Desire

by Mariella Frostrup

  “Oh well,” he said determined to maintain his jovial mood, “I like them too.”

  “Mmm,” I answered, and to this day I have no idea what on earth I can have been thinking about, but I lifted my eyes to him and then down to an obvious stare at his crotch. “Mmm,” I said, “so do I.”

  He looked at me for a few seconds, taking in my open sandals, my thin cotton dress and bare legs, and the empty glass in my hand and he smiled at me.

  “Can I fetch you another drink? I’m getting myself one.”

  “Thanks, Jeff.”

  When he brought them back, we leaned on the wall side by side and drank in silence. Inside, everybody else was playing a game, I think it was the truth game with matches because Rosie came to shut the patio doors to stop them being blown out. It seemed private out there, in half darkness, his face – and mine too, I suppose – in shadow from the lights of the house behind us and I asked, just casually: “You live with Marenia?”

  “Well we share a flat, but we’re not, you know, ‘together’. I’m not really her type.”

  “Ah.” I tried to make the sound into an invitation to continue.

  “Her partner left her rather unexpectedly and she was looking for someone to help her with the gorilla stuff and I was looking for somewhere cheap to stay for a few months.”

  “I see.” There was another pause.

  “You’re Finny, someone said.”

  “Yes, short for Fiona.”

  “So, what did you think of it? The gorilla routine?”

  “Different!”

  “Ah.” He sounded sad. “You didn’t like it. I saw you were hiding at the back.”

  “Well I liked it, but it was kind of unnerving. Is it all planned out in advance, I mean always the same?”

  “No, I discuss beforehand with whoever has arranged the booking to see how far they want me to go, and then I play it by ear, depending on the reaction. Alan had said Rosie was a good sport, that she would not mind if I pulled her top off.”

  “No. There haven’t been many parties in this house where her boobs have not made an appearance at some stage.”

  “I see.” He was interested and after a minute’s thought. “And yours as well?”

  “Occasionally, maybe; from time to time.”

  “I am sorry I missed them. Still, I suppose the party’s not over yet.”

  I did not respond and then he dropped his voice, confessing suddenly to the quiet truths that can only come out between strangers in the secure silence of a little shadow world. “I am exaggerating. This is only the third time I have ever done this; I only left drama school six months ago and there is bugger all proper work about.”

  “Well, it seemed good to me. I mean it! But to be honest, I have never seen one of these before so don’t really have anything to judge it by. In fact, don’t tell anyone, but I had never seen a stripper before tonight.”

  “And was it exciting?”

  “Which?”

  “Both.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He paused and his voice came through very gently. “But would you like it to have been you?”

  “Which?”

  “Both.”

  “Yes.” But that was too glib and I needed to wipe away the words I had nearly said. “Yes, I would. Come and do one for me when I leave here.” I offered it as a throw away and he knew better than to let on that he knew it wasn’t.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “No.”

  “Then I had better do it soon.”

  I laughed at his lack of logic without accepting or refusing the offer but when I shivered in the little breeze, he put his arm around me and I snuggled in close. He may have discarded the gorilla suit, but he was still big and comfortable and secure to rest against. I felt him turn, knew he was looking down at me, considering options, but I did not respond. A gorilla ought to be able to make its own decisions over a mate.

  His hand came back onto my shoulder and gently pulled me to him and when I turned this time he kissed me, first a peck, then a nibble and at last a full, entirely breathless kiss. His hands roamed over my back and down to my bottom and then back up, made the usual circle which is supposed to be so innocent but which we all know is checking for a bra strap. Finding none, one hand worked its way round between us and held me, moulded me, sliding across the front and raising the appropriate peaks of interest.

  And then we were surrounded. Half the party poured out onto the terrace announcing that Rosie was leading the hen night down into town where there was supposed to be a Chippendale-type male strip show on. Alan, Malcolm and several others had offered to do their own but since this was conditional on the girls reciprocating, their offer had been rejected. In response they were going to watch a porny video. I didn’t care for either option, but Jeff was new and when Alan kept pestering him, he relented: he did not understand how to refuse people he did not know. The girls were all childishly excited and enthusiastic and that just annoyed me. I said I wasn’t interested although Rosie and even Marenia urged me to come along but the more they pleaded, the less I was tempted until finally, in something of a strop, I told them to piss off and leave me alone.

  They did.

  I sneaked back into the kitchen, ignoring the few voices (all male) in the living room, refilled my glass and made my way back out to the garden, through the shrubs and railings down to a small ornamental pond surrounded by low stone walls. Here I settled myself down on the paving, my back leaning against the warm stones, and kicked off my sandals. The night was clear, starlit and open and there were still sounds of cars and people and music somewhere up behind me, but in the little hollow round the pond, it was quiet and private. It looked like being another lonely night, and although I really wanted something less familiar than my own hands for comfort, if they were to be the only hands available, I would make do. I wanted to start straight away in the cool of the open sky with the wide world around and above me, so I tucked the cold beer can between my legs, up high against the bare skin of my thighs and the thin cotton of my knickers where the coolness was needed and where the condensation from the can could refresh me where my own moisture was working exactly the opposite.

