On the Origin of Species: Chapter Five. Part 4

Early spring. Morgonborg Estate, middle of Scandinavia.

-”Back straight! Elbows in! Eye contact, young lady! You always maintain eye contact with someone who’s addressing you. No, no, no! You never raise the glass higher than your chin. The one proposing a skål may raise the glass to eye level, but no one else, understand? And smile a little, would you? It’s your seventh birthday, not a memorial service!”

The skinny little girl with long red hair, skillfully arranged into an intricate twirl of thick braids, sat in front of numerous different types of drinking glasses and cutlery, her expression one of absolute indifference, at the far end of a long, massive oak table. Outside it was already dark, even though it was barely past noon, and the hard winds sent snow bombarding against the stained glass, inaudible but visibly pilling up against the bottoms of the tall windows. The thick stone walls protected the little girl from the freezing elements outside, but they could do little to protect her from the cold relationships that resided within them.

-“Yes, aunt Solveig.” The little girl delicately lifted an empty glass to her chin, turned her head and looked to her left, then to her right, and took an imaginary sip before looking her aunt in the eyes and setting it back down.

-“Excellent! I think we’re done here. Now, go and put on the new dress; make yourself presentable. Your parents will be returning any minute now, and you don’t want them to see their oldest looking like some farmer’s daughter, would you, after not having seen her for six months? That just wouldn’t reflect well on me, now would it?

- “No, aunt Solveig.” All that matters is how things reflect.

-“No, it wouldn’t. Why are you just sitting there? Chop, chop! Get to it, young lady!”

-“Immediately, aunt Solveig.” The little girl lifted a napkin from her lap and dabbed the corners of her mouth, removing any imaginary residue from the imaginary meal. She stood up and dropped the napkin on the chair, like she’d done innumerous times before, thanking her aunt by curtsying and meeting her gaze. She strode, almost mechanically, down the scarcely lit cathedral-like room. She didn’t have to look at the walls to know that they were lined with a long row of old paintings featuring bearded old men. Dead relatives, their stern faces and judging eyes watching her every step, constantly reminding her of where her family came from and what was expected of its living members. The little girl stopped for a brief moment below the final portrait, looking into the unsympathetic oil-painted blue eyes of her own father, seemingly looking down upon her. After him there was nothing, just a five or six meter span of bare, grey and cold stone, an empty void waiting to be filled with the continuation of what had come before, setting the backdrop for her continued walk. And the rest of my life…

-“Good! Very good… I must say that I had my doubts, young lady. But I think, one day, you will grow to be a fine woman, Elenore.”

Ten years later. Club VIP, Paris, France.

-“Bon soi-…etes-vous… -odèle?”

The music was loud and the base deep, and even though he sat down right next to her he didn’t lean in close enough, only every other word being audible. It didn’t matter, however. Her extensive experience of being on the receiving end of pick-up lines allowed her to fill in the gaps. Predictably, he had asked the same question that was posed to her every time she went to the club: are you a model? She didn’t answer him. She didn’t even look at him. She had seen him walk towards her and already knew everything she needed to know about him; Parisian, very good looking, late twenties, most likely an investment banker or real-estate agent, probably not ”from money” but rather made his own, and he seemed comfortable on the club scene. He’s been to this club many times before and he had his friends nearby to fall back on, but she could tell that he preferred to pick-up girls solo. And I bet he’s picked up his share of women here, she imagined.

Even though they were sitting down he could tell that she was tall, taller than him even, which was a little intimidating. And unlike practically all other women there, her clothes seemed more… plain. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a simple t-shirt with some print on the front that he couldn’t quite make out, and only a few pieces of jewelry. It all would have looked sloppy on anyone else, but her gorgeous figure and confident pose, combined with that strikingly beautiful lightly freckled face and long red hair, created a cognitive dissonance in the onlooker that made her irresistibly alluring. And this was clearly deliberate.

She looked to be in her early twenties but in reality she was no more than seventeen. An easily made mistake for despite her young age, her nature was far from childish. She had been living on her own since she was ten, when she took the first chance she got to escape the family estate and attend boarding school in Switzerland. After that came Milano, later Dubai and now Paris. She visited home every now and then, on some holiday or to join the family and its friends on the yearly elk hunt, but she tried to stay away as much as she could. She didn’t talk much with her parents, and it was unmistakably clear to her that they silently approved of her absence.

