The Wheels of Fortune (closed for DarkWarrioress)

[Tio_Narratore]

“What is pleasure?” Arthur repeated. “That’s simple. Even the dictionary is clear on that. Pleasure is happy satisfaction, enjoyment.”

“Now,” he continued, “What is anyone’s pleasure? What is my pleasure? What is your pleasure? That’s where things become complicated. The are things that may be expected to give pleasure to many people, but never to all. There are some things more common than others, but in the end, it’s very much an individual thing.”

He sipped his coffee.

“It was probably impolite of me to ask you about your pleasures - or hoped-for pleasures - without telling you anything about what gives me pleasure. Well, there are many things that gave me pleasure. Reading and writing, music, art, food and drink, conversation, travel, sex. There was much. My greatest pleasure, though, was sharing these things, sharing them with my wife.”

“Most of my pleasures gradually disappeared in the years after she died, though I do get some pleasure from things still. You’ve mentioned sex, and that was one of my - our - highest pleasures. Rough or gentle, light or dark, we both enjoyed it, even the sexual arousal that could come from pain. But I couldn’t enjoy any of it if Emily hadn’t found pleasure in it too. It sounds to me that Brad had his pleasure with no regard for how you felt. That’s the mark of sociopaths and psychopaths.”

“I did enjoy sex with other women after I lost Emily, but it was never quite the same, the conjunction of spirits just wasn’t there. I gave up on it about two years ago, but I still miss it. I know what I would have wanted these past years; I guess that’s why I asked you about what pleasures you wished for.”

As he sat back and drank his coffee, he wondered again why it was so easy to talk to this woman he had just met, and wondered also if she wondered the same about talking to him. Did fate bring their fortunes together? Were the coincidences signs that they were destined to meet?

 

[DarkWarrioress]

“I’m finding it hard to believe that anyone could derive pleasure from pain. I suppose it is possible. There is so much that is possible in this world. For me personally, I don’t believe I can do that, not after what I’ve been through. Bradly had little interest in anything except his own gratification. So now, I find myself in a state of quandary where sex is concerned. I want to believe that I can find pleasure again, but my body keeps saying otherwise or maybe it’s my mind. I don’t know. I’m so lost and confused. So, I have decided to focus on working. Once I get established there, maybe I can settle in to thinking about other things.”

Once again, she wondered at how easily she spoke with a virtual stranger. She marveled at how at ease she felt around him even though they had met just earlier today. Her mind and her body were at war with each other. Her body was saying it enjoyed his touch. Her mind was reminding her otherwise. It was exhausting to be sure. Arthur did bring something to the fore of her mind. What would she find pleasurable? She would have to delve into that area when she had time to think and ponder.

And what had happened earlier on the staircase? She had felt this…. sexual energy, there was no other way to describe it, coming from him. As if he was, all of a sudden very aware of her as a woman. It had triggered something in her too, but nothing she wanted to contemplate for now. It was hard not to; he was sitting right there across from her. They had walked down the stairs together and they probably would come in contact with each more now that she was going to be working for him as well. She did wonder if she was crazy. Maybe it had been all her mind. Maybe it was just her. She studied him over the rim of her mug. He sat there so quietly, drinking his coffee as if nothing had happened and maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was just all in her mind and why would her mind be doing that sort of thing? Sex had never been in the forefront of her mind since Brad. To be honest, sex scared the hell out of her. She didn’t understand the way her body was reacting to Arthur and she couldn’t ask him about it either. She had just met him. He was also technically her employer.

They both sat there, who knew how long, each lost in thought as they enjoyed their coffee in companionable silence for the moment.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

It felt good, Arthur thought as he sat drinking his coffee. Good to be able to sit silently with someone, silently and yet comfortable. But why was it so easy with this woman, he wondered. Why did it feel as if he’d known her for years? Perhaps it was fate and fortune, he concluded, but, no matter what, it felt good to sit with her.

His thoughts turned to his question and her comments, and he thought about it a while, looking for the words to discuss the conjunction of pain and pleasure.

