November Flash tale #2 - "Tatas"

London Heathrow, Terminal 5

Sometime during 2023

Valerie hates the airport. She especially hates Heathrow. She really, really hates Terminal 5. Is there anything worse than flying?

The noise, the reek and groan of passengers. How many? Millions, surely. No wonder it feels like being inside a zoo. Packed in like sardines. She can feel the beginning of a tension headache, the suggestion of a throb in the center of her forehead.

A hand appears on her knee. “Hungry, Val? Want a snack?”

Valerie looks at the man sitting beside her. And then she remembers; there is something worse than flying.

They found her last night, holed up in a Brighton hotel. She’d covered her tracks, but they found her anyway. They broke down the door, really insisted on coming inside, and when Valerie saw it was a man on his own, she could have laughed. Because didn’t they know who she is?

Men can’t resist Valerie. That’s the point of her. Was the point.

But there’s something wrong with Dave. Or something wrong with Valerie, these days. Outside of Parkdale, she’s lost whatever she had. Whatever Dr. Sucette gave her. She’s just a pretty girl with great tits, and often that can be enough. Just not last night.

Hey, handsome.

You’re done.

Sure about that? Valerie had unbuttoned her blouse, she left little to the imagination.

Yeah. Nice tatas. But yeah. You’re done.

Dave, the man who would not be seduced, the man rude enough to break Valerie’s perfect record, points in the direction of Boots. “Want a 3 for 2?” He smiles. “Could use your Boots points. No point them going to waste.”

Because Valerie is departing Terminal 5 on a one-way trip. Overnight to Dubai, then to Kuala Lumpur, and then a second overnight to Auckland.

Flying Emirates, which will be nice. Final destination Ngatea, which will not be nice.

Valerie considers the contents of her purse; all the things Dave had emptied onto the hotel floor. It’s not just the Boots card that Valerie won’t be using.

“Well?” asks Dave. “Tuna sweetcorn? Ham ploughman’s?”

Valerie sniffs. “I’m not hungry.” She stares at the man. “Believe it or not.”

It’s the driving licence. It’s the credit cards. It’s the lipstick, the tweezers, the keys, nail file. It’s just all the things. And that thought, the understanding that she is on the verge of losing everything that qualifies her as an adult, is enough to make Valerie want to take her chance. Get to her feet and run.

Dave takes her hand, gives it a squeeze. “Doesn’t have to be this way. Give me the nod, I’ll say the magic words, you can be rainbows and unicorns.” He nods. “Be hungry then, I bet. Begging your Uncle Dave for a muffin from Starbucks. Or maybe you’re a Pret girl.” He chuckles. “Pulling a sulk if I don’t let you check out the Harry Potter shop, I bet.” He smiles at her indulgently, as if he really is her uncle. As if she really is a little girl.

But she isn’t. She still has her adult body. Always will, because even though she has been caught, she can’t be physically regressed. There’s no Parkdale to do the job.

She isn’t even dressed like a child. She’s wearing her own clothes, the pink blouse that shows off her assets, the tight blue jeans that still make men’s heads turn.

“Chicken ramen,” Valerie says.

Dave raises his eyebrows. “Where’s that, then?”

Valerie points back down the way they came. “We passed a Wagamama.”

“Sounds good.” Dave glances at the gate display. 45 minutes until boarding. They’ve got time for noodles.

Dave gets up, shoulders his backpack.

Valerie stands, and Dave puts a finger under her chin. “Not gonna run, are you.”

Valerie looks into his eyes. He’s been gentle with her, gentle enough, but there’s warmth in his expression. No sign that she’s charmed him in the slightest.

“Of course not,” she says. Even though she’s thought about it. Of course. Dave is average build; he doesn’t look particularly strong or fast. Running for her life, her freedom, Valerie is confident she could out pace him. And so, sure, she’s thought about making a break for it. She’s considered the irony of running into Cartier or Chanel or Dior, of taking refuge in shops she was able to afford until a few weeks before. Until Parkdale ceased being able to employ a woman of her talents.

But as they walk past, around, in-between other passengers, Valerie doesn’t pull away, she doesn’t cry out, she doesn’t kick, punch, and flee.

Because Dave has something more brutal than handcuffs or a gun; a hypnotic trigger that knocks Valerie off her feet. Dave demonstrated it once last night, it was enough to bring Valerie to her knees, a bubbling sensation in her mind making her forget her adult self. She had looked up at the man and understood that she understood pretty much nothing.

It lasted for a few seconds. After Valerie recovered, she stayed sitting on the carpet, aware that she had pissed herself.

“Be a good girl,” Dave had said softly. “and I don’t have to do that again.”

Over tea that tasted just a little like coffee, Dave explained about the trigger. It was always there. All the agents have them. Just in case. Clever Parkdale.

And you’ve got the list.

Exactly! Clever girl.

So, what? You’re hunting us down?

Good question. Dave doesn’t answer it.

So, they’ll go to Wagamama. Valerie will have her chicken ramen. Hell, she’ll have some katsu pickles on the side, and then they’ll get on the plane, and 26 hours later, they’ll be in New Zealand.

And at some point between the airport and Ngatea, Dave will use the trigger. Presumably. Undoubtedly.

Valerie has heard about the special school. On one hand she’s surprised that it’s still operating, but on the other hand, it makes some kind of sense. A retirement home for Parkdale agents. A way to mop up the mess the Parkdale Parenting Association left behind.

26 hours left of Valerie’s adult mind.

Or maybe Dave won’t wait. Maybe he’ll deliver the trigger during the flight. Valerie imagines waking up, bleary-eyed, with the mind of a toddler. Her nose wrinkles. Rainbows and unicorns. Is Dave really immune to Valerie’s tricks? He called her breasts ‘tatas’, he looked at her as if she was not sexy but adorable.

Is that how Valerie will think of her body in Ngatea? Will she jump and down, giggling at her jiggling tatas?

Valerie has 26 hours max to come up with a plan. A pleading wish, a desperate gamble. Some kind of arrangement that can keep her out of the school.

Or just 26 hours max to charm a man the old-fashioned way. She nods to herself as they enter the restaurant. Maybe. It’s possible. All kinds of things can happen on long-haul flights.

She smiles at Dave as they’re show to their seats. On her best behaviour. Ready to fight like hell.

THE END

Most targets are no match for her Valerie's 'adult' tricks, but this new target thinks her bare breasts are just cute - Byron