Grieving for the Love of Laura

She turns to me again her head down this time seemingly from shame. "But I got over it, and quickly I remembered how far that guy had to go before you exploded. Then it dawned on me that you may not be as submissive as I thought. I'm a Dominatrix here in this place. It's a job. The scenes, the beatings and humiliations are a part of it. But in my relationships I'm in control. I live the life 24/7 I need the control to be happy. And when I realized you may not be a part of my life I was crushed. The only thing that hurt worse was the call you made to me later. When you said we should be just friends, I knew it was the right thing but it was also a painful thing."

She takes a deep breath to steel herself. Then turns to me, and looks right into my eyes. Her eyes are filled with pain and misting with tears but she refuses to let them flow. For the first time sense I met her I can't read what was going on behind those gorgeous green eyes of hers. "I guess I was rattling on there towards the end. So, yes, the fight affected me not because you were black, but because you weren't a bottom. So when I saw you tonight I thought I may have had it wrong I thought there may still be a chance for us. But I guess there really isn't. I'm so sorry. I should have told you, I should have explained it."

She folds herself in my arms and lets the tears she had been holding back flow.

I don't know what to do, so I just do what comes natural, I hold her and tell her its okay. It isn't anyone's fault. That my pride had something to do with it too.

Between the sobs she asks me. "Well what do we do now? You know I love you don't you? I mean I never said it but you had to know."

"Yes, I know and I feel the same. But I'm beginning to get the feeling that it may have been for the best. Twenty-four/seven isn't my bag. And the pull of the life is stronger in you than it is in me. I could no more change my religion than I could change my color," I say kissing her on the head. Hoping against hope I'm wrong.

"Yes, I mean no. I mean you're right." She laughs. "God you must hate me. I hate that part of me right now."

I laugh at myself then. "Remember what happened to the last person who insulted any part of the woman I love."

She calls me a bastard again and we both laughed.

We sit there holding on to each other knowing that when we let go it's going to be for the final time. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly and loud.

"You're right. This is sick. I'd better go before this moment of tenderness turns to hate."

"Okay. You're right." She extracts herself from me as I stand. Suddenly, I don't want to be here any more.

I head for the door fighting with my every fiber not to look back. I'm trying not to rush to the door and run down the hallway at a break-neck speed to put a lot room between me and the woman I love. As I reach for the door, I hear her say my name. I stop cold in my tracks.

Why can;t she just let me leave?

I turn to see her and I'm unable to move, struck by the beauty of what I see before me. She's her knees, head down in supplication arms stretched in front of her palms together facing her. It's quiet in this big empty room, the only sound I hear is the thudding of my heart, and even that sounds hollow in my ears.

"Please! How do I thank someone so strong enough to let me go? What do I have to give thanks to such a gift, as unwanted as it is needed? I only have myself." She raises her head to offer me a look at those eyes that caused as much pain as they did joy. "I offer you what no one else has had, nor will they ever have, I offer you on this night for this night my submission." Her voice is clear, strong and I hear a confidence in her decision that seems unshakable.

"Laura you don't have to. Not like this,: I say as my eyes begin to water.

"I do have to, I want to and most importantly we need to," she says.

I open my mouth to say something. I'm not sure what. But I never get the chance to say it because I make the mistake of looking into those eyes again. There I see need, pleading, hunger and most of all love.

"Please!" She implores me. "No strings, no tomorrow, just tonight, just right now,"she finishes finally, and with that any hope I had of getting out of here without touching her again.

Before I know it I have crossed the room my hands encircled hers in a touch so loving it makes my heart ache. I gently raise her to her feet. And look into her eyes so green so loving, so full of the same need to have this play out.

"It doesn't have to be like this," I say.

"Yes. Yes it does. It has to be just like this. No limits. Tonight I need to give you control. For the last time I ask you, please."

"Red light, green light, I say after a time of looking into her eyes.

She drops her eyes in submission. "As you wish Master."

"Stand then, and make yourself ready," I say, slipping easily into my role as Master.

