Christmas. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Those are the words of the song, right? Not when you're alone, it isn't. I can speak from bitter experience of thirteen Christmas Eves past. It's the most lonely night of the calendar, in my view. I hated Christmas Eve because of the loneliness. The emptiness and longing to be ... not alone.
So, finally I'd succumbed to the temptation. To the lure of the internet. To a 'singles party' on the night when Santa would be riding his sleigh to a billion children's homes. On a cold winter's evening, when I was too old to be out partying but too desperate for company not to be. The baleful look I'd given myself in the mirror reflected the added foreboding that once I'd gotten this horrid loneliness fest out of the way, I had another to look forward to as well — New Year's Eve. So, perhaps because of the baleful look I'd caught myself giving, I'd made an extra special effort to look as good as I could. And I could look good. Okay, so I was in my forties but I was fit, active, and fun. That's the special irony of my loneliness — I was quite a good catch. I looked hard at myself again. I checked out the fit of the deep navy Jaeger suit that hugged my shoulders. I looked at my ass in the tight trousers - the light pinstripe emphasising the swell of my round buttocks. Not bad at all, I thought. Not too shabby ...
"Don't get your hopes up, Sunshine," I admonished my reflection, "A tenner says you're back here and in bed before midnight. Alone."
I stepped out of the front door of my batchelor pad on the top floor of a building I could probably easily afford to move out of. But it held a sort of strange draw. Something told me that while I was alone I should stay. Something told me that lonely guys like me shouldn't be moving to swankier buildings closer to town. Guys like me could get on perfectly well living in these parts. Besides it was a nice apartment. It was the best one in the building. I tripped lightly down the stairs, adjusted the collar of the Crombie I'd slipped on and headed out through reception and into the night.
It's simple beginnings like that that just don't give you any clues as to how your life is going to go, isn't it? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd wanted my life to change that night. I'd wanted what happened to happen ...
As I sat in the back of the taxi my mind began to drift. I remembered what my friends had said the other evening at the gym ...
"Maybe you're just meant to be single, Sparrow." Pete my best friend had stood in front of me, bare to the waist, with his towel wrapped around himself. He was jabbing his finger at me as I sat on the bench in the changing room. John chimed in, "You're too much of a nice guy, Sparrow, that's your trouble — treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen, I say." He swaggered out of the shower, naked. 5'6" but built like the proverbial brick out house, he had muscles on his muscles. He grinned over at Pete and me. It was easy for him to say. He was so confident with everything in life. I studied him — his body wet from the shower and his balding head shining with the heat. Maybe, I thought, he wasn't as confident as he appeared underneath. I mean, even I could appear confident and a leader on the outside ... No, John was different — he was deep-down confident. He strutted over to me and Pete, his massive cock swinging between his rippling thighs. Is that what women want? I mused to myself as I watched him. I thought they did. Every woman wants a strong confident man. That was how I acted whenever I met a girl. And, in truth, it felt right in most cases. With the women I met, it felt right that I was the confident, typical alpha male — it was what they seemed to want. And that was the reason it never lasted.
I wanted something else. I wasn't sure what I wanted but I knew it wasn't what these girls had. I had a feeling deep down. A feeling that I was only half aware of. A secret that even I could only half admit to myself ...
The taxi jolted over a bump in the road and I snapped back to the present. We were passing the Cock and Hen. I remembered the previous week when I'd been attending an open mic night there. The girl. Her. I'd watched her perform her three songs back to back and I was mesmerised. She was a raven haired beauty with deep, deep blue eyes and a sensuous mouth. Her make up was flawless and she wore her cascading black hair, over to one side, showing her alluring neck. I'd studied her figure and allowed my mind to wander as I'd lingered over her curves. But it was her voice that I remembered now. Her breathy, soulful voice, delivering the sensual lyrics to her songs. I'd made up my mind to approach her after her set and buy her a drink. But as I stood and caught her eye a tall man came over and held out his hand for her to go with him. "C'mon babe, we're leaving," he'd said, and she was gone. Was it my imagination that she'd looked over her shoulder at me as she left? I shook my head; no, the guy she was with had put his arm round her and she'd oozed into his side. And then she was gone. What would she want with a guy like me when she had someone like him. Someone a bit like John probably.
"Get real, Sparrow." I lectured myself as we turned up Broad Street towards the club. "Forget your silly visions and concentrate on the here and now ..."
As we pulled up to the "Full Soul Lounge" — the club where the singles night had been arranged — I pulled out my wallet and generously tipped the driver. "Be here at 1am, okay?" He agreed and greedily stuffed the cash into his breast pocket before waiting momentarily for me to shut the door and taking off back down the road, to the airport, or the station ... or wherever his next fair might be. I looked down the street, suddenly wishing I was heading away with him — away from this club and this night, which was sure to end in disappointment again. But there was something. Something different. Tonight, there was almost the faint glow of hope in my heart. Almost as if I could feel a premonition of something. I laughed at myself and shook my head as I walked up to the doormen.
