His Obsession

by Maxine Storm

  "Are you going to come for me, Janet?" Armand asked - more a direction than a question.

  "Yes, Armand," I said, barely able to speak.

  "I know you're going to be a good girl and come for me, Janet, just the way I want you to," he said.

  Finally with his words he made me come harder than I ever had before. His tongue hitting my spot and directing me to come over and over, radiating waves pleasure throughout my body like a stone dropped in water, my body convulsed with electricity, sparked by his endless passion.

  It was so powerful I was almost unable to breathe as my body locked up, as if he had me entirely in his grasp.

  My eyes were shut tight in the afterglow of ecstasy as the cascading pleasure began to subside, replaced with the warm comfort of being one with and cared for by Armand.

  Armand rose up from between my legs to lie on top of me, kissing me slowly and softly as he held my face tenderly.

  I could taste myself on him, traces of myself on his lips and mouth that reminded me of the incredible moment we had just shared.

  Armand buried his head in my collar and sighed. He was spent too. I rubbed his back, lingering over the rippling muscles that powerfully held him together.

  I felt protected with him lying above me.

  I felt so tiny and yet taken care of, being safe with him surrounding me.

  I could forget all the nonsense at work and in life. The pressure, the stress - it all dissipated into the air.

  "That was amazing," I said out loud, as if capping this moment in my memory snugly forever.

  Armand raised his head up to face me and smiled. He kissed me again and let his head sink back onto the pillow beside me.

  Armand kissed my cheek, "Let's have a shower, Janet," he said.

  He rose from the bed and stuck his hand back for me.

  I forgot to reach for it because I was staring at his butt. It was shaped so perfectly, muscular, round, and tight.

  He waved his hand back to remind me and I held on to it as he gently pulled me from the bed and on to my feet.

  He guided me to the bathroom, my head still light from what just happened. It was still hard for me to believe it had not been a dream.

  A warm shower with Armand, though, that was the perfect desert to this delightful morning.

  Chapter 25

  I sat down on the couch in Armand's living room, wearing one of his silk robes. I felt like a queen from the East, as the soft fabric draped lazily over my arms and legs as I reclined into the seat.

  I turned on the news while Armand was getting dressed.

  The camera pulled back from a building in the city that seemed slightly familiar, yet hard to distinguish in the light of morning.

  And then my heart sank.

  It was the Power BDSM club Armand and I had been to last night.

  The TV journalist began to speak.

  "Yesterday night at the Power nightclub, Leah Ivy, 23, was shot and killed. Ms. Ivy was a journalist at the New York Telegraph, famed for their investigative reporting in New York City.

  "Ms. Ivy's body was found in the early morning by the club's custodian. We'll return to this story as more details are made available by police."

  My eyes froze on the screen.

  Another young reporter shot and killed?

  And at a club again, too?

  I didn't want to ask the next question, but it forced itself into my mind regardless.

  Did Armand do it?

  'Why think it was him' I thought.

  Clubs attract dangerous people. Killers even.

  'Like Armand'.

  No, not like Armand...

  How could the man I had just given myself over to, who showed me a new kind of intimate experience - how could that man have done something like this?

  I was being crazy.

  I saw the people at the club.

  Sure, for some people, that BDSM lifestyle is just that, a lifestyle. They're otherwise normal people.

  But there's always a sick person, a sick group of people present. In any society. Maybe they were there that day. Looking for a victim.

  An image struck through my mind.

  Armand, when he greeted me that night at the club before.

  He had a small silk handkerchief in his pocket. I remember it looked like it belonged to a woman, but I had put it out of my mind at the time. It wasn't something I wanted to think about.

  It's not something you want to think about now.

  Sure, whatever, so what if he did.

  Are you saying it might have belonged to that girl who was killed?

  You saw her wearing it.

  It's just a coincidence. There are lots of silk handkerchiefs.

  Armand is a fashionable guy. I'm sure somewhere in his million dollar wardrobe, there's a handkerchief.

  Or maybe it belongs to another woman.

  No way. Let's not think about that, I thought.

  "What are you staring at?" said Armand, standing behind me on the couch.

  "Huh?" I said. "Nothing."

  Armand's hands kneaded my shoulders and the base of my neck.

  "Hmm," he said. "You're tense."

  I couldn't fully relax into his massage.

  I wanted to. I wanted to feel like I was his again. Maybe I just needed to let it go. I was way too far in my own head, thinking up nonsense.

  But then again, I hardly knew Armand. Sure, I knew the rumors. And I knew whatever I could glean from his personality from that, as well as my limited time with him, but how well did I know him really?

  I wanted to say yes, I wanted to say the connection we had went beyond the time we shared, but maybe I didn't.

  Maybe I was just another one of his 'girls'.

  And he hardly knew who I was.

  He never asked me what I did, where I liked to hang out, my favorite stuff to do - none of it.

  Maybe he didn't care.

  I was thinking too much, getting sucked in this whirlwind of doubt and suspicion, and I could feel the stress being pumped through my veins.

