Looking Up

I am drunk. It's been a long time since I've been this drunk, my life recently went to the dogs and impulse control seemed inappropriate. I'm staring at a door. I have a key to this door, but I shouldn't use it. This is uncomfortable enough as it is. I hover my finger over the doorbell. No, I shouldn't. Maybe I can just curl up here and wait until morning. I suppose it's technically already the morning. Fuck, I'm nervous. What do I do if he says no?

I have no money, no friends, no boyfriend, my parents live in another city. I'm fucked. If he says no, I'm totally fucked.

I can picture it now, "Oh hey, Sebastian. How have you been since I cheated on you and fucked up our relationship?"

"Well gee, Josie. I've been great, and thanks for waking me up at three in the morning, I appreciate that."

Yup. This is going to go great. I squat down and hug my knees.

"You're a fucking catastrophe, Josie," I remind myself.

Tears start to leak out of me, and that must have been the dam breaking because the next thing I know I'm squatting on my ex-boyfriend's porch drunk crying. What a mess. I need to get it together, I think. I take a breath, wipe my eyes, and for a brief moment it seems like I'm back in control. I summon every last piece of my courage, I stand up and hover my finger over the doorbell.

"You can do it, Josie," I say, trying to psyche myself up.

I push the doorbell. Immediately a wave of terror falls over me. Oh fuck. He's going to be so mad at you. It's been four years. Four long years since I blew up our relationship. He was mature about it and didn't throw any tantrums or call me any names, but I know I hurt him. I push the doorbell again.

"Fuck it, might as well burn all the bridges," I mutter to myself.

I see a light turn on through the window. I hear someone coming down the stairs. What if he has a new girlfriend? Fuck, I didn't think about that. I try my best to regain my composure and wipe my face off but I'm just smearing my mascara over my hands and face. The figure is approaching the door. Point of no fucking return, Josie.

The door opens.

"Josie?" Sebastian asks, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I panic. I haven't seen him for years, and I panic. Say something funny. Break the ice. Defuse the tension.

"Just a surprise inspection to make sure you're not falling to pieces without me," I say, regretting it instantly.

The door slams in my face.

"Seb wait, I'm sorry," I yell through the door, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

I see his silhouette walking away. It stops and pauses for a moment before turning around and opening the door again.

"What do you want, Josie?" he asks.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but I got kicked out. I'm homeless," I say, desperate.

He sighs and walks inside leaving the door open for me. To say I'm relieved would be an understatement. I walk inside and shut the door, the warmth hits me and I realise how cold I was. I bend down to take my shoes off and I'm suddenly reminded of how drunk I am when I vomit all over his hardwood floors.

"For fucks sake, Josie," He yells.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I'll fix it," I say, wiping my mouth.

Sebastian walks into the kitchen and starts making coffee, I follow. I remember his smell, I read somewhere that scent and memory are closely linked and I believe it. The scent calls all the fond memories I had of our relationship. He's a British expat, he moved to America after England left Europe or something. I never stood a chance, he was handsome, clever, very funny but not like obvious, it's a really dry wit, he says it's basically how people speak in England, but I thought he must do it better than most. Let's not even get started on the accent. Swoon, I think he could say anything at all and I'd still get a little wet.

"Go clean up your puke," he says, handing me a cloth and bucket.

"Almost anything," I say, taking the cleaning tools.

"What?" he asks.

"What?" I ask, blushing with the realisation that I had vocalised my thoughts.

As I scrub the floor, he walks in with two cups of coffee, placing one on a table and sitting at his desk with the other. He watches me clean in silence.

"So. Long time no see," he says, finally.

"It has been a minute, hasn't it?"

"How are things?" he asks, sarcastically.

"Thank you for letting me stay," I avoid the question.

"I thought you were living with that Ed guy?" He asks.

It was a long time before I could answer.

"The Ed situation got messy, we broke up yesterday."

"Ah, so this is self-destructive Josie."

"Yup, pleased to meet you."

I gulped down some coffee and walked over to his desk, perching on the edge of it.

"Speaking of self-sabotage," I say, sliding closer to him, "Any interest in throwing me a bone?"

"I think you're drunk and emotionally vulnerable."

"Yes on both counts."

"Then, no"

"I'm drunk enough for butt stuff?" I offer, Sliding my dress higher to show more thigh.

