Sleeping Dragons by Magela Baudoin & Wendy Burk & M. J. Fièvre

Author:Magela Baudoin & Wendy Burk & M. J. Fièvre [Baudoin, Magela & Burk, Wendy & Fièvre, M. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schaffner Press, Inc.
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

MENGELE IN LOVE

And if you like I can inject

something that we both suspect

will make your body a perfect

glass ornament.

—KLAUS & KINSKI

THE MANAGER KISSED her. It was the first time in all those years, an awkward brushing of lips that unfolded calmly, slowly. Stunned, yet unresisting, María let it happen, giving in to the man’s primitive, impenetrable impulse. She squeezed her eyes closed, as if trying to shut out the light; she couldn’t believe that they were in his office, and not in one of the guest bathrooms. When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her. Feeling herself shrink under his sharp, cold gaze, she hurried away to the changing rooms. A little later, adjusting her uniform, she asked herself if she should still keep calling him “sir.” But she already knew the answer. It would have made her so happy to call him “my darling,” to whisper a love song into his ear, to hold him in her arms, but …“What if he fires me?” she thought, as the gentle chime of the elevator broke into her daydream.

Arami, a five-star hotel has its charms, believe me. If you were here I’d show you around, without the manager finding out, I’d show you everything. I know how much you’d love it, all of it: the thick carpeting—“imperial,” they say it’s called; the floor-toceiling mirrors, not like that cracked, spotty thing we used to have in our bedroom; the vanilla merengues, in big glass bowls, that anyone can take for free; all the little twinkling lights, even though it’s nowhere near Christmas; and the elevator, oh, if you could only see the elevator, Arami, you never stepped into anything like it, girl …

María, whose job it was to clean the guest rooms floor by floor, believed that the elevator was the greatest of the hotel’s many charms. She had her reasons: pushing that heavy cart, piled high with towels, spray bottles, and rags, was hard work. Dear God, she could feel every one of her 66 years. It was hard work; but no, she thought, what did she have to complain about? After all, the hotel was full of beautiful things, and she had lived through so much ugliness; and her job was fine, even on the days when the manager made her cry, although sometimes, like today, the days were… Never mind. Better not to think about it.

In the beginning, back when she had just started at the hotel, María used to call the elevator to go down a floor and think about how elegant the buttons were: flat, not round, and shiny steel, not plastic. She hated round elevator buttons like the ones in her apartment building; some joker was always trying to set them on fire with a lighter, and over time the surface got dark and dirty. If she could only clean them… That’s right, like she did at the hotel, with all of those sprays and chemicals parceled out by the manager, who was

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