[43] Buried Alive

Her flesh quivered under his touch as his fingers glided across the small of her back. He watched as the soft fine black hairs on the base of her spine gave way under his probing fingers, standing out against her brown skin. He listened to her breathing – slow and contented. Once again he could faintly hear the sirens in the distance, and once again he closed his mind to the world outside the hotel bedroom.

Tim looked at the discarded items of clothing strewn carelessly on the floor between the bed and the door. He recalled the passion which gripped them as they clawed at each other in the elevator, their tongues probing and their hands pulling at each other’s clothing. He remembered closing the bedroom door noisily behind them before he pushed Maria against the wall and hungrily bit her flesh and undressed her without finesse, impatiently, wantonly.

He met Maria as arranged at Battery Park, 8am. They had both agreed to call in sick and spend the day in a hotel room, locked away from the rest of the world, entwined in each other, abandoned to their mutual desires. Just one day, they had decided. Just one journey of passion and discovery; to exorcise the lustful demons which had slowly brought them together. Tim called first as Maria clung to his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He told Marcus, his boss, that he was going to stay in bed today. A migraine coming on, he told him. Thought he’d best close the blinds, pop a couple of painkillers and hide under the blankets. Write-off the day, he suggested. He closed his cell phone and handed it to Maria, who carefully dialled her own office in Queens. Another migraine. Another day spent in bed and in darkness. Another lie.

Tim had already made the hotel reservation and prepared the room for a champagne breakfast. Once they had relieved themselves of their initial hunger for each other, they showered together and helped dry each other before enjoying the champagne and oysters as they sat naked on a brown leather couch in front of a glass coffee table. After a while, Tim closed and locked the windows, shutting out the sounds of the city beyond. He switched off his cell phone and climbed back into bed. He watched as Maria, his dark and sensual Brazilian beauty, moved over him and ran her tongue along his neck and down to his chest. Tim closed his eyes and enjoyed the movement of her lips and her tongue as they probed his body. For a guilty second he involuntarily thought of his wife Lori and baby daughter back home in Long Island and his hand covered his eyes as he felt Maria’s mouth brush his naval on its downward journey. The image of his wife was soon erased from his mind as he surrendered to the girl's kisses and carresses.

Tim checked his watch. 4:45pm. He rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom where he drank two glasses of water in quick succession. The champagne had left him slightly dehydrated and he breathed into his cupped hand and tried to smell his own breath. He decided he’d tell Lori he had a couple of glasses with a client for lunch, if she detects it on his breath. He managed to shower and dress before Maria woke from her deep slumber. She complained of a genuine headache and rushed to the bathroom where she locked the door behind her.

Tim sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his cell phone which he had left on the bedside table. He switched it on and waited for the display. Twenty-three missed calls. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. He was not mistaken. Nervously he navigated to the list of missed calls. Lori. Seventeen calls from Lori. Then four from his father followed by two more from Lori. His heart skipped a beat and sweat formed on his brow. He knew something was wrong. Was it Felicity, his daughter? He stood up and paced the room, constantly glancing at his cell phone. He had already planned to catch the usual train at the World Trades Centre and meet Lori at the station as normal. What if she had phoned his office direct? What if she had called his boss? His mind raced as he tried to cover every angle.

Maria emerged from the bathroom and began to dress.

“Is everything alright?” she enquired, noticing Tim’s agitated state.

“Yes. Yes I think so,” he lied.

“You don’t look so good darling. Anything I can do?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Look honey,” he said, moving towards her. “You know I told you I had to catch my train.”

“Yes,” said Maria as she continued to dress. “What time is it?”

“Nearly five o’clock. It’s just that, can you let yourself out? I need to run.”

“Look sweetheart,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I told you, I know the setup. No strings...no heartache. You go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her at length. His cell phone rang. He moved quickly away from her and stood at the window, subconsciously manoeuvring for a better reception.

“Hello,” he began nervously. “Yes darling of course I’m alright. Why are you crying? What’s happened Lori?”

He sat on the edge of the bed facing the window as Maria looked on anxiously.

“I know darling. My cell phone hasn’t been working all day. I only just got it fixed. One of the techie guys fixed it for me. Of course I love you. I know you love me. What’s happened baby? What’s wrong?”

He leaned forward now, his elbows resting on his knees and looking down at the floor as he listened to his hysterical wife.

“Yes, I’ve been in the office all day. Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

Maria moved to the window and opened the blinds. Tim heard her let out a gasp. She walked backward away from the window and fell into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

“Darling I don’t understand,” he continued. “I tell you I’ve been at my desk on the eighty-seventh floor of the World Trade Centre since eight-thirty this morning. What are you saying Lori?”

Tim noticed the look of terror in the face of his lover Maria. With one hand she blessed herself while the other gripped Tim roughly by the arm as she stared straight ahead, her eyes filling with tears. Tim turned his head towards the window and saw the huge cloud of smoke. He jumped to his feet and stepped swiftly towards the window. He looked across the Hudson River and his legs turned to jelly as he took in the scene before him. The whole of downtown Manhattan was enveloped in a thick cloud of smoke and dust. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre – his office – was no longer there. He dropped his cell phone and stared in open-mouthed horror, his mind racing as it tried to make sense of it all.

Behind him he heard Maria whimper and cry out, “My God. Oh my God.”

On the floor by his feet he could hear the sound of his wife’s voice rising from the discarded cell phone.

“Tim. Are you there. Tim. Tim.”