Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Minion, Part 2 of 3
   by Nysidra
   Paranormal Erotica
   <->
   -_ Night Vision _-
   Lydia stretched, yawned, kicked the covers back.  She opened her eyes
and groaned.  Reju clearly didn't have any friends or lovers who were
afraid of the dark.  She looked left and right but saw only blackness.
   Her hands slid out over the cool sheets in search of her furnace.  She
crawled around the bed, but he wasn't with her.
   So much for the morning quickie.
   It must have been morning.  It felt like morning to her body.
   Lydia felt for the edge of the mattress.  She eased out of the bed and
winced as she waited for her foot to touch down on the cold stone floor.
   Stone tiles, not a bed of needles, mess of snakes, creepy bugs or...
   No.  Just the stone floor.
   She put both hands out in front of her.  The bathroom should be about
six steps ahead.  Seven steps later, she didn't feel a wall or a doorway.
Perhaps she could crawl along the floor.
   Lydia giggled at the thought.
   She was taking smaller steps than earlier.  A few more and maybe-
   "Mother fucker!" She backed away and put her hand to her hip.  She'd
clipped herself on something.  She screamed again when she felt a hand on
her shoulder.  "Reju?"
   Her hands roamed his body: jersey cotton shirt, track pants.
   Why isn't he saying anything?  This could be anyone!
   In a literal blind panic, she touched his face, pressed her nose to his
body.  Clean spearmint smell, lower note of musky vetiver, sandalwood,
male. Strong, clean-shaven jaw.  She reached up to feel his hair, soft and
thick.  What if Reju had an equally good smelling, demented brother?  How
could she be sure this was her psychopathic asshole?
   "Stop playing games, you prick.  I hurt myself."
   With a soft puff of sound, sconces drowned the bedroom in firelight. 
She had banged her hip on the short dresser and nearly found the exit.  No
where near the bathroom.
   Reju massaged the place where she'd checked the dresser.
   "Where were you?"
   "I needed to get some work done.  Do you know what that is, work?"
   "Yes, smart ass.  I'm on vacation.  Why did you leave me in the fucking
dark?"
   "You were sleep." He stooped and kissed her hip then stood to kiss her
lips.  "It's time you learned to see in the dark."
   "I can't."
   Reju growled and tossed her onto the bed.
   She landed with a soft bounce and scrambled to her hands and knees. 
Fear frayed the edges of her sanity as her heart vaulted into overdrive. 
Up until the moment she landed, she was sure she'd crack her skull on the
floor.
   "Why would I bother if you couldn't?  Why would I waste my time?  If I
say you can do it, you will, do you understand?"
   "Reju.  Reju, please.  Please calm down.  Don't make me regret being
here."
   He lowered his voice and drew closer as he said, "You came here of your
own free will.  You sought me out.  You asked to know of your power.  You
can't regret it.  It's too late for that."
   She wrapped her arms tight around her stomach and swallowed the lump in
her throat.  Beads of sweat rolled down the inside of her arms.  Her whole
body seemed to rock with each beat of her heart.  "You're scaring me."
   Reju sat beside her and thumbed each of her brows.  "No.  You're
frightened to open your eyes and truly see."
   Lydia sighed.  "Be that as it may, right now, I am not able to." She
glanced back to the bathroom.  "I need to go."
   "Go on."
   The fires were out by the time she returned.  Reju closed the bathroom
and pulled her into his embrace.
   She was so close to bawling like a baby, but the way he hugged her to
him made her feel safe, protected.  Reju was the most intimidating and
reassuring person she had ever known.
   She turned to his lips, needing him.  He carried her over to the bed. 
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept away by the sensation
of his body.  Passion replaced fear.  Her skin turned hyper sensitive as he
touched her, overloaded her brain.  She attempted to push down his pants,
but his hand clamped down on hers.
   "Reju," she'd beg if that was what he wanted.
   "Earn it."
   "How?"
   He pulled away.  "I won't let you distract me from this."
   Lydia chewed her bottom lip.  She wasn't trying to distract him, not
really.
   Wait.  She was capable of distracting him?
   She could almost feel him smiling down on her.  "Why are we in the
dark?"
   "Because you're in control.  It's a power trip thing."
   "The darkness heightens your awareness.  It forces you to see using your
instinct and sharpen your senses.  So much of your life is flooded with
light, blinding you, weakening you."
   Lydia groaned.
   "Imagine what having me inside you will feel like when your senses and
your mind are fully engaged."
   This time her groan was more lustful.
   "You won't have to imagine.  No matter what you enjoy, what you take
pleasure in, whatever that is: it could be better." He smacked her on her
shoulder.
   "Ow!" She swung wild trying to smack him back.  His cruel laughter
circled her.  He grabbed and twisted her wrist.  "I can see in the dark,
darling."
   "Fuck you!  Teach me and stop hurting me."
   He pulled her toward him.  "You are a firecracker."
   "You are too unpredictable.  I'm not sure I like you."
   His thumb pressed into the hollow of her throat.  The pressure was
painful, but she could still breathe.  "I am being gentle, but I am
impatient.  You have a lot to learn."
   "Why can't we just be normal?  Why put me through this?"
   Reju touched his forehead to hers.  "That is exactly what I want for
you: normal, natural.  How can I be content to leave you blind to your own
senses, content with zombified mediocrity?  No.  Not you, Lydia.  You have
too much power, too much spirit.  That's what I like about you.  You don't
fear confrontation, change.  All your dragon spirit lacks is direction.  I
know I can wake you up."
   When he said it like that, she forgot how insane his idea sounded.
   She backed away from him with a sigh of resignation.  She wanted to fuck
him again, to lay under him, to feel him swell inside her.  She wanted that
intensity from last night, a few hours ago?  There wasn't another male she
had ever felt so powerful with and yet so helpless.  She was not ready to
let go of him, to give up this euphoria.
   "You can see me?"
   "I can."
   She cupped her breasts, circled her nipples, let her head roll from side
to side while one hand dipped between her thighs.  She didn't penetrate
herself.  That would have made noise.
   "Too bad you can't see what I'm doing while watching you," he purred.
   Opening her eyes wider did not help.  She couldn't understand how it was
humanly possible to see without light.
   "Okay.  I give up." She dropped her hands.
   "You don't surrender your mind and that robs you of half the experience.
Stop getting so involved with your own thoughts that you miss what is
taking place in front of you.  You hold the key that will open any locked
door.  Your body is a tool, and your mind is stronger than you realize. 
You have been locked away.  I want you to live again.  Meet me as an equal.
Let me show you how."
   Lydia grinned.  "You are demented and crazy, but I adore you."
   She reached out for him and he took her hand.  She crawled into his lap,
smothered him with kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, all over his
face before settling on his mouth.  He didn't stop her as she drank from
him.  She kept her kisses soft and playful, nibbling his chin and cheeks.
Firm hands cradled her body as he responded in kind.
   "Did you ever play Marco Polo?"
   She chuckled and nodded against his cheek.  After a small dip, they had
crested the hill again, a brief calm in the storm.
   "I'll be here.  I won't abandon you.  Learning to see in the dark is the
same kind of game.  You hunger for more instruction, so I will tell you
this: eyes are a lens, your brain is what does the seeing, processes the
image.  The mind can translate motion, sound, pressure, and temperature
into an approximation of sight.  Use everything and let your brain provide
a picture of your surroundings, without your eyes."
   At least she got a tutorial this time.  "I'll try."
   "Do you trust me?"
   "No."
   "Because I hurt you?"
   "Yes."
   "Do you think I'll hurt you again?"
   "Yes, I think so.  No, actually, I'm sure you will."
   "Do you think I will hurt you without cause?  Maliciously?"
   "I ...  I'm not sure.  I don't think so."
   "So, you can trust that whatever I do is for your benefit?"
   Her face went clammy as dread weighed heavily in her belly.  "Probably."
   "There are other, easier, slower ways to teach a lesson, best suited for
a child.  But in order to overwrite a lifetime of faulty knowledge, painful
experience works faster." He set her aside and the mattress moved as he got
off the bed.  "This is not a new talent.  This is not weird.  Blind people
do it by necessity.  You can learn by choice.  These are gifts you were
born with, used as a child."
   His voice sounded clear.  She followed the sound and turned her body to
face him.  He paced the room as he lectured her.
   "Children love to play seeking games.  They love to exercise the ability
to hunt.  While they play at one thing, they also practice at not becoming
the prey, avoiding attack."
   She tried to remember the lay of the room as she eased off the foot of
the bed.  There wasn't much in the way of furniture in the center of the
room, but that didn't mean much.  She pressed the sore spot on her hip.  He
sounded four steps away from the bed, ahead of her.
   "Think of all the ways children play with their senses: hide and seek,
Marco polo, pin the tail on the donkey, pinatas, red light green light. 
Those are skills in the hand of a child.  Imagine what you can do as an
adult."
   She followed his voice, ever paranoid of tripping over something,
running into a wall, a table, the bed.  The darkness felt like a pit of
dangers.
   She turned and took several steps over to him.  She nearly felt him,
warmth.
   He smacked her ass as he dodged away.  "Come and find me.  Seek me out."
   With a grin she lunged in his direction.  In a weird way, he made sense.
He'd convinced her to cross over to the dark side, the insane side.  As she
stumbled through the room she worried less about hurting herself and
focused on his location.
   He whispered in her ear, his breath caught her by surprise.  "Find me."
   She whipped around and snatched where he was standing, but he was gone.
Just like in a pool she held her hands out and waited, turning in a slow
circle.  There was movement along her arms, her hair.  She took two steps
forward and grasped at nothing.
   This isn't going to work.
   She dropped her arms and tried to see the room, the whole room, with her
mind, trying to sense his presence, his smell, his warmth.  Instead of
imagining what could hurt her she tried to take in what was around her.
   The bed must be to her right.  Was it memory?  How did she know which
direction she faced?  She felt the floor under her feet.  The stone floors
were cool, like the air in front of her.  She traced one of the curves with
her feet these had an textured etching.
   He is warm.
   Behind her.
   She vaulted backwards and collided with his body.  She spun and wrapped
her arms around him.  She gave him a joyful grin as her heart pounded.  "I
win."
   Hot lips closed on her neck.  He hugged her back.  "Superb, darling."
   His praise filled her with jubilation.
   "Close your eyes, just for a moment."
   She closed them without hesitation.
   "Open."
   The wall mounted sconces were all lit, twice as many and brighter than
earlier.  It felt as if the room was glowing.  The look was more magical
than anything she'd ever seen.  "Why fire?"
   "You tell me." He touched a dial and the flames lowered.
   "After being blind, near blind it looks really bright in here.  I can
see everything.  If you," Lydia took in the dresser, the wall-flush closet.
All of it was smooth, dark wood.  "I guess it would be hard to practice
seeing in the dark."
   He walked back to the bed.  "Close.  Electricity is harsh and too much
of it creates this highly annoying sound.  I have it, as you've seen, but I
prefer the firelight, especially in my bedroom." His eyes were dancing with
pinpricks of golden red.
   "Who are you?"
   He waved her over with a laugh.  "I am Reju Augur."
   She crawled onto the bed with him.
   "Would you like your reward now?"
   "Yes, please."
