Lifting the Lid(23)

‘It might be better if we went somewhere a little more private. We need to wait for my… friend though. He’ll be along any minute.’ So saying, he raised his wrist to his face and spoke into his sleeve. ‘Subject apprehended. Outside arena entrance.’ He cocked his head to one side as if straining to hear something, and Sandra spotted the thin curly wire which ran from his right ear and disappeared inside his jacket collar.

‘I’m in a bit of a hurry actually,’ said Trevor.

‘Won’t keep you long, sir.’ The man in the tan jacket smiled without a hint of sincerity and transferred his attention to the dog, which was staring up at him and whining. ‘This your dog?’

‘Yes.’ The voice sounded weary.

‘Cute. Does he bite?’ He tentatively held out the back of his hand towards the dog, who eyed it suspiciously.

‘He’s a she, and no she doesn’t,’ Trevor said and then added, ‘…usually.’

‘I see.’ He withdrew his outstretched hand and pretended to check his watch.

‘Who are you anyway?’

Sandra could see that Trevor was becoming increasingly agitated and possibly even a little braver at the same time.

‘Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t I introduce myself?’ His words were heavy with mock politeness. ‘Patterson’s the name.’

‘What are you? Police?’

‘Something like that, sir.’

‘So do you have any identification?’

‘Indeed I do,’ said Patterson but made not the slightest move to produce anything. ‘And while we’re at the introductions stage, you are…?’

‘Er… Wolf. – Stephen Wolf.’

Patterson smirked. ‘In sheep’s clothing, eh?’

There was no response.

Just then, three men wearing nothing more than the minutest white skirts-cum-loincloths, sandals, and plastic laurel wreaths on their heads appeared from nowhere and advanced towards Patterson. Each carried an elaborately shaped plywood bow and arrow, and all of them were in their early to mid forties and of varying degrees of unattractiveness. Even so, they moved elegantly as if in slow motion with every step exaggerated and precise. Pouting theatrically all the while, they surrounded their prey and stared at him with the intensity of a hunter.

Sandra watched as the oldest and chubbiest of the three crouched down in front of Patterson and ever so slowly drew himself upright, lingering momentarily over the crotch area, until their faces were only two or three inches apart. The other two Cupids slid to either side of their target and brought their own faces to within the same distance.

For a few seconds, they stood motionless as they gazed at their victim, their bows and arrows now pointing at the ground. Then, and at exactly the same instant and without any visible cue passing between them, they each began to caress his hair and face with tender sensuality.

A small crowd started to gather, and Sandra moved closer to maintain her uninterrupted view.

By now, Patterson’s body was completely rigid, his head tipped backwards and his teeth bared in a fixed grin which managed to convey both embarrassment and annoyance. If he was trying for “Hey, I’m just an ordinary festival guy like the rest of you and isn’t this fun”, he’d failed badly.

The three Cupids rotated around him, and their caresses ventured steadily downwards from his head to his shoulders and beyond, a face always directly in front of his own, eyeball to eyeball and pout to grimace. There was a movement at the edge of Patterson’s mouth, and Sandra could just make out the words, ‘Piss off, you arse bandits, or I’ll nick the lot of you.’

Apparently she wasn’t the only one to have heard him, and someone in the crowd shouted out, ‘Jeez, mate. Relax, will ya? They’re only having a bloody laugh.’

Patterson’s remark seemed to be a not unexpected response for the Cupids, and they immediately intensified their efforts. Still stroking him with their hands, they proceeded to rub their entire bodies against his in an up and down motion, sometimes with their backs and sometimes with their fronts. Without resorting to unseemly violence, Patterson was locked to the spot.

The crowd, which had tripled in size by now, was roaring with laughter and encouragement, and Sandra also found herself clapping her hands and laughing like a loon until she suddenly remembered why she was there. She felt the panic rise from somewhere deep inside her as she turned towards where Trevor had been standing, knowing full well that she’d see an empty space.

‘Shit.’

As she set off, she was aware from her peripheral vision that Patterson tried to do precisely the same thing but instantly fell headlong in the dirt with an almost naked Cupid hugging his ankles.