The Garden of Light and Darkness - Part 7 (Incomplete)

After crossing the garden at a brisk walk, we're finally out of sight and can pick up the pace. Line leads the way. Through rooms and swirling corridors we go. Once, I nearly walk straight into a corner and barely catch myself. Both reaction time and balance are worse than they strictly should be. The drink has gone to my head. Must be the bubbles.

"Hurry!"

Line grabs me and pulls me onward. Has one of them gotten hurt? I hope it doesn't involve permanent mutilation—but why would that require secrecy? Surely it can't be something as serious as a suicide attempt? The faces of Kajsa and Berit flash through my mind, blinking with unease. Kajsa's blinks brightest. She's the one I'm most worried about now.

We reach a bathroom door near the children's bedrooms. Line stops and looks at me.

"It's here."

I yank open the door and am about to step inside when I'm shoved from behind. Staggering into the harsh bathroom light, I see Kajsa sitting on the closed toilet lid, with Berit standing beside her. Their heads turn toward me simultaneously. The door locks with a click.

Berit points at her friend.

"She's scared. You'll have to comfort her."

Meanwhile, Kajsa flips up the toilet lid, fusses beneath her sheer pink dress for a moment, then pulls down her pink panties. She hikes up the translucent chiffon and lowers her bottom onto the seat. Before the fabric settled, I saw the full curve of her rounded hips. I'm aware of Line leaning knowingly against the door. Ahead, Kajsa's outstretched hand finds mine. She looks up at me with the roundest blue eyes imaginable and gently squeezes my hand. Her red lips part slightly.

It’s impossible to say how many breathless moments pass. Blonde. Blue. Red. I melt into color and beauty, sensuality and impropriety. In the altered landscapes of honeyed intoxication, another insight comes to me. Form and color and energy merge—I understand they are one. This revelation is accompanied by the sound of a faint trickling stream.

"Ah," Kajsa sighs. The stream intensifies, seemingly filling the entire room. Her blue eyes glaze but don't waver, and she exhales a long, feminine "Aaahh."

My face flares like Vulcan's forge itself and must be glowing just as red. I realize that I am short of breath and that my lips are trembling. The steady grip on Kajsa's hand is anything but.

A final trickle, then another, and the stream gradually diminishes. "Ah," Kajsa concludes peacefully.

"Now you can wipe her," Berit commands.

This is what they want. No matter what I do, I've been outmaneuvered. I can't feign indifference because I'm already completely off-balance. Whether I act like a rigidly formal autistic person or parade my passion makes no difference—the outcome remains the same. I'll be laughed out of the room, and they'll have their revenge for whatever crime they've decided I committed. Unless... I escalate the situation and give them more than they bargained for. Mercury is my guiding god, so the realization of what I must do comes in a flash and enters the world that very instant.

Sucking on an imaginary pipe in the corner of my mouth and cackling a lecherous old man's chuckle, I set my persona into motion.

"Aye, grandpappy's gotta have control of the young cunt, y'know!" It's one of those extinct dialects now reserved solely for comedy. Though truth be told, all Norwegian dialects are dead. "But ev'ry time I visit the children's room, it reeks o' fish. Hope her mum don't notice now!" With that, I grab under Kajsa's thighs and tip her backward. She lets out a cry, but follows the movement all the way down. Her legs rise, completely exposing her sex. Fascinatingly, a small stripe of golden-blonde pubic hair crowns the top—though I've no time to linger. The most precious commodity in the universe: blonde cunts. Why must Berit shave hers? She's in second place. I tear off sheets from the roll and fold them double. Kajsa gets wiped, the paper discarded. This repeats several times.

I can only imagine the gaping expressions of my audience. Kajsa is overwhelmed but seemingly resigned. Well, she clearly tolerates everything, given how her friend treats her. First as an object of defense, then as a weapon, and now a victim to the world's most unrestrained man.

"Gotta wipe every trace of where grandpappy has been!"