NEMESIS
Ok... this is not a story for the faint hearted. If you are easily offended or you are my mother, please stop here.
Not suitable for minors... (please note: all content is subject to copyright)
Susan is sleeping in her flat. It´s late morning but she likes sleeping the morning off. Afternoons seem so much gentler on the soul. More than anything else she hates it when something interrupts her sleep, especially when it´s the phone, so when Mr Shapiro calls her once again to ask her whether her flatmate has come back she is feeling quite grumpy. Penelope hasn´t been at home for a few weeks now, and she hasn´t been paying the rent, which means that now she needs to move out: something she rather not think about. With a groan she picks up the phone.
- Good morning Mr Shapiro. No. I still don´t know where she is.. Yes. I do realise that. Like I said I´ll be out of here by the weekend...
When the call has ended she cannot possibly go back to sleep. She beats the pillow down but it´s more a symbolic gesture than anything else.
Welcome to the world - she thinks - annoyed. It´s only ten o´clock...
A minute later the wake-up routine starts. There is something almost ritualistic about the way she follows it precisely everyday. First she fetches the newspaper from the front door, then she prepares a strong cup of coffee so she can sip it while reading the news (today the classifieds since she has to find a new flat), and only later she will change out of her pyjamas and get properly dressed.
First though she better check whether Penelope has actually come back while she was asleep, just in case. The door to her room is ajar like she left it when she checked it last night. She has never entered before but for some reason today she feels like doing it. Her bed has been left unmade for two weeks and looking at it she feels a bit weird about the sheets, left abandoned in the same shape for days on end. For the first time she feels the need to have a look around as if to discover something that might give her a clue to her whereabouts but she only finds the old high school photograph that has been sitting forever on her bedside table.
She always thought Penelope looked silly in that photo: her Shakespearean costume looked kind of fake and she seemed way too pleased with herself posing on the stage. Her and her acting mania - and this is where it got her… it just didn't make any sense. Why couldn’t her flatmate at least have the consideration to give her a call and let her know where she was? Now she’d have to move out having no idea what to do with her stuff; most probably she’d end up having to throw it away and then she’d get a hearing from her when she’d eventually decide to make an appearance. Well, it was no use thinking about it now; it would probably be wiser to just give up and get on with her own life.
Still in her pyjamas she closes the door and goes to fetch the newspaper, but first she puts on a jumper, it´s chilly. With the jumper on the world seems a little bit more welcoming. She needs to feel a bit of comfort on this autumn morning: the lounge is a mess, full of packing boxes and ashtrays filled with cigarettes. She knows she really needs to clean up but she hates packing as much as cleaning and most of all she hates moving out. She swears she’ll make her pay when she finds out where she is; hell, this is the last time she’s played her such a hand but for now it’s better to leave it or her day will be ruined. Get on with it. Get the newspaper. Get the coffee. Get a cigarette. Get the morning going.
The newspaper is still wrapped up in plastic. She unwraps it hastily and puts it on the lounge table, already overcrowded with old newspapers. She goes to the kitchen and pours some coffee in a mug. There is nothing better than good black coffee in the morning but somehow today she doesn´t enjoy it. Maybe it was the phone call. It’s like an unnatural curtain of gloom has descended on everything and she can feel its darkening effect on her mood. Sitting on the sofa the first cigarette of the day tastes bitter and the coffee is strong and hot. She puts it on the table and takes a deep breath. She´ll drink it later. First she’ll look at the ads.
There are so many newspapers everywhere that for a moment she can´t see today´s edition. Ads are circled everywhere- it was Penelope´s eternal struggle: always looking for a new job, always losing the previous one because some asshole ``had a problem`` with her. She remembered well the last time she had seen her. She had been looking for a job after her previous boss Alfred or Alfie or Fred had tried it on with her and she’d rejected him. She had been furious and had considered giving up her career as an actress. Penelope had hoped she actually would but knew she wouldn’t. Even that was just an act, a way to get sympathy and attention. Then she said she’d found something interesting that might turn things around; apparently she was gonna go for an interview to meet another guy who might give her a break. After that she’d never seen her again. Maybe the guy had indeed given her a break and now they were somewhere in the Caribbean enjoying the sun and shooting some blockbuster, but somehow she doubts it.
Anyway. Back to the present. She must concentrate.The newspaper unrolls before her eyes and she skims it through and through. “Cleaners wanted for newly opened five star hotel”; “three bedroom flat to rent in new town”; “flatmate wanted in student flat close to uni”; “the war in the middle east rages on…” ; there’s so much crap that she almost doesn´t notice the article on the front page with the shocking photograph in the centre. After a double take she reads on:
“New victim for the snuff movie killer: panic in the city”
There is a woman on the ground, wrapped in plastic, surrounded by a pool of blood. Susan looks closely, and for a moment she doesn’t believe her own eyes. There, right next to a massive kitchen knife is her friend, Penelope. Her mouth involuntarily opens in an expression of incredulity:
``Penelope Harrods, a young student at UCL has been found dead last night after having been brutally stabbed in the chest multiple times. Police have found evidence in the form of an internet video clip which shows the rape and murder of the victim, pointing to the ever elusive snuff movie killer as the attacker. The young woman had not been reported missing despite having stopped going to her lectures since the morning of November the 24th.
Susan is in shock. She just cannot believe this is true and at the same time she cannot stop looking at the picture. This can’t be happening. It must be someone else. She closes her eyes for a second, to catch up with herself. When she re-opens them there is no doubt the woman in the paper is indeed Penelope. She puts the newspaper down and inadvertently knocks over the coffee all over the carpet.
- Shit! –
She just cannot understand how this could be for real, but the immediate need to soak the liquid up before it irremediably stains the carpet diverts her.
Coming back from the kitchen a second later the coffee has spilt all over the old newspapers and although normally she wouldn’t give a toss she starts concentrating on cleaning the stain out perhaps to give herself a chance to process the crazy news of what’s just happened to her friend.
A few minutes later the carpet is saved but the old newspapers aren’t. She’s about to make a bundle of them to throw them all out when something stops her: Penelope is dead. She has been brutally murdered by some psycho killer. Nobody knows who’s done it but the last time she saw her she had been circling ads on the newspaper. One of these newspapers might be the one she had been looking at. It wouldn’t hurt to double check.
After half an hour of going through lots of dead ends and crossed over ads Susan finally finds something interesting: one classified has been circled a few times and it’s underlined; it says:
``Actresses sought for professional art film. Good pay and promising career prospects for right candidate. Call Rob on 4729407.``
The date reads:``24th Nov.``
Now, perhaps it is a coincidence but Susan doesn’t believe it. Of course she knows sometimes people find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time but she also thinks everything happens for a reason and this entire affair is just too weird to leave it alone: she has to do something about it and do it quick, although she is not sure what action exactly she should take. The thought of calling the police briefly enters her mind but she has hated authority ever since she got busted for smoking dope at high school and she’d rather leave them out of it. Besides, what would they do that she couldn’t do herself? They’d call the number and investigate whether Penelope had gotten an interview. So why not do the same? The worse that could happen would be nothing at all.
Without thinking she reaches for the phone and calls the number on the ad. Her heart starts to race when the realization hits that she has no idea what she’s going to say. What to do now? The phone is ringing. She better come up with something quick. She is tempted to hang up when someone picks up: it is an answering machine.
You have reached the Clubhouse. We are either busy or you´ve reached us outside our normal business hours. We are open everyday from 5pm till late. Please call us back during our opening hours. Thank you.
