There are No Shades Ch. 01

This is my first time publishing but its a story that has a lot of time and effort behind it. My hope is that it goes on for a long time. More chapters to come but hopefully the they will come more regularly as I hone my writing and technique.

I also to not have an editor and rely on my own re-reads and a free web grammar tool. So don't be too harsh on my grammar, huh?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The world was bland, black, and white; it seemed the universe had punished him. At 28 years old, he felt about 10 more years of miles on his mind and body, but maybe that was to be expected. It had been 1 year, 11 months, and 6 days since two inexplicable events fell upon him. He had come home to find that his wife of 4 years, his high school sweetheart, was gone. Her most prized possessions were missing, suitcases disappeared, and a manila envelope that contained divorce papers was sitting on the kitchen island.

Hank never got the opportunity to talk to her again; lawyers had kept him away, and it was a quick split. On her instructions, which he had gathered, she had made it clear it was over; she only wanted what was hers and none of the money in the joint account. He was visited by friends, coworkers, and all generations of family that offered what they could. Even her parents had turned up, which nearly shocked him more than the divorce. She had not even contacted them, and they apologized for what he was going through. Their visit had actually done a lot for him; how could he have seen what was coming if they didn't even know?

Then, a mere three weeks after discovering she was gone, Hank pulled out of his apartment complex parking lot and was t-boned by a semi-truck. The doctors said the only reason he was alive was that the truck had been breaking and hit his passenger side. The cherry on top was a police investigation that found the driver of the truck, who had died on impact, was on drugs to stay awake on hauls. The man had essentially been forced to do whatever was possible to meet shipping deadlines, and more probing by investigators revealed that the entire trucking company knew about drug use among drivers. Perhaps his recent divorce made him bitter, but from his hospital bed, he started a civil lawsuit against the company. After joining forces with the truck driver's widow and a couple of company drivers, the business itself was brought down.

When the dust cleared, a settlement was awarded to those who had joined forces, and suddenly, money was no longer an object for Hank. He gave notice to his job, focused on rehab, and began to make a clean start in a new town. With a new apartment, investments, and a brand new truck (his only impulse purchase), Hank had nothing but time to think about the big question: what next?

On the brighter side, he was now in the best shape of his life. He was no bodybuilder, but he had put 20 pounds of muscle on his 6-foot frame. Though he never went all out to get full washboard abs and be "chiseled" from head to toe, Hank was happy with his new physical features. Mentally, he had accepted his loss, but he had no clue if he could ever have another relationship. Having never dated outside of high school, he couldn't think of a place where he would feel comfortable meeting someone new outside of an online dating app, which he flat-out refused.

His family was a big help to him in overcoming the initial anxiety and depression he felt after his divorce. Recently, he had gone with his grandmother and mother on an "antique run," as his mother called it. Basically, they drove around his hometown looking for garage sales, looking at the wares of the local citizens, and finding treasure amongst the junk. He had fun but made only one purchase: a wooden box about 15 inches by 8 inches. Strangely, when he asked how to open it, he never got a straight answer. For a mere 5 dollars, Hank thought that he would surely be able to get it open and was planning to load it up with the remaining photos of him and his ex-wife to burn it. A little dramatic, sure, but effective. He was really looking forward to it, and the thought always gave him a grin.

That outing was last weekend, and Hank was finally sitting down to pry open the box. He grabbed his trusty toolbox and set to work looking over the box; it felt heavy but made no noise when he shook it. Placing it down again, he thought about just ripping the top, but he would rather not resort to that. Reaching for a small crowbar, a soft click came from the box, as he had been absent-mindedly rubbing the top of the box. Grabbing the lid, it popped open, and Hank stared at five stark white cards sitting on a black velvet liner.

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as the cards seemed to pulse for a moment, and then, in a flash, they were gone. Rubbing his fingers, he reached out to pick up the card in the center of the box, and when his skin met the card's surface, he nearly jumped.

"Whew!" He let out a chuckle as the feeling passed and pulled it out of the box.

