Full Life Volume One

by V. Marks

  Joseph. A stranger. Someone who didn't owe her anything. Suddenly, he was the only person in the world she wanted to talk to. Without thinking about it, she dialed his number.

  "Hello?" said the same strong, confident voice that had read the piece in class.

  "Hey, this is Cassie, from your creative writing class. Want to go and get a drink?"

  The words came out without her thinking about them, like they did when writing was going well. The same part of Cassie that had told her to stop being so aggressive towards the doctor, a traditional sounding voice, clambered up and asked if this was what she really wanted to do, but as before, she ignored it.

  "Cassie. Sure. I know you. You sit with the girl who read the cheerleader story."

  "Yeah."

  "That story was shit."

  "... that's my friend Melanie."

  The line went silent. Joseph coughed.

  "So, about that drink?" Cassie asked.

  "Fuck. I don't know. It's 11 AM."

  "Who cares about time?"

  "Lots of people. But actually, not me." He paused. "Why?"

  "Because your story made me feel," Cassie said. She waited for another idea to come from wherever they came from, but none did. It took her a moment to realize that this was because the one sentence was the whole truth.

  "Place?" he asked. Cassie said the name of an Irish pub she'd passed on her way to work that usually looked dark and empty.

  "I'm going to start heading there now," Cassie said. "I want you to be there."

  "You didn't seem this bossy in class."

  "Or don't be there," Cassie finished. "It'll be your loss."

  Joseph chuckled.

  "I have a feeling this is something I don't want to miss," he said. "Bye, Cassie of the feelings."

  The bar was as empty as Cassie had always seen it, and when she ordered her double whiskey, the bartender seemed tipsy. This was the kind of place the old her would have walked into, turned, and walked right out of. Today all she cared about was that the bartender was generous with his pour.

  Joseph had been waiting for her when she'd walked in, sitting in a booth in the corner, reading a used looking novel. She didn't know how long he'd been waiting.

  On the walk to the bar, she'd noticed that the light coming through the trees in a park had been beautiful. Beauty, which once she might have hurried past, was limited now in a way it hadn't been before. She'd spent a few minutes standing on the sidewalk as people moved around her, tracing her eyes up and down the park, letting it all wash over her.

  "So," Joseph said, dog earing his place in the book and putting it away as Cassie sat down. "Are we both feeling, or is this the Cassie show?"

  "I've never understood snark," Cassie said. "Explain it."

  Joseph chuckled again.

  "I just want to double check," he said. "You are trying to pick me up, right? Because either I'm missing something subtle or you're not doing a very good job."

  "I am picking you up. And I don't want to be subtle today. Fuck that. Life is short." Joseph nodded, smiling, surprised into silence. Cassie liked that. She was saying exactly what she wanted to, and it felt good. She downed her drink.

  "So you're-" Joseph started. She put a hand on his thigh, leaned forward, and kissed him. He kissed her back, then pulled back.

  "You want it," Cassie said.

  "Hey-"

  "Then take it." She leaned in again. He leaned away.

  "I'm flattered, really," he said. "But I don't fuck unless there's some emotion. Okay?"

  Cassie leaned back and nodded. The traditional voice was screaming at her to stop, but somehow, the louder it got, the easier it was to ignore.

  "Fair," she said. "I liked your story. Loved it. And I want to know if it was real. The way the protagonist connected to the woman. The way he was totally in those moments. And it seems to me that the easiest way to find out is to fuck you."

  Joseph studied her face.

  "This day," he said, "is very interesting."

  "You have no idea," she said. "So, up for it?"

  She leaned forward. Joseph didn't lean away, but Cassie didn't kiss him. Instead, she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "Can you give me what I need?"

  "Boyfriend?"

  "Not after today."

  Now Joseph put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. He moved forward, bridging the rest of the gap between them slowly. Cassie knew the kiss was coming, and the way he dragged it out made her feel the anticipation of the moment.

  She wanted him. Under her, over her, in her mouth, in her.