   "You are very much a reward for me too." He pulled off his clothes and
crawled over her.
   Though there was finally enough light to see, she closed her eyes to
feel him as he entered her.  He took his time, taking her higher with each
stroke, each kiss, each caress.
   Lydia moaned, whimpered.  Her nails marked a path down his back.  How
could it get any better than this?
   ***
   He led her out of the spacious bedroom and they turned down the long,
stone hallway.  The place had the look of cave, but the lighting gave her a
feeling of coziness and privacy that no other house had.  They were naked
and that was just fine.  She still hadn't seen a window, but there were
several vents.  She didn't feel any heat or cool coming from them, and yet
the temperature felt sublime.
   "Is this your home?"
   "Yes."
   "Where are we?"
   "My home."
   She laughed, delighted by his crazy answer.  As they walked down the
hallway she fell in love with the soft flicker of glowing fire light.  It
was amazing how much a small flame could illuminate.
   Reju, for one.  He oozed subtle power.  He wasn't built like a jock, not
as tall as a giant.  His power was in the way he moved, his assurance,
security.  He was elegant, savage, confident, and graceful.  She recalled
the way his muscles tensed with each thrust into her body.  She grinned as
she focused on the fine hairs on his lower belly.  Dark and sexy.  She was
overcome with the desire to kiss her way down that trail.  She wanted to
take him in her mouth again, make him moan.
   "I've heard the phrase 'eye rape,' but never truly understood it until
now."
   "Wait." She placed a hand to his chest and kneeled down to kiss that
very happy trail.  Soft butterfly kisses, delighting in the soft tickle of
each downy hair, just a few before standing.  She wanted more, but he would
only stop her.
   He smirked as both his hands swept her twists behind her shoulders.  He
stared pointedly at her breasts.  His finger tips whispered down her
shoulders and circled each globe, hefting them.  He leaned down and placed
a soft kiss to each of her nipples, sending electric tingles straight to
her clitoris.
   "I like the way you look too." He kept hold of her breast, his thumbs
whispered over each hard nub.
   Lydia could feel her pulse in her face.  She was near dizzy with renewed
lust.  She stared at his hands, beautiful, clean, each hand strong and
commanding.  Not a single callus.  She wanted to suck one of those fingers,
taste him.  Put the second most sensitive part of him into the most
sensitive part of her.
   He lifted his hand to her mouth.
   Reading her mind?
   Smiling, she took his thumb, licked the underside and slowly ran her
tongue back and forth under the pad of his hand.  She felt each ridge with
the tip of her tongue, the lingering scent of sex and sweat remained in his
skin.  This was the hand that had been inside her, two fingers thrusting up
into her vaginal wall while this thumb stroked her clitoris.  She sucked
and licked, imagining the swollen head of his cock in its place and was
rewarded by the fluttering of his eye lids.  She released his thumb with
the scrape of her teeth.
   "This way," he nodded in the direction they had been going.  "I nourish
you.  That way," he nodded in the direction they came.  "You nourish me."
   She wasn't that hungry, but the way he said 'nourish' didn't sound
purely sexual.  She needed to take this break while she had it.  Her
anatomy had its limits and needed time to recuperate.  Lydia turned and
continued in the direction they had been going.
   "Wise choice," he entered the kitchen and pulled out a stool for her to
sit on.
   A broad grin broke out on her face as she watched him load a scoop of
coffee beans into a grinder.  Nourishment indeed!
   "I want to experiment further with your senses."
   "You won't be satisfied until I'm so hyper sensitive that I short
circuit."
   He laughed.  "That won't happen."
   She looked around the kitchen.  He had all the trappings of a modern
place.  Even though the grinder was working she thought she could hear the
hum of the fridge.  She closed her eyes and suppressed the groan.
   He wrapped a blindfold over her eyes and kissed her on the cheek. 
"Good. I like that you are eager to start.  Place your hands on the
counter."
   'Don't stab me.  Don't stab me.'
   Her hands trembled as she placed them on the cool surface of the
counter.
   He took her right hand and kissed the back of its palm.  "Tell me what
your hand is in." He gently pushed her hand down.
   It felt like several pebbles under her palm.  "Beans?" She wiggled her
fingers and a long cherished aroma reached her nose.  "Coffee beans."
   He picked up her hand, cleaned it with a cool cloth, soft towel, then
took her other hand and pushed it into something else.
   "Squishy, jelly ...  wait, no ...  yes.  Jelly."
   "Good." He wiped her hand clean.  "What about this?"
   "Grain ...  meal?  No.  Um, couscous?"
   "Yes.  And now?" He wiped something over her palm.  "Tell me what that
is."
   She rubbed her fingers together.  Slimy, icky.  She shivered as her mind
tried to conjure possibilities.  What in a kitchen could be this slimy? 
Something spoiled.  Meat?  She smelled it, slightly bitter.  "What is it?"
   "Taste it."
   Her hand trembled as she lifted it to her mouth.  "Please, no."
   "Trust me."
   She placed the tip of her tongue onto her finger and frowned. 
Incredibly bitter.  Goosebumps tightened the skin on her arms.  "This is
disgusting.  What is it?"
   "A slug."
   Lydia pushed away from the counter with a scream.  The stool clattered
to the floor as she hopped backwards.  She needed to wash her mouth out and
now!  She circled the counter, rushed over to the sink, turned the water
on, and began frantically washing her hands and mouth.
   "Fuck you!  You're a sadistic fucking bastard.  Fuck you and your
fucking games!  Why the fuck would you--"
   "Lydia?" His voice was soft, almost amused.
   "What?!" She screamed, too angry to care that he was calm.
   "How did you know where the sink was?"
   She reached up to turn the water off.  That's when she remembered the
cloth over her eyes, the blindfold.  She just remembered the layout, right?
   Reju untied the blindfold and showed her the split succulent plant.
   "I can't decide if I'm pissed or impressed." She muttered.
   "Well, I'm impressed."
   She smiled despite herself.  She pointed to the succulent in his hand.
"What is that?"
   "Aloe." Reju poured her a cup of coffee set it on the counter.  "Your
brain took the first answer I gave you and processed how to treat it.  What
was actually in your mouth no longer mattered, only the fiction created by
your brain to fill in a gap."
   She scowled at him over her cup.  "I trusted you to tell me the answer.
I relied on you like my own brain." This was going to taste good.  She
stared at him while she sipped the rich liquid.  "It doesn't help me to
trust you when you lie to me."
   "Trust me like your own brain, huh?"
   "Yes!"
   "Trust me not to harm you.  Believe that I won't miss an opportunity to
fuck with you.  Suggestion is powerful.  It speaks directly to the brain,
and the brain overrides everything, every sense, your whole world.  Your
skin read slimy, your tongue said bitter, your nose said green.  A word is
nothing.  However, you did let your instinct drive when you ran for the
sink.  Memory, sense of space, sight.  You can do this." He kissed her
cheek.
   She set her coffee cup down.  "I need a hug, please."
   He squeezed her tight to him.  "Trust me.  Put your faith in me."
   "Fine, but that doesn't make you any less of a fucking asshole."
   "Maybe not." He lifted her chin and kissed her deep.  His hand squeezed
her bare ass.  "Finish your coffee."
   -_ Breath _Reju led her into a lavish, ebony bathroom.  Every surface
reflected the single candle flame giving the effect of being surrounded by
volcanic glass.  "This is gorgeous.  Seriously, this has to be better than
any page in a magazine."
   "Thank you." He turned a valve and water filled the large black tub.
   This bathroom was much larger and far more ornate than the one connected
to his bedroom.  She placed her hand to the cool wall.
   "I've never seen anything like this before."
   "Come here." He turned the water off in the bath.
   The moment she was near him he reached out, picked her up, and plunged
her into the tub.
   What the fuck was he doing?
   She gasped moments before her head went under the water.  He held her
down by her shoulders making her feel like a helpless child.  The dark
shimmer of his face above her through dark water.
   'Calm down.  He'll let me up in a minute.'
   Lydia tried not to panic, but she didn't have another minute to wait. 
She struggled to get up, twisting and turning and trying to move.  She
needed to breathe!  His arms were like stone pillars, unforgiving,
merciless, cruel.
   During her struggle she sucked a mouthful of water into her lungs. 
Panic overrode everything else as her body flailed.  Her lungs burned for
oxygen.  She coughed, taking in more water when she needed air.
   'Why?!  Why would he do this to me?  I need to breathe!  Fight harder!
Damn him!'
   The water in her lungs wasn't the only thing burning.  Betrayal burned a
hole in her soul.
   She gasped and more water filled her lungs.  She felt as if she were
crying under water.  Her brain felt too large for her skull.  Her air
passages screamed in pain.
   She fucking trusted him.
   Fuck him.
   ***
   Lydia was on her hands and knees.  Water shot out her mouth.  It burned
on the way up far more than it had on the way down.  She coughed water and
heaved air.  Terrible sounds came from her body, sick sounds.
   She sensed him beside her.  Without regard for her present suffering,
she scrambled to get away from the psychopath.  She fumbled and heaved
again, coughed up more water, puked coffee-scented stomach acid.
   Pain exploded from everywhere at once, in every pore, in her heart, in
her brain.  She wanted to scream at him, but everything focused on
breathing.  She could only move away from him in short spurts.
   'Go away!'
   Tears blurred her vision.  Her head pounded; her heart wanted to explode
in her chest.
   The fact that he'd pulled her up was only a whisper in her mind.  Of
course he'd pulled her up, he was the one who'd done this to her.  She was
the one who had let him.
   'Trusted him, like the stupid cunt you are.'
   Her feet slipped on the cold tile when she attempted to stand and she
landed on her shoulder.  Her limbs were heavy, uncooperative, clumsy.
   His fingers, warm and solid, wrapped around her bicep.  She fought the
pain to get her rage across.  The words rasped out in a horrible croaking
voice.
   "Do Not Fucking Touch Me!"
   She launched into a coughing fit so strong that it made her back ache.
She tried to get to her hands and knees, but her body would not play along.
   She lay still, stopped struggling, and pulled in great wheezing breaths,
exhaled in heavy coughs.
   'Where is the door?'
   'Behind me.'
   'Run.'
   "No." He placed his hand to the middle of her back.
   "Fuck off!" She turned and clawed at him, kicked him, but she wasn't
having the impact she desired.
   Reju pulled her closer.
   'No!  He's going to do it again.  Get away!'
   "Stop panicking."
   "Fuck you!  You tried to drown me.  You're fucking insane!"
   "You honestly think I failed at drowning you?" He pressed his thumb into
her neck sending a shooting pain down her spine.  "Calm.  Down."
   Blackness enveloped her in a wave.  She tried to fight the oncoming
blackout, but failed.  She feared water entering her lungs again with each
ragged breath.
   ***
   Lydia opened her eyes and felt the cold, flat, hard surface under her.
She inhaled.  Her chest felt like someone had used it as a punching bag by
a fist covered in fish hooks.
   She pushed herself up, prepared to bolt, but he held her back.
   'Here we go again.  Round two.'
   "Do not speak," he said.  "Remain calm."
   Calm?!
   She looked at him and tried to express the full extent of her hatred,
but she worried that all he saw was the pure wounded animal fear she
actually felt.
