Spoils Ch 01

© 2003 This is part 1 of a 3 part story.

Lucy looked about the apartment as she entered. “Nice,” she whispered to herself. It still amazed her. Laying her keys aside her purse, she hit play on her answering-machine. “Lucille? It’s Stone. Can I see you tomorrow? 2:30 at the condo? Let me know if this is okay. Thanks.”

“2:30 will be just fine, my dear Mr. Stone,” she purred, smiling and, reaching for her Palm Pilot, as she glided gracefully to the couch. The grace – the seductive charm – it was all part of her now; even when she was alone. Tapping in the details of her appointment, she sighed. Her purse held the bounty of her profession, to be further enriched tomorrow. She had just left one of her regulars – a generous, older gentleman – five hundred dollars richer. Stone was good for that again. She gazed out over the city from her thirtieth floor vantage. Her apartment – the spoils of her fate’s remarkable revision – was large, modern, elegantly appointed – though, just tastefully short of ostentatious – and, most importantly, it was completely hers. She went over, once again, how it had happened – the strange, unexpected, indeed, unanticipated turn her life had taken five years earlier, to end up here. She smiled, recollecting, fondly now, how it all started.

It was clear and vivid. She remembered trying hard to maintain her composure. “Jesus,” she’d sworn to herself, looking around once more, “the whole friggin’ team!”

“Aye, Lassie.” A large hand had clasped her shoulder, giving what she figured was supposed to be a meaningful squeeze. “Relax. Have another drink.” She had trembled so violently at his touch he must have felt it, for he moved in front of her – right in her face – and added, with a kind of dopey grin, “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Nothing to be scared of?” She shrieked silently. “Are you fucking crazy?” But she just looked at him blankly – steadying her breath, trying hard to calm herself. Fear – she mustn’t show her fear. Looking furtively about once again; panning past all the leering, lusting gazes, she pumped herself with self-talk. “Don’t they realize this is wrong?” The room had got quiet – or so it felt. They were watching her. “Of course they do. They can’t really expect me to….” She couldn’t bring herself to think it, not even the euphemisms, but her mind, running in overdrive, whispered tauntingly, “…lay for them? Spread my legs? Fuck them all?” Gradually it all seemed to grind to a halt. Everything froze – including her.

Lucy had left college in Vancouver right after spring term. She had saved diligently for this. It was her walkabout. Although she had originally planned the trip with a girlfriend, her friend backed out at the last minute. Lucy had decided to go anyway. Traveling alone was not, perhaps, ideal, but she had a few relatives in Britain, and would take escorted tours. She was confident that she’d be all right.

Her stay in Southhampton had only confirmed that. She had stayed with her mom’s cousin for three days and had been very well taken care of. From there, she had located a second-cousin-once-removed who lived in Scotland. He was about her age, and was effusive in his welcome. He and his wife, who got on the other phone, had insisted that Lucy come up and visit. So arrangements were made and before she knew it, she was disembarking after an incredibly picturesque ride up the centre of England, at the bus depot in Dunkeld, somewhere in central Scotland.

“You must be Lucy.” A pretty woman – maybe late-twenties or thirty-ish – dressed in designer jeans and a tight, fashionable woolen sweater approached, looking her up and down appraisingly. “Welcome.” The warmth and apparent sincerity Lucy felt in the unexpected hug from this stranger surprised her. “I’m Maggie, Torin’s wife. Come on,” she said, taking Lucy’s bag in one hand and holding her arm with the other, “I’ll take you out to the farm – such as it is.”

Lucy’s head was spinning, as she settled into the left-hand seat of the car and let the lilting chatter of her hostess wash over her as they wound their way through labyrinthine country paths. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt with this woman, a veritable stranger, as they drove deep into the countryside, to an isolated, rambling old farmhouse out on the moor.

Once there, Maggie showed her to a small bed in a tiny spare room. “Get yourself freshened up, Luv, while I put on a spot of tea. Torin’s out with his rugger team, but I expect they’ll – he’ll be back in just a bit.”

Lucy had a little time to get settled, and the tea Maggie brought her was rejuvenating. As she was changing her top, after a quick and welcome wash in the sink, the sound of vehicles in the driveway presaged the return of the hordes. The explosion of voices stunned Lucy – shouts and cheers, songs being sung, all rising and moving rapidly closer. An apparition of apprehension swept across Lucy as she stood, poised at the door. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, pulled the handle and stepped into the gathering throng, assembling in the living room.

