Unwanted Obsession

This is not sweet reluctance, this is creepy, dark, non-con, and a work of pure fiction.

*

Louise was not happy. This had been her third day working late. Real late.

Somebody must have told him what I said.

All the lab technicians knew what she had said about Dr. Andersen --their boss, Louise's immediate boss.

Somebody must have told him, and now he is out to get me.

Her feet were killing her, luckily she didn't have far to go and the seat at the bus stop was sure to be free.

At least overtime pays really well,

Louise reminded herself and tried to feel happy about her situation.

And he will have to give me extra time off eventually, else the union will tear him to shreds.

That thought was comforting. An extra vacation.

Past midnight, the industrial area which her workplace was in was completely desolate. The night-bus driving past the border of it wouldn't be passing until 3:00 am.

Louise was fairly sure that her boss was aware she had about one and a half hour's wait for the bus when working late like this.

Asshole.

Even soft shoes sounded loud in the deserted area.

I'm not the only one working late,

thought Louise, noticing a van parked next to the fence surrounding one of the smaller companies. The van was parked halfway onto the sidewalk, halving it.

Or maybe its a company car.

Her eyes strayed to its license plate, halfway expecting the yellow plate marking a company car.

Polish plates?

Louise turned her eyes to the company on the other side of the fence.

Illegal or legal?

she wondered. It happened that companies tried to keep foreign workers unaware of their monetary rights when working in Denmark. Such as the minimum wage for their field of work as well as exactly how much higher the wage was at night.

Her eyes returned to the van and she decided that if she saw it again, at late night, she would put a note under the hood, in English briefly describing who to call if they weren't getting the full Danish wages.

She'd be sure to add a reminder that such demands could also be raised in retrospect. She expected that many foreign workers wouldn't feel comfortable raising a spectacle in the beginning of a temporary contract, but that most would be happy to receive an extra --possibly thrice as large-- pay-check, sometime after having returned home.

The thought of someone's asshole boss being kicked around by unions, almost made Louise forget her sore feet. A slight smile played at the edges of her mouth when she reached the van and moved closer to the fence to pass it.

Waiting for the bus wouldn't be so bad, she had...

With an involuntary, small, shriek of surprise, Louise jumped a step back as the van's front door opened right in front of her. For a split second, she prepared to laugh off the shock.

Someone was in the car.

But, then a second shock hit her as the someone pulled a gun on her.

Open-mouthed, Louise stared at the man who looked like a bad imitation of something she had once seen in an action movie. She heard the backdoor of the van opening but didn't spin to look behind her.

She felt cross-eyed staring at that gun which was now less than an arm's length from her face.

It's a joke.

"Søren?" asked Louise and wrestled her eyes from the gun to the man holding it. He didn't look one bit like Søren. Besides Søren wouldn't do something like this.

Someone grabbed her from behind, reached an arm above her shoulders and across her throat. Louise's hands flew to the arm, grabbed it. But she didn't fight.

Søren wouldn't arrange something like this. Would Brian?

The man with the gun was wearing a ski-mask, it had big round holes for his eyes and mouth.

"Vil i ikke godt holde op nu?" said Louise, - Please stop. Things like this just didn't happen for real, not in quiet little Denmark, so it had to be a joke. It had to.

The gun-pointing man raised his gun-free hand and held one finger to his lips, soundlessly mouthing, "Sssh."

Actually, none of the men Louise knew would even consider arranging a surprise for her, not after what had happened last.

The man behind her put something over her face and mouth, held it in place with the arm he didn't have around her neck. Louise held her breath and crossed her eyes to see what it was.

Transparent plastic? It's a face-mask. Why would they gas me? What gas?

It could be anything.

Louise started struggling.

"No," said the gun-holding man, in English, regaining her full attention with a single spoken word and a clicking sound from his gun.

The safety,

thought Louise and ceased struggling.

That was the safety. He unlocked the safety on his gun.

In spite of her fear, her body was already complaining about the lack of air.

Louise dared not struggle lest she be shot, but she dared not breathe either lest she inhale a poisonous gas. So, staring at the gunman, she just stood still in the gas man's hold.

The gunman rounded his lips in a big exaggerated O and took a deep noisy breath in, then exhaled. Then moved his other hand across his gun, making it click again. Louise still held her breath, so the gunman stepped forward and pressed his gun against her forehead.

