Disenchanted (13 page)

Prince Charming returned with a
bowl of water and a henchman. I fastened my breathing mask on, unscrewed the
phial and squeezed the pipette, allowing a small drop to fall into the water.
Sadly, he also produced a mask. The henchman crumpled to the floor. Prince Charming
beckoned me out of the room.

"How much?"

"For a sample this size? One
million."

"Half."

"Forget it. I've dedicated
my entire working life to this. My conscience vanishes at a million. I have
another buyer if you can't afford it."

"I'll set up a meeting with
my accountant. You bring the product, I'll bring the money."

"Glass Slipper has
arrived,"
Finton
hissed in my ear. "Get
out."

I offered my hand. Prince
Charming shook it. "Pleasure doing business with you. I'll be in
touch."

I tucked the phial into my bag
and hurried down the corridor. "Location of Glass Slipper?"

"Just entered the main hall.
The quickest route to the front door is through the hall. The back exit is
through the kitchens, which are located in the east wing."

"Have the car waiting out front."

I held my masquerade mask to my
face, opened the door and stepped into the hall. Music blasted my ear drums.
People danced around me, laughing, stumbling and groping each other. I slipped
between them, watching the exit and keeping an eye out for Glass Slipper. My
cover couldn't be blown before the exchange took place. I sidestepped a man who
stumbled into my path, ducked a twirling couple and pushed my way through the
mass of bodies that conspired to keep me prisoner.

He was approaching the bar. I used
a tall man as a shield until Glass Slipper's back was to me. I barged through
the crowd until the doors were in sight. I hurried down the steps. A man
rushing up them banged into me and I dropped my bag. I grabbed everything and
dashed to the car.

"Well done,"
Finton
congratulated me.

I ducked when I saw Prince
Charming on the steps. He leaned down and picked something up. I quickly
checked my bag.

"Shit! My motorbike keys! I
have to go back for them."

Glass Slipper joined Prince
Charming.

"Go,"
Finton
told the driver.

"I need my keys!"

"You can't go back now,
Glass Slipper will recognise you. Get them when you make the deal."

"I don't want that
slimeball
fingering my keys, sniffing them while he has
unpleasant thoughts about me."

Finton
laughed. "They're not your knickers."

"
Perv
."
I folded my arms, scowling.

Finton
opened the back door and jogged to the steps. He spoke to Prince Charming then
returned, dangling the keys. I snatched them.

"You did well. Not sure I agree
with manhandling a 'potential client' but it worked out well."

"Would you want that creep
shoving his tongue down your throat and treating your arse like a giant stress
ball?"

"I don't mind a bit of rough
play." He winked.

"Good. Next time you can wear
the dress."

"I'll schedule the meeting
in the next few days. This will be one of our biggest take downs."

"I'm looking forwards to
shoving his face in the dirt while I slap the cuffs on him."

The car eventually pulled up
outside my house. I hopped out and let myself in. I headed straight for the
shower to wash Prince Smarming off my body.

***

I turned up Metallica's 'Enter
Sandman' and fetched the new bottle of oil for my bike. As I reached for it, a
giant sack was pulled over my head, my ankles were swiftly tied and I was
lifted up, my arms bound to my sides. I struggled and kicked, but I was like a
mermaid trapped in a net.

I was thrown onto what felt like
a car seat before the car sped off. I kicked out, satisfied when I heard
someone swear in pain.

"You're very vicious for a
lady scientist."

Prince Charming. I inwardly
swore.

"Competition for the Nobel
Prize is fierce."

"I hardly think you're in
contention for the peace prize. Agent Ella
Harker
."

Shit
! "Can you take this sack off? I feel like an oversized
potato." He chuckled. "Where are you taking me? Back to your
castle?"

The car stopped and I was dragged
out by my ankles. I hit the ground hard, swearing. I was picked up and carried.
I felt my feet touch the floor and the sack was removed. I blinked. I was in a
cellar. Someone was tied to a chair, his face a bloodied mess. He opened his
eyes.

