The Curse

Humphrey buried his face in his hands and tried to fathom what had just happened. What he had done.

"I'm so sorry ... I ..."

"Fuck you! Are you pissed or something? How could you ever do a thing like that?"

She got up and was about to storm out of the living room.

"Please ... let me ... explain," he stammered, also getting up and trying to get close to her.

"Don't you dare coming any closer there," she hissed, emptying the contents of one paper bag onto the floor, until she found what she was looking for, her purse.

He froze on the spot, unsure what she was up to. She quickly opened the purse and got some pepper spray out of it.

"Now ... explain. What the fuck was that?"

"I ... fuck ... calm down please, will you? I'm sorry, I don't know ... I just ... Please, put that away, don't be silly, I won't ..."

"Get away from me, and I will calm down."

Hump sighed and sat down on the sofa again. She seemed uncertain as to what do next, but just shook her head and placed the pepper spray back in her purse.

"I'm waiting for your explanation."

The tone of her voice wasn't even angry any more, as she irresolutely shifted her weight from one leg to the other, before sighing and then sitting down next to him.

"Sorry ... I am a bit drunk. It was just all a bit much for me tonight, you know. First the dinner ..."

"Is it my fault that whoever it was stood you up?"

"You still don't get it ... It was you who stood me up ... We wanted to have a quiet evening in, remember?"

"Oh ..."

By the look of her face, now she did remember. She looked even willing to apologise for a few seconds, before she recovered and recalled what he had done.

"So ... I forgot, big deal. You never said anything about a dinner though. That still doesn't give you the right to pounce on me like that."

Hump was still completely off balance. All the lifetimes of frustration, rejection and failed advances now welled up and ripped his confidence and control to shreds.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

His smile was forced, and he noticed that he was trembling.

"That I love you."

She froze, her face an inscrutable mask. His heart was pounding harder than the bass drum of the music, which really got on his nerves now. Several times she appeared to start speaking, but whatever she wanted to say, she didn't. All of a sudden she got a bit closer to him and stroked his hair.

"Hump ... I ..."

The sound of her mobile ringing interrupted what he deemed to be the moment of truth. She almost seemed relieved, picked it up and answered.

"Yes hello? Ah ... Steve ... Oh, yes ... hang on, let me go to my room first."

She got up and avoided looking at Humphrey.

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

"Sure. Okay. Whatever. Fuck."

And then she was gone. Hump poured himself another glass of wine, determined to finish the bottle on his own. After all, she didn't appreciate it anyway. Nor him, for that matter. He heard her laughing from time to time, and he took that levity for an answer. All off a sudden he couldn't bear being in the same house with her anymore. A burst of self-pity, anger and pain got him onto his feet, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the flat.

5.

Hangover. The eyes did open, but the brightness of the room was unbearable, so he closed them again. There was a disgusting taste in his mouth. Only very slowly memories of the previous night resurfaced, including vivid images of him kneeling in front of the toilet and puking his heart out. Before that, stumbling and falling over bin bags. Before that, getting completely wasted in the corner pub. Before that ...

"Shit."

Now he forced his eyes open. At least he was at home. He was still fully dressed and smelled awful. He was feeling a little sick to his stomach already again. The word headache was too weak to describe the pain he was feeling. Little men in his head were drilling and hammering their way to the surface of his skull. A painful glance on the alarm clock revealed that he was already an hour late for work. In any case, his current condition would render any attempt to get there an exercise in futility. He would have to ring in at least.

As difficult as it was, he kept his eyes open and even got out of bed. His stomach cramped up and he hastened in the direction of the bathroom, in case he was going to be sick again. However, the feeling subsided and he resolved to put his head under cold running water instead. Well, at least he was awake now.

His boss was a really nice fellow and didn't make a big deal out of it, when he told him the truth. Business had been slow in the last weeks anyway, and Hump hadn't been off sick for once so far. He stumbled into the kitchen to find a glass to dissolve the painkillers in he had found in the bathroom. He startled when he noticed that the living room was nicely done up and that she had even done the dishes in the adjacent kitchen. So maybe she did feel a bit sorry for last night after all. Could it be that ...

His hopes were crushed but a few seconds later, when he discovered the note she had left for him.

"Am going out for dinner with Steve tonight. See you later. Sarah."

Now the emotional hangover kicked in. And there were no painkillers for that.

The day and evening passed in a haze. Even if he had wanted to, he was in no shape to face her, so he went to bed early. Hump suppressed the urge to get wasted again, that wasn't going to get him anywhere. He tried to sleep, but couldn't. Sometime around two o'clock he heard her coming back. She seemed to stop in front of his door for a few seconds, but then went into her room. Then it was quiet again.

