No Church in The Wild

            Linda rode the waves of pleasure around her like a boat in the storm. Every thrust he gave was another wave that rocked her. She felt every part of him, she enjoyed every part of him. This is the kind of sex that most women would kill for; this was the kind of sex that only appeared on eighth avenue peep shows. This was bliss to her.

            “Wrong!” Someone shouted. “Stop, Stop!”

            It took Linda a moment to register the voice, and another to hear precisely what was said. No, she thought, or said, she wasn’t sure. Don’t stop.

            Her partner however acquiesced, and she felt him pull out of her. and Linda suddenly came crashing back to reality. She was a sweating mess on a bed in a hotel, lit only by several clusters of candles throughout the room with a heavy miasma of sweet smelling incense floating above their heads. She had given up a perfectly good opportunity to flirt with her Sex Addicts Anonymous Group to audition for these people tonight. She didn’t want to leave unsatisfied.

            “Why did we stop?” She asked.

            “Because you weren’t doing it properly,” said Raine. Raine was the “Concierge” of the Hotel Monolith. She provided the guest with whatever they needed. Tickets, Cars, Directions, Drinks, Drugs, Pleasure.  She was more Manager and less Madame, her poise and dress all screamed corporate office. Her hair was cut to a short black bob which did nothing but accentuate her severe features. Linda didn’t find her attractive most of the time, unless she was in a certain light.

            “Felt pretty proper to me,” Linda retorted.  Her partner, Mark, let out a weak chuckle. She focused her gaze on him for a second to see that sweat was dripping from his body as well. She had heard other girls working in the Hotel refer to Mark as “the Cooler”, sent in to take care of the girls when they couldn’t finish with their client. Linda felt it a considerate notion and was one of the things that attracted her to the staff.

            Raine was standing near the door of the hotel room, shaking her head. “Linda, I want to hire you. You are beautiful, talented, and are clearly enjoying your work. ”

            Linda narrowed her eyes, “But?”

            “You’re running away.”

            Linda’s attention snapped to the opposite side of the room. The flickering lights in the hotel room left a lot of darkened spaces to be filled. One of the plush chairs sitting against the window was right where several of these clusters met. To Linda, the room felt darker more than looked it. It took her eyes to adjust, to find the source of the voice.  As her vision cleared, she saw a dark figure sitting in the chair. He (she could always tell a man from a woman in the dark) was of heavy frame, but most of it appeared in bulk muscle than fat. He sat still, ever so still, as if the slightest motion and he would disappear again.

            “I beg your pardon?” she said. She saw Mark in her periphery sit up. Clearly neither one of them had any problems with strangers seeing them naked.

            “I said, you’re running away.” The man said.  His voice was cool and crisp. “Come here.”

            Linda blinked, and then looked over to Raine, who nodded her assent. She didn’t even regard Mark as she got up and walked towards the man. The movement made her realize how much she was sweating, and the coolness of the sweat  made her skin raise in gooseflesh. The feeling of it between her legs gave her a small thrill.

            “Yes, sir?” She said demurely. She’d done the Dominant/submissive thing before. She could do it again.

            Without warning, the man’s hand flashed out. Linda was gasping in both shock and pleasure, taking a moment more to realize precisely where his hand went.

            “What is this?” he said. His hands were gentle but firm, he didn’t move or tease. Every time Linda moved, she felt his presence and shuttered.

            “It’s my…my…P…”

            “Wrong,” he said. His tone was matter-of-fact. “The word you’re looking for is “Power”. Men and women will pay hand over fist for what I have in my hand right now.  Do you know why they’ll pay?”

            Linda shuttered, she tried to remain in the conversation. But the presence between her legs threatened to send her off into the stratosphere.

            “They’ll pay because they can,” The man said without waiting for an answer. “You have something they want, and only you can give it. That is power. For a brief moment, you can make the rich and powerful bend over to worship your cunt. Does this appeal to you?”

            “y-Yes,” she stammered.

            “Then,” he said. “Why are you running away?”

            “I’m—“ she let out a gasp, her knees threatening to buckle and sending her on the floor. “I’m not.”