Finton
.

I was forced into a chair
opposite him and tied down then Prince Charming left.

"What the hell happened to
you?" I whispered.

"They took offence at my sponsored
silence. You hurt, Cinderella?"

"Call me that again and I'll
smash your pumpkins. How the hell did he find us?"

"The bugs picked him up
boasting about planting a tracking device on you when he kissed you."

"Why didn't you warn
me?"

"And miss this chance for a
one on one bonding session? I've been here two days. Drugged and semi-conscious
most of the time. If this is how he treats his guests, he won't get an entry in
a guest house guide."

I stood then threw myself
backwards, biting my tongue when the chair hit the ground. I struggled up then
hobbled to the wall and whacked my chair against it. I hit the ground, smacking
my face. Cursing, I stood and attacked the wall until my chair splintered.

"They make that look so easy
in films," I grunted, wriggling my arms down until the rope dropped free.

I untied my legs, grabbed the
sharpest chair leg then hurried to
Finton
. The door
opened and two of Prince Charming's henchmen entered. I ducked behind
Finton's
chair as a shot rang out.

"You're not using me as a
shield!" He hissed.

I waited until one of the men got
closer
then
I sprang at him, plunging the leg into
his throat. I yanked it out as the other man grabbed me. I stumbled backwards
onto
Finton's
lap then thrust the leg into the man's
stomach and kicked him off me.

"How about kissing me
better?"
Finton
asked.

I swivelled so I straddled him.
"
D'you
know how many germs are in the human
mouth? I wouldn't want you getting infected."

"I'm a danger junkie."

"Then you need rehab."

"You let me see you in your
sexy lingerie."

"It was either take the
dress off or have it open like a parachute when I jumped. I didn't have time to
float to the ground." I got up and untied the rope. "Now you have to
let me see
you
in your sexy
lingerie."

"My saucy Santa set will
make you want to pull my cracker."

I laughed, helped him up then
stole the henchmen's guns. I eyed
Finton's
broken
fingers. "I'll buy you mittens." The door was flung open.

"Drop the guns or I'll shoot
your partner." Prince Charming raised his gun.

"He deserves it for making
me wear that dress."

He shot him.

Wow. That really didn't work out
as I'd hoped.

I fired twice into Prince
Charming's chest. As he dropped to the floor, I stood over him and fired
another bullet into his forehead. I tucked the guns into my waistband then
turned. A ruby rose blossomed on
Finton's
shoulder.

"He's a terrible shot.
Doesn't he know where your heart is?" I helped
Finton
up, pulling a rag from my pocket to press against the wound.

"You won't kiss me…because
of germs…but use that to stop…the bleeding?" he gasped.

"You're lucky it's clean.
Had he shown up five minutes later, it would've been covered in oil."

I kicked open the door then
ducked under his good arm and supported him up the stairs. Footsteps. I stopped
at the top of the stairs and peered around the doorway. A shadow slunk across
the wall. I darted out. Another man fired at us, so I shot him twice in the
chest. I helped
Finton
along the hallway. A door
opened and a man stared at us before reaching for his gun. I kicked it out of
his hands then killed him with a headshot.

"For a fairy godmother, you
suck," I teased.

"I transformed you into the
belle of the ball, without using the magic wand."

"Which is?"

"Colt .45. It was my back-up
plan. Though that black dress gave me very pleasant dreams."

Something pressed against the
back of my skull.

"Move and you're dead."

I spun, hit the gun away and shot
Glass Slipper in the head.

"I hope you're ready for the
debriefing first thing Monday morning,"
Finton
said. "You've just killed the man MI6 were hoping to turn for information
on a major arms dealing operation."

I sighed. So much for happily
ever after.

