There's nothing I like better after a long day at the computer than a hot shower. I could stand for hours under the stinging spray, daydreaming as rivulets of steaming water wash the stench of stress from my skin. Today was one of those days, a Monday to top them all. Even the shower isn't helping much this time. I stand under the water until it sluices over my tired body like ice, and I still feel the little tremors of tension pinging across my nerves. It appears that a glass of wine may be in order.
Shutting off the water, I stretch leisurely before stepping out of the shower. I reach for the towel, only to find it isn't there. What the hell? I'm sure I brought it into the bathroom with me. My robe appears to be gone as well. I'm frightened for a moment, before I realize how foolish it is. I'm alone in the house and all the doors are locked. I checked them before I got into the shower. I must have left both my robe and the towel on the end of my bed when I went to get a fresh bottle of shampoo. Of course.
Satisfied with that, I move slowly into my adjoining bedroom. Warm summer air, moved by the lazy spinning of the ceiling fan, drifts softly around me caressing my damp skin. I can almost feel the moisture evaporate, making the fine hair that dusts my arms stand on end. There is an incredibly erotic sensation here that takes me by surprise. I don't usually wander around the house nude, and I'm beginning to think I may have been missing something. Perhaps I should get that wine, and not bother looking for my robe just yet. Not just yet.
Padding down the hallway in my bare feet is another adventure in sensation. The cool stone tiles feel almost slick under my soles, like they've been lightly misted with water. Between the cool stone and the warm air, I find myself entranced by the differing textures of my own home. Even the play of light and shadow as I enter the kitchen, serves only to deepen the spell. Ensorcelled by conflicting phenomena, I am momentarily oblivious to my surroundings.
Awareness returns abruptly as I suddenly find myself pushed face first against the refrigerator door. Cold metal presses tightly against my naked flesh, chilling it. I feel my nipples contract in an attempt to avoid the contact in the same instant that I feel the unmistakable kiss of a knife blade along the side of my throat. Everything is happening so fast I have no time to react. A low, rough voice whispers, lips so close I can feel hot breath tickling my ear.
"Close your eyes and do exactly as I say. Not a sound. Don't make a move, don't even twitch unless I tell you to. " The point of the knife travels slowly along the curve of my spine, continuing on between my shoulder blades, circling my buttocks, pausing just before it delves between my legs. "Do you understand me?"
I feel a warning pinprick, and a shiver of fear ripples over me from head to foot. I'm nearly weak from the terror, when the barest hint of fragrance assails my nostrils. Musk. Sweetness and spice all rolled into one, and suddenly I know what's going on. I know who has me and what the game is. I remember talking about this for hours one night, about the difference between a control fantasy and a rape fantasy. About why some women, myself included, have control fantasies. About how we become too self-controlled to ever fully surrender ourselves, even in lovemaking.
I remember too, the drunken stupor that ensued, the idea that we should try this out. I remember the promise of someday, when I would least expect it. It seems that someday has arrived.
...High Tension...
(c) M.C. Sak 2000