            “You are. You’re letting yourself succumb to power. You should be there, every minute of the way. Owning your power. Riding your power.”  Linda felt another wave of pleasure wash over her as the man’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “We’re looking for people who are unafraid of power. I’m not looking for junkies.”

            Linda’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly she felt control come back. If nothing than to spite him. “I am not afraid of power.”

            “Really?” the man said, thoughtfully. Even from this distance, she couldn’t see his face. But she knew, somehow, he was smiling. Without warning, he released his grip. That was enough for her to shudder to the ground, all the while maintaining eye contact with this man. She did not wish to appear weak infront of him.

            The man stood up from the chair and walked towards the door, passing Mark’s naked body on the bed and Raine at the door.

            “Have her ready and in my room,” he said to the concierge, who only nodded her head in acknowledgement. The man walked out, and Raine immediately went to pick up Linda's dress.

            "Who was that?"

            Raine grabbed the dress, a small slip of a read dress, and handed it to Linda. "That was Mr. Lean."

            "Mr. Lean?" She slipped the dress over her head and sliding. It barely fell below her pelvis, and showed off every curve she had. "Who is Mr. Lean?"

            "Mr. Lean owns the Monolith."

            "I thought that was--"

            Raine held up her hand, "Mr. Lean owns him too. He likes to make sure his investments are working well."

            "Investments?"

            Raine eyed him, "Don't flatter yourself, dear. To Mr. Lean, everyone is one. Mark, don't move."

            The command had been natural, but effective. The young man in the room had dropped the jeans he had been putting on and lay back down on the bed.

            "Take this key," Raine said. "Put it in the elevator, it'll take you to Mr. Lean's room."

            "What will he--"

            "Probably nothing worse than you've already done," Raine said. There was no malice in her voice Just cold, matter of fact. "Now, get going. Mr. Lean doesn't like to wait."

            Linda looked at Raine for a second, unsure of what to do. Then she screwed herself up, not wanting to be cowed by some theatrics of one man and the callousness of this cunt. She took the key and headed out of the door, closing it before having to see Raine take off her dress and hop on the bed with Mark.

            She walked down the hallway of the hotel. It was still early in the night, and there was plenty of traffic. One older couple walked into their room, clearly ready to call it a night. A younger couple, though, looked like they were ready to head out for the night. It took the man all of a second to see Linda in her red dress, and another second to see her lips poking from underneath her short skirt. The girlfriend never suspected, and Linda kept walking, enjoying to sight of the bulge in the man's pants.

            She rode that thrill, the thrill of being wanted. It helped give her the courage to go into the elevator and slip the key in. The elevator rose up. There were forty floors on the Monolith Elevators, but it went past that. This was the penthouse.

            The elevator opened to a wide office. It was all one wide room, with two levels. The lower level looked like an office, with a massive desk made of darkened wood. The entire room was painted in blacks, with streaks of silver marbling in the walls and columns.

            "Up here," the voice came.

            Linda followed, finding a row of stairs to her left. The second level was a catwalk that walked out over the room, that broadened out to a platform over the first level. As she walked, her heels clanked on the blackened metal. In the center of the platform was a circular bed, with crisp silk sheets that gleamed in the light of the moon outside. At the head of it was a table that looked like it was made of white marble, with red veins creeping through it. Candles, a knife, and several intricate designs were arrayed on the face of the table. Behind that, standing at the windows, was Mr. Lean.

            "Stop there." he said.

            Linda did so. It was clear Mr. Lean enjoyed being the dominant, he enjoyed--

            "You dearly do love overanalyzing, don't you."

            That stopped Linda dead. Had he--

            "I'll ask the questions for the next few minutes." He said. He nodded towards the stone table, "refreshment? Wine?"

            Linda looked towards the stone table, and saw several glasses of deep red wine line on the table, as well as red powder.

            "What's the powder?"

            Mr. Lean laughed lightly, still keeping his face to the City and his back to her. "I call it "Bloodline." Try some."

