The International Writers Magazine:Note *Adult Fiction about
Can you hear me?
Shit. I hope you can hear me. I cannot see my hands in front of
my face, and I can barely hear my own voice. When I do speak, my
voice is reflected back at me, close, like when I used to hide in
the closet as a child. Is it the same for you?
It is pitch black
all around me, as if the sun has been extinguished in the sky. But the
blackness is so utterly enveloping. I suppose a better way to describe
it would be an absence of anything; shape, form, colour, even time.
I cannot sense anything around me, and even the ground under my feet
feels distant, like walking on the padded crash mats used
in gymnasiums. It is not hot or cold, and there is no smell of any kind.
What I would give for the scent of a rose, or fresh cut grass.
It all began at lunchtime, when I set out from my office to do a spot
of shopping. To be honest I didnt really need anything. I just
thought I would look around, and see if anything caught my fancy. I
wondered off Oxford street, and saw this new department store that had
just opened. It was inside a futurist tower block, made from glass and
So I enter through the revolving doors on the ground floor, and theres
barely a soul in sight. An old lady browsing the discounted cardigans,
a few staff pottering about, trying to look busy. Of course, as with
most department stores, the first floor was taken up mostly with womens
fashion. (These places know their market well.)
I stroll over the pristine wooden flooring, which smelt of fresh wax,
to the floor plan which is neatly framed next to the elevator: Ground
Floor - Ladies Fashion, Second Floor - Ladies Fashion. My eyes skimmed
the plan. Eighth Floor - Audio and Video. It looked promising. Something
worth wasting my precious lunch hour on.
I punched the upwards arrow, and waited impatiently until the stainless
steel doors slid open with a ping. I stood aside to let a woman out
before stepping inside. She was heavily pregnant judging by the bulge
in her stomach. No one else with time to waste like I had, how lucky.
I had the whole elevator to myself. I pushed the button for floor eight,
and stood in silence, as the inertia of upwards motion pushed my feet
into the floor.
What I would give now, to have stayed in the office and eaten my own
poorly prepared sandwiches.
The doors opened on floor eight, and I roamed around the stereo section
playing around with a top of the range Bang and Olufsen. No price. Probably
couldnt have afforded it anyway, but I though I should ask, just
to look as though I was a serious customer. Like the ground floor, the
audio and video section was devoid of people. And there were no staff
around to answer my vein query. Looking about, I saw boxes of unopened
stock ready to be unpacked and displayed. I went to the checkout. The
till was on, with the display prompting a potential user to "enter
password", but no one around to do so. I sighed. My watch already
read one fifteen, and I decided to give up and settle for
a game of table football in the staff room. I headed back to the elevator,
which to my pleasant surprise, had not been summoned to a different
floor. The doors were wide open, inviting me inside.
Just as I was about to make my way out of the store never to return
again, I noticed a button where the ninth floor should have been. It
read "SEX" in bold red letters illuminated from behind. Finally,
something that might provide some entertainment to my otherwise dreary
Perhaps it was a separate store renting the cheaper office space above
a commercial giant, or maybe it was a daring marketing venture to give
the store a radical image. If it was, it worked. Table football could
wait until another day, I decided, SEX was at least worth a one time
The doors swished open at the SEX floor, and the heavy scent of jasmine
incense filled my nostrils. It was an aroma one might encounter in a
shop full of wicker furniture, and hand made cushions. Swathes of crimson
silk sashes hung from the ceiling, forming a kind of corridor which
led down a central isle. A female voice, faintly moaning was just audible.
I walked along the thick shag pile carpet which covered the floor, and
the moaning got louder. This must definitely be a separate shop, I decided.
At the far end of the silk corridor, there was a lavish four poster
bed with more red silk draped over the sides to form a kind barrier.
This was where the gentle melody came from. And to my surprise, there
was the silhouette of a woman, naked and moving around slowly. Through
the gap in the side of the drape, I caught a glimpse of her face; eyes
closed in ecstasy. This is a very clever marketing ploy I thought, as
I felt myself grow hard. My heart began to thump away in excitement,
and my palms grew sweaty. What ever this place was selling didnt
matter, I would definitely spend some time here.
I approached the bed with some hesitation, not knowing if the erotic
show was a piece of performance art, or if indeed the shop was actually
open for business. But my fascination got the better of me and I pulled
on the white nylon chord, raising the flamboyant drape, like the curtain
at the beginning of a film.
The womans nubile form quivered and stretched, feet sliding around
slowly making waves in the sheets. But her eyes remained closed as if
in a dream. I could almost feel the warmth of her breath, as it rolled
with its sweet fragrance from her parted ruby lips. Long hair was splayed
out wildly from her head, mostly static like a sea anemone. Her manicured
hands grabbed handfuls of fabric and released it, in long spasms. My
eyes rolled over her body, unconsciously, defying my brain that was
telling them not to. I consider myself to be a fairly modern
man, but a very ancient impulse was captivating me in a way that I could
not control. I watched with yearning, as her back arched thrusting forth
her breasts, nipples poking out erect as I was. And finally my gaze
fell upon her hips, softly flexing and cradling a small strip of wispy
I dont know why Im telling you all this. I dont even
know you. I suppose if I stop talking for an extended period I might
even cease to exist. (So might you if you stopped listening to me) It
is beginning to dawn on me that there might well be no way out of here.
Generally I try not to be a pessimist, but under the circumstances it
seems like a sensible conclusion. Dont you agree? Ill continue
with my story now. My apologies for pressing it upon you, but I am guessing
that if you can hear me, it will provide you with a small source of
Where was I? Ah, yes.
I was standing, captivated by this incredibly beautiful woman, who was
apparently oblivious to my presence in this strange shop.
