2010-09-10: A Game Of Seduction




September 10, 2010


Gonc — Hungary


Seduce my mind and you can have my body, find my soul and I'm yours forever… — Anonymous

It's been three days, three days that Alexis has been holed up in the manor somewhere in the mountains. Situated in a lavishly decorated room, her host has not seen fit to visit her. No one has. Her meals are delivered at times she should happen to be asleep and if she doesn't sleep? No meals. The large oak double doors have been locked from the outside, though the keyhole is large enough to look through all it lends is a view of the wall opposite the door. It's been completely silent.

Her windows, on the other hand, have not been locked. Where this would otherwise give the young woman a chance to escape, the sheer drop to the rocks below is more than 100 meters. Certain death without a rope or some sort of climbing gear. There is no ledge to climb along, which gives no hope to get to another room that might be unlocked. In essence, Alexis has been left with little to do but wait for whatever mercy might befall her.

From the position of the sun in the sky, it must be sometime after midday when the doors to her bedroom are unlocked and a tall man with dark curly hair steps through. He is dressed impeccably in a suit, gloves, polished shoes, and a thick cane. "Good afternoon, Fraulein." His accent sounds German which might lead her to believe that she's somewhere in Austria, Germany, or Switzerland. "I hope you have enjoyed your accommodations thus far?"

The kidnap victim is curled up in the corner of her bed, staring out of the window, her mind a million miles away. Early in her captivity, she realized she might go crazy with no one to talk to and nothing to do. So she's been going through the plots of movies and books, murmuring the stories to herself under breath to keep her mind working. The food at first went untouched, for fear of poison, but after a dozen hours more of hunger and boredom, Alexis ate more out of ennui than because she felt she needed the food. Also, logic set in — if they wanted to kill her, they could have. Obviously, they wanted her alive.

But why?

When the door opens, she's already getting to her feet, crouching on her mattress, as if ready to spring at whomever her captor is. Hazel eyes wide, she stares at his solicitous questions, and shakes her head vehemently.

"No, I have not enjoyed my accommodations. You have the wrong person," she says, her voice a little rusty from want of use.

There is a calm smile that crosses the man's features as she speaks to him and he taps the cane to the floor between his feet, resting his hands comfortable on the bulbed end. "No, Fraulein, I do not make mistakes. You are the daughter of a Herr Shawn Ezra Martin, are you not?" His steely gaze is fixated on her, almost challenging her to defy him.

While he is dressed and mannered quite well, there is something about him that just doesn't seem to fit. His skin is a pasty white, cheeks are sunken in a little, and there are red rings around his eyes, suggesting a combination of fatigue and long term hunger. From the meals that have been delivered to the young woman, guessing that he suffers from starvation or lack of nutrition seems almost absurd.

When her father's name is mentioned, Lexie shakes her head adamantly, bringing her legs to swing out from under her so she is sitting on the edge of the bed rather than perched upon it like a frightened animal. "See, I knew it was a mistake. Yeah, he's my father, but, like, on paper only. I haven't seen him in years. I don't think he even knows I'm in Pari—" was in Paris.

"I can't tell you anything about him. I was a little kid when I last saw him. I don't even know where he is right now, so you know, I can't help you at all, I'm really sorry," she rambles a little, staring up at his face and trying to figure out what's wrong with him. The lush surroundings and his appearance bring to mind vampires, except it's afternoon.

"Oh my dear," The man's impassioned voice is accompanied by a dramatic gloved hand to his chest and an almost pained expression pointed up toward the ceiling. When the pregnant pause is over, the hand comes down and is back to the cane, his eyes narrow and his face becomes hard. "I am not looking for information, if I wanted information I would have taken your grandmother or grandfather. Maybe the woman he's been living under for the past decade or more."

The man's head waggles a little like a bobble head as his cool smile appears once again. "No, you have two choices, my dear. You can help me or you can be bait. One of them ends in your possible death… Which would you prefer? Keep in mind, I do not abide by double cross… I found you once, I can find you again."

The mention of another woman pulls at childish emotions — how dare he be with another woman? He was her mother's husband! She knows it's illogical, but Alexis can't help but feel betrayed by this news, and her brows knit together. When he lists off her options, that frown deepens into a scowl.

"Help you do what? Be bait for what? I'm not going to help you do whatever it is you want me to do to my own father, even if I haven't seen him in forever," she says, her chin lifting with defiance. "And stay the hell away from my grandparents!"

The curly haired man takes a few steps closer to the bed and leans down well within reach of the young woman. It's quite evident that he is not afraid, even given his frail stature. "You will speak to me with respect or I will make your decision for you. You decide." Unlike his appearance, his scent is rather vile. A noxious combination of onions, garlic, and a general odor of illness and decay seems to permeate the air around him.

When he finally leans back and makes the air for Alexis breathable again, he stands to his full height and looks down on her with a bit of contempt. "There is a woman that I wish to possess, I want your father to bring her to me. You are my tool for exchange."

She leans back, away from that smell and that malignant gaze of his as he reprimands her. Even as she tries to keep her chin in its lofty position, her jaw set with disdain and stubbornness, Alexis' hazel eyes betray her by filling with tears. She gives a shake of her head.

"I'm not going to ask him to exchange someone else for me. Why is my life any more important than whoever it is you want? It's not. I'm not going to use my relationship — or lack of one — with my father to ruin someone's life," she says, attempting to keep her voice flat and civil and cool, though a little warble invades, showing her fear. "Sir," she adds, lest he accuse her of not speaking with respect.

"You do not need to ask him anything. Arrangements will be made on your behalf to inform him of your status." The man turns slightly, angling his body toward the door as he keeps his eyes on Alexis. He smiles at her tears and the waver of her voice, taking pleasure in the small graces that she's using to tug at his heartstrings. "Such a vulnerable and pitiful little creature you are. Positively delicious. Perhaps I will rethink my desire for the other and keep you instead?" His teeth show with the next smile, making it obvious that he's been drinking wine by the thin lines of burgundy between his teeth.

"So caring as well." He stops short and takes a long breath inward before moving a little closer to the door. "Do not worry, my sweet. Should you wish to remain here with me, that will dissolve in time."

Alexis' eyes narrow when he smiles at her fear and pain, and worse, calls her vulnerable and pitiful, things she's tried very hard never to be. She could have played on the pity of her schoolmates and teaches, the poor little girl without parents, but instead she strove her whole life to be self sufficient and successful, despite the hardships. How dare he call her pitiful.

"This is all for a date or something? Seriously, you should just, like, google for Russian brides or maybe Thailand. You shouldn't have to kidnap people and do hostage swaps just so you can have a freakin' girl," she says angrily, the tears splashing onto her cheeks and her face flushing with anger as she stares at his retreating back.

"Sir." The one word is acerbic and sarcastic.

As the man's hand touches the doorknob, he releases what can only be described as a groan of pure pleasure. "Your juxtaposition of defiance and tears is simply intoxicating…" He tilts his head in her direction, his eyes sweeping over her frame as his tongue runs over his lips. "If you are trying to lure me into a sordid affair, you are succeeding rather well. Unfortunately the woman I have designs on is rather important to me at this time."

His eyes narrow and pour over her figure as though judging a piece of art or a fine horse at auction. "Perhaps with time and training though, you will become every bit the woman I desire. Much like my Victory, perhaps I will call you Defeat.. No.. Demise?" There's a single hum of laughter as the door is pulled open and he steps out. The last sound before Alexis is forced into silence again is the locking of her door and his quick step and the fading whistle of a classical tune.