PRESS PLAY …

The face on the screen is her own. For a moment, she wonders if she suffers from some weird dissociative disorder because it feels more like she stumbled across someone else’s YouTube feed. No makeup. No glamorous lighting or back drop. 

Not what she remembers.

Whole chunks of her past were still not fully reconstituted, but maybe she’d found something that backdrop help bring closure. This series of clips sat on a server somewhere, unpublished, gathering digital dust. What was she hiding? After all, there are hundreds of other live clips on her channel. But this selection has no fancy title or thumbnail image. Distinctly off-brand.

And now that face, her face is frozen on the screen of her smart tablet, while her real-life finger hovers over the play icon. She sits cross-legged, back on her own bed, and contemplates leaving the past where it belongs. Is there any point? It’s not going to change anything.

But curiosity wins the day. She needs to fill in the blanks before she signs off for good. She gulps a mouthful of Pinot, clicks play and, without fanfare or the usual punchy intro musical sting and graphic, her on-screen doppelgänger bursts into life. Dynamic. Full of life and passion. With a future.

THE REAL G-SPOT : UP THE KYTE

‘OMG, OMG, OOOOO MMMMMM GGGGGG!

Don’t know whether to laugh or fucking cry.

You know my feelings about those little plump, pink, squealing monsters that pop out of your lady’s bits. You know? Those little narcissistic selfish brats that crave and suck all of your attention and love and sleep and creativity from your life.

Besides, there are just too sodding many of them on this finite, environmentally bankrupt little planet of ours.

Well, my friends. Time for that drum roll and for me to eat my words without any salt or sauce.

Yes! In there. In that currently flat and well-honed, tight-abbed tum tum of mine, is brewing a cocktail of gametes, eggs, DNA, stem cells, snips, snails, puppy dog tails, sugar, spice and all things nice.

You get the picture.

But what we need to do, my friend, is to figure out how to turn this theoretical Einstein, Hitler, Emily Bronte, or Rose West into a concept I can tolerate. Can’t say ‘love’ quite yet, ‘cos it’s just a lump of chemical goo, but if I am gonna keep it, I better learn to want it more than all of … this. To offer it the sacrifice of my very lifestyle and freedom. In fact, sacrifice my life itself on the altar of being a good mum.

Course I could be a GREAT mum. And he, she, it would be born into our comfortable world with all the material things he, she, it could ever want. I built an empire of stuff, but stuff doesn’t equal love. And I need to learn to LOVE some other thing other than my husband, my work, my fun, and myself.

I guess I can always BUY a nanny who can do the love and nurture shit while I still party, party, party.

And, no. I haven’t told him yet. And, yes, I will tell him soon. Luckily he never watches my channel, so I am relying on you all to keep this to yourselves. You know as well as I do that he has always wanted a kid. Well, a boy-kid, to do the dad-son bonding bollocks with. He had a great, privileged childhood and he loves his own mum and dad. Sadly I had a shit upbringing. I can’t bear my mum. Hope you’re watching, Mother. And my dad died when I was but a pup. Maybe that’s why I am venting to you, my friend. 

Or maybe it’s just because I am scared poo-less.

Let’s talk some more. This has definitely helped.

Time for a swift gin before gym. Might be the last one I have for a while.’

PART ONE- DEEPER

DAYBREAK

The sound of heavy breathing, the rustling of leaves, the snap of twigs, and the shrieking dawn chorus of a thousand wild birds dragged Galia back to a sort of consciousness. Only sort of. Galia forced the photons entering her bloodshot eyes to make sense of the emerald-green cocoon of the moss and fern on the soft and spongy forest floor as she lay there on her side. This definitely wasn’t her bed. Pretty comfortable though … If only someone would switch out the light, I could sleep it all off. 

God, she felt rough. No doubt she was paying for the excess of the night before. Must’ve been a wild one and now she ended up in this new green universe. The few active neurons in her cortex feebly conspired to resurrect a single memory but gave up at the first attempt. She tried to lift her head, but it was just too sodding heavy and for some reason, her vision wasn’t exactly firing on both spheres.  

That would be the blindfold then. The black one, now slightly adrift revealing one slowly blinking blue eye. The one eye that tracked the slow-moving arachnid as it meandered across the soft organic landscape. She gasped, breath impeded by a foul-smelling gag, mouth forced open in rictus smile. 

What now? Oh, yes … Move hands. Remove gag. Swat the spider into spider oblivion.

But her hands were bound behind her back by the leather strap attached to a small handbag.

Kick out then? Nothing. It was an effort, being in this blurry haze and all, but she managed to swivel her one useful eyeball down the length of her body. At least one of her eyes worked.

