Ensnared

by I N Foggarty

  “She’ll like be down at Ronaldo’s.” Sergio’s smile widened. He did not often get one over on her so he liked to savour it.

  “Go do your job.” The heavy chair creaked as he slowly rose from it. “Voy a coger a su pequeño amigo.” He allowed his words to hang for a moment before he hung up. Replacing the receiver in the cradle, Gutierrez stretched his thick arms outwards and let out a mild roar. It was time for him to enjoy something this week. Without further hesitation, he left the office. Back on his desk, a small drop of liquid began to pool around the edge of the now cracked bourbon bottle. Small cracks it appeared sometimes led to slow leaks.

  Poisoned thoughts

  Music blasted from the small MP3 docking station that sat perched on the large hardwood sideboard. Whoever had touched the device last had carelessly put the volume up far too high. As a result, the tiny speakers were producing an auditory bombardment so distorted and terrifying, it put the psychedelic and space rock bands of the late nineteen-sixties to shame.

  On the sofa opposite the sideboard sat Matt Taylor. Whatever track that assaulted the room, he hated it. Come to think of it, he was sure he had taken umbrage with all of the music that had been played, even though he couldn’t have told anyone what it had been. His head felt fuzzy and somewhere towards the back, a dull pounding had started. Straining his brain to try and recall how he had gotten like this only aggravated the situation. Though he suspected it must have had something to do with the bottles he had been drinking from that evening. Perhaps he should stop he pondered on feeling the warm glass bottle being removed from his hand and replaced by a substantially heavier, cold one.

  The girl who had done the bottle switching currently on his lap with one arm around his neck, Natalie. She seemed worried. Clad in a short cerulean dress she was talking quickly to another girl wearing a buttercup yellow one. If memory served, Amy, the vice-captain of the cheerleaders. At present, she sat perched on the edge of the adjacent sofa, her arm linked to a guy with short blonde hair. Matt had absolutely no idea what the girls were talking about, his addled brain unable to keep up.

  He caught a stray word or two “…is it working? He’s not doing anything,” perhaps? It made no sense to him. At least he was trying he mused. His comrade, who he had a suspicion was called Doug, looked even less interested in the affair. For the past, God knows how long, the other boy looked like he had just sat there staring off into space and occasionally making out with Amy. Though something in the back of his head suggested there existed a reason for his behaviour, he just didn’t know what.

  How much time had passed he could not begin to guess. Partly due to the fact that he had no idea of what to measure it from. For all he knew, he could always have been on this couch with this vixen in his lap. Speaking of which, the girl’s long hair looked exquisite as it hung down over her shoulders. Her face looked pretty too. Her soft features set off perfectly by her chocolate brown eyes that matched that sumptuous hair. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel the soft strands of her hair between his fingers. To caress her gentle cheeks and trace a fingertip lightly over her opulent pink lips.

  Matt tried to raise his left hand but some part of his brain told him that this whole situation felt wrong. That everything about the girl and his proximity to her was so wrong that even a soft brush of a loose strand of hair would be a cardinal sin. He listened to the voice. With more difficulty than there should have been, Matt moved his right hand and brought the bottle it held up to his lips and drank from it. Though thirsty the cold liquid offered no refreshment. An unpleasant taste being the only thing he got. It had been a gift and it would be exceptionally rude of him not to drink it. Or so the girl in his lap had told him. She always knew what was best for him he thought. Like when she had moved them into their current sitting position. He had protested at first but she had quickly soothed him by pressing one of her slender fingers to his lips and telling him that everything would be ok. He just had to relax, drink and enjoy himself.

  Was this enjoying himself he pondered? He couldn’t tell. Try as he might he could not think of anything else to compare this moment too. Maybe he was having a good time he reasoned, suffering another mouthful of the vile liquid. With such a beautiful being sitting with him how could he not be? With effort, Matt managed to focus his eyes on the girl’s facial features once more. Something about her radiated seduction.

