In Loving Memory Pt. 02

The first rays of early morning sun filled the tight confines of James's car. He had been driving for hours and had a couple more to go before they reached his destination. He should be exhausted but his mind was filled as it had been so many times over the last eight years; filled with her. He looked across the seat at her. She was curled up like a small child. Her hand under her cheek as it pressed against the cool glass of the window.

He cursed under his breath as he saw for the first time the depth of the ravages that she had allowed. The dark circles underneath her eyes looked as if someone had hit her, creating black eyes. And she had lost weight; a lot of it, perhaps close to two stone or more. Her olive complexion had taken on an ashen hewn. She hardly resembled the woman he had lusted after since he was eighteen.

"Fucking bastard," he cursed again under his breath. The man had never been one of his favourite. How could he be when he had the one thing that James wanted most in the world? Had wanted since those first platonic emails eight years ago. He had been a screwed up kid with nothing better to do than play video games and be emails pals with a lonely older divorcee.

He smiled at the memory. How fucked up he had been. Confused about so many things: what he wanted to do with his life, how to approach girls, hell just about everything. And like a patient and loving mother she had been there for him, offering him advice and support that his own mother just never seemed able to.

But his feelings for her had been decidedly un-motherly. It had not taken long, only a few weeks for their emails to take on a slightly kinky bent. She had been reluctant at first. His age bothered her; he was only slightly older than her eldest son. Once that Pandora's Box of sexual fantasy had been open, he was not to be deterred. A couple of very naughty pics had lured her into his web.

His web? Was that what this was? He had not known what he planned to do when he made the last minute decision to travel from his home in northern Wales to London for the memorial service. It certainly was not to honour a man that he pretty much despised. No, she was definitely the reason he had gone. For the first time since he had grown up as it was, she was free. Free of that other man's claim to her.

He looked at her again. The sun light glinted off the silver locket that rested just above her soft tits. His cock stirred in his tight jeans even as anger rose in his guts. Desire and hatred warred in his mind and his body at the sight of the other man's claim to her. He knew what that locket was. He had seen it on her profile for five years. Her collar. She still wore the bastard's collar. Another man's collar. He wanted to reach across and rip it from her neck. Throw it out the car window so that she could never find it again. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and forced his eyes back on the road, cursing once more.

But what right did he have? Though they had been friends for eight years, until less than twelve hours ago they had never laid eyes upon one another. He did not know what he had expected when he went there. But her casual, "Have we met?" was not it. Eight years. Even before that bastard came into her life, he had been her friend. Hell, he had even dommed her through a couple of rough days when her first dom did a real number on her head. After all that she said "Have we met?"

Granted his answer has been honest. He had never had the pleasure. Back then he had been too shy, too insecure. Hell, just too fucked up to meet face-to-face as it were. No, all of their friendship had been emails and texts, not even a phone call or video message. It had been at least six years since she had even seen a picture of him. He supposed that in that time he had grown, matured, changed. Still some part of him was disappointed and angry that she had not recognized him. After all they shared.

Especially as their friendship had deepened once again over these past three months. There was no doubt that man had come between them. James had grown tired of listening to the woman he loved sing the praises of a man that was never good enough for her, never loved her as he should. Every time he tried to point out how unfair the man was being, she had dismissed him. It had placed a real strain upon their friendship. To the point that they had messaged only a couple of times a month for the past couple of years.

But as she always did when she need a true friend, someone to talk to and lean on, she sought him out after the bastard was gone. James knew it was not polite to curse the dead but as far as he was concerned good riddance to bad rubbish. What man could have a woman like Claire and hide her away, deny her even? Owned and collared his arse! If you own something like that, you are proud of it; you show it off. He would have.

But not that fool, he had been so afraid of his family finding out about his kinks that he had caused Claire pain. Not just these past three months as they pushed her aside, but even when he was alive. Never once had the bastard introduced her to his sons. Instead she was expected to sneak quickly from the house any time they visited, removing any hint of her presence. It was something that James could neither understand nor forgive. Especially when he saw the ravages that it had taken upon her.

"Bastard," he cursed once more.

She stirred in the sit next to him. He gripped the wheel tighter and stared at the long, winding road. He said a silent prayer that she would go back to sleep. He did not want another argument like they had last night. He did not want to have to offer explanations for which there was no logical answer. Not yet. Not until he had her safely ensconced in his bungalow. Then he would deal with whatever came. But it was not to be that simple.

