Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Minion, Part 1 of 3
   by Nysidra
   Paranormal Erotica (MF, magic, demon)
   Re-imagined from the book 'Seithe' by Poppet.  Excellent start, but for
me, it tanked because I detested the twist.
   <->
   -_ The Umbra _-
   Lightning flashed like the bulbs of frenzied paparazzi.  The unusually
warm day had turned into a humid night.  The high heat and thick clouds
only made things worse.
   No, agreeing to dinner with Nathan made things worse.  The apartment was
a mess when Lydia got home from work: food containers on the counter,
clothes on the floor.  He must have been out playing soccer, muddy pair of
cleats in the hallway.  Nathan had suggested going out to dinner before she
could work up a good rant.
   It seemed like a good idea at the time.  Then halfway through dinner, he
announced that he would be two months behind on his share of the rent. 
Why? Only because he'd been fired.  Again.  This was the third job he'd
lost since late winter.
   Lydia twisted the end of her shirt in her fingers.  She took in the bad
news during dinner in silence, but on the way home, all she could think
about was the mess he'd made in her absence.  "So what are you going to
do?"
   "Want to watch a movie?  We still have a few episodes of The Royals to
catch up on."
   "About a job?  Did you put in any applications?"
   "Give it a fucking break."
   She balled her fist.  A break is exactly what he had, too many breaks.
"You're two months behind on the rent.  You don't help me clean up.  Even
when your home you're mostly out.  It's a valid question and I deserve an
answer.  You're not going to sit around doing nothing while I'm at work."
   "You don't know when to fucking stop, do you?  Nag, nag, nag.  Shut up,
will you?  I just lost my fucking job.  Get off my ass."
   "Fuck you, damn it.  It's my apartment and you aren't contributing, so
you're going to--"
   Lydia's hands came up too late to stop her forward momentum.  Her chest
and forearms collided with the dash board.
   "This is my car, if you're going to bitch the whole way home, then you
can walk."
   Lydia flung the door open, grabbed her purse, and slammed the car door
shut behind her.  "Fuck that lazy fucking prick," she muttered as she
stomped away.  After a few blocks, she put her back to a tree in the
shadows.  Her chest seemed a bit tender.  Hopefully, it would not bruise.
   Nathan circled back, looking for her.  She smiled with smug
satisfaction. At least he came back.  Another month wouldn't break her.
   Just as she stepped out of the shadows, he peeled off, tires squealing.
   "Fuck." Lydia folded her arms and trudged straight ahead.  She could
make her own way home.  She didn't need him to drive.  "Tired of taking
care of his lazy ass.  Paying all the bills, doing all the shopping, all
the cleaning.  Fuck him."
   Each time she tried to have a conversation about it, he made her out to
be a nagging bitch.  It couldn't be nagging if the bastard never gave her a
straight answer.
   A sudden burst of strobe effect lightning lit up the night.  She needed
somewhere to shelter, but not home, not yet.  Nathan would probably stop at
the bar and get a few beers in him.  She didn't want to deal with him
drunk.
   Lydia smirked.  Hell yeah, a few beers sounded like a grand idea.  Why
should she go home and deal with that big child sober?
   The side walk ended, so she turned left.  This area was quieter, fewer
streetlights and businesses.  Thunder rumbled and she picked up the pace. A
cool breeze kicked up providing relief from the stifling humidity.
   Wait, that rumble wasn't thunder.  She closed her eyes, stood still, and
listened.  Music, a heavy bass line.  Following the piper, she found a
stairwell leading down a flight of steps.  Nothing wrong with some dancing
to go with her drink, several, very strong drinks.  Once she was properly
liquored up, she'd go home and tell that slob to pick up or move the fuck
out.
   Nathan was ending up like Darren.  Darren ended up being a prick just
like Patrick.
   Fuckers.
   Fuck them all.
   A few people stood around the lawn smoking under the massive tree. 
Lydia dodged their bodies, steadfast in her goal to reach the club entrance
and find the bar.  The stairwell led down to a lower level.  She couldn't
see very well.  Too many busted lights, but a brief flare of track lights
signaled she was headed in the right direction.
   Lydia joined the queue, thinking, 'this better not be some kind of
fucked up gay fetish night club.'
   She attempted to get a look at the people in line with her.  They didn't
seem to be extras in a leather porn shoot.  All males though, maybe that
was why the line stalled.
   The bouncer had a severe face: big nose, heavy brows, jutting chin.  He
stood tall and broad like a wall turned human.  A brief magenta flash from
the club cut a harsh shadow in his brutish face.  She searched her pockets
for ID and money.  Maybe her tits could get her in for free.  Even brutes
liked a good rack, right?
   Straight brutes, anyway.
   Lydia couldn't see the bouncer's eyes, but she guessed he was staring at
her.  She squared her shoulders and lifted her head, exaggerated her bottom
lip.  She wasn't in the mood to be turned away, not tonight.  She thrust
her ID out and pulled her shoulders back.
   The bouncer didn't even glance at it.
   He pointed behind her and some pale fucker in a black suit strode right
in.
   Was there a dress code?  For a fucking basement club?
   Lydia glared at the ogre.  He signaled yet another person behind her to
enter.  If he wanted a fight, then she was ready to give him one.  She
opened her mouth and took a breath.
   "She's with me."
   Lydia whipped her head around.  "The hell I am."
   The bouncer waved them through.
   Muted laughter came from those in line behind her.
   Fuck them too.
   Fists clenched, she marched into the dimly lit club scanning for the
bar. She needed that drink.  What was it going to be?  Vodka, her old
favorite, or something dark like a bourbon or daring like tequila.  Did
this place have drink specials?
   Lydia dodged and ducked around the people on the dance floor, trying to
make as straight a line as possible for the mirrored wall opposite the
entrance.  It wasn't the best decision.  The middle of the floor was thick
with bodies.  Someone took her hand.
   "What?" She snapped at him over the thump of a Seabound remix.  She
didn't have time for flirty bullshit.
   He led her through the crowd.  People moved out of his way, probably
because he was taller.  Didn't matter.  They were less of an obstacle, and
that worked in her favor.  Maybe she could get a couple free drinks out of
him.
   The lighting in this place was worse than minimal.  The black lights
caused a strange glow from the few reactant surfaces.  The bar had a single
runner that glowed a bluish green.  No one seemed to be taking advantage of
the light by wearing any white or neon.
   Was this some kind of trend?  What if this place was a drug den?  People
could be getting high in this near darkness, passing out, cutting lines.
   She collided with a couple on the floor more than a few times.  People
seemed to just show up suddenly in front of her.  Lydia eased closer to her
escort before she ended up getting in a fight.
   She bobbed her head as Assemblage 23 played.  The music in this place
was decent.  Any other day she would have been dancing, losing herself to
the driving beat.  Maybe later, maybe another place.  She'd just end up
stepping on someone or getting robbed.  Everyone looked like they were
wearing black.  At least she could pretend to fit in with her blue jeans
and navy blue blouse.
   The bar!  At last!  She hopped up on the available bar stool and looked
to her escort.
   So, this was what it meant to have her breath taken away.  He was much
darker skinned than she figured given the other patrons, tall, strong jaw,
nicely dressed.
   She jerked back just as he leaned in to speak to her.
   What was that for?
   He didn't seem bothered by her reaction.  "Why did you come here?"
   He smelled male, delicious.  Fucking pheromones.  She didn't have time
for this googly-eyed nonsense.  Her body didn't care about her mood.  The
biological imperative to fuck filtered past her wall of hate and caused
hard and calcified insides to flutter and melt.  She couldn't rationalize
her reaction or put a source to it, but she wanted him to bend her double.
   Disgust and disapproval transformed his face.  Did he think she was
looking for drugs?  Did he think she was was a police officer?
   Lydia almost laughed at the thought.  As if.
   That wasn't it at all.  She just wanted a drink to drown her anger.
   Fuck.  He smelled so good.  He stood beside her stool and her head
tilted just a few millimeters and rested on his body.  She stalled in her
answer for another lungful of his sexiness.  Just one more.
   She wasn't a fucking druggy.  "I just want a something strong and,"
male, "alcoholic." She detected the swell of pectoral muscles.  "Why do you
care?"
   Damn, Lydia.  How about thanking him for walking you to the bar first?
   His look of disdain deepened.  Now he seemed as angry as she had felt
coming here.
   Yes, anger.  That was what she should have been feeling.  Where did that
get to?
   Aha!  Found it!
   Lydia grabbed the bar and pulled away from him.  The golden-haired, slim
bartender was serving people left and right, working the long bar by
himself.  He mixed, poured, and served like a machine.  The bar was barely
lit more than the rest of the club, but her eyes were beginning to adjust.
   He served a drink on either side of her, but he didn't acknowledge her
presence, leaning forward, staring, waiting.
   She tried lifting her brows, even waving her hand.  With a groan of
frustration she slammed her hand on the bar.  "Barkeep!"
   He gave her with a boyish smirk.  Devilish little bastard.  Look at him,
all beautiful and arrogant and perfect looking.  He's probably somebody's
twink at home.
   The impish grin on the bartender's face fell.
   "Why did you come to the Umbra?"
   Lydia couldn't believe that guy was still standing there.  What was his
problem?  "What?"
   "You're in the Umbra.  Why did you come here?"
   "I told you already: to drink.  Thank you for walking me to the bar. 
You can go now." One of the low lights in the club passed over his face
and, for a moment, she saw a spark of light.  It was a cool effect.  She
couldn't tell if his hair was brown or black, but it definitely had a soft
curl to it, seemed thick.
   The pretty bartender set two gorgeous, etched highball glasses down and
took off without any mention of payment.
   Lydia's overbearing companion took one for himself and pushed the other
over to her.  "You don't belong here.  Drink and leave."
   "I decided when to show up; I'll decide when I leave." Lydia hadn't
placed an order, but she wouldn't turn down a free drink.  She chugged the
ice-free beverage and set the empty glass down on the bar.
   Damn that was delicious.  They didn't skimp on the liquor here.  She
looked around the club, trying to see what was going on.  When people
looked back at her it seemed to be with bald perverted lust or disgust.
   What was wrong with these people?
   "Want another?" He asked as if taunting her.
   If he's paying, might as well.  "Yes."
   He motioned to the pretty-tender.  A different type of drink showed up
in a pair of long-stemmed glasses.  He pulled her drink away and scowled.
"You don't want this."
   "Yes, actually, I do."
   The bartender snorted as he prepared another drink order.
   Lydia knocked the drink back.  She came here to get drunk and the
stronger the poison, the better.
   Mr.  Handsome sighed and drank from his glass.
   Fuck yes!  Whatever that was had teeth to it.  Finally.
   She opened her mouth to thank the bartender, but her tongue got caught
on her lips.  That felt so good, her wet tip on her upper lip, that tingle.
Wet, warm, bumpy.  She licked her lips in a slow circle, savoring the
sensation.  Her tongue felt so thick, textured, like a kiss, so sensual
and....
   Her eyes went wide and her mouth snapped shut.
   Whoa, what the fuck was that about?
   De/Vision's electric pulses seemed to touch her body.  Each bass drop
penetrated her muscles, the higher bits caressed her brain.  The music was
a wave and her body, a pool of water.
   That delicious male smell of evergreen and sandalwood filled her
awareness.  She turned and wrapped her arms around him, clung to him. 
Yeah, she could use that dance floor now.
   He supported her as they walked, then carried her.  They weren't at the
bar, but didn't seem to be headed for the dance floor.
   Where were they going?  Why was she letting him hold her like a toddler?
   -_ Inquisition _-
   Sharp pin prick on her back.
   Lydia flinched, but she didn't escape the pain.  Fabric restrained her
wrists.  She wriggled her legs.  Each ankle felt bound by the same method.
