His e-mail surprised me. He said his name was Max. And that he was a middle-aged man living in London. And that he had a slave, a woman named Jan, who he wanted to give me as a gift.
Like many of us who have written erotic stories and posted them on the net over the years, I had grown somewhat accustomed to receiving e-mails from people who had read my stories. Generally, the feedback is positive, usually having something to do with a story catching the imagination of the reader. This kind of feedback is fun to receive. After all, connecting with the reader is the object for most of us who try to write. We endeavor to create an image that speaks to the reader, an image that draws them in and lets them become a part of what it is we try to describe.
Max wrote me a number of e-mails, actually. He told me in the beginning how Jan had found my stories and begun to read them through. She would tell him about reading them, tell him she liked them, that they excited her. Max said Jan's interest in me changed when she began to read stories like "Staying After School" (found here) and "Her Weekend Surprise" (found here) and "A Special Request" (found here). After reading those stories, he wrote, Jan began to include me in her fantasies, the fantasies she used to masturbate when she was alone.
For this he would punish her, he said. He wrote of spanking her, even using his belt to spank her on a few occasions, but he came to see, he said, how she wanted the punishment. Wanting the punishment wasn't in itself usual, he told me, so that didn't really concern him. He was puzzled, he wrote, about why she seemed to use me to make him jealous. Perhaps, he thought, I was her way of testing his love for her, his desire to own her and have her for himself.
All this, he wrote, led him to the decision to send her to me. He wanted to show her that he could give her to me and not be bothered by me having her.
He proposed that he fly Jan from London to Charlotte. Should I agree to his plan, I would find Jan waiting for me in a hotel room. She would be mine to use in whatever way I chose. She would, to use his words, be my slut for one night.
Like I said, this was a new one on me. I admit to having received some unusual propositions through the years, but this one was entirely new and different.
I thought it over for a couple of days before writing him back. I would be honored to accept his slave as a gift, I wrote him.
*****
Over the course of my communication with Max I had a chance to learn more than just a bit about Jan. Max wrote of their initial meeting, her discovery of her desire to be submissive, and the bonding they had done over a weekend in the Swiss Alps. He had also sent pictures. Max loves taking pictures, obviously. And just as obviously, Jan loves to pose. There were pictures of a smiling Jan walking through the British Museum, and there were pictures of Jan horseback riding in the country, and there were pictures of Jan preparing to take a large bubble bath, and there were pictures of Jan in a slinky black teddy, and there were pictures of Jan without the teddy, and there were pictures of Jan pleasing herself and the camera.
With each successive e-mail from Max it became more and more apparent that he was leading up to some sort of crescendo. I reminded myself from time to time that all there was for me to do was wait. He'd get there soon enough on his own.
The crescendo came in the form of dozen photographs. They were all of Jan. In some she wore black leather chaps. In virtually all she was tied in some scripted manner. In some you could see the red marks, the dark welts, across her thighs and ass. In some you could see the red marks on her breasts and nipples. But in all it was her eyes that leapt out of the picture. It was her eyes fixed on the camera, reaching out to the photographer and the viewer alike. In those eyes was a fixture of pure passion or lust, whatever one chose to call it. It was raw and earthy and unapologetic. And in some way I wasn't sure I understood, it was aggressive.
I thought of all this as I drove to Charlotte. Jan's flight was to have arrived the day before. The plan was for her to take a room at the Hyatt and spend some time recovering from her journey. I was to arrive at 8:00 p.m. the day following her arrival. She was to be waiting for me in her room.
The spring air flew through the car easily as I drove. The music drifted in the air and mixed with my sense of anticipation. How would it all go? Who knew? Me? Jan? Max? Not one of us knew, of course. At worst, she could be some sort of British psychopath with a lust for shedding red American blood. Everything else this side of the worst didn't seem too disagreeable. In fact, as I had thought through all this in the weeks leading up to the meeting, the possibilities looked much better than merely acceptable.
As I recall, the traffic was typically annoying. I remember the hotel parking lot was full. I had to drive around more than I liked to find a place to park. My irritation was some kind of clue, I remember thinking. I was impatient with getting it all started. I wanted it to begin. I wanted it all to happen. I wanted Jan, and more.
It was mid-week, so the Hyatt lobby was full of people traveling and doing business in Charlotte. There were suits and dresses and shorts and t-shirts. All or at least most of them were looking for a good dinner and a good time. They were headed away from the hotel. I was headed inside.
I carried the small black overnight bag I had packed as I headed for the registration desk. Do you have any messages for John Coltrane? I asked. Yes, just one, the college-aged drone answered before handing me an envelope. I stepped away from the desk and opened it. Inside a folded single sheet of hotel stationery was a room key. On the stationery, written in a skilled hand, was a brief message. "Room 626. I am waiting for you." It was signed simply, "Jan."
