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A full-bodied red continued. As Sarah tilted her head back, a small dribble of red liquid crept from the corner of her mouth and slowly slid down on to her chin before falling on to the pristine white dress where it spread like a wound across her breast. Emma watched, mesmerised by the growing circle of darkening red, reminding her of the stain that had penetrated that hideous spear. The revolting image made Emma shiver with disgust. "Do you like the wine?" asked Sarah solicitously. "Some people find it a little heavy, almost treacly. But I prefer to call it full-bodied. A full-bodied red with a strangely tangy, cloying taste." She laughed genteely and as she did so Emma noticed that her beautiful teeth were tinted a pale shade of crimson. "The only trouble is it does seem to stain everything it touches. Rather like the stuff this African tribe used for decorating their bodies. They believed that if they painted themselves with a mixture of clay and blood from their enemies they'd be forever rid of the evil spirits of their victims. So a couple caught in adultery would be ritually slaughtered and the remaining husband or wife would be daubed with the blood of the offending couple." Emma shivered with distaste. The uncontrolled movement caused some of the wine to spill on to her dress, and the crimson liquid spread slowly through the fibres like dark lava eating its way through to her body. "You mean they actually killed them? Just for making love?" Emma asked. "For making love with the wrong person," Sarah corrected her. "How awful. Like cannibals!" "Not really cannibalistic," said Sarah. "They didn't actually eat their victims. The bodies were left for the vultures to peck at." Emma's eyes wandered towards the macabre painting of vultures fighting over the remains of a corpse. "You're not really serious?" Emma asked nervously. "It's just a story? A myth?" "Well, that's what I used to think," agreed Sarah, "until I came across this death mask of a man who was supposedly killed for adultery." She took the hideous object with its dark piggy eyes and yellow parchment skin on a shrunken head, and offered it to her guest. "Apparently the elders of the tribe made death masks of both male and female adulterers --- after they'd drunk their blood." The scream that came from the other woman was a mixture of fear and nausea. She automatically let go of her glass and the red wine splattered across her breast, her stomach, and her thighs, like a dark, congealing river. She started to retch violently, uncontrollably, as she stumbled from that elegant room, and ran, still retching, down the long, long driveway to her waiting car. *** It was almost dark when the phone rang in that same elegant room. The broken glass and debris of the afternoon had been cleared away and order restored to those graceful surroundings. Sarah was sitting quietly, reading a magazine, when the phone interrupted her pleasant thoughts. She immediately recognised her husband's voice at the other end of the line. It was as if he were in the next room rather than in a cosy hotel somewhere in the Swiss Alps. They chatted about this and that. He told her that the snow was great which was why he'd decided to stay on for another few days, and had she remembered to ring the office and let them know? "As a matter of fact Emma was here earlier this afternoon," Sarah said. "Emma?" "Your secretary. Emma Pearson." There was a noticeable pause. Then her husband's voice came across a little hesitantly as he asked why his secretary had called at his home. "She was worried about you," explained Sarah. "The poor thing." "Why?" "Because you told her you'd be back in the office today. And when you didn't turn up she got all concerned. Didn't know where to contact you. You know what these adoring little secretaries are like." "She knew I was on a skiing holiday." 'Yes, but she probably imagined you'd met with some awful accident and pictured you lying under ten feet of virgin snow." Sarah used the word deliberately. "She might even have thought I'd done away with you for some unaccountable reason." Her laughter over the phone did little to ease the nervousness at the other end of the line. "And --- how was she?" "Fine. Just fine," answered Sarah, choosing her words carefully. "We had a nice little chat and I think we understand each other perfectly. Now." "Good." Robert's voice was thick with tension. "That's all right then." "The only unfortunate thing was that the poor girl came over a little queer." "Queer?" "Yes. You know, unwell, sick. Kept vomiting. Had to leave hurriedly." "Poor thing." He paused. "Perhaps it was something she ate?" "Perhaps." Sarah smiled to herself. "Or maybe something she drank!"
The End ************* Copyright James Wood. All copyrights reserved
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