The next day was Friday. At work, I kept a low profile, not straying from my desk. I couldn't trust how I might react if I were to cross paths with James in the hallway. In the hours since I'd left Bristol's, I replayed my meeting with him innumerable times. There was something dreamlike and surreal about it all. I felt, however, that after our evening together the following week, things would feel real enough. My mind turned to speculating as to how that would play out. James laying down the law, for one thing. James telling me just what he expected, and perhaps the consequences of my not meeting his expectations. Sure, I was nervous. I felt uncertain and I worried that I might not measure up. But I knew I was oh, so motivated! Really, I was right where I wanted to be: under the control of, under the thumb of a strong, confident, and hung (Good lord, was he ever!) black man. Weeks before, perched atop a trash can, under the shadow of night, I had caught my first - and till now, only - glimpse of that lovely organ. I had, since then, retained quite clearly the image of his erection while Stephanie caressed and attended to it. As the reader will already have surmised, the fact that a woman who had spurned and ultimately come to despise me was giving herself unreservedly to this man, made it all the more exciting!
That afternoon, as I was updating some files, I heard Stephanie's voice not far from my desk. Moments later, she appeared at the entry to my workspace.
"Hi, Jack." she said in a cheery voice. "And thanks again for the flowers. They keep for quite a while, and I'm running out of vases! It's very flattering." she said. Then, moving closer to me and lowering her voice, she said, "Not to mention the sentiments that come along with them! You sure know how to make a woman feel special." She gave the back of my neck a light squeeze. It was the first time she'd touched me since she stormed into her apartment and left me barefoot in her backyard months before. The warmth of her hand was heavenly.
"I hear you boys are having a little get-together next week." she offered in a casual tone. I felt my hair stand on end. So, the connection had been made; the circuit was now complete!
"Oh!" I said, looking up at her. "Did James mention that to you? Yes, we are. We were out for drinks yesterday, and he invited me then."
"Yes, he told me." Steph said. "I'm glad you two are getting along. I didn't want there to be any hard feelings between you."
"No, we had a really nice time." I said, feeling a bit on edge, not knowing how much she knew. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that, sure, he told her. Probably, they had compared notes. "Actually, I've always been fond of James. An admirer, you could say." I said, and I looked at Steph. She smiled.
"Yes, he's a good man, Jack. Oh, he's cocky and sometimes a bit arrogant, but that just comes with the territory."
" Sure. Sure," I said, and thought - Who wouldn't have a bit of an ego if every pussy he walked past began to moisten and twitch. "But he's generous, too. He's helped me quite a lot with my interpersonal skills."
"He's got the chops. You would do well to listen to him." Steph said, perhaps knowing that I would listen respectfully to James if he were talking about the price of coffee beans.
"Yeah, he's a rock star." I said.
"Well, I have to get back to work" steph said. ""I hope you two have a very interesting "boys night in", shall we say."
Once Steph walked away from my desk that afternoon, I knew that the puzzle pieces were hovering over their respective spaces, and that, if providence would smile upon me just this once, I would soon be in the service of a Lord and Lady. A Master and Mistress. I knew that this was the true gateway into any meaningful satisfaction and fulfillment in my otherwise confused and impoverished existence. There would be no empowerment of pathetic Jack in this lifetime, but, if I played my cards right, I could bask in the fierce carnal glow of these two incomparable lovers. I could be their attentive witness. The acolyte of their torrid life celebrations.
On the following monday, there was a note from James in my office mailbox. It read:
Wednesday
135 Kappock St
8PM
So this was it, I thought, tucking the note deep into a pocket. All during that day, through a dinner at home, and until my eyes finally closed early the next morning, I could think of nothing but James opening his front door and finding me on the steps outside, ready for my lessons.
Wednesday morning's sunlight came sifting through the bedroom curtains, and I was surprised at how well I'd slept. This was the day, I thought, when James and I would be alone in his house, and I would learn the particulars of how my life would become very different. I stretched languorously between the sheets, imagining the evening ahead. In a moment, I was fully erect and anticipating the feeling of surrender to whatever James would require of me. My mind wandered down strange and wonderful paths.
At work, I moved mechanically from task to task. Around noon, I saw James leave the office. He didn't return that afternoon. I was to find out later that he and Steph had both left and spent the afternoon together talking about me.
After work, I went to a nearby burrito place for dinner. Afterwards, I picked up a half-pint of whiskey and drove to an overlook in the hills above the city that was popular on weekends, but which was deserted when I arrived. I sipped the bourbon, feeling the alcohol's soothing tendrils move through me dreamily like sea plants in a tide. At 7:15, I decided to make my way towards James's house. I wanted to be there well before the appointed time. I wanted there to be no chance of having to rush or - God forbid - of being late. I drove carefully, mindful that there was at least some small chance of catching the notice of an overzealous cop with time on his hands. I parked outside James's house at 7:40. Lights were on in a large front room. A moving shadow darkened the curtains. The Master's shadow, I thought. I walked to the front door as the second hand swept up to the eight o'clock hour. I hoped my punctuality would be noticed. I rang the doorbell, and in a few moments the door swung open.
"Jack. Right on time. excellent". James said, standing there looking quite art ease. He wore a rust-colored long-sleeved shirt over off-white linen pants. He looked like he might be taking a break from a GQ photo shoot.
"Thank you, James. Thanks for asking me over." I said, feeling how strange this prosaic formality sounded in light of the evening's purpose. I followed him into the front room which was about 20 feet by 15 with tasteful (and expensive looking!) furniture.
"Drink, Jack?" James inquired as he walked to a discreetly recessed shelf. There were eight or ten bottles of liquor there and ice.
"I'd love one", I said.
I remained standing. I would take nothing for granted. Simply standing there gave me something of a thrill. Until told otherwise, I would be completely passive and allow James to direct me.
"Sit down over there, Jack." James said indicating an leather armchair.
"Yes, sir." I said, and immediately went to the chair. I sat down on the edge, hands folded in my lap.
"Good!" James rejoined with approval in his voice. He came forward and handed me the manhattan.
"Maybe not as good as Cal's, but he's a pro." James said casually.
"I'm sure he's got nothing on you in any department, James." I said, feeling a bit foolish at this bit of hyperbole.
"I like the way you think." James said, seating himself opposite me.
"I feel that way too, sir." I said, excited to hear the word "sir" come so easily to my lips.
"I know you do, Jack", James said, sipping his drink. "And I like that about you, too. But let me ask you something. Did I invite you to call me "sir"?
I sat there speechless. Clearly I had taken a liberty that I should not have.
"Jack! I asked you a question. Well?
"No, James. I'm sorry. It was wrong of me." I could feel emotion creep inexorably into my voice. "And I was so hoping to do well this evening. Please forgive me, James. Won't you?"
