|--------------------------un rancard amoureux (dixime)---------------------------|
The gate to the Spanish villa is open to our entry. The gate is joined to a wall composed of black iron spears on a raised stone wall a meter high. The wall, street and most of the entry drive we see is shaded by ancient oak growth, as are the other villas sparsely scattered along the road leading here. A gleaming brass plaque is bolted to the right stone pillar of the mixed sandstone wall surrounding the property; the engraved lettering, enameled in black, reads Glamour Girls Tours, LLC. When asked about the meaning of the LLC abbreviation most of the owners of the company will respond Oh, dear, some mumbo jumbo or another; most of us just say laughing like crazy. The parking area for the villa has several vehicles arraigned on it; two small urban sedans, a long black sedan with darkly tinted windows, and one huge military armored Humvee in an urban camouflage finish. The Humvee is dented, part of the rear panel torn outward in the manner of a quickly opened tin of fish, bears the impact dents and several holes indicating the use of light and heavy caliber weapons on it.. and the entire rear right quarter of the vehicle appears to have been torched and then dipped in black soot. The surface of the asphalt beneath it is stained with an expanding pool of lubricants. The armored glass on the right side of the vehicle is pock-marked and fractured like the ice on a frozen lake. A trail of blood, drag marks, cast off drops, gravity pools, leads from the right side of the vehicle across the drive and up the entryway walk.
Voices from within the low stone villa draw us into the large open front room. Here the floor has been washed of the blood that crosses the threshold, a bucket of red water and several stained wet now red tinted clothes folded over the buckets edge yield their evidence. An elaborate oriental entryway rug lies rolled on the floor to the left of the door. We can hear the voices of a woman and a man speaking in the study to the left of the entry.
Looking into the study we see a staggeringly beautiful brunette, dressed in a light floral sun dress and white sandals speaking with an older man who is wearing a white laboratory coat over a lite grey woolen suit. The laboratory coat has several bright scarlet blood stains on it. A pair of latex medical gloves is hanging out of the physicians lab coat pocket. An attractive woman with exceptionally long platinum hair and wearing glasses is seated at a desk beyond the conversing pair, she has a bandage on one cheek and a growing bruise extending from beneath it.
The physician speaks softly with a Castellan accent to the brunette, Sobrevivir, sus heridas no son crticas, por lo que no hay ninguna razn para hospitalizacin. Slo he administrado una gota de sangre entera para el hombre porque l debe permanecer durante unas horas para permitirle recuperarse de la crisis. La hembra es obviamente demente, pero su audiencia ya se est recuperando de la explosin. las superficies faciales se recuperarn con un lavado abrasivo luz y tiene slo la herida cabeza uno que he limpiado y sutura. His slight lisp raises a smile on the face of the blonde. The physician then lowers his voice and leans a bit more into the brunettes space. But the green eyed man, Senorita, his damage, it is, more extensive, the right arm, the side of his face, the right leg, I am concerned about what the explosion did to him there. His right leg was damaged before, yes? The
brunette nods slightly and speaks with a commanding voice at the physician l debe sobrevivir. Le va a proporcionar con todo el cuidado necesario. No importa lo diga o haga, mantenerlo en el hospital. The physician nods to the brunette, turns to the
blonde and says Senorita. She smiles at him. He turns and exits the study.
The
brunette sighs and seats herself on the long leather couch against the wall behind her, the wide windows in the French style behind her allow a soft pale light from the exterior to light the room. He is amazing isnt he? the
blonde says. After a pause the
brunette looks up from her study of her hands and nods at the blonde. He should not have returned for them, but he did. His loyalty must be rewarded. At some point he will require some additional coverage, help, after this. The Russian group will want blood for what weve done, and for his damaging them so completely. The reward and punishment for his neglecting us to help that fucking insane South African bitch and Kertus are not a problem. The Russians will take some finesse I think.
The
blonde rises from the desk chair and approaches the brunette. Standing over her she runs her hand lightly across the bandage on her cheek. We should consider inviting the Afrikaner to join us. Were going to need someone like her as security on the tours now.
Penso che ti voglio solo dormire con lei il my love the
brunette murmurs, looking up and studying the blondes reaction. The
blonde shakes her head slightly and squats down before her partner. Shes beautiful alright, but I need your safe arms, not the danger she wears like Prada. Safe eh; come with me, I am going to spank you for jumping out of the Hummer like you did to drag Kertus to safety; I thought that second explosion was going to kill all of us.
In the villas kitchen several women, all beautiful, relaxed, calm, smiling, chatter brightly to each other and to the four young children chasing a cat around the large dark, scarred, wooden kitchen table. Bright sunlight shines through the wide glassed doorways and large windows that face out over the Mediterranean below. The water glimmers and shifts and the fragmented white and grey of clouds high in the sky above it can be seen reflected.
In a room in the villa the remaining Kertus lays sleeping in a large bed. His body lays inert, and then a shudder rolls through it and his jaw clenches tight. He relaxes having made no sound. The scar on the right side of his head gleams white on his stained greyed skin. Whether he will accept the abrasive cleansing of the grit is an issue for another day, for now, he sleeps uneasily with all of his scars.
The terrace is brightly lit, pale yellow and light red stone surface, different designs of stone flow for many meters away from us. The reach to a low stone wall topped with a black iron pointed stake fence. The rising rock walls of a cliff curve from behind the low stone and glass structure to the right, around and into the distance on the left. Above the cliffs is the deep Trojan blue sky drawing us into it, as the eyes of a lover still do in our dreams. The wind blows lightly at this hour of the morning, softly, and so clean from the prior nights violent storm. From the left we can hear the sound of the storm heightened surf still pounding its sorrow on the rocks below this villa. Chairs and deck furniture are arraigned in groupings around the terrace. A childs doll is perched standing on one chair, looking off to the left, over the wall; waiting for the arrival of some ship or some pod of whales to blow in the ocean below.
|-------------------La fin de cette partie de l'histoire.---------------------------|
Amanda 2011
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