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      "body": "![image](https://img.esteem.ws/li2cvpf8yh.jpg)\n*stock photo*\n\n\"What happened to your watch?\"\n\nShe took his wrist and pulled it toward her with her right hand, pointing to his timepiece's customary location. The contrast between the dark tan forearm and the pale silhouette was so sharp, it bordered on cartoonish. In lieu of a response, he wore a look of surprise and stared into her eyes. Following the nonverbal theme, she darted her return gaze from his eyes to his wrist and back, while tapping lightly on the lighter skin of his forearm. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.\n\nHe glanced down and gasped, though whether it was playfully or if it was a symptom of another break with reality, she couldn't tell.\n\n\"What happened to my Bulova!?\"\n\n\"That's what I just said!\" She unintentionally tightened her grip on his wrist and shook it slightly in mild exasperation. ...So much like a mother, questioning her son about stains on his Sunday's finest.\n\nTruth be told, she hated that goddamn watch and was glad to be rid of it - if only temporarily. It was given to him as a gift by his ex-wife, a ridiculously frivolous item that she'd purchased thanks to a loan that she'd taken out in His name. Having never paid a cent on it, the loan defaulted, and the responsibility to repay (including its criminally high interest rates and fees) fell to Him. Nevertheless, He valued the timepiece higher than any other material possession and referred to it exclusively as *My Bulova*.\n\nThe fact that it was missing was confounding. \n\nThe fact that he was clearly pretending not to notice..\n\n..was suspicious.\n\n\"We have to look for it!\" He exclaimed. \n\nHer suspicious estimation of the situation dissolved. She felt a tinge of panic rising in her chest but forced it back down. He was about to flip his shit. The coming situation would require her steadiness. She maintained her composure and attempted to soothe him. Before she could make a move, however, his hands clapped onto her face with such speed that it startled her out of mom-mode. \n\nHis powerful hands controlled Her skull with absolute authority. She could feel the heat from his palms on her cheeks and jawline. The tips of his middle fingers  nearly met back at her ponytail. The other fingers gripped her head like lines of longitude, from his pinkie fingers at the base to his indexes on her crown. His thumbs framed her vision, creating a tunnel through which she could only see his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His elbows were tucked in tight between their chests, and acted as a pivot as he pulled her in closely. When he spoke, it was with the shell-shocked quiet intensity of a warrior trapped behind enemy lines - quickly and concisely issuing what might be his final orders.\n\n\"You. Go look for it in the shop. I'll check the bedroom. Meet back here in five.\"\n\nHe looked at the perfectly circular tan line on his wrist to confirm the time and let out a quick scream of terror. It might have been hilarious in a movie...to Her, it was equal parts frightening and funny. She didn't know whether to help or laugh, so she remained frozen. \n\nHe dropped his hands and took a long cleansing breath. She took her cue and opened her mouth to speak but he held up one finger and her mouth snapped shut. She was aware of an emptiness as the heat from his hand vanished, replaced by a perfectly timed breeze of chilly November air.\n\nBrian pointed to himself. \n\n\"Bedroom.\"\n\nThen, to her. \n\n\"Shop.\"\n\nShe stomped off, away from the rear of the house, across the back yard and to the 12'x12' tool shed in which He created all of his masterpieces and stored all his tools. She grumbled internally at having to search the sanctuary she knew almost nothing about. If anything, He should be searching the shop while she searched the bedroom!\n\nStupid God damn fucking watch, she thought to herself. She despised catch twenty-two situations nearly as much as she despised the item that had stuffed her into one. On the one hand, she wished the stupid ex-hooker heirloom would just stay gone forever. On the other hand, she didn't know how adversely this was going to affect her already unstable beau, so finding it was a necessity. \n\nFuck.\n\nShe pulled hard at the heavy, stubborn security door. The door pulled back, thanks to gravity and un-level construction. She managed to swing it out and pushed on the makeshift 2x4 that slid to lock the door open.\n\nWhat the fuck?\n\nAll of Brian's tools were gone. From the lawnmower to the wrenches, not a piece of hardware was in sight. The only visible items in the room were a recliner, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling. Presumably, it was for protecting equipment from dust and flying debris while he used his other tools. \n\nHer heart began to sink.\n\nHis glassblowing equipment had vanished as well...\n\nHer heart dropped to the floor.\n\nSomebody must have stripped the shop clean under the cover of night! Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She could feel her rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears. This could not have come at a more innoportune time. She wanted to cry. She had no idea how to break this news to her love. She had no idea how this news would be received. \n\nBut it would not be pretty.\n\nJust before the tears welling in her eyes began to fall, the door slammed shut behind her. The room filled with an inky blackness, punctuated harshly by a thunderous metallic thud that echoed through the void.