Three Stages of Love: Attraction

by T. Anthony

  And so he did. Settling himself onto the cushioned chair, he let his arms fall onto the supports.

  The silk robe slid from my shoulders, caressing my skin on its way down to the floor as I let it drop beside me while I lowered myself onto my knees.

  “Well, Miss Chase, I would never think you one to be brought to your knees so easily.” Alexander’s voice rumbled as the rest of his body tightened with excitement.

  “I will gladly sink to my knees for you anytime,” I said as my eyelids lowered slowly so that my focus was only straight ahead of me. The soft silk of his white bottoms felt like rose petals against my skin, and it coaxed a soft moan out of me. “Mmmmm.”

  Alexander inhaled as I moaned. Edging my lips closer to his groin, he tensed his arms gripping the supports of the chair.

  “I’ll be gentle,” I assured him sarcastically.

  “Don’t be,” he growled with harshness in his voice—a stimulating growl that lit a fire beneath me and jolted my mouth onto his erection.

  I kissed the silk covering his penis intensely, ravaging the fabric that imprisoned my desire. I pulled at the drawstrings and yanked the pants down to his thighs, just enough to expose his hardness and make way for my early morning dessert.

  His cock was at attention and solid. The tightness and swelling of his skin made him glisten.

  I glanced up with a fire in my eyes. “Brace yourself, Mr. Mason,” I instructed Alexander. And with no time wasted, I devoured his very manhood. Every pull from my lips and lap of my tongue forced deep moans of passion out of his plush lips. The reverberation of his spirit when I pleasured him was unlike any other sound, and it made me feel wild, fulfilled, and accomplished; I loved pleasing Alexander.

  It was early morning, and after three months of waiting, he wanted me and my mouth all to himself. So, with so much anticipation and longing, his body began to tense and spasm only after a few short minutes. And then there was his conclusion, which was ever so enthusiastic. His mighty release raged with strength and fervor as his eagerness to have me—wholly and eternally—and flooded me as he grasped my head and tightened his fingers, looping them into the locks of my hair.

  Alexander slumped into the backrest of the chair, panting avidly and satisfied. “I couldn’t have dreamed you up if I tried. Come here, please.” Reaching his arms out for me, I wrapped the silk robe around my body once again and climbed onto his lap.

  “Is it safe to assume that you enjoyed that?” I asked.

  “It’s safe to assume that I am going to request you do that every morning before breakfast.” He smiled tiredly, leaning his head against my shoulder as I massaged the back of his neck.

  “Oh, breakfast,” I recalled, bouncing off of his thighs. I remembered the infinite display of food that awaited us. “I’m starved and I could use some coffee with my cream.” I snickered at my crass joke as I moved my chair alongside Alexander.

  “You are sick, you know that. But I do appreciate your satisfaction, even though you had no release.” He jostled me playfully as I sat in the chair and began preparing plates for us.

  “I had plenty of a release last night. In fact, I may still be releasing as we speak.” I took pleasure in my own sense of humor and hilarity that had recently been missing. And though I had no premeditated questions, there was a bit of lingering doubt somewhere within me. “Alexander, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, sweetness,” Alexander responded.

  “Where did all of this come from? I mean, the contract, the room, all of the unconventional furniture and contraptions? Take it from someone who searches Google for everything, you can’t become this proficient in bondage and dominance and so on just from online research.” I questioned his familiarity and newfound knowledge of all he displayed and how he had performed. I had successfully retained my thoughts and questions all evening prior and enjoyed the pleasure of it all, but the questions had lain silent in my mind.

  Alexander continued to stare at me, somber and unsure as he sat with his shoulders slumping down.

  “Alexander, is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked, suddenly aware of the awkward expression on Alexander’s face.

  Alexander shook his head, as his hands moved up to hold it from falling between his knees. He looked almost ashamed and hesitant—but he did have something he wasn’t telling me. “Evangeline, come sit; put the plate down for a minute.”

