Encounter in Darkness

As she disembarked from the plane at JFK airport, Sara Manning couldn't help thinking how relaxed this flight had been compared with two years ago. Waiting to pass through security, she had time to focus on the reasons why that should be.

First, she knew exactly what to expect, and what her duties would be. As head UK representative for one of the leading book publishing companies in the world, her last visit had given her confidence. The boss on this side of the Atlantic was the charming Edward Blakey, in his late fifties, whose thoughtfulness on her first visit to the biennal book festival had been so helpful.

At that time she had only been a minor representative, but since then her rise had been meteoric. At just twenty nine it was something she was quietly proud of. Now, she was so looking forward to seeing Edward Blakey again in her new capacity.

But that wasn't her only reason for being relaxed. This time, she had no male complications in her life, having shaken off the shackles of being with Phil Rennet for two pointless years. Last visit he had never been off the phone, declaring his desire for her. Eight months ago she had discovered that the desire he talked about was being shared out between at least two other women, the bastard.

She wouldn't care, he wasn't that great a lover. Too quick, too concerned about his own pleasures. Before Phil, there had been Jack, who had moved away to Italy, just when she was becoming attached to his easy charm, but even he, left her feeling there should be more. Sara had to admit, going way back, she had never been all that lucky with her choice of men. Maybe she succumbed too easily. Her fault, she had to admit, her libido was quite demanding yet so often unfulfilled. It was a wonder that she looked forward to sex at all. But she was sure that, deep down inside her, was a slow burner, that just needed to be brought to full flame.

Anyway, she was clear of all that and, despite the calls of her libido, hadn't been with a man since she'd ditched Phil. Eight months! God, she was almost proud of herself. She doubted whether New York would provide any chance encounters, since she would only be here for four nights. This was longer than the first time, when it had been a quick overnight stay.

At last she was clear of security, and with the masses, she dragged her case out into the wide hectic foyer. Almost immediately, among the many boards being held up she saw a black man holding up her name. He gave her a broad friendly smile, grabbed her bag and told her that Mr Blakey had booked her into The Plaza hotel, near Central Park.

Within the hour she was being shown into a fifth floor room, which was pure comfort, and had a wonderful view over Central Park. Edward Blakey rang to greet her, and he was so effusive, it made Sara glad to be there.

"Congratulations on your promotion." he said, in conclusion. "There'll be a car there to collect you at ten in the morning. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

Dressed in a light summer dress, Sara went down to the dining room, and enjoyed a superbly cooked steak. She was feeling rather drowsy afterwards, having had two or three glasses of wine with her meal. Truth was, she knew that, if she had a drink, she could quickly become susceptible to a sexual encounter. Hopes always ran high. But she was fairly sure she had come beyond that stage.

Sara slept well, and the promised car was there at ten o'clock, again driven by the same black man, whose name, she learned was Sam. By ten twenty she was heading up in a lift in the large building that was the main centre for her publishing company.

As soon as she was admitted to his lavish office, Edward Blakey, tall, silver haired and, as ever, distinguished looking strode across to wrap his arms around her in a genuine hug.

"Sara, you look stunning. Promotion has made you bloom. I'd like to marry you-but-my wife, Dorothy, won't let me." That was the typical light-hearted approach he had to life.

They laughed, as he held a chair for her, and asked, "You still with your young man?"

When she told him, he nodded, "Good. I'm glad you're being choosey. I waited, and never regretted it. Best be certain you've got the right one.." Then, for a while they talked about what they would be doing that afternoon at the book festival. Then Edward got on to asking her questions about what she was experiencing in her new role in the UK.

For Sara, it felt as though she was being interviewed, in the sweetest possible way. But what Edward said next, confirmed that she had been in a kind of interview. "Sara, how would you feel about coming over to work for me, here, in this office? I admire your knowledge, your enthusiasm, and your open personality. You'd be my extra support, which I do need. Would you consider it?"

Sara was just a little stunned. To work in NewYork, was that not a latent dream she had? Both her parents were dead, she had a few friends, but there was nothing really to hold her back. She asked Edward if she could think about it, and he gave her an understanding smile, "Of course, my dear, I'd expect nothing else."

