Utopia: A Dark Thriller: Complete Edition

by Adam Steel

  It was another of his little rituals.

  “Don’t you get all those updates at work?”, she had asked him, when she first spotted him studying the paper. “Yes,” he had replied, without looking up. “But they don’t do herbal tea. Besides, I like the feel of real paper,” he had teased.

  Jon Li had left for work at his usual time. He had kissed her lightly on the cheek and promised that they would celebrate her moving in when he got home later that day. She knew what he meant by celebrate, and was already planning what she might wear that would set the scene for a romantic evening. She had taken a couple of days off to move her belongings and adjust to her new routine before returning back to her busy schedule of work on Wednesday. She spent the morning unpacking most of her things and then she had gone out for the short walk to mall on Diamond Square. She had treated herself to the finest set of underwear in one of the trendiest (and most expensive) shops that she could find a pink lace brassiere, matching panties and a suspender belt with white stockings, trimmed with lace. She would wear them for him tonight to celebrate. Afterwards she had come back to the penthouse and relaxed on the balcony overlooking Diamond Square, sipped wine and enjoyed the sunshine.

  Later that Evening

  Ellie had got out of the indulgent bubble bath that she had been relaxing in for the last half an hour. She patted herself dry and padded into the bedroom. She took the sensual underwear out of the bag and cut off the designer labels. She slipped into the skimpy pink panties and put on the perfectly fitting pink lace brassiere. Her ample breasts filled the cups perfectly. She struggled with the suspender belt and checked in the full length wardrobe mirrors to see that she had it fitted correctly. It sat around her tiny waist like a lacy necklace. She carefully folded one of the white stockings down and slipped it over her toes. She eased it up slowly over the shapely calf of her leg and when she had pulled it up to her soft thigh she buttoned up the suspender front and back. She did the same with the other stocking and then she slipped her white silk dressing gown over the top of the pink lace ‘man traps.’

  She felt like a pink-laced siren.

  Then she went about her final unpacking while she waited for Mr Right to come home. She’d be ready. He’d be eager of that she was certain. She fished out a framed photograph from one of the boxes marked “bedroom”. It was a picture of her mother and father. It was the only photograph that she had of her parents. She thought about where to put it so that it wouldn’t be out of place in Jon Li’s home. Then she thought, her home now, and that would take some time to get used to. Ellie settled for the dressing table with the bevelled mirror, which Jon Li had bought for her when she had agreed to move in with him. The white carpet in the main bedroom felt soft under her naked feet as she walked across the huge room to put the precious photograph on the dressing table.

  Ellie sat down on the stool in front of the mirror.

  ‘You’d like him mum. You’d like him a lot,’ she whispered to the photograph.

  Ellie touched her mother’s happy face fondly, before placing it carefully on the shining top of the dressing table. She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed that the twitch in her eye that had bothered her for years had vanished. She ruffled her steadily whitening hair and examined the slow pale progression. It didn’t look too bad after all, although she wouldn’t let it all go white, that would make her look old. She would keep the streak that excited Jon Li and restore the rest, she decided.

  From the kitchen she could hear someone clattering around. Then she heard a rustling sound of paper outside the bedroom door. Ellie picked up her hairbrush and started to brush through her long whitening hair. She felt a warm sensual feeling of anticipation in her groin.

  ‘Ell, I’m home,’ the familiar voice called out.

  ‘In here Jon,’ she replied, looking at her reflection with anticipation.

  He appeared at the doorway clutching a large white bag with tissue paper sticking out of the top. He placed his work briefcase down beside him.

  ‘I have something for you,’ he said.

  Ellie was thinking that she had something for him too.

  Ellie frowned. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a moving in gift, for you,’ he said, holding up a rather expensive looking shopping bag.

  ‘Jon…You didn’t have to,’ she started to protest.

  ‘I wanted to,’ he said, beaming. ‘I told you we were going to celebrate tonight and I meant it.’

  He tossed the bag on the bed (and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind) he kissed her hard on the neck. He looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her whole face was smiling. He looked at the image of her mother smiling up at him from the photograph.

  ‘You look like her – your mother,’ he said, with genuine tenderness.

  She nodded. Her smile was radiant.

  ‘Gorgeous…You’re gorgeous…You smell gorgeous too,’ he said kissing her repeatedly on her neck so that she squirmed from the tickling sensation.

  ‘You’re making me laugh. Stop it Jon. What’s in the bag anyhow?’ she begged.

  Before Ellie could get the answer, he fished into his back pocket and drew out two crisp bone-white tickets. He held the tickets up to the mirror, and fanned them affectionately in front of her face.

  ‘What are they?’ Ellie asked, slightly perplexed.

  ‘They are a little reward. I received them by personal messenger today courtesy of Mason Henson’s office,’ he said, handing her the tickets.

  Ellie looked at the note that was clipped to the pair of tickets.

  It read: “Compliments from Mason Henson”

  Ellie’s eyes widened with surprise and delight when she peeled back the note to reveal what they were for.