  All around me the contented rustling of a thousand night creatures made the quiet that bit more comforting until a twig snapped behind me; not close, but close enough. Too loud, too big a twig, to have been a bird or a hedgehog, and I froze. The last thing I wanted was sympathy, someone else coming to tell me to cheer up and come and enjoy the fun and I pulled my knees up to cover the bare skin and make me less conspicuous. After a few minutes with no further sign or sound of anyone, I peered round the corner of the wall, relieved to find no one there. I relaxed back into my place, slipped a hand back under my dress and in a sudden silence, heard behind me regular low breathing, not quite panting, more like somebody deliberately trying to make no noise. I carefully put down the glass, peered round the other side of the stones and was confronted by a wall of black fur. I screamed before I saw what it was, I screamed again when it reached out and grabbed my hair and my shoulder and then the huge gorilla pulled me over to its chest, its thick long arms enfolding, engulfing me in the tangle of hair. It spun me around so that my back was against its chest and one long arm reached down over my shoulder and clamped me fast.

  My first reaction was simple relief at realising what – who – it was and that I was safe, but when I stupidly said “Hello, Jeff!” the figure stopped in a terrible ominous stillness and then reached out and deliberately cuffed me with the back of its hand, hard across my thigh. I screamed out a protest, suddenly unsure it was Jeff, wriggled and tried to push him away, but the clamp tightened and the free hand started to creep across me. It did not respond to my struggles, and too strong for my grasp, too uncaring of my protests, it continued to drag over me, pulling at my clothes, rubbing over my chest. It virtually disregarded my breasts, simply ran over my front in a series of big circles that reached down to my waist and up my
side and across both breasts. I grabbed his wrist but he was much stronger than me and I could not restrain him; the more I pulled, the more he pushed. The arm encircling my shoulders tightened and the other arm stretched, reached down the front of my dress until the hard pointed claws rasped along skin, hooked under the hem and pulled. Up my legs, up my thighs, my knickers suddenly came into view, white in the dusk, and the dress was pulled higher still. I was now fully encased in his crossed arms, pinioned and captive. Even if I had tried to resist, even if I had wanted to resist, I would have been powerless.

  But it was then that things changed, for slowly edging round the far side of the stone wall came someone – something – else; also in a suit of black fur, also ambling, grunting and then, when it reached me, nudging with its nerveless nose at the exposed crotch of my knickers before its moulded hands slithered up my legs, right up under my dress to my breasts. Not quite as big as the first one, it was no less menacing, no less alien and equally uncompromising in its unchanging stare. There was little flexibility in the stubby fingers as they clawed at my nipples, scraped across and over them, but the complete lack of delicacy did not in any way reduce the effect: if anything the opposite. I was helpless in their grasp: held tight by one; accessible to the crude and insensitive maulings of the other. I was frightened, but with the exhilarated terror of the fairground. I didn’t actually believe I was in real danger, but neither was I in control. The ride had started and I was committed until it ended, but the ending was not at my bidding. They had chosen to scare me for their amusement, and their next choice could be anything else they desired. For now I was theirs, a captive, alone with them in a deserted garden under the stars.

  In retrospect, I do not know why I didn’t just laugh. It seems so crazy, two figures in ridiculous party costumes pinning me down in the garden of a suburban house. What threat was there? But we don’t live our lives in retrospect and the course of the evening had led me to see these creatures only as they appeared, as wild untameable animals, uncaring and dangerous. More than that, it all seemed vital and passionate and an invigorating contrast to the sterile predictability of the life I had been living. I despised the safe artificiality of the show that the girls had gone to see, trooping off to gawp from a secure distance at immaculate coiffured elegance. I was cramped on the ground with two huge black hairy monsters. It was glorious.

  From behind, the first creature pushed me forward up against the new arrival where all I could see was a pair of deep black eyes staring back at me through the mask, moist eyes, shining, full and excited at the knowledge of its power, at what it was doing. The scent of this one was, if anything, stronger, slightly more sweaty and animal than the other so I could not be sure if this was really Jeff, or if the other was; and if this was Jeff, who was the other, the first one? Who was it now behind me, arms embracing me, hands reaching down and pulling insistently at my knickers? Pushing down inside to claw at my own inadequate covering of hair? The front one also joined in, digging at the elastic waistband, scrabbling at the top and trying to get inside or get them down or somehow, anyhow, to get rid of their flimsy protection. Finally it grew impatient and with a sudden yank, the material was simply ripped, torn almost in two and pulled away. For a moment he held the pink clammy remnant up at eye level between us, then clasped it to his nostrils and snorted before it was tossed up high into the air where it flapped once before it disappeared.