She was face down on cold stone, spread in an X.
   Light flickered on the red fabric in front of her.  Distorted shadows
reflected off the folds.  She lifted her head and saw only a wall, the
other side was another wall.
   She couldn't get her body up to see behind her and couldn't angle her
head to look over her shoulder.
   The fear churned in her belly and nausea followed.  Thick, slick saliva
pooled in her mouth.  There were shadows on the wall, but she couldn't see
what made them.  The light moved closer and heat burned her left hip.
   Lydia screamed like a petulant nine year old having a tantrum in the
center of a mall.  She jerked away and scraped her hip on the hard stone
beneath her.
   What the fuck are you doing?  That's what Lydia attempted to yell, but
the words that passed her lips were more of an intoxicated slur of mumbled
indignation.
   Music: muffled, muted, dull, but still blaring.  Was she next door to
the club?
Breath on her lower back on bare skin.  The brief touch on her ass
sealed Lydia's assessment that she had been stripped naked.  She wiggled
her toes.  Even her socks were gone.
   "What is your name?" Her interrogator kissed her upper thigh.
   "Fuck you, you fucking pervert!" Her words were still slurred, but she
got her message across.
   "Do you feel the disorientation?  The fight or flight response to your
helplessness?  That's adrenaline, delicious adrenaline, swimming through
your veins.  How does it feel?" He nibbled the swell of her ass.  Each
press of his teeth tickled nerve endings and flared fresh panic.  Would he
bite?  How hard?
   Despite her efforts, Lydia could not get enough leverage to thrust back.
Unfortunate, as she aspired to break his nose with her tail bone.  Her arms
and legs were stretched just far enough to keep her from fighting him.
   "Leave me the fuck alone.  Fucking creep." Vaulted by her anger, she
continued to curse him.  His palm brushed the backs of her thighs, up her
spine, circled her shoulders.
   Was this the same prick who got her in the club?  Gave her the spiked
drink?
   Lydia stopped struggling.  "You should be ashamed of yourself.  Is this
the only way you can get a woman?  Drug her?  Your dick too tiny for
traditional methods?"
   Her heart thudded, her stomach folded in a million knots, but she wasn't
going to give him the satisfaction of knowing the extent of her terror.
   He chuckled.  "Why don't you beg me to stop?"
   "Enjoying yourself?"
   He made a high, non-committal sound.  "A little."
   Ha!  He wanted her to beg?  Fuck him.  Lydia worked her jaw.  Whatever
he'd given her was starting to wear off.  "Are we alone down here?"
   "Yes."
   "If I screamed for help, would anyone come?"
   "No one has and no one will."
   "Am I naked?"
   "Yes."
   "Are you going to hurt me?"
   "Yes."
   Lydia felt another pinch, this time cold and metallic.  Panic deepened
and gastric acid burned the back of her throat.
   She nearly gave into the idea of tears, but she let the sadness drift
off.  She squeezed her eyes shut and let her body go slack.  If he was
going to kill her, then there was nothing she could do about it.  He wasn't
playing a game with her.
   At least he was honest.
   Odd how much she respected his honestly, respected his blatant violence
over her passive aggressive ex-lovers.  He was hurting her, but he wasn't
making her scream again, not yet anyway.
   She wouldn't ask if that was his ultimate goal, to make her scream or
beg before he killed her.
   He laughed.  "You are roasting in your own fear.  As you sweat, the
pores of your skin open like a field of flowers." There was a clang of
something being set aside and his hand slid over the sweat on her back. 
"You have very healthy skin: smooth, soft.  Even damp with sweat I can feel
the soft invisible hairs.  Each of those follicles connects to nerve
endings that send information back to your brain.  That uptake is
heightened because your brain hungers for information; your survival
depends on it.  Your heart beats a frantic pace, churning those chemicals,
adding to the tension, the anxiety."
   "I don't need a fucking biology lesson."
   She flinched away from the soft thing at her cheek.
   "When you close off one sense, the others rise to make up for the lack."
The 'soft thing' was a blindfold.
   She jerked, causing pain on her upper back and shoulders.  Tears flowed,
but were soaked into the fabric he tied around her face.  Lydia sucked a
breath and held it, refusing to cry out.
   "Did someone touch you as a child?  Is this the only way you can get
off?" She struggled to keep her voice flat, unaffected.  She would not beg.
   Something prickly, stinging dripped onto her spine.  He spread it over
her back and it irritated her skin.
   Go ahead, she thought, do your worse.
   Lydia screamed and wailed as the stuff on her back caught fire.  She
smelled smoke and whimpered.  She pulled on her ties until her wrists and
ankles bruised, but the binds only tightened and her thigh muscles cramped
and jumped.  Her neck strained with tension.
   "One sense can become so painfully acute that normal sensations are
warped."
   "You're warped."
   Something clammy wiggled and slid down her back.  She must not have been
burned too badly.  She expected to feel the sting of raw skin, instead the
worm left a sticky residue in its wake.
   "Your skin is not the problem.  Skin is but a messenger.  Your
imagination fills in the information because your brain lacks appropriate
data.  It only has half the story.  That is what makes you uncomfortable."
   Oh?  This was all her fault?  Fucking rich.
   Her stomach lurched and the taste of bile joined the acid as the thing
slid over her shoulder.  Worm?  Slug?  Her throat constricted and filled
with fresh saliva.
   "The discomfort you feel goes unresolved, your imagination creates
anxiety, fear.  The brain responds, pouring more adrenalin into your
system, sweet, savory adrenalin." His voice was right in her ear, she could
feel his warm cheek next to her sweat soaked face.  "Fear has a distinct
smell, terror, a taste."
   Yeah, gastric acid.
   He dragged something sharp along her cheek.
   "I am going to enjoy you.  Stupid, ignorant, brash, and foul-mouthed as
you are." With his firm tongue, he licked from her jaw along her cheek to
her nose.
   Lydia refocused on a way to bite him.
   The cold, slimy thing touched her cheek, moved to her lips.  She cringed
and stopped breathing.  She didn't want that thing in her mouth.  She
didn't want to taste it or smell it.
   It lay there unmoving for a few seconds, then he took it away, wiped her
lips.
   For a moment there was nothing but silence, a chill over her naked body.
She shivered, but couldn't do anything to make herself warm.
   The warmth returned, his body.  A fat warmth.  He licked her shoulder,
his teeth scraped her skin.
   Weirdo lottery.  Why can't a girl just get raped and murdered?  Must she
be teased, tortured and lectured?
   "Ow." Something pinched her side then she screamed as a lash of white
hot pain sliced her ass.  "That fucking hurt you sadistic bastard!  What
the fuck is your problem?!  You think I want to be hit with a shitty little
plastic whip?  Stop it!" She screamed again, that time in rage.  She
screamed so loud it hurt her throat.  "If you don't kill me I'm going to
fucking stab you the first chance I get!  You're going to fucking die, do
you hear me?!"
   "That was true pain.  You did not need your imagination for that.  Your
brain has prepared your body to fight me or run, but you can do neither. 
You're almost delicious enough to eat." She felt his tongue where he'd
stung, shock, poked ...  whatever.  The problem was that as he licked her,
the pain faded.
   Between her sobs, Lydia said, "I hope I make a nice meal for you."
   "I've had better."
   She cried, but quietly.  Now that the 'true' pain had disappeared the
low throb of her aching muscles was worse.
   He placed something to her thigh.  "What is this?"
   She lay there, intending to ignore him, but it wasn't like she could get
away.  "Soft."
   "More specific than that."
   "Fabric, a soft fabric." It moved up her thigh, whispering, fluffy. 
"Cotton?"
   Another thing on her other thigh.  Cold, heavy, solid.  "What is this?"
   "A rock?  Cold rock."
   "What is that?"
   She screeched at the cold stab at her ankle.  "A fucking needle or
straight pin or something!"
   The next item whispered along the bottom of her left foot.
   "That tickles." She snatched her foot from side to side in an effort to
evade him.  All she managed to do was irritate the scrapes along the top of
her foot.
   He stopped and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  "Do it again.  Open your
mind, give your brain more data to work with.  Engage me.  Tell me what it
is."
   Lydia cringed away from him, but again, escape was a stupid notion. 
This was just the beginning of a long battle.  Why did her death have to
come at the hands of a sociopath?  Maybe if she played along, he'd get to
his point faster.
   "It feels like beads, plastic ones."
   He laughed and rolled something along her back.
   "Bottle?  Glass bottle."
   The disgusting thing came back.
   "A dead worm." She gagged slightly.
   "Why would I put something so unsavory against something I find so
delicious?"
   "Because you, sir, are a fucking lunatic." She was exhausted and her
whole body ached.
   "This is actually quite delicious, refreshing to taste."
   "It feels disgusting.  It feels weird, just like you, disgusting and
weird."
   A sharp sting lashed over the back of her thigh, sharp, punishing.  Was
that a whip or a belt?  It was certainly thicker than the last object. 
Sweat dripped from her body.
   "You are trying my patience."
   "Imagine how I feel," her voice was clear, but hoarse.
   He pressed the bottle to her arm.  "This is a rolling pin, not a
bottle." He snapped.  She felt heat at her side.  "That is a candle flame."
The disgusting thing slid down her cheek.  "Iced gelatin candy." When he
said it, she could almost smell it.  "This," he slapped her ass, "Is a
leather belt, but this," the pain was sharper, more unforgiving, "is
exactly what you called it: a cheap plastic whip." His words were sharp,
curt.  If he really was out of patience maybe this ordeal was nearly over
for her.
   Lydia mumbled.  "What is your name?"
   "Reju."
   Yes.  Definitely going to die.  She was too exhausted to laugh at her
predicament or his stupid name.  She jerked awake as he kissed a trail up
her back, his teeth nibbling and scraping along the way.  Did she fall
asleep?  No ...  maybe.
   "Lick your lips." He didn't sound as mean.
   She stuck her tongue out and met his.  She went through the motion of
kissing him, but there wasn't any lust.  She only felt exhaustion, pain,
and resignation.  She tasted something spicy, slightly metallic in his
mouth.
   Before she could figure out if it was a weird aftertaste, drugs, liquor,
blood, or her own brain acid 'warping' her senses, Reju pulled away and
removed the blindfold.  There was a strange spark in his iris, like maybe
some kind of shard of glass caught the light.  He didn't look disgusted,
angry, or mean, just curious.  Now her imagination warped her ability to
read expressions as well.  Maybe she was hallucinating along with
everything else.
   "Make it quick," she whispered.  "Please."
   "What is your name?"
   "Lydia."
   "Lydia, to be in this world is to experience it.  That experience is
filtered through your senses.  You have forgotten how to be in this world,
haven't you?"
   The psycho train was still on track for insane station.
   He put the blindfold back on, but untied her wrists and ankles and sat
her up on the stone slab.  She reached up, but he smacked her hands down.
He set stuff down on either side of her.
   She breathed in the scent of vanilla.  Her arms and legs were free, but
she felt drained of all the stuff that would have helped her fight or flee.
She felt lethargic, wrung dry.  Her hands and feet tingled with numbness.
   That's why he didn't get any resistance when he asked, "What is it?"
   "Vanilla."
   The next one smelled like orange juice.  "Orange." Then the stuff she
put on pasta.  "Um, oregano?" The next smell burned her nose a little, but
in a good way.  "Ginger." The other one made her nose tingle.  She managed
to answer, "Pepper," before sneezing.  The last bowl took a few tries.  It
made her think of salsa.  "It's green, an herb ...  cilantro?"
