Girl World (The Reverse Harem Records Book 1) Page 3

  “This is all getting waaaay too serious.” Niv piped up waving her little drug baggie in between Tabbernia and I. “I say, we take one of these and enjoy the night ahead of us. It’s still early, kittens,” Niv exclaimed, popping one of the orange and blue pills into her mouth. A manservant arrived with a fresh tray of drinks, and I groaned inwardly. Tab’s manicured fingers reached into the baggie, and she too popped one of the brightly colored tablets. She tossed the baggie at me unceremoniously and challenged me with her eyes. Sacrifice. I downed the pill.

  The rest of the night -- and, I’m so thankful for this -- was a blur.

  3

  Missing Manservant

  I awoke to the sound of birds through my open window. Ordinarily, I always enjoy this time of morning; when the wildlife wake’s up and starts its chorus. But this morning it felt like each thread of bird song felt like a hot dagger in my head. My mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage too.

  “David,” I croaked, not yet lifting my thumping head. Where was he? My manservant was invariably ‘in place’ as soon as I opened my eyes. Usually with a freshly brewed coffee, my robe, and slippers in hand. I listened. I couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the kitchen. Most mornings, if David wasn’t at my bedside to greet me good morning, I could hear him in the kitchen, whistling as he cut fruit for my breakfast. The house was still. I rolled over to the left so I could see the time on the alarm clock. An alarm clock that had never once been set for a wake-up call. I didn’t need to. I had David. What the fuck?! I leaped out of bed as the LCD numerals of 8:31 burned an image behind my make-up caked eyes. As soon as I was on my feet, I crashed face first into the sumptuously firm bed again. “I’m dying,” I whispered over my swollen dry tongue. A bowling ball had replaced my brain and was, at this moment, clattering noisily against the insides of my skull.

  “David!” I tried shouting; so I’d sound authoritative, but what came out was a feeble squeak. I slid off the bed until I was kneeling and tried to pluck up the courage to stand once more. I had to be at the She Council in exactly twenty-nine minutes, and I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet. I silently cursed Tabbernia and Nivven for coercing me into a night of hazy, paralytic adventure.

  “David!” More of a bark this time. Good. Hopefully, he heard that this time and presumably he could hear the bite to my words. I was a patient She, kind to my help, but David’ absence in my dire time of need was unacceptable. Definitely going to have words with him after I get home from work. Which would be a first. In David’ ten years of service to me, I’d never once had to admonish him or pull him up for any kind of transgression. He was the most reliable, honest, hardworking manservant a She could hope for. He’d had thorough and fair training from me, and his workload was equitable also. David wasn’t locked into his quarters each night as most households tended to do. He was free to come and go as he pleased. This is how I differed from Tab and Niv. I treated my help with respect and kindness. And, as far as I knew, David was content with his position. He certainly had it better than most guys. Pigs. Ugh, I hated that my friends called the males this degrading name. Every time that word left their lips I shriveled up inside. Why were we so different? My eyes wandered to the clock again: 8:34. Twenty-six minutes until I’m due in my seat at the Council. Every woman who had been picked for the ‘knowledge’ was to meet with Dorring Dumaurier, Golden Chair of She Council, to discuss the upcoming Nordic contact. Dorring loathes tardiness. I pulled a knee from under me and got to one foot, the bowling ball in my cranium rolling alarmingly to one side. Nausea came hot on its heels, as my mouth filled with saliva. Aha! Moisture at last.

  I stood fully then, and really fucking hollered it this time: “David!” I wobbled like a newborn lamb to the bathroom, immediately feeling a familiar tugging pain at my pubic area. I looked down, (bowling ball hit a strike) and noticed I was still wearing the bodysuit I had borrowed from Tab. My worse-for-ware pubes still hopelessly ensnared in the partially open zipper. They looked a little threadbare if I’m to be honest.

  In the bathroom mirror, I caught sight of myself. It wasn’t pretty. Dark purple and black panda eyes, replete with mascara runs greeted me. I realized then that David must not have been here last night. My clothes and makeup would have been seen to if he were present. My hair was bunched up and fairly matted on one side. Something that had once been sticky, but that was now brittle, held a clump of locks in place at a peculiar angle to the rest of my head. I grimaced, and my parched lips felt as if they might crack.