“Tess.” he said at length. “The reaction to pain is very individual, and the nature of pain can be very varied. Most people do like some pain, the pain of aching muscles after a satisfying job or gym workout, for example. For some people, it heightens the response to the other senses. In it’s extreme, it can be pleasure in itself. Consider long distance runners and their efforts to ‘hit the wall,’ to reach that point of pain where the body releases a flood of endorphins giving the ‘runner’s high. Some people look for that in sex. Whipping is a common outlet for that.”

“But there’s more to it as well, I think. There’s the feelings of fear, excitement, anticipation, and apprehension, not unlike what some people find pleasurable in horror movies . . .”

He trailed off at that point.

“There’s much to think about, and maybe much to feel in the subject, but now it’s getting a bit late. We have work to do tomorrow, and tonight to prepare for it. You have to update your resumé and print some copies, and I need to do some writing.”

He stood up and collected the their mugs, bringing them into the kitchen.

“You can use the office; that’s the only printer in the house. Remember to add your current job - Part-Time Head of House at the Lodge. You’ll find the civic address on the letterhead in the top desk drawer. You should make at least two dozen copies, I would think. Make as many as you wish.”

“I’ll be working in the study. Don’t hesitate to come in if you need anything or have any questions. If I don’t see you, have a good night. You know the way to your room.”

He headed upstairs first, collecting the portrait of Emily and bringing it down to the study. He gazed fondly on her image as he hung it back in its place.

“I do like this woman, Tess,” he said aloud to the image, “and I still do miss you.”

To his desk, then, to open the story files and read them over as he thought of the solution to his problems that arose in his dinner conversation with Tess. A quick scan, and his fingers began flying over the keyboard. He was writing again, and feeling positive about it this time.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

He was right. It was getting later and as he said, they had some work to do. Arthur went upstairs before her and Tess watched him a moment before making her way to the office. Closing the door behind her, she looked around and saw the printer. Moving over to the desk, she pulled out the chair and sat down, staring at her laptop. Two dozen copies? Did she really need that many? Opening the laptop she brought up her word-processing program and found her resumé. She started to type in her newest job with Arthur under current job. Tess got the printer to work with her laptop and hit the print button.She printed out a dozen. She didn’t feel quite right about using so much of his printing paper, but she vowed to replace it. In the meantime as the printer went to work, Tess’ mind wandered back over their earlier conmversation, especially about the part of the feelings when watching a horror movie. It was a bit of a stretch, she admitted to herself, but she could understand that. Although, she kind of understood that already. She often wondered when Brad’s next strike would come and where. However, linking it to pleasure, again, a bit of a stretch. Briefly, tess wondered what kind of lover was Arthur. Was it possible for him to make pain pleasureable? And would she like to understand it better?

Tess abruptly stood up from the desk and marched over to retrieve the small stack of her resumés. What was she thinking? She needed a warm bath, her bed and some sleep. That this wasn’t the first time she thought about Arthur in this fashion came as no surprise, but she had to wonder what was wrong with her. Gathering up her papers and her laptop, Tess stepped out of the office and noticed the door to the study was closed.

Good luck, Arthur and Good Night, she wished him silently and climbed the stairs to her room, closing the door behind her. Setting aside her work-related stuff, Tess pinned her hair up and headed into the bathroom, turning on the taps to fill the tub generously with heated water. She slipped out of her clothes and into the tub, sliding down into the welcoming warmth. It was strange how things had happened today. She thanked the Universe for its intervention on her behalf OR, she had to ponder, was it the Universe’s plan all along? Fate, one might say. A soft sound of amusement filled the air. Who knew? Right now, she was simply happy to be somewhere safe.

Languidly Tess’ hands started to trail over her body, causing her nipples and areolas to tighten and a tingle to slide down her spine as her legs moved a bit restlessly in the water. With her eyes closed, Tess began to imagine masculine hands on her body instead of her own, tweaking and pulling on her nipples. Her body automatically arched up from the water. The area between her legs demanded attention. One hand left a nipple and slid below the surface of the water to find her needful clit and began rubbing and tugging on it. Tess’ legs braced against the sides of the tub, opening as wide as they could. Her fingers slipped from her clit to the split lips of her femininity and diving inward. Her palm pressed against her swollen clit as she fingered herself.