"Congratulations," He says, in his dry sarcastic tone. He's not even looking at me.

He stands up and walks back to the stairs.

"I'm going to bed; you know where the spare sheets are."

"No butt sex?" I ask, unable to hide my disappointment.

"Ask me in the morning," he says, turning off the lights.

As I lay on the sofa, cursing his stupid decency, I start to wonder why we'd split up at all. "Because you cheated," I whisper to myself, as the memory returns. Enveloped by the sofa cushions, sleep comes swiftly.

In the morning, I wake to the smells of freshly brewed coffee and bacon being cooked. As I open my eyes I realise I wasn't at home, or at least, my former home. I drag myself out of my sofa womb and shamble toward the sounds and smells of salvation.

"Brain hurt, give coffee," I manage to say.

A cup of coffee was placed in front of me.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asks, poking the bacon with a fork.

"Not really," I reply.

He places a plate in front of me, filled with bacon, fried eggs, sausages, beans, mushrooms, and something he calls "hash", but I always thought that was weed, his "hash" is some kind of potato and cheese mixture that tastes amazing.

"No better cure for a hangover than a full English breakfast," he says.

"That's good, if this one keeps going you might have a body to bury."

"It's always the ex-boyfriend."

"So long as I get to eat breakfast first, kill away."

"Since your days are numbered anyway, might as well tell me the Ed story."

"The short version, he fucked my best friend," I focused on the bacon, trying not to cry again.

"Sucks," he says.

"I know, right?" I said, between mouthfuls, "They'd been doing it for a while, at least a year. In the meantime, Ed can barely touch me, I haven't had a dick in me for over a year."

"Sounds like you're better off without him," he said, "people like that aren't worth the tears."

I put down my fork.

"He made me think the sex draught was my fault, and then he has the nerve to kick ME out," I'm getting angrier as I tell the story, "The fucker changed the locks, I went home last night and I literally can't get back in."

Sebastian was picking at his food, listening, and for once not being sarcastic.

"Kinda petty," he says, "You didn't deserve that."

"It's what I deserved for cheating on you."

"Completely different, my emotional problems meant you were lonely, craving the kind of affection I can't show. The blame in our case is shared. What Ed did is clearly different, and kinda cowardly."

"Thank you, and thank you for letting me stay, and also for not taking advantage of me," I say, "I'm sorry for waking you up and puking on your floor, and just generally being a disaster."

"It's fine." He says, "I have a spare room, you can stay until you find a place of your own."

"Seb, you're a lifesaver. I'm on holiday from work, but I do still have a job. I can pay rent and contribute."

"Still with that same company?"

"Yup. Lucky me."

I thought for a moment, being here with him again. It felt nice, comfortable, and familiar. Being with him was so simple, once you know the rules. Once you get used to the cold. It might do me some good, being with him for a while.

"I suppose," I begin to ask, "We're lucky your girlfriend wasn't here"

"No girlfriend"

Finally, some good news.

"Would it be alright if I had a shower?" I ask, with ulterior motives.

"Please do. My sense of smell would be grateful," he quips.

"Thanks, smart ass."

I set off on my journey to personal hygiene. He was right, I did smell like a nightclub carpet. I was going to get myself super clean, he'd been so nice, so kind. So British. If I hadn't gotten off the kitchen stool I might have slipped off. Kinda sad that that's all it takes to get me going, but after becoming a pariah I'll take all the nice I can get. Still, better leave him with something to think about.

"When I get back we can talk about that butt sex you promised me," I say, as I leave the room.

I hear him choke on his coffee. One point to Josie. Master seductress.

I shower thoroughly, trying very hard to wash off the last 4 years of baggage but in the end, I had to settle for last night's grime. The shower feels amazing and so familiar. I'd used it countless times before, but that was a long time ago. I smell of him now, god I love this smell.

Wrapped in a towel, I walk downstairs. I considered going naked, Sebastian's fetish is naked women. He made me strip as soon as I got home, and after a while, it became a habit. It was strange at first, I felt very self-conscious, but the more I was naked the more I learned to love my body. I decided to keep the towel, though. I'm already giving it away, I can at least make him unwrap it.