   How could he do this to her?  What was wrong with him?
   Her eyes burned, vision shimmered as tears filled her eyes.  All this
time, he just wanted to destroy her, to make a fool out of her.  To pick
her up and slam her underwater and drown her.
   'I don't want to die; I don't want to be his prisoner.'
   Something like a sobbing cough ripped through her body.  She didn't want
to die in the dark at the hands of a murderer.  She wasn't ready.  Her
cries became a full wail, echoing off the cold walls of her prison.
   "I need you to understand why I--"
   "Why?!  You're fucked up.  That's why!" Her voice sounded broken and
hoarse, but she screamed anyway.  It hurt to speak and her wrath sounded
only half as hateful as she wanted, but she screamed, hoping someone would
hear her and save her.  The scream ended with another fit of coughing
tears.
   "How did you feel?  Why did you fight me?  What for?"
   "Because I don't want to die!"
   "What were you fighting for, specifically?"
   "Are you stupid?  Air!  Fucking air, you bastard.  I was fighting to
breathe!"
   "The first time I met you, when I had you tied down, you were willing to
die, waiting for death.  You were a victim, waiting for someone to do
something to you instead of taking control.  Remember that.  Remember the
way you feel now.  You want to live.  You want to breathe.  You will fight
anyone who tries to take that from you.  Your life is precious."
   "I'll never fucking forget it," she growled.  "Fuck you.  I fought you."
   "And in this short time you have come to place greater value on your
life, on the air that gives you life, and the heart that circulates your
blood."
   She lowered her gaze to her chest.  It hurt so much, each breath was
like pressing on a bruise.  Was it her chest that hurt or her heart? 
Probably both, each moment a pain that drove the knife deeper.  She was
still crying.  She could feel her body sobbing, but she couldn't hear the
sound of her sorrow.
   'Each beat of your heart you waste your life, your gift, your
abilities.'
   That's what he had screamed at her so hatefully.  It wasn't even that
long ago, and she let him do this to her.
   Reju cradled her in his arms.  He was so warm and she felt so cold and
clammy.  "It was the best way to show you, to prove how much you've
changed." He kissed her on the forehead and she felt her soul recoil.  "It
was the only way."
   Insert seething rage here.  That's where it should have been, but she
was too tired.  No more engaging in his madness.
   She focused on the yellow-orange flicker of light in the puddle of water
on the tile floor.  Flickers of light in the darkness.  Flickers of madness
in profound beauty.
   She played a game with the devil and ended up with a lungful of water.
   For fuck's sake, that was why it hurt so much, so deeply, more than just
physically.  Her heart was ripping itself in two because she'd fallen in
love with him.  Her future murderer was rocking her back and forth,
pressing those infuriatingly gentle kisses to her face.
   Why?  Why her?
   It seemed like he tried some new cruel torture on her every hour while
they were together.  Tears wet her cheeks while she struggled to breathe
through her sorrow.
   She was a victim.  She'd never stopped being a victim.  There was no
escape for her.  No will to escape.  It was a mistake for her to fight so
hard.
   Despite all her hurt and pain, she found great comfort in his arms,
cradled by his warmth.  If she only turned her head a little to the left
she could smell him.  Bring something good into her aching lungs.
   She loathed herself a little more as she let her head roll toward his
body.  She put her arms around him, clung to him in mental anguish.
   Her torturer and protector.
   -_ Alive _He stood; she did nothing.  Tears spilled out of the corners
of her swollen eyes, but she wasn't crying, not physically.  She was too
tired for that, too frayed, too damaged.
   She held on to him.  She watched the shadows on the wall as he carried
her to his room.  The smell of moss, wood, cloves reached her nose
unbidden. She knew where each scent came from.
   The dark wood smell of the furniture, the moss and cloves were the
earthy smells that infused his bedding and the plants in the room.  She
could smell water, but that was a given seeing as how she'd been drowned in
it.
   Fuck him.
   Water dripped from her heavy twists of hair.  She wheezed and coughed,
but it hurt a little less each time.  She focused on the singular act of
breathing as he lay her down.  She took air in, breathed it out, ignored
the hollow sting.
   The shadow of his body wavered on the wall.  What next?  Her stomach
lurched.  It didn't matter what he did next.  She had no defense against
him.  Her skin grew cold as he left her side.  Her expectations drowned in
morose resignation.
   There was a measure of relief that he hadn't done anything else to her.
Not yet.  She coughed.  Her breath rattled on the way in.
   Something slick in his hands, oil or lotion.  She should have flinched
when he touched her.
   Stare at the shadows.  Focus on the dark.  Avoid looking at him.  He
might see how broken she was.  He'd see that the person she hated wasn't
him, but herself.  She did this to herself.
   Self-loathing grew like a mold in the dampness of her soul.  Only stupid
women ended up with abusive men.  Only a fool would allow something like
this to happen - again and again.
   Lydia was that stupid; she was that fool.
   Why did she bother to fight?
   Reju turned her onto her back and gripped her jaw.
   Time for more pain.
   She blinked the tears from her eyes so that she could see it coming.
   "Lydia.  That's enough.  You need to stop this.  Come back."
   She coughed, sputtered, and he sat her up.  All that did was give her
enough air to start crying again in earnest.  He was still trying to play
the teacher and protector.  She'd had enough of that.  It was about time he
brought the asshole back.
   "Open your eyes."
   Her eyes opened.  He looked so sane, but her eyes were liars.  Her heart
pounded a frenetic staccato beat, waiting for the next game.
   "I didn't want this, Lydia.  I can't stand to see you like this.  I
didn't think you'd react this way."
   Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Don't let the tickle in her throat start
another coughing fit.
   These were easier tasks to carry out than attempt to process his words.
Pieces of her sanity lay scattered in a wasteland; she stared at them.
   Broken.  She allowed him to shatter her.
   'How else should I react?'
   Warm lips covered hers.  His hands slid over her moisturized skin.
   Sadist.  He was a sexual sadist.  Maybe treating her like a chew toy
turned him on?  What was it that pretty boy Ashton called him?
   His whisper was gentle, so soft that it gave the illusion of sounding
pained, but her ears were liars.  "Where is my spitfire?  I miss my
dragoness.  Push back.  Don't do this."
   'Leave me alone.  Go away.  Please stop.' Even her internal voice
sounded broken, weakened and weary.
   He straddled her body and she whimpered in fear.  Her breath caught in
her throat as a sauna's warmth rolled over her.  Where was that coming
from?
   He pulled the silk covers over her.  The sheets had felt so soft, so
luxurious earlier.  Now they reminded her of death, burial, finality.  Was
he going to choke her with it?
   'Please don't kill me.  I want to live.'
   Lydia whined with fear as he kissed her.  She wasn't cold.  Even the
iciness of her toes were warming to his embrace.  Firm hands parted her
thighs and she moaned when he sank inside her.  He felt divine and she felt
terrible for enjoying him.  Each thrust of his body inside her stoked her
fear.
   'I bet I taste great now.'
   "Don't give in, Lydia."
   "Stop.  Please, stop." She had the voice of a beaten child.  She'd never
sounded so fragile, so pitiful before, not even as a child.  Her throat was
as raw and wounded as her heart.  Her pleas sounded twisted and strained.
   Pleading with a mad man to make her stop feeling good.  What a stupid
thing to do.  Stupid, ignorant.  That's what he'd called her the first time
he met her.  Perfectly on point.
   Small wonder he wanted to fuck her.  Probably rock hard seeing how
profoundly he fucked her over.  She shouldn't have said a word.
   He pulled out and rested his forehead to hers.  Two scalding drops of
water hit her face.
   Sweat.  It had to be.  Lydia refused to open her eyes and see it as
anything else.  Fuck him.  How dare he cry?  Who drowned him?  Who broke
his heart?  Who betrayed his trust?
   "Please.  You are so much stronger than this.  You are a fighter, a
dragon.  Stop withdrawing, Lydia."
   The heart was a liar.  That wasn't sorrow.  He drugged her and turned
her body against her.  Her terror sharpened to a needle point.
   "I want to go home." The cold fury of her voice put goosebumps on her
arms.  It sounded like the voice of the possessed, the murderous.
   He sat back, but she heard nothing but silence, silence and the rattle
of her breath.  She had to open her eyes to look at him.
   A rich red like bleeding clay stared back at her.  She needed to be able
to describe him to the police.  A gorgeous, dark haired, chestnut skinned
male with eyes that sparked red in a copper brown.  He lived in a cave and
talked crazy.
   They'd laugh her out the station or submit her to immediate drug
testing. No one would believe her ordeal.  She was powerless to seek
retribution.  How many of his prey left here alive?
   How many left alive and met him again the next day?  Retribution?  A
laugh.  He wasn't the one who fucked up.
   "If that's what you want, I'll take you.  Are you sure you want to leave
before we talk?"
   Don't let him confuse her.  "I want to go home, my home." She drew a
rasping breath.  "I want to go right now."
   "One thing.  I have no right to ask you, but please, one thing before I
take you to your home."
   She couldn't say yes, but she didn't say no.
   "On my word, open your mouth and take the deepest breath you can.  Try
to fill up your lungs."
   After that.  She could go home?  She nodded.
   She closed her eyes and waited.  On his word she opened her mouth and
freely accepted the possibility that he would thrust a blade into her
gullible throat.  The air sliding down her throat was warm and soothing and
filled her lungs like a strange balm.  The second after she'd taken in as
much air as she could, she lost consciousness, felt the darkness and
vertigo of a sudden motion.
   ***
   Lydia woke from a sleep so deep and so good that she was reluctant to
crawl from the cocoon of blankets, but she had to pee and it wasn't going
to wait for later.  She shuffled from the bed to the toilet, then the
toilet to the kitchen before her mind caught up with her.
   Her purse and clothes were in a pile on the kitchen counter.  She pulled
her phone out and flipped it open.
   A whole day.  A whole day and some change had gone by.  It felt like
weeks.  She rubbed the heel of her hand to her head.  It hurt as if she'd
been hungover.
   She took a deep breath, then another and another.  Each one felt good.
It shouldn't have.
   Her cellphone clattered to the counter as her body reacted to what her
mind refused to face.
   He nearly killed her.
   Arms wrapped tight around her midsection, she cried out with an
explosive sob.  She sank to the kitchen floor and banged her head back
against the cabinet.  What had she been thinking?  She let a stranger
strong arm his way into her life, fill her head with nonsense, and hurt
her.
   'I'm home now.  I got away.  I'm alive.'
   She palmed the tears from her cheeks and nodded.  Alive and hungry.
   She pulled open the fridge and stared at the meager options for food. 
The kitchen smelled a little weird, dank.  She looked around and noticed
the dust and grime and general ick of the place.  She got to her feet and
tossed on some clothes.  This place needed to be cleaned.  She was going to
need supplies and fresh food before she could spend another night in this
place.
   Life.
   She had shit to do, a life to lead.  She turned off her cellphone, not
wanting to deal with the long list of missed calls and glaring
notifications.  Things that mattered today were cleaning supplies, fresh
food, and liquor.
   The afternoon air was warm.  The breeze played through her hair as she
walked, every step a drum beat to a wordless song.  Palm trees shuddered
several blocks ahead.  It was almost like she could see the breeze just
before she felt it on her body.
