Leila: Goddess The Second Coming

by R. J. Castille

  Without a word, Matthew twisted me around, planting himself in the seat where I had been and turned me to face him on his lap. My hands found his cock as I held it up so I could lower myself slowly onto its length. Matthew drew in his breath through clenched teeth, a low growling sound coming from deep in his throat. He found my hips with his hands and his fingers dug into my pelvis as he started to guide my movements, lifting his hips to meet mine, driving himself inside me further. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my hips forward with each thrust, his cock quivering inside me each time he found the bottom of my depths.

  As I rode his shaft in the backseat of his BMW, Matthew continued to guide my movements with his hands. Slowly, he moved his right hand up my body and I quivered in anticipation of his touch. His hand found my neck and he massaged it gently with his hand before clamping it around my throat. He placed his thumb and two fingers directly over my carotid arteries on either side of my esophagus and squeezed. Not crushing, just enough to block the blood flow to my brain. At first, I was frightened, but calmed a little when I remembered his training in advance life support. If he did something wrong, he would have to fix it. I yielded to his touch, continuing to move on his lap.

  My vision started to grey and I could feel a hazy sensation overtaking my mind. At the same time, a feeling so intense was pulling from all of my limbs. It continued until it forced its way from my inner core. My orgasm slammed into me like a truck. Matthew suddenly released his hold on my neck and the blood rushed into my head causing a major head rush unlike any other I had felt. Like no drug in the world could duplicate. Mid-orgasm, my mind was overcome with the same pleasure of my body. If that was even possible. His lap completely soaked with my fluids as I climaxed again, his shaft rubbing relentlessly on my clit as it stroked me from the inside. Matthew guided my hips down his shaft one final time before thrusting himself inside as deep as he could bury his cock. Twitching and pulsing inside me, I felt my pussy clenching as it drank in his seed.

  We both stayed like that for several moments, shaking, our breaths erratic and in big gasps. I was loosely aware that we were in his car, in the parking lot of a seedy bar in the middle of the day. My focus was on the ecstasy that continued to wash over my body. My limbs had gone completely numb. Like I was paralyzed, I literally could not move.

  When I was finally able and sat up, I felt it. Instead of pleasure, guilt. It was not my intention to have Matthew in that way today or ever again. I was here to tell him everything and to let him know I was with Gordon now. I could not help myself. When I heard his voice, when I felt his hand touch my thigh, his breath on my ear when he practically whispered my name. I lost all sense of control. My feelings for him were clearly unresolved. Unrequited.

  Matthew looked at me, his eyes bore into my soul. I could see fire behind them, burning with their unending desire to be mine. To serve me. Unfortunately, things were not that easy anymore.

  “Matthew, I…” my voice trailed off as I attempted not to choke on my own words. “I’m sorry.” Was all I could manage.

  He regarded me silently for several minutes before responding. His eyes searching me for something, a sign that everything was alright. He put his hand over mine and I quickly twisted off of his lap, searching for my dress as I did so. I found it shoved into the corner of the floor opposite where we sat and quickly turned it right side out before pulling it over my head. Avoiding his gaze, I attempted to smooth down my hair with my hands while glancing around the back of his BMW for anything else that I owned.

  “I thought you came here to talk to me,” I did not look at him. I was afraid of what I would see inside his eyes. Pain. Anger. Fear. Probably all of the above.

  “I did,” he finally said, “but when I saw you, I could not ignore my needs. I needed to be inside you again. I could feel you from across the room, before you even touched me and ignited the flame once again, the desire overwhelmed my mind and I…” his voice trailed off as he finished his thought. I could see the genuine anguish in his features. I was not angry at him, I was confused. My heart was breaking for him and I could feel the physical sting as his eyes finally found mine.

  “Matthew, I need to tell you something. I came here for a reason too,” I looked at him intently, forcing myself to tell him the truth. Breaking our mutual stare, I looked out the window in time to see two elderly men getting in a Lincoln a few spaces from where Matthew parked. I wonder if they saw. I lamented to myself. If they did, they got one hell of a show.

