DARK 1-2: First Release

You will be pleased to know the authorities are all over your hostage situation. You aren't hearing helicopters because I've politely asked them to stay away. They've circled us with their boats--don't worry, yours is still bigger. They're on standby and other reassuring stuff. They respectfully keep their distance, though. So I guess we're ok.

I'm not sure what tipped them off, was it me blaring it all over the internet? They've impressed me.

I am now negotiating with a man who claims I need to release at least the "at-risk" hostages. You know, because of health issues?

I've asked them to give me a list of people they're worried about, and I'll see what I can do for them. I already know who's on my list. Someone with a great handicap.

But we'll get there.

Rey and Allison are ready, I see. It's us who are late, again. Apologies, this installation is easier to plan than to build.

It's good to see them so friendly, chatting. They have a lot of catching up to do.

As you see, my men have filled your precious dancefloor with these six portable toilets. How would you call them, Porta Johns? Is there anything a man won't put his name on? Relax, they're brand new, so nothing will be in there that you don't produce yourselves. I needed a frame for my work and settled on the easiest to transport. Sturdy, durable, recycled green plastic. We'll call them your Pods.

They'll evolve with the contest, don't worry. We're working on more acceptable, long term conditions.

The Pods boast two cameras each, as you can see in these opposing upper corners. The angle is adjustable so don't be afraid to put yourselves in their best light. There's even a small sink--doesn't work, unfortunately. I instead opted to install water pipes above so that you can shower at will. My will, for now.

'Install'--again--is a big word for my men drilling holes and then inserting hoses that come from the kitchen, but you might've realized we're not a fancy bunch. There's two tablets on each door, monitoring those two cameras.

It's my attempt to give people their privacy in these troubled times.

I think you'll see better when Rey and Allison demonstrate. Let's bring them on stage.

Look at them, free of their first layer. Allison effortlessly demonstrates how any B cup can become a C cup, it just needs to want it bad enough. Rey, did you take anything off? Oh yeah, you had that jacket on. What does that do? It's reasonably warm in here, no? Why are so many of you wearing them?

Nevermind, the authorities continue to bring their A-game. They have presented me with a too-long list, so I'm just going to ask the soldier who lives in my ear to tell me the first three medical reasons to drop out of my show. It appears they are all heart attack risks, two men and a woman. All in their sixties, my man assessed, all coincidentally also in the Top Ten Richest People On This Boat. I think they're ordered by age because the party's average age is lower.

I'm not sure I understand. If anything, people with heart failure risks have been warned their life was on a shorter timetable. If you're well enough to party, you're well enough for my show. I'm really not going to ask the impossible of anyone.

So while Rey and Allison get their new bracelets, let's discuss my idea.

This man who's being dragged on stage--No, no! Don't worry, he didn't come with us, he's from the kitchen. It's a different game, down there. I assure you, he's been on this boat all along!

Yes, so why did my men bring him here?

Have you ever been in this room before?

You can't tell right now because he's smartly keeping his mouth shut, but this man doesn't speak our language. It's simply irrelevant to him peeling fresh potatoes or whatever he does for you.

Unfortunately for him, it's a horrible handicap in this game. Think about it, he can't understand what I'm saying. He won't be able to follow my commands, he'll get himself killed! And worst of all?

He won't understand my jokes! It's impossible for him to stay alive in this contest.

Can you swim?

See? How he doesn't nod? Doesn't shake his head? Has no idea he's botching his own release because he can't understand simple questions?

Do I look like a man who finds questions irrelevant?

Get him out of my sight.

Wait! Give him a life jacket! We're at the center of a circle of life-saving boats, so if he doesn't find the shortest way to one it's on him. He literally can swim in any direction.

You're off this show! Go away!

Now think about what you've done, all of you. Do you understand the police will now have to find people who speak that man's language? They'll be busy for a while.

It gives us time to go back to our beautiful couple who both can understand me although sometimes they act as if they don't.

You see those cuffs on Allison and Rey? Her left wrist, his right. You all have them but they're inactive. We will first activate theirs so that you can all understand their purpose.