So, what now? she asked herself, only slightly amused. Don’t tell me you’re going to offer me a drink?

-“Puis-je vous offrir un verre?” He got the attention of a waitress walking by and said something to her.

Boring, and predictable. Before she could reply, her two friends arrived back from the bathroom and sat down next to them.

-“Elli, you naughty girl! Leave you alone for a minute and you’ve already found fresh meat!” The tall, dark haired girl giggled and smiled, her teeth emanating an almost supernatural gleam in the UV-light. She leaned over the table towards him, exposing a generous bosom to his field of view, and extended an open hand. “Hi there, cutie! I’m Tasha.”

-“Je m’app… I…” He had to pause to find the correct words. He understood English and could speak it well enough, even though his pronunciation was distinctly French.

-“Aww, the little thing is nervous. Cat got your tongue, honey?”

Her eyes… He couldn’t stop starring. She had brown skin, and her facial features hinted partly at some Native American descent, but her eyes were shockingly deep blue. After a moment of embarrassing silence, he finally managed to say his name.

-“Sébastien. I am Sébastien” He shook her hand and found her grip to be unexpectedly firm.

-“Nice to meet you, Sébastien! This here is Stephanie and… “ Tasha turned to Elli. “Oh, sorry for butting in. Were you two..?” She smiled playfully and gestured with her hands back and forth between them.

Elli raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Definitely not. You can have him…” She turned to look at Sébastien for the first time since he’d sat down next to her. “If you want, that is.”

Before Sébastien had a chance to translate a rather rude reply into English, a waiter interrupted them by placing a large silver bowl filled with ice and four bottles of vintage Dom Pérignon on the table in front of them. Tasha, along with her blonde friend Stephanie, clapped their hands in delight while the redhead seemed more reserved. Sébastien’s heart sank as he started to silently panic. Putain de merde! He distinctly remembered having ordered something else, not four bottles of extremely expensive champagne. This would certainly empty his expense account, if he even had that much on it, but he couldn’t very well tell these girls that this wasn’t what he had ordered, nor that he couldn’t pay for it. That would make him look pathetic.

Tasha and the blonde had already popped a bottle and started pouring everyone a glass, while Sébastien slowly and reluctantly fumbled for his wallet. He noticed the redhead, Elli, looking right at him with those green eyes, a barely discernible smile on her lips. She observed him closely, amused, obviously understanding and very much enjoying his current predicament. He didn’t notice at first, or perhaps he didn’t want to, but after he had been tapped several times on the shoulder, he had to turn his attention around.

Carrying a tray with two drinks and two raspberry shots on it, a waitress asked Sébastien if this was his order. He turned to look at the redhead again, who at that moment took a deep drink of champagne and waited several long and distressing seconds before swallowing. She evidently knew that he was looking at her, so she licked her lips sensually, catching the last droplets of champagne, and turned to look at him just as she handed her credit card to the waiter who had brought them the bottles.

Sébastien couldn’t decide whether he felt relieved or utterly defeated, but the evening continued notwithstanding. He soon moved over to the redhead’s two friends instead, who were both gorgeous and unquestionably more talkative. He started hitting it off with the one called Tasha, who he discovered was born in Brazil of a German father and indigenous mother, and all three girls worked for the same modeling agency here in Paris. Tasha was beautiful, fun and spontaneous, everything you could want in a girl, but the incident with the bottles had left Sébastien feeling slightly humiliated, and the more time past, and the more they drank, the more it was nagging at him. What’s her problem? The few things she said were just shy of rude and she’d been spending more time texting on her phone than talking to him and her friends. I really hate that girl, he concluded. And I want her more than anything in the world.

A few of Sébastien’s friends had come over and to his annoyance; Elli had started talking to one of them. Well, more like listening to one. She didn’t do much talking. The champagne bottles were now empty and shots had been ordered in. After everyone had downed several each, and the music had become much louder as it was nearing closing time, and with Sébastien’s resolve strengthened by the large quantities of alcohol consumed, he decided to grab Tasha’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. She was also quite inebriated but she smiled cheerfully and skipped along as best she could, but on the dance floor she was a sensuous whirlwind with her hips and arms moving boldly, although far from in tune with the beat, and she was drawing the attention of more boys than just Sébastien. She rubbed up against him, her back against his crouch, moving and grinding expertly, while looking over her shoulder and into his eyes. She was ungodly sexy.