  His eyes just stared at me as I told him what he had done to Gordon, a glazed look found its way to his features. Speechless. As if he already knew. It occurred to me that is why he would have disappeared. Today being the first time anyone has heard from or seen him in days. It struck me as odd, but I kept speaking. It was harder to tell him I had developed feelings for Gordon than I thought it would be. I could see the pain creep into his eyes as I spoke, yet he tried to maintain a neutral look on his face. When I finished telling him about Gordon, I took a deep breath. One more thing to divulge, and that one was a doozy.

  “There is one more thing, Matthew,” I looked down, focusing on my hands that had found their way to the hem of my dress and were currently wrenching the fabric. Blue eyes looked on. Waiting patiently for my secret confession. “Matthew, I’m pregnant.” I forced it out of my mouth, my stomach almost leaping out behind the words. His eyes darted back and forth a bit but focused on me once again, allowing me to go on .

  “So, you’re telling me the baby could be mine?” For one split second, I saw joy behind the pain in his eyes, then it was gone in a flash. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to acknowledge him.

  “I suppose you could say that Matthew, yes,” I stammered on my own words. I saw something flash behind his eyes then disappear as he shook his head quickly and fixed his eyes on me.

  “That is the best news I have heard all week,” he smiled at me, his grin stretching from ear-to-ear. I was not expecting that reaction. Confusing to say the least. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open slightly waiting for him to go on. He didn’t, he simply reached out and grasped my hand in his. I flinched as he did so but resisted the urge to pull my hand from his. His thumb stroked my palm, a calming sensation. Matthew leaned forward and kissed my forehead gently. As he withdrew, his eyes found mine again. He lowered his gaze and began to speak slowly, his tone growing serious. “Gordon must not be pleased with you. I will stay away from you as best I can, as you wish, but it will be hard. My heart will always belong to you,” Matthew stopped speaking, a glimmer in his eye as he shifted his gaze to stare out the window, avoiding my stare directly.

  “Thank you, Matthew. I will let you know as soon as I find out. Meanwhile, don’t contact me, I will reach out to you, when it’s…safe.” I reached up and stroked the side of his face with my hand a few times slowly. He looked broken. His eyes cast down, as usual, only this time, out of the true pain I had caused him. It was heart wrenching to leave him that way, but I knew I wouldn’t if I didn’t do it right then. I opened the car door and let myself out, walking around to the other side where, fortunately my purse still lay on its side where I dropped it. Picking it up slowly, I looked at Matthew’s profile through the dark, tinted windows. I sighed out loud as I turned and walked away, leaving him to his tortured thoughts. My heart falling to the floor as I did so.

  By the time I reached my apartment, tears had done away with any trace of makeup I had so carefully applied earlier. I let myself in and sank into the overstuffed couch in the living area. Drawing in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, a dull ache settled in my chest as I pictured Matthew sitting there behind the glass screen of his BMW. His heart was in my hand as I had torn it from his chest and thrown it to the asphalt in the parking lot and stomped on it until it stopped beating.

  My phone ringing tore me from my anguishing thoughts. I picked it up from the side pocket of my purse and turned it over. Mistress Liliana , the screen announced my caller. Finger
hovering over the dismiss button, I thought better of it and switched to the green answer button instead. Pressing the button, I touched the phone to my ear.

  “Goddess, is that you? Are you there?” Her voice came through the receiver, almost too loud to bear. Each syllable pounding in my ears.

  “Yes, I am,” I answered her finally. She breathed audibly, a sign of her obvious relief.

  “I was hoping you would answer. No one has heard from or seen you in some time, we were all getting a bit concerned,” a tone of trepidation mixed with slight amusement came across, almost grating on my nerves.

  “I know, Liliana, I am sorry. Listen, I’ll make it up to you Saturday at the masquerade. I have been playing around with a new implement of destruction,” I smiled, hoping the tone would carry through to the other side of the conversation .

