Hector Road Pt. 02

A sleepless night. An endless shift. Then another.

Finally, after three days he was there. Sitting in his usual corner, writing in a notebook, now and again looking up at her. The same as every other time, only now it was different. Now she knew. What he was writing, and what he was thinking about as he sat there, glancing at her with those unfathomable blue eyes.

Those sleepless nights? She had spent them reading the entire notebook, and then reading it again. It was full of more stories of Pilar and Pieter, all on a single theme: how they met, her initial submission to him, her betrayal of him and her punishment, then her redemption and final recommitment to him.

And the scary part - Ok and also the thrilling part - was that she recognized herself in the pages. He had captured her perfectly. Not just the physical description (though she did wonder how he happened to know the exact pink of her nipples), but her sense of herself, and her new way of moving through the world. She needed a redemption story or she'd be condemned to wander with the cold blanket of regret laid over her heart forever.

But never mind all that deep introspective bullshit...that way lay despair. She already had been there and back. The real question was what now? Would she tell Jans that she knew? Did he even realize he was missing a notebook, and know where he'd left it? And if she did reveal her knowledge to him, what would happen then? Was this just fantasy for Jans...or an expression of things he knew how to make real?

Because if she was getting right down to it and being honest with herself, she hoped that he did know how to make it real.

The sleepless nights? Those weren't just taken up with thinking about Jans and the meaning of the stories, but with driving her fingers in and out of the slick pink folds he described so perfectly. With pinching the stiff nipples that he wrote about clamping, and imagining his cock sunk deep in her mouth, filling her throat to the point of gagging. She spent the nights milking her clit, pulling and squeezing it, drawing out of herself the deepest orgasims she'd ever had, and wishing it was his lips sucking her nub into his mouth, tongue and lips lapping at her, drinking her juices and fingers spreading her wide, wide enough to know her core.

That decided it. She needed to find out what would happen next. And if it all went to hell, well she'd started over before, and could do it again.

...

Jans:

The notebook dropped on to the table with a soft sound. It sat there, so normal-looking, just your basic moleskine notebook you could find in any stationary shop (if those still existed) and that he bought a half-dozen at a time on Amazon.

"Pieter," she said, in a low voice, almost conversationally but not meeting his eyes. "How can I serve you?" Then she looked at him, raised one eyebrow and stood waiting expectantly with her pen poised over her waitress' notepad.

Only someone who knew her as well as he did could have ignored the false air of casual confidence and noticed the short, rapid breaths, and the flush along her collarbone and along the line of her cheekbones. Saying those five words took more courage from her than almost anything she'd done lately, and he admired her for it. This one might be different.

Jans knew she didn't guess he had googled her, had even flown to Connecticut and interviewed friends and neighbors on the guise of writing an article about her sordid little scandale for Vanity Fair.

"Pilar," he said. "it seems we have some things to talk about."

...

They met on neutral ground, the neutral ground everyone meets on. Starbucks.

...

At first she disappointed herself. She was giggly. And awkward. And just kind of weird. She tried to be coy and arch and all so very "who cares" about it all. The thing was, Jans didn't tolerate any of that nonsense. And she liked him for it.

He said to her, "I think I see you, probably better than you see yourself."

Then he said "My advice would be to walk away now, but if you can't then I'll show you want you want to know."

He also said, "if we do this, it will be because you accept my terms, and give yourself entirely over to me. I can't have it any other way."

And he said "I'm not doing the cutesy flirting thing, so you can stop now. We're both grown-ups. You want to know if I'd like to be inside you, ride your body, and use you until you cry and beg me to give you release? Yes, that I do."

And finally he said "When I look at you all I can think of is how I'm going to hold your head down and fuck that beautiful mouth of yours."

...

And so here she was, in his driveway. It was time to either ring his doorbell or drive away.

She got out of the car.

...

Tour of the house concluded, we walked into the bright, open kitchen. Painted a light grey instead of the typical wood tones or even all-too-typical white, it featured industrial appliances and granite marble tops. "Of course" she thought to herself.

Jans smiled at her across the counter.

