A Night to Remember II : A Dawn to Decide.
She awoke to more rain and another heartbeat next to her. The room was silent aside from the patter of the storm outside, and she smelled bitter menthol in the air. She pulled the cool, white sheet over her exposed breasts, and slid carefully to the headboard. He was awake. His back was to her, and his elbows were on his knees, and he was seemingly lost in thought. His right hand was pressed against his forehead, and cigarette burned to the filter between his fingers.
She felt lonely again, but knew better than to approach him without permission. He was shirtless, showing a thin back rippling with hard-edged muscles. He wasn't a big guy, and what he lacked in bulk, he made up with tremendous tone. She outstretched her hand toward him, her fingertips hovering above a rich, black tattoo. It ascended the length of his spine, which bulged slightly against his thin frame, and bloomed outward along his biceps and over his shoulders. From her side of the bed, the overall image was obvious. It was a grim, black tree etched into his flesh, with gnarling branches stretching up his arms and neck.
"Can I get dressed?" She whispered, squirming toward him. He put the cigarette to his lips and took a final drag.
"Yeah."
She moved to the bathroom and found her bag, grabbing every needed article of clothing. She'd showered while he slept, but couldn't bring herself to dress before climbing into bed. He'd fallen asleep in a good mood, and she didn't want to risk souring it. She pulled on a jean skirt and a button up floral blouse, tucking it in. She skipped the panties. Maybe it would keep him in a better mood.
She emerged, and he was smoking again. She moved to the chair in the corner, still feeling the pinch of the rope around her ankles and wrists as she sat down. She sat conservatively, knees together and hands clasped, but she felt the material of her skirt rubbing her bare skin, and felt the tug of the new rings in her nipples against her bra. This alone caused a pang of excitement to smolder within her.
His eyes were aimed to the floor, normally green but strangely gray and distant at the moment. The cigarette blazed against his lips, worming a pinkie of ash down the paper after only a few seconds.
She didn't speak, and wouldn't, until he allowed her. It was a tricky game they played, but she was always one to play it her hardest. Seeing him now, she wondered what was on his mind. She wanted to kneel in front of him, rest her head on his lap and hear his soul slip through his lips. It would never happen. She would never see him weak, she thought, and that saddened her.
He spoke after snubbing out the cigarette.
"If you leave now, your parents will be none the wiser. Pay everything in cash, and then enjoy the rest of your trip."
"I know." She said, narrowing her eyes. "I've been planning this for months...we both have. You also know that I don't have to leave anytime soon. I have a cell-phone, they know how to reach me, and I'm a good liar. There's no reason they should think I'm anywhere but New York.
"I have shit to do." He said, standing. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and tugged it over his shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned over his bare, hardened chest. Her words were choked in her throat with betrayal.
"I...I understand, I'm not trying to be clingy, but we may never see each other after this."
"That's no joke." He muttered.
She watched him, the color slipping from her face and her hands trembling with anger. "This isn't how it works..." She said, nearly clenching her teeth. "What we had last night, that was sex. This, this is about respect."
"I am respecting you." He said, pulling on his jeans. "I'm telling you to get the fuck out of my life while you still can."
"I'm not here to play games anymore." She snapped. "There's a difference between being mysterious and being an asshole."
He tied his boots in silence, and walked to her. He stood in front of her for a moment, and she seethed with rage. She expected him to hit her, to scream, to be everything she wanted, and hated, at the same time.
He dropped to his knees and put his head in her lap. Her skirt lifted as his cheek fell onto her thighs, exposing herself. He didn't look, and instead put his lips to her skin.
"I want you to come with me." He said, his eyes clenched shut. "There's nothing more in the world I'd like than to have you near me all the time. But there's no coming back from where I'm going." She cautiously ran her hand through his hair, and he allowed it.
"What do you mean?"
"I never understood any of this stuff, these fantasies of yours, until I met you. If I know anything at all, you have to be eased gradually into pain, or it will forever chase you away."
"Then what was last night?" She said, feeling the emotions churning within her core. Shame, anger, ecstasy. It all sent her insides leaping.
"Me trying to chase you away."