Again, he rounded his lips, and started breathing in noisily. Terrified, Louise copied his action. The gas had a slightly sweet taste.

The gunman exhaled and so did Louise. For another deep breath, Louise mimicked, and another.

He really does look ridiculous,

thought Louise. Like Boondock Saints doing Lamaze-class. Louise giggled. The situation wasn't really all that frightening anymore.

The gunman even smiled at her a brief second, before again forming a big O and inhaling.

Like Pavarotti singing backwards,

thought Louise, mimicking the funny man. Her exhale came out as hysterical laughter and her knees bent below her.

Gunman put his gun in his pocket.

I knew it was a joke,

thought Louise and smiled under the face-mask. Gunman and gasman helped each other keep her on her feet.

Gunman and gasman sitting in a tree,

rhymed Louise, mentally,

K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

It was just too funny. She'd tell them all about it once she was done laughing at her unspoken joke.

They helped her into the back of the van.

A ride home. Excellent. Then I won't have to wait for the bus.

"Hvor er det bare sødt af jer," said Louise. - This is really nice of you. She smiled at gasman as he helped her lie down.

Gasman was wearing a ski-mask too. He put the face-mask back over her mouth and nose. Louise hadn't even noticed it had been missing. It wasn't so bad, the sweet taste of that gas. Not so bad at all. Louise was breathing normally now. Sweet gas in, sweet gas out.

She felt good. Relaxed.

She closed her eyes.

I knew it was a joke,

she thought and fell asleep.

Luka turned off the gas and took the mask off the woman's face, and Nicolai thoroughly compared the woman to the picture.

"It's her," said Nicolai, in Russian, and knocked twice on the intersection to the driver's compartment.

"You should speak Polish while we are on Polish plates," said Luka as the van started driving.

"Not much point," commented Nicolai, pulling a dose of anaesthetic into a syringe. "My accent, when speaking Polish, is so heavy that anyone, who can tell the difference between Russian and Polish, would know I'm not Polish."

"I guess you're right," said Luka, and turned his attention to the target. "She doesn't look like someone worth a fortune in ransom. Do you think this is about something else?"

"Don't know. Don't care," said Nicolai, and injected the woman with the anaesthetic.

"This thing smells personal," said Luka. "I think she pissed someone off. Don't you?"

"Don't know. Don't care," said Nicolai and leaned back.

"Sometimes you're really boring to be around," commented Luka.

"I don't care about that either," said Nicolai with a teasing smile. "Did you see F.C. Copenhagen play the other day?"

"I still don't watch football," said Luka.

"You're missing out," said Nicolai. "Danish football, Danish beer, and Danish women. One should always enjoy the special delicacies of wherever one is." Nicolai sighed happily. "Danish women love my accent. They are always trying to make me say 'Roet Groet mee floete'. I don't even have to buy them drinks."

"Rød grød med fløde," corrected Luka, whose linguistic abilities were sufficient to say 'red porridge with cream' in Danish. A sentence with which the locals loved to torture foreigners. The Danes seemed to be proud that their language was practically impossible to pronounce correctly.

"If you pronounce it right they'll get bored and move on," said Nicolai with a laugh.

Lowish's arrival brought Ronald's thoughts to old, cheaply produced, horror movies.

A wooden box.

Somehow he had expected more class from his Russian associates.

Wordlessly Ronald followed Vladimir Petrov --his primary contact to his Russian associates-- and the four box carriers as they navigated through his home.

Since the mess with Rose and her stalker, Ronald had moved to a larger mansion, one with higher garden walls, several rows of garden walls. This mansion wasn't a lease, he owned it. Ronald could easily afford it. His fortune had increased dramatically since the Rose videos had forced him into his new career.

Once the box was in the library, Vladimir showed the carriers out, leaving Ronald alone with the casket-like container.

Is she really in there?

He knew she had been kept unconscious during the long transport, yet it seemed wrong for her to be in that box. He didn't want her in a casket.

Ronald poured himself a brandy. That was the only type of alcohol present in the library --it appeared his interior decorator had had a fondness for stereotypes. Ronald wasn't particularly fond of brandy, but he wasn't inclined to leave the casket unguarded even for a few seconds.