They talked some more and then he said, "Of course, I'll be seeing you this afternoon, but tonight I've had an invite to one of Stanley Grover's occasional parties."

"Stanley Grover, the movie director?"

"The same. Be warned, they can be pretty wild affairs. He has a wicked sense of humour, but his style is a little too much for Dorothy. You're a lively youngster and could find it appealing. Would you accompany me? I hate refusing influential people."

Sara was thrilled by the idea, and happily accepted."Good, I'll phone for Sam now, then we'll collect you at about one thirty. Okay."

For Sara, everything looked fine. She had this offer of a new situation, plus the chance to visit the home of a renowned movie director. Things just couldn't be this good.

The only cloud had been Edward's mention of 'getting the right one,' and the thought of no longer having her parents to consider. Sara had always been aware of how much her parents loved each other.

Then, when Sara was twenty four, her mother had been struck with abdominal cancer. For a year, she and her father had tended to her, but when she finally passed away, her father had been inconsolable. Sara had been so worried about him, and despite her subsequent grief, she was almost relieved for him, when a massive heart attack took him, just nine months after her mother.

But that love she'd seen in them, had always stood as a goal for her. No matter how many sexual encounters she'd had there was always the sense that something was missing.

So, that afternoon, the festival went well enough. Good contacts were made, interest in their books was enhanced, and Edward had given her more insight into what her position would entail if she took it.

That evening she had a quick nap, had a shower, and then considered what she would wear for the evening. "Smart casual" is what Edward had advised, "Nothing's formal about Stanley. And don't eat, there'll be samples of food in every room, just about."

So, for smart casual, Sara chose a close fitting dark blue summer bare shouldered dress, with two thin straps to hold it in place. She carried a thin white jacket in case she needed it later on.

Edward's car picked her up prompt eight and they sat in the back as Sam drove them out to a district called Windsor. "Not where the Queen lives," Edward joked.

Sara could see, as they approached it, that the house was massive. A huge entrance hall sparkled with a myriad of lights, which came from every direction, and not just the great crystal chandeliers overhead. A tall man, late sixties Sara estimated, round bellied, with a mass of silver hair, came to greet them.

"Ed, great to see you. No Dorothy? But who is this beauty you have on your arm?"

Edward introduced Sara to the great Stanley Grover, and she felt quite cowed under his gaze. "Sara? I thought it was Audrey Hepburn, reincarnated in that little dress. " He winked at Edward as he passed a hand in front of, but very close to, Sara's breasts, and laughed, "Just a touch overdeveloped to be the divine Miss Hepburn. But they're just right for you, my dear."

Sara felt her face reddening as she searched for a response, Edward leaned in to her to whisper, "I warned you."

"Just enjoy. Get a champagne, food everywhere." And Grover shuffled away to greet others.

He, being a film director, had all kinds of wannabe's among the guests, handsome young men casually dressed, and hopeful actresses, in sparkling gowns, that made Sara feel quite plain. As well as that there were several business men, all portly and rich looking, with their blue rinsed ladies, wishing they were younger. It was quite an affair, with a sumptuous buffet to be found wherever she wandered.

Armed with a glass of champagne, Sara, advised by Edward to take a look around, did just that. She strolled, completely relaxed, by a large bathing pool, where some young ladies were sitting giggling and paddling their feet in the water. Just beyond the pool was a dance area where a few couples were moving rather sleepily to the soft rhythm of the six piece band.

Just walking, and viewing the beautiful people would have been experience enough. At the end of the pool she found an empty table and sat down, watching men and women making early overtures to each other. No prude, she was just a little surprised at how blatant some of it was. Female buttocks were stroked, skirts were surreptitiously lifted. Female hands touched at bulging pants. And there was kissing, lots and lots of kissing.

"Exciting, isn't it?" A female voice said, and Sara found a young lady in a green dress, sitting near her. "Are you an actress?"

A little taken aback, Sara shook her head, "No, are you?"

"I'm trying to be." She was a very pretty young woman, and Sara could see why she might have such ambition. "What do you do?"

When Sara told her, she asked, "You write books?"

