"L u s t...The Satire"
By Delia Lavender
(I do not own the T.V. Series "Lost", Man In Black, John Locke, Dogen,
Jacob, anything Disney, or ANY character except those of my own invention. I write only for fun.
The following story is satire.)
She had given him her hand...now he wanted the rest of her.
Of course he knew what she was...he'd made a run on her, once. But she'd had the presence of mind to dive headlong into the banyan roots.
She'd been instructed. By Dogen, undoubtedly. Oh, the frustration of it all...
But now he had her. Some subtle instinct had led him to the temple. He had stepped out from between the trees. She was collapsed near the gate, shivering in shock and weeping.
Herbs and mushrooms had spilled from the coarse sacks she'd carried. He could almost taste those mushrooms...he could almost taste her.
He concentrated, remembering the expressions of John Locke, trying to project benevolent reassurance into John's re-created face.
It wasn't too hard. He approached her gently, modulating his voice until he'd found the proper note of kindly concern.
"Girl? Are you all right?"
She didn't get up, but just turned her head anxiously in his direction. He saw the tears streaming from her dark eyes. Her long hair fell forward, half hiding her wet, pale face.
Ah...she was so like the lovely Roman women of his childhood village. So much so, that he'd sometimes wondered if one of them could have survived...
but no. None of them had survived the False Mother. This girl was an import for the temple. Though perhaps she did have Roman ancestry...
He could also see a resemblance to Claudia, his True Mother.
He determinedly put that thought aside. It was hard to enjoy a woman who reminded you of your mother. And what if he needed to kill her?
It would probably be less awkward if he did. Unless he arranged to kill Claire, his current mate...but that would be a problem. Claire was also his lieutenant.
He'd think about it later. He had a body, now. And his eyes were on the prize...
"Girl?" he repeated. He lowered his voice as he approached her "Where did you come from? Do you belong to the temple?"
She gasped, staring mutely up at him. He saw her swallow hard.
(Oh, you pretty little bitch. Don't know what to say, do you? Well...I'm patient. I've had to be).
"Wha...who...who are you?"
"A friend. How did you escape?"
"I...I was gathering mushrooms for Dogen. He likes mushrooms. I left
four days ago..."
(That's true. I saw you leave. I knew you'd be gone a few days...the best mushrooms are three miles away. And you like to dally, don't you? You slept in the hut...the one the temple maintains for the convenience of the gatherers. Were you expecting a boyfriend there, you trollop? Were you surprised when Jacob didn't come creeping through the jungle...to claim you as Roman gods claim mortal women? Were you disappointed when he didn't? Or could it be that Jacob prefers boys?)
He had to stop this. There was no scent of Jacob on her...his resentment was getting the best of him. If she looked up and noticed it...
"...I spent the two nights in the hut. I just got back. Where is everyone? Where is father?...where is Os...Oscar? Oh God...what happened here?" she leaned forward and sobbed into her hands.
Let her cry. Project compassion. String her along...
"I'm sorry. But if it helps, I did see a group of people leave here. It was just before the er...disaster. If you come with me, I can take you to them."
And he held out his hand.
(Take my hand, you slut. Please take my hand. I don't feel like chasing you. Although it was fun chasing Sun. If only she hadn't hit that branch. Come to think of it - I could use the exercise. Go ahead, girl. Try to r...)
She reached up blindly, putting her hand in his and rising slowly to her feet.
(All those tears...her shift is damp – it's clinging to her chest. Her breasts are so full...so perfect. And her waist is so small. I am experiencing some genuine, physical effects. Heat...swelling. This couldn't happen when I was Smoke, when I saw her bathing in the stream. She wasn't wearing any clothes. The hussy. I wanted to rend her limb from limb...or fly up her center...I wasn't sure which. If it wasn't for those damn banyan roots...)
"Please..." she begged, her black, pain-filled eyes seeking his "Take me to them. Take me to Oscar and father. I must..."
But he'd already reeled her in...like a big, gleaming, delectable fish.
She realized her mistake, a few moments after he touched her.
Fear and surprise drove grief away. She stared up at him, horrified.
Whatever had her, had destroyed the temple.
But she had seen...it...before. She had tried to forget, but couldn't quite manage it.
She had seen it last year, rushing toward her, as she waded ankle deep in a stream.
And she had instinctively dropped to her knees, rolling into a shallow crevice formed by intertwined banyan roots.
She had curled up into a ball.
And it had been close...so close. She knew that, had part of her body extended beyond the crevice, the Smoke would have dragged her out into the open. Right into its ravenous grip...
