Mistress of Shadows

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

The Grays

The next day I was alone as usual. Raven had her own life, with which she was loath to share details, and I went back to work. By “work” I mean not commuting to an office. I was in business for myself. I opened windows on all of my three computers and had at it as a daytrader.

Stocks rose and fell, I sold and bought, waiting for just that right moment, that little bump to give enough of a profit to sell the stock, and then I moved on to the next. Some days I lost money, but more often made enough to not have to worry about finding a job on the cube farm. I did alright, in fact, more than alright. I could have bought a house, a nice one, and living where I did in New England it sure wouldn’t have been cheap. But instead I chose to save my money, so I rented a one bedroom apartment and rarely left my place at the computers. I had heard that dedicated computer gamers did the same thing. They lost track of time, never went out, and I had gone down that same road. But then, one morning (or night, I didn’t know which at that time, I couldn’t tell anymore because I had hung heavy drapes at the windows to cut down on any daytime distractions) I caught a look at myself in the mirror. What I saw was a guy that, although still young, looked way older than he should have. The paleness of my skin, the rings under my eyes, the unshaven face told me that I was on the edge. If I didn’t change my ways I would have been sucked right into my motherboard and never be seen again.

I had locked myself away, and it wasn’t due anymore to the pursuit of money. The money was nice (hell, it was great!), but it was the hunt that kept me hooked, the thrill of buying low, selling high, and making a killing while everyone else flailed about. So I took a step back from the mirror, stumbled outside and squinted into what I thought was bright sunlight although the day was overcast. I even shouted at a passing neighbor just to say hello and hear the sound of my own voice. They didn’t answer back, probably thinking I was some addict coming off a crash from my latest high. Well, I was an addict, only not the kind that took drugs. That day I knew I needed a change, any kind of a change. So I shut down the computers, went out and joined a gym to replace the just starting flab with some solid muscle and, for good measure, bought a motorcycle.

I rode for weeks, not going anywhere, always coming back to the apartment at night. I cut my time on the computers way way down, turning away after three or four hours in the morning and going out in the late afternoon, early evening. On one of my wanderings I stopped at a little bar, somewhere in the Berkshires between here and wherever. I guess what attracted me to the place was another motorcycle, kind of like mine, that was already parked there.

It turned out to be Raven’s. It was obvious it was hers because when I strode inside a helmet sat on her booth’s table. Her bright, shining blonde hair was done up in a tight bun and her leather jacket was thrown across the back of the booth.

“Nice bike,” I said, jerking my thumb behind me. “How far you going?”

“Far enough,” she said. “You?”

“Just a circle,” I said. “A break from work. Trying to find out if there’s more in life than sitting in front of a computer all day.”

“No kidding,” she said. “When you find out would you let me know?”

I slid into the booth with her. “Better if you were there with me when I did.”

Her dark eyes squinted at my boldness, the ease in which I slid onto the seat opposite her, but they didn’t say “Get the hell away from me”. She sniffed, sipped at her beer. “Alright,” she said. “Impress me.”

Okaaay. Not a “Get lost” response, but still not entirely welcoming either. I searched my brain. Being an English major didn’t help much in the real world, but I dug some of the poetry. And so did the girls. Alright, let’s try this.

“Thou grip my soul

Melded to thine task

Employ my presence

And I make thee mine”

Innocent sounding enough, but for those so inclined, it did possess a, well, deeper meaning.

Her eyes narrowed. I had gotten a foot in the door. But I wasn’t entirely in yet.

“That’s nice,” she said. “Are you a one trick pony, boy?”

The slight pause spoke volumes. Take it easy, don’t blow it. Think. Think.

“How shall I tend thee

But wait upon thy pleasure

To sit or to stand

To teach thee the

Meaning of patience”

Those dark eyes stared me down. Not in a threatening way, but more like finding something that wasn’t expected.

She nodded. “You can call me Raven.”

***

A couple of hours later we left the bar together, rode in tandem the rest of the day and checked into a motel that night. That was when we both came out regarding our s****l leanings, which complemented each other quite well. As she tied my hands together overhead to the squeaky headboard she said, “You sure you want to go through with this?”

“You haven’t gagged me,” I said. “And I’m not yelling for help.”

She used me that night, but I gave her back just as good. Come morning I found her seated next to me in bed, eyes closed, swaying and chanting. Her hands floated above my c**k, and I felt a new kind of energy, one that awakened my c**k and made it look for another f**k.

“What is that you’re doing?” I asked.

She opened her eyes with a start. “Oh, just a little thanks I give. To my goddess.”

“Oh. Well, tell her thanks for me too.”

Yeah, I know, just a little throwaway thing to say, being polite and all. Still, I did mean what I said and on such little things destiny takes a hand.

Raven blinked, then relaxed and laughed. At that moment I knew things between us were good.