   Each time the sun peaked through the clouds her skin drank in the light.
There was nothing to hide from out here.  The light made her felt safe.  No
one could steal her away, hurt her.  Bright light kept the monsters at bay.
   Forget about monsters.  That doesn't matter.
   Lydia took broad strides into the market and grabbed a basket.  She
could make some soup, freeze portions of it, maybe a stew.  She'd need some
potatoes, onions, celery.  She turned down the produce aisle and was ripped
from her list-making.
   Strawberries, blueberries, melons, oranges, apples, pear, bananas - she
floated over to the fruit as if drawn there by an unseen magnetism.  She
picked up a cantaloupe and smelled the rind.  Too ripe.  The next one, too
green.  Another, oh, perfect.  Her mouth watered just thinking of cutting
into it, juice sliding down her jaw.
   His long tongue licking-
   No.  Absolutely not.
   She put the cantaloupe in the basket and picked up an apple so red that
it could put a princess under a spell.  She smelled the skin and could
almost taste the crisp, summery fruit on her tongue.  She grabbed a pear
and took a deep lungful of it as well.
   'Fuck me running.  What's wrong with me?'
   She squeezed her legs together and added the pear to the basket.
   She picked up the peach and smelled it.  Overripe.  She set it aside and
grabbed another.  When she picked up the container of blueberries, she just
stood there, breathing in the liquid blue taste.  Blueberry muffins. 
Freshly baked.
   'I want that.  I need that.'
   Lydia swallowed the saliva building in her mouth.  If she wasn't careful
she'd start drooling like a hungry dog.
   The wetness wasn't just in her mouth.  She'd driven herself into an
erotic frenzy in the fucking produce aisle, and she didn't care.  People
were staring at her, and she didn't care.  She was touching potatoes and
onions and garlic cloves like long lost lovers, and she didn't care.
   Fuck them.  She wasn't going to be a half dead, zombified, dulled
creature.  She was alive.
   She walked through the store as if living for the first day of her life.
Every smell, color, sensation, temperature swirled through her like a
torrent.  Her head swam in sensation, and she did nothing to hide her
exuberance.
   The cleaning products were loud, jarring.  The smell tickled her nose,
stung her eyes, prickled her ears, and that was all okay.  None of those
sensations could hurt her.  She picked the gentler chemicals and added a
face mask, just to be sure.
   She bought a box of kleenex just because she wanted to know what it
would feel like to drag one all over her face.
   Describe it.
   No.
   No, no, no.
   She managed to make it through her shopping trip without having an
orgasm in public.  Putting everything on the conveyor to purchase was like
round two in the sensory parade.
   The man in line behind her had a little girl sitting in the cart.  She
smelled like strawberry bread, and he smoked cigars.  Lydia glanced back
and smiled at them.
   Focus.
   Concentrate.
   She purchased her bounty and hurried out the store into the sunshine. 
Great and glorious sunshine.  She walked back to the house with her face
turned up like she did when she was a child.  She drank in the warm,
delicious light.
   Warmth, heat, like his kisses.
   She lowered her gaze and blinked away the threatening tears.
   He was both the darkness and the light.
   Tears streamed down her cheeks and there was nothing she could do to
stop them.  Her hands were busy carrying groceries, so she just let the
tears fall.
   'Did he mean to hurt me?'
   "No!" She screamed as her boots stomped on the pavement.  She was not
going to think of him.  She was not going to miss him.  She was free of
him. How does a person accidentally hold someone underwater?
   Fuck him.
   Lydia sniffled and came to a stop at the curb.  No cars.  She lifted her
head.  A pair of cyclists zipped by as quietly as the cat stalking the
squirrel across the street.  She hadn't heard them, hadn't seen them, and
yet she waited.
   How could she reject the evidence?  The euphoria that had been her day?
He might be insane, crazy, and maybe sadistic, but she had not been this
alive since childhood.
   Never had the act of being in a store made her feel so purely present,
pulsing with the joy of vibrance: life.
   She fought for it.
   She began walking again and giggled slightly.  Mad and delirious and
joyful and thrilled to be alive.  She wanted to skip, twirl in circles, but
two armful of groceries kept her tethered to the ground.
   People looked up to stare at her tear stained, grinning face as if she
were high or crazy.
   Unapologetic.  Present.
   ***
   Once inside the house, she set the bags down and pulled out the red
apple, bit into it.  The crisp snap of the fruit was exactly the way she
imagined it would sound.  So good.
   With a chuckle of joy she picked a blueberry and popped one into her
mouth.  Just one.  She slowly crushed it between her teeth.  She held her
breath as the cool flavor coated her tongue.  Another bite of the apple,
then the mesmerizing task of peeling an orange and marveling at just how
many bursts of liquid explode from an orange peel.
   She danced around the kitchen as she savored the fruit, focused on the
flavor of each one, how they tasted combined, felt in her mouth.  Then she
set about cleaning the house.  She made each corner of her new abode shine.
She arranged the sparse furniture, washed the curtains.
   Time melted away.  It was well into the night by the time she was
brought down from her high by sheer exhaustion.
   Down, but not out.  She curled up on the newly made bed with her laptop
and cellphone.  The phone buzzed and chimed, but she checked the email on
her laptop first.
   The counter on her inbox rose to 48 before stopping.  Several from her
mother, a massive amount from her ex-asshole Nathan, and a few from her
other friends, junk, newsletters.
   Only one address stood out.  'LuxEnNocturna' Light in darkness?  Light
and darkness?
   She clicked on the message.  There was only one creature in her life
that fit such a description.
   "When you are ready, contact me using this address.  Reju."
   Tears clouded the text on her screen.  One sentence, just one fucking
sentence and she felt like he'd taken a dagger to exposed nerves.
   He was a fucking freak.  He scared her shitless.  He tossed her into a
bath full of water.  He bit her, blinded her, fed her pepper.
   She wanted him so much, longed for him, ached for him.
   Logic dictated that she stop thinking about his dick and think about her
near drowning, the pain, the bleeding, the bruises, the fear.
   It was just lust.
   Liar.
   Lydia had known lust her whole life.  This went deeper than animal
attraction.  There was something about him, something truly absurd and
profound.  Now there was something different about her, something she
couldn't share with anyone.
   It was just the drugs from that club.  Nothing more, nothing less.  In a
few days and it would be out of her system.
   Think about something else.
   She picked up her phone and started listening to her voice messages.
   "Lydia?  Damn it, Lydia, call me back! ...  Where are you?  Give me a
call.  It's getting late. ...  This isn't funny.  Where the hell did you
get to? ...  What is this bullshit about you giving notice?  You can't
leave!  You fucking owe me an explanation! ...  Lydia, you need therapy for
your fucking anger issues.  I'm not taking this shit anymore. ...  It's
over!  Do you hear that?  You better not show up here. ...  Who are you
fucking right now?  Is he worth it?  I bet it's that Stephen prick from
work, isn't it?  You lying bitch. ...  Hey.  Listen.  I'm sorry.  I was
angry.  I'm worried about you.  I was just angry, yeah?  Are you okay?  No
one has heard from you.  Please call me.  Just text me that you're safe."
   The messages went on and on, going from angry to pleading to accusing to
concerned.
   She sent out the email saying that she'd been offline while cleaning up
her new place, to her mother and her friends.  She didn't give any other
details.
   Fuck them all.
   She hit the power button on both her phone and her laptop and crawled
into her fresh sheets.  She pulled out the book she'd found while cleaning
the den.  It must have belonged to Jody.  The name intrigued her given her
current experience, "Dealing with Demons."
   She turned off the overhead light in favor of the bedside lamp and read
the book.  The neighborhood was a lot noisier than she remembered with the
chatter of other people, passing cars, chirping insects, barking dogs, the
fridge in the kitchen clattered, house fan in living room window had a soft
oscillating squeak...
   -_ Instinct _A soft caress, enough to tease, whispered over Lydia's
shoulder.  She turned onto her back and the touch moved toward her breasts.
She arched upward, seeking more.  It felt like having a ribbon glide over
her body, strolling lazily around her nipples.
   She grabbed the hand, clutched it to her, pressed warm skin to her own,
so very warm.  A tongue kicked her throat eliciting her low moan.  She
exposed her neck further as the wet kiss sent a shudder through her body.
Lust washed out the stupor of sleep.
   "Lydia."
   She turned to find his lips.  Her tongue flicked out, tasting him.  Her
breath turned unsteady as he kissed her back.
   "I need you." He murmured while their tongues writhed against one
another.  Cloves and cayenne.  She gasped as she felt his fingers circle
her outer labia, wet and slick.
   "I need you, too."
   Lydia woke to morning light.  She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.  She
surveyed the sparse room.  The broom was in the corner with the
wastebasket. Her bag was unzipped, her bra strap hanging out.  It was
another hour till sunrise, but she could see the whole room perfectly.
   Where the fuck was that bastard?
   She pushed the blanket back and looked down at herself.  Her thighs were
coated in her own fluid.  She widened her legs and stared at the wet spot
in the sheets.
   She sighed.  She'd never had a dream so lucid, so present.  She flopped
back on the bed.
   Why did she have to wake up?  If it was a dream, that would be safe.
   The moon was still in the sky, though the light was weaker now.  It cast
a nice glow through the cleaned windows.  The violet blue of pre-dawn
sunlight took over.
   Birds, so many birds were singing.
   Lydia inspected the disarray of her hair.  She'd start some laundry and
redo her twists.
   A large truck engine turned over down the block.
   "What the fuck have you done to me, Reju?" Lydia groaned into her knees.
   Had she officially lost her sanity?
   Reju's scent washed over her with dizzying clarity.
   Her head snapped up, she drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and covered
her ears trying to keep the scent in mind.  She jumped out of bed but the
moment she hit her bedroom door the smell was gone.
   She searched her room, even opened the closet doors.
   She spun to look behind her, but no one was there.  "Why are you
hiding?"
   Silence.
   "I know you're here."
   She stomped over to her bed and crossed her arms with a pout.  "Face me
you fucking coward!  Deal with the monster you created!"
   Nothing.  No sensation.  No smell.
   "Losing my fucking mind."
   Losing her mind, or was she making up an answer to satisfy her brain?
   She opened her laptop and went straight for her email.  She added his
address to the messaging app and opened a chat session.
Lydia: "What do you want?"
Reju: "Good morning, gorgeous.  I want you.  I want all of you."
   She blushed, but kept her scowl.  "You were in my house."
   Reju: "I can be if that's where you want me.  Otherwise, it was probably
just a fantasy.  Did you sleep well?"
Fantasies and sleep.  What if she hadn't been dreaming?  "Stop fucking
with my head!  You were in my fucking room!"
Reju: "Angry?  Good.  I'm glad to see you feeling better."
Lydia: "You were here."
   "Was I?"
   "Yes.  I felt it.  I felt you.  I smelled you, damn it.  Now admit it!"
   "I miss the way you breathe fire and spit acid.  I miss you."
   'I need you.' That's what he said in her dreams.  Her stomach flipped
recalling her answer.
   Her fingers slammed the keys.  "Fuck you.  You mind-game playing son of
a fucking bitch.  Abusive.  Psychopathic.  Piece of shit." One more, for
the road.  "Fuck you!!!"