Susan puts the phone down. She is confused so she pauses to think for a moment. What kind of job for actresses has got to do with a clubhouse? And what exactly is a clubhouse? Could it be a wrong number? She checks it out but it’s the one listed. Something doesn´t quite make sense because not only the name sounds weird but she’s never heard of this place and she knows lots of clubs in town. Of course it could be a new place or perhaps it’s not a bar but some kind of theatre where they do cabaret shows, or perhaps it’s a cover for something else. Or maybe she’s just imagining things and she’s seen too many thrillers and there is nothing strange about the place; maybe they were looking for people last week and now they found them and they have gone back to their normal activities. Maybe. But something feels fishy and she’s not convinced. Suddenly she’s got the idea of checking today’s classifieds too. If the ad is still on there might be something to it and although it doesn’t prove anything she sets about to check.
The truth is she’s always fancied herself being some kind of detective. If it weren’t for the fact she’d have to work side by side with the police she would have joined the forces herself because solving puzzles has always delighted her. She’d never admit it but she craves to feel smarter than everyone else… It's something that goes back to her childhood. Even then she had always admired those TV series where there was some kind of inspector solving murders. She’d often fantasized about being one day one of them herself, surrounded by the same cinematic air of mystery: the outsider, the loner, the misunderstood outcast in search of truth, a man dressed in a beige trench coat and hat, sadly smoking a cigarette and feeling wistful in the rain. Sadly, that was just a childish dream and this was serious business; in the real world her flatmate has been murdered and the least she can do is try to find out something more about it.
She opens today´s newspaper and looks under ``a`` for actresses sought . There is nothing there, but she continues to search. Maybe some other clue will turn up and if she continues to look for something she might just find it. It’s a strange theory but it works: on the wanted column of today’s paper there is another ad with the same number except this time it is not about actresses, but dancers.
``Young dancers sought for up and coming High Street show. Great opportunity for the right girl. Call Rob on 4729407``
Now, that is curious. She checks last week´s newspaper as well and finds another one:
``Female singers sought for professional Broadway musical. Greats rates of pay. Call Rob on 4729407``
It doesn't take a genius to realize this could certainly be a lead: either it is some kind of recruitment agency running a scam or something escapes her. Whatever it is she sure needs to find out and the first thing to investigate is who Rob is and why he doesn’t have a proper office number. The only thing she knows is that the Clubhouse exists (or at least the number associated with it) and that she has a hunch about it being important. Even though there might be nothing to it, the fact that some guy advertises weekly positions for actresses, dancers and singers without giving a proper contact number seems somewhat suspect. Surely if you were a serious recruitment agency you would go about it a different way wouldn’t you? For a moment she still wonders whether she’s reading too much into it and whether she shouldn’t let herself be carried away but curiosity has the better of her. After all what absolutely banal and reasonable explanation could there be? The more she thinks about it the more she gets convinced that the only thing for her to do is to go to the clubhouse to find out exactly what it is and what happens in it: at least this way she is doing something about Penelope’s death, and doesn’t have to feel so utterly powerless thinking about it. Without further ado she grabs the phone book and looks for ``The Clubhouse``, she finds the address and writes it down on a piece of paper.
II
It is past six pm now and she is standing outside of a dark building with no sign on it. The address matches the one she scribbled earlier; this is where `the clubhouse` is supposed to be though there is no indication of its existence from the street. The only thing that’s visible is an unmarked door full of graffiti, surrounded by rubbish bins. Maybe she should try the door and see whether it is open: if someone gives her trouble she can always say she thought it was a different place and get out again: sometimes it’s useful to play the ‘dumb woman" game.
She feels cunning about her choice of clothes. It took her almost the entire afternoon to find the old red dress she used to wear when she was eighteen and wanted to look sexy. A long black coat covers her entire body so that nobody can suspect what she is wearing underneath but this dress makes her look the part: the young aspiring actress, ready to do anything to get ahead.
-This is wild- she thinks - But I have to do it-
Truth is, she is beginning to enjoy it.
The door opens to a corridor lit with blue lighting. At the end she can see another door and there it is: the bar. As she gets inside a few heads turn to check her out: she does her best to look as if this is exactly where she’s supposed to be and sure enough the heads turn back to their previous occupation. The bar is almost empty: two men are playing cards on one side of the room, while another is writing something on a notebook at the bar; a couple of older folks are talking over a beer in a dark corner and only the barman seems to be reasonably busy fumbling behind the counter.
Susan goes to the bar and orders a drink. She tries to look nonchalant perching on the bar stool as if she’s waiting for someone while she looks around trying to get a grip on the place. There doesn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about it though there is something vaguely creepy about its patrons. Maybe it´s one of those places that gets full only after midnight but it hardly looks like a trendy bar, in fact it’s more like an old English pub full of same weary locals. It certainly isn´t a theatre or some sort of cabaret, though it could easily be a cover up place for illegal trafficking. Or maybe she’s just watched too many movies and this detective game is getting silly. She begins to doubt whether it is going to go anywhere, and for a moment she seriously considers going home. Then she remembers what they always do in spy movies, and wonders whether she should give it a try: hand the barman a tenner and ask if he knows anything about guys advertising for young performers around the place…
Tossing the idea for a few moments she eventually decides against it out of fear that he’ll just look at her askance and tell her he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The barman seems pretty guarded anyway, though he does look the part: in his thirties , shifty blue eyes, slightly unshaven, shoulder length hair held together by a ponytail. He seems to be in confidence with the younger man at the counter who’s much more clean shaven and well dressed than him and with whom he exchanges a few words every now and then.
Everybody else seems pretty ordinary, including the worn-out looking woman in her forties who’s just come through the door to sit on her own sifting through a fashion magazine and a couple of guys starting to play pool with the token young woman in tow. it's actually a bit hopeless and she's getting convinced she’s not going to find a killer here; this is just a sad hanging hole for equally sad looking people. She takes another slow sip at the gin and tonic and sighs at her own naiveté when the sound of a phone catches her attention. The barman bends down to the side of the counter and quickly picks it up. After a beat he hands it down to the twenty-something guy standing at the bar and says:
Rob, it´s for you.
There’s the hint of a smile on his face as he takes the receiver in his hand.
- Hi, yes it´s me... Yes, we’re still looking. Listen, I can´t quite talk at the moment but if you leave me a number I’ll call you and we can arrange a time to meet so I can tell you all about it. How does that sound?
She watches him write down a name and number on the small pocketbook he was writing in before. He’s obviously done this a few times.
- All right. Bye then.
He hands the phone back down to the barman and gives him a quick nod. Susan tries not to look too obvious but her heart is racing. So this is Rob: a not too bad looking man in his late 20s, dressed to impress but without a style of his own. He seems like someone who’s trying hard to look like an upstart businessman, except his trousers don’t quite pull it off and the cheap aftershave gives him out. It’s as if he’s trying to play the part of the guy who’s got an impressive car and apartment to boot and for whom pulling a different beautiful woman every night is a matter of course. Trouble is Susan can tell it’s just an act and she’s dying to figure out what he’s hiding underneath it. She also knows that if she continues to look at him he is going to notice her very soon: she better decide now whether she’s ready to go all the way. There is definitively something shady here and now it’s her chance to find out exactly what that is.
She can feel her heart beat quite fast inside her chest: it’s probably the adrenaline kicking in. She knows she’s going to have to get out of her comfort zone if she is to make the next move. She wonders, if this were a movie what would the heroine do? Would she choose to be wise and run away to the safety of home or would she make contact with the maybe dangerous man and possibly risk her life in the process? Almost as an answer a rush of energy rises up through her body: this could be an exciting adventure, something she would never forget, but most importantly, something once she begins she cannot stop. And so before she knows it her mind is made up.
Without blinking she continues to look at the man like she wants him to notice it. Now the phone conversation is over, she knows he will glance at her and she calculatingly takes her coat off at the same time: her red dress is bound to make a strong impression. It works: Rob immediately notices her movements and turns towards her.
