“…and therefore, I would appreciate it if you would address this issue regarding the Castillo Company’s account a.s.a.p. Thanks Tom.”
Ben looked at the clock. It was four forty-five. In the old days a message like this concerning one of the company’s key accounts would have prompted him to start working on it immediately, regardless of the fact that it would have kept him at his desk until well into the evening.
But that was then.
Ever since his old acquaintance, and the senior partner of their joint venture, Tom Shanahan, demurred on his promise to make Ben chairman of the board; the two had been engaged in an undeclared war of wills. A contest further complicated by legal obligations, mutual need, and inflexible egos.
Because in spite of the fact that Ben’s job was secure and his salary generous, he nonetheless chafed at the notion that the absence of the title he wanted kept him from being perceived by the world as someone deserving of it.
As a result Ben insisted on running the Network and Data Security Department, of which he was in charge, in the manner he saw fit. It was an attitude that sometimes led him into conflict with others, but that also clearly established the extent of his authority. It was a boundary that no one, including Tom Shanahan, had the inclination to cross.
That particular evening however, Ben had a legitimate reason for putting off Tom’s request until morning. Tom’s wife was having a party that night to celebrate the arrival of their second child. And she expected everyone, including Ben and his fiancé Patty, to be there.
Ben and Patty had been living together for over a year. And although Ben was generally satisfied with their relationship as it was, she wanted more.
Patty was a sweet and caring person. The sort who remembered birthdays, asked after the health of others, and inquired about the well being of people she knew of only through friends and acquaintances. Short, with long brown hair that she often twisted into a bun or pulled into ponytail, in order to emphasis her youthful face; she had thin, pink lips, a button nose, and high cheekbones that made her look like she was squinting when she smiled.
Indeed, everything about her seemed to suggest that she would make a good wife, and everyone who knew them thought Ben was fortunate to have her.
Only Ben remained unsure. Because although he readily acknowledged the positive qualities Patty brought to their relationship, he also knew that his love for her was as tepid as his desire. Indeed, it was sometimes a struggle for him to maintain the fiction that he wanted her. And yet even so, he did not wander. Preferring instead to believe, that with a little more time, he would grow to feel the same way about her that she did about him.
And it was in that hope that he proposed to her.
Holding a glass of scotch from which he sipped occasionally, Ben walked the length of the buffet table, eyeing the temptingly presented food, and making mental notes of the things he wanted to try once he felt sufficiently buzzed.
“Ben,” he suddenly heard someone call out behind him.
Turning around Ben found himself face-to-face with Tom’s wife, Ellen, who at that was moment fully immersed in her role as hostess.
“Ellen, it’s so good to see you,” Ben said in his most ingratiating manner. “You look fantastic.”
“You’re a flattering liar,” she replied cheerily. “I’ve gained so much weight I feel like I’m still carrying him around.”
“Got a name yet? The last I heard it was a toss-up between Matthew and Mark.”
“Mark, it’s my father’s name. Oh, Christine,” she suddenly blurted out to a woman she spotted nearby. “I didn’t think you could make it.”
“Your sister told me you’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” the woman explained good-naturedly. “By the way you look wonderful.”
“Another liar,” Ellen said in a stage whisper directed at Ben. “Christine Fletcher,” she continued without missing a beat. “This is Ben Dunham, Ben this is Christine.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ben responded dutifully, employing his friendliest smile.
There was something about Christine that intrigued Ben from the first moment he saw her. Several inches taller than Patty, and with a sturdier, more muscular build: she had dark brown eyes, and a roundish, fair complexioned face, framed by short black hair; the thick, smooth locks of which extended mid-way down her neck, and swept forward into points that met under her chin.
What Ben found most attractive about her however, were her mannerisms. When relaxed, her narrow, half-closed eyes and full lips made her look as though she was flirting. While the spontaneous smiles and gentle laughter that punctuated her conversation, created an impression of youthful innocence.
And yet in spite of her obvious appeal, Ben was a little surprised to find himself so attracted to her; because although he liked his women to be undeniably feminine, Christine possessed an understated toughness that inexplicably made her more attractive to him rather than less.
“Likewise,” she replied.