He was sitting at his desk, typing lines of code. When we first met, I thought he looked like a hacker from the movies, but he said "Hackers in movies look like cunts." Damn, I hate that word, he says it a lot. Apparently, it's a "Term of endearment" in the UK. I perch on his desk, I made sure I'd pulled the towel higher up my chest so that when I sat down I'd get his attention.

"You realise," He says, without looking up, "sleeping with me again would be a mistake?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"You're understandably hurt, angry and if you're not dealing with some kind of abandonment thing, you're stronger than I am."

"I am those things, and I do very much feel abandoned. On the other hand, though, it's been over a year and I want a dick in me. Your dick, preferably."

Sometimes I can't figure myself out. I have this great guy, who is a little distant, and I cheat on him but, a complete tool who doesn't touch me for over a year, I'm little miss faithful. Maybe I did deserve it.

"I'm not comfortable taking advantage of your compromised emotional state," he says

"For fucks sake! Why can't you just be like a normal guy and forget all that?"

"Because." he says, his face tenses as he speaks, "It was hard getting over you and I don't want to open those wounds. Besides, you'll be staying here. It might get complicated."

We didn't have the best break up; I broke the rules we agreed on. He said it was indicative of deeper issues, he was right of course and ended the relationship. I asked him to forgive me, he said he did. I asked to come back he said no. Ed was kind of a rebound. I've never forgiven myself for it.

"You can't turn up, out of the blue, and expect me to just plow you because you want me to," he says, turning to face me.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just wanted to feel--"

"--Wanted" He finishes my sentence.

"Wanted."

"Do you still play?" I ask.

We used to "play" in a BDSM kind of play, I'm extremely submissive, which is probably why I end up in these situations.

"No, I'd still like to but haven't really bothered with the whole dating thing," he says, turning back to his strange computer language.

"For how long?" I ask.

"About four years."

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

"It's less about that, more about the realisation that all my relationships will end the same way," He sighs, "It's pointless to bother."

"Do you still think I'm pretty?" I asked,

"Very."

"And you haven't had sex in four years?"

"Nope."

"So why..."

"Won't I stick it in you?"

"...Yeah."

"Morally speaking, it's the right thing to do."

"I could fit under your desk."

"I know," he said, "and you should know that I have all the same problems."

"So? I'm not asking you to marry me."

"It'll get messy."

Frustrated I walked over to the sofa and flopped down. I watched my toes wiggle for a while as we both sat in silence. I've been a bit of a dick, here I am trying to pressure him into sex. I should respect his wishes, and help him out of the slump I left him in.

"If you don't wanna fuck me, that's fine. I mean, I'd prefer a different outcome, but you have to find someone to express that side of you. It's not healthy to bottle it all up."

"The results will be the same," he says, "although I do admittedly miss tits."

"I bet you miss having someone to boss around too."

"I do, actually."

"And you miss having a naked girl around all the time."

"Who wouldn't."

"A willing subject to humiliate," I say, suggestively

"Stop it."

"Ah ha, a chink in the armour," I say, sitting up with a big smile.

"That's racist," he jokes,

"What if I made you an offer?"

"What kind of offer?"

"A relationship of convenience."

"I do need a green card."

"I'm serious," I pouted, if he was looking it might have worked.

"So, make me an offer"

"My life is a shambles right now and I could really use a break."

"Okay?"

"If you take care of my sexual needs, I'll be your permanent sub."

"Permanent?"

"Well, we can check in once a week to see if the arrangement needs amending."

"I see, and what about your emotional needs?"

"Ask me again in a week."

"And you'll do whatever I say?"

"You know what my hard limits are, anything else is fair game."

There is a long silence, the clacking of his keys filling the void, I fell back again and stared at the ceiling.

"Lose the towel," He says, finally.

I almost jump to my feet, remove the towel and fold it neatly. I stand before him, naked for the first time in years and it feels so right. I put my hands behind my back and wait for instructions. To my chagrin, he isn't even looking just clacking away on his keyboard. Suddenly his printer stirs to life and begins printing.

"Go read that. Sign it if you agree," he said.

Confused, but focused on making a good impression, I walked over and collected the piece of paper. As I read it, the confusion turned to shock. These rules were far above anything we've done before, is he making them like this so I'll give up and say no?

The whole sheet read:

" I, Josie Ermack (hereafter referred to as "slut"), do freely, and of my own will, give myself to Sebastian Shaw (hereafter referred to as "Master"), to be used in whatever manner he deems fit.