   Instead of congratulating her or correcting her he slammed the metal
container down and gripped her by the jaw.  He sounded furious as he
lectured her.  "You allow these talents to dry rot.  Even in an unrefined
state, you take your innate power for granted.  You lay here like a lamb to
slaughter when you should be a lion.  When was the last time you harnessed
your power?  When was the last time you were alive?" He snatched the
blindfold off her, his nose pressed her hers.  "When, Lydia?"
   Her jaw hurt, but that was just one more log on the fire.  Her vision
rippled as new tears filled her eyes.  "You are so fucking strange."
   "Oh, we are quite a ways from fucking or strange." His hand eased from
her jaw to the back of her neck.  "You even take breathing for granted."
His cheek brushed against hers.  The stubble on his jaw prickled her skin.
He kissed the lobe of her ear.  "I nearly killed you."
   She backed away and lifted her chin defiantly.  "What's your point? 
What are you waiting for?"
   He dropped his hands and stepped away from her.  "Good question.  I
should have left you to die.  You're not even fun."
   Next batch of adrenaline, coming right up!
   She jumped to her feet, staggered a second, then recovered enough to
walk over to him.  "Fun?!  Fuck you and your fucking idea of fun!  You
think this has been a party for me?  Finding you at the end of my shitty
fucking week?" She punched him.  Damn, he was more solid than she thought.
   "Fuck you!" She yelled the curse at the very limit of her voice.  "You
think I wanted to be drugged and stripped and tortured?  Go find someone
else!  Like I give a fuck how you get off.  Like I give a damn about your
notion of fucking fun."
   She shoved him again, but he didn't budge.  She reached up to slap him
instead.  The first one didn't seem to have much impact so she pulled back
to give it a second try.
   He caught her hand.  "You'd get a lot further if you had a fucking
biology lesson."
   "What are you blabbering about?"
   "Nerve endings." He pressed a thumb into her wrist and she screamed, her
knees buckled.
   She fell to the floor, as hard and cold as the stone table she had
jumped from.  She writhed, held up by his hand, his thumb still pressing to
an aching point on her wrist.
   "I don't care!  I don't care!  I don't want to know about skin or fear
or pressure points!  Why won't you leave me the fuck alone?  Let me go!"
   He released her and she cradled her throbbing wrist to her belly.
   As she rocked back and forth, she spotted her clothing under a
footstool. She stumbled over to them and dressed, keeping a wary eye on
him.
   He was putting the bowls away, next to his other instruments of sensual
torture.
   She snickered.  Sensual torture.
   Reju wasn't paying her any attention.
   Once her clothes were on, she walked around the enclosure, staying as
far from him as she could.  Three stone walls and the fabric covered
another wall.  She couldn't find a way around the fabric, to part or lift
it.  After walking back and forth along the wall about five times she
palmed fresh tears from her face and turned to him.  "How do I get out?"
   "Amazing.  Everything about you is perfect, healthy, vibrant, and yet
you take life for granted.  Each beat of your heart you waste your gift,
your abilities." He walked toward her and she pressed her body to the cold
wall.
   She couldn't get away.  Lydia was as good as tied to that table.
   He gently framed her face with his hands.  "Imagine if you harnessed
your senses in the same manner that you so intensely feel your emotions? 
Imagine each second being as vivid and powerful as the fear and rage
pouring into your body."
   "How do I get out?"
   "Through here." He double tapped the spot between her eyes.  "There is
no escape until you find the key."
   She'd show him rage.  Lydia punched him in his side and pushed him away.
He moved, but not because of any strength on her part.  "Out of this room!
Out of this fucking room!  How do I get out of this fucking room, you damn
freak?" She coughed and held her throat.  She needed to stop screaming.
   "Does fire burn?"
   Lydia whimpered in frustration, but she nodded.
   "Explain fire walkers.  How can something frozen burn you?"
   "Ask Google because I don't give a flying fuck."
   "You are kept prisoner by that ignorance.  You are dead inside because
of your apathy." He grabbed her by her shoulders, his grip was bruising
tight.  "Open your mind and wake up!" He bellowed.  "Stop living like a
zombie.  Take your soul off the life support."
   "I want out!" She screamed back at him.
   Screaming matches were nothing.  She did that shit all the time.  Fuck
her sore throat.  This was her wheelhouse.
   "You have the key."
   "Fucking lunatic!" She twisted out of his grasp and searched the fabric
again, surreptitiously checking her clothes for a key or a knife.  She
eased around the edge of the fabric and met a solid wall.  She felt along
it helplessly, easing between the fabric and the painted concrete.
   "There is no door."
   "Then how did you get us in here?"
   "I willed it."
   "So unwill it."
   "Under one condition."
   She growled and rejoined him in the center of her holding cell.  "What?"
   He regarded her with those rich, autumn eyes.  Pity for such good looks
to be wasted on such profound madness.  "Meet me again and I will let you
go."
   Lydia paced the small room.  She felt hot in her clothes now, stinging
and damp from sweat.  Angry, injured, embarrassed, trapped, weary and out
of options.  She looked up but she couldn't find a ceiling, the walls
continued upwards until swallowed by darkness.  Even if she got out, how
would she make it home?  "I want out of this room, away from this place.  I
want to go home."
   The corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk.  "In return?"
   She balled her hands into fists and clenched her teeth until her jaw
ached.  "Fine."
   "What is fine?  Say the words."
   "I will meet you again."
   "I look forward to it."
   -_ Leather Kink _-
   A door slammed.  Lydia groaned from under the covers.  Her head
throbbed, and her neck protested the slightest movement.
   "Where the fuck were you?"
   She pulled the covers back ...  the covers of her bed in her apartment
...  she was looking at her boyfriend.
   "Nathan?"
   "Don't Nathan me.  Where the fuck have you been?"
   "Hold on one damn second." Lydia coughed then frowned.  "Why should you
fucking care?  You're the one who kicked me out, remember?"
   "Whatever.  You stormed out because you couldn't stop bitching for five
minutes.  I came back for you and you were fucking gone.  Did you walk it
off?  You done being a brat?"
   A brat?  A brat!  She took a deep breath and coughed again.  She didn't
want to fight, not right now.  She had a grand mal hangover to deal with.
It seemed like the fighting never ended with him.  "Fuck you."
   "Spread your legs and I'll see to it." He grabbed his crotch and
massaged the trouser snake within.  "You could have had it last night if
you'd woke me up when you got in."
   How did she get in?
   Nathan's long cock was the crux of her problem.  How many headaches was
that thing really worth?  "I'd have less trouble out of a dildo."
   "Stop being a cunt and you won't need it." He mumbled it as he left her
room, probably thinking she wouldn't hear.
   She heard; she didn't care.  She rolled out of bed and stumbled to the
shower, but stalled at the sight of her reflection.  The tiny scrapes along
the front of her body.  Bruised, red, whelped, scratched.  Red rings marked
her wrists and ankles.
   She locked the bathroom door and squinted as she drew the shade on the
bathroom window.  Was that pure alcohol in those drinks?  She sat down on
the toilet and winced.  Her thighs stung as they came in contact with the
cold seat.
   She shouldn't have drank so fast.  She assumed she could trust the
bartender.  That's where she went wrong.  Maybe they weren't mixed drinks,
maybe it was a higher volume liquor.  That would explain why she blacked
out.
   No, there was more.
   Standing under the spray of the shower, she pieced her memory together.
Darkness, bad lighting, black lights, good music.  She pressed her palms to
the cool tile.  The soreness of her wrists and the feel of the soap scum
under her palms repulsed her in equal amounts.
   Gross.
   Like the gummi worm ...  cold and slick on her back.
   "Why do I always have to be the one who cleans the shower?"
   She soaped her arm.  Pine and spruce.  He smelled earthy like this, but
richer.  Man and earth.
   The soap bar clattered to the shower floor.  A man had drugged and
tortured her.  Assholes.  Surrounded by them.  She stooped down with a
wince and picked the soap back up.  Nothing about them was redeemable.  No
cock was worth it.  She lathered herself back into a fresh fury as her
memory returned.  She needed to replace the shower curtain.
   She stepped over Nathan's dirty clothes in the bedroom.
   He thought she was a brat?  He hasn't seen anything yet.
   Lydia stormed into the kitchen but no one was there.  A half empty
cereal bowl set on the counter, milk, soggy flakes and all.  Nathan's crap
everywhere.  Trash needed to be taken out.  Dishes didn't even make it to
the sink anymore.  Two people, only one earning any money and putting in
any work.
   She pulled up short at the fridge.
   The message read: 'Out.  See you later.  Buy beer.'
   "Fuck you, Nathan!" She found her pants.  The pockets had her phone,
money, and wallet.
   The sadistic asshole wasn't a thief.  Upside.
   Lydia scrolled through to Jody's number and dialed.
   She picked up on the first ring.  "Hey, Lydia.  What's up?"
   "Hey, I need your help."
   "Scale of one to ten?"
   "Ten."
   "Anything you need.  I'm here." Jody was the best kind of friend, one
that understood, one that was always there.  Jody and Lydia had been
buddies since grade school.  Sleepovers, birthdays, bitching about family,
fights over boys - the works.
   "You still got that place on Ashbury?"
   "Yes, but I'm behind on putting it on the market.  Lot's of work left to
do and not much time to do it."
   "What's left?"
   "Not too much.  Needs a good day or two of cleaning.  All the major
projects are done.  I called in a crew to run new pipes, but they left it a
mess.  Couple days of sweeping, wiping down, and I'll be ready to rent."
   "I'll take it."
   "Give me a couple days and--"
   "As is.  Now.  I'll clean it up."
   "Lydia, it's a mess.  I wouldn't feel right."
   "I'm okay with it.  Can we do this today?"
   "That bad?  You know you can stay with me."
   "I'm on the verge of being a harm to others.  You don't want me around
your family right now."
   "K, then," said Jody.  "Two hours.  Meet you at the place with the keys.
We can work out the lease later.  If you see anything of mine, put it in a
pile."
   "Perfect.  You are saving lives."
   "See you in a couple hours."
   "Sure thing.  Bye."
   Lydia wore the grin of the grinch as she put the last two pieces of
bread into the toaster and pulled out the jam.  She took the last two
bottles of beers from the fridge, opened one to drink and poured the other
down the drain.  Once she had her breakfast of toast and beer, she placed
another call to her landlord.
   "Hey Phil, Lydia here.  I'm giving notice.  Yeah, I'm moving out.  You
can have whatever is left in the apartment.  I paid you rent for next month
so you can keep it and the security deposit.  No sir, I haven't destroyed
anything.  I have a better offer." Lydia scanned the room.  "You might need
a maid, but you have enough money from me to pay for it.  Yes sir, I know,
but I need to leave and quickly." Lydia nodded and wolfed down her toast.
"Thank you, sir.  Take care."
   Brat?  She'd show him a fucking brat.
   She chuckled as she wrote her note to put beside his.  "Fuck you.  Fuck
off.  Good bye."
   She packed her suitcase and carried it and her prized possessions to her
car.
   ***
   Jody leaned on the rail of the deck as Lydia got out the car.
   "What's that?" Lydia pointed to the paper bag beside her.
   "You still having beer and toast for breakfast?"
   "What about it?"
   "Consider this your housewarming gift.  Late night?"
   Lydia grabbed the bag.  Wine and take out.  She picked out the nuggets
of orange chicken as Jody opened the door.  "Lost my patience with Nathan."
   "Did he hit you?" Jody got up close, stared at her neck.
   Lydia shook her head and took a step back.  A closer inspection would
lead to questions she couldn't answer.
   "He lost his job.  We got in a fight.  Just like him to go and ruin my
fucking vacation.  I'm sick of him.  I'm always cleaning up his shit.  He's
a damned slob." Any more and she'd have to talk about the club, being
drugged, interrogated, tortured.
