Fish Out Of Water Ch. 01

Suddenly stumbling I quickly tried to grip the banister to steady myself but missed, my legs unsteady. I felt myself fall and as he caught me in unfamiliarly strong arms I felt myself melt into him, yearning for every ounce of that strength to envelop me, if only for a moment.

Holding me close he stared down at me, his brown eyes sincere,

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

I shook my head, staring at him wide eyed and, frankly, afraid. I never allowed anyone to have the upper hand yet here I was, held safe in his arms and completely at his mercy. Not once in our history had Max ever been this assertive or, dare I say, masculine, but here we were, me prone in his arms and getting off on it!

"I'm okay. Thank you. If you could just help me down to the door I can catch a taxi home."

He nodded and swept me up into his arms.

Unbelievably he carried me down the stairs like the closing scene from "An Officer and a Gentleman". My very own Romantic Hero. Every instinct in my body wanted to fight against him but my brain overruled, revelling in feeling so protected and yet so vulnerable.

As he set me down on the pavement I held him tightly, desperate to cling to him like a vine and never let go, despite hating that vulnerable streak that only Max could force to the very surface.

Shyly I couldn't meet his eyes, and found myself reverting to my old ways, clenching my hands into fists and twisting away from him, trying to create distance. Staring out at the road, I searched for the yellow light of a taxi in the stygian blackness but it remained as dark as my soul.

Breathing deeply I turned to Max and shrugged, "I'll wait here. Thank you again for your help."

He tilted his head and stared at me, a look that seemed to strip each layer of skin from my bones.

"I can't explain it... it makes no sense..."

I stared back and galvanised myself, standing as tall as I could and summoning every ounce of reserve I had.

"I should explain I guess. I'm not normally this rude to women I've just met but you just remind me so strongly of someone I used to know..."

Stunned I stood there, torn between hoping he recognised me and fearful that he had,

"She must have been pretty impressive then."

He grinned at me and looked me up and down, rendering me useless,

"She was... She most certainly was."

...

Max had refused to leave me as I waited for a cab and because fate is a bitch, no taxi appeared in the 40 minutes we waited.

After only 10 minutes of standing in the chilly seaside air, he had chivalrously given me his coat. Despite my inner bitch protesting, I was too cold and too grateful to vocally protest. In silence we stood side by side until Max finally took my frozen hand and tugged me off down the road.

I was numb to the point that it took a few seconds for me to realise his intentions. I then revelled in the warmth of his touch for another long, magical moment before I pulled back,

"What the hell are you doing?"

He looked back and shook his head cheerfully,

"Come on! It's freezing cold and I don't know about you but I need a cup of tea. Don't be a diva!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed, a deep hearty laugh with a snort at the end. I rarely laugh anymore but I've always snorted (So much so that Sarah dubbed me Miss Piggy in my youth).

Max stilled at the sound and stared at me, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. My skin prickled at his interrogation and I glared at him,

"Did your Mother never tell you it's rude to stare?"

"She did frequently. But I can't help it. You just seem so familiar somehow and let's be honest, no-one else around here looks like you do!"

...

The cafe was a welcoming retreat from the cold night air, a brightly lit haven on an otherwise darkened street. A neon sign in the window proudly declared it open 24 hours a day and I could imagine it did a roaring trade during the day, its large menu offering a myriad of fried delights alongside smoothies, sandwiches and about 17 varieties of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the smell of bacon and my stomach rumbled as a waitress walked past, a plate of American style pancakes dripping with syrup in her hands. Max grinned and led me to a table by the window, pulling my chair out for me as if we were on a date. Within minutes my icy hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea and I sipped it, relaxing in the warmth as it slid down my throat.

The art-deco clock hanging behind the cash register showed it was now past midnight. Sitting opposite my first and only love in an all night cafe in Cornwall drinking tea wasn't exactly where I thought I'd be but symbiotically it was where I ended up.

