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The One

By: remcontrol



Some women always seemed to know, with one look in my eyes the most beautiful smirk would appear as I let them in front of me in line, or waited patiently for them to finish stirring the cream into their coffee before I took my turn. Certain women seem to make me stop everything I'm doing, and leave me humiliated without a word. They see the desperation in my eyes, that stare quickly at the floor as they walk by. If only they said hello, how pleased I would be... soon I would be at home, on my knees, recalling my few brief encounters with dominant women. Afterwards, I would sit and wonder, how am I going to find my mistress, to serve and obey?

Some women could tell just by looking at me, my grade twelve English teacher knew, knew I hadn't finished my assignments just to be alone in her room after class, barely containing her laughter when I showed up.

"So, James...why is it you haven't completed this assignment?" she would ask, often walking to the front of the desk for these admonishments, wearing sheer stockings and mostly grey dresses, my pre-cum dripped when she crossed her legs. She knew. Her If only that fantasy had come true, what could be better, or more cliched.

Here I was, still wandering, waiting, and hoping to find my place ten years later. Here I was, shopping for groceries, when She caught my eye. She knew. I became nervous, I must have looked paranoid as I attempted to avoid eye contact while seeking it out at the same time. She stared me down every time I caught a glimpse of her, a look that would control my every move. I steeled myself, and pushed my cart closer down the aisle to where she stood, and froze when I got to the herbs, maybe four feet away from Her. I picked up a bunch of chervil when Her eyes caught mine, obviously trying to show myself to her, my presentation was more than obvious. She turned slightly in the direction of the vegetable stand, then opened her eyes widely at me,then sternly looked in my cart. Was it an instruction, or was I being a fool, reading all this into a simple shopping trip? When she tapped her fingers from right to left with an impatient stare, I quickly left my cart to retrieve a bag of carrots she seemed to have been eyeing.

When I returned, she was making her way down the aisle, toward the bakery, and clearly away from me. I felt cold, like the world had just shrunk, and I would soon be on my knees again, alone again, with chervil and carrots. I decided to follow, though there was no indication that she would pay any notice, as she had begun ordering pastries and was oblivious to me while I picked out a baguette and some danish. I slunk away, disappointed and still highly aroused, stealing a glance at her black pumps, and stockings with a sharp line running up the middle of her legs. She laughed at something the baker said as I pushed away.

"That's everything" I heard her say, voice still lilting with laughter.

I shopped as slowly as I could, trying to increase my chances of running into her, comparing weights of everything on a can or a label for the price to weight ratio, looking over my shoulder.

" What do you expect to find?" It was the same voice, without the lilt, I was sure of it. I closed my eyes and hoped I was right, turned around and answered,

"I'm just looking for the best deal, you know, which is cheaper..." I offered

"Hmm. I see. So your normally a slow shopper?" she inquired and accused

" I suppose, it takes a little longer this way" I explained as best I could, it helped that I actually had to consider this.

" Thorough then, I expect. Is that understood?" Her voice was firm, and I wanted to say yes, but was caught off guard, it was not yet clear what She meant.

" Ahhumm" what was I doing, what should I say, time was speeding as she waited for my response, "what is it...I should understand?"

"Clearly, I was wrong. You're less than capable of your chores I suspect. How long does it take you to shop for yourself?" She asked with an air of disdain

"Usually not that long, I'm just Loo..."

"Answer me." She said quickly, plainly

"Half an hour?"

"Is that so. And what do we have so far? Some herbs, crackers, coffee, chicken breast,bread and a nice bag of carrots. Pathetic, isn't that right?" Therhythm of her speech had enthralled me, I answered immediately

" Yes, yes" nodding my head in agreement

" And do you understand, what is expected of you?" It felt like a follow up question in an interview, the question that would determine your candidacy.

"Yes, I think so" I said, with a heavy emphasis on so

" What do you do with the carrots?" Perhaps I hadn't got the job after all, I had no answer

"Cat got your tongue?" She laughed

"No, no idea really, what should I do with them?" I answered, biting my lip

" You peel them, pair them, and sautee lightly with seasoned butter. Perhaps with some of those herbs you have. Now, follow Me."

She turned down the aisle, as the blood that had rushed to my head started to release, I wondered how long we'd been standing there. It couldn't have been more than a minute, surely, but it had felt like easily five. When we got over to the next aisle she told me to compare the prices of all the olive oils, and tell her which was the cheapest. As I was calculating, I noticed she was removing most of the items from my cart, leaving just the bread, and the coffee, while adding a large bottle of water from Her cart. I said nothing, except about the olive oil.

" The twenty litre pail is by far the best price, " I had no idea what her name was, what to call her, so I just stared

"Hmm. So it is, put it in my cart now" and off we went down the aisle, me pushing Her cart, and She pushing mine.

At the cash register, She completely ignored me, flipping through the tabloids as Her Two-Hundred dollar bill was being rung through. Nearing the end, I wondered where I should be after the transaction, but didn't know how to ask, I tried to catch her eye as the cashier rang me up.

"Air Miles Sir?"

" No, no Air Miles, thanks" nothing, no response as I took the receipt. I wheeled the cart into the parking lot and pretended to make a phone call by checking my messages. Finally the door opened and she walked towards me carrying the single bag of my belongings, " This way" she said as she past bye.

After opening the trunk of her jeep, she threw the bag she had been carrying in and went to the front seat. I put the groceries in carefully, and quickly, and said I needed to return the cart.

"Of course" she said, " and shut the door"

"Of course" I responded. I was sure it would end here; I heard Her start the car as soon as the door shut, and I went to return the cart. Over two-hundred dollars and not a stitch of food to show for it, just humiliation. I considered it a fair deal, and started my way back home.This is what happens to guys like me, left longing for another chance like this.

On my way home, it seemed like there were more jeeps on the road than ever, scenarios swimming through my head of abduction by the only woman I could think of, for now, forever. At the next light, her jeep pulled up, and she smiled at me standing on the corner, just for a second, and she turned her full attention to the traffic light ahead. Two blocks later she appeared again, this time rolling down the window as my heartleaped for joy.

"Excuse me, which way is it?" She asked as though She were a lost tourist

I had to have an answer " Any way you want" I thought, and blurted out

"Don't be so insolent boy, which way is it to your house?" she was not amused, and I wondered what would come next. Perhaps She was going to take my wallet, I surmised.

"NOW!" She was not amused indeed, I quickly gave her directions, and found Her jeep in the driveway of my apartment building when I got there.

I knew to walk by the driver side on my way in, so I had the best chance of hearing Her voice, thankfully, the window was already rolled down. She looked me up and down as i got closer, with hesitant inspection. My stomach was upside down, and could barely feel my legs. Alternately, my legs were jelly, then stone, then robotic. I drew close to the vehicle, and it was clear She had no intention of speaking to me.

"What can I do for You?" I offered, as evenly as I could muster.

"Insolent. Incompetent. Idiot, aren't you. Completely worthless, and wasting my time. I expect your tone to change, and I expect you to return, in under five minutes, in your jacket and pants, nothing underneath. Yes?!"

"Yes, it's understood"

"Yes, it is boy, what is it that you are?" Her eyes tightened, to almost a scowl, except for the smirk that melted me there.

" I am your slave Mistress, is that correct?"

" Close, but not really. A useless tool, just like your pecker. It may be years before I can train you, understood? Now hurry along and I may still be here. You have five minutes."

I returned as quickly as I could, even considering removing the unwanted undergarments in the elevator and leaving it, what was the difference?

I walked to the driver side as instructed by one glance, and awaited further instruction.

"Over four minutes, you're really unbelievable aren't you?" I nodded my agreement, but couldn't speak.

"Now, where is your place and what is your name?"

I couldn't wait to respond, finally, my Mistress had found me and I would serve at her feet from now on.

" My place is on my knees" which buckled to the words, "at your feet. My name is James, Mistress"

"Really?"she responded quizzically, " your name is James? I could have sworn we've been over this, you insolent piece of shit! Your given name is of no consequence to what you truly are. Useless tool is what you are called, in fact, you have no name. Is that clearly understood?"

Time was again standing still, yet I lost all awareness of anything around me now, I was happier than ever, my jeans were wet and my body limp.

"Yes Mistress" I whispered, trying to speak

"What are you called?" she asked, turning head forward, and away from me.

"Useless tool, Mistress"

"You are forbidden to refer to me in any way, is that understood?" She followed up, looking straight ahead

"Yes, it is understood." I could feel the submission in my voice now, and it felt as clear as anything I had ever said

"Your place, is in the trunk, next to the spare tire. You can imagine how useless you'll feel next to that, won't you. Get in."

"Right away" I jumped with the words around to the passenger side and climbed in, quickly finding the tire I was to be beside.