“Oh god, yes…” her voice whispered as her fingers worked harder and faster.

Her fingers worked like a cock, though a poor man’s excuse for one, plunging in and out of her craving pussy. Her body would rise and fall accordingly. Arthur’s image came to mind, making her groan, whether in rapture or embarrassment, she didn’t know. His imagery didn’t really surprise her. He is the first person in a long time that she had held a conversational intimacy with.

Brad had taught her pleasure early on, before he taught her about pain. However, the two never mixed and she now wondered if they could. That was a path of exploration she couldn’t do to herself. Well… maybe she could but it wouldn’t be as good as exploring it with someone else. For now, that would have to wait. Tess wasn’t sure that what she was doing was simply about release or about pleasure and release. Something else to explore another day. For now, she’d settle for a release. Her hands and body worked in tandem, bringing her to a fever pitch until the world whirled and lights flashed. Her body went taut as she released her energy into the universeal air with a small soft squeal.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

The first half-hour of writing was incredibly exhilarating. Arthur hadn’t felt that way in years; the six pieces he had came with a struggle for the words, for the scenes, for the characters. But now his mind flew into the tales, committing ideas and images to the monitor at first, and then focusing, finding what each tale needed to tell to become one story. Editing. Rewriting. Call it what you will, each story took on a new life in his head and each new life flowed through his fingers to the screen before him. A jumble, perhaps, to anyone looking over his shoulder, but to him each story was clear in it’s unexpected new direction, clear as to how they would all come together.

The Moirai! The Fates. Three sisters each twining myriad threads, the threads of destiny of myriad souls. But how would the threads of his characters come together? Who would weave a new life into them when the gods had no interest in the lives of mortals? Who would have the will to do what the gods disdained? Arthur knew, and he paused, rising from his desk for a tumbler of Redbreast. As he drank, his mind wandered over his tale, or, perhaps more so, the tale wandered over his mind.

Back to the keyboard, his fingers renewed in their frenzy. It was nearly two in the morning when he stopped. A deep breath, and, satisfied and satiated, he went to his room. A shower, and his mind still roamed, this time over his own life, the thread of his fate, and over Tess and her destiny.

The coincidences again, and he wondered was it fate or fortune that brought them together. And the thoughts of her stirred in him, arousing his desires. Unconsciously, his hands caressed his cock as he lathered, and soon he became aware of his burgeoning erection. He’d been there before, almost every night, in fact, and always to Emily’s portrait and his memories, but now it was Tess’s face that appeared before him. Her clothes gradually evaporated into a fog, exposing the blurred outline of a naked body he’d never seen, a body, though, whose shape was that of this new woman.

She was on the bed, then, and he lay between her open legs. His eyes were on her face, on her expression as he varied his pace and angle. He saw ecstacy there, and he erupted in his hand, a stream of semen crashing against the shower wall. He was long in recovering from his orgasm, and thought about himself and Tess and what was - what might - come in the days ahead. Was this his - their - destiny? Was it simply good fortune, a lucky coincidence that would, perhaps, bring them each some brief pleasures?

He finished his shower and slipped into his bed, drifting to sleep in a tangle of his life and the story that was telling itself through him.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

For someone who had landed softly, Tess slept rather fitfully. There were just too many things on her mind. Still, morning came and she was up early, dressed and in the kitchen. Coffee was already being done and she was simply waiting for Arthur to join her so she could fix them some breakfast.

Arthur. She smiled inwardly as she sat at the island drinking her coffee. She sincerely hoped he had been productive last night with his writing. It made her wish to give writing a try again. She missed being a Wordsmith. A good place to start, she thought, might be with a journal. A journal could possibly help her in many other ways as well. When they went to town, she mentally added to her list of things to do, buy a journal. The man was having a big impact on her for a relative stranger. He gave her a new way of looking at certain things. Still, she wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that, even though, she had to admit, she was drawn to him, like a powerful magnet, he was pulling her in. She knew she wasn’t powerless to stop it but she was a bit frightened of letting it simply happen.