"Nothing that glamorous. I sell them."

They exchanged name. She was Fiona, and she was looking around the crowded pool area keenly. "Do you know many of these people?" she asked.

"Only him over there," Sara said, pointing out Edward. "He's my boss."

"I don't know many," Fiona admitted," but you see him."And she pointed out a tall, very handsome blond haired young man. "He's just had his first starring role in a Stanley Grover movie. Not released yet."

A waiter came, picked up Sara's empty glass and replaced it with a full one. "Building yourself up for later?" Fiona asked.

"What happens later?"

"At Stanley Grover parties, anything can happen."

After a while Sara excused herself, saying she wanted a further look around. She walked through what looked like a library, and there was even food available there.

Back on the other side of the pool she took a bite to eat from the sumptuous array of foods. She was onto her third champagne, when an announcement was made introducing the Trinidad Dancers. A group of six loincloth clad men flexed there way onto the dance floor, followed by six young women, in long skirts which were split completely up the front, with a tiny bra covering their breasts. The dance that followed, to a raw West Indian drum rhythm, had to be the most erotic Sara had ever seen.

As a climax one of the women was lifted high by four of the men, her arms and legs held wide, while the other women twitched and humped around them, and the two spare men nuzzled their faces, one after the other between the parted thighs.

Sara, in spite of being initially shocked, felt a long withheld spasm low in her body. She reached for another champagne. Shortly after that Edward came to say, with a knowing smile, that Dorothy didn't like him being too long at a Stanley Grover party.

"You stay, my dear. See how the other half really lives." And his smile widened, "It'll certainly be an education. Sam will be back with the car for whenever you need him." Sara, already cosy on champagne, was very curious about what might follow later. She gave Edward a peck on the cheek and thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

Shortly before midnight , with a few older couples drifting away, Stanley Grover called for order, and announced that it was time for a little game. He smiled slyly around the remaining guests, and told them that he required eight lady volunteers..

A number of hands immediately shot up, but, most intriguingly he went on to warn that there could be sexual activity, and any lady uncertain about that would perhaps wish to remain at the poolside where food, drink and happy chat would still be available.

One or two of the younger actress types looked uncertain, and some shook their heads before turning away. Sara was curious enough, and, later would think, probably, drink bolstered enough to take part. For sure, eight months celibacy lay heavily in her lower body. In the end she was standing in a line with eight other ladies, only two of whom, she guessed, would be over forty. Fiona stood alongside her.

"I'm hoping I might get the blonde star," she told Sara." Did you notice how some of the young men disappeared?"

Sara hadn't noticed that , and wondered just what she had let herself in for. Stanley Grover looked along the line, a lustful gleam in his eye, as he joked, that he wished he had put himself in for the game. Then he stated that there were a few rules.

"Please listen carefully." he advised them. " On the next floor, there are eight bedrooms, all numbered. A man will be found in each bedroom ." A few nervous glances were exchanged, a few excited nods. Sara felt just curiosity,

Grover held up a bundle of white cards, before going on. "You will each get two cards. One will indicate which room you will enter. A second card will hold one word either, 'lead' or 'obey'. The men already know what their role is, it will be the opposite of whatever you receive."

Now, Sara became just a little uneasy, as Stanley Grover went on, "A lead card gives the right to dictate what takes place between the two people in that room. If you have it and just want to talk, that's the way it has to be. Apart from that situation, the obey card holder must remain silent, through the whole session, and must do whatever their partner asks ".

With a wide smile Grover gave his last piece of information, "Here's the clincher. You will never see the man you are with, nor will he see you. The rooms are totally blacked out. No source of light at all. You better not have darkness phobia.."

One or two of the women chatted nervously, and one raised her hand, and asked, "If we have the obey card and are told to do something utterly disgusting, and refuse, what happens?"

Glover nodded, "Good question. A recording machine is connected to each room. It cannot record words, but will register sounds. For instance if there is continuous reading it will be recognised that conversation has been agreed. But if you were being abused a high pitched scream will register as just that, and your activity will be stopped." He paused and tapped his nose, "But, be advised, if such a stoppage is seen as trivial, some interesting forfeits will follow. Does anyone wish to withdraw?"