  The traditional voice struggled, broke free from where it had been secluded, and rose to the surface, making her intensely uncomfortable. What was she doing? Were people watching? Could you get kicked out of a bar for indecent behavior? The sensation of her life as it had been just that morning hit her, hugged her. This, the bar, Joseph, it all seemed like a dream.

  Then, suddenly, it flipped. The bar and Joseph felt real, and her life with Blake seemed like a dream. The feeling kept switching, with first one half of her life and then the other feeling fake, a whirlwind of thoughts tugging at her clothes and hair, threatening to lift her up and away.

  Then his lips made contact with hers. The texture, their slight wetness, the taste of something harsh, like cigarettes, all flowed together and burned through her brain, hot pleasure chasing away any thoughts. She moaned and grabbed at him, pulling him closer, but he pulled back.

  "You do want it," he said. "Let's get out of here."

  "So people really say that," she said, smiling, breathless.

  He left to go to the bathroom. While he was gone, Cassie ordered another double whiskey. The bartender poured her a triple, she downed it quick, and then popped a mint.

  The front room of his place was fine - maybe a little bare, but clean.

  "What do you want?" he asked, once they'd gotten inside.

  "Surprise me," she said.

  He took her by the hand and led her into a room. For a moment, after he'd closed the door, he left them in darkness. He took her by the waist, pushed her against the wall, and kissed her deeply. She was leaning into him hard when he turned on the light. He stopped abruptly, leaving her panting, and kept his hand on her abdomen, right above the belt line.

  "Surprise," he said.

  She took in the room. There was a bed with leather restraints at its head and foot. A pile of different colored ropes was stacked neatly on a dresser. A leather and metal cross was suspended from the ceiling. Whips hung from the wall, paddles leaned in a corner, and Cassie, taking it all in, got wet.

  "Take off your clothes," Joseph said.

  She did as she was told, slowly unbuttoning the fitted blue blouse she'd worn to work, folding it and putting it on the floor. Then she unzipped her pencil skirt and yanked it off. She was about to take off her stockings, but Joseph told her to leave them on. Instead, she unhooked her satin blue bra and let it fall to the floor. She put her hand on her high heels, but Joseph shook his head, so she left them on. She put her arms around his neck, but he grabbed her roughly and pushed her away.

  "Go on the bed," he said. "Kneel." She liked being told what to do, and she did as he said. He put a blindfold over her eyes. "Don't move."

  He looped rope around her torso and breasts one, two, three, four times. The ropes squeezed her breasts. She knew they'd be jutting out, swollen looking.

  All her senses were heightened. She'd never felt skin as warm as his. She'd never smelled something as real as his body. She could feel the individual fibers tensing and relaxing in the ropes he ties around her wrists. After the fourth loop, he moved her hands together, and she felt like she could reproduce his work, although she'd never tied knots before.

  "Lay back."

  The bed was soft, warm. It reminded her of her bed with Blake, and before she could stop it, a grimace crossed her face.

  "I saw that," Joseph said. "You're not telling me something. Tell me. Now."

>   She had already been following his instructions, and to keeping doing so now was not difficult.

  "I went to the doctor's this morning. They told me I have twelve months to live."

  "Oh," Joseph said. After a moment, he got up from the bed.

  "It's a brain tumor." She paused. "I didn't cry."

  Joseph took off her blindfold, lifted her up, kissed her softly on the mouth, and then held her.

  "I realized that I've just been waiting around for a life to find me," she said into his chest. "Which maybe would have been okay, if I had eighty nine point five years. But I don't."

  "Sure," Joseph said. He started to untie her. "I'm not going to have sex with you. But you can sleep your drinks off here, and then maybe call a friend, or your boyfriend."

  She was about to protest, but then realized that if he kicked her out she wouldn't have any place to go. Suddenly, she was very tired.

  When she came to, it was night. A hangover had joined the headache that, she realized now, would get worse and worse until it killed her. Her bag was by the bed, and she fished out her phone and checked the time. Nine PM, and a bunch of texts from Blake. She moaned. She would deal with that later.