Oh, the thwarted roaring...the flashing lights. The dirty hieroglyphs it inscribed on the air, in the clearing beyond her shelter...
The feeling that it was drawing her brain, with all of its memories, out the back of her head.
And the daylight had dimmed by the time "it" went away. She had been stiff and sore from confinement, and very late for supper.
But she hadn't told anyone. Dogen would never again have allowed her to leave the temple...
And how, then, could she have arranged to meet Oscar?
And she needed Oscar...
But Oscar was gone. She thought longingly of Oscar's gentle, hazel eyes...the trusting expression that had drawn her to him. Now she stared up into green eyes...hard green eyes that expressed nothing but cold, hungry, malevolent lust.
But lust was something she knew about...
Ah...so her name was "Sabina"...he hadn't caught her name, the first time he'd scanned her.
He never felt compassion, but what he was receiving altered his view of her – at least a little.
And he knew that he couldn't take her back to his camp.
Claire was there – that was bad enough. But, in addition, Sabina's damn boyfriend was there. Unless he disposed of Oscar first...
But why go to the trouble? Take the girl, then kill her. She was only a temple harlot...
But the images kept coming.
Sabina on her knees before Dogen. Dogen grasping the back of her head while she serviced him. Dogen releasing her, after he was satisfied. He bowed to her curtly and wandered off, fondling his baseball.
So that was how she'd been trained. No wonder the thought of Jacob kept creeping into his mind...they'd intended her for him. But Jacob had died before they could schedule what surely would have been the blind date of his life.
And meanwhile, Sabina had been sneaking off to meet Oscar. Her honor - or lack thereof - wouldn't matter. Not to Jacob.
Because apparently Jacob had had an oral fixation...
He chuckled grimly. He supposed he was partly responsible for that...
He had a sudden, startling view of himself...his face as she perceived it. He immediately smoothed out his expression.
Benevolence, he reminded himself...chicks liked benevolence. And what fun would it be? Sabina dying of a heart attack, right in his arms?
But she was young...it was unlikely.
Better to be sure. He loosened his grip on her upper arms.
"Sabina...it's up to you. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard..."
Sabina obligingly sank to her knees.
"No, no...I didn't mean that...oh, all right. You're almost where I want you. We'll both get on our knees."
He joined her on the moss.
"Sabina, do you repent?"
"What you've been doing. With Dogen - and with Oscar."
"Doing Dogen was my duty."
"I know. But it was wrong."
"I guess so. It never felt right."
"But what about Oscar..."
"Oscar was nice. It felt good...it must have been right..."
"But it was wrong!"
"Now I'm confused!"
So was he.
But all this was getting him nowhere. He was wasting time. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against him, pressing his lips violently, passionately against hers.
He hadn't known such excitement since Claire had last washed her hair.
He twisted rapidly and got her onto her back. Quickly he lowered his zipper. She stared up at him, wide eyed, as he lifted her skirts.
(Oh, don't look at me with those doe-in-the-headlights eyes. Cooperate, girl. I know I'm not cute like Oscar...I've no hair at all, let alone that red, wavy hair you like so much. But I know more than Oscar does, and I can give you more...)
"John? John! Where are you, John? John, are you here? JOHHNNNN!"
Claire. She was looking for him. Shit. Oh, shit...
He got to his feet, picked Sabina up and dashed to a nearby Cerberus vent.
She had been puzzled...why did he want her to "repent"?
Was he talking about a new "discipline"?
But as he'd hovered above her, exuding menace and sexuality, she thought she had an idea...
Until recently, this man had been nothing but Black Smoke. Nothing but a dangerous, capricious monster who lurked in the jungle...
What could he possibly know about temple rites and rituals?
Sabina thought about her training as "handmaiden" dedicated to Jacob's service.
It wasn't something she'd chosen...she'd been selected for it.
Apparently, she'd been Jacob's "type".
And what a man Jacob must be – considering the nature of her instruction.
There was the mouth thing with Dogen san. There was the boredom of lying motionless - Lennon's grimy head resting on her belly - listening to him crying and moaning "Hold me!"
Sometimes it lasted for hours. "Hold me...hold me!" She'd often heard those words in her dreams.
And Sabina especially hated running her fingers through Lennon's hair...he always had nits.
But she had developed a sympathetic murmur the equal of older concubine's...she could utter "There, there...little Jacob...there, there..." as well as her instructors could.
She'd been trained to give Jacob what he needed...and clearly his needs were few.