Thinking of the man, she could hear him on the staircase, coming down to join her. She needed to see how it felt around him today. Yesterday, given what he told her, she also needed to feel how he was doing. Too many things had happened that it felt like more than coincidence. There had been times in her life when she felt like some other major force in her life was pushing and pulling her. The Moirai.

Greek mythology had always fascinated her. Did she truly believe in The Fates? There were times in her life she felt like the three sisters were at work with her. Clotho and Lachesis, she could handle but she certainly wasn’t ready for Atropos just yet. She could just keep her sharp scissors to herself, thank you very much. They may very well just be symbols for the Universe, but whatever they truly were, she hoped they would remain kind to her. However, the gods never cared what mere mortals thought, the thread of her life was already being measured and spun, regardless of her thoughts and feelings. If such three truly existed, Tess knew they dealt both the Divine and mortals alike. She rather liked the idea. It put things into a prospective of simplicity unlike all the feuding amongst religions of today.

Tess looked toward the entrance of the kitchen as she heard footsteps approach. Her day soon to start in his employ. Whatever the case may be or whatever, whoever, had guided her here yesterday, she was grateful. So far, it had all been simple and easy. Well, without the minor interference of Brad. Bradley. That man had some nerve. Then again, his ego and arrogance had always been bigger than his head. The jackass.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Not unexpectedly, Arthur’s sleep was punctuated with dreams, and it was a dream which roused him from sleep with a laugh in the morning. A dream of Tess, he imagined, it opened with a woman in late Victorian attire sitting at a desk typing. Arthur was there, standing some distance behind her, but still able to read the lines as they scrolled up from the carriage of the old Remington.

Annabel took her place at the circular table, the tale began, and joined hands with the participants on either side. When all hands were firmly held, the lights were dimmed, and the medium began her invocations. The room was silent, quiet enough that Annabel could hear her own quickening heartbeats.

"I sense a force in the room,” the medium announced, “a being, a spirit, a presence of great emotion.”

Annabel gasped as she, too, felt the presence, powerful and intimidating. All hands surely were held, she knew; they could be discerned in the dim light, yet she felt hands - broad, strong, long-fingered hands - clasp on her sides and slowly slide around to her front. Her breath grew heavy as she felt the hands begin undoing her bodice.

She looked speechlessly to her fellows, but none seemed aware of her predicament. She looked down, but could see no hands. Yet she felt them, felt them opening her bodice and drawing it back. Then, as the hands continued to draw the garment away from her bosom, the material dissipated into the ether.

At that point in the dream, the writer transformed into Annabel, sitting at the table, hands joined and bodice gone. The tale continued as a spoken narrative, then, with a description of the removal of garment after garment, right down to Annabel’s decency skirt and drawers. The unseen hands had come from behind and left the poor girl naked, save for her garters and stockings.

Arthur sprang awake with a start and a laugh; he realized he was the presence behind the girl; it was his hands undressing her.

‘What a corny story,’ he thought, and swung his legs around to rise from the bed.

Apparently not all of him thought the tale trite: his morning wood was no bendable maple sapling, but as hard as a mature oak, though there was a bit of sap at its crown. As he tried to rise, his organ caught the sheet and left him struggling to untangle himself. Freed at last, he washed up, dressed, and headed down stairs.

He expected to follow his usual routine and start a pot of coffee, and now would be making enough for two, but as soon as he reached the staircase, the aroma of fresh brew filled his nostrils. He hurried to the kitchen and greeted Tess.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling broadly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve come down to a pot already made.”

 

[DarkWarrioress]

“Good morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve come down to a pot already made.”

Arthur’s cheerful voice made her forget about Brad. His smile was so infectious, she found herself smiling back at him as she got up from her chair and waved him over to one.

“Good Morning, Arthur. It sounds like you slept well.”