We had s*x once more, her still calling the shots, then checked out of the motel and rode back to the city together. The next weekend we hooked up for another ride. Then the one after that. After a month I let her in to my place. She did the same for me, but her space was a lot smaller so we more often wound up at mine. Soon, the rides turned into weekend play scenes and, although we still occasionally rode, we never went far, always making sure we got to my place and her slapping a collar around my neck. For my part, it was exactly what the doctor ordered - just letting everything go and allowing someone else to make the decisions. Someone that I came to fully trust.

And then the dreams started.

I didn’t know if they haunted me because I hadn’t really given up my addiction to daytrading or if something else was wrong. The subconscious works in so many deceptive ways. Maybe I was trying to tell myself that, even though things appeared to be okay, there was some root problem that I was ignoring. I sure wasn’t any shrink, and I sure wasn’t going to see one. The last thing I wanted to do was spill my guts to some stranger who might very well say “So, how long have you hated your mother?” Nope, not for me. But things couldn’t keep on like this. Raven was patient, assuring me it was a passing phase, but the dreams only got more intense, more real. I didn’t how much longer she was going to put up with it, but I knew something, again, had to change.

The next weekend, they did.

Raven showed up, bright and early Saturday morning, but instead of stripping out of her riding gear she said, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Go? Where?” I said.

“Just get dressed.”

The first time I had ever heard Dominatrix Raven say that.

“Alright,” I said. “Just let me check some stocks - “

“Check nothing,” she said. “Get a change of underwear together. We’ll buy new clothes when we need to.”

“Buy new clothes? Just how far we are going?”

“Who knows? But we’re not coming back here, not tonight, tomorrow or for any time after that.”

An extended road trip? This was sudden! Part of me was thrilled, but the practical side asserted itself. “What about my bills? My rent?”

Raven grabbed my ear, led me to the bedroom. “Don’t give me that s**t. You’ve got everything set up on automatic draft. You’ve got more than enough money in the bank. No excuses. Move!”

What can I say? I’d never been kidnapped before but, for a kidnapper, Raven sure did her homework.

***

I’d like to tell that the open road, the fresh air did me some good, but I don’t want to lie. The same dream returned every night. Even while during the day we roared down back country roads through New York, then Pennsylvania, Appalachia and the Tennessee Valley, that haunting dream wouldn’t leave me alone. Raven whipped the s**t out of me several nights before bed, to try and drive the demons out, but all I got was an inflamed monkey butt as I followed her lead on the road.

At some point depression overtook me, worse than what had caused Raven to take us out on this endless road trip. I thought all we were doing was drifting, drifting with no destination in mind, no timetable or goal – unless the goal was to put as many miles between us and where we had started. My apartment and that goddam computer screen.

Yes, I had worked endlessly, staring at the computer, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep, watching my bank account swell. But that had changed. Yet, for all my attempts to break the habit of turning on the computer every day, even getting the motorcycle and lucking out on meeting Raven, the inner self hadn’t changed. Getting away from the familiar haunts didn’t work. It wouldn’t anyway, not when you brought them with you.

Yeah, whatever. Funny, how when there’s nothing you’re headed toward all the roads and towns look the same, especially on a flat, open plain. That’s where we were now. Each town, each hamlet we cruised through I tried to find something different, unique, and all we got was the same type of small, dusty town, the generic corner café. Even the people were of the same type; wind-blown, wrinkled, tired of just trying to get by as they shuffled from their small home to the crumbling factory and back. After each stop I’d glance at the GPS, call up a map, suggest to Raven a different direction. Sometimes she would take my advice, more often not.

Raven always took the lead and the one comfort I held to was the familiar sight of her, bent forward over the handlebars, knowing that her blonde hair was done up in a tight bun as always under the black helmet. The soles of her flat boots unmoving while the back of her leather jacket billowed out as her bike roared, seemingly full of anger as mile after mile sped by with the fading hope that maybe, maybe this latest dogleg of a road might reveal something new and fresh. But all we got was gray plains, gray people, gray weather.

Well, not all the time. One day we ran into an old-fashioned dust storm.

The wind picked up in late afternoon and by the time we got to the next town it was howling. No moisture at all, just so much crap in the air that I could barely make out Raven’s taillight less than fifty feet ahead. A motel appeared through the dust on the right side and Raven turned into the unpaved parking lot. The dull eyed man behind the counter ran my plastic and soon we were in a small room with a squeaky bed. The bathroom was barely big enough for one person, never mind two who tried to scrub away the road dust.

“If we go out we’re just going to get dirty all over again,” I said.

“I don’t care,” Raven muttered. Her movements were quick, almost angry. “They can throw anything they want at me and I’ll still tell ‘em to f**k off.”

Not quite sure what she meant by that, but I put it down to her just talking about the weather and forgot about it, mainly because of my growling stomach. We hadn’t stopped for lunch and it now demanded satisfaction. I guess my mentioning our going outside again was a subtle hint of getting some dinner so, after a short recovery period from our latest ride, we emerged on a food safari.