   Sensual torture.
   Change the subject.  "How's Allison?"
   Jody brightened.  "Fantastic.  Richard and I have been talking about
putting her in day school.  He's been great looking after her while I'm at
work, but if he gets a call, he has to turn it down when I'm not home.  I
don't want to do that to him.  You'd think I'd suggested divorce.  Never
seen a man take to child care like him."
   "Lucky."
   Jody grinned.  "Yeah, I am." She gestured to the house.
   "You were right." Lydia slowed down and rolled the bag shut.  The place
needed some major work, but at least it wasn't filthy.  The place would
stay clean when she went to work.  "I'll clean it up."
   "Nathan was a slob when you met him.  You said, and I quote..."
   Lydia nodded and quoted herself along with Jody, "I don't mind cleaning
up behind a cock that nice." She shook her head and grabbed her luggage
from the trunk.  "That was stupid of me." She rolled her eyes at Jody's
no-shit expression.
   "If you're going to stay here, don't have any room mates until we get a
lease signed."
   "Yes, madam." Lydia opened her hand for the keys.
   "Call me if you need to talk." Jody pulled her into a hug and kissed her
on the cheek.
   Lydia held her breath to avoid crying out.  Her back was sore.  "I will.
Promise."
   She toured the house after Jody pulled away.  It was a 'quaint' house,
as a real estate agent would say.  Two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen,
laundry room.  Unsuitable for a family, but just right for her.
   After a good wipe down, she perched on the edge of the counter and
poured herself a glass of red wine.  The orange chicken came back out and
she actually used the fork instead of her hands.  Chunks of chicken, a
little wine.  She ate and drank in fuming silence.
   She was angry, angry that her constant arguing with Nathan had driven
her out of her own apartment.  Now she was alone.  Whose fault was it? 
Hers for being angry?  Hers for attracting such raging assholes into her
life?
   Truth was, she was addicted to the rush of power, the self righteous
expansion, the thrill of yelling.  She'd never been in a physical fight
before.
   He didn't fight fair.
   'Imagine if your senses were as strong as your emotions.'
   Her sardonic laugh echoed off the bare walls.  So she was a bitch.  So
what?  She wouldn't be Nathan's bitch anymore.  No cooking.  No cleaning.
No free rent.  No.
   There wasn't any room for him, not now.
   But there was room.  Vacancy.  Inquire Within.
   She poured a second glass, polished off the last of the chicken.
   That night, in the club, in the darkness.  Alcohol, or something else?
If she hadn't met Reju, she wouldn't have left that lazy bastard Nathan
behind.
   Hardly worth a thanks, but whatever.  It was a good move.
   She huffed and swirled the last bit of wine in the glass.  She brought
the glass to her nose and inhaled.  Corky, acrid, tangy.  Premium vintage
cheap ass wine.
   She snorted.
   'Each breath a waste ...  taking life for granted.'
   Abilities?  What abilities was he talking about?  What's wrong with
feeling sad or angry at the flip of a switch?  What woman didn't?  That was
normal behavior.  Women were emotional basket cases.  No shame in owning
it, right?
   She set the empty glass down.  There was enough wine in the bottle for
one more.
   He made her feel more than anger.  She felt phantom pain, true pain,
fear, anxiety, revulsion, sadness.
   Who needs to feel all that bullshit in one fucking night?
   Lust.
   Not quite.  He was handsome, but something about being a potential
murder victim kept that from going anywhere.
   She emptied the wine into her glass and stretched out on the counter. 
Goodness help her, even after all that bullshit, she still found him
handsome.  He probably stood somewhere over six feet.  He never did molest
her.  At least he didn't while she was awake.  Psycho man was intriguing
and different.  That was all.  She was traumatized by the experience.  This
was some kind of survivor's shock.
   Lydia wanted to hit something.  She imagined throwing the wine bottle
across the room, listening to it shatter in a thousand pieces ...  cutting
her foot when she decided to get down from the kitchen counter.
   Still.  She wanted to punch something, make it bruise, watch it bleed.
   She wanted to feel.  She loved to feel it - anger.
   'Imagine each second being as vivid and powerful...'
   "Fuck him!" She snarled to the empty house.  "Fuck all of them!" She
drank the last of her 'celebratory' wine with an ugly scowl.
   Lydia made a promise.  If she was going to keep it then she'd need
something in black.  A quick inventory of her suitcase didn't offer any
good choices.
   New clothes.
   She could take her hair down and twist it.  See if they stare and laugh
at her this time.
   Lydia chuckled as she hopped off the counter.
   Was she really doing this?
   She'd agreed though, hadn't she?  What was life without risks?  Nothing.
Half dead.  She balanced on one foot then the other, touched the tip of her
nose.  Yeah.  She was good.  She snatched up her keys and left the house.
   ***
   The shopping excursion took longer than expected.  Lydia knew what she
wanted, but she had a problem finding a store that carried it - and clothes
that fit.  She had a great body, but it wasn't an 'off the rack' kind of
body, more like 'off the fucking chain' - to quote her dearly beloathed
ex-boyfriend Darren.
   A few hours after sunset, she stepped out in her banded black skirt,
knee-high black leather boots, and a skin tight ribbed tee.  The girls were
a little high and tight, but it was going to be too dark in there anyway.
She left her car at home and took a cab to the "Umbra House." It was the
only kind of business by that name and that was the part of town near her
disastrous dinner date.
   Unfortunately, the listing didn't say what kind of business Umbra House
conducted.  Weird.
   Lydia usually kept her hair in a bun but she took the extra half hour to
moisturize and twist her long hair.  She could feel the ends swishing
against her back.  She pulled a few of her twists to the front to cover her
cleavage.  The tee was cut low enough to show off the bounty of cleavage
created by her 'fireworks' bra.
   Too late for second thoughts.  Once she was inside she'd blend in.
   She loved the way her boots sounded on the metal stairwell.  She stood
before the same bouncer from last night, the ogre that barred her way, but
tonight he gave her a predatory smile as he let her through.  His eyes
looked sunken, almost black.
   She wanted to point a flash light on in his face and scream, 'See,
Lydia? Nothing to be afraid of!'
   There were other ways to create a mood rather than create a safety
hazard with dim light.
   Mister Ogre didn't say a word about a cover fee.  Maybe it was ladies'
night.
   She walked around the dance floor this time.  All she could see were
bodies, a mass of indistinct people.  When a blue track-light zipped over
the crowd her heart rate picked up.
   She was in a club that took pride in being dark as a fucking haunted
house.  Small wonder about her heightened anxiety.
   What did terror taste like anyway?  What a freak.  How was she going to
find him in this place?
   Fuck it.  Fuck him.  She knew where to find the bar.
   She crowd-dodged her way to an empty stool.
   "You're without the bodyguard tonight, princess."
   "Princess?" Though the bartender had meant the word as an insult, Lydia
smiled.  It was nice to be noticed.  "I don't have guards, m'lord."
   "That's music to my ears." The man had a thick voice.  He blatantly
stared into her cleavage.
   She ignored the swollen bastard in favor of pretty boy.  "Vodka sour,
m'lord."
   He grinned, perhaps even blushed as he pulled the vodka and pointed to
the far end of the bar.
   Lydia shrugged off the leering sleaze and walked over to the edge of the
bar.  She hopped on the empty stool there.
   "You can't be in here without a sponsor unless you're suicidal." The
bartender explained.
   A sex bar?  She didn't smell sex.  She didn't see anyone with whips or
silver studs.  That wasn't saying much.  Maybe this place had secret
dungeons for their deviant fantasies?
   That stone cell with its stone bed.  Red fabric.  No one heard her
screaming her throat raw.  Ugh.  Disgusting.
   Gooseflesh rose over her arms.  She had the place pegged as a goth bar,
but a straight fetish bar?  That was worse.  Nothing about her screamed
top, so she'd have to fake it.
   "I don't need a man to watch my back."
   "I can sponsor her." She didn't have to look at him.  She knew it was
the same lug with the thick voice.
   Lydia pushed back against him using the bar for leverage, but he didn't
budge.  No wonder she was so quick to come back to this hell hole.  They
were overcapacity on domineering pricks.
   His thick fingers reached around and squeezed her breast.
   Just like those prison movies.  Don't show weakness.
   Lydia turned and traced her finger nails down his chest, over the swell
of his belly and onto his trousers.  Big man, she noticed as she sought
lower, but no prize winner.  She grabbed his balls and squeezed with all
the strength she could muster.
   His face, even by the club light, was pure comedic gold.
   "Don't fucking touch me you low life pervert.  Fuck off and leave me
alone!"
   His eyes flared a brilliant gray steel color that was simply inhuman,
impossible.  No trick of light, no pair of contacts could turn an iris into
a glowing crystal.
   Snatched around, she stared up into a pair of rust red eyes framed by
thick black hair.
   Oh.  Him.  Hello gorgeous.
   "What are you doing?"
   "He was groping me.  I taught him a lesson."
   "Put your bitch on a leash." The man growled behind her.
   Lydia decided to get out of the way and got back on her stool.
   Reju's eyes sparked like glints of dark fire as he swung.  His punch
connected solidly with the other man's face causing him to stumble
backward. A fight, right in front of her.  She backed up closer to the bar
and considered crawling over it.  Her face didn't need to catch one of
those blows by mistake.  They were really laying into each other.  And
still standing!
   "If you knew she belonged to me then you knew you had this coming."
   A stream of flame, blindingly bright, arced right over her head and
between Reju and the other guy.  They jumped apart.
   Lydia covered her face with her hands.  Damn, that was bright.  Is that
what passed for crowd control?  Blind everyone?
   "First warning," the bartender said behind her.
   The music and conversation continued as if a stream of fucking fire did
not just fly over her head.  She could still see it in her after image, the
white-yellow flow of flame.
   Odd that it was such a bright color, must have been a gas powered flame
thrower.  She eased a hand up to the top of her head.  Nothing felt hot or
melted.  What if she had been burned?
   Why were they arguing over her like a possession?  Emancipation
Proclamation much?
   "Give me your hand," said Reju.
   She wasn't sure if her eyes were ready to help her find the exit, so she
took it.
   -_ Night Blooms _-
   The breath whooshed out of Lydia's lungs as her back slammed into a
wall. Reju grabbed her ass and hefted her to his furnace of a body.  She
squealed, but didn't struggle too hard for fear of falling.  They were
still in The Umbra House.  The lyrics to Chrome by VNV Nation vibrated the
walls.  Soft blue light surrounded them.
   Reju invaded her mouth with his kiss.  He was the one holding her up, so
she didn't fight him.  He smelled good; he felt good; he got her away from
that asshole.  Damn if he wasn't a great kisser as well.
   Ah, the aphrodisiac of jealousy.  She would have smiled if his tongue
wasn't so far in her mouth.  The kiss was aggressive, urgent.  He had firm
lips, full and soft.  He licked her bottom lip and sucked it into his
mouth. She whimpered and the first gush of liquid pooled between her
thighs. He bit her lip, hard, and her moan morphed into a pained whimper,
but he didn't let her reaction stop him.  Her mouth filled with blood, but
he sucked it out with his kiss.
   She moaned and ground her hips onto his cock.
   'You're bleeding into his mouth!  Gross!  Are you really turned on by
this?'
   'Yes.  Damn it.  Leave him be.  This kiss is fucking awesome, stinging
lip and all.'
   He sucked on her lip and the hand on her neck slid under her shirt, over
her breast.  She wondered if he could feeling her heart pounding like a
manic, happy-hardcore drum beat.  His hand turned and reached into her bra.
He pinched her hardened nipple and she gasped into their bloody kiss.
   He pulled her breast free of her bra, and she stiffened momentarily. 