\n\nShe spun around, ready to charge toward what she assumed was the door when she heard a teensy little\n\nc-c-c-Click!\n\nA single, dim yellow light bulb ignited above her. In an instant, her vision returned and her lover appeared out of the blackness. \n\nHe was dressed to the nines: Striped navy suit, color coordinated pocket square and power tie, flawlessly polished Florsheims. His face was freshly shaven. Before she could inquire about the speed of this wardrobe change, she detected a very light, delicious fragrance that had been sent her way courtesy of the security door. Soap. Pomade. Fabric softener. Toothpaste. He wore a menagerie of simple scents - nothing exotic, nothing powerful - but the effect created by the combined efforts of several innocuous fragrances seized control of her olfactory senses. \n\nShe felt drunk. In the span of only minutes, she had felt nearly every powerful emotion she could name. She had all but forgotten where she was. Motionless, speechless, stunned, she made no effort to reclaim control of the situation.\n\n\"If I may?\" He said, softly. He held out his hands, palms upward. Involuntarily, she placed her hands on top of them. He lifted them to his lips and kissed her knuckles.\n\nShe stared, in puzzled silence.\n\nHe lowered their still held hands and took a step forward, kissing her softly on the lips. Again, she opened her mouth to speak.\n\nBefore she could utter a word, she noticed a coldness on her wrists and looked down in time to see that he'd used sleight of hand to secretly bind her in handcuffs!\n\n\"I-!\"\n\nSzzziiip!\n\nHe pulled on a rope she hadn't noticed before. Her wrists launched toward the ceiling without consulting her. Investigating the cause, she observed a pulley system on the ceiling. When she returned her eyes to him, he was fastening his end of the nylon braid to a hard-mounted metal plate on the wall.\n\n\"What the fffmmmfmfmf,\" she began, stifled by the corded leather bite, which he placed in her open mouth.\n\n\"Shhhh,\" he cooed at her as he secured her new gag with a knot behind her head. He held her chin in his hand. \"Don't speak. Feel.\"\n\nThis is it. I'm gonna get murdered, She thought, as she adapted to breathing around the uninvited guest that took shelter between her teeth. Her heart was fucking RACING. \n\nHe grabbed her elbow and gently assisted her in spinning around to face the arbitrary shower curtain she'd seen upon arrival. He reached up and grabbed a fistful of curtain near where it met the bar, and slung it hard to the right. She attempted to identify what lay behind it, but his body obstructed her vision. He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and set it down. Music began playing softly in amazing surround sound throughout the workshop. Light Me Up, by Birdy filled the air. \n\nShe glanced around.\n\nWhen did he install a sound system???\n\nHer attention snapped back to her lover (and now captor) when he turned on his heel to face her once again. He had a small chain in his hands which he tossed over His shoulders the way a doctor would a stethoscope. Casually, he approached her.\n\n\"My gift to you,\" he said enigmatically. \n\n\"What gift?\" She tried to ask back...it came out in all vowels.\n\nHe grabbed her flannel pajama top at center mass and wrenched it open with perfect control. Powerful enough to rocket every button across the room. Fast enough to be shocking. Gently enough to cause no harm.\n\nThe shop had heat, and it was insulated from the autumn chill outside, but that didn't entirely mitigate the sudden rush of cool air on her now exposed breasts.\n\nShe felt like her nipples could cut glass.\n\nShe realized she was now panting, as if she'd climbed 30 flights of stairs. Her heart continued battering her rib cage beneath her perfect tits. Her torso was extended and back arched, the side effects of her arrested wrists as they hung high above her.\n\nShe wanted to cry. Not out of sadness, but from overwhelming. She was scared. \n\nShe was excited.\n\nHe tugged on the chain dangling across his chest on one end, which whipped the other end around his back.  Skillfully, he caught the other end as it completed its arc and she noticed rubber-tipped clamps at each end.\n\nShe'd intended to argue the final destination of those clamps, but she'd accumulated a mouthful of spit and could not speak through it. She managed to swallow it at the exact moment that the clamps found their new home - gripping her rock hard nipples.\n\nShe winced, and her knees buckled involuntarily. The only thing that prevented her from collapsing to the floor in agonizing ecstasy were her restraints, which allowed her to dangle. It wasn't long before she chose standing as a less painful alternative once again.\n\nHe smiled big.\n\nShe almost hated him.\n\nAll she wanted to do was form a sentence, calling him a bastard or a sadist but each time her brain began the process, the heavy chain would swing and tug on her breasts. The resulting effect was a staggering inability to think of anything but the physical sensations she was enduring.\n\nEnjoying??\n\nShe felt the drawstring of her pajama bottoms cinch momentarily, as He tugged at one end of the bow knot that held them aloft. The thin, plaid pants surrendered to his touch, much like her knees had wanted to do only moments ago. With no shackled wrists to restrain them from collapsing, however, they plunged to the floor, resting in a crumpled heap around her ankles.