  Slowly his gaze followed her tanned neck down to her shoulders. Her skin… so perfect… Scratch that. All of her was perfect. How could he have failed to notice her in this way before? His eyes drifted lower and he could see down her dress to her cleavage. Her skin looked even softer there.

  An unknowing feeling swept over Matt, like a wave washing him out to sea. What would that soft skin feel like to touch? Slowly he began to feel the urge from earlier and his mind began to wonder what her supple breasts might taste like. He needed to find out he realised, becoming aware of a slight tingling sensation in his lower region. However, he couldn’t just try her straight away. There were rules and protocols relating to that sort of thing. Wasn’t there?

  Taking another swig from the bottle the thoughts he had been having over the past hour began to swirl around in his head until they blended together like a thick soup. He should start by touching her hair he decided. Surely one little caress wouldn’t be too bad? What possible harm could come from that? The small voice in the back of his head tried to protest but was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming desire to proceed. Carefully, Matt searched for where his left hand should have been. It took him a moment but he eventually found it lying motionless beside him on the couch. Focusing all his effort on it, he raised it up slightly, then stopped. Which hairs should he touch he wondered? Every strand of her lush chocolate locks looked so inviting he didn’t know where to start. Then a clever idea popped into his head. A clutch of intertwined strands had broken free from the rest of her hair and hung down over her right cheek. If he brushed them back to where they belonged he could stroke her soft skin at the same time.

  Sluggishly Matt brought his hand up and stretched it out towards his prize. Willing it to stabilise he caught the brown lock with the ball of his thumb and gently brushed it behind the girl’s ear. As he felt her smooth skin rub against the tip, a jolt of joy passed through him; she giggled.

  Natalie turned from her conversation and looked at him intently, a warm smile forming on her pink lips. She didn’t look worried now. She stared at him and Matt found himself mesmerised by her tender brown eyes. Why had he ignored such beauty for so long? He had to do something. Her attention belonged to him now and he had to keep it, but how? He smiled, causing her to sit a plastic cup down and bring her hand round to interlock behind his neck. That seemed to do the trick. When she spoke, soft words filled his ears and made him want to hold onto her and never let go. He licked his lips and wondered if hers would be sweet enough to counter the salty taste of his own.

  “Are you enjoying yourself Matt?” she asked in a voice sweeter than any he had ever heard.

  There was only one answer he could give, “yes.” Slowly the girl’s head started to turn away from him, breaking eye contact. Had he said the wrong thing he thought in alarm. No! He wanted her to be his. Needed her to be his. He had to do something.

  Matt shifted his body and sat up as straight as he could. This sudden shift caused her to turn back to look at him but he knew it would not hold her long. Say something his brain yelled, Natalie’s eyes looking at him questioningly.

  What should he say? His window of opportunity was running out. He needed something but no words were forthcoming. Desperately his eyes searched her kind face for something that would help. Anything that would help. Then his eyes fell upon her lips. Her glossy pink lipstick made them look like cotton candy that he just wanted to let dissolve on his tongue.

  “Salty,” he said stupidly licking his own lips again and then he knew what to do.

  As Natalie motioned to turn her head back to her prior con
versation, Matt forced his head to move forward and caught the girl’s slender lips with his own. If time were to freeze and leave him stuck in that moment for all eternity Matt would not have cared. For a second neither of them moved. Then Natalie gently broke off the kiss.

  Wait! He yelled internally at her. Don’t stop! Had she not liked it? He just looked at her helplessly. Then her lips began to move. “Are you sure this is what you want, Matt?” she asked quietly.

  YES! He screamed inside his head. However, on the outside, it came out more like a whisper, “yes.”

  Natalie hugged him tightly before slowly rising. Hang on a minute his brain prematurely interjected. You’re not supposed to leave after I say that. She didn’t. What she did instead was to reposition herself so that she now sat on his knees with her legs on either side of his own. Her hands behind his head, the girl lowered herself down lightly, until their lips were one once more. Time became obsolete as his tongue danced a thousand dances with hers. His hands clutched at her shoulders and rubbed them purposefully. Between the two of them, he could feel an erection pressing against her dress. Yet he felt surprisingly content to remain where he was. As though if they left that very spot then the spell that enchanted them would be broken.