"Sit, and relax. We have plenty of time. First we'll eat, and it will be best if you drink a little too much wine. Then we'll sit outside and talk together about this thing and how it'll be between us."

She chose the stool nearest the windows and watched his hands as he chopped and stirred. After a few moments he pulled a bottle of rose from the fridge and removed the cork, then poured me a large glass.

Holding it in her hand Pilar held the wineglass in the sun admiring the blush color of the wine. "The exact color of my nipples" she thought and felt heat rise to her cheeks. She considered what Jans had said about drinking a little too much wine and took a deep sip from the crystal glass.

"Can I get myself some water?" She asked. Looking up from his cooking Jans glanced at me and then nodded over his shoulder. "Absolutely. There are bottles in the fridge."

She walked around the counter and across behind him, then opened one of the double doors of his huge stainless steel refrigerator. Grabbing a water bottle she let the door swing shut. He looked over his shoulder and gently said "You didn't ask me if I wanted one."

"Damn. Selfish. So typical of me," she thought to herself.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you want a bottle too?" Wordlessly he nodded, and winked with a smile.

Pilar opened the door and pulled a second bottle from the recesses of the fridge. Placing it on the counter next to the stove where Jans was cooking, she walked back around and sat on my stool again.

The moment she sat he looked up and said "Open it." Not a request.

She reached across the counter, twisted the cap and placed the open bottle back in the same spot next to him.

"Get me a glass. For yourself too. We don't drink from plastic." Again, this was not a request, but instructions; like the stating of a rule to learn and follow.

Back around the counter Pilar opened cabinet doors until she found glass tumblers. She noticed as she looked that Jans had no plastic of any kind in his kitchen...or even anywhere in his house, at least not that she could see from where she stood.

"I'll pour it out for you?" she asked. Jans again nodded instead of speaking, so she did. "Anything else sir?"

At her half teasing, half serious words he looked up at her for a long moment, blue eyes dilating; appraising her, searching her face. Finally he said, "That's all for now. Dinner is almost ready. Sit, drink your wine. It's very good. I should know, it's from my parents vineyard."

They ate sitting at a glass-topped table placed in the open french doors between his kitchen and the grey-cobbled patio overlooking his view to the west. Simple, perfect Sonoma County food: sliced peaches tossed with olive oil and chopped basil as salad. Penne with grilled chicken, sungold tomatoes, more olive oil, salt, pepper and freshly grated Parmesean cheese. Crusty bakery-fresh bread and a crock of local butter. Jans watched and smiled into her eyes as she tasted everything with pleasure clearly showing on her expressive face.

The sun traveled across the far side of the valley and sank towards the western hills as they talked of local news, laughed about the latest stupid memes going around Facebook, and slowly finished our meal. It was a kind of bizarrely regular conversation, considering the reason they were together.

Pilar did indeed drink a little too much wine. Most of the bottle of rose, which as promised was amazing. Jans, she noticed, drank only one full glass and then sipped very slowly at another.

Without being asked - or rather, told - she cleared the plates after they finished. Noticing the dishwasher was full of clean dishes she quickly emptied it, moving easily while putting all the dishes away. Jans sat on the stool where she had perched before, continuing the conversation and occasionally telling her where things belonged as she hunted around the kitchen. Finally with the dirty dishes in the dishwasher (no pots or pans, as Jans was the type of annoyingly effortless cook who cleaned as he went) she crossed her arms, leaned back against the far counter and looked at him.

"I'm fed. Definitely had too much wine." she said. Then she tilted her head and raised one eyebrow as if to say..."and now what?"

Jans answered the unasked question. "Now," he said, "lets talk."

Grabbing the bottle of rose - bottle number 2 Pilar remembered - he gently steered her through the door to the patio and gestured towards two chairs, with a small, drum-shaped ceramic table between them. Perfectly placed to watch the sunset, the chairs were angled comfortably towards each other, and were layered with brightly patterned cushions.

Sinking into one chair, she put her wine glass down on the table. She noticed the chime of the crystal as the glass clattered slightly, thanks to her shaking hand.

"Jans..." She started, but then couldn't think of what to say next.

