Babylon

He placed his hand on the small of my back to usher me into the elevator. We stood in silence side by side at the back - not quite strangers but each in a bubble of our own thoughts. He watched me in the mirrored walls of the elevator. I mostly watched the carpet in front of my feet. Our ascent slowed, then stopped and the doors parted with a whoosh. Ahead of us - more carpet and a parade of gray doors.

He handed me the plastic card for the room and said, "1206".

The door to 1206 shut with a click.

"Lock the door please."

A solid "thunk" as the bolt went home. I swallowed, turned and gave him a grin.

He cocked his head and studied me.

"Nervous?"

I tried for bravado, but my voice gave me away.

"Nope," I chirped.

The corners of his lips smiled ever so slightly as he arched his eyebrows.

"Good. Your job is to simply ... endure with grace. Nerves are a waste of mental energy."

I willed my smile away.

"Come."

He was standing in front of a full-length mirror and he motioned me to stand between him and the mirror. With just a brush of his hand he turned me to face the mirror. He was a head taller and his eyes studied my reflection dispassionately. The first time I had met him a decade ago; I had immediately noticed how blue they were and how they sparkled and drilled into you. He was greyer now, but the eyes hadn't lost their power to mesmerize.

"Are you comfortable naked?"

"Sure", I chirped.

"I'll undress you then. Stand still, please." He reached around and started to undo the buttons on my blouse. It opened and he slid it down my arms. The fuzz on my arms was standing straight up and I felt each hair tingle as the sliding fabric brushed by. The cuffs caught momentarily at my wrists but he gently pulled the sleeves over my hands then dropped the garment onto a chair sitting quietly next to the mirror. He unclipped my bra and let the straps slide down my arms onto the floor.

"Close your eyes, please."

I did and then he ran his fingertips across my nipples. I squeaked and he whispered "shhhh" in my left ear. I felt his breath on my neck. He plucked each nipple between thumbs and forefingers, pulled gently then squeezed a little harder.

"Listen very carefully," he whispered into my ear. "When the door clicks shut, the universe shrinks to just these four walls. Only two souls inhabit this universe: you and me. Welcome to my universe. I call it the Chamber.

"I'm going to name you Babylon. You will exist only as an extension of my will, my desires, my needs. You will be my vessel, my goddess, my flesh."

He squeezed a little harder and I flinched. "Don't move!" he whispered.

"Who are you?"

A tiny voice that I realized was me squeaked, "Babylon."

"What are you?"

"Yours."

"Again?"

"Yours, Simon."

"Very good. Open your eyes." I blinked and saw myself standing naked from the waist up with my nipples trapped between his fingers but all I could do was stare into those eyes. I felt moist. A whimper slipped from between my lips. They were dry so I licked them.

"Yours, Simon," I repeated in a raspy whisper.

"Good girl."

::

Two days earlier, I had worked the lunch shift at "Gato Negro". It was supposed to be my day off.

I had awoken with that momentary panic of not knowing where I was. As my brain got into gear I realized I was at Paul's. He was leaving for two weeks on a hiking trip in the Rockies, so we had dined romantically on Vietnamese take-out, wine and sex and more wine and more ... you get the picture. I was lying in the wet spot, and by the sound of it, he was in the shower. My bladder sent up a plaintive cry, and I stumbled into the cold air and headed for the toilet. Actually, "staggered" more aptly describes my actions. The bathroom was nice and steamy. I sat down just as Paul turned off the shower and stepped out.

"Sorry - couldn't wait."

Paul has a thing about sharing the bathroom. For him, it's a private space reserved for private bodily functions. Sex is about the only body function he allows himself to sometimes share and I occasionally wonder if in his perfect world he wouldn't change even that.

He grabbed a towel and started to dry himself and I wiped myself and flushed the toilet. He expected me to leave but I felt crusty between my legs; it was cold in the bedroom and my face must be a mess, so I wiped the mirror to check out the remains of last night's make-up. He bumped into me as he bent to dry his feet and gave an exasperated grunt. When he stood up, I saw in the mirror he had an erection.

"Aw that's cute," I said. "Even after last night ... must be sad to leave me." I wiggled my ass suggestively but he didn't laugh. He simply grabbed my waist, bent me over the sink, and plowed into me. It hurt a bit but I was more surprised than angry. Without so much as a "by your leave", he humped away until he came with a grunt twenty seconds later. He didn't make eye contact in the mirror.