Ben and Ellen then glanced uncomfortably at each other, as well as Christine, as they waited for her to complete the formalities by introducing the tentative, and somewhat mousey looking young man who was hovering just behind her.
“Oh, this is my friend, Gary Prentiss,” she said as though it was an afterthought. “Gary, say hello to our host Ellen Shanahan, and Mr. Dunham. I understand you work closely with Tom,” she added quickly, interrupting Gary’s attempt to comply with her directions.
“You heard correctly,” he said, as he noticed Gary disappear behind Christine.
“Well I’ll let you all to get acquainted,” Ellen interjected as she began walking away. “I see more people arriving and I really should greet them.”
“So, what do you do with Tom?” Christine asked.
“I’m the Vice President of Network Operations and Data Security.”
“Sounds technical.”
“Very,” he answered tersely, hoping to end any further discussion of his job. “And what do you do?”
“Why don’t you get yourself something?” Christine suggested, as she noticed Gary eyeing the buffet.
“Do you want me to bring you something?”
“Not now,” she replied dismissively.
The next moment Gary picked up a plate and began working his way methodically down the table.
“I’m a regional manager for Bruce’s Brews,” she continued, her eyes fixed on Ben.
“I drive by one of those everyday on my way to the office.”
“Which one?”
“The big one at Barrow and Cornwall.”
“That’s where my office is. You should stop in one day and try something.”
“Perhaps I will.”
“Darling,” Ben heard Patty say as she sidled up next to him. “So this is where you are? I’ve been looking all over.”
“You found me,” he replied jokingly.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Patty asked, as she eyed Christine suspiciously.
“Of course, Christine Fletcher, this is my girlfriend Patty Benson.”
“Fiancé,” Patty corrected as she reached out to shake Christine’s hand.
“Hmm, is there a difference of opinion here?”
“Oh no, just a poor memory.”
“It’s a good thing he has you around to remind him.”
“Isn’t it though?” Patty agreed, with a thin smile. “Ben, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you away from Christine now. Tom and the others have been asking where you are and I told them I’d find you. Later then,” she waved perfunctorily at Christine as she put her arm around Ben’s and led him away.
“Your girlfriend?” Patty asked as they walked across the room.
“I’m sorry. You have to give me time to get used to the idea.”
“Ben,” she whispered. “Although I believe we have a future together, I’m not always sure you do. And I can’t go on believing there’s something between us if there isn’t. I won’t do it.”
“Point taken. You deserve that.”
“By the way, who is that person you were talking to?”
“Just a friend of Ellen’s.”
“I don’t like her,” she replied flatly.
A little after eleven, the crowd began to thin, and Ben found himself getting impatient to leave. Patty however convinced him that they should stay a little longer, and so Ben stepped outside for a moment to clear his head and prepare himself to be personable for at least another hour.
Walking onto the front porch, he had just taken several deep breaths of the cool night air, when he noticed Christine and Gary standing beside a car parked nearby. And although they were too far away for him to hear what was being said, it was obvious they were arguing.
Amused and curious, Ben leaned against one of the porch’s columns and watched the argument unfold in pantomime. And, from what he could see of their body language, as well as such glimpses of their faces, as he was able to catch by the light of the ornamental lamps lining the driveway, there was little doubt as to which of them was winning.
Her hands on her hips, Christine was pacing back and forth in front of Gary, who stood silently by, listening to her with a downcast expression, until at last she ordered him into the car. Getting into the driver’s seat, she then drove off quickly down the street.
As he walked back inside to rejoin the party, Ben laughed sadly at Gary’s predicament; and for a moment, wondered what had happened in his life to bring him to the point where he would allow himself to be publicly berated.
The next day Ben stopped for his morning coffee at the Bruce’s Brews near his office. And even though he thought the coffee was over-priced, it was also rich, dark, and strong.
Soon he was going there every morning, as a result of which, he sometimes saw Christine.
But because he always used the drive-through, their only interaction was to smile and wave casually to each other before he drove away.
Shortly after becoming a regular customer at Bruce’s Brews, Ben went to work so early one morning that it was barely light. Groggy, and in desperate need of caffeine, he pulled into the parking lot and was maneuvering his car towards the drive-through window when suddenly his headlights illuminated a scene that instantly jolted him awake.
