Black Edge

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Ellie,” he whispers and pushes in and out of me faster and faster. His breathing speeds up and then he finally reaches the climax. Every muscle in his body tenses including his face before a big relief sweeps over him. He gives me a few more small thrusts, before collapsing on top of me, covered in sweat.

  “Oh my God, Ellie,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “That was amazing.”

  “Yes, it was,” I nod.

  The room is silent while we both think about what we’ve just done. The experience was something beyond what I ever experienced before, or thought I would ever experience.

  “It felt like we were dancing, didn’t it? Like we were totally in sync?” he asks.

  I nod. “It felt like we were one.”

  He nods and rolls over on his back, then pulls off the condom with one swift motion. Drops of sweat glisten on his six pack and it takes all of my willpower not to lean over and lick them off him.

  I run my finger up and down his washboard abs, pausing over each grove.

  “Your body is…unreal,” I say. He smiles.

  “I have seven percent body fat,” he boasts.

  “Wow. That must take a lot of effort.”

  “It did at first,” he says. “But now, it’s just my life. I love working out. I actually feel sick if I skip a day or two.”

  “So, what we just did? Does that count as exercise?” I ask, coyly.

  “Actually, given the amount that I’m sweating, I’d say yes.”

  We lay there staring into space for some time. It takes a few minutes of staring into space and trying to collect my thoughts about what just happened to realize just how comfortable the bed really is. The sheets are so luxurious, they are probably 1000-thread count. The pillows are just fluffy enough without losing their shape, molding perfectly to my head. I close my eyes to savor the moment.

  * * *

  Sometime later, I wake up. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but Mr. Black is not in the bed next to me. I stretch, marvel at the comfort of the sheets again and then finally pull myself out of bed. When I walk over to the windows and pull on the curtains, I see that the sun is high in the sky. It’s daylight.

  Last night, seems like nothing but a dream. Did it really happen? Did all that really take place? Frankly, I have a hard time believing that Mr. Black is even real. Do people like him even exist? So, kind and caring and demanding at the same time. Someone who is both a mystery and an open book?

  I look around the suite and after confirming that he is not there, I leave and make my way toward my own room. There, I jump into the shower and wash off all the sweat and sex from my body. On one hand, the shower is refreshing, but on the other, it makes me feel sad. I love the smell of Mr. Black on my hands and body and now a little part of him is gone.

  After putting on some eyeliner and mascara and darkening my brows a little bit, I hear a knock at the door. It’s Lizbeth.

  “I’m just here to check on you. How was everything last night?” she asks.

  “Great,” I say. “Actually it was really great.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” she says smiling from ear to ear.

  “And everything is alright with your account?” she asks.

  “Um, I don’t actually know. That’s a good question.”

  “Well, I can wait while you double check, it’s no problem.”

  That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but okay. I pull out my phone and log into my Bank of America account. I have exactly $251,459.39 in there. The quarter million is from last night and the $1,459 and some change is what I previously had to live on for the rest of the month. Wow, it didn’t seem like such a paltry amount until just now.

  “Yes, everything seems to be in order.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Well, in any case, I just want to let you know that there’s breakfast in the dining room. And the helicopter is ready to take you back to Manhattan at any time.”

  Oh. Wait, what? A helicopter? I’m stunned for a moment.

  “Do I have to go back right now?” I ask.

  “No, of course not, you can definitely have breakfast first, if you like.”

  “No, that’s not exactly what I meant,” I say hesitantly. “What I mean is that I thought that this was going to be a weekend thing. I thought there was maybe another party later on?”

  Lizbeth flashes a mysterious smile at me.

  “Oh, so you really had a good time last night,” she says. My cheeks turn bright red and then I blush even more from the thought that I’m embarrassed.

  “Mr. Black does leave an impression, doesn’t he?” Lizbeth asks.

  From the tone of her voice, I can tell that she’s probably not a stranger in his bed. The thought of that makes me really mad, but I try to keep a hold of my temper.

  “Never-mind. I guess I was misinformed,” I mumble and turn back to my suitcase and pretend to pack.

  “Listen, the party was just for one night. I mean the party continues, but there will be another auction tonight. With all new girls. The men here like fresh meat so to say.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m such an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not,” Lizbeth says, putting her arm around my shoulder. “You just didn’t know.”

  There’s a real tenderness in this moment. I suddenly feel like she knows exactly how I feel. The disappointment and the regret mixed with anger and jealousy. I want to know more about her.

  “So, how did you get this job?” I ask her.

  “I came here just like you, a few years go. Someone bought me and we had a very good time. Then he asked me to stay for a week. And then a month. And then I started to serve him all the time.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, we have what you would call a master-slave relationship. I am here to serve him and do anything he wants. Indefinitely.”

  “And you like that?”

  “Oh yes,” she nods her head. “I have never felt anything this exhilarating in my entire life. It helps that we are very sexually compatible.”

