The apartment overlooked the river. The lights in the blocks opposite were sheathed in a gossamer-fine drizzle that slewed from the sky. The lights of the city gave the clouds an orange underglow, and seemed to dampen the usual sounds into a muffled silence. Contemplating the view made him relax too much – he became too serene and didn’t like the feeling at all. He should be more keyed up when she arrived.
He’d told her what to wear. She’d queried him about it – it had seemed to her an odd choice – and that was the point at which he’d switched off the telephone. It wasn’t for her to second-guess how the next lesson went.
The reception desk buzzed him, and he approved Sarah’s ascent to the fourteenth floor. It was actually the thirteenth floor up but, like all buildings, there was no floor 13 as such. He saw on the security camera as she walked to the elevator, that she was dressed as he’d required. He opened the door and left it ajar.
He was almost too impressed when she walked in. As instructed, she was wearing training shoes, low-slung combats, and a short white t-shirt that exposed her midriff. It seemed to suit her, despite the fact that he was sure she wouldn’t wear that kind of thing normally. Luke, ten years her senior, already dressed like an old man at the golf club, and Kyle was sure he’d regard this kind of outfit as “unsuitable” in some way. But, quite the opposite, it suited her fucking well. She looked stunning, and he had to make an effort not to show it. He watched her in the reflection from the window as she closed the door and stood, hands clasped in front of her, awaiting orders.
“You’re late Sarah. Don’t be late again.”
His voice was soft but the words carried weight. Sarah looked at her feet momentarily and apologised.
“Sorry Kyle. There was a hold-up on the train and….”
He held his hand up and she stopped instantly. It was strange how effective that was.
“I don’t want to hear it, do I? Did I say why are you late? Did I ask you for an unconvincing explanation of why? No, I didn’t. I just stated a fact. I gave you a time and you were late. Any reason why I shouldn’t just tell you to fuck off? Is there?”
Sarah glanced at her feet again.
“No Kyle. I’m sorry.”
“Take off your shoes and come over here.”
He leaned back against the sofa as she came over to him. That languid, liquid walk she had intrigued him. She seemed to flow across the surface, with an athletic symmetry to her movements, although he wasn’t aware that she had a sporting past. Perhaps it was just natural with her. She stood before him, those indigo eyes looking straight at his. He realised he’d underestimated her when he first met her. She wasn’t the simpering girlie figure he’d assumed her to be. There was a bit more steel in her than that. She was a bit sharper, a bit more together, than he’d first realised. But he hadn’t been wrong about the state of her marriage, or about her latent compliant streak, her need to be dominated. That was his innate gift, and it hadn’t failed.
As she got close to him he reached out a hand and slowly, carefully, moved her hair from the side of her face. In doing so, he gently caressed her cheek. The gentleness was a cruel hoax. As his hand slid through her hair, he suddenly grabbed a handful of it and squeezed. But he was oh-so-careful. He didn’t tug her head. He didn’t cause her head to move an inch. He just tightened the hair on her scalp, twisting it in his hand until her eyes widened. Then he leaned forward, put his other hand on her throat, and kissed her.
His kiss was hot, passionate and unexpected. It kicked off little fires inside her, the near-pain of his hair-pulling and the insistent urgency of his kiss. Their tongues clashed as she relished the fierceness and she felt badly wanted. She lifted her hand to enmesh it in his hair but he roughly slapped it way, pushing it back to her side. She got the message. She let her arms to hang limply at her flanks, and allowed herself to be kissed, and to be controlled once again. But this time was different to the first lesson. This was rougher, harsher without being painful, and somehow more mutual, despite his control. She could sense his passion this time in a way she couldn’t before, and it made her feel good – very good, in fact.
Kyle drew his head back and stared deeply and silently into her eyes. He just kept looking and looking. His focal point was beyond her eyes, inside her. He didn’t notice the flecks of brown in her eyes. He was looking deeper than that. She returned his stare and there they stood, one hundred feet above the river, for at least a minute.
At last, it seemed to Sarah that Kyle had gotten the answers he’d sought, though she couldn’t tell how. Maybe it was another test, to see if she’d remain silent. If so, she passed. Kyle let go of her hair, and a slick buzz raced across the top of her spine as her hair fell back against her skin. She realised how much her nerves were dancing, how her body was slightly arched towards him in expectation, and how keyed-up she was for tonight. It was a feeling that she’d pushed back down on the way over here but now, alone in the silent room, she could let it flow. That’s what this was all about for her, letting latent feelings flow unchecked.
Kyle reached around with his other hand, so that he now had two hands on her throat. His grip wasn’t tight, or uncomfortable. He could feel her pulse in his fingertips. She was agitated, excited, super-aware. He leaned in and past her, moving his mouth to her ear. Very quietly he whispered.
“Don’t move your legs until I say so.”
She was about to nod when he began to move towards the window, taking him with her. With an understanding that betrayed her need to be acquiescent, she let her legs go limp, and allowed herself to be dragged by the throat towards the glass. His grip was cleverly arranged so that she felt no pain, and could draw breath. It wasn’t a breath game. It was more subtle than that, more psychological than physical. Their eyes remained locked on each other. In four short steps they had reached the glass and she, like a limp rag doll, looked into his fierce eyes, awaiting the next instruction.
Kyle struggled to keep his breathing even. He was aware that part of his role was to always be in control of himself as well as her. Every action had to be deliberate, yet seeming to be instinctual and natural. As if this was his natural state of being, and her responses should be innate to her as well. But it wasn’t easy. She seemed to be more beautiful each time he got nearer. Some faces seemed to be made for smiling – they came alive, they broke easily into laughter – but Sarah’s seemed to be made for this kind of submissive subjugation. It added to her beauty, to be silent and controlled.