To his utter amazement he saw Gary and Christine in the midst of another argument, only this one appeared to have turned physical. Holding Christine by the arms, Gary had her backed against a car, while she stared back at him defiantly.
“Let her go,” Ben shouted as he got out of his car.
Apparently oblivious, Gary did not react to Ben’s command, but instead maintained his grip on Christine’s arms as he gazed at her pleadingly.
“I said let her go,” Ben repeated as he stepped up behind Gary and pulled him away from her.
For a moment Gary looked at Ben as if he wanted to lunge at him, but seeing no fear in Ben’s face, he instead took several steps backwards, even though his fists remained clenched at his sides.
“You were at that party a few weeks ago,” Gary declared, as he recognized Ben. “So you’re seeing him now?” he asked Christine accusingly.
“We’re not seeing each other,” Ben said emphatically. “I just don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
“God you’re pathetic,” Christine interjected angrily, addressing Gary. “Now both of you go,”
“You heard the woman,” Ben said determinedly.
“I said both of you.”
“There? You heard her! She said it, she said it,” Gary crowed, as though it was a victory that she was sending Ben away too.
“I’m not leaving until I see him go first,” Ben rejoined. “That is unless you want me to call the cops.”
“Get out of here Gary,” Christine hissed.
“I knew it,” he shouted back. “You are seeing him. You want him to do it don’t you? You’re turning to him now.”
“Go away,” she growled.
“You heard the woman,” Ben said, as he turned menacingly in Gary’s direction.
Gary stood for a moment, gaping at Christine with a wounded expression on his face, before abruptly getting into his car and driving off, his tires squealing.
“Who asked you to butt in?” Christine asked angrily, the moment Gary was gone.
“Well excuse me,” he replied sarcastically. “But you looked like you needed help.”
“I had everything under control,” she snapped.
“It didn’t look that way to me. Maybe I should have just let him beat the crap out of you.”
“Him?” Christine protested, her temper rising. “Beat the crap out of me?”
“Sure, why not? You don’t look so tough.”
Suddenly Christine lashed out with her right hand, in an attempt to slap him across the face. Reacting immediately however, Ben grabbed her by the wrist and held it tightly.
“I think I can hit a lot harder than you,” he warned, as he resisted Christine’s efforts to free herself. “But let’s not find out.”
For several more moments they glared at each stubbornly, until at last Christine broke the silence.
“You’re hurting me,” she said, her eyes still fixed on Ben’s.
“Good. It’s supposed to hurt.”
A few seconds later Christine’s expression softened, and a slight, but still defiant grin crept across her face.
“You can let me go now,” she said quietly, as she relaxed her arm.
Sensing that her sudden change of mood was genuine, Ben let her go.
“That’s quite a grip you have there soldier,” she remarked as she rubbed her wrist.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, even though he wasn’t.
“That’s all right.”
“So what’s with him?”
“I told him I don’t want to see him anymore.”
“Didn’t take it very well, did he? By the way, what did he mean when he asked if you were turning to me? Turning to me for what?”
“Who knows? That’s part of the reason I don’t want to see him. He gets paranoid sometimes, and when he does, he goes off, and I never know what he’s gonna say.”
“Well I guess that means it’s time for a new boyfriend,” Ben said in an upbeat voice, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Past time. By the way, what are you doing here at this hour?” she asked in a way that indicated, that at least as far as she was concerned, the previous matter was closed.
“I have to go into work early today.”
“And you stopped in here to get coffee, and instead ran into this. So now you’re late. Come with me.”
Leading Ben inside, Christine quickly prepared his usual order herself and brought it to him.
“It’s on the house today,” she interrupted as he tried to pay. “It’s the going rate for coming to the aid of damsels in distress. Needed or not.”
Ben returned to his car, and pulling out of the parking lot, drove off in the direction of his office.
The memory of what had just happened however persisted. And although he sensed that something subtly amorous had passed between them, he hesitated to attach any significance to it.
But of one thing he was certain; in some indefinable way, he felt drawn to her.