"Where are we? Where are you taking me?" she demanded as she stared out the window at the overcast and gloomy Welsh countryside.

James sighed. She deserved answers. But that did not mean he was going to give them. Not yet anyway. "Wales. And my bungalow." He replied, keeping it simple and truthful.

She shook her auburn head, "No, you are turning this car around and taking me back to London. Now!"

James chuckled. His palm itched to turn her over his knee and spank that curvy backside. If she was going to act like a childish brat, he would treat her like one. "Or what?"

"You can't do this. It is kidnapping or something. I don't even know you." She spewed logic but the chaotic manner in which she did told James all he needed to know. If her intelligence was abandoning her, then things were not good. She was scared certainly, but he was right, she was on the edge of a break down.

He knew it well. It was he and not that man that had seen her through one before. He was the one that she had turned to when her first dom/sub relationship failed. He was the one that had taken control of her confused and hurting mind then. He was the one that had dommed her through that pain. And he would again. Even if she was not asking this time.

Why she had not asked for his help these past few months bothered him still. She should have, she obviously needed someone to control her. She knew she could have. Hell, they had gone back to dozens, even hundreds, of text messages every day. But not once in all that time had she sent the one message he longed for the most. 'Dom me through this.' He sighed, but whether she asked or not, that was exactly what he was going to do.

"No. More. Questions." He answered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her hands fidgeting in her lap. See her biting her lower lip. Tension was strumming through her. He toyed with the idea of spilling it all, the truth. Telling her who he was. But his pride held him back. Some stupid part of him needed her to recognise him for herself. He hated that tiny shred of the insecure little boy he had been when they first met. But not enough to do what was right.

"Listen. There is a decent café up ahead. We will stop for breakfast and talk then," he offered conciliatorily.

"I'm not hungry," she pouted as she looked out the window.

"Too fucking bad. You need to eat. How much weight have you lost? Two stone? Three?" he demanded.

Colour, what little there was, drained from her face at his words. "Shit!" he cursed. They were back to the stalker thing. He could not blame her. It was the logical assumption in a case like this. And perhaps it was not totally off the mark, suddenly appearing in her life after all these years. He knew he had only to give his name to reassure her, at least a bit. But still he was not ready to come clean. Not yet anyway.

"We will stop. You can call your friend. Mobile reception is shit out here but they still have pay phones at this place. Tell her you are all right. That you just needed some rest for a few days. Then we will eat a nice big English breakfast and talk about things. Like grownups," he reasoned with her.

"Except we are one grownup short," she turned towards the window.

James chuckled, "Well, if you insist on acting like a little, I can always turn you over my knee and spank you until you stop acting like a brat. Except you would probably like that too fucking much."

"I wasn't talking about me," she snarled as she turned back to face him.

"I know that," he smiled. "But you are the one acting like a child right now. Refusing to eat when you obviously have been starving yourself."

"It's not like I couldn't afford to lose the weight. In case you have not noticed, thin is in," she responded as she crossed her arms over her chest like the six year old she behaving like.

"Not on you. Your curves have always suited you."

"There you go again. Making these assertions like you have known me for years. But you said last night that we had never met." He watched her studying him more closely for a long moment. He held his breath, hoping that she would get it. He was deflated when she just shook her head and said, "You know there are laws against stalking?"

"I am not a stalker. Besides if I remember correctly, it was you that said there is a fine line between true romance and stalking in your blog," he smiled.

"Yeah, well, even Mills and Boone gave up on the whole kidnapping the damsel scenario long ago," she turned back to the window, but he saw the scowl spread across her face.

"Damsel?" He toyed with the word, drawing it out for a long moment as he attempted to distract her, delay the inevitable showdown. "I like that. Dam-sel. That would make me your knight in shining armor."

"More like the scruffy old pirate," she pouted.

"How about we settle for your alien lover like the book you released last year? That one was your hottest yet."

She drew back further towards the door. He noticed her hand sneaking up towards the handle. "Don't be stupid, Claire. I am going fifty miles per hour. The road is practically deserted at this time of the morning. And you have no idea where you are. What the fuck do you think you could do? Where would you go? Even if the fall did not kill you or send you to the hospital."