By then, all theories about marketing had vacated my mind. Her eyes
flicked open, as though she had just woken, and she looked at me with
a weak smile. She released a handful of cloth, and reached over to rub
the bulge in my trousers. Her eyes transfixed me for some time, as I
felt her exploring my penis with her curious fingers. A fire in my loins,
trickled into my blood and quickly spread throughout my body. I removed
my clothing and she gently pulled me onto the bed. We rubbed and touched,
and nibbled for a while before I flipped over onto my back, and let
her help me pollinate her wet flower. She sat astride me, rocking her
pelvis from front to back, her torso swaying. The feeling was divine.
We were intimate for some time, and afterwards not a word was said.
I looked around the room, and noticed some daffodils arranged in a slender
green vase. When I looked back she was gone.
At the time it seemed perfectly normal, but in retrospect, I should
have known something wasnt right. I lounged in a warm afterglow,
until it occurred to me that another customer might come at any time.
The twin steel doors would slide back and I would be exposed, naked,
and possibly arrested. I pulled on my clothes and noticed my watch.
It was two twenty. I was already over my lunch hour, though
the elicit encounter more than made up for this.
I hurried back passed the brushed suede furniture, thinking of excuses.
As the elevators doors clicked shut, I was not entirely surprised
to see another new button which I hadnt noticed before. It said
MONEY in alluring green letters. It was above the SEX floor, where the
tenth floor should have been. I looked at my watch again and decided
sudden sickness might be the most plausible excuse, and would explain
my continued absence. As crazy as this sounds, by then, curiosity had
overcome sense. I depressed the money button and eagerly waited to be
As I stepped out into a lavish high-ceiling drawing room, the first
thing I noticed was a large grand piano. A Steinway, positioned near
a roaring fire place. The flames from the fire reflected in the pianos
polished ebony finish. There were renaissance artworks hung at intervals
around the walls with intricate guilt frames. A TV was switched on in
one corner, but no one was there to watch it. I sat down at the Steinway,
and tried out a few notes. The sound was rich and resonant, and the
action smooth. Looking over the long body of the instrument, I saw a
bar area in the far corner. I went across to the glass counter which
was stocked with a vast array of spirits and mixers. I took a crystal
tumbler and chipped some pieces of ice into it, pouring myself a large
Jack Daniels. Must have to pay for this later I thought,
at the main counter.
Over by the TV, there was a chaise lounge, upholstered with sky blue
velvet. There was also a large flower arrangement, with pristine white
lilies and grasses. I loosened my tie, and lay back sipping at the whiskey.
There was a TV program about Iceland, with sweeping helicopter shots
of ancient ice fields, and a commentary about the aurora borealis, I
switched it off. Behind me I heard a now familiar ping. The woman from
the SEX floor came into the room, she had donned an elegant silver evening
dress. She came over, took my drink and sat opposite me, on a mature
We sat for a while in silence, and she peered at me over the glass,
which she cradled with both hands to her mouth. Her eyes twinkled. I
didnt know if the scent which I caught came from her or the flowers,
but I guessed it was her.
"Why did you come here?" She asked. She had a vague Scottish
"I was just
on my lunch break, wanted to do some shopping."
I replied. "Anyway, after the SEX floor, I couldnt stop could
"No, you couldnt," she agreed. "You came here because
you had nothing better to do, didnt you?" She didnt
wait for my answer. "You thought you could brighten up your life
a little, and forget your job for a while."
"Yes, I suppose." I wasnt exactly sure where she was
leading. "But the Audio Visual section was very dull, I was about
to go back when
"When you noticed SEX?"
"I dont blame you" She said "lots of people come
to SEX for relief from office boredom. They can forget everything, at
least for a while. By the way, arent you going to be late?"
She smiled thinly "Its such a shame, youre the same as all
"What others, I.."
"You come to SEX, and then you notice MONEY. And now youre
here, youll never go back will you? Why should you when you have
this lovely apartment, and everything else you need in this massive
"I dont understand, this isnt my apartment, I just
came here to have a look." Her cryptic way of speaking was beginning
to irritate me, even if we had just shared skin. "Anyway, even
if I did live here I couldnt just take things from the store."
Her smile broke into a sob "I was hoping you would be different.
But I knew somehow that you wouldnt. You came to me, like so many
others, wanting some kind of release. But all you got was a temporary
fix, like an addict pricking his arms."
"I had no idea the SEX floor was here at all, in fact I didnt
notice it until I was in the elevator. Im going to pay for that
drink, and get back to work." I stood up and placed my hand on
her shoulder. "Im sorry if I upset you. I
know what I was thinking
But she didnt seem to hear me. "Just like the rest. Theres
no going back now, dont you see? Im sorry you came here,
so sorry." She was beginning to baffle me.
"What rest, I dont see anyone else here?"
She looked at me with a numb stare, a tear trickled from the corner
of her eye. I had the feeling she was biting her tongue, but the whole
scene was beginning to freak me out too much to stick around any longer.
"OK. I am going to go back, right now. This is by far the weirdest
fucking lunch break I have ever had." I marched across the room
to the elevator and looked back. "Take care," I said.
I punched the button for the ground floor and sighed in frustration.
What had started out as a fascinating discovery, had turned into a head
fuck. What on earth was she talking about: No going back
and just like the others?
In no way did I regret not getting her number
Now my friend, I know exactly what she was talking about, and I think
you do too. The elevator didnt stop at the ground floor, but continued
downwards to what should have been Basement Floor 1. Instead the button
had some big black letters written on it. The button illuminated just
before the doors opened, drowning me with darkness. It said DEATH.
Barnes Nov 2004
Sam Barnes is an English teacher and writer from the UK, who currently
resides in Japan. His interests
include philosophy, and cultural analysis.
More Fiction in Dreamscapes
all rights reserved