  Suddenly an intrusion cut into their slice of paradise. From outside the world he shared with Natalie, a voice cut in, calling out to them. No. Calling out to him. Whoever it was they called out his name. Natalie must have heard it also for she hastily broke off their dance and turned to look in the direction it had come from.

  When she twisted in his lap, Matt could see out across the room. The sofa beside them on which Amy and Doug had sat now empty. Beyond that, not far from the doorway, a girl stood in black trousers and a black and red top. From this distance, he could only make out one of the intruders features, her bright red hair.

  “Matt,” the intruder said again to a silent room; the music had apparently ceased at some unknown point. He knew that voice, and he could hear the anguish and the pain behind it. They were important to him, but who was she?

  “What the hell do you want?” Natalie’s barked response shocked him to the core. In a flash, she climbed off his lap and drew herself up to face the intruder. The red-haired girl didn’t respond. She just stood there in silence. Straining his eyes Matt could see that she was almost in tears. Was she hurt? He tried to move but felt too heavy to stand. “Haven’t you done enough damage?” the chocolate haired girl continued. All of the sweetness that had filled her voice earlier having vanished and Matt did not like the change. Besides what damage had the red-haired girl caused he wondered. If anything he would have said that she looked like the one who had been damaged. Why was the girl who had been so good to him being so horrible to this other girl? “He’s happy with me. Just accept it.”

  Why didn’t she say something, he thought. Then she did. Though her words came as a whisper Matt heard them both. They seemed to slash through the clouded recesses of his mind like a whip. “Goodbye, Matt.”

  The words hit him like a tonne of lead and realisation dawned on Matt. How could he have failed to realise who she was? It was obvious. She was the one who had been there for him whenever he had needed help over the last three years. It had been her who had helped him to achieve his goals. She had been the one who had stood there on the ice with him two Christmases ago. Where he had nervously kissed her after asking her to go out with him; his first kiss. He knew her name now. “Anna.”

  She stopped. Slowly she turned and looked at him. Her green eyes wide looking and solemn, giving him the impression that the ice had melted and now threatened to flood. He saw one tear slide out and down her cheek to her chin and still couldn’t get his limbs to agree to help him stand and go to her need.

  She watched him another second, lowered her eyes to the floor and turning, walked away.

  Long walk home

  Night had now truly descended upon the city of Chicago. The local nightlife had discarded their daytime masques and revealed themselves to the starlit sea of onyx above. Outside bars and clubs, they gathered to trade conversation, inhale tobacco smoke and bask in the majesty of the moon's pale light. The air hung still, tranquil even and contained a remnant of the day’s warmth. Unfortunately, such refinement was not to be found along the roads that Anna Richards currently traversed. In this part of town, light-hearted chitchat became screamed insults, second-hand smoke had the potential to hold a surprise and stargazing typically involved fists or heavy objects.

  The road along which Anna walked, stretched out further than she cared to look. Where was she? Who knew, not her. Somewhere in the general direction of home perhaps. The old semi-dilapidated buildings at least looked like her part of town. Either way, it mattered nought tonight. Indeed the last conscious decision she could recall making had been a left turn at the bottom of the street where Raymond lived. After that..?

  Haphazardly Anna allowed her legs to carry her forward. What little energy she had gained from the brief high she had gotten back in her apartment had long since evaporated. Indeed one of the many thoughts that were stuck amongst the train wreck in her mind pertained to her just giving up and lying down in the nearest gutter. Perhaps she were fortunate that her psyche was in such a mess, that no single thought could be acted upon. Hence, her body remained on autopilot.

