Page 5 of Desire

Chapter 4

It was Saturday morning,and five days had passed since I first started watching Alex and Malcolm Shipman. I sat in my car down the street from Malcolm’s house doing surveillance when I caught a break. I watched as Malcolm’s black Tesla Model S 70D backed out of the driveway and started down the street. From the moment I first saw the car, I wondered how someone who worked at an appliance store could afford a car like this, but I pushed it out of my mind. As the car passed me, I noticed he was alone and knew this was my chance. Because I didn’t know where he was going or how long he’d be gone, I waited ten minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to come back for something he might have forgotten. I jumped out of my car, jogged over to the house, and glanced around, taking in my surroundings, before knocking on the front door. I waited to see if Alex would answer and began to wonder if my luck had run out when the door slowly opened a crack.

I stared into questioning brown eyes. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” came the tentative question. I noticed that Alex remained alert and kept his hands on the door, as if knowing he might need to quickly slam it closed. I also noticed something up close that I hadn’t noticed before. He was skinny. Not slim, like a tall boy whose body hadn’t quite caught up with its height yet, but skinny. Like a growing boy who wasn’t eating as much as he should.

“Are you Alex?” I asked softly, trying to project a tone that proclaimed I didn’t pose a threat. My size intimidated most people, so I tried to make myself appear affable, especially to the women and children I encountered in my line of work.

Questioning eyes suddenly turned terrified. He straightened his spine despite the fear pouring out of him. With a contradicting boldness and a lift of his chin that was all Bridget, he answered, “Who wants to know?”

“My name is Connor. I’m friends with your mom.”

He frowned at my answer. “I think you have the wrong person. My mother is dead.”

I cleared my throat. “I meant your birth mother, Bridget Carter. I understand you called her a few days ago. She’s worried sick about you and asked me to make sure you were okay. Were you the one who called her?”

With my words, a new emotion flashed across his face. An emotion that I had no trouble deciphering. Relief. His muscles relaxed, and the tension left his shoulders and legs as I watched him almost collapse against the door. In an instant though, his expression changed. He glanced around warily as if nervous to be seen talking to me.

“You can’t be here when he comes back. I’ll get in trouble. You need to go.” Alex tried to close the door, which I stopped with the flat of my hand.

“What do you mean, you’ll ‘get in trouble’? Alex, are you in danger? Tell me. It’s the only way I can help you. You can trust me.” I encouraged him to talk to me.

“I’m sorry to have bothered her. Please, tell her I’m okay. She doesn’t need to worry about me. It was a mistake to call.” I knew where he got his stubbornness from.

I also knew he wasn’t going to say any more. I kept my one hand on the door and dug into my pocket with the other. I removed my hand from the door, but stuck my foot out to brace against the base of the door while I opened my wallet and pulled out my card. I held it out to him.

“Take this. It’s my card with my contact info, including my personal cell phone number. If you need something, anything, call me. Anytime, day or night. Whatever is going on, Alex, you’re not alone. Like I said before, you can trust me.” I waited patiently to see if he’d accept the offering.

He snatched the card out of my hand and, with a burst of strength, slammed the door shut, catching me off balance enough that I almost fell backward. I sighed in frustration and took off back to my car, hoping that Alex would take my words to heart.

I drove to the gym to work out my frustrations. And to release the inner demons that threatened to overwhelm me after my short talk with Alex. Everything about Alex screamed at me. He put me in mind of that other boy. The one I constantly tried to banish, but who never ceased to show up when I least expected it. Thoughts of him brought up feelings of weakness, insecurity, vulnerability, and worse, shame. Feelings I was uncomfortable with and fought hard to suppress.

I worked out hard, pushing myself past the point of pain and exhaustion, attempting to banish the weakness that, if I let it, would consume me. With sweat pouring down my face and body, I headed to the shower room. I stood in the private shower stall, hand braced on the wall in front of me, head bowed as the scalding hot water sluiced down my body. Without conscious thought, Bridget’s face flashed through my head, causing a groan to escape my lips and my cock to harden. Fuck.

I tortured myself with thoughts of her. She was too good for someone like me, half a man. Someone who couldn’t give her the things she needed. Someone who wanted things she couldn't handle. My body warred with my brain. I knew that nothing was ever going to happen between us, but my body hadn’t caught up with my brain yet. My body didn’t care, it only wanted. I pictured her long legs wrapped around my back as I roughly pounded my cock into her. Her nails scored my back causing blood to rise to the surface as she marked me.

With thoughts of thrusting in and out of her hot pussy running through my head, I moved my free hand down my body to grasp the base of my cock, and I began lightly stroking myself at first. I continued stroking, matching the rhythm of my imaginary scene with Bridget. I pummeled her cunt as my strokes became faster and my grip tightened almost painfully. Up and down I moved my hand and my balls drew up in anticipation. With a final stroke, my cock erupted in an explosion that left me fighting for breath. When the tremors faded, I sagged against the wall of the shower.

After I recovered from my release, I finished washing up and exited the shower. I stood in the empty locker room and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Scars dotted my chest. But those were nothing compared to the scars that graced my back. I tried to picture my body from a woman’s viewpoint. The one and only time I fucked a woman while I was naked, she drew back in disgust at my disfigurement. She tried to hide it, but it was too late. I saw the look she gave me, and it was a look I never forgot and one I ever wanted to see again. After that, I limited my sexual encounters. During the few I did have, I made sure my upper body was covered at all times. Having a woman turn from me in disgust was not an experience I was anxious to repeat.

I tried to satisfy by dominant side with activities that didn’t include intercourse. I was never fully satisfied though. I always held back a part of myself when I played. A part I kept hidden. Mostly out of fear of what I would do if I released it, but partially out of shame.

I quickly dressed, and even though I’d just had a powerful orgasm, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. After so many years of being at someone else’s mercy, I needed to be in control. I needed the rush of power that came from dominating someone. It appeared a visit to Eden was on the schedule for the night. I ignored the thought that maybe I’d see Bridget. I knew she bounced from one Dom to another by choice. She didn't want more than a casual relationship. I knew what I wanted, even if I couldn’t have it. Which meant I needed to guard my heart. I didn’t need to add a broken heart to all the other fucked up things that were wrong with me.

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