I folded the note and stuck it in the bag slung over my shoulder. A quick scan of the lobby revealed no one who was obviously watching me. Was anyone with her? I wondered. Was anyone along for the ride, maybe with not so good intentions? Was Max watching me? Had he traveled with her? Or had Max perhaps hired someone to protect Jan? A bodyguard? An assassin? One can never be too sure, I had reminded myself over the days leading up to this meeting. One can never be too certain that people might not have more on their agenda than what they tell you about.
Thinking, walking, and watching I found the elevator and took it to the seventh floor. I got off and moved down the hall to a corner leading to the vending and ice machines. Stepping inside, I checked my watch and leaned on the wall to wait. Five minutes passed and no one showed up, no one got off the elevator. No one followed? Maybe not.
I took the stairs down to the sixth floor and stepped into the hall. I walked past room 626 without looking at it. I found the vending and ice alcove again and stepped inside to wait another five minutes. No one moved past the door. No one came into the hall at all. No one was watching the room? No one was expecting me? No one outside the room, I reminded myself. But who was in the room? Jan? Who else? And how many?
Doing my best to walk quietly but quickly, I moved to 626 and knocked. I could hear the television being clicked off and someone moving across the floor. The latch twisted and the door opened smoothly. Standing there in a black silk robe was the woman I had seen in so many pictures. It was her, Jan. She smiled and stepped back for me to enter. Without thinking I smiled back, neither of us speaking. I stepped through the door and into an adventure, thinking of the things I needed to do, thinking of my list of checks, thinking of the risks, thinking fast as the door clicked shut and locked behind me.
The room was a large suite. The first room was a comfortably furnished sitting room. Beyond it was a small kitchen area. Beyond that, the bedroom. On the bar was an array of fresh fruit, wines, and bottles of liquor.
"You are taller than I imagined," she said from behind me.
I turned and took in her smile, her expression. She seemed at ease, relaxed and composed.
"And you are more beautiful than your pictures," I responded.
Her smile widened and her head dipped in recognition, an unconscious move of embarrassment.
"Thank you, Mr. Coltrane," was all she said.
From my jacket pocket I pulled a wide black scarf. I motioned to her to come toward me. She did without asking why, without a moment's hesitation. Without speaking or explaining I wrapped the black scarf around her eyes and tied it snuggly behind her head. Her arms hung at her side unmoving.
"Stay right here," I told her, "Don't move at all. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she answered smoothly.
I pulled the double-edged knife from my bag. The slide of the blade from the sheath made the slightest hint of a noise. I saw her flinch but she didn't move. She stood perfectly still as I moved toward her and past her. My shoulder brushed her sleeve as I stepped to the door and pulled the chain latch into position. I moved past her again to step into the kitchen area. I listened for anything other than my own breathing. Nothing. I stepped into the bedroom with something approximating a ready stance. Nothing or no one there. Nothing or no one in the bathroom either. The hotel suite was empty except for Jan and myself.
When I came back into the sitting room, I sheathed the knife and put it away, back into the bag.
"Satisfied?" she asked without any hint of sarcasm.
"Yes."
"He said you would check."
I didn't respond.
I sat on the sofa and considered the situation. Jan still stood in the middle of the floor wearing the black scarf as a blindfold.
"Did you have a good trip?" I asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Are you well rested?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Excited?"
"Yes, Sir, very much."
"Why are you here, Jan?" I asked.
"To please you, Sir. To be your slut for tonight. My Master has sent me as a gift to you."
"Have you made preparations?"
"Yes, as my Master as instructed. The hotel staff arranged for or fetched liquor and food. And I brought toys as he told me."
"Toys?"
"Yes, Sir. Silk ropes, vibrators, lubricants, beads, butt plugs, clips, and leather items, whips and things."
I see."
"Are you pleased, Sir?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
"You may remove the blindfold," I said.
Her arms came up slowly and untied the knot on the back of her head.
"Now," I continued, "Undress for me."
All it took was a loosening of the knot on the sash around her waist. A shrug of her shoulders let the silk robe drop to her feet. She was naked then. Her breasts, full and swollen, held her nipples out to me. The curve of her hips was strong and firm. Her pubic hair was completely shaved clean.
"Your Master likes your pussy shaved?" I asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Kneel for me like your Master as taught you."
Jan knelt immediately.
I rose and walked around her slowly. She was kneeling there on the carpeted floor, leaning back to sit on her heels. Her eyes were downcast, her hands behind her back. She was silent as she knew to be. Her knees were apart as she had been taught.
I remember being struck by her beauty as I circled her. Yes, she was beautiful, and she was waiting for me to begin.
"What are you?" I asked her.