Sleeping Beauties

Every child has been read
fairytales
. It's a rite of passage, like climbing trees, owning
a games console and being punched in the face. Girls dream of being swept off
their feet by handsome princes. Boys dream of fighting witches and dragons and
rescuing beautiful princesses from tall towers. No-one dreams of being the
wicked witch. Everyone falls in love at first sight. Everyone's beautiful
(apart from the evil ones) and the bad get their comeuppance. No wonder people
grow up deluded and disappointed. There should be a
Fairytales
Ruined My Life
slot on
The
Jeremy Kyle Show.

Some women still dream of meeting
Prince Charming. Or meeting a footballer and becoming a WAG, where beauty is
only a scalpel away. Some guys develop hero complexes and become
firefighters
, or dress as Batman at Comic Con.

I never outgrew my fantasy.

My mother read me
Sleeping Beauty
, probably hoping the
prince would be my moral compass. Unfortunately, my compass points south. I did
fall in love with the princess. But the ending ruined it for me. He finds a
beautiful girl, completely at his mercy, wakes her with a kiss, they get
married and live happily ever after. Well, he deceives her by never revealing
it's one hundred years later and imprisons her in the castle so she never finds
out. I never trusted the 'happy ever after' bit. Prince or not, every woman
gets sick of their man leaving his dirty underpants lying around like
archaeological treasures.

Many nights I fantasised about
finding a girl asleep, but when
I
kissed her, she didn't wake up.

That's what
really
turned me on.

***

Trees surrounded me, like a group
of blood worshippers and I was their unwilling sacrifice. I'd be lucky to
escape this labyrinthine woodland alive. Especially as I ignored the sign's
advice to bring water.

I stumbled into a clearing and
saw a cottage. Seven children huddled together, weeping. I edged closer,
drawing my gun. Don't judge me. Children are running gangs these days and
trading weapons like we'd traded WWF cards. Then I saw they were dwarves,
standing around a glass coffin like it was the latest twisted art exhibit. The
girl inside didn't look dead. Her raven hair spilled over her white skin, her
lips like a bloodstain on her face. I pictured running my hands over her body
and kissing her scarlet lips while she lay there, feeling every touch but still
asleep.

I'd found my Sleeping Beauty.

I'd never had a physical reaction
to a girl before. It scared and thrilled me. Maybe love at first sight
wasn't
something
fairytales
concocted. I marched forwards, my gun concealing my sinful excitement.

"I want her!"

Bugger
. I should've opened with 'hello.'

"Snow White is dead,"
the fat dwarf said. Well, I doubted the coffin was the latest technology in
sunbeds.

"She's absolutely beautiful.
Take her to my mansion."

Surprisingly, they didn't argue.
I must've looked crazed with lust; panting and sweating like a
chatline
pervert. If they worked for me I'd have them
fired. Or shot. They clearly subscribed to the
fairytale
mentality – beauty = good, ugly = evil. My handsomeness put me in the good
camp.

"Do you promise to look
after her?" The ugly one asked.

"I promise." What else
would I say? 'No, I'll treat her appallingly then when she's decomposed, string
her up for Halloween.' That would win their trust.

They carried the coffin to my
mansion, singing some annoying repetitive song about going to work. I tripped
the smelly dwarf and blamed the miserable one. I had them take the coffin to my
bedroom. There was no way I was damaging my back struggling up the stairs with
it.

"You have a beautiful
home," the stupid looking dwarf said.

"Snow White will be happy
here," the cross-eyed one agreed.

She's dead. I could store her in the shed and she wouldn't notice.
"Don't steal anything on your way out."

"You must love her as much
as we do," the spotty one remarked. "You have a handsome, trustworthy
face so we're happy to leave her with you."

Clearly they'd never watched
Crimewatch
.

Once the Ugly Convention left, I
lifted her out of the coffin and laid her on the bed. She was exquisite and
still warm. I stroked her hair, her satin skin, my arousal growing. I kissed
her unresponsive lips. She tasted of apples. I'd never been with a girl,
despite my obvious sex appeal. They were too…awake.

