The recognition sparked a moment of internal embarrassment, even though I knew full well that she had no idea the incident had ever occurred. Unfortunately, the fleeting chagrin was the least of my worries as the imaginings of her with an auburn mane suddenly returned, encroaching upon my mind even more powerfully than before.
I clenched my teeth and struggled to keep my breathing even as the thoughts once again assaulted me, this time bringing with them far more lurid imaginings. Dizziness flooded into my skull and induced a nauseating tickle at the back of my throat as darkly perverse desires welled within me. The fantasy no longer entailed a simple change in hair color; it had become a private reel of soft-core pornography directed by someone unseen but most definitely felt.
The lights in the elevator seemed to flicker and dim as the sliding doors touched in the middle, and the car began its downward journey. She didn’t seem to notice the visual effect, so I assumed that it was happening inside my head alone-not exactly the reassurance I wished for. I could feel myself slipping out of reality, losing control to the director of this lurid fantasy.
She allows the stack of files to spill onto the floor of the elevator, turning toward me as she does so. Her hair has darkened to a deep red and cascades across her shoulders and down her back. An intense light of desire burns in her eyes as she looks at me and smiles. Wordlessly she shrugs off her blazer and allows it to fall to the floor then begins to slowly unbutton her blouse as she moves toward me.
I forced myself to seek any type of grounding that I could, no matter how thin or tenuous. I needed something to cling to if I were going to escape this unwanted ethereal bond. I stared directly ahead, fighting to maintain an even rhythm to my breathing while I silently willed the vision to evaporate. A flicker of colors insinuated themselves, flashing the scene from negative to positive and back again. I blinked and saw reality in all its stark wonder. The young woman hadn’t moved an inch. She was standing in front of the doors, her back to me, and still very blonde.
I made the mistake of sighing in relief, and my grip on this plane gave way. With my desperate concentration shattered, the here and now slipped through my fingers like a greased rope.
She is half nude now, and as I watch she seductively allows her skirt to drop and steps out of it. Standing before me she is clad in nothing but a garter belt, stockings, and heels. Her makeup has gone from subtle to extreme; her lips are glossed with a garish slash of blood red. She presses her body into mine without a word. I can feel her hot breath on my neck as she slowly undulates against me.
Again I reached for reality, denying those things I thought I was seeing and experiencing. I could feel my back pressed against the wall in the corner of the elevator. I wasn’t certain if the sensation was just another part of the cheesy skin-flick scenario being forced upon me or if it was the real thing. I banked on it being the latter and folded myself into it as I shut my eyes.
The sickening male voice I’d heard echoing within my brain the night before suddenly returned. I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter and swallowed hard, fighting to ignore its existence, only to fail miserably in my attempt.
Oh God, she’s so close to perfect!
Her skin…
Her neck…
She could be her!
I desperately wanted to scream. I had no idea how much longer the elevator ride was going to last, but to me it had already been an eternity. I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it.
Look at her…
Oh sweet Jesus, so close…
The black gown…
She’d look so great in the black gown…
She’ll be almost perfect…
Almost her…
Almost…
I opened my eyes to check the car’s downward progress and sucked in a startled breath. My arm was extended and my hand was less than a pair of inches from the young woman’s shoulder. I was starting to tremble, and I snatched my arm back quickly, grasping my wrist with my other hand and hugging it tight against my body.
The dark thoughts were now threatening to infect other portions of my anatomy, and I held my breath, fighting to force them away. I concentrated on anything mundane I could grasp-anything that could replace the rampant sexual energies that were building within me.
A dizzying rush in my ears drowned out almost everything except my own frenzied heartbeat. I scarcely noticed as a muffled electromechanical bong sounded overhead, insinuating itself seamlessly into the barely audible, syncopated mood music. There was a slight jerk, and the doors split, opening wide upon a brightly lit hallway.
The young woman turned quickly to me and flashed a warm smile, “Merry Christmas.”
She was gone through the opening before I could reply-not that I was able to do so. For reasons unknown, as quickly as it had begun, the disharmonious reverberation in my ears was instantly gone, replaced by the muted sound of the elevator doors sliding shut and a synthesized melody that closely resembled “Angels We Have Heard On High.”
I let out a heavy sigh as the red-tinted darkness pooled lower in my body, finally flowing outward to leave me feeling physically weakened and emotionally spent. I literally stumbled away from the wall of the car, grateful no one else was there to witness my condition. I had just begun to regain my composure when the doors again fractured down the center and opened onto the lobby.
In a fit of panic, I wondered if I should rush back upstairs to Helen Storm’s office and tell her what had just happened, but I was almost afraid I would encounter the young woman again on the way back up. If I did, I wasn’t entirely sure I could control the urges that had almost overtaken me moments before. I thought about it hard, not moving from the corner of the car as I stared into space at nothing in particular.
My immediate reaction was to seek the psychological relevance of the episode in order to understand it, obtain another dose of reassurance that I wasn’t well on my way to criminally insane. But something in the back of my head kept telling me that psychoanalysis wasn’t going to reveal an answer to this one. This was something more-something completely beyond the pale-at least so far as it applied to the mundane world.
I gave up on weighing the options when I realized the elevator doors had slid shut once again.
I absently punched the recessed door-open button on the panel and exited the confines of the lift, then quickly crossed the tiled lobby, hooked past a too-symmetrically decorated Christmas tree, and pushed onward out through the glass doors.
A cool breeze caressed my face and forced me to calm a bit more. I stopped for a moment on the sidewalk and turned away from the wind as I lit a cigarette then inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs. As I exhaled, I was certain that I heard a familiar voice in the distance but not the dark one as before. This one had plagued me for several days now, beginning as unfamiliar scratchings on a page before finally coming into its own. As usual, it was filled with a peculiar mix of desperation and mockery at the same time.
Gimme a D!
Gimme an E!
Gimme an A!
Gimme another D!
What’s that spell?
DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!
DEAD, Rowan.
I’m dead for God’s sake; so quit feeling sorry for yourself.
Do something about it.
My decision was made for me. My gut told me that there was something more than just my addled psyche at work here and I was going to have to figure it out on my own. As frightened by the prospect as I now was, I had no choice but to follow its lead.
CHAPTER 14