\n\nShe immediately regretted not wearing panties under her PJs.\n\nHe paused to admire his prize. Then, He turned to the table slowly. If he was as excited and dazed as she, he made no sign of it. \n\nIn the silent reprieve that occurred, she became mildly self-aware. The awareness did not come quickly, however. It crept back slowly. A string of drool she'd neglected to suck back and swallow made its way past her teeth, as well as the leather bite which held her mouth ajar. With gravity as its accomplice, the string escaped down her chin and leapt toward freedom, landing on her right breast. It left a beautiful shimmering trail as it traced her ample silhouette, stretched toward the floor of the shop, and fell toward freedom.\n\nThe soft sound of music was a susurrus compared to the deafening hiss of her sucking back the remaining saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, and the tiny slap made by a single drop of spit as it smacked the ground.\n\nWithout turning around, he froze for an instant with perked ears, and she knew that he knew what had occurred at his six.\n\nShe was instantly aware.\n\nRegret for her carelessness, for allowing herself to drool..\n\nThe sensation of the air as it cooled the trail from her collarbone downward..\n\nHer exposed form, suspended from the ceiling..every inch of flesh on her body became hyper-aware..\n\nShe could hear things she'd never been able to perceive before this moment..\n\nAn extension cord hit the floor and he spun around before she could complete her journey back to rational thought. She was still drunk on the situation at hand, and until he released her, she was putty in his.\n\nA flood of emotions smashed against her struggling grip on reality like a wave..uncertainty, worry, curiosity, anticipation. She adjusted her footing involuntarily and the motion rocked the heavy chain that bridged the clamps. Another wave smashed the weakening defenses of her mind.\n\nOne of his hands was behind his back, she noticed. The extension cord looked like a tail.. She didn't know what he was concealing but clearly batteries were not enough to power it. With his free hand, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. The chain pressed between them with their familiar sting, though the sting was not the main event of sensations. After being naked and untouched for full minutes - ages, it felt- the unfamiliar fabric of his suit caressed against her skin and her mind exploded, reeling from the experience.\n\nShe felt His rough hands and soft cuffs on her Tailbone. \n\nThen, His lapel and undershirt gracing her breasts, followed by her tummy as he drank her in deeper. \n\nFinally, her hip bones smashing against his slacks, and her pajamas limply tickling her ankles. \n\nHer entire body enjoyed being massaged in unison by this fucking euphoric cloth, while her nips and wrists protested their abuse and her loins screamed in hunger.\n\nAt the height of the ride, he bent down and dug his teeth into her neck. He didn't just nip the outside flesh. He sucked her in and bore down firmly around the muscle, sending shocks throughout her entire frame. She saw stars as tendons were plucked like guitar strings, eliciting involuntary spasms from her feet. She not only allowed him to play her, she welcomed it, dimly aware of the pivotal surrender as it occurred.\n\nThen, it was over.\n\nHe pushed her back gently, back into the cold. Her body begged to be wrapped again in his embrace as he reached to the table and produced a massive device, coating the tip with a clear liquid from a pump bottle. \n\nFor a moment she wondered if he'd planned to place it inside her. She gulped at the thought...half opposed, half willing to do anything he bade. It looked like a miniature baseball bat. It had a soft round bulb at the end, that resembled a traditional light bulb. As it clicked on and began its loud, steady hum, she realized what it most likely for. He slathered the excess liquid against her eager box, and again the waves crashed behind her eyes.\n\nHe looked directly into her dazzling sapphires and slipped that same heavy hand around her throat. Her body responded for her, arching her head back, anxious to give him as much throat as he desired. He gripped it firmly and pulled her close, towering over her and still staring deeply into her soul. \n\nThen it happened.\n\nFuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!!\n\nShe roared through the leather gag, and he growled back, digging the large vibrating bulb against her vagina.\n\nHer thoughts were HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Her voice, however, was a mangled, gutteral sound: A language she'd never before spoken, that came from deep within her ribs.\n\nThe goddamn fucking waves!\n\nThe waves!\n\nThey flowed endlessly, in breakneck cadence, rushing and rushing again, beating the shit out of her psyche. She could barely stand; instead, she held herself up by holding on to her chains for dear life, almost free-hanging, as he played with his toy and his toy dominated her reality.\n\nThen, again, it stopped.\n\nHis hand left her neck, and gently slapped her swollen box twice. She jerked at the sharp snap, and panted hard through the gag. Drool now ran freely from the sides of her mouth, soaking her chin, neck and chest. The animal, visceral part of her brain reveled in it, and if she had free hands, she would have positively bathed herself in her own saliva.