  I felt the apprehension creep into my chest as I lowered the plate onto the table and slinked myself into the plush chair, steadying myself by the side supports. The uneasiness blocked air from getting into my lungs as I—like always—imagined the worst.

  “When I was twenty, Pat sent Marcus and I and a few others to Amsterdam to meet with some nobles from the Netherlands who wanted to liquidate their families’ companies. We were young and experimental. We were just trying to have a good time once the work day ended.” Alexander sighed.

  “Alexander, we all do stupid things when we’re young. How bad could it have been?” I asked.

  Alexander looked pained as he stared into my eyes. “At night we would hang out in the main city, and then one night, one of our colleagues…well, we were actually dating—”

  I held my hand up to hush Alexander from proceeding.

  “This colleague, was it a man?” I asked, completely unsure and unprepared for what his response would be—as I prayed that his experimental pronouncement wouldn’t be that he was in fact gay!

  Alexander wore a very perturbed expression as he responded, “No, she was a woman, and we were only dating for a few months but she and I grew up in the orphanage together. She too had lost her parents. And with that I’ll proceed. So, she convinced the group to go to the Red Light District, and so we did. The place is unreal. Anything that you could possibly consider taboo or even illegal anywhere else in the world—it’s the norm in the Red Light District. So, after an hour or so of gawking in amazement at everything around us, everyone quickly found interests of their own in the different dark corners of the streets. And Chloe and I continued on to discover the rest of the city.”

  “I love that you are sharing this, but I’m not too keen on hearing about the amazing adventures you’ve had with your past lovers.” I wasn’t being mean. I was uncomfortable with the thought of another woman holding his hands, kissing him or—oh, God—having sex with him!

  “That’s not the story I’m trying to share. This is hard for me, so please try to keep your visions at bay for a minute.” Alexander sighed deeply and sat up stiffly now in his chair. “We met a couple that night in one of the risqué burlesque shows who were into all types of crazy shit. They were dressed in latex and the only skin visible was the guy’s cock and the girl’s pussy. I was uncomfortable, to say the least, but Chloe seemed to really get into the whole scene. When we got back to the villa, we tried a few different things, and it was all in good fun—at first. But it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the situation got precarious.”

  I listened to Alexander, waiting for his damning story, but I still wasn’t quite capturing the vein of his sorrow and angst.

  “Chloe had gone back to the club a few times unbeknownst to me, until this one night when I met her at the villa late after work. She had decorated the bedroom and adorned herself in lingerie fabricated entirely of black silk. The sheets on the bed, the candles, the props—they were all dark and sultry. She said she wanted to heighten our sexual experience. So I went along with it, and in the beginning it was erotic and very enjoyable, but then she got in too deep. She asked me to hurt her and use a whip; and I just couldn’t do it. After that, she started hanging out with Lucas and Amber—the couple we met together previously in the Red Light District—while the rest of us were on business dinners. And then she didn’t come home one night and only returned the next morning when everyone had left for the office—except for me. I had waited for her to return, on the verge of going to the police station to file a missing persons report. She walked in wear
ing large sweats and a hoodie that covered her face. And only when I pulled it off her head did she begin to cry and rant her apologies. I listened to her fears in between sobs until I realized that her tears were not for what had happened to her but for her apprehension of having to give up her new lifestyle if I didn’t approve.”

  My sorrow for the infidelity that Alexander experienced flushed my body with an angry heat. “She cheated on you?”

  “No, well, she didn’t sleep with someone else, if that is your definition of cheating. But she did allow them to inflict massive pain on her in a ritual of sadomasochistic proportions. She was bruised from head to toe and scratched everywhere. But what angered me and bewildered me the most was that they had gagged her so tightly that the burn marks from the strap through her mouth cut her pale skin—and yet she thought nothing of it. We fought terribly for hours. And while I tried to explain my anger for the cruelty that they had committed, she seethed with frustration that I wouldn’t acknowledge how much pleasure she had experienced throughout the night. She just couldn’t understand, and I couldn’t fulfill what she desired. So she left that night and moved in with Amber and Lucas. At some point later, Lucas left Amber for Chloe.”