After putting the groceries away, I spent another half an hour putting them away properly, according to the alphabet, from left to right, before being led back to the tire by my ear. (As I was no longer allowed to refer to her in any way, from this point she will be represented by X.) X told me I would reside in the trunk from now on, chained to the tire, with jeans for a pillow, and my jacket for warmth. I spent days in the garage waiting for X to return, with the bottle of water and bread X had purchased for me my only meals. I went over and over the shopping list X had told me to study, memorizing where I had seen each item in the store where X found me. I was to be done shopping in under twenty minutes, or it was over,

"No More Time In The Garage For You," The words echoed on a loop in my mind, and even in my dreams, motivating me beyond belief to study, study, remember.

X returned me to the store, and gave me two hundred dollars to shop with. Of course, the first time the bill had been more than that, and I only had twenty minutes. I had to return with all of the items, none of which were cheap.

"Do this well, shit-face, and you will be given two assignments next week. And don't forget your bread and water, or it's coffee grinds for dinner. When you return, ifsuccessful, I'm afraid you'll have to walk home, no room for you and the tire, it needs room."

"Understood. will you give me directions?" I asked stupidly

"You have the address, I sowed it into your jeans. Go!' With that the clock had started, and I raced through the store, quickly picking the best priced items, speeding along to the next. I was lucky to find a checkout with just one customer in it, and eight minutes to spare. I returned triumphantly to the jeep, safe in the knowledge it would be my home for another week. As Instructed, I kissed the tire goodbye, and made my way to a public bathroom to find the address.

It read: Garage of X, 22 colborne lane. Return to me with a large decaf cappuccino.Hope you have change. All my studying had paid off, as I realized I didn't notice X hadn't asked for change after looking at the receipt.

I returned with the cappuccino, which had become lukewarm.

"What sort of punishment should you expect now, useless tool. I expect a good answer" was all X said as I handed her the cup.

"Perhaps, a week on the garage floor?" I answered deductively

"No,no,no, you stupid little fool. You have already failed your new assignment for the week, and you expect a reward? Not at all, not at all sufficient. No more time in the garage for you, useless as you are, it's time to make you sweat for your keep here. You'll be begging me to lick your favorite tire and leave you alone out there before the night is through. By the end of this week, I suspect I'll have no use for you at all. Give me your jeans, and your jacket. Your shoes go in the trash"

I stripped off my coverings and handed them over, asking only which garbage I was to dispose of my shoes in.

"In the kitchen, under the sink. That is your new station, and living quarters. From now on you will prepare all meals, if satisfactorily, you'll get a slice of bread to yourself. The kitchen will be cleaned and disinfected after each meal, both bathrooms after I use either one. In the evening, from seven to nine pm, I will be whipping your penis, while you implore me to do so. Under the sink."

I crawled in and found a batch of recipes, and cleaning instructions on cue cards taped to the wall. I heard a knock on the door, but before I could open it, X was speaking.

"It is understood useless tool, that this station is way above your capacity. I expect you to study hard how to clean the kitchen, and for the next hour beg my forgiveness for that shitty coffee you brought me."

" I beg your forgiveness for the shitty coffee I brought" I started my penance

"Good. Fifty-nine minutes and fifty five seconds to go. I've put it back on the stove."

An hour later, the door opened, and I was told to begin cleaning, starting with the coffee I spilled.

"Where should I spill it?' I inquired

"On your dick, Now stupid"

It burned, worse than I could Imagine, the pain was unbelievable, I couldn't stand, or think about anything else. She was not amused, demanding I start cleaning up this mess this instant. I stumbled to the drawer where clothes are kept, and started frantically mopping up the floor, my penis flaming in agony. It did not subside the entire day, and as six o'clock approached, I couldn't begin to imagine what awaited from seven until nine.

I was able to keep both bathrooms and the kitchen clean enough to have dinner ready by six, which seemed to please X for the first time, as she entered the kitchen at ten to and saw how far along I was inpreparations. The table was set as it always is, for one to dine, with a dog at her feet.

"Don't disappoint me with this meal tool, or you'll be out on your ear."

I nodded quickly as began slicing the steak I had prepared, carefully timing a sufficient rest period to allow it to become tender.

I knelt in place next to the dog bowl X graciously allows me to sup from, and listened to X speak.

"You're looking forward to tonight aren't you dog-boy. You wish you could kiss the whip now, passionately, for the pleasure it will bring you to be of some use. You're longing to experience the pain I inflict on your shriveled, burnt member, aren't you. Nod your head. Good dog. Dumb dog. Whimper.

I was eased into a whimper by a swift knee to the jaw, then a jagged boot to the stomach.

"Beg for my whip, useless tool, Beg for no mercy."

Without thinking, and with little breath returning, I complied, as eager as a dog for a bone

"Whip me, please, inflict the whip on my cock, please give me the whip, I beg you, please whip me."

" Continue, bitch, and tell me, you're not worthy of such an honour."

"It's true, I do not deserve such an honor as to be whipped, I beg you, for all the pain you may give, have no mercy on this useless tool."

" Yes, it is true that you do not, nor will you ever deserve to be in my presence. This, I must remind you, is not to be taken as anachievement on your behalf. Much like this dinner, you are of no value, and will be treated as such. That is understood."

"Yes, of course it is."

"This is an evening for you to study and understand. You are being whipped for I wish to do so. You beg for it, because I tell you to. You will probably cum all over yourself, this is of no consequence. From Nine thirty on, you will be my slut, my vibrator in your mouth, while I sit on your face. All my commands are to be followed without question, or you go home. There is a ball gag and mask waiting for you on the couch in the living room. Go there when the kitchen is clean. If it is after seven, don't bother."

As X finished her sentence, X had nudged my penis down to the floor with the sole of her red leather pumps. And then she stood up, dropping her plate on the floor in front of me, and left the room.

Next to the ball gag lay a double ended silver vibrator, attached to its own mask. I was loathe to sit on the couch without permission, so I waited for X to enter the room. X told me not to expect to be punished, simply to be used, and that I should be aware now that there is no honor in anything I do.

X wore a white terrycloth housecoat, sitting on an ottoman, X began to instruct me, it was the highlight, the time had arrived, and I bowed before her, ball gagged, and begged.

"Please, I beg you, whip this useless tools excuse for a cock, so that I may see it rendered utterly useless, limp, and befitting my station. Whip it till it no longer feels pain, whip it till it fears erection, make it as useless as I am." The words muffled by the ball in my mouth, Whip stinging my cock, the hand of X striking me repeatedly.

As my penis shrunk, I became exhilarated, that I had succeeded in bearing the whip, ejaculating without even noticing. As the evening progressed, I was informed promptly it was nine o'clock, and time to change my headgear. As I knelt in the middle of the living room, I poured over the weekly schedule X had prepared for me, and a painful erection grew as I read:

Monday: grocery shopping, urinating in public parking lot, whipping, laundry

Tuesday: Vacuuming basement, garage, and jeep, ass stretching and masturbation

Wednesday: Mowing yard and neighbors, face-sitting by neighbor, cock trampling

Thursday: Walk in the park, whipping, walk home with butt-plug

Friday: Shoe and boot polishing, Stiletto face-fucking, whipping

Saturday: Shopping at the mall for lingerie, downtown for toys, fucked by the whip

Sunday: All day foot massage, foot stool. Buffet dinner to be served while tied up in guest bathroom

This, useless twat, is in addition to your daily chores posted at your current station. Failure will not be tolerated.

And now, I felt at home. 

The One



Dean woke to the annoying buzzer of his cell phone. Today should be a great day, his eighteenth birthday and it just so happens to be graduation day. 

"Ughh...hello?"

"Get your ass up we'll be late!"

"Brittani? Its too early let me go back to sleep" mumbled Dean

Suddenly his bedroom door bursts open, "NO! Now get up!" shouts Brittani

*****

"You know if you were already here why did you call me? You could have just woke me up"

On second thought...slightly chuckling at the thought of what her reaction might be if she heard him sleep talking about how tight she felt around his penis. Remembering, he walked over to use the bathroom. Noticing his penis he thought it looked a little bigger.

"Just wishful thinking."

Sighing he flushed the toilet, after he washed his hands and started to brush his teeth. He noticed Brittani looking at him in the reflection of the mirror.

"Have you lost weight?" asking inquisitively.

"I haven't really noticed."

Which was a lie for he had noticed and saw his muscles had seemed more defined. He has always been big for his age but now he topped out at six feet and three inches and roughly weighing three hundred and forty-one pounds. But if he had to guess he was maybe three hundred pounds but he had a lot more muscle than he thought he'd have with just the loss of the weight. He wasn't even sure how he was losing weight. After brushing his teeth and going back to his room to get dressed, he grabbed black slacks and his favorite black dress shirt. After dressing he grabbed his cap and gown and headed for the door. Hearing Brittani clear her throat he turned to face her.

"Did you forget something thing?" holding up a white tie.

*****

"What would I do without you Brit?"

"You'd look like a complete mess," she said laughing. 

"So did you hear about Rachel's party tonight after grad?"

"Ughh what Brit sorry I wasn't paying attention"

"Did you hear about Rachel's party? do you want to go?"

"Sure why not. It should be fun," he said with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"Oh my god, do you still want to fuck her or something?"