She looked around, but all she could see were walls and a door.  Were they
in a closet or something?  He'd right hook anyone that tried to touch her.
Lydia relaxed as his hungry mouth licked, sucked, and nibbled along her
neck until he took her nipple in his mouth.
   Reju was unpredictable, crazy, violent, and oh so delicious.  How could
a girl like her resist?
   Her legs tightened around his hips, pulled him tight.  She combed her
fingers into his thick hair and let the sounds in the back of her throat
rise unfettered.  His hair was thicker than she thought, satin soft.  With
a low groan his teeth tugged at her nipple.  The sound and the pain sent
floods of liquid into her panties.
   "Pain makes you feel alive," he murmured.  He released her nipple and
bit her neck.  The heat of him became as present as the pain.  Lydia had
never been bitten before, never understood people who liked that sort of
thing.  She still didn't.  For a second there it really hurt, but then ...
his tongue flicked over the wound and her hips gyrated like those of a
wanton whore.
   Who was crazier?  Her or him?
   Lydia didn't care.  She wanted it, wanted him.
   She moaned her confession.  "I want you." She rested her head on his
shoulder while he sucked on her throat.  There would be a huge hickey there
tomorrow, but she didn't have work or have to share her home with anyone.
Who was going to see it?  No one.
   He pulled away from her and she shivered.  Her toes and fingers felt
chilly.  Her lips felt a little cold as well, she pressed them to his
chest. She'd be his kinky little submissive if that's what he wanted. 
She'd surrender for his deliciousness and warmth and sexiness.  Rebound sex
was just the thing she needed, the perfect icing on the shit cake that had
been her week.
   His tongue licked the spot where he'd bitten her.  His voice sounded
rough, raspy as he said, "Let's get a drink." He lowered her leg, the one
that had been holding her up.  She used the wall to support herself until
her feet remembered how to do the job.
   "Okay." She wished they would have just finished against the wall.  It
wasn't that uncomfortable.  It felt better than when he bit her.  It
wouldn't have taken her long, turned on as she was.  They exited the dark
room and emerged into the strains of Front 242 pouring through the
speakers.
   He perched her onto a stool and signaled the bartender.
   He set down an orange-cranberry looking concoction and reached forward
to brush one of her twists behind her shoulder.  She barely muttered her
protest when he pressed onto her neck.  It must have been a hell of a
bruise because his touch fucking hurt.
   Lydia glared at the bartender only to see him turning a similar look to
Reju.  The bartender's eyes seemed brighter, like a golden brown topaz
through his long golden brown lashes.  "Don't play with your prey.  Take
her or let her go."
   "She wants it." He pushed the drink over to her.  It was the same color
from last night, the extra strong one, long stemmed glass.
   Lydia traced the rim of the glass.  "What is this?"
   "Strong." He said with a smirk.  "Like you want."
   Her belly flipped at his words.  Fuck yeah, she wanted it.
   "Be careful, princess.  If you want to leave, just ask me, and I'll make
sure you get out of here."
   "Fuck off, pretty boy." Lydia reached for the drink and knocked it back.
   "Does she even know what she so-called 'wants'?"
   "Like the woman said, fuck off, Ashton."
   Pretty boy had a pretty name to match.  "Take her or release her, but
neglect her and I'm going to come after you."
   "Don't worry, Ash.  If I make a mess, I'll make sure you're around to
clean up."
   The rest of their exchange faded into a blur as the strange drink worked
its magic.  She stumbled into Reju.  It was probably just pure alcohol with
a dash of something for color.  The drink didn't burn like alcohol.  It
bubbled and ...  and what if it wasn't alcohol, but drugs?  What if that
was how the drug den distributed their high?
   Why did that revelation feel familiar?
   Reju put his arm around her.  His voice rumbled low through his chest.
It sounded better than the throw back Skinny Puppy playing overhead.  She
stared blankly at the people on the dance floor.
   She couldn't keep track of any single body.  People moved like ghosts,
shifted under the lights, twirling and bobbing to the music.  It was a nice
effect.  Unnerving, but also calm, private.  She discovered an appreciation
for the Umbra's creepy atmosphere.  Shadows were impenetrable, the
darkness, a security blanket.
   "You are beautiful," his voice purred.
   She wrapped her drug heavy arms around his neck and pulled him toward
her.  They kissed in front of Ashton and anyone else that could see.  He
tasted delicious.  Lydia eased her tongue into his mouth, trying to
identify the flavor.
   She rolled her head back with a gasp.  "Cayenne, cloves."
   "What is that?"
   "You."
   He grinned, picked her up, and cradled her to his chest.  "We're
leaving."
   She waved Ashton, the pretty boy, a fare well as she was once again
cradled like a babe in arms.  He felt solid, broad, and smelled of
expensive cologne.  Lydia couldn't wait to feel his naked flesh next to
hers.  She didn't know where they were going, but she was going to be happy
to be there: cemented block under the club, closet, parking lot, dingy
bedroom.  She wasn't picky.
   Story of her life.  She chuckled.
   Outside the club the air was crisp and clear, he paused and stared down
into her blissed out face.  "Very beautiful.  The moonlight looks gorgeous
on your skin."
   She blushed.  What was the flattery for?  She wasn't going to change her
mind.  She was more than ready for him.  Previous crimes forgiven, time to
get on with the show.
   "Close your eyes, Lydia." He kissed each closed eye with his luscious
warm lips.  She was soon cursing her foolishness as a blindfold tightened
over her face.  The last time he blinded her it didn't end so well.  She
tightened her grip on his body, tried not to show him how frightened she
felt.
   He rubbed his nose to hers.  "Trust me."
   No problem.  Not that she had much choice or that he'd done anything to
make him untrustworthy.
   The fear of being forced to trust had a thrill and a sobering effect. 
The drugged stupor faded with each damp, chilled, breath.  Memories from
the night before came back - burning, stinging, pinching.
   'Pain makes you feel alive.'
   No, no it didn't.  She didn't agree when he said that, right?
   She felt motion, sudden movement like a lurch, like she was in a drag
racing car, but without the rush of wind or roar of an engine.  Just as
suddenly the sensation ended with another lurch.
   He set her down on a cool bench, but she could still feel his body near
hers.  Lydia put a hand to his thigh, just to make sure he was there.
   "What do you smell?"
   She inhaled deeply.  The air was thick with sweetness.  "Flowers. 
Jasmine, I think."
   He moved and something tickled her nose.  "And this?"
   "A rose."
   He chuckled.  "This?"
   "Um, white ma-magnolia?"
   "Good.  And this?"
   "Green.  I can't." She shook her head.
   "Crush it."
   She fumbled to find his arm, her fingers soaked in the feel of his skin,
the tickle of hair on his arm as she found his hand.  She squeezed the
leaves and the woodsy dark green scent filled her nostrils.  "Sage."
   He wrapped her in his arms and whispered.  "The fragrance of a flower is
its siren song.  Begging to be given new life, much like you."
   "Me?"
   "I can smell how much you want it." His breath warmed her cheek.
   She parted her lips in expectation of a kiss and received fermented rye.
She flinched away, wiped her mouth.  "What the fuck is that?"
   He pulled her hand away and held it tight.  "You tell me."
   It was bitter, burned.  "Bourbon.  Shitty bourbon."
   "No." He put more on her lips.
   "Whiskey, then.  Fuck."
   "Very good.  Your ability to taste is nothing without your sense of
smell.  Now open wide and remember to breathe in."
   She opened, but not wide enough.  There was silence between them until
she finally opened as wide as he wanted.  Sweet, warm liquid entered her
mouth, ran over her lip to her chin.  She clamped her mouth down to hold
the fluid and nearly choked when his tongue licked it up from her neck and
chin.
   The taste was slightly alcoholic, nearly overpowering.  He kissed the
syrupy liquid from her mouth and his self-satisfied chuckle flowed over
her. "What is it?"
   "Liqueur?"
   "What kind, Lydia?"
   "Honey ...  caramel apple?"
   He removed the blindfold with a smirk.  "Well done."
   She looked around and noticed they were in the center of the Crystal
County Botanical Garden.  How did they get here?  She couldn't see anyone.
The main lights were out.  Misters sprayed water on the rows of flowers
behind them.
   The operating lights were far more than the club had to offer.  Reju had
black hair.  He wore a well-fitted black button down shirt and slacks.  His
sleeves were rolled up to the elbow.  She moved to straddle him and he
helped by lifting her as if she weighed nothing.
   Snuggled close to him, she looked down at the elaborate blooms on the
ground floor.  She took slow deep breaths and identified the flower by
smell: the violets, the gardenias, the lilacs.  Each breath revealed
another note.  Lydia had been to the botanical gardens twice before and had
never realized how thick the air was with so many different fragrances.
His was the best smell.  She turned her face into his neck and took a
deep breath of his earthy richness.  Her vaginal walls clenched in
agreement.  He felt perfect under her.  She was going to remember this
night for sure, filled with ridiculous hallucinations and enchantment.
   Lydia parted her lips and licked his neck, kissed her way up to his
cheek, over to his lips.  His breath on her nose while she sucked on his
bottom lip.  He held her tighter, parted his lips, and his tongue slid
along hers.  They kissed in silence for several minutes before her hands
became insistent.  She reached for the edge of his shirt, pulled it up and
felt his belly.  He had a line of soft hair rising from his groin.
   He reached for the ends of her shirt, pulled it overhead, and imprisoned
her arms behind her.  He unhooked her bra and it fell into her lap.  Her
nipples stiffened to hard points in the cool air.
   His laugh was sharp and derisive as he looked over her heavy breasts. 
"Describe it."
   "Asshole."
   "What do you feel?"
   "Humiliated."
   He leaned forward and his kisses were tender, loving.  Her belly
fluttered and her pussy ached for more.  He kissed his way from her
shoulder to her ear with soft, careful touches.
   "No, darling.  Explain the cold touching what was once warm, exposing
what was once covered.  What is your skin telling you?"
   "That I'm cold!"
   "Pretend I don't know what that word means.  Describe it."
   Games again.  With a deep sigh she concentrated on her skin.
   "All of my pores are tight.  I feels uncomfortable.  My spine feels
tense, my whole body is tense.  It feels like each muscle wants to contract
at the same time.  I'm not enjoying this.  I'm cold, damn it.  I'm cold
when I want to feel warm.  I want to fuck you or can't you tell?"
   Reju lifted her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth.  She
squealed as his tongue circled the hard bud.  The tingle in her clitoris
intensified as he applied greater pressure.  He sat back and covered her
breast with his hand.  His rich red-brown eyes focused on hers.  "How did
that compare?"
   "Warm, wet, firm, a little ticklish."
   "And?"
   He had to be the single weirdest person she'd ever met.
   "Your muscles?"
   "They, um, they relaxed.  I was so focused on what you were doing that I
forgot about being cold."
   "Did it stop being cold?"
   She frowned.  "In ...  I don't ...  in my mind, I guess it did."
   He pulled her shirt off the rest of the way and set her clothes on the
bench.
   Lydia slapped him hard across the cheek.  She held her hand up to his
face.  "A stinging warmth, needle-like pinpricks all over my palm.  It
hurts, but the satisfaction dulls that pain."
   He leaned his head to side and chuckled.  It was such a low sound that
she felt the laugh rather than heard it.  He used his whole body, his
shoulders bounced with his mirth.  "You are a majestic little dragon."
   She flinched when he raised his hands, but he only rubbed her arms to
ward off the chill.
   "Atmosphere is relative.  Your heart is beating faster.  You're warmer.
What you experienced as chilly is now refreshing and welcome."
   She huddled closer to his furnace of a body.  Refreshing and welcome was
an understatement.
   "You aren't afraid I'll react in kind?"
