Trivia Anyone? Ch. 02

"When are you gonna ask for the goods?"

"The goods?"

"Y'know, the lady parts?"

"Aren't all your parts lady parts?"

"And they all seem good to me."

"I mean the private parts.

"I want to see you.

"And I want you to see me.

"All of me.

"I want to give you all of me.

"But until that can happen, I want to give you everything.

"Anything.

"Anything you ask for."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"I want you to see my fingers inside of me.

"When I am pleasuring myself to thoughts of you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, baby.

"All you have to do is ask.

"I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Ok.

"Send me a photo of two fingers inside you.

"In your ass."

"Eww.

"Gross.

"Don't you want to see how I actually pleasure myself to you?

"I wouldn't stick anything up my ass for pleasure."

Something had changed in the 20 seconds it took to send those four messages. It was like a shift in barometric pressure. The feeling right before a thunderstorm. The 2,500 miles that separated them now felt like a million. She was suddenly falling.

Allison regretted being so quick to respond. Why couldn't she fumble her words like she always had? She was kicking herself. Panic set in as she awaited his response. The typing bubble came and went, fluttering off and on several times. She was paralyzed, unable to form any words, afraid to do more damage, second-guessing whether or not he would be upset.

She agonized as the seconds ticked into minutes. Twenty-five minutes and she cracked.

"I'm sorry.

"That's not what I meant to say.

"I'll do anything you wish.

"I'll do it now."

"I'll take a picture with my phone and send it.

"Please, Hale.

"Talk to me!

"Please!"

"You just said something I'll never forget and I'm not sure I can ever forgive."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"Let me finish."

"Ok. Please finish."

"I believed that you were different.

"I thought you were evolved, awakened, liberated sexually.

"I am disappointed to admit that I had not recognized your disdain for the body until now.

"It is for the better that I know now rather than later, before I become any more emotionally invested in a relationship with you.

"You've committed the only unforgivable sin: To close your mind.

"And to do so in such a way that belittles me and mocks my desires.

"I shared something deeply personal the other day and you've either ignored it or chosen to be cruel.

"I told you how painful it was when my ex-wife used my private fantasies against me in open court during our divorce.

"It wasn't enough that she mocked my desires, calling them (among other things) gross and disgusting

"She had to publicly shame me.

"It's taken me years to open up again.

"And in just seconds, you've slammed those gates shut again."

"God I am so sorry

"I don't even know what I was saying

"I wasn't trying to shame you"

"I get it.

"You're gonna say you're sorry, you didn't mean it, you will never do it again, please forgive me, blah blah blah.

"Save it.

"I can't hear it right now."

Allison sent an endless stream of contrite messages, falling all over herself to make things right. Hale had logged off and did not receive any of the messages. She checked her phone constantly, hoping to see if he had at least received her apologies, if not responded. Her final message that day reassured him that she would patiently await his response as soon as he felt he was ready to talk again.

Hours passed. Days. Deciding it was best not to pressure him, she chose not to send messages, instead opting to send him letters by mail. It was a week to the day after they stopped messaging that she decided she would try something bold. Setting the scene with painstaking detail, she took the photo Hale had requested and sent it.

Hale never saw the photo. A bundle of her correspondence was delivered to her marked 'return to sender' a few days after sending it, none of which was opened. A day after that, all of the correspondence she had ever sent to him was delivered to her in a large envelope. He had sent everything back to her.

Even though Hale never saw it, taking the photo and sending it was transformative for Allison all the same. Dismissing Hale as petty for summarily abandoning their friendship so abruptly was easy enough. What gave Allison pause was the way she allowed herself to slip so quickly under his spell.

More than a stranger, he was something of a phantom, formless and intangible. She couldn't put her finger on why she felt so irresistibly drawn to him. Not relying on his appearance or physical presence, she found herself enticed by his words. Allison was far too vain to ever find herself engaging with a man for any reason other than her attraction to his exterior and/or his to hers.