Then my phone started ringing in the next room. I swore, pushed him out of me, grabbed the face cloth and headed back to the bedroom holding the cloth between my legs.

"Hello."

It was my manager ... could I come in for the lunch shift? Julie had called in sick and there was no one to open the till ... I looked at the clock and realized that I had only time to pull on clothes and get to the restaurant. No going back to my apartment to freshen up. No quiet soak in the tub after Paul left - shit my makeup was a mess - where were my panties?

In the kitchen where we had started our dance of lust last night, I found them knotted in a black ball with my leggings and the ubiquitous black skirt that passes for a uniform in the restaurant biz. I untangled them and pulled on the panties. They were cold and damp against the sticky mess between my legs. I skipped the leggings and stuffed them into my purse. The skirt was a bit crushed but there wasn't much I could do.

I found my bra on the sofa and pulled it over my head. Paul was standing at the bedroom door with my blouse hanging from his finger.

"Might want this," he deadpanned.

::

By three, I had finished the shift. I considered going home for a shower and fresh panties. The ones I was wearing, apart from being on their second day, were still soggy with Paul's cum.

I was a bit pissed with Paul. More than a bit pissed. He shouldn't just grab me, bend me over the sink and fuck me in the bathroom. What made it worse though, was that he seemed to have done it in anger more than lust. "Blind animal passion" might be overlooked but dumping semen in me in a fit of petty anger somehow crossed a line.

We had parted in a rush, both annoyed with the other. Neither of us is very good at apologizing. Two weeks would be a while for the hurt to fester in his absence. That thought made me feel a bit empty, but somehow it satisfied as well. "I'm one sick bitch", I thought to myself, and the thought made me smile.

In spite of the panties, I didn't really want to spend time in my own head, so I thought I would kill a few hours at "Carmine's". It's a nice place to just drink and maybe have a few tapas if hunger strikes. There's a long table next to the bar that usually has a few friends taking up space - mostly "hospitality workers" - waitresses and off shift kitchen staff. We try not to drink where we work. It's a bit like incest.

Inside was dark after the bright sun outside but when my eyes adjusted I found myself staring at an older well-dressed gentleman.

I've known Simon for years. His daughter and I went to high school together. We both took riding lessons. Most girls' dads weren't at the barn much, and if they were, they seemed bored.

Simon was different. He treated us like humans. When he talked to you it seemed like you were the only thing in his universe at that moment. He never talked down to us or treated us differently than an adult. Then there were the eyes - sooo blue.

He laughed at most everything including himself.

I won't lie; I've spent many a happy moment indulging in a fantasy seduction of Simon Corbett.

He smiled in recognition.

"Jennifer?"

"Simon! Long time, no see."

He waved at the empty chair across from him and invited me to sit.

"Something to drink? Perhaps you could join me in finishing this bottle of Spanish plonk that the owner insists is actually a fine wine."

I tried not to look too eager but didn't make him repeat the offer. The waitress, Annie, was immediately at our table (she doesn't miss a beat) and Simon asked her for another glass. She grabbed one from the next table and filled it for me.

"Something to eat?"

I was ravenous, but tried to not abuse his hospitality. "A bit late for lunch and early for dinner, so thanks anyway."

"Nonsense. It's a Tapas bar." Without being asked Annie handed me a menu and rolled her eyes. I pretended to study it casually and then ordered two items. Simon added two more and Annie departed for the kitchen.

::

"You know we all had the hots for you at the barn."

"Oh dear, that's disturbing."

" Yeah, I would tease your daughter who didn't see the attraction. She called me a perv but I think she felt proud in a way."

Simon gave me a quizzical look as he swilled his wine idly around the glass.

"True story." I said. "I should have jumped your bones when I was young and single." (the wine talking).

"Your mother told me once you were 'sexually precocious' and complained about the grey hairs you were going to give her once you discovered boys."

I laughed.

"But I think you always knew the effect you could have on men. Some women are like that. Did you give her grey hairs?"

"Afraid so."

"Well if it helps after all these years, my bones were safe. I was married then and wise enough to know that it would have ended in tears."