Overwhelming desire tortured me.
I'd never understood how it felt for other people. I understood now. I peeked
under her dress. She wore black lace underwear with a garter belt and
stockings.

"
Hubba
hubba
!"

I sat her up to undress her. She
coughed. I froze. An apple piece landed in her lap. Ugh. So uncouth. She gasped
and opened her eyes.

I imagined this is how it would
feel for a guy's blow up doll to suddenly awaken. My desire deflated.

"Who are you? What are you
doing?"

I'm doing a Paint by Numbers picture. What does it look like I'm doing?
There was no way I'd survive this without looking like a pervert. "I…saw
you in the woods and…fell in love with you. The dwarves brought you here."

How could I explain my Sleeping
Beauty fetish without sounding like I should be put on a register?

"You want to marry me?"

Not particularly.
She must be one of those who read Mills and Boon
and dreamed of their Prince Charming. I sighed. My compass was definitely
pointing south now.

"Yes."

That's how I ended up marrying
Snow White. I wish I could say it was a dream wedding, but her being conscious
spoiled the whole day. Given a choice between marriage and prison…I'd rather be
a husband than a bitch.

When she questioned why we were
never intimate, I told her I was saving myself for our wedding night. She
thought I was gentlemanly and romantic and gushed to the dwarves about me in
her letters. On our wedding night, I spiked her drink and was able to finish
what I'd started when we'd met. The next night I tried making love to her while
she was awake. I couldn't perform. She was really understanding but I was
humiliated. I didn't care if it 'happened to every man.' The point was it
happened to
me
.

She was boring. A goody two shoes
who loved cooking and cleaning. She acted like my mother, not my bride. Even
without my unusual…fetish, I wouldn't have fancied her. No sane man wants to
make love to his mother. I couldn't brag about her to my friends. When they
boasted about their hot or kinky girlfriends, what could I say? 'She baked me
muffins.' No-one went to Amsterdam for that. Her idea of sexy and daring was
wearing a tweed calf length skirt with her hair down. And her
knickers
! I could've used them to sail
my boat. The dwarves must've dressed her in the sexy set, hoping a handsome
prince would take her - save them digging a grave. I was
conned
by pros.

After that I drugged her
regularly, sometimes just to stop her nagging. She developed a tolerance so I
had to keep upping her dose. One night I gave her too much.

My Sleeping Beauty never woke
again.

***

I needed a new wife. The 'in' way
was to hold a ball, complete with television crew for the hit reality TV
series,
Groom with a View
. I was
rich, handsome and lost my beautiful young wife tragically. I even shed a tear
in the opening credits. Not many people could pull off crying whilst looking
heartbreakingly handsome. I was a ratings winner. Anonymously nominating myself
for Bachelor of the Year helped.

Most contestants were old or ugly
but desperate to snag their prince or fifteen minutes of fame. Under normal
circumstances, I would never allow these degenerates into my home, but once the
director saw my grand abode, she insisted on filming here.

"What do you think of the
contestants?" The presenter, Ashleigh, asked.

"Ghastly. If I wanted a WAG
clone, I'd order one from the
WAG Slags
Monthly
catalogue."

She looked shocked. "How
about dancing with some then giving an opinion and marks out of ten?"

"Raise their hopes then dash
them to boost your ratings?"

"You applied for the
show."

"It seems so cruel. Can't I
just behead them?"

Surprisingly, she refused.
Beheadings were always a crowd-puller.

"Can they dance with those
oversized novelty breasts? Surely the weight will topple them. Do they know
it's
Groom with a View
not
Strippers Got Talent
?"

I danced with some of the
fame-hungry trollops before rejecting them so the crew could film them fleeing
in tears then chase them down for an interview for the nation to revel in their
misery. Decapitating them would've been kinder. At least their makeup would've
stayed intact.

Then I saw her. Slim, pretty, shy
and wearing a gorgeous dress that wouldn't fit a seven year old. I asked her to
dance. She smelt of grime, like she'd been cleaning a cellar. I discreetly
sprayed her with my deodorant.