  ‘Phoenix Palace. The Grand opening…You mean the Masquerade Ball? Oh Jon. Wait till I tell Irene and Bridget!’ she said, waving them up and down.

  ‘Some little reward - eh?’ he smirked.

  Ellie was kissing the tickets and thanking him when Jon Li took her hand and led her over to the bed. He handed her the large white paper bag.

  ‘For you,’ he said, in a low voice that was already arousing her sexual desire for him.

  Ellie took the handles and opened the bag gingerly. She was looking at him while she rummaged in the bag. The soft tissue rustled lightly and a lovely smell of new material drifted up from the bag. She put the bag on the bed and placed both hands deep into it. The fabric felt luxuriously silky. Ellie lifted out a stunning ball gown. She draped it across the bed. The electric blue fabric spilled across the bed in gentle folds. The bodice was hand stitched with little white pearls. Tiny straps were held together with pearl clasps where the shoulders would go. It was exquisite. Attached to its straps, were a pair of full length, lace blue gloves.

  Ellie gasped, ‘Oh Jon…It’s lovely…Thank you so much. It’s lovely, but…but…It must have been so expensive. You shouldn’t have Jon…’ she started to argue.

  Ellie felt his warm hands around her waist and as he squeezed her she breathed in deeply.

  ‘Nonsense. I should have and I did. I want you to wear it at Phoenix Palace. At the Masquerade Ball. I want every man and woman in there to be green with envy when they see you dressed in that,’ he said, with an immense pride in his voice.

  Ellie admired the blue jewel that was adorning their bed. Jon Li nuzzled her neck gently kissing and teasing her with his tongue. His hands felt wonderful through the light silk of her nightgown. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the warmth of his firm body.

  He untied her belt and the gown slipped open. He put his warm hands inside it and fondled her breasts through the delicate lace. He breathed in the perfume of her body and looked down at what she was wearing underneath the gown. She could feel him stiffening against her body and it excited her even further. He squeezed her waist and followed the line of her panties down to the place that was now aching for satisfaction, all the time kissing her neck. Ellie sighed at the feeling of sexual des
ire that was taking over her body. The idea of what was to come was almost too much to bear. She thought that she was the one in control and that she had planned to seduce him, but she had already lost that game. He had won her as surely as a warrior wins the battle. She was his for the taking.

  Chapter 12: Warden Mary Clarke

  Alpha Block: C.U.R.E Prison North: Vigilance

  Tuesday 3rd July

  There were no windows in cell 3F, just the barred wall that opened out onto the corridor. Underneath Max, Boris Volkov, his cellmate, snored heavily on his bunk. It was mid-morning, but there was little better to do. A small pile of books, from the prison library, lay on a shelf in the ten foot by six foot cell. Max rolled over and read the side covers for the two-hundredth time:

  Alice in Wonderland

  How I learned to stop doping and start living

  The history of the Masons - A timeline of excellence.

  Max grunted.

  He didn’t feel like reading any of them. The Great Escape was more up his particular ally of reading. He had been in CURE Prison about a month. At first, the time had passed quickly since his arrest, but as the weeks went by, it had slowed to a crawl. He rolled over again and stared at the cracked ceiling and thinking back to when they had been arrested and hauled back to the CURE station for processing.

  They had been hurried into the back; their faces masked. They had been stripped and re-clothed in bright blue outfits. The CURE officers had recovered at least six different weapons concealed in Marko’s clothes. They had needed three boxes just to contain all his bling. Besides Marko and himself, they had arrested three others at the flat. Two of the men had been called Maurice and Dudley.

  He replayed the events that happened after their arrest.

  “Maurice was a large black man who didn’t say much. He wore a permanent sullen expression that put Max on edge.

  Dudley Roach or ‘Dud’ (the others called him) was a thin, white man, who was scared out of his mind. His rabbit-like, panicked eyes, stared widely around as if searching for an escape route. Of course there was none. Dud’s teeth rattled in fear.

  The man who had opened the flat door was slapped into a strait-jacket and a few hours after his arrest, his eyes began to spin wildly, and he started screaming. Max knew what that was. The man was a Red-Head: someone who had taken so much Apexir that they were permanently lost without it and now he was drowning amongst the red waves in his mind. Withdrawal would kick in hours after a dose, and the man grew more agitated by the minute.

  He didn’t catch his name.

  Max was ushered into a room with two officers.

  They shone a lamp in his face and interrogated him for hours.

  They demanded to know where Jomo (the other Marseilles brother) was.

  He didn’t know. He wouldn’t tell them even if he did. He was no fool. He knew that he wouldn’t have lasted one week inside with Marko if he had uttered so much as a syllable.

  He had just kept repeating that he was an Apexir addict, and kept reminding them that it was the government who put him on the damn things in the first place.

  They didn’t care. That government was long gone now they informed him. Why didn’t you go into rehab? The drugs are freely available now through ISIAH, they queried.

  He had no answers for them, other than a venomous glare.

  You’ve had years to clean up your act! they said.