Fifteen minutes later I'm sitting in one of the rooms its painted red with a deeper red satin draping the walls. The room holds the usual things one would find in any bedroom set aside for romance. All, save for the heart shaped bed in the middle. I chose this room apart from all the others for just the feel it provides, one of strange calm. Before she comes to me I hear the opening notes of a song by the Breath, "Hands to Heaven," a song that has special meaning for me. It was one of the songs that I played and played till it was burned in my mind I knew it in all it's subtlety. I used it like a drug to help me get over her.

Damn her.

It was our love for the little-played music of the 80's that brought us to each other's attention. The night we met we sat for hours reciting lyrics trying to stump each other. She told me that she had a CD of soundtrack I had been unable to find anywhere. How the hell she managed to find "Some Kind of Wonderful," and on CD no less, was as much a mystery to me as she seemed to be back then. When I left, shoving her phone number and address in my pocket, I remember thinking that I had to have the CD but even more I had to have her. The next day she gave me a copy she had burned and a kiss that burned my lips, my heart and my soul.

She enters the room walking slowly, as if she’s unsteady on her own legs. Singing the words that made me cry when I heard them so many months ago, "Tonight, I need your sweet caress/ Hold me in the darkness/ Tonight, you calm my restlessness/ You relieve my sadness." She is dressed amazingly conservatively considering where we are. Her hair is loose and flowing just like I liked it.

I stare at her long swanlike neck and down to her bare shoulders. Her chest is covered by a simple white peasant blouse. Her hips are draped in a long black, a-line skirt; underneath her legs and feet are bare. As she approaches me she graces me with a smile.

"I listened to this song over and over after we parted." How, how, I think to myself, could I let a woman so perfect for me just walk away. She continues. "I don't know if it helped or hurt more, but the feeling it left me with made me feel better." She stops short realizing that she has spoken out of turn, her eyes snap down to her feet.

I stand slowly and gently I slip my finger under her chin, lift her face so I can stare and get lost in those alluring green eyes of hers again. I breathe in a deeply, realizing that I have been holding my breath for I have no idea how long. In the end as I let it out. I say, "I can't see the eyes if you keep your eyes downcast all night. And, as for your transgression, we will speak and think on it no more." I bend to kiss her slowly, sweetly, lovingly and long on her lips my mouth slightly open so I can taste the tang of her mouth. My other arm encircles her holding her closely. I break the kiss and lay my head on hers, breathing the scent of her hair. When she hugs me back, I think my heart will break yet again this night. I'm not sure who starts swaying to the music she or I, and I guess it doesn't matter, in time we began to dance to the song that we both used as a shield against the pain, oh, so long ago.

That was yet another thing I loved about loving her. Not only did she like to dance, she danced well. Now I don't mean fast dance, I mean slowly, stately, with grace. We would sometimes start the night at the local ballroom or dance hall and dance till we thought we had danced our way straight to heaven. Then, if we had any energy left, we would trip off to one of the clubs. But as time went on we left the ballroom less and less.

My hand slips from her chin along her shoulder, along her arm and to her hand I twine my fingers in hers the other glides down to the small of her back. Now we are in a familiar posture and we begin to dance in earnest to the last notes of the song. Her head rests on my shoulder and I'm sure she can hear my heart beating in my chest, I know I can feel hers. The next song is yet another I listened to incessantly, "Coming up Close!" by 'Till Tuesday.

Our feet begin to move, our hips stir and we begin to sway as one in time with the music. I slide my feet back while I pressed slightly on her back and she comes along with me, first on the right foot, then the left. We sweep into a large circle swaying as we move, enraptured by the song and the company we keep. During the bridge I raise my arm and slid my hand to her hip as she spins, I lower, my hand so that her hand is holding mine across her body. I see my arm, its dark skin seeming even darker in contrast to her paleness, is draped over her shoulder. In the end, arms are crossed, with her holding herself as I hold her. With her back to me we dance on. As the song draws to a close, I kiss her neck. We stay like that till the final notes fade.

The next song is "No More Words," by Berlin, nothing we can dance to, but we just stand there. Finally I step back so I can see her. There, standing so close after being so far away for so long, I see her again like I did the first time. Her hair is tumbling down from her head across her creamy shoulders, the easy rise of her chest giving way to her ample breasts, the coil of her torso leading to the curve of her hips and shapely thighs, trickling down to her feet ending in her long shapely toes. All creates the effect of her standing there like a figure in a painting and taking my breath away.

