Unorthodox Chemistry

by Lilah E. Noir

  I rolled over to one side, curled in an embryonic position with a cheek pressed to the pillow, and closed my eyes. This business trip was meant to take me away from the usual troubles, to revive my once entrepreneurial spirit. The change of scenery and the inspiring discussions hadn't made me feel any better, though.

  Katie, my personal assistant, was meant to accompany me to the conference. Being around a fun, easygoing person like her would have balanced me. It would have been good to have someone take care of all the details as well so I could focus on the conference.

  However, she got married about a week earlier and I didn't want to interrupt her honeymoon.

  Katie was one of those people who had stayed loyal to me after the big scandal. I wanted her to enjoy that sweet time and I knew how important it was to her. If only I didn't have to attend the big, white wedding. Such social events were a nightmare for me so I'd thought of making some excuse and just sending a gift, but Katie would have none of it. She was as stubborn as Thomas, and I had no choice but to go and see her walk down the aisle. The ceremony and party were a huge test for my nerves. I expected him to show up any minute. Katie reassured me she hadn't invited Thomas. They weren't close friends so there was no reason to worry I'd run into my ex.

  So why did I put so much effort into my outfit and makeup? Why did I keep looking around at the restaurant, waiting for Thomas to walk through the door? By the end of the night, I went home with a sinking feeling in my stomach and spent two hours crying in the bathtub.

  Grief was uncharted territory for me. When would I stop being in such a pain and just move on? It'd been six months. The saddest, most difficult six months of my life. I only found out how heartbreak truly felt at the age of thirty-seven. Maybe that was why it was even more difficult to get over it.

  I sighed, closed my eyes and rested my cheek on the soft pillow. I hoped sleep would take me away to a better, happier place. Was it too much to ask for just one night of happy dreams?

  While I was lying with my face down, I imagined his fingers around my neck and his breath against my ear. He'd whisper he had missed me so much and pull my skirt up. His hand would pin me against the pillow, tender, comforting and cruel at the same time. In my fantasy, Thomas would not let me shift from that position or look at him. I'd obey the quiet, authoritative voice that beckoned me to stay still. The silk of my panties would slide down my skin and leave me unprotected. I loved feeling so vulnerable, just like each time I stripped naked while he was fully clothed. He'd warn me not to move a single muscle, not to anticipate. His palm would stroke my willing flesh, give my ass a tender touch. When he had me fully blinded, soothed and kept in place, Thomas would raise his hand for the first smack and leave a hot, burning sensation...

  I gasped, got up and pushed the hair out of my face. That short yet intense mental image had left me with wetness between my thighs, rock hard nipples and salty, desperate tears running down my cheeks. Why? Why was I doing this to myself? What was the point of those fantasies and moments that would never be repeated? It only made the knife in my heart sink deeper.

  Lately, I'd been daydreaming of Thomas way too often, and that kept my wounds from fully healing. Even the Procedure couldn't help me. Yesterday, after I had boarded the plane to Vegas, I'd spent a good half an hour picturing how the trip would have gone if Thomas had come with me. We'd go over my notes--the list of participants, the conference--perhaps we'd argue a bit. Then he'd lean over to kiss my neck, bite my earlobe and whisper in my ear, "It's time we joined the mile-high club, pet. Go to the bathroom, take your panties off, bend over and place your hands on the sink. Spread your legs nice and wide. Make sure you're sopping wet for your Sir."

  I sighed, rested on my back and reached out for the red leather collar that I always kept under my pillow, no matter where I was. Was it a hidden treasure or a snake that bit me with nostalgic poison?

  My fingers slid down the silver plate that read My Tigress. I caressed the metal, the soft leather, and the buckle that would lock the collar from behind. It was beautiful and it would fit me so well. I've never worn it but I was sure about that. Putting it on by myself would be too painful, just like putting on a wedding gown for a groom who would never appear. I'd be a kinky version of Miss Havisham in a pair of tall red boots and a red collar, drunk and desperate. When the pain of my broken heart got to be too much, I'd also be full of sedatives.