  I turned back, my eyes drawn to the luminance of my pale thighs shining out in the half-light, to my dress which had been pushed right up during the battle for possession of my knickers and to the point just below the hem where was visible the tip of the slightly darker shadow of my neatly trimmed triangle. The one in front of me now held my shoulders while the other fumbled at the back of my neck. Its claws were struggling to grip the tongue of the zip and hot gasps of increasingly frustrated breath came onto the bare skin of my neck. Finally impatience took over again and with one hand in the neck band it simply pulled the dress apart, enough to start the zip running down, enough for it to continue and work it down to the bottom where the dress was rucked up around my waist. The other one now took over, pulled at the torn neckline to tug the garment down my arms, simply dragging it completely inside out, over my hips and legs and off. It bundled the cloth up and tossed it away into the shrubs.

  That was all I had been wearing, so I lay back, naked, a nakedness made even more complete by the contrast with the heavy masses of animal hair. I was gripped and cradled in the arms of the first one while the second stared at me. My arms were clamped down by my sides and my legs pushed out in front of me leaving me so available, utterly ready for them to take charge.

  The one in front of me brought himself up into the same low crouch and taking hold of my wrist pulled me out of the other’s grasp and forward onto hands and knees. He released me and we stared at each other while I waited; there was little doubt what was the next step in the game.

  They wanted me: they had found me.

  They had caught me: they had stripped me.

  I dripped.

  Suddenly I felt a stinging slap across my bare bottom which made me gasp and turn on the attacker behind but immediately I turned, I was slapped from the other side and when I tried to protect myself from this, a long black arm reached out and the cold rigid fingers, like pre-formed claws, pinched my nipple, pinched me hard. Caught between them like this, I was entirely vulnerable. I jumped to my feet and tried to make a run for it, but as soon as I was up, I realised that I was visible to anybody still left in the house, or on the terrace or even in any of the adjoining houses.

  I darted behind the fruit-cage but immediately one of them appeared at the corner and although I kept my back to the wall, I was slapped on the thigh, then on the bottom again and then right across the breast, and it hurt. I slipped out between them and across the damp grass towards the shrubbery and heard them lumbering after me as I ran. It was the unpredictability which made it so hard to bear, which undermined me. When they had first appeared, I had been frightened, then complacent; now I was scared again. Sitting in the comfort and safety of a living room surrounded by friends, it may have been stirring to watch the charade of an amorous gorilla dancing to music. It was entirely different to be utterly alone, stripped naked by two creatures who did not respond to any command or any word spoken to them, who reacted only as animals, whose intention was solely their own pleasure, a pleasure which clearly included playing me like a mouse, and causing me pain by slapping me and pinching me whenever I came within range. I managed to reach the shrubbery, but while I picked delicately across the rough earth between the twigs and thorns, they simply shoved their way through behind me and as soon as I stopped, another stinging slap across my bottom sent me further on.

  And still I could not be completely certain who they were. I was almost certain that one was Jeff, but I had no idea at all about the other. It could possibly be Alan but Alan should have been taller. If not Alan, then who? Malcolm? I would have liked it to be and it seemed the right height, but I could not know for sure. For a minute I considered trying to head back to the house, but there was nowhere there to hide and with no chance to recover my clothes, I could hardly go back to the party. At the far side of the garden, where the side of the garage ran very close to the wall of the garden, there was rather more shadow and it did look as if it might offer more cover than was available among the shrubs. I scampered across the lawn and found a tiny area where, with my back to the garage, nobody could creep up behind me and, squeezed between the two walls, I was almost invisible.

  I crouched down into the corner and drew my knees up to my chest. The sudden pressure of warm skin on my breasts, even though it was my own warm skin, sent a little ripple through me and, without thinking, my thighs opened a fraction and my hands reached down to cover me, to protect and to comfort me, and my fingertips stroked gently at the little damp protrusion. As soon as I pressed it, the dampness increased markedly, betraying how readily my bo
dy responded to the attention and stimulation it had already received, and in anticipation of the more there would be to come.

  It happened quickly. I heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet and the light in front of me was blocked by the black mass of one of the animals. It reached in, grabbed my ankle and started to haul me out and although I tried to pull back, it was so much stronger than me that unless I was willing to be dragged across the stones on my back, I had no choice but to concede and worm my way out.

  As soon as I emerged, they each grabbed one arm and I was dragged backwards across the lawn and up the steps onto the terrace. As we arrived, a roar of muffled laughter came from inside where the others were still watching their stupid film.

  At the top of the terrace steps, they laid me down on the warm flagstones, one taking my wrists, the other taking my ankles, and I was spread like a sacrifice. The sky was still bright and with the candles all around, I was plainly visible, a pale virgin star, their plaything.

  Now I was shared; brittle plastic and soft fur scuttling over me, artificial hands to squeeze and paw at my breasts, hands whose cold unnatural hardness made their blunt caresses all the more stimulating. Had anyone else groped me so roughly, I would have protested, or left, or both. This was different. They had changed me: I was as animal as either of them. I could smell their sweat and could feel my own running down me, and it was not just sweat I was leaking. My legs were spread wide, my pussy peeled open and that smell too drifted up to me.

  The game was over and I was impatient. After all that had happened, I could not wait for any long slow foreplay; in reality the foreplay had begun hours ago when the Portuguese stripper first stepped out onto the floor; maybe that afternoon, when I had taken a shower and changed ready for the night. Now I was entirely ready.