Chapter Nine
The room downstairs was full. It appeared that they were the final guests to arrive. Claire looked around. Melody was at a table across the room and was barefoot, dressed in a floor-length white tunic, gathered on one shoulder, leaving the other half of her body bare to the waist. With a wreath of green leaves around her hair, she looked like one of the maidens from a Greek temple frieze. Shari sat next to her. Claire couldn’t get used to calling her Lady Aiden. She too wore a long tunic and woven wreath. Both women were laughing merrily, drinking from large silver goblets. Claire saw Shari reach out to tweak the hard nipple poking out of the thin fabric of Melody’s tunic. Melody took her hand, pulling it up and kissing the fingers, then gently sucking them in to her mouth. Apparently Shari is still on her voyage of discovery, Claire thought.
Collette saw her watching the two women. “Would Madame like me to arrange a private party with the ladies after this evening’s performance?”
“No, I think I have all I can handle for tonight with you and Theo,” Claire laughed. Melody heard her and turned, waving. Her eyes opened wide when she saw Claire leading the attendants into the room on twin leashes.
Claire headed for the last empty table, weaving her way past the other guests. The football player sat alone at his table tonight. At his feet knelt a beautiful woman with short dark hair, clad in what Claire assumed was The Dark Side’s standard attire for female companions—black bow tie and short black sarong, with her lush, full breasts bared. He reached down without looking and idly fondled one breast. The woman at his feet never moved, allowing his hands to roam at will over her body.
Claire took a seat at the table. Collette and Theo fell to their knees and sat back on their heels, arranging themselves at her feet, one on each side. The lights dimmed, and Lady Gwen’s voice boomed over the sound system.
“Good evening, honored guests. Good evening, acolytes and initiates. Welcome all to the Dark Side of the Moon. This evening we have a special event. One of our guests will participate in a ritual of remembrance and rebirth. Tonight she will bid goodbye to one phase of her life and embark upon a new one. Just as the moon grows into fullness, then wanes and is born to grow again—so we also have the ability to flow seamlessly, leaving one phase of our life and giving birth to a new self, with new dreams and new joys.”
The spotlights in the center of the room came on, revealing a mature woman in a long, flowing, forest-green robe. She was seated at a round table draped with a deep-blue cloth decorated with strange symbols. Three people approached the table—two men and a woman. Both men looked to be in their forties. They were well muscled and bare-chested, dressed alike in the familiar floor-length black capes over loose black trousers. The woman walked between them. She too wore a long, flowing robe like the woman at the table. Hers was silk, a deep garnet hue. Claire realized with a start that it was Marge.
The trio slid into chairs around the table. The woman in green introduced herself as Crystal. “I am but the facilitator tonight. I am here to guide a soul on her journey to self-discovery,” she explained as she got up and began lighting dozens of votive candles in the two large candleholders on either side of the table. The spotlights dimmed as she took her seat and began.
“Tonight we will hear from the spirit of Cyrus, the beloved husband of Marge. He has written her a letter, a final message to her, which he entrusted to Lady Gwen for her to reveal when she felt the time was right. Tonight Marge will hear Cyrus’ final words. She has freely agreed to participate in whatever is to come, to honor the last wishes of her beloved. I have before me Jesse and Steven, two willing vessels who have volunteered to take part in this ceremony, making Cyrus’ ultimate desires come true.” She gestured to the two men. “Listen now as his message is delivered.”
Crystal took up a low chant in some unknown language, her voice rising and falling hypnotically. Marge was seated across from the woman, looking from one man to another nervously. The man introduced as Jesse reached inside his cloak and unfolded a sheet of paper. Claire saw the look of joy appear on Marge’s face when he grasped her hand and began to read.
“Maggie, my lass.” His voice was gentle. “It’s been so long since I touched you.”
Marge’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s Cy. No one else ever called me ‘Maggie, my lass’.”
Jesse read further. “I’m here with you in spirit, my love. And tonight you’re going to live out one of our favorite fantasies. I have missed you so much, my lass. Tonight is my gift to you. Know that in my heart, it is I who touch you tonight, I who kiss your body everywhere. The cock you taste is my cock. The love you feel is my love for you—a love that cannot die. Enjoy all the pleasure I give freely to you. And then, when this night is over, you must let me go, my love. We will be together again one day. But when the dawn breaks tomorrow, it is time for you to step forward into the sunlight and seek out all the love and happiness you deserve in this life.”
