by Lily White
“Well, I’m sure asking her to refer to you as Master Lucas didn’t help her to understand your intentions.” My voice raised an octave as I responded.
Sue turned to me and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Mr. Bates, would you be willing to discuss this with Mary Beth in the room with us? I believe it’s important that she takes part in this conversation.”
“Of course, please go get her. I agree that this needs to be straightened out immediately.”
When Sue left the room, Lucas turned to me and stepped forward. I inched away immediately, keeping appropriate distance between us.
He stopped and held out his hands in mock surrender. “I understand why you are hesitant to be near me, Autumn; especially after hearing something like that. However, I promise you I wouldn’t touch a woman in anger.” Stepping forward again, he held my stare, practically freezing me in place by the air of authority I saw behind his eyes. “My touch is reserved for much more carnal pleasures. If I have no use of a woman, my words are enough to make her leave.”
“I saw the mark, Lucas.”
“Of course, you saw a mark. I told you she fell … “
The door opened again and Sue stepped through without Mary Beth in tow. “I apologize Mr. Bates, but Mary Beth ran from the front office almost immediately when I entered and asked her about you. Judging by her behavior when I mentioned your version of the story, I feel it’s safe to assume that you’re telling the truth.” She walked up to stand between us. “Now that we’ve settled that matter, I see no reason why Autumn and you cannot have dinner now.”
Grabbing my arm, she quickly entwined it with his. “If you don’t mind, please escort her to retrieve her purse. I don’t want Mary Beth sneaking back in to try and mess things up again.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Sue interrupted me before I could speak. “Autumn, Mary Beth is just acting strangely at the moment. I know you two are friends, but I won’t allow her to get in the way of this date and screw things up for you or me.” Turning to Lucas, she added, “Now you two have fun. Be safe and eat well. I’m going to go take care of directing the cleanup.”
She opened the door and directed us out with her hand. Lucas grinned and pulled on my arm to lead me out into the front entrance, through the large room and into the front office. We didn’t speak again until we were safely tucked in his car and heading to the restaurant.
Lucas
When we climbed in the car, the overhead lamp slowly dimmed and provided just enough light for me to see how the rain we’d walked through had soaked Autumn’s shirt, leaving it stuck to her skin. She caught me staring and turned away.
“Find something interesting, Mr. Bates?” She snapped at me and redirected her attention out of the passenger side window.
“I was just noticing how wet you’ve become. I wish you would have taken my jacket when I offered it.”
“I’m sure you’re all torn up about it considering how hard you were just staring at my breasts.”
Her cheeks were between my soft grip in seconds and I slowly spun her face to look at me. “I’ve had just about enough of your animosity, Autumn. I’m trying to patch up any misunderstanding we’ve previously had by taking you to dinner tonight, but we can’t start fresh if you’re holding grudges.”
When she attempted to free herself of my grasp, I squeezed hard enough to hold her in place, but not hurt her.
“I thought you said you didn’t hurt women.”
I laughed at the mumbled manner in which she spoke while I held her in place. I leaned in close to her face. Our lips weren’t quite near enough to brush across each other, but I could feel the heat of her breath on my face. “Am I hurting you now?”
The deep silver-blue of her eyes twinkled in the light filtering in through the rain soaked windshields. Shadows danced along her skin, a seemingly liquid trail washing over her face from the water filtering the glare of the street lamp above the car. She tugged out of my grasp, but never moved her head farther away from where she’d been previously positioned. The tension between us was intense, a momentary connection that I was surprised to have found with her. I noticed how her pulse began to race and how her breathing slowly sped up. She was spellbound for a moment, but by what exactly, I wasn’t sure.
“No.”
“Why are you breathing heavy, Autumn? What’s making you act so differently than you were a few short minutes ago?” A change was occurring in my victim – my muse. I wanted to know why.
“Because you make me nervous, Mr. Bates. I read your book last night – the copy Mary Beth challenged me to read.”
I sat in place when she sat back in her seat, eyeing me as if she was studying me just as much as I was studying her.
Finally sitting back in my seat, I stared at her for several minutes before responding. “What were your thoughts on it? How did it make you feel?”
“It was vile and disgusting. A woman forced to perform sexually – who was beaten and abused, degraded and forced into slavery.”
Quietly contemplating her words, I gripped my hand over the steering wheel, secretly wishing it was wrapped around her throat instead. She’d missed the point of the story. Hailey was happy once her mind had been manipulated to a point of believing the abuse was for her own good, her own pleasure.
“Yet …”
My eyes shot to her face and I studied the silhouette of her cheek and nose, the way her mouth opened slightly when she considered the words she would say next.
“ … I was taken in by the story. Forced to feel the emotions of the characters – the cold, heartlessness of Elliott and the determination and desperation of Hailey. I couldn’t imagine myself in a situation such as hers. I don’t know how I would react or how I would feel if the same acts were forced upon me.”
“What scares you, Autumn?”