  If someone ever put this collar on me, it would be Thomas and no one else. That was so unlikely that the smart choice would be to throw it away or keep it in a vault that would stay locked until my death.

  There was just one problem. The red collar was an essential part of the Procedure. I couldn't fall asleep if I didn't feel it against my chest. It was the last reminder of my addiction to Thomas. I was conditioned to relate his presence to safety and peace. That collar was the last thing he left for me before he walked away.

  I stretched my arm to the purse on the bedside table and fished the phone out--another habit that eased my distress and loneliness. I bit the inside of my cheek and lay comfortably on the soft bedding. My clothes would be wrinkled and messy the following morning. At that moment, though, I was already too exhausted to get up and undress.

  The red collar was lying over my breasts with the steel buckle brushing the bare skin. I ran my thumb down the contact list until I got to Thomas' name. Then I slid my finger to the back of the smart phone so I wouldn't dial his number by accident.

  Thomas told me I could call him whenever I was feeling lonely or needed to talk to someone. I never did it. How embarrassing and painful would it be if his new girlfriend picked up or if he sounded bored and annoyed with my call?

  I'd been lying down for what felt like hours, phone in hand, staring at his name until the string of letters grew indistinct. My free hand was pressing the collar so hard against me that I ended up bruising myself. I didn't mind the pain. Staring at that shining screen was way worse punishment than a thousand lashes of the whip on my back and chest. It was killing me that I couldn't call him and tell him how I really felt.

  Tears blurred my vision and made all the signs on the screen fade into a messy dot of shimmering water. The screen faded to black and I let the phone drop onto the bed next to me. I curled up with the collar still tightly clutched to my chest and stayed like that until I fell asleep.

  His fingers were tracing down every curve of my body. He left a trail of hot, teasing kisses on my skin and brushed past its most sensitive zones. His warm breath on my sides made me gasp and arch my back, inviting him to taste me, savor me. I tugged against restraints that tied me to the bed, moaned out his name, begged him not to deny me anymore. The blindfold's silk touch kept me from looking into his eyes while he was playing with me just with the tip of his tongue. Red, biting scars were forming on my wrists as the steel handcuffs dug into them.

  "What do you want?" He chuckled and breathed against the apex of my thighs. I was lying spread-eagle on the bed with my limbs attached to each of the bed posts. Vulnerable and at his mercy, just like he wanted me. A hiss of despair escaped my gritted teeth and I cried out. I was longing for his lips to devour me, for his hands to grab my throat and leave their marks on my pale skin. If only he'd ravage me. Bruise me. Fuck me to within an inch of my life. Make furious love to me until all the anxiety, loneliness and pain faded as a distant memory.

  Instead, he was teasing me with soft kisses, warm breath, and his mocking, seductive voice.

  "You..." I croaked and arched my body, offering it as a gift. My groans were echoing through the room. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes. He was so close yet so far away, barely touching me. Just an invisible voice, breath, and fingertips. "Please... don't make me suffer anymore. I'll do anything."

  He continued his feathery movements up my hipbones, over my breasts and hardened nipples. After ages of sensual torture, he took the blindfold off. His lean, strong body moved on top of mine, and I raised my head to meet Thomas' green gaze and mischie
vous smile. I blinked the tears away and moved my lips in an attempt to kiss him. Did he remember how his teeth would tear at my tongue, part my mouth and claim me?

  Thomas didn't succumb to the invitation. Instead, he pressed his index finger to my lips and moved his free hand to my throat. His thumb was digging into its tender flesh.

  "Do you trust me, pet?"

  "Y-yes, Sir, please..."