  I’m not the most beautiful woman there is, but my features are soft. And, friendly. My hair is chestnut, almost black, and it fell in effortless waves (when it wasn’t stuck together with goo of unknown origin) around my shoulders. I had a tuft of baby-fuzz around the edge of my forehead. No matter how much I paid a stylist, these fuzzy strands were here to stay. I secretly wondered if they made me look like a child, and therefore incapable. My eyes matched my hair. Dark brown, bordering black. My nose I inherited from the Italian side of the family. A ‘Roman nose’ as Tab liked to call it. It was prominent, but somehow it matched my full, deep pink lips.

  I needed to get in the shower, stat. But, I had the issue of the stuck pussy-bush. Finding a bolt of resolve, I took a pair of scissors from the medicine cabinet, and in a kind of manic glee, I cut myself out of my suit, easing the tension on the zipper that had spent the night biting and scratching me. I’d have to replace this suit or Tab would lose it. I could see the designer logo over the right shoulder an outline of a woman reclining, a pair of male hands attending to the feet of the reposed female. The ‘Divine’ brand. Expensive. Didn’t surprise me; Tab liked the very best of everything.

  For good measure, and for solidarity with women-groomers the world over, I snipped off the end of the bunched hair that had caused me so much trouble last night. It left a bald patch, but what did I care?

  I hopped into the shower. The in-shower TV flicked on, greeting me with a mid-segment news article. Jasliah Empore, Girltown’s most illustrious news reporter, was dressed in full combat gear on the outskirts of one of the more prominent ‘villages’ of the Heartlands. Bonfires, smoke, shouting, brawling -- all could be seen and heard in the background of the pretty newswoman.

  I dolloped a large squirt of shampoo on my head and began lathering, as I listened to Jasiliah Empore’s almost musical voice.

  “At least two thousand more males joined the Heartland escapee’s last night through to the early hours of this morning,” Jasiliah reported. “As yet, nobody has answers as to why there was such a large exodus this time, but there are rumors that the males are organizing, figuring out a plan to ensure their freedom.” A tingling vibration somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind. Somewhere where the cannonball couldn’t smash it to pieces. Freedom. Jasilah continued as I grabbed a bunch of shampoo foam from my head and rubbed it vigorously around my eyes.

  “Roadblocks have been put up, surrounding Girltown core, and it is advised that every household ensures their help are secured in their quarters at night,” the news reporter paused. “Keep your eyes open lad--”

  “NEWSFLASH: This just in: Merah has been opened. As of eight-thirty-nine am this morning, an arc of electricity has been spotted funneling into the top of the pyramid.” I swiped at my eyes trying to clear them from the shampoo lather. “Following eyewitness reports, and as our camera’s show here, Merah is indeed open.” The middle-aged reporter turned and swept her arm to the sight behind her. I squinted through hot water and residual suds at the grainy image on the screen.

  The alien-built pyramid temple, Merah, stood like a monolith on top of Juggs Hill overlooking Girltown. A single, violet arc of electricity funneled into the tip of the shimmering shrine. A perfect triangle of alien engineering, pulling unknown energy from the sky and sucking the pulses of life down into its hidden interior. Oh. My. God. It’s happening. It’s happening!

  “If you look closely you can see that the … the, er, is it a lightning arc?” The re
porter's eyes searched her cameraman’s for the correct term to use. He didn’t answer, so she continued without him. “The arc is pulsing, if you look closely, at roughly seven-second intervals.” She swiveled again toward the monolith, and the camera zoomed in. I stood with my nose practically pressed against the steamed-up screen. I wiped at it furiously with my forearm and peered. One- two-three-four-five-six-sev …. There it is! I saw something like a ‘blob’ of electricity -- a slightly paler blue color than the bolt that entered the top of the pyramid -- shimmy it’s way down into the core of the shrine.

  “We have reason to believe that those … pulses, those clumps of extra bright light that are traveling down the core of lightning. We think… we believe that this might be how the Nordic’s enter Merah.” The reporter was panting she was so excited. “Folks, it looks like re-integration is near!” I caught sight of the clock in the corner of the screen: 08:52 am. Argh! Without giving myself time to weigh the disadvantages, I reached for the shower faucet and slammed it to ‘cold.’ Bracing myself, I scrubbed the rest of the lather out of my hair, said a mental ‘fuck it’ to the idea of conditioner and hopped out of the tub.