It was a valid question – at least to me – and one that was necessary for what I planned to eventually do. I could only go so far into a victim’s head without seeing for myself the reactions and decisions made by someone who was forced outside their comfort zone. Autumn was the perfect victim – a woman who, by her own choice, hid within herself and rejected the unknown and strange. She would not fake her tears or smile from pain. No … she was the type to scream, to cower and shake – even if the danger that she faced was false or imagined.
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes widening at the personal nature of my question. It was almost as if I could see the barrier go up. Looking away from me, she squared her shoulders when she responded, “Nothing scares me, Mr. Bates; except for the fact that we’ve yet to move from this parking space. Were you lying when you said you were starving?”
My attempt at concealing my smile was feigned at best. She amused me – every aspect of her was foreign and unknown. Most of the women I’d been with had been willing participants, ones who looked forward to the sting of my palm or the insults I would lob against their misbehavior or unsolicited advances. Some women attempted to manipulate me while others would break so easily that the fun was stripped completely from the game. I loved a woman who spit the word ‘Master’ at me over the woman who rolled the word lovingly across her lips.
“I wasn’t lying. However, you’ve asked me the wrong question. I could have sworn you were smarter than that.”
She looked at me, her eyes peeking out from beneath the thick fall of her lashes. “What question should I have asked?”
I reached out and brushed the tips of my fingers against her cheek. She shuddered beneath my touch for only a second before remembering her place and pulling away, just out of reach.
Bringing my hand back to the key, I started the car and allowed the roar of the engine to flood the interior, waiting until it calmed to an almost silent idle. Reaching between us, I put the car in gear before finally replying, “The correct question – the one an intelligent woman would ask when facing a man such as me is – what am I starving for?”
Her jaw dropped and before she cou
ld respond or open her door to run back to the safety of her beloved library, I backed out of the space and made the short drive to our next destination.
…
When we arrived at the restaurant, I circled the car and opened Autumn’s door, reaching in to assist her out into the chill night air that was moisture laden by the remnants of rain that still lingered from an earlier storm. The weather of the city in which we lived was perfect for me – always grey and cloudy, dark and foreboding. There was always the threat of thunder rolling in the air and a fine gossamer mist that cloaked and disguised the buildings and trees.
Autumn took my hand and I grinned to feel how small her palm and fingers were in comparison to mine. She stepped out and I admired the form of her long leg, the way it curved up into the shape of her hip, only to angle down into her narrow waist. She was the epitome of femininity – the perfect form of a woman who had shape; not skinny like some starved waif, but curved and supple, soft and whole. My mouth watered in want of moving along the salt of her flesh - to taste the fear and need on her skin.
Once she’d stepped fully out of the car, I refused to release her hand while tossing the keys to the valet who was waiting to escort my car out into the darkness of the parking lot. We moved quickly beneath the awning and through the glass doors of the restaurant. Almost immediately, we were approached by the hostess who kept her eyes glued to me while leading us to a table far in the back of the room. I’d requested privacy and Autumn had rolled her eyes at my desire to be alone, but did not object as I thought she would. After being seated at our table, I briefly perused the menu before deciding on a rare steak, seared with salts and spices that would flavor the meat. The waitress approached and I sent her away with our selections. She returned within a few minutes with a bottle of red wine, pouring the glasses before placing the bottle on the table and silently slinking away when I ignored her brazen flirtation.
“You certainly do draw the attention, Lucas. I’m surprised you find any time at all to be alone to write. Is it safe to assume you wake with a different woman in your bed every morning?”
I laughed at her comment, realizing that it was her attempt at ridicule when in fact, and beneath her own conscious thought, it was a question asked to determine how often my cock was buried inside her competition. On the outside, this woman detested everything about me, but by paying close attention, I noticed her intrigue and curiosity, the way her skin prickled when I touched her or the flick of her eyes when she attempted to look at me covertly.
“I haven’t had a woman in my bed in many years, Autumn. I prefer them strapped to my wall.”
She gasped and looked to me for a smile or any hint of a joking tone. I had none to provide her. Sipping on my wine, I placed the glass on the table delicately before looking back up at her. “I have no interest in love, no time for comfort and no tolerance for commitment. My career is probably one of the most solitary professions a person can have; always locked inside the images and dialogue in my mind that no other person can touch or experience without my putting the words to paper. My friends do not actually exist. They have no form or mass, no voice unless I choose to give one to them. Most cannot understand that, although I may physically be in a room – I’m not there mentally.”
“And that keeps you from loving another person?”
“What’s the point?”
Her eyes shifted to something behind me and I turned to see the waitress bringing our meals to the table. After the plates were placed in front of us, I picked up the knife to my right and turned it sideways admiring how the light bounced off the polished steel.
“What are you thinking right now? Where are you?”
My eyes shot up to the blue in Autumn’s. I could lie, tell her that I’d gone nowhere in that split second, but I wanted her on edge, curious but frightened at the same time.
