Foreign House: Nine

FRIDAY

Cindy falls back onto the bed and throws open the bathrobe. Naked in the dressing gown, she is a dusted almond on white sugar paper.

I take her tiny feet in my hands and lift her legs. Her buttocks flood around her hips. Dimples in her waist. She squeals, tries to pull her legs together. I drag her toward me until her bum is perched on the edge of the mattress. She tries to sit up – half tangled in the robe. I push her back down.

T-shirt over my head. Jeans to the floor. Cindy sits up again. I push her back again, grab her ankles, fold her legs up and slide into her. Turgid and raw from a day of blue-balls. No foreplay. Skin pulls on skin, shadows of virginity for the first few movements.

We fuck clumsily and aggressively. Her knees pushed back to her chest, her legs cramping. Thighs compressed into thick, equestrian shapes. The slaps of hips on buttocks echo up rolls and curves. All crushed together into an accommodating, feminine blur.

She pulls my head down. This time I let her. She opens her mouth onto mine. Pushes her mind onto mine. She doesn’t speak. But she asks me to validate her. It doesn’t take long.

>Be me
>Divorced
>Father
>Empath
>Dating irresistible QT 3.14 thicc gf
>So then, with the mind I myself serve the law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin.
>What do frens?

We lay on the bed, tangled in her robe for a while. I am on the wrong side of drowsy so I stand up. Everything creaks. I wait a moment for the blood to come back to my head.

In the bathroom I splash some cold water on my face. I notice Cindy’s things are placed as if she has moved in. She’s moved the generic toiletries off the little shelves and sides and replaced them with her own paraphernalia. My heart adopts a panicked rhythm. Why though?

“Are you alright?” groans Cindy, sleepily. I’m not clouding myself properly. I’m too groggy.

“Just panicking that I had the time wrong for the breakfast. Don’t know why.” And then I actually do wonder if I have remembered the meeting time correctly and I pick up my phone to check my calendar. “The WIFI is dead.”

“Oh. Any mobile signal.”

“Erm… it’s saying HSDPA signal. Wait, it’s gone. Just four bars of normal phone. Whatever that is called. 1G? Oh, two bars now. Now it’s saying 3G. Gone again.”

Cindy makes a sleepy grunt which I guess means she doesn’t care. Neither do I. But it will be entertaining to see how the Zoomers react. But then Kanu is going to be a nightmare as well.

We get showered and ready. Cindy didn’t have many clothes at my place so she throws on one of my jumpers that I didn’t realised she had claimed, over a plain t-shirt and washed, black jeans.

We give Kanu’s door a knock as we walk past at about 9.15. He opens the door, looking down at his phone, “Internet is down,” he says. He is wearing a baby blue, oversized sweatshirt with a graphic of what looks like a gang of cartoon, Japanese schoolgirls, and a multi-coloured bobble hat.

“Yep,” I say.

“And there’s like six inches of snow outside.” He’s still looking at his phone, as if that will bring back the connection.

“Two or three inches,” I say.

“Good morning Kanu,” says Cindy brightly. “Did you sleep well?”

He looks up, then smiles at Cindy, “Good morning, Cindy. I slept so deeply. I felt like a brick when I woke up. But I had a weird dream.” He closes the door behind himself. He’s really going to wear that to breakfast.

>FML

“What was your dream about?” asks Cindy. Faking interest. Everyone thinks their own dreams are really interesting. Nobody gives shit about anyone else’s dreams.

“I don’t really remember much about it. I think I was at a beach at night and it was covered in little bones. What’s up? Have I triggered you?”

“We all had the same dream, I think.” I say, relieved I said something before Cindy.

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Weird right?” I try to be dismissive of its significance.

“That is weird.” He is so interested I feel guilty for lying. He pulls his phone out of his pocket again. “Ah, no internet. I was going to check if it was a thing. Like the Mandella Effect, but for dreams.”

“Are you into this sort of… spooky stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess. You OK, Cindy?”

“Yes… I just… had a shiver. Spooky things make me… shiver, I guess.” Her mind is closed to me. Worrying.

“Cool,” says Kanu.

When we get to the bottom of the stairs I see the bellhop from last night at the reception desk. He sees me approaching, “How can I help, sir?”

“Have you been here all night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the morning shift stuck in the snow.”

“Enough of them got here, sir. No need to worry. We keep a two weeks supply of food all through the winter and spring too. So don’t worry about that either. Breakfast is waiting. This happens at least once a year,” he says, waving his arm towards the door.

“The WiFi is down though.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, sir. The routers are still working. I think the exchange has been damaged in the storm last night.”

“No worries. I’m surprised the hunting party went out in this,” I say, cringing at my own segue. “I thought we were the only group here.”

“The hunting party?”

“Yes. I bumped into a colleague earlier this morning. She said she saw a hunting party leaving the lodge.”

His eyes narrow, “You are the only guests in the whole hotel. There is no hunting party unless it was your group.”

“Oh, my colleague must be mistaken,” I bow slightly and start to move away.

“Perhaps it’s part of the corporate team building. Like a game.”

“Maybe. Thank you anyway.”

“I’m always here if you need anything, sir.”

But he’s not always there and I wonder if that is the only lie he has told me in this exchange.

*

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