After that Ben stopped using the drive-through, and instead made it a habit to go inside, in the hope that he might accidently run into Christine.
Before long however she became so familiar with his schedule that she often came out of her office to say hello and spend a few minutes with him.
Indeed, the simple routine became so much a part of their day that both soon came to expect, as well as anticipate it.
Several weeks later, Patty departed on her annual trip to visit her sister. The first two nights she was gone, Ben dutifully ate the healthful dinners she’d made for him before she left.
On the third night however, he couldn’t face the carefully prepared plate of microwavable chicken and broccoli in the freezer, and instead went to one of his favorite restaurants, where he single-handedly polished off a large order of ribs and steak fries.
Feeling, as his father used say, that the inner man was satisfied, he then headed home, determined not to allow himself anything more, despite the fact that he felt something was still missing from his clandestine feast. It was a resolution that lasted only until he arrived at the intersection, on one corner of which stood the best ice cream shop in town.
Modeled on a nineteenth century soda fountain, ‘Mackenzie’s Parlor’, had round black and white marble topped tables with wrought iron chairs, and carried a seemingly endless variety of sweets and confections, including handmade ice cream.
And as Ben sat savoring each spoonful of the soft, cool chocolate in his bowl, he closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled to himself at the child-like feeling of defiance that crept over him as he thought of what Patty would say if she knew what he was doing.
“If it’s that good, maybe I should have gotten the chocolate,” a familiar voice said, interrupting his reverie.
Looking up, Ben was surprised to see Christine standing over him holding a small cup of vanilla ice cream.
“I was just having a private laugh.”
“What about?” she asked, as she pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Then it wouldn’t be private.”
“Aw, c’mon,” she chided playfully. “I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.”
“My girl friend, my fiancé,” he quickly corrected himself.
“Are you still confused about that?”
“Is out of town visiting her sister,” he continued, pointedly ignoring Christine’s question. “So instead of eating one of the dinners she left for me, I went out for ribs, and,” he added with a flourish, “ice cream. She wouldn’t approve. She thinks she’s gonna live forever, and she expects me to be right there with her.”
“Do you always wait until she’s out of town to do what you want?”
“Not always.”
“Up the rebels,” she said playfully, jabbing the air with her fist for emphasis.
“You know it’s funny.”
“What is?”
“You know how when you see a person in a particular setting all the time, you sort of get to point where they look out of place if you see them someplace else?”
“Yeah.”
“Well that’s sort of how I feel right now. As if we really should be having this conversation over the counter at Bruce’s.”
“What are you doing next?”
“Going home I suppose.”
“Why don’t you come with me instead? What you need is to see me in a different light.”
Her suggestion, though tempting, made him nervous.
“C’mon,” she teased. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Quickly putting his misgivings aside, in the face of what he saw as the need to demonstrate his independence, Ben accepted Christine’s invitation, and followed her in his own car until at last they arrived at a small house near the edge of town.
“So, this is this where you live,” he said warily, as he got out of his car.
“Be it ever so humble.”
All the way there, Ben had wondered if he was making a mistake. And now, even more than when he had been at the ice cream parlor, he could see no way out of it without looking like a coward.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” he said guardedly, thinking of Patty.
“Then what’s the matter? After staring down an animal like Gary, you’re not afraid of me are you?”
“Hardly,” he replied confidently, even though there was a part of him that thought maybe he should be.
“You want some?” Christine asked as she dug into the container of ice cream she’d brought home with her. “I really shouldn’t have any more. It goes straight to my hips.”
“And your ass,” Ben mumbled, as he mentally compared its enticing proportions to Patty’s nearly concave rear end.
“What was that?”
“I said I’ll take a pass, on more ice cream. You know this is a nice place you have here,” he added quickly, in an effort to distract her.
“Would you like to see the rest of it?” she asked as she put the ice cream in the freezer.
“Sure,” he replied cheerfully, in spite of the fact that he felt uncomfortable about being there.
Since it was not a large house, the tour moved rapidly from room to the next until at last they arrived at a door that was conspicuous from the others because it was sealed with a deadbolt lock; the shiny faceplate of which stood out starkly against dark wood beneath.
