Wednesday, 25 January 2017

The Evacuation Part 4

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For audio click here
for part one click here and part two here and part three here

Warning: this does contain scenes of a mildly disturbing nature. 

“Hey lady,” Iveta turned around and saw that bastard police officer coming down the steps. She didn’t like the look on his face. She carried on walking. She’d managed to just about hold it together while she watched David get on the train, but she knew if she talked to that toe rag, she’d lose it completely, and that meant either violence, or hysterics, or both. 
“Lady,” he put a hand on her shoulder. Iveta stopped dead in her tracks. “You want to get on that train, maybe I can help you.” 
“I don’t want your help.” That was a lie, but she didn’t want him to know that she’d do almost anything to be with her husband and child now.
“You know the Russians are on the border. This time tomorrow there will be no way out. We’ve had our orders - close all crossings at midnight tonight.” 
“I don’t believe you,” Iveta said. 
“You’re willing to take that risk?” he turned her round to look at him, squeezing her arms. 
“Leave me alone,” she said, trying to shrug off his grasp. 
“I can get you on that train. But you need to…” he let go and stood back, loosening his trousers. “Suck it,” he said. 
Iveta shook her head, not daring to look down. 
“You married a foreigner, who left the country with your baby. The Russians are going to be all over you like a onesie. A onesie made of barbed wire. They won’t give you a minute’s peace. I’m giving you a chance to leave, to get out.”  
“I’m not putting that in my mouth,” she said. 
“Touch it then!” 
Iveta felt sick. 
She loved David with all her heart, she thought of him and Lucie on that train.  How she’d love to be with them. But could she really touch this low life? Jerk him off, give him satisfaction? She swallowed.  She thought of the times she’d had sex with David just cos he wanted it. She’d done it for him then, surely she could close her eyes and think of the Tatras. She breathed in all the air her lungs could capture.
She slowly reached out her hand. No, she couldn’t. She pulled it back but He grabbed it, put it on him. She breathed out all the oxygen in her lungs. She felt the clammy skin and nearly retched. He moved her hand for her. What was wrong with this guy? He was doing the work, why did he need her? 
She willed him to finished quickly, but he was a stayer. He groaned and moaned like a dubbed German porno until eventually she felt him tense and heard him whimper. She felt the sticky liquid on her hand. 
“Quick,” he said, putting himself away. He grabbed her dry hand and led her up the steps onto the platform. The train slowly was pulling out. He grabbed a door and threw her onto the train, she had better post-coital experiences.  
Iveta stood panting squeezed in amongst the others who had just made it.
“We’ll come back soon,” a woman patted her on the shoulder, completely misreading the tears. 
“I need to get to the toilet,” Iveta said, trying to control her breathing. No one moved. “I’m fucking pregnant, I need the fucking toilet,” she yelled. Christ, she’d just pleasured a sleazy policeman she had no qualms about telling a little white lie. This time people opened up.
She washed her hands once, twice, three times. She then washed them again and wrung them dry; would she ever get them clean? She noticed the stain on her jeans and got a paper towel and scrubbed and scrubbed until the jeans were so wet she couldn’t tell if the spot was still there. 
David had told her that this was a beautiful journey, and she was on the same train as her husband and child. She should have been happy. But she sat on that train toilet ignoring the scenery and letting tears drip to the floor.

for part five click here

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