Looking past her shoulder, Sébastien could see the redhead making her way through the crowded dance floor, coming towards them. She walked slowly, confidently, sensually, her gaze continuously fixed on his, like a cheetah ready to pounce on its prey. She walked up to them, still holding Sébastien’s stare, and put one hand on Tasha backside and the other behind her head. She whispered something to her then leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

What does she want now? He was irritated, but at the same time he had trouble hiding his obvious arousal, his erection pushing hard against the fabric of his jeans. The redhead leaned back and looked at Sébastien with the same quasi-arrogant smile as before, as she grabbed Tasha by the arm and turned to walk away. What? Are they leaving?

-“Hey, your… Quel est votre problem? Huh?” Sébastien was angry. What could have been a perfect night was now ruined by that redhead. “Tu te prends pour qui, connasse?!” Who the fuck does this girl think she is?

His following tirade of insulting questions was silenced by the simplest of gestures and his mood changed instantly. Remarkably strange, how that can happen, as the result of such a simple thing. The redhead had not turned her head to look at him, neither had she said anything. All she had done was raise an arm leisurely, while she walked away, and winked at him with one finger. Come with us.

The sex had been quite good, she concluded when she carefully, as to not wake the others, made her way out of the huge bed and into the luxurious bathroom, in desperate need of a hot shower to wash away the sweat from last night’s activities.

Tasha had been the sole subject Elli’s desire, but she hadn’t known the girl for that long and wasn’t sure if she was bisexual, and that was where Sébastien had came in handy. She had offered them both a ride and watched the two of them make out in the limo on the way to her place, where they were invited up for a drink. Thing’s after that happened quickly and she faced no resistance when she kissed Tasha and started taking off her clothes.

Elli didn’t care about Sébastien; he was nothing, simply a means to an end. All her sexual energy was focused on Tasha and her sweet, brown body. But a penis is always useful. He came quickly however, and shortly thereafter for a second time, but that didn’t discourage the girls. To the contrary, now they could spend the rest of their vigor attending only each other’s needs. Reminiscing on that moment, Elli’s hand made its way down her wet and soap covered chest and started caressing the folds of her still swollen labia.

When she left the apartment, wearing a beige summer dress with a brown belt, roman sandals and large, dark sunglasses, she told her maid to prepare them breakfast and see to her still sleeping guests every need, because she really couldn’t be bothered. “Morning after” had never been her thing and she always found the conversations awkward or simply boring. She preferred to be alone, having her usual cappuccino, croissant and fruit salad for breakfast in a nearby café instead.

After being seated, she checked her phone and quickly deleted twenty or so texts without reading them. Drunk guys (and a few girls) seeking just a moment of her attention. Among the few ones deserving her attention was one from her little sister, who she hadn’t talked to in months:

Sis!! Don’t know if you’ve
heard but we bought some
factory in the US. Moving
there in a year or so. Dad
wants you to come.
Call me, plz? Kisses!

Elli put the phone down and took a sip of her coffee. Sure, like papa would want me to come live with them, she reasoned. Most likely mama convinced him, or forced him, to invite me. It had been apparent to Elli, from the very day that she was born, that her father had hoped for someone else in her place. He wanted a son, but he got two dotters. He wanted her to study finance in London, but she chose fashion design in Paris. He wanted her to find a nice boyfriend, but she’d rather have a girlfriend (even though she introduced some guy to her family every once in a while; a mock-boyfriend, for appearances mostly). And so on. Why should I go? I’d rather disappoint him from half way around the world than right in front of his face.

