Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

I push him away, more forcefully than I had planned.

He backs off and nods, looking at me and then looking to the floor. ‘This time it will be different, Gloria. I really promise you that.’

‘We’re in our sixties. How could it not be different?’

‘You know what I mean,’ he says, and then finally pushes the door.

As it opens, I breathe a sigh of relief. I half-expected the key card not to work, thinking that my credit card’s feeble limit had already been reached, that our inability to survive in a place like this has already become clear to those at reception and that they had cut us off from ever being able to experience what awaits behind that door. For the last 48 hours I have been convinced that all of this is a dream, but as I follow Stan into the room, I finally start to allow myself to think that this is real, that this is something I deserve.

I pull our suitcase into the room and look around in astonishment. It’s huge, easily the size of a small suite. Stan is in the middle, his arms held out wide as he shows off what he has found for us. He quickly turns, pointing out all the things I can see for myself, before he stalks his way towards me.

‘Didn’t I say it would be great?’ he says, stroking a finger down my arm. ‘Didn’t I say that I would give you only the best from now on?’

I silently nod as I look around and count the pieces of furniture. There are so many: different chairs for different purposes, and more tables and dressers than I could ever spread our few possessions around. And then I see it – the imposing four-poster bed. It takes up one whole corner, a declaration of importance.

He’s suddenly behind me, taking my breasts into his grubby hands, his gravelly voice ringing in my ears. ‘Didn’t I promise you the bed would be perfect?’

‘Perfect for you,’ I say and then push him away. I walk towards the bathroom, not wanting to picture that bed for one more second. ‘I’m going for a shower. It’s been a long journey.’

‘I could join you?’ he says, his face full of sickening hopefulness.

I quickly shake my head and only then do I think to force a smile. My desperation to get away from him combines with my need to get through the next few hours, and I come up with a solution that has him touching me as little as possible, without arousing too much suspicion. ‘I need some lady time,’ I finally say.

‘Well you come back quickly, babe,’ he says and winks. He watches me leave, picking up the phone. ‘I’ll get us some champagne. It must be at least ten years since we’ve ordered room service.’

‘More like twenty,’ I mutter, slowly closing the door to the bathroom. I lock it, quietly, yet symbolically putting a physical barrier between us. I turn around and take a look at my opulent surroundings. The room is white marble from floor to ceiling; the many bath sheets are all crisp and white and folded to perfection. I look at the oversized shower, then at the bath in the other corner and I smile, allowing myself this small victory as I look through the vast selection of toiletries I have not been able to afford for such a long time.

I think about starting with a shower and then moving onto a long bath, but however exciting that sounds I know that I will do it alone, with him always and forever in the next room. As sad as that feels, it is far preferable to having to spend it with his hard cock poking at my back as his slippery tongue lashes at my neck. That lost its appeal somewhere in the ‘70s.

I can hear Stan shouting things to me but I let the shower drown him out. I let it splash water all over my body and I don’t make any attempt to answer him. When I’ve finished scrubbing my body, washing off the effects of the long journey, as well as any trace of him, I smother the sponge with a new product. I take my time to rinse and repeat, lathering my body and washing off every trace of the past. I inspect each new bottle, breathing in the scent of my future, rubbing them all over my body like I’m marking my new territory and I dare anyone to try to take it away from me this time.

When I finally walk back into the bedroom I expect him to jump in front of me, immediately throwing his overbearing desires to make everything good in my face with a complimentary glass of bubbles. Having relaxed I feel ready to do battle again, to show enthusiasm where none exists, but I’m met with only silence and I don’t see him at first, until I look over to the bed and see him lying on the pure, white sheets, his body spread-eagled and his cock hard.

‘Please!’ he says, somehow knowing that I’m back in the room; his cock pointing to the ceiling, the black mask and restraints lying casually next to him.

I sigh but don’t say anything, as the life I desperately want to leave behind invades this place I hoped would become neutral ground. My head shakes, feeling a familiar sense of anger, as that odour of leather and sweat, which reminds me of only an unhappy past, starts to smother the pure and floral scents of my new future.

‘Oh, please do it now. Oh God, Gloria, please do it now.’

‘You’ve sniffed poppers, haven’t you, Stan?’

‘Oh, God, yes, just before you came out. Come take hold of it now. Oh, please, now!’

I turn and move to the window, sitting down in the oversized armchair that’s angled perfectly so that I can see everything happening in the big, exciting world outside. ‘Not right now. I’m not in the mood.’

He’s still pleading, his cock jerking as he teases it himself and I quietly stare out to the unknown. I try to get as far away from him as possible, my gaze casting its way down the street. It’s quieter than I expected for Central London, yet the streets still have a frantic feel to them. People don’t seem to be walking with the confidence I remember when I was here in the early ‘80s, the last time that Stan and I stayed in a swanky London hotel.

I turn to him, forgetting his devious plan for our afternoon. ‘Don’t you think the streets are a little too quiet, and the people around here seem a little frazzled?’

He stands up, muttering to himself, putting his pants back on as his little man tries to poke through the hole in his baggy briefs. ‘And what would you know about what London is like?’

‘I know it should be different to this. It didn’t feel right when we got the cab from the station, it didn’t feel right when we checked in, and it doesn’t feel right now.’

He comes over and kisses me, wrapping his arms around me like I should somehow feel safe just because he’s here. He smiles, making sure our eyes connect. ‘It only feels different because we’re different now. We are never going to have to worry about money ever again.’ He holds out his arms in celebration. ‘We’re rich!’

‘Not until we meet with them tomorrow and the money is in our accounts.’

‘Honey, do you have to keep saying our accounts?’

I nod, entirely sure that there will forever be two accounts. ‘The money will be split, and I’m not having this conversation again.’

He nods back, knowing better than to start this again. ‘From tomorrow everything will be fine. Our money will be in our accounts, and our marriage will be back on track.’

‘You had better hope so because we only have this place for one night.’

He steps away, his hands planted on his hips. ‘Do you think I would have wasted our last remaining savings if everything wasn’t guaranteed?’

‘It was the last of my savings that we used, and the last few hundred on my credit card.’

He smiles and nods. ‘And it’s my lottery ticket.’

I keep quiet, knowing that the power I hold comes from the past, and the power he now has comes from the future. I must remember what is still to come, and until I have half of that money in my account I need to keep my place.