Up on that monitor, we see their stats. 'Vitals', a TV doctor would call them. Allison doesn't have a driver's license so I had to extract her avatar from social media. It's endearing how she looks exactly like herself because of course she'd changed her profile picture earlier tonight, she was at a party!

The caption reads: "Best Valentine's Ever!!" There's some emoticons but if I described them to you I'd be at it all night.

Rey is very different from his license photo. Trimmed down that beard, lost some cheek weight. But more importantly, no bags under his eyes.

Was 2017 a particularly rough year for you?

Wait.

I've been informed that the man I've just released boarded with four other people. I'm unsure of their occupation. Now I have to let them go, as well. This is a family show, after all. The wife, the grandma? Two kids? I'm not a monster. I will announce to the negotiator that I'm releasing a hostage every... let's say five hours? They can send a two-person boat to pick them up, one by one. That'll satisfy the authorities, longer. We have no claims yet.

While they reunite the man with his family, we can get back to our game.

Our Demonstrators are in position, facing each other. They will enter a Pod of their choice.

What are you waiting for? Rey, you were supposed to guide Allison, help her. Do I need to send a soldier in there with her or are you managing?

Now that you're inside, we see you only on our monitors. We can't hear you because... seriously now, does anyone care what either of you has to say?

Let's get on with it. The First Challenge!

My soldier will lock them inside their chosen Pod. See that green progress bar underneath her picture? It says Allison is 27% on her way to an orgasm. Now, you must understand this is all predictions based on her vitals, I guess we'll see how correct they are.

Are you able to hear me, in there? Nod, if you are. Don't hide your face, it's not like you can communicate with the outside, otherwise.

They hear me, so I can move on to Rey's yellow bar, displaying 35%. He's either better or worst off than she is--the good news is that they both got something to work with.

What they'll have to do to get out from their Pod is to move either of those progress bars to completion.

I don't care who, I don't care how--One of you has to come. You got thirty minutes. If not, you wait a day for another shot. Trapped in there. As long as you keep trying, you stay alive.

The rest of you, watch and learn. Let's see if our Demonstrators are worthy of their name.

***

My Best Valentine's Ever wasn't going well.

"It has to be you," Rey informs me. We're trapped in a vertical coffin, our backs are pushed into opposite plastic walls by both of us fighting to keep as wide of a space we possibly can between us.

"Me?! You're... further ahead." Now, I'm not going to be coy, especially since it can get me killed. "It's ok, I'll help you if you can't... on your own." I couldn't imagine him needing thirty minutes.

"There's nothing you can do." His mouth closed, unavailable for more details. Just orders and time constraints, "We got twenty-eight minutes."

I'm reminded of that time when I wanted to get out of a frat dorm's bedroom but then I got pulled back into bed again, a hangover breathing into my face the words: "It won't take long." It's sometimes easier to go along, a conversation about me leaving would've probably taken longer, so I stayed ten minutes more.

That guy wasn't even hot. There's something wrong with me.

I owe it to Rey to at least give it a try so I focus on him, trying to use what I can out of his personal charm. I've never been a girl who could get herself in the mood, on her own. Either the mood hits me or--when with someone--the man insists. Tell me I'm supposed to have a good time, and I probably won't. It's the stress that it's expected of me, you know?

Over his head, there's a flashlight duct-taped to the camera support, its light hits the right side of his face, separating each hair of his beard into separate entities. They'd conquered the lower half of his face and then spread to conquer his scalp, covering it in the same thick short layer of darkness.

Maybe if I could run my hands over--

"You should start," he interrupts my ogling, thankfully he's looking somewhere behind me, I fixate somewhere above his right shoulder, there's a monitor there with his "vitals": 45%. There's one behind me, monitoring me, but I don't know how to turn without making everything even more awkward. It's probably what he's looking at.

I like well-built guys, that high line of broad shoulders relaxes me. It's moving closer, millimetrically covering the light behind it, like sundown. I pretend not to notice, but of course Rey's the clarifying type.

