The Seducer: Origins

Note: Thanks for the kind responses to the first part. Here is the second part to the origins of The Seducer. Last part to follow next week.

For James, the moment seemed frozen in time. Every movement was painfully slow and exaggerated. He could see each individual tear form in Allison's eyes and watched helplessly as they made their slow descent down her cheeks.

It seemed almost absurd how slowly his softening cock was pulled out of Isabell's wet cunt. James was prisoner to this moment, the fulcrum of fate of which his entire life would turn. He knew his life was changed, even as he seemed to be stuck in the primordial ooze of time.

Isabell was still bent over the desk, her head coming up at the sound of Allison's voice with delicate slowness. James could hear the air rise from her lungs, up through her throat, and out of her mouth as a grunt of surprise.

The first tear on Allison's cheek hung on the edge of her chin, stretched out toward the ground, and then finally broke free of its prison and fell toward the floor. James' eyes were riveted on it as it made its final descent. He felt his whole life was summarized in that tear. It shattered on the floor, as though it was made of ice.

James shattered.

And with that, time kicked back into full motion.

"You...you...you bastard!" Allison was red-faced with fury and grief.

"Oh shit!" Isabell scrambled for her clothes. She didn't even bother dressing. She collected every article of clothing that she could find and turned, terrified, to look at Allison.

She pointed her finger behind her, toward the doorway. "Get...the...fuck...out of my sight, you whore!"

Isabell didn't need to be told twice. She let out a whimper of fear and ran full speed out of the office. She had her clothes pinned to her chest; crusts of cum flaked off her ass as she passed Allison.

Allison stared at the floor. She could have been staring at the flakes of dried cum. Most likely, she just couldn't bear to look at James.

James didn't see her. He didn't see or hear Isabell scamper out of the office. He didn't see her bubble butt bounce up and down as a fully nude woman ran out of a deserted office. His mind was nowhere and everywhere. His eyes saw only the red pain of his heart.

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to face the pain to come. He didn't want to look at Allison and see the heartbreak there. He was on a path of self-explosion. His mind would never come back.

So it did the only thing it could do to preserve itself. It banished the pain, refused to acknowledge it.

James didn't know it yet, but this was the moment his mind and soul was scarred beyond recognition.

Vision came back to him slowly. He took stock of his surroundings. He seemed to be naked. His cock was flaccid and sticky with cum. He looked down and saw that he was still wearing his dress shoes and socks. He almost chuckled.

He looked across the room and saw Allison still looking at the floor. Her shoulders were shaking but no tears were coming. She seemed beyond tears. James knew that sight should have broken him, but he felt...disinterested. Evidently, his mind had done too good of a job. He would worry about that later.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounded cold. He wasn't surprised.

Allison was. Her eyebrows rose up in shock. She stared at him as though a dog had stood up on its hind legs and started barking out the national anthem.

"You fucking bastard! I find you banging your secretary and you have the gall to ask me what I am doing here! Banging your secretary! What a fucking cliché you are!"

James took this tongue-lashing in silence. He couldn't feel anything.

What...what is wrong with me?

He tried to feel something, anything, but he kept feeling something blocking his thoughts. Something like a...wall.

Allison just continued to stare at him. She seemed to be waiting for a response.

"What are you doing here?" That seemed the only thing his mind could come up with.

"What is this James? Is this some kind of fucking joke? I receive a phone call from your secretary to come to your office at 8 to enjoy a dinner and this is what you want me to see? What, am I suppose to take off my clothes and join you two?"

My secretary? What the fuck is going on?

James could feel the wall in his mind weakening. He thought he could almost hear a voice from behind it. It seemed to be shouting.

"What...I don't..." James looked around his office. He saw the piles of his client files scattered on the floor.

Isabell must have knocked those over when she left. I should have her pick them up when she comes back in.

"Are you here James? You break my heart, you son of a bitch, and you just stand them looking stupid? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Fuck you!"

Allison collapsed to her knees and sobbed into her hands.

