Disenchanted (14 page)

"What do you want? A
medal?"

"Would you like her to try
it?"

"Apparently, everyone in the
neighbourhood suffers from clown foot syndrome."

She returned with a scruffy girl.
Her dirty blonde hair was plastered with dust. The thought of her filthy foot
tainting the slipper turned my stomach. She sat and smiled nervously as she
raised her skirt and offered her foot. I clicked my fingers. My assistant knelt
and slid the slipper onto her foot.

"
You're
my princess?"

She wasn't a princess at all. She
was a cleaner. But then, I wasn't the
fairytale
prince she thought I was. I didn't inherit my title, I bought it off eBay. Our
whole relationship was built on lies.

"I'm sorry." She
lowered her gaze. "I really wanted to go to the ball."

"Do you have the other
slipper?" She nodded. "Fetch it."

Her sisters glowered like
gargoyles. I was tempted to behead them and mount their heads on my gateposts
to frighten Boy Scouts.

"I can't believe that
scrubber's the princess," the toady one said.

She returned wearing the other
slipper. My heart raced as I pictured her lying on my bed, naked except for
those shoes.

"Would you do me the honour
of being my princess for eternity?" Whoever wrote that into the contract
should've been shot.

"She has work to do,"
her stepmother said.

I clenched my fists so I wouldn't
use her face to create interesting dents in the fireplace. "Rules are
rules." I took my princess's hand. "What's your name?"

"Cinderella."

***

The production company paid for
the wedding. I made an obscene amount of money selling the photos to
OK!
It was a
fairytale
wedding with a glass carriage, white horses, footmen and a fairy godmother
dress designer. Cinderella's hair was now black. Footballers' WAGS tried
outdoing it but although they had money, they lacked class. Their weddings
looked cheap and trashy, their overly tanned skin, collagen faces and silicon
boobs more suited for a porn film than a wedding DVD. They'd be lucky to sell
their photos to their local
Gazette
-
as I helpfully revealed in an exclusive centre page spread in
Hello!
My name trended on Twitter for
two days.

On our wedding night, I laid
Cinderella on our bed.

"Pretend you're asleep.
Don't react."

I ran my fingers over her face.
Her eyelids flickered, but I ignored it. I traced down her beautiful dress to
her glass slippers. I stroked her slender ankles then up her leg, raising the
dress to see the white garter. I rolled her over and unzipped the dress. I
eased her onto her back and undressed her. At my request, she wore a white
satin
basque
and knickers.

I took my time exploring her pale
body. She lay perfectly still until I caressed her inner thigh. She gasped.

"You're not doing it
right!"

"Sorry. This is my first
time. Tell me what to do."

"Don't speak, don't moan,
don't move. Play dead."

"Why?"

"You got your perfect
wedding, I want my perfect wedding night."

I touched her breast through her
corset as I kissed her. She responded eagerly.

"I can't do this." I
walked out.

I fetched a glass of water and
spied Snow White's sleeping tablets in the cupboard. I emptied two into the
water and carried it upstairs.

"Babe, don't cry."

"I want to make you happy.
But when you touch me…"

I stroked her hair. "Drink
this."

I held her until she fell asleep.
I had a wedding night I'd always remember.

Cinderella became my next
Sleeping Beauty.

***

I was on the Internet when
Cinderella entered the room. I'd found a fascinating article about locked-in
syndrome. I was aroused thinking about it. In the screen's reflection, I
watched her sashay over, wearing her wedding lingerie and glass slippers. She
stroked my chest, her breasts molesting the back of my head.

"I was thinking of having an
early night," she murmured, kissing my neck.

"Goodnight then."

She wheeled my chair backwards
and straddled me.

"I know what you do when I'm
asleep." I froze. If she'd installed one of those nanny cams...Dear god,
what if she saw my drag Britney Spears performance? "Why don't you do it
when I'm awake?"
Because you're
awake, sweetheart.
"I want to feel it. Enjoy it." She thrust her
breasts to my mouth.
Is she trying to
suffocate me?
"I've been practising."

