Last Train to Retreat by Gustav Preller Read Free Book Online Page A

slipped into bed naked, pressing her fragrant body against Lena’s. Lena gave a startled little cry. This time the girl went further. She cupped one of Lena’s breasts, ran her tongue over the hardening nipple then took it in her mouth. A strange sensation swept through Lena. With broken breath she let Sarai suck and bite her. Caught in the dark, Lena had no time to think, only to feel, and what she was feeling was surprisingly good. It seemed all too brief – a matter of seconds to Lena – before it changed into something disturbing once more.
    Lena pushed Sarai away, ‘I’m a woman … surely it’s a man that you want?’
    ‘I only do men for money, Lena, nothing else. So I can pay men like Cupido and go home. Hah, men in Cape Town not for loving! When I think of loving I think of women, beautiful women.’
    ‘You can’t mean
I’m
beautiful?’
    ‘More than you think, Lena, you just don’ look after yourself – no make-up, no perfume, no hip swing, no sweet look in eyes. And you good person, like some
farangs
I know back home. You kill for me … ah, you prefer men, is that why you don’ want me?’
    ‘God, no, Sarai, I hate them, how can I want them!’
    ‘But … but … I don’ understand, we both don’ want men. So why not …’
    ‘It’s a long story I’ve told no one …’
    ‘You don’ want me here anymore, Lena, I am too much trouble!’
    ‘No, you’re not. Listen to me, with no papers you’ll be arrested and sent to a terrible, terrible place, Sarai, and you may never see your home again. You have to stay here.’ Lena had visions of the girl out there on her own and cracking up, telling all out of fear and desperation. She kissed Sarai, and whispered, ‘I
want
you to stay, okay?’
    But Sarai seemed inconsolable. She cried herself to sleep in Lena’s arms leaving Lena with an unsettling feeling that the girl was going to be more difficult to manage in the weeks ahead. On her own, cooped up in the house during the day, and not getting the kind of love she expected from Lena, Sarai could become dangerously discontented. Lena’s survival depended on retaining control of her and at this moment she had no idea how she was going to do it other than entering into a steamy relationship. But the brief, delicious sensation was nowhere near compelling enough for Lena to forget what had happened in her father’s house. No amount of scrubbing in the shower could remove the slime Elton Valentine had left on her. Whoever touched her thereafter would feel it, sooner or later, because
she
could feel it.
    Could she ever let go and lose herself – with anyone? Lena doubted it – her rage was hotter than any passion.
    •
     
    Lena encouraged Sarai to go to the shops during the day if she felt like it – to get out, to buy groceries, milk, bread, and fruit – but not to engage in any conversation. ‘You never know who you could be talking to,’ she warned. ‘We don’t want the police coming here asking questions. Don’t forget, although
I
killed Cupido, we were
both
there and you did hate him, Sarai. What if the cops say you helped me? You’ll never get back to your island.’
    The girl would nod gravely and take the money Lena gave her. She would be at home when Lena returned from work but Lena could see she was getting edgy. One day Lena found her on hands and knees cleaning the linoleum kitchen floor with a wet cloth. Although Lena had never seen her do it she thought nothing of it. It was only when Lena prepared dinner and saw Sarai cleaning the floor for the third time that Lena asked her to stop. Sarai became argumentative, insisting that the floors were ‘very, very dirty’ and that germs and cooking didn’t go together. She was bright and alert but aggressive, not letting Lena finish a sentence. Her final act of defiance was to remove her T-shirt and bra and start on the floor again, breasts swinging as she cleaned. They mesmerised Lena – they were like low-hanging, swaying