Binary

by Sarah Cole

  “I’m parked two blocks over. I can’t just leave my bike out there.”

  “Trust me you can.”

  “No, I can’t. It’s a fifty-thousand-dollar custom built motorcycle, Carter,” she argues.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” I say ushering her towards my car.

  “I don’t want a new one. Besides, I can buy my own damn bike. You can take me to the parking lot, but I’m getting my bike.”

  “Will you let me take you out to dinner?” I smile, opening the passenger door for her.

  “If it means, you’ll stop asking me questions, then yes,” she says climbing inside as I shut the door.

  “For now,” I concede.

  After dropping her off by her ride, I watch her mount the machine and try like hell to keep up as I follow her back to her home.

  She slows her pace when she enters a residential neighborhood and pulls up outside an updated traditional two-story home. It’s got a large bay window with heavy white trim and nearly black siding. It definitely isn’t the type of home I’d picture Anika in, but it makes me smile to see the softer side of her. The one that isn’t all hard edges and black leather – although, that side definitely holds allure.

  She pulls the motorcycle inside alongside her shiny M3. My woman likes her fast toys, I smile to myself. I get out of the car and begin heading her direction and she eyes me with uncertainty.

  “Home sweet home.” She shrugs looking up at it.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Sorry. I’m not used to having anyone over…ever. So, I apologize that it probably isn’t as clean as it should be.”

  “Not even your brother?”

  “No. He’s been in and out of rehab facilities since he was sixteen… so, he hasn’t been around much. He recently got engaged to a woman he met while travelling. He’s got his own thing going on.” She talks as I follow her up the back steps and I don’t say a word since this is the most she’s ever opened up and talked about herself ever. I don’t want her to stop.

  We enter into the laundry room that’s pretty basic as far as I can tell and she switches on the light to the open kitchen and living room area. This is exactly what I’d expect of Anika. Black stained floors, dark gray cabinets with antiqued brass hardware and antiqued mercury glass pendants above the peninsula with filament bulbs. The countertops are a smooth black leathered granite and I follow her into her living room that’s decorated in very much the same fashion.

  The walls are painted a dark pewter color and everything else is white and black. White couch, black pillows, white rug, black table. Everything is modern, but with touches of antique and gothic style here and there. If a home space could describe a person, Anika’s would perfectly. Dark and brooding.

  “Give me just a minute to clean up. Dress or pants?” she asks.

  “Dress.” I smile, imagining all the ways that will come in handy later.

  “Ok, then. Ten minutes.” She says, closing her bedroom door nearly all the way. I know that she left it open just wide enough to keep her eye on me. She doesn’t trust me yet, but she will.

  There are no photos anywhere, and nothing that really holds any personal significance. I browse the books on the well styled shelf. There’s a good mix of things from biographies and business books to romance novels, classics, and sci-fi. I wonder what’s upstairs if her bedroom is down here. It has me curious to see more of her and who she really is.

  As much as I’d love to snoop, I decide I need to let her trust me, and something tells me that Anika’s trust is difficult to gain but easy to lose. I sit on the couch that looks like it has never even been sat on, and wait patiently. I’m taking it as a sign that I found her tonight. She’s mine and I’m not giving her up. She doesn’t know it yet, and she’ll resist, but she will be. I’m going to work myself into her mind and her life so deep that there will be no one before or after me. Once I’m done with her there will only ever be me and my name on her lips like she’s praying for salvation and I’m her fucking God.

  A few minutes pass and I’ve already made up my mind. Tonight, we’re going to play. I don’t know how much she’s willing to give and take, but for the first time I don’t care. I’d take anything as long as it meant I was doing it with her.

  I hear a noise and she steps out of her room wearing black thigh high stiletto boots, a short, skintight black long-sleeved dress that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, and her hair is styled in loose waves that look windblown from her ride on the bike. She has redone her makeup. Her eyes are smudged dark, making them look even more inhuman, and her lips are glossed. The only thing I can picture right now is how good my dick would look sliding between those lips. She grabs a knee length black jacket with gold zippers from the closet and slides into it.

  “All set?” I ask, offering her my arm.

  “Yes, thank you for waiting.” She’s back to being her reserved self after a moment alone, and I’d give anything to pull her back out.

  ***

  I open the car door for her, and she climbs inside purposely flashing me her black panties before closing her legs with a devilish grin. I adjust myself before getting into the driver’s side and find her still smiling in the passenger’s seat. We make it all the way to the main road when she finally asks, “So, do you have any siblings?”

  “I’m sorry?” I question, confused as to where the question came from.

  “We were talking about my brother, and I was curious if you had any siblings yourself.”

  “One half-brother,” I state simply. I hate discussing Braxton. He was my best friend until Dad died and we learned the truth. Something changed inside him, or maybe he just showed me what was always hidden there. I don’t know, but I do know it hurt to have someone who stood beside me through thick and thin, even not knowing what was happening part of the time, turn on me and hate me for no reason other than jealousy.

  “Are you two not close?” she guesses.

  “We used to be, but life got in the way, and he blames me for things I have no control over. He was given the same set of rules I was, but he chose a different path.”