She closed her eyes and went
floppy. I pushed her upright. Her head drooped forwards. I kissed her. She
didn't respond. I gripped her waist and kissed her breasts. She did nothing. I
pushed her against the desk. She slumped backwards over it.

"Oh baby," I groaned.

I undid my trousers then sat her
on my lap and made love to her, quickly and passionately. She remained limp and
lifeless. At that moment, I loved her.

She opened her eyes.

Ruining the moment.

"See?" She whispered.
"I can play dead."

Cinderella's performance improved
every time we made love. She even learned to keep her eyes closed until I'd
rolled over to sleep. I loved her even more. She was so beautiful, so
compliant. But during the day, when she was awake and talking, I resented her.
It cheapened our nights together. She was everything I wanted. But she had one
flaw.

She woke up.

After a few months, I found a
witch on the Internet and invited her round. I know, I went against every
Government guideline, but I couldn't exactly discuss my requirements in the
middle of Starbucks. I brought her to my room, where Cinderella slept, naked
except for her glass slippers.

"I want this. Forever."
I gestured to her.

"I don't understand."

"I want a wife who's alive
but never wakes up."

The witch looked at me like I was
deranged. It wasn't like I had a fetish for being an adult baby.

"You want a sleeping potion
that lasts until death?"

"Yes! I've dreamed of
this." I paused, wary about blabbing my deepest secrets like a guest on
the afore mentioned chat show. But then again, if she told anyone, I'd have her
arrested. Hell, I lived in the middle of nowhere, I could just kill her.

"You want a living,
breathing, sleeping doll. That you can touch," she stroked Cinderella's
hair. "Play with," her hand danced over Cinderella's breast.
"And abuse at will." She rolled her over and smacked her backside.
Cinderella didn't stir.

I swallowed, aroused. "It
sounds so creepy when you say it."

"It won't be cheap."

"I don't suppose I can pay
you with magic beans?"

"I'll have the potion in two
days. Don't give her too much."

"If you succeed, I'll give
you anything you want."

"Sometimes getting
everything you want is a dangerous thing."

***

Two days later, I had my potion.
It worked better than Snow White's sleeping pills. I loved Cinderella more each
time we were together. But after three days, she woke up. She was too weak to
get out of bed and she vomited for days. She had no recollection of our
rompathon
but when I went to see her, she sent me away. She
had this look in her eyes, like she
knew
.
I waited until she was better then slipped the potion into the drink the maid
took her. I doubled the dose so she'd stay asleep longer.

When I woke, she was cold.

I summoned the witch.

"I can't cure death."

"She can't be dead."

"You gave her too
much."

"Fix her! Or I'll have you
hunted for sport."

"Get me another girl and
I'll get it right."

"I don't
want
another girl! I want
her
!"

"I'm the only person besides
you and your dead wife who knows your flag only flies for unconscious girls.
Unless you want that becoming an MSN link, do as I say. I don't care about your
twisted desires, I just want my money."

She left with promises to improve
her potion. I held Cinderella for three days until her funeral. At my request,
her glass coffin was returned to the castle. I'd dressed her in her wedding
gown and placed the glass slippers on her feet before laying the coffin on a
cushion in the honeymoon suite, on the shelf above Snow White's.

***

I didn't leave the honeymoon
suite for a fortnight.

But staring at my dead wives was
more unbearable than an
EastEnders
omnibus, so I went for a walk. Part of me hoped to stumble across another glass
coffin, but unlike in
fairytales
, it's not an
everyday occurrence.

Beautiful singing travelled
through the woods. I followed the voice to a tall tower. A haggard old woman
approached it so I ducked back. If
fairytales
taught
me anything, it was that haggard old women were always nasty. Even if their
hips snapped like breadsticks.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let
down your hair!"

Fiery waves of hair rolled down
the tower from the high window. I was mesmerised. She wasn't in a glass coffin,
but that could change. The old woman climbed up the hair. She stayed inside for
a while then left the same way. I waited until she'd gone then I sneaked to the
tower.

