I am standing on the edge of the night, looking out from the window at The Heathman. The cold Pacific Northwest wind bending the trees so that they resemble puppets without strings; a feeling I remember well and wish to never repeat. I was the tree and Elena was the wind. Elena the woman who dominated me body and soul for years, bending and shaping me into the shell of the man I am today. I adore and despise her with equal measure; she stands for everything good and bad in my life. She is the reason I can afford places like The Heathman in the first place buts she is also the reason I am here alone. Well, one of the reasons anyway.
The warm and cozy surroundings of the overly opulent room do nothing to improve my ever darkening mood. Today is my mother's birthday, September 18th. Not Grace Trevelyan-Grey the woman who saved me and raised me, but my crack whore birth mother. The woman who's weakness was the death of my childhood and the birth of my soulless existence. The birthday of the woman who sold her body by the hour for a crack pipe and cheap bottle of vodka. She would be fifty today, fifty years old… Ella Jane Ramsey. She gave birth to me at the tender age of twenty-two, my father long gone. He was musician on tour leaving her penniless and knocked up for another city. She told me his name once, but I have forgotten. Not that it matters, names are meaningless. She named me Christian after a fucking lion for fucks sake.
I am in Portland for business not pleasure. I spent the day touring the University, deciding which department deserves the esteemed bestowal of my million dollar grant. I am leaning towards the Agriculture Department, feed the world and all that shit but the Science Department is coming up the rear with this water purification solution. Maybe I will just give a million to both. I make a million dollars a day, what's two scattered here or there. Hell maybe I will give some to the dance department too. The highlight of my day was watching the scantily clad modern dancers bending themselves like pretzels. They deserve something for the efforts and my arousal. Hmmm, I've never had a dancer before, something for Elena to look for when choosing the candidates for my next submissive. Think of all the ways I can fasten her to the Saint Andrew's cross, the possibilities are endless.
Fifteen women, fifteen contracts: A nurse, a makeup artist, a painter, a fucking horse trainer. Variety is the spice of life after all, not that I gave a shit what they did for a living, I was more concerned with their hair color and pain threshold. Sadly after a few months I am bored to tears, they want more and I want less. I am such a spoiled bastard. Boredom is a killer of man and soul; it feasts on your energy and ideals. It makes home in your subconscious and no matter what you have it is never enough. Boredom always wants more, and more it shall have.
I am a fickle man by nature and that would have been the case if I was rich or poor, weak or strong. It is as imbedded in my DNA as my grey eyes or copper hair, as much a part of me as my nine inch cock. I am what I am, and I cannot change. Fuck why would I want to change? I have it all really, the American fucking dream. Money, houses, cars, planes, women, sex… well fucking, lots of fucking. My family keeps their distance; my employees respect and fear me. I have it all. Well except for my soul, that is long gone.
It's just after one and something is calling me outside to the night. Maybe its boredom, or this building rage in my belly but I need air, a noise and an energy that is not my own. My security team will hate me I am sure, but I don't give a fuck. This is what I pay them for. Twenty minutes later Taylor is driving me through the streets of Portland, all the streetlights before us green. Even they know I don't like to be kept waiting.
"Sir, where would you like to go?" He shifts in his seat and cracks his neck. I woke him up, oh well.
"I don't know, find me a bar or something. Somewhere I can have a drink and relax."
"The Heathman has a bar sir."
"Yes I am aware. Find me a different bar." The bar at the Heathman at one in the morning is the saddest place on the planet. A brown and green room sprinkled with old men sipping expensive scotch in poorly fitted suits, the stench of cigar smoke and the horrid twang of a mistuned piano in undertrained hands. Maybe there is a pair of young lovers in a corner, drawn to the Heathman for its stately charm, mistaking that for romance. They kiss and touch like teenagers but don't have the heart or balls to really make a moment in a room full of strangers, never knowing the joy of making a woman come quietly in a public place. I need a place with some life, some music with a beat, I need to get lost in a crowd of people, sit back and watch. I need to be reminded what living looks like. "That place we passed near the University. Take me there."
"Sir are you sure that place is a dive." I hate being questioned. If I say something I mean it. The End. I raise my eyebrow, just one and luckily for Taylor that is all it takes. We pull up to the building and I am slightly disappointed, the parking lost is near empty and it looks even sadder the Heathman. I think about abandoning the operation all together but that would mean losing face in front of Taylor and I can't let that happen.
"You can stay here Taylor. I want to be alone for a while." I know he wants to object, from a security stand point this is a mistake. But I highly doubt anyone in this place knows or cares who Christian Grey is and isn't that the point really. I am usually surrounded by hangers-on, sycophants and gold-diggers, people that require a barrier of security. Everyone is looking for something and I find they will beg borrow or steal to get it. I am usually a means to an end. It's not too hard to imagine why I spend my time alone or with contracted subs.