  “Alexander, I am sorry that she did that to you, but, one: that doesn’t really answer my question about how you became so experienced, especially since you wanted no part in BDSM. And two: you did nothing wrong. So why are you still so hurt over her?” I questioned.

  “What you don’t understand and what she couldn’t understand is that there is a difference between BDSM and sadomasochism. One is for the pursuit of pleasure and the other—of pain. I know I wasn’t responsible for hurting her, but I also didn’t do enough to protect her. I may not have been in love with her, but I cared for her as a friend. A few days before the group and I were due to return to the States, I found Chloe on my doorstep, immobile and covered in blood. She had been bound, burned, and whipped so badly that he almost killed her. I rushed her to the hospital and spent the next few days getting her stable enough so that she could return to the US with the rest of the group. What baffled me the most was that through all that, she always maintained Lucas’s innocence, saying that he gave her only what she wanted and that it was her fault for not knowing how much she could handle.” Alexander’s emotions poured through every word he spoke as if he were living through the pain right in front of me.

  And at that moment, my chest panged from the devastation I had myself just made him relive. “Is that why you almost killed Michael? Because you thought of Chloe and what had happened to her?”

  “When Marcus told me what you had said—about Michael only doing to you what you wanted him to do—I envisioned you getting sucked into the hell that Chloe had dove in to. I almost killed Michael because, unlike with Chloe, I am adamantly and insatiably in love with you. The only two people I’ve loved in my life—my parents—were cruelly ripped away from me by death. I latched onto Chloe because she had suffered the same loss as I had. I hadn’t opened my self up to love but our sadness united us and I assured myself that because of that, she couldn’t hurt me. I pained not for letting go or losing Chloe but because she a promise of security and love for me. And that love was ripped away by something that no woman—no human being should ever succumb to. I need you to know that I would rather spend an eternity dying a thousand deaths than to have anything like that happen to you.” Alexander reached for my hands and took both to his lips and sealed his words with the sweetest kiss, which held the promise of eternal devotion. “I don’t fear pain. I don’t fear death. I shall never again fear loss as long as I know I will never lose you.”

  And with those words, and that kiss, I let the conversation die, leaving us only with love and not an inkling of sorrow.

  The rest of breakfast was pleasant. We ate and chatted about almost nothing—silly things really. Movies that we wanted to see, funny things we had done in our childhood—things that a normal couple would customarily discuss in the beginning of a relationship. The funny thing was, Alexander and I were far from being a normal couple.

  “Hey, I have a meeting tonight with a client. It was supposed to be just us two for dinner, but he is here in town with his wife, and I thought maybe it would be nice for the four of us to go to dinner.”

  Alexander’s general itinerary didn’t begin or conclude with a question, and considering my most recent events, I felt weary about having anything contrary to say.

  “Sure. I’d love to. I will have to get something appropriate to wear, so just let me know how dressy or casual the locale will be.” Accepting his dinner plans, I went along very willingly.

  By the floored look on Alexander’s face as I continued spooning food into his dish, he was taken aback by my easygoing and unquestioning newfound attitude.

  Alexander responded slowly, “Um, OK. I’ll have Brant take you up to Saks for something.”

  I nodded and smiled graciously and returned to the topic of movies.

  Later in the day, Brant obliged and accompanied me to do some shopping while Alexander showered and dressed for the evening. Though I would have much rather stayed with Alexander and helped him lather up his tightened, and sculpted david-esque body; Alexander convinced me that being well dressed for the evening was more important.

  I wasn’t a stranger to having dinner with clients and when those clients brought their wives along, I knew I had to present my self pristinely but not overly sexy. Even though the business wasn’t my own; I would be on display so I decided on an ensemble by Yves Saint Laurent—a designer that never let down a woman.

