by Sienna Parks
The airport is alive with the peaks and troughs of travel. People running into each other’s arms as they’re reunited after days, weeks, or months apart; family, friends, and lovers. The other side of that coin, the one that I’m on, are the people who cling to each other, taking one last embrace, one last kiss, remembering how it feels, and holding onto it as their bodies part, their fingers touching until the space between them is too great. The airport is a melting pot of emotion, and for me, it’s becoming synonymous with Vittoria.
I wait as she checks her bags, drinking in every detail of the way she looks, her hair, her lips, her eyes that are fighting back tears as she walks over to me with her boarding pass in hand.
“I don’t want to leave you.” She wraps her arms around my neck, burying her head against my chest.
“I know. I don’t want you to leave either, but this is what you’ve been working toward, what you’ve been desperate for. You need to dance, it’s who you are, and I would never try to stop you, or hold you back.”
She lifts her head, looking up into my eyes with so much love. “And that’s why I love you so much, Master Fitzgerald.” A mischievous grin spreads across her face, and I know she’s remembering what it felt like to scream my name in ecstasy before we left for the airport. Hogtied and spanked, and loving every minute of it as she begged her Master for more. I can still taste her on my lips as we stand here, in a sea of people, no one suspecting that her ass is a pretty shade of red right now, and her nipples puckered with little plastic clamps I placed on them in the elevator of my building on the way here. I told her not to remove them until she gets to her hotel, and only when she has me on FaceTime to watch. It’s a twisted kind of torture, for her and for me, but I wanted her to have a reminder as she travels so far away from me today; that I am her Master, and no matter where she is, or how many miles are between us, I control her pleasure, and her pain.
“Enjoying being a tease, Miss de Rossi? Two can play at that game, remember that as you sit on the plane today, the engines vibrating through your body, sending sensual shocks to your beautiful, pert… clamped nipples. Remember it as your panties become wet with your own arousal, and I’m not there to alleviate the discomfort.” The groan that my words elicit, causes my pants to tighten and I thrust my groin against her thigh, letting her know exactly what her little noises do to me; that I’ll be dealing with my own discomfort while she’s gone. “We better get you to where you need to be. As much as I would love for you to miss your flight and come home with me to my bed, I need to do what’s best for you. Come on…” I grab her hand and navigate through the crowds, slowly making my way toward the security gate, the point of no return, the moment when I have to watch her leave… again. At least this time, I know she’s coming back to me, and that she is mine.
When the sign comes into view, I tighten my grip, my body reacting to our imminent separation, making me feel physically sick at the thought of it. My steps slow almost to a standstill, stalling for more time. I can’t look at her, because if I do, I know what I’ll see – tears, fears, and more emotion than I can handle, so I continue to walk, repeating the words over and over in my head, ‘I am in control, I am her Master. Show no weakness, only strength.’ I must have said it to myself twenty times when we find ourselves at the entrance to security, the board beside us mocking me, ‘PASSENGERS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.’
She turns in my arms, a quiet sob breaking free, causing my heart to fall into my stomach. I cup her face in my hands, wiping her tears as I lower my lips to hers. It’s not a frantic kiss, but a gentle one, filled with passion and understanding. I savor the feel of her tongue caressing mine, and the softness of her lips as they press against my own.
When I finally pull back, I’m fighting to keep my composure, forcing myself to remain strong for her. “Don’t cry. We’ll be together again soon. I promise. And, in the meantime, I want you to take it easy, and do as the physio says, don’t push yourself too hard.” I rain tiny kisses all over her face in my attempts to calm her. “Let yourself enjoy every minute. Don’t be sad, and remember, no matter where you are. You. Are. My. Nyx. My goddess above all others. I am your Master, and I expect you to behave as such. You will obey my commands and know that you are always my priority.” I hold her gaze, entreating her to understand the gravity of what I’m saying. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”
“I love you, Vittoria. More than life itself. I always have and I always will.”