            Linda eyed the red powder for a moment, not really sure what it would do. After a moment of uncertainty, shrugged and started cutting it with the knife on the table. She separated a good chunk and formed it into an inch and a half line. Without thinking twice, she dragged her nose over the fine powder, ripping a gust of air into herself. The drug, Bloodline Mr. Lean had called it, coursed straight to her brain. Any tension in her body washed away. Her skin felt warm, not in an uncomfortable way like a fever, but as if someone had thrown a warm blanket over her. She liked this feeling, she liked it very much.

            "Dance for me,"

            Linda heard Mr. Lean's voice as loud and as clear as if he were standing next to her. She looked to him, still standing in the dark. She could see him more clearly now, she could see the silver pin stripes in his shirt, see the strands of his hair. He turned then, and she could see his broad face and the glitter of his eyes.

            "I said dance,"

            There was no tone of command, but there was something in his words that made Linda want to do it. She started dancing in place, rocking her hips back and forth, slowly parting her legs and bending her knees.

            Mr. Lean, his form still cloaked in the shadows, began pacing back and forth, his eyes intent on Linda. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

            "By all means," Laura said drunkenly. "What did you cut that coke with? Feels like I did ecstasy."

            The man just shrugged, "First question. What do you worship?"

            Linda raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop dancing. "I don't understand."

            "What do you worship? It's a simple question. What do you hold so dear that you've made it a part of you. That everything you do in life is in some way for the honor and glory of this one thing."

            As he spoke, her body kept getting warm. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back. She could feel every drop of water as it soaked into her body or trailed down, right to the last drop as it slid between her curves. She felt ecstatic. Every nerve was awake and alive and sharper than ever. She felt her lips moisten between her legs again and she felt the family sensations.

            "So it's as I feared," Lean said. "You're just another junkie worshipping your needle. You have no power of your own."

            "I have power," Linda stammered. She wasn't sure why she responded, she didn't even understand what he was talking about.

            "Then why are you still dancing?" He asked, "Why are you listening to me prattle on as you fondle yourself? What do I have that you want except for the means to give you release? I could march the hundreds of people in this hotel in here and fuck you on that altar like a hole in the ground, and somewhere, you'd thank me for it, wouldn't you?"

            His words danced around her, and with each syllable, her body shook in a tremor. It wasn't violent, in fact it was pleasant and made her gasp.

            "What do you worship?" she managed to ask.

            He stopped, and she could manage to see a grin in the darkness. "I worship Power, and all the ways it manifests. I worship the power a senator has when he makes a decision for his state, I worship the power a teacher has in molding his student's intellect. I worship the power a call girl has in gaining the attentions and affections of others, I worship the drug dealer whose customers live and die at his convenience, and I worship the power the homeless have by being invisible to the world. Power. The Power to give life, to take it, and to live it."

            By now, Linda was nearly delirious. She moved backwards, towards the altar. She rested her arms on the marble slab and continued to move rhythmically to the silent tune singing in her blood. "Perhaps you'd like a taste of my power," she said. She opened her legs and raised her hips high to give him full view of her vagina.

            She could see him in the distance, the city glowing from the windows. He moved forward, towards the dim light of the candles of the altar. Linda could finally see him more clearly, his skin was pale, and his eyes were hazel. He wasn't fat, but he was clearly built in bulky slabs and less chiseled muscles. He seemed physically powerful, his hands exceptionally large. He looked at her, and smiled.

            "No," he said. "Do you know that word, Linda? Do you know what it means? To draw the line and be able to enforce it. It's the most simple word, and the first step in power."

            "And you have power over me," she gasped. There was something in his voice that made her want him. Like a fire inside her needing him.

            He shook his head, "You think this is some Dominance game. I don't play to Dominate. I play to educate. You have talent, dear woman. I wish to make you see that." He smiled for a second. "I propose a game."

            "Oh?" she asked. "I like games."

            He ignored her. "The goal is simple. I want you to say no, and I want you to mean it."

            Linda eyed Lean, all the while sitting herself up on the table. "And how will you know if I mean it?"

