AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will try to update this series at least once a week, RL concerns permitting. Enjoy, my dirties! Mwuah!

Samuel grabbed a fistful of his clothes, wedging them into his backpack, heedless of the wrinkling it would cause. His vision was half-blurred with tears, though whether they were born of rage or sadness he genuinely couldn’t have said. Behind him, Alicia stood talking to him, but the sound of her voice echoed meaninglessly in his head, like the white noise of static.

Closing the dresser drawer with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, he turned to face her. “You fell in love with another man,” he said in a cold tone. “Someone that you reassured me was just a friend. Over and over again. What else could there possibly be to say?”

Alicia stepped forward, bowing her head a little so that her long brown hair fell down to obscure her face, and put her hand on his arm. “I never cheated on you,” she half-whispered in a broken voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-” Samuel reached down and gently but firmly took hold of her wrist, pulling her off of him and stepping back.

“Don’t touch me right now,” he said, his blue eyes glittering like chips of ice beneath the northern sun as he stared at her hard. “Just let me get my shit together and get out of here, will you? You’ve done enough, and nothing you can say is going to make this any easier. For either of us.”

Alicia sobbed then, but he had already stopped paying attention. Quickly gathering the rest of his clothes and packing them haphazardly, he took one last look around the small efficiency apartment that he’d shared with the woman crying in the corner. It was the first place he’d ever lived that felt like home, and now it was tainted forever.

He wanted to say something. But because he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to comfort Alicia or scream at her, he closed his mouth firmly, hoisted his backpack, and slung it over his shoulders. He didn’t bother gathering up the rest of his things. Right now, nothing mattered as much to him as simply getting out of there.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t have anywhere to go. It was the weekend, and he didn’t have to work until Monday, so he had that going for him. Fuck, he thought. Maybe I can call John and pick up an extra shift or two. I need a distraction, and some more money to throw at the deposit on a new place wouldn’t hurt.

Samuel didn’t storm out. He didn’t speak. He simply left. It was only when he had walked down the hall and out of the building, into the alley that led to the park behind the apartment complex, that he finally allowed the dam to burst.

It was late in the afternoon, and the autumn wind held just the hint of a bite as it whipped the thick, gray-streaked clouds across the sky, but Samuel noticed neither the beauty nor the cold as he heaved deep, ragged breaths. He fought the tears, but it didn’t matter; they came just the same, hot and bitter like his memories.

As he stood in the alleyway, his mind wandered back over the past few days, wondering what he could have done to change the way that things had gone. Perhaps nothing. Alicia had been up front with him, at least. As hurt and angry as he was, he had to give her that. Not that it helped any, of course.

As he finally surrendered to his pain, Samuel looked up, as if searching the empty east coast sky for answers. Just then, a few of the clouds scuttling across the sky decided to open up, and Samuel couldn’t help laughing as a cold drenching downpour began. I cry, and the sky cries with me, he thought wryly. Fuck. I need to get in out of the weather.

He didn’t have a whole lot of options. He didn’t have a lot of money saved, and his closest family lived almost thirteen hours away. He could have asked a friend to crash, but he’d sadly let a lot of his friendships dwindle over the past year or two as he got more heavily involved with Alicia. It occurred to him for the first time that he really was on his own, for the first time since he’d met her.

Quickly ducking back inside the building before the rain had a chance to soak him completely, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started flipping through his contacts. There weren’t a whole lot of people he could call for aid, but he had to try. Finally, a name jumped out at him, and as upset as he was, Samuel couldn’t help but grin.

Lenny and he didn’t have a lot in common, but Lenny had always been friendly and eager to help others wherever he could. He was also one of those guys who never seemed to have grown out of middle school hijinks, and was easily the best guy in his social circle to turn to if he needed to be distracted from something depressing… like a vicious breakup, just for an example.

He dialed, and heard a lot of loud, raucous noise in the background when Lenny finally picked up. “Hey, Len,” he said, somewhat louder than he might have normally. “What’s going on? Sounds like you’re having a party or something.”

Lenny shouted back through the phone loudly enough that Samuel had to pull it away from his head to prevent being deafened. “Holy shit, Sam! Haven’t heard from you in a minute, brother! Yeah, I’m… hang on… HEY, QUIET DOWN YOU- aww, fuck it, man. They ain’t gonna quiet down for nothin’. Anyway, how are ya?”

Between random screams of “Take another shot,” and “Show us your tits, Lily,” and “Who ate all the fucking potato chips,” Samuel explained his situation to Lenny. “I gotta level with you,” he said as his brief story wound to a close. “I was calling because I was hoping I could crash at your place for a day or two while I figured myself out.”

Lenny whistled. “Damn, man. That sucks. I mean… yeah, you could always come over, but with how you sound, I don’t think you’re gonna vibe here right now, man. I don’t even know half the people here, and none of them are gonna give a dry hump about the fact that you’re tryin’ to process your feelings and shit.”

Samuel sighed. He’d already come to much the same conclusion, and hearing Lenny echo his thoughts only confirmed them. “Damn. Well, thanks anyway. I’m glad to hear that someone’s having fun, anyway.” He pulled his head away from the phone again as he heard a loud whooping yell come from the other end.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Lenny said. “But hey! Cheer up. It could be worse.”