It’s easy – she tells herself - all you have to do is be daring. Without flinching she turns to face him and decides to go for it. He stares at her with confident self-assuredness, expecting her to turn her gaze down but she doesn’t. Instead she stares back at him with a glint of allure in her eyes. It’s almost as if she’s taken on the main part in one of her favourite movies and she lets its character speak for her. Without averting her eyes she asks him:
- You’re a busy man aren’t you?
For a moment there’s no reply. It’s as if Rob wasn’t expecting this. He is used to leading the dance but she’s beaten him to it and it confuses him.
- Mmm… what´s it to you?
There’s a hint of tension in his voice. Damn, she thinks- it isn’t a good start. She must not scare him off so decides to change tactic. Shifting her legs from one side to the other slowly enough for him to pay attention she softens her voice and in a sensual tone replies:
- what do you think it is?
Now the trap is set and he should be easily taken in. Thinking he’s back in control he moves towards her.
- you don´t waste time do you?
He’s definitely interested, or so it seems. For a moment she hesitates but then decides to go ahead. She could almost find him attractive in a weird, appalling kind of way.
- Well I always say, why waste time beating around the bush?
Her tone of voice is smooth and suave: he is now looking at her with an expression that says `I know what you are up to` and he looks pleased with himself. He then turns to the barman and orders two drinks.
- Two of the same Dave.
She can see he is so full of himself that he hasn’t even bothered to ask her what she wants. Well, let him think he’s the boss while she gets more information. She is playing her cards well although she’s not sure how far she can take it. The bartender prepares two drinks and puts them on the counter. A moment later Rob pushes a gin n ´tonic in front of her and gives her a cocky smile.
His behaviour is pretty revolting and yet at the same time it seems to her the same thing which disgusts her also has a strange and opposite effect. She is surprised by her own reaction to the situation: she never thought she could flirt with a stranger as easily and brazenly as she is and this satisfies her. Without a moment’s hesitation she takes her drink from him and skulls it down in one gulp while he watches her surprised. Whoever this woman is, he getting fascinated by her.
- Wow. You certainly aren’t a light weight, are you? Fancy anything stronger?
He’s got a smirk on his face, and is now totally relaxed. She decides to play it cool so she says ambiguously
- Maybe later...
It’s obvious Rob is impressed. He acts as if he’s never met someone like her before and for a while he just sits on his stool, sipping his drink, silently observing her.
- I´ve never seen you here before. New in town?
He is trying the usual, but that won´t work; she is not into chit-chat.
- Does it matter? she says somewhat condescendingly
- I can see you like playing mysterious…
- I just like playing.
Now she knows what he is going to ask next. Like a fly falling into the spider’s den he follows her in, unaware.
- Oh, and what kind of game is that you like to play?
- Any game you like .
- Really? Is that so now? You sure you’d play any game?
If only he knew how obvious he sounds, he wouldn’t look half as self-assured. She has tried to leave him ample space for boldness and she can see he is already consumed by anticipation so for a moment she doesn’t reply and just stares at him poignantly.
- Like I said…
It is clear now what this is about: there is no time to waste; he skulls the rest of his drink and stands up.
- Should we go then?
Susan doesn´t think twice. Before she knows it she has stood up, has put her coat on and is heading with Rob towards the exit.
III
It is late in the evening and they are standing in front of Rob´s apartment. He takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocks the door and leads the way into the darkness. The light is switched on and a moment later everything is revealed: they clearly are in a bachelor´s den, full of videotapes and magazines. Clothes, books and cigarettes are scattered all over the place, yet there seems to be an order to the chaos. Susan looks around intently, scanning her surroundings for clues: she´s never done anything like this before and yet she is not afraid. She knows she is playing with fire but it’s strangely exciting: now there is no turning back. The apartment is really an open plan loft, perfect for a single man with a love for movies. In the midst of all the furniture she sees a bed with a TV in front of it but no signs of cameras anywhere. He takes off his coat and hangs it up, then goes to fetch hers. She interjects by pointing to the tapes
- what´s these?-
His face makes a grimace as if genuinely surprised by the question.
- Well, videotapes, obviously...
She’s not going to play coy but rather dauntlessly inviting; hopefully he’ll bite the bait.
- Yes, I can see that, but what kind of videotapes?
Her smile is full of malice and her gaze is steady and intense. He holds it and takes her in.
- I guess that depends on you…
For a moment neither of them moves. From the outside they look like two cats circling each other cautiously, each one curiously yet calculatingly checking the other one out, trying to understand just how far they can push it. She’s the one brave enough to break the spell.
- So…can we watch one?
She makes an effort not to sound either too excited or too blasé, but she’s afraid she might have overcompensated by seeming bored.
- It´s pretty hard-core stuff - he says tentatively, but she can tell she’s almost got him. Now she needs to go for the kill. Serious, she replies
- Well that´s exactly what I thought- and takes off her coat.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without a word he goes to one of the shelves closest to him and picks up a brand new video. She is going to see something she has probably never seen before. It feels like electricity, like flirting with disaster, like walking on tiptoe on the edge of a cliff. It is making her feel hot and at the same time she can feel a cold shiver run down her spine. He beckons her to sit on the bed. She does so.
Rob is now visibly more at ease as he walks towards the VCR and puts the videotape inside it. He then switches the TV on and takes off his jacket, methodically hanging it on the back on his desk chair. He does everything haltingly and deliberately, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. He has a smirk on his face and doesn´t stop looking at Susan for a second. She knows this is only preparation for the inevitable; what she doesn´t know is that while Rob is looking at her he is also glancing at a knife hidden directly underneath the mattress. The movie begins to play from the middle of a sex scene. The sounds of a porn movie are clearly audible.
Susan watches the movie intently: this is no snuff scene though, just ordinary porn. She has never really watched one fully before and so finds herself fascinated by it, so much so she cannot stop watching. A man whose face is hidden is having rough sex with a woman tied up to a chair while another masked man is whipping her with a certain brutality. Her breasts are in some kind of leather harness and she’s leaning forward so her buttocks are exposed to the camera except for the leather miniskirt pulled up to her waist. She’s wearing impossible high heels with pull up stockings and although her mouth is gagged her screams can be heard loud and clear in a way that suggests she’s having a good time. Susan is half shocked, half aroused. Before she knows it a heated tingle surges up to her stomach making her feel flushed.
Rob is standing next to the TV, facing her, watching her every expression. His eyes seem to be gleaming in the dim light of the room. He suggestively takes off his tie and stares at her. Before he’s finished he whispers, full of confidence:
- It excites you doesn´t it?
It does but this is not what she is after. She isn’t here simply to have sex with a stranger and if she has gone this far she should go even further and make sure this guy is not just some sad case of a twenty something addicted to porn. Also, somehow, even though she would never admit it to herself, she wants more.
- It does excite me. But not as much as the real thing.
- The real thing uh? You sure about that?
She nods and gives him a meaningful look. Rob regards her for a while, trying to decide what to do, then glances at the knife and finally makes his mind up.
- Give me a moment. He mutters, and disappears somewhere inside the apartment.
Susan is now alone and for a moment a feeling of dread almost takes her over. Everything tells her to call it quits but the same stubborn part of herself that has pushed her this far doesn’t want her to give up now. Sitting on the bed with her red dress on she looks like the prototype of woman: the split runs all the way across her thigh down to her feet and forms a perfectly tantalising curve. One of her feet is vulnerably dangling on the side of the bed while the other is hidden under the cloth. She has felt voluptuously sexy before but never has she had such a strong sense of it. It’s like she can feel the full power of her allure and she is aware of the irresistible pull she must have on men; the dress feels tight on her skin: she can feel the lustrous silk press against her bare flesh, as if trying to contain her body from the inside. Then the TV stops broadcasting and the screen turns blue. Rob is still nowhere to be seen, but suddenly a different video appears on the TV. The quality is poor and it looks like a home-made movie.