God how I love her, want her, need her. I get tired of that thought running around in my head alone and decide to share it with her in the form of a kiss.

Again it is sweet, soft and simple at least to start. My hands go to her shoulders as I pull her close to me. My mouth opens as I slither my tongue into her mouth. She willingly presses her body against mine. Her hands grasp my back. She squeezes her hips to mine. I feel her legs part as I glide mine between her thighs.

My hand stirs up her back, along the supple curve of her spine. My fingers revel in the silky texture of her skin. Up I go, 'til my fingers tangle in her hair. I firmly press her face to mine. My other hand grasps her ass as I squeeze it in rhythmic motions. Her soft moan caresses my ears as it seeps from her mouth. I feel her breath on my cheek.

One hand rests on her shoulder and my fingers delight in the feel of her skin, then it travels across the material of her blouse and comes to rest on her breast. I press the flesh into itself as I feel her nipple harden in my palm. I begin to shimmy my body up and down hers, fanning the flame of passion that was sparked all those months ago as we sat and talked the night away. My mouth inches its way across her face and comes to rest in the crook of her neck, leaving little kisses in its wake. Her hands grasp and pull at the shirt that is wet with lusty sweat. And suddenly the room seems very hot.

Her breath is humid and comes in ragged gushes. I can feel it in my ear as she expels it. And a shudder runs down my spine. I kiss her mouth again. My hands on her cheeks hold her face still.

With out thinking I lift her, my mouth still plastered on hers and I walk in great strides to the bed that lays not three paces from where we had stopped one dance and began another. I lie her down and finally I break the kiss that has stolen my breath away. Once again I see her as she lies there. Her hair is wild from my hands and from her head tossing as we kissed; it is haphazardly covering her face. But I can still see her eyes gazing out at me and they pierce my very soul with their hunger. I feel the hunger of my own passion reaching out to hers as if in answer.

I stand up straight, my chest heaving, trying to provide my body with life-giving oxygen. Her hands reach for me imploring me to come to her, touch her, feel her.

And I stop.

I look up at the lines of industrial lights as they hum over head. Their soft white light bathe the room around us and I close my eyes. And try to slow things down a bit.

I would slow down. I wanted this moment from my first sighting of her. I waited so long because I wanted more than just her body. And for a short time I did. Then in a flash I had nothing but memories.

Now I have her, not just her soul and her love but in this moment I have her body. I lie next to her, she on her back breathing heavy with lust, face shiny and eyes staring with hunger. My hand strays to her face; I move her hair with a single finger and then stroke her cheek. Staring at her brow I trail down her jaw line to her chin. I move on to her long silky neck to the hollow of her throat. On to her chest, I trace beneath the blouse down her cleavage.

I bend to kiss her again. Her ravenous lips meet mine. She tries to force her tongue in my mouth. But it isn't to be. Finally I gain control of the situation. "To control someone else you must first control your own passion." A mantra I learned when I first got into the BDSM life. And for the first time it serves me well.

We start again taking our time letting the passion build again but this time I know what I'm going to do with my sub.

My hand caresses her face, it glides up slowlym my fingers tangle in her hair. I let the silky strands fall through my fingers, as my mouth presses on hers. I break and look into her eyes. I run the back of my hand on her cheek down, down, to her neck. Down to her blouse and to her breast. I take it in my hand and grasp filling my hand with as much as I can take. I massage it feeling it through her blouse.

I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent and licking the salt off her skin. Her hands are on my back again, grasping me, running up and down my shirt. Her soft moans urge me to continue.

I roll over on top of her. I have to be careful not to put my full weight on her small frame. Well, smaller than mine. I slither up and down her body, obliging her to open for me. She responds just as I wish. I persist rubbing my groin against hers. Kissing her deeply, my tongue coils around hers, her moans turn to groans, heavy with lust. My hands fall to her shoulders snake down her arms and their suppleness to her hands, where they are grasp the bed sheets alternately. I take her wrists in my hands and hold them over her head.