It turned out to be no big deal. Hardly anyone seemed to notice her at first. There were about twenty-five people milling about, tossing beer bottles from an ice-chest, still laughing and singing. The guys were obviously just showered, for they, every one, had wet slicked-back hair, shiny clean faces under glistening foreheads, and fresh clean jerseys. In the moments before Maggie caught her by the elbow and swept her into the fray, Lucy noted that there were several young women on the arms the guys. “Girlfriends; or wives, I guess.”

“Torin! TORIN!” The jagged edge of Maggie’s demanding shriek was softened by her lilting accent – and by the subtle hint of deep affection. All this Lucy took in as she watched the milling crowd in amazement. “Torin, get your scrawny ass over here, and meet your dear cousin.” While the crowd, for the most part, was staunchly ignoring her, a few people seemed to be stealing glances – their lips curling into tiny grins. And their eyes, if Lucy wasn’t mistaken, twinkling.

Then, out of the crowd came galumphing Torin. Lucy reached for the huge paw extended toward her as, still a step away, he bawled, “Wouldcha lookit you? Welcome, Cuz! Welcome!” His deep voice, so cuddly and warm; the broad smile slicing his round face, so… so… what? – loving, perhaps? Whatever, Lucy immediately felt at home. All the apprehension she had been carrying, seeped away. This was definitely family – Torin and Maggie.

“Give the girl a beer, for God’s sake,” Maggie chirped at her side, while Torin asked briefly about her trip. But the celebration surrounding them was insistent.

“We won the game,” Torin shrugged, nodding at the rest of the noisy team. “Not much of a contest, actually – if you know what I mean.” He smiled, looking at Maggie, then shifting his attention back to Lucy. Laying a hand on her shoulder, an impish sparkle in his deep blue eyes, his gaze rested on her for a single pregnant moment. Although it was very warm and welcoming, Lucy felt herself trying, unsuccessfully, to decipher the sub-text. His huge hand, resting there a moment, was apparently oozing meaning as well, but it was not a language Lucy understood. Torin gave her shoulder a light squeeze as he surveyed the room. Turning back to her, he said, “Anyway, glad you’re here. Excuse me a mo’.” Lucy could hear him laugh as he threaded back into the crowd.

Maggie pressed a beer bottle into Lucy’s hand and took her by the elbow, guiding her into the swarm. “I’ll introduce to some of the lads,” she whispered into Lucy’s ear, her warm breath, tickling, almost sensuous.

“Maggie’s accent,” Lucy observed silently, a tingle of self-conscious embarrassment trickling into her core, “is almost seductive.” The thought surprised Lucy, as she was not at all sexually experienced, and had never,

ever

even thought of love with another woman, yet here she was, in the most unsuspecting of places, having naughty thoughts. “Shame on you!” she reprimanded herself.

“…and some of the ladies, as well,” Maggie breathed as they moved through the crowd, knots of people parting before them like the seas before Moses. Everyone nodded and smiled. Those to whom she was introduced were effusive in their welcomes. Lucy could feel herself physically mellowing.

“What a strange situation to find myself in,” she observed, looking about, but knowing she meant her own feelings as much as the novel group she had been absorbed into. “Apprehension, tension, sensuality, warm acceptance…, it’s been an emotional rollercoaster already and I’ve just got here.” Unconsciously she let a coy smile curl around from her lips to her eyes.

“Listen, Pet,” Maggie breathed, once again her whispered words sparkling in Lucy’s ear, “me ‘n the girls just gotta slip out for a few errands. You just stay and enjoy yourself. We’ll be back before you know it.” Lucy just nodded, feeling a powerful tranquility descending over her. There was definitely something in the air, she was only vaguely aware of it, but somehow it stayed just beyond her perception. She didn’t see the look of apprehension wash across Maggie’s face, nor did she detect the tone of worry, masked as it was by the delightful accent. Only just aware of the smirking and snickering of the women as they left, Lucy barely gave it a thought. “Private joke,” she surmised, then returned her attention to the rest of the party. She felt happy – safe and comfortable.

Glancing about the room, a rather odd realization surfaced. “I’m the

only

female here,” she noted. Swept up on the rollercoaster, once more, Lucy’s emotions turned cold. She felt like stone, as she watched various eyes stealing glances her way. “Why would they

all

have gone – and not taken me? Why would they leave me alone – alone in this group of guys?” Then, observing more closely, scanning the room, subtly and mechanically, she came to an odd deduction “I do believe they’re waiting for something. What?”