I agree to the following terms

1. (a) Slut will follow every command given by Master to the letter.

1. (b) If a command has no obvious completion it is to be performed until instructed otherwise.

1. (c) failure to do so will result in the end of the contract.

2. (a). Slut waives the right to select its own sexual partners.

2. (b). Should Master grant a 3rd party temporary control of the slut, the commands of that 3rd party must be obeyed in accordance with section 1.

2.(c). Sexual contact with a non-approved partner or failure to satisfy a designated partner will result in the termination of the contract.

3.(a). Slut waives the right to select its own attire.

3.(b). Slut understands that it will at times be naked in view of other people.

3.(c). Any attempt to cover up without permission will result in termination of contact.

4.(a). Master is responsible for your safety.

4.(b). failure to adhere to the pre-approved hard limits will result in termination of contact.

5.(a). Slut understands that by signing this slut consents to all future sexual contact with selected individuals.

5.(b). However, Master does not wish for the slut to be raped for real. Safety words will remain in effect."

5.(c). Slut understands that there will be a heavy element of humiliation.

Does he really expect me to be his personal whore? Fucking random people. Does that actually sound hot? I'm always up for some humiliation, but this is a bit much. Or, is it? No, it's too far...Right? I'm not getting wet thinking about it, I'm wet because I'm naked in front of Sebastian. Not because I want...That, right?

"Don't you think this is a bit much?" I ask.

"It's entirely up to you when you get off, but aren't you curious how far you'll go?"

I was. Could I actually do those things?

"What happens when the contract ends?"

"It's all over, and you just talk about your feelings like a normal person."

"Did you make it like this so I'll give up?" I ask, secretly looking for a pen.

"Pretty much," he says, "while I'm a little aroused by the idea, I am actively trying to dissuade you."

"I don't think these ideas came to you 5 minutes ago," I say, walking over to his desk and signing the contract. He watches me sign in disbelief. A look of concern comes across his face before he swallows whatever he was thinking about.

"I'm not going to go easy on you, you realise," he says, after a pause.

"I know, Master," I say, kneeling before him.

"I'm going to make you do things. Sexual things. I'm going to treat you like a sex toy."

"If that is your wish, Master."

"I'm going to give you to other people for them to use."

"I am yours to give away, Master."

"That doesn't bother you at all?"

"No, Master," I pause, "slut deserves it."

This last sentence seems to throw him, he pauses to think while I await instruction. I wish he'd order me to suck his cock, I'd love to taste him again.

"Slut," he says, finally, "You must never lie to me."

"I won't, Master. I swear it."

"Do you want this?"

"Yes, Master."

"Are you ready to be used?"

"I ache for it, Master."

He leads me to the upstairs bathroom; I kneel beside the tub while he showers. The anticipation of what was to come was driving me crazy. An excited smile covers my face, I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. It's been so long since we've been together, and he said he hasn't had sex in over 4 years. That's crazy. He must be seriously pent up, I'm going to have to give it my all, slut must please Master.

I hear the water stop, so I look around for his towel and hold it up for him to take. His hand reaches out to where it used to be, must be a habit, so I lift it to his outstretched hand. I watch him step out of the shower, his cock inches from my face and I'm sure, I know, any moment now I'll be able to suck it for him.

My whole body is tensed, ready to spring into action the moment the command is given. Like a sprinter on the block waiting for the pistol, but it never comes, he just wraps himself in his towel and walks into the bedroom, turning off the light as he leaves. My heart sinks as I stay in the bathroom, in the dark, alone. I miss him already.

The scent of him lingers, it seems heightened. Maybe that's just in my head. I can hear him going back downstairs, the TV has been turned on. He just left me here. A test, Master is testing me. Will boredom be the thing that breaks me? No, I don't think it will. I wait, I listen to the TV, and I wait. Thirty minutes, an hour. I think he's watching a movie; I don't know which one but I recognise one of the voices.

Master, this is a waste of my mouth. I could be sucking your cock. This whole time, you could have been enjoying all of my affection. I could have sat on your lap, I would ride as you watched over my shoulder. Like we used to do. I remember you'd play your console and I'd sit cowgirl and fuck you. We could be doing that. Use me, Master. I try to project my thoughts into his mind. Use me. USE ME. At least remember that I'm here.