Jesse put down the letter on the table, stood up, and pulled Marge into his arms. He stared deep into her eyes, then captured her mouth in a ferocious kiss. His hands fumbled with the ties, tearing Marge’s robe open. As though he were a puppet controlled by unseen strings, Steven rose from the other side of the table and came over, slipping the robe from Marge’s shoulders. She was naked underneath, her body full and lush, with large breasts and a well-padded ass. Steven yanked off his robe and stepped out of his trousers. Then, naked, he began running his hands over Marge’s body, while his stiff cock sprang to life. He pulled Marge back against him, pinning her arms under his.
In front of her, Jesse stroked and fondled, his lips roving hungrily over her. When he fell to his knees and buried his mouth on her mound, Marge let out a cry. She writhed and squirmed, but the man behind her held her immobile. Jesse urged her legs apart, running his fingers back to tease first her pussy, then her ass. All the while his tongue kept up its relentless assault on her clit. Steven suddenly let go of her arms, and Marge leaned forward, burying her hands in Jesse’s hair as she ground her hips against his mouth.
Behind her, Steven stroked his cock a few times, then took it in his hand. He shoved Marge’s head down with his other hand and began rubbing his stiff rod all around her ass. Jesse stood, guiding Marge’s head to his own hard-on, sliding it between her lips. Marge was bent over at the waist, greedily sucking on Jesse’s cock, but Claire saw her eyes widen when the man behind her penetrated her ass. His hips started pumping slowly, moving in and out, at first just a millimeter at a time. Gradually his pace quickened, the strokes becoming longer and deeper. Marge gasped and ground herself into him, all the while sucking Jesse harder and harder as her fever rose.
All around the audience was silent, save for muffled groans and soft cries. Suddenly, Jesse pulled away. “Cyrus’ fantasy has become real now. Are you enjoying it?”
Marge could barely speak. Behind her, the silent man kept up the rhythm, sliding nearly all the way out, then thrusting himself deep into her ass.
“Yes, oh yes,” she moaned.
“Are you ready to come?”
“I’m getting close, so close,” she cried out breathlessly. “But I want to feel you in me, feel you come when I come. It’s been so long since I had a hard cock buried deep in my pussy while a man’s strong arms wrapped around me.”
Jesse looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. “Then it’s time to make your fantasy come true,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. The man behind her drew out fully. Jesse pulled Marge to a standing position and wrapped his cloak around her. Then he walked them both out of the room, through the door under the stairs, cradling Marge in his embrace. The spotlight followed them, illuminating the door as it closed softly behind them, growing dimmer and dimmer until it disappeared completely, plunging the room into the dark silence of the night.
Claire wiped tears from her eyes. Hearing the tenderness in Cyrus’ final words, sensing the love that lay beneath his desire to satisfy the savage needs that Marge h
ad denied herself for so long, touched her deep inside. That’s what I’m longing for, she realized. I never knew raw passion and tenderness could go hand in hand. Now that I’ve seen it, now that I know it exists, I can never settle for anything less. If Marge can move beyond her grief and trust that she will find love again, so can I.
Handing the leashes to Collette, she got up to leave. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a domme, even for a little while,” she announced. “In fact, I think I’d like to be alone for the rest of the evening.”
Chapter Ten
It was late August. The night was hot. Brick walls and cobblestone sidewalks had soaked up the rays of the late summer sun all day. Now they radiated that warmth. Claire walked slowly along, delighting in the atmosphere. All around her, couples strolled arm in arm, window shopping and gathering to listen to the music that poured out from the open doors of the cafes and bars.
Distant drumbeats propelled her forward. Claire followed the sound, the insistent pulse growing louder as she neared Pritchard Park. She turned to a nearby street vendor in dreadlocks and a Bob Marley t-shirt, bobbing up and down in time with the overpowering rhythm. “Excuse me, do you know what’s going on? Who is playing the drums?”
He looked up from the jumble of beaded necklaces and earrings strewn across a rickety table covered with a colorful Indian sari. “That’s the Drum Circle,” he said with a smile. “Every Friday night in the summer, people show up in the park and bring their drums. Anyone can join in. You’ve gotta go over there and check it out,” he added, pointing down the street. “It’s part of what makes Asheville unique.”
At the end of the block, a tiny wedge of grass and trees was squeezed into the center of a triangle where several old cobblestone streets intersected. The streets were jammed. Traffic had slowed to a crawl all the way around the park as passersby rolled down their windows and lingered as long as possible, soaking up the hypnotic sound.
A sea of humanity spilled out from the park, filling the sidewalks. Claire moved closer. Dozens of drummers of all ages sat here and there on the half-circle of stone steps leading down into the park, all pounding out a primitive beat in unison. Gradually the cadence changed, morphing seamlessly into another rhythm. Somehow all the drummers flowed with the change, ramping it up to a more frantic pace. Everywhere people danced—young men and women, small children bouncing and stomping. Claire saw an aging hippie in an ankle-length dress whirling to the beat, long gray hair fanning out around her head.
