“I have never seen that many explosions in two hours,” he said flatly. “Wakefern has outdone himself.”
The other two just nodded mutely, still trying to discern the plot of the latest Wakefern film, though they knew it would a futile effort.
Charles Wakefern was an American director who also wrote all of his films. His movies usually consisted of a heavily muscled hero with always perfect hair globe-trotting from exotic locale to abandoned warehouse to exotic locale, relentlessly pursued by a bald, heavyset man who was vaguely reminiscent of Ernst Blofeld. In each location the hero found himself, he was accompanied by various scantily clad, buxom women who were overly eager to jump into bed with him. Whenever the hero was not romping in the hay with the women, he was either producing or just barely dodging a ridiculous amount of bullets. What little dialogue the films had was either sexual innuendo or thinly veiled threats, but more often both. However, either of these both raised all sorts of questions about the hero’s sexuality.
In other words, Wakefern was a director of cheap Bond knockoffs. Despite lacking plot, often just consisting of sexual innuendo followed by sex and/or gunfire, and receiving little advertising, if any Wakefern films always opened in the top five and consistently broke box office records
“I can’t believe we used to enjoy those,” said Ian.
“We were younger,” Chris replied.
The three of them sat on the curb and thought about their high school days.
_____________________________
India leaned back in her tub and trailed her fingers over the water. Ah, this is perfect, she thought. Just me and my book in a bath full of perfect temperature water. She opened her novel, Saturday, by Ian McEwan and began to read.A little while later, just as the water had begun to chill a bit, she heard a slightly muffled thump outside of the bathroom. She looked up, startled. What was that? she wondered. She thought about getting out of the tub and going to investigate, but dismissed the idea as too much trouble and opened her book again. Soon, however, she heard another thump. Ok, now this is getting out of hand. She stepped out of the bathtub and picking up a towel, exited the bathroom. Once she was in her bedroom, she froze, listening for another sound. Hearing none, she walked out of the bathroom and headed for the stairs. She paused, thinking she might have heard something and listened. She strained and just barely heard the faint scrapings coming from her living room.
She slowly and quietly descended the stairs, wincing at every real or imagined creak of the wood and peered into her living room. Inside, three men were quickly and methodically removing every piece of furniture from her living room through the window, and dumping in her backyard. She quickly peered into the other rooms on her ground floor; they had been in there already. Fuck! Why didn’t I take my dad’s advice and keep the gun near me? She could hear her father’s words as clearly as if he were standing right there: “India, a beautiful girl like you should have some protection. The world is more dangerous than it was in your mother’s and my time. Now, with all of these shootings and all of this other nonsense, nobody is safe anymore,” he said, his deep voice making the words a little difficult to hear. “Here,” he said. “This is my service pistol. It works perfectly, and I’ve had all of the registration changed to be in your name.” He took the small gun out of his pocket and handed it to her, his large, cool hand brushing her smaller one; his could have easily swallowed hers. “Keep it near you at all times,” he said, looking into her eyes. She nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation.
He stepped back, and wrapped his arm around her mother, a small, shapely woman, much like India herself. He seemed much older suddenly. “Goodbye,” they called, as the bus doors closed and drove away with her. “Have fun at college! Learn! Don’t smoke pot! Marry a rich smart guy and give us lots of pretty babies, but not until you graduate!”
That had been four years ago. Now, she remembered the gun that she had soon begun to see as an unnecessary burden, sitting underneath the seat of her car. Dammit! Why didn’t I listen to him? And Cynthia got robbed just last week! She turned and began to walk away.
“Hey, lookit that!”
She spun, instinctively clutching the towel closer to herself at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice. The three men were looking at her and as she watched them, the largest of them whistled. “Fuck, Mikey, you told me this house was empty!”
“Well it was!” said a weasel faced man who was apparently Mikey. “I didn’t see any lights on, anywhere in the house and-”
The big man raised his hand and Mikey fell silent. “Shut up,” the big man said, quite unnecessarily. “Well, she’s here, so what should we do with her?”