"Oh Master," she manages to moan through her eagerness for my touch.

I rise from her so I can see her eyes, filled with ardor and wantonness. I grind slowly in small circles, knees bent for better traction and her hips rise to meet me and mirror my movements. Her head turns from side to side. And the passion in me begins to boil again. I move from circles to up and down as I add more and more pressure. Incensing in tempo, her hips leave the bed as she humps me with mounting excitement.

"Do you offer your self to me in body and soul?" I ask.

"Yessss," she hisses.

"Submitting to my every want and whim?"

"Your whim, my duty."

I sit back and pull her to a sitting position. I remove her blouse. Beneath lies the red bra that she wore to the Ball, barely containing her seething breasts. Her hair tumbles down almost covering them. I run a finger up both of her arms. To her shoulder, to the straps that hold the bra on. I unhurriedly slip them down.

She closes her eyes, opens her mouth and a wordless sigh escapes her between her barely parted lips. I feel the rush of her breath on my face. I kiss her again, as I struggle to remove the offending clothing from her back. She reaches out to remove my shirt as I finally free her. I stop her with my hands.

"Not yet my pet, in time, first I will reveal you in all your glory."

I run my hands down her bare breasts to her nipples. They are already hard as hard as diamonds. I take them between my fingers and roll them, inducing them to harden more and Laura to moan louder. Her back arches, trying to force her self even deeper into my mouth. I give her a gentle push to lay her flat on the bed so I can continue.

I bend down to her exposed belly, sketching a long line with my tongue from her navel, up slowly between her breasts, then move my head from left to right. Her scent and her taste explode in my mouth. I take her right nipple in my mouth with short sucking action, and then run my teeth along it, taking small bites and finally a quick flick. The other is not left unattended I kept tweaking it as I bathe its twin with my hungry mouth.

Again I dry hump her. I can feel the skirt giving way to my motions, slowly creeping up to give my crotch access to her moist panties. I look up to see her head intermittently shifting from side to side fast and slow. Her hands grasp my head with a stinging slap that echoes in the air. Grinding my face into her tits, she responds in kind by humping me back, fanning my own lust.

My cock rubs against her pussy, my mouth on her nipple, the blood rushes through my ears and her moans hang heavy in the air, I am in heaven.

How did this happen when only a few hours ago, a few moments ago, I was cursing her. Trying to hate her, for loving me, wanting me as much as I did her and failing. Is this the moment I was driving towards when I turned to her after the Adam Ant line and asked her if she knew the words to "Ant Music"?

Was this what I wanted to do when she opened the door, that next day, and graced me with a twinkle in those green eyes of hers? Two days later when she took my hand in the movie was this what I waited for?

No.

But it's damn close.

I flip her over so I can gaze at the subtle curve of her spine. I push the skirt up as I slowly, predatorily lean in. My hands slip along her quivering thighs; I run my tongue up her spine from the place where her ass meets her back, to the hollow between her shoulder blades. She shivers and moans even more as I leave a trace of hot wetness in my wake. My hands are on her sides, fingers just coming in contact with the very edge of her tits. Then back down I creep, till my mouth comes in contact with the silky material of her red panties. I take them in my teeth and firmly seductively began to pull. I want to see her ass.

Tossing them over my shoulder, I slide off the bed, my knees on the floor. I begin to lick my way up her left leg, swirling little circles as I skulk my way up to the place where I can smell the musky odor of her pussy. I can see the glistening juices drip from her pussy onto the bed, soaking it. I retrace my route back down the other leg to her toes. I suck them in to my mouth. I greedily, hungrily I devour them.

Her hips arch off the bed as she humps and grinds her ravenous mound against the it. It's almost too much for my lust-addled mind. My hands grip the thin material of my shirt and pull it off; next the pants and finally the boxers. I'm standing there in the suit that God gave me on my birth.

Laura stares at me with a look of famished passion, her hair partiality covering her face.

I stalk my way back to the bed and skulk my way back up her body. Slowly purposefully, relentlessly, I know that there is no way I can keep the look of craving from my face. How can I? Craving for her is all there is in my heart.