Great. A Santa dress. So painfully scarlet that she had to squint as she surveyed her bare legs that led all the way down to her equally bare feet. Tied together at the ankle by her own black stockings. Back at the top end, her bare shoulders seemed to be covered. Why was she draped in a man’s dark jacket? Its slightly stale body-odour-perfume part-masked the organic musk of the forest floor. Maybe that’s why the spider had decided to scuttle on to fresher pastures. Humans, eh?

Galia hadn’t the strength to do much more than chew confusedly on the dry gag as she worked towards making some sound beyond the murmuring gurgle that substituted for language.

Movement caught her breath. Through the tumble of greenery, pine needles and bits of tree … a man, a more than slightly overweight middle-aged man, in his white shirt leaned against the nearest tree, panting for breath. Very visible sweat rings radiated from his armpits. A gross indication of his recent exertion and now he cursed rapidly in a breathless whisper. ‘Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!’

Galia frowned sleepily as she watched him wipe his mottled pink brow. He suddenly stopped panting and glanced furtively around the clearing, head cocked as if he had heard something. After several seconds of becoming increasingly and dangerously red faced, he exhaled wheezily and turned to Galia. He noticed that she was half-awake and he maintained a hoarse, tremulous whisper. ‘Shhh. Just stay very quiet.’ He hesitated for a few moments, then moved swiftly towards her.  

Galia frowned in dazed incomprehension. ‘Mmmmmm. Mmmmm?’

He leaned in close. ‘Shhhhh!’ He quickly checked her gag and the bag strap that bound her hands behind her back. 

Galia sort of smiled. At least she smiled in her mind. It’s a dream. Of-sodding-course. Play along. ‘Mmmm?’

‘Stay quiet and don’t make any sudden …’ 

Galia started to drift back into unconsciousness. 

‘Oh no, no, no. Don't do that, though.’ He knelt down beside her and slapped her gently and ineffectively on her cheek. ‘Come on. Stay with me. We've got to keep moving.’

She was gone, out for the count, but still sort of smiling. He looked at her for a moment and tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her one visible eye. He fully removed her blindfold, revealing dark tracks and streaks of mascara. 

Emmerson reached into his trouser pocket and produced a slightly-less-than-white handkerchief and gently wiped at the black stains on her cheeks. 

He preferred her without makeup in any case.

He licked at the corner of the hanky and managed to do little more than smudge the makeup still further before a distant crack of a twig brought him back to his feet. He held his breath once more and listened to the forest. At last he gave in to a noisy deep breath and he scanned the treelined perimeter of the clearing. Nothing. 

He gently inserted each of her bare arms through the sleeves of his jacket. It was ten sizes too big for her, but at least it wouldn’t fall off.

‘Give me strength … Here we go again.’ Emmerson bent down and struggled to pick her up. She grunted sleepily as he wrestled her awkwardly into a sort of fireman's lift and wheezed her off, still deeper into the forest.

 The twigs and undergrowth crackled beneath as Galia smiled through her brain haze. The forest floor drifted by upside down once more as she bounced along merrily. For a moment she was a child again, carried aloft by her father. ‘Dad … ?’

Out of the corner of his eye, Emmerson noticed the proximity of her upper thigh. He tugged the furry snow-white trim of her Santa dress in an attempt to cover more of her exposed flesh. This was not the time to be distracted. He needed to focus if they were to get out of this alive.

***

The sun’s rays teased the tips of the forest canopy above and drew appreciative coos from a couple of nearby wood pigeons. Civilisation flew far above, with the single contrail of a jetliner bathed in the sunrise yet to come for those trapped below. 

Emmerson sat on a tree stump, motionless, and stared at the airplane for a moment or two. And then a fainter trail of a meteor-streak crossed the sky, followed by a small flash of a mini fireball as the interstellar visitor self-immolated. He shrugged and dropped his gaze earthwards and to the still-sleeping Galia. He pulled his razor-thin smartphone from his trouser pocket. No signal. He held it aloft for a moment. Nothing.

He flapped his hand to brush a tickling insect from his cheek. He hated nature and couldn’t wait to be back in the city surrounded by civilisation, anonymity, and cell towers. He stood to meander around this clearing, his phone high above his head. Still nothing.

He glanced at Galia as she remained motionless on the ground. He cautiously approached her, fired his phone into camera mode and pointed the lens at her. Emmerson swallowed noisily. The phone clicked its fake electronic shutter rather too noisily and he jumped at the sound. He furtively scanned the encircling trees for observers. Unseen observers who would no doubt read this situation completely unfairly. Besides, he knew he was not really a bad person at heart.

Galia will come to realise that. In time.