  “Hmm. People have a funny way of handling things.” Is all she says in response, leaving me to wonder if she’s talking about Braxton or herself.

  After that, the conversation turns to lighter topics like our favorite foods and movies, and travel. It never falters even as we enter the restaurant and are shown to our table.

  I’m surprised actually, by how much I just enjoy her company. This is the lightest I’ve ever seen her, and I find myself hypnotized by the sound of her voice and the smile she’s actually using tonight. The more I learn, the more I become addicted, and the more I crave. She’s highly intelligent – probably more than me or anyone that I’ve ever met for the record, she’s funny and her laugh is the best thing I think I’ve ever heard, and she’s extremely broken. She doesn’t let on, but you can see it if you know where to look. It’s in the way her body stiffens and her eyes harden every time the conversation ventures towards family or anything personal, the way that she seems overly cautious of everyone and everything, or even in the simple things like despite the smile on her face, she still doesn’t appear to be happy. Watching her and dissecting all of these vulnerabilities I ask myself, ‘how can you break someone who is already so beautifully broken?’ And for once I find myself wanting not to break a woman at all, but rather pick up all of the pieces and put them back together with myself inside.

  Anika:

  He watches me from across the table and I feel the tension building between us like we’re both in an old fashioned quick draw waiting for the other to make the first move. I’m on edge, but mainly because of how he found me. I was desperately holding onto any semblance of sanity when I heard him calling my name. He caught me off guard when he asked about the blood, and I used whatever I could to get him to change subjects. Now hopefully I can make him forget that encounter altogether.

  After sitting in silence
for a couple of minutes, he cracks. “I don’t know what’s wrong, and it won’t do me any good to ask, but I know I can turn this birthday around for you. Let me show you something that I think can help.” He stands, offering me his hand and I toss my napkin down. As I slide my hand into his, this feeling of warmth fills me. I’m content, just to hold his hand and enjoy the moment. I’m feeling off. I got what I wanted and did what needed to be done, but I still feel empty. The problem is, Carter seems to be the only thing that can fill me up.

  Carter tucks me into his car and straps me in, planting a soft kiss on my lips. The sweet, caring gestures are comforting, but in that comfort, there’s fear. I don’t want to sink to far, only to tear another hole in my already wounded soul when I have to say good bye. I’d say that it’s for his own good, but I’m selfish and the truth is any more heartache might finish off what little humanity I have left. I sit and think about how to handle this storm that’s brewing inside as we drive. Not a word is shared between us as I continue to stare out the window at the wet pavement as his hand rests on my bare thigh.

  The drive passes quickly as we both seem to be lost inside our own heads, and we come to a stop outside an unmarked black building with blacked out black glass windows. A valet immediately meets Carter at his door, taking his key fob. Carter helps me out and the doors open for us. We step into the dimly lit foyer and are greeted by a pretty blonde girl that looks like she is imitating a pin up model.

  “Mr. Linwood,” she purrs.

  “Good evening, Margo. Make sure you put me down for a room,” he says and she hands him a key and her eyes slide past him, and to me where they land on our interlaced fingers and her lips pinch in distaste.

  “I’ll need your guest’s name for the book,” she says, but this time her voice has cooled a few degrees.

  “Anika Borkova,” I say and spell it out for her since it is unusual.

  “You can mark her down as my permanent partner. Tell Ray to add it to my bill, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Yes sir,” she says, hitting a button and the glass panels behind her slide back into the walls revealing a luxurious bar and lounge area. The place drips with decadence and money as people sit around in small groups drinking and discussing business and social gossip, no doubt.

  Carter snags a couple glasses of champagne from a passing waitresses tray and hands me one, clinking his glass to mine.

  “To your birthday, pretty girl.” I smile and take a sip, eyeing the glass.

  Obsidian is scrawled across the crystal in gold foiling and I should have known. He takes my hand bypassing all of the patrons who eye us curiously, and leads us down one of the low-lit hallways off to the side. Like he’s done it a thousand times before, Carter pushes back a heavy velvet curtain revealing a keypad. He enters a combination and the doors part revealing a hidden lounge, but the activities behind these walls are far less mundane than the activities in the front lounge.

  I’ve heard rumors about Obsidian. I’m never sure what to believe and what to dismiss, but this is something else entirely. It’s dark and luxurious. It’s sin, taboo, heaven and hell and it’s all laid out before me like my own personal dark paradise. I can see it written all over Carter’s handsome face. He’s conflicted. He thinks that it will scare me off – that this isn’t the exact type of thing I’ve fantasized about. Little does he know, but he just gave me the keys to my kingdom.

  “You aren’t running,” he interrupts my thoughts, and I hear the hope in his voice.

  “I’m not,” I confirm, and I feel the wicked smile spread across my face.

  “You’ve done this before?” his head tilts towards the various scenes in front of us, and I fixate on the one right before me. The woman is suspended from straps hanging on the ceiling that are connected to the ropes that bind her entire body in various unnatural ways. Her face is purple as her partner continues to fuck her with his hands circling her neck. It’s fascinating.