Claire wasn’t surprised to see all the dancers. The surprising thing was how anyone in the crowd could stay still. As she drew nearer, the drumming became like a living thing, entering her body, pulsing to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She swayed as she walked.
Claire loved Asheville. She’d been here for two weeks now. Her new job as copywriter for a growing tourism guide gave her plenty of opportunities to explore the area. Her new boss loved the sample articles she’d submitted along with her resume, and starting next month she’d have her own blog twice a week in the e-zine version.
She felt her cell phone humming in the pocket of her dress, and she pulled it out. It was Jim again. She hit “ignore” and slipped the phone back in her pocket. The last time they spoke, just before she left Charlotte, he confided that things weren’t going so well between him and Natalyee. He’d gone so far as to say that if she played her cards right, he’d even consider coming back to her. Funny how things worked out in life. Six months ago, she’d have given anything to have Jim calling her on a Friday night.
Claire was proud of herself. She’d kept her cool, telling Jim she was sorry that he and Natalyee were having problems in their relationship, but she was sure they’d work things out. Then she wished him good luck and hung up. He’d called half a dozen times since, but she didn’t take the calls. There was nothing more she had to say to him. She’d moved on.
Turning the corner, she slipped into The Blue Tomato. The club was full, and she stood in the back of the room while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. On stage, the last chords of a song rang out, and the crowd applauded wildly.
Claire looked at the man in the spotlight. Her lover. Her dom. She’d done as he requested. After leaving The Dark Side of the Moon, she’d visited private clubs and through introductions from Lady Gwen, met people who were active in the lifestyle. She’d had several casual relationships over the last few months. But there was no depth, no real connection between her and her partners. Claire longed for a relationship so passionate, so intense, that it lingered on even from beyond the grave, like the one she’d seen with Cyrus and Marge, like the one she’d felt with Kyle at The Dark Side of the Moon.
Over and over during those nights after she left the resort, she read the short note in the envelope Lady Gwen slipped her as she was leaving the lodge.
Claire,
The hardest thing I ever did was to leave you in that clearing in the woods today, knowing I might never see you again. But I need to know that if you come to me, you do so freely, with full knowledge of all that being bound to me entails.
For both of us, I ask that you give yourself time—time to discover who this new Claire is. Time to be Claire. Be angry, be happy, be lonely, be sexual. Be yourself, without the pressure of trying to please someone else.
Then come to me, Claire. Kneel before me—and I will know that you’ll be mine forever.
The note was unsigned. There was just a phone number. Finally, late one night, she called. They talked for hours that night—and nearly every night afterwards.
As she opened herself to changes in her life, she began looking at her perfect house and all her possessions with fresh eyes. Instead of holding happy memories, they felt like chains around her neck, keeping her trapped in a life that no longer existed. Gradually, she began sorting through things, packing a few of her personal treasures, and selling or giving away everything she and Jim had collected together over the years. She made calls, sent out resumes. Putting aside her fears and her doubts, she decided for the first time in her life to let herself be Claire. Be open to new experiences, be open to love again. By the time a job in Asheville became available, Claire was ready.
She rented a tiny apartment on a short-term lease, just big enough for her and the cats. They both agreed that it was too soon to move in together. But she’d spent every spare moment with him over the last two weeks, hiking in the mountains, hanging out in the club when he had a gig. He’d spoken with Lady Gwen, explaining that he would no longer be available as a companion to her guests. But he did offer to bring Claire along and participate in an occasional evening of entertainment.
That’s where they were headed tonight, right after Kyle’s last set at the club. Gwen and Jade were hosting a private moonlight ceremony, where Claire would be officially bound to Kyle. Afterwards, they’d be spending the weekend in one of the lodge’s private cabins back in the woods, celebrating their new life together as dom and sub.
Kyle’s eyes searched the crowd and met hers. His warm smile melted her heart. “Folks, this next song is a collaboration,” he announced. “It’s called ‘Mountain Nights’. The music is mine, but the lyrics are those of a very special lady. She’s a gifted writer who recently moved to our town. She’s already captured my heart, and I hope her words will capture yours.”
He strummed the guitar and began the haunting melody.
Sweet music fills the night
My secret dreams take flight
These ancient hills have power
On mountain nights
Orbs dance around tonight
Secrets hidden in their light
These endless hills are magic
On mountain nights
I feel within the breeze
The age-old songs of trees
My heart is full of love
For mountain nights
The storms of life did rage
But sundown set the stage
My restless soul sought peace
One mo
untain night
When pain blocked out what’s right
Dark fears were at their height.
But in moon glow’s healing light
My wounded heart found a home
One mountain night
The End
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Her Darkest Desires Page 11