She holds me as tight as her arms will let her, leaving no space between us. “I love you, too. So much it hurts.”
“No more tears. This is a good day. You’re healed and ready to get back to what you love; what you were born to do. I’ll see you soon. Now go, before I change my mind and take you home.”
We share one last kiss, before she turns and walks through the gate, getting further and further away from me. I stand for a moment, watching her disappear from sight, feeling almost winded by her departure, like a part of me has gone with her, and it has… my heart.
After a few minutes, I pull myself together and start to weave my way through the crowds and out of the airport, heading home to my empty apartment to get organized for my own departure next week; Flaming Embers’ debut tour.
Two Months Later
We’ve been on the road now for two months, and the boys are killing it, night after night. The crowds love them, and they love the crowds. Word is spreading about how amazing they are live, especially for first-timers. It’s exactly what I was hoping for, and the media attention and interview requests are starting to roll in thick and fast. I’ve been preparing for this for months, and I’m ready to take them to the next level, but I’m not sure if all of them are quite ready for that leap. It’s going to change their lives forever. What they have now is new and exciting, but it’s theirs; this next step will take that away from them, and they’ll have to share this success with the world, opening themselves up to scrutiny and judgment, and the pressures that come with it. I know they’re going to be huge, I can feel it, and no one deserves it more than Campbell McCabe.
The show was amazing tonight, and as the backstage aftermath begins to calm, and the groupies leave with various band members, I find a quiet spot to sit with Campbell’s guitar and play for a while. I’m nowhere near the player I used to be, but I’m good enough for my ears only. I’m tired of drunk girls trying to bed me, explaining night after night that I’m not interested because I have a girlfriend. Calling her that seems so trivial, and doesn’t begin to describe what we are, but I’m not about to start explaining it to some slutty college girls. Instead, I politely decline their advances and go in search of somewhere quiet, which I’ve managed to find in this venue.
Since we started the tour, I’ve found myself becoming immersed in the music again, not just the managerial logistics of it all. The last time I picked up a guitar or wrote a song was years ago. I was too bitter back then to find enjoyment in it, but now that I’m in a better place in my life, I’ve started writing again. I can’t play for long periods of time, but when I do, it’s an amazing feeling, and right now I’m working on something I started writing for Vittoria.
As I sit with the guitar in my lap and a pencil in my hand, jotting down ideas and chord progressions, singing the lyrics I have so far, I sense movement behind me.
“Holy fuck, Logan! You kept that a secret.”
I turn to see Campbell standing in the doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face. “No secret, just messing around.”
“Bullshit! You’re a talented bastard and you know it. You’ve got a better voice than me.”
“Stop kissing my ass, I already got you a record deal. Are you drunk? Stupid question, of course you are. Great show tonight, you guys killed it.”
He strides toward me with all the rock star swagger of a seasoned pro. “Aye, we were alright. I missed a few riffs here and there; felt like a right bawbag. It was so fuckin’ hot up there on st
age, I was sweatin’ like a rapist at confession.”
“What the hell is a ‘bawbag?’” I’m still getting used to his… way with words, but he makes me laugh on a daily basis.
“Sorry, mate. I keep forgettin’ to cut out the slang. A bawbag is yer testicles. Sure, I’m a modern-day Shakespeare!” He grabs two beers from the mini-fridge in the room and holds one out to me. “I dinnae want to drink alone. Join me?”
“Sure, why not. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” I take the bottle, twist off the cap, sending a shooting pain through my hand after only an hour of playing the guitar, which really pisses me off. I take a long swig of my beer before setting the guitar down and slumping back into my seat.
“So, what’s your story, big man? You’ve got a voice any front man would kill for, an’ you’re flexin’ yer hand wae a grimace on yer face. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I’m guessin’ an old injury?”
“You’re a perceptive guy, Campbell. Yeah, I injured it over a decade ago, and it ruined my chances of doing what you do.”