"Oh please Brit you know you're the only girl for me" he laughed. 

Which as far as he was concerned was true, she was about five feet and eleven inches tall. She wasn't thin as a supermodel but she wasn't fat either and to him she was perfect. The way her hair fell around her face, the way her eyes sparkled emerald, even the way her teeth weren't perfect. He's felt this weird attraction ever since they became friends. Earlier this year he had gone through a pretty bad break up and Brittani was going through something similar with one of his friends, Brandon. Brandon was a jerk and always treated her like shit, something Dean always hated. He never understood how such a beautiful girl could be with Brandon, let alone loves him as she said she did. Unfortunately he was just a friend to her. 

"Always the best friend never the boyfriend" he thought.

He was brought out of his little reverie as they pulled into the parking lot for the memorial center. He got out of the car and waited for her; she was walking with him during the graduation ceremony.

*****

The ceremony couldn't be any slower he thought, all he wanted was his diploma and leave. "Ughh finally"

"Dean Allen Dunmore" said the speakers.

Not many people cheered, he wasn't what you would call popular but still he had this feeling that he was being watched. As he was crossing the stage to receive his diploma he was so happy to be done with high school. Now it was time to party, he'd go to Rachel's party and maybe tell Brittani how he felt. Maybe he was wrong about being just friends, maybe she felt the same way about him, just maybe.

*****

The party wasn't really his scene but the full moon was beautiful tonight especially since the sky was so clear. He didn't feel well it felt like his skin was on fire, he just wanted to go home and rest, so he was just going to find Brittani and tell her he was heading home. So much for telling her he cared for her but he just needed to get home. Searching down stairs but unable to find her he asked Rachel, who was a mutual friend, if she knew where she was. Rachel was probably the only person who knew of his feelings for Brittani. When he asked her she had an almost apologetic look a,

"She went upstairs to talk to Brandon."

"Oh"

"I'm sorry Dean I know it has to hurt, but you know she 'loves' him right?"

"I have to know for sure I'll see you later"

Dean wandered upstairs looking for her. He heard moans coming from a bedroom; he took a deep breath and hoped that it wasn't her. He eased the door opened and saw that to his worst fear, she had fallen for Brandon's bullshit apology, again. He felt his heart break as he went down the stairs and out the front door.

On his way home the burning he felt all night got one hundred times worse. It soon became too painful that he couldn't bear moving anymore. Along with the pain a newfound dizziness started to spin the world. His head began hurting and his vision became blurred, and it felt as if someone was sitting on his chest. Then finally, everything went black and he tumbled to the ground convulsing.

Back at the party........

"Hey Rach where is Dean?" asked Brittani.

"Brittani? What are you doing down here? I thought you went upstairs with Brandon."

"Yea I was then when he decided not to talk to me he just wanted another fuck, I said no, why?"

"Well Dean was looking for you and I told him you were upstairs with Brandon. He went looking for you."

"And well where is he!"

"Shit Rachel what were you thinking!"

Brittani stormed out the front door to look for Dean. She couldn't believe Rachel would tell him she was with Brandon; especially with how Dean felt about her. She was hoping Dean would ask her out tonight but now she had to find him and hope shit wasn't ruined. Then again how could she be sure he'd even like her after she told him what she is. After driving around she couldn't find him and he wouldn't answer her calls, she was getting worried. But she needed sleep so she decided to head home and she needed the advice of her parents. It isn't common that your a descendent from two of the royal families half Fae and the other Vampire.

*****

"Damn he's heavy"

"Quit bitching Dan and help me get him in the van"

The two men climbed in to the van, "are you even sure that's him Pete?" 

"Are you kidding don't you see the resemblance he looks just like Aaron, trust me this is the kid we've been looking for"

The van roared to life and they took off down the street. They needed to get him out of the city fast, so when the change happened and he lost control he wouldn't hurt anybody and draw attention to their race. Werewolves have been able to stay hidden for centuries, but do to some rebellions its been getting harder and harder to spin the gruesome stories in the papers. But maybe just maybe they just found the key to stopping all of this and bring peace back to the packs. They pulled off the freeway at the mountain exit near the closest den. They were cutting it close here, "Damn" Pete thought if only they were able to get ahold of him at the Graduation Ceremony.

"They're here!" Stefanie shouted from the window

As the men pulled up to the house three men and two women came out. When the van screeched to a halt the men opened the back and grabbed Dean's unconscious body. Dan and Pete climbed out of the van only to be rushed by their respective mates Jessica and Sarah. 

Dean was coming to when, the men started carrying him towards the house. He immediately started thrashing to get out of their grip but when he was free he fell to the ground. Still in a daze from being unconscious he quickly stumbled to his feet ready to defend himself.

"Where am I?" Dean shouted at the group assembled before him

Pete was the first to move, he carefully walked towards Dean. 

"Stay calm son we aren't going to hurt you we just want to help"

"Then answer me WHERE AM I?" Dean shouted again.

"You're in Mount Williamson" he heard a seductive voice say from behind him. Dean turned to see a young woman that looked around his age "Hi I'm Stefanie" she said grinning.

The first thing he noticed about this attractive female was her piercing blue eyes they almost shimmered like sapphires. Then what she said hit him... "I'm in Nevada?!" 

"No Dean more precisely the Sierra Nevada" Stefanie laughed at her little geography lesson.

Dean returned his attention back to Pete and the rest of the group "Who are you?"

"I'm Pete and we found you on the side of the road"

"So you fucking kidnap me!"

"No we didn't kidnap we brought you here for safety"

"What about being kidnapped and taken out of state is for my safety?!" Dean shouted becoming strangely dizzy as he reached for the banister on the porch of the house.

Stefanie went to help steady him once she put her hand on his arm she felt a spark instantly just then two black SUV's pulled up to the cabin. Damn Pete thought the alpha and his betas are here.. he knew he shouldn't have let Stephanie come to this it was a horrible idea for him to bring the Alpha's daughter.



The One



I am scared to death. Tonight I meet the man who has been living in my dreams for most of my life. My hands shake as I apply the final touches to my make-up. I want to look perfect for Him. I am wearing a short, tight dress of red silk. It has a plunging neckline, which clings to every curve, and shows my firm, full breasts to their best advantage. I chose red because that is the color of whores, sluts and cunts. I will be all of those to Him, and more. 

The meeting is to take place in the hotel around the corner from my house. At 8pm sharp, my phone rings. I pick it up and hear, "482". It is Him. The One who's voice can simultaneously, thrill me, terrify me, hypnotize me, and cause me to obey His every command. 

I make my way over to the hotel. Walking as He has commanded, so that anyone driving by will see the thing I have become for Him. I get many offers of money along the route. But tonight I will perform any and every act requested of me, not for money, but for the thing which feeds my soul. 

As the elevator takes me to the 4th floor, my knees are so weak that I must hang onto the rail to keep from melting to the floor. I have never been so scared in my life. Or more happy. Tonight we will find out if each of us has found our One. 

I stop outside the door to room 482 and fidget for several minutes, fixing my hair, my dress, stalling the inevitable. Then I hesitantly reach out to knock lightly upon His door. I wait a full minute, not wanting to appear too forward, then I knock again. Still no answer. Perhaps He is in the shower? I wait. When 15 minutes has passed, I knock once more, still to no avail. My heart begins to turn to stone as I sink down to sit on the hallway floor outside His door. An hour passes with no sign of Him. I resign myself to the fact that He has changed His mind about me. I want so badly to cry, but hold it in as I make my way slowly back downstairs. 

I am nearly to the lobby doors when an announcement comes over the speakers, "Taylor. Please report to the hotel bar." I freeze in my tracks. Did I really just hear that? It's Him! He's the only one who knows I'm here! I hurriedly make my way to the lounge and scan the crowd. My eyes are drawn to Him immediately, even though we've never met. The photograph He uses as his avatar is imprinted on my brain. I wind my way through the crowd, feeling His eyes upon me the entire way, until I stand, trembling, before Him. 

He looks me up and down, then signals with one finger for me to turn around. I do as instructed, and must have met His approval because He nods to the chair next to Him. I sit. He takes my hand in His and kisses it lightly. Then looks into my eyes and formally introduces Himself. Suddenly, His grasp on my hand tightens, and He quietly says, "Reach under the table with both hands, remove your panties, and give them to me." I doubt I can do it without anyone noticing, but I couldn't care less. I have been commanded. I surreptitiously slip my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and shimmy out of them. I pass them to Him under the table, and there is a twinkle in His eye as he says, "Good slut". I lower my eyes demurely, whispering, "Thank you, Sir" as my heart melts a little more for Him. 

He orders a drink for me, and we spend the next few minutes studying one another, committing every detail of the other to memory. I am in mid-sentence when He interrupts, "Go to my room and take off your clothes. The stockings and heels may remain, for now. But that is all. Kneel on the floor in the middle of the room, hands behind your back. And wait quietly. The key is already in your purse." I leap from my chair and fly from the room to comply with His wishes. 

