I was in Heathrow, just having handed in my immigration forms. All I had was a small backpack. I don't even remember what was in it, but I remember feeling that everything I would ever need was in that bag. I had no money and no plan, so I was just wondering through the thick crowds. So thick I could hardly see anything of the airport. I walked just about straight into you, you looked like you were waiting for me, but you said you were seeing a friend off.
Now that meeting I do remember very clearly: you looked just as you did when I first met you nearly ten years ago. Your fringe was longer, into bangs with one tucked behind your right ear. Dressed all in black: knee-high stiletto boots, corset and a fairly short one-piece dress. You had something red in your hair - a flower or a jewelled hair pin like a flower. I thought your eyes were so very blue; almost luminescent.
I think we talked about some things but I only really remember you telling me to come stay with you. With hardly a quid to my name and in the middle of a part of London I didn't know, I didn't have much of a choice. Now I know I've forgotten a lot over the years, but I could never forget your smile, the way your voice soothed away my worries and fears. A honeyed poison.
We eventually came to your house, nestled deep in the woods on the outskirts of Reading. You showed me the house: there were many richly decorated rooms. I don't remember much...white walls, white floors, black furniture with the occasional slash of red on paintings or curtains. There was the locked door. You said "We don't go in there."
I've forgotten most of what happened next, except that you took my bag promising to look after it. Dinner tasted strange too, and shortly after I felt tired and weak. You told me it was okay, flights drain you, we would talk in the morning.
You let me sleep in the guestroom. The bed was so soft, layered in rich thick furs that smelled of lilies. I haven't lain in a soft bed since. But I couldn't sleep. I kept worrying about my bag. I got up and looked around the house, guided by the pale moonlight that slithered through openings in the curtains. I couldn't find my bag, or you for that matter.
I eventually came to the locked door. I know you told me not to go there, but I had searched the house from top to bottom. I jiggled the handle and with a creak, loud in the midnight silence, it opened up into this dark, damp wooden...hole. My eyes slowly adjust to the darker room. It's small compared to the rooms in the rest of the house. I guessed it to be five by five paces. The walls, floors, everything, were made of old, half rotten lumber. Hands gingerly held out in front of me, I step into the darkness. I suddenly felt vulnerable, dressed in only my boxer shorts. My fingers brush up against something deadly cold. My heart stopped for a moment, but eventually I worked out that it was an old iron frame, the rough patches of rust scraped against my palms as I felt out its dimensions. In my half-asleep sluggishness, I thought "Is she starting a gym?"
You were suddenly behind, saying "I told you we don't go in here."
You were the same as at the airport, except the dress is gone. Just a skimpy g-string down under. The moon shone off your skin like pure ivory. I heard the click of a light switch, and dull yellow bulbs slowly glowed to life along the ceiling. You told me to walk under the frame and kneel down. I was completely off-balance and confused. I did as you commanded, asking stupidly if this is a new kind of exercise.
As I went down to my knees you firmly guided my hands outwards, and made me clutch the frame. In half a heartbeat there was pressure at my wrists, like straps holding them tightly in place. Before I could look to the side to see what's happening, you slid a blindfold over my eyes. You whispered into my ear, close enough for me to feel the heat of your breath. You spoke with a voice as smooth as lacquer crème: "You're mine now, in my den where no-one will find you, no-one will hear you." A draught of cool air snaked up my boxers, sending goosebumps over my flesh.