  Before the Newsflash, I was likely going to be late for one of the most important meetings of the century. After the Newsflash, I was almost certainly going to be late for the most important meeting of all of human history.

  4

  Earth’s most important meeting

  I burst through the ornate teak doors to the She Council’s inner chambers at exactly 9:00:57.

  “--And, I’d like to thank you all for being ….” Dorring darted her pale gray eyes toward my sweaty, stumbling entrance. “.... On time. Appreciated. Please. Sit.” She waved her arm across the gleaming boardroom table gesturing for us all to take our seats.

  I grabbed the nearest chair and literally gasping for breath, (I ran all the way from the subway) I dropped down into the leather padding with a loud sigh. Adlyn Rouge, She Council member number thirty-two, nudged me lightly with her elbow. “Getting in a workout before work?” She looked delighted. “I’m impressed, Callyn. God, it’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning, let alone hump weights or run.” I nodded in emphatic agreement, scrunching up my eyes to deter any further beads of stinging sweat to enter them. Hopefully, that would be enough of a response so as not to invite further inquiries. Fact was, it looked like I’d been spat out of a Decathlon, so it didn’t really need further investigation.

  Thirty-two Nordic-selected heads turned toward the Golden Chair, Dorring DuMaurier. She sat, straight-backed, hands folded, patiently waiting for us to settle. The room fell quiet, and the GC began.

  “So, we’ll jump right on in, ladies. Each of us is here because we have been selected by our brothers from another planet: the Nordic’s. They have channeled through us because they believe they have some knowledge that will help us to re-stabilize our society. It’s also no hidden fact that the apparent missing ingredient to our societal well-being is love.” Dorring’s eyes scanned our rapt faces. She took a sip of water, and I noticed her hand was shaking. I felt exactly the same way, but I couldn’t tell if that was because of the wretched hangover I was being assaulted by, or if it was genuinely thrilling feelings of doubt and excitement.

  “We all know the state the planet was in before We took over. The inequality, the oppression, greed, corruption, and so it goes on,” the GC announced. “We changed that. And we changed it for the good. For the good of the planet and its environments. For the good of ethnic minorities and low-income families. For Women.” A respectful cheer erupted around the table, and I was surprised to see I’d shot a victorious fist up into the air myself.

  “But, it’s time we were honest with ourselves. Although there are no wars, famines or sex-trades, we have NOT created a society of balance and equality. We have created something worse than the men of our historical world had, only this time with women holding the whip.” The Golden Chair stood, tenting her long fingers on the shining oak surface of the table. She hung her head then, her black curls falling in a veil over her face. “Ladies, c’mon. We’ve practically injected the vitriol and hate of our mothers, the very ones who collapsed the old world. We did not question. We bought the derision of men hook, line and sinker, and as such, we have created a male race of self-loathing wretches. These poor fools could never love themselves, so how on earth could we?” Dorring Dumaurier lifted her head, her eyes the color of thunderclouds. She murmured, “And, now, because of our misstep, they are rebelling.”

  Heads turned to face one another with silent expressions.

  “Two thousand more crossed over into the Heartlands last night,” Adlyn announced with a look of wonder plastered onto her face. She was annoyingly expressive.

  “Yes. I know,” the GC confessed. “And, they will no doubt find ways around the roadblocks soon, but we are not here to discuss our current problems, ladies. And, my apologies for leading you all here, I got off track. We are here to discuss solutions, not problems. We are here to talk about our very near future. Now, we have a fair bit to go through, so I’d advise you take some notes as we work. A mass of grabbing hands pounced on the pile of pens that had been left at the center of the table. I was on hangover speed, so I didn’t stand a chance. I reached sluggishly for my satchel. I had grabbed it quickly on the way out the door this morning. Probably still had yesterday’s lunchbox in it. Empty at that, as my help was nowhere to be seen this morning. Where is he? (I) I rummaged through the satchel trying to locate a pen in an ocean of work-bag debris. My hand hit the sandwich box, and I scooted it to the side so I could get deeper into the depths of the bag. Hello, that felt a bit heavy for an empty container. My hands grabbed the lunch container, and, yes, through the glass I could see a salad, a sandwich, and a small bowl of dressing. It wasn’t yesterday’s fare …. I had gulped that down before eleven am yesterday morning. Strange. I pulled the tub from my bag and pried open the lid to see what it contained. A note came fluttering from the inside of the lid and spiraled its way to the floor. I didn’t relish the thought of bending down again; I already felt supremely vomitus, but I bent to retrieve the mysterious slip of paper.