But he wouldn't be much fun...unlike Oscar.
Oscar was the only young man who'd dared touch her. She'd remained sheltered from the excesses indulged in by everyone else...
Sabina had learned to make noise, before opening any temple door. You just never knew what you might find in the linen closet...the grainery...the storerooms...the kitchen...the laundry...the sewing room...
She'd heard that last week's orgy in the atrium had been a disaster. Several participants had been injured, and a dozen potted plants had been smashed.
Dogen had been beside himself. His mushroom supply ruined...the atrium trashed...and he, Dogen, hadn't even received an invitation.
It had taken her hours to calm him down. He'd played with his baseball all night, Lennon had later informed her.
She wished it was still last week. She sensed that her father was dead. A fanatic to the end, he would never have left the temple. And everyone inside the temple had died...
And if Oscar had left, she'd never find him. She was now the property of a drooling, hulking murderer who was eagerly pushing her thighs apart...
And then she heard the voice...
A female's voice. It was calling for "John".
She half recognized that voice. Wasn't it Claire's? The crazy woman with the startling, haystack hair?
No point in screaming...she knew Claire wouldn't help her.
But "John" abruptly pulled away. He hastily tucked himself back into his pants, pulling the zipper closed.
Then he jerked her off the ground, picked her up and ran with her.
Probably Claire was his wife. Sabina had witnessed many a mad dash down the temple corridors...usually for similar reasons.
She threw her arms around his neck and held on.
But she almost screamed, when he suddenly leaped into space.
The light dimmed, and they began a long, rapid slide. She looked around and gasped – there were skeletons in nooks carved into dirt walls. The leering skulls called up an old, pre-Island memory...and she heard an eerily cheerful, insane ditty playing and replaying in her head:
"Yo Ho, Yo Ho...a pirate's life for me!"
Dear lord...what a time to remember her one and only trip to Disneyland!
It got worse when they reached the bottom. Although torches flared up, apparently by magic, the corridors were still murky and dim. Rats scuttled by as she watched, bats hovered threateningly near her hair. John jumped over a giant snake and punched out Dogen's komodo dragon. The murderous beast had come trotting out of the dark, straight toward them...
By the time they reached their destination, Sabina was perfectly willing to let John have his way with her.
He had originally prepared the room for Claire...but now he was glad he'd never brought her here.
He'd brought in some camping supplies, and a couple of sleeping bags.
There were interesting glyphs carved into the walls. There was a little waterfall and pool, formed by overflow from Jacob's Spring. The high ceiling, broken in a few places, admitted natural light and allowed the entry of flowering vines.
"It's pretty." said Sabina, looking around in wonder.
"Take your clothes off" he replied. He sat down, pulling impatiently at his boots.
But he raised his head to watch her.
She did not protest, but turned her back on him. Gracefully she reached down and untied a bow at her hip.
He hadn't known that her skirts had been sewed like a curtain panel...in a straight line ending in linen ties, which were then fastened at her hip.
And she handled those skirts as if they were veils...
Oh no...her training again. She was going to "dance the veil off". Aside from her sandals, she was wearing only two garments – her shift and those gauzy, layered skirts. He'd be 2000 years older by the time she was finished...
He removed his belt, dropped his pants and stripped off his shirt.
"Sabina...stop waving your skirts and get over here!"
"What? But I was just getting started..."
"I'm not my brother...it doesn't take an hour to get a rise out of me..."
"You have a brother?"
"My brother was Jacob...didn't they tell you?"
"I was Temple Handmaid level number four. Only the Seniors, the Temple Concubines, are entitled to know certain..."
"Never mind that...hurry up!"
She folded her skirts and placed them on a relatively clean spot near the pool. She slipped out of her sandals and placed them carefully beside them.
She meandered slowly over to him, wearing only her linen shift. The missing roof sections directed strong beams of light, illuminating her as she approached him. He could see the outline of her lithe body as the thin linen drifted around her, highlighting her curves as she moved...
He gave a cry of frustration, grabbed a handful of shift and hauled her over.
She'd been afraid...but she'd tried not to show it.
But of course...you couldn't hide fear from a mind reader.
He seemed to smell it on her very skin, as he arranged her on the sleeping bag.
"Loosen up Sabina...I won't hurt you. I promise...you're going to like me better than Oscar..."
And she had, too. There was definitely something to be said for older men.
But she was grateful to have known Oscar. Grateful to have a basis for comparison. Grateful for her training...which enabled her body to accept his for hours, without any strain or stress.
Above her, John grunted happily.
