Coming to a turn in the passageway, a jumbled fuse box hung off the wall directly ahead. The corridor must turn right behind that final set of shelves to pass under the forbidden chamber. Or perhaps there’d be stairs leading up to it? Would he be waiting? The anticipation tinkled. However, as she approached it became apparent there was no corner: just a solid brick wall. A deadend. Shit! Although one of the bricks jutted out conspicuously. Obviously it wasn’t a hidden lever operating a secret door. Jess pressed the brick quickly several times before her rationality had a chance to catch up. Nothing happened, of course, but it was worth a try. Actually, she did attempt to push a few other potential clandestine levers. They also turned out to be ordinary bricks.
Imagine there was a hidden lever. The kind where the wall suddenly rotates and you end up on the other side. In the place below the secret room. Beneath it! Perhaps even worse things happen down there?! She visualised being transported to the other side, naked flames dancing with shadows… torches on stone columns… the silhouette of a tall man, standing silently across the chamber. Facing directly. Watching… fierce eyes burning out of the darkness. Too gloomy to see anything else… just the outline of a muscular figure, unclothed from the waist up, standing and waiting patiently. His posture changing now; only a slim movement, but startling. The head dropping minutely, brow sharpening, shoulders angling forward. The body language of a predator, in the moment before moving in on cornered prey.
The expression on her face in the moment she realises she’s gone too far… been drawn in too deep… and now suddenly wanting to escape. Escape! Panic gripping hold, hands scrabbling at the wall’s lost levers. Nothing there! Just normal bricks. Him advancing, slow stealthy paces… slinking. No need for him to rush; there’s no escape for her now. Relishing the scent of her fear. Sadism salivating… building an appetite. Desperate attempts to reverse the rotating wall, frantically clutching at the brickwork, fists beating hopelessly against stone… helplessly. Screaming. Pleading. The predator moving slower and slower, drawing closer and closer. Really wallowing in the suffering of anticipation. The terrified prey unable to bring herself to turn as he looms up behind. Face against the cold stone, eyes tight-shut, arms spread and palms flat against the wall, whole body quivering, voiceless-ness shuddering. A dark shadow falling. The warm breath of a red-blooded carnivore on the back of her neck. A long pause…
