The Eye of the Storm 

Claire found herself at a lost for words.  She was in her own little world as the storm clouds closed in around her.  “Claire, why did you leave me,” Toni cried out.  She was all alone now.  Her new boyfriend just couldn’t stand the fact she was still seeing other partners on the side without his knowledge or participation.  He was paying the rent for her high-end luxury apartment in the Loft Community off Peace Street in downtown Raleigh.

 

The agreement for the relationship to continue would have to be mutual and since Nick was a young State student and star athletic he also had a reputation to protect.  He was just a tad bit on the jealous side if he wasn’t the center of attention in and out of the bedroom.  Now he was gone, leaving a sealed manila envelope behind-inside some racy pics of Toni and two of her ex lovers whom he secretly recorded.  He used his iPhone to take screenshots of the spiciest moments during her most recent romps.  He also made sure she knew about the conditions.

 

Toni was a free spirit; an uncaged bird who just didn’t want to get tied down romantically.  However physically that was another story since she preferred regulation handcuffs around her wrists as she got serviced by her lover.  She had a leather whip which was used on numerous occasions across her bare back and ass; leaving deep red marks and some sustainable bruising and scarring from previous sessions.  She endured the pain since this was her way of dealing with her inner anguish from years of emotional abuse and verbal assaults from past relationships and her turbulent upbringing.  

 

She had her first BDSM experience at this club called ‘the Dungeon’ by its clients, however it was formally listed as the Triangle Club.  It was located in an inconspicuous warehouse on the outskirts of town.  The only way of finding your way there was through a series of markers set into the dirt road.  The cut away was across some seldom used railroad tracks and through the tree line which blocked the old brick building.  It was formally a textile mill until it was shut down in the late 70s due to overseas expansion in the industry.  You had to be invited by a guest, given a password to get into the lobby, and then sign your personal information on a nondisclosure sheet-signed and dated to state, as an oath whatever happens here stays here.

 

Claire may have went postal on Toni’s car while pocketing some cash, however she would never disclose their personal secrets in the bedroom.  She was wild herself, but a closet freak at that; perhaps due to her strict Catholic rearing and the fear of the huge black paddle.  It always hang over the Principal’s desk like an award of excellence in corporal punishment or a certificate of corrective education.  


Claire, you smell so good like Vanilla cupcakes and taste deliciously divine like cherry wine.  I want you, I need you, I will love you forever…“We will be arriving in Atlanta within the next 10 mins.  Please ensure all your baggage is claimed and with you before you leave.”  Claire was awakened by her dream.  Somewhat still in a daze; the type of awakening one has after an insanely glorious orgasm or the best foreplay in the world.  The aftertaste was still on her palate.  She didn’t want to adjust herself just yet as she closed her half opened eyes to drift quickly back for even a second.  

“Do you need help with that bag?” a young college age guy in cargo shorts, black California Republic t-shirt and dreadlock curls just past his shoulders.  “I’m getting a bite to eat here before I head back to my roommates pad.  I know a great foodies joint, why don’t you come with, it’s on me.  His guitar bag hung over his right shoulder as he helped Claire with her red backpack that read NC State Wildcats across the front in black. 

 

 

 

 

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