I strip quickly, not wanting to be caught in violation of His orders, should He be on his way to the room right now. I kneel as instructed. But before placing my hands behind my back, I use them to fan my long blonde hair around my shoulders, and pinch my nipples to make them nice and hard for Him. I'm desperate for Him to find me desirable. I lock my fingers together behind my back, lower my chin to my chest, and wait. Minutes tick by, then an hour. My arms ache, my legs are going numb, and I am trembling all over. I know this is a test. One of many I will endure at His hands. And I will not fail. Another hour passes before I hear the key in the lock. 

He closes the door and turns on every light in the room, the better to inspect His prize. He walks slowly around me, stopping every now and then to touch my hair, rub His thumb across my lips, cup my breast in His hand to test the weight of it. He pulls my panties from His pocket and steps quickly behind me, using them to bind my hands together. The passion and excitement this ignites within me is so intense that it makes me dizzy. I have never been so wet in my life! Never wanted anyone, or anything, as much as I want this man and the life only He can give me. 

He steps in front of me, places His hand under my chin, and gently lifts my face until we stare directly into each other's eyes. He looks deeply into mine for just a moment, before nodding. He has seen what He's been looking for. I cannot tear my eyes from His as he begins to speak, "From this time forward you belong to me. I OWN you. You will devote yourself to my pleasure, and obey my every command. In return, you will be cherished as My most prized possession. You will be taken to heights you never dreamt possible, and will receive pleasure untold. I am the missing piece of your soul. And you are mine. Do you agree?" 

I nod mutely, eyes still locked with His. He continues, "You will no longer address me as 'Sir', but as your 'Master'. Understood?" I whisper, "Yes Master", and watch transfixed as He begins to unzip His pants. "Open your mouth, cunt. Show your Master what a good little cocksucker he owns." He is fully engorged and pre cum is leaking steadily from His fat, shiny cock head. I open my mouth, and as He pushes himself into it, I moan at my first taste of Him. I am in Heaven. 

Even as He begins to slowly fuck my mouth, I run my soft, wet tongue up and down the length of His shaft, and over, under and around His glorious cock head whenever He pulls back far enough. My lips wrapped firmly around my Master's swollen cock, I start to suck, feel His response as it twitches, taste it as more pre cum oozes from the tip. I am wild with lust, yet know my satisfaction is up to Him from now on. I must please Him to earn my pleasure in return. 

I move my head up and down in perfect rhythm to His thrusting hips, taking Him deeper with every stroke. I dare to look up, and our eyes meet. My heart hammers in my chest at what I see there. He wants this as much as I do. Needs ME, as I need HIM. The realization rocks me to my core. I've never wanted anything in my life more than I want to please this man. 

Without warning, I force my head down hard, choking myself on His cock but not stopping. Letting my throat muscles relax to take Him in, I hear Him whisper, "Sweet Jesus!" as He wraps his fingers into my hair and pushes His prick all the way down my throat. I panic as my breathing is stopped by the obstruction. Then relax, allowing Him to fuck my mouth like a pussy, and taking a short breath every time He withdraws enough to allow it. He begins to moan, and tightens His grip on my hair. His thrusting becomes faster, frenzied. He swells and begins to throb rhythmically, as I suck Him harder than He's ever known. His breath catches. He buries his cock in my mouth, it begins to jerk violently, and He proceeds to shoot a seemingly endless stream of the sweetest cum I have ever tasted down the back of my throat. 

I swallow furiously, but cannot keep up with the flow from Him, and a trickle runs out the corner of my mouth and down my chin. I continue to suck and swallow as His thrusting slows, then stops. And I coax the last few drops from Him with my lips. He pulls Himself from my mouth, looks at me, then uses His thumb to wipe the cum from my chin and put it back in my mouth. As I suck it off, He smiles and says, "Good job, slut." And my heart soars! 

He helps me to my feet, but my legs are too numb to support me. He scoops me up and carries me to the bed, then unties my hands. I rub them, shake them, trying to get some feeling back into them. But before that can happen, He grabs them and pulls them over my head, expertly using a short piece of silk rope to attach them to the headboard. He circles the bed and begins to undress. I watch, mesmerized, as His body is revealed to me in its entirety. I am aching inside with a need I have never known as He slips into bed beside me. But instead of turning to me, He lies back and closes His eyes. He sighs contentedly and murmurs, "Get some sleep. You have a long weekend ahead of you." 

He falls asleep almost immediately. I, on the other hand, cannot. My heart is pounding, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins insures I will be wide awake for quite some time. I wiggle over onto my side, and in the faint light from the window, I watch my Master sleep. Until I too drift off with a smile upon my face. 

I am awake before the sun comes up, and pick up where I left off, watching my Master sleep. When at last He opens his eyes and sees me, the corners of His mouth lift in the faintest of smiles. He Says, "Good morning, my sweet little slut. Did you sleep well?" I smile and nod, "Yes Master. Very well, thank you." He smiles back and gently unties me from the bed. "Good girl. Get dressed." I do as instructed, and we head downstairs for breakfast. Our conversation flows so easily it's as if we have known each other for years. Perhaps we have in another life. And it is that other life that we both now seek. 

We pass the day getting to know even more about one another, and as the sun sets, we head back upstairs. Master reaches into His suitcase and pulls out a paper bag. Tossing it to me He says, "Go take a shower. You know how I want you shaved, so don't miss a spot. Wear only what is in the bag, put your hair in one long braid, and make sure it's well secured. Understand, my little cum whore?" I am already on my way into the bathroom as I say, over my shoulder, "Yes Master!" 

As soon as I get the door closed, I look into the bag. It contains a pair of long black gloves with silver rings at the wrists and elbows, and the sluttiest pair of heels I have ever seen, nothing else. I rush to complete the tasks required of me, yet when I'm done, I hesitate before opening the door. I take a deep breath and compose myself, trying to slow down the jackhammer which is my heartbeat. Then I open the door to present myself to my Owner. 

He walks around me, naked, erect, nodding admiringly, then He lifts my braid and inspects it closely. Suddenly He wraps his fist around it and uses it to pull me to the bed. He pushes me roughly to the mattress and growls, "Hold still, Bitch!" In a flash He is atop me, straddling my hips and attaching a clip to the gloves to hold my elbows together. He reaches behind me and pulls out a length of rope that He has already tied to the headboard. He weaves it in and out of my braid and finishes it with a knot at the end. Then he sits back and smiles at me. "Ready for round two, My Pet?" I begin to tremble, and moan softly. It is the answer He seeks. He smiles and laughs. 

He slides forward onto my chest, and leans in to test the knots on my braid, making sure I am secured to the headboard. As his cock brushes my face, I reach my tongue out to taste it. At my touch, He grabs his dick and starts slapping me in the face with it. "Did I tell you to open your mouth? I've been in THAT hole. It passed the test, by the way. But, much like golf, a different hole is played in round two." He jumps off the bed, reaches underneath, and pulls out a long coil of rope. He uses it to bind my legs, spread eagle, to the lower corners of the bed. 

Once done, He drops the full weight of his body onto mine, uses the head of His cock to part my pussy lips, and enters me in one hard thrust. I cry out, as He slams against my cervix, and strain against my bonds as He begins fucking me in earnest. Within a few strokes, my cunt begins to quiver, then contract around His glorious cock as I cum all over Him for the very first time. When He feels the gush of fluid drench His prick, He laughs and speeds up His thrusting, knowing now how I will respond. I do not disappoint Him, reaching one orgasm after another, thrashing and moaning beneath Him as I beg for more.

He suddenly pulls His cock from me, moves back up to sit on my tits, and orders me to lick his cock and balls clean. I do so with abandon, causing Him to leak huge drops of pre cum for my hot, hungry tongue to savor. "I have a much better use for that!" he tells me, rising from my chest and untying my legs. He flips me onto my belly, pulling me down until my braid is stretched taut. He forces my legs apart, and a moment later, I feel His pre cum dripping down the crack of my ass. "Round three", He says.

As I realize what's about to happen, I begin to tremble, and when I feel His swollen cock head rubbing against my asshole, the begging starts. "Please Sir. PLEASE! I've never done that!" He stops. In a low voice He says, "Do you wish to be owned by me, or not?" Terrified, I whisper, "Yes Sir." "Then I will have ALL of you!" He growls as He begins push against my virgin ass. I try so hard to be silent, and He is as gentle as He can be, but I can't help but whimper as He stretches me open with His rock-hard cock.

I force myself to relax for Him, and He moans as the head slips all the way in. He pauses, allowing me to become used to the sensation, then slowly, inch by inch, He pushes himself in until I feel His balls touch my clit. He pauses once more, leans down, and whispers, "Good girl". He begins to fuck my tight little ass with slow, short strokes, until my whimpers turn to moans of pleasure. But when I begin to thrust my ass back onto his cock, He laughs and pulls out.