***

Eyes closed, Emmerson dropped to his knees in agony. He offloaded Galia a bit too heavily, but she just curled up on the organic green carpet. Emmerson wheezed, coughed, retched, then reached into the pocket of the jacket that Galia wore. He mumbled as she slept on. ‘Excuse me.’ He retrieved a blue inhaler, gave it a shake and quaffed a good lungful. He held his breath for a few moments, then relaxed. He regarded the inhaler appreciatively and thrust it into his trouser pocket.

He rolled himself onto his back and took a marginally less wheezy deep breath. He lay still for a moment, eyes closed, then reached over and, from the other pocket, found a semi-crushed packet of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips and searched for a light. He patted his trouser pockets first. Increasingly frantic, he fumbled through all of the coat pockets. ‘Not good. Not good.’

It wasn’t all in vain. He discovered a half-eaten, part-wrapped chocolate bar. He pulled off some brownish fluff and bit off a large chunk. He lay back down and stared at the canopy of the treetops above. He felt they were probably safe. Deep enough in some random corner of the forest to allow himself the luxury of getting his breath and energy back. Chocolate always helped in times of stress, although he knew that sugar was his worst enemy. Actually, he now had an even bigger enemy out there, but still … And anyway, on a stress scale of zero to ten, this predicament was pretty much a thirteen. One more bite wouldn’t kill him. 

With his shaking hand, he wiped the chocolate remnants from the corner of his mouth, then rolled onto his side. He propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at the still-sleeping Galia. Emmerson closed his eyes for one more minute and took a slower, deeper breath. When he looked at her again, he smiled. This could be worse. So much worse.

***

Beside him on the forest floor, Galia lay motionless, the rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she was okay. He took another puff from his inhaler before he reached over and softly brushed that lock of hair from her face once more. He took another snap from his phone, applied a built-in digital filter to the shot, and admired the result on his smartphone screen. 

He was about to put the phone safely back in his pocket but looked at Galia a little more intently and changed his mind. After all, it was pretty secluded here. He reached down and ever-so-gently hitched up her Santa dress to reveal another inch of thigh. I mean, what’s another inch among friends …

He admired the view on his phone’s screen and was just about to capture his next candid photo when Galia's eyes snapped open wide and stared at him. She screamed through her gag. ‘Mmmmmm!’

Emmerson jumped back and dropped his phone. He struggled to regain what little of his composure he had left. His voice shook, even at the level of a whisper. ‘It's okay! It's okay! Shhh!’

That just made Galia even worse. She writhed and struggled to free her wrists still tied behind her back. Emmerson stared at her bindings and prayed they would hold. He didn’t know what she’d be capable of in this condition. And now she was conscious, he found it hard to look at her directly. He kept his voice low and convinced himself that he didn’t sound like some crazed maniac. ‘Look, I can’t untie you just yet. I should talk to you first. Yes. Explain. Yes.’

Galia remained wide-eyed with a mixture of fury and fear. Probably fury had the edge right now as she thrashed around, gaining strength and lucidity. She was more vocal now, louder in spite of the gag. Still incomprehensible, though.  

‘Shhh! I mean it. Yes, I think we should probably … definitely talk.’ Emmerson nervously surveyed the woods that surrounded them. ‘I’ll take the gag off in a minute, but you've got to be quiet. Nod if you understand.’

‘Mmmmm! Mmmmm!mmmmmm!’

‘Just nod and be quiet, or I’ll—’

Galia nodded rapidly and fell silent. Emmerson took another look round this clearing and edged closer to her. Galia frowned and looked more than a little apprehensive.

‘Okay. It's alright, I'm just going to take the gag off. If you shout, it’s going back on.’ He’d heard that sort of line in an old movie and he marvelled at the outward control he was emulating. He might just get through this. Galia nodded again and he reached over. He did his best to maintain eye contact, but he knew he was not very good at that. His eyes darted from her face to her cleavage and back again. This was involuntary, but he knew how this must have looked. 

He leaned over her and a small bead of his sweat succumbed to gravity and splashed on her cheek. He gently untied the gag and put it in the jacket pocket. ‘That's it. Good. Good.’

Galia shivered and her teeth began to chatter. It might have been fear, but it was as likely to be a combination of alcohol withdrawal, the slight morning dip in temperature, and the fact that she wasn’t exactly dressed for a botany field trip. Still, considering the time of year …

He attempted a smile. ‘See, nice and quiet and no one—’

‘Who are you? Where the fuck are you taking me?’ She was still a little wasted and her words tumbled out like a podcast played at double speed.

Emmerson couldn’t help sounding a little defensive. ‘Well, I was—’ That was as far as he got.

‘Have you touched me? God, I'm thirsty. Who are you again?

‘No, I—’

‘You were taking photos. Yeah. That's right.’