“What’s in there?”
“I wasn’t going to show you that one.”
“Why not?”
“Because, it’s private.”
“Aw c’mon,” he prodded; employing the same words that Christine had used to tease him at the ice cream parlor. “I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.”
Christine eyed Ben in way that revealed she was debating with herself about whether or not she wanted him to see what was inside.
“Now’s as good a time as any I suppose,” she said, at last. “Maybe you should see it.”
Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, Christine then took out a small ring, from which dangled several keys; and inserting one of them into the lock, turned it.
“I call this the Glass Room,” she said as she switched on the lights.
Following Christine, Ben walked with her to the center of the room and looked around. It was a sight as mysterious as it was confusing.
Somewhat larger than the other rooms she’d shown him, it contained only a small armoire, a low cushioned bench with a matching kneeler, and an odd looking object that resembled a large easel. The most curious thing about it however, was that it was lined all the way around with floor to ceiling mirrors.
“Can you turn the lights down a little?” Ben asked, squinting through the reflected brightness of the baby spots installed in rows along the ceiling.
“Sorry,” Christine said, as she walked over to a panel of dimmer switches on the wall and turned all but a few of the lights off. “Is that better?”
“Much,” he replied, as he glanced around the room. “What’s this place for?”
“Can you guess?”
“I’m not sure, some kind of performance?”
“Do you know what domination is?”
“Domination?” he asked incredulously, as he spun around to look at her.
“Yes, domination,” she said forthrightly.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Have you ever done it?”
“No.”
“Ever thought about it?”
“No.”
“I think you have.”
She gave him no time to deny it.
“I want you to dominate me.”
Although Ben was shocked by what she said, the thought of rejecting the idea outright never occurred to him. Instead, to his surprise, something in the possibility of it immediately fascinated him.
“I have a girlfriend,” he protested weakly. “We’re engaged.”
“You see? You can’t stop calling her your girlfriend. Admit it, you don’t care about her. If you did you wouldn’t be here. Besides, what do you think has been going on between us for the last few weeks?”
“I never expected this.”
“Life is full of surprises.”
“What do you mean by domination anyway?”
“Would you like me show you?”
“What makes you think I’d be interested?”
“I’ve suspected ever since that morning in the parking lot.”
“Oh?”
“The way you looked at me when you grabbed my wrist: and what you said when I told you were hurting me. I’ve been watching you ever since.”
“And you figured it all out from that?”
“I said I suspected.”
“Maybe you’re wrong.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Aren’t you taking a risk?”
“I don’t think so.”
Caught between temptation and caution, Ben hesitated.
“You know I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
It was a remark that made him feel as though she doubted his courage.
“Okay, show me,” he said boldly.
Silently, Christine walked over to the object that Ben had thought was nothing more than an oversized easel. Then, as he watched astonished, she expertly tied first one ankle and then the other, to the legs of what he now saw was actually a wooden frame for restraining someone. As soon as she’d finished, she raised her arms above her head and looked at him expectantly. Sensing what she wanted him to do, he approached, and taking a length of rope that she handed him, tied her wrists to the top of the frame, causing her to gasp as he pulled it tight.
Taking several steps back, Ben half-ashamedly, half-eagerly drank in the sight of her.
At last, looking once more into her eyes, he saw not just desire – but also an invitation for him to quench it.
And intuitively, he sensed what she wanted of him.
Standing in front of her, he then deliberately unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her breasts, the nipples of which he touched lightly with the tips of his fingers, making her quiver softly.
Next, he reached down, and lifting up the front of her skirt, tucked it behind the thin black belt around her waist. Finally, he hooked his thumbs inside the top her panties and eased them slowly down to her knees.
What followed was timeless.
“Look at us,” she whispered. “Look in the mirrors.”
The sight left him breathless.
Unable to resist the impulse, Ben reached out and gently stroked the thick black hair between Christine’s thighs.
She trembled under his touch.
“Feel me,” she murmured.
Slowly, Ben insinuated one of his fingers upward until at last he felt a slight dampness. He then moved his finger gently back and forth along the sensitive inner ridge of Christine’s vagina, while she moaned quietly, and continued to steal glances of herself in the mirrors.