It felt like a canvas stretched over something solid and heavy, like a stone or something similar. The back and front were pure white, and he nearly felt himself squinting at the card. It was curious, and he decided to do a little internet sleuthing. Closing the lid of the box, he turned it over to see if there were any marks. He noted a marking on the bottom right corner of the box. Holding both the phone and the card in his hand, he started to search for the symbol when he noticed the time. He quickly put his phone in his pocket and strode over to the keys to his truck.

A smile hit his lips. A ray of sunshine over the last year was when he visited a local chiropractor's office. After rehab, he placed himself on a rigorous gym routine and had to go get adjustments from time to time. There, he met the receptionist and massage therapist, Madison. Anyone who ever heard his story seemed to treat him either with pity, like he would explode at any minute, or downright horror and then silence. But not Madison; sure, her eyes teared up when she finally heard his whole tale, but from that point on, they just talked like normal people when he came in for appointments.

They told childhood stories, daily anecdotes, and even some personal details, like how he was doing when it was a bad day or if her husband had gone and pissed her off... again. She was quite the sight when she got mad, but they turned into some of the best massage appointments he had ever had. Something had been bugging her for a while now, but he figured it was none of his business, and if he should know, she would tell him. He trusted her. He didn't know what he would do without their time together.

~ ~ ~

Madison was nervous and tapping her desk with her pen as fast as her fingers could go. She bit her lip slightly but stopped herself when she noticed the pressure was getting too much. It was not a good sign; when she bit her lip, it was a dead giveaway to her husband that she was in the mood. The problem was, it wasn't her husband she had been pining for; he hadn't been interested in her lately, and it had soured their home lives.

She saw this coming, but when he came into the office time and time again, slowly she saw muscles building and hardening. The unhappy irony of the whole mess was that she was "forced" to use her hands and feel every inch of his growing physique. Hank. She remembered his first few appointments and how defeated he had looked. But slowly, they shared stories and many laughs together. However, when he started to fill it out, she couldn't help but notice. She was no stranger to seeing a fit body; she had the odd client come in with a set of muscles, but something about him was different.

Madison couldn't put her finger on it, but their last session had made up her mind; he had to find someone else. She had been doing okay with her regular procedure of working his neck and arms, but when Hank rolled over, the sheet rose up a couple of extra inches. His entire chest down to his hips was on display, and it was absolutely gorgeous; she had let out a little "yip", and she could feel her whole body heat up. Between her thighs, she felt as if they burned, and the only cure was to spread them away from each other and around his hard body.

The image burned into her mind when she arrived home to find her husband gone. Most likely to go to the local bar to watch a game on the big screen. She found herself in the bath with two fingers plunged between her legs, gasping out one of the best orgasms of her life. So after a restless night, she decided to let Hank go. Just then, the door came open to reveal the man in question, right on time.

"So punctual as usual," Madison chimed as she walked around the desk.

Hank took a moment to take in Madison; having a massage from a sexy woman was never a bad thing. With her brunette hair pulled up into a bun, she had a heart-shaped, soft face with striking blue eyes and full lips. Her body was a bit of a mystery because she always wore a loose scrub shirt. He was sure that she had at least C-cups and a full figure.

He knew she didn't work out, so he imagined a curvy hourglass figure, soft to the touch. The curves would lead to the juiciest ass he had ever seen. Thank God for tight leggings!

"Well, I'd never want to throw off your schedule," Hank bantered back as they walked back to the room she had in the back of the office.

"Oh, anything for you, Hank," Madison replied.

He grinned as he followed through the doorway, and she closed it behind him. Stripping down to his black boxers, he laid out face-up on the table under the sheet.

Knocking on the door, she called out, "Ready?"

"Ready!" he called back.

Stepping back into the room, Madison went about turning on her music and starting the well-practiced routine they had worked out together. Paying special attention to his neck to begin, she moved on to his arms and then had him roll over to work on his back. As the time ticked down, she both loved and hated how fast the session was going. On one hand, she savored every inch of his skin, and on the other, she wanted everything to be done and over. Soon, the time came for the end of the session.