Then the rollercoaster’s frightening descent was arrested by the smooth trough of the tracks, throwing her emotions gently skyward again. “Don’t be silly,” she chastised herself. “These are civilized people;” she surveyed the milling group, “in civilized times. There’s nothing to fear.” And, in saying that, she felt better, noting that now her overriding sense was, indeed, more flabbergast than fear. “How the hell did I manage to end up here?” Lucy shook her head slightly as she accepted another beer, her other one having vanished already. She smiled her thanks, oddly amused by the situation. “A lamb among the wolves,” she whispered to herself. She was intensely alert, but strangely dissociated. The babble and banter swirling about her did not seem to touch her. She listened and watched objectively, distantly. For a while she felt invisible – a ghost, observing the mortals, unseen.

“Hey there? Anybody home?” The fellow who’d given her a brew was trying to make conversation.

Lucy smiled. “Sorry,” she muttered, “Just…” just what she wasn’t sure.

“Welcome to earth,” he chided, before taking a long draught on his beer. “D’you make these trips often?”

Lucy wasn’t sure if he was still teasing her about her reverie or not, but she decided not to take the bait. “No, this is the first time I’ve ever traveled any distance.” He gazed at her with a benignly appreciative grin – pleased enough at just being able to chat her up. Lifting the bottle, she nodded, “Thanks,” silently thanking him for his non-threatening attention. A warm smile crept to her face. “It’s really very exciting.” Was there really some sort of understated menace here or was she just being paranoid? “Stop it!” she chided herself, in an effort to quell her swirling emotional miasma. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you.” Looking up and around, before returning her attention to her companion, Lucy could not, now, detect even the slightest menace. “It’s just their way,” she reassured herself. “They’re just being friendly – and curious.” Relaxing slightly, Lucy answered questions about travels so far. After a few moments, her companion politely excused himself, leaving her alone for a bit.

Looking around the room, she tried to locate her cousin. He was, after all, her only connection to this strange circumstance. Furthermore, he was family – even if they’d just met. Soon a subtle parade of men was stepping up to her to exchange a few pleasantries, before taking their leaves, only to be replaced by another. Lucy smiled. It was like being in an impromptu receiving line. Every once in a while someone would grasp her elbow, giving it a squeeze for emphasis. They were all so very nice, she wondered why she had felt so apprehensive, earlier. “Nothing threatening in this,” she assured herself, amazed that, still, somewhere in the back of her head, a warning flag had been raised.

“How’s a beautiful g’el like you travel the world without an escort?” a young fellow asked, standing next to her, almost fraternally, swigging his brew and surveying the group. Lucy explained briefly about her girlfriend jamming on her. “Where’s your boyfriend, then?” he asked, as if that were the obvious next question.

“Oh,” Lucy stumbled, momentarily, “he’s – I – I mean, I don’t really have a boyfriend – I mean, we’re just….” How did she explain simply that she really didn’t expect her relationship with Mark to survive her trip; quite possibly, she didn’t want it to. But she didn’t need to explain that to a stranger, did she? “He’s still in Vancouver – working.”

“Oh.” The chap just shrugged, indicating somehow that it was all beyond him. Staring out into the party, he and Lucy stood side by side, silently. Abruptly, he turned to her and announced, a broad smile warping his face, “He’s a fool, then. I wouldn’t let a girl as sweet as you travel alone, f’you were mine.” Just as suddenly, he grabbed her hand and began pumping. “Jimmy here’d look after you; don’t you mind.”

After an instant of surprised hesitation, Lucy gave him a mischievous grin. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jimmy,” she purred, removing her hand from his grip. It was flattery, of course, but it seemed genuine enough. Jimmy, nodded, and took his leave, soon to be replaced by another grinning lad – then another and another. The reception line seemed to have looped back on itself. This time, she was learning a few names – not that she’d ever keep them all straight. Still, the chatter was light and warm – meaningless fluff, as often as not, but with an undercurrent of something else Lucy couldn’t quite identify.

Lucy basked in the interest and attention, the occasional compliment stroking her ego. Jimmy wasn’t the only one who asked about her boyfriend, nor the only one who offered to escort her through Europe. They seemed like such a really nice bunch of guys. Lucy was touched by the apparent sincerity of their questions and concerns. Of course, a few bottles of the thick local brew didn’t hurt.

