much harder and she therefore resisted them, and
fought against them when awake, but they were inside her and came for her
whether she liked it or not when sleep wrested the controls from her
consciousness. She dreamt too of her Life, her shiny pride and joy, and
wondered now, in her sleep, at the trouble it had got her into. She promised
that when she got out of here she wouldn’t show it off again, and would keep it
close to her person, and would not carry such a flash version either. This was
when she got out of here. Getting out of here was such a huge subject, so
important, so everything , that its enormity woke her up.
Her own scream completed this process of waking.
Arghh!
She got out of bed. She leapt off Gentle’s near
lifeless body and screamed again at his aghast face. Then screamed inside her
own head, a noise horrible in itself, at the danger she was putting herself in
with all this screaming. She didn’t want anybody to come running in. She hoped
Wet Room 102 was as cut off as the two officers had claimed. Quickly she
wondered, could she just walk out of here, down the corridor, enter the lift,
and escape.
She adjusted Gentle’s body, slipped out of Wet Room
102, and swaggered along close to walls, making for the lift, her eyes alive
now and working her surroundings, working her options. She pressed the up button. The lift responded with its ting and its doors sprung open with their
mouthy kiss. She entered, excited.
‘Which floor, please?’ asked the elevator. This hadn’t
happened before, this was new.
‘Zero,’ said Delilah, pressing a button that to all
intents and purposes was white, yet just wasn’t quite.
‘No officer detected,’ said the elevator. ‘Which floor
please?’
‘One.’
‘Sorry. No officer detected.’
‘Two?’ said Delilah.
‘No officer detected. Which floor please?’
’99,’ suggested Delilah.
‘No. Find another lift, I won’t take you there.’
‘Please,’ said Delilah, frantically pressing a barely
perceptibly yet perhaps slightly less nearly white button than the previous
button, which she hoped might be the Floor 1 button. And then, when that failed
to have any effect, punched any other very, very light lilac buttons, which to
upset any rational thinker were arranged at random on the lift wall.
‘No officer detected,’ said the lift. ‘Elevator
resetting. Elevator resetting.’ And now the lift moved right. This was new too.
And this, Delilah’s sense of direction informed her, wasn’t up, right ,
her fear concurred, was wrong. She banged on the left button. Nothing
doing. She regretted leaving the wrench in the wet room. With it she’d have
hammered on the button to force the lift left , or smashed the lift up
enough so she could escape, prised its doors, or something. But maybe she was
better off without the murder weapon. She bashed the left button again
with her fist.
‘Ouch,’ said the elevator.
‘Let me out here,’ said Delilah. ‘I’m a plumber and
have work to do. I specialise in U-bends and stopcocks. I’m expected.’
‘Nonsense,’ said the elevator. ‘About all you
specialise in is blowjobs. Go on, give me one. You know you want to. Come on,
I’m very hot. Mouth and hand, it’s what I want. Get down.’
‘You’re crazy,’ said Delilah, remembering she’d been
recently crazy herself, and perhaps was again now – in a lift that
travelled right and asked of her sexual favours.
The lift said, as if sensing her self-doubt, ‘Come
now, young girl, I am only joking. Not about your not being a plumber, because
you are not, but about your administering me a blowjob. The truth is that I do
not even know what a blowjob is. I hear officers talk of this ‘blowjob’ with
such reverence and at the same time disgust that I know that it must be a
terrible thing. Mouth and hand? What would I know? I am a talking lift.’ The
talking lift paused, and asked very amiably, and without a trace of
embarrassment at its earlier
fought against them when awake, but they were inside her and came for her
whether she liked it or not when sleep wrested the controls from her
consciousness. She dreamt too of her Life, her shiny pride and joy, and
wondered now, in her sleep, at the trouble it had got her into. She promised
that when she got out of here she wouldn’t show it off again, and would keep it
close to her person, and would not carry such a flash version either. This was
when she got out of here. Getting out of here was such a huge subject, so
important, so everything , that its enormity woke her up.
Her own scream completed this process of waking.
Arghh!
She got out of bed. She leapt off Gentle’s near
lifeless body and screamed again at his aghast face. Then screamed inside her
own head, a noise horrible in itself, at the danger she was putting herself in
with all this screaming. She didn’t want anybody to come running in. She hoped
Wet Room 102 was as cut off as the two officers had claimed. Quickly she
wondered, could she just walk out of here, down the corridor, enter the lift,
and escape.
She adjusted Gentle’s body, slipped out of Wet Room
102, and swaggered along close to walls, making for the lift, her eyes alive
now and working her surroundings, working her options. She pressed the up button. The lift responded with its ting and its doors sprung open with their
mouthy kiss. She entered, excited.
‘Which floor, please?’ asked the elevator. This hadn’t
happened before, this was new.
‘Zero,’ said Delilah, pressing a button that to all
intents and purposes was white, yet just wasn’t quite.
‘No officer detected,’ said the elevator. ‘Which floor
please?’
‘One.’
‘Sorry. No officer detected.’
‘Two?’ said Delilah.
‘No officer detected. Which floor please?’
’99,’ suggested Delilah.
‘No. Find another lift, I won’t take you there.’
‘Please,’ said Delilah, frantically pressing a barely
perceptibly yet perhaps slightly less nearly white button than the previous
button, which she hoped might be the Floor 1 button. And then, when that failed
to have any effect, punched any other very, very light lilac buttons, which to
upset any rational thinker were arranged at random on the lift wall.
‘No officer detected,’ said the lift. ‘Elevator
resetting. Elevator resetting.’ And now the lift moved right. This was new too.
And this, Delilah’s sense of direction informed her, wasn’t up, right ,
her fear concurred, was wrong. She banged on the left button. Nothing
doing. She regretted leaving the wrench in the wet room. With it she’d have
hammered on the button to force the lift left , or smashed the lift up
enough so she could escape, prised its doors, or something. But maybe she was
better off without the murder weapon. She bashed the left button again
with her fist.
‘Ouch,’ said the elevator.
‘Let me out here,’ said Delilah. ‘I’m a plumber and
have work to do. I specialise in U-bends and stopcocks. I’m expected.’
‘Nonsense,’ said the elevator. ‘About all you
specialise in is blowjobs. Go on, give me one. You know you want to. Come on,
I’m very hot. Mouth and hand, it’s what I want. Get down.’
‘You’re crazy,’ said Delilah, remembering she’d been
recently crazy herself, and perhaps was again now – in a lift that
travelled right and asked of her sexual favours.
The lift said, as if sensing her self-doubt, ‘Come
now, young girl, I am only joking. Not about your not being a plumber, because
you are not, but about your administering me a blowjob. The truth is that I do
not even know what a blowjob is. I hear officers talk of this ‘blowjob’ with
such reverence and at the same time disgust that I know that it must be a
terrible thing. Mouth and hand? What would I know? I am a talking lift.’ The
talking lift paused, and asked very amiably, and without a trace of
embarrassment at its earlier
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