Samuel didn’t want to ask. He wasn’t going to ask. Nope. Not a chance.

“...How could it be worse?” he finally said after a minute of silence.

“You could also have an itchy ass-crack,” Lenny replied without missing a beat.

Samuel didn’t reply. Lenny coughed. “No? Nothing? Shit, man. Wasting comedy gold on a sad-sack like you; I musta lost my damned mind. Go on, then. Go mope. Just remember, if you feel up to crawling out of the pity party and into the party party, I’m here for ya, brother.”

Samuel did finally laugh at that, half-hearted though it was. “Sure thing,” he said. “And Lenny? Thanks.”

“Aww, shit man. Cut that out; you’re makin’ me blush. Later, dude. Gimme a mome--- HEY! GET THE GOLDFISH OUT OF THAT FUCKING PUNCH BOWL RIGHT NOW! I-” The line suddenly went dead, and Samuel just stood there looking at his cell phone with a strained expression on his face.

Well, so much for that plan, he thought to himself. He needed to get out of here, but he was in no condition to drive, the weather was too nasty to contemplate walking anywhere (not that he had anywhere to go in the first place), and he had to be careful with his money if he was going to be able to drop the change needed to get a new place before the decade rolled over.

Still, money was the easiest of his problems to solve currently, so he decided to tap into his remaining funds and get a cab to a hotel. He really, really needed rest. Anything else could wait until the morning. His mind made up, he called up one of the few remaining local taxi companies that Uber and Lyft hadn’t driven out of business yet.

He would have taken a ride share, but they had this annoying habit of wanting to know where they were taking you before they would send a driver to pick you up, and Samuel simply didn’t have enough executive functioning left to make a decision like that. He’d roll the dice, and just tell the cabbie to take him somewhere he could rack out for a few hours, and see where he landed.

Less than twenty minutes later, he was sitting in the back of a yellow cab with official livery tags, zipping through the rain-slicked streets of the city. As he watched the roiling skies above unload on the hapless earth below, he couldn’t help starting to sob. The cabbie, a young man who was friendly and polite despite his broken English, tactfully ignored Samuel as he collapsed into tears in the back seat.

Some unknown period of time later, he started awake suddenly. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he looked around blearily. The cab had just come to a stop, which was probably what had woken him. The exhaustion must have finally taken him out.

“Hey, you okay?” called the cabbie from the front of the car.

“Yeah,” Samuel said, shifting in his seat as he propped himself fully upright again. “Where are we?”

“Best hotel,” the cabbie said. “You love it! I promise. I wouldn’t lead you wrong, no!”

Samuel coughed softly. “What do I owe you?” he asked apprehensively. DAMN it, he thought. I know better than to fall asleep on a city cab ride.

The cabbie looked at him in the rear-view mirror, his stylish black hair and glistening olive skin providing a perfect complement to his darting brown eyes and ready grin. “Only twenty two dollars! Great deal, huh? You get a ride to the best kept secret in town, and a free nap!”

Samuel shook his head. That was honestly cheaper than he had expected, and he didn’t have the patience required to haggle, or to ask to see the mileage reader. Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his bill fold and slipped the cabbie a twenty and a ten. “Keep the change,” he said, opening his door and stepping out into the rain.

“Thanks so much,” the cabbie called after him. “You enjoy your stay now! Best hotel in town, promise!” With that, the cab pulled away from the curb, speeding off into the rising storm.

Samuel knew he should head inside, but he didn’t. It turned out that standing in the pouring autumn rain was a very effective way of being wretched, so he stood there, simply taking in his surroundings. The road stretched away in both directions, with no other buildings in sight; just a two-lane highway lined by trees, shrubs, and brush.

The hotel itself was a three-story building that looked like those old southern manor houses he had seen in history books if not in person, and looked delightfully out of place for northern New England. It had a covered front porch that had several benches covered in pillows that were probably a joy to sit on when it was a sunny day out.

As he felt the rain permeating his clothes, saturating his mop of ash-brown hair and dripping down into his eyes, he realized that he couldn’t stand here being miserable forever, and so he hoisted his backpack over his shoulders once more before walking up to the door. With only a little bit of trepidation, he opened it, and stepped inside.

Samuel paused as the immaculately-dressed receptionist smiled at him to acknowledge his arrival. “Good afternoon, sir,” the man said. “You look like you’ve had a… wet… afternoon. Why don’t I take your name and your card number, and get you a room so you can relax and change at your leisure? We can always handle the more minute details of check-in once you’re more comfortable.”

Samuel grunted, shivering slightly. He hadn’t realized until he stepped into the warm lobby of the hotel exactly how badly the rain had chilled him. “All of my clothes are drenched,” he said bitterly. The receptionist shook his head. He was a tall black man, with closely-cropped hair and a broad smile that was nevertheless slightly disarming, almost as if there were too many teeth for his mouth.

“That’s quite alright, sir,” the man replied in a soothing tone. “We have washing and drying facilities open to guests, and if you’d care to leave an outfit or two with me, I can make sure it’s hand-delivered to your door within two hours.” Samuel nodded gratefully, pulling his soggy wallet from his pocket to present his I.D. and credit card to the receptionist.