Grabbing my hips, He pulls me up onto my knees, positions His cock against my asshole again, and grunts as He shoves it back in and starts fucking me hard and fast. I match every stroke. And wanting nothing more than to pleasure Him, I tighten my ass as hard as I can. He begins to moan loudly, and His cock swells, stretching my ass even more tightly around Him. 

When I feel it start to twitch, I reach between my legs and begin to massage His swollen balls. "YES BITCH!" He grunts, slamming His prick deep inside me as it starts to contract. I grind myself down onto it as hard as I can, and use the muscles in my ass to milk Him, reveling in the animal-like noises He makes as He spews stream after stream of hot, sticky sperm into me.

After He is fully spent, He eases Himself from my once-virgin ass, and sprawls out next to me with a satisfied smile. He lovingly unties my braid from the headboard, and unclips the gloves, so that I can strip them off. Then He pulls me to Him, and we lie in each other's arms, content in the knowledge that our search is finally over. We have each found our One.



The One



"Alan? Alan Palmer?"

I was miles away daydreaming over a cup of coffee in the hotel lounge, I guess. I had just closed my laptop and was thinking about my wife of twelve years, the mother of my three children, the images of her in her lover's usual room, early afternoon on a Wednesday. She was currently sucking her lover's dick, trying to get him up for one more time, while he was lapping at both her holes. I had a contract that apparently was not worth the paper it was written on. One that she signed after swearing to forsake all others. Evidence to the contrary gave testimony to that lie. This Wednesday afternoon was a regular thing, so for them it was 'same ole, same ole', apparently. 

I found it difficult to think of anything else. 

My ears pricked up at the sound of my name. I slowly reacted and turned my head to the speaker. She was tall and slim, an attractive redhead, with a rather hesitant smile on her flawless face. 

I didn't recognise her and looked her over, first down and then up again. She was dressed in a crisp sleek blue pin-striped business suit which emphasised the nicest pair of knees and legs I had seen in a long while. Both her hands were occupied with gripping a smart thin briefcase and an expensive-looking black leather handbag. I think I smiled back at her, more in embarrassment than welcome, while desperately trying to place her face from recent acquaintances, former work colleagues, wives of friends, mums from the school run or customers of the gym I had recently joined. I knew for certain that she'd look better than good in running shorts, without a doubt. 

Other than that, nothing, complete blank, didn't know her from Eve. She apparently knew me, that much was obvious. Perhaps she was a messenger from the solicitors who had been shown my photo?

"Sorry?" I said dumbly. 

There was something intangibly familiar about her, but it completely escaped me. I tried to work out where I might have seen her before. I guessed her age was about 35 or 36, some ten to twelve years younger than me. I lost all my hair long ago and have shaved my head for about ten years now, so she must have known me from somewhen in the last decade. 

I suppose my eyes were still moist from seeing and thinking about my wife being royally fucked by her lover, and it was almost impossible to get this stranger's face fully in focus through my tears. That's my excuse, anyway. One thing I was certain of, the redhead was a class act, well out of my league. Damn it, at my age, looks and current relationship circumstances, they all were.

Her bright smile froze at my lack of recognition and her face rapidly took on the aspect of a frown. Her mouth pouted and she looked, well, hurt. That was crazy. Nobody looked hurt around me; upset, angry, frustrated, pissed-off, especially disappointed, but never hurt. After all I was the number one stupid dolt of all time. Who cared what I thought? 

Where was my life at anyway? My lovely bitch of a wife, who was ten years younger than me, was a successful editor of a high-circulation women's magazine and I had sacrificed my career, as an advertising copywriter, to be a stay-at-home husband and... this was a laugh on me... I was reduced to the role of being a caring father to my two sons aged eleven and three and daughter age seven. 

Meanwhile my wife had been running around with her boss at work, well... presumably for years. My children's recent DNA tests showed that I wasn't even remotely related to any one of them; I had lost the few good looks I may have started out with and my body had been allowed to run to fat and I was now at the lowest ebb of self confidence ever. I'd never been even vaguely self-confident to begin with. I even doubted my sanity, knowing that nothing was going right for me and I was as miserable as sin. 

Even knowing what I had to do and what I had already set in train hardly empowered me, my actions only confirmed how completely clueless and hopeless I had been all my life. I was only sitting in the coffee lounge of this smart hotel watching the lift doors and waiting for my wife and lover to emerge before confronting them both. However, short of killing them I was pretty well powerless to do anything about their affair other than end my involvement in her life. 

Now on top of all that I was having to contend with, there was this beautiful redhead virtually snarling at me because I couldn't remember who the fuck she was. 

So I scowled back at her. Who was she to be critical of my underdeveloped cognitive skills? Didn't she know I'd had a lot on my plate of late and had had it up to the top of my scrawny neck?

She set her jaw squarely, leaned into me and punched me quite hard in the chest, bared her perfect white teeth and said in a low bit penetrative voice:

"Just cos you dumped me as your girlfriend twenty years ago, doesn't mean you can treat me like a complete stranger after all this time. We lived together for five years for crying out loud! You once even asked me to marry you! You. Complete. Arsehole!" She jabbed my bruised chest with a pointed finger to emphasise each of the last three words.

Then she threw herself into a padded leather chair opposite me, slung her briefcase and handbag onto the the table between us, rattling my empty coffee cup in its saucer, and continued to glare at me. Waiting. With folded arms. Continued waiting while my tortured mind ran through my remembered images of... of her. None of them matched, not really.

"Lesley?" I enquired, not believing it possible even for a moment. "Lesley... Collins?"

"Who did you think I was, Florence bloody Nightingale?" she snapped.

"But, you can't be," I spluttered, "You, you are young and... and... beautiful."

Her frown softened and her once-oh-so-familiar brilliant smile returned to stab me in the heart, immediately under my fresh bruises. I didn't think my pain could get any worse than it already was but just at that moment it did. I really didn't need this. Please, God, I never ask for anything as You well know, but don't let me have my two worst fucking nightmares together at the same time.

"Lesley, oh my God! I cannot believe it" I blurted, putting in as much effort as my weak knees could muster by getting up out of that deep leather chair and pulling her up from hers to hug her tightly. I daren't kiss her, I had already noticed the wedding band and huge-rock engagement or eternity ring on her left hand. You couldn't miss them.

"Wow! Muscles," she said approvingly, her arms running over my shoulders and upper arms as we separated. "Been working out, Alan? I'm impressed."

I must have gone bright red, my face certainly felt very hot. 

I jabbered back, "Been going down the new suite at the school gym five mornings a week for a month, now," I explained, "I got a week's free trial as an introductory offer, enjoyed focussing my anger on the machinery and punchbag down there so much that I signed on for six months about three weeks ago. I still haven't got any abs to speak of yet, though!" I grinned stupidly. 

Oh dear, I thought. When I'm nervous a talk a lot of rubbish. Stick around long enough, and you'll get used to how pathetic I am.

We both sat down, holding hands across the table. Damn, I thought, as I inadvertently ran my thumb over her diamond ring, it was absolutely huge. It made the yellow-tinged diamond-chip ring I had bought for her, and lost a fortune over when I sold it back to the jewellers, seem pathetic in comparison. I moved my thumb away and consciously stroked the knuckles of her index and middle fingers instead. 

"Anyway," I added, as brightly as my tortured ego could manage, maintaining my first smile today since dropping my son Nat off at the play school and greeting my fellow friendly house-fraus, "What happened to you? You must have lost fifty pounds since I saw you last, you look absolutely amazing and... no wonder I never recognised you at all... you are no longer blond!"

She laughed. "I only looked blond, thanks to bleach, back then when we were together. I naturally have light mousey brown hair and I now prefer this dark redhead look. I changed it and joined a gym, funnily enough, almost directly after you bloody well dumped me, you arse!"

"I never dumped you," I protested, "You dumped me the very moment that I asked you to marry me." 

I remembered it only too clearly, I'd had nightmares about it for years afterwards. Five years and two bloody months together and she turned me down flat and admitted wanting to fuck other men.... Men, not 'Another Man' or just 'Someone Else', but 'Men', fucking plural. 

God! I am so pathetic! Always in love with the wrong bloody woman at the wrong bloody time. No, make that every bloody woman I've ever loved, every bloody time!

We let go of each other's hands and returned to glaring at one another again. I think we both clenched fists. I know I did. I couldn't see her hands, I was rigidly maintaining eye contact, like I imagined I would when faced with a rearing, spitting cobra. 

"I never dumped you," she insisted, then continued, in a more considered tone of voice. "I just said that we should see other people before we got married, and then I never saw you again!... until now." 

Her steely grey-blue eyes blazed as she spat those last few words back at me. Her new hair colour suited her, she was certainly fiery and I was clearly not in her good books, probably never had been. To be honest, I didn't have any positive entry in anyone's book right now. 

Only my kids loved me and they weren't even my kids, I had recently discovered. 

Hang on a minute, it occurred to me, she's actually trying to wriggle out of dumping me, to justify her cruel actions all those years ago. Does she still think I'm a bloody wimp? Well she's picked the wrong sodding day for that!