When Vladimir returned, he was carrying a crowbar.

"Shall I?" asked Vladimir, pointing the tool at the casket.

"Go ahead," said Ronald, and downed his second glass of brandy. No sound had come from the casket. None at all.

If she is dead, I can bury her in that box.

Ronald poured himself a fourth glass while Vladimir started loosening the lid of the box.

"She might be thirsty when she wakes up," said Vladimir. "But she isn't dehydrated so you don't need to worry about filling her with excessive amounts of water. Just give her a glass or two," Vladimir paused, then added, "if you want to."

Vladimir has seen the Rose videos,

guessed Ronald. At one point, while Ronald had kept Rose, she had annoyed him. Rather than beating her again, and thus risk making fresh bruises, Ronald had punished her by withholding water.

His new associates, his Russian 'friends', had always been very discreet and diplomatic when referring to anything related to the Rose-mess.

They had exterminated Rose, her stalker, and her lawyer for him and had called it a mere favour between friends. Without ever mentioning the content of the Rose videos, his new associates had assured him that every single copy had been tracked, found and accounted for.

Using both hands, Vladimir lifted the lid off the casket, revealing the contents.

She looks dead,

thought Ronald and downed the fourth brandy, hoping its burn would rid him off the cold sensation in his stomach.

"Her heart-rate is good and healthy," said Vladimir, before taking the simple home-use measuring device of Louise's finger. Then he took the IV needle out of her hand and replaced it with a simple band-aid.

Ronald knelt next to the box to better see.

"I had a doctor check her out, before bringing her here. She hasn't been injured during transport," said Vladimir.

Ronald reached a hand into the box and touched Lowish's forehead.

She isn't cold.

He ran his hand past her temple and down her cheek, and smiled when he noticed the slow movements of her chest, rising and falling.

She is fine.

"So, I hope everything is as you want it, Mr. Jackson."

"Yes, Mr. Petrov," said Ronald. "Everything seems to be in order. I trusted it would be, so I transferred the money this morning."

"You didn't need to do that, Mr. Jackson," said Vladimir and rose. His knees tired easily. "My friend wanted me to tell you that he treasures your friendship." Vladimir always referred to his boss as 'my friend'. "He wanted you to know that if, in the future, you should get lonely again, you can always come to him."

"I don't intend to get lonely again," said Ronald, gently caressing his Lowish's hair.

Vladimir made no comment to that statement. He had seen the Rose videos and doubted the woman could survive Mr. Jackson's attention for long. Unless, of course, he should grow bored of her, in which case Vladimir would be the one to terminate the woman's life. Either way, Vladimir expected that Mr. Jackson would eventually get lonely again.

"My friend," continued Vladimir, "is hoping that you will enjoy some quiet time at home now. That maybe now you won't need to travel so much." Vladimir was fishing for confirmation that Ronald wouldn't disappear on another vacation.

Vladimir and his boss had certain ideas as to what Mr. Jackson was doing when he took off on long weekends and, for his protection, were trying to keep shadows on him at all times. So far Mr. Jackson had always been able to shake them off.

Ronald Jackson had proven to be extremely valuable. The single most efficient money-cleaner Vladimir's boss had ever had in his employ.

Unaided, Ronald could clean money, of any currency, faster than Vladimir's boss could earn it. With aid and extra time, Ronald earned Vladimir's boss extra money during the laundry process itself.

Vladimir thought it only natural that his boss wanted to keep the golden goose alive and out of prison. But, as he watched the smiling Mr. Jackson gently caressing his freshly served victim, Vladimir doubted things would remain under control.

"You can tell our common friend that I intend to spend a lot of time at home," said Ronald.

"Would you like my help carrying her down?" asked Vladimir.

"No. I can handle it," replied Ronald.

"I'll leave you to it then," said Vladimir and left. He felt a bit sorry for the woman, though not to the degree that he would lift a finger in her defence.

Louise felt like she had been sleeping for a long time. She had had one of those dreams where you keep dreaming that you wake up.

Go back to sleep,

she ordered herself.

You're still tired.

Most of her body felt stiff from having been in the same position too long.

That's what happens when you spoon while going to sleep.

Louise enjoyed spooning, though, considered it well worth the price. She couldn't remember if it was Søren, Erik, or Brian she was spooning with just now.