As the man punched in his details and secured a room reservation for him, Samuel dug a comfortable outfit from his backpack, a simple pair of jeans and a well-loved t-shirt, along with a pair of socks and some boxer shorts. Then he stood there bemused until the receptionist cast a glance his way.

The tall, broad man laughed deeply, then reached out to take the sodden clothes. “Don’t worry about it, brother,” he said. “The name’s Alex, by the way. You need anything, give me a ring or come on down, I’ll be sure to treat you right.”

Samuel blinked, momentarily confused, and Alex gave him a conspiratorial wink and a grin.

“I put up the formal front because it’s expected,” he said. “But I figure if I’ve handled another man’s undies, I can probably be real with him.” Despite his funk, Samuel couldn’t help but laugh at that, and to his surprise, he started to feel maybe just the tiniest bit better. He smiled back at Alex as he took his license and credit card back.

“Hey, thanks a lot, man,” he said sincerely. “So you’ll just send these up when they’re ready, then?”

Alex nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” he said cheerfully. “Now, here’s your key card. Room 348. Two floors up, down the hall to your left if you’re comin’ off the main elevator, and it’ll be the last door on the left.”

Samuel took the key card gratefully. “Hey, thanks a lot, Alex. I’ve had a hell of a day, and you managed to squeeze a laugh out of me. Takes talent.”

Alex shook his head. “Go get some rest, get cleaned up, get changed into some dry clothes once I send ‘em up. Things will look up. This is a special place.”

Samuel almost asked him what he meant, but hearing Alex say the words aloud, it suddenly hit him. He was drenched, depressed, and exhausted. His heart hadn’t even had time to start properly bleeding from the deathblow it had just taken, and he was going to have to figure out all of the practical problems that faced him now as well. He needed rest.

He nodded to acknowledge that he had heard what Alex said, gave him one last parting half-hearted smile, and headed off to find his room. Stepping into the elevator, he closed his eyes for just a moment and allowed himself to believe that it was all going to be okay. Somehow.

The wallpaper and carpeting on that greeted him on the third floor were subtly patterned and done in beautiful though desaturated pastel tones. Overall, it gave a very quiet, comforting feel, and he appreciated the care and taste that had gone into decorating the place. He’d feel at home here, for the short time that he could stay. Damn, he thought to himself, I don’t even know how much this place costs. I’m in trouble.

He shoved those thoughts aside as he opened the door to his room. A beautiful mahogany desk dominated the rear right corner of the room, and a television hung on the wall, angled towards the queen-sized bed. A fluffy, monogrammed bathrobe was folded and perched on the end of the bed, and while he couldn’t see the entirety of the bathroom, it looked spacious and clean.

Sighing gratefully, he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. He was tempted to turn on the television just to break the silence, but he was still cold, and dirty as well, so he stepped into the bathroom. His eyes went wide as he saw the walk-in shower with two separate head rigs. “Definitely not the kind of place that I can afford to stay for long,” he muttered to himself as he peeled himself out of his wet clothes.

Turning on the water, he stepped inside gratefully, washing himself with quick efficiency. The water pressure and heat were excellent, and he groaned in pleasure as he finished. Grabbing a towel, he noted how plush it was. Everything here was so… elegant.

He stepped back into the main bedroom, and picked up the robe that had been left there for him. Then, with a shrug, he tossed it into the chair at the desk, slipping naked beneath the clean sheets of his bed. He fell asleep within moments.

Samuel awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door of his room. Room, hell. It was a suite, and a nice one. He just knew he was going to regret it when he saw how much this place was charging him, but he’d been so scattered when he arrived that he supposed he should be grateful he’d found a bed to sleep in at all.

He did feel a bit better, but the dull ache wasn’t getting any easier to cope with, and he still had a host of problems that needed addressing in the very near future. He was startled from his reverie by the repetition of the knock that had woken him in the first place. That was right. There was someone at the door.

Standing up, he quickly slipped into the robe he’d slung over the back of the chair in his room before he’d passed out, and opened the door. The woman who was standing outside of it smiled at him tentatively, and he wondered for a few moments why she was there.

She was short, perhaps five foot four inches tall, with long hair that was so dark a brown it was almost black. She had mocha skin, paired with the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen, and was wearing a plain gray dress. It was then that he noticed the plastic-wrapped bundle that she carried under one arm.

“Hello, Mr. Kent? I brought your clothes,” she said brightly, holding the package out to him. “Alex told me you’d be wanting them as soon as possible.” Samuel stared at her stupidly for a few brief moments before his brain finally kicked itself into gear again.

“Thanks,” he said. “That’s terrific. Give me just a second here, let me find a tip for you. Come to think of it, I never gave Alex anything for his help earlier either. Do you mind splitting with him?”

The woman shook her head and smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Kent,” she said. “The hotel compensates us very generously, I assure you.”

“Please call me Sam,” Samuel said. “Mr. Kent is way too formal for some guy who showed up in your lobby looking like something some over-enthusiastic puppy had shaken half to death and then peed on.” He took the parcel from her hands.

The woman laughed and grinned at him. “Hey, I get it,” she said. “We’ve all had rough days. But buck up! You’re in the finest hotel in the city. Things can’t be all bad.” She nodded at him. “Don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything else you need,” she added. “In case you missed the name tag, I’m Lucy. Nice to meet you, Sam!”