I didn't need to look around to know that people were staring. In London, no-one pays much attention to anyone else and I can wander through the dark streets dressed in my finest without a worry. To be fair, my Domina outfits of black leather and PVC are utterly tame transposed against the voluptuous sequins and lamés favoured by the drag queens who work near the club, their vibrant outfits made even more dazzling by their vast statures in the 8 inch platforms they favour.

On more than one occasion I have relented to their incessant pleas to make me over and have then stood dazzled by the resulting image presented to me, the highly decorated colourful version of me that could have been. All shimmer and colour, my face a riot of sparkle and sequins and joy, I twirl, revelling in their delighted laughter and praise.

...

Sitting in this Cornish cafe, I could have worn a showgirl costume of yellow feathers and turquoise sequins and still not been as conspicuous as I am now. But fuck them; I have worked too hard for too long to care what other people think. I know in my soul, that if I met their eyes, most would look at me with lust or admiration. Even those who viewed me with disdain would still want to fuck me. Why? Because I am now Her, and She is undeniable.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Pulled from my memories I focused on Max and cocked an eyebrow,

"This from the man who carried me down the stairs and practically abducted me from the pavement! Don't get coy on me now!"

He smiled and I felt my heart splinter a fraction, just a tiny chink in my hard won armour.

"Do we know each other? Really?"

I sipped my tea, and used the precious seconds to ponder my answer. To lie would be the best response for the both of us but the truth was a tantalising door into God knew what.

"It depends. Do you frequent high end fetish clubs across the world?"

Max gazed at me and slowly shook his head.

"Have you ever paid £1000 to have a woman beat you into submission and lay prostate against her boots?"

Again he shook that adorably familiar face. I leant forward and held his wide eyes.

"Have you ever pleaded with a woman to take control of you, mind, body and soul and allowed yourself to feel the fulfilment of submission?"

He sucked in a breath and I caught the infinitesimal movement of his head, answering no. Sitting back, I shrugged out of his coat, letting the already shocked patrons see the full extent of my neck to knee latex armour outfit.

Considering the hour and the obvious fact that most of them were sobering up after a night out on the town, their gasps fed my ego and I finally felt comfortable in my new, alien environment.

"Well then my friend, if none of those situations ring true to you then it's fair to say that we have never met."

Max sank back into his seat and regarded me, his eyes raking my face. It took everything to hold myself serene, to not let my emotions flicker into life but years of training paid off.

"I can't say I have ever done any of those things. So I must be wrong. Maybe you remind me of someone I've seen in a film or something..."

I laughed,

"I can only imagine the kind of films you watch!"

Max laughed and sipped his tea,

"I'm sure you could!"

I shrugged and motioned to the waitress, ordering us both another mug of tea and two plates of toast. My stomach was churning, a frequent (and still unexpected and unwelcome) side effect of my "performances" and I needed to eat to calm it.

She starred at me, her eyes fluttering from my face to my breasts and back. I raised a brow, ready to throw out a sarcastic aside when she surprised me, stuttering,

"I... err... I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I... I love your outfit. You look like a superhero!"

I almost choked on my tea in surprise.

"Well thank you. Although I was channelling a Super Villain when I got dressed this evening."

She blushed and I caught a flash of myself in my early days, so wanting to be accepted. I smiled at her, the first true smile since I'd fallen into Sarah's arms.

"But as long as it's super, it doesn't matter right?"

She smiled meekly,

"I wish I could wear something like that. Look like you do."

I reached for her shaking hand and held her gaze, imploring her with my wide open eyes to focus solely on me, a trick I use all the time to guide my submissives.

"You can my darling and you should. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks of you, only what you think of you. Be brave, be bold, be you. Nothing else matters."

She nodded and started to turn away to place my order,

"One more thing though darling..."

She whipped around, rapt for my next words.

"If you venture into PVC, make sure you liberally apply baby powder first as it's a bitch to get in or out of!"

Max choked out a laugh as our waitress grinned and darted away.

"That may have been the first honest thing you've said tonight."

I scowled at him.

"You think I've lied to you? I wasn't aware we've discussed anything pertinent?"