  “Ooooooh, wonderful,” I pictured her clapping her hands together repeatedly and jumping up and down, as always. The giddy, school girl routine grated on my nerves sometimes, but I was getting used to it. “Hey listen, let’s do lunch before. My treat,” she offered me cheerfully. I regrettably agreed and bid her farewell before hanging up.

  I finally pulled myself up from the couch and dragged myself to my bedroom, collapsing in the center of the mattress face down. Balling the comforter up, I screamed loudly into its bulk as long as I could, muffling my voice considerably so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. I turned over and stared at the ceiling. My world had suddenly become so unbearably complicated, I was determined to distract myself. If going to the Red Velvet Room this weekend was what it took, so be it. I had great faith in the ability of my friends there to distract me from the nightmare my life had become.

  -8-

  A few days passed. I pretty much didn’t move from my bedroom. Devastated by my current circumstances. You made your bed, young lady. My mother’s voice intruded into the middle of my pity party. She was right, of course, as always. I made a mental note to call her soon. If anyone could save me from my self-made tragedy, she could. I would hear about it forever, but she would be more than happy to help! The image of her standing slightly over me in her heels, looking into my eyes and sealing my doom flashed into my mind. It was a little amusing. A little frightening. I shook my head and decided I would try to rejoin the land of the living.

  But first, my phone! Since Gordon had virtually cut me off from all forms of contact. I lived and breathed by my cell phone. I fumbled through the blankets before finding it among the folds of thick fabric. Flipping it over, I of course saw the flashing light indicating a notification. I touched the screen in a flash and pressed the button to reveal two text messages waiting my reply. One was from Matthew. My finger hovered over the message before passing it by in favor of the other. Leaving it unread. The other message was from Mistress Liliana. I quickly pressed it to reveal the contents.

  * * *

  Goddess Leila,

  Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow afternoon? We could discuss the coming events and do some light shopping. Let me know.

  Mistress Liliana

  * * *

  So much for going to visit my mother. I would much rather be in the company of like-minded individuals. I immediately began to type my response.

  * * *

  Mistress,

  I would be glad to join you tomorrow. If you would, pick me up at my apartment at 2:00. I will be ready and waiting.

  Goddess

  * * *

  She replied back almost right away, agreeing to my proposed plan. She told me to “wear comfortable shoes,” and I immediately regretted my decision. I was never one to pray to the consumer gods, and had just agreed to do so. On the other hand, I could use the company and I could definitely use a break from my new source of inner angst. I wanted a day away, I needed it. I would sweep all of my problems under the rug for the moment, and deal with them another time. Inside, I was dreading the whole thing.

  Instead of putting it off, because I knew I would, I decided to call my mother, immediately. Maybe she could fit me into her busy schedule this afternoon. I could just get it out of the way. End the pain quickly, like ripping off a bandage. Searching through my contacts, I found her and pressed the button, opening her profile, the “call” button in green across the top. My finger hitched a little before landing its mark. I pressed the phone to my ear and took a deep breath.

  It rang several times. I was convinced she wasn’t going to answer and almost hung up before I heard the familiar, faint click that my call had made its connection.

  “Hello, Leila? Is everything alright?” The first things out of her mouth were of course, questions that demanded an immediate answer. I could almost picture her glaring at me through the phone, her skin bright red through layers of makeup. She was still as pale as I was despite her numerous attempts to disguise it.

  “Yes, Mother, I am fine,” I could hear her sigh through the phone. An audible signal she was truly relieved. I could only blame myself for that. It wasn’t my habit to keep in touch with her, and definitely not by phone. Her concern was apparent in her voice. Part of me wanted to maintain the idle chit-chat. Keep up the disguise. Nothing’s wrong.

  “You don’t call me Leila,” her voice was clipped, “something is not quite right. Are you being completely forthright with me?” She paused, and waited patiently for my response.