\n\nHe placed four fingers together and cupped her precious flower. A small amount of pressure, and the simple separation of the two middle fingers, served to pull back her labia and expose every tender juicy part of her hidden wonder to the outside world. Then he struck again.\n\nZzzzzzzzzzz!\n\nThis time, She could feel it in her teeth. He wasn't so rough this go-round, instead focusing specifically on her throbbing clitoris. Roughness be damned, however. The gentle touch to her fully exposed button was twice the rush of the first.  He danced the device in soft circles, adding and subtracting subtle hints of pressure. \n\nHe's painting a fucking masterpiece with my pussy, thought some part of her from far back in her consciousness. The thought was cut off, however, when he plunged two fingers deep inside of her and restarted the original, more ferocious onslaught.\n\nFuuuuuuuuuck!\n\nHer entire body convulsed, and froze, at the same time. Her toes didn't just curl, they achieved rigor mortis! Each toe was in business for itself! Her eyes wanted to roll back into her head, and open wide, and slam shut simultaneously. Not only was the entire fucking world in full blown apocalypse, something behind it, more powerful, was building as well.\n\nHe massaged her internally, occasionally pausing to hold pressure on a certain spot he'd discovered inside that she'd never before learned she'd had. Then he released the pressure, massaged, and held again. All while dancing with her extremely eager button. Over and over again.  As the music reached the crescendo, so did he. \n\nHe dropped to his knees.\n\nHe held and worked her G spot, and pulled her soaking wet womanhood into his mouth.\n\nShe was about to-\n\nWhen all of a sudden, he shoved the toy against her back door, sending brand new holy fucking shit shockwaves throughout her entire being! The shove, and the reflexive thrust away from it, jammed her box harder into his hungry mouth and she came...\n\nAnd she came and she came..\n\nShe thought it would never fucking end. Was it 3 successive orgasms? Or an insanely drawn out one?\n\nShe just\n\nKept\n\nComing.\n\nShe wanted to cry. She wanted to crash. But he wouldn't let her. Not until she was finished.\n\nWhen it was over, she felt as if all the life had been sucked out of her. Echoes and aftershocks pulsed throughout her frame.\n\nHe lifted her lightly soiled pajamas from the floor as she struggled to catch her breath. He tied a nimble knot, cinched her waistband, and fastened her a bow. Then, he reached up, keyless, and unfastened her cuffs. She was astonished to find that they didn't require a key, most likely a child's replica. But she lacked the mental faculties to fashion a statement about them. She merely stood there, still bare chested and astonished, as she rubbed her wrists.\n\nHe picked her up gently, and sat on the recliner. She remained on his lap for a long time, silent, as he stroked her hair and rocked gently.\n\nIt felt like ages before she spoke again. When she did, the topic was not what he'd expected. \n\n\"Wait- so what THE FUCK happened to your watch?? It was all a trick??\"\n\n\"Ta-daa!\" He said in jest, gesturing toward the carnage he'd manifested around the room.\n\n\"Seriously. Spill it.\"\n\n\"I sold it.\"\n\n\"You sold it!?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"You think this was cheap?\" He asked, gesturing once again to the room.\n\n\"Wait, hold up. Are you telling me, that you sold your Bulova to accessorize a ...a sex dungeon?\"\n\nHe laughed out loud. \"Of course not! I don't expect you to submit to me and call me Daddy or come out here and do this again. This was just a one-time idea I had that I wanted to see through. And I wanted it to be with you.\" Then he added with a wink, \"you were remarkable, by the way.\"\n\n\"So you....I don't get it,\" she stammered. Clearly she was getting frustrated. \n\n\"Do you know why I loved that watch?\" He asked. \"Because I love watches. But I'd never go out and spend that kind of money on something so frivolous. Nor will I ask anyone else to buy me a watch. They have to want to give it to me, as a gift. And somebody, once, decided I was fucking worth that. And they investigated what I like about watches. And they looked up reviews. And they picked the best one.\"\n\nShe donned an unmistakeably sour expression.\n\n\"Fact is, the person who picked it, yes, they're a piece of shit. And I don't give a fuck about them anymore. I love YOU. I saw how much my love for My Bulova bothered you, and when this idea struck me, I went all-in. This, this is my gift. To you.\"\n\nShe did not miss the sentiment but refused to give in.\n\n\"...a sex dungeon?\"\n\n\"Well, on top of all this awesome STUFF, you can now say that I sold my most cherished memento from my marriage, to give you ONE orgasm.\" He smiled at his own joke.\n\nInternally, she bawked at the idea of it being one orgasm.\n\n\"I cannot WAIT to use that!\" She exclaimed.\n\n\"I bet you can't, you evil brat!\"\n\n\"So, what, you just moved all your glass stuff outside or something?\"\n\n\"No, I sold that too.\"\n\n\"WHAT!?!?\"",
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      "body": "@@ -1,12 +1,60 @@\n+!%5Bimage%5D(https://img.esteem.ws/135677s6j1.jpg)%0A%0A\n The sound of",