"Come on," he tells me. The tone is his most encouraging so far: doesn't matter if I fail, it's kinda expected, although his face isn't animated by any new emotion. "I'll cover you," he looks somewhere above, to the left corner camera, his eyes turning playful for a second. Two shades of black, iris and pupil, merged together to form a void of light over a contrasting, too-clear white. Healthy sleeping habits, my nesting spirit soars. His lips move, "You just...do what it is you normally do." I lower my gaze to his black bowtie, too tempted to follow his lead despite knowing it's misguided.

I'm compelled to be honest, "I've never... finished in under thirty minutes." I'm not the 'outdo myself' type, so it's unlikely I'm going to pull this off today. Alone or otherwise. "I'm just not good under pressure."

His chest forced my back into the wall, so I add, mortified, "It's... embarrassing, and I feel everything in here is unclean. Please, why can't it be you?"

"It's non-negotiable."

It's good that I can't see his face, I would've puddled even more into his arms when his palm felt its way on my back, careful not to touch skin, following the wide band that covers most of my waist to keep my skirt up. He pulls me from the wall only to force me into another, my breasts hit hard muscles that I then inadvertently feel with my hands trying to push him away.

"Just relax," he says, and I really, really want to, but I'm not brave enough to move against him again, I'm not sure I could take the hard press of his pants migrating from its safe place against my stomach. The comfort I'd gain would only give way to a new, worst discomfort. "Close your eyes." My arms flail to my sides, letting more of his body over mine.

I don't see anything but his shirt, it feels good because he doesn't smell like anything, I feel like I'd vomit because it'd be all I could focus on. Despite my panic, I surround myself in a calming cocoon of darkness where there are no percentages I need to worry about. No cameras.

Anxiety dissipates from my limbs to my center, swarming through my veins, happy to find a new place to hinder.

"I--I don't think this will work," it takes me only a second to whimper out. I don't open my eyes, though, I rest my face on the newfound sheet that covers his chest.

"Put your arms around me," he says, giving new purpose to my weak hands.

He lowers his head and I have to force myself not to pull away, thinking he wanted to kiss me, but his breath just found my ear, warming my brain, "All he wants is that we try. He likes you, he's not gonna kill us unless we look like we're not trying."

I can't breathe as freely as I need to, trapped, and because I'm forcing my entire body to stay still, only my breasts fight his embrace, the straps that are supposed to support them dig desperation valleys into my shoulders. The dull pain makes me crouch forward, almost spilling them over the bra that tortures them.

"Spread your legs," a finger pushes into my back, underlining the order. My thighs tense together but I don't get to beg for anything, Rey continues, "Nothing goes in, I'm just going to put my hand here..."

He presses my legs to open with the hand that doesn't hold me into place, I don't budge until I feel my dress going up in a chiffon shuffle. Because he's bending over to reach under the layers of fabric, the threat of his bulge against me is gone, it's the upper half of my body that has to resist his abs pinning me in a plastic corner.

"Please," I keep my arms around him.

"The thing is," he touches the skin above my knee, going up the inside of my leg, taking advantage of how the jolt of that first touch made some room for advancement. "Out of the two of us, only you can fake it." It's amazing how he keeps the same voice. It's like a tour guide's.

My voice is less convinced, "I can't--"

The way his hand pulled back when the lace that covered my pussy let him touch smooth skin reminded me how my lingerie decorated more than protected. Worse, his intrusion made the thin fabric fight overtime to keep my wetness inside.

He didn't take his hand too far away, he stopped it just underneath where my legs meet, palm up, "Just... rub against my hand, it will show up on those monitors, and if you don't get to... in time..."

He's careful not to feel my skin again, two fingertips slid on lace until they find a place to stop, too close to where my pussy watered. I know he got his hand wet this time, the thought makes me shift in my place, which only makes me want to move--

Rey tightens both his grips on me, patting my back as to get me to relax, his bicep tensing around me, the small comfort it gave me then getting ruthlessly annihilated by how his other hand held me prisoner, almost lifting me off my feet in an effort to get me to focus on what's between my legs.

"You just fake it," his tone remains convinced of our odds. "We need to keep those stats going up."

"I'm just... not that good of an actress," I regret out loud, needing a full mouth of air to get through the whole sentence.