A blindfolded woman is facing the camera, standing up, her arms chained up onto a white wall. Her mouth is shut with transparent adhesive film. She is only wearing high heel boots, white knickers and a girlish white blouse; she looks terrified. Susan is hypnotised. A man, looking like Rob from behind, appears from off screen and walks determinately towards the girl. He is wearing a balaclava. Around them is a squalid cellar room with nothing on the cement floor and walls.
As the man advances the girl tries in vane to set herself free but she cannot move. She must feel him coming close for she tries to scream but cannot open her mouth.
Susan can see he has a knife in his hand. It is sharp and glitters in the light. It makes her feel unsteady.
The man advances towards the girl and the camera turns to show his hand. With one blow he tears her blouse open and throws it on the floor, leaving her breasts exposed. They are full and firm. Susan´s eyes are glued to the screen.
The man has lust in eyes as he raises the blade close to her skin. At first it just touches the side of her breasts and then very slowly it begins to travel down, moving towards her stomach and then further down to her hips. The girl is sweating with dread, her body rigid, her breathing chocked. He is now down to her underwear and as the edge of the knife touches its sides he pauses for a moment. Fixing his eyes upon her, he smells fear. Then, without warning he tears them open in one go.
She tries to jerk herself free like a desperate caged animal but that only turns him on more. With her panties in his hand he stands back a bit, brings them close to his face and takes in their scent. Then he abruptly pulls the girl closer, rips the film off her face and shoves them in her mouth. Tears of terror run down her cheeks but despite herself Susan feels on fire. The man, now overcome by a venomous hunger, turns her around so she is facing the wall with her back to the camera.
Quickly he undoes his belt and pulls his trousers down just enough to penetrate her. He pushes hard inside her and before long his movements get quick and rough.
Susan feels herself getting drawn into the scene; her eyes close and for a moment she is there in the room with them: she is watching from behind the camera and is surprised by her own fervour when she hears her own voice telling him to fuck her harder, show her what she’s made for, fuck that bitch like she deserves…
She can feel herself getting more and more taken in by a sick all consuming thirst, irrationally wishing she was the one tied to the wall so she could be under his absolute power but she’s jolted away from this burning fantasy as the man’s groans escalate and he pushes more fiercely and vehemently into her.
The woman´s suppressed screams follow his frantic movements and Susan is spellbound as she finds herself shamelessly watching him thrust himself inside her time and time again until the next terrifying moment becomes inevitable and with her eyes fully open she witnesses the final irrevocable act: the man raises the knife to her heart and then, groaning with deranged pleasure, he ferociously stabs her three times while forcefully coming inside her. It’s over, but before he pulls himself out he lifts up her now-limp head to take the blindfold off and reveal her true identity. It’s no surprise: the victim is Penelope, and the film is finished.
It takes a long time before things come back into focus for Susan. It’s almost as if a parallel dimension has opened up and she has stepped right inside. Her sense of identity seems to have disappeared and all has become blurry and fuzzy around the edges. Her head’s still swimming in a vague mist of sensations like she’s stuck in a dream when she feels a man´s hand pressing firmly on her mouth. It´s Rob´s. He is pushing her onto the bed, expecting her to put up a struggle, but she doesn´t.
Instead she fixes her gaze on his and gently takes his hand away. Her eyes look like those of an animal transfixed by the glare of unexpected light. There is an unknown unfathomable quality to them: it’s like something primitive has emerged from deep inside her and has taken control. Like a wild beast she holds him under her spell and suddenly kisses him with a rapture she’s never known before. A rush of primal energy travels up from her spine and possesses her. Beside herself with passion she rips off her own clothes and then his, while he falls victim to the elemental force of her ways. Then she sits on top of him and spreading her legs wide she pulls him right inside almost violently. As he starts to move in and out of her, her consciousness starts to waver.
Flashes of light and colours appear behind her eyes as she sees Rob’s hidden shadow envelop her like a mantle of black velvet, soothing and yet profoundly suffocating. Then somewhere something starts to scream and she sees blood, rivers of it, running down her body, flowing from her chest down, till the entire room is filled with its sticky unforgiving mass. She feels the pull of annihilation take hold of her as her breathing intensifies and her moans get fuller and sharper and her muscles start giving in to quick spasms and convulsions. She knows her moment of climax is getting closer and as it does so does her sense of impending doom. She rolls on her back and everything becomes unexpectedly clear.
Rob´s arm is slowly travelling towards the bottom of the mattress where the knife is hidden. She knows he wants to fuck her and kill her while he is still inside her. She hasn´t seen him reach for the knife but she doesn’t need to. It’s like his mind and hers are one and she just knows it… He is thrusting harder now, his eyes bloodshot with an insane appetite for murder and she can feel her downfall become imminent. She is sweating, his body pressing hard inside her rocking up and down more and more intensely. His face is full of spite and hatred, and she can see his thoughts crawl like beetles all over her body, entering her every cavity as he whispers in her ear
- Bitch... Whore... You are nothing but dirt, you filthy slut...
His voice is harsh and unforgiving, his words filled with unrestrained malevolence
- You like being fucked like this don´t you ...
She knows this is the moment of truth, the end of everything she’s ever been and ever will be; he is about to end her life forever, rendering her victim to her own craziness and that of a man out of his mind with concupiscence and venom; she can feel the full magnitude of his fury, recognizing that nothing will stop him now short of his own demise, and feeling herself just a step away from the abyss she lets herself fall into it, sensing the oblivion take her over and down into the final depths of dissolution.
A cloak of thick darkness starts to fall all around and she welcomes it without reservations, surrendering to the great chasm of void that awaits her; the precipice opens up but she's eager to take it in so she can finally be one with all the others, joined in sisterhood to all the women who suffered the same fate before her. A sweet familiar aroma reaches her nostrils and for a moment she feels almost recognition, as if Penelope was here, touching her, beckoning to her from beyond the grave to come and fall into her open arms… it’s her perfume, she is sure, this is no illusion and it’s then that something silky brushes against her skin and raising her eyes to look behind she realizes where it’s coming from: Penelope’s red scarf is hanging loosely from the bedpost; this is not her friend calling her forth to the other world but proof she’s been here before, perhaps on this very bed, doing the very thing she is doing now with Rob.
This flash of awareness is enough to instantly jolt her awake from the mindless stupor she had somehow fallen in and suddenly acutely conscious of the precipice she was about to dive into she notices something glimmer on the bedside table next to her: a pair of scissors are lying on it just close enough for her to grab hold of. Without a moment’s hesitation she extends her free arm and seizes them with absolute conviction. It’s only a matter of seconds: clenching her hand around them as tight as she possibly can she musters all her strength and in one final struggle for self control she plunges their sharp blade into the side of Rob’s neck, once, and then again and again, until he is nothing but dead weight on her body. Then, holding him with his ear pressed against her shoulders she listens to his heartbeat gradually fade away until there’s no sign of life left in him and when she’s absolutely sure he’s gone she softly whispers in his ear the words he would have given anything to hear her scream as he took her life away forever:
- Oh yeah.. I like being fucked like this... because I am nothing but a filthy whore... –
IV
Inside a small room a TV monitor is showing a movie. On it Rob is lying on the bed, sprawled face down, his body drowned in a large pool of blood. Not very far from it Susan, now dressed, is closing the apartment door behind her. A little while later, the VCR comes to a stop and the screen turns blue. The machine emits a sound and a new tape is ejected from the video player.