That hurt a bit and my face must have fallen.

"Oh dear, I've touched a nerve."

"Not really. That was then and you are right. I might have been pretty ... er ... awkward. Inexperienced maybe."

"It isn't about experience."

I must have looked perplexed.

"For you, sex was, and hopefully still is, new and shiny and charged with love and excitement. It's a drug; it flatters; it takes you to sunny places. As you get to be my age it's a different beast. It's still a drug, but the dose is different and, if it's not to become routine you go to darker places. You might not find sex with me as charming as a glass of wine in a pleasant restaurant."

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was my annoyance with Paul, who knows, but his statement got my hackles up.

"That's a bit patronizing. I'm not exactly a blushing virgin cooing in expectation of that first kiss."

He smiled at my outburst. "No Jennifer, you most certainly are not that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sometimes it's not all about you, Jennifer. I know that at this point in your life you likely set the terms of engagement for any young man wishing a piece of your life. Why is that? Simple really: you are young, good looking and outgoing and therefore able to decline to play by any rules other than your own. There are lots of other fish in the sea.

"At this stage in my life I have exactly the same control. I've had a varied and interesting sex life and, in spite of what you may believe, the best sex is not necessarily restricted to the young and nubile. Were we to plot some mischief, it would be all about me. My game: my rules. Not fair perhaps, but life is never fair.

"I suspect that it would be too much for you to give up the control you now have over your relationships. Why should you?"

I pondered for a moment. "You are saying it's all about control?"

"It is for me."

I paused and sipped my wine.

He swilled his glass and watched me. It wasn't the usual look of male lust, but more the bemused look a man might give a child.

I frowned. This wasn't how it usually went. This conversation was off the rails. Normally I would alternate between a coy "knowing" smile and a more steamy "come-hither". The first would perplex and the latter would reward.

The silence was getting a bit old so I said, "I'm not as young and naïve as you seem to think." It was a lame comment and I regretted it as it fell from my lips.

He looked sad for the briefest moment. "You aren't listening, Jennifer. My point is that you need to control the game too much to really enjoy the play. In your case control is your armor. You think you need it, but maybe it just gets in the way."

"So why do you want control?"

"I want it because I'm wired that way. You on the other hand are not. At your inner core you are submissive."

"How do you know that?"

"I watched you work with horses. They spend a lot of time establishing a pecking order. To make them bend to your will, they need to believe you are the better horse. A dominant rider can ride most any horse, a submissive one is more limited. You hated having to use the crop all the time, but that was the only way your horse would obey you."

I turned his comments over in my mind but thinking back I hadn't really let much sink in. I was playing the seductress and he wasn't really buying. My natural instinct was to double down and increase the charm, but I had enough sense to know that might fall flat.

"OK," I said, "Suppose I gave up control. What would you do with it?"

He smiled. "Give or don't give. It's not a negotiation."

"A girl should be able to ask 'what sort of darker places?'"

"Perhaps if she's planning a vacation, but in this instance half the fun is not knowing where I might take you. Think of it as a magical mystery tour of your sexuality and I'm your smiling tour guide." He tilted his head, doffed an imaginary hat and grinned. "You are certain to enjoy the trip. Taking you somewhere truly awful isn't in my best interests. You wouldn't sign up for the next adventure. On the other hand, sometimes travel can be frustrating, annoying, even boring ... but hopefully the company along the way is pleasant and the destination makes it worth the effort."

"Are we talking kinky whips-and-spurs kinda dark places?"

"That'll be for me to decide."

I laughed. "You should be selling cruises."

He smiled and waited.

I tried to stare him down but he just waited. "Okay," I said. I paused, then leaned forward and whispered, "Take me on a cruise."

He smiled. "First you have to do something for me; a kind of a test of your resolve. I want you to, with as much discretion as you can muster, take off your panties and hand them to me. Wait until I tell you no one is looking, then just quickly slide them off."

I must have gone pale. My panties, loaded with Paul's semen, were a damp mess with crusty edges. No way was I handing those across the table to Simon.

"My panties? Here? Now?"

"Yes Jennifer. Panties ... Here ... Now."

God, they would be starting to ferment by now. I imagined that salty fishy smell hanging between us. He would think that something had died down there.

"Do we have a problem, Jennifer?"

A girl has her pride.