  Outside, in the hall, she heard the sound of someone putting on a jacket. She got up quickly, tightening the robe Joseph had lent her, and stepped out of the bedroom.

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "To a club," he said.

  "Can I come?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're going through a difficult time." He paused. "And because I don't want you to."

  "Oh."

  His hand was on the door handle, but he wasn't leaving. Old Cassie would have gotten embarrassed and let it go.

  Old Cassie was lame.

  "What type of club is it?" she asked.

  "A BDSM club."

  "Sounds like fun."

  "It is."

  Silence stretched between them.

  "Soooo..." Cassie said.

  "Isn't there anywhere else you can go?"

  "Yes."

  "You realize you're overstaying your welcome?" he asked.

  "Yeah," she said. He stared at her. She figured she might as well go for it.

  "Kind of like I overstayed my welcome on life," she said.

  Joseph sighed heavily.

  At first, in his hatchback, they didn't talk, listening to music instead. Classic rock.

  "So," Cassie said, breaking the silence. "This is where you fuck MILFs?"

  Joseph laughed.

  "When the opportunity arises," he said.

  "That's what you like?"

  "I told you. I like emotions."

  "Are there a lot of MILFs at the club?"

  "Some."

  "What else is at the club?"

  "People," he said. "Candles, chains, whips, machines. Anything you can imagine that would help Rod A fit into Slot B, and then some. Also, a fridge full of soda."

  "Free soda?"

  "All you can drink."

  "Holy shit," Cassie said. "Can I live there?"

  "If you can sleep on the swings."

  "Phantom of the Whipera," she said. They laughed at the corniness of her joke. Joseph visibly relaxed. It felt natural to joke around with him, and a few more minutes into the drive Cassie realized she was enjoying herself more than she had for a long time. Maybe since she'd graduated college.

  "Any advice?" she asked.

  "Look," he said. "You're cute, and you've got balls. I might even like you a little, annoying as you may be. But I've met a ton of girls like you. You think you can go and hang out and watch but not participate, and if you wait around long enough, I'm going to fuck you, and it's just going to be the most exciting thing since senior prom."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Girls like you," Joseph said, staring at the road, "are too comfortable. You got a good life. Nice job, nice boyfriend, nice family. You're too nice."

  Cassie stared at him for a moment, then threw back her head and laughed, loud and long, for five, then ten, then twenty seconds. Long enough that Joseph looked over, worried. When Cassie finally calmed down, she had to wipe tears away from her eyes.

  "Maybe I won't do anything," she said. "But, nice? Before today, I was nice. My life was nice. Now?" She shrugged.

  "Just tryin' to be honest," Joseph said.

  "We'll see," Cassie said, staring out the window. "We'll see."

  What she saw was, frankly, terrifying.

  They'd checked their coats and bags and put on nametags. Cassie's first mistake was writing down her first and last name, but by the time she noticed everyone else had used only first names, it was too late to change it. Then, after walking into the dimly lit main area, she'd gotten distracted by all the naked people and lost track of Joseph.

  The club's main area looked like a living room out of a gothic novel, with dimmed lights, leather furniture, wooden floors, and black and white art depicting sex acts on the walls. And, everywhere, naked people. Fat naked people, skinny naked people, ugly naked people, and even a few beautiful naked people. Some hairy, some sweaty, some wearing glasses. Some sitting on the couches pushed against the wall, some sitting at tables and chatting, some just standing around and drinking soda.

  Most of them, though, were fucking. Flesh smacking into flesh, people moaning, the smell of excited bodies everywhere.

  Cassie was totally lost. On one level, she was nervous. On another, traditional Cassie was demanding to know what she was doing, and, more importantly, how fast she could leave. And on a third level - and this was what she felt more than anything - was awkwardness. The same kind of awkwardness she felt at any party where she didn't know anyone and didn't know what to do. She hated that feeling. Finally, she was also, distantly but increasingly, turned on.

  She was trying to figure out how to spend a little time - go to the bathroom? Maybe the bathroom would be interesting. Watch some people for a while? No, she wasn't really feeling that - when someone spoke behind her. Cassie turned, and was confronted by a woman naked except for a corset.