At last, sensing that a combination of passion and discomfort was bringing her close to tears, Ben knelt down and untied the ropes holding her legs to the frame. His hands shaking, he was almost beside himself with the newness of the sensations she’d aroused in him. For even though neither of them had crossed the final threshold, what they’d shared was so intense, so moving, that it was almost as if they had.
The moment Ben untied the ropes holding her wrists, Christine’s knees folded beneath her, forcing him to catch her in his arms before she fell to the floor. He then carried her to her room and carefully laid her on the bed.
As soon as he put her down, Christine curled herself into a ball, and began to tremble like a wounded bird. It was then Ben noticed that there were bright red marks, as well as faint spots of blood, around both of her wrists where the ropes had been.
The sight excited him. Because he saw in them a self-inflicted token of her submission – and as such they meant more than the act of mere sex alone.
“I’m sorry for the marks on your wrists. I didn’t stop to think that might happen.”
“You needn’t be,” she said almost inaudibly. “It’s just the way it is for me.”
Ben lay down next to her and waited. Startled by the ease with which he had embraced the opportunity that Christine’s offer of herself had created for him, he did not know what more to say. He never suspected that such desires lurked within him, and he was both confused and frightened that she had.
A short time later, Christine rolled over on her side and looked up at him.
“There’s no reason for you regret what happened,” she said soothingly. “I asked you to do it.”
“I know.”
“But there’s something, isn’t there?”
Ben didn’t answer.
“You’re upset because you enjoyed it.”
Again he didn’t answer.
Christine pressed herself against him.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Soon you’ll understand.”
Ben slept with Christine that night. But except for the single kiss they shared when she turned out the light, neither touched the other again, until the next morning when she kissed him again as he was leaving.
“I knew you’d call,” Christine said with quiet satisfaction, when Ben phoned her later that day.
“I want to see you again,” he demanded, carefully monitoring his voice for any sign of impatience.
“I have to go out of town for a couple of days to a company meeting. How about when I get back on Tuesday night?”
“Get out of it.”
“I can’t, it’s been planned for months. They’re expecting me to be there.”
Ben deducted the days Christine would be away from the time left until Patty returned. It was only two days.
In spite of what had happened between them, he was uncertain about whether it was wise to break off his relationship with Patty on the basis of what was, in essence, the experience of but a single night, regardless of the undeniable feelings it aroused in him.
Time, however, was not on his side. Patty had told him before she left that she expected him to be ready to discuss a wedding date when she returned.
For all their sakes, he would have to decide quickly.
“Did you miss me?”
“Yes, I did. I genuinely did,” he replied, surprised at the relief he felt now that he was holding her again.
“You don’t know how good it is to hear you say that,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Christine, we need to talk.”
Instantly Christine’s smile vanished, and for a moment she stood looking at him as though she already knew what he was going to say.
“All right, what about?” she said bracing herself.
Even before he could begin to answer, Christine had already taken on the look of someone who is about to be hurt.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, startled by the sudden change in her expression.
“You’re going to tell me you don’t want to see me anymore aren’t you?” she blurted out almost tearfully. “I showed you what I am too soon. And now that you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’re afraid of me: or is it repelled? I mean, didn’t we…?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s happened before.”
“No, no,” he said emphatically. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“I just don’t know what happened the other night,” he confessed. “I really don’t know.”
“You said you liked it.”
“I did.”
“But you don’t know why,” she replied intuitively.
“No.”
“And now you’re confused.”
Unsure of what to say, or how say it, he didn’t answer.
“And maybe embarrassed?”
“No.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
He turned towards her.
“Ben,” she began quietly. “For many – including me – this reality, this part of what we are, takes time to understand, and sometimes more to accept.”
Christine could sense the wheels turning inside Ben’s mind as he grappled with the incomprehensible feelings their still nascent relationship was arousing in him.
“My father left my mother before I was born,” Christine began measuredly. “And because she was afraid of being a single mother, she married s distant cousin who proposed to her even though he knew she was already pregnant. It was kind of funny really,” she said, sadly. “Or maybe pathetic. My mother tried her whole life to make him love her. I tried too until I was twelve. But all he ever really wanted was to control us.”