"Ah, thanks again, Madison." Hank, now on his stomach, stretched out his arms.

Madison responded by clearing her throat and standing so he could see her as he pulled his head up.

"Well, I'm glad I have been able to help you, Hank," she started, and her voice shook. "I really have enjoyed getting to know you, but... But I'm afraid that this will be our last session."

"What?!" Hank's head shot up, and he leaned over the bed a bit.

"Well... I decided to cut back a bit, and you will have to find someone else." Madison tried to keep it together.

Hank couldn't believe that he was hearing this. Why? It didn't make any sense.

"But I don't understand; I mean, I remember you saying once that you thought of expanding or finding your own space. This is so sudden. I mean... I just..." But before he could continue his plea, he caught the look in her eyes.

He had shot to a sitting position, his lower half still covered, but his chest was on full display. Madison's eyes were plastered on his chest and arms; she was even biting her lip slightly. Suddenly, it was clear why she was pushing him away. Maybe he would have laughed it off, or maybe he would have just accepted that they couldn't continue. But something strange happened; it was as if something took him over at that moment. He had always admired her, but here she was, not giving him a choice about whether she stayed in his life or not. Not again! This time, he would make the choice, and he was going to make sure Madison stayed. He slowly got up from the massage table and met her eyes.

"So, you want to cut back? Is that all, Madison?" he inquired.

"I... I just think that..." she stammered as he got closer, her breathing becoming more labored.

"I just think that you actually want... more. Right?" Hank responded, and he didn't know where the words were coming from, but he could feel his erection awakening.

"I am a professional!" Madison gasped.

"Oh, I know you are, but what kind of professional are you?" Hank smirked, and he crushed himself against her, pinning her to the wall and looking down on her.

She felt as if her heart would explode. She desperately wanted to wrap her legs around him, but her body would not move. His erection was felt against her stomach.

"You seem to think that you can just toil away using those magic fingers and get your rocks off afterward, don't you?" Hank asked with a wolfish grin.

She began to protest, but he interrupted, "So you never turn those hands on yourself? That would be a shame." His voice never lifted above a flat tone.

She whimpered and gulped, which was almost like a confession to him.

"Look, I... I do find you attractive, but we shouldn't be doing... this. Please, let's just head up front and get you on your way," Madison pleaded.

"I'm sorry, I did forget that you needed to be paid. All this time, all the sessions I have paid for so you could play, I think it is about time we lay the cards on the table and both get what I paid for." Hank felt the words fall from his mouth, but they seemed to appear before he could think for himself.

"Let's call a spade a spade, my dear Madison. You are nothing but a cheap whore... a no account, anything for a price, cheap whore," Hank continued mercilessly, "and I think it's about time that you act like it."

He pulled away, grabbed his wallet from the side table, and pulled out the cash he normally gave for his massages. He folded the bills and slid them into the top of her yoga pants before grabbing her hand and placing it on his erection.

"I will expect you tonight at 8 o'clock, and we can finally have a real session. One where I get to use my hands, among other things, to get what I have been paying for." Hank smiled, and without another word, he pulled on his clothes and left her standing there against the wall.

Her face was red and sweaty, her nipples were clearly visible, and she felt a damp mess between her legs. She slowly reached up and grabbed the bills out of her yoga pants. As soon as she gripped the money, her eyes crossed, and an orgasm ripped through her as she slid to the floor.

~ ~ ~

Hank got home, placed his keys, wallet, and phone on the counter, and sat on one of his bar stools.

"What... the... fuck!" Hank shouted in the empty room.

He would never say those things, not to anyone, let alone Madison. He couldn't help but feel instant anger when she tried to kick him out, and now, thinking about her, that cheap whore, god, she needed to be fucked.

Shaking his head, he got up. There was something wrong; he just knew it. Then he noticed something on top of his phone. The card from the box! He must have had it in his pocket the whole time, but something was different. The same symbol he found on the box was filling the center of the card, and it was colored deep crimson.

