Violent Silence
by Paul Mayersberg
Pandora Hammond is a contented
married mother. Contented, that is, until she has a random and wildly
passionate encounter with a complete stranger in an exclusive Los Angeles
hotel. Far away in the Arizona desert, Pandora's husband Alec is at work on a
movie, when a young woman - a girl he has been having an affair with - a dies
on set during a stunt. These two events are connected by enigmatic daredevil
Charles Wildman, who crashes into their world. Cars, terror tactics, sensory
deprivation and guns - all are deployed in the war to win Pandora, body and
soul of Pandora.
~ * ~
Excerpt:
He had been there on Tuesday
morning sitting alone at the same table in the dining room. After the game
Pandora had a late breakfast with her tennis partner, Beverly, who was the
mother of a school friend of her daughter. She liked the room in the Bel Air
Hotel. It was old-fashioned, luxurious, a large dining room in pale green and
pink. Apple and salmon were two of her favorite colors.
Today was Friday and she was back
with Beverly. The man looked at her frequently. When she looked back at him she
had to smile. It was acceptable as a conventional smile of recognition. The
fact was she liked the look of him. He seemed to epitomize the cool Californian
man. He had a tanned, bland intelligence. Pandora came from New Hampshire. She
had married a young architect, Alec Hammond, thirteen years ago.
They had moved out to Los Angeles.
Their daughter Paulette had been born here twelve years ago, and they had
stayed.
More than her marriage, the birth
of Paulette had changed Pandora, turned her into the stable woman she now was.
Her father, Alfred Harten, was a nineteenth century man. He inherited wealth
which allowed him to pursue his private interest in classical Greek and Roman
culture. After the death of her mother when she was six, Harten retreated into
a world of his own. Little Pandora grew up privileged, in a large old
farm-house, alone except for a succession of English nannies and her pony,
Smoky. At school she had been a rebel. In college she had had a few brushes
with the law over drugs. Wayward, was her father’s word for her.
Glancing again at the man across
the dining room Pandora remembered her early troubles with men, escapades that
had upset her father. She had been promiscuous. She had taken risks, but for
some reason had never gotten pregnant. For a time she thought she never would.
She was relieved. But it worried her that she might die childless.
Pandora met Alec Hammond when her
father hired a firm of architects to convert two barns into a guesthouse on the
Harten estate. She had liked him immediately. He was a serious young man,
different from the men in her crowd. He was not sarcastic. He was mature. He
had goals in life. He had had to struggle. He didn’t have a chip on his
shoulder. But above all he had an innocent air. He was clean and fresh. She
liked that. Alec Hammond lifted what she saw as the curse of sterility from her
life. He made her pregnant. He gave her Paulette. For that she loved him. He
made her happy. She became content.
The man was still in the dining
room at eleven thirty when Beverly had to go. The place was empty apart from
him. The waiters had already set the tables for lunch. Crystal wine goblets on
the apple green cloths. Like the rooms in the hotel the tables were waiting for
new occupants. She signed her Diner’s slip and waited.
He was looking at her again when a
tall, dark-haired woman came running into the dining room. She was looking for
him. She came up to his table, opened her purse, pulled out a gun and aimed it
at the man’s head.
‘I’m going to blow you away,’ she
said. Her voice was husky and shaky.
‘No, you’re not,’ the man said
evenly.
Pandora was scared. She wondered
whether to call for help or intervene.
The dark-haired woman’s finger
tightened on the trigger.
‘Put it away,’ he said.
The waiter came back with the
credit card and receipt inside a green leather folder. He saw the gun.
‘Hey!’ The waiter called out.
The woman jerked around. The man
coolly snatched the gun from her hand. She burst into tears.
‘Sorry about this,’ the man said to
the waiter. ‘It’s not loaded.’
The dark-haired woman ran out of
the dining room.
‘Shall I get the manager?’ asked
the waiter.
‘No, no. Just forget it. Thank
you.’ He handed the waiter a fifty dollar bill.
‘That’s not necessary.’
‘Please take it. Then you can give
that lady over there her receipt.’
‘Thank you sir.’
The waiter came up to Pandora. He
shrugged. She thanked him and gave him a five dollar bill. The man came over to
her as the waiter left.
‘Sorry about that. Were you
scared?’
‘Yes, I was a bit.’
‘The gun wasn’t loaded.’
‘Oh.’
‘You’re shaking.’
‘No, not really.’
He put his hand on her quivering
arm. It didn’t stop, her quivering.
‘Let’s move out of here. Enough
excitement for the moment, don’t you think?’
‘I guess so.’ Pandora was still
shaking.
They left the main building of the
hotel. They walked together along the curving path towards the bungalow area.
It was a walk through a miniature jungle, a beautifully kept jungle of sweating
greenery and single flowers, aflame like daytime candles.
Pandora had no idea why she was
walking with this man. Perhaps he was going to tell her what the incident had
been about. Perhaps he wanted to ask her to keep quiet about it, like the
waiter. Perhaps he was going to offer her a drink to steady her nerves. Well,
she could use a drink.
‘My shack’s over there,’ he said
pleasantly.
They walked over the little bridge
towards a group of terracotta colored bungalows, each with its own palm tree
and garden. Hardly shacks. The most expensive hotel accomodation in Los
Angeles.
Suddenly Pandora stopped with a
cry. The man turned and saw that her high heel had stuck between two wooden
slats in the bridge. She laughed. She wiggled her shoe.
‘Take your foot out.’
He bent down and with both hands
removed her foot from the shoe. He noticed the pale freckles on her skin that
went naturally with her sandy blonde hair. She hopped.
He twisted the shoe heel around to
try and release it. It was difficult. She watched as he gave the shoe a jerk.
The heel snapped.
‘I’m sorry.’ He looked up at her
apologetically.
‘That’s all right,’ she said.
It wasn’t all right really. It was
a nuisance.
~ * ~
Other Modern Erotic Classics available:
The Houdini Girl by Martyn Bedford
Lie to Me by Tamara Faith Berger
The Phallus of Osiris by Valentina Cilescu
Kiss of Death by Valentina Cilescu
The Flesh Constrained by Cleo Cordell
The Flesh Endures by Cleo Cordell
Hogg by Samuel R. Delany
The Tides of Lust by Samuel R. Delany
Sad Sister by Florence Dugas
The Ties That Bind by Vanessa DuriƩs
Dark Ride by Kent Harrington
3 by Julie Hilden
Neptune & Surf by Marilyn Jaye Lewis
Violent Silence by Paul Mayersberg
Homme Fatale by Paul Mayersberg
The Agency by David Meltzer
Burn by Michael Perkins
Dark Matter by Michael Perkins
Evil Companions by Michael Perkins
Beautiful Losers by Remittance Girl
Meeting the Master by Elissa Wald
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