Brian's Awaening

Brian was in his late forties. He had always put his career first, hard work, long hours, natural talent and some good fortune had brought success in business. His substantial income afforded an opulent lifestyle, he resided in a large stately home overlooking the ocean, he owned a large motor yacht moored at the nearby marina and drove a Porsche convertible, which was starting to look pathetically clichéd carrying the balding, overweight middle-aged man.

The trappings of wealth had become much less exciting for Brian, now it was all about the power and influence, winning the game. Money was mostly a way to keep score. He was at the pinnacle of his career, holding a high-ranked position within a prestigious investment bank, a man to be feared by some, and treated as a god by others. He was well respected by his peers, often transacting sums in the hundreds of millions with confidence and certainty, almost never putting a foot wrong.

The man's power over others was almost his entire being, he could destroy people and companies, or loft them into the stratosphere depending on what suited his agenda. He recently had a cleaner fired for disturbing his late night work, the unfortunate immigrant had a poor command of English and had not understood when he had asked her to come back later. Over the years he had become cynical, arrogant and egotistical, with a callous indifference to the suffering and hardships of others.

But all things in the universe must find balance and equilibrium, Brian's existence was certainly no exception, he had paid a high price for his success. Now divorced, his life was devoid of love. By most measures his former wife was a very desirable woman, highly intelligent, athletic body, well educated and independently wealthy. Their love had been genuine at first, but slowly withered as Brian's career advanced and consumed his essence. Neglected and unsatisfied, after 10 years and multiple affairs she finally abandoned the charade that their marriage had become and moved in with her attentive lover.

Brian's only son was now being raised by another man. Neither father or son cared to maintain the relationship and both of them paid it no more than lip-service, their interactions now limited to occasional phone calls and appearances for holidays and birthdays. He had failed to properly comprehend the reasons for the marriage breakup, and didn't acknowledge that he was mostly to blame. The messy divorce together with his wife's infidelity had left him jaded, particularly with regard to the opposite sex, he was in no way interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. His sexual needs were now satisfied by the occasional indulgence with high-class call girls, the encounters cold and emotionless, he considered these women to be nothing more than hired help.

It was Saturday night, eight PM. The door chime echoed through Brian's cavernous home, his car had arrived on time. He was dressed in a tasteful and stylish charcoal grey suit, skillfully custom tailored to conceal his unattractive body. Brian took a final sip of his single-malt scotch and made his way to the luxury SUV waiting in the driveway. He climbed into the back seat, the driver greeted him with "Good evening sir."

"201 Fairmont Boulevard." He commanded the driver, not bothering with the customary exchange of pleasantries. The address was the residence of James, a similarly aged man he had met many years ago when the were both studying at university. James had followed a similar career path as Brian, and had enjoyed a similar level of successful.

The two men had never been particularly close, drinking buddies and 'wingmen' in their younger days. Their relationship was sufficient to pass for friendship in the context of Brian's empty personal life, they played golf occasionally, drank at up-market bars and ate at fine-dinning restaurants. On a practical level the two men were allies, looking out for each other, sharing tips, rumors and other privileged information that helped them keep ahead of pack, and avoid trouble. A month earlier Brian received a message on his burner phone alerting him that he was the target of a raid by the authorities in coming days. The tipoff provided sufficient time for his contact within the bank's IT department to sanitise the problematic records, whilst deftly concealing evidence of the tampering. The $250,000 dollars he paid in Bitcoin to the IT specialist was insignificant in comparison to the what the investigation could have cost Brian personally even assuming the best-case scenario had played out, the worst outcome could have been a jail sentence.

After a short drive across the city the SUV slowly wound its way along the lengthy driveway of James' substantial property, arriving at the imposing but somewhat gaudy frontage of the home which was loosely modelled on 18th century French chateau architecture. The car came to a halt. Brian let out a gently sigh as he paused to contemplate what was likely in store for the evening, another dull cocktail party dominated by well-heeled but mostly boring men, although he held some hope of fruitful networking opportunities.