Flipping the card over, he gasped. This side now had an elaborate border of thorny roses with stems intertwined, and the bottom of the card spelled 'Cheap Whore'. This shouldn't be possible, but he was looking at the card. It was real; this had been the cause of what had happened with Madison. What he had said, had done... something? He couldn't be sure, but he had to deal with the consequences. Would Madison really come over, as he had almost commanded her to do? If there was power over them both, it was not a big leap to assume she would. Were they brainwashed? If so, he guessed he wouldn't be able to ask those types of questions.

He should test this. He had a couple of hours before she was due at his place. He sat on his couch and placed the card in front of him. He focused on it and just tried to think about the weather, his ex-wife and his family, and then he recalled the scene with Madison. He could recall every detail of the encounter, and so his body was immediately aroused. Hank then focused on Madison; that cheap whore would be his; he would take care of her, but she needed to earn it. She was born to spread her legs to please him, and he would reward those efforts.

Lurching up from the couch, he felt his breath come deep and slow as he calmed himself, as he was sure his dick was about to break through his jeans. Those thoughts, those rude but exhilarating thoughts, were his, but something about them was different, like they were dreams that were becoming a reality.

Picking up the card once more, he gazed at it. Whatever this thing was doing, he knew that deep down he wanted it. The prize was Madison, and he was all too happy to accept that. There was more to learn, and he was not so blinded that he couldn't be on the lookout. He couldn't have Madison become a mindless 'fuck-toy', so he would watch out for her. He placed the card in the drawer of the coffee table and hopped off to the shower.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Madison paced her bedroom, still in her leggings and scrub shirt. She was bouncing between fury, guilt, and being 100% horny. As usual, her husband was not home, but surely she could not actually go. Hank. Why had he acted that way - so forceful and... so hot?

"Ahh," she went right back into pacing.

Madison repeated the incident over and over; there had been electricity between them. She had never felt that kind of desire before, and she had to admit that when he called her a 'cheap whore', she practically swooned. She was on the tip of a knife - her life with her husband - and now there was Hank and what he now offered. Then she felt the money she had stuffed into her bra, and she pulled it out, remembering that orgasm when Hank had walked out.

With no time to lose, she stripped and got in the shower to wash off the day's grime and let down her hair, which fell to her mid back. Getting back to the bedroom, she opened the closet to search for what she would wear. Looking at various pieces, she tried to think. How should she dress? It's not like this was a date, but maybe that wouldn't matter anyway; after all, it wouldn't be on that long. Her cheeks reddened, and she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She pulled on some of her black boyshort panties, opting to forgo a bra tonight.

Deciding on an outfit she had worn before, she got into some black pantyhose and a black skirt that fell to about mid-calf. Then she tucked in a black blouse but left off the two top buttons. Stepping into the mirror, she turned back and forth. While she really couldn't go without a bra normally, her breasts slightly pointed outwards and didn't create much cleavage, but the effect was nice. What she would have given to have natural tits that stood out proudly and that she could show off to Hank.

Putting on some lip gloss and slipping into an ankle boot with no heel, she grabbed the keys to the car. The drive-over felt longer than it actually was, and by the time she was in the parking lot of his building, she thought she could just turn back now. Hank would never know, but then she would never know either. The thought died almost as soon as it came into her mind. Hank was waiting, and it was almost 8.

Walking across to the building, she buzzed his number and got a response right away. As she climbed the stairs, a family walked by her without a second glance. She smirked and wondered if anyone would ever guess why she was there. Approaching the door, she realized this was it. Hank had told her to be there, and here she was, ready to take the plunge. She knocked on the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hank had time to decide what he would do when she arrived. He would not fight the thoughts of Madison being a 'cheap whore'; he would just see where this would go. So when the buzzer went off, he flipped the switch and mentally prepared himself for the night ahead. He opened the door after the knock, and she stood with a straight back and eyes locked on his. What a diluted little slut! She had no clue what she was doing.