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      "body": "The sound of keys struggling to take a seat within their deadbolt home precipitated a solid thump.  Then came another, that thrust open a heavy exterior door. The world beyond that door was drenched in a dull yellow fog, courtesy of a dozen solar stake-lights that parenthesized a natural stone path...the final, freshly mowed gap between Hell and Home. The silhouette of a Monster stood against the supernatural backdrop, in a frame of pitch-black - through which, it barely fit. The beast lumbered through the opening, scraping the moulding on either side, then extended a shadowy tentacle to the wall that stood opposite the swing of the door. \n\nClick. \n\nThe monster and its smoky yellow halo were transformed by a soft white illumination that chased away the blackness. A charming foyer materialized from of the nothingness, replacing and dwarfing the yellow fog. The part of the monster was taken on by its understudy: a disheveled, yet stunningly attractive woman. \n\nWhat a fucking week, She thought to Herself as she closed the front door behind her. She neglected to lock or latch the door, as was her custom. An attaché case was clutched in one hand and She wore a duffel over her shoulder on the same side. Both a knapsack and pocket-book were draped over her other shoulder. Behind her, She dragged a rolling suitcase.\n\nOne of the wheels had been damaged somewhere between the ticket counter and baggage claim of her return flight, which had afforded her a temporary distraction from overwhelming occupational anxiety -by inviting her to rename it. While waiting for her taxi, she'd begun with poor excuses for insult, like \"wonky suitboot.\" As she probed the depths of her internal thesaurus, she'd emerged with such gems as \"wibbly-wobbly watchacallit\" and \"the beatnik boombox.\" ..The latter had inspired her to imagine a melody to go along with the suitcase's percussion as it rolled unevenly. She'd then made up a corny free-style rap to go along with it, and discovered the embarrassment of landing a cleverly insulting punchline about her 'luggage being thuggish' at the exact moment that a group of teenaged hipsters emerged through an automatic door to witness it.\n\nShe'd since changed its name to \"worthless piece of fuck-ass shitballs\".\n\nIt stuck. \n\nThe photo of the boys' incredulous laughter had been burned into her memory, instantaneously and permanently, and it floated to the surface of her consciousness for the hundredth time. Her face flushed. Hard.\n\"Ggggrrrrrrrrr!!!\" She half-growled, half-shrieked as quietly as she could. She shook her fists, which, holding bag straps, also shook everything else, and she stomped her stiletto heel into the hardwood floor. The action created a resonating click that echoed obnoxiously throughout the softly lit, silent hallway. Her maternal instincts kicked in, and she apologetically shushed at the photos on the walls. She stood perfectly still for a moment, making absolutely certain that her folly did not rouse the other members of the house. \n\n...\n\nYou May Proceed, said the voice in her head. \n\nShe then attempted to lob her keys into their designated bowl (that existed for no other purpose than to hold keys), which sat atop the antique desk (that existed for no other purpose than to hold that bowl). Unfortunately, the duffel-bag strap slipped from her shoulder and interfered with her shot. Violently. The keys missed their intended mark by over a foot, clattering and clanging: wall, bowl rim, desk, floor.\n\nAfter holding everything together for 5 days of work and travel, She dropped onto her bottom and allowed all of her belongings to swallow her up.\n\nDon't you dare cry, girl, she whispered through gritted teeth. She slipped off her stupid, uncomfortable shoes and tossed them carelessly.  \n\nThe rolling suitcase clearly cared nothing for her insults at the terminal earlier, and decided to take retribution on its own accord.\n\nWobble,\n\nWobble wonk wobble\n\nBONK. \n\nThe grip at the top of the telescopic handle knocked the crown of her skull, and while it posed no threat of death, sufficed to act as the cherry on top of a very long, very stressful week. She deserved every tear she was about to shed onto the hardwood.\n\nDespair became confusion as the light clicked off at no provocation of hers, and she looked up just in time to see a dimly lit, vertical line of black buttons resting on black fabric, descending downward. The buttons terminated at a black collar followed by a neck and beard. She wiped the recon tears before she allowed Him to see her this way. Despite the lack of photons within the visible spectrum, she felt exposed and vulnerable before him.\n\nHe sat in front of her in the darkness. \n\nHe stripped her of the straps that bound her to her belongings. Her coat followed suit.\n\nHe scooted close to her, their legs interlocking like puzzle pieces. \n\nHe placed one heavy hand on her spine, mid-way, and placed the other on her tailbone, scooping her bottom off of the floor and into his lap. \n\nShe felt like ice cream.\n\nAnd that made her laugh. \n\nAnd cry.\n\nSimultaneously.  \n\nIt felt weird, but she liked being weird. And He loved her weirdness. In this one little corner of her universe, She could truly be herself. At that moment, as she laugh-cried and vented and let him cheer her up wordlessly, life was perfect. \n\nNeither of them cared to break the embrace, and it was late. She fell asleep on top of him, and He, between his Love and a hardwood floor. The luggage and the trench coat she had shed, created what looked to be a relatively comfortable nest behind them. Unfortunately, neither of them had bothered to notice.",