"Jennifer?"

"I can't do that... I just can't."

He looked at first perplexed then disappointed. There was a pause to give me one more chance to change my mind, then he shrugged and signaled Annie to bring the bill.

I mumbled something about enjoying seeing him again. He smiled and said, "Maybe in another ten years ..." and left the thought hanging while he settled up with Annie. We stood and exchanged an awkward peck and I retreated.

Outside, I hauled my phone from my purse but the battery was dead.

::

I returned to my apartment and plugged my phone into the charger. Then I took off the damned panties and threw them into the laundry hamper.

I started filling the tub, then removed the rest of my clothes. Before I got in, my phone chirped three times. I went to see whose messages I'd missed - two from Paul and one from Annie. The first was Paul briefly apologizing for the debacle of his departure this morning, then Paul just before taking off from Toronto. He'd be in the air for another two hours. Good thing too 'cause I was in no mood to forgive and play nice on Skype.

The third was from Annie chiding me for leaving before sharing the gossip - would I meet her after the dinner rush for a "wee (gos)sip"?

I declined, set down the phone and returned to my tub.

::

An hour later, I was a bit mellower. Nothing like a long soak as the tub slowly went from lobster pot hot to body temperature. During the hour I retraced the events of the morning and then my conversation with Simon. I resolved to ignore Paul for the evening and had to admit to myself that I wanted a rematch with Simon.

I texted Annie to tell her I had found a second wind and asked her to pick a place to meet. "How about the "Red Door"? In an hour?"

::

Annie had changed from her "work clothes" and had gone from tall and sultry to tall and smokin'. We hugged and I ordered a drink.

She didn't wait for pleasantries but launched right in with, "So what's up with you and Simon?"

"He's the father of a high school chum."

"Looked a lot deeper than old family friend. You and Paul break up?"

I tried to look perplexed. "What do you mean?"

She gave me the "Don't-play-dumb-with-me" look. "I'm a waitress. Reading the customer is my secret super-power."

I laughed.

"You were making a pass and crashed and burned as near as I could make out. What were you thinking? He's twice your age. Mind you he's hot for an old guy and tips like it's play money. My kinda old guy." She grinned.

"You are so full of shit." I said with false ire. "All you see in a man is a future tip! A poor working girl bumps into an old family friend who she hasn't seen for a decade and you turn it into some cheap hook-up. Perv!"

I paused then, "And just for the record, if I wanted to tango with Simon, he would have been putty ... Crash and burn? Not likely."

"Oh girl." She gave me the look you give a naïve six year old, "You don't know Simon."

I arched my eyebrows.

"He comes into the restaurant pretty much every Monday and Wednesday. Most times he has a guest, usually a woman; women of style and means; ladies who lunch; that sort of thing. Way out of your league, sweets."

I frowned. The last comment irked me. Sure, I was waiting tables for a living but I had grown up in tasteful comfort.

I forced a smile and said, "We'll see."

My drink arrived and I changed the subject.

::

Two days later, I walked into the restaurant and looked around for Simon. He was dressed in a suit, sitting in the back corner reading a newspaper.

I sat down across from him, discretely lifted my skirt and shimmied out of my panties. Bending over to get them untangled from the heels of my shoes was a bit awkward, but I sat up again with a grin. I balled them in my right hand and rearranged my skirt with my left, then reached across the table and offered up the ball of fabric to him.

A surprised look flashed across his features, then he smiled and said, "What makes you so sure that the offer is still on the table?"

I tilted my head and gave him a winsome look and dropped the panties in the middle of the table. He laughed and picked them up. He gave them a discrete sniff and then stuffed them into his pocket.

"Okay," he said, "I trust you can free up your afternoon."

He pulled out his phone and tapped away for a bit.

"Three thirty in the lobby of the Delta. Sit patiently. When I come in, wait while I get the room key then follow me to the elevators. Don't speak. We're just two strangers sharing an elevator. I'll see you then."

He nodded as if to dismiss me. "I have a guest for lunch."

Without thinking I found myself getting up and leaving.

Out the door, a cruel breeze reminded me I was naked under my skirt. What was I thinking? I checked my phone for the time; it was just past one thirty. Two hours to kill. I found a Starbucks and spent the time replaying my fantasy seduction of Simon.