  "Wrong answer, whore." The wave of lust turned into a chill of horror when Thomas spat these words with venom. He sank his nails into my neck and choked me until my eyes rolled to the back of my head. Confusion and despair punched me straight in the gut as the man I loved... Wait, was that him? His face was melting while he choked the air out of my lungs. His body was getting bigger, stronger, more smothering. The green in his eyes darkened and slowly turned into hazel. Madness bloomed in their depths. His huge claws left bloody scars on my skin. I tried to scream, to fight, but not a sound could make its way past my lips. I felt my eyes popping out of their sockets and I started growing limp.

  Seth's rough, growling voice echoed throughout the room. His sadistic laughter was booming like an oncoming storm.

  "Careful who you choose to trust, you stupid bitch. Give up. No one will ever save you."

  He shoved his thick thumb into my windpipe and sank his teeth into my neck. The scream in my head grew louder...

  My own horrified screams for help woke me with a start and I sat up in the bed, my hands painfully clutched over my chest. I looked around in confusion, no longer sure where I was. The curtains were swaying in the light breeze and the city lights glowing straight ahead brought me back to reality. I was still in the hotel suite in Vegas, safe and sound. Both Thomas and Seth were thousand miles away, in California. It was just a nightmare and I was sitting wide-awake, gripping the collar so hard as if seeking protection from it.

  I dropped the red leather on the bedding and buried my head in my palms.

  Just a nightmare.

  An endless nightmare.

  Don't you dare cry. Every tear you spill means that he... that they have won. My pride was weak compared to the sudden pain twisting my insides. I could stop the tears as easily as I could stop torrential rain. That helplessness and ink black sorrow were immense, bigger than my willpower. It would break me if I didn't let it all out.

  I fell down on the bed and surrendered to the pain, the betrayal, the feeling that someone had cut a hole through my heart and trampled over it. Hot, profuse tears spilled out of my eyes, soaking my cheeks until they stung. It would be a long, ugly cry.

  How long would I have these fucking nightmares?

  Deep inside, I knew the answer. How could my dreams be anything but an opening to the disgusting cesspool of my subconscious, to all the bad, ugly parts I'd been trying to bury?

  Finally, I exhausted my ability to cry and my sobs quieted down. The emotional meltdown drained me of the nightmare's horror and pain but left me empty and exhausted. A good, long cry was supposed to help me fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  I knew myself well enough to be sure I wouldn't blink for the rest of the night.

  The phone was next to me. When I turned its light on, it was showing three am. Damn it. What was I supposed to do until my flight in the early afternoon? In any case, staying in bed would only make me feel worse.

  It took about a minute to move my sore body and force myself to stop shaking. Finally, I got up and made my way to the bathroom to take a shower. I'd been so out of shape before I fell asleep I hadn't even removed my makeup.

  The woman in the mirror looked terrifying, like a rape or assault victim. Streaks of leaking mascara and eyeliner had tainted my face in black. It was blotchy and swollen from the tears, and I had red nail marks all over my wrists and neck. Perhaps I had hurt myself while struggling in my nightmare. The scarier part was how empty my eyes looked.

  I took off all my clothes and got under the shower. What was I supposed to do to pass the time? Try my luck at gambling? The thought made me laugh genuinely for the first time in months. Head to the bar for a drink? Find a guy for a few hours of fun before the dawn?

  Yeah, right. When Thomas broke up with me I was sure I'd turn to a life of endless one-night stands, but that was hardly an option when you were terrified of your own shadow.

  The truth was loneliness was killing me. Sometimes all I wanted was someone to share my life with, a companion and a friend, someone to come home to. So what if there would be no passion or intense chemistry?

  The brightest flame always burns out the quickest and leaves nothing but ashes.

  That was when I remembered there was an inside pool in this hotel, right next to the spa. It was usually open even at night and was accessible with a key card. Just the thought of taking a dive in the refreshing blue water and swimming some laps boosted my mood.

  I needed some physical activity. All the intense working to keep my mind busy was wearing my body down. It was high time to start taking care of myself. Swimming would be a good start.

  There was one benefit of no longer being in a D/s relationship. I could go into a public pool without having to explain that the bruises and cuts were results of sexual play between consenting adults and not because I was in an abusive relationship. But at this point, the lines of kink and violation were too blurred in my head. I doubted I'd make a convincing defence of my former lifestyle.