  “Never,” I say on almost a whisper, answering his question.

  “But you’re into it?” he questions again with an almost hesitant smile.

  “Carter,” I say his name firmly and turn to face him completely so I can look him in the eye. Something I typically avoid, because it’s like he can see my soul, and all of the darkness it holds.

  “I want this. I’ve never done it, but it doesn’t mean that I haven’t fantasized about it and thought about it as I get myself off in bed at night. I want you to do this with me. I want you to dominate and violate me in obscene ways.” I motion towards the platform in front of us. “I want you to punish me, choke the ever-living shit out of me until I can’t breathe and then fuck me until I can’t even begin to see straight.”

  “You’ve got a dirty fucking mouth, Anika.” Grabbing the back of my neck, he pulls my mouth to meet his in a forceful, hungry kiss that almost hurts. “I love that, baby. God, you have no idea what I want to do to you. I’d sink into you right here and now.” He moans into my mouth before biting down on my bottom lip. His own darkness is showing and I revel it. I enjoy knowing that there’s someone out there to share in this tiny piece of my wickedness, even if I can’t keep him forever.

  “If I’m not mistaken, I think that’s allowed in this establishment.” I smirk.

  “Don’t tempt me, pretty girl. That will happen soon enough. I want people to see you and watch as I own your body. But not tonight. Tonight, is just for us. Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me down another hallway with heavy velvet curtains.

  Some of them are drawn completely on either side, but others are opened revealing smoked glass walls where you can see into the rooms behind them. They almost appear to be like bedrooms, but instead of typical furnishings, they are outfitted with beds, benches, ceiling beams and various attachments, and even human sized cages. Some of the rooms even have open bathrooms with tiled walls and floors with massive floor drains.

  “It’s for wet play,” Carter says, catching what I’m looking at. “Some people like to urinate, some just like oils and other liquids. Some even like blood or fake blood.” He shrugs. “They like to accommodate all fantasies and fetishes here.”

  “I’m gathering.” My eyes travel to the next room where there’s a group of six or more in a tangle of limbs writhing together as one on a massive bed of sorts.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Carter warns mischievously. “I’m not sharing you.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry. I don’t even like that many people.” I motion to the group and he laughs pulling me along. A few doors down we come to a stop and Carter finds an ornate golden key on his keyring and fits it into the lock of one of the doors.

  Inside the lights are low, but I can see the outline of the bed situated in the middle. Carter hits a button on the wall, bringing up the lights enough that I can make out the details. The walls are covered in a deep emerald wallpaper that almost shimmers under the lighting and the bed is covered in a black satin.

  “I love it here,” I breathe, running my hand over the leather bedframe that’s studded with antique brass trim.

  “It reminds me of you.” Carter smiles that panty dropping smile he’s perfected as he begins slipping out of his jacket.

  “Tell me what to do.” I look at him, and that predatory look is back as he eyes me.

  “In here – with me, I want you to forget. Let go of everything, and let me have it. Put it on me, let me take it from you and give you back that pain you hold inside yourself in a way you like. Let me control you and your pleasure.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that. It’s a lot to give up,” I respond, not wanting to meet his gaze.

  He does it for me as he takes my face in his hands. “You can, and you will, Anika.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Now take of your clothes,” he orders, and a zing of excitement shoots through me at his low, seductive tone. Its laced with authority, but underneath it I can still hear the Carter I know.

  “M
ay I ask a question?”

  “You may,” he replies stepping closer.

  “Are you a serious dominant? Because I can’t give you complete and total control of my life.”

  “Only in the bedroom, my sweet, beautiful girl,” he answers and I feel my eyebrows pull together, but I don’t have to wait long before he elaborates. “I like control in all forms. That’s no secret, but I don’t want to control every aspect of a woman’s life. I just want to control her pleasure and her pain. There’s something so raw and beautiful in the give and take. Something so fascinating about watching a woman reach her breaking point. That’s the point when she realizes she is absolutely helpless to the pain or the pleasure, and the only thing she can do is let it consume her, digest her and rebuild her from the inside out.”

  “Good, because I want that. I want you inside me metaphorically and physically. I deserve to be punished, but I refuse to give up all control. I can’t. There are too many pieces in play. But in here? With you? I trust you to take care of me and give me what I need and deserve. I’m not scared.”

  He stalks towards me, closing the distance and I can already feel my body responding to the desire that is near crippling. I know I’m attractive. My looks are partly how I’ve managed to accomplish the things I have. No one expects the pretty girl to be the one that will slit your throat and rejoice in your pooling blood. But the way Carter looks at me is different. He looks at me the way I want to look at myself – seeing only the beautiful and the good parts. He doesn’t know the monsters that live inside my head, or the things I need to do in order to feed them.

  I stand here waiting for him to close the distance and take what he’s already claimed as his. The thought of being owned completely by Carter is more than appealing to me, but I’m also smart enough to know that it can never happen. I’ve already started compartmentalizing my feelings. This is all we will ever be together – I’ve already decided. What we have will be reduced to two people satiating this carnal need for pain, punishment, pleasure and raw uninhibited fucking.