  The truth was that he had not wanted the rehabilitation. He had not felt he had anything worth getting rehabilitated for.

  When his relationship with Aya had started to heat up, he had reasoned that he would get the treatment, but procrastination had become one of his newer traits, and he had not gotten around to it yet.

  It was a feeble excuse and he knew it, but it made him feel mildly better.

  They said forcefully that CURE Prison didn’t take excuses, and neither would The Hammer.

  The others had been interrogated and when it was Marko’s turn, he told them to, “GET FUCKED” but not before he had had his fun by stating to them he wanted to be interrogated by their wives, then their sisters, then their mothers, in that order, and asked to borrow an extra set of handcuffs.

  Maurice kept his mouth shut, but Dud sung like a bird the second he got in there. Dud told them everything he knew about the Marseilles gang in hope of a respite. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t much, and nothing they didn’t already know. After Dud’s interrogation, they led him out protesting, and then spitefully informed the others of everything he had just said.

  Marko only stared in response.

  Dud pissed himself in the corridor.

  He felt sympathy for Dud’s stupidity. Dead Dud, he had thought at the time.”

  Max recalled how the five of them had been chained together in a line and led out of the back of the station. They had been loaded into the back of a waiting transport truck and taken to The Hammer. The Hammer was a large courthouse built in Sector Two. It got its name from the tradition of using a gavel to pass sentence. They didn’t get lawyers. Lawyers for criminal sentences were simply ‘not available’ anymore. After the CURE was first established (during the construction of Coney City) there was still a running war between the budding forces of TALOS and the warlords that had overrun the ruins. Since this time criminal sentencing was fast, efficient and absolute zero tolerance.

  Some of the more liberal citizens had since called for reform and submitted the suggestions throughout the Info-Coms around the city. It made them feel better and appeased enough consciences so that the issue had not gathered enough support for open debate.

  In truth, the majority of Utopians had not given much thought to the rights of the convicted. There was a general consensus of opinion (amongst the law abiding citizens) that if they didn’t want to be a part of the society, that was fine, they would get the help they so clearly needed in CURE’S reforms programme. Once they were reformed they would also be filling the less desirable roles in society.

  It was a good situation: a workable situation.

  Max, and the others, had been hauled up in front of the judge and the evidence against them had been presented. The CURE Officers had replayed their transcripts from their Black Fox surveillance equipment. They had pointed to the medical tests performed at the CURE station revealing evidence of the copious amounts of Apexir in all of their bodies. Most of them had not bothered to attempt a defence. The evidence had been overwhelming and the judge had looked as though he had already decided on their sentences them before they had even entered the room.

  There had been no jury.

  Marko had demanded to be ‘judged’ by the judge’s wife, before he was silenced by the repeated banging of the gavel.

  They had all been sentenced to indiscriminate terms in the CURE prison system and all of them had been enrolled in its rehabilitation programme.

  In a way Max had been relieved.

  It could have been much worse, he had thought.

  The prison rehabilitation programme was fairly new. Before it had started up, Apexir addicts were sent up to the Blair Ridge in Eden City to howl at the moon until they either recovered, or became permanent residents. Max knew several members of his old squad that had been sent there and he had no desire be reunited with them.

  Max continued to think about the sentencing and re-live the event of the more humorous moments.

  “After their sentences were passed, they were allowed to make a single phone call. The five of them were marched along a passage (still chained together by handcuffs and links) and led to the dialler.

  Dud went first.

  He called his brother and screamed down the phone at him to "get me the fuck out of here! I’m gonna die!" Max was stood next to Dud when he made the call and he could barely hear Dud’s brother laughing on the other end of the line before it went dead. Marko grinned at Dud all the while he was screaming on the phone. Maurice declined his call and the man in the straight-jacket wasn’t offered one.

&nb
sp; Then it was Marko’s turn.

  Marko dialled a number, waited patiently, and then slammed the phone down cursing when it didn’t answer. The guard let him try another number. Marko chose to ring the Fin-Sen reception. Marko politely requested to leave a message for "Mazon Marlene 'enzon, di 'ead of the slam mi gonna live in. Mi wanna make a appointment" Marko said, and added, "ta kiss dat big bitches leg lips!"

  Marko burst out laughing as he was dragged off the phone by the guard. They couldn’t have known, but it took a full five minutes for the expression of shock to wear off the Fin-Sen receptionist’s face.

  Max wanted to call Jack. He suspected that it was Jack that Marko had tried to call first. He knew of him from loose talk from the other gang members when he was picking up. Jack was supposed to stop them from getting busted, but based on what was happening Max thought that he didn’t seem to be doing a very good fucking job. Max couldn’t think of anyone else though. Max didn’t know Jack’s number, but he did have his address.

  He dialled Aya’s work number. He knew that he would have to get her to go in his stead. He hoped she wouldn’t hang up.

  She didn’t.

  After the calls, they were loaded onto a truck and transported out of Coney City to their new home: CURE Prison North: male containment facility. The CURE prisons were segregated by sex.