Had she already been through the line-up twice? At some unspoken signal, Lucy felt herself being gently steered into the middle of the throng. Suddenly she was the centre of attention. The team was gathering around her, enfolding her into their midst, like one of them. The raucous conversation didn’t diminish, it just, now, included her. Had she passed some sort of test, she wondered to herself, that they no longer needed to handle her with kid gloves?

“So what d’ya do for excitement in Vancouver?” someone asked, stretching out the name, “Vaaaaan-coooooover.”

“You mean when I’m not going to school?” she countered brightly, suddenly joining in to the light and playful atmosphere of the party. “This is more like it,” she thought to herself, “after all, I am nineteen.” Aloud she said, “Oh, not much.”

“Aye, c’mon,” someone else chided, “you must do something for fun.”

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. “Of course,” she teased. “We go to clubs, or go to the beach.”

“I can just imagine,” another voice put in. “Tight tops, gyrating to the loud music…”

“Yeah,” someone continued, “bright lights flashing against tight bodies.”

“You make it sound dirty,” Lucy complained, teasingly.

“Yeah.”

“What about the beach, eh?” Lucy could almost hear his desirous imagination colouring his voice. “Skimpy bikinis splashing in the surf.”

“You don’t get much in the way of surf in Vancouver,” Lucy laughed. “We just lie about and tan.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, or play volleyball,” Lucy added, nostalgic for a moment, wondering what her friends were up to at home.

She was wrenched back to reality as someone next to her laid a hand against her butt and remarked, “Probably not the only balling you do, eh wot?” The room exploded in laughter. Hiding her shock, Lucy pushed the hand away, and chided, “Now, now, don’t be rude.” Rationalizing, Lucy told herself it was just harmless flirting. And the hand on her butt was not really a grope, just a friendly pat. The hand on her shoulder was not threatening, she insisted to herself, just sociable. “This is the way boys in a group behave. No need for alarm.”

Lucy wondered aloud where the rest of the women were. “Oh, they just popped out for a few things. They’ll be back in a bit.” In the ebb and flow of the conversation, Lucy wondered again and again why she was the only woman there, but her attention was repeatedly redirected by a squeeze or a nudge, as someone cracked another dirty joke or made some suggestive remark. As much as she denied it, Lucy couldn’t help but see that the tenor of the place was becoming increasingly lewd and crude.

Furthermore, the now persistent suggestiveness was becoming more and more focused on her. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to respond to their flirting,” Lucy noted silently. “Now they think I’m just a good-time girl.” Her brow furrowed as she considered her quandary. “I hope I haven’t dug myself too deep of a hole?” Still, Lucy was not willing to even consider what such a hole might contain. “I wish Maggie would get back.” The conversation swirled around her, its innuendo mounting relentlessly.

Over the top, the rollercoaster plunged madly into the depths, fear and foreboding wrestling her psyche into submission. And if Lucy was already frozen with apprehension then, the next moment petrified her.

“Ever fuck a Scotsman?” asked a voice beside her, a hand gently grasping her bicep.

Fear and surprise seemed to smother her. “Don’t be afraid,” Lucy coached herself. “They can smell fear.” Aloud she just muttered, “Never,” and pulled away. Disoriented, Lucy attempted to move out of the crowd of bodies, heading for the edge of the room. Someone stayed with her.

“Well, we’ll have to do something about that,” came the chortled reply, its voice thick with beer and lust. Lucy could no longer kid herself about that. He suddenly sounded crazy horny. Muscling her five foot six frame through this forest of rugby players would, in other circumstances, have been a joke; still, Lucy shouldered her way past, pushing at them – rubbing against them, she realized in horror – until they reluctantly allowed her passage. She could feel them painting her with hungry expectant looks, as she attempted to escape.

Along with the terror pressing down on her, twisting her smile into a grimace, some sort of resignation settled over her, paradoxically buoying, slightly, the terror. “Now you’ve done it,” someone else said, inside her head. She had an urge to look at her shoulder to see if a little version of her, with horns, a tail, and a trident, sat there chiding her – the dark side of conscience, just like in the old cartoons. “What did you expect?”

Her rational side moaned, “I don’t know. Certainly not this!”

“This?!” her demon laughed, “What’s this? Nothing’s happened yet.” Well that was true. Lucy finally made it to the wall at the edge of the parlour. Now, where was the door to her room? Maybe she could still find sanctuary until Maggie and the others got back. “C’mon,” the demon in her coaxed, “you love it. It’s exciting, eh?”