  She,

  I didn’t want to leave without ensuring you had a nutritious lunch for tomorrow’s important meeting. It’s with much regret that I have left your kind and gracious employ. I’m sure, in your generous heart, you know exactly why.

  It’s no secret that I have known genuine happiness while under your jurisdiction, but I had to follow my heart, my mind, my spirit. I had to stand for the Rebels. I want change. We all do. And I think we’re all waking up to that fact now. It’s my sincere hope that women have their own awakening. And, soon. I pray there is no violence.

  Respectfully, faithfully, gratefully yours always

  David

  My hands were trembling. I knew it wasn’t hangover shivers. David had left me. My faithful servant of just over ten years had joined the Rebels in the Heartlands. Ouch. But I also felt an unfamiliar sentiment toward this loyal, yet absent, man. Admiration. I fully appreciated the scope of his bravery right then. Taking part in something he believed worthwhile. Even though the cause was most certainly dangerous and difficult.

  “Merah will be open to us at 12:01 am on June 21st. The selectees from the other countries will be flying in early next week, and they will be joining us for the entrance into the shrine. They are, at this time, having a similar meeting to this one; preparing for being received into Merah. Landie?” The GC threw a glance at her assistant who was standing behind a projector. Dorring turned toward a white screen at the front of the room, and a vector image of the pyramid popped up. Around the base of the monolith, a chain of women; hundreds of them, all joined, holding hands. “This is how we are to be received,” Dorring stabbed a pointer at the ring of computer generated women around the foot of the giant edifice. “There is an order to it. We won’t know what that order is until the day we are taken in, but we will be assigned numbers and
a position within the chain.”

  “With respect, Golden Chair?” A thin, pale woman across from me held up her hand.

  “Gilpa?” Dorring Dumaurier nodded her approval at Gilpa, She Council member number sixteen.

  “With respect, we don’t even know what Merah is!” There was a whine to Gilpa’s voice that grated on my nerves. My hangover must have really done a number on my usually patient personality this morning. My neighbor, Adlyn, leaned into me.

  “Well, I know it’s ‘Harem’ spelled backward,” she chortled a blast of fetid breath in my ear, and I could hear her monstrous earrings jingle as she pulled away. Hmm. I’d never considered that before. Merah: Harem. Interesting. I smiled inwardly. Or maybe it reached my lips. I don’t know.

  “The construction of the pyramid, as we all know, began on June 1, 2117. No engineers or builders of any description have ever been seen. We all watched the shrine seemingly build itself when we weren’t looking. No reports of anyone having witnessed the progress, only that every time we turned around, the edifice was bigger, wider and taller.” Dorring waved to the slides being shown on the whiteboard behind her without turning around. The thirty-two women around the table sat transfixed as we watched the pyramid build itself for the second time, only this time it was a computer generated image.

  “Fourteen days from start to finish,” a chubby girl at the far end of the table remarked. Everyone oohed and aahed at that.

  “So, what do we know?” The Golden Chair questioned. “We know, through Nordic channeling of information, that this temple, this shrine,” she turned to face the complete pyramid on the screen. “We know that it’s called Merah. And that we are to receive our ‘knowledge’ there.” The GC sighed and dropped into her chair. “And, that’s all we really have on the structure itself right now, ladies.” A gunshot round of questions from the table came hurling at the GC. She held up her hands. “Ah, ah, woah. We don’t know if Merah is a portal to another dimension. We don’t know if it means a kind of learning. We don’t know for sure whether it’s a verb, as in: ‘doing Merah,” Dorring cleared her throat and said softly, “We only know that the temple is called Merah. But, Merah itself? Well, it could mean a host of things. And I’m sure we’re about to find out soon, but for now …” Dorring grabbed a handful of papers from a stack in front of her and flicked them into the middle of the table. “Distribute, please,” she commanded.