"So you've always dreamed of
marrying a prince?"

"Who hasn't?"

Realists.

She watched the clock the whole
time, which I thought rather rude. I was the best company in the country. I
held her close, imagining how she'd feel in my arms; limp, warm, her perfect
body still beneath mine.

I hoped she couldn't feel how
much she turned me on. My little soldier saluting on camera would ruin the
show's 'chaste' image.

The clock struck midnight. She
mumbled some lame excuse and ran. I chased her but those dreadful desperados
blocked me and my princess vanished. I vehemently rued the 'no decapitation'
clause in the contract.

"Have you made a
decision?" Ashleigh asked, the camera in my face.

"I want her."

She faced the camera.
"Prince Charming has found his princess. But will she agree to live
happily ever after with him?"

"Poppycock. The only thing
hotter than me is the sun."

Unable to bear being surrounded
by money-grabbing tramps way past their sell-by date, and
Footballer's Wives
rejects, I locked myself in my honeymoon suite.
I leaned against the door, admiring the glass coffin in the centre of the room.
Snow White wore her wedding dress. I touched the lid, remembering the day we
met. I removed the lid and stroked her hair. Strands broke on my fingers. Her
flowery perfume was tainted by an unpleasant aroma. I kissed her sunken cheek
before replacing the lid and leaving her to sleep.

***

I held another ball the next
night. The contestants wore dresses that cost as much as a house, despite there
being more material in my handkerchief. I danced with them to keep Ashleigh
happy then gave scathing opinions to the camera and marking them with minus
figures, whilst wishing I had a crocodile pit to throw them into.

"What did you think about
Candice?" Ashleigh asked. I stared blankly. She pointed her out.

"I think she needs an
Epi
pen."

"Sorry?"

"She seems to have had an
allergic reaction. Her lips are swollen like a trout's."

"It's collagen," she
whispered.

"Dear god! She did that to
herself
?"

Girls thrust their grotesquely
enormous fake boobs towards me, hoping I'd notice. Notice? If I twirled them on
the dance floor, the wind current would wipe out China.

"Prince Charming, you're
well fit," one girl gushed.

"Can I see your sword?"
Another winked.

I shuddered. "My name's not
Charming. My parents didn't work for Disney." One girl gyrated her arse in
my crotch. "Your mating ritual is frankly disturbing! Did you copy it from
the Discovery Channel?"

The door opened. My heart
stopped. She wore a different dress and her hair was pinned.

"May I have this
dance?" She took my hand. The cameraman followed us to the dance floor.
"Why did you vanish?" Her hair smelt of jasmine.

"I had to get home."

"I'd like to get to know
you."

She smiled. I didn't bother
dancing with the others. I was with the woman I wanted. Why should I risk spray
tan rub-off and false nails imbedded in my arse, just to make the show
entertaining?

The clock struck midnight. She
made her excuses and fled. I stalked her and was thwarted again. I burst
through the door. A glass slipper lay abandoned on the steps. Its delicate beauty
matched Snow White's glass coffin, resurrecting delicious memories.

"Your chosen bride has
disappeared. What will you do now?" Ashleigh asked.

"Weep inconsolably."
She looked hopeful. "I'm going to find her, you nitwit."

I took the glass slipper upstairs
and set it on a crimson velvet cushion, imagining it gracing her foot.

The next day I began searching
for my dancing princess. A camera crew insisted on following. I visited
everyone on the guest list and made them try on the glass slipper. My assistant
nearly suffocated in one girl's breasts when he crouched to put the shoe on
her.

I'd reached the last house and
was beginning to despair. I watched while two trolls tried forcing their wide
feet into the slim slipper.

"Don't break it!" I ran
my hand through my hair, resisting the urge to snatch the shoe and beat them to
death with it. That's not the way you treat fragile glass.

"I have a
stepdaughter," the mother said.