Copyright Elisa Di Napoli 2012
Not suitable for minors... (please note: all content is subject to copyright)
Susan is sleeping in her flat. It´s late morning but she likes sleeping the morning off. Afternoons seem so much gentler on the soul. More than anything else she hates it when something interrupts her sleep, especially when it´s the phone, so when Mr Shapiro calls her once again to ask her whether her flatmate has come back she is feeling quite grumpy. Penelope hasn´t been at home for a few weeks now, and she hasn´t been paying the rent, which means that now she needs to move out: something she rather not think about. With a groan she picks up the phone.
- Good morning Mr Shapiro. No. I still don´t know where she is.. Yes. I do realise that. Like I said I´ll be out of here by the weekend...
When the call has ended she cannot possibly go back to sleep. She beats the pillow down but it´s more a symbolic gesture than anything else.
Welcome to the world - she thinks - annoyed. It´s only ten o´clock...
A minute later the wake-up routine starts. There is something almost ritualistic about the way she follows it precisely everyday. First she fetches the newspaper from the front door, then she prepares a strong cup of coffee so she can sip it while reading the news (today the classifieds since she has to find a new flat), and only later she will change out of her pyjamas and get properly dressed.
First though she better check whether Penelope has actually come back while she was asleep, just in case. The door to her room is ajar like she left it when she checked it last night. She has never entered before but for some reason today she feels like doing it. Her bed has been left unmade for two weeks and looking at it she feels a bit weird about the sheets, left abandoned in the same shape for days on end. For the first time she feels the need to have a look around as if to discover something that might give her a clue to her whereabouts but she only finds the old high school photograph that has been sitting forever on her bedside table.
She always thought Penelope looked silly in that photo: her Shakespearean costume looked kind of fake and she seemed way too pleased with herself posing on the stage. Her and her acting mania - and this is where it got her… it just didn't make any sense. Why couldn’t her flatmate at least have the consideration to give her a call and let her know where she was? Now she’d have to move out having no idea what to do with her stuff; most probably she’d end up having to throw it away and then she’d get a hearing from her when she’d eventually decide to make an appearance. Well, it was no use thinking about it now; it would probably be wiser to just give up and get on with her own life.
Still in her pyjamas she closes the door and goes to fetch the newspaper, but first she puts on a jumper, it´s chilly. With the jumper on the world seems a little bit more welcoming. She needs to feel a bit of comfort on this autumn morning: the lounge is a mess, full of packing boxes and ashtrays filled with cigarettes. She knows she really needs to clean up but she hates packing as much as cleaning and most of all she hates moving out. She swears she’ll make her pay when she finds out where she is; hell, this is the last time she’s played her such a hand but for now it’s better to leave it or her day will be ruined. Get on with it. Get the newspaper. Get the coffee. Get a cigarette. Get the morning going.
The newspaper is still wrapped up in plastic. She unwraps it hastily and puts it on the lounge table, already overcrowded with old newspapers. She goes to the kitchen and pours some coffee in a mug. There is nothing better than good black coffee in the morning but somehow today she doesn´t enjoy it. Maybe it was the phone call. It’s like an unnatural curtain of gloom has descended on everything and she can feel its darkening effect on her mood. Sitting on the sofa the first cigarette of the day tastes bitter and the coffee is strong and hot. She puts it on the table and takes a deep breath. She´ll drink it later. First she’ll look at the ads.
There are so many newspapers everywhere that for a moment she can´t see today´s edition. Ads are circled everywhere- it was Penelope´s eternal struggle: always looking for a new job, always losing the previous one because some asshole ``had a problem`` with her. She remembered well the last time she had seen her. She had been looking for a job after her previous boss Alfred or Alfie or Fred had tried it on with her and she’d rejected him. She had been furious and had considered giving up her career as an actress. Penelope had hoped she actually would but knew she wouldn’t. Even that was just an act, a way to get sympathy and attention. Then she said she’d found something interesting that might turn things around; apparently she was gonna go for an interview to meet another guy who might give her a break. After that she’d never seen her again. Maybe the guy had indeed given her a break and now they were somewhere in the Caribbean enjoying the sun and shooting some blockbuster, but somehow she doubts it.
Anyway. Back to the present. She must concentrate.The newspaper unrolls before her eyes and she skims it through and through. “Cleaners wanted for newly opened five star hotel”; “three bedroom flat to rent in new town”; “flatmate wanted in student flat close to uni”; “the war in the middle east rages on…” ; there’s so much crap that she almost doesn´t notice the article on the front page with the shocking photograph in the centre. After a double take she reads on:
“New victim for the snuff movie killer: panic in the city”
There is a woman on the ground, wrapped in plastic, surrounded by a pool of blood. Susan looks closely, and for a moment she doesn’t believe her own eyes. There, right next to a massive kitchen knife is her friend, Penelope. Her mouth involuntarily opens in an expression of incredulity:
``Penelope Harrods, a young student at UCL has been found dead last night after having been brutally stabbed in the chest multiple times. Police have found evidence in the form of an internet video clip which shows the rape and murder of the victim, pointing to the ever elusive snuff movie killer as the attacker. The young woman had not been reported missing despite having stopped going to her lectures since the morning of November the 24th.
Susan is in shock. She just cannot believe this is true and at the same time she cannot stop looking at the picture. This can’t be happening. It must be someone else. She closes her eyes for a second, to catch up with herself. When she re-opens them there is no doubt the woman in the paper is indeed Penelope. She puts the newspaper down and inadvertently knocks over the coffee all over the carpet.
- Shit! –
She just cannot understand how this could be for real, but the immediate need to soak the liquid up before it irremediably stains the carpet diverts her.
Coming back from the kitchen a second later the coffee has spilt all over the old newspapers and although normally she wouldn’t give a toss she starts concentrating on cleaning the stain out perhaps to give herself a chance to process the crazy news of what’s just happened to her friend.
A few minutes later the carpet is saved but the old newspapers aren’t. She’s about to make a bundle of them to throw them all out when something stops her: Penelope is dead. She has been brutally murdered by some psycho killer. Nobody knows who’s done it but the last time she saw her she had been circling ads on the newspaper. One of these newspapers might be the one she had been looking at. It wouldn’t hurt to double check.
After half an hour of going through lots of dead ends and crossed over ads Susan finally finds something interesting: one classified has been circled a few times and it’s underlined; it says:
``Actresses sought for professional art film. Good pay and promising career prospects for right candidate. Call Rob on 4729407.``
The date reads:``24th Nov.``
Now, perhaps it is a coincidence but Susan doesn’t believe it. Of course she knows sometimes people find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time but she also thinks everything happens for a reason and this entire affair is just too weird to leave it alone: she has to do something about it and do it quick, although she is not sure what action exactly she should take. The thought of calling the police briefly enters her mind but she has hated authority ever since she got busted for smoking dope at high school and she’d rather leave them out of it. Besides, what would they do that she couldn’t do herself? They’d call the number and investigate whether Penelope had gotten an interview. So why not do the same? The worse that could happen would be nothing at all.
Without thinking she reaches for the phone and calls the number on the ad. Her heart starts to race when the realization hits that she has no idea what she’s going to say. What to do now? The phone is ringing. She better come up with something quick. She is tempted to hang up when someone picks up: it is an answering machine.
You have reached the Clubhouse. We are either busy or you´ve reached us outside our normal business hours. We are open everyday from 5pm till late. Please call us back during our opening hours. Thank you.