Samuel had indeed missed her name tag. Mostly so she wouldn’t think that he was staring at her breasts, which even the shapeless gray dress of a hotel housekeeper couldn’t hide completely. “Nice to meet you too, Lucy,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. He really wasn’t doing alright. He should get dressed, go out and try to pull himself together.

Lucy gave him one last winning smile before turning on her heels and striding away. Staring after her, he closed the door, then tore open the wrapping that covered his freshly dried and pressed clothes. Damn, he thought to himself as he shucked the robe. This really is a classy place. He got dressed as fast as he could, and made his way down to the lower floor.

Walking toward the lobby, he heard a noise to his left, and turned to look. It was the hotel bar, and the noise he’d heard was soft music piping out from speakers that must have been well-hidden behind the counter. All of a sudden, Samuel was hit with a new pressing desire. He needed a drink.

Turning away from the lobby, he stepped into the dim light of the bar, and sidled up to the counter. A middle-aged man with an austere demeanor stood behind it, polishing the marbled counter-top idly. “Well hello there, young man,” he said in a clipped accent. “What can I do for you?”

Samuel was about to speak up when he was interrupted by a woman taking a seat next to him. She was tall, easily six feet, and dressed in a floor-length green evening gown that exposed nothing below the neck but her arms, and yet clung to her like it had been glued on. She looked devastatingly sexy in it.

The dress was a perfect contrast to her long auburn hair and her dark, liquid chocolate eyes. She didn’t look Samuel’s way even once, but spoke to the bartender directly. “He’ll have a rum and coke on me, Roger,” she said in a soft, sultry voice. “He looks like he’s a little out of his element. And make sure to pull from the top shelf, won’t you, darling?”

The bartender nodded to her deferentially and set about making the drink she’d ordered, as the woman turned to face Samuel. “Sorry to just pop in on you like this, sugar,” she said. “But I saw you sitting here looking like a lost puppy the moment I walked into the bar, and I couldn’t help myself.”

Samuel simply boggled at her, but she smiled at him broadly and continued on as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Now,” she said. “In my experience, a man gets that look on his face, he’s either lost something important or found something he wasn’t expecting. Which is it? I’m Margaret, by the way. What’s your name?”

Samuel had nothing to say to this startling approach, but was thankfully rescued from having to answer by Roger sliding a rum and coke his way. Numbly, he picked up the glass and took a sip. The smoky-sweet taste of the drink surprised him; it was by far the best rum and coke he’d ever tasted.

“What is this?” he asked Roger, taking another appreciative sip. Roger just grunted and smiled, clearly pleased at the implied praise.

It was Margaret who answered him. “If I know Roger here, that’ll be Rhum Clement. Comes from Martinique, an old Caribbean rum port, and has notes of honey and smoke to go with the molasses, I think.”

Roger nodded and smiled at Margaret, beaming. “You remember your liquors very well, Margaret,” he said. She flashed him a dazzling smile, then turned back to the boggling Samuel.

“Now that I’ve answered your question, don’t you think it’s only polite of you to answer mine?” she asked, her voice dipping just a bit at the end of the question to give her a playfully pouty tone. Samuel grinned at her and shook his head.

“I’m called Sam,” he said. “And yeah… I lost something. Girlfriend of two years.”

Margaret grinned. “They call you Sam because that’s your name, or did the people just decide to hang it on you out of the blue, sugar?”

Sam snorted, nearly spitting out his drink. “N-no, it’s m-my name,” he stammered.

“Well,” Margaret said. “I’m awfully sorry to hear about your breakup. You look like you need a sympathetic ear, Sam. And I’m always up for a story. So why don’t you enjoy that drink I bought you and tell me all about it?”

Samuel felt himself starting to relax. He didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or the company, but suddenly, he felt the urge to open up. Taking another appreciative sip of his drink, he began.

“I met Alicia back when I was just starting my graduate work in college,” he said. “She was a second-year undergrad, an English major. I was beginning the path that would lead to me getting my Master’s degree in political science.” He paused, but Margaret said nothing, just watching him with those smoky eyes and smiling in an encouraging way.

“It’s hard for me to even figure out now how it is that we got together in the first place,” Samuel continued, taking another pull from his rum and coke. “Damn, you mix a great drink,” he said to Roger, who beamed at him from behind the bar.

“Why don’t you back that up for him, dear,” Margaret said to Roger, waving a hand at Samuel’s nearly empty glass. “Go on, sugar,” she said, turning her attention back to Samuel. “Tell me more.”

Samuel accepted the drink that Roger held out to him. He was starting to feel a soft, sweet fog cover his mind. He felt warm, heavy and relaxed, a delightful combination given the hellish way his day had begun. “Well,” he said. “We met at a party. I forget what the topic of the night was, but we got into a vicious debate. Nearly ended in a yelling match.”

He chuckled and wet his lips from the fresh glass, poking his tongue out to savor the flavor of it. “She was always so emotional, a real dreamer type, you know? Not like me. I was always the cool, rational type. Comes with the territory, I guess. Where was I?”

