Experiment With Destiny by Stephen Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

cast an orange-red glow over the polished stone floor. With slow, deliberate steps he paced toward the annex, his ears attuned to any unwanted approach. His arduous passage was undisturbed. To the left and the right were rooms boasting a wealth of icons from time-shrouded yesterdays. Costumed figures and stuffed animals seemed to fidget and twitch in the flickering half light. Marcus did not mind. It was the living he feared most. A series of busts regarded his progress in silence as he approached the annex. He gave them no more than a cursory glance as he reached his goal. At last he passed beneath the board that read: ‘Old Cathays and University – An Exhibition supported by City Developments in association with the National Assembly’. Inhaling deeply, Marcus Smith entered the temple of his desires.
                  Inside his holy chapel he stopped. Even in the comparative darkness it was beautiful beyond comprehension. The sight of it captured him like a moth in the light. His heart fluttered in awe as the twilight of history melted into the dawning of his dream. It stole his breath. A distant noise snatched him from the trance and he realised he could not afford to immerse himself in the unbridled power of his vision, not yet. For the present he had to shun his desires and concentrate. There would be time enough for fulfilment once the object of his lust was liberated from this unfitting chamber.
                  The picnic basket was open and the plastic food was neatly arranged on the chequered rug, alongside the cutlery, bottles of wine, napkins and the old record player. The green felt sheet, however, was rolled up and resting in the corner, adjacent to a pair of mannequins. Marcus studied them. They were, as best they could be, male and female and dressed in authentic period costume. The woman’s gown, ostentatiously flowing and decorated with lace frills at its cuffs and hem, must have been white but in the eerie glow of the security lighting it appeared a sickly yellow. Her lifeless partner was attired in white flannel trousers, a white collarless shirt and a blue blazer with some braided insignia over the pocket, perhaps the former university’s crest. His crudely painted head was crowned with a genuine straw boater.
                  A thrill of excitement coursed through Marcus’s body. With almost superhuman effort he reigned in his urge to linger in this potent atmosphere of blissful reverie. Stirring his limbs into action, he began packing the record player, food, wine and cutlery into the basket, gently lowering each item with both hands as if it was composed of fine crystal. Once packed to the brim, he neatly folded up the rug and placed it, along with the napkins, on top of the basket, carefully pressing closed its wicker lid.
    Then he turned his attention to the mannequins, first undressing the male. He held the shirt and trousers against his own body. They were perhaps a size or two larger than he required but that would not matter. Pausing only to listen out for any approach, he began to strip away his own clothes, peeling them off as though they were filthy rags. The mannequin had only been fitted with outer garments and there was a moment of indecision when Marcus stood shivering in just his underpants. He knew how cold it would be outside, but should he allow his own comfort to mar the purity of his fulfilment? A quick glance at the woman confirmed his decision. Turning away from her oddly demure smile he yanked off his pants and flung them on the pile of his abandoned clothes. Standing naked in the hallowed temple of history, the dust of his elders swirling around him and filling his lungs, he began to feel aroused. His mind flashed with the memories of Misty and her whispered obscenities, but he thrust them aside as he had his clothing and reached for the white flannel trousers, trying to ignore his growing erection. The heavy woven fabric brushed