“I was imagining how the serrated blade of my knife would tear through flesh; how it would release the lifeblood of the person it was used against. Would it hurt if they enjoyed the slice on their skin? Why does one person scream in agony, whereas another turns that pain into something sexual and satisfying? Is the mind strong enough to make you feel pleasure instead of pain – anticipation instead of fear?”
“That’s a disgusting thought. How can you even imagine that type of harm being committed against another person? I bet it turns you on just to think about it.”
I chuckled in response to her insult. “Just as much as it does you. Reach under the table, Autumn. I’m hard now, but I can guarantee it has nothing to do with the knife in my hand. The only difference between you and I is that I’m willing to admit to it, whereas you attempt to cloak yourself in modesty and morality. We are nothing more than animals; meat, organisms that operate on instinct and desire. Some of us are brave enough to admit to our depravities, while others openly criticize it, but secretly hide inside the safety of their homes to explore the world they are too scared to admit attracts them.”
She sat back in her chair, eyeing the knife in my hand. I decided to ignore her scowl, choosing instead to cut into the rare slice of meat on my plate. As the serrated edge tore into the flesh, I watched intently as the blood ran from the cut, slowly snaking a trail along the plate to puddle at the edges of the potatoes and asparagus positioned artfully along the edges of the plate. Raising a bite to my lips, I looked up at Autumn and smiled before bringing the warm red meat to my mouth and biting down. Her lips puckered and she turned her attention to the chicken on her plate.
After swallowing, I commented. “You know, we’re not any different than the animals that gave up their lives for the meals we enjoy tonight. The cow – the chicken - each one had a functioning brain, a beating heart, possibly young that they birthed or fathered. Each one started as an egg and grew into a living, breathing thing that thought and felt and possibly carried emotion. Each could feel fear and pain, pleasure and possibly even love. But yet, we have no issue with slaughtering them for our own justifications because they are unable to communicate their feelings or beliefs. Even if they were able to communicate those feelings – would it stop us from hunting them or killing them for our own source of fuel or food?”
Her fork and knife clattered against the plate in front of her when she sat back and fiddled nervously with the napkin in her lap. “What’s your point, Lucas?”
“I’m trying to determine if you are able to recognize the predator that exists within you – within us all. Is it murder that turns you off, or the violence of sex beforehand? Why are you so disgusted with what I write about? Why did you spit the word ‘Master’ out at me when we spoke about your friend?”
“Mary Beth. Her name is Mary Beth. How easily you forget the name of the woman you invited out to dinner last night. Was it your intent to tease her and frighten her just like you are so obviously attempting to do to me tonight?”
I smiled. No, Mary Beth would never have entertained me as much as Autumn. Unlike the beautiful brunette who sat before me now, Mary Beth was cognizant of her desire. She’d explored those shadowed places and found her home nestled within the taboo erotic world of my books. Autumn, however, was pure, untouched when it came to the instinctual need of each woman to be dominated. She was the perfect victim because she would have honest fear in her thoughts, whereas Mary Beth would do nothing but grow wet at each word, each touch.
Looking up at her, I used my napkin to clean the blood from my lip. Placing the napkin on the table, I held her eye when I responded, “No, Autumn. I have not forgotten her name. It’s just that she was never my intended target. You are the woman I am after and it’s only a matter of time before you succumb and seek solace within my open arms.”
Autumn
I blinked at his statement, completely stripped of my ability to speak. Had he just admitted he only invited my friend out to get to me? What kind of arrogance does it require to not only act in such a manner, but then to admit to it and brag about it?
“I hate to disappoint you,
Mr. Bates, but after the bullshit that just fell from your lips, I refuse to be your next project. This won’t go further than dinner. I can assure you.”
He chuckled and pushed his plate to the side of the table. Leaning forward on his elbows, he reached down to circle his finger around the lip of his wine glass. “I have no problem with your continued objections, Autumn, but there was a point you missed in the book Mary Beth challenged you to read last night. Had you been paying attention to anything other than your abject hatred of every word on those pages, you would have picked it up. I have another one that I would like to challenge you to read this evening. If you are able, that is.”
“Maybe I don’t want to read it.”
He looked up at me with no emotion in his expression. The dark, stormy blue of his eyes swirled with anger or frustration when he finally replied, “I strongly suggest you do. It might end up saving your sanity. It’s my intent to be with you Autumn. There’s nothing you can say or do to knock me from that course.”
Without allowing me time to respond, he held his arm in the air and snapped his fingers. The waitress hurried over and he briskly asked for the check. My response had aggravated him, but I didn’t care. To avoid the awkward silence that would occur between us while we waited for the waitress to bring back the bill, I excused myself to the ladies room to freshen up.
He smiled at me and nodded towards the facilities. I didn’t return the gesture, opting instead to leave the table as quickly as possible. After relieving myself and washing my hands, I begrudgingly stepped back out into the main area of the restaurant. Lucas had his wire-rimmed glasses on and he was reading something on his phone.