He settled in the other chair and took a deep breath. Letting it out he began.

"You need to understand, this isn't about romance. It's not about holding hands, and whispering sweet nothings. No long walks on the beach, and in spite of appearances" he grinned wryly and nodded at the sky, "it's not about sunset evenings and candlelight dinners."

"It is about your body and mine. About surrender and trust. It's about my owning and possessing you, and its about you letting go and giving yourself over to me. But you have to understand, I'm going to hurt you. Sometimes very badly. That is a part of this too, and without that pain there is nothing for us to find in each other. Are you really prepared for that?"

She had figured out what she needed to say. "Jans, I read the stories. I get it. I know the parts we'll each play." She continued on, trying to explain, to convince him that she knew what she was doing there with him. "I want..." No. She stopped and shook her head, almost angrily. "I need this," she stressed. "I'm so fucking empty. I need to feel again, and to be filled. I need to know I am alive, because I have walked up to the edge of the abyss and looked in. I really think that only you can do that for me. I have to find a way to be released from myself and my past, you know? So, ok then. I give myself to you and give freely; I want to be reborn as your possession to use or discard as you choose."

"You shouldn't want this." He said it bleakly. "You actually should want to run, to run the hell away from me, out those doors and down the street, back to the light. But yeah, again I think I see you as no one else does, and I know if you don't find what you are looking for here, you'll just seek it out some place else. It may not be this, and you are hanging in there now. But someday soon instead of me it may be drugs or booze or something else fucking stupid and dangerous that you believe will fill your empty places."

"That means its a deal. I'll accept your gift of yourself. I'll be your guide, your Charon. I'll ferry you across the Styx and into the infinite darkness."

"But before we start first you need to choose a word. Some people would call it a safety word, but to you it will be like beacon in the dark, a flare you can light which will guide you back home. And like a flare, you can only use it one time before it is gone forever."

"Choose wisely, and choose something that you can't forget, because once we go together into the dark it will be all you can cling to. That and you will cling to the trust you place in me, your guide."

A tiny whisper in her brain said, his spiel sounded a bit rehearsed - this wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation with a woman - but sent a chill down her back nonetheless. My mind roamed through what he said, thinking of his metaphor of the word as my way home.

"Hector," Pilar finally said. "The name of your road. When...well, I should say if...I want to leave you, I'll say the name of the road that will lead me away. Hector."

Jans closed his eyes. He thought about how usually his toys chose idiotic words like 'potato' or 'iceberg'. Only this new toy - who may turn out to be much more than a toy; who may actually become a person to him - chose a word of meaning and of its own dark power.

Jans leaned forward suddenly in his chair, legs wide, elbows on his knees, hands dangling and head deeply bowed. He stayed that way a long moment, long enough she started to worry and wonder what the hell was wrong with him.

Just before she decided to speak (and probably say something stupid and mood-ruining), he looked up at her and his face was transformed. Eyes ablaze, his jaw looked chiseled from granite, with strong nose and brow standing out in sharp relief against the darkening blue of the evening sky. And his voice when he spoke was also chiseled from granite.

"And so we start. You understand that belong to me now. You are mine; my possession utterly, until I choose to release you."

That got her attention. She sat frozen; tense, scared, and silent.

"Use the word if you will. That is your power over me. Use it once, and this ends. You can go. I'll let you go safely home to your life and your friends and whatever is left of your family, and this thing between us will be done, forever."

"But you should also know this: When I am inside you, the word does not work," he warned. "Use it before, or after, but when we are joined together you have no power and you have no will." He looked in my eyes to be sure she understood. "As of now you do what I will."

He added more conversationally, "and I will. Be inside you I mean. I will open you, and I will be so deep inside you. I will lick you, and touch you, and together we will come to know your darkest inner places where no one else has ever been. You'll empty yourself and open your soul to me. And I'll fuck you, and taste your blood, and I'll leave my mark upon you."

He waited. Pilar sat, looking over the view, saying farewell to everything she had known about herself. And then I too sat waiting for whatever would come next.