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      "body": "![108315059.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmcWDAkj8KBMJtSPWewsXu61AK5HpJgxNrpL4q8sfJqQyk/108315059.jpg)\n\n\"I just, I don't understand why you're suicidal. It's a concept I can't grasp in the least and I'll never be able to help you if I don't know what's wrong,\" she said. Genuine concern washed over every word, though the tone came out as frustration that wasn't going to continue on much longer. She was just...tired. Attempting to comprehend something painful when that comprehension does not occur naturally has that effect on people.\n\nHer tone spoke louder than her words. He'd heard it a thousand times before, but never from Her.\n\nHe paused a moment to collect his thoughts. He opened his mouth and closed it twice, having found words to begin but not the *right* words. The inability to speak as eloquently as he could write or type had been the cause of much frustration in his life. So much gets lost in translation, between nuance and volume, vocabulary and accent and energy, that speaking had never been his strong suit.\n\nShe read his hesitation and as always, knew what to say and when to say it.\n\n\"What is it that can make you so sad that you'd want to end your life?\"\n\nHe knew what she'd done, just then. Obviously, She knew it wasn't something as simple as sadness. Though if she'd been more vague or more specific, He would have either gone on a tangent or given up explaining himself altogether. She always probed diplomatically, capable of using the words he needed to hear...the words that would actually get to the core of the issue, because she wanted to get to the core of the issue -something nobody else had felt the inclination to do.\n\n\"Sadness..is a symptom. Not a cause. Nothing I'd end my life over,\" he began. \"I just don't understand...\"\n\nHe had been staring at his lap so he turned to look at her puzzled yet patient face. Dazzling eyes like flawless sapphires stared intently into his generic browns, an exact parallel to the way he felt compared to Her. He held Her gaze, despite the impulse to look away. His entire life he'd felt uncomfortable looking people in the eye, as the eyes speak volumes. But sharing that secret communication with Her was worth the discomfort. \n\nGod dammit she's beautiful, he thought, though he said nothing. \n\nHe looked out at the view offered by Her apartment balcony. The sun would rise soon, and the inky night sky was warming up into royal blues. Speckled glitter shimmered from the nearby downtown area, where early morning commuters queued at stop lights while locals bustled quickly over crosswalks.\n\nHe gestured toward the people. \n\n\"I don't understand...them.\"\n\nThen with both arms in a grander motion, encompassing the sky and the moon down to the silhouette mesas in the distance, down further still to the hustle and flow of the local inhabitants, he gestured again. \n\n\"I don't understand this. I don't understand life. It doesn't make any fucking sense.\"\n\nHe drew a deep breath and exhaled, then He returned his gaze to Her. Ever-intuitive, she knew when not to speak. Her face showed only rapt attention, drinking in His words. He silently wished to assimilate that quality into his own personality. Simultaneously, He wondered if she'd blinked at all since he'd begun speaking.\n\n\"You know when you're dreaming, and it's really vivid and all the details are present that make it feel real? And if asked, you wouldn't be able to discern in that moment whether you were dreaming or awake?\"\n\nShe nodded and He continued.\n\n\"..but then something weird happens like a lizardman walks through the door and all of a sudden you snap awake and sit straight up in your bed, and the dream begins fading while you try to remember what the fuck you just experienced? That's what Life feels like to me. How it always has felt. Except I never wake up. Crazy shit keeps happening that I can't understand and I just want to wake up.\"\n\nHer gaze faltered for a moment of interrogative recollection while her brain searched for a similar personal experience with which she could sympathize. Her eyelashes fluttered and she bit her bottom lip. \n\nYou are so fucking beautiful, he thought. \n\nHer eyebrows pricked and her eyes widened, both almost imperceptibly (though of course He noticed) and those god-damn sapphires pierced Him once more.\n\n\"Go on,\" She suggested.\n\nLike every time before, The eye-lock staggered him a moment. And like every time before, He worried that She noticed.\n\n\"I don't know how,\" He lied.\n\n\"Yes you do,\" she countered.\n\nFuck. \n\nShe knows me too well.\n\n\"I can't tell you. You understand me like nobody ever has, and if I was to tell anyone, it would be you. But I can't bring myself to do it.\"\n\nHe looked defeated. She leaned onto him and put an arm over his shoulder. The physical contact between His build and Her feminine frame felt like heaven itself. He could feel His emptiness refilling. Better yet, he could feel that the act of refilling his emptiness was filling her as well, rather than draining Her. She was no longer frustrated with Him. If She was anybody else, He would have resented that. With Her, He enjoyed and encouraged Her methods of gentle manipulation.\n\nHer slender hand slid up his back, onto his neck and bristled as her palm pet the stubble on the back of his head. French-tip manicured fingernails gently clawed a pattern down to the base of His skull and she repeated the process, still silently observing Him.