   "Aren't you?" Lydia said.
   "Meaning?"
   "I'll strip you, watch your balls turn blue and ask you to describe the
pain."
   He laughed into her neck and kissed her.
   Yeah, he bruised her there back at the club.  But where was the bruise?
   She bit him on the neck, hard, sucked on his skin until her own lips
tingled.  "That is reacting in kind.  Do you like it?  Does it turn you on?
Does it make your adrenaline flow?  Does it make you want to hurt me or
fuck me?"
   He grabbed her by the hips and pressed her to his erection.  "Yes, yes,
yes, and both." He moaned with a deep satisfaction.  "I like this fight in
you."
   "You make me crazy.  I've never bitten a guy before." She fingered the
patch of red skin.  There hadn't been enough suction to bruise him back.
   "It makes me enjoy you more." There was something to his voice, a
hesitation.
   "And?"
   "You are so delicious."
   She licked his neck and worked her way along the slight stubble of his
jaw to his lips.  "You're delicious, too." Another light kiss, their
tongues flicked against each other.  "No, I will not describe it."
   "Are you still cold?"
   "No.  Why?"
   "Your nipples are as hard as little rocks."
   She buried her face into his neck with a smile.
   "I can feel the heat between your legs, a fount of fresh lava.  I could
spend hours eating you up." He pulled her head back.  "Do I make you
uncomfortable?"
   "Oh, not at all," Lydia exaggerated in a sing-song voice.  "I hardly
know you and yet I'm sore and aching from head to toe because of you. 
Actually, I don't know anything about you.  I don't know your last name.  I
don't know where you live or how to call you.  You're completely unhinged,
and yet you make me feel confident, daring, afraid.  You make me," Her eyes
watered, but she didn't look away from him.  Somewhere along the line she'd
gone from mocking him to praising him.  "You confuse me.  I've never been
so confused in my life."
   He rubbed the tip of his nose to hers.  "Disorientation forces you to
wake up, take notice of your surroundings."
   "Use my senses," she rolled her eyes.
   "Yes." He traced S-curls up and down her back.
   "What color do you call your eyes?"
   "Red."
   She put her nose right up to his, peered at his iris.  "How do you make
them glow?"
   "That's a genetic thing."
   "That's so awesome.  I bet they look like fireflies in the sunlight."
   "Maybe." Reju flicked his tongue along her lips.  "My last name is
Augur. I prefer to be summoned via computer rather than phone.  You can
email me if that will make you happy."
   "It will," she smirked.
   "Tell me your address."
   "L underscore Volkova at gmail dot com." She stared at his lips, wanting
to kiss him again, taste him.  Just the thought made her belly do a
somersault.
   He cradled the back of her neck and kissed her as if reading her
desires. She could become used to this.  He tasted spicy, intoxicating. 
Her hips ground to his, she wrapped her arms tight around him and he
squeezed her back.  They kissed until she had to gasp for air.
   "Can we ...  go somewhere indoors?"
   He grabbed her shirt and bra.  "Hold tight."
   Thinking he was going to stand, she wrapped her arms tight around him,
then loss consciousness.
   -_ Silence _-
   Lydia woke ground level with a white marble floor.  The mattress was far
more comfortable than she expected from a discount futon.  She felt
peaceful and relaxed, the house was the perfect temperature, which was odd,
because she remembered there being a draft.  Moving out of that shit
apartment was such a good move.
   The candle flame did a pathetic job in such a spacious room.  The wall
in front of her looked black but it could have been blue, dark brown,
purple, or green.
   Black?  Candle?  Warm?  Marble floor?!
   Lips and breath played along the side of her neck.  Fingers caressed her
thigh.  The simple act fully woke her up and turned her on.
   They had been at the botanical gardens.  She didn't go home; she wasn't
at Jody's house.
   Lydia relaxed, let him play with her body.  Her wrists and ankles
weren't bound, so that was a step up in their relationship.  He didn't seem
to be in a rush, so she wasn't.  She could be in the here and now without
questions or expectations.
   Twenty seconds passed and she was done with the unquestioned here and
now.
   Where is here?
   "Where are we?"
   "You're with me."
   She turned over to face him.  That lone candle wasn't doing much for the
room, but it made Reju's warm brown skin look delicious.  She didn't care
about the color of the walls anymore.  "How did we get here?"
   "You are capable of so much more," said Reju.
   "More what?"
   "Sensation."
   She snorted.  "Give it to me." She put on her best lusty grin.
   "Communicate non-verbally.  Explore other ways to express yourself."
   She sighed and rolled onto her back.  That was non-verbal for 'when are
we going to stop playing games, you crazy handsome bastard.' She smacked
her lips and pointed to her open mouth.
   He chuckled and after a bit of movement, presented her with a glass of
water.  The crisp cool water felt good.  She didn't realize how warm it was
in the room.
   He walked to the far end of the room and she could only make him out a
shadow in the dark.  The sight unsettled her and the momentary fear flared
in her mind.  It was as if her brain registered him as a monster.  The
sensation was so sudden that she stopped breathing.  Was this what he meant
by the brain filling in the gaps?
   Reju rejoined her on the low mattress and stretched onto his back.  The
candle light washed over him and Lydia smirked knowing that soon they would
hot and sweaty together.  He was still dressed and she wanted to fix that.
She reached over and unbuttoned his shirt.  There was no one to fear.  It
was just him, Reju, her weird sociopathic ...  boyfriend?  Lover?
   Why not?  She had a vacancy.
   She traced his face with her fingertips.  The strong cut of his shaven
jaw, those luscious firm lips.  He had thick brows, healthy skin.  He
looked exotic, feral.  She cupped his face with her hands and brushed the
tip of her thumb along his nose.  She pulled his shirt open and continued
the inspection of his broad slightly furred chest.  Her hands brushed down
his torso, over his hips.  She kissed her thumb and forefinger together.
   Magnifico!  She grinned.
   His laughter broke the silence.  "Finish your water and we'll take it
further."
   She upended the glass in her hand before handing it back to him.  "How?"
   "All of your senses communicate information to your brain.  Reverse the
flow.  Use your brain to communicate through your senses.  Pain and
discomfort are indications of dislike.  Pleasure is enjoyable, something
you want.  Communicate, to me, what you do and do not like.  Positives and
negatives."
   Lydia felt the first tendrils of frustration but played along.  His
games had been a bit of fun, if severely weird.  Hopefully when he finished
toying with her, he'd do something about the liquid heat between her
thighs.
   He reached for something beside the bed and brandished a pair of ear
plugs.
   She shook her head and inched back from him.
   Reju held her down and pinched the skin on her side with a punishing
twist.
   "Stop it!" She shrieked and fell back on the mattress.  She didn't want
to pull away for fear of making the pain worse.
   He stopped, but kept a firm grip on her shoulders.  "Did that indicate
my displeasure to you?"
   She took his hand and kissed it.
   He put the ear plugs in and plunged her into silence.
   No fair.  She wore her most petulant frown and rubbed her fists to her
eyes.
   He grinned.
   She reached for the inside of his forearm and pinched him.
   He hooked his thumb into the waist of his pants and glanced at her.
   She nodded.
   His brows drew together and he scowled at her.
   Something better than nodding.  She could almost hear his voice in her
head instructing her to find another way.
   She eased forward and kissed him.  She was afraid, trembling, and near
tears.  The spot where he pinched her stung.  She didn't want any more
bruises or whelps.
   He pushed her back by the shoulders and cocked his head to the side.
   She reached up and caressed her breasts, pulled on her nipples and
looked down at his pants.
   He pointed to her skirt and then folded his arms.
   Why did she have to get naked first?  She rose onto her knees and
flicked his ear.  It was a much better move than the bird she would have
flipped him.
   He reacted with a broad grin and turned to kiss her palm.  His hands
cupped the back of her head and he smothered her with a passionate kiss. 
He was so confusing, and hot, and scary, and sexy.
   Reju grabbed her legs and flipped her onto her back.  He tugged her
skirt and panties off then turned her onto her stomach.
   Lydia couldn't hear or see him now and that sent her into a panic.  She
couldn't touch him to pinch him, couldn't speak to curse him.  She growled
and wriggled from side to side.  She wanted to know what the hell he was up
to, but he kept her pinned down.  That made her fight harder.
   The candlelight grew brighter and searing heat landed onto her back.
   Her keening grunt sounded louder due to the plugs in her ear.
   He put his face beside hers and issued a muffled warning.  "That was hot
candle wax.  I don't want to hear your voice.  Next time you get the
flame."
   Lydia reached back blindly until she felt his leg.  She scratched him,
drug her nails down and into his skin.  She tried to dig as deep as she
could.
   He grabbed both her hands and lay down over her body.  He nuzzled his
face next to hers, kissed her on her temple.
   She calmed down only because she was confused as to what he was trying
to tell her.
   He released her hands and sat back.  She watched the firelight cast long
shadows on the wall, but she couldn't hear anything or make out what was
happening behind her.
   'Please don't hurt me.  Please don't.'
   She lay as still as board, complete submission.
   'Please, no flame.  Please, no wax.'
   Liquid rolled down her spine.  When it reached the small of her back, he
smeared the oil over her skin in circles.  He put his hand in front of her
face: almond and vanilla.  The scent was so powerful that she closed her
eyes and breathed deeply again.
Both hands worked firm circles up and down her spine, his fingers
splayed wide, thumbs pressed into sore muscles.
   'Stupid woman.  He just wanted to massage you, and you fought him.'
   'He could have just told me.  Ugh, psycho.'
   He gathered her twists and set them on either side of her head, worked
her shoulders and neck.  Melting under his touch, she buried her face into
the mattress and gave up trying to see or hear.  His hands were like a pair
of hot rocks working all the kinks out of her.  She would have paid money
for this kind of treatment.
   When he worked the muscles of her lower back she arched her hips back
wantonly.  She didn't have to worry about sending a mixed message.  Lower
was the message.
   Reju went too low.  He began with her feet and worked up to her thighs.
   Lydia spread her legs and rocked back onto her knees.  If she wasn't
giving the universal sign for 'fuck me' then she was out of options.
   Her whole body shivered as a single finger slid over the folds of her
soaking wet labia.  Yes, she was wet, soaking wet, a pool of moisture.  She
couldn't be more ready.
   Lydia made sure not to say a word as his fingers explored her aching
pussy.  She'd never been a modest woman, but something about being blind
and deaf made her wonder if he liked what he saw, if he wanted her.  She
had no way of knowing.
   She pulled away and flipped onto her back.  She opted not to open her
eyes and look at him.  There were other ways.  She felt for his body, felt
up his arm to his round shoulder, down his wiry chest.  He was out of his
pants but still in his boxers.  She made light work of the soft cotton
material and wrapped her hand around his impressive length of manhood.  He
was firm, hot, and heavy.  The hand on his chest sensed the vibration of
his groan.
   Two of his fingers slid inside her and there was no teasing intent to
his touch.  She reached up to pull him down to her.  She needed to kiss
him, to taste him.  She licked her lips, and he sucked her tongue into his
mouth.
   Once he paid greater attention to her throbbing clitoris, he made quick
work of her climax.  Nothing like an orgasm to finish up a massage.  The
roar of her heart and feral noises in her throat vibrated in her head as
she came.  She could smell him and her arousal as it filled the room.
   Lydia lay flat on her back trying to catch her breath.  She was
sweating, panting, but Reju did not appear to be in any hurry.  He lay
beside her and kissed her shoulder.  The palm of his hand cupped her mound.
   She reached up, slowly, and pulled on the earplug in her left ear.  He
didn't react so she took it out.  She pulled the other one out and tossed
them aside.
   Reju pressed his finger to his lips.