   "Clearly your mind is made up on the matter.  Nothing I can say will
change that."
   She stared at the conversation on the screen and felt glorious,
delicious rage boiled up to her neck.  She was so furious that her throat
even felt hot.  Ready to spit the fire like the dragon he called her. 
Lydia grabbed the glass of water at her bedside and slammed the empty cup
down.
   Breathe.
   She swallowed the last bit of water and thought about the book she'd
fallen asleep reading.  Tricksters, testing.  Bringing out the nature of
others through games and trials.
   That sounded so much like Reju.
   ...  as did psychopathic sadist murdering assholes.
   What if it was a test?
   Lydia leaned forward.  Her fingers trembled as she typed.  "Instinct. 
You told me to trust it.  I could have imagined I smelled you, dreamed
about kissing you, imagined I spoke to you, but instinct.  I know you were
in my room."
Reju: "How am I home to answer your message?"
Lydia: "As soon as I explain how you take me from the Umbra to the
Gardens to your house and back to my house with no travel between, then
I'll let you know.  You fucked with my head, and I barely questioned you.
Don't fucking lie to me now."
   "Fuck with you?  You're the one fucking with me."
   She growled and balled her hands into fists.  She was frustrated and
angry and grinning like a love sick fool.  She wanted to punch him and kiss
him.
   'Fuck it.  Let it go.  Just stop.  You won't win this one.'
Lydia: "What do you do?"
Reju: "Professional head fucker, or couldn't you tell?"
   "For a living, not your hobby."
   "Oh!  I'm a hacker."
   "Really now?  How's the pay?"
   "Very nice.  Customers pay me well to pen-test their security systems. I
get paid to exploit vulnerabilities.  Quite rewarding."
   "You work from home?"
   "Yes."
   Lydia rolled her eyes as she stared as the blinking cursor.  "I don't
believe you."
   "I can hack into your computer to prove it."
   "Do it." She grinned and waited for the excuses to follow.  That would
show him.  She wasn't afraid to call his bluff.  She stretched out on the
bed and found herself waiting for a while before he responded.
Reju: "Who is Nathan?  Is he bothering you?"
   Her skin went cold.  "My ex?  No.  He doesn't know where I moved to."
   "Looks like he became your ex the night we met.  No wonder you were in
man-eater mode."
   "I still am."
   "I'll let you eat me if it will make you feel better."
   "I do not trust you.  Next time, I won't survive."
   "Thanks for the laugh.  Shall I get your permission next time?"
   "There won't be a next time.  You just want to lure me back so that you
can murder me and mount me to your wall."
   "I already mounted you to my wall?"
   Lydia hated the sudden rush of lust through her body as she remembered
that moment.  "Go fuck yourself with a rusted drainage pipe."
   Reju: "My little dragon.  I am truly relieved that you are feeling
better."
   "I deserve the truth from you."
   "Ask.  I'll tell you anything you want to know."
   Her fingers hovered over the keys.  Anything?  Suddenly, confirming
something she was sure of didn't matter.  He was in her room this morning.
   Suppose he was a trickster.  Suppose he was, always had been, honest. 
What didn't she know?
   "Did you drug me at the Umbra?"
   "I gave you something far stronger than alcohol.  You weren't used to
it, so you blacked out.  I did warn you that you shouldn't have any."
   "Why me?"
   "Why not?"
   "Please, Reju.  Too tired for games."
   "Then go back to sleep."
   "Were you here?"
   "I will be if you want me to be."
   Tricksters.  Trick questions.  Trick answers.  Truth shrouded in
obscurity.  Lessons taught with harsh penalties for failure.
   One hand wiped her cheeks, the other hit enter on her message.  "I hate
you."
   Reju: "I'm the only one who's supposed to be honest in this
conversation?"
Lydia: "I can't get you out of my head.  I had the greatest day
yesterday.  I felt happy, joyful."
"You'll have plenty more like that.  Rest up.  You'll need it when I
mount you to my wall.  I only kissed you last time, next time I'll be sure
to use my nail."
   Railroad spike.  "I have to tell you I want you first."
   "Yes, you do.  So, when am I going to get your luscious thighs back in
my bed so that I can mount you?  I need you, remember?"
   Lydia jumped up on her bed and clasped her hands.  "Ha!  I knew it!" She
screamed out in her room.  She settled down and typed, "Will you let me
hurt you?"
   "You are welcome to try."
   "You can't subdue me with those fucking pressure points."
   "Fucking pressure points?  I know where that one is, but I haven't
gotten around to using it on you yet.  Bet I could subdue you with it, but
if you don't want me..."
   Lydia groaned and snarled in frustration.  "I want you so much."
   "When do you want me?"
   "I have work in a couple hours."
   "And then?"
   "Maybe.  I need to think about it.  You really hurt me.  I can't let
myself be confused by you."
   "Did you enjoy breathing yesterday?"
   She typed the answer immediately, but it took a long time to press
enter. "Yes."
   "You know how to contact me.  And Lydia..."
   She waited for the rest of his sentence, her heart pounding in her
chest.
   "Have a good day."
   She flipped her screen off and frowned in disgust as she typed, "You
too."
   She closed her laptop flopped back on her bed with a grin so big that it
made her cheeks hurt.  The sunrise was breathtaking, a kaleidoscope of
light.
   Stupid, dumb, foolish woman, fucking with an insane, dark dwelling,
psycho with a biting fetish.
   She loved him with all her stupid heart.
   -_ Rebirth _-
   Getting ready for work felt like an activity from another life, a
previous, dead life.  Her fresh set of twists swished along the back of her
pencil skirt as she entered the office.
   Her eyes were like hungry butterflies, picking out everyone and
everything.  Moldy squares on the ceiling, cheap dirty carpets, burned
coffee, dusty shelves.  It wasn't that her office was a run down place, she
just never noticed how blurry the line of 'clean' could be.
   Her supervisor, Nancy, waved at her over her morning coffee.  "Morning,
Lydia.  I brought in bagels."
   "Thanks." She logged into her computer.
   "Did I see you at Coastal Grill Friday night?"
   "Probably.  I was out with my ex."
   Her boss, Nancy, got up and sat in the extra chair at her cubicle.  "Are
you serious?  Ex?"
   "I broke it off with him.  He was more trouble that he was worth.  I
spent all weekend in my new place.  I had to move out."
   "That is terrible.  I'm so sorry for you."
   "It's probably for the best." Lydia shrugged.
   "Do you need any time?"
   She shook her head and pulled up her schedule.
   "Liddy, you all were together for years.  You moved him into your place
and you're the one who had to move?  Come on."
   "I'll be fine."
   Nancy smelled of fruity lotion or body wash and her amaretto coffee. 
When had it become such a familiar smell?
   "I know you'll be fine, but I need you to be stellar.  Catch up with our
current clients, make sure everything is okay.  If there's something coming
up later this week, just shoot me an email.  You take the rest of the week
to get yourself perfect.  Next week isn't going to leave you any time for
'rebound' activities.  I have a big client coming in and you're my
girl-at-bat for closing.  The portfolio plays to your strengths." The
prospect or a large catch sweetened the tone of her voice.
   Lydia smirked.  Nancy never missed an opportunity to use her looks to
make clients feel welcome at the company.  It also didn't hurt that Lydia
was damned good at explaining the work and closing a deal.  "If you
insist."
   "I do.  Just so long as you come in perky, happy, and helpful.  If
something comes up, I'll call."
   "Thanks."
   "Take compassionate leave.  Your mother is too young to croak on you, so
it's not like you were going to do anything with it."
   "You are so morbid."
   "I know.  When you're done here, put up an out of office and leave. 
You'll make it up to me later."
   Catching up on her work was easy, near automatic.  She was able to read
through the client files and arrange for their visits with minimal
distractions, all without her usual cup of coffee.  A week's worth of
tedium, handled before lunch.  Lydia chalked it up to an extra dose of
motivation.
   Lydia texted her friend Jody.  "Meet for lunch?"
Jody: "San Marino's in half an hour?"
   "I'll be there."
   Jody met her at the door, embraced her.  "How's the place?"
   "The inside is clean.  I need to get the yard under control and then
I'll be set."
   "I don't like that you only sent an email.  You probably want to get
some extra locks on the place.  I can call the phone company, get a line
put in."
   Lydia shook her head.  "I just needed some time to clear my head.  I
found a book of yours in the hallway closet.  Dealing with Demons?"
   "Oh, yeah.  Sorry about that.  Our circle was reading it.  I don't
actually do that stuff, you know."
   "I wasn't worried about that.  I kinda started reading it."
   "And?"
   Lydia shrugged.  "I've had a long string of asshole boyfriends.  Just
looking for some unconventional tips, I guess."
   "Poor thing.  Well, it's a pretty heavy book.  If you have any questions
though I'm not involved with that stuff.  Do you know Carmen?"
   Lydia's eyes widened.  "Her?" Carmen was a bit morose.
   "Yeah," Jody grinned.  "I know, but she knows her stuff." Jody texted
her Carmen's contact info.  "I'm not saying I think it'll be your thing,
but you don't want to dabble.  And, uh, in your case, I don't think it's
your thing."
   Lydia snorted.  "Why's that?"
   "No offense honey, but you'd conjure a demon, demand it do your bidding,
and get yourself slaughtered with that colorful mood of yours." Jody
giggled as she paid the bill.
   Lydia brought out her 'potential client' smile to cover her fear.  "Good
thing I'd never do anything like that."
   ***
   The drive home was no fun.  The wonderful morning weather morphed into a
torrent of rain.  Other cars were going twenty miles per hour on the
highway, emergency blinkers were everywhere.  More than a few puddles
tested her command of the road.
   It was dark in the house when she finally got home.  She took a long hot
bath and donned a pair of dusky blue yoga pants and a midnight blue ribbed
tee.
   Now what?
   The house was clean.  It was soaking wet outside.  Thunder and lightning
were still going strong.  It was a great time to have a really broad,
strong, alluring body that took forbidden fruits to a new level.
   There she went, thinking of him again.
   Not him, a man in general.  Sex in general.
   Unfortunately, there was no cock in general that hoped to measure up.
   She stared at her laptop like it might bite.  There was no general
anything.  Lydia had a very specific asshole in mind.
   She pulled the laptop over and messaged him.
Lydia: "Hello."
Reju: "How was work?"
"Productive.  I caught up on my mail, shifted my schedule.  I have the
rest of the week off.  Boss wants me on this big client."
   "What are you planning to do with your time?"
   She listened to the rain pouring down, the rumble of thunder.  She had
no plan.
Lydia: "I'm ready."
Reju: "Are you sure about that?"
Sure?  Hell no, she wasn't sure.  Why did he have to ask infuriating
questions?
   "Yes."
   "Be specific."
   Growling as she typed, "I want to spend the rest of the week with you."
   "When?"
   She pulled the waist of her pants down and looked at the fiery red
bikini briefs with sparkles of silver.  She'd been sure of this decision
the moment she dug to the back of her underwear drawer to find them.
Lydia: "Now."
Reju: "For the rest of the week?"
   "Yes."
   "Pack a bag.  I'll see you in twenty."