He shook his head,

"I'm not saying you've lied... but watching you interact with the waitress... you seemed like a different person from the woman I've been talking to. More genuine, more real. Like that was the real you and the you I've been talking to is a character. It's not a knock, just an observation."

"Maybe you just haven't asked me the right questions. Have you considered that?"

He smiled, appreciation sparking in his eyes.

"You don't like to lose do you?"

"Haven't so far so why start now! So ask me... I can tell you are dying to. Based on the lack of taxis in this backwards town I am at your mercy... for now."

...

As the hours passed and I slowly relaxed I found myself offering tentative glimpses into my world. When he asked me what I did I found no reason to lie. His shock was palpable. I'd smiled and asked him why it should be a surprise considering what he'd seen me earlier do. Why the teasing of one man in a back street pub should be acceptable whilst the flagellation of another with a whip as his limbs strained beneath his bonds should not. He'd stared at me, his mouth open and his breathing growing rapidly heavier.

The sun began its ascent and Max paid our bill. I smiled at my waitress, winking as she waved goodbye. Slowly we walked down the road , the scattered streetlights throwing lustre onto certain spectrums of the asphalt road and shrouding others in darkness. No cars passed at all, our journey together heralded by the spluttering streetlights alone. For a second, I yearned for London, its eclectic ambiance emphasised by the bright lights, no shadows visible as neon after neon shroud its inhabitants with whiter than white light. No-one is invisible there, everyone spot lit by the brightness of the stores, bars and streetlights. And the noise. London is a cacophony of cabs and cars, people and clubs, yet here, even the noisiest of bars barely registered to me. We walked slowly , not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from each other. He'd stopped, pulling me back as I moved forwards. I slowly spun into his arms.

We proceeded to bump our noses and he held me tight, his breath washing over my face. I'd wanted to kiss him, to thrust my tongue between his lips and drown myself in his taste, while stopping any more words that gave me foolish hope. Based on the pulsing of the vein in his jaw he was contemplating similar thoughts, yet he held himself in check, reminding me that I did not truly know this man, only the ghost of his past. And as he spoke, the words filtered into my brain and cemented my understanding.

Max wanted me to break him.

...

He'd asked politely, almost imploringly, but the truth was as evident as the shaking of my hands. He loved his wife, he was almost happy, but he'd always felt there was something more. His trip tonight to the club wasn't his first, but it was the first time he'd seen anything (or anyone) which gave him a reason to hope. Watching me tease and torment that man on the bed upstairs had wakened his lust. Had made him jealous of the almost pathological focus of the man harbouring my attention. Every strike, every stroke, every word. Max had been fascinated by the control I'd welded, not only over the man on the bed but by everyone in the room. With little more than a look I had changed the atmosphere from one of nervous energy to focused desire.

I'd shrugged, telling him that it wasn't me per se, it was more about the group needing direction. Everyone at the club was looking for more yet most had no idea what. All I had done was give one man what he wanted and shown the rest that there was no shame in speaking their desires out loud.

"If you never ask for what you truly want, how can you expect to get it?"

Max, though, wanted more. He wanted to be taken further, wanted the harsh slap of skin on skin, the sharp bite of teeth, the harsh penetration of a dildo into his arse. He wanted absolution, via handing himself over to someone more skilled than he, to take him further than he could yet comprehend.

I'd stared at him, his pupils huge as he whispered dark words into the early morning light. He wanted to be fucked, pushed, tormented and teased. He needed to be bound by the control he'd seen me demonstrate, and he'd asked me if I would help him.

Ordinarily I would have agreed to a price and whisked him off to the nearest hotel room, but this was Max. I wanted more than anything to give him what he needed, but I also wondered if I was the right woman for this particular job. I knew that I could help him, could breach his sphincter with only the merest hint of pain before driving him to the heady heights of orgasm, knew I could lash his body without breaking the skin, knew I was capable of giving him what he desired. She could do all of that and more. But here, standing close to my long lost love, I suddenly lost my confidence. Could I hurt him, even knowing that he needed it, sought it? He'd shaken his head softly and laughed, apologising for being so blatant.