  Instead of relaxing me, Armand's hands on my shoulder only made me more anxious. Even his strong grip couldn't take away the knots in my muscles.

  "Why are you so tense, Janet?" Armand said massaging me, breaking me out of my thoughts again.

  "It's just the news," I fibbed, flipping through the channels, "there's always something depressing."

  "Tell me about it," Armand said.

  What I said must have sounded really stupid, considering I forgot Armand's media company ran some TV news channels itself.

  "Let's turn this stuff off and go get lunch," he said, slowing down his massage.

  Lunch?

  How long had I been at his place?

  Before I could acknowledge his suggestion, my phone rang out from behind me.

  I must've had left it on the table when I sat down on the couch.

  Armand turned around to pick it up.

  "It's 'Al'," he said flatly, reading the caller ID.

  He handed me the phone.

  'Al' was the contact name I put for Alex from Global Eye.

  There was no way I could take it now in front of Armand. Who knew what she was going to say?

  "It's just a work colleague," I said, pressing the disconnect button.

  "I'm thinking of Italian for lunch," Armand said.

  Before I could agree, the phone rang again. The same annoying ring tone built to an infuriating sequence of noise. I wish I could have yelled the phone for whoever was calling to shut up.

  Armand looked at the phone that I had laid down on my side.

  "Al," he said.

  He turned around and started walking to the kitchen. "Maybe you should get it," he said.

  I cursed Alex in my head. Now was not the right time.

  But then I thought back to Philip, and how he was a wreck the last time I saw him. He really wanted me to get this assignment done. Maybe Alex was being Philip's lackey, but I should probably say s
omething to them, so they didn't think I was just playing hooky, skipping out on work.

  I cleared my thought and took a breath, calming myself down, then answered the phone.

  "Hello?" I said.

  "Janet, where are you?" said Alex. "I need to talk to you right now. It's about the Armand Silver assignment. You might be in great danger."

  "Oh," I said, trying to disguise the worry in my voice. "I see."

  "Meet me at the coffee shop on 5th avenue in 15 minutes," Alex said. "I'll explain it to you there."

  "OK," I said. "Sounds good."

  I hung up the phone and powered it down.

  Armand came back around the couch. He had changed into a sharp buttoned up light coat, as if he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. It must have been something he just threw on, but everything he wore looked like it was tailor made for him. It fit him perfectly, showing off his built figure.

  "Let's go," he said. "I'm hungry."

  "Armand..." I trailed.

  Armand just looked at me, as if he could see through my soul. Even though I had only said one word, I could feel his stare interrogating me, his eyes probing for any lies.

  "Yes, Janet," he said, calmly.

  "I...actually can't make it for lunch," I said. "I just remembered I promised to help my friend into her new place today. Can't leave her hanging." I wish I could have wiped off any bit of sweating beading on my forehead. My hands were getting clammy but I tried to stay cool.

  Armand looked at me without saying anything. It was if he was looking for the slightest tell, the subtlest gesture that would give away my fib.

  He blinked then turned around and walked to the kitchen.

  "OK," he said opening the fridge.

  Was that it, I wondered.

  I knew I should just have been thankful. Alex was warning me to meet up with her as soon as possible.

  But him turning his back on me, as if I didn't matter at all after telling him I 'had to go'....it hurt me.

  Like I was back to being a nobody.

  Another girl Armand Silver throws away when he has no use for her.

  I put on my coat and walked to the door.

  "OK...bye," I said, looking back as I turned the doorknob.

  All Armand did was raise his hand in the air, his back still turned to me as he was working in the kitchen.

  I opened the door and stepped into the hall, wondering what he have done to me if it was more obvious that I was lying, and wondering if this was the last time I was going to see him again.

  Chapter 26

  I took the bus down to the cafe where Alex said to meet her.

  The whole time, all I could think of was apologizing to Armand.

  But how could I have explained it? How could I have even begun to tell him why there was a lingering worry inside of me that I couldn't get rid of.

  He'd think I was just another crazy wannabe journalist in New York City. A girl not mature enough to just do her job.

  I wasn't that, I wasn't that at all.

  But Armand was the coolest, most handsome guy, more than I could imagine ever entering my life. I didn't deserve my time with him, a voice of doubt inside me said.

  Maybe he sensed that. That's why he didn't care that I left his place and broke our plan to get lunch.

  I didn't want to get coffee, I thought.

  With all this on my mind, what I really needed was a strong drink. It was barely noon but that's what I needed.

  I almost missed my stop from all my worrying.

  I got off at 5th street to be greeted by a series of fancy luxury stores, the kinds of places where people would drop my whole paycheck for a minimalist piece of furniture or piece of art or something.

  I'm never in this area. I can't afford it and I don't like to be reminded of it.

  I guess this was Alex's scene. I don't know how she could afford it either, considering we were probably around the same rank at the newspaper. But whatever, her choice.

  I entered the cafe and tried to pick out Alex. Everyone there looked the same. The same high end fashions and 'it takes a lot of money to look this poor' dress. I really wouldn't ever visit a pretentious place like this if it were up to me.