“The party where you met,” Margaret said, seeming to exhibit no impatience at all despite Samuel’s meandering. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her hands and propping her chin on them as she looked at Samuel with just a hint of a smolder in her eyes.

“Right,” Samuel said. “Well, anyhow, it wasn’t long after that she invited me to go see some musical or other that was playing near campus that weekend. I was shocked, but she told me that she hadn’t had a good fight like that in years, and she wondered what other controversial opinions I might be harboring.” He laughed then, at the memory, and Margaret’s eyes glittered like opals in moonlight.

And so it continued. Every so often, Roger would pass him another drink, and all the while, Margaret would listen to him attentively and thoughtfully as he explained how they had moved in together shortly after their first night together, and about the work they did together on campus to promote social justice, and a host of other things.

It was at this point that Margaret interrupted Samuel in a more serious way for the first time. “She sounds lovely,” she purred, reaching out to lay a hand on Samuel’s arm. “Tell me though… since this is just talk between friends… how was that first night together?”

Under normal circumstances, Samuel would never have answered that question. Certainly not for a near-stranger. And yet, after all that he’d already told her, and the way she’d taken it all in, Samuel really felt like he could open up to her. So it was that he found himself regaling this strange woman and the bemused bartender with tales of Alicia’s prowess as a lover.

“She was amazing,” he said. The fog that had covered his mind earlier had solidified somewhat in the intervening time, and he was very definitely buzzed. Which was odd, because he still hadn’t finished his drink yet; it was still three-quarters full.

“I mean, not just because she was beautiful, though let me tell you, she had the kind of face and body that would’ve had even the gay guys and straight girls looking… It was the quiet intensity of her passion, the single-minded pursuit of pleasure, hers and mine… It was the way she always seemed to know what I wanted or needed even before I did, and moved to accommodate it seamlessly.”

Samuel paused for a moment, then grinned. “It didn’t hurt that she was just such an intensely sexual person, you know? She could just never get enough. And it always seemed personal, you know? Like it was me that she wanted that intensely, if that makes any sense.” Margaret nodded and made a soft, sympathetic sound.

“So… what happened?” she asked, finally broaching the subject Samuel had been fearing. He attempted to take a big swig of his drink, and noticed that it was empty. When had that happened? Come to think of it, how many had he had? He’d been here for a few hours by now, surely. Was that his first drink? He wasn’t sure.

“Her friend, Mark,” Samuel said. “He… She… well, she-” He broke off his halting explanation when he felt Margaret giving his arm an understanding squeeze. Her eyes held none of the contempt or pity that he’d expected; rather, she seemed genuinely empathetic and caring toward him in a way that he wouldn’t have expected of a stranger.

He suddenly became aware that he was intensely aroused. When had that happened? He presumed it had to have been sometime during the period where he was spilling the details of his sex life with Alicia, and yet he couldn’t recall any stirrings at the time. Now, however, he was so hard that he hurt, and he felt a flush creep up his neck as he tried to pull himself together.

“I understand, darling,” Margaret said. “She cheated on you with this… Mark?”

“N-no,” Samuel said, taking a sip of the fresh drink that Roger pressed into his hand. “Thanks for the refill,” he said, turning toward the salt-and-pepper haired bartender with a grin. Roger nodded, winked at him, and went back to polishing the counter-top.

“No,” he continued. “She didn’t cheat on me. At least, so she tells me, and I believe her. She just… fell for him, and broke up with me as soon as she’d figured out her feelings on the matter. But… I had never been so happy, you know?”

He broke down sobbing, the words coming out in a flood now. “We w-were so happy t-together, or I thought we were, and th-then… Oh God.”

Margaret stood up from her seat, walking around behind him and putting her arms around him from behind.

“There, there, darling,” she said in a soft, husky voice. “It’s alright. You cry it out, if you need to. I could tell you were hurtin’ hard, the moment I saw you.”

Samuel was assaulted by a mix of feelings. He was grateful for the attempt to comfort him… more than he wanted to admit… but the feel of her soft body pressed to his, separated only by the thin barrier of their clothing, was doing deliciously dirty things to his limbic system, and his already out-of-control horniness was ratcheting up fairly rapidly.

“Thanks,” he said in a hushed voice as Margaret walked back around the table to sit in front of him once more. He noticed the way that her dress plunged in the back, despite how high it was in the front, coming daringly close to the sleek curves of her ass-cheeks. Once she’d sat down again, Margaret turned her attention to Samuel once more.

She seemed to hesitate for a minute, then asked, “What would you say if I told you that I could fix all of this for you?” Samuel boggled at her with a complete lack of comprehension, and asked her what she meant, his voice hitching.

“I mean,” Margaret said, her drawl getting even more pronounced, “that I can show you how to get revenge on Mark, or Alicia. Or both. Whatever tickles your fancy, sugar. Hell, I can even show you how to ensure that Alicia kicks his ass to the curb and takes you back without a care in the world.”

Samuel stared at Margaret for a few moments, taking another sip of his rum and coke. Man, this thing tasted fantastic. He’d have to be sure to ask Roger for another, once he’d finished the first one. He thought about what… Mary? Marjorie? Fuck, he couldn’t remember her name… had said for a few moments.