Tess went to the cupboard and drew out another mug and filled it with the freshly brewed coffee before turning to pass it to him.

“How do you take your coffee and is there anything I can make you for breakfast before we get our day underway?”

She wanted to ask him how his writing went last night but didn’t want to pry. Some writers, she knew were picky about such things. Well, maybe picky wasn’t the right word. Superstitious. That was more like it. So, Tess reined in her curiosity for the time being. Picking up her own coffee cup, she turned back to refill it before turning to lean against the counter and studying Arthur.

Today she was dressed in a pair of beige slacks topped by a button-down blouse in emerald green. Her feet were encased in a pair of flat beige shoes to accommodate the walking intended for the day. She also wore a silver medallion showing the representation of the Tree of Life, which hung around her neck by a delicate silver chain. In her earlobes were small silver loops.

On the counter, in corner, rested her soft briefcase that held her old cellphone and the folder with her resumés in it. Tess was ready for the day and whatever Fortune had planned for her….she hoped.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

“Yes, I did, Tess. Thank you,” he replied. “I hope you had a good night, too. The room hasn’t been used in years, but I have had it cleaned every month.”

“Nothing troublesome for breakfast,” Arthur added. “There’s some bagels. I’ll have one buttered.”

He retrieved the bagels, two knives, two plates, and the butter.

“If you’d like something else,” he offered, “feel free.”

Arthur sat to eat.

“No need to get out too early, Tess,” he advised. “It’s vacation time and things don’t really get started until ten.”

His mind ran quickly over a number of things, including the story he was writing, where they’d go, the appointment he asked for at the bank - he’d have to check his emails to confirm that, how nice it felt to have company at breakfast, how attractive Tess was, his morning dream, and more.

“That’s a nice medallion,” he said as he ate. “Is there a story behind it?”

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Tess fixed them both a bagel and sat down across from him to eat.

“That’s a nice medallion,” he said as he ate. “Is there a story behind it?”

She shook her head before taking a sip of coffee.

“Not really. I found it in a quaint little shop at a Ren Faire one year. It was pretty and I liked it. It also reminded me of Life and how strong or how vulnerable everything is.

So, how did your writing go last night? Make any progress?”

After her bath last night, Tess was amazed she could sit across from him without blushing. It disturbed her that she found herself attracted to this man. She wasn’t ready to get involved in any way with anyone. Yet, her hormones were telling her different. She’d just have to get her hormones to chill. That made her recall an offer Arthur had made her about going with him to see his publisher and editor. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Tess supposed that it would all depend on if she had found part-time work by then. Starting a new job, she was sure her new boss wouldn’t take kindly to having to give her time off so soon. Another matter for the Fates, she supposed. Her eyes glanced at a wall clock Arthur had nearby. Was it still so early?

 

[Tio_Narratore]

“I’ve a bit of work to attend to, Tess,” he said as they finished breakfast. “Would you be so kind as to take care of the kitchen.”

He paused a moment before heading to the office. A few emails, a few notes for his novel, and he was back within the hour.

“We can leave shortly,” he proposed. “It’s over a half-hour’s drive, and I can show you around the village before you hit the pavement.”

The drive, more relaxed than yesterday, allowed Arthur the opportunity to show off the scenery and sights along the way. Once in town, he drove the short length of Main Street to point out the places Tess might want to leave her resumé.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though,” he advised; “they've pretty much hired their summer help.”

The shops were just opening as he parked half-way down the street.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he said. “I know it’s something you need to do on your own. I’ll meet you back here when you’re done.”

Arthur thought about Tess the whole time he waited. Yes, he found her attractive, easy to talk to, somebody he would definitely liked to have dated. But she had her history, her baggage from her marriage. He liked her enough that he surely didn’t want to cause her any more distress. Again he resolved to leave what might happen to her, though he definitely felt like helping her along.

When she returned, a couple of copies of her resumé still in hand, he drove just beyond the village center to a small, rustic restaurant.

“A bit of lunch is in order,” he declared. “My treat, and you can tell me all about your efforts.”