“What happened? Tell me tae mind ma ain business if I’m bein’ a nosey bastard, but you look like you could use a friend, and you might be our manager, but I consider us friends, too.”
I don’t know if it’s his open personality, or the fact that I’m missing Vittoria so badly, but I find myself talking before it dawns on me that he’s the first person I’ve ever told this story to.
“When I was eighteen, I had it all at my fingertips. I’d just finished school, with no intention of going to college. I had a band – guys I’d grown up with, that knew how much of an escape music was for me. I had an agent, Derek, who was in the process of finalizing the paperwork on a record deal for us, when he started dating my mom.” I take another long swig before I continue. “My mom never did have great taste in guys. My dad was a deadbeat drug dealer, who skipped out on us when I was eight years old. We were better off without him, but he left behind some angry associates who came looking for him. Instead of getting rid of them, my mom started dating a long string of losers, each one worse than the last. I thought when she shacked up with Derek, that she’d finally found a decent guy. It wasn’t ideal with him being my manager, but he assured me that it wouldn’t affect my deal.”
My hands begin to shake as I relive what happened that night; the night that changed the course of my life.
“I came home one Friday night from a party at my girlfriend’s house. Her parents were out of town for the weekend, and the drinks were flowing. I was more than a little drunk by the time I stumbled through the front door, into what looked like a war zone. The living room was completely trashed, and at first I thought we’d been robbed, until I heard them in the kitchen. My mom was screaming at Derek to calm down, and he was calling her every name under the sun. I ran through the living room ready for a fight, but nothing could have prepared me for what I found. Her face was black and blue down the right side, her eye almost entirely swollen shut.”
“Fucking hell, man. That’s brutal. I know… from experience.” I can see that he’s telling the truth, the same haunted look in his eyes.
“I saw red. Blind-fucking-fury. I tackled him to the ground, punching him square in the jaw before he even knew what was happening. I might have been taller than him, but he was twice my size and obviously had experience in beating the crap out of people – especially women. I was shouting at him to get the hell out of our house as we grappled on the kitchen floor, my mom screaming in the background that I should mind my own business. Can you believe that? I was the bad guy for defending her.”
“I’m sorry, Logan. That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, it is. I got distracted by her screaming, shocked that she was blaming me; I didn’t see it coming. He was fast, and I was too dazed to notice that he was up on his feet, towering above me. He raised his dirty biker boot, and slammed it down full force on my left hand, breaking twenty-two of the twenty-seven bones, and ending my career in a single blow.” I can feel the bile rise in throat at the memory. “I’ll never forget the pain, it was agonizing, and I knew immediately, that I would never be able to play the same again. We didn’t exactly have great health insurance. A basic fix was all I got, so now, I can barely play for an hour without my hand becoming sore. It’s been years since I last played anything.” I watch as Campbell rubs his hand, an unconscious response from one guitar player to another. He understands how soul destroying that would have been for me, but he doesn’t speak, he just sits back and waits for me to finish. “He told me to kiss my deal goodbye, and that no one in the industry would touch me after I’d ‘assaulted’ him. That was the last time I saw him, and my mom never forgave me for it; for loving her enough to stand up for her. I lost everything I’d ever wanted, and for my troubles, I also lost my mom. These days we tolerate each other when necessary, but I moved out as soon as I got out of hospital, and I never looked back. She’s had an endless stream of loser boyfriends, except now she’s learned to prey on the rich and gullible. I paid my own way through college holding down three jobs at a time to pay my tuition. Eventually, I found my way back to the music business, even if it was in a different way than I’d hoped for. I get to be everything that Derek should have been to me. I harness talent, and help people like you to achieve the success you deserve. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but now I love my job, and my life is pretty amazing, so I can’t complain.”