Susan puts the phone down. She is confused so she pauses to think for a moment. What kind of job for actresses has got to do with a clubhouse? And what exactly is a clubhouse? Could it be a wrong number? She checks it out but it’s the one listed. Something doesn´t quite make sense because not only the name sounds weird but she’s never heard of this place and she knows lots of clubs in town. Of course it could be a new place or perhaps it’s not a bar but some kind of theatre where they do cabaret shows, or perhaps it’s a cover for something else. Or maybe she’s just imagining things and she’s seen too many thrillers and there is nothing strange about the place; maybe they were looking for people last week and now they found them and they have gone back to their normal activities. Maybe. But something feels fishy and she’s not convinced. Suddenly she’s got the idea of checking today’s classifieds too. If the ad is still on there might be something to it and although it doesn’t prove anything she sets about to check.
The truth is she’s always fancied herself being some kind of detective. If it weren’t for the fact she’d have to work side by side with the police she would have joined the forces herself because solving puzzles has always delighted her. She’d never admit it but she craves to feel smarter than everyone else… It's something that goes back to her childhood. Even then she had always admired those TV series where there was some kind of inspector solving murders. She’d often fantasized about being one day one of them herself, surrounded by the same cinematic air of mystery: the outsider, the loner, the misunderstood outcast in search of truth, a man dressed in a beige trench coat and hat, sadly smoking a cigarette and feeling wistful in the rain. Sadly, that was just a childish dream and this was serious business; in the real world her flatmate has been murdered and the least she can do is try to find out something more about it.
She opens today´s newspaper and looks under ``a`` for actresses sought . There is nothing there, but she continues to search. Maybe some other clue will turn up and if she continues to look for something she might just find it. It’s a strange theory but it works: on the wanted column of today’s paper there is another ad with the same number except this time it is not about actresses, but dancers.
``Young dancers sought for up and coming High Street show. Great opportunity for the right girl. Call Rob on 4729407``
Now, that is curious. She checks last week´s newspaper as well and finds another one:
``Female singers sought for professional Broadway musical. Greats rates of pay. Call Rob on 4729407``
It doesn't take a genius to realize this could certainly be a lead: either it is some kind of recruitment agency running a scam or something escapes her. Whatever it is she sure needs to find out and the first thing to investigate is who Rob is and why he doesn’t have a proper office number. The only thing she knows is that the Clubhouse exists (or at least the number associated with it) and that she has a hunch about it being important. Even though there might be nothing to it, the fact that some guy advertises weekly positions for actresses, dancers and singers without giving a proper contact number seems somewhat suspect. Surely if you were a serious recruitment agency you would go about it a different way wouldn’t you? For a moment she still wonders whether she’s reading too much into it and whether she shouldn’t let herself be carried away but curiosity has the better of her. After all what absolutely banal and reasonable explanation could there be? The more she thinks about it the more she gets convinced that the only thing for her to do is to go to the clubhouse to find out exactly what it is and what happens in it: at least this way she is doing something about Penelope’s death, and doesn’t have to feel so utterly powerless thinking about it. Without further ado she grabs the phone book and looks for ``The Clubhouse``, she finds the address and writes it down on a piece of paper.
II
It is past six pm now and she is standing outside of a dark building with no sign on it. The address matches the one she scribbled earlier; this is where `the clubhouse` is supposed to be though there is no indication of its existence from the street. The only thing that’s visible is an unmarked door full of graffiti, surrounded by rubbish bins. Maybe she should try the door and see whether it is open: if someone gives her trouble she can always say she thought it was a different place and get out again: sometimes it’s useful to play the ‘dumb woman" game.
She feels cunning about her choice of clothes. It took her almost the entire afternoon to find the old red dress she used to wear when she was eighteen and wanted to look sexy. A long black coat covers her entire body so that nobody can suspect what she is wearing underneath but this dress makes her look the part: the young aspiring actress, ready to do anything to get ahead.
-This is wild- she thinks - But I have to do it-
Truth is, she is beginning to enjoy it.
The door opens to a corridor lit with blue lighting. At the end she can see another door and there it is: the bar. As she gets inside a few heads turn to check her out: she does her best to look as if this is exactly where she’s supposed to be and sure enough the heads turn back to their previous occupation. The bar is almost empty: two men are playing cards on one side of the room, while another is writing something on a notebook at the bar; a couple of older folks are talking over a beer in a dark corner and only the barman seems to be reasonably busy fumbling behind the counter.
Susan goes to the bar and orders a drink. She tries to look nonchalant perching on the bar stool as if she’s waiting for someone while she looks around trying to get a grip on the place. There doesn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about it though there is something vaguely creepy about its patrons. Maybe it´s one of those places that gets full only after midnight but it hardly looks like a trendy bar, in fact it’s more like an old English pub full of same weary locals. It certainly isn´t a theatre or some sort of cabaret, though it could easily be a cover up place for illegal trafficking. Or maybe she’s just watched too many movies and this detective game is getting silly. She begins to doubt whether it is going to go anywhere, and for a moment she seriously considers going home. Then she remembers what they always do in spy movies, and wonders whether she should give it a try: hand the barman a tenner and ask if he knows anything about guys advertising for young performers around the place…
Tossing the idea for a few moments she eventually decides against it out of fear that he’ll just look at her askance and tell her he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The barman seems pretty guarded anyway, though he does look the part: in his thirties , shifty blue eyes, slightly unshaven, shoulder length hair held together by a ponytail. He seems to be in confidence with the younger man at the counter who’s much more clean shaven and well dressed than him and with whom he exchanges a few words every now and then.
Everybody else seems pretty ordinary, including the worn-out looking woman in her forties who’s just come through the door to sit on her own sifting through a fashion magazine and a couple of guys starting to play pool with the token young woman in tow. it's actually a bit hopeless and she's getting convinced she’s not going to find a killer here; this is just a sad hanging hole for equally sad looking people. She takes another slow sip at the gin and tonic and sighs at her own naiveté when the sound of a phone catches her attention. The barman bends down to the side of the counter and quickly picks it up. After a beat he hands it down to the twenty-something guy standing at the bar and says:
Rob, it´s for you.
There’s the hint of a smile on his face as he takes the receiver in his hand.
- Hi, yes it´s me... Yes, we’re still looking. Listen, I can´t quite talk at the moment but if you leave me a number I’ll call you and we can arrange a time to meet so I can tell you all about it. How does that sound?
She watches him write down a name and number on the small pocketbook he was writing in before. He’s obviously done this a few times.
- All right. Bye then.
He hands the phone back down to the barman and gives him a quick nod. Susan tries not to look too obvious but her heart is racing. So this is Rob: a not too bad looking man in his late 20s, dressed to impress but without a style of his own. He seems like someone who’s trying hard to look like an upstart businessman, except his trousers don’t quite pull it off and the cheap aftershave gives him out. It’s as if he’s trying to play the part of the guy who’s got an impressive car and apartment to boot and for whom pulling a different beautiful woman every night is a matter of course. Trouble is Susan can tell it’s just an act and she’s dying to figure out what he’s hiding underneath it. She also knows that if she continues to look at him he is going to notice her very soon: she better decide now whether she’s ready to go all the way. There is definitively something shady here and now it’s her chance to find out exactly what that is.
She can feel her heart beat quite fast inside her chest: it’s probably the adrenaline kicking in. She knows she’s going to have to get out of her comfort zone if she is to make the next move. She wonders, if this were a movie what would the heroine do? Would she choose to be wise and run away to the safety of home or would she make contact with the maybe dangerous man and possibly risk her life in the process? Almost as an answer a rush of energy rises up through her body: this could be an exciting adventure, something she would never forget, but most importantly, something once she begins she cannot stop. And so before she knows it her mind is made up.
Without blinking she continues to look at the man like she wants him to notice it. Now the phone conversation is over, she knows he will glance at her and she calculatingly takes her coat off at the same time: her red dress is bound to make a strong impression. It works: Rob immediately notices her movements and turns towards her.