\n\nI love it when you pet me, He thought, with the blissful, unadulterated joy of an animal. Obviously she was just giving him physical reassurance, but he much preferred to see it His way. \n\nThe time was finally ripe for this, so after years of pining for Her, months of planning for Her, and a week of Self-restraint, He decided to lay it all on the table. Still cautiously, He spoke:\n\n\"I need to be able to speak freely, without fear that anything will be ruined when I do. Would you, for a moment, suffer me to talk to you... about you?\"\n\n        \"You have my word. Though to be clear, am I the reason you often feel suicidal??\"\n\nThe pain in her eyes, though she expertly concealed it, nearly suffocated the fire he was attempting to build.\n\n\"No, not directly. In much the same way sadness is not the reason.\"\n\n          \"...Am I a symptom?\"\n\nHer question held no accusatory implications. None that He could detect anyway. She was simply present in the conversation, and nonjudgemental. He almost hated her for being so Perfect. How was She even possible??\n\n\"I would not call you a symptom...or a cause, for that matter. You are not the problem. How do I phrase this?\"\n\nThe time had come. \n\n\"Bear with me and know that I tell you this so that you will understand what I am trying to convey. And it can only be accomplished through a dialogue. Just keep up and answer honestly and I believe by the end of the conversation you will have a deeper understanding of le'pelle du vide. This is not a rouse and I have no agenda. \"\n\n           \"I would never suspect you of having one,\" she said earnestly. \n\n\"How do you feel about me?\" He asked. \n\n\"You're my best friend,\" she said without hesitation, and followed it up with \"...How do you feel about me?\" Feigning as if she didn't know where this was heading. \n\n\"I Love You. With all my heart. You're my soulmate. I want to be with you and I always have. You're my everything.\"\n\nShe wore a weak, rueful smile and he continued. \n\n\"You don't want me, though. Not in that capacity. It's ok, I've come to terms with it. But I have to watch you struggle with men who are reptiles compared to me. You pick suitors who drain you and take from you and You always wish they had my qualities. You wish they were me. But they're not. Worse yet, you have me. But you don't want me. You want someone who is not me, but would treat you in the way that only I am  capable of treating you.\"\n\nShe remained silent. \n\n\"My biggest fear for the past few years has been this conversation. The one where I lay it on the line. Because it can only end 2 ways: 1) you deny any romantic interest and I wither back to my existence, worse than ever. 2) you give me a shot, and I have to watch you slowly realize you don't want to be with me, staying because you don't want to hurt me by leaving, and my Love for you becomes the reason you die inside. I never told you how I feel, because of that fear. You are not the cause or the symptom. I am. My feelings are. I am unable to reconcile such contradictions in my life and I don't want to live on this planet any longer.\"\n\n\"What if there was a third option?\" She squeaked out the words, clearly on the verge of bawling. That alone was enough to crush him, but his powers of perception picked up on so many more nuance emotions. All the way down to petty ones like feeling dumb for her voice breaking while she spoke. She leaned away slightly and began playing with the rings on her fingers as her hands lay in her lap. \"What would it be?\"\n\nHe looked her straight in her watering eyes, and held her hands where they lay. \"We live happily ever after. And it was worth the risk. Unfortunately, the risk of you never speaking to me again, coupled with the unlikelihood of a happily ever after, would never be a wise bet. So I either live a half-life, not knowing, or live in pain. I'd honestly rather just call it a day.\"\n\nHer tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chin quivered and she struggled for a voice. \n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" she cried softly, through the distorted sort of smile we wear while weeping.\n\n\"It's ok. I Love You even if I can't have you,\" he assured her. \"It just..it's another item in a long list of things that don't make any sense to me. You make me happier than anyone has ever made me. But you will never want be with me. And my brain cannot wrap around the dichotomy. The cruelty.\" \n\n\"Not your cruelty,\" he added, after the first issuance of the word forced her to double over and sob, sandwiching her palms between her face and knees. \"Life's cruelty.\"\n\nHe continued as she cried. There was no turning back, now:\n\n\"Nothing in life has ever made sense to me. I try and try and always fail. The people who want me, who say they love me, are the people who do the cruelest things to me. The vilest betrayers end up having the most of me. The best of friends to me are either a thousand miles away or unavailable almost all of the time. Or just not interested. I can't tell, though, because I'm usually the only one doing the  communicating.\n\n       But still, I reset and push on and try to keep going even though I don't want to. Hope drives me. Even though I've seen no evidence to warrant that hope. I don't want to live but I give it another chance. And it has been so bad for so long, that I worry there is a hell. And that I'm in it. Right now. Doomed to repeat it forever. And my only regret will be that I didn't hang myself sooner, to avoid the larger hardships I've endured.