            "Oh," Lean said, a lupine grin across his face. "I'll know. Besides--" He stepped back into the dark, and for a second the area he got in became dark. Not just dark, black. it happened quickly and suddenly, and when it happened. Lean was gone.

            You're mind is just as open to me as your legs.

            Linda stood up in shocked silence. His voice came from inside her. He was in her mind.

            "What are you?" she asked. She felt sluggish all of a sudden, as if the drug turned and she was starting to come down. "What have you done to me?"

            She looked around her, and saw nothing but darkness. She looked through the inky blackness of the room, not staying far from the light of the candles. She did not wish to go out into the dark.

            And that was when the darkness moved towards her.

            The inky shadows crawled slowly towards her, moving inch by inch towards the altar.

            I've done nothing, Lean said to her. I'm just here to give you a thrill and maybe…

            As the shadows were practically at her feet. And suddenly, the solidly real form of Mr. Lean appeared before her, still in the darkness. She heard his words, but his lips never moved.

…Maybe I'll get a little thrill of my own.

            Lean's eyes opened wide and he laughed in a vicious snarl. His grin revealed a long set of canines that were hypodermic-sharp. Terror gripped Linda's mind as she suddenly realized, too late, what she was dealing with.

            Lean saw this, and in one motion pounced. His full body swooped around her like a swarm and engulfed her in his shadow. Linda screamed, or thought she screamed, and the world became one giant nightmare. She felt the skin of her neck break and massive pressure push on it.

            She came immediately.

            She hadn't expected it, she hadn't felt it build. But she liked the feeling, she could feel precisely where on her neck he was biting, where his fangs were. Every jerk of motion from him lead her to shudder in climax, again and again. He didn't touch her anywhere else, so she did it for him, fondling her breasts and sopping vagina, achieving orgasm after orgasm after orgasm while lying on that stone altar.

            After what felt like eternity, she realized what was happening. He was killing her, slowly, by inches.

            No, she thought. No, no more. I'm done.

            She remembered the room getting darker, and she felt her mind fade away. Like tension when slipping into a hot tub. Darkness took her, and she was grateful.

            She awoke, and the sun was hitting her on her face and naked body. For a brief moment, Linda was expecting the gentle pang of a hangover caressing her like a belligerent ex-boyfriend. She didn't feel like that at all. She felt...

            She felt pretty good.

            For the first time in a long time, the first thought she had wasn't to sex. It was how warm she felt, how much she enjoyed the sun. She basked in the glow for a while, unsure how long it would last.

            When she finally got out of bed, she found a note on slipped under the door of her hotel. It was written in simple, flowing script of dark purple.

            Three Things:

            - Every role that man can play has the chance of wielding power in the right setting

            - The submissive can stop the Dominant whenever she wants. Don't ever hide behind the    role as an excuse for powerlessness.

            - You start tonight.

            O.L.

            Linda read the card again and again. She didn't remember much of what happened the night before, but that line of whatever Lean gave her sure made her see wierd shit like she didn't think was possible. But, if this job made her feel good, made her feel powerful, how could she turn it down?

---

            Owen Lean sat in his chair, the city aglow beneath him from his penthouse office/bedroom/altar in the Hotel Monolith. He looked down at the New York City skyline as he spoke on the phone.

            "Melodrama does not become you," he said smoothly in the phone. "Yes, I had everything under control. She had a Bloodline, probably thinks she hallucinated the whole thing." His eyes narrowed as the other person spoke. "Yes, she is a common whore. I don't care if she's a whore or the Prince of New York. She has a role to perform, and it's my job to see that as long as she is useful to me and to us, she'll be at least competent at it." He rolled his eyes, "As you were so fond of telling me during my induction into the Circle. We all have a role to play for the betterment of each other. She has the role of the Whore, you have the role of the Millenia Old Master. I have the role of the Villain. We all have our roles, and when the curtain eventually rises, we'll all have to perform to our tasks."

            There was a long pause on the phone, and then Owen replied, "Yes of course I'll be home tonight. Tell Mother I look forward to seeing her. Til later, good night, Grandfather."