Text Dump
Micro Fiction: Odd object of desire
The whole thing was odd. Not odd in the typical way, mind you, but rather in the “what the hell was I thinking about and why I am still following them?” kind of way. You know what I mean. At first, you agree to follow the person as they drag you out of the party, thinking that they are mighty cute and that, at worst, you’d have an interesting story to tell all your buddies the next day. The next thing you know, you’re in a cab headed for god knows where and, as they explain to you with a fey smile and a twinkle in their eyes, you’re expected to pay for the ride.
By the time the booze and the pills wear off, the cab has taken you on the other side of the bridge, to that place where the houses are not so high and everything has a pre-fab look to it. Every single adobe speeding by the cab’s window, looking exactly the same but in a slightly different pastel shade. You lean over to your companion, about to ask them where the hell it is they are taking you and all you get is a gentle push backward and a knowing smile, like the booze and pills cocktail they’ve consumed hasn’t yet faded, like they’re connected to some higher plane of existence. You just lie back in your seat, trying to get some bearing on the situation when suddenly the cardboard cutout houses give way to a wide expense of some weird thing you remember being referred to as grass.
You look outside, fully awake by now, expecting to see tractors and cows roaming the fields. You’re mildly surprised when you look at the road to still see asphalt beneath the wheels of the cab. Yeah, that damn cab. You know by now that there’s no way you’ll be able to call up a cab wherever it is you’ll end up in, so you start thinking that maybe you’ll just stay in this one when your companion jumps out. Just as that thought crosses your mind, you catch a glimpse of that elusive object of desire from the corner of your eye and you see that smile again, beckoning you to whatever pleasure it feels like offering.
That’s when the cab stop, right there and then, in the middle of nowhere. Without giving you a moment to react, your companion pounces on you, she’s only so heavy after all, and grabs your wallet. Before you can grab it back, she throws a few 20s at the driver and pushes you out of the cab. You fall ass backward onto the grass by the shoulder of the highway and the cab hightails out of there. At least she followed you outside instead of leaving you stranded there.
As you get up, dusting your behind, you try and make eye contact with her. She just smiles and goes off running deeper into the fields of grass. Without thinking things through, you just take off after her. Not much choice, really, since she has your wallet and still hasn’t given back your cellphone either, cellphone that she had borrowed “just for a minute” to make a quick call. It wouldn’t surprise you to find very incriminating pictures on it if, or when, you recovered it. Damn those built-in digital cameras.
As you begin to gain ground on her, you can see a tall hedge looming darkly up ahead. She just runs through it, without slowing down, as if she’d done it a thousand times before. You just follow her, figuring that if she did it, it must be safe. And again, she has your wallet and your phone and you have no clue of exactly where you are. So, with your arms safely covering your face, you plunge head first into the green wall. You can feel some branches catching scratching at your sleeves flesh and then the ground is simply no longer under your feet. You barely have a chance to panic when the coldness of the water embraces you and fills your every orifices. You move your arms away from your face and kick upwards, liberating your head and shoulders from the cold blanket of the water. You’re floating fully dressed in a swimming pool, in what appears to be the backyard of some pseudo-Victorian mansion.
As you shake the water off of your head, you can hear her laughing, gently at first and then fully mocking. You look for her and finally find her, standing on the balcony, about to enter the house. The lights are all off right now, but you get the impression that if there are others in there, she doesn’t care. She goes in without giving you a second glance. You pull yourself out of the pool, dripping like a wet dog and figure you might as well follow her in and get rid of these wet clothes.
Once in the house, you proceed to get rid of the clothes and then look for a bathroom or a bedroom, anything that might be used to dry yourself off. In the second room you come into, she’s there, waiting for you, equally naked. It’s your turn to pounce on her, to take her and she lets you. Sure, she gives as good as she takes, but it’s all in the name of pleasure. The whole acrobatic maneuvers last for what seem like a few hours, after which you simply collapse, fast asleep after a long, bizarre evening.
You eventually come back to the waking world, no real idea of how long you’ve been out. As you get up, you look around for her. There is no sign of her in this room, no sign that this is actually her room. You figure that it’s probably a guest bedroom or something, right? Don’t these big mansions always have a couple of extra room for people who are visiting? You step out of the room, calling her name out gently but still get no response. You start to get worried as you look around for your clothes, your cellphone or your wallet and come up empty. What’s more, all the photos, and there are many around, have people whom you’ve never seen before in them and not one of her anywhere.
You start to look for a phone, something to get in touch with the outside world, without stopping calling her name out the whole time, hoping that you’re somewhat paranoid, that everything will be ok. As you hear the front door clicking open, you turn around. That’s when the woman stepped into the living room and started screaming.
A little while later, the cops showed up and you tried to explain everything. You have no idea what happened, where you are or who she was. After a bit, they seem to believe you and take you back to town, wearing some horrible clothes that must have been in the lost and found for a few decades.
At least, you now have this odd story to tell your friends about.