What would it be like, he wondered to himself. What would it be like, having the power to avenge this hurt, and right this wrong? Could I even go through with it?

“How would I go about doing that?” he asked cautiously. He lifted his glass to his lips, sniffing slowly and appreciatively. That Rick… Romeo… Ronald… well, whoever he was, the motherfucker knew how to make a damned fine drink, that was for sure. Why was his head so foggy all of a sudden? Sure, he’d had a couple sips off of a rum and coke, but that shouldn’t have been kicking his ass like this.

Margaret hesitated for a moment before answering. Then she leaned in close, licking her lips in a slow, sensual swab before leaning even closer to whisper into Sam’s ear. “I can teach you how to control minds, with just one word, with just one touch,” she said in a breathy voice.

Samuel pulled back and glared at her. “That’s not funny,” he said. “Everyone knows that mind control is impossible. Why would you… fuck. Why would you even say that?! Don’t you have any idea how badly I’m hurting, how much it meant to me that I thought you might have real advice to offer me? I… shit.”

Margaret just smiled at him more widely, her eyes fixated on his. She had pretty eyes, Samuel couldn’t help but think to himself. Even if she was cruel, leading him on like that about… what was it she’d said to him again? Everything was just a bit off; he was having a terrible time trying to focus.

“Impossible? Is that so, darling? Well, I can promise you that not only is it possible, it’s not even that hard to learn, if you’re willing to apply yourself. Tell me, sugar. How many rum and cokes have you had this afternoon?”

Sam looked at his glass, which was half-empty. “Still working on my first one. It’s weird… normally, I’m not the sipping sort. Though normally I’m not a heavy drinker either, so…” He cut off as Margaret’s tinkling laugh filled the bar.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, gasping between gales of laughter, “you’re working on your eighth one now. You’re drunk, my boy. Not only that, but you’re having other mental problems today, aren’t you? Memory’s a bit hazy, hmm? Can’t focus on anything for too long?”

Samuel gaped at her, his eyes wide. She held his gaze firmly, never blinking, never wavering, and strangely, he found that he was doing the same. She had such pretty brown eyes after all, he couldn’t look away. As he looked, they seemed almost to grow, to fill his field of vision, until there was only the infinitely deep chocolate pool of her stare in which to lose himself.

“You’re… what?” Samuel tried to articulate his incredulity, but the words just wouldn’t come. Margaret shifted her chair around the table, until she was cozied up to him directly, and leaned in once more. Her lips brushed against his sensitive earlobe, sending hard tremors through his entire body, followed immediately by delightfully pleasant tingles.

“I also know that you’re so turned on right now that you would do nearly anything to satisfy the aching need between your legs,” she cooed, running one hand along his arm, and another up one of his thighs. Samuel shuddered in response to her words, his mind going blank for a few moments as he wrestled with the raw sexual need her words inspired.

“It’s alright, darling, you can tell me,” she said, continuing to speak in a low, throaty voice laden heavily with sensuality. “What are you thinking right now, hmm? What’s on your mind, sugar?”

Samuel couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to talk anymore. In fact, he was starting to feel a little queasy. But Margaret’s relentless gaze held him pinned, like a butterfly to cork-board, and he found himself being completely open and candid with her. “Part of me is scared,” he said. “R-real scared. The other part of me wants to tear you out of that dress and fuck you like my life depended on it.”

Never taking her eyes from his, Margaret licked her lips. The gesture was slow and crudely suggestive, and the way she pursed her lips afterward left Samuel unable to think about anything except how badly he wanted them wrapped around his cock.

Wait, what? What was this? This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a casual fling kind of guy. Hell, he didn’t even know this woman’s name. And yet, it was true. He was practically drooling at the thought of her touch, of losing himself in her warmth and wetness, and he groaned out loud at the feeling of his throbbing dick twitching angrily inside of his pants.

Margaret chuckled. “Hmm… Is that so? Tell me, darling… what would you do for me, if I agreed to touch you?” She ran one hand up his thigh, barely brushing against the imprint his erect cock left in his pants. “Or suck you,” she continued, leaning in to playfully nip his earlobe as she whispered to him. “For the right incentive, I’d even let you fuck me, sugar. What would you give me, to stick that nice hard cock inside my tight, wet pussy and pound me like I was made to take your dick, hmmm?”

Samuel gritted his teeth. His thoughts were scattering like droplets of blood on ice, skittering around with nothing firm to cling to except Margaret’s wanton words. “Anything,” he said, gasping as a fresh jolt of arousal nearly toppled him from his chair. “I’d give anything.”

Margaret suddenly leaned back. “Then learn what I have to teach you,” she said. “And you can compel my compliance. It’s the only way you’re getting what you want.”

Samuel shook his head. “I told you, it’s impossible. There’s no such thing as mind control,” he said. He was about to continue, but his tongue suddenly clung hard to the roof of his mouth. Margaret had started idly kneading her full, firm breasts, and her nipples now stood proud and erect even through the thick, silky fabric of her dress.

“I see you need a little demonstration. That’s okay, darling. I don’t mind.” Margaret stood up and moved around behind Samuel, her fingertips grazing along his shoulders as she leaned down to whisper to him. “Though I’m a little surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner. Why do you think you’re having such a hard time keeping track of your drinks? Or anything else, for that matter?” She nipped him gently, nibbling along his throat. “Why do you think you’re so turned on?”