Why didn't Isabell pick up those files? I must be working her too hard.

James walked over and began picking up the files. Allison stopped crying. She stared in horror as a naked man squatted on his haunches and started gathering files. His back was to her. If he had seen the utter devastation on that once proudly fierce face, he would have embraced her, mind block be damned.

Allison was beyond tears. "James..." she whispered.

James froze. The utter helplessness in the voice of the woman he loved beyond comparison breached his wall. It shattered around him and the voice behind the wall could finally be heard.

I am damned! What have I done? Why did I betray everything? Allison, my love! Oh, my love!"

Down came the wall and out came the flood of grief. The river of pain washed through his mind and body. He collapsed into the fetal position and began to sob.

Allison made no move to him; she watched with eyes red and unblinking.

I deserve to die! Oh God, why am I tormented so! I fell for her! How? HOW? My love for Allison should have blocked those feelings! HOOOOWWWW!!!

James had no idea how long he burned in hell. Time had no meaning. The river faded to a steady flow. His mind braced itself on that river and balanced him.

He looked up. Allison was sitting against the wall, looking at the feet of James' desk.

James crawled through the vomit he did not remember puking and stuck out his hand toward Allison. She batted it away and looked him in the eyes. The hatred in her eyes seared him on the spot.

"I gave you everything. I gave you my heart and my life. All I asked is for you to take care of those things for me. In return, you would have love the like of which you have never experienced. I would take care of you and love you for all of time. Did I not live up to my end of the bargain?"

"Allison..." he croaked, reaching out toward her again. She swatted his hand away with disdain.

"No James, you will never touch me again. I held up my end of the bargain. You did not. You took my life and my heart and you stomped them into the mud. I am broken now, you understand? Never again could I trust you. Did you understand what my trust meant?"

James began quietly weeping. He laid his head on the floor. The puke oozed around his cheek.

"Look at you. You are pathetic. Was a good fucking from a beautiful woman worth this? We had it all James. I don't think even you know why you did this, do you?"

He didn't bother answering.

Allison shook her head. "I...I don't know where to go from here." Her lip trembled and fresh tears welled in her eyes. "James...I loved you...I loved you. I loved you...I...loved..."

He stretched out his hand for the third time. She grabbed it and held it tight. They wept together.

James never touched her again.

***

James sat on the floor of his empty bedroom. Bare white curtains fluttered as the gentle spring breeze flowed through the open windows.

He stood up suddenly and walked over to the French double doors that opened up on the balcony of the upper-story master bedroom. He walked to the rail and leaned his elbows against it.

The sun was falling behind the large hill a few miles out from his house. The sky was a collage of brilliant purples and oranges and reds. The breeze caressed his face as it flew by.

It really was a beautiful thing to witness. The setting sun would no doubt rise again and once more paint the sky with such vivid colors. Such was life. Time rolled on no matter what.

James watched the sunset without moving. The last line of sunlight flashed brilliantly before disappearing behind the hill. He came out of his reverie with a start.

Time to get this over with.

He sighed and walked back into his room. He sat down where he was previously and grabbed the divorce papers. He signed his name with a flourish.

And that is that.

He put the papers back into the manila envelope and put it aside. Allison would no doubt be happy to be rid of him at long last.

Thinking of her always brought fresh pain. He wished he could have signed the papers in front of her. He hadn't seen her since that night she caught him in his office. She left before he did. It took him half the night to muster the courage to leave.

He got home and was not surprised to find a duffel bag for him on the front porch. He took it and got a hotel room not far away.

The divorce was handled through the lawyers. James gave her whatever she wanted. Which was pretty much everything...except for the house. She said she wanted to move away and start fresh and didn't want to be reminded of the good times in that house. But she took all the furniture and left him the carcass of a once great love.

James went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. He set the glass down and felt a stab of pain in his right hand. He flexed it and examined it. He smiled, as he did every time he examined the heavy bandages wrapping the entire hand.