   Okay, still with the quiet game.
   She closed her eyes and her heart thundered.  Best orgasm ever.
   The feel of something cold and sharp brought her eyes open and her head
up.  She reached down for the ice cube on her belly and threw it at him. 
She felt as if she'd been asleep, but she couldn't see any windows in this
room.  She couldn't see the red, green, or blue glow of a digital clock. 
There were only a few pieces of furniture, all bare.  The whereabouts of
her purse and phone were another mystery.
   She was still naked and on her back.  How long had he been watching her
sleep?
   He fished another ice cube from a glass and put it to her lips.  She
opened her mouth and sucked on the cube while his hands explored her body.
Finally.  While she expected his explorations to ramp up, for him to spread
and enter her, all he did was touch her.  She sighed heavily.
   Reju picked up her twists and inspected them one by one.  He held one of
them high and kissed her hair.
   Her hair?  That's what he wanted to kiss?
   Tired of his teasing, she sat up and pulled the blankets up to cover
herself.  Reju pushed her down and threatened her with the candle.
   Lydia jutted her chin out in a challenge, but the candlelight
highlighted his nudity.  Dark, soft, thick.  She wasn't talking about his
hair.  His cock lay there on his thigh, relaxed and long, and the epitome
of 'formidable male.'
   Prize winning.  Best of show.  Hall of fame.
   Damn.  Double fucking damn.  Oh, holy fucking shit.
   Her brain had been holding out, when she'd felt him she didn't realize
how much of him there was.  How dare he keep this from her for so long? 
What were they?  Fifteen?  She reached down to grab him.
   Reju caught her wrist and pushed her back.  She twisted out of his hold
and tried to make another play for his crotch as he set the candle aside.
He blocked her again and tickled her.
   She giggled and squealed and tried to wrestle him to the ground, but it
was a futile attempt.  She couldn't catch her breath after laughing so hard
and when she couldn't get him to stop, she hit him.  Just that quickly, her
mirth turned to anger.
   Lydia had never been a physically violent woman, but something within
her erupted.  She lashed and kicked as if he were her enemy.
   He pressed his thumbs into the inside of her upper arms.  Pain flared
through her whole body and she fell back with a scream.
   Just for effect, she screamed again, really let it rip like the half
naked girl in an exploitive slasher movie.  Both her arms felt like iron
spikes had been driven through the bone.  She wanted to get away from him
but she was out of breath and her arms still weren't working right.
   He leaned over her and thumbed her tears away and kissed her cheeks.
   The game was officially over for her.  "That hurt."
   "You can render any opponent useless by attacking the correct nerve
endings."
   "I'm hardly an opponent." She sighed.  "Can we talk now?"
   "Yes, or I would be holding your face over that candle."
   She waited for some sign in his expression that he was joking.  He
wasn't.  That sobered her up even more.  Exhaustion turned to worry for her
safety.  What was she doing here again?
   He stretched out beside her.  The way the light caught his eye, it
seemed to be giving off little sparks of cinnamon mahogany in his iris.
   "Why do you assume you can trust me?"
   It was a valid question.  He'd hurt her, several times.  The residual
pinch on her side, throb under her arms, and sting on her back was a
testament to that.  And yet, "You haven't hurt me.  Not too badly."
   "Is that a sound reason to trust me?"
   Her anxiety kicked up a notch.  "Are you insane?  Have you taken me as
your prisoner?"
   He put his arm under her and pulled her over until she was lying on top
of him.  "If I was insane, would I know it?"
   "Answer me."
   "I could just lie."
   "You won't."
   "Why not?"
   "You get off on shocking me."
   He flicked his tongue out and curled it back into his mouth.  "I'm not
insane, Lydia, just different, unapologetic.  Present."
   Presently insane.
   She played in his hair and pressed her hips on his.  He lived in the
moment, using all those senses of his, feeling with his whole body.  It was
something he claimed she could do, an ability she needed to harness.
   "What are we doing?" She'd never spent so much time naked with a man she
hadn't fucked.  She'd never had an orgasm with a man she had not fucked.
   "We're playing.  You complained that you did not know me, so we're
getting to know each other."
   Playing?  This was a shitty game.  She still didn't know anything about
him.
   Any man who could just lie there under her and not want to be inside her
probably wasn't interested anyway.  She was just a diversion.  That was an
odd spark of hurt, humiliation.  She didn't want to play games.
   She decided to non-verbally communicate her displeasure.  She leaned
into his neck and bit down mercilessly.  She moved down and bit him again
on his chest, harder.  Fuck him for not wanting to be inside her.
   He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged back, like a kitten held by
the scruff.  He held her at such an awkward angle that she couldn't move.
When he sneered, her eyes were drawn to his incisors.  He teeth were so
much sharper than hers, sharper than anyone she'd ever known.
   Reju clamped down on her shoulder.
   Pain.  Deep and throbbing.  Then heat, burning.  She cried out, both
from the strain in her neck and scalp and the dull pain in her shoulder.
   He pulled away and his eyes looked more dark red than rich brown.  Blood
covered his mouth and chin.  With a lopsided grin he hissed, "Don't start a
game you can't finish."
   She twisted her hip and brought her knee down on his groin with a
furious thrust.  "I won't."
   -_ Trust _-
   The moment he let go she crawled to the furthest wall.  Her hands and
knees passed over the cool, marbled flooring until she met a wall with her
head.  Frowning, she turned around and put her back to the wall.  One hand
rubbed the crown of her head while the other pressed to her shoulder.  Her
shoulder bled and the wound throbbed with each beat of her heart.  Tears
ran down her cheeks.
   Why did she have to be so stupid?  What was wrong with her?
   "Come here."
   Lydia flinched at the sound of his voice and tried to blend into the
wall, into the darkness.  He was still on the floor mattress.  He was more
muscular than she realized, each of his muscles casting a bit of shadow on
his frame.  How had she ever thought to win a fight against him?
   'You need to think before you act, Liddy.' Her ex-bastard Darren loved
to lecture her like he was her father.  Seemed like good advice just now.
   As Reju approached, the lone candlelight turned him into a shadow, a
massive void.  Her pulse raced.  He was going to kill her, finish what he
started when he met her.
   She should have expected this from a man who drugged and tortured her
the first night they met.
   She huddled under the ropes of her thick black hair and let it shroud
her like a cape.  Go away, just go away.  She wanted to disappear, to run
away, but she couldn't see a door or a window.
   "Let me see." He pulled her hand aside and she could smell the tang of
her blood.  The air made the wound scream all over again.  Her cry sounded
like that of a wounded animal.  Appropriate, given that was her exact
situation: cornered, hurt, helpless.  She stared at him with tearing eyes
hoping to get some sign of what he was going to do next.  Did he plan to
watch her bleed out?
Reju picked her up and pulled her between his legs.  He drew a deep
breath and his eyes brightened, sparking with bits of red.  "I can make the
pain go away, but I need you to trust me."
   Trust implied choice.
   "Does it hurt?"
   "What the fuck do you think?" Lydia said between sniffles.
   "Put aside your anger and sarcasm for a moment.  This is a perfect
lesson."
   "Lesson?  Yeah, I know the lesson.  If you bite someone hard enough with
those freakish fucking teeth of yours then you can make them bleed to
death." Her voice softened, but she was still growling.  "Hang around with
a psycho and he'll fucking hurt you.  Play with rabid dogs and end up
bitten and bleeding."
   She hated his placid expression, how good he looked in the soft light.
She hated it so much more because of the flaring, spreading pain.  She
needed her anger, but lying in his warm embrace, cuddled like a child, it
bled out along with her life.
   He pressed his forehead to hers, gently pressed a kiss to her lips.  "I
am sorry."
   Tenderness after physical brutality.  Just fucking great.  She would end
up a battered girlfriend in no time.  Every ounce of pride was circling the
drain as she parted her lips and kissed him back.
   He held her head at an angle away from her shoulder and licked the bite.
   Lydia held her breath and tensed her muscles.  She lay there, unsure,
confused, worried.
   'Do as you're told or you get the hose again.'
   A manic giggle broke free and pain spiked.  He was sick, demented, and
weird, but she was no better.  All the while his tongue lapped at her.
   "That is gross."
   He paused, his breath flared on her punctured skin, sending itching pain
over her shoulder.  "Animals lick their wounds.  Saliva contains healing
properties.  A mother licks her children, to clean them, protect them, calm
them.  Does nature sicken you?  Or just me?" He took another long lick at
her shoulder.
   Those are fucking animals.
   How dare he try to make her feel like the bad guy in this?  Fuck him. 
He hurt her first.
   No, she bit him, and he bit her back.  Then she crushed his balls.
   But even earlier, at the Umbra.  He bit her before, but for some reason,
she liked it.
   He drugged her.  That's all.
   Didn't he bite her before then ...  or was it after?
   Her memory twisted on itself, distorting the past and her perception of
it.  Her tears pooled in his arm.  He apologized.  She couldn't get away
just yet.  Play nice.
   "Sorry."
   "You were in shock.  It's okay."
   His tongue continued to lick and probe and circle her wound.  The longer
he kept at it, the less it hurt.  Was saliva really that powerful?  No. 
That didn't make sense.
   She wiggled her shoulder a little.  It didn't hurt.
   "What do you do when you cut your finger?"
   "Put it in my mouth."
   "Does that make you sick?"
   "That's a small cut, not a gushing wound."
   "You didn't have a gushing wound.  Your culture has removed you so far
from what is truly natural, what is truly in your control.  Do not fear
your nature.  Don't neglect your innate power."
   They sat there and he held her, caressed her.
   "It was ...  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to judge you."
   "Lydia."
   "Hmm?"
   "I could teach you.  Do you want to know your true nature?  Do you want
to reclaim your true power?"
   Fuck all that.  Did she want to get more involved with him?  Did she
want to risk her well being?  Wasn't she just thinking about getting away
from him?  She rolled her shoulder again, glanced down at the dark spot. 
The wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but the blood that had pooled on her
forearm and hand was the only evidence left that it had been a serious
injury.
   Did she want to know how he managed that?
   "Yes."
   He carried her back to the center of the room, wiped her clean, and lay
down beside her.  She closed her eyes while he covered her in kisses.  His
tongue snaked out of his mouth, tickling her, but only slightly.  Each time
she felt his tongue on her skin she imagined it circling her aching
clitoris.
   His fingers laced through hers and he positioned himself over her. 
Lydia spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist.  She rocked her
hips forward and stopped breathing as he pressed inside her.
   Fuck yes.  This.
   She was so wet and swollen and hot and it felt so good being stretched
around him.
   Forgotten was the aggression in light of the passion of his touch, the
tenderness of his strokes.  Lydia moaned and met each of his thrusts with
one of her own.  She was lost to him.  Maybe it was because he was insane
or different or present, but she liked it.  She wanted him.
   That's why she decided to prove she had been paying attention.  She felt
him with her whole body, reacted wordlessly.  She kept quiet and let her
hands, the roll of her spine, the clinch of her vaginal walls, the
intensity of her kiss, say all the things she usually screamed during sex.
   It wasn't hard to do given how damned good he felt thrusting inside her.
Was there nothing he couldn't do perfectly?  She groaned and writhed under
him as the sounds of their joining filled the room.  She tuned into each
sound, the rasp of their breath, the squish of their bodies, the small
noises he made.
   She focused on the low groan in his throat, the way it rose to a higher
pitch before her own orgasm.  It was like having waves of pleasure roll
through her, she trembled, arched, mewed as her body gave in to the
fullness of the sensation.
   She wore a smug smile as they lay spooning together.  Lydia liked him, a
lot.  Despite all his weird talk and erratic behavior, she enjoyed their
time together.  Didn't know a thing about him, not really, but she felt
more connected to this man than any of her previous lovers.