She took a bite out of her croissant and ordered a glass of freshly squeezed orange and lemon juice. Restless, she picked up her phone again and checked the usual social media sites. As always; hundreds of new PM:s, tags and tweets had been directed at her since she last checked, which was about eight hours ago. She responded to a few, but couldn’t really focus. She took a quick picture of her breakfast, with her smooth and slightly bronzed bare thighs in frame, shimmering in the early morning sunlight. She posted the picture along with a comment about life being beautiful or something similar, sighed deeply, and decided to reply to her sister:

Hi Hedda. I can’t. My agency
got me a job in Hong Kong
and I’ll be gone a full year.
After that to Rio. Take care.

The waiter brought the juice to her table and she drank half right away, hoping it would neutralize some of the lingering hang-over, which it didn’t. It only reminded her of the mimosas she had last night. Her phone notified her to an incoming text from her sister:

Come on!! Dad’s like different
now. They got a University there,
also. Take some lame course or
something. Just come! Please!
I love you, you know!!1

All her life, Elli had kept her distance from her family. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. She enjoyed living on her own, doing whatever she liked, or doing whoever she liked, whenever she liked. She was living the good life, the fast life, with breakfast in Venice, lunch in Saint Tropez, and late night dinner on Ibiza. But even though she didn’t like to admit it to herself, a troubling feeling had lingered in the back of her mind during the last couple of months, and this text had brought it to the surface. I don’t really belong anywhere. Soon she wouldn’t be a teenager anymore; perhaps she should reconnect with her family, see if her father had indeed changed.  If she did, and he had, it would undoubtedly change her life completely.

No! She dismissed that thought. It’s the hangover making me sentimental, she concluded. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone!

She paid the check and left.

Two years later. Near the ruins of Ur-Sagol, Felarya.

Voices? Elli quickly pulled a hand through her still rain soaked hair, making it somewhat presentable and got to her feet. She took a step towards where she thought the voices had come from.

-“Mr Martin, is that you guys? Answer me!”

No answer.

The pinch of temporarily instilled hope quickly gave way to irritation. She had been roving the forest for days now without finding a trace of anyone, let alone her former class mates. The small heavenly respite she had gotten from bathing in the river a few days ago had quickly been replaced by downright wretchedness. She had no food, no change of clothes and she’d been sleeping out in the open, on the ground. On the fucking ground!

-“If you’re hiding from me, I swear, I-”

She tried to make her way around a row of small (to her) trees, but got frustrated, trampled them down and walked over them. On the other side, the forest opened up into a clearing. Where are they? She stopped, stood as still as she could and surveyed the area, listening intently. Nothing? Great, I’m starting to lose my mind…

But she wasn’t. In the corner of her eye she caught movement. Something small scurried a few feet across the open ground and into a nearby bush. Elli quickly rushed over, crouched down and started searching.

-“Come out, now!” The bush was too thick to see where it might be hiding, so she started ripping the vegetation up by the roots. Her attention was drawn to something cowering underneath a root, within her arms reach, and was about to make grab for it when she heard a small voice coming from behind her.

-“I said; over here!”

Elli quickly stood up and turned around. There, only a few feet behind her, was a hole in the ground and in that hole was a tiny man, about the same size as her former class mates, but clearly not one of them. The hole he was in was perfectly evenly shaped; with walls smooth and deep enough as to not allow him to climb out. At its bottom lay small broken twigs and dry leaves spread about; which made it all look artificial, like it was there for a purpose. It’s a trap to catch tiny creatures, she concluded, and it caught him.

-“Y-yes, down here, you… you overgrown, pale…” The man, dressed in what Elli would describe as primitive tribal clothing, was yelling at her, trying as best he could to sound confident, but she could tell - by his posture and the shifts in the tone of his voice - that he was utterly terrified. “T-that’s right, come over here! Co-come and… eat me! EAT ME!”

Elli stopped, those last words lingering in her ears. Eat him? As she looked down on the minuscule person her stomach let out a low growl, signaling that she hadn’t had a meal in days, and to her surprise her mouth started to water heavily. Weird. Why does he look so… appetizing? She rested the fingers of her left hand against her neck and could not only imagine what it would be like to eat him; somehow she could remember what it would be like. To feel him rolling around on her tongue, squirming and pushing against her gums, as she wetted and tasted him. To feel him wiggle is way down her throat after her tongue had undulated beneath him, forcing his tiny, fighting and screaming form up against her palate, into her gullet and down her throat...

 -“Hey! You don’t need to look any further!” he screamed. “I’m right here!”

