building.
The structure creaked and groaned as the fire raged through the different floors, and windows erupted over the pavement and road. The explosions and showers of glass didn’t concern her. She needed to know Colin was dead.
The blonde discarded her cigarette butt on the pavement. Her high heels clicked across the street, a slight pause as she stepped onto the pavement outside the flame-engulfed building.
“Is he alright?” She asked the demon as her heel tapped impatiently. Her arms folded against the cold and fear of blame.
Dave looked up while he slapped the burnt man repeatedly across the face, in an uncouth attempt to revive him.
“Don’t know, Blondie. I’m not a doctor, but he doesn’t appear to be breathing.” Dave replied.
“He’ll definitely die if we don’t get him to hospital, won’t he?” Cindy hoped. “Look, there’s an ambulance coming.” Cindy pointed at the vehicle, which sped toward them.
The redness of the ambulance lights washed over the buildings. It was an unusual emergency vehicle. It didn’t have the normal wail of sirens, more a scream of anguish. The bright red lights blinked, flashed and rotated on its roof. No blue or white, just lights of danger winked.
Two scruffy men emerged from the ambulance, unceremoniously dumped Colin onto the gurney and heaved the lot into the back of the ambulance. One of the men turned to Cindy and Dave.
“Are you lot coming along for the ride, or what?”
The blonde’s mind raced as she stuck her fingernail into her lip. She couldn’t make up her mind.
‘If I stay, I could get blamed for the fire, if I go with these men, I could sneak away later.’
Both looked at each other, shrugged and spoke in unison.
“Why not.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Cindy and Dave sat opposite Colin Crispen’s charred body. The demon leaned toward the patient with a quizzical look on his face. He turned his head to face the blonde, with his ear toward the corpse.
“Did you hear that?” He asked Cindy. “Sounds like he’s breathing?”
Her heart pounded as her mind jumped to life.
‘He can’t be alive!’
“OH NO!” She quickly composed herself. “That’s amazing. Will he live, then? I mean, that’s good news. Isn’t it?”
Dave placed his hand on the wall, searched for balance as the ambulance rocked and a banshee siren screeched on the roof. His back to the blonde, he leaned over the burnt body. His other hand placed on its chest, he mumbled impressive Latin words of reanimation. He turned to Cindy and spoke.
“I think he’s alive, barely. He may pull through, though. Would you comfort him while I talk to the ambulance men?”
Dave placed a primed and empty syringe at the side of the gurney, where the young woman couldn’t miss it. Her mind vacated the situation, while she smiled at Dave’s leather clad arse.
“Cindy! There’s time for that later, maybe.” Dave barked.
She jumped out of her little fantasy. “Sorry, what?” The blonde shifted to the front of her seat. “Speak to Colin? I’d rather not, he’s…gross, and he stinks.”
Dave stepped back and ushered her toward the smouldering sentient body. She approached reluctantly. The demon rocked toward the front of the vehicle and deliberately turned his back on Cindy.
At the side of the gurney, she leaned close and listened to hear any sign of life. Colin’s torso rose up quickly and smoke escaped his open mouth as he groaned.
The young woman jumped back onto the opposite seat with a scream. Dave smiled.
“Don’t worry, Cindy. He doesn’t bite.” He lowered his voice and mumbled, “at least, not yet.”
Cindy sat on the other gurney with legs splayed and showed her red knickers. She closed her legs and returned to the body. Her nose twitched at the stench of burnt hair and skin, but talked to Colin, who groaned and puffed out smoke.
She examined the body in front of her and thought about the dreadful condition of its skin. ‘That little bit of facial dryness is annoying. If I just picked it off, it wouldn’t distract me then.’
The blonde leaned forward, face to face with the corpse and picked off dry and burnt skin. Green pus leaked from the holes and its eye sockets glowed. Its head turned and mouth open, to bite with his blackened teeth and mouth. He stretched his mouth wider, and the blisters on his lips popped open.
She screamed at the warm stench on her face, as her hands grasped the edge of the gurney, and backed away. Her fingers touched the syringe, picked it up and recalled her favourite medical drama. She was amazed she remembered, as she only watched it for the hot doctor.
‘Something about white coats, uniforms too, they just do something to me.’
She lifted the syringe, plunged it deep into Colin’s neck and pushed down on the plunger. The air sped through his blood system and his throat gurgled. Colin’s eyelids closed then his mouth and he flopped back into the horizontal position.
Cindy sat in shock “Fuck!” she placed her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that slipped out.”
Dave moved close to Cindy and put his arm around her shoulders.
“He doesn’t look to good. It may be this syringe that you stuck in his neck?”
“But, but…he tried to eat my face!”
“Well, Miss Blondie. You’ve just had your final test, and I must say; you sucked.”
“Test? What test, it’s not fair. I didn’t know.”
“Cindy, Cindy—my dear dumb Cindy. You use and manipulate people. Too many good souls have ruined their lives or died, because of exposure to your sexual ability. You’re such a thick bitch though. You never wondered why people always carried out your commands, without question. The worst part is, you don’t even realise how self-centred, self-absorbed and selfish…it was always about you. You didn’t question your talent or try to change. So, it’s the end of the line for you. To coin a phrase, ‘Fuck you, Jack. I’m ok.’ life.”
“What do you mean?” Cindy asked indignantly.
She stood abruptly and banged her head on the roof of the vehicle. Dave laughed and the blonde stamp
ed her foot repeatedly. “Let me out of here. I want to go home. You can’t keep me here.”
Colin sat upright and emitted a smoky laugh. The ambulance men squeezed their heads through the doorway and showed their rotten teeth, as they laughed heartily.
Chains sprang from the roof and snaked their way around Cindy’s body and neck. They lifted her body off the floor as Dave pointed at her purple face and warned her.
“You’re going down for the last time, baby! This time it’s not for payment in kind.”
She remembered her vast experience of bondage chains, the tight leather and the bark of demands, which she excelled. This time it wasn’t for fun or pleasure, trust up in the back of a vehicle in chains and in extreme pain. No matter what release indicators she gave, the Demon only pointed at her and laughed. Her muscles relaxed as her soul departed.
~~~~~~~~~~
Cindy opened her eyes and yelled through a dry throat. Her hand clasped around her sore throat, she wondered where the chains were. The blonde stood expectant between three men and ornate gates, which towered behind. A dense mist surrounded them as it shifted and billowed between hues of blue to red.
On her left were two angels with mirrored attire, identical beauty and the perfect masculine form. She pointed to the footwear of the angel’s in turn and complained. “The sandals are ruining the whole look guys. They’re not even Designer.”
The angel’s looked at the male figure in brown, hunched to Cindy’s right. The dark brown cloak he wore flowed onto the floor. A cowl framed his pitted complexion, bushy eyebrows and long beard. Fist and head shapes pushed all over the body of the cloak from the inside, as if tortured souls wished to escape. She heard moans and cries from the inside the garb. He pressed his hands gently down the front of the robe and muttered a few gruff words. The internal movement and cries ceased. The bearded man examined the palms of his hands, clasped them together, and cleared his throat as he looked at the blonde.
“I’m your assigned Mediator, here to assist with the journey of death.”
Revolted by the idea of death, she stamped her foot.
“I can’t be dead. I’ve a hair appointment today. I can’t miss it.”