by CELENE CAREY
“I guess it’s a mental block, cause all your saying makes sense but it’s not making any to me. Maybe if the man is twice my size, I’ll try.”
I smiled at her. I was twice her size.
“I’m going to the bar, what would you like to drink?”
“Heineken, please.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“’Ight, pick a bench down on the shore. I’ll be back.”
I walked to the bar, looking back at her kicking sand, making her way to the middle bench instead of the one beneath the palm tree in the open. Her ass swayed as she walked, I know I should say hips, but her ass had me mixed up. After ordering myself a Guinness, I went to her.
“Here you go,” I said, holding out her beer.
“Thanks.”
She took it with her delicate hand and long fingers. I watched as she put it to her lips and they wrapped around the top of the bottle. One Mississippi. If I wasn’t such a pervert... She pretended not to notice me watching, but I knew she did by the way she sipped slowly.
“So, we need to talk about what exactly?”
Tilting my drink up my head I replied, “Well I need to talk. I need you to pay attention and then agree.”
“So I don’t have a say?”
“Yes, you do the final say, actually and then all say is mine from there onwards.”
Silence.
“I think I already know what you mean,” she said, collecting her thoughts. I guess she knew more than I thought she did… or did she?
“You might think you know, but there are a lot of intricate details that you might not understand.”
“What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Hilton, and why can’t I know your first name? No familiar name rings a bell with the last name. If you’re famous abroad or something, I sure don’t intend to Google or stalk you.” The attitude, the tone in her voice- she would need more curbing.
“I am proposing you be my sub. Don’t talk. You can ask all your questions at the end. I will be like an owner, a master if you must. I’m sure you’ve heard about this type of relationship or read a book perhaps, but I have to warn you, the cliché isn’t in this offer. I’m not going to control you completely; me controlling certain things is for the gain of neither of us. Your gain is strictly pleasure, mine is strictly control. I won’t please you sexually, not only. You’ll please me sexually only, however. Unless we need to talk about something important, we may not see each other. Things change and nothing is set in stone, but I live by my word and I will expect the same of you. Your pussy is mine. Your lips are mine, your legs, your breasts- all mine. And your asshole as well.”
She made a face, opened her mouth to interject, and changed her mind. I continued, “I don’t need you to question what you will be getting out of this. You know, and so does your body, so don’t waste my time asking silly questions like why I think you would go for this. That opportunity was left in the closet when you wrapped that pretty little mouth around my shaft. It should be fun; you will enjoy it. I only have seven rules. One, you will find a way to make me seeing you possible whenever I need and want to. Two, you will inform me of the first and last days of your menstrual cycle so I can know long it lasts and your ovulation period. Three, you will not give your body to anyone but me, if you were dating, you aren’t anymore. If you’re bisexual, you aren’t seeing any female unless I’m present. Four, you do what I say during all sexual acts; do not ever expect a reversal of power. I am always in control. Five, you are allowed to communicate with me freely. However, never try to call if you can’t talk or if you have nothing to say. Six, I do not tolerate disrespect, ever. I will either severely punish you or cut you, and our relations, off. And last, but I’m sure not least, seven. You are entitle to a safe word. A simple word. One that wouldn’t come out of your mouth as you orgasm, like ‘milk’ for example. You can change it if you’d like. It serves the purpose of letting me know you are at your limit. Why would you need one? I’m sure you know why. I’m not the average ‘freak’ as they would say. That’s my offer to you. Of course, if needs be, there may be new rules, but you have my word to our agreement as is.”
I watched as she absorbed what I had said, watched and waited.
“Well...”
I grew impatient as she looked out at the sea. I brushed the side of her face gently with the palm of my hand and then kissed where I had rubbed.
“If you’re not interested, say no, Veronica, but that would be it. I’m not interested in being your friend.”
“What’s your name?”
“That depends, do you agree? I have to know you want this.”