But he really was scary and relentless. And he never got tired...that was a problem. Sometimes, in moments of passion, he didn't appear human. His eyes reminded her of Dogen's dragon.
Dogen had really loved his komodo dragon. Some of the women had jokingly referred to it as "Dogen's girlfriend". But Sabina had always thought the baseball was his girlfriend...
Well...she didn't need to worry about that anymore. John had taken care of the dragon. John could take care of anything...
"Huh? Mmmmm...yes John?"
"Roll your belly."
She concentrated, inflating her midriff, then executed a series of slow, undulating belly rolls.
He stiffened, then gasped ecstatically.
He didn't seem to mind temple dancing...as long as it was horizontal.
After that they rested a while.
"The Island's going down," he said, waking her out of a light doze "And I'm going home. To the place where my mother came from...and your mother, too, if I'm any judge of nationality. I want to bring you with me. You're lots more fun than Ben is."
"Ben? The buggy-eyed little man?"
"Have you two really..."
"Not now. Listen, Sabina...I've got to go back to camp. There's things...people...
I have to dispose of. You sail, don't you?"
"Oh, yes. My father was in charge of the temple yacht, the "Island Glory". He taught me all about boats. But the "Island Glory" was destroyed in a storm..."
"But you can work a sailboat?"
"Good. Now listen – there's a sailboat off Sheep Cliff. Just around the point, about a mile west, there's a rowboat at Temple Bay..."
"...I know that place..."
"...Covered by palm leaves. Find the boat and sail around the point to the "Elizabeth". Climb aboard and wait for me..."
"Don't even think of double-crossing me. One way or another - we're leaving together. You might see some things...earthquakes or rock slides...but don't panic - I'll be along soon. Remember this: if you try to run away, I'll find you."
It was a long hike to Temple Bay, and it was even harder rowing out to the sailboat - but she managed it.
The "Elizabeth" was well stocked, so she had those supplies to supplement the contents of her backpack.
And there were men's clothes aboard ship. The pants were big, but perfectly serviceable, once she'd rolled up the legs and added a rope belt. She folded and tied the loose shirt ends up under her breasts.
But there was no way she could shrink the deck shoes.
Oh, well...she'd just go barefoot. She liked the feel of ship decking under her feet.
She settled in and waited for John. She had no idea how long he'd be.
Sometimes she was tempted to take the "Elizabeth" on a pleasure cruise around the Island - but she didn't dare.
John didn't tolerate disobedience...and she had no idea where he was.
You didn't defy someone who'd destroyed Jacob...you didn't fight someone who'd single-handedly demolished a temple...
All you could do was drop your clothes and "assume the position".
She was lucky they got on so well...although she hated it when he called her "mommy".
She lost track of time. Her days were spent pleasantly: eating, resting, swabbing the deck, working on her tan.
But one day, the earthquake came. She looked around in alarm...rocks were breaking off the cliff face, the waves were rising...
There was a roar in the distance...could it be the volcano?
Movement on the cliff top caught her attention...it was John, staring down at her.
Relieved, she called his name and waved.
He didn't wave back, but he smiled. His smile was satisfied, confident. He looked covetously down on her, standing on the deck of the "Elizabeth"...and she knew he was looking forward to their reunion.
But something seemed to distract him. He turned, moving rapidly out of sight.
What was going on? The waves were getting higher. She saw a far-off cliff collapse into the sea.
Should she haul anchor? It wasn't safe here...and John could catch up...
But she hesitated. She wished she could see him. Even if John called out, she wouldn't hear...not over the roar of the waves and the crash of landslides.
Several endless minutes passed, and then she did see John...but there was blood on his shirt. He was lying on the ground, near the cliff's edge. Then a strange, dark haired man came into view...and he kicked John over the side.
She screamed as she saw John fall. She screamed again as he hit a ledge, halfway down the cliff face.
He couldn't be dead...he couldn't be. Who could kill John? Who could kill the Black Smoke?
But she couldn't help him...she couldn't stay here.
She was preparing to haul anchor when the cliff collapsed. John's ledge was hit by a large boulder, which catapulted him into the air...
His body was flying directly toward her.
Suddenly, Sabina remembered his last words to her: "One way or another...we're leaving together...If you try to run away, I'll find you."
John's body hit her squarely in the chest, knocking her down onto the deck.
(He can't be dead...how can a corpse grab my ass?)
There was a mighty roar, and a massive wave crashed over the "Elizabeth". The last thing she saw was John's face, then an enveloping river of white...
...L u s t...