   Twenty minutes?  That's how far away he was?
Lydia: "Okay."
Reju: "Lydia, are you sure?"
   Was she?
   "Yes.  I don't want to spend another day without you.  See?  I said it."
   "Twenty minutes."
   Reju logged off.
   ***
   Exactly twenty minutes later she opened her door.  His ink black hair
peeked from under his black cap.  He wore dark glasses and all black
clothes.  He looked like the secret service, muscle for hire, an assassin.
Even from behind those shades she could sense that he regarded her like a
large predator, unhurried, confident, watchful.  No car other than her own
waiting in the drive.
   Sane or psycho, she wanted to know how deep this rabbit hole could go.
   "You look nice." She closed and locked the door behind him.
   "As do you." He looked around the house.  "You've been busy."
   "Thank you."
   He picked up her travel bag and extended his arm.  "Ready?"
   "Yes."
   He leaned in to kiss her and her tongue dueled with his own for several
minutes.  She put her arms around his shoulder when he hoisted her onto his
hip.  He didn't have to ask.  She closed her eyes and tried not to think
about the sudden darkness, the lurch forward.
   ***
   Snicking sounds of a chopping board in use.  Fresh onions, bell peppers.
   Lydia pushed herself upright on a cushioned bench just outside the
kitchen and rubbed her eyes.  Reju was preparing carrots, peppers, onions,
sprouts.
   Forget that.  She wanted her revenge.
   He pointed to an area beside him.  "There's plenty for you to choose
from."
   She got up from the bench and joined him.  Utensils lay out on the
counter: skewers, knives, a tenderizer, even a rolling pin.  She imagined
the ways she could hurt him with each one.
None of the tools looked adequate.  None of the options said pain like
'let me earn your complete and total trust then subject you to a
near-death-experience by my hands.'
   He scraped the cut carrots into a container then picked up a knife. 
"Here."
   "Never mind."
   "Take it.  This will make you feel better.  I won't stop you.  If you
stab me here," he angled his head back and pointed to the spot, "I might
bleed out before I can repair the damage.  Here," he pointed to a spot on
his stomach, "and my brain will be so confused as to how to translate the
pain that my whole body will feel like it's in a compactor.  Here," he
pointed very specifically to a point between his ribs.  "Aim upward and
you'll get my heart."
   "Are you fucking mad?"
   "I trust you." He placed the blade in her hand, wrapped her fingers
around it.  He sat on a stool, stretched his arms out on the counter and
rolled his head back.  "If you decide to kill me, the heart is your best
option.  If you've never cut a person before, you need to put effort into
it.  Muscle and sinew do not give as easily as film depicts."
   "Are you insane!!" She screeched at the top of her lungs, but he didn't
flinch and she didn't set the knife down.  Her grip tightened.  She let the
blade whisper over his chest.  She tapped the tip of it ever so gently on
his neck, scraped the edge up under his jaw.  His pulse was low.  He
appeared completely relaxed, as if bored with her.
   Lydia grazed his belly and was surprised how easily she nicked him. 
Muscle may like to put up a fight, but skin parted like a breeze.  She
briefly entertained gutting him, teaching him a lesson.  The rush of power
had her own heart running a race.
   How did he know how exactly to pierce a heart?
   She pressed the blade to his sternum, drug the knife down and created a
thin red line.  She didn't want to kill him; she wanted to hurt him.  She
pressed harder as she remembered the way his hands held her against the
floor of his bath tub.
   His blood looked dark red, brick, maroon.  She flattened the blade in
his blood, but it didn't get much brighter.  She lifted the blade and drug
it back through the wound, slowly, pressing just a little deeper.  That
time he inhaled with a strained groan, but his hands never left the
counter.
   She rested her head on his shoulder and watched him bleed.  The blood
rivulets thickened as they made a trail for his abdomen.
   "Do you feel better?" He whispered.
   "Yes." She set the knife down and kneeled to catch the drop of blood
before it hit the waist band of his shorts.  She licked her way up as if he
were an errant ice cream cone.
   If someone had told her a week ago that she was going to cut a man and
then lick up his blood she would have stopped speaking to that person.  She
made her way back up to the cut but didn't stop.  She showed no mercy, no
tenderness as she dug her tongue into the split skin.
   Lydia had tasted her own blood before, in very small amounts, very
rarely.  His tasted stronger, more mineral-like, tangy.  It made her cheeks
tingle, almost like that sensation when she did a row of shots.  She didn't
know he had moved until she felt his hand against the back of her head,
holding her to his chest.
   It wasn't that large of a cut, it seemed.  The trickle of blood flow
stopped and she pulled back to look at the raw stripe of skin.
   "Thank you." His voice sounded deeper and there was a weird quality to
it.
   There was a weird quality to her for that matter, her whole face
tingled. Her body seemed weightless.  "For?"
   "Kissing it better." He lifted her and carried her over to the black
tile of his kitchen wall.  He lifted her and kissed her deep, her hair
gripped firmly in his hand.  Aggressive and demanding, but also needy,
passionate.  "So, let's finish this." He took her hand and began leading
her down the hallway.
   "Where are we going?"
   "The pool."
   She couldn't tell if he was teasing her or being serious.
   "Such a response.  Now that's an adrenalin dump." He stopped and drew a
deep breath right at her neck.  Then he picked her up and carried her.
   The were fewer lights down the hallway and she couldn't see where they
were really going.
   "Reju?"
   "Prove you trust me."
   "I--" She didn't.  That was what she wanted to say, but the words stuck
in her mouth.
   They turned a corner and she was plunged into complete darkness.  Only
the after image of a flickering candle remained.
   "Reju.  Tell me you won't harm me."
   "Why would I ever choose to harm you?"
   "Other than all the previous times?!" Her voice echoed through this
room. It sounded large enough to hold a pool.
   "You're exaggerating."
   He dropped his hand from under her legs and she felt like a petulant
toddler being forced to stand.  He undressed her as if he had no trouble
seeing at all.  She kicked and struggled, resisting the inevitable.
   "Please!  Stop!  Tell me what you're doing."
   "Feeding you to my pool of piranhas."
   "No you aren't!"
   She finally lost the clothing war when he picked her up and pulled off
her pants.  She could smell the water, hear the lazy slosh as it hit the
walls.
   He was just trying to freak her out, like he did with the aloe.
   She didn't want to take that chance.  She wanted to run.
   He walked with her a few feet and when her toes met the ice cold water
she drew her legs all the way up to her chest.  "No!  Don't put me in the
water!  Please don't!" She brought her scream down a bit as it was hurting
her ears.
   "Do you trust me, Lydia?" He didn't yell.  He kept his tone even.
   "Fuck you!  Yes!  You don't fucking deserve it, but yes!"
   "Why?"
   "I don't fucking know.  Maybe I'm as insane as you are now."
   "Why?"
   She sighed and wrapped her legs around him.  "I can't explain it. 
Believe me, I can't.  There's no logic to this."
   "Yes, there is.  Now tell me why.  Why do you trust me?"
   "It's ...  I ...  everything you've done." She groaned but continued. 
"Everything you've done to me has made me a better person."
   "I'm putting you in the water."
   Tears fell like rain.  She didn't want to get wet.  She clung to him,
but after a few seconds of weightlessness...
   She screamed as freezing cold water rushed up around her, around the
both of them.  She clung to him, wrapping both arms and legs as tight
around his body as she could manage.  If she was going to drown, then she
was going to take him down with her.  Her diaphragm felt stuck, the water
was so cold that her skin burned.  Thousands of knives pierced her flesh.
   "Why are you here?" He didn't seem at all bothered by the glacial water.
   "F-f-f-for you."
   "Do you trust me?"
   She nodded.  She couldn't talk.  She pressed closer to him for warmth.
   "Speak."
   "C-c-c-cold."
   "How much do you trust me?"
   That was her problem.  She was on the verge of hypothermia and another
first hand experience at drowning, but she didn't want to admit that she
trusted him with her life.
   That would make her something worse than just stupid or foolish.  She
was beyond psychiatric intervention.  She hadn't known him seven days and
he'd had her life in his hands more times than she could count.  Worse, she
felt like she'd do it all over again.  Lydia whimpered as she faced the
truth.  She would rather die feeling this alive in his arms.
   "Completely."
   "Why?"
   "Y-y-you can't you just t-t-take the win?" She couldn't quite feel the
chill the of the water anymore.  Were her nerve endings dying?  Was that
what it felt like to freeze to death?
   She put one hand out in the water and it felt chilly, but not nearly as
cold as earlier.
   "Why, Lydia?"
   There was that tenderness to his voice again, but she ignored its
allure. "I don't want to say."
   "Whisper it.  I'll keep your secrets."
   The water continued to warm.  She dropped her legs from around his
waist. There wasn't a bottom to reach, which nearly sent her into a panic
again, but he held her, kept her above water.
   "Take a breath."
   The moment she did he pushed her under the surface.  She only managed to
panic for a few seconds before she felt his lips on hers, felt him under
the water with her.  The moment she needed to breathe, he brought her back
to the surface.
   "Tell me why."
   "Why does it matter?"
   "Fine," his thumb passed over her lips.  "You can keep it to yourself.
Why did I bring you to the pool?"
   "Another lesson, another test."
   "What is the lesson?"
   "The relativity of the feeling of ice cold water on skin?"
   "Try again."
   She tightened her grip on him.  "This is where ...  where we left off."
   "Why?"
   "To prove that I trust you're helping me."
   His hands caressed her back.  "Why the water?"
   "Fuck.  Give me a second, damn it." She tried to think of all the
reasons to float in pitch dark in water, to be nearly drowned, to be forced
to fight to breathe.  She pondered how any of these activities could prove
beneficial to her.  "We're born from darkness, created in fluid.  You
drowned," It was that moment of 'instinct' rather than any physical or
audible clue that made her feel like that word hurt him.  "You submerged me
to make me fight for life.  Like ...  like a baby fights for air when born.
This is my way of being reborn, being made to live again."
   He smiled with his face next to hers and kissed her cheek.  "Water and
life are symbolically joined.  Created in, flowing - the river of life and
death.  Learn to flow, to trickle through the rocks, wind around obstacles,
to be present.  I'm going to leave you here alone.  Enjoy the pool.  Soak
in what it means to be reborn.  I'll be back when dinner is ready."
   "You're going to leave me here in the dark?"
   "You can see."
   "If I," He meant in the dark.  Bastard!  "Why don't you have windows?"
   "Dirt isn't a view worth having." He kissed her on the forehead and she
felt the ripples as he swam away.  Water dripped from his body.  His feet
made soft, moist steps.  "You can have this."
   Mechanical whirring overhead drew her attention.  Triangular blades
pulled back to reveal a slightly clouded, but starry sky.  She smelled the
sudden influx of night air, moisture, ozone, soil, trees.  She kicked out
her feet and floated on the surface with a grin a mile wide.
   Being with him wasn't for the weak.  That was for sure.
   -_ Nourishment _-
   She'd never seen the stars so clearly, even with the clouds passing
overhead.  With her ears under the water and the steady thump of her heart
she felt as if she were floating in space.  The peace was more profound
relief than she found through any sedative.