  “So, who is he? Your master?” I ask. The word feels uncomfortable in my mouth and I cringe a little when it comes out. But there’s also something exciting about the thought.

  “He’s a friend of Mr. Black’s. He’s away now on business, that’s why I’m here entertaining you all on Mr. Black’s yacht. Otherwise, I’d be on his yacht.”

  “What’s his name?” I ask.

  “Mr. White.”

  I laugh out loud. “Do they all have names like that?”

  “Yes, they do,” she nods her head. “They are part of a loose organization called The Billionaire Boys Club. The members are the ones who own the yachts. The other men who were in the hall bidding are prospective members.”

  “Wow, I had no idea,” I whisper.

  “It’s somewhat of a secret organization. They don't like to talk about it very openly because many run very large, multinational companies with shareholders. Lots of people to answer to.”

  “So, how long have you been with Mr. White?” I ask. “And are you two together?”

  “Yes, actually. We have been exclusive for more than two years now. He even asked me to marry him.”

  “Oh wow, congratulations,” I say.

  She smiles. “It’s definitely not what my parents from Kentucky had in mind, but I love him. Very much.”

  With that, Lizbeth bids me farewell. Before she leaves she does tell me that if Mr. Black wants to contact me again, he will. Otherwise, I will probably never see him again.

  I decide to forgo breakfast and head straight to the helicopter. If I’m not invited to stay here any longer then that’s fine by me. I have my quarter of a million dollars and quite a memory.

  When I get to the helicopter pad, I see that I’m the only one there. The pilot waves me over. Rolling my suitcase behind me, I walk over to the helicopter. The pilot asks me for my address and says that he’ll land on top of a building only a few blocks away. He helps me
with my luggage and hands me a headset to wear. I climb into the backseat.

  Someone comes over the radio and tells him to wait. I figure that there’re more girls going back, so I sit back in my chair and look out at the deep blue ocean spreading all the way to the horizon.

  “Hey there,” a familiar deep voice says. When I turn around, I see that it’s none other than Mr. Black.

  Shivers run down my spine and a big wide smile comes over my face.

  “You didn’t think you’d get rid of me so soon,” he says and helps me out of the helicopter.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Just wanted to say good-bye. After the night we had, we need a proper good-bye, don’t you think?”

  I nod and press my lips to his. I wrap my arms around his strong muscular shoulders and let him hold me up as he kisses me back.

  “I’m sorry. I’d ask you stay another night, but I have a work thing back in New York,” Mr. Black says after he finally pulls away.

  “That’s okay, I understand.”

  “So, I just wanted to wish you a good flight and tell you that I want to see you again. Soon.”

  A big smile comes over my face. I actually feel my eyes twinkle from happiness. I know that it’s probably not a good idea, but there’s something that’s drawing me to him. I have to be with him. Need to be with him on some sub-atomic level.

  “I’d like that,” I say coyly trying not to sound too eager.

  “Good,” he says. “Here’s my card. It has my private cell number on it.”

  I look at the elegant white business card on thick, expensive paper. It may be a business card, but it’s not the one he uses for work. The name on the card reads Mr. Black.

  “Do you need mine?” I ask.

  “Actually, Lizbeth already gave it to me. She had it on the paperwork you filled out for the auction.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I kiss him again. He reciprocates in kind.

  “By the way, my name is Aiden,” he whispers into my ear after he pulls away. “Aiden Black.”

  I climb back into the helicopter as if I’m floating on a cloud. Before closing the door, he kisses me on the hand and wishes me a good flight.

  I keep my eyes on Aiden as we fly away and I keep looking long after he and the yacht disappear into the ocean.

  When the New York skyline appears before us on the horizon, my phone beeps and I look down at the text.

  “Now, you have the full $250,000 to be unwise with. Go live your life to the fullest. Pursue your dreams. Nothing else in the world is worth it.”

  The number is a perfect match to the one on the card that Aiden gave me. It takes me a minute to realize what he means by the full $250,000. But I still don’t believe it until I can see it with my own eyes. Quickly, I log into my student loan account. And instead of $151,329, which I owed last month, the balance now reads $0.00.

  “You paid off my student loans??” I text Aiden.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you deserve the full quarter million to be unwise with.”

  I shake my head, not believing that any of this is really real. Who the hell are you Aiden Black?

  Chapter 16 - Mr. Black

  When I can’t get her out of my mind…

  I’m not a big fan of the opera.

  Well, that’s an understatement. I actually hate it.

  Everything about it is so pretentious and exhausting.

  The music is over the top and so are the actors’ mannerisms and gestures.

  Some people love this place so much that they cry because they are so moved by the music.

  Well, I don’t.

  In fact, I wish that I could put in my ear buds and listen to something I do actually like.

  Like the Stones.

  Or Led Zeppelin.

  I love classic rock.

  Now, if they actually made a rock opera…then that’s something I’d watch.

  So, why am I here?