And yet, he had induced behaviors she had previously assumed were the province of silly girls lacking self-esteem desperately seeking attention. From somewhere in the ether, he had found his way past her formidable defenses, penetrating beneath the armor of her ego. He had made her feel something, a feat no one had been able to do previously.

And in so doing, he forced her to re-examine the manner in which she processed desire. Sex had always been transactional for Allison, and depending on the situation, she either used it to get what she wanted or take what was needed. Hale didn't fit into either of these categories.

Allison had grown accustomed to men eating out of the palm of her hand. She had refined her ability to manipulate men such that it was almost predictable. The ease with which she could control men by toying with their desire had rendered the process increasingly dissatisfying. And yet, it was like a drug, one to which she had formed a creeping addiction.

But the womanly charm she relied upon to bend men to her will was not at play with Hale. Without the benefit of proximity, she found herself at a disadvantage, unable to ply her superficial tricks to sway him. In this more passive role, Allison found herself following along wherever Hale led their conversations.

In this new sphere, he freed her to experience herself and the world in entirely new ways. For Allison, her perspective had always been informed by what she saw with her eyes, viewing her environment through a lens skewed by popular media and the shallow minds that surrounded her. Rarely looking past the physical appearance of people and the objects they bought, she was oblivious to anything beneath the surface.

Having no reference for Hale, she was emancipated from the rigid confines of her closed mind to see things in a new light. As he reintroduced Allison to her senses, he did so in a way that tied them to a newfound sensuality. Each day was a new adventure, an exciting discovery of everyday things.

With trips to random places like the fabric store or the farmer's market, Hale sent her on errands to touch and smell, to hold and caress objects and report back how they aroused her senses. Without questioning, she dutifully completed her tasks and delighted in describing them to him. She imagined twisting and turning under silken sheets, entwined in a lover's embrace as she plunged her hand between folds of velvet. The feel of ripe nectarine skin on her tongue conjured thoughts of how it would feel the first time she went down on him.

The world now spoke to her in poetry. It always had, really. But it was Hale who had taught her to hear it, to open her ears to it. And when he had, she could no longer see it, feel it, hear it, taste it, smell it any other way. The feeling of wonder she had as a girl had returned.

Her body felt more alive as she made her way through the world, her senses heightened and her awareness of them more keen. And more than greater sensitivity, she felt an empathy not present before. She felt more connected- part of something much larger than herself.

Reflecting on things weeks after Hale's unceremonious withdrawal, Allison saw more clearly the ways in which he had opened her to new ideas. Her initial reaction to his request was a function of her mental programming and didn't reflect the much more broadmindedness she felt since meeting him. Upon deeper reflection, she was surprised by her response.

Under his care, Allison knew she would willingly- eagerly- do whatever Hale asked. It had given her great pleasure to earn his approval in fulfilling his fanciful wishes. And the more he asked of her, the more exciting fulfilling his requests became. The more outrageous his demands, the greater the thrill.

In her willingness to demonstrate just how far she would go to please him, she found herself expanding. She had grown beyond the shallow, self-absorbed manipulator she had been in all of her relationships. In less than a fortnight, she had surrendered a lifetime of control. Hale had closed the door before fully understanding the courage required to offer what she had. And in so doing, Hale proved to be too cowardly to match her.

-

Allison's insecurities stemmed largely from an incident in her senior year of high school. It happened one afternoon in the girl's locker room. Marina Jablonski's locker was opposite Allison's. Marina was 20, having twisted repeated a grade somewhere in her younger life, while the rest of her classmates were mostly 18. With fully formed D-cup breasts, lavish curves and a full bush between her legs, Marina was a woman amongst girls. She had already fucked all the most popular guys at school and had a threesome with two sophomores from the local university.

Marina was worldly and wise in Allison's eyes. Her reputation as a slut made her something of a pariah amongst the girls. Allison looked up to her, admiring her daring, unapologetic style. The two would regularly find themselves alone at the end of their bank of lockers before and after gym class. They grew close quickly, the older girl taking on the role of mentor to the younger.