“Yes, mister, I accept your offer. Well, I am going to think about it, but my body has already made up its min...” I couldn’t let her finish. I pulled her into a sultry kiss before she could. She was mine. I had to take her now... I stopped, too anxious; I was in control.
“Bill, my name is Bill.”
“Okay, Bill…,” she savoured my name rolling off her tongue.
“When do we start? It’s a lovely night, not many people around,” she said suggestively. Really?
“Surely not now. When I know you’re ready. You have much to learn, Veronica.”
“About that,” she raised her voice an octave, “how do you know my name?”
Agitated, I gripped her neck and pulled her face close to mine, choking her slightly, “Don’t ever raise your voice at me, got it?” I didn’t wait for an answer.
“Ray is my good friend. I don’t go there often enough, but business takes me there occasionally.” She went quiet. Frightened?
A pregnant silence ensued, I let her mind accept my nature and waited for her to break it. “What do you do?” she finally asked in a low voice.
“I’m a financial advisor, the company I worked for in the US is about to open branches across the country.”
“What kind of company?”
“A stock and bonds type of company. It was doing okay abroad, however they saw an opportunity here they couldn’t refuse.”
We talked for a while, staring out at the ships in the distant wharf. I learned that she worked for an accounting firm, did well for herself financially. She was an only child and her parents were in the states, where she had been born and raised until she was 18. She attended university here, but wouldn’t share why, in fact, she had left the US. Veronica was beautiful inside and out. She would be a pleasure to break.
Chapter 2
Black Flowers
Veronica
I had agreed to do it. My conscience had not plagued me; it stayed quiet as I listened to his seven simple rules, and as I agreed. Had my body won the ultimate battle? Had it realised that there was nothing it could do because my insides where screaming this man’s name? I sighed. I closed my eyes and thought about the attention he paid as I spoke. He asked about my t-shirt’s design. I told him about my first love and he watched me, he paid attention, he knew so much about me in one night.
Jonathan had been home for a week and I hadn’t had sex with him since that one time when he first got back from Westmoreland. He barely noticed. Jonny was the type of man to be contented with just groping my breast and cuddling to my back and falling asleep at night. He’d failed to notice that once it’s not my time of the month, I’m down for some good loving. I was horny, but not for Jonathan, not after meeting Bill and knowing what he had in store for me. Our first sexual encounter had me dying for more of him. I was eager to learn all he had to teach me about the life I was missing, the life that was so much a part of me before I even knew about it. Could I follow Bill’s rules and not have sex with my boyfriend?
He was haunting me; I couldn’t hear the word “closet” or smell any cleaning product that wouldn’t vaguely remind me of him, nor could I hear anything sexual. Worst of all, I couldn’t go back to Ray’s. I needed to get so many things in check... But not yet, not until I figured out what was wrong, or if something was wrong with me at all. Not until this
Mr. Hilton has showed me what I need him to and possibly moved out of my life.
As I do when I have something on my mind I went to Black Ivy, my super-computer, space chapter of life. The place I go to unwind and just breathe... It was a small hole in the wall, but it was my hole in the wall. It was where people from all parts of town who shared the same passion for poetry as me found themselves to meet and greet and share their innermost problems to complete strangers who would never know or remember their name, but would have a story or inspiration engraved into their hearts, souls, or skulls. Some of these poets were so good their voices would ring in your ears for days unending. You’d find yourself quoting a line or two even days later.
I went down the familiar street near Cross Roads, turning my engine off up the road and walking the short distance down the street. Full house tonight, or so it seems. I looked at the logo; I have always loved it, it was a black lotus flower painted as breathe coming from horizontal lips; it looked like smoke but I know what this black flower was really meant to be. It represented breathing. “We all live, breathe, and feel,” the artist that painted it had said to me. From then on I had loved it. I had him design my coffee cup at work with the lotus on it. I even told him to brandish it, make it his, make it ours. And he did; Jermaine was very talented.