Just as I feared the place is near empty. I am assaulted by the heat and odor first. Its smells of stale beer, old fry oil and saw dust. I am monetarily distracted by the strings of colored twinkle lights strung from the ceiling, every so often a wayward bra draped over them. A fire hazard. I chuckle out loud; I am even responsible and consumed with safety in my 2:00 a.m. thoughts. There is an old man cloaked in flannel and regret half asleep by the bar propped up on a barstool, a few students whispering in a back booth and the bartender. She is an unexpected delight in the dank place.
She is slight, small delicate shoulders, a sharp collar bone heighted by the crisp white lines of her tank top. Her breasts are full and round, pressing out and stretching the thin ribbed fabric, the name of the bar screen printed across them. The bar obstructs the rest of her frame, but I can imagine a small tight waist, the curve of her lush ass and then long lean legs. Her chocolate hair is twisted on top of her head, held in place by a pen, strands filling over her deep blue eyes, the color of the ocean at dusk. I watch for moment as she wipes down the bar, she lacks grace in her movements and she looks somewhat uncomfortable in her surroundings. She can feel me watching her because without reason she lifts her head and she looks me dead in the eye, her mouth drops open a bit and I can see the rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes travel over the length of my body from top to toe. Yeah baby, take it all in… I am a very pretty package. Women are drawn in by the face and the body and they want to stay because of the sex and the bank account. All the things I could do to this girl flash in my head in a Nano second. She bites her lower lip, clearly embarrassed at my lustful glare and my cock twitches. She pulls her eyes away from mine and goes back to the task at hand, wiping down the bar.
I should leave, that is what my head is telling me to leave this poor innocent girl alone. I have no business here in the first place. I turn to leave but then the music changes and Axel Rose's voice fills the space between us, Sweet Child O' Mine… I take that as a sign to stay as I make my way to the bar. I ease off my jacket, flex for my audience of one and sit on a rickety stool.
She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that
And if I stared too long
I'd probably break down and cry
"Welcome to Do Right's… It's last call… What can I getcha?" He voice is soft and breathy, just what I was expecting it to be. With a shaky hand she places a cocktail napkin in front of me as well as a bowl of peanuts. I reach for it and my hand grazes just slightly over her for an instant and I feel this jolt of energy surge though my body. I know she feels it too because her exposed skin puckers with gooseflesh and then she bites that lip again. It takes every ounce of self-control that Elena taught me years ago not to bend this girl over the bar and fuck her long and hard, without a thought or care to who is watching.
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine
"Makers Mark, three fingers, neat." She smiles broadly and nods. I catch a whiff of her hair and inhale deeply. Vanilla, amber and rose, just a hint of rose.
"Coming right up." She swiftly pours my drink and places it on the napkin. She stands there with the bottle in her hand, frozen just looking at me. Her brow is furrowed, her lips tight and for a second I truly believe she is reading my mind, seeing all the darkness that lives there and is silently judging me.
She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain
Her hair reminds me
of a warm safe place
Where as a child I'd hide
And pray for the thunder
And the rain
To quietly pass me by
"Ana!" The old man yells from the other end of the bar. She jumps at the sound of her name and nearly drops the half full bottle of booze. "Get me another draft would ya honey… then I will be on my merry way." Ana, the name suits her, short and sweet. Ana. It drifts in my head and I imagine how it would sound from my lips the moment before I come.
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine
Where do we go
Where do we go now
Where do we go
Sweet child o' min
"You got it Marlo… I will call you a cab." I take a sip of my drink, enjoying the slow burn. I watch her for a few minutes transfixed by her movements. I watch the way she pulls a draft, or how she leans over the bar and pats the old man on the shoulder, how she balances the phone on her shoulder while rinsing out pint glasses, the sway in her hips as she walks across the room and clears off the booth from the students who just left. I was right about her lower half, her ass is a dream and I can't help but imagine the crack of a cane against it as she bends down to tie her loose Converse. A car horn beeps and she stands up straight, the pen falling from her bun to the floor. Her hair unfurls in a flourish and hangs to the middle of her back like a glossy brown curtain.
"Marlo, drink up your cab is here." His drinks the remaining half of his pint in one long sip and shuffles away from the bar. He grabs her in a huge hug and mutters that he will miss her but will see her soon. His dirty old hands on her body is making my stomach turn and I resist the overwhelming urge to beat him within an inch of his life. She chuckles as he pats her ass, coping a feel and thankfully his is gone into the night.
I turn back on my stool not wanting to let her know I was watching and slide my near empty glass on the bar, back and forth between my open hands. I am expecting her to come back behind the bar but instead she starts lifting all the chairs up on to the tables. I watch her in the mirror of the bar until the task is done and then she disappears for a moment and returns with a bucket full of hot soapy water and mop.