He lifted his head from her lap and took her hands into his own.
"If you want to come with me, you have to do everything I say. Think of your fantasies, your elaborate stories and scenarios. Think of how much you've obsessed over them, how you plotted every detail."
"Ok..." She said hesitantly. That was a piece of her life she hadn't specifically shared.
"I've done the same thing." He said. "If you come with me, no matter what I tell you to do, you have to obey."
Her defiant demeanor slipped away in that moment and she descended back into a primal, obedient form.
"Ok..." She repeated.
He brought his hand across her cheek, jarring her vision and sparking pain through her flesh. She looked for anger in his eyes, the same rage that made her squirm, but found nothing but found nothing but quivering orbs floating on a bed of welling tears. "I mean it." He said, barely sputtering the words.
"So do I." She said, lifting his hands hand kissing them.
He raised his eyes, which had finally regained their emerald luminescence.
"We'll see."
He moved back to the bed, buttoning his shirt before sitting down. He leaned backward, resting on his palms.
"Show me why I should let you stay."
She eyed him warily from across the room, thinking of the night before. What hadn't they already done?
She approached him and sank to her knees. This was the game he liked to play. When he wanted something, he'd hint at it, make her guess, plead, as though it was the secret to life. She'd always done the same. For as long as she'd talked to him online, she dropped hints about wanting a man, needing a master, and he caught on just as easily. Falling to his knees earlier, despite the sweetness and sincerity in his voice, showed his hand, and she knew what he wanted.
She ran her hands up his thighs, moving toward his zipper, but he seized her wrist and shoved it away.
"Did I say you could touch me?"
She showed a weak smile, her eyes shifting, searching his face for the answer.
"I said show me why I should let you stay." He repeated.
She backed away, showing a smirk, and begun to unbutton her blouse. Normally her cheeks would fill with blood and her posture would become defensive. Now, though, she only felt anxiety, not embarrassment, knowing that he could turn her away at any time if he wanted.
He swayed in her vision as she moved. Her blouse clung to her tender nipples, barely keeping from opening completely as she looped her thumbs in her skirt, and shoved it slowly downward, revealing the sensual lines of her pelvic bone.
"Who are you?" He asked, watching carefully. She almost stopped her dance, but continued, seeing his stern mouth contorting slightly to a frown. She said nothing. This was one rule he knew not to break.
"I'm yours." She said simply, pushing the skirt down further. Her wide stance alone was all that kept it from falling to the floor.
"We both know that." He snapped. "But to the rest of the world, who are you, right now?" She hesitated, biting her lip as she moved. She knew how he worked. He didn't need her to answer. "You're meat." He said. "No matter how much you get paid, no matter how good your fucking grades are, you're an object to the eyes around you. So why ever let them know who you are?"
She turned to hide her confusion, putting her back to him, and lowering her blouse to show her shoulders, and hide her ass as her skirt finally hit the floor.
"Secrets are all that we are." He said. "People throw their bodies into films, or onto magazines, so the whole world can know why they should bother breathing. Fame, notoriety, infamy, these are the Gods we worship. But these people who spill their souls to the world, they are the weakest of us all. The chest that's open for the world to see leaves the heart bare for prodding. But that's not you, is it? That's not us."
She'd traveled across the world to see him, to find a person who would make her nightmares come true, and wouldn't judge her for it. She took a plane from Athens to LaGuardia in New York, then a bus to Louisville, Kentucky, and finally a cab the Southern Comfort hotel. She'd worked for a year and dumped almost all of her money into the journey, all for someone who could understand her. She wasn't sure what he had to gain from meeting her, but listening to him now, she liked to think he wanted to be understood, too.
She didn't hear him stand, and his sudden hands around her waist startled her. He pulled her to the bed, causing her blouse to open and exposing her breasts. She expected his rough gestures, fingers prodding and at least an open palm, but it never came. His hands moved below his waist, and in an instant he was inside her.
She felt the familiar thrill overtake her. The fear, the anticipation of pain, but neither actually came. He pressed himself inside her fully, and lowered himself to her lips. No, she thought, this wasn't for her. It was his turn, and as always, she would obey.