"No, that's not right," I asserted firmly, struggling to keep my temper and my voice at an even level while I explained the situation we had been in half a bloody lifetime ago, "When you turned down my marriage proposal it was because you said you weren't sure if I was 'the one'..."

Yes, I did gesture little bunny ears with the index and middle fingers of both hands as I said it. I couldn't help myself, all right? 

I continued "... and you said you wanted to try other partners to see if you could find 'the one'. It clearly wasn't me because you said, while I was still on my bended bloody knee, with everyone in that swanky restaurant staring at us, that you 'would know him when you found him'..." 

Bunny ears again, I'm so pathologically predictable. Anyway, I was in full flow now.

"... We had shared a flat for five years and nearly two months for Christ's sake, so I was clearly not 'the one', was I? I loved you enough to commit my life to you and then you basically admitted that you never really loved me at all. I wasted those five years and more. Well, I hope you finally found 'the one' in the end." 

I even surprised myself that I got all that out without interruption from her. I think Lesley was stunned. It took a long moment of staring at me round-eyed, her lips attempting to form a circle while preventing her jaw from hitting the table, before she replied, quite quietly, almost too soft for me to hear.

"Yes, I think I did, eventually. Did you?"

"Not really. I suppose I settled." I was still seething.

"But you are wrong, so wrong Alan, I did love you, I was just mixed up and confused back then. I was thinking about you all the time at work the next day and when I got home, desperate to see you so we could make up, you had moved out. You left your empty drawers open and had disappeared. I was devastated, I was going to ask you to ask me again to marry you but you had vanished. And I never saw or heard from you ever again. Who does that after five years and two months together? Where the hell did you go?" 

"It didn't sound to me like you were mixed up or confused, I snapped back, still full of anger. "You very clearly said 'no', and then went on and on about wanting to see other men, that we should see other people. You explained by reminding me that you were a virgin when we met and therefore you felt that before you committed to marriage you needed to check out other men."

"I didn't use those exact-"

I interjected, in full flow, "You mentioned getting more experience, probably to check if I was up to the bloody mark or something in bed. You actually said you had been thinking about it for some time and hadn't found the right time to bring the matter to my attention. Until that bloody night in the restaurant, when I was on my bended knee offering you a ring that cost the best part of a month's wages, that is."

"Well, being asked to make a decision about my future at that moment, when I had been seriously thinking about our relationship for a couple of months, certainly had the effect of concentrating my mind." She looked away at her hands, her rings, breaking eye contact with me for a moment. She looked up again. "On our fifth anniversary of being together I thought you were going to pop the question then-"

"I couldn't," I interrupted.

"Let me finish," Lesley bounced back. "I let you have your say."

I nodded, resignedly.

"I expected your proposal then and was going to say yes. But you never did propose. We went out for the whole day, to the zoo, with a picnic. We cuddled on the grass on that blanket and held hands all day long. We made love as soon as we got back. We didn't even make it to the bedroom, the floor of the landing was as far as we got, our clothes scattered all over the hall and stairs. We made love twice more once we got to the bedroom and again on Sunday morning. It was a wonderful day and night and you never bloody asked me to marry you, you bastard!" 

"I was still saving up for the ring," I pleaded in mitigation, "It cost me an arm and a leg. I couldn't get any more credit as I was maxed out and it took me four months before I had enough money together, which was twice as long as I hoped it would take. I even got your sister to find out your ring size so it would fit. I couldn't ask you to marry me without an engagement ring, could I?"

"What a mess," she said, reaching out and holding my hands again. "I was broken-hearted when you left me. I took the morning off work a couple of days later and went to where you worked at the time."

"I wasn't there any more." 

"I know. They said you left the day before and didn't leave any notice or forwarding address or anything. Your P45 turned up in the post at the flat about six weeks later. I tried to speak to your mum that first evening but she wouldn't speak to me, called me a heartless bitch and said I'd broken your heart and that you'd moved away."

The lift dinged and I looked past Lesley but it was only a couple of strangers and a teenage girl wearing garish stripy tights. I thought about looking at the laptop again to see if they were finished, or in the shower, or still... well, still bloody well fucking their brains out, but I couldn't bring myself to look, even if Lesley hadn't been there. Some images were burned forever into my skull and I didn't want to reinforce any one of them. The solicitor could access the feed that the private investigator had installed and she was getting paid well enough to deal with it. I just wanted it all over and done with. Lesley was an unforeseen complication that I could have done without.

A waitress, who appeared to have been hovering, considering the charged interchange between the pair of us, saw me look up and took a hesitant step towards me. She was quite pretty, I noticed, perhaps that was a sign I was getting over Natalie already. Fat chance of that in a hurry. I nodded to her and lifted my empty cup, the waitress came over to our corner. 

The single word "Rosamund" announced her on the name plate pinned to her starched blouse. A pretty name for a pretty girl, I thought, it fitted the classy hotel somehow, which my wife and her lover upstairs certainly didn't.

"Would you like a coffee, Lesley?" I asked, "It's very good, here."

"Yes, please, that's what I came over here for, actually." She turned to the waitress and smiled. "Large skinny latte, please."

"I'll have another large black filter, thank you," I ordered, attempting a wan smile. Rosamund smiled at me in return and glided away with my empty cup. I made a mental note to leave her a nice tip.

"Scotland," I said.

"Scotland?"

"Edinburgh for a month, then eighteen months in Glasgow, then onto London for a couple or three years, coming back home here about 15 years ago. The answer to your question 'Where did you go?'"

"I followed you to Edinburgh after your P45 turned up. Firstly, I went back to your company based here and spoke to your mate, the other copy writer in your office, Peter or Paul or something?"

"Paul Metcalfe, that pussy hound, he was never a friend of mine."

"No, he wasn't!" Lesley snorted, "He made me go out with him twice before he would give me any info."

"Bastard!" I snarled, even after twenty years, it still rankled. 

I guess some things you never get over. Did he succeed in getting into Lesley' pants? Did they marry? Did he buy her the rock and have her any time he wanted? Did I really want to know? 

Yes, bugger it, I did want to know. But I would never ask. No definitely never ask. Never in a million... Lesley interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes, he was a right bastard, that Paul, he kept trying to get into my knickers..." Lesley hesitated and then she smiled as if recalling some magical memory.

Bugger, bugger, bugger, did he? Did that smarmy shitface bastard fucking-well nail my girl? All right, she had been my ex-girl who I still cared so bloody much about that it hurt me to this day. My thoughts screamed in my head while I did everything I could to keep my poker face on. Lesley didn't seem to notice, she just kept rabbeting on.

"I had to knee him in the bollocks in that wine bar that used to be in Church Lane, the one that's now the specialist pork butchers. Lovely sausages they do in there. That knee jerk made that jerk cry real tears. Then he told me you had gone to their Edinburgh office to work off your notice."

Yes! Re-bloody-sult! Arsehole gets his knackers crushed, good old Lesley, I had never been more proud of her. 

OK, even if she never physically kicked me in the balls, there with my knee resting on the ground and my legs spread apart in that restaurant, it had always felt like she had. I still carried the bruises of that metaphorical blow to the gonads; at least Paul's pain was over in a matter of minutes, I was still walking funny twenty years on. 

I had even hated Lesley for a while back then. Would you believe it? There, the love of my life and I think for a few short moments in time I actually stopped loving her and allowed my feelings to run in completely the opposite way? 

Lesley still kept talking over my stumbling thoughts. Do all women's mouths come fitted with Duracells, or only the ones I know?

"By the time I got to Edinburgh you were gone. They repeated the story that you were only there working out your month's notice and then you were off. I had a long talk with Justine. I think she fancied you, so I suppose she opened up to me to find out from me more about your story. She said that nobody could get through to you in that month, even though they tried everything to get you to stay, and then you were gone. She had kept some of your best slogans and advertisement blurbs. She showed me them, stuck in a scrapbook."

"Nice lass, Justine, talented graphic artist," I recalled.

"Justine thought you were special, definitely very special. Disappointed that you were completely impervious to her obvious charms. Well, charming if you don't mind big chested girls who talk with a funny accent. Then your trail went cold. I tried your professional organisation, but they were prevented from giving me any info. I even tried your mum again but she still refused to speak to me. What happened to you Alan?"




The One



"I drifted around, worked as hard as I could, still trying to get my stuff published. Worked freelance for a couple of ad agencies in Glasgow, then London. Did some checking copy work for magazine and book publishers for a while and then came home, got married, had a bunch of kids and here I am."

"Wow!" she said, "that was a quick round up of your life!"

Nothing much to say, on my part. I was still looking up at the banks of lift doors, waiting for my wife and her significant other. So Lesley started up talking again to fill the silence.

"So, I've already told you that I went out dating after about six weeks, but that was only to try and track you down, not try other men, you know? And I know you fended off the black-haired, green-eyed top-heavy beauty that was Justine," she said, coyly, "How long was it before you went out dating again?"