Upon entering, sure enough, some smoke greeted me; what is it with weed that mellows out these artists? I never got it and I’ve smoked my fair share… all it did was put me to sleep. Inhibitions, or conditions of the mind? I’ll never know. I found a comfy seat close enough to the entrance as I watch Alicia, the waitress there, approach me. “The usual?” she asked, above a whisper. I nod my agreement and she makes her way to the coffee stand to make me a vanilla cappuccino with cinnamon. As I watch her to ensure I don’t have to be sceptic about my drink, I listen to the woman at the mike and can’t help but turn my full attention to her as she pours her soul into my eardrums. She was standing behind the mike, wrapped in a red, gold, and green scarf and been indignantly chanting about the rights of being a Australian woman, not letting society strip our bones of what was ours to begin with, and saving the country.
“I am an Australian Goddess,
Strong when I’m supposed to be
You, you will not rape my sanity
Not steal my glory
I will shine like
I am the only sun in your
Tiny and miniscule universe
I’ll be bigger
And brighter I will
Not bleach my skin to be any lighter
My pigment is the figment of
So many albino imaginations
I will not be a slave of this
Self struggling nation”
She sounded angry, but I could agree with her. She reminded me of Martin Luther King Junior’s “I had a Dream” speech. What was happening to the foundation, to the history, to the legacy? She is just what I needed to change my mindset and ignore what I’d go home to. I considered myself very Australian. Maybe not 100%, but this was my home and I couldn’t agree more about what was happening to it.
“Stand up and speak up
Shout out if you must
Cry for a nation that’s stopped fighting for us
Black woman, black man
Queen and irie fellow
Stand up and lift up
Tear down the city if you must”
I’d been going off, hooting like all the other Australians who knew exactly what she was talking about. Alicia’s black weave cut in a bob, puffy lips, and all came swaying my way, cappuccino in hand. I sat, I supped, I hummed, I listened, I related, I paid attention. I let the different poets take my soul on a journey with them. I had another cup and I contemplated having a real drink. I did; I had a shot of vodka…then another, then, I decided I wasn’t this girl. Self-pity would get me nowhere. I wanted him, I did. I felt a poem coming on. I took out my notepad, scribbled as I cascaded my emotions through the fountain pen that I used for writing. I propped my feet up under the table, on the chair facing me. I had a bad back that wouldn’t quit and I like to be comfy. Especially when I’m writing.
Part Two
“Sins of the Flesh”
Chapter 3
Lust and Temptation
Bill
I’d went home, undressed, took a shower, and headed out. It was Thursday. I wasn’t going to the shop, or chilling with Timothy, or staying home eating microwave dinners tonight. Tonight, I’m going to step out of my comfort zone and go back on my bike. Why? Why the sudden change of heart, I don’t know, but I feel it in my bones; it’s a good night. I’d showered hurriedly, but it would be a slow drive. It’s Thursday, right? I’d probably checked my phone screen a million times to ensure I got the day right. I wouldn’t want to show up and have it be karaoke night, now would I?
Why the uncertainty? Who have I become? I’d fought the urge to succumb to actual human consciousness and took a dive off the deep-end, revving the four cylinder engine on my Honda CBR600. It had been covered and parked in my garage since I compulsively bought it. I had never taken it out on these winding Australian streets... It’s going to be a slow ride. I refuse to lose my self-control. Not on this machine, for sure.
I was going to Black Ivy to try and see the life and hear the emotions; if I couldn’t feel them the way Veronica did, I could at least investigate them. I felt like a scientist studying a new discovery. I wanted to see what it was about this place that made her eyes smile the way it did, the way I want to make her eyes smile. By God, am I softening up? She is a sub, and a dom must know his sub inside and out, I told myself to soothe the uproar in my head. It’s been a spiralling, out of control black hole since Veronica looked at me and really looked. I felt like her eyes were mirroring the emptiness in my soul, and it can’t mean I saw what was in me in her eyes. She knew nothing about me. She was exactly what I needed. I was so sure of this, though I hadn’t even had the best part of her yet. Veronica…
I sighed, and straddled up. I was back in my leather jacket for what felt like the first time. And, like a virgin, I eased out of the driveway and onto the evening street. The sky was set ablaze in different shades of orange and pink as the sun went down. I always appreciated the beauty Australia was. Land of wood and water, magical beaches, and beautiful views. I’d added the last bit myself. I found the place and it was a rut. A hole in the wall like she’d described it, almost exactly the way she described it, actually. It even had the beautiful flower on the wall that within itself was a poem.