   What about him?  Did he feel the same way?  Did he enjoy being inside
her?
   Her smile faltered as unfamiliar doubts tumbled through her mind.  She
wasn't used to being on the opposite end, to being the one unsure about her
performance.
   "I can feel steam rising from your head," said Reju.
   "You're a formidable lover."
   The sensation of his laughter against her back put a smile on her face
and a flutter in her belly.  His mirth filled the room.  By forcing her to
open all her senses she had become keen at feeling him, anticipating him,
smelling him.
   The soft hair of his legs rasped along hers.  The smell of their sex
filled the room, thick and heady and pungent.  Each time he exhaled, he
warmed the side of her neck.  His hand cradled her breast and every so
often he'd swipe his thumb over the sensitive nipple, keeping her ever
aware of his presence, of her attraction to him.
   What was on his mind when he touched her?  What did he get from playing
all these head games?
   Reju shifted and his chin trailed up her arm.  He inhaled.  "You smell
so good."
   Lydia opened her eyes.  No sliver of light from under a door, no LED
lights from electronics, no glow from around a curtain covered window.  "I
can't see."
   "Let your five other senses make up for it."
   She turned in his embrace, wrapped her arms around him.  She clung to
him as if he were a safety raft in stormy weather.
   "If you're going to trust me, then it must be complete.  Trust that
whatever I say or do is important."
   "I'm scared."
   "Good."
   No!  That's not good!  "Is this about adrenaline?"
   "No, this is about you." His hands pressed to each side of her head. 
"Unlocking this." He brushed his lips along hers, then kissed her.  "I will
break each bind until you are free."
   -_ Taste _-
   "Tell me what you feel." His voice sounded richer, multi-layered.
   Felt.  Not heard.
   What did she feel?  Lydia brushed her hands along his firm pectorals,
down the ripple of his abs, along his hips.  Back up, her finger tips
played through his hair.  Sweat dripped down her body.  "Do you have a
fever?"
   "No."
   She straddled him and put one hand to her chest, the other to his,
trying to mirror what she was feeling.  Healthy skin.  She couldn't find a
blemish or scar or bump, not with her fingers, anyway.  She placed her
hands to his shoulders.  "Even like this I feel helpless and weak."
   No response.  Her arms trembled as she felt along his neck, up his face,
back down and around to his shoulders.  She circled his nipples until they
were erect, traced the crease of his pectorals.  She moved down to his
stomach, felt the valleys and hills of his abdominal muscles.
   Between her thighs, his erection swelled and twitched.  "Your skin is
smooth, almost perfect - that I can feel.  You're warm, feverishly so, like
a furnace.  You have this soft, sparse hair all over your chest and arms
and legs.  You have strong muscles, but they are lean.  I didn't see how
strong you were at first.  You have these full, firm lips and you're
getting a bit of stubble."
   She leaned forward and plunged both of her hands into his hair.  As a
bonus, she was able to press her clitoris down on his shaft.
   "The hair on your head is thick, soft, and plush.  I like the slight
curl you have to it.  It's like your gorgeous mane.  I bet you could get a
job as a movie star or a model, no problem at all."
   He put her finger into his mouth, ran his tongue back and forth and
around it.  She spread the thighs and pressed tighter to him as he sucked.
   "Um, that's um, warm, slippery, firm.  Everything you just did went
straight to my pussy."
   "Why did you react differently to this sensation?" He nibbled and licked
the palm of her hand.
   "That one is intimate, personal."
   "Which is more intimate?"
   "Your mouth, your tongue.  The soft parts of you."
   "Correct.  There are one hundred touch receptors in each of your
fingertips, and yet it is only second to the tongue in sensitivity.  There
are several thousand receptors on your tongue.  However, the sense of taste
must be informed.  It collects so much information that you can pick and
choose what to focus on."
   "My brain again."
   "Always.  Lie back."
   She hesitated, but eventually got off him and stretched out on the bed.
He opened her legs kissed the inside of each of her thighs.  His tongue
then dove into her pussy, lapped at her, swished back and forth the same
way he'd done to her finger.
   "You are delicious," his voice sounded thick with lust.
   After the mini lecture he'd given, that statement sent her emotions into
a whirlwind.  Lydia pressed her hands to her eyes to keep the tears back.
How was he doing this to her?  Making her afraid for her life to ...  to
... Lydia didn't know what she was feeling right now, only that she was
sure she'd never felt such an overwhelming sense of beauty before.
   He sucked and licked as if his only reason for being down there was to
drink her in.  It made his sudden stop all the more jarring.
   "Don't move.  I'll return shortly."
   "No!  Don't leave me like this!"
   She smelled him, smelled herself on him.  She really did smell good. 
That kind of whiff you got of pussy that made you want to take another four
or five lungfuls.  He pressed his lips to hers, a firm, but delicate
pressure.  His tongue parted her lips.  Delicious, tangy and spicy and
earthy.  She gripped his arm, thrusted her tongue into his mouth.
   Her charms were not strong enough to distract him.  "Count to thirty. 
I'll be back before then."
   Stop clinging.
   The man really was a furnace.  Only a few seconds after his absence left
Lydia shivering.  He'd taken all the heat and scent and passion along with
him, leaving her with confusion and doubt.
   Why was she still here?  She knew damn well what would happen on this
roller coaster ride.  A negative gravity down slope was just over the hill.
   Maybe.  When she was with him, it was hard for her to focus, as if she
were hallucinating or dreaming.  What had she been so upset about anyway?
Wasn't she happy right now?  How long ago was she crying?  It felt like
days ago.  Maybe she was on drugs.  There must have been something the
water that warped her reality.
   How long until she sobered?
   Warmth returned.  Lydia traced his spine.  He probably never left, just
stood against the wall watching her.  Creepy fucker.
   "That wasn't funny."
   "I didn't tell a joke."
   Lydia rolled her eyes.
   "You trust me?"
   They had arrived at the crest of the hill.  No!  "Yes."
   He pulled on her hand and guided her to sit beside him on the edge of
the floor-level mattress.  "Hold this and describe it to me."
   "Rigid, smooth, round with a tip."
   He took it away from her and she felt that tip on her bottom lip.  "Bite
it."
   She nibbled on it, but didn't taste anything.  The smell seemed familiar
though.
   "Again."
   She bit off more and crushed the flimsy piece.  The bloom and the burn
numbed her cheeks and closed off her throat.  She coughed.  Tears ran down
her cheeks.  Her lips hummed and tingled.  "Water!"
   "No."
   She squealed and struggled to breathe.  The burn only intensified.  Her
tongue felt like it was swelling to twice its size.
   "Describe it.  Now!"
   "Extremely painful.  Stinging, numbing, burning heat.  Tingling," she
coughed, "everything.  My lips, cheeks, tongue, throat.  It hurts you sick
fucking bastard.  You just poisoned me!"
   "Listen."
   She balled both her hands into fist but she stopped fuming.
   "You are nerve endings and chemical reactions.  Your brain controls the
message.  One burn is different than another.  Your brain is reacting
without full information.  A chili pepper burns, but it is not poison and
you will not die.  It is a food many people choose to eat."
   She groped for his arm and pressed her nails into his skin, but she
didn't scratch him.  Now that she knew it was just a pepper, the feeling in
her mouth didn't seem as hot or dangerous.
   "Suck this."
   Before she could object, he slipped something soft and sweet into her
mouth.  Bits of sugar, tart, sweet.  Her tongue and cheeks cooled as saliva
filled her mouth.  "Strawberries cam-camp..."
   "Strawberries compote."
   "May I have another?"
   He placed another sugar glazed strawberry in her mouth and spread
something slick along her lips.  "Taste it."
   It, too, stopped the stinging and was also tart and sweet, but brighter.
"Jam.  No.  Marmalade, orange."
   He licked her lips and sucked them clean before kissing her, almost
harshly that time.  He tasted clean, fresh.  As if he'd washed his face and
drank a glass of cold water.  He withdrew, leaving her panting.
   "Pinch your nose."
   She frowned and pinched her nose.  She wanted to punch him, to tell him
to fuck off, to scream, but she waited.
   "Open up." He rubbed something firm and wet over her tongue.  "Eat it."
   She sullenly bit down.  "Why are you making me do this?" Her voice sound
nasally.  "What kind of weed is this?"
   "Breathe in."
   She let go of her nose and her mouth exploded with the savory flavor of
tomato.  Tomato?  It felt vile and tasted worse.  After swallowing she
accepted his next offering without hesitation.  "Cheddar.  Can we stop now?
I get it."
   "Why do you trust me?"
   "I don't have any other choice."
   "You chose to be here.  Why?"
   "I'm attracted to you.  I think you're hot, and I want to fuck you. 
Also, I'm a size queen, so I'm basically fucked."
   She could feel him smiling, almost see the swell of his cheeks in her
mind.  Which sense was that?
   "Sixth."
   "Did you guess what I was thinking?"
   "My mind is honed.  You call it intuition."
   She blinked in the dark, waited for the puzzle piece to slip into place.
"You're teaching me intuition?"
   "Reminding you how to use it."
   "We're done with the food, right?"
   "Yes.  Why?"
   She eased back on the mattress until she was back on her side and patted
the head of the mattress and waved her other hand along the bed.
   Intuition her ass.  Let's see if his mind read that.
   She heard his movement and reached out to feel his chest.  He was lying
on his back just like she wanted.
   She felt her way to his hips and spread his legs.  "How about I taste
you now." She started by rubbing her cheek along the inside of his thighs,
warm, soft skin.  She kissed his stomach, rubbed her nose in the soft hair
of his happy trail, paused just over his groin.  She'd never done something
so intimate.
   Do it.
   She put her face in his crotch and slowly inhaled, taking in every
scent.
   'Fuck me running with a rusted pitch fork.  This is the best fucking
male aroma ever.  I could bottle this and sell it.'
   Lydia moaned and opened her mouth.  He was a big boy all right and
quickly thickening.  She went full bitch-in-heat, attempting to take as
much of him in her mouth as she could manage.
   She smirked and brought her teeth out to play.  She let them glide just
under his head and her tongue caught the fresh, cool squirt of his arousal.
   "I'm either going to fuck your face or your pussy.  You have ten seconds
to decide."
   He'd choke the life out of her.
   Lydia straddled him and pushed her hips all the way down.  He put one
arm around her hips and the other wrapped around her back.  He rolled his
hips, coating the monster between his legs in her slick arousal.
   "Hold tight."
   She wasn't sure if he meant his body or her sanity.  He turned into a
ferocious bucking bronco, and the intensity of his thrusts left no room for
moaning or words.
   It never hurt until he came, his fingernails pierced her hip and
shoulder.
   He definitely liked her.
   "Never any doubt about that." He rolled onto her, kissed her neck, up to
her lips.
   They left the sparse room with its floor mattress, down the hall and
into another with a bed, dresser, closet, bedside table.
   "Is that the bathroom?" She pointed to the slim door just ahead.
   "Go on.  I'll get you something to eat."
   They ate sitting on pillows on the floor, sans games.  Reju sat on the
pillow, she sat in his lap, her back to his chest.  They ate from the same
bowl of orange slices, blueberries, grapes, and raspberries.  Round two
echoed in her mind, but her head drooped after every other bite like a
kitten or a puppy, desperately fighting the pull of exhaustion.
   "Rest," he whispered in her ear.  "You need it."
   <->
   Epilogue: I refuse to nag on the original version of this story because
of how greatly it inspired me.  I have plenty of my own mistakes to contend
with, regardless of the things other writers do.  We're all works in
progress.  If you dislike where I go with this story, check the original.
Written: May 2012
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
Minion_01