The driver was tipped, Brian exited the car, just a few steps to the door and he was greeted by Rolf - a large muscular man who was part personal assistant, part house servant, as well as hired muscle on the odd occasion. The heavy front door was swung open, Brian entered casually and quickly scanned the large entertainment space, bland instrumental jazz music was playing at low volume. Mostly well-known faces, wealthy men and their female companions - all tastefully well dressed, a mix of younger trophy wives with plump, silicone-stuffed breasts and jaded older women with stretched faces and botoxed foreheads. A handful of 'professional' ladies were also mingling, Brian had already patronised some of them.

James spotted his friend from across the room and immediately went to him. "Brian old boy, so glad you could make it!" he said with a degree of excitement in his voice. Not drunk, but it was plainly obvious that he had already downed a number of strong drinks. "Were you able to take care of that little problem?" James enquired, speaking in hushed tones.

"Yes, thankfully it sorted out, but that fucking little curried shit took a real chunk out me, this time it was 250K!" James' eyes widened in genuine shock, he lowered head as it gently shook from side to side.

"The money might help the arsehole attract a less ugly wife, in a lighter shade of brown perhaps." James said, chuckling at his own attempt at racist humor, empathising and trying to make his friend feel better about how the situation had played out.

"Most of it will probably go up his nose." Brian said with a smirk. "I hear that his habit is getting seriously out of control." Both men sniggered, taking pleasure at man's drug problem. Brian steered the conversation in another direction, "How's the wife?" he enquired.

"Oh, same old, same old, you know." James responded, a hint of boredom his voice. "Her new Merc and the kitchen renovations helped smooth things over." James' wife had hired a private detective who uncovered the Sugar Daddy relationship he was having with a 22 year old from the office. "The Oxys and Prozac keep her off my back most of the time," he said as a smug smile crossed his face. James' relationship with his wife has been nothing more than coexistence for some time, she continued to enjoy the lifestyle his income afforded her and he allowed the status quo to continue rather than face the prospect of a messy divorce and significant asset loss.

"Any chance I can get a good whiskey?" Brian asked his friend. "I seem to be suffering from a case of sobriety."

James' eyes lit up, "I've got just the thing!" he exclaimed, leading Brian behind the bar, he took a bottle that was somewhat hidden at the back of the cupboard. "Tom put me on this, small batch, from a distillery in Australia of all places. It's very pricey, but stands up well against most of the top-end Scottish stuff". James poured a couple of generous glasses neat. Both men considered themselves connoisseurs of fine spirits, Brian took a sip, he nodded slowly in appreciation, the Scotch was smooth, with a delicate smoky flavor that lingered in his mouth. "I invited a few friendly ladies, in case you feel like some company later." he said, referring to the prostitutes that were in attendance. "I'll probably sneak out later, hopefully with Yasmine."

"Might have to do likewise!" Brian responded, his mood improving in response to the excellent scotch his friend had just shared. James' attention was suddenly drawn as another one of his male guests approached. "We'll have to catch up later Brian, need to go and talk a little business." he said grinning. James left his friend and greeted the associate with an enthusiastic pat on the back, the two men left the room together.

Brian circulated amongst the other guests, the gathering seemed livelier than he had earlier anticipated. After a couple more glasses of James' fine Scotch in quick succession he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, actually enjoying the conversions. It was mid-summer and the evening was pleasantly warm, the night air calm and inviting, so he ventured out to the deck that overlooked the sloping part of the estate, providing an expansive view of the city below. A small group of 20-something women were huddled together laughing, mildly intoxicated. A number of them were vaping, Brian found the sickly sweet, artificial smells offensive.

Brian's attention was drawn to a tall, statuesque woman. She was alone, leaning against the guardrail, taking in the view. She wore an elegant black evening gown that hugged her figure, extending to just above her knees. The dress was low-cut, accentuating her full breasts without looking tawdry or undignified. Long, straight, meticulously groomed black hair draped down her back, nearly reaching her shapely round buttocks, it contrasted starkly against her pale skin. Her feet were clad in elegant black high heels. She was older than the call-girls and most of the trophy wives, but younger than the facelift and Botox cohort.

