Dear Beneficiary (12 page)

‘Soup. Is it soup?' I heard myself saying, but thought it was an animal talking to us from the corner of the room. ‘Did you see that?'

I pointed to the corner of the shack where I could see a unicorn sitting on a stool, playing the ukulele. My thoughts drifted off again and I was dreaming of chocolate.

I started to laugh and couldn't stop. It was uncontrollable, and the more I laughed the more I thought about chocolate. What I wouldn't do for a Malteser. What I hadn't done for a Malteser.

Tracey had been briefly asleep and my laughing woke her up. That made me laugh even more. So much so that I held on to my sides in case my ribs popped out. My chest could barely hold my breath. I'd never laughed like that before. It was most peculiar.

‘See what?' said Tracey. Her eyes were barely open and her pupils were like big black rings. She tried, but failed to rest her weight on her elbows and ended up with her face in the pillow.

My head was scrambled. I tried to focus on my thoughts, but every time I grasped hold of one that made sense another would get in its way. My body could float away to an unknown galaxy at any point and there was nothing I could do about. At one point I was convinced I was actually on a moon – one made of Victoria sponge cake and chestnut macaroons – and rather liked it.

‘I wish I had something sweet,' I said to Tracey, as this was a recurring thought I couldn't shake off, despite normally being quite moderate in my calorie intake.

She was still wrestling with her own body weight as she tried to turn over onto her side. After three attempts she propped her face up on a folded arm.

‘I've got a Galaxy bar in my bag if only those creeps would bring it back. And my fags. I need a fag. Even a Silk Cut would do,' she said, as she fell into a fit of giggles, soon to be joined by me, for no reason I could work out.

Tracey tried to sit up again and managed to push herself onto her left arm, bringing her right hand across her face to wipe spittle from her mouth. She squealed.

‘What the hell?' she cried. ‘What's this in my mouth?'

She tugged at the spike that had held her lost crown and, for the first time since its loss, wanted to know what had happened.

‘Where's my tooth? What's happened to my tooth?'

I thought of the unicorn again, taunting us with Tracey's tooth, and started to roll about with laughter, unable to retain any sense of empathy.

‘The tooth, the whole tooth. Nothing butts the tooth!'

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. It'll cost an arm and a leg to get that sorted. Bastards,' said Tracey, as she started to laugh so hard I thought she was going to cough up her lungs. That's what a lifetime of smoking does to you. ‘It serves me right for eating too much chocolate and rotting me teeth,' said Tracey. ‘Oh, chocolate. Wish I hadn't said that.'

‘Me too,' I said, wiping my eyes of tears of laughter.

‘I could just eat a family-size bar now,' she added. ‘Or a furry rosher.'

‘What's a furry rosher?' I asked, feeling the need to know.

‘Those chocolates you get at Christmas. With gold paper. Bit like Ryvita covered in Nutella,' Tracey replied.

‘Ah, Ferrero Rocher,' I clarified.

‘S'what I said, innit?'

‘I think we've been drugged,' Tracey added a moment later, before falling back onto the mattress and closing her eyes. ‘What is this shit, man? Nothing like I've ever had.'

I drooled, unable to speak and holding onto the floor with both hands for balance, even though I was lying down.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I woke abruptly, halfway through a dream where Colin was telling me how stupid I'd been. I was about to get indignant when vague memories, which I'd hoped were part of the dream, started to surface.

I saw one of the men kick the mattress, and when he realised I was already awake, he smiled broadly – revealing a lovely pinkness of the lips that reminded me yet again of Darius.

Tracey was still stirring, making muffled noises like a cow in labour, although I forgave her on the basis that if she felt like me she would still be muddled from the effects of the previous night's drink.

The guard nearly lost his balance trying to negotiate a tray of eggs and oranges, two chipped Coca-Cola glasses filled with water and a bucket, with a lid, which he carried over his right arm. I stifled a laugh.

My dreams had been vivid and multi-coloured, which on recollection might have had something to do with the drugs we'd inadvertently taken. But they didn't add any colour to Colin's personality. Even in my wildest dreams he was still permanently affronted by the way no one, particularly me, seemed to take him seriously enough.

