I’m Rhys Christos Edward Stowell, a philanthropist on the verge of exile from a suffocating state of corruption. My lack of conformity to perceived norms has earned me a reputation of being difficult. I rather like it that way.
Beguiled by a woman who uses the oldest profession to torture herself and punish those that love her, I’m ever her dutiful friend. But I want much more…
After years of being neatly boxed in the friend category, she offers me surrender. Or the semblance of it….
She glimpses the darkness of my heart and offers me her body. But I seek her submission...
I entered my apartment building through the side door by the bushes and hustled to my door. Light shone from beneath the door. Though, I was certain I'd left none on. I inserted the key and unlocked. The door creaked open.
Shoulders back and square, not Desniah. She didn't stand this way. London paced between the kitchenette and my living room. Why was she here?
I entered, closed and locked the door.
She stopped and looked up at me. Head high, she held my gaze.
I rarely encountered the other side of Desniah and I was grateful for it. "What are you doing here, London?"
"Des felt that she needed to come here." Leaning to one side, she crossed her arms.
"That doesn't answer why you're here?" More so than with Des, London brought out the side of me that wanted to subjugate and dominate women. What she stirred in me made me want to keep my distance.
"It doesn't strike you as strange that you can tell the difference on sight alone?" She raised both her eyebrows.
"No." The papers on my desk weren't in the order I'd left them. My computer had moved slightly from the spot I'd left it in. Desniah never would have touched my belongings. I wanted to punish London for thinking she had the right to snoop in my affairs. But my more immediate concern was how much did she know?