It’s easy – she tells herself - all you have to do is be daring. Without flinching she turns to face him and decides to go for it. He stares at her with confident self-assuredness, expecting her to turn her gaze down but she doesn’t. Instead she stares back at him with a glint of allure in her eyes. It’s almost as if she’s taken on the main part in one of her favourite movies and she lets its character speak for her. Without averting her eyes she asks him:
- You’re a busy man aren’t you?
For a moment there’s no reply. It’s as if Rob wasn’t expecting this. He is used to leading the dance but she’s beaten him to it and it confuses him.
- Mmm… what´s it to you?
There’s a hint of tension in his voice. Damn, she thinks- it isn’t a good start. She must not scare him off so decides to change tactic. Shifting her legs from one side to the other slowly enough for him to pay attention she softens her voice and in a sensual tone replies:
- what do you think it is?
Now the trap is set and he should be easily taken in. Thinking he’s back in control he moves towards her.
- you don´t waste time do you?
He’s definitely interested, or so it seems. For a moment she hesitates but then decides to go ahead. She could almost find him attractive in a weird, appalling kind of way.
- Well I always say, why waste time beating around the bush?
Her tone of voice is smooth and suave: he is now looking at her with an expression that says `I know what you are up to` and he looks pleased with himself. He then turns to the barman and orders two drinks.
- Two of the same Dave.
She can see he is so full of himself that he hasn’t even bothered to ask her what she wants. Well, let him think he’s the boss while she gets more information. She is playing her cards well although she’s not sure how far she can take it. The bartender prepares two drinks and puts them on the counter. A moment later Rob pushes a gin n ´tonic in front of her and gives her a cocky smile.
His behaviour is pretty revolting and yet at the same time it seems to her the same thing which disgusts her also has a strange and opposite effect. She is surprised by her own reaction to the situation: she never thought she could flirt with a stranger as easily and brazenly as she is and this satisfies her. Without a moment’s hesitation she takes her drink from him and skulls it down in one gulp while he watches her surprised. Whoever this woman is, he getting fascinated by her.
- Wow. You certainly aren’t a light weight, are you? Fancy anything stronger?
He’s got a smirk on his face, and is now totally relaxed. She decides to play it cool so she says ambiguously
- Maybe later...
It’s obvious Rob is impressed. He acts as if he’s never met someone like her before and for a while he just sits on his stool, sipping his drink, silently observing her.
- I´ve never seen you here before. New in town?
He is trying the usual, but that won´t work; she is not into chit-chat.
- Does it matter? she says somewhat condescendingly
- I can see you like playing mysterious…
- I just like playing.
Now she knows what he is going to ask next. Like a fly falling into the spider’s den he follows her in, unaware.
- Oh, and what kind of game is that you like to play?
- Any game you like .
- Really? Is that so now? You sure you’d play any game?
If only he knew how obvious he sounds, he wouldn’t look half as self-assured. She has tried to leave him ample space for boldness and she can see he is already consumed by anticipation so for a moment she doesn’t reply and just stares at him poignantly.
- Like I said…
It is clear now what this is about: there is no time to waste; he skulls the rest of his drink and stands up.
- Should we go then?
Susan doesn´t think twice. Before she knows it she has stood up, has put her coat on and is heading with Rob towards the exit.
III
It is late in the evening and they are standing in front of Rob´s apartment. He takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocks the door and leads the way into the darkness. The light is switched on and a moment later everything is revealed: they clearly are in a bachelor´s den, full of videotapes and magazines. Clothes, books and cigarettes are scattered all over the place, yet there seems to be an order to the chaos. Susan looks around intently, scanning her surroundings for clues: she´s never done anything like this before and yet she is not afraid. She knows she is playing with fire but it’s strangely exciting: now there is no turning back. The apartment is really an open plan loft, perfect for a single man with a love for movies. In the midst of all the furniture she sees a bed with a TV in front of it but no signs of cameras anywhere. He takes off his coat and hangs it up, then goes to fetch hers. She interjects by pointing to the tapes
- what´s these?-
His face makes a grimace as if genuinely surprised by the question.
- Well, videotapes, obviously...
She’s not going to play coy but rather dauntlessly inviting; hopefully he’ll bite the bait.
- Yes, I can see that, but what kind of videotapes?
Her smile is full of malice and her gaze is steady and intense. He holds it and takes her in.
- I guess that depends on you…
For a moment neither of them moves. From the outside they look like two cats circling each other cautiously, each one curiously yet calculatingly checking the other one out, trying to understand just how far they can push it. She’s the one brave enough to break the spell.
- So…can we watch one?
She makes an effort not to sound either too excited or too blasé, but she’s afraid she might have overcompensated by seeming bored.
- It´s pretty hard-core stuff - he says tentatively, but she can tell she’s almost got him. Now she needs to go for the kill. Serious, she replies
- Well that´s exactly what I thought- and takes off her coat.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without a word he goes to one of the shelves closest to him and picks up a brand new video. She is going to see something she has probably never seen before. It feels like electricity, like flirting with disaster, like walking on tiptoe on the edge of a cliff. It is making her feel hot and at the same time she can feel a cold shiver run down her spine. He beckons her to sit on the bed. She does so.
Rob is now visibly more at ease as he walks towards the VCR and puts the videotape inside it. He then switches the TV on and takes off his jacket, methodically hanging it on the back on his desk chair. He does everything haltingly and deliberately, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. He has a smirk on his face and doesn´t stop looking at Susan for a second. She knows this is only preparation for the inevitable; what she doesn´t know is that while Rob is looking at her he is also glancing at a knife hidden directly underneath the mattress. The movie begins to play from the middle of a sex scene. The sounds of a porn movie are clearly audible.
Susan watches the movie intently: this is no snuff scene though, just ordinary porn. She has never really watched one fully before and so finds herself fascinated by it, so much so she cannot stop watching. A man whose face is hidden is having rough sex with a woman tied up to a chair while another masked man is whipping her with a certain brutality. Her breasts are in some kind of leather harness and she’s leaning forward so her buttocks are exposed to the camera except for the leather miniskirt pulled up to her waist. She’s wearing impossible high heels with pull up stockings and although her mouth is gagged her screams can be heard loud and clear in a way that suggests she’s having a good time. Susan is half shocked, half aroused. Before she knows it a heated tingle surges up to her stomach making her feel flushed.
Rob is standing next to the TV, facing her, watching her every expression. His eyes seem to be gleaming in the dim light of the room. He suggestively takes off his tie and stares at her. Before he’s finished he whispers, full of confidence:
- It excites you doesn´t it?
It does but this is not what she is after. She isn’t here simply to have sex with a stranger and if she has gone this far she should go even further and make sure this guy is not just some sad case of a twenty something addicted to porn. Also, somehow, even though she would never admit it to herself, she wants more.
- It does excite me. But not as much as the real thing.
- The real thing uh? You sure about that?
She nods and gives him a meaningful look. Rob regards her for a while, trying to decide what to do, then glances at the knife and finally makes his mind up.
- Give me a moment. He mutters, and disappears somewhere inside the apartment.
Susan is now alone and for a moment a feeling of dread almost takes her over. Everything tells her to call it quits but the same stubborn part of herself that has pushed her this far doesn’t want her to give up now. Sitting on the bed with her red dress on she looks like the prototype of woman: the split runs all the way across her thigh down to her feet and forms a perfectly tantalising curve. One of her feet is vulnerably dangling on the side of the bed while the other is hidden under the cloth. She has felt voluptuously sexy before but never has she had such a strong sense of it. It’s like she can feel the full power of her allure and she is aware of the irresistible pull she must have on men; the dress feels tight on her skin: she can feel the lustrous silk press against her bare flesh, as if trying to contain her body from the inside. Then the TV stops broadcasting and the screen turns blue. Rob is still nowhere to be seen, but suddenly a different video appears on the TV. The quality is poor and it looks like a home-made movie.