There were no further responses, and Grover moved along the line handing out the cards. Two to each woman. Sara was just praying that she didn't end up with an obey card and find some corpulent individual behind her door, wanting to have his way with her. Maybe she had placed too much importance on her eight month gap. Then Glover was smiling at her as he handed over her cards . One told her she had room four. Nervously she turned over the other one, and took in a large intake of breath as she saw 'obey'. In theory, she had a man behind door four who could get her to do whatever he wanted.

As they mounted the stairs, Fiona crowed, "I've got the lead. I can have a man do exactly what I want. Nice change."

Sara was trembling as she came to room four, where a waiter was standing. He gave Sara a slight smile as he said, "When I open the door step quickly inside. You will find a black curtain all around you. Don't part the curtain until I close the door."

He opened the door with just sufficient gap for Sara to get through. There was a quick glimpse of black curtain and then the door closed. Sara found herself in such darkness as she had never known. She moved the curtain aside, and there was no change. Solid blackness pressed on her eyeballs. She really could not see her hand in front of her face.

Then the voice came from across the room.

"If you're afraid of the dark, don't worry. So am I." A deep brown voice, American, and at least he sounded interesting. His voice came again, with what Sara reckoned was his first request. "Take off your shoes, you'll find it easier to glide over the carpet with just small steps."

She did as instructed, and waited for the next bit of advice, "Damned inconvenient, isn't it, being in the dark? Now, while I talk, just move in the direction of my voice. Arms out ahead of you, like sleepwalking, but I think I've moved all the obstructions that I hit. But just in case, slide with little steps."

One thing was certain already, he had a friendly voice, and carefully, Sara held up her arms, and slid her bare feet over the carpet, towards where the voice was coming from.

"I hear your feet scraping, and your breathing sounds nervous. Don't be. Very close now."

Within seconds her outstretched fingers touched bare skin. A man's chest, and she took an involuntary step back. "Right. I'm going to reach out for your hand. If you put your arm up again. I want to make a simple way of communicating.."

Sara jerked again as a hand bumped against her left breast. "Sorry about that. I'm not trying to rush anything." Damn, he really did sound caring. Then the man's hand touched her left arm and quickly moved down to find her hand. As their fingers closed on each other, Sara was thinking what a strong hand it was, with such broad fingers.

"Good smooth skin," the man commented. "Now here's the idea. Because you aren't allowed to talk, a crazy idea by the way. I might ask you a question, but it can only have a yes/no answer. For yes, you give one squeeze, and for no you give two. Is that clear?"

Sara was finding that having her hand in his was enough to release some of the tension she had been feeling.

"Well? You haven't responded."

Yes, it was clear, she had just not tuned in. She gave his hand a quick squeeze, and his voice came with a little chuckle, "That's it. You'll soon get the hang of it. Being blind must be like this all the time. Pure hell, don't you think?"

Sara was ready and squeezed. She had been thinking the same thing herself. Now his voice became more serious, "I suppose you've guessed by now that we're going to be intimate?"

She gave one squeeze, thinking about the bare chest she had briefly touched, and wondering if he was totally naked.

"You okay with that?"

Only a slight hesitation, but again she gave one squeeze, and his next question although logical was also surprising. "How many men have you -" Sara sensed him seeking a delicate way of putting it. "—slept with. Is it more than five?"

It was four, so Sara gave two squeezes. "More than three?"

One squeeze, and he said, "That's interesting. I know this is indelicate but is your age over thirty?"

Two squeezes before he said, "Thank you for that. My mother told me it was wrong to ask a lady's age." Sara could not come to terms with this voice coming from an apparent void.

"Now, to get to the action of why we're here. I'm going to put my hands on you. Don't be nervous, but just raise your arms slightly sideways."

His hands wafted onto her shoulders, lingered there for a moment, before moving down to cover both of her breasts, and, as she took a quick intake of breath at his touch, Sara was sure an appreciative 'Mmm' issued from his lips. His hands moved to trace her hips on either side , before trailing down over her waist and the outer region of her upper thighs.