“What happened when you turned twelve?”
“I began to menstruate. That’s when he started molesting me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, as Christine’s recollections began stirring memories of his own childhood.
“No reason. Its just the way it happened.”
“Did your mother know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She never liked me,” she replied distantly. “From the very beginning I was an imposition. A living reminder of how life had mistreated her.”
“What happened when she found out?”
“Before that, there were times when she could be nice,” she said, sadly.
“And after?”
“She was angry; all the time angry. And the more she was, the better she got at it.”
“So what did she do?”
“To him, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“She couldn’t say anything without losing him. Besides, she was much madder at me.”
“At you? Why?”
“Because he was raping me.”
Ben was still groping for something to say when she resumed her story.
“I left home when I was sixteen,” she continued. “And though I did feel as though I’d escaped, I found no happiness. I fell from one relationship into another – until finally I found it.”
“Found what?”
“Domination. At first, I couldn’t understand what was happening. And it frightened me. What sort of person, I kept asking myself, could even contemplate the sorts of things I was thinking of doing, of allowing to be done to me? It seemed so perverse, so antithetical to everything I understood. And yet in spite of that, there was something about it that kept pulling me back. Now I accept it. It’s part what I am.”
“Did you ever wonder about it?”
“About what?”
“If there’s something wrong, or maybe even…”
“Even what?”
“Sick about it.”
“I went to doctors,” she said matter-of-factly. “And after awhile I realized that I really didn’t want to hear what they were saying. I like the way I am. And if that means being what they, or you, or anybody calls sick, then so be it. Maybe I am. But even if it’s true; I want to be this way.”
“Why?”
“Because of the extremity of it. The depth of the feeling it arouses in me is more satisfying, more cathartic, than anything I’ve ever known.”
“I wish I had something to offer,” he replied ashamedly. “But it’s all so new to me.”
“But even then,” she continued. “You’re still left with the real problem.”
“Which is?”
“Finding someone compatible. Someone who needs it in the same way you do.”
“Have there been many?”
“Too many.”
“And Gary?”
“What about him?”
“What was his problem?”
“He was useless to me,” she said, resignedly. “Even as my submissive he was too weak, too clinging. I took no satisfaction in dominating him.”
“So you’ve done it before?”
“Done what?”
“Dominated someone.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want me to dominate you?”
“It can go either way,” she explained. “It depends on how you feel about the other person.”
“Everyone has something they’re either running towards or away from,” he said, in an attempt to tell her, that at least on some level, he knew what she trying to say. “Sometimes it’s both.”
“Do you want to tell me about yours?”
“No.”
“Why?”
How can I he asked himself? How can I admit that when my father abandoned the family, I had sought comfort in my mother’s bed? That she and my sister had ridiculed me for it. And that when my father returned — upon learning from my mother what I’d done – held me in a contempt that lived as long as he did; and which, especially when he drank, he expressed not only with words, but also his belt.
A confession, no matter how cleansing, was not worth the risk of losing her.
After all, he wondered; if Christine had rejected Gary because of his weakness, what might she think, what might she do, if she learned of mine?
“I have my reasons.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said reassuringly. “Someday you’ll tell me as much as you want me to know. All I care about now is that nothing stops us from being all we can be for each other.”
He felt the need to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
“You’re unsure aren’t you?”
Still he did not reply.
‘I’d like you to come over tomorrow night. There’s something I want you to show you.”
“What?”
“Us.”
The next night was their last before Patty returned. And for Ben there was a sense of urgency, a feeling of now-or-never about it that was inescapable.
He had to decide how he really felt about Christine. Was he willing to accept her as she was? Or were his feelings for her just an illusion; brought about by a misbegotten hope of what life could be with her?
For his sake, and Christine’s, he had to know.
After dinner, they sat holding hands on the couch in Christine’s living room. Neither had spoken much that evening. There seemed no need. Although she hadn’t explained herself, Ben knew intuitively what she had in mind. And the thought of it both compelled and terrified him.
At last deciding that the time had come, Christine led Ben down the hall to the Glass Room.