Notably she was smoking a long, all white cigarette, Brian thought how rare it was now to see an attractive younger woman still indulging in the habit. She took deep drags, exhaling streams of smoke into the still night air, directed towards the horizon and and the shimmering lights of the city below. There was something about her presence that Brian found captivating, he forgot himself as he unconsciously stared at the stunning woman, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Despite being aware of his attention, Brian had so far been ignored, she carried on enjoying her smoking, taking in the city view. Suddenly she turned to meet his gaze, maintaining contact with her big hazel eyes, she raised the elegant long cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply then expelling a large plume in his direction.

"Hello, Brian." she said knowingly, her voice had a sultry quality, just slightly raspy. Brian regained his composure, he moved within reach of the woman. Normally he would be suspicious of an unfamiliar acquaintance who already knew his name, but at that moment his mind was elsewhere.

"And, you are?" He stammered, struggling to maintain coherence, heart racing and erection starting to build.

"You may call me Miss Nancy." She replied, revealing her subtle, high-class English accent. She offered her hand in classic fashion. Brian reciprocated, taking her hand in his, like a gentleman of the past. He was intrigued by the way she referred to herself as "Miss" Nancy, it added to her mystique.

"May I ask how you know my name?" he enquired.

"You may ask, but that's not important, I know a lot of people." She said confidently, her face displaying a slightly wicked smile. The strikingly attractive woman took another deep drag from her cigarette before exhaling provocatively into his face, Brian found this wonderfully arousing, he savored the aroma of beautiful woman's menthol smoke, it smelled so good coming out of her amazing body. "Is that Scotch you are drinking?" She asked, he nodded in response. "I will also have a Scotch, neat." She said assertively. Brian was taken aback, unaccustomed to the feeling of subordination, for a brief moment he paused, pondering why this woman thought she could tell him what to do, however he felt compelled to please her, desperately wanting to remain in her presence.

Without further words the powerful man hastily made his way to the bar, poured Scotch into a tumbler then returned to the deck. Nancy smiled as he promptly rejoined her, confirming that she already held some level of control over the man. She took a final puff on her cigarette, dropped the butt to the deck and ground it under foot before accepting the drink without expressing any form of gratitude. The other guests had returned indoors, Brian and Nancy were now alone on the deck. She raised her foot and probed Brian's crotch with the tip of her elegant shoe. "You seem pleased to make my acquaintance Brian!" His erection was obvious, poking at the front of his pants, her shoe was now pressed painfully into his balls, but he did not protest, the pain strangely pleasurable to him, inflicted by this exotic, powerful woman. "I hear that you're a big man around town, Brian." She said boldly, emphasising his name.

"I do ok." He replied with mock modestly, a subtle smile crossing his face, his ego nicely stroked. Nancy lowered her foot to the ground, and took another sip from her drink, savoring the fine spirit. Brian relaxed a bit, relieved from the aching pain but missing her touch.

"Just, ok?" She questioned. Brian remained silent, but acknowledged with an obvious grin. Nancy smiled back knowingly, she was very much aware of the magnitude of the man's wealth, together with his status and influence. The moment was interrupted as Nancy's phone chimed, she retrieved it from her small handbag and checked the message. "I'm afraid I must depart, call on me tomorrow evening, we shall get further acquainted." She said, handing Brian a business card she had retrieved from her handbag.

"But..." He responded, almost child-like disappointment showing on his face.

"Tomorrow, at 7." She said, cutting him off. She took a final sip and handed him tumbler before quickly disappearing into the crowded ballroom. After his eyes had followed her departure Brian examined the card, it had a textured finish with gold embossed lettering, with nothing more than an address printed.

He lingered on the deck, the brief encounter leaving him perplexed. He did not understand what had just happened and why he felt the way he did. The woman's presence was surreal, her assertiveness and spectacular arousing appearance, enhanced by her elegant and graceful smoking. He had never meet anyone like Miss Nancy. He examined her cigarette butt that she discarded on the deck, half flattened, stained from her crimson lips. The thoughts of what was in store for the following night thrilled him.