Tracey had said last night she thought there'd been something in our drinks, and I suspect she had an inkling of what it was. She was far more familiar than I with the feelings of disorientation and euphoria, neither of which have been my regular companions. I also remembered the lack of toilet facilities, so thought I should make my feelings known to the guard again. He'd already shown signs of weakening to previous demands, so a bit more work and I reckoned I could crack him.

‘Now, unless you want to clear up after us again I suggest you find a way we can use a toilet and a shower,' I barked at him, as I tried to untangle myself from the blankets and Tracey's right leg, which she'd hooked over mine in the night. Thankfully I hadn't noticed at the time. ‘We might not be so tidy about where we do it in future.'

The guard looked uncomfortable, particularly after Tracey awoke abruptly, sat up and then smiled at him full on. She'd worked out the sight of her toothless grin might not be as attractive as she'd like, but it did have some power – if only to shock.

I wanted to tackle the drugs issue but thought it might be best to leave it until another time. I needed to quiz Tracey about what she thought we'd been given, although in principle I'd already decided I wasn't entirely against it. My sleep had been unexpectedly marvellous, which considering our circumstances was surprising. Although I was trying to maintain dignity, my anxiety levels were high. We didn't know why we'd been locked up by these people, what they wanted, or indeed if we would get out alive. Maybe all kidnapped people were drugged to ensure they didn't wail through the night, or cause their captors any problems. Thinking about it logically, that made some kind of sense.

‘You look kinda cute,' Tracey said to the guard as he placed the tray on the chest and backed towards the door. If he found me scary he was almost apoplectic with terror now he'd seen her spiky grin and wobbly bosom.

‘We will arrange for proper facilities,' he said, letting the bucket fall from his arm and onto the floor. ‘This will have to do for emergencies. I just need to get s-s-someone,' he stuttered, before making a swift exit.

‘He'd better mean it. I stink,' said Tracey.

We'd just finished eating our breakfast of slightly runnier eggs than we'd eaten the day before and oranges when the guard returned with a larger but similarly aged male, also dressed in the khaki clothes masquerading as a uniform. Both were carrying handcuffs.

‘Here,' said the first guard. ‘Come with me.'

He came over to me and locked one of the rings of the cuffs over my left wrist. As he did so he smelled very welcoming. I would like to say a manly smell, but it wasn't redolent of Darius, who wore a distinctive aftershave advertised by muscle-bound surfers. It reminded me of something very familiar, which made me feel safe. I also noticed he'd shaved and had decidedly clean fingernails. This was a fact I found surprising.

The second guard, around four inches taller than the first and with noticeably light brown eyes, put the same kind of handcuffs on Tracey, who seemed to be somewhat entertained by the experience.

‘This is all a bit
Fifty Shades
, innit?' she said to the new guard, who had a firm chest exposed through his largely unbuttoned shirt. It was hairy but with tight curly black hairs rather than the thatch of untamed grey wire I was used to with Colin. ‘You into a bit of S & M, Cynth?'

‘What are you talking about? Do you mean M&S?' I said.

Tracey laughed, trying to cover her mouth as she did so, but the weight of the guard's arm cuffed to her wrist prevented her.

‘Sadists and stuff.
Fifty Shades of Grey
. Don't tell me you ain't read it. Everyone else has. Rich boy meets hot chick, he ties her up and they shag. No foreplay, as he's so hot she orgasms just by looking at his trousers. That's about it really.'

I was frankly surprised to hear Tracey had read anything and wondered why ‘
Shades of Grey'
reminded me of her pubic region. I dismissed the thought of no foreplay. It reminded me of Colin.

Before I could think any more about sadists, sex and orgasm-inducing trousers, I was tugged out of the shack and along one of the makeshift corridors to what looked like a camper's toilet area within a muddy cave.