He saw terror, real terror in her green eyes. They glistened with tears and his gut tightened. He wanted nothing more than to kiss those tears away. But they were back to where they got too often...advisories. He had long ago accepted that it was the chemistry between them. Some reactions were just so powerful that without the right conditions, the proper catalysts, they simply exploded. Or maybe they were more like a nuclear power plant in meltdown.

All he knew was he had to stop it. "The café is just over this hill. Eat something while we talk. Then if what I say does not make sense, I will take you back to London. You have my word on it," he held out one hand.

She looked at his hand but remained hunkered close to the door, her fingers just centimetres from the handle. She was frozen in fear, except for those clear green eyes that traveled over his face. He willed himself to relax, to give her the reassurance she needed.

He saw her hands drift back to her lap as she lowered her head. "All right," she nodded with a whisper. "But I want your word. You will take me back after breakfast."

James's mind sought a loop hole. He had no intention of taking her back to London. This moment had been eight years in the making. All right, so that kid had been too fucked up in the head to have the courage to meet the woman he secretly and not so secretly lusted after. But he was not that kid anymore.

And one way or the other, he and Claire had unfinished business. A chemical reaction that needed to be released in the right conditions. Protons and electrons that needed to collide in a nice safe controlled environment. And who knew the next time he would catch her between stupid idiot doms that did not deserve this woman?

He pulled his car into the vacant lot of the small café. He turned towards her, pinning her with his gaze. "IF what I have to say does not make sense to you," he asserted as he held out his hand once more time.

She opened her mouth. He knew she was about to protest. His brow knit together. His face tightened as if he dared her to argue with him.

It worked as she simply nodded and mumbled, "All right." Reluctantly she held out her hand this time.

Thinking back upon that moment years later, James would never know what prompted him, fool-hardy courage or unrequited lust, but the moment her fingers touched his, he wrapped them tightly in his embrace. He used that to draw her closer. "Is that any way to seal a deal?" he teased as he drew her into his arms.

He saw the panic rising in her eyes once more. He rushed on foolishly, not giving her time to react. His other arm wrapped about her shoulders, drawing her against his chest as he lowered his face towards hers. His lips brushed back and forth softly over hers. They were cool and tight at first but he took his time as if performing CPR, breathing life back into the dead.

It seemed several long minutes, though it was probably less than one, before her lips softened beneath his. He felt a soft sigh as she relaxed into his embrace. It should have been enough. He should have stopped then. But he could not. Like that nuclear reaction, some critical mass had been reached. He was out of control.

His lips tightened on hers, taking what she was not prepared to give. She gasped at this new boldness. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invaded like a conquer. It swept deep into her mouth, finding her own tongue, his danced against it. Not a soft and genteel Waltz but a Samba, wild and erotic. The dance seemed to go on and on. Blood and lust pounded and throbbed through his whole body. And like dance partners that had been a team for years, their steps matched perfectly. Each thrust, each dip met with perfectly timed move of her own. He could have kissed her forever. Made up for the past eight years in a single moment.

Then she pushed against his chest. He was caught so off guard that his hands released her shoulder. She retreated against the door once more, her hand covering her mouth as if scorched by the kiss. His own lips still burned with the need to taste her once more. But the wide eyed stare of fear stopped him from pursuing her further.

"That is not the way to reassure me," she whispered as she stared at her feet.

James chuckled, "Are you sure about that? Your tongue seemed quite happy to oblige."

Her head popped up and she glared at him, a different type of fire danced in the depths of those green lakes. "Don't do it again," she warned.

"Oh, I forgot. You are the poor widow in mourning. Except you aren't, are you? The damned man did not even love you enough to recognise you to his family. So the moment he was gone, they brushed you aside like garbage on the street."

He regretted the harsh words as he watched the colour that his kiss had brought back to her cheeks drain away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Her hand clasped the door handle, "Breakfast. Then you take me back." She said with finality as she opened the passenger door.

James hit his palms against the steering wheel and cursed himself for every type of fool. He had seen enough bastards use and abuse her. He did not want to be another one. But something about her had always brought out in him both the need to protect and break her.

He sighed as he began to hum the song that she had once sent him the link to...before that man ruined it all. "Sometimes when we touch the honesty's too much. I want to hold you till I die, until we both break down and cry. I want to hold you until the fear in me subsides."