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let
down your hair!" I bellowed like a hammy thespian.

The stunning red locks tumbled
down. I stroked them then began climbing. Her roots must lift weights. I
dragged myself in through the window. Rapunzel gave a startled yelp. She was
gorgeous. White skin, emerald eyes and beautiful, endless hair. I imagined it
wrapped around me as I made love to her.

"Is your name really
Rapunzel?" She nodded. "Are your parents celebrities?"

"I don't know my
parents."

"Oh. I just wondered because
celebrities have that psychosis that makes them give their offspring ridiculous
names."

"What does everyone call
you?"

"Your Majesty." I
surveyed the barren tower. "Do you live here or are you roleplaying a
fantasy game?"

"I've always lived
here."

"Are the waiting lists for
council houses really that long? Get pregnant and say you've been thrown out.
You'll go straight to the top of the list."

I visited her every day for
weeks. Her conversational skills didn't stretch beyond the weather and berry
recipes and she had the social graces of a crazed chimp, but she
had
been incarcerated in a tower all her
life. Where the hell were social services?

"If the witch sees you,
she'll kill me," she whispered.

As long as she didn't kill
me…"I'll take you to my mansion. She'll never hurt you again."

"Get out of my tower!"

I turned and saw the witch.

"You let any man climb your
hair?" The witch grabbed Rapunzel's hair. "Hussy!"

"I'm a prince and I intend
to marry
Rapretzel
."

"Rapunzel," she
murmured.

"I'll turn you into a
toad!" The witch shrieked.

I waved my hand under my nose.
"Dear god woman, have you never heard of toothpaste?"

She uttered an incantation. I
threw her out the window. It was a far more effective method. Every complaints
department should have high windows. Her broken body lay at the foot of the
tower. I climbed down Rapunzel's hair, returned to my mansion for a spade and
buried the witch in the forest. Rapunzel made a rope out of bed sheets and
climbed down. I caught her and took her back to my mansion.

The wedding was simple. I was too
mortified by her feral behaviour to invite guests. Plus marrying someone so
soon after Cinderella's death wouldn't win me Widower of the Year. The prize
was an 'all expenses paid' world cruise. Rapunzel wore her hair pinned up. I
longed for our wedding night. I used the witch's improved potion and while
Rapunzel slept, I spent ages unpinning her silky hair and running my fingers
through it. The feel of it brushing my naked skin sent tingles through my body.

Our wedding was the last time I
saw Rapunzel awake. The witch had got the potion right, except for one thing -
the sunlight spilling over Rapunzel's naked form exposed the cruelty of ageing.
She no longer aroused me. I asked the witch to revive her so I could divorce
her. But the witch failed. Some things can never be undone.

I pressed a pillow over
Rapunzel's face. She didn't struggle. She didn't cry out. She didn't fight for
her life. She just lay there until she died.

***

I sat in the honeymoon suite. My
beautiful brides. Asleep forever in their glass coffins, like
Star Wars
figures still in their
original packaging. Snow White. Cinderella. Rapunzel. Goldilocks. Red Riding
Hood. I met Red in the forest. Goldilocks broke into my mansion. I had the
worst luck. Other people managed to keep their wives alive for years. Most
lamented it.

The witch's potion made their
sleep eternal and each time they kept their youthful looks for longer but they
still aged. My fantasy died with each new wrinkle. I took the witch's
anti-ageing potion so I was handsome enough to attract my next bride. Ageing's
far more forgivable in a man.

"I have a bride for
you," the witch said. "Her parents were desperate for a child. When
they finally succeeded, they organised a christening and invited seven good
fairies. They didn't invite me."

"But you're such an
upstanding citizen."

"The fairies received gold
caskets with jewel encrusted cutlery so bestowed absurd wishes on the brat. I
got sod all. I've created a spell. When their precious daughter pricks her
finger on a sewing needle, she'll fall asleep for a hundred years."