Unlike most girls, Marina would disrobe fully without making any effort to conceal herself. Allison followed suit. One afternoon, as they changed, Marina happened to be bending down as Allison raised a foot onto the bench between them. "Wow! Have a look at those!" Marina said playfully as she pointed at Allison's labia.

"Huh?" Allison didn't understand.

"Those are some pretty impressive wings," Marina noted.

"What?" Allison said as she looked down at her labia. They protruded more than two inches below her pubic hair. Looking at Marina's for comparison, she noted the stark difference.

"Guys are gonna flip when they see those," Marina observed. As horror washed over Allison's face, Marina backpedaled. "Don't worry. They don't care what it looks like as long as they get to stick their dick in it."

Allison instinctively covered herself with her hands. From that moment forward, no one, save for medical professionals, were ever permitted a glimpse between Allison's legs. Over the years, she played a sort of pelvic-peek-a-boo with her lovers. Whenever possible, she made sure to keep the lights off. When that was impossible, her trick was undressing down to her panties and only removing them a moment before the act and quickly replacing them before anyone had a chance to have a closer look.

She waxed regularly to reduce the size of the bulge of her bikini area. And since there was no way she was going to let an esthetician do this, she had to do it herself. The practice resembled the religious self-flagellation she had learned about in catechism. And yet, the crushing self-loathing that would lead her to inflict such incredible pain to her most sensitive area would be a source of intense arousal. And this was not the only distorted manifestation of painful pleasure in her young life.

The summer before her senior year of high school was transformational. A once gangly, almost sickly, young girl was now filling in to the woman she would become. Newly labeled an adult by the world, the pressures of fashion and the beauty trend at the time set by models appearing to be on the verge of starvation were widespread.

There were a dozen girls in school who privately confessed to making themselves throw up. The subject of bulimia came to be regarded in the same light as cigarettes or smoking dope; all the cool kids did it. Allison was the coolest of the cool kids.

But she was unable to bring herself to vomit no matter how violently she gagged. She discovered, however, that she had a most unusual reaction to gagging, one she learned no one else shared. If done in just the right way, she could bring herself to the edge of climax. And the more aggressively she shoved her hand into her throat, the more powerful the result.

This little secret made her trips to the girls bathroom stall so much more devious as a result from the aberrant pleasure she derived from it. She found the ritual all the more thrilling the more foul the conditions of the toilet before which she knelt. A strong association would develop between the stench of piss and arousal.

As she became sexually active, the crippling shame of her secret fetish and insecurities with the shape and size of her vulva made orgasm nearly impossible. Using sex as a tool for manipulation was the only real value to Allison. The only pleasure was the power. Sex with David was the closest she came to climax.

It was pleasant enough to be so close to someone you cared about. And when it came to David, she found joy in knowing how to please him. Through careful study, she learned how to get him off with such ease she could finish him in under a minute flat. As had always been the case, she grew bored when it ceased to be a challenge.

And this was the fundamental flaw of their relationship- and, perhaps every one of Allison's relationships; she listened and learned what her partner wanted and then catered to it while her wants went unmet. While David (and pretty much every other guy she ever met) may not have been the most romantic or attentive, she rarely opened up enough to let them know what she really wanted.

In the dark hours of lonely, restless nights, she struggled to reconcile her pent-up lust with her tendency to sabotage relationships. And when none of her answers could explain her perpetual loneliness, her mind returned to Marina Jablonski.

She had looked up to Marina because she was older and more experienced. But it was more than admiration. The fondness she felt for Marina was something more visceral, a reaction to provocation. Standing next to her in the locker room, alone and naked, she felt a rush unlike any a man had given her.

Allison replayed in her memory the way Marina disrobed before and after gym class. Marina had caught her watching once. Allison blushed and Marina smiled. With a wink, Marina began performing a strip tease as she removed her blouse and bra.