A blindfolded woman is facing the camera, standing up, her arms chained up onto a white wall. Her mouth is shut with transparent adhesive film. She is only wearing high heel boots, white knickers and a girlish white blouse; she looks terrified. Susan is hypnotised. A man, looking like Rob from behind, appears from off screen and walks determinately towards the girl. He is wearing a balaclava. Around them is a squalid cellar room with nothing on the cement floor and walls.
As the man advances the girl tries in vane to set herself free but she cannot move. She must feel him coming close for she tries to scream but cannot open her mouth.
Susan can see he has a knife in his hand. It is sharp and glitters in the light. It makes her feel unsteady.
The man advances towards the girl and the camera turns to show his hand. With one blow he tears her blouse open and throws it on the floor, leaving her breasts exposed. They are full and firm. Susan´s eyes are glued to the screen.
The man has lust in eyes as he raises the blade close to her skin. At first it just touches the side of her breasts and then very slowly it begins to travel down, moving towards her stomach and then further down to her hips. The girl is sweating with dread, her body rigid, her breathing chocked. He is now down to her underwear and as the edge of the knife touches its sides he pauses for a moment. Fixing his eyes upon her, he smells fear. Then, without warning he tears them open in one go.
She tries to jerk herself free like a desperate caged animal but that only turns him on more. With her panties in his hand he stands back a bit, brings them close to his face and takes in their scent. Then he abruptly pulls the girl closer, rips the film off her face and shoves them in her mouth. Tears of terror run down her cheeks but despite herself Susan feels on fire. The man, now overcome by a venomous hunger, turns her around so she is facing the wall with her back to the camera.
Quickly he undoes his belt and pulls his trousers down just enough to penetrate her. He pushes hard inside her and before long his movements get quick and rough.
Susan feels herself getting drawn into the scene; her eyes close and for a moment she is there in the room with them: she is watching from behind the camera and is surprised by her own fervour when she hears her own voice telling him to fuck her harder, show her what she’s made for, fuck that bitch like she deserves…
She can feel herself getting more and more taken in by a sick all consuming thirst, irrationally wishing she was the one tied to the wall so she could be under his absolute power but she’s jolted away from this burning fantasy as the man’s groans escalate and he pushes more fiercely and vehemently into her.
The woman´s suppressed screams follow his frantic movements and Susan is spellbound as she finds herself shamelessly watching him thrust himself inside her time and time again until the next terrifying moment becomes inevitable and with her eyes fully open she witnesses the final irrevocable act: the man raises the knife to her heart and then, groaning with deranged pleasure, he ferociously stabs her three times while forcefully coming inside her. It’s over, but before he pulls himself out he lifts up her now-limp head to take the blindfold off and reveal her true identity. It’s no surprise: the victim is Penelope, and the film is finished.
It takes a long time before things come back into focus for Susan. It’s almost as if a parallel dimension has opened up and she has stepped right inside. Her sense of identity seems to have disappeared and all has become blurry and fuzzy around the edges. Her head’s still swimming in a vague mist of sensations like she’s stuck in a dream when she feels a man´s hand pressing firmly on her mouth. It´s Rob´s. He is pushing her onto the bed, expecting her to put up a struggle, but she doesn´t.
Instead she fixes her gaze on his and gently takes his hand away. Her eyes look like those of an animal transfixed by the glare of unexpected light. There is an unknown unfathomable quality to them: it’s like something primitive has emerged from deep inside her and has taken control. Like a wild beast she holds him under her spell and suddenly kisses him with a rapture she’s never known before. A rush of primal energy travels up from her spine and possesses her. Beside herself with passion she rips off her own clothes and then his, while he falls victim to the elemental force of her ways. Then she sits on top of him and spreading her legs wide she pulls him right inside almost violently. As he starts to move in and out of her, her consciousness starts to waver.
Flashes of light and colours appear behind her eyes as she sees Rob’s hidden shadow envelop her like a mantle of black velvet, soothing and yet profoundly suffocating. Then somewhere something starts to scream and she sees blood, rivers of it, running down her body, flowing from her chest down, till the entire room is filled with its sticky unforgiving mass. She feels the pull of annihilation take hold of her as her breathing intensifies and her moans get fuller and sharper and her muscles start giving in to quick spasms and convulsions. She knows her moment of climax is getting closer and as it does so does her sense of impending doom. She rolls on her back and everything becomes unexpectedly clear.
Rob´s arm is slowly travelling towards the bottom of the mattress where the knife is hidden. She knows he wants to fuck her and kill her while he is still inside her. She hasn´t seen him reach for the knife but she doesn’t need to. It’s like his mind and hers are one and she just knows it… He is thrusting harder now, his eyes bloodshot with an insane appetite for murder and she can feel her downfall become imminent. She is sweating, his body pressing hard inside her rocking up and down more and more intensely. His face is full of spite and hatred, and she can see his thoughts crawl like beetles all over her body, entering her every cavity as he whispers in her ear
- Bitch... Whore... You are nothing but dirt, you filthy slut...
His voice is harsh and unforgiving, his words filled with unrestrained malevolence
- You like being fucked like this don´t you ...
She knows this is the moment of truth, the end of everything she’s ever been and ever will be; he is about to end her life forever, rendering her victim to her own craziness and that of a man out of his mind with concupiscence and venom; she can feel the full magnitude of his fury, recognizing that nothing will stop him now short of his own demise, and feeling herself just a step away from the abyss she lets herself fall into it, sensing the oblivion take her over and down into the final depths of dissolution.
A cloak of thick darkness starts to fall all around and she welcomes it without reservations, surrendering to the great chasm of void that awaits her; the precipice opens up but she's eager to take it in so she can finally be one with all the others, joined in sisterhood to all the women who suffered the same fate before her. A sweet familiar aroma reaches her nostrils and for a moment she feels almost recognition, as if Penelope was here, touching her, beckoning to her from beyond the grave to come and fall into her open arms… it’s her perfume, she is sure, this is no illusion and it’s then that something silky brushes against her skin and raising her eyes to look behind she realizes where it’s coming from: Penelope’s red scarf is hanging loosely from the bedpost; this is not her friend calling her forth to the other world but proof she’s been here before, perhaps on this very bed, doing the very thing she is doing now with Rob.
This flash of awareness is enough to instantly jolt her awake from the mindless stupor she had somehow fallen in and suddenly acutely conscious of the precipice she was about to dive into she notices something glimmer on the bedside table next to her: a pair of scissors are lying on it just close enough for her to grab hold of. Without a moment’s hesitation she extends her free arm and seizes them with absolute conviction. It’s only a matter of seconds: clenching her hand around them as tight as she possibly can she musters all her strength and in one final struggle for self control she plunges their sharp blade into the side of Rob’s neck, once, and then again and again, until he is nothing but dead weight on her body. Then, holding him with his ear pressed against her shoulders she listens to his heartbeat gradually fade away until there’s no sign of life left in him and when she’s absolutely sure he’s gone she softly whispers in his ear the words he would have given anything to hear her scream as he took her life away forever:
- Oh yeah.. I like being fucked like this... because I am nothing but a filthy whore... –
IV
Inside a small room a TV monitor is showing a movie. On it Rob is lying on the bed, sprawled face down, his body drowned in a large pool of blood. Not very far from it Susan, now dressed, is closing the apartment door behind her. A little while later, the VCR comes to a stop and the screen turns blue. The machine emits a sound and a new tape is ejected from the video player.
Copyright Elisa Di Napoli 2012
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