Because she had prepared it earlier, everything was ready for them when they entered.
Illuminated to the brightness of twilight by the subdued lighting, Christine had also placed a number of candles around the room, the light of whose languid flames danced and weaved seductively as their images repeated themselves over and over in the mirrors.
Meanwhile, in the center of the room, stood the cushioned bench and kneeler that Ben had noticed the first time he was there. Only now a narrow shaft of bright white light shone down on them from above.
“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” she asked, as she stood by the kneeler.
“Just the skirt.”
Without taking her eyes off his for even for a second, Christine then unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the floor.
Ben trembled with excitement at the realization that she was wearing nothing underneath.
Frozen in anticipation of the unknown sensations he was about to discover, he remained motionless, even as she offered him a thin leather crop, which she held in both hands.
“Please,” she said, sensing his hesitation.
“I….”
“Take it,” she urged, pressing it into his hands.
Without waiting for him to reply, she then knelt down, and with her arms resting on the bench, looked steadily at Ben’s reflection in the glass.
Ben was as astonished as he was relieved by his reaction. He had worried that when the moment came, he might lose his courage. But one look at Christine staring at him in the mirror was all it took to overcome his last shred of indecision.
Almost without thinking, Ben raised his arm and brought the crop down on Christine’s derriere hard enough to make her gasp.
The sound excited him.
Then again and again, he raised his arm, and brought it down, each time drawing a wince and a painful sigh from Christine.
As the whipping continued, Ben felt a sense of fulfillment surge through him at the feeling that by dominating Christine, he was annihilating her individuality, thus creating the space for his to flow in. An act which enabled him to make her an extension of himself – and in so doing allow him to achieve the unity he sought by becoming both abused and abuser.
As for Christine, the sight of her submission brought a feeling of expiation. Because by becoming the willing recipient of Ben’s anger, she could not only absolve herself of guilt, but also be punished for it. Thus demonstrating that her acceptance of both his pain, and hers, was a sign of her love for him, just as his desire to inflict it was a token of his for her.
Christine buried her face in her folded arms and yielded to her victimhood.
Finally looking once again at her image in the mirror, Christine realized she was crying – not with pain – but rather from the approach of the longed for sense of release she got from feeling that her inner-most-self had dissolved into nothingness.
At last, her head fell slowly forward once more onto her arms. Silent tears flowed; and a moment later, a sigh as deep as the oblivion into which she’d fallen escaped her.
Ben meanwhile, grateful that Christine seemed so lost in herself that she didn’t notice, nearly collapsed. The power that he’d felt only seconds before, now replaced by an exhaustion so complete that he had little more control over his body than he did his emotions.
A short time later, he carried her, still weeping, to her room, where he gently placed her on the bed.
Then, as before, he lay by her side and comforted her until she recovered.
Ben stayed with Christine that night. And even though she slipped easily into a seemingly restful sleep, Ben was too aroused to even attempt it.
Reaching over, he slowly pulled the sheet off Christine’s naked body, and tentatively examined the welts left by the whipping. Moving closer, he then lightly traced the reddish-blue marks with the tips of his fingers, as he recalled with wonder the satisfaction he’d felt while inflicting them.
Christine moaned softly and moved her legs as the discomfort of Ben’s touches penetrated her slumber. In response, Ben bent down and gently kissed her wounds, the act of which seemed to distill and clarify his feelings for her.
At last, Ben kissed and caressed Christine awake, after which she readily returned his touches, as she eagerly joined him in his desire.
The profundity of the depths they had reached before mirrored the excitement of the heights they attained afterwards.
Twice more that night they awoke to renew their embraces; each time giving themselves unreservedly to the other.
It was an experience the intensity of which was new to them both.
Towards morning Ben was sitting upright in bed, thinking about Patty.
There was no longer any doubt of what he had to do.
His misgivings, his questions, his fears were all dissolved.
For he had come to the conclusion that Christine was his destiny, and the feelings she had awoken him to his fate.
And with the knowledge of what love really was for him, and to whom he wanted to give it, also came the certainty that he could never turn away from either – nor return to the tepid affection and soulless unions that before Christine, was all he had known.