Samuel tried to turn to face her, but suddenly, her voice shifted. No longer soft and seductive, it became a harsh whip-crack that seemed to penetrate the fog around his mind like a fine blade piercing flesh, compelling action. “Stand up and face me,” she said, and before he knew it, Samuel was on his feet, staring at Margaret with wide eyes.

She moved just a little bit closer. “I caught you staring at my tits just now,” she said. “I know you want to touch them.” She stretched, arching her back, causing them to jut out proudly from her chest before settling back on her feet. “Just imagine how they’d feel, wrapped around your spit-slicked dick, grinding up and down your shaft while I milked a hot, creamy load out of you.”

Samuel moaned at the mental image her words evoked. He could actually feel himself trembling with need, and he was harder than he had ever been in his life. “P-please,” he stammered.

“Ask me nicely,” she cooed back at him, a wicked smile blooming on her face. “Say my name, Sammie. Make a girl feel special.”

“P-p-please, M-” Samuel came up short. Mina? Melissa? What the fuck was her name, and why couldn’t he remember it?! “Please, M-mistress,” he stammered. “Please, I want that so badly.”

Margaret beamed at him. “Mistress, is it? I like that, sugar. I like it a lot.” She cast a glance at Samuel’s erection, clearly visible through his pants. “That looks awfully uncomfortable,” she said. “Why don’t you get out of those clothes, show me what you’re hiding in there, and let him breathe a little?”

Samuel didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed hold of the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, and casting it aside. He then began to unbutton his jeans, thrusting them unceremoniously down his legs and stepping out of them, kicking them to join his shirt.

Margaret’s eyes never left him as he peeled off his boxer shorts, at last standing before Margaret completely naked, save for his socks and shoes. He went to remove them as an afterthought, but Margaret made a slashing motion in the air with one hand, and he suddenly felt an overpowering urge to stand very, very still.

The tall, statuesque beauty stepped forward, walking around Samuel in a slow circle, casting an appreciative gaze over his whole body. “You’re a healthy man,” she said, running her fingers up and down his chest, then along his throat to the curve of his jaw. She scratched and caressed him there, gently, and he practically panted in pleasure at the sensation.

“Now kneel,” she said, her voice once again taking on that commanding tone that seemed to compel his obedience without ever touching his conscious mind. He dropped to the hardwood floor, a marionette with its strings suddenly cut, and looked up at her raptly as she smiled down at him.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, walking around behind him. Sliding elegantly to her knees behind him, she brushed her lips against the lobe of one ear, flicking him with her tongue. “Now, tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’ll be a good puppy, and obey me when I tell you to take my lessons to heart.”

Some primal part of Samuel’s subconscious started to rebel at this point, and he shook his head violently. “N-no,” he stammered through teeth that chattered with the effort of getting the word out. “I w-w-won’t submit to you.”

Margaret laughed. “Go on and fight me,” she said, reaching between his legs to grasp his swollen cock firmly in one hand. “I do so enjoy a challenge, sugar. And it’s only going to make it that much sweeter when I finally take you.”

Samuel grunted as he felt her start to stroke him slowly but firmly. Completely subconsciously, he started to buck in her fist, but he stopped when she snapped at him to stay still. He shivered. Something about her voice was completely irresistible. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He only knew that when she spoke to him like that, he had no choice but to do as she said.

The notion simultaneously terrified him and turned him on. He was helpless. Really helpless. He’d do anything this strange woman wanted, let her do anything to him that she wanted, as long as she kept touching him.

He moaned and groaned in unashamed pleasure as Margaret stroked his pulsing dick from root to tip, gradually tightening on every upstroke and relaxing on every downstroke. “Say yes, sugar,” she said, nibbling along his throat as she jerked him off. “Say you’ll do as I wish, when I wish, until you’ve learned all that I have to teach.”

Samuel couldn’t think. Not only had his mental fog crystallized into an impenetrable wall separating all conscious thought from the demands of his body, but the way Margaret rubbed and caressed him had his bones turning to jelly. “Y-yes,” he said. “Yes, Mistress. I’ll learn what you have to teach. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Margaret continued to stroke him at a slow, steady pace, seemingly completely unhurried even as Samuel went positively mad with lust. “That’s a good boy.” She pressed her thumb against the slit of his cock, feeling the pre-cum pooling there, and rubbed it into his swollen flesh softly but firmly.

Samuel groaned again, unable to help himself as the rumbling sound turned into a high pitched whimper of raw sexual desperation. Margaret’s laugh echoed around the bar again. “My, my,” she said, brushing her stiff nipples against his back, only the green fabric of her dress separating flesh from flesh. “You sound like you’re just desperate to pop.”

Samuel wanted to cum. He wanted to scream. He wanted to slap Margaret, and he wanted to roll over onto his back, presenting himself to her submissively like a puppy exposing its belly for its owner. His whole body trembled as he fought to ride the edge of the incredible climax he could feel approaching.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Margaret said in that sultry, sexy southern drawl of hers, “and I promise to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before. Come on, sugar. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Samuel couldn’t take it any more. He felt the last vestiges of his will blowing away like the leaves of a tree caught in a nuclear backdraft. “I’m yours,” he gasped, his vision narrowing as the rutting haze narrowed his entire reality down to the sensations spreading from his core throughout his entire body.