  I tried to stop a barista walking by to ask if there were a patio in the back, thinking Alex might be there, but she just rolled her eyes at me and walked off with her serving tray.

  I wanted to turn around and get out of there when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex waving at me from a booth at the back.

  "Find the place okay?" Alex asked, as I sat down and took off my coat.

  The image of the surly waitress flashed through my mind and I just grunted.

  Alex stopped a waitress and ordered us some kind of fancy drink, more desert - syrupy and sugary - than coffee. Not my thing but if she's paying...

  "Anyway, Janet," Alex said, once the waitress left, "I had to talk to you immediately. I wonder if you saw the news about the young journalist who was killed at Power?"

  I swallowed.

  What did she know?

  "Yeah, I saw it on TV," I replied.

  "I was doing some research, and talking to Maximilian Stone at the office. I learned something dark that I had to tell you," Alex said with concern.

  "Oh?" I wondered. "What's going on?"

  The waitress - the surly one - delivered the drinks to our table.

  I took a sip and immediately put it down. It was so sickeningly sweet that I grimaced. The waitress left and Alex looked down at her cup.

  She stirred it for a moment before looking back at me.

  "The murder of the journalist..." she said, hesitantly, "it involves Armand Silver."

  I tried not to look shocked even though my hands were balled up tight under the table away from Alex's sight.

  "What do you mean," I questioned, "'involving Armand'?"

  Alex looked around the cafe. Everyone was busy looking at their phones and the waitresses were chatting with each other as soft indie music played on the speaker.

  "Maximilian had tried to write a story on Armand in the past. This was way before you and I were working at the paper. It turns out Armand isn't just a shrewd businessman. He has a criminal past."

  I took a sip of the drink. I hated it but my mouth was getting dry and I needed something.

  "What did he do?" I asked.

  "Murder," Alex said.

  Murder.

  My stomach turned.

  I didn't want my suspicions to be right.

  I didn't want suspicions about Armand at all.

  But I looked at Alex's face and I could tell something about what she was telling me was hurting her as well.

  "Murder," I said to myself. "But how is he still free?"

  "Well," Alex said, "there was an investigation about the death of a number of journalists some years ago, all who were writing articles related to Armand. But there was nothing that really came out of it officially. No criminal charges."

  I looked around the cafe again, imagining that some of the women here might be working in journalism or creative fields. I imagined if a group of them were to go missing.

  "But why are they linked to Armand?" I asked Alex.

  "It was an investigation Maximilian was leading by himself," Alex explained. "He couldn't count on the police or the other media. Armand's media empire was just too powerful in snuffing out dissent. If there was anyone who was going to call him out publicly, he'd ruin them. Print stories about how they were sick people themselves. The stories might've been partly true too. He knew how to get the dirt on anyone. So there was nothing really done about it."

  I put my head in my hands and took a breath.

  I couldn't handle this at all once.

  I couldn't process it.

  "But why did he kill them, or have them killed?" I asked.

  Maybe I didn't want to know. The image of I had of Armand was getting darker and darker. But I knew I had to ask.

  "There was an coalition of journalist
s who were investigating a cover up at Armand's companies. The rumor was that he defrauded hundreds of millions of dollars. Basically treating public companies as his personal bank account. The journalists were sent in to get information on him. It was known he had a weak spot for beautiful women. But the papers behind sending the journalists couldn't have imagined how ruthless he would have been, once he found out they were 'rats' or 'snitches'."

  My body went cold.

  Is that what I was - what he was going to think I was when he found out I was writing a story on him for Global Eye?

  A snitch? A rat?

  "So we think the other journalist who was killed at the club was another victim of Armand's, whether directly or indirectly. And so was..." Alex trailed off.

  She was looking at me, seeing how I was taking the news.

  "Britney," I said, finishing Alex's sentence.

  Alex nodded her head.

  "I'm sorry, Janet," she said.

  I sobbed quietly to myself. The death of Britney now pained me more than before.

  And then the gut twisting turn of fear as I realized I might be next.

  "That's why I had to talk to you," said Alex. "I know you're smart, and you can handle yourself, but this was something you had to hear."

  I nodded.

  "Yes," I said softly, "thanks for telling me."

  I was lost for words.

  Alex reached her hand across the table and laced it over mine and squeezed it.

  "But what am I going to do about the story on Armand?" I said. "Once he knows what my job is and what I'm writing about, who knows what he'll do?"

  Alex looked deep in thought and stirred what was left of her drink.

  "Janet, there's something I have to ask of you," she said.

  "What is it?" I replied.

  "Armand is dangerous. That's true. He's capable of much more than we can imagine. And Maximilian doesn't want to see him get away with anything more."

  I looked into her eyes and could see this was difficult for her to say.

  "You've been getting along with Armand, right?" Alex said.

  "Yes," I said, innocently. The times Armand and I shared together ran through my memory in an instant and I felt the pain of being distant, and yet the fear of not knowing who he really was.

  "Yes," I said again, "we have."