  I wanted to break down right them, crying to Mommy. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. My emotions taking a roller coaster ride from my heart down into my stomach. I tried to concentrate on my breathing quickly, taking a few seconds to collect my thoughts before speaking.

  1…2…3…

  “I was thinking I could come over and see you this afternoon. If you’re not busy, that is.” I stopped speaking suddenly. Not suspicious at all Leia! My mind mocked me. Echoing through my head before I stuffed the inner laughter back down again.

  “Hmmm,” she started slowly, a predictably suspicious tone to her words, “well, I am actually free this afternoon. I suppose it would be good to see you again. Even if it is for,” she paused a moment. I heard her breathe out loudly before continuing. The panic I was feeling earlier crept up from underneath, threatening to take control again.

  4…5…6…

  “What time were you thinking? 2:00 sounds good to me. We can have a late lunch. I will text you the passcode to the gate when we get off the call.” Nothing after that. She waited silently for my confirmation for the plan.

  “Yes, Mother, I will be there. I won’t be late,” I added that last part for good measure. And, to be honest, to be a smart ass. If she was going to accuse me of that my entire existence, I had decided long ago to, occasionally, fulfill that obligation.

  “Of course you won’t, dear. You know how I dislike tardiness. Good morning, Leila.” With that she disconnected the call. My mother wasn’t good with pleasantries. In fact, my mother was terrible at them.

  I closed my eyes, enjoying the temporary darkness. Comforting. Regrettably, I forced them open and realized I had to get on with business if I was going to be at my mother’s house by 2:00. I confirmed my fear by glancing at the time on my cell phone, still clutched in my hand. Tossing it onto my bed as I got up as quickly as I dared. My balance hadn’t been the best over the last several weeks. Sometimes I battled with vertigo, real dizziness like the world was spinning in all directions at once. I vaguely wondered if I had really hurt myself when I fell earlier that week. Dismissing the thought, I concentrated on the task at hand.

  As I readied myself for the dreaded visit with my mother, I tried to keep myself calm. Instead, I focused on picking out the perfect outfit. A form-fitting, suit with a lacy camisole underneath. High enough to cover “the goods,” she would say, but low enough to expose them when bending in a strategic way. Sometimes inadvertently. Sometimes absolutely purposeful.

  Neutral colors, of course. Tan with cream accents. I even remembered to match the undershirt to the color of the trim. My shoes absolutely comple
ted the ensemble. Tan peek-a-boo pumps with enough height to gain some respect but not too high as to intimidate. It was all a game with women, of course. Your place in the world was marked by your appearance. My mother taught me that all my life. It was what other people saw of you that made you who you were. Any psychologist could make the connection between that upbringing and my self-destructive nature. Textbook, really.

  In order to avoid my mother’s chastising stare, I finished the look by pulling my hair up off of my neck in a lazy, French twist, strands of crimson pulled down around both sides of my face, twisted into curls to frame my features delicately. I touched up my face with some natural eye shadow, brown eyeliner and brown mascara. Neutral lip color. Classy, professional. Not a huge man-manipulating slut at all! A cruel voice from my past pierced through my skull. I flashed in anger. Stuffed the voice back into the darkness. Where it belonged.

  By the time I finished polishing myself to perfection, I had burned off a lot of the time I had before I had to be on her door step. I cringed at the thought of her inevitable disappointing stare and quickly gathered my things before heading out the door. Before I left I checked my phone again for any sign of Gordon. Nothing. Disappointment again. I was beginning to think he would never speak to me again. The thought stabbed into my chest like white lightning. Unbearable as it was to think of, I couldn’t really blame him.

  Purse and keys in hand, I slipped out my door, locked it quickly and turned toward the stairs to the bottom floor. In my car, I gripped the steering wheel tightly. I breathed in slowly before letting my breath out between pursed lips. Preparing to go into the lionesses’ den was not an easy task. As my engine roared to life and I joined the others on the road, a million thoughts raced through my head. I had no idea what she would throw at me. My mother was famous for overreacting and I dreaded her response to my little…dilemma.