"Name?"
I looked at him. Typical of the type — ignorant and lacking any kind of grace. "Are you talking to me?" I said and glanced around myself. He looked confused. I continued. "Only, I thought there must be a dog behind me or something." He looked even more confused and starting to get impatient.
"Name?"
"Look, would it kill you to be a bit more civil?" I ventured. "I've come out for a nice night out and I"m not used to being treated like an animal to be herded rather than an actual customer." With that, the penny dropped and the doorman changed tack ever so slightly. "Beg pardon," he began caustically, "name ... sir?"
I sighed. "Sparrow." I gave him my eye as he smirked at my name and perused his guest list. I've never been intimidated by physical types, as I've always known how to look after myself in that department, so I carried on looking him in the eye. "Here we are 'mister' Sparrow, go on in. Enjoy your evening, Sir." I chuckled and held out my hand, "There, that didn't hurt, did it?" I slipped him the folded up tenner as I went past.
I remembered the last time I'd been in this club. Must've been nearly ten years earlier. I had been with a girl then who'd started me on the path that I was currently heading down in life. How ironic that I'd come here again after all that time and, despite my vowing to myself that I'd not give up on finding the right woman for me ... the woman of my dreams ... that I'd come here and still be single.
The girl who'd changed my life had been, well to put it mildly, different. She'd not been interested in me as 'relationship potential' but she'd agreed to "take me on temporarily and condition me". Well, that 'conditioning' had been a bit of an eye-opener! To put it mildly again, she'd been a dominatrix. And she'd taken me on to 'convert' me, she'd said. And she'd attempted to beat out of me all my old-fashioned male values (those were her words) and turn me into a good boy. A good, obedient, submissive boy.
Well, I'd run a mile after a week or two! But, every so often, there were little thoughts that crept into my private musings. And gradually, slowly, those thoughts had turned to a slight obsession. Not one that I could admit to myself. And indeed I never met anyone who I'd even faintly felt like I wanted to explore the feelings with ... Not until ...
Not until I'd seen a raven haired singer across a crowded room the other night, that was. How bizarre was that.
But anyway, that girl. The singer. She obviously wouldn't be interested in that type of guy. She'd been with an alpha male type that evening ...
Besides, the one time I'd half confessed my inner feelings to my oldest friend, a girl I'd grown up with from age 5, she'd almost laughed at me. "Seriously, Jack?" She'd questioned me. "You think you might be that way inclined? Well, that's your love life over sunshine if that's the case." Then, when I'd sort of back-tracked about it and made a joke, she'd relaxed a bit. "Honestly, darling, girls don't want that kind of 'man'. They want to 'be' dominated not be the one who 'does' the dominating, trust me."
So I shrugged my shoulders. As I walked towards the noisy dance floor, I told myself one more time. "Just be yourself, Jack Sparrow. Your normal, confident take-charge self. You know that being a submissive isn't the 'real' you anyway. Not really ... It's only a 'part' of you."
I burst into the crowded room and started to get swept toward the dancing thrum ...
I got as far as the champagne bar. I managed to catch the eye of the serving guy. He approached me as best he could, swerving around the jolting, swaying crowds of people. I watched him drawing near with a half smile, trying to look concerned at his troubled journey to me. As I watched, I caught sight of a girl's neck. Just a glimpse through the crowd and then it was gone. But there was something familiar about it, that neck. Was there a tattoo, or the way the dark hair cascaded over the bare shoulder ...
"Sir!"
The serving guy was trying to get my attention. "Sorry my friend, I was miles away there."
"Yes, I could tell, sir. What can I get you?"
"Erm, could I have a bottle of your house champagne, an ice bucket and two glasses?" I smiled. "On second thought, make it the vintage."
"That's eighty six fifty per bottle sir"
I cringed inwardly. God, I'd need a second mortgage at this rate. "That's fine, here's a hundred, you just keep an eye on me and make sure I don't get thirsty this evening ..." I glanced at his name badge, " ...Dan." He smiled at me, taking my money. "Of course, Sir. Have a great night. Sonia will be over with your order soon."
"Dan, who's that girl?" I pointed at the bare glittered shoulders, cascading black hair and thin chain sliding down the spine. She'd just come into view again as I'd been talking to him.
"I'm not sure, sir." He replied. "Never seen her before."
"Could you ask Sonia to pour her a glass of my champagne and send it to her?"
"Consider it done." He drifted off with a lascivious grin. I stared at the girl as the crowd started to close in and cut my view down. I had a strange sensation and involuntarily glanced down for a fraction of a second before I realised I was getting an erection. Fuck. I turned away. A helpless gesture as the club was simply packed in all directions and there was no hiding place. Besides what was the point of turning away from a woman to spare her blushes when she didn't even know shed given me an erection?
"Nice package, mate."