  I paid for my things—with the American Express card that Alexander insisted I take from him and walked calmly enjoying the quiet through the gallery of designers and down the stairs to the lobby of the glorious department store. Before I reached the bottom level, I passed a mannequin wearing a chiffon scarf designed by Alviero Martini, an Italian designer that my mother adored. I realized that in all the madness, I hadn’t called my mother daily as I always had and I suddenly missed her.

  “Bella, where have you been. I was worried when you didn’t answer your phone but then I reached Samantha and she said you had gone with Alexander. What is going on? Are you alright? When did Alexander return?” My mother answered the phone frantically wanting to get all her questions out in one short breath.

  “Mamma stai calma,” I urged her to calm down so I could speak. “I am fine. And yes, Alexander has returned and we are trying to figure out the future…I guess.”

  My mother sighed into the phone, “When will you learn to stop doubting and guessing about things that you can not predict. What makes you think you are smarter than the wisest of humans out there? You think you can plan or figure out the future? STOP! Alexander’s return is fate’s way of giving you a second chance because you were so stupid the first time around.”

  I cut her off huffing into my cell phone.

  “Mother, you just called me stupid!” I growled in a mumble so not to be heard.

  “Yes and as your mother I have every right to do so because it is said with love. Now listen here, you are at a cross road. You can either continue on as you have for the last thirty two years and continue to run love out of your life. You can pretend that the success fills your every need; but I know otherwise. Or, you can take the path that scares you the most and face it head on. The worst that can happen is that it isn’t what you fully desire and then you start fresh—but you have at least gained that knowledge and lost nothing in return. I have faith in love Evangeline and I pray bella that you can have some faith too.” My mother mumbled through a monologue that allowed me little room to speak or argue. And with every word and piece of advice, I knew it all held bountiful truths.

  My mother had witnessed first hand how love had made me fearful and vulnerable. But she had also seen the loss and hurt that devoured me for months, and that is a vision that no mother wishes to experience with her child.

  I thanked her for loving me and
swore to her that I would try to love as she had—all her life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Leila and Tom Nest met us at Spark’s Steak House in midtown Manhattan at 8:00 p.m. Tom, a CEO of a large software corporation, had come out from LA to meet with Alexander, and Leila decided to tag along, having never been to New York herself.

  “Evangeline, that is a stunning outfit. We must go shopping before I head back to LA.” Leila took me by the hand and twirled me around.

  Brant had, as Alexander requested, taken me to Saks Fifth Avenue to buy something for this evening’s dinner. The stunning outfit that Leila was referring to was an Yves Saint Laurent strapless cocktail design with a fitted nude satin lining and a crocheted overlay that came down right below my thighs. Short enough to be sexy, but long enough for a presentable dinner meeting.

  “Thank you, Leila, and please call me Eva.”

  Alexander insisted on introducing me to everyone as Evangeline. And though I had become accustomed to Alexander addressing me by the name, I wasn’t always comfortable with strangers using it.

  As we sat at dinner, most of the evening was spent playfully getting to know each other. Tom and Leila were very easy to get along with. Their demeanor was that of old friends who were just catching up. They were seemingly the perfect couple: finishing each other’s sentences, always on point with whatever topic the other was discussing. They were a couple who was very much involved in each other’s lives.

  “So, Alexander, shall we talk a little business?” Tom asked.

  Alexander nodded in agreement.

  Leila nudged my elbow and placed the napkin from her lap onto the table. “Eva, why don’t we make a trip to the powder room while the boys talk shop. This way we can plan our shopping excursion.”

  As much as I wanted to hear about the plans that Alexander had to either help or buy out Tom’s company, I didn’t mind some girly time with Leila. “Sure, sounds like more fun,” I said. As I pushed out my chair, both Tom and Alexander stood to help Leila and me out of the table. “Don’t take over the world without me,” I whispered in Alexander’s ear. “You know I love this stuff.”