I don't need to see him to know he's staring at me, it's in how his voice rains down, "I think you are. You're a people-pleaser."

He doesn't say doormat, but I'm thinking it, because his words made me aware how I was doing it all my life without even knowing it was something I was mastering. I even had my own method.

"Come on, just do it in your own rhythm. Nothing goes in," he assures me again.

I'm already moving without wanting to, his laced thumb is keeping my lips apart by pushing my peaking clitoris back inside of me, forcing me to fight to find a comfortable position, making myself even more uncomfortable.

The rest of his fingers spread to attack the smooth skin on both fronts of that too-thin band. His index took one side, the other three the other, the imbalance breaks my cadence in sliding over his palm, I instinctively try to push the intrusion away by tightening my legs together, which only makes me moan for the first time, making Rey lean harder into me. Until there isn't any space to move but by rubbing my pussy over a rigid, unforgiving hand.

It takes seconds for my agitation to become audible in breaths that try to suppress more moans but come out as both.

"Come on, you're doing great," Rey's encouraging voice relaxes my body, but my mind is whipped by the thought that he's only saying that because he thinks it's the most likely to move things along.

I stop, wet in the palm of his hand, it doesn't take long for him to protest, "What's wrong?"

I don't have time to answer because he lets go of my back, pressing a wall of muscles over me to keep me still while he grabs my breast, again over the lace, his fingers finding new places to help that bra upset my skin, a thumb now allying itself with the one that's pinning my pussy. It goes to free my nipple out of its fancy cage, running over it as if it's trying to turn its poke inside out, fighting with that hard tip that doesn't let my breast un-swell.

"Come on," Rey breaks the spell I was under. He's probably watching the monitors, "What is it, what do you need?!"

It's like he's solving a puzzle, "I know you're getting close."

I can't think of anything else other than how he's the only man who's ever touched so much of me without kissing me, first.

His head goes down but he doesn't do that, he's much more effective when he kisses me on my neck, fast, as if unsure. He goes so fast over me that I only feel small pecks, one at the base of my neck, one on my sternum, one where my breasts would've parted if not squashed together by so many external forces.

Rey's determined mouth grabs my nipple and it's so unexpected that I let go of him to defend myself, pushing my pussy between spread fingers, the lace that's supposed to protect me now wedged inside of me, making my senses swirl, all now focused on that one spot that I can't stop stimulating, no matter how hard I try.

My protests finally reach the man who's making me moan, he stops for a threatening full second.

His mouth gets too close to my face, I force myself to keep my eyes closed, only exhaling when I feel his beard over my face and he starts kissing my cheek in a quick mission to reach my mouth. Instead of fighting, I push myself into his hands, allowing them to continue to fondle me. His lips reach mine, his tongue pushing its way unnecessarily harsh, fooled by my hungry breathing. I relax my jaw to find space for my own tongue to move. I'm good at finding room for myself so the invading tongue soon lets me answer it. When our kiss finds its rhythm, I know how to move to get that fire that's burning my insides extinguished.

I desperately hold on, hiding how pleasure waves make my entire body spasm under him. I kiss him until I can't anymore and still breathe, but he doesn't let me escape right away, the relief of that next breath making my pussy release in wet echoes of shock. I hide my face into his shirt, weak like a rag doll.

I'm too ashamed to escape his arms, happy he doesn't move, either. I need a few moments of complete stillness, I want to forever keep my eyes closed.

In my mind floats Rey's driver's license photo--a bushy, bearded oval head with dead eyes, his downturned lips making that serious face older. Judgemental eyebrows that are now way better defined. That guy, I could see having been in the army. This one knew what to say to get me to try new things on camera. He wasn't scared about the thirty minutes, it was almost like a challenge to him.

I allow myself a second to enjoy the fantasy where a hot ex-army guy turned his life around and was looking for The One. Went to the gym, bought a suit, only to blind date me on Valentine's Day.

Unfortunately, I got low self-esteem. He didn't do all that for me. I was just the alibi.

"You lied to Question Mark," I say into Rey's ear. "You were fucking your boss."