  I stared down at the reflection in the huge mirror while I was drying my hair and putting on the swimming suit I had brought just in case. I was still good looking, but I felt my body was getting out of shape. That was strange. It took me so much effort not to starve myself. During the last six months, I'd often realized I had got through an entire day just on coffee. It didn't result in any significant weight loss. I ran my fingers down my thighs and raised them slowly up to my stomach. My body felt soft and limp, and my skin had a sick, gray look to it.

  Last summer I'd often been bruised, with welts and purple blotches over my ass and thighs after a punishment or play session. I was sore, often pushed to my limits, and sometimes I hated my tormentor but I felt sexy, desired and exuded natural sensuality. Today, there was not a single scar to ruin or mark my skin. I hadn't lost my womanly curves in spite of my poor diet, and looked good, objectively. Perhaps these were just imaginary problems.

  That didn't change the fact I felt frigid.

  Enough.

  I shook my head and left the bathroom with a towel in my hand. The world is big. There are a thousand thrills that could make you feel alive.

  A thousand distractions. Still, it wasn't doing me any good staying on the ground, crying and feeling sorry for myself. The thought of joining the kink community flashed through my mind for a second, but I quickly dismissed it. Maybe someday when the wounds weren't so raw.

  I put on a pair of yoga pants and camisole, grabbed a towel and left the suite. The bustle outside the protection of the soundproof walls assaulted my senses. The sudden noise nearly made me step back into the comfortable, suffocating safety. The world was full of danger. Anyone could be waiting for me at the pool or throughout the hotel grounds. Many would confirm I was depressed. No one would be shocked when they found my body in the water...

  If Seth were here at all, he'd never give me an easy, peaceful death. I gritted my teeth, sank my nails into the towel and took a determined step forward. The swimming pool and its cool, temporary oblivion were expecting me.

  I took the elevator to the ground level, lost in less than happy thoughts. My earlier buzz began to fade.

  The small room with a few deck chairs and turquoise walls couldn't hold a candle to the extensive swimming area in the hotel yard or the private pools that required a reservation at least six months in advance. The indoor swimming pool was small and rectangular. It took just a few strokes to cross it. It wasn't a challenge but at this hour of the night, I was just happy to have something to do. Besides, its modest size was a guarantee I'd be alone. Most hotel guests were either at the
casino or enjoying the nightly entertainments. The fusion of voices and music were a distant thunder in this part of the building.

  The sight of the empty pool filled me with relief as I swiped my key card across the magnetic strip. I took off the clothes covering my suit, folded them carefully on the deck chair and rubbed the soles of my feet against the stone floor. The sparkling blue water made me smile faintly. As soon as time allowed once I returned home, I'd renew my gym and pool membership.

  Pity party was over.

  The water embraced my body as I slid across it with a happy smile. Jolts of energy ran through me and I bravely swam forward in the pool.

  When a man rose to the water's surface and shook his head to fling off the drops, I lurched back with a scream, nearly hitting my head on the edge of the pool.

  How did I miss the shadow of a human figure at the bottom of the pool? My brain must have been more tired than I thought, or the pleasure of physical activity was so great I ignored the world around me.

  The stranger was just as scared as I was. He removed his swimming goggles and took a step closer with his feet firmly on the bottom. I pressed my back against the wall next to the steel ladder and tried to calm my intense heartbeat. What just happened?

  "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, ma'am." His velvet, calm voice and concerned expression broke me out of my shock. They also made me feel like a hysterical psycho, and I bowed my head in shame.

  "I... You don't have to apologize. I thought there was no one in the pool. You startled me but... I'm sorry."

  "I guess we had the same idea." His smile was warm, and he was being too understanding given my scream queen performance. The chill in my bones remained. "Are you sure you are okay? You look as if you have seen a ghost. Do you want to sit down for a bit?"