Damn! What was she trying to do to me? Is she trying to crush me every time she sees me? I sighed audibly, my shoulders sank. I suddenly realised I had been trying to maintain a pose of shoulders back, chest out, stomach in. Why? I wasn't interested in attracting Lesley; twice bitten and all that. She certainly wasn't interested in me. So why do we males adopt poses like that? 

I haven't seen this woman in twenty years. Once the girl of my dreams, she virtually squeezed every breath of life out of me. Not content with that, she now seemed bent on heeling me under the earth, to erase my very existence, to snuff out my actual essence. What did I ever do to her other than worship the very ground she walked on?

"Thirty-nine months." I said very quietly.

"What?" Lesley leaned forward, conspiratorially.

I replied, "Three years, three months and about ten days or so."

That shut her up. At bloody last, fifteen-forty new balls please, I stopped the rot in my service game. Studying her face, she looked amazing, she was never 45 years old, she must bathe her skin in virgin ice crystals flown in daily from Mont Blanc; she was eleven out of ten, off the scale, simply beautiful. I could sense some cogs moving somewhere in her head, though.

"Before dating or before sex?"

"Both, same night," I said, "Well, after midnight actually, the second one of the two." 

"Wow! I was going to boast how long I waited, but I don't think I will now."

"That's just acting like kids isn't it? Like I showed you mine, you should at least flash me yours." It didn't look like she was going to answer. Ice Queen, I was right about the Mont Blanc ice, only she sat on a block of it rather than splash it on her physog.

"OK, then," I asked, taking another tack, "When did you start seeing your husband?" Gotcha!

"Oh, do we have to do this?" she whined, "We are too old and there's been too much water under the bridge for all this. Can't we just kiss cheeks and make out that we are old friends again and part on good terms, probably never to see each other ever again?"

"Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. You prevaricated in that restaurant, to my eternal embarrassment, twenty years ago, you are hedging your response in this coffee shop now. When we meet again, as two old pensioners, can we meet up in the launderette so I can at least sort out my week's washing while you prance round the mulberry bush one more time?"

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you." Lesley looked upwards, either for inspiration, or divine intervention. "Give me strength." 

She looked at me directly, her eyes seemed softer, even prettier than they ever had. 

"I thought you'd be back the next day," she said softly, "Then after the weekend maybe, almost certainly a week later. You never showed up. No-one was admitting they knew where you were. I realised that our friends were my friends, you didn't seem to have any of your own that I was aware of. It appeared as though your whole world was... me. I never realised how much I had hurt you, hurt us, killed our relationship."

She grabbed my right hand in both of hers and squeezed, as hard as Natalie had when David was born. A single tear formed in each eye and slowly rolled down her cheeks. I lifted my left hand and cupped her right cheek, which was soft as a child's and smooth as alabaster, wiping the tear away with my thumb. Then I wiped her left cheek with a gentle upward stroke of the back of my hand. She smiled sweetly and continued.

"So I gave it a month, that was long enough to pay me back for my treatment of you, wasn't it? But no show. Then four months later it was your birthday, I sent you a card and a long letter and some flowers to your Mum's address. Then I sent Christmas cards to you both. You didn't send me one, nor did your mother, nor would she answer the phone and slammed the door in my face when I went round at New Year. On Valentines Day I sent another card, then it was our sixth anniversary, ten months without seeing or hearing from you. Finally, it was a year since you walked out and I didn't have any hope left. I lost a lot of weight. It was summer and I lost the house, too. I couldn't keep up the payments on my own and I'd run out of savings. I sold the house and sent your mum a cheque for your half. God! Did you get it? I know it was cashed -"

"Yes, I got it. Mum did keep your cards and mail for me, I picked them up that summer passing through. I used the sixty-five thousand, along with my savings that year to put a deposit on my house. So, when did Mr Two-Carat come along?" I pointed to her lovely blue white diamond.

"About fourteen and a half months after you left, other than a new wardrobe to fit my new body, I had blown the rest of the house money on a flat share with a couple of friends. Alison, who you don't know, and my very best friend Lucy, who you probably do remember."

"I remember Luce," I smiled. "She made the wearing of blue jeans and knotted tee-shirts an art form. Whatever happened to her?"

"You don't want to know."

"No?"

"Don't go there."

"What if I wanted to? What if I was suddenly a free agent, for example?" I grinned mischievously, "Just supposing."

Lesley sighed. "Four children, four different fathers, none of whom have ever paid a penny in support and..." she paused, "... the only way she can get through doors is sideways like a crab." 

She looked at me with her mouth set firm and tilted her head to one side as if to say 'I told you that you wouldn't want to know but you wouldn't take no for an answer, happy now?' 

Well, Lesley didn't know how my own situation was about to go completelyntits-up, so I was keeping all my options open. Lucy, now, you never know, she might be just as desperate I was about to become.

"So you were sharing a flat with Luce and Alison, what then?"

"What then? Luce was temping as a receptionist and her office were having a summer picnic for staff and families. Luce dragged me along as a guest. I met Hubby there and we sort off... clicked."

"So, date followed and then sex?"

"No, sex first, date later." Lesley actually blushed. "In fact, we hardly dated at all, just met for sex, great sex and lots of it. We were both so busy with work that we mainly just met for sex. I know that sounds really bad but I hadn't had any sex in a long time. Fifteen months was fifteen cycles when I was at my most fertile, and I wasn't having what I was really missing. You were gone for good and my hormones were screaming at me. I was horny and he was devastatingly handsome, still is, actually, and dynamite in the bedroom, still... No, much too much information." 

The damned Mont Blanc ice she was sitting on must have melted and run down the drain, her face was so red. Damn, why is it that women look even sexier when they are embarrassed and losing a little control over their emotions, than when they are playing ice cool and are holding everything together? Or is it just me that feels that way?

"Was he your only other lover?" I blurted out without thinking of the consequences.

Why do I torture myself even asking her that? No, impossible, every man in this room, everyone who has walked past us has almost walked into something because they were looking at Lesley. Health and Safety should make her carry around a fluorescent warning sign. She can't have restricted herself to just two lovers, especially after dumping me unceremoniously, just so she could play the field, surely.

She nodded. 

Damn again. I know that women can't be trusted and this one in particular, ever, from bitter bloody experience... but I believed her. It really didn't make me feel any better, knowing she was married to Mister Bloody Perfect Lover.

"So," Lesley resumed, "What have you been doing with yourself lately?"

I smiled. So much to say and so much not to say. She didn't say "since", so I guessed I could limit myself to a quick sketch, leaving out all the important details. Or I could throw it all back at her, of course.

"Well, as I've got in the coffees, perhaps you could give me an update first."

She regarded me, trying to read what I was thinking, or hiding. Why I was playing with her? A slow enigmatic smile formed on her full red lips. She was made up to perfection, not heavily so, but enough to darken and perhaps lengthen her eyelashes from the light brown natural that I remembered, her lips were glossy red, her cheeks smooth and matt, no doubt from some subtle proprietary foundation preparation. Her dark red hair full and thick, brushed away from her open forehead and tied in a neat bun at the back of her head, a few stray hairs like delicate whispers softening her delicious outline. She looked stunning.

"I'm an investment broker, advising on life insurance, ISAs, income tax and investment portfolios. I cover this immediate area for the National Lottery. I've just met a lovely old couple here in their hotel suite this morning who have won the jackpot and I left some proposals for them to consider." Lesley paused, with a smile on her face recalling the recent meeting, no doubt.

"Go on," I encouraged.

"I live over by West Park," her voice lifting as if questioning whether I was aware of the exclusive executive-type homes in that area. I was, it was a long way from where I live. "We have one girl, Belinda, who is at college studying catering, she wants to be a pastry chef, perhaps own her own shop. Either that or do three-day eventing professionally." She smiled, at the recollection of her daughter. 

I imagined what Belinda was like. She could have been our daughter in another life, as beautiful as Lesley is, I'm sure. As she must've been at least 18 to be in college, it seemed that Lesley didn't wait long to set about finding 'the one', it took me three years before I even started dating anyone, by then Lesley was the mother of a toddler.

Still bearing that sweet smile on her lovely face, Lesley softly asked "What about you?"

I think I snorted, unintentionally. That wasn't a good start. Why should I resent her perfect life, fulfilling well-paid job, great home, probably driving around in a top of the range BMW or Lexus, with a fit and beautiful ambitious daughter, lucky bloody lucky husband and looking sensational herself to boot. Life really wasn't fair, was it? 

But nobody ever promised me fairness, Lesley never promised me anything, I clearly took her for granted, so whatever happened to end our relationship was my fault. She was perfect and I'm not just saying that, she was and I had always thought so. Perhaps too perfect for little old imperfect me. The fact that I was only a stopgap in her life wasn't really her fault. I did have five years and two months with her. They were among the best 62 months of my life and I should be grateful and thank her for them, they were much more than I deserved. Only the time spent with my... the... children of my marriage... came anywhere near that perfect period. 

Accentuate the positive, I thought, this was a day for me to be assertive and the day I finally took my destiny into my own hands. So I forced my lips into the biggest smile I could muster and gave her the saccharine version of my life.