‘I … I was just trying to get a signal … Look, stop, stop asking questions. Let me—’

‘Why do you keep looking at my breasts? Are you going to rape me?’

‘I don’t. I won’t. We just need to stay here for a while.’

Emmerson turned away to look back into the thick, dark woods.

Galia turned to look with him. ‘Are we expecting someone? Talk to me! Anyway, why am I wearing this?’ She nodded at her red Santa dress.

‘Calm down.’

‘Right! Exactly how am I supposed to do that, you piece of shit? Untie me and then I might just calm down.’ She let out an involuntary giggle. ‘Can’t promise, mind you.’

‘If you just stay quiet for a minute, I'll try to explain.’

‘God, it's a bit chilly. What time is it? Explain what?’ She snorted loudly. ‘How you qualified as a pervert?’ 

‘No! Shush! I … I mean it. For one blooming minute!’

He moved closer with the gag again. She was still a little spaced out and she smiled playfully.

‘Now, now. I’ll scream.’

‘No, don’t do that.’

Her smile vanished in a nanosecond as if it were never there. ‘I mean it. I fucking mean it.’

‘No one will hear you in any case. We are in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere.’

The smile was back. ‘Then it won’t matter to you if I make some noise, will it? I can scream very loudly, you know.’

He quickly moved to gag her, and she writhed violently. He almost got it back in her mouth but instead she wriggled her head and did indeed scream exceptionally loudly. Wings fluttered from startled birds and even the trees seemed to shudder at the intensity. Emmerson froze for a moment and then looked around nervously. ‘That was stupid.’ He went to gag her once more and she bit his hand, drawing blood.

Emmerson winced. ‘Ffffffff! You really didn’t need to do that! I am trying to save you, for pity’s sake!’ He struggled with the makeshift gag as she gnashed at him rabidly, but eventually, he rammed it back into place. His wheeze was back. He kept his voice to a whisper. ‘That's great. Right, I need you to get up and walk. It's not safe here. We’ll talk later. When you've calmed down.’

‘MMMMMMMM!’ 

Emmerson’s eyes darted some more in an attempt to penetrate the wall of trees. ‘We need to move again. Now!’

Galia shook her head vigorously.

‘I’m going to untie your feet.’ Emmerson used the redundant blindfold and tied it to the strap securing Galia's wrists behind her back. He pulled on this makeshift tether to test the knot and its efficacy then drew a muffled yelp as her arms were bent up at an unnatural angle.

‘NnnnnnnnnnNNNNuhhhh!’

‘Okay. I really don't want to hurt you, but you see how this will work.’

He started to untie her feet. There were deep marks on her ankles where they had been tied. ‘Looks like that was a little on the tight side.’ He gave her chafed ankles a little rub to get the circulation moving again.

‘MmmmnnnnnMMMMM!’ She kicked out and squirmed.

‘Sorry. Yes, that was probably a little inappropriate.’ He stood and jerked the tether on her wrists upwards. He held her upper arm to help. ‘Up!’ 

Galia just looked at him.

‘Okay. Please?’

Galia struggled to her feet, protesting with incomprehensible mumbles. She winced as her feet connected with the coarseness and spikiness of the forest floor. 

Emmerson felt emboldened by her compliance. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’ He let her lead but guided and steered her from behind. Galia took a couple of unsteady, still-drunken steps and let out a muffled yelp as something sharp and nasty bit into the sole of her bare foot.

‘I’m sorry. We just need to move.’ Emmerson looked around apprehensively and gave her a soft push.

Galia took only another few faltering footsteps and turned to him, protesting through the gag. She nodded down at her feet.

He shrugged. ‘I know. I'm sorry. What do you want me to do? We can't just wait around.’

But she stood her ground, swaying gently on the spot. Emmerson took another look at her feet and pulled downwards on the tether. ‘Okay. Quickly. Sit.’

She sat obediently. He quickly removed his shoes. Galia frowned.

‘I know they are a bit big, but they will help.’ He pulled off his grey, flaccid, now-damp socks.

Galia’s eyes were wide and she shook her head vigorously as he began to roll the thin, moist socks over her feet. She kicked out for a moment, whimpering.

‘Stop that. I'm trying my best to help. Do you want me to tie them up again?’

Galia gradually slowed her kicks and allowed him to finish. The grimace of distaste was obvious. ‘Mmmmmmm …’

‘What? They were clean on!’ He slid his shoes back onto his bare feet. ‘Come on. Up!’

He yanked her up again and they headed off, steered by Emmerson. He was getting more breathless and drew on his inhaler again. ‘We won't need to go too far. We’ll hide and I’ll work out a plan …’ Wheeze. ‘Just let me catch my breath.’