Following a light dinner Brian prepared himself for his evening with Miss Nancy. He showered, shaved and dressed. He choose a semi-formal outfit, stylish and still looking like wealth. He took two thousand dollars cash from his safe and placed it in an envelope, as he was accustomed to doing when seeing a woman of the evening. He waited impatiently for his car to arrive, watching the time on his phone, counting down the minutes while he sipped a glass of wine. At last the door chime sounded and Brian sprang to his feet with the energy of a much younger man, hastily making his way to the SUV waiting in the driveway, he climbed into the back seat, the car quickly departed.

The SUV arrived at the her address, an imposing large, modern-style home built upon a generously sized lot. It was conspicuously out of place in surrounding suburb dominated by modestly sized mid-century dwellings. Wall to ceiling dark tinted glass panels wrapped around the rectangular perimeter, a vertical grey façade extended above the glass, concealing the shallow pitched roof.

The driver lowered his window, reached out and pressed the intercom placed at the side of the driveway just before he house. It was not answered, but after waiting a few seconds the double width garage door began to open and the car was able to enter the basement-level. The door promptly, closed behind the large SUV. The cavernous garage which looked like it extended across the entire perimeter of the house, was empty except for a dark grey Chrysler 300C sedan, to Brian it seemed an aggressive and powerful looking car.

He exited the parked SUV, proceeding to the door which seemed to be the entry point to the home, pressing the intercom positioned next to a wood paneled door. He scanned his surroundings, locating four security cameras placed at strategic positions on the ceiling. Another delay, thankfully only a few seconds before he finally he heard the voice he had longed to hear again.

"Hello, Brian."

"Good evening, Miss Nancy." He responded.

"The door will open now, join me in the room at the end of the hallway." She instructed, the lock disengaging at the end of her words, Brian entered and climbed a flight of stairs leading to a long passageway, he noticed the temperature in the house was unusually warm. The décor was minimalist, subtle charcoal highlights framed doors and windows, offset against the clean brightness of the white walls, the ceiling high. The floor consisted of dark wood boards, polished and free from blemishes.

He reached the end of hall way and entered a large sitting room, the sight that filled his eyes was breathtaking. He found Miss Nancy sitting with legs crossed on a large dark grey suede couch. She wore a black leather corset, the garment exquisite in its craftmanship, design and fit. It hugged her full figure, accentuating the shape of her ample breasts, five chrome buckles ran from top to bottom, ending just above a black, soft leather thong, little more than a triangular shaped slither strategically placed to cover her womanhood, tapering into thin straps that sat high where her round hips curved upwards into her slender waist, a black lace garter belt held up her fishnet stockings.

On her feet she wore long, high heeled leather zip up boots, ending just below her knees. Her pale skin contrasted against the blackness of her striking outfit, not slutty or vulgar, instead conveying a sense of authority. A riding crop was placed next to her on the couch arm. The scent of her menthols sullied the air, the aroma of Miss Nancy's smoking triggering Brian's vivid recollection of their brief encounter on his friend's deck the previous night.

"Welcome Brian, you will join me on the couch." She said, motioning towards the position to her left, he sat next to her as invited, still lost for words. The silence extended, Brian looked leeringly at the toned body next to him, her sweet scent, a combination of perfume and cigarettes filled Brian's nose. Without saying any words she demanded his attention and his desire. Nancy sensed the mental undressing, she found this to be in poor taste, but not uncommon. Her sex appeal was unfailing, In her presence most men could not help themselves, she afforded him some leeway.

As with his visits with call girls, Brian reached reached inside his jacket for the envelope of cash, offering it to Nancy. "This is for you." He said. She accepted the envelope, quickly checking the contents before placing it on the table. She reached for her cigarettes on the stand next to the couch. "Brian you must understand how this is going to work." She said, pausing before she placed a cigarette to her lips and lit it with a gold lighter. She took two deep drags in quick succession, her exhaled smoke swirled in the air around the two of them, he fixated on the long white cigarette, she carefully tapped the ash into the quartz ashtray before taking another puff.