The third man, a quite innocuous looking person approached her and circled her. India bristled, despising the fact that this person was so offensively checking her out in her own home. But he could do nothing about it; all three had pistols hidden quite obviously in their waistbands and looked rather tough. She had only a towel and didn’t want to even consider the possibility of exposing herself to these horrible creatures.
“She’s real fine,” said the unobtrusive man. “She got one hell of an ass, Leo. I say we fuck her now, then get her over to Raph and get what cash we can for her and all her shit.”
Leo thought for a moment. “That’s a good idea Donny.” Then he turned to India. “Bitch, you got any company up there with you?” He chuckled and answered his own question before she could answer him. “Course you ain’t. No self-respecting man sends his girl down in just a towel. Less you one of them dykes, but I doubt it. So, how 'bout it, sugar? You want us to show you a good time?”
“You ignorant PIG!” The words were out before India could think about what she was saying, and they kept coming. “How DARE you come into my HOME and try to rob me of my things? Then you have the gall to even THINK about suggesting having sex with me! THEN you go and call yourself a self-respecting man! You and your group of thugs are worth no more than shit!”
India stopped talking and looked at the man, fully expecting to be beat or shot. At first the man had looked shocked that she would be talking to him like that, but he eventually had deflected the storm of vitriol that she had directed at him.
The room was silent for a moment, and then the man spoke once more. “Mikey, take the woman’s towel off.” Mikey approached her and made a move to grab her towel. She glared at him, until she looked in his eyes. He had no desire to take part in this at all, and meant her no ill will. However, that didn’t mean that he could undress her. She directed such a look of malice and hatred at him that he backed off. Leo sighed. “Fuck, do I gotta do everything myself?” He approached her and in one motion ripped the towel off and twined it into a rope.
She stood naked in front of the three men, and as their eyes lustfully scanned her body, she adopted a defiant pose, fully aware of her lower status. She didn’t try to hide her breasts or groin, knowing that would mark her as weak and an easy target, but simply planted her feet shoulder width apart, crossed her arms, lifted her chin and dared the three to meet her eyes.
They didn’t. They were too busy eyeing her curves and ample bust. Leo was the first to shake himself free of the trance and began to walk towards her. “Donny was right, you are fine,” he said, a lascivious grin on his face. “Matter of fact, you’re too fine for them over at Raph’s. They just can’t appreciate a beautiful woman like yourself.” He grinned broader, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was displaying several pieces of rotting barbecue chicken wedged between his teeth. “Now me? I can appreciate a woman. And I appreciate you. I’m gonna treat you like you never been treated before.” He took his shirt off, revealing his grease stained, sleeveless T-shirt, and threw his shirt over the back of a nearby chair. India backed away, having no desire to let this greasy, unpleasant man get anywhere near her. Leo frowned and took out his gun, freezing her in her tracks. “Ah, you know what this is! Now then, don’t fight and this will be over quickly and you can come with us.”
India’s eyes flashed towards the door, hoping someone would burst in and rescue her, but the door remained in place, closed and silent. Leo began to open his pants, and Donny followed his example. They approached and surrounded her. Donny hit her in the stomach, making her double over, where she was held by Leo. She was too afraid to scream, as Leo’s penis came closer and closer. When it finally reached her, she shuddered with revulsion. Leo stuck it into her, grinding away, obviously enjoying it, oblivious to any discomfort he was causing her. She fell to the ground, and Leo kneeled with her, still grinding. Donny’s piece approached as well, and entered her butt. She screamed, because nothing was meant to go in that opening. The two laughed, and India began to cry in pain. Through her tears, she saw Mikey turn away in disgust, which gave her a slight measure of pleasure. At least he’s decent enough to recognize when something is truly wrong. She screamed again, but no one heard her.
© 2009 Malcolm Clarke. All rights reserved
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