He blows out a long breath, scrubbing his hand over the scruff on his face. “I had nae fuckin’ idea. I thought you were some rich kid who had it all. You’re so… you’ve really got yer shit together, an’ you’re no’ even thirty yet. It’s amazin’. You’re a fuckin’ inspiration, man.”
“Hardly. My ‘shit’ feels like it’s all over the damn place. I like to be in control, and there are so many factors in my life that I seem to have zero control over. I’ve never missed someone the way I miss Vittoria. I know I sound like a pussy, but fuck it! I love her.”
“The girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s no’ a pussy that admits to bein’ in love. A man that ignores it an’ denies it when he finds it is the real pussy. I want that. Tae love a lassie so much that I’d fuckin’ die for her; that I’d gie it all up in a heartbeat for; that I’d write a song for, like the one you were playin’ when I came in. I’m no’ ashamed tae admit it, an’ neither should you be. Guys that cannae admit it are arseholes.”
“How did you get so wise? You’re only twenty-one.”
He gives a hearty, raspy laugh before his face sobers and his tone becomes serious. “When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you age well beyond yer years. Where I grew up, yer no’ long a bairn. Childhood was a luxury in ma neck o’ the woods. Music was my escape, an’ turns out, it was ma savior.”
“What happened?”
“That’s a story for another night, an’ a lot more booze. I think it’s time we get the fuck out o’ here an’ get some shut-eye. The boys are off thinkin’ wae their cocks the now, so I willnae be waitin’ around for them.”
“Tell me they’re intelligent enough to be safe. We don’t need to be dealing with an influx of Ember babies nine months from now.”
“Aye, they’re no’ that daft. They’re a shower o’ clatty bastards, the lot o’ them, but none o’ them want to be raisin’ weans any time soon. Cloak it before you poke it is our motto!”
“And you?”
“I’ve got ma sights set on other things in life at the minute. I’m no’ interested it chasing tail the now. At least, no’ the easy ones!! Know what I mean? There’s nae fun if there’s nae chase!”
“I know exactly what you mean. Tori gave me a run for my money, and she was worth it, a thousand times over.”
“Then, let’s go back tae the hotel. A quick dram at the bar an’ then you can call your girl an’ tell her that.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Campbell grabs his guitar and we head out to hail a cab to take us back
to our hotel. He’s quickly becoming a real friend, and someone I have the utmost respect for, even if I don’t always understand what he’s saying to me in his thick Scottish brogue.
When I finally get back to my room, I take his advice and call the girl of my dreams, her voice soothing the nightmares that threaten to envelop me. It’s been a long time since I relived that night, and the pain in my hand is a reminder of what I lost. I drift into a fitful sleep with the dulcet tones of my submissive pledging her love to me fresh in my mind, and her love prevails. The nightmares of relived memories are kept at bay by a goddess that leads me to happier memories, an enchantress that soothes my soul… my Nyx.
Two Months Later
He’s here.
My dressing room already feels smaller.
I could feel him tonight. I could sense him in the auditorium. Every move I made, every dance step – was for him. The pain was gone, for the first time in months; my focus solely on the knowledge that his eyes were burning into me, watching me… loving me.
I’ve been aware of him at every performance he’s ever attended, even when I didn’t know he was coming, but now that my body is so attuned to his, it’s a physical tether between us.
I drink in the sight of him after four months apart, and he looks even more handsome than I remember. My heart is pounding in my chest, my breath hitching at the sly grin that spreads across his deliciously full lips.
He stands in the doorway, his arm resting on the frame above him. He’s wearing a three-piece suit – black with a pinstripe. The jacket is a perfect fit, the waistcoat clinging to his ripped physique, his shirt opened at the collar, exposing just a smattering of hair. It’s sexy as hell, and as I let my eyes travel lower, I can feel my nipples pucker under my dressing gown at the sight of him, hard and straining against his pants. My core tightens at the memory of how phenomenal it feels when every long, thick, hard inch of him is inside me. The delirious, pleasurable pain that comes when he hits the very deepest parts of me.