***

He lay on his hotel bed, weeping without tears. All the tears had been wept hours ago. But still his shoulders shook in intense grief. His mind tormented him by making him relive flashes of pain and anguish on his wife's face.

Every insult she hurled at him branded his heart over and over again. He remembered each curse-word she called him. He remembered how he was frozen with shock. He remembered how all his numb brain could do was ask the same stupid question over and over again.

Allison had been disbelieving that he could ask that question. She cursed him again. Told him...told him...

James bolted up in bed.She told me Isabell called her to meet me at 8 o'clock for dinner!

James immediately stopped weeping as his mind kicked into gear. He was very intelligent but not Mensa intelligent. But what was special about him was that he was very intuitive. His mind never had trouble making that intuitive leap.

It was the power of his mind, in fact, that would later develop walls of unsurpassed strength and would forever change his life.

Why would Isabell call my wife? She told her to meet me at 8 o'clock. That was right around the time Mr. Evans stormed into my office and made Isabell lash out. That, in turn, turned me on so bad that I couldn't help myself.

Like a puzzle piece sliding into place, James knew that what happened between Mr. Evans and Isabell was orchestrated. He also knew intuitively that the purpose was for exactly what happened: James caved in and fucked her silly.

But why was Isabell working with Mr. Evans? And why did she want my wife to catch me?

James sat on the bed and let his mind work out the pieces of this puzzle. He thought through everything he knew about Isabell. He remembered everything from the time they were first introduced to the time she smeared his cum all over her ass.

He remembered thinking how odd it was that her clothing fluctuated before settling on semi-conservative. He remembered how even back then he had a sneaking suspicion that she was tailoring herself to his personal preferences.

At the time he thought that she was trying to impress him, but what if...

She was trying to seduce me from the beginning! That was her purpose!

James knew he was right. But the question still remained: Why?

He got off the bed and walked out of his hotel room. He got in his car and began driving.

His mind wandered as he drove. If Isabell was trying to seduce him from the beginning in order for his wife to catch him, then she was very, very good.

In fact, she was the best damn actress he had ever seen. She showed so many emotions...she seemed so sincere. How the hell did she fake that passion he saw in her eyes?

James' mind followed the only logical conclusion. Somebody that good had to be a professional. Somebody hired her...

James finally connected the dots. He must have known all along because, without realizing it, he had driven himself to his office building.

He could hear his teeth grinding together as a slowly rising anger began to take a hold of him.

He strode through the parking lot like a man on a mission. He entered the lobby and passed several nicely dressed professionals. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before. They were crumpled and dirty. Dried pieces of vomit still clung to his cheek.

People gave him a wide berth. Nobody got on the elevator with him and that was fine by him.

All the while, his anger threatened to spill over from the boiling pot of his stomach. He couldn't even form a thought.

The elevators opened on the 21st floor. He strode through the valley of cubicles. Phones rang off the hook as nobody picked them up. Everyone was frozen in place as they watched him pass by, their mouths hanging open. Everyone stood up in their cubicles to watch him.

His friend Frank strode up to him. "James...what-"

"Fuck off," he told his once good friend. Frank's mouth fell open as James brushed passed him.

He turned the corner past the cubicles and headed toward the two glass doors that opened up on the conference room. It was full of partners and managers. Mr. Evans was standing up and speaking.

James grabbed the door and yanked it open. All eyes turned toward him. Mr. Evans glanced at him and smiled.

"Ah, speak of the devil. We were just discussing the interesting revelations that the janitorial staff had to share with-"

Mr. Evans cut-off suddenly, perhaps due to the fact that James' fist had lodged itself into his mouth. James felt a sharp crack in his hand but felt no pain. Mr. Evans tumbled over his chair and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Blood poured out of his mouth and pooled on the floor. Two broken fragments of teeth lay on the conference table.