   Reju was like the water: mysterious, fluid, languid, graceful, and
formidable.  Just when she thought everything between them was copacetic,
he rose like a giant wave and crushed her.
   What's delicate about him?
   She could think of a few parts.
   Her giggle filled her ears, but at the same time she felt the water rise
and fall along her side.  She changed her position to tread water and
looked around.  No matter how good her eyes were, she couldn't see beneath
the surface.
   "Reju?" She stuck her hand out under the water, extended her fingers and
her breath caught as fingers slipped into hers.
   He came up behind her, broke the surface of the water with barely a
splash and kissed her shoulder.  "What did I miss?"
   "You're a delicate creature."
   "Am I?"
   "Yeah, you are."
   "I thought I gave you an assignment?"
   "You're like the water.  Strong, graceful, powerful, and delicate."
   He grunted slightly and swam ahead of her.  "Time to eat."
   She followed him to the edge.  When he lifted her she was still grinning
at her own metaphors.  The whirring sound started up and the ceiling
overhead closed.  He wrapped her in a large fluffy robe.
   "My hair..."
   He gathered it in the back and set it inside the hood of the robe. 
"I'll see to it later." She took his hand and followed him back toward the
kitchen.  There were significantly fewer fires lit.
   "Are you a member of some kind of dark worshipping cult?"
   "Does a strong person worship weights?"
   "No."
   "There's your answer."
   Except it wasn't.  She had no idea what he was talking about.
   "Close your eyes."
   "Annoying little shit," she muttered as she closed her eyes.  She
smelled the meat sautÃ(C)ed in vegetables, but barely got a good look at
it.
   "Carrot," said Reju.
   She felt the warm, buttery disk at her lips.  After chewing and
swallowing, he introduced her to the rest of the plate.  Strip steak, kale
and clams, string beans.
   "I'm not a baby."
   He took her hand and placed it on the plate and repeated each of the
items.  "My eyes are closed, so you'll have to feed me."
   "How am I supposed to manage that?"
   "Touch, smell, memory, spatial awareness."
   "You want me to keep this robe on?"
   "You want to eat?"
   She chuckled and felt around the plate.  She kept her eyes closed on the
off-chance that was waiting to see if she'd peek.  She didn't mind playing
along.  She picked up one of the carrots and reached for his face with her
other hand.
   "No."
   The hand dropped to her lap.  She followed his voice and found his chin
with the back of her hand.  She lifted her fingers and...
   Her mind went blank as his tongue licked at her fingers.  His fingers
closed around her wrist to keep her hand in place until he was finished.
   "Fuck," she moaned.
   They took turns feeding each other.  The food was already delicious, but
the added sensuality and intimacy of using their fingers truly over-loaded
her senses.  She was glad for the robe because she could feel the stinging
warm arousal building between her legs.
   She caught his finger between her teeth and playfully flicked her tongue
over the tip.  She could hear the change in his breathing.  She sucked his
finger into her mouth, running her tongue back and forth under his fingers.
   Turn about was fair play.  He did the same thing to her when she fed
him. His tongue dipped between her fingers, the tip of it pressed into the
pad of her index finger just before sucking it into his mouth.
   It was the dirtiest, sexiest, most memorable meal of her life.
   Lydia's fingers grazed the plate.  There was nothing left.  She put her
wet fingers to his lips.  "All finished."
   "Not yet." His lips covered hers.  He dipped down and licked her chin,
removing the juice that had gathered there.  He then wiped her mouth and
hands with a warm cloth.  He opened her robe and she went lax as he stroked
the heat between her legs.  Two fingers rubbed idly along her slit.  He was
such a tease, but the didn't want to complain.  She was content to let him
do what he wanted.
   His kiss moved to her neck and her eyes nearly flew open when he moaned.
"Lydia?"
   "Yes?"
   "I want you."
   The hesitancy in his voice did it.  She opened her eyes.
   Those eyes.  It was amazing what she could forget about when she had her
eyes closed most of the time.  Red-orange sparklers, as if there were some
kind of glitter in his iris.  Or frost, it was like the reflection of light
moving across a thin layer of red frost.  It was hard to put into words,
harder for her mind to process, but undeniably beautiful to see.
   "Yes."
   "Yes, what?"
   "What you want to do to me.  Yes.  You can have it.  You can do whatever
you want.  I trust you."
   He stood and took her hand.
   ***
   Lydia felt so dopey that she didn't care where they were walking or why.
She followed, wallowing in the warm sensation of the robe, the after glow
of so much touching.  They passed an open room and the sudden appearance of
LED light snagged her attention.
   "Your computer!" She released his hand and dashed into the room to get a
look at his system.
   Four monitors.  The top-most two were dark, but the bottom two had their
own screen savers.  A row of gleaming black cabinets whirred silently, she
counted eight shelves, all with blinking servers.  She rounded the desk to
look at his monitors.  The source of the light, the shifting album, rooted
her to the spot.
   She knew exactly what folder those photos came from.  Patrick, an early
ex, was a hobby photographer.  She let him take the photos under the
condition that he did it with her camera and she got to pick which ones he
could have.  Lydia ultimately let him have two, but she kept all 40 from
their weekend fuck-fest photo-shoot.
   Reju stood behind her.
   "Not a word?"
   "You said I could hack your computer.  You gave me permission."
   "To prove you could do it."
   "It's hardly proof if I don't actually take anything."
   "These are private, really private.  I didn't even let the photographer
see these."
   "Mmm, but nothing beats the sight of you in person." He made a low sound
in his throat at the black and white photo of her bending over the arm of a
couch.  It was an anatomical view and no where near tasteful.  She'd gotten
a Brazilian wax for the shoot and she left nothing to the imagination. 
"But they do help when you're not here." He slid his hand inside her robe
and pulled and squeezed on her nipples.
   "I bet." She tried to reach for her fury, but it wouldn't spark,
dampened by the dark waters of Reju's cunning.  "You could have asked."
   "You offered."
   Damn his logic.  She needed to stop doing that.
   Too late.  That last happened ten minutes ago.
   "Did you take anything else?"
   "I copied the drive once I found the photos." His other hand reached
down to circle her clitoris.  "I found,
   "'A dragon heart with kitten claws, beneath the roar, a kitten purrs. 
'Between my thighs a kitten sleeps, like precious jewels this dragon keeps.
'I spread my wings and blow my fire when unfortunate ones raise my ire.  'I
romp and mew and play a bit, if only someone knew how to stroke this kit.'"
   He kissed her neck as two fingers dove inside her.  "Do I know how to
stroke you, kitten?"
   She could only whimper.  He seen her photos, read her shitty poetry, her
email.  Everything.  She turned away from the explicit photos of herself.
   He knew everything about her.  What did she know about him?
   He took her hand and led her out the room.  This time she didn't let
anything else distract her from reaching their destination.
   They entered the bedroom and the arabesque stenciling on the moulding
caught her attention.  She'd thought it was some kind of paint the first
time, but this close, she saw that the design was etched into the
stone-like material.
   "Now what is this about your hair?"
   "It's not important.  I can get something on it later."
   He chuckled and pulled something out of a drawer.  "You'll care later.
Take off the robe and lay face down." He pulled the covers back on the bed.
   Silk sheets beckoned.  They felt cool and decadent against her body. 
She rested her cheek on her hands and closed her eyes.  He sat beside her
on the bed and she felt him tug on one of her twists.
   "Do you know what you're doing?"
   "Untwisting your hair and moisturizing it.  I'm not twisting it back.  I
want to see your hair loose."
   He made quick work of her hair and whatever he used smelled sweet, but
subtle.  He finished by rubbing her scalp, massaging her head.  The last
time someone a guy put his hand in her hair he pulled it back with a
figurative stub.  His fingers worked their way to the back of her neck,
rounded her shoulders kneading her muscles and working out her kinks.  He
parted her hair and gathered the half furthest from him.  "Roll over."
   She did and watched as he spread her hair onto the bed beside her.  She
concentrated on the half erect pendulum moving with him.
   He straddled her leg and she cocked her eyebrow.  "My legs should be
open."
   "In due time." His fingertips made concentric circles around her
breasts, spiraling up toward her nipples and then down to her belly.  "I've
told you how beautiful you are, right?"
   "Gorgeous, you said."
   "Very." He sounded as if he were speaking to himself.
   She'd never had someone look at her with such bald lust, not for so
long, not with such concentration.  All the men she'd been with were
impatient, ready to get inside, in a hurry to get the act done.  Reju knew
how to make her smile.
   "Don't move."
   And how to soften her for the coming blow.  His taunt round ass clenched
and relaxed as he walked away.  He returned to the bed with two wine
glasses and a remote.  He set the glasses down and angled the remote toward
the closet.  With the press of a button, a violet blue light soft as
pre-dawn filled the room and reflected through the bodies of the moon jelly
fish swimming through the tank.
   She opened her mouth but there were no words.  He set the remote aside
and reached for the glasses.  She couldn't tear her eyes away from the
aquatic ballerinas.  The light changed very slightly to a more blue color
than violet.
   "Sorry," She whispered.
   He handed her a glass, filled with a dark liquid.  "Go ahead.  Watch."
   She turned onto her side and watched the deep blue color turned pale. 
The color resembled the gulf.  By degrees it darkened, became a rich blue
green.  The process was so slow, but constant enough that she was afraid to
look away.  She shook her head brusquely.  "How long is the transition?"
   "You've been staring at the tank for twenty minutes."
   "Shut.  Up.  This is fucking amazing." She looked over his body to the
mirror on the opposite wall.  The tank's light was reflected, bathing them
in the same evergreen hue.  Before she could get caught up in the hypnotic
transition she looked at the glass in her hand.
   They clinked their glasses together and she put the rim of the glass to
her lips and watched him drink first.  His throat constricted as the liquid
slid down in large gulps.
   Lydia followed suit and knocked the chilled drink back.  It tasted
spicy, thick, strong herbal taste, but not quite medicinal.  She figured it
to be a super thick version of a juice cocktail.  She giggled as she set
the empty glass on the table behind him.
   "What?"
   "It..." Lydia giggled again as her senses seemed to vibrate.  Even her
hearing felt like it was tickling.
   The LED lights weren't just changing color.  There was a whole bank of
them, each bulb turning a different hue at a varying speed from the others.
That's how the colors managed to look so rich and transition smoothly.
   Lydia shook her head.  How could she know something like that?  She took
a deep breath and collapsed on his body.
   "You." She extended her tongue and licked his chest.  She grinned at the
memory of cutting him, but he didn't even have a scar.  "It tastes like you
smell.  Is that why you smell that way?"
   Her heart beat so rapidly that she felt dizzy.  She felt high.  She took
in another lungful of his body and rolled her face back and forth along her
chest.  Exactly like being high, dizzy and euphoric and floaty, intense.
   She moaned as he kissed her neck.  He rolled over and parted her thighs
and she was only too eager to greet him.
   "I want to taste you," Reju licked her throat, kissed her shoulder.  "It
won't hurt; I promise.  This is what you said yes to.  May I, please?  I
need you."
   Even in her acid trip haze, she recognized that he wasn't taking
advantage of her advanced permission, and that he was not talking about
licking her neck.  She knew it.  She knew it and it didn't bother her.  She
could have said no, gained some control of the situation, but there was
nothing 'no-like' about her at the moment.