As usual, they didn't meet up in the morning, as she had to be at work an hour later and always got up at the last minute. Humphrey was almost grateful for that. It was bound to become awkward. Somehow, the whole situation appeared to have to resolve itself now. He had fouled up his chances with this stupid outburst, and the other chap had all the trumps in his hand now. She wouldn't have been out that late, if he wasn't charming and interesting and whatnot. At least she didn't fuck him. Or maybe she had? Anyway. Now it was important to see how she was dealing with the whole situation, what it meant for them living together.

Again, she wasn't in when he got home. Whatever had motivated her to clean up the living room and kitchen on the day before, had not stretched beyond that. That was the customary chaos she left every morning. It almost instilled the feeling of normality. Almost.

No note for him this time. He quietly did the dishes and decided to wait with cooking, until she arrived although he was feeling quite hungry. The telly didn't manage to distract him enough, his apprehension grew with every minute he was waiting for her. Then, despite the hunger and torment, he simply fell asleep.

"Hey ... sleepy head. Are you okay?"

Her smiling face hovering above him. It took him a while to realise that he was on the sofa, and that he must have dozed off.

"Um ... yeah ... sure ... fuck ... how late is it?"

"Eightish. I got home half an hour ago, but couldn't bring myself to wake you up. I'm starving ... fancy some Chinese? I was about to ring the place from last time; the flat noodles were really quite tasty ... Any idea where the flyer is? Have you eaten?"

Hump rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus.

"No, I haven't, and I'm starving too ... on the table next to the phone I think."

"K ... do you want to have a look, or do you know what you want already?"

"Um ... dunno. Something. That sweet and sour chicken I had the last time was okay. And some egg-fried rice. And a spring roll."

"Got it."

He heard her dialling and talking to the Chinese take-away, as always with a fair amount of trouble, since they seemed to have left the one guy who didn't speak English properly on phone duty. More interesting however, was that she was acting normally. As if nothing had happened. At least for now. That didn't change until they had finished their meal.

Someone had to broach the subject. He knew her well enough to anticipate that she wouldn't.

"By the way, I am really sorry for what happened the other night."

Sarah didn't even look at him, but focused on the boring show on the telly.

"It's all right, don't worry about it. I think I kind of overreacted too."

He paused.

"Still, what I said ... I meant it."

No reaction. That was going worse than he expected. At least she could say something. Nothing. Instead, she picked up the remote and switched to another channel.

"Oh sorry, did you want to watch that? I forgot to ask."

"Nah, it's all right."

So, she wasn't in the mood for talking about that. Maybe he could get the other missing pieces to the puzzle.

"So ... how was your date with Steve?"

"Oh ... it was all right. We went to the Turkish restaurant up in Highbury. I had some lamb chops."

That wasn't really the information he was after. Usually, she was a little more talkative about her dates. That didn't sound too good.

"Ah ... so ... how were the chops? And the chap?"

"Okay. A bit too greasy for my taste."

"I see. The chops or the chap?"

Now she finally did look at him.

"Plonker. Nah, he is nice. A bit on the quiet side."

"In other words: He didn't manage to get a word in?"

She threw a cushion at him; it bounced off his shoulder and knocked some of the take-away boxes off the table.

"Shit ... sorry, I clean it up in a sec."

"Nah ... let me do that. After all, I invited this mess."

Sarah gazed at him, then smiled, before turning her head back into the direction of the TV set.

It was obvious that she didn't want to talk about it any more. No harm done, it would seem. So the incident was at least not going to be a problem after all. What else came out of that, and what the story with this Steve fellow was ... only time would tell.

6.

Valentine's Day. Although to his knowledge she hadn't seen this Steve guy since their first date, she had told him that she had a very special date in the evening. Everything had gone back to normal, the teasing, the flirting, feeling comfortable with each other, she even seemed to look at him more often, more attentive, almost tenderly at times. Had curled up against him on the sofa when watching telly, allowed him to stroke her hair. And then, she dropped the bomb. When asking her about her plans for this cursed day, she said she had a date. Crushed. He was. His hopes were.

The day went on in a haze. Who was this Steve, anyway? Some colleagues suggested to join them for some drinks, but he didn't feel like it. He wanted to be home as soon as possible, just in case this guy would pick her up and he could finally see what he was up against there. It must have been something serious; she had told him that she even took half a day off to get ready for the date. Why else would she have been so hush-hush about it? Maybe she wanted to spare his feelings.

Odd. Classical music coming from inside their flat? His hands shook when put the key in the hole. When opening the door he immediately noticed the unmistakable smell of something being cooked with wine. She could not be that callous ... inviting her date to their flat? Without even asking him? How cruel was that? After he had told her ...

"There you are ..."

Hump was completely taken aback, when he felt her body in his back, her arms wrapping around him and her face close to his.

"Happy Valentine ..."