  "Hey," the woman said. She was curvy, and she stood with confidence. Cassie found herself imagining how warm her curves would be. The woman held up a whip. "Whip me?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Cassie said. "I'm new here."

  "Yeah. You look uncomfortable."

  "Oh. I didn't realize it was so obvious."

  "It is. And I like it. So whip me."

  "I-" Cassie stuttered and blushed. "I don't even know you."

  "I'm Leslie. My favorite color is green. I can juggle." She held up the whip. "Hmm?"

  Cassie breathed deeply and took the whip, running her fingers along the leather. It was stiffer than she thought. She was suddenly, and immensely, turned on.

  "I don't know how to do any of this," she said, surprised at how husky her voice was. "Teach me?"

  "Hey, Duke - " Leslie shouted. "Show Cassie here how to tie me up?"

  Duke came over and showed Cassie how to attach Leslie's hands to a leather device hanging from the ceiling. He smiled when she fumbled at the straps and patiently showed her again. It felt like they could have been talking about anything.

  "A strap around my waist too," said Leslie. "I can take it for longer that way."

  Cassie began to feel uncomfortable, and thought about handing the whip over to Duke, but at that moment she caught sight of Joseph, standing across the room and looking at her. He was looking disdainful, and she disliked the thought that it might be her he had that expression for.

  "How do you like it?" Cassie asked.

  "Duke, show her."

  The whip was wide, so it wouldn't cut and wouldn't leave marks, but Duke hit Leslie hard enough that a few heads turned. Leslie's face contorted with pleasure.

  Duke handed the whip to Cassie, "All yours," he said, and winked.

  Cassie realized she hadn't watched Duke well enough. She hit Leslie three times, but it felt uncoordinated, spastic. Leslie look
ed bored. As bored as the people in Cassie's class had been when she'd read her story. Cassie blushed.

  What if she was just boring? Cassie wondered. She let the whip go limp. Maybe Joseph was right. Maybe she should just go home.

  She looked around the room, to see if anyone else was watching her fail. For the most part no one seemed to care, but Joseph was still looking at her. She met his eyes, and he smirked at her.

  That made Cassie angry. She turned back to Leslie and hit her a few times, harder and harder. Leslie didn't look bored anymore. Cassie walked closer to Leslie and caressed her face with the thickest part of the whip, then kissed her. Leslie moaned. Without warning, Cassie broke the kiss off and pushed Leslie away, hard enough that if she hadn't been held up by the straps, she would have fallen.

  When Leslie was stable again, Cassie said, "Stay there." She unbuttoned her blouse for the second time that day. This time, instead of focusing on what she was doing, she studied Leslie's face. She saw that every button undone made Leslie breathe more deeply. She saw the corners of Leslie's mouth turn up in a smile. She saw Leslie's nostrils flare when she got to the last button. Leslie had perfect attention on her, and she on Leslie. Cassie felt connected. Cassie felt powerful.

  She took a step towards the hanging woman, dropping her bra as she did. "Touch them," she said. "Put them in your mouth." Leslie bent lower and started sucking. Cassie thought she might come. She stepped back.

  "Turn around," she said. "But look at me."

  Cassie took off her skirt, stockings, and shoes, and folded everything into a pile. Leslie followed her every move, and she Leslie's. At one point, Leslie looked away, but Cassie put the thick part of the whip under Leslie's chin and forced her head back.

  Cassie started whipping her, at first softly, at a steady pace. Though she'd never done anything like this before, she just knew what Leslie wanted, just like she sometimes knew exactly what to write. When she grimaced, Cassie stopped, letting her catch her breath. And when she stopped moaning at one level of force, Cassie went harder, knowing that Leslie could take it.

  As Leslie got louder, more and more people turned towards them. "I've never heard Leslie like this," someone said. Later, Cassie would be proud of this, but in the moment, all she knew was Leslie's small rounded limbs, the way her curly blonde hair was getting messy with sweat, and the way her breasts shivered and rippled every time she was struck.