   "Yes, you can." Lydia giggled.  She'd say yes to anything he wanted.
   Can I slit your throat?  Yes.
   Can I drown you in a bathtub?  Yes.
   Can I drug you?  Yes
   "Can I trust you?" She slurred.
   "Yes, my dragoness.  Yes."
   Like the moment when a doctor inserts the needle, a huge needle, a
moment when she thought it would hurt more, but the puncture hurt less, and
then it was over.  The pressure was overshadowed by the sucking sensation
of his mouth on her neck.  Then the ecstasy of the pressure between her
thighs as he slid into her.
   Her orgasm was such a sensual and powerful thing that she felt as if she
could see it.  Bathed in soft yellow-orange light while her mind exploded
in a synaptic fireworks display.
   -_ Sanguine _-
   Lydia watched the jelly fish dance in the red-lit tank over the curve of
Reju's chest.  She'd come close to passing out, but only just.  He always
gave her a moment to breathe, kept her present.  They had thoroughly used
the bed.  Fucking from orange to violet then red to pitch black.
   She never knew what pleasure had been until now.  Things she thought
were pleasure or passion could only be described as 'paltry' given the
sensation of his body thrusting into hers, their skin creating sparks of
passion as they touched.
   Each time she had sex with him it was different, better.  Yes, that last
time was pure pleasure, bliss, a true union.
   Reju had a way of turning her into a wet puddle.  He'd been prepared to
defend against dehydration though, making sure she had something to drink
during their downtime.  Her mind drifted to the languid way he moved inside
her, making the sound of her wet folds fill the room.  He had no words, no
lesson, just sex, pure sex.
   Lydia didn't know she was capable of having orgasm that lasted for
hours. It seemed like hours, like her body was running high, one climax
rising to an even higher plateau.  Her heart had been a trooper, keeping
her alive as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed through her.
   Toward the end she cried, not with tears, but begging and whining and
whimpering - but not for mercy, but more.  It was hard to describe, even to
herself, even now that she had time to think.  It had sounded of greed and
lust and thankfulness.
   She wasn't the only one making peculiar sounds.  He had a way of
growling and groaning just moments before he'd tense and empty deep inside
her.  She'd felt it each time.  His ejaculate felt cool inside her rather
than warm, but she figured they were both so hot that comparatively his
ejaculate was refreshing.
   She needed to talk to him about that.
   The violet light dimmed.  In a few moments they would be in complete
darkness.
   She couldn't tell if he was asleep.  She'd been lying there watching the
jelly fish, letting them hypnotize her while she listened to him breathe,
while she thought exactly how lucky she was to know him, so fortunate to
survive him.
   Her cheeks puffed in a slight grin.  She was still high.  That was the
only way to rationalize this lazy bliss.  Electric currents whispered along
her skin, through her body.  She breathed him in and tasted his smell.
   She shifted in the dark, moving into position before the tank simulated
morning light.  She kissed her way down his body.  It didn't matter to her
if he was sleep or awake.  She took her time, making each kiss complete
with a swirl of her tongue, added the caress of her hand.
   Present.  Savoring each moment.  She moved from his hip to his thigh,
feeling each tiny hair against her lips.  She pushed his thighs apart and
kissed her way up to the inside crease of one thigh and then repeated the
process with his other.
   Using her nose to direct her path, she rubbed her face into his scrotum,
caressed his balls with her cheeks.  Lydia had never done anything like
that before, and she wasn't sure what possessed her to do it now.  His legs
were wide open, legs bent and parted as her tongue snaked out to suck one
of his balls into her mouth.
   'Do you trust me?' She smirked like an imp.
   She took the other sac in her mouth and circled it with her tongue
before moving on.  She licked up the underside of his rock hard shaft like
a popsicle, licking from the back to the tip, hands free.  His erection
bobbed under her tongue.  She took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue
around him.  She pulled back to the head, then crawled up his body to
straddle him.
   She let her heat find his, flexed her hips until the tip rested inside
her pussy.  For several seconds, she didn't move.  His hands played with
her breast and his hips remained still.  She flexed her vaginal muscles
around the head of his cock, then she slowly pushed down and up, only along
the tip, working muscles she'd never thought to put to much use before. 
When she finally slipped all the way down, she rotated her hips in a
circle.
   'I'd give him anything he wanted, everything he wanted.'
   Lydia tried to communicate her thought with every squeeze, gyration,
caress.  When she fully seated herself on him, she moaned, leaned forward
to add pressure to her clitoris.  He felt so perfect inside her.
   His hands clamped down on her hips, keeping her from rising and he let
loose a vulnerable moan.  "So fucking good, Lydia."
   Her heart attempted a double somersault twist in her chest.  She felt
the sting in her eyes and rolled her head back to keep them from falling on
him.  She could only imagine how it must feel to him.  He rocked her hips
back and forth as his own hips strained upward.  Each breath was a moan
until he finally climaxed.
   "Damn." His fingers extricated themselves from her hips.  There would be
hand-shaped bruises there tomorrow.
   ***
   The soft, buttery yellow light filtered through the wall of her hair as
she braced on her hands and knees.  Her hands fisted in the sheets as Reju
drove into her from behind.  The meeting of their bodies made a constant
fleshy beat accented by their groans.  There were no words, only sounds,
because she couldn't think clearly enough for language.  The pleasure was
so exquisite that she thought she'd lose consciousness unless she
restrained her climax, if she were capable of doing any such thing.
   Her whole body flashed cold just before she let loose a scream that
would have had neighbors calling the authorities if there were any within
earshot.  Her arms collapsed under her, but Reju held her firm against his
body and continued to thrust.  She quaked with endless ripples of mindless
ecstasy.
   Her eyes fluttered open as he lay her on the bed.  The blood red looked
too bright in the room.  Her legs touched something cold on the sheets.
   Did they sweat that much?
   He dragged her away from the cool spot, and she was so out of it that
her mind couldn't concentrate on one concept for too long.  She wasn't cold
anymore.  She was warm and limp and comfortable.  She felt swollen with
pleasure.
   Reju lifted her head and placed a cup to her lips.  She didn't bother to
hold the cup nor did she care what liquid it contained.  She drank until
there was nothing left.  She felt like a roller coaster - not the
gravitational pull, just the thrill, the thrum of excitement physically
tickling her skin.  Liquid meth and cocaine and caffeine with a lithium
chaser.  He lowered her head back to the pillow.
   What is that?  She couldn't hear if she'd actually spoke the words.  She
couldn't even feel her face, much less make it move.
   ***
   A hulking figure of darkness outlined by fuchsia lay between her legs.
Two spikes of hollow pain pressed into her thigh, but it wasn't that bad,
not really.  Just a dull pressure breaking through the surface and into her
muscles.  He kissed her thigh and his fingers circled her clitoris.  Her
head rolled back onto the pillow as her body reacted with fevered
excitement.
   She didn't climax again, but something different, something muted and
numb.  She felt as if her body had been lowered in a warm bath.
   He crawled over her and she felt a different person in the back of her
mind panic.  That voice was acting as if she'd opened a box to find it
teeming with rats and snakes and spiders.  She observed this part of her
mind react in fear, scream, cry, and freak out.
   His mouth was stained with her blood.  She took one breath after
another. He licked her lips.  Her arm twitched, acknowledging that her
brain thought it was a great idea to run.  She wouldn't get far.  She
licked the blood from his chin, his lips.  She wanted to know what she
tasted like.  He kissed her back and when her hands finally moved it was to
wrap around his back, to hold him closer to her.
   What was in that cup?
   He lifted her legs to his shoulders and plunged inside her with a laugh
more dark and malicious than any box of arachnids or pests.  He pinned her
wrists down to the bed and sealed her mouth with his own.
   She was so lethargic, dizzy, that there wasn't much of a reaction.  He
gave; she took.  Her body was his playground, hot and wet and ready and
reactive to every inch of his body.  She felt him so intensely, each
movement, each breath, each thrust.  All she could feel was him, all she
could smell was the heat and sex of their union.  When she opened her eyes,
his face was pinched in pleasure, in joy and concentration.
   She was only too happy to be pinned under him, to be his prisoner, his
play thing.  She trusted him with everything she was, with her body, her
life, her soul.
   He was panting as he lowered her legs and wrapped his body around her,
cuddling her close to him.  He pressed his lips to her ear.  "Lydia?"
   She hummed in answer.
   "I love you."
   She blinked twin tears and responded with a slurred voice.  "I would die
for you."
   He turned her to face him and those inhumanly red eyes shone like laser
points in the blue light of the room.  As weird as it was, all she could
see was the exact love he professed.
   'On your back.' She meant to say it, but her mouth failed her once
again.
   He untangled himself and rolled onto his back.
   'This time don't stop me.' She crawled down to his legs like a drunken
baby, but she made it.  She greedily filled her mouth with him.  She
couldn't get her mouth to work well enough to form words, but sucking and
licking were easy.  She tasted herself on him - tangy, savory, and
metallic. That was a bit weird, but she didn't dwell on it.
   He watched her with those gorgeous eyes and she looked back at him. 
Taking advantage of his semi-soft state, she sucked him down until her nose
touched his pubic bone.  She couldn't stay long.  As he gained length and
girth, she had to back off.  She took one of his hands and placed it on the
back of her head, then she put her hands on the bed on either side of his
hips.
   He didn't disappoint.  He moved her head up and down his shaft.  She
relaxed and opened her mouth, easy, given how little control she had
otherwise.  When he pushed her down she let go and felt him slip into
throat.  He let her up to breathe.
   "Fuck, Lydia.  Do that again." He groaned as she swallowed around his
head and the third time he swelled and filled her mouth.  He lifted her and
rolled onto her.  He wrapped her in his arms and nibbled and kissed her
neck and earlobe, then over to her cheek and lips.  His tongue plunged into
her mouth, invading, licking.  "Focus on me."
   She looked at his eyes and attempted to 'focus' or whatever he meant.
   "Are you okay?"
   'Just peachy, why?'
   "Are you cold?"
   'No.'
   He brushed his nose against hers and whispered, "Fuck."
   He wanted something.  Lydia fought to make her mouth work.  "Go on."
   He narrowed his eyes, but looked oddly vulnerable, weak, desperate, in
need.
   "I'm okay.  You can have whatever you want."
   His mouth opened and she saw his teeth.  Not just his teeth, but his
incisors.  They looked extra special in her drugged state, almost
theatrical in their length.
   "It's okay." What she meant to say was how much better those were to eat
her with.
   He took one of her breasts in his hand and licked her erect nipple. 
"Stop talking."
   'Sir, yes sir.'
   He took long, deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling a
cool stream of air over her breasts.  She didn't say a word.  She combed
her fingers into his hair, played until she was tired of playing.  She
grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him up to her neck.
   His lips locked onto her throat.
   A sharp moan and a shudder later, Lydia slipped into the dark oblivion
of unconsciousness.
   <->
   Epilogue: Yes, relationships like this can end terribly.  Fun fact: all
kinds of relationships can end up like that.  Don't pick on those who fight
as much as they fuck.  Be where you want to be, and know why you're there,
in all situations, risky and safe.
Written: May 2012
Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
   
  
Minion_02