"Actually, I have a great life," I said, "And it is getting even better after today."

I paused for a moment as the smiling Rosamund approached with a tray containing our coffees. I helped her unload them and thanked her before she cheerfully returned to her bay. The back view of the departing waitress was just as good as the front and my gaze naturally lingered. Lesley regarded me with a quizzical look. I chuckled, I couldn't help it. I had suddenly become quite happy in that moment. A veil of misery had lifted and I felt surprising good. It was as if I had finally accepted by lot, that I had reached as low as I was ever going to get and it could get better from here on in.

OK, it looked like I was going to have to elaborate somewhat on the artificially sweetened tale I had been going to weave.

"Lesley, you find me at a point where my life in a state of flux. Everything changes today. This sad, pathetic, bald, slightly overweight nobody has been pushed around for over twenty-five years. Sorry, sweetheart," I said as I held and squeezed one of her hands, taking a deep breath, "I include you a little unfairly in my life of subservience. Today, my marriage of twelve years is finally over, although I now understand it never really got off the starting blocks in the first place. I was duped. Conned into a marriage that never really existed. I have no career, other than writing a few short romance stories for a woman's magazine for pocket change. I am a house husband caring for my three children."

I paused, gathering my thoughts, how much to say, what to leave out? After all, I'll never see Lesley again after today, would I?

"Go on," urged Lesley, "You used to write all the time all those years ago and couldn't get published, other than advertising copy for the ad agency. You are the most loving and sensitive man I have ever known, and I can see you as being a great father. Please continue, honey."

"My children, who I adore, are my life. David and Lisa, are at school, and little Nathaniel, Nat, was at play school this morning where I dropped him off but has been collected by my mother an hour or so ago. The older two kids are walking around to Granny's after school for tea and I will meet them there and tell them that their mummy isn't ever coming home."

Lesley sat stunned. I continued my tale of woe.

"All my wife's stuff is in black rubbish sacks in the garage and all the locks in my house were changed this morning." I took another deep breath. "About three weeks ago I found out that my children are not my children, the DNA clinic says that I have worse than a million-to-one chance of being the father."

"Oh, Alan, I'm so sorry. Is there a chance the clinic mixed up your sample with someone else? Isn't it worth doing again?"

"No chance," I said sadly, "With Mum's blessing I sent her samples along with mine and the kids. There were two samples for each so they keep one as a back up. The results confirmed that Mum and I are closely related but with next to no chance that her grandchildren are even remotely related to her. Never mind the results, they are still my kids, I just wanted to check the results to discover the extent of my wife's duplicity. I may not be their biological father but I'm 100% their Dad and always will be. There's no way their sperm donor will ever get his hands on them." 

By now I felt myself getting a bit loud. Rosamund was giving me a funny look from her station at the counter. Even Lesley looked sad and concerned, now holding onto both my hands with both of hers.

Of course they were my kids, I reasoned as I calmed down. I had stayed at home with them, fed, changed and bathed them. I had nursed them through their illnesses, taken them for their shots, their first steps, first words, first day at nursery, school, secondary school, all of their plays, activities, homework. They had my speech patterns, my mannerisms, they had my family values. They did not have those morals of the gutter like their mother and biological father, who were fucking each other in their hotel room above us earlier this afternoon.

"The children almost certainly share the same father, which means that my wife has been regularly sleeping with the same lover for twelve years, at least as long as I have been married to her. Well, she's welcome to him. Today I wash my hands of both of them."

"I am so sorry, I wish I could stay but I've got to go, Alan, I have another appointment down town and I'm running late as I should have left a while ago. Come here, Alan, please honey." 

Lesley stood up and pulled me towards her, we put our arms around each other like two old ex-lovers, one to comfort the other on the occasion of some great loss. I buried my face in her sweet-smelling red hair. I cried silent, selfish tears for what I had lost.

I heard the lift ding. We both did. At the same time we turned towards the sound. 

The lift doors opened and several people walked out. An elderly smiling couple emerged first, holding hands, wreathed in smiles, looking around to get their bearings. They saw Lesley and I as we embraced and they waved at us cheerily. Lesley waved back automatically. 

Then a couple of businessmen came out behind them, wearing name badges for some conference, carrying a few pamphlets, deep in conversation, almost running into the back of the elderly couple who had stopped to look at Lesley and I. 

Then the lift ejected the last two occupants, a man and a woman, holding hands and carrying small overnight bags. They made a beautiful couple, he was tall and tanned, blond-haired, freshly shaved, devastatingly handsome and wearing what was obviously an expensive hand-made suit. He looked old money, established classy wealth. She was a little shorter, slim built, brunette, similarly power-dressed, but haughty, driven, ambitious, controlling, certainly beautiful, glowing even, the bitch. 

They had eyes only for each other and, as they stepped out of the lift, they kissed passionately and moved away in opposite directions, holding onto outstretched hands as long as possible, still maintaining smiling eye contact, no doubt each thinking 'until we meet again soon, sweetheart'.

I released Lesley, stepped around the thick buttoned leather chair and strode powerfully towards the lift. I called over my shoulder, "Look after my laptop, please Lesley, I'll be back in a jiff."

I nodded and smiled at the nice old couple as I passed them, although my smile may have been a little on the grim side. The businessmen saw my determined approach and nervously separated to let me barge through between them. And there they were, the couple, oblivious to everything but themselves, fingertips still touching in parting.

"Natalie!" I said sharply, like addressing a naughty child. She looked around, somewhat shocked to see me.

"Alan? What-"

I looked away from her startled eyes and focussed my attention on him.

"Old Man, this isn't what it looks-" started her lover but I stopped him with my right fist on the point of his nose. 

Those punchbag sessions down the school gym paid off as he went down like a sack of spuds, blood spouting from his imploding nose, splashing both Natalie and me. Natalie screamed, piercing, short and sharp.

"Honey?!" came a strangled cry from behind me. 

I turned and faced Lesley, her handbag over one shoulder, her briefcase in one hand and my laptop clutched in the other. Her face was grim-set, disapproving. Perhaps she hated violence, she wouldn't hurt a fly, I remembered; Lesley only ever hurt me by rejecting me.

A groan from behind alerted me to the fact that Natalie's lover-boy was getting up. I turned, bringing my fists up into the defensive position that my boxing coach down the gym had taught me so recently. He had assured me that I would never be a contender, but he taught me both how to punch and how to take a good licking. 'Just get a good one or two punches in,' he had said sagely, 'and remember them while you recover from the beating you are going to get. Alan, you are a writer not a fighter.' 




The One



Damn it, I wasn't even a better lover than a fighter. 

His handsome face didn't look as pretty any more, his blood splattered lips twisted into a hideous scowl. He was taller, heavier and had a longer reach than me, but I had taken a few punches in the last month or so and was prepared to give as good as I got. I considered my beating would be cathartic. He held his fists up too, comfortably, moving his feet well as he circled me, our eyes focussed warily on each other. Damn, he was probably coached at public school and may have regularly kept up practicing since.

"Roger!" the shout came from nowhere and took his attention away from me just for a moment. He looked to his right, then a flash of silver hit him hard in the face. This time he went down for the count. Natalie knelt sobbing by her prone lover.

I turned to face Lesley. She held up my mangled laptop.

"Sorry, I'm right-handed," she said, by way of apology.

"Nothing that can't be replaced." I shrugged as I relieved her of the wreckage.

"I'll call my next appointment and reschedule for the morning." She hauled out her phone from her bag. "I expect your Mum still serves up fish fingers and alphabet spaghetti for the kid's tea?"

"Almost every time," I said, "Perfect comfort food." 

"I haven't had a fish finger sarnie with ketchup for years. Does she... you think... keep a large stock in the fridge?"

"There's an Iceland store on the way to the multi-storey. We'll stock up. Better safe than sorry."

"Great." She found the entry she sought in her phone directory and launched the number.

"Don't make that appointment too early in the morning," I said.

"Mr Jones? Lesley... Look, something unexpected's come up, so sorry... Same time tomorrow afternoon?... Great. See you then... Bye!"

She put the phone away and looked at me with those soft grey-blue eyes again.

"Introductions are in order, I think," she said. "Meet Hubby, otherwise known as Roger, my husband, soon to be ex-husband. Roger? Oh, he's still out for the count. Perhaps, Alan, you can recommend a good solicitor?"

"I have her card on me somewhere," I said. "I look it out for you later."

"Thanks," she smiled.

"So, he wasn't 'the one', then?" I ventured as I held out the crook of my arm for her. "Still looking?"

"He wasn't 'the one'. Not for a millisecond, never in a million years. I settled, Alan," she said as she tucked her slim elegant arm in mine and we moved purposefully towards the exit. I took out ten, changed my mind and made it fifteen, and handed it to the hovering open-mouthed Rosamund. 

"Am I still looking?" Lesley continued, "I've never stopped... for twenty years I've tried to find 'the one'... again."

The end.