  What had happened? The question burst through the twisted collection of thoughts and planted itself firmly in her brain. Only for it to be ensnared a second later and dragged back down into the quagmire. She needed to know another thought chipped in, as it too broke free momentarily. But where to begin, a second question ventured, latching on to the former in a manner that suggested safety in numbers would win out. Cautiously Anna began the arduous task of sifting through the few memories she had access to in search of a place to start. She felt numb.

  It had been hot inside Raymond’s house she recalled. That seemed like a sensible jumping off point she reasoned. At least she felt a firm sort of certainty about that fact. On entering the building a sticky wave of rancid stale air had greeted her and almost forced her to turn around and retreat back into the cool, calm night breeze. Unfortunately, stomaching the stench had been a necessity for she had been sure Matt resided somewhere within the walls. In the entrance hall, she could recall a multitude of different music’s jarring together with other typical party sounds. The auditory assault had been worse than the smell and had aggravated her headache. The unholy combination of sound and smell had come very close to claiming her scant stomach contents. Nevertheless, she had ventured forth.

  What happened next she could not be certain. Sensory overload would have been a safe bet but did little to help decipher anything. Unfortunately, there were far too many snippets of memory and she was not sure all of the offerings had actually occurred on that particular night, or at all for that matter. Almost as if the entire evening's events had become a multiple-choice questionnaire.

  Wading through the quandary of memory, one particular string of events stood out as a likely candidate to have occurred. It started with someone in the hallway looking at her and then running away in the opposite direction. After that, there were two conflicting images of someone holding out a drink to her and then of that same person bent over vomiting. Yet both held the same weight of truth. A brief flash of two guys with their arms around each other’s shoulders had also found its way into the mix. Manoeuvring her mind in a similar fashion to the way she had done her body, Anna tried to dodge past the irrelevant antics of her peers. Like reality there proved to be just too many things going on that even she bumped into things here and there. Still, she pressed on, eventually making it to the next point she felt had been real. She had been searching for Matt or failing that someone who knew him. She’d found the latter. On scanning the faces of the occupants of the room a voice had shouted out above the music and chatter; she knew it had been directed at her.

  “Yo, Morgan, catch,” the voice had yelled. Anger had swelled inside her as
she spun to face the perpetrator. Turning she’d had just enough time to catch a glimpse of a red plastic cup, filled to the brim, go flying past her. A few stray drops of liquid had hit her arm. A football player with such a bad aim was almost farcical she recalled thinking. A smirk came over her face when the memory continued to play. Following the path of the poorly aimed cup she had caught sight of three Jocks howling with laughter; the central one without a beverage. Dashing forward she had sprung into the air, propelled herself off the back of a sofa and landed directly in front of the three boys. The jaws of the entire room had naturally hit the floor… then fallen through to the basement. Smiling sweetly at the ringleader, she had then proceeded to shove him against the wall and pin him there by the throat with her forearm. After that, all she had needed to say were the words “Shut it!” followed by, “where’s Matt Taylor,” to get the information she wanted.

  What that information had been she no longer remembered; it had served its purpose. From there on everything else was just a random mire of more unimportant sights, sounds and smells. Until she arrived at the door. Her mind almost caused another pile up as the mental version of herself stretched out a hand for the doorknob. Against her own self, she had to fight to see what lay beyond it. Soul in torment Anna had to press all of her willpower into her mental self’s hand. She turned the knob and opened the door to reveal…

  Anna’s mind hurtled back to reality as her foot slipped off the edge of a curb and she struggled to keep herself from falling over. Whatever road she had been travelling, had reached its end. Steadying herself she took in a deep breath and glanced around at the street for an indication of where she was. Down to her left and across the road the neon sign in the window of an all-night café told her that she was almost back in South Chicago. Slowly she set off in the direction of the sign. Drawing level with the coffee house, she stopped and stared across at it. A moment later, the door opened and a middle-aged gentleman stepped through it. A gust of air blew across the narrow street and brought with it the scent of freshly ground coffee mixed with sweet pastries. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She hadn’t eaten since the afternoon and before that Wednesday morning.