I made my way in as a couple made their way out, both were sporting afros. I felt like I had time travelled and stepped into the 70’s, peace signs, hippies, and all. A small-faced gentleman was at the mike talking about someone’s earlier performance and introducing a “one of our own.” Veronica went up to the mike.
“It’s her first time up here, let’s show her some love, people!”
The waitress approaching me as I took a seat out of sight began to hoot, so did a few others. I heard a gentleman yell, “GO Veronica!” from somewhere I couldn’t see. Her first time? She looked different. No makeup, her hair down, tucked behind her ears, a red summer dress that went all the way to her ankles covering her legs. I had never met that Veronica. She looked like the Virgin Mary, if I knew what Mary looked like. She was probably as fragile, her face, though shy, looked pensive as she stared into the harsh single light that illuminated the stage. It was unlike the soft lighting everywhere else. She wore no jewellery. She looked so delicate. Her dress swayed as she began to rock gently, closing her eyes as a soft instrumental I wasn’t familiar with began to play from speakers I couldn’t locate. She held the mike, her eyes closed, her face upturned, and opened her mouth. The voice I heard was unfamiliar... Raspy, sensual, aching.
He, makes me wanna do dumb things
Stupid things,
He makes my body sing,
Humming as he, he touched my skin
Mhhhmm, I close my eyes and all I see is him<
br />
Am I a fool to? To,
Want to give myself to him,
Has me swooning about the melody he brings
Like a mummy I’m petrified by his skin
His, dark melanin he was a stallion
Long legged champion
His eyes are a millennium of shooting stars
My sun, I rotate around him
I am a sinner by day and an angel by night
I want to bare my skin and give my crimson to him
His voice, mhhmm I’m trembling
The thought of being a prisoner
I belong to him
My lips, my, my body they belong to him
Oh, how my mind revolves around him
I want to be slave to his voice
He has pretty much my everything
What’s this, it’s just the beginning
I’m going to take him, I’m his but
Ohh he’s mine every inch and atom of him
I am a sinner, the grim reaper
A flesh eater I’ll consume him
Mine
This lust is getting to my mind
Temptation never looked so good even in hindsight
We’re gonna touch a little different tonight
He’s gonna be my master
Control my body for the night
I’ve never felt so dirty but
I, I like it I, I want it
I’m officially a sinner cause tonight
I’ll give in to my deepest desires.
Who was that girl? I watched, scared stiff; my mind was a chaotic jumble of immediate thoughts, of questions, of amazement. I was impressed. I wasn’t impressed easily. But, most of all, I wanted to fuck her even more. As I listened to her swooning about being taken and giving in to her desires I wondered, How? First time? How? How long had she been writing? She was great. I had to admit it, although I haven’t heard many poets of her kind there was no questioning how good she was. Women mostly were in agreement, judging by the shouts of, “Yes, Girl!” and the very loud “mmmhhmmms” and all the snapping going on, some even clapping, until she had to pause and then continue when they calmed. The entire time, she’d kept her eyes closed, and the entire time, my dick was hard. I watched the seductive way her lips moved, how they were slightly parted when she paused. I knew the poem was about me. Call me cocky but her words, her body language, the way she touched her lips, and held her dress tightly as she spoke ever-so-slowly reflected the way her eyes set ablaze with me. I could see her body setting ablaze that very same way. And so was the tingling in my balls; I was set ablaze, too, and I’m sure every couple here would be going home to fuck with her passion stuck in their minds. I wanted to fuck just from listening to her. I wanted her, and now. But I knew she wasn’t ready, not yet. Call Claire? I must.