\"\n\nShe stopped sobbing and wiped off tears, smearing her makeup. She looked amazing, the Dark mask she'd randomly and unknowingly painted across her face made her look even more like a Goddess than before. \n\nYou are so goddamn beautiful, he thought.\n\nHe reached up to comb a rogue lock of her hair that had matted against her temple back over her ear and she recoiled from his touch. The center of his chest imploded but he pretended to be ok with it.\n\nHer understanding demeanor ripped to shreds, She lashed out.\"I am sorry that I don't feel that way about you. I love our relationship the way it is. I can't begin to picture a romantic life with you. You're a psychopath.\"\n\nHe was less hurt by that statement that she thought he'd be. After all, it wasn't as if he had been unaware of his own personality flaws. She continued.\n\n\"But I don't see, How you don't see, how killing yourself is the most selfish FUCKING THING you could POSSIBLY DO!\"\n\nHe responded softly.\n\n\"Truth is, it is selfish. People do think highly of me. People like me. And they would miss me. I love my children and for the longest time they have been my reason for living. I can't guarantee they'll be happier in the long run, maybe we learn to hate each other. Stranger things have happened. But I know for certain that having a father commit suicide cannot bode well for them, and I would never again be there to help them. So I stay. I have been selfless my entire life. I am selfless today, for the most part. And it is a massive slap in the face, that I would be remembered for ending a life I hate, rather than remembered for all the good I've done. Which only adds to the contradictions that make me wish it would end.\"\n\nShe paused and reflected on his words but held fast to her anger, pacing at this point, while he remained in front of the view of the skyline. At this point the sky had become a dark blue, striped lazily with purple and pink hues. The cityscape had become more visible. A bright golden strip split the two horizontally, as the sun peeked over the desert. \n\nAfter a moment, she stood upright, took a breath, and when she released it, her anger had vanished. Visibly, anyways. It occurred to him for the millionth time how similar she was to him. How perfectly paired they were. Just as he concealed emotions from even her, so too was she concealing them from him. If only she'd come to her fucking senses. \n\nNot a snowball's chance in hell, he thought.\n\n\"What about me?\" She demanded with the softness he'd always admired. She was incapable of acting as furiously as she wanted to. With others as well, but especially with him.\n\n\"What about you?\" He said, knowing his words would cut her, but hoping this conversation would lead where she'd forgotten, due to her emotional state. It worked like a charm. \n\n\"What about me!?\" She mocked. \"Why don't I have a say in this? Did you even try to be more than a friend? NOPE! Did you ever make the move and - (she growled a little and he fell even more in Love) - FUCKING grab me and tell me you wanted me!?\"\n\nHe stood up for the first time since they'd began their verbal journey and walked over to her. She took half a step back then regretted it and opted instead to stand her ground, defiantly. He stood toe to toe with her...the only thing between them were the feminine yet toned arms She had crossed under her breasts.\n\nYou're so goddamn beautiful, he thought.\n\n\"Search yourself for a moment, dove.  Remove this day from the equation. How would you have reacted to that?\"\n\nShe did as she was instructed. Her posture softened noticeably over the next fifteen seconds while she tried her best to hang onto anger, and she dropped back onto her seat on the sofa.\n\n\"I would have said...no,\" She confessed.\n\nHis chest felt the puncture from her words again, yet he managed to keep his composure while wishing at the same time that she would just use a fucking knife instead. \n\n\"I know. And....I know...\" His words were beginning to fail him.\n\n\"I don't know why I don't want you...I'm sorry.\" She began to sob again, and he could see the interior turmoil he had wrought that was causing her to wince in an attempt to chase the reality away. \"You are my knight in shining armor. My therapist. My mentor. My best friend. But I don't think I will ever want you or Love You the way you want me to. Why are we like this!? Why is the world this way? Why? Why do we hurt the people we love and kiss asses of people we can't fucking stand!? It..it doesn't make any sense! If this is all there is to Life then what's the FUCKING POINT!?\"\n\nShe gasped at her own words and gave way to another powerful session of unadulterated sobbing.\n\n\"I'm sorry, dove.\" \n\nHis apology was sincere. He never wanted her to understand. He never wanted her to know. And now, She did. He wished he could take it all back. He wished he'd never written the apologetic goodbye letter that had led to this conversation when she discovered it prematurely. He wished he'd just done it privately. She might have gone a lifetime wondering why. Instead, she would go a lifetime knowing. Another lose/lose scenario for the books. \n\n\"Just go,\" She commanded without looking up. \"Just get. The fuck. Out. I need to be alone for a little while, ok?\"\n\nHonestly, it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for but he supposed it was as good as any. He turned and silently walked to the door, opened it, looked back once, and exited her apartment.\n\n-Haunter",
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