I'd shrugged telling him it was okay and as the yellow light of an open cab came into view I'd almost leapt into the road to flag it down. Max had hugged me awkwardly and as I settled into the car he pressed a napkin into my hand, his number inked indelibly upon it in his familiar scrawl.

"Please... Think about it."

As the taxi drove off, the light and life in his eyes burnt into my brain, Max's hope burning brighter than the morning sun.

...

I finally crept back to Sarah's just after six, my shoes in my hand, my breath held as I silently padded into the flat.

My mind was awhirl, foremost in my head the fact that I had to strip all traces of Her from my body before Sarah woke. Unlike Max who had wavered blindly before asking me the questions he wanted to, Sarah would take one look at me like this and move in for the kill. I'd be lying if I said that a major part of me didn't want that; I needed to share my life with someone other than Jules but my relationship with Sarah was still so new that I couldn't risk it. Even knowing her 'literary' secrets as I did; maybe one day but not now.

Elvis snuffled around my ankles and I tickled his ears, grateful for the welcome. Sneaking around was second nature and I was soon back to myself again, my secret side hidden once again in my suitcase as I padded to the kitchen to fill the kettle.

Waiting for it to boil I stared out of the window, focusing on the sea before me. Infinite, majestic, unparalleled in its ability to rage and still.

As a child I had been fascinated by nature; my Father had loved to regale me with facts about the world around me. "Remember Katie, people make wars but Nature... nature is stronger than that. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis... Mother Nature shouldn't be messed with. Nature can be far more destructive than man could ever dream of. You must always respect the world around you."

He had passed when I was in my teens, and was still probably part of the reason I held people at least arm's length, yet I always remembered his musings. Along the way I'd revised them to fit my own ends; nature now was less about the elements and more about people but it remained true. There were things out there stronger than you or me; lusts, passions, peccadilloes, and persuasions, the secrets that drive a man to slake his lusts, and the secrets that keep me in work.

...

Settling on the pullout bed I blew on my tea and had a Humphrey Bogart moment, of all the bars in all the world, Max had to walk into mine. Over the course of the evening I had learnt much about him.

Now married with a small child, he worked for the Royal Mail as an administration drone and hated it. He adored his daughter, somewhat liked his wife and stayed up to the early hours each night writing what he hoped would be the next great novel.

At that I had snorted, remembering his adoration of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" and never understanding the appeal of a tale about such spoilt brats. Max had stared and I'd blagged, calling him on the cliché that everyone has a novel inside of them. He laughed, telling me he had written far more than one, publishing them online to varying degrees of success. He'd seemed to light up as he talked about writing and I listened intently, his voice washing over me as I fell headlong into another wander down memory lane. I recalled how I'd sat beside him years before as he typed, his face scrunched up in concentration as he typed away on yet another magnum opus. I would watch him, fascinated, aroused and mildly disgruntled at being so universally ignored but then he would include me, asking me for the right word or spelling. In those moments, I felt more a part of him than when we made love, linked to him on a different level.

My body, I have since learnt painfully, can belong to anyone for the right price but only Max could engage my mind. Aside from Jules and now Sarah, no-one else really talks to me, or seems to care that I have feelings or a brain. For each of those quiet moments when he would blink at me, including me on his journey, I felt part of something greater. Something I believed would last forever. Nothing does sadly but seeing him here now, talking to him as I once used to, I almost felt the frozen shards of my hardened heart begin to thaw with the glow of something familiar. Of course, he had no idea now what I was thinking, of who I truly was but as he kept talking I assumed he found me interested; which of course, I was.

...

In the 48 hours since we said goodbye I have rehashed our conversation at least a thousand times. I recalled his face as he asked me to give him what he wanted, as he asked me if we knew each other. I've imagined what I would do to him, even down here, with such a limited selection of toys and tools at my disposal. The napkin is now in tatters, scrunched into a ball under my hands yet his number is tattooed into my memory. Even Sarah, running on fumes after an 18 hour shift, noticed my mood. She probed and poked, trying to get me to open up before finally giving up (Or so I thought).