He dropped his briefcase when she swung him around and kissed him. That was no friendship kiss, she went straight for his lips, and her tongue entered his mouth, as she pressed him against the hallway's wall. Hump was grateful to have some back support, his knees went wobbly, and he felt he was about to faint. She stopped kissing him and beamed.

"Looks like I managed to surprise you this time ..."

Hump was too stunned to answer. Or to react for that matter. Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the living room, where she had set the table for a romantic dinner.

"What ... how ... why ..."

"Questions, questions. They will all be answered. But now you need to get your sweet little arse at the table, after all I spent two fucking hours in the kitchen to prepare this thing. Make yourself useful and pour the wine for us, will you?"

Darn, she could cook ... she had never cooked for him, for as long as he knew her, in this lifetime at least. That was the next surprise. The tournedos were perfect, the wine sauce brilliant, he couldn't have done it any better. The choice of wine extraordinary, he was in a state of utter disbelief throughout the meal. She kept teasing him about it, seemed completely changed, she had never been so ... accessible, yes, that was what it was. She wanted him, wanted to be with him ... she ...

"Are you dreaming my love?"

"I ... still can't believe what is happening here ... why didn't you say anything? I mean ... you knew what I am feeling for you ..."

"Yes, of course. And you almost spoiled it. Anyway, looks like my little surprise worked out after all."

"You could certainly say that ... and the meal ... fabulous, I didn't even know you could cook at all ..."

"Oh, you are in for a few more surprises. Wait until the dessert ..."

"Dessert ... hmm ... well, what is that going to be?"

She got up as if she wanted to go to the kitchen, but then came up behind his chair and whispered in his ear.

"For dessert I am going to fuck your brains out."

He felt himself being pulled out of the chair and pushed onto the table. There was the sound of crockery falling to the floor, the feeling of his buttocks getting wet presumably from wine, the feeling of pain when something sharp met with his lower back. But all these sensations were negligible when her body descended on him, when her lips found his and locked in a passionate kiss.

More things fell to the floor, as she tugged and tore on his shirt and he struggled to keep some sort of balance. However, the angle was too weird and they crashed to the floor together with the table, which did not interrupt her ferocious attempts to get him out of his clothes for more than a few seconds. Her passion was infectious, and soon the sound of ripping fabric wasn't just coming from his but also her clothes. At least he succeeded in freeing one of her breasts, and tearing her skimpy panties off, when her skirt rode up high enough to allow him access.

Sarah was much more proficient, her hands soon wandered over his bare chest, her fingers trailing downwards until she fumbled around with his belt. When the zipper offered some resistance, she simply tore it with astonishing force. How long had he been dreaming about this moment, fantasizing about scenarios, but it had never been anything like this? There was no time to reminisce though, no time to think at all. He felt her hand at his cock and before he realised what happened she had already guided it inside of her.

It was accomplished, the curse was lifted, but even that realisation was just a flare on the horizon of his mind, a side-note on the page of unleashed passion and lust, as she rode him wildly and somewhat violently. Some sharp objects were still beneath him, everything a melange of pain and bliss. She halted a few times, her lips found his and locked into fiery kisses, to resume her forceful ride with renewed passion. Her face blurred before his eyes, dissolved into the faces of previous incarnations, and when it seemed to assume her face, he came straight away. Breathless silence, then she dismounted him and huddled up against him.

"Wow ... that was ... wow ..."

She had closed her eyes and smiled, a calm, content smile.

"You have no idea what this means for me ... you ..."

Her snickering seemed completely out of place.

"I know exactly what it means, inquisitor."

For a second he had the feeling he was about to lose his mind.

"You ... you knew? How could you ... didn't you say ..."

"You are so naïve ... What makes you think that a witch who is capable of putting such a curse on you is necessarily honest about the conditions?"

"You ... I don't believe this ... you wicked ... wily ..."

"Yes ... I am a witch after all. I confess. I have tortured you to the best of my ability for eight lifetimes now. And I enjoyed every minute of it."

"This is ... unbelievable ... how could you ... how ..."

"Well, you were not exactly kind to me on our first encounter, remember? And you know what the real tragedy was about that? I was in love with you even then. All you would have had to do was ask me, and we could have been together."

"You ... what?"

"I loved you then, I love you now, always have, always will."

Humphrey was too stunned to take all this in. The magnitude of her deception was just too much to comprehend. Although it felt weird to say this under these surreal circumstances, he knew that it was true for him also.

"Fuck ... yes, I love you too. Always have, always will."

The kiss obliterated all pain and eight lifetimes of chase and failure. She motioned him to get up and into her room. She quickly stripped off her clothes and he hastened to do the same with what was left of his. She rummaged through her dresser, as he sprawled out on the bed. Then she was on top of him again. Cold metal suddenly closed around his wrists, as she expertly handcuffed him to the bed.

"So now my love, if you think that I am done torturing you, think again ..."