Elli crouched down next to the hole and with her towering form being this close; the tiny man couldn’t hide his fear anymore, as he closed his eyes and stumbled backwards until his back was against the wall. “P-please! J-just… Just make it quick…”

-“Where are we?” Elli asked politely but firmly, not allowing there to be any room for misunderstanding as to who was in charge.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the titanic and frighteningly beautiful woman looming above, her long red hair cascading down to the ground from either side of her lightly freckled face. His young mind was racing with mixed emotions. Had she been his size, or he been hers, then he could easily imagining falling for her, despite her strange clothes and rather pale skin. But, at their current size difference, she was an enormous beast and he was nothing but a tiny morsel; barely enough to sate her appetite for more than a few minutes. She would swallow him, like he imagined she had done with so many thousand of his kind before, and forget him. Move on, continue living her life, and he’d be gone.

He tensed up and instinctively pushed himself back against the dirt wall as the giantess’ hand descended towards him. He had been brought up with stories, stories about this or that member of the tribe having been caught and eaten, and knew that this would eventually be his fate. He knew that this was only natural. Still, none of this mental preparation helped to alleviate the fear when he felt those huge and very real fingers wrap themselves around his torso and lift him out of the hole and up into the air.

-“I said; where are we? South America?”

Those lips… He didn’t register anything she said, his mind petrified by the movements of those massive pink lips and the tongue behind them. There are few things as normal, as mundane, as looking at a talking mouth. You do it all the time. But this, this looked entirely different, completely novel, like nothing he’d ever seen before. Where those words come out, he dreaded. I’ll be going in…

 -“For the last time, little man.” She raised him to eyelevel. “Where are we?”

-“W-we…” Why isn’t she eating me? “We’re… here?”

Elli rolled her eyes, letting out a small sigh of annoyance.

-“Not helpful. What country is this?”

-“I don’t know…” Will she spare me if I can answer these questions? He didn’t understand what was going on. Or, does she want to know where she can find and eat the rest of my tribe?

-“You speak my language. Who taught you? Missionaries?”

-“My-shi-nar… I don’t…” This can’t help her find my tribe, can it? “I’ve always talked like this. We all do.”

Simply perfect! The ONE person I find out here, and he just so happens to be an ignoramus. Elli sighed deeply, visibly irritated, air rushing out her nostrils, causing the young man’s long brown hair to swirl.

-“Is there a city nearby? A town perhaps? Any place with a working phone will do.” Or even better; a working shower! Elli could discern on his tiny face that he was still confused, so she tried a different approach. “Roads? Are there any roads here? You know; a long, open, flat stretch of ground, made to travel upon?”

He knew what a road was, even though he’d only seen one in his entire life, and he knew it led to a city he’d heard about, but in turn never seen: Negav. For what he had heard, the city was impenetrable to giant creatures, but he could be mistaken, and wouldn’t want to be the one who caused the death of the hundreds or so (he imagined) people living there. He remained silent.

Enough of this. Elli could tell that he was hiding something and since the nice approach hadn’t worked, perhaps she should try a different strategy.

-“If you’re not going to give me information, you might as well give me nourishment.”

The tiny man instantly started to protest and squirm in her grip. Well, it’s having the desired effect, she mused. She tilted her head back and shook it lightly so that her long hair would fall over her shoulders and rest against her back. Still won’t talk? Okay, then. Let’s step it up. She liked her lips, slowly and meaningfully, letting her tongue glide along her upper lip, leaving a glistening veneer of saliva in its wake.

Like with her class mate Michael, she didn’t intend on eating him, only scaring him. But when she held the tiny man there, above her mouth, something triggered in the back of her mind. Something instinctive, primal, animalistic; urging her conscious mind to act. Eat him, it told her. Just drop him in and swallow. She could feel her mouth watering and, even more to her surprise, a tingling sensation in her loins. He was helpless in her hands, subject to her whim, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop her. And who would ever know?

-“It’s up to you.” She lowered him until his feet touched her lips and then spoke huskily, letting her humid breath wash over him. “Are you going to answer my questions…” She snapped her teeth together in a biting motion, forcing the tiny boy to lift his feet up. “… or not?”