There was a wooden bench with a hole cut into it placed over a gap in the stilted floor which I assumed perched over the lagoon area below. To both sides of the caved area were two watering cans filled to overflowing with water, placed next to wooden slatted blocks. Each block had a back scrub and some washing-up liquid on the floor next to them. I noticed one of my towels, which would have been in the luggage they took away from us, was hanging on a hook on the wall. Logic suggested the beach towel hanging on the other side belonged to Tracey and I guessed this was what was going to pass as a bathroom.

‘So how are we going to get washed while we're tied up to you?' I asked of my guard, who at least looked a bit embarrassed by what he was showing us. ‘This is very improper.'

The guard shrugged and placed his free hand over his eyes as if to suggest he wouldn't be looking. He seemed very sweet, and there was definitely an air of Darius about him – his skin was shiny, his lips pink and his teeth white. I couldn't help but find him attractive, regardless of the underlying terror of the situation.

Desperate to go to the toilet, and keen to avoid the embarrassment of yesterday, I remained calm as he escorted me to the wooden slat where I managed to pee. Tracey's guard followed us over to the bench, which meant she had to follow too. He wasn't as gentlemanly as mine, and didn't bother to avert his eyes while she loudly and fully carried out her evacuations.

‘No ruddy paper,' she shouted out to anyone who would listen.

The fact the guard fixed his gaze on her throughout didn't seem to bother Tracey, and as I considered how I was best going to get myself washed, Tracey had stripped to her knickers, having thrown her clothing to one side, and was busy pouring water over her naked body, sluicing under her arms with cupped hands as she caught the flowing water.

‘Get in there,' she growled as she rubbed away at bits of her body, including between her buttocks.

Her guard was captivated, which appeared to be Tracey's intention. She was swaying her body around as she sang ‘
Sex on Fire
', occasionally moving provocatively towards her captor.

‘What's yer name, babe?' she said, thrusting her hips towards him as she rubbed her hands down into her knicker area, highlighting again the pencil line strip of pubic hair.

Her guard looked nervous. He turned away to look for reassurance from his colleague, who I'd noticed was being very deliberate in keeping his eyes averted from my body. I was topless, but had turned away from any potential audience so all they could see was my shoulder blades.

‘Come on, don't tease. You know you wannit,' continued Tracey.

‘Stop,' said her guard. ‘I have girlfriend. We get married. Soon.'

Tracey snorted.

‘Me too, babe. But all the time I'm here I ain't gonna find me man, am I? So wise up and give a girl a thrill,' she said, spilling more of the water over her breasts, causing her nipples to harden.

I overheard the guard saying something in what I assumed to be a Nigerian dialect under his breath and trying to make the sign of the cross on his chest, but his tethering to Tracey meant he looked like a badly operated puppet.

Wanting to say something to calm the situation, I turned round absent-mindedly before realising I'd given my guard a full-frontal view of my naked body. He couldn't help but look at me and I was quite delighted to note he didn't seem disgusted.

‘You have beautiful breasts,' he said, lifting his hand slowly to touch one of them.

At first I was shocked but was pleased he'd noticed I'd kept myself in good shape. All those years of thrice-weekly swimming sessions, coupled with regular Pilates classes, had done their trick.

I did think it would be appropriate to have some kind of conversation before I could get to the point of allowing this physical familiarity.

‘But I don't even know your name. This is highly irregular,' I said, thinking how bizarre my life had become in a relatively short space of time. I wondered what Colin would think of this new-found Cynthia. I also wondered if it was possible to turn into a sex maniac at the age of sixty.

‘I'm Gowon,' he muttered, bringing his hand to rest around my nipple.

‘How do you spell that?' I asked him, as it sounded like ‘go on', which I very much wanted him to do.

Far from being scared or angry, I found the delicate touch of this young man's fingers very sensual and figured I might as well make the most of it.

My abdomen clenched with arousal and the attention Gowon was giving me was being welcomed by my skin, which he caressed with soft and expertly manicured hands. I looked over to the other side of the room to make sure we weren't being watched. It's one thing to get up to no good but quite another to do so in front of an audience.

Tracey was engrossed with her latest victim, teasing and tempting him in every way she thought she knew how, as she went about washing her voluminous body. It didn't look like she was having much success, as the guard flinched with every one of her movements. But it was keeping them occupied.