He finally stirred, drank deeply from his wineglass, and looked at me kindly. Again I saw the Jans I knew, with the gentle smile I recognized.

"Lets begin. Stand up and take your clothing off." As I hesitated at the sudden command, just for a moment, his smile widened. "This is it. This is when you decide. As promised, Hector is right out there, waiting for you. But if you stay I promise you'll find everything that you seek."

She stood. How could she not? She'd wanted this, came to Jans to find it. To now turn away from it would be madness.

She unbuttoned her shorts, dropped them to her ankles and stepped out, then pulled her tank top over my head. Folded them neatly and placed them on the cobbled floor next to the chair where she had been sitting. Stood waiting.

He reached out a strong hand towards me and she lifted her own hand, palm upwards towards him until we grasped each other, clung tightly as if together we could avoid drowning. Taking a step towards him she turned her body so she was bathed in the final golden light of the sunset.

Jans ran his hands down her arms, her waist, her back, smoothing and caressing her. Raising goose flesh on me wherever he touched, though the night was warm. He pulled her towards him now, gripping her waist and forcing her forward until she was between his knees, and he kissed the exposed skin of her belly, rubbing his whole face back and forth, rasping her skin with the stubble of his cheeks. He smoothed his thumbs rhythmically outwards from my navel, over and over, then moved his hands to grip my outer thighs and then around to cup and hold my ass. He rested his forehead against her belly and murmured "So soft. So soft."

As if he could see the wry grimace she pulled at his words ... Yes she was soft, as any woman with 28 years and 2 children under her belt would be ... He said fiercely, lips moving against her belly, "Never apologize for being soft. You have to stay soft for me, and I intend to worship your curves and valleys and the shape of your body."

He drew his hands down her thighs and ass and belly and back, over and over. Never coming near my breasts which pushed outward in invitation, never near the most private part of her, so close and yet so far from his questing hands.

Until suddenly he spoke thickly. "Show me your breasts. Do it now." She immediately reached behind her back to unclasp the strapless wisp of lace that she had put on in such anticipation just a few hours earlier.

As she pulled the bra away from her body he reached up and lifted my breasts in both hands, measuring, feeling their weight. He pulled on my nipples - truly the color of rosé she noted - gently and then pinching and rolling the nubs harder and harder until she was gasping, not sure if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling.

He again ran his hands over her, lifting her arms to smooth my hairless armpits with a grunt of approval, then moving again down my waist and hips and ass to caress my hairless calves and thighs.

"So soft" he breathed again, still the only words between them.

Finally he ran his hands up the front of my thighs and dipped his fingers slowly inside the elastic of my underpants.

Then he stroked once, twice, feeling the nakedness of her hairless lips. His fingers sought the core of her sex, and pinched her clit, gently shaking it back and forth. Watching her, gauging her responsiveness, he kept shaking, pulling on her clit and she gasped and shook and cried out all at once.

The slap on her face took her completely by surprise. The second one brought tears to her eyes and the third brought a cry of pain to her lips.

He moved his hand to grab her jaw from beneath, digging into the muscles of her face. "I didn't give you permission to come" he said darkly into her her ear. "Your orgasims don't belong to you anymore, they belong to me now." His hand tightened and her breath came faster as she waited for whatever would come next. "We have some work to do with you. Go home, until I call for you."

By now the sudden change in his demeanor had left her with tears on her cheeks, and an embarrassing hitch in her breath. She tried to stammer out an apology, to explain that she didn't know, she couldn't help herself and was just trying to please him. But he had turned off, tuned her out as if she didn't exist. He walked into the house and started clearing up the last of things from dinner, still ignoring her. After standing stupidly for a moment she realized - she had vowed to obey him; she had to leave now and wait upon his word.

Gathering her clothing she dressed quickly and silently, and walked barefoot through the house towards the driveway where she had left her car. Jans did not look at her as she padded across the floor and through the front doors. Passing out into the dark of night she started her Rav4 and the headlights suddenly illuminated the ancient oak tree in the middle of his driveway. She pulled her car out...on to Hector Road she realized, as she half laughed and half sobbed, and drove down the hill into the empty darkness.