Totentanz
Red. That was the overwhelming impression she gave me. She was red, from the shoes on her feet, to the hair on her head. Red, red, red. As I followed her into the crashing, beating, thumping, tumultuous sea, I recalled her redness.
We had danced, the first time we met. It had been a balmy evening; a warm breeze drifted over the lawns, gently thrilling the hairs on my neck. The rasping of the cricket's and the quiet rush of waves caressing the beach in the distance mixed with the lulls of the band as they played a waltz. The smell of hog roast, red wine and rose perfume mingled into a heady aroma as other guests danced on the paved rotunda. I felt like a playboy in my Tux and bow-tie.
Then she was in front of me. Titian curls tumbling on flawless shoulders; the elasticised top of her crimson dress making tiny whorls in the delicate skin of her breast, the pink marks seeming to darken in the fading light. Blue eyes, high cheekbones, pastel freckles, full red lips. She smiled and the dance faded around her. I was shrouded in her as I took in the seduction of a perfect face. I filled my lungs with her essence, and she was in my arms. I looked into the deep, deep, deep blackness of her pupils and was lost.
Neither of us spoke. We drifted through melodies like a pair of doves, weaving silently between other couples, leaving hints of our flight as the night and our motion lifted us into updrafts of infatuation that subdued all else. Just as my passion and desire reached a peak, she was gone. I felt her body leave my embrace and she melted into the crowd. Gone, gone, gone; like the memory of laughter from an old man's youth. I felt bereft, as if life had left me and I careered headlong to the grave. I didn't even know her name.
I searched for her, desperately battering through the crowd, seeking this way and that, but there was no sign. I retreated from the dance; walked into the night, a zombie with no hope, no direction, no promise. Reaching my house, I sank into bed and fell into empty sleep.
"Lili."
I awoke with a start. A strong morning sun illuminated the curtains. The stickiness of a stifling day rimed my aching body with sweat. Out of breath, exhausted, sore, trembling, I dragged myself into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. Black, black, black coffee started to seep into my being, awakening deadened nerves, making my body scream. I tried to make sense of it all. Had I dreamed last night? Was the girl a figment of my imagination or had I really danced with her? And why was I so fatigued; I hadn't felt this worn out when I went to bed. I couldn't face food. The coffee churned in my stomach, eating away at my innards. I wanted to die. Fluttering back to the bed, I collapsed and drifted back into somnolence.
"Yes, my love." She hissed. "Be mine forever." Her voice crept through me, slithering into my soul, curling around my spirit like a snake with its prey.
"Uhhh." I could only groan in my sleep as passion and desire cascaded over me.
Her red locks entwined my throat as her face came into view. Lascivious lips parted to expose white teeth, a tongue seethed out to explore my waiting mouth as my body longed for her touch.
"Oh my love. Come to me, come to me now." Her thin fingers clasped the back of my neck as she hammered her mouth onto mine. I felt her pelvis dig into my hips as her naked body straddled my torso. We bucked and heaved as one, a great spasmodic serpent, locked in the grip of intercourse. I wanted this more than anything I had ever craved, my whole being cried out for the form convulsing over me. Spewing, gushing, driving, spurting waves of orgasm drained out of me as she pumped her sucking body over my groin. I looked into the dark, dark, dark eyes and smiled as her lips curled back in a grin and she lifted her body from mine. I felt her fingers scrape my cheek just before she faded back into the darkness.
"Lili." I whispered as my sapped body sagged onto the mattress.
I lay in the gloom, not caring whether it was night or day. I just wanted her to return. I longed for sleep, for that was when she came. Day or night, sleep was the only thing that could beckon her into my embrace. Food and drink were irrelevances. All that mattered was my lover; the emaciated figure, the sallow flesh, the hungry clinch of my sweetheart. My Lili. My beloved.
Night; day. Waking; sleeping. Dreaming; conscious. I didn't know the difference anymore. She came in sunshine and in moonlight, always surrounded by darkness. The damp, cold, clinging, fog would approach and I knew my Lili had come. Her hands would claw for me while I opened my arms to welcome her. I would stroke the protrusions of her spine as her hands gripped my hair and dragged me close. My desire was eclipsed by her hunger, and her breathing would become ragged and frenetic as she bucked wildly over me. Then she would be gone, as if satisfaction drove her away. And my wasted, exhausted, hurting, drained body would cry out for the need of just one more loathsome touch, one more chilling caress, one more life-sucking orgasm like a lemming running to the last leap.
Then it was over. Like a nightmare that dissolves in the morning, my need for Lili had ceased. I managed to pull my malnourished body from the bed and into the kitchen. I opened the patio windows to look out on a brand new day. I felt strengthened by the golden light that bathed me; the heat and the peace that streamed into the house were a balm to my soul. I shakily broke some eggs into the frying pan and started to fry them. The scent of hot oil, mingled with the comfortable sizzling of cooking egg, brought a long absent smile to my face. I sat down to breakfast with a happy heart.
Over the next few months I slowly recovered. My wasted muscles grew stronger, my emaciated frame filled out, my torn heart began to mend. Within six months Lili had become a mote in my head; a niggling buzz, an annoying scent, an irritating itch. It was rare for me even to think of her as I got on with life. The finish of the episode was as mysterious as the beginning. My reaction to her appearance had been a shock to my system; the overwhelming emotion I had felt at the dance was as out of character as murder would be for a pacifist. Then my obsession had gone, as if severed with a scalpel. I could not explain events, even to myself, so I did not try.
It was that Christmas as I was walking over the headland, bent into a howling gale, that I spotted a figure on the sand below. The form stood looking out at the stormy breakers, the wind whipping their hair into a chaotic dance. The day was grey, heavy, looming, ominous, and the violence of the weather would normally have precluded anybody from being that close to the waves. I then realised it was a woman, as she was wearing nothing more than a dress. I thought it must be an escapee from the nearby asylum, or a suicide gathering her courage for the last walk into the sea. We often had them here, although they usually jumped from the cliffs further round the cove. It was my sense of chivalry that made me climb down to speak to her.
As I drew close, she turned to face me. Fear, ardour, terror, fervour; my breast hammered from the war inside. Lili. A slow, sardonic grin broke her spectacular features. She was as I first saw her, a dark beauty that cloaked the sickening being that lurked within.
"Ah. You have come."
"No. Please." I begged. I had no more words to say, I could not escape the lure of those hungry, hungry, hungry eyes.
As she walked into the thrashing sea I could do nothing but follow her. Though my mind pleaded with me to run, flee, escape, recoil, my heart overruled all commands and shuffled helplessly towards oblivion. The foaming ocean roared over my head, as my lungs began to fill with salt water. I screamed my silent frustration to a deaf world. My sight began to fade as life ebbed away and the last thing I saw was Lili laughing, giggling, crowing, cackling. Then everything turned red, red, red.