"Mister, you almost done there? Like I said last call." She walks behind the bar and flings a towel over her shoulder, crossing her arms against her chest. I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, placing two hundred dollar bills on the bar.
"Would you mind poring me another, I will make it worth your while." She eyes the money and shakes her head in disgust. She takes one of the hundreds and turned to the register, placing my change back down at the bar.
"You could buy three bottles with that… there is a liquor store around the corner. If you hurry you can get there before it closes."
"True, but then I would be alone…"
"And you don't want to be alone?"
"Does anyone really?"
"No I guess not. But we don't always get what we want do we?" She reaches behind her and grabs the bottle of Makers Mark pouring me another.
"Buy one for the house… I hate drinking alone too." Grabbing a glass she pours herself a drink and we clink our glasses together. I can't take my eyes off of her, she radiates light and hope and kindness. It's jarring to be around someone so pure. How the fuck did she end up in a place like this?
"I haven't seen you in here before…"
"I am here for business, leaving tomorrow… Back to Seattle."
"I love it there, my friends and I are thinking about moving to Seattle after graduation." There is a glint of hope in her eyes, the prospect of her future exciting her. I am envious, nothing really excites me anymore. Fast cars on slick roads, gliders, small planes, helicopters, sky diving, swimming with sharks… none of it excites me anymore. Even the women I beat and fuck, its BMSD by numbers.
"When do you graduate?"
"June…I can't wait. Kate says…"
"Oh sorry my roommate… Kate… she says that graduation is a rite of passage… I really don't care for all the pomp and circumstance but I really want the diploma. I will be the first person in my family."
"What are you studying?"
"I see, not much money in Literature is there?"
"Well, no I guess not but I want to go into publishing."
"Do you write?"
"Sometimes, but I am more of a reader. What do you do?"
"I buy things…companies… I build things too…"
"Do you like it?"
"I love it; it's made me a very rich man."
"You love the money but do you love the work?" Her question takes me off guard as I ponder the answer. I love the security and the power my money affords me, the ability to have and do whatever I want is something I need to breathe. It is a base need.
"The work is irrelevant. It's the money that makes it worthwhile. I can buy and have whatever I want. There is security in that."
"You sound like the ultimate consumer." She is challenging me now, an unexpected turn of events.
"That's because I am…"
"You just seem sad to me… sad and bored and lonely. Look, like I said. Last call. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."
"Ouch Ana, if I had a heart it would be wounded right now… Sad, bored and lonely. You can see all of that?"
"Can't you just go and buy yourself a heart?"
"Touché…" I lift my glass, drinking the last sip. "Pour me another, I will drink it quickly and be "on my merry way" and then you can go mop your floors." I have enjoyed our banter but I fear I have over played my hand. This wisp of a girl does not have a submissive bone in her body. She pours me a third and final drink, begrudgingly so and takes a twenty of the change on the bar. I am expecting a comeback of some sort, but she leaves me to my drink and goes to work wiping down the sticky floors. Unknowing her body sways in time to the music. I always loved Van Morrison, but watching her rock her body to the haunting beat of Into the Mystic will forever be etched into my memory as one of the few perfect moments of my life. I have to touch her, that is the only thought in my head as I rise off the stool and make my way to her. I slip my hands around her waist, she freezes at my touch but I gently pull her back to my front and to my utter surprise she relaxes against my chest as we sway together. She rests her hands over mine, linking our fingers together, I sink my face into her neck and inhale deeply, wanting the smell of her hair to stay with me forever. I tighten my grip around her and feel her quiver in my arms and then her struggle to break free of my touch. I quickly release her and she spins around facing me, her eyes are full of question and need, of fear and excitement. I have never wanted anything more.
"Ana…" Her chest rises and falls rapidly at the sound of her name from my lips and she takes a step away from me, stumbling over the bucket, sloshing water all over the floor. I grab her before she falls into the wet mess, she hits my body with a thud and because I can't help myself and want to catch her of guard I crash my mouth into hers. She tastes of whiskey and caramel, my tongue explores the new terrain of her mouth and she responds in kind. There is something tentative in her kiss and this moment feels sacred because it will only ever be known to us. I suck on her lower lip that she is so fond of biting and she moans deeply, I feel it reverberate against my chest. "I have to have you Ana… come back with me to my hotel…"
"I… I… can't…go to your hotel."
"Fine, then I will have you right here." I lift her up she squeals in surprise and she wraps her legs around my waist as we stumble back towards the booths. I sit her on the edge of the table top, taking a step back and pull of her sneakers, tossing them over my shoulder. I reach back and pull my sweater over my head, folding it into a make shift pillow and rest it behind her. She watches me with wide eyes, full of disbelief. She is not the kind of girl who does this, for me fucking strangers is an old past time, for her it is a new experience.