  I definitely don’t need to be here in my line of work.

  Even though everyone in tech is really rich, we aren’t money rich.

  So, you’d be hard-pressed enough to find any of us wearing a suit and tie, let alone going to the symphony or the opera.

  Unlike the rest of them, who spend their days in t-shirts and jeans, I love a nice tailored suit that costs double what my childhood home’s mortgage was.

  But the opera?

  I’m definitely not a fan.

  No, the only reason I’m here is that Kristina insisted that we come.

  Kristina Taylor is a class act.

  I’ve known her for a very long time.

  We met at some Ivy League mixer back in college when I was at Yale and she was at Brown.

  Kristina and I never dated.

  Our sexual appetites and desires are way too similar.

  Kristina doesn’t believe in relationships and I don't either, that is if you don't count that brief lapse in judgement when I got married.

  I glance over at Kristina, who is wholeheartedly engrossed in The Metropolitan Opera’s critically acclaimed production of George Bizet’s Carmen.

  The tickets to this show were not only ridiculously expensive but they were also impossible to get and it’s all because of the French mezzo-soprano Clementine Margaine who stars as the immortal Gypsy heroine.

  “I saw Maria Agresta in her debut last year in La Boheme last season,” Kristina whispers, wiping a tear away after a particularly touching performance.

  “Yeah, she’s great,” I say without much enthusiasm.

  Kristina returns her gaze to the stage and I return mine to her.

  Her pale white skin and her long, thin fingers make her look delicate, but I know quite well what they are capable of and it’s not at all delicate.

  You see, Kristina is one of the most popular and well-paid dominatrix in New York City, which pretty much makes her one of the top dominatrixes in the world.

  You’d never guess it from the outside.

  No, from the outside, she still looks like a shy librarian and the lost little English major that I remember back in college.

  But then again, as you probably already know, you should never judge a book by its cover.

  “Quit staring at me,” she whispers, without taking her eyes off the stage.

  “I’m just imagining all the bad things I’m going to do to you tonight,” I whisper back.

  She shakes her head, but a small coy smile forms at the edge of her lips, which tells me that she’s looking forward to it, too.

  As far as I know, Kristina and I have a unique relationship.

  What I mean is that while I continue to play with other women on the side, Kristina doesn’t.

  Kristina is a dominant for a living, but she likes to be the submissive when we are together.

  She likes being tied up and she enjoys all the little dirty things that I do to her to make her orgasm over and over.

  “If you keep this up, I’m not coming over,” she says defiantly.

  She might be bluffing, but I can’t tell for sure. So, I decide to play it safe.

  * * *

  When we arrive back at my place, I’m dying of anticipation.

  My mind has been running in circles, all throughout the performance, of all the bad things that we’re going to do together, and my dick has been rock hard since the intermission.

  “Hey, baby.” I press her against the kitchen counter and kiss her neck.

  She throws her head back and moans a little. “I have some nice things planned for you.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Before heading into my special room, I glance one last time at her dress.

  Luckily, it’s a little black strapless number, which I can slide all the way down. Good. This means that her arms can be otherwise occupied.

  Kristina walks confidently into the room and looks around.

  She has been here a number of times before.

&nbs
p; She’s even used it for her own clients on a few occasions.

  They were very exclusive clients, and she owed me big afterward as I don't allow just anyone to play around in here.

  She glances up at the swing hanging from the ceiling and winks at me.

  I know what she wants.

  She wants me to tie her hands up there and lift her up.

  She loves that.

  Being weightless.

  Hanging in space while I make her orgasm over and over again.

  “Oh, sir, please be careful with me,” she says flirtatiously.

  Being called sir is the lingo which sets up the power dynamic between us.

  It’s as much of a turn-on for her as it is for me.

  “We’ll see about that,” I say and put her hands into the restraints above her head.

  I unzip her dress and pull it down to her feet.

  She steps out of it.

  I notice that she’s not wearing either underwear or a bra.

  “Wow, I wasn’t prepared for that,” I say.

  My cock gets so hard it feels like it turned into a rock.

  I spread her legs wide and tie them with rope so that they stay apart after I start.

  I look at her and lick my lips.

  She tries to put a frightened expression on her face, but she isn’t very successful.

  Instead, she looks like it’s taking all of her energy to keep her excitement and anticipation at bay.

  And then suddenly, last weekend pops into my head.

  And not just last weekend, but Ellie to be precise.

  Her soft lips, her luscious breasts.

  Her defying me and orgasming without my permission.

  I try to snap out of it and turn my attention to Kristina, but my mind refuses to cooperate.

  All I can see is Ellie here. All I want is Ellie.

  “What’s taking so long?” Kristina asks. “Are you going to start or what?”

  I look at her.

  Her pale skin is a shade or two too light in comparison to Ellie’s.

  Her eyes aren’t the right shape.

  Even her body is suddenly a little too thin.

  No, the problem is not that there’s anything wrong with Kristina.