It's not Søren. He has a girlfriend now.

Louise shifted slightly in 'whoever it was's arms, relieving the stiffness, and went back to sleep.

Louise felt like she had been sleeping for a long time. She had had one of those dreams where you keep dreaming that you wake up.

I'm so tired,

she thought. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. The mattress below her was shaking slightly in an annoying fast rhythm. Her bedmate was jacking off.

I ought to at least turn and cuddle his balls while he masturbates,

thought Louise, but she was just too tired to move.

I'll be nice to him in the morning instead.

A few moments later, the shaking ceased. A few seconds after that, Louise's bedmate turned over in bed and pressed his front against her back, hugging her with an arm. He felt nice and warm. With a content, safe, feeling, Louise dozed off.

Louise felt like she had been sleeping for a long time. She had had one of those dreams where you keep dreaming that you wake up. Annoyed, she realised her bedmate had snuck a hand between her arms and was fondling one of her nipples.

Too tired to move or even talk, she made a complaining sound deep in her throat. The hand stopped moving. Satisfied that her bedmate had ceased being a nuisance, Louise cuddled her back closer against him and went back to sleep.

Ronald lay absolutely still, his hand against Lowish's breast. He had heard the expression 'melted my heart', but until just a few seconds ago, he hadn't understood exactly what it meant. He breathed slowly, enjoying the warm feeling in his stomach.

When she had pressed herself against him, a tingly warm/cold shiver had travelled from somewhere on his back to every part of his body, till finally it had gathered as that warm feeling in his stomach.

My Lowish. All mine.

There had been a sting too, a feeling inside his chest.

Heart.

It had caught his breath, while the shiver had travelled. All in all it had been a rush. One of those things that made Lowish something special.

Something was tugging at Louise, pulling her awake. It was a sensation.

I'm too tired. I just want to sleep.

She had already pushed the sensation aside and gone back to sleep several times, but this time it wouldn't be denied.

I need to pee.

Louise whimpered to herself.

I'm too tired.

Her bedmate still had an arm around her and she still couldn't remember who he was. Since it couldn't be Søren, it had to be Erik or Brian. It didn't really matter if it was Erik or Brian or both. What mattered was that she needed to pee. A lot.

Louise opened her eyes.

This isn't my bedroom. Where am I?

She was too tired to get out of bed, but she had to find a toilet. Laying on her side, she was looking across an unfamiliar floor to an unfamiliar wall. The first movement she had to make in order to get off the bed, would be to roll onto her stomach, then crawl to the edge of the bed, then...

Even thinking about it was too straining.

Louise closed her eyes again and fell asleep only to dream about searching for a toilet. She woke with a fresh whimper. Clenching her legs together against the scream of her bladder, Louise started crying. She was exhausted, far too tired to get up.

"What's the matter?" asked her bedmate.

"Jeg skal tisse," whined Louise.

"You will have to speak English," he said.

"I need to pee," repeated Louise, this time in English.

Her bedmate rolled away from her. Louise felt cold and alone without his warmth. He was only gone a moment. Upon returning, he pushed something under her.

I haven't peed in a bowl since...

Louise was too tired to open her eyes.

"You can pee now," he said.

He sounds just like...

While peeing, Louise forced the thought away.

I refuse to think about Joe.

'Joe' was the one who had taught her to pee while lying down, but that was no reason to sacrifice a thought on him. Not even while peeing lying down.

Lowish fell back asleep even sooner than Ronald removed the bedpan. He wasn't worried. Even before delivering her to him, Vladimir had informed him the anaesthetic would take a long time wearing off. For that reason, Ronald had stacked a decent pile of magazines next to the bed. He hadn't read a single of them yet, though.

Napping, fapping, cuddling, and thinking, had turned out to be all the entertainment he needed while waiting.

Louise woke and realised she was tired of sleeping. She had a feeling that her dreams had been really annoying, but she couldn't remember any of them. She was laying on her back, with her head slightly to the side, her cheek leaning on her hands.

Someone's arm was strewn across her abdomen, his hand resting on her upper thigh. Someone warm and masculine.

Brian? Erik?

Louise opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. She blinked. Brian had hooks in the ceiling above his bed too, but this wasn't Brian's bedroom.