And in that moment, it was true. Something shifted inside of him, like the last piece of a puzzle finally sliding into place because the person building it had suddenly thought to turn it sideways. He’d been wrong to fight her. He was hers. He would do anything she wanted, any time that she wanted, without reservation, if only she’d finish what she started.

Right at the moment he was certain he was going to erupt, Margaret stopped what she was doing, running her fingernails over Samuel’s balls as she rose swiftly and gracefully to her feet. His mind blanked, and he felt as if he was going to pass out. He needed to cum. Now.

“Stand up,” Margaret said. She didn’t use the commanding tone of voice that she had before, but Samuel knew in his heart that she didn’t need to. She was light, she was water, she was air. He was hers. He stood as she commanded, never saying a word, using only the needy look in his eyes to communicate how desperately he wanted her to finish him.

“I’m going to clap my hands in a moment,” Margaret said, idly kneading her breasts through her dress as she watched Samuel struggle. “When I do, the spell will be broken. Normally, you’d forget everything that had happened here. But I want you to remember, sugar. Remember. And know that this power can be yours. And one day, you’ll be able to use it to take… well… anything you want.”

She stepped closer to him. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me, and worked so hard to overcome all that nasty urge to resist me, I think that you deserve a reward. So before I end this little game, I want you to do one more thing for me, Sammie.” Her voice was sexy and pouty, but her eyes sparkled with playful mischief.

His gaze remained fixed on her as he struggled to answer her through gritted teeth. “What can I do for you, Mistress?” he asked.

Margaret smiled at him, running her tongue over her lips once more, making her lipstick shine. “Cum for me,” she said, once more slipping into the commanding tone she’d used to somehow sap his will earlier. “Cum hard for me.”

Samuel gasped, sucking his breath in between clenched teeth as he erupted with absolutely no warning at all. Surge after surge of pleasure ripped through him and he watched helplessly as spurt after spurt of pearly cum arced from his twitching cock in glistening ropes, only to unceremoniously splatter onto the floor. Just then, Margaret clapped her hands, and Samuel immediately felt his mind clear.

“What the actual fuck,” he said, glaring at Margaret in utter bewilderment and anger. “What the hell did you do to me?!” He leapt behind the bar, only to crash into Roger.

“I beg your pardon, young man,” he said, giving Samuel a hard push, “but there are no customers allowed behind the counter.” Samuel boggled at him; he had, in truth, completely forgotten that Roger was even there.

Margaret turned her smile on the bartender. “Why don’t you make Sammie here another drink. He probably needs it, after all he’s been through today.” Samuel shook, stepping away from her and nearly tripping over the pile of his clothes. Bending down, he scooped them up, and started getting dressed.

“What just happened?” he snarled at Roger, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer that made sense out of Margaret.

The bartender just smirked at him as he handed him another rum and coke. “All will become clear in time, I am sure,” he said with a shrug. Samuel whipped around on Margaret again, pouring the drink down his throat. It burned, drinking it so fast, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment.

“You know what happened, darling,” Margaret said. “And now, you know what I’m offering you. The power to bend anyone to your will. The power to command anyone to do anything. The power to claim what’s rightfully yours, if you have the balls to take it.”

Samuel shook, a strange combination of fear, anger and residual lust overloading his senses. He never took his eyes off of Margaret as he tugged his boxers, jeans, and shirt back on. Margaret watched him dress, her gaze as dispassionate as his was heated.

“So… tell me. Are you in? Do you want to learn the lessons that I have to teach you?” Margaret looked as if she truly couldn’t possibly care less what the answer was, and didn’t press Samuel to speak. He stood there, thinking for a bit.

He still wasn’t sure what had happened here. And he didn’t know what the future held. But with how uncertain everything was right now… if he could really gain Margaret’s power over others… well, there was no world in which it didn’t prove useful, whatever he decided to do. He nodded. He wasn’t able to speak… not yet… but he could tell from the way Margaret smiled at him that it was enough.

“Oh, good! I was hoping you’d say yes,” she said, back to playing the bubbly southern belle. “Now go on, get some rest. Meet me back here tomorrow. You’ve got a lot to learn.” Samuel shook his head ruefully, and turned to leave as she had told him to do, but at the door of the bar, he hesitated and turned around.

“Who are you?” he asked in a hushed, awed tone of voice.

Margaret’s rich, velvety laugh rolled over him like warm sea water. “Oh, sugar,” she said with a soft, throaty chuckle. “Does it even matter? I’m gonna help you make all your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. Ain’t that enough, darling?”

Sam nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ll see you tomorrow, Margaret. Same time?” She nodded at him in turn, and he walked away, numbly punching the button to summon the elevator. He already needed another nap, just to help process what had happened. Besides, he had the feeling that he was going to need his energy tomorrow.

“Mistress,” Margaret replied with one last rich, throaty chuckle. “Call me Mistress, sugar.” Samuel opened his mouth to reply, closed it again, bowed his head in acknowledgment, and then turned and walked away.