"I can't believe I am doing this…"
"Believe it baby because this is going to happen… right here…right now." I ease her tank top over her head and suck on her left breast though the thin silky fabric of her bra. Again she moans loudly and the sound goes to my already enraged cock. My mouth turns to her ignored breast and she fists her hands in my hair, tugging hard when I bite down. I make quick work of the button and zipper of her jeans and lay her back on the table as I tug them off and they are just a memory on the floor. Spreading her legs wide I can smell and see the evidence of her arousal through her heather grey cotton panties. I push them aside and without another thought my mouth finds its intended target, her sweet wet cunt. She bucks and grinds against me, so I pin her hips down with my forearm know that she will feel more if she stays still. I can feel her nub throb under my tongue and know her release is just a lick away. Ana screams out her fingers gripping the ends of the table, shaking and panting through the first orgasm I plan on giving her. I start to suck on her overly sensitized clit and can feel the blood rush back to this small patch of nerves that I will bend to my every whim. She is begging me to stop, but if we had a safe word I know she wouldn't use it. I slide my hands under her ass and raise her hips off the table, stretching her muscles while I continue to suck. She elongates and undulates and then she explodes. I couldn't feel more satisfaction if I came myself. She is breathing heavy muttering oh my god over and over her hands covering her beautiful face. I finally free myself from the confines of my jeans, my cock thanking me for the release as I run my hand over it, the pre-jack offering just the right amount of lubrication. Ana looks down at me though her fingers and her mouth drops open.
"I am going to take you now baby." Before she can answer I pull her by the ankles towards me and rub the tip of my cock against her wet seam before I slowly push my way in. She cries out in pain and I feel how small and tight she really is it is like I can feel her tearing around me and the realization dawns on me. "Ana, you're a virgin aren't you?" She looks up at me, her blue doe eyes full of shame and nods once confirming my fears. I am a piece of shit, here I stand between the legs of an innocent virgin who is laid before me on table in a bar, like a human sacrifice on an altar. The tip of my cock is still inside of her and all I can think about is all it would take is one push and she is mine. "Do you want me to stop?" Of course she does you fucking animal. Pull out and let this poor thing retain a shred of dignity.
"No, I don't…I want this."
"Ana you don't even know my name."
"I know your soul and right now that's all that matters. Please don't stop." The air in the room changes and we are no longer fucking on a table in an empty bar, we could be anywhere in the world, in the fanciest hotel, in a bed made of feathers plucked from angel wings. I cover her body with my own, taking over her mouth with soft sweet kisses and make the final push towards heaven. She moans into my mouth, her nails digging into my back through the cotton of my tee-shirt. Just her touching me there is enough to unman me; I have to focus my thoughts and energy to not come. I ease in and out of her, stunned by how tightly she clenches to keep me inside.
"Ana… you are so tight and wet… fuck…" I pick up my pace, her hips meeting mine thrust for thrust, my balls feel like they are in a vice grip in the splendid moment right before I come. Her walls start the fall from grace as she pulses around me, the force of her pleasure is overwhelming and never ending as I explodes inside of her, even though I had planned to pull out and come on her tight belly but nothing about this has gone as planned. I am embarrassed by the sound that emanates from my chest as the last wave of my orgasm flows though my body. I feel her gush around me, as I pull out and all I can think about is fucking her again.
She lays there panting, her hair fanned out against the grey table top, a sheen of sweat across her body, the amalgamation of our passion coating her thighs. Her breasts are pink and swollen; I reach out and roll her nipples peeking out from her bra between my fingers, relishing the feel of them. I want to absorb every second of this moment. Ana begins to giggle, still in disbelief and then like a bolt of lightning the brevity of the moment hits her and regret takes over. She clamors off the table and begins the frantic hunt for her clothing, dressing in haste. I pull up and zip up, watching every emotion flash across her face.
"You need to go…" I reach out to touch her, to sooth her but pushes my hands away and practically runs barefoot behind the bar, feeling safe there. "Please, just go… this was… I don't even know what to say about what happened here. But is over now and you need to leave."
"I understand… I'm sorry, I know that is meaningless but…"
"Don't be sorry, its fine. I had to lose it sometime right, better to a perfect stranger that knows what he is doing then some dumb clueless guy at a frat party. Anyway… were closed now. So…"
"Of course." I gather my things, leaving the money on the bar hoping she does not feel like it is payment for services rendered and begin my walk of shame out of the bar. I look over my shoulder and see that she is moments away from tears. I have never felt so low in the entirety of my life and that is saying a lot. "My name is Christian by the way… named after a lion…"
I push the door open and my breath is taken away by the wind, I can her whimper before the door closes behind me and I know that I do in fact have a heart because the sound of her sadness causes it to shatter in my chest. Taylor greets me with his usual nod of the head and opens the car door. We pull off and the bar becomes a blur behind me as we drive off into the place where the edge of the night meets the morning light.