Marina possessed Allison with her light brown eyes. Her eyebrows were shaped like elegant scalpels. Her hair was arranged in one of her many pin-up stylings. The ever changing colors went from candy red to coal black, but on this day it was cinnamon. And despite the meticulous preparation, it bounced as freely as her now bare breasts.

Without a stitch on her body, Marina stood there and smiled a satisfied smile. She was a sight to behold and she knew it. The reputation she had earned for being a whore was well earned when you understood that what she really wanted was adoration. She didn't care where she got it from or what she had to do to get it.

-

Arn's Intervention

Arn appealed to Allison because he wasn't trying to. He occupied a space that didn't invade hers. He was the first man content to share the air with her.

Perhaps it was the patience with which he allowed the world to exist naturally that drew her to him. He was confident and yet unimposing. Which is not to say he was ambivalent.

Behind his curious eyes was a judicious mind, carefully considering his world. When he was in the right mood, Arn was given to passionate proselytization on a range of topics from art to history, science to religion. And yet, he always maintained an open, skeptical mind, forever willing to admit flaws in his own arguments.

He'd just as soon take it as he would leave it- no matter what it was. This gave Arn a special license to move about the world unbeholden to it. He was free to smell the roses without care or concern for who grew them. He didn't own them any more or less than the gardener.

His praise was given without expectation and his condemnation was rarely more than a wave before a graceful exit. He stood to gain nothing and had nothing to lose.

Arn conjured for Allison the image of a mighty river, the surface giving the impression of calm, belying the dangerous current below, the width of which as daunting as its depth. Once Allison had dipped her toe in his shallows, she found herself swept away. Submerged in his embrace now, she was under his control.

And for the first time, she submitted to a man, caught in the throes of this powerful undertow, sinking into the profound darkness of his uncharted depths. The deeper she plunged into him, the closer she rose to the surface of her own unconscious mind. Like a sleeper awakening within a dream, she breathed in, filling her lungs with him, aspirating on inspiration, drowning in desire.

Swept away in a flood of fantasy, she clung to him as the last vestiges of her fear and shame washed slowly away. He had carefully removed her only remaining garment, stripping her down to something less than naked. His hands tossed and turned her, scouring every inch of her skin, possessing all of her all at once. Bathed in his warmth, she felt cleansed.

At once he stopped. Under his weight, she peered up at him as the cool blue waters of his eyes shimmered down upon her. Her vision was blurry at first, clearing now as she felt as though she were looking up at him from beneath the water's surface. The features of his eyes coming clear only now that her head was above water.

The sound now came back to Allison; distant music from the player on the bureau, a heavy sigh from Kassie as she rolled onto her side, her heart beating in her ears. His voice was soothing when he spoke through his smile. "This is the night you've been waiting for."

His words gave her permission to confess what he had not even asked. Without having to speak, his eyes registered what hers had been longing for so long to say. In an octave lower than his normal, his words gave a voice to what she had not the words for.

"You're a strong woman- powerful and independent. Forever in control, but forever alone on an island.

"Everything has always been on you...On you to lead, on you to figure things out, on you to tend to everyone else's needs, everyone else's comfort, everyone else's satisfaction.

"But I believe I saw something truly unique, here; you've never been fulfilled by a partner before tonight."

Her eyes confirmed that his words had nullified her defenses. Tears of joy tinged with sadness pooled as a sort of confession. She felt a surge between her legs as she understood she could not hide anything from him. A tingling, nervous energy filled her with aroused anticipation. Powerless to avert her eyes, he penetrated her with his gaze.

"You've never learned how to receive pleasure. It will have to be forced out of you."

An involuntary shiver rippled through her. His rough hands gripped her wrists now. No man had ever had this power over her. No man had ever evoked what was now a rabid desire to submit to him, that his beastly body force every ounce of pleasure out of her.

"I know the dark secrets you've kept from all the others. All those dirty, depraved things you've hidden deep inside for so long."

Her heart skipped as he said it. How did he know this? Could he actually read her mind?