A shock silence settled over the room. James glanced at his fist and saw that it was purple and starting to swell. He glanced up at the other managers. They stared at him as though he was the boogey man from the stories. He smiled and flipped them the finger from his good hand.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. He walked purposefully down the hallway, past the cubicles (whose occupants had followed him and saw what happened through the glass doors, and some of whom gave him thumbs up as he passed by), turned into another hallway, and walked up to the door that said 'Human Resources' in big letters.

He pushed opened the door into a tiny and cramped office. John Adamson, the HR manager, sat at his desk and glanced up as James walked in.

"Mr. Coltez, what are you--hey you can't go in there!" Mr. Adamson yelled at James, who had walked passed him and through the door behind his desk. This room was much larger and contained several large file cabinets.

He walked to the cabinet that said 'M'. It was locked. He turned toward John.

"The key," he told him simply.

"Mr. Coltez, you are not permitted in here! These file cabinets contain sensitive employee information, as you well know! If you do not leave, I will call security!"

James stared at him silently. Sweat began forming on John's forehead. Without warning, James kicked him in the balls. John let out a whoosh of air and collapsed, gasping, to the ground. James bent down and removed the key John's front shirt pocket. He opened the file cabinet and quickly located the file that read, 'Martinez, Isabell.'

He grabbed the page that listed her home address and shut the cabinet. He locked it and returned the key to John's pocket. John continued to moan on the ground.

God that felt good!

James thought as he made his way to the elevators. He walked in the elevator and turned around. His former employees stood up and gave him a standing ovation. A senior partner was jogging toward him, flanked by two security guards. James waved with his good hand as the elevator doors clanged shut.

Fuckers!

His building only kept two security guards, both of whom had just been called up to the 21st floor. This meant James whistled happily to himself as he walked out the front lobby and got into his car.

His mood soured, though, as pain began lancing through his hand and the thought of driving to see Isabell loomed large in his mind.

Isabell...why? Damn me to hell! How did I fall for that woman?

James could only shake his head. The drive to the address listed on her employment form took James to the poor section of the city. He parked in front on the building with the address listed on the form. It was an abandoned apartment complex. He wasn't surprised.

She was a professional. Mr. Evans had hired her to seduce James for some unknown reason and so of course she wouldn't use her real address. In fact, Isabell might not even be her real name.

As James drove back to his hotel, he was pretty sure he would never see Isabell again. He wanted to beat himself for feeling pain over that thought.

***

James laughed at the memory as he flexed his hand. Mr. Evans didn't want the truth to get out, so he didn't press charges on James. He must have somehow talked John Adamson into not pressing charges either. If the senior partners ever learned what Mr. Evans had done, he would never find work in this field again.

James had broken his hand but it was healing up nicely now. It had been a rough couple of months, though. He still dealt with the pain of both his hand and Allison every day. Allison was so dead set on being rid of James that the divorce had been finalized in record time. He missed her terribly...

***

James sat at the table outside his favorite café and drank his coffee. The day was warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. James was in a practically good mood as he had just had the last wrappings removed from his hand. The doctor declared it completely healed.

The day was so nice that James could almost feel his broken heart start to mend despite his best efforts. Days like these reminded him that life goes on and you just got to keep truckin'.

Little did he know that his heart would never get the opportunity to heal.

James just finished his coffee and was about to leave when something caught his eye. It was a woman across the street sitting outside a bookstore and reading a book. James didn't quite know why she caught his eye, but there was something about her...

She had long dark hair and was wearing sunglasses. She wore a spaghetti-strap dress and sandals.

No, it can't be...

James got up, waited for a couple of cars to pass by, and made his way over to where the woman sat. He chose a table a couple hundred feet away. He waited patiently as she continued to read a book. After 10 minutes, a tall man with blonde hair approached her.

"Umm...Ms. Isabell?" he asked her.

You bitch!

It was definitely his Isabell all right. She had obviously put extensions in her hair and had a deeper tan, but it was her. Inside, James was a volcano of rage. He gripped the table until his fingers hurt.

She looked up from her book and smiled at the man. "You must be Mr. Young. Please, sit down." She gestured gracefully to the chair in front of her.